SCOUTING.
On the third day of October the Fifth Cavalry arrived at Fort Hays, and I
at once began making the acquaintance of the different officers of the
regiment. I was introduced by General Sheridan to Colonel William Royal,
who was in command of the regiment. He was a gallant officer, and an
agreeable and pleasant gentleman. He is now stationed at Omaha as
Inspector General in the department of the Platte. I also became
acquainted with Major W.H. Brown, Major Walker. Captain Sweetman,
Quartermaster E.M. Hays, and in fact all the officers of the regiment.
General Sheridan, being anxious to punish the Indians who had lately
fought General Forsyth, did not give the regiment much of a rest, and
accordingly on the 5th of October it began its march for the Beaver Creek
country. The first night we camped on the South fork of Big Creek, four
miles west of Hays City. By this time I had become pretty well acquainted
with Major Brown and Captain Sweetman, who invited me to mess with them
on this expedition; and a jolly mess we had. There were other scouts in
the command besides myself, and I particularly remember Tom Renahan, Hank
Fields and a character called "Nosey" on account of his long nose.
On the morning of the 6th we pulled out to the north, and during the day
I was very favorably struck with the appearance of the regiment. It was a
beautiful command, and when strung out on the prairie with a train of
seventy-five six-mule wagons, ambulances and pack mules, I felt very
proud of my position as guide and chief of scouts of such a warlike
expedition.
Just as we were about to go into camp on the Saline river that night, we
ran on to a band of about fifteen Indians, who, seeing us, dashed across
the creek, followed by some bullets which we sent after them; but as the
small band proved to be a scouting party, we pursued them only a mile or
two, when our attention was directed to a herd of buffaloes--they being
very plenty--and we succeeded in killing ten or fifteen for the command.
The next day we marched thirty miles, and late in the afternoon we went
into camp on the South fork of the Solomon. At this encampment Colonel
Royal asked me to go out and kill some buffaloes for the boys.
"All right, Colonel, send along a wagon or two to bring in the
meat," I said.
"I am not in the habit of sending out my wagons until I know that there
is something to be hauled in; kill your buffalo first and then I'll send
out the wagons," was the Colonel's reply. I said no more, but went out on
a hunt, and after a short absence returned and asked the Colonel to send
his wagons over the hill for the half dozen buffaloes I had killed.
The following afternoon he again requested me to go out and get some
fresh buffalo meat. I didn't ask him for any wagons this time, but rode
out some distance, and coming up with a small herd, I managed to get
seven of them headed straight for the encampment, and instead of shooting
them just then, I ran them at full speed right into the camp, and then
killed them all, one after the other in rapid succession. Colonel Royal
witnessed the whole proceeding, which puzzled him somewhat, as he could
see no reason why I had not killed them on the prairie. He came up,
rather angrily, and demanded an explanation. "I can't allow any such
business as this, Cody," said he, "what do you mean by it?"
"I didn't care about asking for any wagons this time, Colonel; so I
thought I would make the buffaloes furnish their own transportation," was
my reply. The Colonel saw the point in a moment, and had no more to say
on the subject.
[Illustration: BRINGING MEAT INTO CAMP.]
No Indians had been seen in the vicinity during the day, and Colonel
Royal having carefully posted his pickets, supposed everything was serene
for the night. But before morning we were roused from our slumbers by
hearing shots fired, and immediately afterwards one of the mounted
pickets came galloping into camp, saying that there were Indians close
at hand. The companies all fell into line, and were soon prepared and
anxious to give the red-skins battle; but as the men were yet new in the
Indian country a great many of them were considerably excited. No
Indians, however, made their appearance, and upon going to the
picket-post where the picket said he had seen them, none could be found
nor could any traces of them be discovered. The sentinel,--who was an
Irishman--insisted that there certainly had been red-skins there.
[Illustration: "INDIANS!"]
"But you must be mistaken," said Colonel Royal.
"Upon me sowl, Colonel, I'm not; as shure ez me name's Pat Maloney, one
of thim rid divils hit me on the head wid a club, so he did," said Pat;
and so, when morning came, the mystery was further investigated and was
easily solved. Elk tracks were found in the vicinity and it was
undoubtedly a herd of elks that had frightened Pat; as he had turned to
run, he had gone under a limb of a tree, against which he hit his head,
and supposed he had been struck by a club in the hands of an Indian. It
was hard to convince Pat however, of the truth.
A three days uninteresting march brought us to Beaver Creek where we
camped and from which point scouting parties were sent out in different
directions. Neither of these parties discovering Indians they all
returned to camp about the same time, finding it in a state of great
excitement, it having been attacked a few hours previous by a party of
Indians, who had succeeded in killing two men and in making off with
sixty horses belonging to Co. H.
That evening the command started on the trail of these Indian
horse-thieves; Major Brown with two companies and three days rations
pushing ahead in advance of the main command. Being unsuccessful,
however, in overtaking the Indians, and getting nearly out of
provisions--it being our eighteenth day out, the entire command marched
towards the nearest railroad point, and camped on the Saline River;
distant three miles from Buffalo Tank.
