In concluding to go into camp for a brief period on the banks of the
Arkansas, two important objects were in view: first, to devote the
time to refitting, reorganizing, and renovating generally that portion
of the command which was destined to continue active operations
during the inclement winter season; second, to defer our movement
against the hostile tribes until the last traces of the fall season
had disappeared, and winter in all its bitter force should be upon
us. We had crossed weapons with the Indians time and again during the
mild summer months, when the rich verdure of the valleys served as
bountiful and inexhaustible granaries in supplying forage to their
ponies, and the immense herds of buffalo and other varieties of game
roaming undisturbed over the Plains supplied all the food that was
necessary to subsist the war parties, and at the same time allow their
villages to move freely from point to point; and the experience of both
officers and men went to prove that in attempting to fight Indians in
the summer season we were yielding to them the advantages of climate
and supplies--we were meeting them on ground of their own selection,
and at a time when every natural circumstance controlling the result
of a campaign was wholly in their favor; and as a just consequence the
troops, in nearly all these contests with the red men, had come off
second best. During the grass season nearly all Indian villages are
migratory, seldom remaining longer than a few weeks at most in any
one locality, depending entirely upon the supply of grass; when this
becomes exhausted the lodges are taken down, and the entire tribe or
band moves to some other point, chosen with reference to the supply
of grass, water, wood, and game. The distance to the new location is
usually but a few miles. During the fall, when the buffaloes are in
the best condition to furnish food, and the hides are suitable to be
dressed as robes, or to furnish covering for the lodges, the grand
annual hunts of the tribes take place, by which the supply of meat
for the winter is procured. This being done, the chiefs determine
upon the points at which the village shall be located; if the tribe
is a large one, the village is often subdivided, one portion or band
remaining at one point, other portions choosing localities within a
circuit of thirty or forty miles. Except during seasons of the most
perfect peace, and when it is the firm intention of the chiefs to
remain on friendly terms with the whites at least during the winter
and early spring months, the localities selected for their winter
resorts are remote from the military posts and frontier settlements,
and the knowledge which might lead to them carefully withheld from
every white man. Even during a moderate winter season, it is barely
possible for the Indians to obtain sufficient food for their ponies
to keep the latter in anything above a starving condition. Many of
the ponies actually die from want of forage, while the remaining ones
become so weak and attenuated that it requires several weeks of good
grazing in the spring to fit them for service--particularly such
service as is required from the war ponies. Guided by these facts, it
was evident that if we chose to avail ourselves of the assistance of
so exacting and terrible an ally as the frosts of winter--an ally who
would be almost as uninviting to friends as to foes--we might deprive
our enemy of his points of advantage, and force him to engage in a
combat in which we should do for him what he had hitherto done for us;
compel him to fight upon ground and under circumstances of our own
selection. To decide upon making a winter campaign against the Indians
was certainly in accordance with that maxim in the art of war which
directs one to do that which the enemy neither expects nor desires to
be done. At the same time it would dispel the old-fogy idea, which was
not without supporters in the army, and which was confidently relied on
by the Indians themselves, that the winter season was an insurmountable
barrier to the prosecution of a successful campaign. But aside from
the delay which was necessary to be submitted to before the forces
of winter should produce their natural but desired effect upon our
enemies, there was much to be done on our part before we could be ready
to coöperate in an offensive movement.
The Seventh Cavalry, which was to operate in one body during the coming
campaign, was a comparatively new regiment, dating its existence as an
organization from July, 1866. The officers and companies had not served
together before with much over half their full force. A large number
of fresh horses were required and obtained; these had to be drilled.
All the horses in the command were to be newly shod, and an extra fore
and hind shoe fitted to each horse; these, with the necessary nails,
were to be carried by each trooper in the saddle pocket. It has been
seen that the men lacked accuracy in the use of their carbines. To
correct this, two drills in target practice were ordered each day. The
companies were marched separately to the ground where the targets had
been erected, and, under the supervision of the troop officers, were
practised daily in firing at targets placed one hundred, two hundred,
and three hundred yards distant. The men had been previously informed
that out of the eight hundred men composing the command, a picked corps
of sharpshooters would be selected, numbering forty men, and made up
of the forty best marksmen in the regiment. As an incentive to induce
every enlisted man, whether non-commissioned officer or private, to
strive for appointment in the sharpshooters, it was given out from
headquarters that the men so chosen would be regarded, as they really
would deserve to be, as the _elite_ of the command; not only regarded
as such, but treated with corresponding consideration. For example,
they were to be marched as a separate organization, independently of
the column, a matter which in itself is not so trifling as it may
seem to those who have never participated in a long and wearisome
march. Then again no guard or picket duty was to be required of the
sharpshooters, which alone was enough to encourage every trooper to
excel as a marksman. Besides these considerations, it was known that,
should we encounter the enemy, the sharpshooters would be most likely
to be assigned a post of honor, and would have superior opportunities
for acquiring distinction and rendering good service. The most generous
as well as earnest rivalry at once sprung up, not only between the
various companies, as to which should secure the largest representation
among the sharpshooters, but the rivalry extended to individuals of
the same company, each of whom seemed desirous of the honor of being
considered as “one of the best shots.”
