V.

Although in search of Indians and supposed to be always prepared to

encounter them, yet the warning shot of the sentry, followed as it was

by his cry of “Indians!” could not but produce the greatest excitement

in camp. Where all had been quiet before--men sleeping and resting

after their long night march, animals grazing unsuspectingly in the

midst of the wagons and tents which thickly dotted the Plain here and

there--all was now bustle if not confusion. Herders and teamsters

ran to their animals to conduct them inside the limits of camp. The

troopers of one platoon of each company hastened to secure the cavalry

horses and provide against a stampede, while those of the remaining

platoons were rapidly marshalled under arms by their troop officers,

and advanced in the direction from which the lookout reported the enemy

to be approaching.

All this required but a few moments of time. Recovering from the first

shock of surprise, we endeavored, one and all, to discover the number

and purpose of the foes who had in so unceremonious a manner disturbed

our much-needed slumbers.

Daylight had just dawned, but the sun was not yet high enough to render

a satisfactory view of the country possible. This difficulty was

aggravated, too, by a dull heavy mist, which hung like a curtain near

the horizon. Yet in spite of all these obstructions we could clearly

perceive, at a distance of perhaps a mile, the dim outlines of numerous

figures--horsemen evidently--approaching our camp, not as if simply on

the march, but in battle array. First came a deployed line of horsemen,

followed in rear, as we could plainly see, by a reserve, also mounted

and moving in compact order.

It required no practised eye to comprehend that be they who or what

they might, the parties advancing in this precise and determined manner

upon us were doing so with hostile purpose, and evidently intended to

charge into our camp unless defeated in their purpose. No time was to

be lost. Dispositions to meet the coming attack were rapidly made.

To better observe the movements and determine the strength of the

approaching parties, an officer ascended the knoll occupied by the

lookout.

We had often heard of the high perfection of some of the Indian tribes

in military evolutions and discipline, but here we saw evidences which

went far to convince us that the red man was not far behind his more

civilized brother in the art of war. Certainly no troops of my command

could have advanced a skirmish line or moved a reserve more accurately

than was done in our presence that morning.

As yet we had no means of determining to what tribe the attacking party

belonged. We were satisfied they must be either Sioux or Cheyennes,

or both; in either case we should encounter troublesome foes. But for

the heavy mist we could have comprehended everything. Soon we began

receiving reports from the officer who had ascended the lookout. First,

there were not more than eighty horsemen to be seen. This number we

could easily dispose of. Next, the attacking parties seemed to have

changed their plan; a halt was ordered, and two or three horsemen

seemed to be advancing to the front as if to parley, or reconnoitre

our position. Then the skirmishers were suddenly withdrawn and united

with the reserve, when the entire party wheeled about and began to move

off. This was mystifying in the extreme, but a couple of young cavalry

officers leaped into their saddles and taking a few mounted troopers

with them dashed after our late enemies, determined to learn more about

them than they seemed willing we should.

A brisk gallop soon cleared away the mystery, and furnished another

proof of the deceptive effects produced by the atmosphere on the

Plains. Those who have read the preceding article will remember that

at the termination of the night march which brought us to our present

camp, an officer was despatched with one troop of cavalry to find the

nearest stage station on the overland route, near which we knew we

must then be. Our camp lay on the Smoky Hill river. The stage route,

better known as the “Smoky Hill route,” was known to be but a few miles

north of us. To determine our exact locality, as we had been marching

by compass over a wild country and in the night-time, and to learn

something regarding the Indians, this officer was sent out. He was

selected for this service because of his professed experience on and

knowledge of the Plains. He had set out from our camp an hour or more

before daylight, but losing his bearings had marched his command in a

semicircle until daylight found him on the side of our camp opposite

that from which he had departed. The conical Sibley tent used in my

command, resembling the Indian lodge from which it was taken, seen

through the peculiar and uncertain morning atmosphere of that region,

had presented to his eyes and to those of his men the appearance of

an Indian village. The animals grazing about our camp might well have

been taken for the ponies of the Indians. Besides, it was well known

that large encampments of Indians were in the part of the country over

which we were marching. The bewilderment of this detachment, then,

was not surprising considering the attending circumstances. Had the

officer in command been young and inexperienced, his mishap might have

been credited to these causes; but here was an officer who had grown

gray in the service, familiar with the Plains and with Indians, yet so

completely misled by appearances as to mistake his camp, which he had

left but an hour before, for an Indian village.

