BOY DAYS IN KANSAS.
During the summer of 1853 we lived in our little log house, and father
continued to trade with the Indians, who became very friendly; hardly a
day passed without a social visit from them. I spent a great deal of time
with the Indian boys, who taught me how to shoot with the bow and arrow,
at which I became quite expert. I also took part in all their sports, and
learned to talk the Kickapoo language to some extent.
Father desired to express his friendship for these Indians, and
accordingly arranged a grand barbecue for them. He invited them all to be
present on a certain day, which they were; he then presented them with
two fat beeves, to be killed and cooked in the various Indian styles.
Mother made several large boilers full of coffee, which she gave to them,
together with sugar and bread. There were about two hundred Indians in
attendance at the feast, and they all enjoyed and appreciated it. In the
evening they had one of their grand fantastic war dances, which greatly
amused me, it being the first sight of the kind I had ever witnessed.
My Uncle Elijah and quite a large number of gentlemen and ladies came
over from Weston to attend the entertainment. The Indians returned to
their homes well satisfied.
My uncle at that time owned a trading post at Silver Lake, in the
Pottawattamie country, on the Kansas river, and he arranged an excursion
to that place. Among the party were several ladies from Weston, and
father, mother and myself. Mr. McMeekan, my uncle's superintendent, who
had come to Weston for supplies, conducted the party to the post.
The trip across the prairies was a delightful one, and we remained at the
post several days. Father and one or two of the men went on to Fort Riley
to view the country, and upon their return my uncle entertained the
Pottawattamie Indians with a barbecue similar to the one given by father
to the Kickapoos.
During the latter part of the summer father filled a hay contract at Fort
Leavenworth. I passed much of my time among the campers, and spent days
and days in riding over the country with Mr. William Russell, who was
engaged in the freighting business and who seemed to take a considerable
interest in me. In this way I became acquainted with many wagon-masters,
hunters and teamsters, and learned a great deal about the business of
handling cattle and mules.
It was an excellent school for me, and I acquired a great deal of
practical knowledge, which afterwards I found to be of invaluable
service, for it was not long before I became employed by Majors &
Russell, remaining with them in different capacities, for several years.
The winter of 1853-54 was spent by father at our little prairie home in
cutting house logs and fence rails, which he intended to use on his farm,
as soon as the bill for the opening of the territory for settlement
should pass. This bill, which was called the "Enabling act of Kansas
territory," was passed in April, 1854, and father immediately pre-empted
the claim on which we were living.
The summer of that year was an exciting period in the history of the new
territory. Thousands and thousands of people, seeking new homes, flocked
thither, a large number of the emigrants coming over from adjoining
states. The Missourians, some of them, would come laden with bottles of
whisky, and after drinking the liquor would drive the bottles into the
ground to mark their land claims, not waiting to put up any buildings.
The Missourians, mostly, were pro-slavery men, and held enthusiastic
meetings at which they expressed their desire that Kansas should be a
slave state and did not hesitate to declare their determination to make
it so. Rively's store was the headquarters for these men, and there they
held their meetings.
[Illustration: STAKING OUT LOTS.]
At first they thought father would coincide with them on account of his
brother Elijah being a Missourian, but in this they were greatly
mistaken. At one of their gatherings, when there were about one hundred
of the reckless men present, my father, who happened also to be there,
was called upon for a speech. After considerable urging, he mounted the
box and began speaking, as nearly as I can recollect, as follows:
"Gentlemen and Fellow-citizens: You have called upon me for a speech, and
I have accepted your invitation rather against my will, as my views may
not accord with the sentiments of the rest of this assembly. My remarks,
at this time, will be brief and to the point. The question before us
to-day is, shall the territory of Kansas be a free or a slave state. The
question of slavery in itself is a broad one, and one which I do not care
at this time and place to discuss at length. I apprehend that your motive
in calling upon me is to have me express my sentiments in regard to the
introduction of slavery into Kansas. I shall gratify your wishes in that
respect. I was one of the pioneers of the State of Iowa, and aided in its
settlement when it was a territory, and helped to organize it as a state.
