THE STORY OF THE MASSACRE ON SPILLMAN CREEK--SCOUTS GO TO
THE RESCUE--JOE AND ROB TALK OVER THE HORRID WORK OF THE
SAVAGES--THE DOG SOLDIERS--CHARLEY BENT--PLACE OF
RENDEZVOUS--PARTY STARTS OUT--JOE'S OPINION IS ASKED
THE family had lived on their comfortable ranche on the Oxhide for
nearly three years. During the whole of this period the valley had been
most happily exempt from any raid by the hostile Indians farther west,
who for all that time had made incursions into the sparse settlements
not a hundred miles away, devastating the country from Nebraska on the
north to the border of Texas on the south.
General Sheridan had been ordered by the Government to the command of
the Military Department of the Missouri, with headquarters at Fort
Leavenworth. The already famous General Custer with his celebrated
regiment, the Seventh United States Cavalry, was stationed at Fort
Harker, recently established on the Smoky Hill, about four miles from
Errolstrath ranche, so the settlers on the Oxhide, and through the
valley, felt comparatively safe from any possible raid by the savages
into that region.
One beautiful Sunday afternoon in the middle of the May following the
autumn in which Joe had received his present of a full Indian dress from
the friendly Pawnees, the family were sitting on the veranda of the
cabin. Dinner was long since over, and Mr. Thompson was reading aloud
from their weekly religious journal, when a horseman suddenly appeared,
coming toward the ranche on the trail which led from the mouth of the
Oxhide where it empties into the Smoky Hill. He was hatless and
coatless, his long hair was streaming in the wind, and his heels were
rapping his horse's flanks vigorously, and its breast and shoulders were
covered with foam from the desperate gait at which it was urged.
The reading was instantly suspended, and every eye strained toward the
unusual object coming toward the house at such a breakneck speed.
"I wonder who that is, and why he rides so fast," inquired Mr. Thompson,
addressing himself to no one in the group in particular.
"Something unusual must have occurred," suggested Mrs. Thompson; "some
one of the neighbors taken ill suddenly, maybe."
"It's no one we know," spoke up Joe. "I never saw that man before," the
individual under discussion having come near enough now for his features
to be distinguished, "nor the horse he's on, and I know every man and
horse in the whole settlement. There's some trouble not far away, I
think, or he would not run his animal that way."
In less than three minutes more, the stranger horseman rode up to the
front of the house and jumped off his horse. Hurriedly tying him to the
hitching-post, he ran up the steps of the veranda, and in the most
excited manner, his eyes wearing a wild look and his breath coming with
great difficulty, told Mr. Thompson, who had walked forward to meet him,
that the Indians had completely destroyed the little settlement of
Spillman Creek that morning about daylight. He alone, as far as he
knew, had escaped the massacre. He said that luckily he happened to be
down in the timber, getting some wood for his morning fire, and the
savages did not see him. He had his pony with him, and when he saw the
Indians all dressed in their war-bonnets and hideously painted, he rode
to the river and across country as fast as his animal could carry him.
"How many families are there in the settlement?" inquired Mr. Thompson.
"About ten," answered the stranger; "forty individuals, perhaps, and all
of them, I feel satisfied, have been murdered and their cabins burnt,
because I saw the smoke and flames from the trail on the south side of
the Saline as I rode hurriedly on."
"Had you no family?" asked Mrs. Thompson, excitedly, in her sympathy for
the unfortunate people who had been so cruelly massacred.
"No, ma'am," answered the stranger. "I was living all alone on my claim,
which I had taken up only a week ago, on the edge of the timber. My
family are still back in Illinois, thank God! or they, too, with myself,
would have been butchered with the rest, for I would never have left
them."
"Do you think the savages will continue on their raid, and come further
down the Saline valley?" inquired Mr. Thompson, who now for the first
time since he had been on his ranche, felt a little alarmed for his
family.