To be able to determine the matter correctly, a record of every shot
fired by each man of the command, throughout a period of upwards of
one month, was carefully kept. It was surprising to observe the marked
and rapid improvement in the accuracy of aim attained by the men
generally during this period. Two drills at target practice each day,
and allowing each man an opportunity at every drill to become familiar
with the handling of his carbine, and in judging of the distances
of the different targets, worked a most satisfactory improvement
in the average accuracy of fire; so that at the end of the period
named, by taking the record of each trooper’s target practice, I was
enabled to select forty marksmen in whose ability to bring down any
warrior, whether mounted or not, who might challenge us, as we had
often been challenged before, I felt every confidence. They were a
superb body of men, and felt the greatest pride in their distinction.
A sufficient number of non-commissioned officers, who had proven
their skill as marksmen, were included in the organization--among
them, fortunately, a first sergeant, whose expertness in the use of
any firearm was well established throughout the command. I remember
having seen him, while riding at full speed, bring down four buffaloes
by four consecutive shots from his revolver. When it is remembered
that even experienced hunters are usually compelled to fire half a
dozen shots or more to secure a single buffalo, this statement will
appear the more remarkable. The forty sharpshooters being supplied
with their complement of sergeant and corporals, and thus constituting
an organization by themselves, only lacked one important element, a
suitable commander--a leader who, aside from being a thorough soldier,
should possess traits of character which would not only enable him to
employ skilfully the superior abilities of those who were to constitute
his command, but at the same time feel that _esprit de corps_ which
is so necessary to both officers and soldiers when success is to be
achieved. Fortunately, in my command were a considerable number of
young officers, nearly all of whom were full of soldierly ambition,
and eager to grasp any opportunity which opened the way to honorable
preferment. The difficulty was not in finding an officer properly
qualified in every way to command the sharpshooters, but, among so
many who I felt confident would render a good account of themselves
if assigned to that position, to designate a leader _par excellence_.
The choice fell upon Colonel Cook, a young officer whose acquaintance
the reader will remember to have made in connection with the plucky
fight he had with the Indians near Fort Wallace the preceding summer.
Colonel Cook, at the breaking out of the rebellion, although then but
a lad of sixteen years, entered one of the New York cavalry regiments,
commencing at the foot of the ladder. He served in the cavalry arm of
the service throughout the war, participating in Sheridan’s closing
battles near Richmond, his services and gallantry resulting in his
promotion to the rank of lieutenant-colonel. While there were many
of the young officers who would have been pleased if they instead of
another had been chosen, there was no one in the command, perhaps, who
did not regard the selection as a most judicious one. Future events
only confirmed this judgment.
After everything in the way of reorganization and refitting which might
be considered as actually necessary had been ordered, another step,
bordering on the ornamental perhaps, although in itself useful, was
taken. This was what is termed in the cavalry “coloring the horses,”
which does not imply, as might be inferred from the expression, that
we actually changed the color of our horses, but merely classified or
arranged them throughout the different squadrons and troops according
to the color. Hitherto the horses had been distributed to the various
companies of the regiment indiscriminately, regardless of color, so
that in each company and squadron horses were found of every color.
For uniformity of appearance it was decided to devote one afternoon
to a general exchange of horses. The troop commanders were assembled
at headquarters and allowed, in the order of their rank, to select
the color they preferred. This being done, every public horse in
the command was led out and placed in line: the grays collected at
one point, the bays--of which there was a great preponderance in
numbers--at another, the blacks at another, the sorrels by themselves;
then the chestnuts, the blacks, the browns; and last of all came what
were jocularly designated the “brindles,” being the odds and ends so
far as colors were concerned--roans and other mixed colors--the junior
troop commander of course becoming the reluctant recipient of these
last, valuable enough except as to color. The exchanges having been
completed, the men of each troop led away to their respective picket or
stable lines their newly-acquired chargers. Arriving upon their company
grounds, another assignment in detail was made by the troop commanders.
