On the morning of the 28th the train, with its escort, returned to the
main camp on the Republican. All were proud of the conduct of those
detachments of the command which had been brought into actual conflict
with the Indians. The heroes of the late fights were congratulated
heartily upon their good luck, while their comrades who had unavoidably
remained in camp consoled themselves with the hope that the next
opportunity might be theirs.
The despatches brought by Major Elliott from General Sherman directed
me to continue my march, as had been suggested, up the North
Republican, then strike northward and reach the Platte again at some
point west of Fort Sedgwick, near Riverside Station. This programme
was carried out. Leaving our camp on the Republican, we marched up the
north fork of that river about sixty miles, then turned nearly due
north, and marched for the valley of the Platte.
The only incident connected with this march was the painful journey
under a burning July sun, of sixty-five miles, without a drop of
water for our horses or draught animals. This march was necessarily
effected in one day, and produced untold suffering among the poor dumb
brutes. Many of the dogs accompanying the command died from thirst and
exhaustion. When the sun went down we were still many miles from the
Platte. The moon, which was nearly full at the time, lighted us on our
weary way for some time; but even this was only an aggravation, as it
enabled us from the high bluffs bordering the Platte valley to see the
river flowing beneath us, yet many miles beyond our reach.
Taking Lieutenant Moylan, Dr. Coates, and one attendant with me,
and leaving the command under temporary charge of Major Elliott, I
pushed on, intending after arriving at the river to select as good
camping ground as the darkness and circumstances would permit. We then
imagined ourselves within four or five miles of the river, so near did
it appear to us. Mile after mile was traversed by our tired horses,
yet we apparently arrived no nearer our journey’s end. At last, at
about eleven o’clock, and after having ridden at a brisk rate for
nearly fifteen miles, we reached the river bank. Our first act was to
improve the opportunity to quench our thirst and that of our horses.
Considering the lateness of the hour, and the distance we had ridden
since leaving the command, it was idle to expect the latter to reach
the river before daylight. Nothing was left to us but to bivouac for
the night. This we did by selecting a beautiful piece of sward on the
river bank for our couch, and taking our saddle blankets for covering
and our saddles for pillows. Each of us attached his horse by the
halter-strap to the hilt of his sabre, then forced the sabre firmly
into the ground. Both horses and riders were weary as well as hungry.
At first the horses grazed upon the fresh green pasture which grew
luxuriantly on the river bank, but fatigue, more powerful than hunger,
soon claimed the mastery, and in a few minutes our little group, horses
and men, were wrapped in the sweetest of slumber.
Had we known that the Indians were then engaged in murdering men within
a few minutes’ ride of where we slept, and that when we awakened in the
morning it would be to still find ourselves away from the command, our
sleep would not have been so undisturbed.
Daylight was beginning to make its appearance in the east when our
little party of slumbering troopers began to arouse themselves. Those
unfortunate persons who have always been accustomed to the easy
comforts of civilization, and who have never known what real fatigue or
hunger is, cannot realize or appreciate the blissful luxury of a sleep
which follows a day’s ride in the saddle of half a hundred miles or
more.
Being the first to awake, I rose to a sitting posture and took a hasty
survey of our situation. Within a few feet of us flowed the Platte
river. Our group, horses and men, presented an interesting subject for
a painter. To my surprise I discovered that a heavy shower of rain had
fallen during the night, but so deep had been our slumber that even the
rain had failed to disturb us. Each one of the party had spread his
saddle blanket on the ground to serve as his couch, while for covering
we had called into requisition the india-rubber poncho or rubber
blanket which invariably forms an important part of the plainsman’s
outfit. The rain, without awakening any of the party, had aroused them
sufficiently to cause each one to pull his rubber blanket over his
face, and, thus protected, he continued his repose. The appearance
presented by this sombre-looking group of sleepers strongly reminded me
of scenes during the war when, after a battle, the bodies of the slain
had been collected for burial.