While waiting for supplies we received a new commanding officer, Brevet
Major-General E.A. Carr, who was the senior major of the regiment, and
who ranked Colonel Royal. He brought with him the now celebrated Forsyth
scouts, who were commanded by Lieutenant Pepoon, a regular army officer.
[Illustration: GEN'L E.A. CARR.]
It was also while waiting in this camp that Major Brown received a new
lieutenant to fill a vacancy in his company. On the day that this officer
was to arrive, Major Brown had his private ambulance brought out, and
invited me to accompany him to the railroad station to meet his
lieutenant, whose name was A.B. Bache. He proved to be a fine gentleman,
and a brave, dashing officer. On the way to the dépôt Major Brown had
said, "Now, Cody, when we come back we'll give Bache a lively ride and
shake him up a little."
Major Brown was a jolly good fellow, but sometimes he would get "a little
off," and as this was one of his "off days" he was bound to amuse himself
in some original and mischievous way. Reaching the dépôt just as the
train came in, we easily found the Lieutenant, and giving him the back
seat in the ambulance we were soon headed for camp.
Pretty soon Major Brown took the reins from his driver, and at once began
whipping the mules. After getting them into a lively gallop he pulled out
his revolver and fired several shots. The road was terribly rough and the
night was so dark that we could hardly see where we were going. It Was a
wonderful piece of luck that we were not tipped over and our necks
broken. Finally Bache said, good-humoredly:
"Is this the way you break in all your Lieutenants, Major?"
"Oh, no; I don't do this as a regular thing, but it's the way we
frequently ride in this country," said the Major; "just keep your
seat, Mr. Bache, and we'll take you through on time." The Major
appropriated the reply of the old California stage driver, Hank Monk,
to Horace Greely.
We were now rattling down a steep hill at full speed, and just as we
reached the bottom, the front wheels struck a deep ditch over which the
mules had jumped. We were all brought up standing by the sudden stoppage
of the ambulance. Major Brown and myself were nearly pitched out on the
wheels, while the Lieutenant came flying headlong from the back seat to
the front of the vehicle.
"Take a back seat, Lieutenant," coolly said Major Brown.
"Major, I have just left that seat," said Bache.
We soon lifted the wagon out of the ditch, and then resumed our drive,
running into camp under full headway, and creating considerable
amusement. Every one recognized the ambulance and knew at once that
Major Brown and I were out on a "lark," and therefore there was not much
said about our exploit. Halting with a grand flourish in front of his
tent, Major Brown jumped out in his most gallant style and politely
asked his lieutenant in. A very pleasant evening was spent there, quite
a number of the officers calling to make the acquaintance of the new
officer, who entertained the visitors with an amusing account of the
ride from the dépôt.
Next morning at an early hour, the command started out on a hunt for
Indians. General Carr having a pretty good idea where he would be most
likely to find them, directed me to guide him by the nearest route to
Elephant Rock on Beaver Creek.
Upon arriving at the south fork of the Beaver on the second day's march,
we discovered a large, fresh Indian trail which we hurriedly followed for
a distance of eight miles, when suddenly we saw on the bluffs ahead of
us, quite a large number of Indians.
General Carr ordered Lieutenant Pepoon's scouts and Company M to the
front. This company was commanded by Lieutenant Schinosky, a Frenchman by
birth and a reckless dare-devil by nature, who was anxious to have a
hair-lifting match. Having advanced his company nearly a mile ahead of
the main command, about four hundred Indians suddenly charged down upon
him and gave him a lively little fight, until he was supported by our
full force.
The Indians kept increasing in numbers all the while until it was
estimated that we were fighting from eight hundred to one thousand of
them. The engagement became quite general, and several were killed and
wounded on each side. The Indians were evidently fighting to give their
families and village, a chance to get away. We had undoubtedly surprised
them with a larger force than they had expected to see in that part of
the country. We fought them until dark, all the time driving them before
us. At night they annoyed us considerably by firing down into our camp
from the higher hills, and several times the command was ordered out to
dislodge them from their position and drive them back.
After having returned from one of these little sallies, Major Brown,
Captain Sweetman, Lieutenant Bache and myself were taking supper
together, when "whang!" came a bullet into Lieutenant Bache's plate,
breaking a hole through it. The bullet came from the gun of one of the
Indians, who had returned to the high bluff over-looking our camp. Major
Brown declared it was a crack shot, because it broke the plate. We
finished our supper without having any more such close calls.
At daylight next morning we struck out on the trail, and soon came to the
spot where the Indians had camped the day before. We could see that
their village was a very large one, consisting of about five hundred
lodges; and we pushed forward rapidly from this point on the trail which
ran back toward Prairie Dog Creek.
About two o'clock we came in sight of the retreating village, and soon
the warriors turned back to give us battle. They set fire to the prairie
grass in front of us, and on all sides, in order to delay us as much as
possible. We kept up a running fight for the remainder of the afternoon,
and the Indians repeatedly attempted to lead us off the track of their
flying village, but their trail was easily followed, as they were
continually dropping tepee poles, camp kettles, robes, furs and all heavy
articles belonging to them. They were evidently scattering, and it
finally became difficult for us to keep on the main trail. When darkness
set in, we went into camp, it being useless to try to follow the Indians
after nightfall.