"I don't know," was the reply, "but I'm afraid they will. The Elkhorn is
fairly settled, but the cabins are widely scattered; the Indians know
that, and before the neighbors could rally for mutual defence, the
savages might be able to murder them in detail. I have come down here to
warn the settlers on this creek, and if I can, to get a party to go to
the rescue of those on the Elkhorn. I stopped at Fort Harker on my way
and reported to the commanding officer the state of affairs, but he said
that he had only part of a company of infantry at the post, all the
cavalry being out under General Custer, looking after the Indians 'way
up the Smoky Hill. He suggested that I should come here to inform you
people of the danger, and that, if I could muster up a crowd of men, he
would furnish all the arms and ammunition necessary for them. He also
said that General Sheridan was coming to Fort Harker in a few days to
establish his headquarters there, and that a general Indian war was
imminent."
"Have you any idea how many of the savages there were in the band that
raided Spillman Creek settlement?" inquired Mr. Thompson.
"I think there must have been about fifty. I counted their pony tracks
in the soft mud at the ford of the Saline where they crossed it; they
were very plain, and I was enabled to come close to their probable
number. If you could muster twenty or thirty men, well armed, who are
brave, and good shots with the rifle, I believe that if they start for
the Elkhorn to-day, they could circumvent the savages before they reach
the creek, or at least drive them out of the neighborhood. I am ready to
go back with them and act as guide, for I know every foot of the
country, having spent a whole year out there before I settled upon a
location. Who are the best men in this settlement, and where shall I go
to warn them?"
"Well," replied Mr. Thompson, "I am willing to go for one. I guess there
will be no difficulty in gathering as large a force as is
necessary--good shots, too; for no one will hesitate a moment when it
comes to defending his family from an Indian raid. It will take a couple
of hours to ride around the neighborhood to the several ranches to
notify the men. My boys, here, can go to the nearest, while you and I
ride to the most remote and get as large a crowd as possible. Boys,"
continued he, turning to his sons, who stood with eyes wide open and
mouth agape as they listened with astonishment to the terrible story of
the stranger, "get your ponies at once; saddle them as quickly as ever
you did in your lives, and ride to the nearest ranches on the creek; up
one side and down the other. Tell all the folks the dreadful news, and
tell them to have the men meet here at Errolstrath as quickly as they
can, and to bring their rifles with them. All are well armed," said he,
turning to the stranger, "and they will respond in a hurry."
"Now," said Mr. Thompson, as the boys jumped off of the veranda to carry
out their father's order, "I will go with you to old Tucker's ranche. He
is a man of most excellent judgment, and a trapper; has fought Indians
all his eventful life on the plains and in the mountains, so we can
safely rely on his advice in regard to what is best to be done." Looking
at his wife he said, "Won't you get this man a bite to eat while I'm
catching another animal for him? Yours is tired out," continued he,
addressing the stranger again; "you must have a fresh horse. I've got
lots of them."
While Mr. Thompson went to the stable, and the stranger to the spring to
wash the dust off himself, Mrs. Thompson, assisted by Gertrude and Kate,
made ready a cold lunch for the half-famished man, who told them, when
he returned to the dining-room, that he had not eaten a morsel since the
evening before.
By the time he had finished his meal, Mr. Thompson returned to the front
of the house with two animals, and taking the stranger's horse to the
stable, after the saddle had been put on the fresh one, he returned to
the house. He gave his wife some advice about the boys and their
mission, then he and the stranger mounted their animals and loped off at
a good gait for the ranche of old Mr. Tucker, three miles away.
The boys had started some while before their father, as it only required
a few minutes to catch and saddle their ponies that were picketed in
front of the house, on a patch of buffalo grass not twenty yards away.
In less than half an hour they were at the nearest ranche, and had
delivered their message. They then rode on and made the rounds of the
circuit assigned them, relating the bad news as they travelled from
cabin to cabin as quickly as their hardy little Indian ponies could
carry them.
While on their mission the boys talked over the story of the massacre,
Joe explaining many things in connection with the savage method of
making a raid on a white settlement. Those were things which Rob did not
fully understand, but with which Joe was familiar, having been told all
about them by the friendly Pawnees. He told Rob that he was crazy to go
on the little expedition, but did not dare ask permission.
"Father might be willing, maybe," suggested Rob, "though I'm sure that
mother and the girls would object."
"I'll bet that I can find the trail of the Cheyennes, for I know better
than any one who is going along, that they were Cheyennes who made the
attack," said Joe. "That man who came down with the news don't know much
about Indians; I could tell that by the way he talked; he's a
'tender-foot.' He admitted to papa he'd only been in the country a very
short time."
