MEN OF THE WESTERN TWILIGHT
Jack Morrow's ranch was left far behind us before the sun appeared above
the hills, for we had made an early start, as had been our recent
practice, so that we might rest during the heat of the early afternoon.
On the following morning we were on O'Fallon's bluff, so named in memory
of Benjamin O'Fallon, of St. Louis, who was killed there by Indians.
Topographical surveys give the elevation of the valley below the bluffs
as 3,012 feet above sea level, or about 2,000 feet above Omaha. These
surveys also show the bed of the Platte River to average about 300 feet
higher than the Republican River at the South, and parallel streams at
the North, at the various points in the same longitude West. O'Fallon's
bluff, however, is not a commanding eminence, but seems to be nothing
more than a good-sized, irregularly shaped sand dune.
As we were dragging along the sandy road we observed approaching us four
somewhat excited men, who with a two-mule team, were hastening eastward.
Three of them, two of whom were bareheaded, were walking up the grade as
rapidly as possible, while the driver on the wagon, although urging his
mules forward, seemed unable to press them into a gait faster than
a walk, because of the heavy road and the ascending grade. When
they halted at our side, the mules and the walkers were wet with
perspiration. We also stopped, and leaving our horses, gathered round
the strangers, as it was evident that they had something to communicate.
As soon as they had recovered enough breath after their arduous climb to
talk coherently, one of them, to quote his own words, informed us that
the Indians were raising the devil up the river only a few miles away,
and that some of the savages were moving eastward. Another ejaculated
that seven hundred Ogallala Sioux had camped on an island near Baker's
ranch, and that the ranch was invaded and would probably be destroyed.
They urged us to turn back until we could get a strong escort. Each had
some item of information and word of counsel.
Having obtained all possible particulars concerning the situation, we
found ourselves very much in the frame of mind of the average small boy,
who, learning that a fight is on around the corner, is disposed to rush
immediately to the center of disturbance. We had no definite knowledge
concerning the whereabouts of other trains moving westward, with one of
which, according to Government orders, we ought perhaps to have been
traveling. There certainly was no wagon in sight between us and the
place where the white sandy trail curved up the slopes of the bluffs
beyond and was lost to sight some miles westward.
We threshed out the matter thoroughly in the presence of our new
friends, and all members of our party were more and more inclined to
press forward as rapidly as possible, fearing we might fail to witness
something that might be of interest; and all this directly against
valuable advice given in the Book of Proverbs. When we thanked the
gentlemen and bade them good-bye, they wished us good luck and a safe
trip, and as a final admonition urged us to be on our guard.
Passing over the western extremity of the bluffs, where the trail begins
to descend again into the Platte valley, our train came into view of the
little house well known as Baker's ranch. Beyond it flowed the muddy
Platte, the channel of which could be traced many miles of its course.
It then appeared to the eye as if divided into many channels, which
formed numerous islands or sand bars. Many of these islands in the
Platte are almost as unstable as the ancient Delos, or as the waters
that sweep over them in flood time, appearing in one place today, in
another tomorrow, because the quicksands are always rolling and shifting
under the action of the swift current. On the other hand, the clayey
formation in the valley of the lower Platte, termed loess by geologists,
seems throughout that course of the river to assume a crystalline form;
and as the stream washes away its shores, it carves out many
perpendicular banks having the columnar form of basaltic cliffs, but of
a neutral red color.
As from the hills we looked with our field glass to a point beyond the
ranch, we observed, and perhaps for the first time along the river, a
bank that was low and easily fordable, for we saw two mounted Indians
rapidly enter the stream and ride through it to a large island, which
like an oasis in the desert was well covered with verdure. Upon the
island was an Indian village; and beyond the island, and beyond the
further channel of the sparkling river, the brown plain gradually sloped
upward to the table-lands at the North.
Clustered rather closely together upon the island, and standing out
clearly in the bright sunlight, were seventy white circular lodges, each
tapering gracefully to a point, and appearing from far away like a
crest of fringe; at the top of each lodge, were the lodge poles, with
their small ends crossed at the apex. Around and among the tents, was a
scene of animation in which warriors, squaws, and children confusedly
intermingled like a legion of busy red ants in a city of ant hills, each
forming a moving dot of bright color. All this striking and beautiful
scene, as more clearly discerned through the field glass, resembled
rather a motion picture than a scene in real life, for not a sound
reached us through the still air from that cluster of Indian tepees. As
the Sioux lodges average about ten occupants each, it appeared safe to
estimate the population of the village at about 700. They were men of
the western twilight, as fantastically named by Karl G. Carus.