Few officers laboring under the same impression would have acted so

creditably. He and his men imagined they had discovered the camp of the

Indians whom we had been pursuing, and although believing their enemies

outnumbered them ten to one, yet their zeal and earnestness prompted

them, instead of sending to their main camp for reinforcements, thereby

losing valuable time and probable opportunities to effect a surprise,

to make a dash at once into the village. And it was only the increasing

light of day that enabled them to discover their mistake and saved us

from a charge from our own troopers. This little incident will show how

necessary experienced professional guides are in connection with all

military movements on the Plains. It was a long time before the officer

who had been so unlucky as to lose his way heard the last of it from

his brother officers.

The remainder of his mission was completed more successfully.

Aided by daylight, and moving nearly due north, he soon struck the

well-travelled overland route, and from the frightened employés at

the nearest station he obtained intelligence which confirmed our

worst fears as to the extent of the Indian outbreak. Stage stations

at various points along the route had been attacked and burned, and

the inmates driven off or murdered. All travel across the Plains was

suspended, and an Indian war with all its barbarities had been forced

upon the people of the frontier.

As soon as the officer ascertaining these facts had returned to camp

and made his report, the entire command was again put in motion and

started in the direction of the stage route, with the intention of

clearing it of straggling bands of Indians, reopening the main line of

travel across the Plains, and establishing if possible upon the proper

tribes the responsibility for the numerous outrages recently committed.

The stage stations were erected at points along the route distant from

each other from ten to fifteen miles, and were used solely for the

shelter and accommodation of the relays of drivers and horses employed

on the stage route. We found, in passing over the route on our eastward

march, that only about every fourth station was occupied, the occupants

of the other three having congregated there for mutual defence against

the Indians, the latter having burned the deserted stations.

From the employés of the company at various points we learned that for

the few preceding days the Indians had been crossing the line, going

toward the north in large bodies. In some places we saw the ruins of

the burned stations, but it was not until we reached Lookout Station,

a point about fifteen miles west of Fort Hays, that we came upon the

first real evidences of an Indian outbreak. Riding some distance in

advance of the command, I reached the station only to find it and

the adjacent buildings in ashes, the ruins still smoking. Near by I

discovered the bodies of the three station-keepers, so mangled and

burned as to be scarcely recognizable as human beings. The Indians had

evidently tortured them before putting an end to their sufferings. They

were scalped and horribly disfigured. Their bodies were badly burned,

but whether before or after death could not be determined. No arrow,

or other article of Indian manufacture, could be found to positively

determine what particular tribe was the guilty one. The men at other

stations had recognized some of the Indians passing as belonging to the

Sioux and Cheyennes, the same we had passed from the village on Pawnee

Fork.

Continuing our march, we reached Fort Hays, from which point I

despatched a report to General Hancock, on the Arkansas, furnishing him

all the information I had gained concerning the outrages and movements

of the Indians. As it has been a question of considerable dispute

between the respective advocates of the Indian peace and war policy,

as to which party committed the first overt act of war, the Indians

or General Hancock’s command, I quote from a letter on the subject

written by Major-General Hancock to General Grant, in reply to a letter

of inquiry from the latter when commanding the armies of the United

States. General Hancock says:

“When I learned from General Custer, who investigated these matters

on the spot, that directly after they had abandoned the villages they

attacked and burned a mail station on the Smoky Hill, killed the white

men at it, disembowelled and burned them, fired into another station,

endeavored to gain admittance to a third, fired on my expressmen

both on the Smoky Hill and on their way to Larned, I concluded that

this must be war, and therefore deemed it my duty to take the first

opportunity which presented to resent these hostilities and outrages,

and did so by destroying their villages.”

The first paragraph of General Hancock’s special field order directing

the destruction of the Indian village read as follows:

“II. As a punishment for the bad faith practised by the Cheyennes

and Sioux who occupied the Indian village at this place, and as a

chastisement for murders and depredations committed since the arrival

of the command at this point, by the people of these tribes, the

village recently occupied by them, which is now in our hands, will be

utterly destroyed.”

[Illustration: SATANTA, SECOND CHIEF OF THE KIOWAS.]

