POOR JONES MAKES HIS LAST FIGHT.--HE DIED AMONG A LOT OF THE
DEVILS HE HAD SLAIN.--END OF THIRTY-ONE YEARS OF HUNTING, TRAPPING
AND SCOUTING.
About the first day in March, 1877, we started out on our summer's
campaign. I was now able to mount a horse by being assisted, but
had to be very careful and only ride a short distance, and very
slow at that. The third day on our trip from the fort George
reported having seen the trail of quite a large band of Indians
traveling westward almost parallel with the road, but said they
had passed about two days before. I asked the Lieutenant to give
me his camping places that night and the next one, which he did. I
then told George to select four men from the scout force, take two
days' rations and see if he could run down the Indians and to
telegraph me when they changed their course or when he had them
located.
George was on their trail before noon and before sunset he had
them located, only a short distance from the place where I had
been wounded the year before. I got a dispatch from him just as I
was ready to turn in for the night, and by one o'clock I received
another dispatch stating that there were about eighty in the band,
and well armed, and among them about twenty squaws and their
children. This was something we had never seen among the Apaches
before. Lieut. Jackson asked my opinion of their having their
families with them. I told him I thought they must be on their way
to Sonora to trade, as at that time the Apaches had never traded
but very little with the whites.
They might be out for a hunt, but it was not customary when on
such a trip to have their families with them. Upon the receipt of
the second dispatch from George, Lieut. Jackson started out with
three companies of cavalry, and arrived at the spot near daybreak.
I was told afterwards that George had been crawling around all
night getting the location of the Indians, the general lay of the
ground and to ascertain the best plan of attack, knowing it would
be so late by the time the Lieutenant would arrive that he himself
would have no time to spare, and he had a diagram drawn on a piece
of envelope of the camp and surroundings, also had their horses
located. When the Lieutenant was ready to make the attack George
took four of the scouts and started to cut the horses off and
prevent the Indians from getting to them, but it seemed as though
when the cavalry started to make the charge the Indians' dogs had
given the alarm and a part of the Indians had made for their
horses. At any rate when daylight came George was found some two
hundred yards from the Indian encampment, with both legs broken
and a bullet through his neck, which had broken it and four
Indians lying near him dead, which he no doubt had killed, and his
horse lay dead about a rod from where he lay. No one had seen him
fall nor had heard a word from him after he gave the order to
charge for the horses. About the middle of that afternoon they
returned to camp with George's body and seven others that were
killed, and nineteen wounded soldiers. They had killed thirty-
seven Indians and had taken all the squaws and children prisoners.
After I had looked at the body of that once noble and brave form,
but now a lifeless corpse, I told the Lieutenant that I was ready
to leave the field, for there was not a man in the entire army
that could fill his place, and without at least one reliable man
in the field it would be impossible to accomplish anything.
The dead were buried about two hundred yards north of the spring
where we had camped, and I saw that George Jones was put away in
the best and most respectable manner possible considering the
circumstances by which we were governed at that time. We buried
him entirely alone, near a yellow pine tree, and at his head we
placed a rude pine board, dressed in as good a shape as could be
done with such tools as were accessible to our use. On this board
his name was engraved, also his age and the manner in which he
came to his death, and the same is also to be seen on the yellow
pine tree that stands near the grave of this once noble friend and
hero of the plains.
My brave and noble comrade,
You have served your country true,
Your trials and troubles are ended
And you have bade this world adieu.
You have been a noble companion,
Once so trusty, true and brave;
But now your cold and lifeless form
Lies silent in the grave.
While your form remains here with us
In this wicked dismal land,
Your soul has crossed the river
And joined the angel band.
The prisoners that were taken here Lieut. Jackson sent to Fort
Yuma and placed under guard, as Gen. Crook had made up his mind to
capture all the Apaches he could and try in that way to civilize
them, but he made a total failure in regard to this particular
tribe of Indians.
I informed George's father and mother of his death as soon as I
could get a letter to them, telling them as soon as I returned to
the fort I would draw his pay and send it to them, which I did.
When I talked to Lieut. Jackson of quitting he said he could not
spare me until the summer's campaign was over, so I remained with
him.
We moved on and established our quarters at the same place as the
year before, and a more lonesome summer I never put in anywhere
than there. I was not able to do anything more than stay in camp
and give orders until late in the season. Lieut. Jackson had two
more engagements that season, but I was not able to be in either
of them.
The first one the soldiers killed nine Indians, and the other time
the Indians made an attack on him while he, with twenty of his
men, were escorting an emigrant train across the mountains. In
this engagement the Lieutenant did not lose a man, and only three
horses, and killed twenty-three Indians and gave them a chase of
about ten miles.
It was now getting late in the fall and Lieut. Jackson pulled out
for the fort, and by that time I was just able to climb on my
horse without assistance. We arrived at Fort Yuma about the first
of November, and there I remained till the first of June, 1878.
Before I left I made Mrs. Davis and her family a farewell visit.
Two of her daughters were then married and lived near their
mother, and all seemed to be in a prosperous condition. After a
pleasant visit with the Davis folks I returned to the fort and
commenced making preparations to leave, but was delayed in
starting at least a month on account of some soldiers who had
served their time out and were going to return with me. I told my
old friend Lieut. Jackson the day before starting that I did not
think that there was another white man in the United States that
had seen less of civilization or more of Indian warfare than I
had, it now being just thirty-one years since I started out with
Uncle Kit Carson onto the plains and into the mountains.
When I left the fort this time it was with the determination that
I would not go into the scouting field again, and I have kept my
word so far, and think I shall thus continue. I started out from
the fort with twenty-three head of horses, and I packed the
baggage of the four discharged soldiers in order to get them to
help me with my loose horses.