But this was no time to indulge in idle reveries. Arousing my comrades,
we set about discovering the circumstances of our situation. First, the
duties of a hasty toilet were attended to. Nothing, however, could be
more simple. As we had slept in our clothes, top boots and all, we had
so much less to attend to. The river flowing at our feet afforded a
lavatory which, if not complete in its appointments, was sufficiently
grand in its extent to satisfy every want.
It was now becoming sufficiently light to enable us to see indistinctly
for almost a mile in either direction, yet our eyes failed to reveal
to us any evidence of the presence of the command. Here was fresh
cause for anxiety, not only as to our own situation, but as to the
whereabouts of the troops. Saddling up our horses, each person acting
as his own groom, we awaited the clearing away of the morning mist
to seek the main body. We had not long to wait. The light was soon
sufficient to enable us to scan the country with our field-glasses in
all directions. Much to our joy we discovered the bivouac of the troops
about three miles down the river. A brisk gallop soon placed us where
we desired to be, and a few words explained how, in the darkness, the
column had failed to follow us, but instead had headed for the river at
a point below us, a portion not reaching the bank until near morning.
Breakfast disposed of, the next question was to ascertain our exact
location and distance from the nearest telegraph station. Fortunately
Riverside Station was near our camp, and from there we ascertained
that we were then about fifty miles west of Fort Sedgwick. The party
obtaining this information also learned that the Indians had attacked
the nearest stage station west of camp the preceding evening, and
killed three men. This station was only a few minutes’ ride from the
point on the river bank where myself and comrades had passed the night
in such fancied security.
Believing that General Sherman must have sent later instructions for me
to Fort Sedgwick than those last received from him, I sent a telegram
to the officer in command at the fort, making inquiry to that effect.
To my surprise I received a despatch saying that, the day after the
departure of Major Elliott and his detachment from Fort Sedgwick
with despatches, of which mention has been previously made, a second
detachment of equal strength, viz., ten troopers of the Second United
States Cavalry, under command of Lieutenant Kidder and guided by a
famous Sioux chief Red Bead, had left Fort Sedgwick with important
despatches for me from General Sherman, and that Lieutenant Kidder had
been directed to proceed to my camp near the forks of the Republican,
and failing to find me there he was to follow rapidly on my trail
until he should overtake my command. I immediately telegraphed to Fort
Sedgwick that nothing had been seen or heard of Lieutenant Kidder’s
detachment, and requested a copy of the despatches borne by him to
be sent me by telegraph. This was done; the instructions of General
Sherman were for me to march my command, as was at first contemplated,
across the country from the Platte to the Smoky Hill river, striking
the latter at Fort Wallace. Owing to the low state of my supplies, I
determined to set out for Fort Wallace at daylight next morning.
Great anxiety prevailed throughout the command concerning Lieutenant
Kidder and his party. True, he had precisely the same number of men
that composed Major Elliott’s detachment when the latter went upon
a like mission, but the circumstances which would govern in the one
case had changed when applied to the other. Major Elliott, an officer
of experience and good judgment, had fixed the strength of his escort
and performed the journey before it was positively known that the
Indians in that section had entered upon the war path. Had the attack
on the commands of Hamilton, Robbins, and Cook been made prior to
Elliott’s departure, the latter would have taken not less than fifty
troopers as escort. After an informal interchange of opinions between
the officers of my command regarding the whereabouts of Lieutenant
Kidder and party, we endeavored to satisfy ourselves with the following
explanation. Using the capital letter Y for illustration, let us
locate Fort Sedgwick, from which post Lieutenant Kidder was sent with
despatches, at the right upper point of the letter. The camp of my
command at the forks of the Republican would be at the junction of the
three branches of the letter. Fort Wallace relatively would be at the
lower termination, and the point on the Platte at which my command
was located the morning referred to would be at the upper termination
of the left branch of the letter. Robbins and Cook, in going with the
train to Wallace for supplies, had passed and returned over the lower
branch. After their return and that of Major Elliott and his party,
my entire command resumed the march for the Platte. We moved for two
or three miles out on the heavy wagon trail of Robbins and Cook, then
suddenly changed our direction to the right. It was supposed that
Kidder and his party arrived at our deserted camp at the forks of the
Republican about nightfall, but finding us gone had determined to avail
themselves of the moonlit night and overtake us before we should break
camp next morning. Riding rapidly in the dim light of evening, they had
failed to observe the point at which we had diverged from the plainer
trail of Robbins and Cook, and instead of following our trail had
continued on the former in the direction of Fort Wallace. Such seemed
to be a plausible if not the only solution capable of being given.