Having surveyed rather carefully the general landscape, our party
proceeded observantly until we lined up in front of Baker's ranch. We,
who were on horseback, alighted, and passing unmolested by a dozen
athletic red warriors, we entered the open door. To our surprise we
found the floor nearly covered with Indians reclining in various
postures. Stepping over two or three of these recumbent forms, an act
that did not make them move a hair's breadth, we picked our way toward
the corner of the room, where we met the valiant Lew Baker, then in the
prime of his young manhood. The counter extended along the east side of
the building, after the fashion of many country stores, and behind it
stood its owner.
A little woman, the wife of Baker, was also seated behind the same
counter near a window at the front of the room, somewhat protected and
concealed by a desk upon that end of the counter, and was therefore not
readily observed by persons entering. In her arms was their only child,
Elma, then four months old. Baker introduced us to his wife, with whom
I exchanged a few words. Johnny Baker, the famous crack shot and for
many years a star feature as sharpshooter in Buffalo Bill's Wild West
Show, was a later scion of this stock. While careful not to betray any
interest concerning the red visitors in the ranch, we embraced the first
opportunity to obtain from Baker all information possible regarding the
situation. We asked if he believed that any of the Indians present would
understand our conversation. He gave it as his opinion that they would
not, though as we all well understand, our manner and tone of voice
might suggest much to them.
Baker, continuing, and turning his eyes toward the ceiling as if
conversing on some general topic, said, "Those Indians you see lying
around you on the floor, entered the room this morning almost at the
break of day, taking very nearly their present positions on the floor,
and not one of them since their arrival seems to have spoken a word;
they have scarcely moved." Nor had there been any expressions upon any
one of their faces, except the same unchanged sullenness that we could
then observe. During our interview neither one of us appeared to notice
the subjects of our conversation.
As is well known, there is a certain peculiar strain clearly marked in
the character of most Indians of the warlike tribes. If they become
offended, it is not their practice to remove their outer garments if
they should happen to be wearing a blanket, and like an impetuous
Irishman, at once rush to the front with clenched fists, or like a
volatile Frenchman, pour out a volley of sacres, to indicate their self
confidence, nor are apologies considered an adequate satisfaction for
any injury. They are not loquacious at any time. They are more disposed
to nourish their wrath in silence and like a sulky child refuse to
communicate with their enemy, until the opportunity comes when they may
strike an unexpected blow under conditions favorable to themselves. The
Sioux, indeed, at the time of which we are writing, had ample grounds
for resentment, and although the ranch-man was powerless to right their
wrongs, they regarded all whites as common parties to the controversy
yet unsettled. Baker well understood their temper, but did not know when
the storm might burst. He had placed his little wife and child where he
could best shield them, relying chiefly upon himself for protection; his
quick eye was ready at all times to detect the faintest hostile
movement; and he declared himself determined to defend his little wife
and baby to the utmost.
It was a remarkable feature of the demonstration that occurred while we
were in Baker's ranch, that at intervals of but a few minutes one Indian
after another, usually in pairs, silently entered the opened door, and
with a soft, noiseless tread of moccasined feet, moved across the room,
among or across the impassive warriors, who lay stretched out upon the
floor apparently unnoticed, with whom as far as we could discern they
exchanged no word or sign whatever. On reaching Baker, some offered a
trifling article in exchange for others of much greater value,
preferably for a side of bacon or a bag of flour, which were taken
without comment, and the articles so taken were at once carried away. In
some cases an Indian would actually take possession of a coveted article
without any payment in return, and at once leave the building with the
property; but during all this time the Red Men on the floor lay in
silence, utterly indifferent to all that was taking place.
We offered Mr. Baker any assistance that our small party could afford,
and urged him in any event to abandon his ranch and seek safety for
himself and family with some armed train. He finally replied that he
would endeavor to hold the situation until some outfit should arrive,
bound eastward, but such trains were now far apart. In the meantime, his
stock of merchandise was being rapidly depleted. Although his ranch for
that day was spared by the band which was then investing it, it was
twice attacked and destroyed by the Indians within the ensuing eighteen
months, the particulars of which attacks were furnished me by Johnny
Baker as matters of family history, although he himself was too young
then to have personal recollections of the stirring events.