"By jolly! I'll bet he was scared when he saw those Indians," said Rob;
"he wasn't used to such sights!"
"How he must have ridden his horse," said Joe. "I never saw an animal so
frothy in my life before; did you, Rob? You could have scraped a
wash-tub of lather off him!"
"If the Cheyennes have left any kind of a trail after them, I can tell
just how many there were of them," continued Joe, "but they are ahead of
all other Indians in covering up their tracks; old Yellow Calf has told
me so a dozen times. I expect that it was Charley Bent's band of Dog
soldiers that made the raid."
"What are Dog soldiers?" inquired Rob.
"Why, the young bucks of a tribe who will not obey the orders of their
chief; renegades who will not be controlled by any custom. Those Indians
who have not done anything yet to make them warriors, and who go off on
their own hook to murder and steal, and to fire the cabins of the poor
settlers, thinking that if they can get a few scalps of women and
children they will be recognized by the rest of the tribe as braves.
Sometimes there are 'Squaw-men' among them, that is, white men who have
married Indian women; generally bad men who have committed some crime
where they used to live and dare not go back to where they came from."
"Who is Charley Bent?" asked Rob. "That is not an Indian name, surely!"
"I know it isn't," answered Joe. "He's a half breed; half white and half
Cheyenne. His mother was a Cheyenne squaw, and his father was Colonel
Bent, one of the most celebrated frontiersmen of his time. Charley was
well educated in St. Louis, but when he returned to his father's home,
at Bent's Fort, way up the Arkansas River, in what is now Colorado, he
threw off the white man's dress and manner of living, joined the
Indians, and became, in his devilishness, the worst savage to be found
in the whole Indian country. The United States Government has offered a
thousand dollars for him, dead or alive. Somebody will catch him yet;
the army scouts are after him red hot, so the Pawnees told me."
"I wish the Pawnees, lots of 'em, were back on the creek, Joe," said
Rob, continuing the lively conversation they had been keeping up ever
since they started from the ranche; "wouldn't they like such a chance to
go after their old enemies?"
"I expect they will be here sooner than usual, this coming autumn; one
of the boys told me so when the band left; but it will be four months
yet before we may look for them."
"Are you going to ask to go with the party to the Elkhorn, Joe?" asked
Rob of his brother.
"No, I think not. I intend to be still unless some of the crowd drop a
hint they'd like to have me along; then I'll speak out."
By four o'clock the boys returned to the ranche, having warned twelve
families of the impending danger. All the men expressed their readiness
to go with Mr. Thompson and the others to circumvent the savages on
their raid. When Joe and Rob had turned their ponies out to graze and
went back to the house again, they found a dozen men there already,
waiting for the return of their father and the stranger. The anxious
group sat on the veranda, discussing the state of affairs, suggesting to
each other what course should be pursued concerning those settlers who
would have to remain in the valley with their wives and children. Uncle
Dick Smith, as he was familiarly called, an old man with white hair and
long white beard, who had had some experience with the savages in his
earlier days in Wisconsin, suggested that while the scouting party were
absent, Job Wilkersin's stone corral would be the best place for the
settlers to rendezvous in case the Indians came down into the valley of
the Oxhide. After some discussion, however, it was agreed to let the
question remain open until Mr. Thompson and the other men should arrive.
A short time before sundown a group of horsemen could be seen coming
down the trail from the north. They were those for whom the crowd at
Errolstrath were anxiously looking. When they rode up to the house,
headed by Mr. Thompson, they dismounted, fastened their horses to trees,
and after a hurried meal which the girls had been getting ready during
their father's absence, they all adjourned to the lawn outside of the
veranda, and the subject was renewed as to what those should do who were
compelled to remain behind on the Oxhide. Mr. Wilkersin was among them,
and as he stated his house was the largest in the neighborhood, and his
big stone corral a grand place for defence in case the savages continued
on their raid, it was agreed to rendezvous there. Twenty determined men
in the corral could keep off a hundred Indians, and besides there was
food enough at his house for every one who should go there. He further
said that he would be glad to assist his friends thus much in trying
times like these.