"Gentlemen, I voted that it should be a _white_ state--that negroes,
whether free or slave, should never be allowed to locate within its
limits; and, gentlemen, I say to you now, and I say it boldly, that I
propose to exert all my power in making Kansas the same kind of a state
as Iowa. I believe in letting slavery remain as it now exists, and I
shall always oppose its further extension. These are my sentiments,
gentlemen and let me tell you--"
He never finished this sentence, or his speech. His expressions were
anything but acceptable to the rough-looking crowd, whose ire had been
gradually rising to fever heat, and at this point they hooted and hissed
him, and shouted, "You black abolitionist, shut up!" "Get down from that
box!" "Kill him!" "Shoot him!" and so on. Father, however, maintained his
position on the dry-goods box, notwithstanding the excitement and the
numerous invitations to step down, until a hot-headed pro-slavery man,
who was in the employ of my Uncle Elijah, crowded up and said: "Get off
that box, you black abolitionist, or I'll pull you off."
Father paid but little attention to him, and attempted to resume his
speech, intending doubtless to explain his position and endeavor to
somewhat pacify the angry crowd. But the fellow jumped up on the box, and
pulling out a huge bowie knife, stabbed father twice, who reeled and fell
to the ground. The man sprang after him, and would have ended his life
then and there, had not some of the better men in the crowd interfered in
time to prevent him from carrying out his murderous intention.
The excitement was intense, and another assault would probably have been
made on my father, had not Rively hurriedly carried him to his home.
There was no doctor within any reasonable distance, and father at once
requested that he be conveyed in the carriage to his brother Elijah's
house in Weston. My mother and a driver accordingly went there with him,
where his wounds were dressed. He remained in Weston several weeks before
he was able to stir about again, but he never fully recovered from the
wounds, which eventually proved the cause of his death.
[Illustration: MY FATHER STABBED]
My uncle of course at once discharged the ruffian from his employ. The
man afterwards became a noted desperado, and was quite conspicuous in the
Kansas war.
My father's indiscreet speech at Rively's brought upon our family all of
the misfortunes and difficulties which from that time on befell us. As
soon as he was able to attend to his business again, the Missourians
began to harass him in every possible way, and kept it up with hardly a
moment's cessation. Kickapoo City, as it was called, a small town that
had sprung into existence seven miles up the river from Fort
Leavenworth, became the hot-bed of the pro-slavery doctrine and the
headquarters of its advocates. Here was really the beginning of the
Kansas troubles. My father, who had shed the first blood in the cause of
the freedom of Kansas, was notified, upon his return to his trading post,
to leave the territory, and he was threatened with death by hanging or
shooting, if he dared to remain.
[Illustration: MY FATHER'S ESCAPE]
One night a body of armed men, mounted on horses, rode up to our house
and surrounded it. Knowing what they had come for, and seeing that there
would be but little chance for him in an encounter with them, father
determined to make his escape by a little stratagem. Hastily disguising
himself in mother's bonnet and shawl, he boldly walked out of the house
and proceeded towards the corn-field. The darkness proved a great
protection, as the horsemen, between whom he passed, were unable to
detect him in his disguise; supposing him to be a woman, they neither
halted him nor followed him, and he passed safely on into the
corn-field, where he concealed himself.
The horsemen soon dismounted and inquired for father; mother very
truthfully told them that he was away. They were not satisfied with her
statement, however, and they at once made a thorough search of the house.
They raved and swore when they could not find him, and threatened him
with death whenever they should catch him. I am sure if they had captured
him that night, they would have killed him. They carried off nearly
everything of value in the house and about the premises; then going to
the pasture, they drove off all the horses; my pony Prince afterward
succeeding in breaking away from them and came back home. Father lay
secreted in the corn-field for three days, as there were men in the
vicinity who were watching for him all the time; he finally made his
escape, and reached Fort Leavenworth in safety, whither the pro-slavery
men did not dare to follow him.