As we could be of little service to the beleaguered young rancher and
his little family, for which we felt great solicitude, and as he would
not go westward at that time, we pushed onward a mile beyond, to a point
near the river bank, for our luncheon. Instead of picketing our horses
in the usual manner, we tied them to the wagon wheels and compelled them
to forego their noon grazing until we could get our bearings. While the
meal was being prepared, three of the boys, Ben and Fred being two of
the number, had the temerity to ford the river and visit the Indian
village. What the purpose of such a proceeding might have been cannot
now be imagined. Curiosity certainly got the better of good sense. Ben
was usually to be relied upon as sane and sensible.
It proved easy for them to ford the comparatively shallow but rather
wide channel of the river flowing between the mainland and the island
where the Indian lodges were rather closely grouped together. The
Indians evidently had selected this island for their temporary abode, on
account of the grass with which portions of it were covered, the
mainland being very dry and furnishing but little forage for stock.
Our estimate of the number of their horses and ponies was about 600.
These were wandering about on the island, many standing in the water's
edge, switching the flies with their tails. The lodges, as was the
custom of the plains at that time, were made of dressed buffalo skins,
which in the distance looked comparatively white. They were well made
and the skins were firmly sewed together. On a closer approach the color
was seen to be slightly tawny.
The larger tents were about twenty-five feet in height, generally with
thirty poles supporting each tent. We had been informed that nearly all
their lodge poles were obtained from near the foot of the Rocky
Mountains, and plainsmen stated, on the authority of the Indians, that
many of them have thus been in use for a hundred years. One, and perhaps
two, of the large tents would have afforded space for forty persons to
dine in its shelter.
Around the lodges were scores of squaws, many of them at that hour half
reclining in the doors of their tents, in costumes generally quite
decollete. One young girl was observed whose apparel indicated that she
was connected with a family of distinction. She wore a balmoral skirt of
brilliant hues, which was possibly secured in some trade by her admiring
father or lover. She was also loaded with beads and tinsel. Many
papooses were decorated with beads and similar trifles. These cheap
articles with brilliantly colored calico, were often received in
exchange for furs and robes.
The Indian bucks were much in evidence when we first saw the village,
although but few were there when we reached it. We concluded that many
of them had gone out on some expedition after we had obtained our first
view of the village from O'Fallon's bluff. Our party hardly felt at
ease, as there was a manifest lack of cordiality towards us among the
inhabitants, which was not explained by our unfamiliarity with their
language; our boys, therefore, were not obtrusive.
Having sauntered leisurely among the malodorous lodges for a time, we
suddenly observed the rapid approach of a large body of mounted Indians
from away beyond the North side of the river. They were coming with such
headlong impetuosity that we instantly concluded that we might be
greatly needed in our own camp. Accordingly we recrossed the river
without unnecessary delay and were soon relating our experiences around
the camp fire while we ate a hasty lunch. The meal had hardly been
despatched when Noah, on casting his eyes in the direction of the river,
immediately turned and exclaimed, "There's a band of those devils
fording the stream, and I'll bet they are coming to return that visit."
Sure enough they were, and a social obligation is rarely discharged with
greater alacrity and spontaneity. They were probably a portion of the
band that first came in from the North, and learning of the call made at
their home during their brief absence, they made an instantaneous rush
across the stream, and immediately on touching dry land on our side,
came on a dead run for our camp. On reaching it, their horses were
brought to a sudden stop. At the same moment the Indians were on their
feet upon the ground as quick as a flash, and almost simultaneously;
and, more quickly than it can be told, they were everywhere in our camp,
and we seemed to be nowhere. They made themselves thoroughly at home.
As the result of a common impulse, we also quickly found ourselves
within close speaking distance of each other. None of our party were
able to state the exact number of the invaders, but twenty-five was a
later estimate. They were young, vigorous warriors, all armed with bows,
arrows, and knives; none of them, so far as we observed, bore firearms.
Like all the Western and Northwestern Indians, except the Sacs, Foxes,
and Pawnees, their hair was long and straight. They wore no articles of
dress which had been adopted from the whites, but they presented
themselves in the primitive simplicity of feathers and paint, limbs and
breast being bare. One of them wore big feathers. He may have been the
great Chief Hole-in-the-Ground, and we should have been pleased if he
had stayed in the hole.