From these extracts the question raised can be readily settled. This

act of retribution on the part of General Hancock was the signal for an

extensive pen and ink war, directed against him and his forces. This

was to be expected. The pecuniary loss and deprivation of opportunities

to speculate in Indian commodities, as practised by most Indian agents,

were too great to be submitted to without a murmur. The Cheyennes,

Arrapahoes, and Apaches had been united under one agency; the Kiowas

and Comanches under another. As General Hancock’s expedition had

reference to all of these tribes, he had extended invitations to each

of the two agents to accompany him into the Indian country, and be

present at all interviews with the representatives of these respective

tribes, for the purpose, as the invitation states, of showing the

Indians “that the officers of the Government are acting in harmony.”

These agents were both present at General Hancock’s headquarters. Both

admitted to General Hancock in conversation that Indians had been

guilty of all the outrages charged against them, but each asserted the

innocence of the particular tribes under his charge, and endeavored

to lay their crimes at the door of their neighbors. The agent of the

Kiowas and Comanches declared to the department commander that “the

tribes of his agency had been grossly wronged by having been charged

with various offences which had undoubtedly been committed by the

Cheyennes, Arrapahoes, and Apaches, and that these tribes deserved

severe and summary chastisement for their numerous misdeeds, very many

of which had been laid at the doors of his innocent tribes.”

Not to be outdone in the profuse use of fair words, however, the agent

of the three tribes thus assailed informed General Hancock that his

three tribes “were peacefully inclined, and rarely committed offences

against the laws, but that most unfortunately they were charged in many

instances with crimes which had been perpetrated by other tribes, and

that in this respect they had suffered heavily from the Kiowas, who

were the most turbulent Indians of the Plains, and deserved punishment

more than any others.”

Here was positive evidence from the agents themselves that the Indians

against whom we were operating were guilty, and deserving of severe

punishment. The only conflicting portion of the testimony was as to

which tribe was most guilty. Subsequent events proved, however, that

all of the five tribes named, as well as the Sioux, had combined for a

general war throughout the Plains and along our frontier. Such a war

had been threatened to our post commanders along the Arkansas on many

occasions during the winter. The movement of the Sioux and Cheyennes

toward the north indicated that the principal theatre of military

operations during the summer would be between the Smoky Hill and Platte

rivers. General Hancock accordingly assembled the principal chiefs of

the Kiowas and Arrapahoes in council at Fort Dodge, hoping to induce

them to remain at peace and observe their treaty obligations.

The most prominent chiefs in council were Satanta, Lone Wolf, and

Kicking Bird of the Kiowas, and Little Raven and Yellow Bear of the

Arrapahoes. During the council extravagant promises of future good

conduct were made by these chiefs. So effective and convincing was the

oratorical effort of Satanta, that at the termination of his address

the department commander and staff presented him with the uniform

coat, sash, and hat of a major-general. In return for this compliment

Satanta, within a few weeks after, attacked the post at which the

council was held, arrayed in his new uniform. This said chief had but

recently headed an expedition to the frontier of Texas, where, among

other murders committed by him and his band, was that known as the

“Box massacre.” The Box family consisted of the father, mother, and

five children, the eldest a girl about eighteen, the youngest a babe.

The entire family had been visiting at a neighbor’s house, and were

returning home in the evening, little dreaming of the terrible fate

impending, when Satanta and his warriors dashed upon them, surrounded

the wagon in which they were driving, and at the first fire killed the

father and one of the children. The horses were hastily taken from

the wagon, while the mother was informed by signs that she and her

four surviving children must accompany their captors. Mounting their

prisoners upon led horses, of which they had a great number stolen from

the settlers, the Indians prepared to set out on their return to the

village, then located hundreds of miles north. Before departing from

the scene of the massacre, the savages scalped the father and child,

who had fallen as their first victims. Far better would it have been

had the remaining members of the family met their death in the first

attack. From the mother, whom I met when released from her captivity,

after living as a prisoner in the hands of the Indians for more than a

year, I gathered the details of the sufferings of herself and children.

Fearing pursuit by the Texans, and desiring to place as long a distance

as possible between themselves and their pursuers, they prepared for a

night march. Mrs. Box and each of the three elder children were placed

on separate horses and securely bound. This was to prevent escape in

the darkness. The mother was at first permitted to carry the youngest

child, a babe of a few months, in her arms, but the latter, becoming

fretful during the tiresome night ride, began to cry. The Indians,

fearing the sound of its voice might be heard by pursuers, snatched it

from its mother’s arms and dashed its brains out against a tree, then

threw the lifeless remains to the ground and continued their flight.

No halt was made for twenty-four hours, after which the march was

conducted more deliberately. Each night the mother and three children

were permitted to occupy one shelter, closely guarded by their watchful

enemies.