Rob, who was familiar with the location of every cabin in the
settlement, was immediately despatched on a fresh horse to call on the
people and communicate the result of the conference. He was to tell them
where to go in the event of the Indians coming into Oxhide valley after
the scouting party had left for the Elkhorn.
There were about thirty men who were obliged to remain at home; too old
to undertake the fatigue of the long night's ride contemplated. They
were all excellent shots, many of them having been pioneers in the
settlement of the states east of the Mississippi when they constituted
the far West.
When all the men who could be mustered for the expedition had arrived at
Errolstrath, there were about fifty. Old man Tucker was unanimously
chosen for their leader, with the title, by courtesy, of captain. He was
a man nearly sixty-five years old, but had been early recognized by the
settlers of the valley as one to whom they could look whenever the
affairs of the neighborhood demanded the exercise of good judgment or
sound advice. He was well educated, having graduated at Yale, but after
graduation a quarrel with his father resulted in his drifting out on the
frontier, where his life had been that of a trapper and hunter. He was
as active as any of the young men, so his age in this case did not
militate against him. He was the best rifle-shot in the valley, and if,
like Davy Crockett, he failed to hit a squirrel in the eye, "it didn't
count!"
The stranger from Spillman Creek was named Alderdyce, as he had informed
Mr. Thompson while on the trip with him, and, as many of those who now
met him for the first time desired to hear his story, he related the
details of the horrid massacre again. At its sickening recital a
majority became impatient of delay, and wanted to start on the trail of
the savages at once, although the whole valley was flooded with the
golden glow of sunset.
Joe stood modestly in the crowd, eagerly drinking in the awful story
told by Mr. Alderdyce, and he noticed how anxious the scouting party was
to get away. He knew that this would be the height of absurdity until
night had closed in, and in all probability would defeat the very object
of the expedition, so he ventured to suggest that it would be better to
wait until after dark.
Old Mr. Tucker knew as well as the boy's father that Joe's judgment in
matters relating to savage methods when on the war-path was far in
advance of his sixteen years. His ideas and opinions commanded a
consideration his age did not otherwise warrant, so the keen observation
he had developed since his intimacy with the Pawnees, and the astuteness
he had imbibed from them, caused Mr. Tucker to ask the boy's reasons for
his suggestion.
Joe replied hesitatingly: "I believe it's better to wait until dark. The
runners, as their spies are called, of the hostile band, are, I
honestly think, at this moment stationed on some of the highest points
of the valley. They are watching to learn if there will be any
demonstration made against the raiding band from this settlement. If
this is true, and I believe it is, they should not be permitted to see
our party start out. If they do discover that a number of mounted men
are riding on the prairie, they will hang on their trail, keep the main
band warned of every movement, and you could not effect anything. In
that case you might as well stay at home."
Upon these hints so forcibly thrown out by Joe, nearly every one at once
coincided with his opinion, and the captain decided to act upon the
boy's judgment.
Joe, who was always an attentive listener, rarely obtruded his ideas
into the conversation of his elders; in reality he was of rather a
reticent disposition, a trait generally indicative of bravery, but he
was ever ready to venture an opinion when asked for it, fearlessly and
in great earnestness. So during the discussion of the supposed details
of the morning's massacre, Captain Tucker asked him what he thought of
the probability of the savages coming down to the Elkhorn from the
scene of their raid on the Spillman.
"Well, Mr. Tucker," replied Joe, "distance is never considered by an
Indian. If a band start on a raid and are successful at the beginning,
they will keep on a dozen miles or five hundred; it makes no difference
to them; they'll wear out any animal but a wolf. If the massacre was
complete, as Mr. Alderdyce thinks, they will probably keep right on
murdering, scalping, and firing the cabins, until they get a setback. My
own opinion is that they will go down to the Elkhorn or some other place
where there is a settlement, and if successful again, will continue on
and come to the Oxhide, perhaps, now they have tasted blood. But if they
have met with a repulse anywhere, or learn that the United States troops
are after them, they may abandon their raid and be now a hundred miles
on the trail to their village."