First, the non-commissioned officers were permitted to select their
horses in the order of their rank; then the remaining horses were
distributed among the troopers generally, giving to the best soldiers
the best horses. It was surprising to witness what a great improvement
in the handsome appearance of the command was effected by this measure.
The change when first proposed had not been greeted with much favor by
many of the troopers who by long service and association in times of
danger had become warmly attached to their horses; but the same reasons
which had endeared the steed to the soldier in the one instance, soon
operate in the same manner to render the new acquaintances fast friends.
Among the other measures adopted for carrying the war to our enemy’s
doors, and in a manner “fight the devil with fire,” was the employment
of Indian allies. These were to be procured from the “reservation
Indians,” tribes who, from engaging in long and devastating wars with
the whites and with other hostile bands, had become so reduced in
power as to be glad to avail themselves of the protection and means of
subsistence offered by the reservation plan. These tribes were most
generally the objects of hatred in the eyes of their more powerful
and independent neighbors of the Plains, and the latter, when making
their raids and bloody incursions upon the white settlements of the
frontiers, did not hesitate to visit their wrath equally upon whites
and reservation Indians. To these smaller tribes it was a welcome
opportunity to be permitted to ally themselves to the forces of the
Government, and endeavor to obtain that satisfaction which acting alone
they were powerless to secure. The tribes against which we proposed to
operate during the approaching campaign had been particularly cruel
and relentless in their wanton attacks upon the Osages and Kaws, two
tribes living peaceably and contentedly on well-chosen reservations in
southwestern Kansas and the northern portion of the Indian Territory.
No assistance in fighting the hostile tribes was desired, but it
was believed, and correctly too, that in finding the enemy and in
discovering the location of his winter hiding-places, the experience
and natural tact and cunning of the Indians would be a powerful
auxiliary if we could enlist them in our cause. An officer was sent to
the village of the Osages to negotiate with the head chiefs, and was
successful in his mission, returning with a delegation consisting of
the second chief in rank of the Osage tribe, named “Little Beaver,”
“Hard Rope,” the counsellor or wise man of his people, and eleven
warriors, with an interpreter. In addition to the monthly rate of
compensation which the Government agreed to give them, they were also
to be armed, clothed, and mounted at Government expense.
Advices from General Sheridan’s headquarters, then at Fort Hays,
Kansas, were received early in November, informing us that the time
for resuming active operations was near at hand, and urging the early
completion of all preliminaries looking to that end. Fort Dodge,
on the Arkansas river, was the extreme post south in the direction
proposed to be taken by us, until the Red river should be crossed and
the northwestern posts of Texas could be reached, which were further
south than our movements would probably carry us. To use Fort Dodge
as our base of supplies, and keep open to that point our long line
of communications, would have been, considering the character of the
country and that of the enemy to be encountered, an impracticable
matter with our force. To remedy this a temporary base was decided
upon, to be established about one hundred miles south of Fort Dodge,
at some point yet to be determined, from which we could obtain our
supplies during the winter. With this object in view an immense
train, consisting of about four hundred army wagons, was loaded with
forage, rations, and clothing, for the supply of the troops composing
the expedition. A guard composed of a few companies of infantry was
detailed to accompany the trains and to garrison the point which was to
be selected as the new base of supplies. Everything being in readiness,
the cavalry moved from its camp on the north bank of the Arkansas
on the morning of the 12th of November, and after fording the river
began its march toward the Indian Territory. That night we encamped on
Mulberry creek, where we were joined by the infantry and the supply
train. General Sully, commanding the district, here took active command
of the combined forces. Much anxiety existed in the minds of some of
the officers, remembering no doubt their late experience, lest the
Indians should attack us while on the march, when, hampered as we
should be in the protection of so large a train of wagons, we might
fare badly. The country over which we were to march was favorable to
us, as we were able to move our trains in four parallel columns formed
close together. This arrangement shortened our flanks and rendered
them less exposed to attack. The following morning after reaching
Mulberry creek the march was resumed soon after daylight, the usual
order being: the four hundred wagons of the supply train and those
belonging to the troops formed in four equal columns; in advance of
the wagons at a proper distance rode the advance guard of cavalry; a
corresponding cavalry force formed the rear guard. The remainder of the
cavalry was divided into two equal parts, and these parts again divided
into three equal detachments; these six detachments were disposed
of along the flanks of the column, three on a side, maintaining a
distance between themselves and the train of from a quarter to half a
mile, while each of them had flanking parties thrown out opposite the
train, rendering it impossible for an enemy to appear in any direction
without timely notice being received. The infantry on beginning the
march in the morning were distributed throughout the train in such
manner that should the enemy attack, their services could be rendered
most effective. Unaccustomed, however, to field service, particularly
marching, the infantry apparently were only able to march for a few