After travelling for several days this war party arrived at the point

where they rejoined their lodges. They were still a long distance

from the main village, which was near the Arkansas. Each night the

scalp of the father was hung up in the lodge occupied by the mother

and children. A long and weary march over a wild and desolate country

brought them to the main village. Here the captives found that their

most serious troubles were to commence. In accordance with Indian

custom, upon the return of a successful war party, a grand assembly of

the tribe took place. The prisoners, captured horses, and scalps were

brought forth, and the usual ceremonies, terminating in a scalp dance,

followed. Then the division of the spoils was made. The captives were

apportioned among the various bands composing the tribe, so that when

the division was completed the mother fell to the possession of one

chief, the eldest daughter to that of another, the second, a little

girl of probably ten years, to another, and the youngest, a child of

three years, to a fourth. No two members of the family were permitted

to remain in the same band, but were each carried to separate villages,

distant from each other several days’ march. This was done partly to

prevent escape.

No pen can describe the painful tortures of mind and body endured by

this unfortunate family. They remained as captives in the hands of the

Indians for more than a year, during which time the eldest daughter,

a beautiful girl just ripening into womanhood, was exposed to a fate

infinitely more dreadful than death itself. She first fell to one of

the principal chiefs, who, after robbing her of that which was more

precious than life, and forcing her to become the victim of his brutal

lust, bartered her in return for two horses to another chief; he again,

after wearying of her, traded her to a chief of a neighboring band; and

in that way this unfortunate girl was passed from one to another of her

savage captors, undergoing a life so horribly brutal that, when meeting

her upon her release from captivity, one could only wonder how a young

girl, nurtured in civilization and possessed of the natural refinement

and delicacy of thought which she exhibited, could have survived such

degrading treatment.

The mother and second daughter fared somewhat better. The youngest,

however, separated from mother and sisters, and thrown among people

totally devoid of all kind feeling, spent the time in shedding

bitter tears. This so enraged the Indians that, as a punishment as

well as preventive, the child was seized and the soles of its naked

feet exposed to the flames of the lodge fire until every portion

of the cuticle was burned therefrom. When I saw this little girl a

year afterward, her feet were from this cause still in a painful and

unhealed condition. These poor captives were reclaimed from their

bondage through the efforts of officers of the army, and by the payment

of a ransom amounting to many hundreds of dollars.

The facts relating to their cruel treatment were obtained by me

directly from the mother and eldest daughter immediately after their

release, which occurred a few months prior to the council held with

Satanta and other chiefs. To prove something of the character of the

Cheyennes, one of the principal tribes with which we were at war,

I will give the following extract from an official communication

addressed by me to General Hancock prior to the surrender of the

little Indian boy of whom mention was made in a former article. My

recommendation was not deemed practicable, as it had been promised by

us in treaty stipulation to return the boy unconditionally.

“Having learned that a boy belonging to the Cheyenne tribe of Indians

is in the possession of the military authorities, and that it is the

intention of the Major-General commanding the department to deliver

him up to the above-named tribe, I would respectfully state that a

little white girl aged from four to seven years is held captive by the

Cheyenne Indians, and is now in the possession of ‘Cut Nose,’ a chief

of said tribe.

“The child referred to has been in the hands of the Indians a year

or more. She was captured somewhere in the vicinity of Cache la

Poudre, Colorado. The parents’ name is Fletcher. The father escaped

with a severe wound, the mother and two younger children being taken

prisoners. The Indians killed one of the children outright, and the

mother, after subjecting her to tortures too horrible to name.

“The child now held by the Indians was kept captive. An elder daughter

made her escape and now resides in Iowa. The father resides in Salt

Lake City. I have received several letters from the father and eldest

daughter and from friends of both, requesting me to obtain the release

of the little girl, if possible. I would therefore request that it be

made a condition of the return of the Indian boy now in our possession,

that the Cheyennes give up the white child referred to above.”

This proposition failing in its object, and the war destroying all

means of communication with the Indians and scattering the latter over

the Plains, all trace of the little white girl was lost, and to this

day nothing is known of her fate. At the breaking out of the Indian

difficulty “Cut Nose” with his band was located along the Smoky Hill

route in the vicinity of Monument Station. He frequently visited the

stage stations for purposes of trade, and was invariably accompanied

by his little captive. I never saw her, but those who did represented

her as strikingly beautiful; her complexion being fair, her eyes blue,

and her hair of a bright golden hue, she presented a marked contrast to

the Indian children who accompanied her. “Cut Nose,” from the delicate

light color of her hair, gave her an Indian name signifying “Little

Silver Hair.” He appeared to treat her with great affection, and always

kept her clothed in the handsomest of Indian garments. All offers from

individuals to ransom her proved unavailing. Although she had been with

the Indians but a year, she spoke the Cheyenne language fluently, and

seemed to have no knowledge of her mother tongue.