Anxiety for the fate of Kidder and his party was one of the reasons
impelling me to set out promptly on my return. From our camp at the
forks of the Republican to Fort Wallace was about eighty miles--but
eighty miles of the most dangerous country infested by Indians.
Remembering the terrible contest in which the command of Robbins
and Cook had been engaged on this very route within a few days, and
knowing that the Indians would in all probability maintain a strict
watch over the trail to surprise any small party which might venture
over it, I felt in the highest degree solicitous for the safety of
Lieutenant Kidder and party. Even if he succeeded in reaching Fort
Wallace unmolested, there was reason to apprehend that, impressed with
the importance of delivering his despatches promptly, he would set out
on his return at once and endeavor to find my command.
Let us leave him and his detachment for a brief interval, and return to
events which were more immediately connected with my command, and which
bear a somewhat tragic as well as personal interest.
In a previous chapter reference has been made to the state of
dissatisfaction which had made its appearance among the enlisted men.
This state of feeling had been principally superinduced by inferior
and insufficient rations, a fault for which no one connected with
the troops in the field was responsible, but which was chargeable
to persons far removed from the theatre of our movements, persons
connected with the supply departments of the army. Added to this
internal source of disquiet, we were then on the main line of overland
travel to some of our most valuable and lately discovered mining
regions. The opportunity to obtain marvellous wages as miners and the
prospect of amassing sudden wealth proved a temptation sufficiently
strong to make many of the men forget their sworn obligations to their
government and their duties as soldiers. Forgetting for the moment that
the command to which they belonged was actually engaged in war, and
was in a country infested with armed bodies of the enemy, and that the
legal penalty of desertion under such circumstances was death, many of
the men formed a combination to desert their colors and escape to the
mines.
The first intimation received by any person in authority of the
existence of this plot, was on the morning fixed for our departure
from the Platte. Orders had been issued the previous evening for the
command to march at daylight. Upwards of forty men were reported as
having deserted during the night. There was no time to send parties in
pursuit, or the capture and return of a portion of them might have been
effected.
The command marched southward at daylight. At noon, having marched
fifteen miles, we halted to rest and graze the horses for one hour.
The men believed that the halt was made for the remainder of the day,
and here a plan was perfected among the disaffected by which upwards
of one third of the effective strength of the command was to seize
their horses and arms during the night and escape to the mountains.
Had the conspirators succeeded in putting this plan into execution, it
would have been difficult to say how serious the consequences might be,
or whether enough true men would remain to render the march to Fort
Wallace practicable. Fortunately it was decided to continue the march
some fifteen miles further before night. The necessary orders were
given and everything was being repacked for the march, when attention
was called to thirteen soldiers who were then to be seen rapidly
leaving camp in the direction from which we had marched. Seven of these
were mounted and were moving off at a rapid gallop; the remaining
six were dismounted, not having been so fortunate as their fellows
in procuring horses. The entire party were still within sound of the
bugle, but no orders by bugle note or otherwise served to check or
diminish their flight. The boldness of this attempt at desertion took
every one by surprise. Such an occurrence as unlisted men deserting in
broad daylight and under the immediate eyes of their officers had never
been heard of. With the exception of the horses of the guard and a few
belonging to the officers, all others were still grazing and unsaddled.