hours in the early part of the day, when, becoming weary, they would
straggle from their companies and climb into the covered wagons, from
which there was no determined effort to rout them. In the afternoon
there would be little evidence perceptible to the eye that infantry
formed any portion of the expedition, save here and there the butt
of a musket or point of a bayonet peeping out from under the canvas
wagon-covers, or perhaps an officer of infantry “treading alone his
native heath,” or better still mounted on an Indian pony, the result of
some barter with the Indians when times were a little more peaceable,
and neither wars nor rumors of wars disturbed the monotony of garrison
life. Nothing occurred giving us any clue to the whereabouts of
Indians until we had been marching several days and were moving down
the valley of Beaver creek, when our Indian guides discovered the trail
of an Indian war party, numbering, according to their estimate, from
one hundred to one hundred and fifty warriors, mounted and moving in
a northeasterly direction. The trail was not over twenty-four hours
old, and by following it to the point where it crossed Beaver creek,
almost the exact numbers and character of the party could be determined
from the fresh signs at the crossing. Everything indicated that it
was a war party sent from the very tribes we were in search of, and
the object, judging from the direction they had been moving, and
other circumstances, was to make a raid on the settlements in Western
Kansas. As soon as we had reached camp for the night, which was but a
short distance from the point at which we crossed the Indian trail, I
addressed a communication to the senior officer, who was commanding the
expedition, and, after stating the facts learned in connection with
the trail, requested that I might be permitted to take the cavalry
belonging to the expedition, leaving the trains to be guarded by the
infantry, whose numbers were ample for this purpose, and with the
Indian scouts as trailers set out early the next morning, following the
trail of the war party, not in the direction taken by them, as this
would be an idle attempt, but in the direction from which they came,
expressing the conviction that such a course would in all probability
lead us direct to the villages of the marauders, which was the ultimate
object of the movement we were thus engaged in. By so doing we might
be able to strike a prompt blow against our enemies, and visit swift
punishment upon the war party, whose hostile purposes were but too
evident. In these views I was sustained by the opinions of our Indian
allies, who expressed confidence in their ability to take the trail
and follow it back to the villages. The officer to whom my application
was submitted, and whose sanction was necessary before I could be
authorized to execute my proposed plan, returned an elaborate argument
attempting to prove that no successful results could possibly attend
the undertaking I had suggested, and ended with the remark that it was
absurd to suppose for one moment that a large military force such as
ours was, and accompanied by such an immense train of wagons, could
move into the heart of the Indian country and their presence remain
undiscovered by the watchful savages for even a single day. This
specious reasoning sounded well--read well--but it gave no satisfaction
to the men and officers of the cavalry, all of whom thought they saw
a fine opportunity neglected. However, we shall strike this trail
again, but on different ground and under different circumstances.
Great as was our temporary disappointment at being restrained, the
result satisfied all of us that, for very different reasons from those
adduced to withhold us from making the proposed movement, all, as the
sequel proved, was for the best. On the sixth day after leaving our
camp on the north bank of the Arkansas the expedition arrived at the
point which was chosen as our future base, where the infantry were
to remain and erect quarters for themselves and storehouses for the
military supplies. The point selected--which was then given the name
it now bears, Camp Supply--was in the angle formed by Wolf and Beaver
creeks, about one mile above the junction of these two streams. These
streams by their union form the north fork of the Canadian river. The
exact geographical location of the point referred to is lat. 36 deg. 30
min., long. 99 deg. 30 min., being in the neighborhood of one hundred
miles in a southerly direction from Fort Dodge on the Arkansas. We
of the cavalry knew that our detention at this point would be but
brief. Within two or three days of our arrival the hearts of the entire
command were gladdened by the sudden appearance in our midst of strong
reinforcements. These reinforcements consisted of General Sheridan and
staff. Hearing of his near approach, I mounted my horse and was soon
galloping beyond the limits of camp to meet him. If there were any
persons in the command who hitherto had been in doubt as to whether the
proposed winter campaign was to be a reality or otherwise, such persons
soon had cause to dispel all mistrust on this point. Selecting from the
train a sufficient number of the best teams and wagons to transport
our supplies of rations and forage, enough to subsist the command upon
for a period of thirty days, our arrangements were soon completed by
which the cavalry, consisting of eleven companies and numbering between
eight and nine hundred men, were ready to resume the march. In addition
we were to be accompanied by a detachment of scouts, among the number
being California Joe; also our Indian allies from the Osage tribe,
headed by Little Beaver and Hard Rope. As the country in which we were
to operate was beyond the limits of the district which constituted the
command of General Sully, that officer was relieved from further duty
with the troops composing the expedition, and in accordance with his
instructions withdrew from Camp Supply and returned to his headquarters
at Fort Harker, Kansas, accompanied by Colonel Keogh, Seventh Cavalry,
then holding the position of staff officer at district headquarters.