The treatment of the Box and Fletcher families is not given as isolated

instances, but is referred to principally to show the character of the

enemy with whom we were at war. Volume after volume might be filled in

recounting the unprovoked and merciless atrocities committed upon the

people of the frontier by their implacable foe, the red man. It will

become necessary, however, in making a truthful record of the principal

events which transpired under my personal observation, to make mention

of Indian outrages surpassing if possible in savage cruelty any yet

referred to.

As soon as General Hancock had terminated his council with the Kiowas

and Arrapahoes, he marched with the remaining portion of the expedition

across from the Arkansas to Fort Hays, where my command was then

encamped, arriving there on the third of May. Here, owing to the

neglect or delay of the officers of the Quartermaster’s Department

in forwarding the necessary stores, the cavalry was prevented from

undertaking any extensive movement, but had to content itself for the

time being in scouting the adjacent country.

The time, however, was well employed in the preparation of men and

animals for the work which was to be assigned them. Unfortunately,

desertions from the ranks became so frequent and extensive as to cause

no little anxiety.

To produce these, several causes combined. Prominent among them was the

insufficiency and inferior quality of the rations furnished the men. At

times the latter were made the victims of fraud, and it was only by the

zealous care and watchfulness of the officers immediately over them,

that their wants were properly attended to.

Dishonest contractors at the receiving depots further east had

been permitted to perpetrate gross frauds upon the Government, the

result of which was to produce want and suffering among the men. For

example, unbroken packages of provisions shipped from the main depot

of supplies, and which it was impracticable to replace without loss

of time, were when opened discovered to contain huge stones for which

the Government had paid so much per pound according to contract price.

Boxes of bread were shipped and issued to the soldiers of my command,

the contents of which had been baked in 1861, yet this was in 1867. It

is unnecessary to state that but little of this bread was eaten, yet

there was none at hand of better quality to replace it. Bad provisions

were a fruitful cause of bad health. Inactivity led to restlessness

and dissatisfaction. Scurvy made its appearance, and cholera attacked

neighboring stations. For all these evils desertion became the most

popular antidote. To such an extent was this the case, that in one year

one regiment lost by desertion alone more than half of its effective

force.

General Hancock remained with us only a few days before setting out

with the battery for his headquarters at Fort Leavenworth. Supplies

were pushed out and every preparation made for resuming offensive

movements against the Indians. To find employment for the few weeks

which must ensue before breaking up camp was sometimes a difficult

task. To break the monotony and give horses and men exercise, buffalo

hunts were organized, in which officers and men joined heartily. I

know of no better drill for perfecting men in the use of firearms

on horseback, and thoroughly accustoming them to the saddle, than

buffalo-hunting over a moderately rough country. No amount of riding

under the best of drill-masters will give that confidence and security

in the saddle, which will result from a few spirited charges into a

buffalo herd.

The command, consisting of cavalry alone, was at last in readiness

to move. Wagons had been loaded with reserve supplies, and we were

only waiting the growth of the spring grass to set out on the long

march which had previously been arranged. On the first of June, with

about three hundred and fifty men and a train of twenty wagons, I

left Fort Hays and directed our line of march toward Fort McPherson,

on the Platte river, distant by the proposed route two hundred and

twenty-five miles. The friendly Delawares accompanied us as scouts and

trailers, but our guide was a young white man known on the Plains as

“Will Comstock.” No Indian knew the country more thoroughly than did

Comstock. He was perfectly familiar with every divide, water-course,

and strip of timber for hundreds of miles in either direction. He

knew the dress and peculiarities of every Indian tribe, and spoke

the languages of many of them. Perfect in horsemanship, fearless in

manner, a splendid hunter, and a gentleman by instinct, as modest

and unassuming as he was brave, he was an interesting as well as

valuable companion on a march such as was then before us. Many were the

adventures and incidents of frontier life with which he was accustomed

to entertain us when around the camp-fire or on the march. Little did

he then imagine that his own life would soon be given as a sacrifice

to his daring, and that he, with all his experience among the savages,

would fall a victim of Indian treachery.