Joe was evidently fidgety; he wanted to go along, and as the captain and
his father had questioned him so earnestly on such important matters, he
thought he had a right to be one of the party; still, he said nothing
until Captain Tucker, noticing the boy's anxious countenance, asked him
if he would like to go with them.
Joe answered very quickly in the affirmative, but it was with much
hesitancy that his parents gave their consent. The neighbors gathered at
the ranche, however, importuned very earnestly in his favor, declaring
that the success of the expedition might depend materially upon their
decision whether the boy should go or not. Of course, to resist such an
appeal was out of the question, coming as it did almost unanimously from
their friends, so Joe was permitted to accompany the party.
Hurriedly did the delighted boy go out to the corral and saddle his
favorite pony, a coal-black little animal, very swift, full of
endurance, sure-footed as a mule, and as obedient to the touch of its
young master's hand and legs as a well-trained circus horse. Soon
returning, he tied him with the other animals to a tree and then went
into the house to prepare himself for the venturesome trip.
Coming back on the veranda in a few moments dressed in the buckskin suit
given him by the old chief Yellow Calf, he looked the very
impersonation of a veteran frontiersman, and but for his childish face
might have passed for a veritable army scout. He slung his rifle across
the horn of his saddle; its complement of bullets in his pouch he
fastened to the cantle, while the powder-flask was suspended by a cord
thrown over his shoulder. He also carried his flint and steel, thinking
he might have occasion to use it, and with a small lantern was ready for
whatever he might be called upon to do.
As the welcome darkness would not come for an hour yet, the party kept
their animals concealed in the thick timber near the cabin. They sat
quietly in the shadow of the veranda, so that if there were any of the
hostile spies in the vicinity, as Joe had suggested there might be, they
would not be able to observe any unusual demonstration on the place, as
the house was completely masked by the giant trees surrounding it.
[Illustration: "He looked the very impersonation of a veteran
frontiersman."]
By eight o'clock it was dark enough to venture out, and the party
quietly mounted their horses, and strung out in single file down the
narrow trail leading from the ranche to the ford of the Smoky Hill.
Tucker, Joe, and Alderdyce were at the head of the line. Every one was
familiar with the trail as far as the river, for it was the main
travelled track to the village of Ellsworth. It was six miles from
Errolstrath, and contained a general store, a blacksmith shop, and the
post office for all the surrounding country.
The ford crossed the Smoky Hill about two miles east of the little
hamlet, but the party did not follow the trail up the river. They took a
shorter cut over the hills bordering the stream where there was a series
of buffalo paths running northward in the direction they wanted to go.
They thus saved a détour of three or four miles, an important
consideration where time was of the greatest consequence. The buffalo
paths all came out on the other side of the high divide separating the
Saline from the Smoky Hill. A short distance beyond the summit of the
ridge, and down a gradual slope, was one of the valleys of the several
tributaries which gave the many-branched stream called the Elkhorn, its
suggestive name.
After the party had forded the Smoky Hill, the country was unknown to
all excepting Alderdyce and Joe. The latter had often accompanied the
Pawnees on their hunts as far as the Saline and Paradise creeks,
twenty-five miles from the Oxhide.
All had been travelling up to that point in groups of twos and threes on
the flat river bottom, but now again they strung out in Indian file,
following Joe and Alderdyce slowly up the divide and down on the other
side. They then all moved out more rapidly into a short, quick lope as
the ground was more level for several miles. At the end of the level
stretch they halted, as they were approaching the beginning of the
limestone region.
Following Joe's advice they dismounted and muffled the hoofs of their
horses with gunny sacks which they had brought for that purpose, in
order to prevent the sound of the animals' feet from being heard by any
of the savage runners.
This wise precaution was frequently employed by the scouts of the army
with General Sheridan during his celebrated winter campaign against the
allied tribes of the plains, when the troops were obliged to travel at
night through the enemy's country.
It was soon after they had passed the limestone region that a heavy
rolling prairie, over which the trail ran up one slope and down another
of the rocky divides, separated the narrow intervales between. Most of
the time it was a hard, killing pace for the poor horses, as they had
travelled for hours continuously without a halt, excepting to muffle
their feet. The settlement must be reached before daylight, or perhaps
it would be too late to thwart the murderous schemes of the Indians, who
always chose the early hours of the dawn in which to commit their
atrocities. At that time when sleep oppresses most heavily, life and
death were the issue, and the tired animals could not be mercifully
spared. Would they be able to hold out with ten miles of the same cruel
lope ahead of them, before the breaks of the main Elkhorn would be
reached?