After remaining at Camp Supply six days, nothing was required but the
formal order directing the movement to commence. This came in the shape
of a brief letter of instructions from Department headquarters. Of
course, as nothing was known positively as to the exact whereabouts
of the Indian villages, the instructions had to be general in terms.
In substance, I was to march my command in search of the winter
hiding-places of the hostile Indians, and wherever found to administer
such punishment for past depredations as my force was able to. On the
evening of November 22d, orders were issued to be in readiness to move
promptly at daylight the following morning. That night, in the midst
of other final preparations for a long separation from all means of
communication with absent friends, most of us found time to hastily
pen a few parting lines, informing them of our proposed expedition,
and the uncertainties with which it was surrounded, as none of us knew
when or where we should be heard from again once we bade adieu to the
bleak hospitalities of Camp Supply. Alas! some of our number were
destined never to return. It began snowing the evening of the 22d, and
continued all night, so that when the shrill notes of the bugle broke
the stillness of the morning air at reveille on the 23d, we awoke at
four o’clock to find the ground covered with snow to a depth of over
one foot, and the storm still raging in full force. Surely this was
anything but an inviting prospect as we stepped from our frail canvas
shelters and found ourselves standing in the constantly and rapidly
increasing depth of snow which appeared in every direction. “How will
this do for a winter campaign?” was the half sarcastic query of the
adjutant, as he came trudging back to the tent through a field of snow
extending almost to the top of his tall troop boots, after having
received the reports of the different companies at reveille. “Just
what we want,” was the reply. Little grooming did the shivering horses
receive from the equally uncomfortable troopers that morning. Breakfast
was served and disposed of more as a matter of form and regulation
than to satisfy the appetite; for who, I might inquire, could rally
much of an appetite at five o’clock in the morning, and when standing
around a camp fire almost up to the knees in snow? The signal, “The
general,” for tents to be taken down and wagons packed for the march,
gave every one employment. Upon the principle that a short horse is
soon curried, and as we were going to take but little with us in the
way of baggage of any description, the duties of packing up were soon
performed. It still lacked some minutes of daylight when the various
commanders reported their commands in readiness to move, save the final
act of saddling the horses, which only arrested the signal sounds of
the chief bugler at headquarters. “Boots and saddles” rang forth, and
each trooper grasped his saddle, and the next moment was busily engaged
arranging and disposing of the few buckles and straps upon which the
safety of his seat and the comfort of his horse depended. While they
were thus employed, my horse being already saddled and held near by, by
the orderly, I improved the time to gallop through the darkness across
the narrow plain to the tents of General Sheridan, and say good-by. I
found the headquarter tents wrapped in silence, and at first imagined
that no one was yet stirring except the sentinel in front of the
General’s tent, who kept up his lonely tread, apparently indifferent
to the beating storm. But I had no sooner given the bridle-rein to my
orderly than the familiar tones of the General called out, letting
me know that he was awake, and had been an attentive listener to our
notes of preparation. His first greeting was to ask what I thought
about the snow and the storm. To which I replied that nothing could
be more to our purpose. We could move and the Indian villages could
not. If the snow only remained on the ground one week, I promised to
bring the General satisfactory evidences that my command had met the
Indians. With an earnest injunction from my chief to keep him informed,
if possible, should anything important occur, and many hearty wishes
for a successful issue to the campaign, I bade him adieu. After I had
mounted my horse, and had started to rejoin my command, a staff officer
of the General, a particular friend, having just been awakened by
the conversation, called out, while standing in the door of his tent
enveloped in the comfortable folds of a huge buffalo robe, “Good-by,
old fellow; take care of yourself!” and in these brief sentences the
usual farewell greetings between brother officers separating for
service took place. By the time I rejoined my men they had saddled
their horses and were in readiness for the march. “To horse” was
sounded, and each trooper stood at his horse’s head. Then followed the
commands “Prepare to mount” and “Mount,” when nothing but the signal
“Advance” was required to put the column in motion. The band took its
place at the head of the column, preceded by the guides and scouts, and
when the march began it was to the familiar notes of that famous old
marching tune, “The girl I left behind me.”