Possibly we did not greet them with a cordial welcome. There was
certainly no need to extend them formally the freedom of the camp. As a
matter of fact, this ceremony was forgotten, but it was never missed. We
were also slightly embarrassed and perhaps uncommonly modest. The
visitors came upon us unexpectedly, like a great family of distant
relations by marriage. There was too little prepared food in our camp to
furnish a collation that would comport with the dignity of the chief
with the big feathers, and his minions. His highness, however, relieved
us from any concern on that score, for without standing on ceremony he,
and his red-skinned satellites, proceeded at once to help themselves to
everything within reach. This was accomplished with all desirable
despatch. It was observed that four or five of the number had
thoughtfully provided themselves with blankets. As the day was very
warm, this was not done for protection against the weather, but, as we
discovered in a few moments, with the subtler purpose of using them as
vehicles for plunder,--satchels and suit-cases having not yet become
popular.
The raid was first made upon the little food which we had in sight upon
the ground. We had not yet fully comprehended their plans, but regarded
the savages as being a trifle "fresh." Fred, who like the rest of us was
watching these proceedings with the resignation that is born of
helplessness, remarked to me, "If they ever try to digest any bread like
that which I ate for breakfast, they will regret their visit." Fred was
not inclined to be solemn at any time, but to others as well as to me
the situation was rapidly becoming serious. The cooking utensils were
then all hastily gathered up by the audacious freebooters and put into
their blankets, as if this were a commonplace business affair that must
be quickly performed. Simultaneously, and with perfect concert of
action, others proceeded to the mess boxes at the rear of the wagons,
and rapidly, and in a confident and business-like manner emptied them
one by one of their contents. About half of the invaders remained
inactive, but held their bows in their hands as if to overawe us and, if
necessary, defend the raiders.
The situation was now becoming exceedingly tense. The plan of the
Indians was rapidly developing; it was, first to appropriate our lighter
effects, as we knew had often been done that year in other cases, and
then to follow this by capturing our horses, after which we should be
left destitute, without even a skillet or a cup in which to cook a Jack
rabbit. Our guns must be saved. Every one of our number seemed eager to
act at once, for the moment for resistance had certainly come now if
ever. In a minute more it would be too late.
[Illustration: COUGAR]
It has been written as the experience of the old fur-traders, that
the timorous mood and dilatory tactics of many of the emigrants in their
relations with the Indians often exposed them to real danger and final
disaster, and that a bold stand and self-confident bearing often
resulted in safety. We were happy in that the leaders of our party met
the situation promptly and coolly. Some one said in a clear voice, "Dan,
you are Captain." In an instant Dan seemed invested with full authority,
and at once with ringing voice gave the order, "Get your guns quickly
and line up here." Each man had in his wagon, concealed under a flap in
the side of the cover, a good Henry rifle, which by mutual agreement for
any emergency, was always loaded with sixteen fixed cartridges and
always in perfect condition. Separating for but a moment, and in some
cases dodging round a redskin, we were again together in quick time, but
now in line with rifles to our shoulders.
Previous to that moment there was a question as to the expediency of
showing resistance. The bringing out of the guns, however, meant war,
unless the savages should immediately withdraw. Even Deacon Cobb, with
his long white hair floating in the breeze, stood in line bareheaded,
and as cool as any veteran, with his eye along his rifle awaiting a
further order. Each man also had a revolver in his belt, all of which
were in sight. As a fact there had been considerable rifle practice
carried on from time to time by our party, and for short range some of
the men had proved good shots. The Henry rifle, however, was not very
reliable at long range and the projectiles were light, but for an affair
such as this was likely to be they were simply perfect, because of their
rapid fire.
Our enemy, now at such close quarters, did not fail to take notice, but
we were surprised that our action produced so little effect. It
remained for Dan to speak the next word. Now Dan Trippe, with the
exception of the Deacon, was the oldest member of our party; and as many
persons still well remember, he was gifted with a magnificent physique,
a remarkably forceful presence, and a voice of tremendous power.
Moreover, in profanity, the only element in our language which the
Indians were said to understand, his style was vigorous, yea,
unsurpassed in vehemence, persuasiveness and unction. His oaths, though
reserved chiefly for emergencies, were drawn from a carefully chosen
glossary.