Next morning we were again on the trail, which led north, and back
towards the Beaver Creek, which stream it crossed within a few miles of
the spot where we had first discovered the Indians, they having made
nearly a complete circle, in hopes of misleading us. Late in the
afternoon, we again saw them going over a hill far ahead of us, and
towards evening the main body of warriors came back and fought us once
more; but we continued to drive them until darkness set in, when we
camped for the night.
The Indians soon scattered in every direction, but we followed the main
trail to the Republican river, where we made a cut-off, and then went
north towards the Platte river. We found, however, that the Indians by
traveling night and day had got a long start, and the General concluded
that it was useless to follow them any further, as we had pushed them so
hard, and given them such a scare that they would leave the Republican
country and go north across the Union Pacific railroad. Most of the
Indians, as he had predicted, did cross the Platte river, near Ogallala,
on the Union Pacific, and thence continued northward.
That night we returned to the Republican river and camped in a grove
of cottonwoods, which I named Carr's Grove, in honor of the
commanding officer.
The General told me that the next day's march would be towards the
head-waters of the Beaver, and he asked me the distance. I replied that
it was about twenty-five miles, and he said we would make it the next
day. Getting an early start in the morning, we struck out across the
prairie, my position as guide being ahead of the advance guard. About two
o'clock General Carr overtook me, and asked how far I supposed it was to
water. I thought it was about eight miles, although we could see no sign
or indication of any stream in our front.
"Pepoon's scouts say that you are going in the wrong direction," said the
General, "and in the way you are bearing it will be fifteen miles before
you can strike any of the branches of the Beaver; and that when you do,
you will find no water, for the Beavers are dry at this time of the year
at that point."
"General, I think the scouts are mistaken," said I, "for the Beaver has
more water near its head than it has below; and at the place where we
will strike the stream we will find immense beaver dams, large enough and
strong enough to cross the whole command, if you wish."
"Well, Cody, go ahead," said he, "I'll leave it to you, but remember
that I don't want a dry camp."
"No danger of that," said I, and then I rode on, leaving him to return to
the command. As I had predicted, we found water seven or eight miles
further on, where we came upon a beautiful little stream--a tributary of
the Beaver--hidden in the hills. We had no difficulty in selecting a
good halting place, and obtaining fresh spring water and excellent grass.
The General, upon learning from me that the stream--which was only eight
or nine miles long--had no name, took out his map and located it, and
named it Cody's Creek, which name it still bears.
We pulled out early next morning for the Beaver, and when we were
approaching the stream I rode on ahead of the advance guard, in order to
find a crossing. Just as I turned a bend of the creek, "bang!" went a
shot, and down went my horse--myself with him. I disentangled myself, and
jumped behind the dead body. Looking in the direction whence the shot had
come, I saw two Indians, and at once turned my gun loose on them, but in
the excitement of the moment I missed my aim. They fired two or three
more shots, and I returned the compliment, wounding one of their horses.
On the opposite side of the creek, going over the hill, I observed a few
lodges moving rapidly away, and also some mounted warriors, who could see
me, and who kept blazing away with their guns. The two Indians who had
fired at me and had killed my horse were retreating across the creek on a
beaver dam. I sent a few shots after them to accelerate their speed, and
also fired at the ones on the other side of the stream. I was undecided
as to whether it was best to run back to the command on foot or hold my
position. I knew that within a few minutes the troops would come up, and
if they heard the firing they would come rapidly.
The Indians, seeing that I was alone, turned and charged down the hill,
and were about to re-cross the creek to corral me, when the advance guard
of the command put in an appearance on the ridge, and dashed forward to
my rescue. The red-skins whirled and made off.
When General Carr came up, he ordered Company I to go in pursuit of the
band. I accompanied Lieutenant Brady, who commanded, and we had a running
fight with the Indians, lasting several hours. We captured several head
of their horses and most of their lodges. At night we returned to the
command, which by this time had crossed the creek on the beaver dam.
We scouted for several days along the river, and had two or three lively
skirmishes. Finally our supplies began to run low, and General Carr gave
orders to return to Fort Wallace, which we reached three days afterwards,
and where we remained several days.
While the regiment was waiting here for orders, I spent most of the time
in hunting buffaloes, and one day while I was out with a small party, we
were "jumped" by about fifty Indians. We had a severe fight of at least
an hour, when we succeeded in driving the enemy. They lost four of their
warriors, and probably concluded that we were a hard crowd. I had some
excellent marksmen with me, and they did some fine work, sending the
bullets thick and fast where they would do the most good. Two or three of
our horses had been hit, and one man had been wounded; we were ready and
willing to stay with the red-skins as long as they wished--but they
finally gave it up however, as a bad job, and rode off. We finished our
hunt, and went back to the post loaded down with plenty of buffalo meat,
and received the compliments of the General for our little fight.
[Illustration: A HARD CROWD.]