While he was staying at Fort Leavenworth, he heard that Jim Lane, Captain
Cleveland and Captain Chandler were on their way from Indiana to Kansas
with a body of Free State men, between two and three hundred strong. They
were to cross the Missouri river near Doniphan, between Leavenworth and
Nebraska City; their destination being Lawrence. Father determined to
join them, and took passage on a steamboat which was going up the river.
Having reached the place of crossing, he made himself known to the
leaders of the party, by whom he was most cordially received.
The pro-slavery men, hearing of the approach of the Free State party,
resolved to drive them out of the territory. The two parties met at
Hickory Point, where a severe battle was fought, several being killed;
the victory resulted in favor of the Free State men, who passed on to
Lawrence without much further opposition. My father finally left them,
and seeing that he could no longer live at home, went to Grasshopper
Falls, thirty-five miles west of Leavenworth; there he began the
erection of a saw-mill.
While he was thus engaged we learned from one of our hired workmen at
home, that the pro-slavery men had laid another plan to kill him, and
were on their way to Grasshopper Falls to carry out their intention.
Mother at once started me off on Prince to warn father of the coming
danger. When I had gone about seven miles I suddenly came upon a party of
men, who were camped at the crossing of Stranger Creek. As I passed along
I heard one of them, who recognized me, say, "That's the son of the old
abolitionist we are after;" and the next moment I was commanded to halt.
[Illustration: LIFE OR DEATH.]
Instead of stopping I instantly started my pony on a run, and on looking
back I saw that I was being pursued by three or four of the party, who
had mounted their horses, no doubt supposing that they could easily
capture me. It was very fortunate that I had heard the remark about my
being "the son of the abolitionist," for then I knew in an instant that
they were _en route_ to Grasshopper Falls to murder my father. I at once
saw the importance of my escaping and warning father in time. It was a
matter of life or death to him. So I urged Prince to his utmost speed,
feeling that upon him and myself depended a human life--a life that was
dearer to me than that of any other man in the world. I led my pursuers a
lively chase for four or five miles; finally, when they saw they could
not catch me, they returned to their camp. I kept straight on to
Grasshopper Falls, arriving there in ample time to inform him of the
approach of his old enemies.
That same night father and I rode to Lawrence, which had become the
headquarters of the Free State men. There he met Jim Lane and several
other leading characters, who were then organizing what was known as the
Lecompton Legislature.
Father was elected as a member of that body, and took an active part in
organizing the first legislature of Kansas, under Governor Reeder, who,
by the way, was a Free State man and a great friend of father's.
About this time agents were being sent to the East to induce emigrants to
locate in Kansas, and father was sent as one of these agents to Ohio.
After the legislature had been organized at Lawrence, he departed for
Ohio and was absent several months.
A few days after he had gone, I started for home by the way of Fort
Leavenworth, accompanied by two men, who were going to the fort on
business. As we were crossing a stream called Little Stranger, we were
fired upon by some unknown party; one of my companions, whose name has
escaped my memory, was killed. The other man and myself put spurs to our
horses and made a dash for our lives. We succeeded in making our escape,
though a farewell shot or two was sent after us. At Fort Leavenworth I
parted company with my companion, and reached home without any further
adventure.
My mother and sisters, who had not heard of my father or myself since I
had been sent to warn him of his danger, had become very anxious and
uneasy about us, and were uncertain as to whether we were dead or alive.
I received a warm welcome home, and as I entered the house, mother seemed
to read from the expression of my countenance that father was safe; of
course the very first question she asked was as to his whereabouts, and
in reply I handed her a long letter from him which explained everything.
Mother blessed me again and again for having saved his life.