There was an hour more of severe riding, during which the heels of the
riders and the sharp sting of the quirt were often called into
requisition to urge the jaded animals on to their hard duty. They were
flecked with foam, their nostrils distended, and they were almost worn
out when the terribly earnest men rode down the last divide into the
grassy bottom of the first branch of the main Elkhorn.
The faintest streaks of the coming dawn were beginning to show
themselves; the summits of the Twin Mounds, capped with white limestone,
already reflected the rosy tinge of the rising sun, which was still far
below the horizon of the valley. The beautiful intervales, through which
the party urged their horses, were covered with buffalo grass, and at
the farther end, not quite half a mile distant, the fringe of timber
bordering the creek could be distinguished as its dark contour cast a
still blacker shadow over the sombre valley.
There the party halted for a few moments to reconnoitre. Captain Tucker
again had occasion to interrogate Joe. He inquired of the young trailer
what would be the first acts of the savages when they arrived in the
valley of the Elkhorn, if indeed they came at all.
"Well, Mr. Tucker," replied the boy, "the first thing the Indians would
do--they'd hide themselves in the timber; lie down in the grass,
probably, and then send out one or more of their runners, the very best
they had with them, to sneak around and watch for a chance to make a
break together on the cabins. Then, if the outlook was favorable, and
none of the settlers were stirring, they'd go from cabin to cabin,
murdering, scalping, and firing the buildings as fast as they could."
"Well, then," said the captain, as he took both of the boy's hands in
his own, and gazed into his bright face, "you know that all the settlers
on the Oxhide, and your own folks, too, say that you are as much of an
Indian as if you had been born in a tepee, so far as savage education is
concerned. Now, I've been talking to your father, and he agrees with me;
I want you to do some dangerous work, or at least it is somewhat risky.
You are the only one among us all who can do it as it should be done. It
is this. While we remain here in the shadow of the timber to blow our
animals and graze them a little, I want you to cross the creek on foot,
and go up to Spillman Ford with Alderdyce, who will show you where it
intersects this branch of the Elkhorn, and try to discover, if you can,
by the dim light, any signs of Indians. I'm inclined to think they have
not come down into this valley at all. But I want you to find out where
they are, if possible. If you do not find any track of them, after we
have rested our horses and warned the settlers of the danger, we will
all go on to the scene of the massacre, and there you will be sure to
learn where they have gone."
Joe and Alderdyce turned over their horses to one of the men who were on
guard watching the animals while they fed on the rich buffalo grass, and
then started on foot for the ford of the Elkhorn leading to Spillman
Creek. It was about a mile, and during the walk, Joe and Alderdyce
talked over the affair of the morning. Joe asked his companion to tell
him exactly what the commanding officer had said to him when he reported
the massacre to him at Fort Harker.
"Well, Joe, I will tell you just what he told me. He said that General
Sheridan had ordered a company of Custer's regiment of mounted troopers
to be sent to the Elkhorn valley and to remain there until the settlers
were advised to come in, or the proposed Indian war was ended."
"Now I have an idea," said Joe to him. "We shall not find any Indians on
this trip; the cavalry have already started for the valley, and the
savages have got wind of it and have gone back to their village,
probably, a hundred miles south of the Arkansas. But, anyhow, we'll go
on up to the ford and learn what we can."
When they reached the crossing, not a sign of a pony's hoof could be
discovered, and both gave a sigh of relief as they now knew that none of
the savages had come down towards the Elkhorn. They hurried back to
their party, and Joe reported that he had not seen a sign.
"Good enough," said Captain Tucker, as he listened to the good news.
"Now, men," continued he, turning and addressing himself to the party
who had gathered near him to learn what report Joe and Alderdyce might
bring, "we will remain here for another hour, and after warning some of
the prominent settlers in the valley, we will go up to the head of
Spillman Creek and see what is to be discovered there. Who knows but
some one may be found hidden in the brush, not daring to come out. We
may be able to save a life or two yet."