SCOUTING FOR UNCLE SAM
GREAT excitement prevailed throughout the West over the rebellion
of the Indians. The effect of the disturbances was felt increasingly
severely in the district between Bannack and Sheridan. The Nez Percés
Indians had long dwelt in the beautiful and fertile Wallowa Valley in
Oregon. They resented the new treaty and fled into Montana from the
soldiers sent to force them into the reservations. They were accustomed
to the trails through Idaho and over the mountains as they had often
come to Montana to camp and to hunt buffalo. This tribe had become
known as the Nez Percés (nose pinched) Indians because they wore rings
in their noses when Lewis and Clark found them during their western
explorations. It is claimed by some members of the tribe that this was
a mistake and that wearing nose rings had never been a custom of theirs.
The Nez Percés were a peaceful people and it was this tribe that had
sent the delegation to find the “White Man’s Book of Heaven.” They had
remembered the white man’s religion during the twenty-five years after
the visit of those early explorers and the time of the pilgrimage of
their leaders to St. Louis. They were eager to know the true religion
and had often disputed about it among themselves. Some members of the
tribe held that the white man worshiped the sun, as he had pointed to
the sky when he spoke to them of God. They knew that the book would
tell them the truth.
One of the religious ceremonies of the Nez Percés was the sun-dance.
A pole was set up in the center and the people circled about it. The
priest stood in the center of the circle and held up a fish, berries,
or some other food and said, “Oh! Father bless the fish. Oh! Father
bless us.” The phrase varied, of course, with the food thus held to the
sun. Every one would chant the words after him with their heads bowed
to the ground.
The resentment of these peaceful and worshipful, but now rebellious
Indians showed itself in their acts of defiance. The settlements
were greatly disturbed. Stories of wanton raids on the settlers were
borne back and forth as the swift riders galloped over the prairies.
Stockades were made for the protection of the women and children.
Miners, ranchmen, and settlers were all engrossed in the one big object
of protecting the lives of the scattered whites, and of saving the
property so dearly bought by their daring and toil.
Thus Brother Van found a new job. He gave his services to his country,
and, still preaching, singing, and cheering sad hearts, he became
war scout for General O. O. Howard, who had been put in command of
the troops sent to quell the Indian uprising. Only indecisive battles
were fought. The Indians were not quieted, but were fired to further
violence. Still resenting the presence of the whites on the plains, and
still failing to appreciate the protection of the Great White Father
at Washington, they were moved to many acts of violence under such
indomitable leaders as Chief Joseph, Looking Glass, and White Bird to
command their movements.
The town of Bannack was built on Grasshopper Creek where gold was
discovered in 1862. It was the first capital after the region became
a territory and it was there in December, 1864, that the first
legislature met and divided the new territory into counties.
Fear of the Indians was so intense in Bannack that the town was
picketed, and volunteers were on the lookout at night. Brother Van was
preaching to a large congregation in the courthouse and guards watched
the building in which he spoke.
“He that dwelleth in the secret place of the Most High shall abide
under the shadow of the Almighty.
“I will say of the Lord, He is my refuge and my fortress: my God; in
him will I trust.
“Surely he shall deliver thee from the snare of the fowler, and from
the noisome pestilence.”
These were the words with which the preacher sought to quiet the alarm
in the hearts of the waiting people. At daybreak a swift rider came
into town and one arm dangled as he rode. Then came another rider who
brought the message, “Indians are devastating and killing as they come
and many of the settlers are being killed.”
A quick consultation followed in the grey dawn. Fifteen men volunteered
and the missionary scout was among them. Melvin Trask was elected
captain of the volunteer band. When all were ready a woman came and
asked to be allowed to accompany them, for her husband, Mr. Winter,
was on the plains at the mercy of the invaders. The company absolutely
refused to allow her to go, and she was put under the guard of some
neighbors that she might be protected.
The party set forth with grim, set faces and had proceeded about twelve
miles when they heard a rider approaching from the rear. On guard and
alert against possible surprise, they were astonished on looking back
to see Mrs. Winter, who soon rode into their circle. Declaring that
no power on earth could keep her from her husband, she had mounted the
splendid horse which was her own particular property, and now joined
the party of volunteers. They rode until they reached her home. At the
front door lay the body of a man with four bullet wounds in his head,
and on opening the door, Mrs. Winter found the body of her husband’s
partner, Mr. Montague. Mr. Winter could not be found in the house, so
the party started to search the grounds. By the side of the house they
found the body of a Mr. Smith, and further on discovered a ranchman
named Farnsworth and to him were able to give comfort in his dying
moments.
Two scouts now set out to find Mr. Winter. As they departed, the Nez
Percés warriors returned to the scene of devastation, and the little
band of volunteers was forced to ride rapidly toward Bannack, firing
as they went. This left the scouts alone at the mercy of the Indians.