Observing that our challenge failed to check the raid, before giving the
order to fire Dan quickly stepped slightly to the front, and in a manner
not to be forgotten, delivered his call to combat. He added force to his
defiance by his vigorous gestures and actions, all freely emphasized by
strong, resonant vocables (few of which are to be found in the school
dictionaries), and all uttered in an unhesitating, stentorian voice that
could have been heard on the island. The purport of his Philippic,
stripped of its invectives, was that articles which the thieves had
appropriated must be laid down instanter, and they themselves must
immediately "vamoose" the camp, otherwise he would not be responsible
for their untimely decease. It was the pantomime, the gesticulations and
the voice in which Dan had few rivals that were to produce conviction in
savages to whom our language was as Latin.
There was a moment of hesitation, then a brief parley among the Indians,
through which we waited, and remained in line, at the right of which now
stood Dan with his gun. All of a sudden the articles were dropped upon
the ground. The Indians mounted their horses, but without the slightest
indication of haste or fear quietly rode in a body about a half a mile
westward, and there they appeared to hold a brief conference. We
carefully watched their movements, retaining our rifles as we remained
in line. In a few minutes as if by common understanding the savages
suddenly started back down the road toward our camp which they passed
within fifty feet; every horse was pushed to the top of its speed,
racing one behind another in single file. The long black hair of the
warriors was flying in the wind. At times they were riding on the sides
of their horses, each having but one leg and possibly the head exposed
to our view. The savage, dissonant yells which they uttered to the limit
of their voices, as they swept by us, as if for a challenge, were
calculated to make the hair stand on end. They did not pause as we
thought they might do, but sped by us with a rush, at the same time
indicating by their manner and motions that they dared us to shoot and
that they proposed even yet to obtain satisfaction. It was a dare-devil
demonstration and an exhibition of superb horsemanship. We were
certainly tempted strongly to give them a volley, but we wisely saved
our powder. Their exhibition of cool audacity had roused in us a
fighting spirit, at least that is what we all said after the affair was
over. We were on the verge of a strife for which we were well prepared.
It had been our opinion, obtained from various sources, that Indians
will not offer fight when near their homes. This is doubtless their
general policy, but as we had but five wagons, they were at first
confident in their superior numerical strength and their ability to
obtain speedy reinforcements. Their purpose without doubt was to get
horses and other property, and preferably without a struggle--but that
preference could not have been overpowering. Indians were then taking
stock in large numbers from emigrants, a practice which continued for
several months thereafter.
The band upon leaving us, did not slacken its speed until it reached the
ford. Unless we desired to fight, and that, too, possibly at night, it
was clearly unsafe for us to remain where we were, as the band that
visited us could easily secure large reinforcements. Hitching our horses
to the wagons as quickly as possible, we immediately started westward
with the hope of reaching a certain mule train which we were confident
could not be many miles in advance. As our little party followed the
road that wound up the first foothills we reached, on glancing backward
as we had frequently done since leaving the last camp, we observed the
squaws and boys scatter almost simultaneously from the Indian village in
various directions. In less time than it takes to tell it, the skin
coverings were removed from every lodge, and the pine poles thus left
bare were instantly upon the ground; and before we had lost sight of the
island, which could not have been more than an hour, the whole outfit
was loaded upon ponies, the poles being dragged at their sides, and the
cavalcade of mounted warriors and squaws, with all their camp equipage,
had forded the opposite channel of the river to the north side. A
village had been moved in less than sixty minutes. We were astounded at
the perfect system that must have been followed and at the celerity of
their operations.
The reason for this hasty move was not then known to us, but we soon
learned of a big flood that was coming down the river, concerning which
they would certainly be informed; without doubt their chief had given
the order to abandon the island. The removal of these lodges was the
best exhibition of Indian team work that I have ever witnessed. It is
interesting to read in Catlin's _Indians of North America_, Vol. 1, p.
50, that he saw 600 Sioux skin-lodges struck and packed on horses in a
few minutes. In one minute after the signal had been given by the chief,
the 600 lodges, which before had been strained tight and fixed, were
seen waving and flapping in the wind. In one minute more, every lodge
was flat upon the ground. The loading was also equally rapid. As we had
opportunity to verify later, the poles of each lodge are divided into
two bunches, and the smaller ends of the two bunches are fastened one
upon each side of the shoulders of the horse, leaving the butt ends to
drag upon the ground. Just behind the horse a brace or pole is tied
across, which keeps the poles in their respective places. Upon this is
placed the tent material, rolled up with other articles of domestic
furniture. The women do the work, and many of them walk, but the noble
warriors ride.
Before the sun had set we were happy to discover the corral of the train
we had hoped to reach. The companionship of its members was welcome, and
our guard duties were divided with them.