The officer of the guard was directed to mount his command promptly,
and if possible overtake the deserters. At the same time those of the
officers whose horses were in readiness were also directed to join in
the pursuit and leave no effort untried to prevent the escape of a
single malcontent. In giving each party sent in pursuit instructions,
there was no limit fixed to the measures which they were authorized to
adopt in executing their orders. This, unfortunately, was an emergency
which involved the safety of the entire command, and required treatment
of the most summary character.
It was found impossible to overtake that portion of the party which
was mounted, as it was afterwards learned that they had selected seven
of the fleetest horses in the command. Those on foot, when discovering
themselves pursued, increased their speed, but a chase of a couple of
miles brought the pursuers within hailing distance.
Major Elliott, the senior officer participating in the pursuit, called
out to the deserters to halt and surrender. This command was several
times repeated, but without effect. Finally, seeing the hopelessness
of further flight, the deserters came to bay, and to Major Elliott’s
renewed demand to throw down their arms and surrender, the ringleader
drew up his carbine to fire upon his pursuers. This was the signal for
the latter to open fire, which they did successfully, bringing down
three of the deserters, although two of them were worse frightened than
hurt.
Rejoining the command with their six captive deserters, the pursuing
party reported their inability to overtake those who had deserted on
horseback. The march was resumed and continued until near nightfall,
by which time we had placed thirty miles between us and our last camp
on the Platte. While on the march during the day, a trusty sergeant,
one who had served as a soldier long and faithfully, imparted the first
information which could be relied upon as to the plot which had been
formed by the malcontents to desert in a body. The following night had
been selected as the time for making the attempt. The best horses and
arms in the command were to be seized and taken away. I believed that
the summary action adopted during the day would intimidate any who
might still be contemplating desertion, and was confident that another
day’s march would place us so far in a hostile and dangerous country,
that the risk of encountering war parties of Indians would of itself
serve to deter any but large numbers from attempting to make their way
back to the settlements. To bridge the following night in safety was
the next problem. While there was undoubtedly a large proportion of the
men who could be fully relied upon to remain true to their obligations
and to render any support to their officers which might be demanded,
yet the great difficulty at this time, owing to the sudden development
of the plot, was to determine who could be trusted.
This difficulty was solved by placing every officer in the command on
guard during the entire night. The men were assembled as usual for
roll-call at tattoo, and then notified that every man must be in his
tent at the signal “taps,” which would be sounded half an hour later;
that their company officers, fully armed, would walk the company
streets during the entire night, and any man appearing outside the
limits of his tent between the hours of “taps” and reveille would do so
at the risk of being fired upon after being once hailed.
The night passed without disturbance, and daylight found us in the
saddle and pursuing our line of march toward Fort Wallace. It is proper
to here record the fact that from that date onward desertion from that
command during the continuance of the expedition was never attempted.
It may become necessary in order “to perfect the record,” borrowing
a term from the War Department, to refer in a subsequent chapter to
certain personal and official events which resulted partially from the
foregoing occurrences.
Let us now turn our attention to Lieutenant Kidder and his detachment.
The third night after leaving the Platte my command encamped in the
vicinity of our former camp near the forks of the Republican. So far,
nothing had been learned which would enable us to form any conclusion
regarding the route taken by Kidder. Comstock, the guide, was
frequently appealed to for an opinion which, from his great experience
on the Plains, might give us some encouragement regarding Kidder’s
safety. But he was too cautious and careful a man, both in word and
deed, to excite hopes which his reasoning could not justify. When thus
appealed to he would usually give an ominous shake of the head and
avoid a direct answer.
On the evening just referred to the officers and Comstock were grouped
near headquarters discussing the subject which was then uppermost in
the mind of every one in camp. Comstock had been quietly listening to
the various theories and surmises advanced by different members of
the group, but was finally pressed to state his ideas as to Kidder’s
chances of escaping harm.