If we had entered into solemn compact with the clerk of the
weather--this being before the reign of “Old Probabilities”--to be
treated to winter in its severest aspect, we could have claimed no
forfeiture on account of non-fulfilment of contract. We could not
refer to the oldest inhabitant, that mythical personage in most
neighborhoods, to attest to the fact that this was a storm unparalleled
in severity in that section of country. The snow continued to descend
in almost blinding clouds. Even the appearance of daylight aided us but
little in determining the direction of our march. So dense and heavy
were the falling lines of snow, that all view of the surface of the
surrounding country, upon which the guides depended to enable them to
run their course, was cut off. To such an extent was this true that it
became unsafe for a person to wander from the column a distance equal
to twice the width of Broadway, as in that short space all view of
the column was prevented by the storm. None of the command except the
Indian guides had ever visited the route we desired to follow, and
they were forced to confess that until the storm abated sufficiently
to permit them to catch glimpses of the landmarks of the country, they
could not undertake to guide the troops to the point where we desired
to camp that night. Here was a serious obstacle encountered quite early
in the campaign.
The point at which we proposed to encamp for the night was on Wolf
creek, only some twelve or fifteen miles from Camp Supply, it not
being intended that our first day’s progress should be very great. We
had started, however, and notwithstanding the discouraging statements
of our guides it would never do to succumb to opposition so readily.
There was but one course to pursue now that the guides could no
longer conduct us with certainty, and that was to be guided--like the
mariner in mid-ocean--by the never-failing compass. There are few
cavalry officers but what carry a compass in some more or less simple
form. Mine was soon in my hand, and having determined as accurately
as practicable, from my knowledge of the map of the country, the
direction in which we ought to move in order to strike Wolf creek at
the desired camping ground, I became for the time guide to the column,
and after marching until about two P. M. reached the valley of Wolf
creek, where a resting place for the night was soon determined upon.
There was still no sign of abatement on the part of the weather. Timber
was found along the banks of the creek in ample quantity to furnish
us with fuel, but so imbedded in snow as to render the prospect of
a camp fire very remote and uncertain. Our march of fifteen miles
through the deep snow and blinding storm had been more fatiguing to
our horses than an ordinary march of thirty miles would have been.
Our wagons were still far in rear. While they were coming up every
man in the command, officers as well as enlisted men, set briskly to
work in gathering a good supply of wood, as our personal comfort in
camp in such weather would be largely dependent on the quality and
quantity of our firewood. Fallen and partly seasoned trees were in
great demand, and, when discovered in the huge beds of snow, were
soon transformed, under the vigorous blows of a score of axes, into
available fuel. It was surprising as well as gratifying to witness the
contentment and general good humor everywhere prevailing throughout
the command. Even the chill of winter and the bitterest of storms
were insufficient to produce a feeling of gloom, or to suppress the
occasional ebullition of mirthful feeling which ever and anon would
break forth from some Celtic or Teutonic disciple of Mars. Fires were
soon blazing upon the grounds assigned to the different troops, and
upon the arrival of the wagons, which occurred soon after, the company
cooks were quickly engaged in preparing the troopers’ dinner, while
the servants of the officers were employed in a similar manner for the
benefit of the latter. While the cooks were so engaged, officers and
men were busily occupied in pitching the tents, an operation which
under the circumstances was most difficult to perform satisfactorily,
for the reason that before erecting the tent it was desirable, almost
necessary, to remove the snow from the surface of the ground intended
to form the floor of the tent; otherwise the snow, as soon as a fire
should be started within the tent, would melt and reduce the ground to
a very muddy condition. But so rapidly did the large flakes continue to
fall that the most energetic efforts of two persons were insufficient
to keep the ground properly clear; such at least was the experience
of Lieutenant Moylan, the adjutant, and myself, in our earnest
endeavors to render our temporary abiding place a fit habitation for
the night. Tents up at last, dinner was not long in being prepared,
and even less time employed in disposing of it. A good cup of strong
coffee went far toward reconciling us to everything that had but a few
moments before appeared somewhat uninviting. By this time a cheerful
fire was blazing in the centre of our tent; my comfortable bed of
buffalo robes was prepared on a framework of strong boughs, and with
my ever-faithful dogs lying near me, I was soon reclining in a state
of comparative comfort, watching the smoke as it ascended through the
narrow apex of the tent, there to mingle with the descending flakes
of snow. In regard to the storm still prevailing outside, and which
in itself or its effects we were to encounter the following morning
and for an indefinite period thereafter, I consoled myself with the
reflection that to us it was as an unpleasant remedy for the removal of