While father was absent in Ohio, we were almost daily visited by some of
the pro-slavery men, who helped themselves to anything they saw fit, and
frequently compelled my mother and sisters to cook for them, and to
otherwise submit to a great deal of bad treatment. Hardly a day passed
without some of them inquiring "where the old man was," saying they would
kill him on sight. Thus we passed the summer of 1854, remaining at our
home notwithstanding the unpleasant surroundings, as mother had made up
her mind not to be driven out of the country. My uncle and other friends
advised her to leave Kansas and move to Missouri, because they did not
consider our lives safe, as we lived so near the headquarters of the
pro-slavery men, who had sworn vengeance upon father.
Nothing, however, could persuade mother to change her determination. She
said that the pro-slavery men had taken everything except the land and
the little home, and she proposed to remain there as long as she lived,
happen what might. Our only friends in Salt Creek valley were two
families; one named Lawrence, the other Hathaway, and the peaceable
Indians, who occasionally visited us. My uncle, living in Missouri and
being somewhat in fear of the pro-slavery men, could not assist us much,
beyond expressing his sympathy and sending us provisions.
In the winter of 1854-55 father returned from Ohio, but as soon as his
old enemies learned that he was with us, they again compelled him to
leave. He proceeded to Lawrence, and there spent the winter in attending
the Lecompton Legislature. The remainder of the year he passed mostly at
Grasshopper Falls, where he completed his saw-mill. He occasionally
visited home under cover of the night, and in the most secret manner;
virtually carrying his life in his hand.
In the spring of this year (1855) a pro-slavery party came to our house
to search for father; not finding him, they departed, taking with them my
pony, Prince. I shall never forget the man who stole that pony. He
afterwards rose from the low level of a horse thief to the high dignity
of a justice of the peace, and I think still lives at Kickapoo. The loss
of my faithful pony nearly broke my heart and bankrupted me in business,
as I had nothing to ride.
One day, soon afterwards, I met my old friend, Mr. Russell, to whom I
related all my troubles, and his generous heart was touched by my story.
"Billy, my boy," said he, "cheer up, and come to Leavenworth, and I'll
employ you. I'll give you twenty-five dollars a month to herd cattle."
I accepted the offer, and heartily thanking him, hurried home to obtain
mother's consent. She refused to let me go, and all my pleading was in
vain. Young as I was--being then only in my tenth year, my ideas and
knowledge of the world, however, being far in advance of my age--I
determined to run away from home. Mr. Russell's offer of twenty-five
dollars a month was a temptation which I could not resist. The
remuneration for my services seemed very large to me, and I accordingly
stole away and walked to Leavenworth.
Mr. Badger, one of Mr. Russell's superintendents, immediately sent me
out, mounted on a little gray mule, to herd cattle. I worked at this for
two months, and then came into Leavenworth. I had not been home during
all this time, but mother had learned from Mr. Russell where I was, and
she no longer felt uneasy, as he had advised her to let me remain in his
employ. He assured her that I was all right, and said that when the herd
came in he would allow me to make a visit home.
Upon my arrival in Leavenworth with the herd of cattle, Mr. Russell
instructed his book-keeper, Mr. Byers, to pay me my wages, amounting to
fifty dollars. Byers gave me the sum all in half-dollar pieces. I put the
bright silver coins into a sack, which I tied to my mule, and started
home, thinking myself a _millionaire_. This money I gave to mother, who
had already forgiven me for running away.
Thus began my service for the firm of Russell & Majors, afterwards
Russell, Majors & Waddell, with whom I spent seven years of my life in
different capacities--such as cavallard-driver, wagon-master, pony
express rider and driver. I continued to work for Mr. Russell during
the rest of the summer of 1855, and in the winter of 1855-56 I
attended school.
Father, who still continued to secretly visit home, was anxious to have
his children receive as much of an education as possible, under the
adverse circumstances surrounding us, and he employed a teacher, Miss
Jennie Lyons, to come to our house and teach. My mother was well
educated--more so than my father--and it used to worry her a great deal
because her children could not receive better educational advantages.
However, the little school at home got along exceedingly well, and we all
made rapid advances in our studies, as Miss Lyons was an excellent
teacher. She afterwards married a gentleman named Hook, who became the
first mayor of Cheyenne, where she now lives.