“Well, gentle_men_,” emphasizing the last syllable as was his manner,
“before a man kin form any ijee as to how this thing is likely to end,
thar are several things he ort to be acquainted with. For instance,
now, no man need tell me any p’ints about Injuns. Ef I know anything,
it’s Injuns. I know jest how they’ll do anything and when they’ll
take to do it; but that don’t settle the question, and I’ll tell you
why. Ef I knowed this young lootenint--I mean Lootenint Kidder--ef I
knowed what for sort of a man he is, I could tell you mighty near to
a sartainty all you want to know; for you see Injun huntin’ and Injun
fightin’ is a trade all by itself, and like any other bizness a man
has to know what he’s about, or ef he don’t he can’t make a livin’ at
it. I have lots uv confi_dence_ in the fightin’ sense of Red Bead the
Sioux chief, who is guidin’ the lootenint and his men, and ef that
Injun kin have his own way thar is a fair show for his guidin’ ’em
through all right; but as I sed before, there lays the difficulty. Is
this lootenint the kind of a man who is willin’ to take advice, even ef
it does cum from an Injun? My experience with you army folks has allus
bin that the youngsters among ye think they know the most, and this is
particularly true ef they hev just cum from West P’int. Ef some of them
young fellars knowed half as much as they b’lieve they do, you couldn’t
tell them nothin’. As to rale book-larnin’, why I ’spose they’ve got it
all; but the fact uv the matter is, they couldn’t tell the difference
twixt the trail of a war party and one made by a huntin’ party to save
their necks. Half uv ’em when they first cum here can’t tell a squaw
from a buck, just because both ride straddle; but they soon larn. But
that’s neither here nor thar. I’m told that the lootenint we’re talkin’
about is a new-comer, and that this is his first scout. Ef that be the
case, it puts a mighty onsartain look on the whole thing, and twixt
you and me, gentle_men_, he’ll be mighty lucky ef he gits through all
right. To-morrow we’ll strike the Wallace trail, and I kin mighty soon
tell ef he has gone that way.”
But little encouragement was to be derived from these expressions.
The morrow would undoubtedly enable us, as Comstock had predicted, to
determine whether or not the lieutenant and his party had missed our
trail and taken that leading to Fort Wallace.
At daylight our column could have been seen stretching out in the
direction of the Wallace trail. A march of a few miles brought us to
the point of intersection. Comstock and the Delawares had galloped
in advance, and were about concluding a thorough examination of the
various tracks to be seen in the trail, when the head of the column
overtook them. “Well, what do you find, Comstock?” was my first
inquiry. “They’ve gone toward Fort Wallace, sure,” was the reply; and
in support of this opinion he added, “The trail shows that twelve
American horses, shod all round, have passed at a walk, goin’ in the
direction of the fort; and when they went by this p’int they were all
right, because their horses were movin’ along easy, and there are no
pony tracks behind ’em, as wouldn’t be the case ef the Injuns had got
an eye on ’em.” He then remarked, as if in parenthesis, “It would
be astonishin’ ef that lootenint and his lay-out gits into the fort
without a scrimmage. He may; but ef he does, it will be a scratch ef
ever there was one, and I’ll lose my confidence in Injuns.”
The opinion expressed by Comstock as to the chances of Lieutenant
Kidder and party making their way to the fort across eighty miles of
danger unmolested, was the concurrent opinion of all the officers. And
now that we had discovered their trail, our interest and anxiety became
immeasurably increased as to their fate. The latter could not remain
in doubt much longer, as two days’ marching would take us to the fort.
Alas! we were to solve the mystery without waiting so long.