a still more unpleasant disease. If the storm seemed terrible to us, I
believed it would prove to be even more terrible to our enemies, the
Indians. Promptly at the appointed hour, four o’clock the following
morning, camp was bustling and active in response to the bugle notes
of reveille. The storm had abated, the snow had ceased falling, but
that which had fallen during the previous twenty-four hours now covered
the ground to a depth of upward of eighteen inches. The sky was clear,
however, or, to adopt the expressive language of California Joe,
“the travellin’ was good overhead.” It is always a difficult matter,
the first few days of a march, to inculcate upon the minds of the
necessary hangers-on of a camp, such as teamsters, wagon-masters, etc.,
the absolute necessity of promptness and strict obedience to orders,
particularly orders governing the time and manner of marching; and one
or two days usually are required to be devoted to disciplining these
unruly characters. When the hour arrived which had been previously
designated as the one at which the command would begin the second day’s
march, the military portion were in complete readiness to “move out,”
but it was found that several of the teams were still unharnessed
and the tents of the wagon-masters still standing. This was a matter
requiring a prompt cure. The officer of the day was directed to proceed
with his guard, and, after hastening the unfinished preparations
for the march, to arrest the wagon-masters and most dilatory of the
teamsters, and compel them to march on foot as a punishment for their
tardiness. This was no slight matter, considering the great depth of
the snow. So effective was this measure that not many hours had elapsed
before the deposed drivers and their equally unfortunate superiors
sent through the officer of the guard a humble request that they be
permitted to resume their places in the train, promising at the same
time never to give renewed cause for complaints of tardiness to be
made against them. Their request was granted, and their promise most
faithfully observed during the remainder of the campaign.
All of the second day we continued to march up the valley of the stream
we had chosen as our first camping ground. The second night we encamped
under circumstances very similar to those which attended us the first
night, except that the storm no longer disturbed us. The snow did not
add to our discomfort particularly, save by increasing the difficulty
of obtaining good and sufficient fuel. Our purpose was to strike the
Canadian river in the vicinity of “Antelope Hills,” which are famous
and prominent landmarks in that region, and then be governed in our
future course by circumstances. Resuming the march at daylight on the
morning of the third day, our route still kept us in the valley of Wolf
creek, on whose banks we were to encamp for the third time. Nothing
was particularly worthy of notice during our third day’s march, except
the immense quantities of game to be seen seeking the weak shelter
from the storm offered by the little strips of timber extending along
the valleys of Wolf creek and its tributaries. Even the buffalo, with
their huge, shaggy coats--sufficient, one would imagine, to render
the wearer indifferent to the blasts of winter--were frequently found
huddled together in the timber, and so drowsy or benumbed from the
effects of the cold as to not discover our approach until we were
within easy pistol range, when the Indian guides and our white scouts
who rode in advance would single out those appearing in best condition,
and by deliberate aim bring them down. Details of a few troopers from
each company were left at these points to cut up the butchered game
and see to its being loaded in the company wagons as the trains came
along. In this way a bountiful supply of good fresh meat was laid in,
the weather favoring the keeping of the meat for an indefinite period.
Occasionally we would discover a herd of buffaloes on the bluffs
overlooking the stream. Then would occur some rare scenes of winter
sport: a few of the officers and men would obtain permission to lead
the column and join in the chase--an indulgence that could be safely
granted, as no fears were entertained that hostile Indians were in our
immediate vicinity. The deep snow was a serious obstacle to exhibiting
speed either in the buffalo or his pursuers. It was most laughable to
witness the desperate and awkward efforts of buffalo, horse, and rider,
in the frantic endeavor to make rapid headway through the immense
fields of snow. Occasionally an unseen hole or ditch or ravine covered
up by the snow would be encountered, when the buffalo or his pursuer,
or perhaps all three--horse, rider, and buffalo--would disappear in
one grand tumble in the depths of the snowdrifts, and when seen to
emerge therefrom it was difficult to determine which of the three was
most badly frightened. Fortunately no accidents occurred to mar the
pleasure of the excitement. Seeing a fine herd of young buffaloes a
short distance in the advance, I determined to test the courage of my
stag-hounds “Blucher” and “Maida.” Approaching as near the herd as
possible before giving them the alarm, I managed to single out and
cut off from the main herd a fine yearling bull. My horse, a trained
hunter, was soon alongside, but I was unable to use my pistol to bring
the young buffalo down, as both the dogs were running close to either
side, and by resolutely attacking him endeavoring to pull him down. It
was a new experience to them; a stag they could easily have mastered,
but a lusty young buffalo bull was an antagonist of different calibre.