The Kansas troubles reached their highest pitch in the spring of 1856,
and our family continued to be harassed as much as ever by our old
enemies. I cannot now recollect one-half of the serious difficulties that
we had to encounter; but I very distinctly remember one incident well
worth relating. I came home one night on a visit from Leavenworth, being
accompanied by a fellow-herder--a young man. During the night we heard a
noise outside of the house, and soon the dogs began barking loudly. We
looked out to ascertain the cause of the disturbance, and saw that the
house was surrounded by a party of men. Mother had become accustomed to
such occurrences, and on this occasion she seemed to be master of the
situation from the start. Opening a window, she coolly sang out, in a
firm tone of voice: "Who are you? What do you want here?"
"We are after that old abolition husband of yours," was the answer from
one of the crowd.
"He is not in this house, and has not been here for a long time," said
my mother.
"That's a lie! We know he is in the house, and we are bound to have him,"
said the spokesman of the party.
I afterwards learned they had mistaken the herder, who had ridden home
with me, for my father for whom they had been watching.
"My husband is not at home," emphatically repeated my heroic mother--for
if there ever was a heroine she certainly was one--"but the house is full
of armed men," continued she, "and I'll give you just two minutes to get
out of the yard; if you are not out by the end of that time I shall order
them to fire on you."
She withdrew from the window for a few moments and hurriedly instructed
the herder to call aloud certain names--any that he might think of--just
as if the house was full of men to whom he was giving orders. He followed
her directions to the very letter. He could not have done it any better
had he rehearsed the act a dozen times.
The party outside heard him, as it was intended they should, and they
supposed that my mother really had quite a force at her command. While
this little by play was being enacted, she stepped to the open window
again and said:
"John Green, you and your friends had better go away or the men will
surely fire on you."
At this, point the herder, myself and my sisters commenced stamping on
the floor in imitation of a squad of soldiers, and the herder issued his
orders in a loud voice to his imaginary troops, who were apparently
approaching the window preparatory to firing a volley at the enemy. This
little stratagem proved eminently successful. The cowardly villains began
retreating, and then my mother fired an old gun into the air which
greatly accelerated their speed, causing them to break and run. They soon
disappeared from view in the darkness.
The next morning we accidentally discovered that they had intended to
blow up the house. Upon going into the cellar which had been left open on
one side, we found two kegs of powder together with a fuse secreted
there. It only required a lighted match to have sent us into eternity. My
mother's presence of mind, which had never yet deserted her in any trying
situation, had saved our lives.
Shortly after this affair, I came home again on a visit and found father
there sick with fever, and confined to his bed. One day my old enemy rode
up to the house on my pony Prince, which he had stolen from me.
"What is your business here to-day?" asked mother.
"I am looking for the old man," he replied. "I am going to search the
house, and if I find him I am going to kill him. Here, you girls," said
he, addressing my sisters, "get me some dinner, and get it quick, too,
for I am as hungry as a wolf."
"Very well; pray be seated, and we'll get you something to eat," said one
of my sisters, without exhibiting the least sign of fear.
He sat down, and while they were preparing a dinner for him, he took out
a big knife and sharpened it on a whetstone, repeating his threat of
searching the house and killing my father.
I had witnessed the whole proceeding, and heard the threats, and I
determined that the man should never go up stairs where father was lying
in bed, unable to rise. Taking a double-barreled pistol which I had
recently bought, I went to the head of the stairs, cocked the weapon, and
waited for the ruffian to come up, determined, that the moment he set
foot on the steps I would kill him. I was relieved, however, from the
stern necessity, as he did not make his appearance.
The brute was considerably intoxicated when he came to the house, and the
longer he sat still the more his brain became muddled with liquor, and he
actually forgot what he had come there for. After he had eaten his
dinner, he mounted his horse and rode off, and it was a fortunate thing
for him that he did.
Father soon recovered and returned to Grasshopper Falls, while I resumed
my cattle herding.