Pursuing our way along the plain, heavy trail made by Robbins and Cook,
and directing Comstock and the Delawares to watch closely that we did
not lose that of Kidder and his party, we patiently but hopefully
awaited further developments. How many miles we had thus passed over
without incident worthy of mention, I do not now recall. The sun was
high in the heavens, showing that our day’s march was about half
completed, when those of us who were riding at the head of the column
discovered a strange-looking object lying directly in our path, and
more than a mile distant. It was too large for a human being, yet in
color and appearance, at that distance, resembled no animal frequenting
the Plains with which any of us were familiar. Eager to determine its
character, a dozen or more of our party, including Comstock and some of
the Delawares, galloped in front.
Before riding the full distance the question was determined. The object
seen was the body of a white horse. A closer examination showed that it
had been shot within the past few days, while the brand, U. S., proved
that it was a government animal. Major Elliott then remembered that
while at Fort Sedgwick he had seen one company of cavalry mounted upon
white horses. These and other circumstances went far to convince us
that this was one of the horses belonging to Lieutenant Kidder’s party.
In fact there was no room to doubt that this was the case.
Almost the unanimous opinion of the command was that there had been a
contest with Indians, and this only the first evidence we should have
proving it. When the column reached the point where the slain horse
lay, a halt was ordered, to enable Comstock and the Indian scouts to
thoroughly examine the surrounding ground to discover, if possible,
any additional evidence, such as empty cartridge shells, arrows, or
articles of Indian equipment, showing that a fight had taken place. All
the horse equipments, saddle, bridle, etc., had been carried away,
but whether by friend or foe could not then be determined. While the
preponderance of circumstances favored the belief that the horse had
been killed by Indians, there was still room to hope that he had been
killed by Kidder’s party and the equipments taken away by them; for it
frequently happens on a march that a horse will be suddenly taken ill
and be unable for the time being to proceed further. In such a case,
rather than abandon him alive, with a prospect of his recovering and
falling into the hands of the Indians to be employed against us, orders
are given to kill him, and this might be the true way of accounting for
the one referred to.
The scouts being unable to throw any additional light upon the
question, we continued our march, closely observing the ground as
we passed along. Comstock noticed that instead of the trail showing
that Kidder’s party was moving in regular order, as when at first
discovered, there were but two or three tracks to be seen in the beaten
trail, the rest being found on the grass on either side.
We had marched two miles perhaps from the point where the body of the
slain horse had been discovered, when we came upon a second, this
one, like the first, having been killed by a bullet, and all of his
equipments taken away. Comstock’s quick eyes were not long in detecting
pony tracks in the vicinity, and we had no longer any but the one
frightful solution to offer: Kidder and his party had been discovered
by the Indians, probably the same powerful and bloodthirsty band which
had been resisted so gallantly by the men under Robbins and Cook; and
against such overwhelming odds the issue could not be doubtful.
We were then moving over a high and level plateau, unbroken either by
ravines or divides, and just such a locality as would be usually chosen
by the Indians for attacking a party of the strength of Kidder’s. The
Indians could here ride unobstructed and encircle their victims with a
continuous line of armed and painted warriors, while the beleaguered
party, from the even character of the surface of the plain, would be
unable to find any break or depression from behind which they might
make a successful defence. It was probably this relative condition of
affairs which had induced Kidder and his doomed comrades to endeavor to
push on in the hope of finding ground favorable to their making a stand
against their barbarous foes.
The main trail no longer showed the footprints of Kidder’s party, but
instead Comstock discovered the tracks of shod horses on the grass,
with here and there numerous tracks of ponies, all by their appearance
proving that both horses and ponies had been moving at full speed.
Kidder’s party must have trusted their lives temporarily to the speed
of their horses--a dangerous venture when contending with Indians.
However, this fearful race for life must have been most gallantly
contested, because we continued our march several miles further without
discovering any evidence of the savages having gained any advantage.