Crawling when they must, running when they could, they evaded the
Indians and came at last to a protected section, where they were able
to make real progress. Here they met the retreating party and the
glad meeting was just over, when to their wondering eyes appeared
a blood-stained, disheveled, white man. Mrs. Winter recognized her
husband, and their joyous reunion took place on the sheltered road.
Cautiously the anxious riders turned back to the Winter ranch. The
Indians had again departed. A wagon was found that could be used,
though the devastating hands of the Indians had touched, not only
the house, but all the property of the ranchman. The four bodies were
tenderly lifted and taken to Bannack for Christian burial. That funeral
is a sacred hour in Montana history. General Howard’s scout, Brother
Van, was the preacher. The terrified people gathered in a great sobbing
congregation. The isolation of the settlers gave them a feeling of
desolation that was disheartening. These four bodies were evidences of
the murderous intent of the red men; surely a large task was set for
Brother Van in helping the terror-stricken on that day.
The services began and the preacher in his own quieting way talked to
the living, for hope was his vital breath. Comfort began to steal over
the waiting throng, when lo, a messenger appeared at the church door.
He said, “The Indians are again approaching Bannack.”
The service came to an abrupt close, for those in attendance hastened
home to protect children and property. All was in confusion. The men
gathered in consultation. They decided that word of the new attack must
be taken to General Howard, who was coming toward the scene and was
even then but twelve miles away.
Again volunteers were called for. Once more Brother Van offered
his services and with John Poindexter set out for help. They rode
through Indian country, and evading every danger, came at last to
the detachment of the regular army. They found the soldiers in sore
straits, for the long march through Idaho had been most disheartening.
Communications with the East were cut, and they were compelled to live
on such scant forage as the country provided. The infantry was without
shoes and the cavalry was tired out with long marches in a mountainous
country. On hearing of the danger that threatened Bannack, General
Howard dispatched a company of cavalry for the town’s protection. He
then spoke to the two hardy, seasoned scouts who had come to him for
help, and asked of them a great service. He told them of the scantiness
of his supplies. He explained the importance of sending information to
Washington concerning the serious situation, and asked them if they
would be his messengers to the nearest point of communication with the
government.
“We are at our country’s service,” was their instant reply.
So, in the lonely watches of the night, John Poindexter and Brother Van
started on another errand of mercy. As they left the camp they could
hear the hoot of the owl and the yelp of the coyote――sounds that were
plaintive and saddening at any time, but to these two scouts they were
now full of deadly meaning. They knew that the hoot and the yelp were
signals given by watching Indians.
As silently as possible they moved, going directly to the south, and
as they journeyed the calls grew indistinct, and at last were heard no
more. The scouts relaxed slightly, for their confidence was somewhat
regained. Suddenly in the dim dawn twelve warriors loomed up before
them. No shots could be fired. The party was small and a shot would but
call other waiting Indians to their assistance. General Howard must not
be drawn into needless battle, for his men and horses were suffering
for lack of rest. The horses which the scouts were riding were fresh
and spirited; so, giving spur and riding in furious haste, the two
messengers outdistanced the Indians, leaving them and the immediate
danger far behind.
At last the scouts reached the stage road, and rode without
interruption to a station. Here the precious message to Washington was
put in the hands of Uncle Sam’s postmen, who drove the stage-coaches
amid such peril and hardship, carrying passengers and letters across
the “Great American Desert.” Their duty accomplished, Brother Van and
his companion returned to the seat of war. They found Bannack ready
for a siege. Captain Bell was in charge of the company of regulars, and
there were also two companies of Montana Volunteers from Butte under
the command of Major W. A. Clark.
When the excitement over their safe return had subsided, Brother Van
again turned his attention toward the church. The town was full of
people and their need of solace was great. A church building had been
started but the Indian wars had halted the work. The missionary scout
determined to finish the church and he found that everybody wanted to
help; soldiers, settlers, and cowboys went at the building with hearty
good will. The little church was thus very speedily completed, and on
a beautiful Sabbath Day another of Brother Van’s first enterprises was
dedicated to the Lord.
Illustration: BROTHER VAN’S DISPATCH TO THE HELENA HERALD,
AUGUST 13, 1877, DESCRIBES CONDITIONS AT BANNACK
What the helpful presence of the preacher-scout meant to the
distressed townspeople in those trying days is shown by a dispatch sent
from Bannack to the Helena _Herald_, August, 1877. The correspondent
reported: “Word also has just arrived that there is a load of guns and
ammunition within fifteen miles of us; an escort has just gone out to
meet it. News also comes that Joe Metlin is on his way from Glendale
with a company of volunteers for our protection, and that he will
arrive in a few hours. It is now midnight, and every now and then some
one keeps coming in, so that if we get the guns here by morning we
will be in better shape. The Rev. Van Orsdel is here doing duty as a
volunteer. He is a whole man. God bless all good men of whatever creed.”
A successful work in this community seemed ahead of the
scout-missionary. A common fear had drawn the people closely together
and nearer to their knowledge of a protecting God. But another work was
given to Brother Van and fresh adventures shortly presented themselves.