How painfully, almost despairingly exciting must have been this ride
for life! A mere handful of brave men struggling to escape the bloody
clutches of the hundreds of red-visaged demons, who, mounted on their
well-trained war ponies, were straining every nerve and muscle to
reek their hands in the life-blood of their victims. It was not death
alone that threatened this little band. They were not riding simply to
preserve life. They rode, and doubtless prayed as they rode, that they
might escape the savage tortures, the worse than death which threatened
them. Would that their prayer had been granted!
[Illustration: THE KIDDER MURDER.]
We began leaving the high plateau and to descend into a valley, through
which, at the distance of nearly two miles, meandered a small prairie
stream known as Beaver Creek. The valley near the banks of this stream
was covered with a dense growth of tall wild grass intermingled with
clumps of osiers. At the point where the trail crossed the stream, we
hoped to obtain more definite information regarding Kidder’s party and
their pursuers, but we were not required to wait so long. When within
a mile of the stream I observed several large buzzards floating lazily
in circles through the air, and but a short distance to the left of our
trail. This, of itself, might not have attracted my attention seriously
but for the rank stench which pervaded the atmosphere, reminding one of
the horrible sensations experienced upon a battle-field when passing
among the decaying bodies of the dead.
As if impelled by one thought, Comstock, the Delawares, and
half-a-dozen officers, detached themselves from the column and,
separating into squads of one or two, instituted a search for the cause
of our horrible suspicions. After riding in all directions through
the rushes and willows, and when about to relinquish the search as
fruitless, one of the Delawares uttered a shout which attracted the
attention of the entire command; at the same time he was seen to
leap from his horse and assume a stooping posture, as if critically
examining some object of interest. Hastening, in common with many
others of the party, to his side, a sight met our gaze which even at
this remote day makes my very blood curdle. Lying in irregular order,
and within a very limited circle, were the mangled bodies of poor
Kidder and his party, yet so brutally hacked and disfigured as to be
beyond recognition save as human beings.
Every individual of the party had been scalped and his skull
broken--the latter done by some weapon, probably a tomahawk--except
the Sioux chief Red Bead, whose scalp had simply been removed from his
head and then thrown down by his side. This, Comstock informed us, was
in accordance with a custom which prohibits an Indian from bearing off
the scalp of one of his own tribe. This circumstance, then, told us who
the perpetrators of this deed were. They could be none other than the
Sioux, led in all probability by Pawnee Killer.
Red Bead, being less disfigured and mutilated than the others, was the
only individual capable of being recognized. Even the clothes of all
the party had been carried away; some of the bodies were lying in beds
of ashes, with partly burned fragments of wood near them, showing that
the savages had put some of them to death by the terrible tortures of
fire. The sinews of the arms and legs had been cut away, the nose of
every man hacked off, and the features otherwise defaced so that it
would have been scarcely possible for even a relative to recognize a
single one of the unfortunate victims. We could not even distinguish
the officer from his men. Each body was pierced by from twenty to fifty
arrows, and the arrows were found as the savage demons had left them,
bristling in the bodies. While the details of that fearful struggle
will probably never be known, telling how long and gallantly this
ill-fated little band contended for their lives, yet the surrounding
circumstances of ground, empty cartridge shells, and distance from
where the attack began, satisfied us that Kidder and his men fought as
only brave men fight when the watchword is victory or death.
As the officer, his men, and his no less faithful Indian guide, had
shared their final dangers together and had met the same dreadful fate
at the hands of the same merciless foe, it was but fitting that their
remains should be consigned to one common grave. This was accordingly
done. A single trench was dug near the spot where they had rendered
up their lives upon the altar of duty. Silently, mournfully, their
comrades of a brother regiment consigned their mangled remains to
mother earth, there to rest undisturbed, as we supposed, until the
great day of final review. But this was not to be so; while the closest
scrutiny on our part had been insufficient to enable us to detect the
slightest evidence which would aid us or others in identifying the body
of Lieutenant Kidder or any of his men, it will be seen hereafter how
the marks of a mother’s thoughtful affection were to be the means of
identifying the remains of her murdered son, even though months had
elapsed after his untimely death.