So determined had the dogs become, their determination strengthened no
doubt by the occasional vigorous blows received from the ready hoofs
of the buffalo, that I could not call them off; neither could I render
them assistance from my pistol, for fear of injuring them. There was
nothing left for me to do but to become a silent although far from
disinterested participant in the chase. The immense drifts of snow
through which we were struggling at our best pace would soon vanquish
one or the other of the party; it became a question of endurance
simply, and the buffalo was the first to come to grief. Finding escape
by running impossible, he boldly came to bay and faced his pursuers;
in a moment both dogs had grappled with him as if he had been a deer.
Blucher seized him by the throat, Maida endeavored to secure a firm
hold on the shoulders. The result was that Blucher found himself well
trampled in snow, and but for the latter would have been crushed to
death. Fearing for the safety of my dogs, I leaped from my horse, who I
knew would not leave me, and ran to the assistance of the stag-hounds.
Drawing my hunting-knife and watching a favorable opportunity, I
succeeded in cutting the hamstrings of the buffalo, which had the
effect to tumble him over in the snow, when I was enabled to despatch
him with my pistol.
On that afternoon we again encamped in the same valley up which we had
been moving during the past three days. The next morning, following
the lead of our Indian guides, who had been directed to conduct us to
a point on the Canadian river near the Antelope Hills, our course,
which so far had been westerly, now bore off almost due south. After
ascending gradually for some hours to the crest or divide which sloped
on the north down to the valley of the stream we had just left, we
reached the highest line and soon began to gradually descend again,
indicating that we were approaching a second valley; this the Indians
assured us was the valley of the Canadian. Delayed in our progress by
the deep snow and the difficulty from the same cause always experienced
by our guides in selecting a practicable route, darkness overtook us
before the entire command arrived at the point chosen for our camp on
the north bank of the Canadian. As there is little or no timber found
along the immediate banks of that river as far up as we then were,
we pitched our tents about one mile from the river, and near a small
fresh-water tributary whose valley was abundantly supplied with wood.
If any prowling bands or war parties belonging to either of the tribes
with which we were at war were moving across the Canadian in either
direction, it was more than probable that their crossing would be made
at some point above us, and not more than ten or fifteen miles distant.
The season was rather far advanced to expect any of these parties to
be absent from the village, but the trail of the war party, discovered
by our Indian guides just before the expedition reached Camp Supply,
was not forgotten, and the heavy storm of the past few days would be
apt to drive them away from the settlements and hasten their return
to their village. We had every reason to believe that the latter was
located somewhere south of the Canadian. After discussing the matter
with Little Beaver and Hard Rope, and listening to the suggestions of
California Joe and his confrères, I decided to start a strong force
up the valley of the Canadian at daybreak the following morning, to
examine the banks and discover, if possible, if Indians had been in the
vicinity since the snow had fallen. Three full troops of cavalry under
Major Joel H. Elliot, 7th Cavalry, were ordered to move without wagons
or _otro impedimiento_, each trooper to carry one hundred rounds of
ammunition, one day’s rations and forage. Their instructions were to
proceed up the north bank of the Canadian a distance of fifteen miles.
If any trail of Indians was discovered, pursuit was to be taken up at
once, at the same time sending information of the fact back to the
main command, indicating the number and character of the Indians as
determined by their trail, and particularly the direction in which they
were moving, in order that the main body of the troops might endeavor
if possible to intercept the Indians, or at least strike the trail by
a shorter route than by following the first detachment. A few of our
Indian trailers were designated to accompany the party, as well as
some of the white scouts. The latter were to be employed in carrying
despatches back to the main command, should anything be discovered of
sufficient importance to be reported. In the mean time I informed Major
Elliot that as soon as it was fairly daylight I would commence crossing
the main command over the Canadian--an operation which could not be
performed hastily, as the banks were almost overflowing, the current
being very rapid and the water filled with floating snow and ice. After
making the crossing I would, in the absence of any reports from him,
march up the bluffs forming Antelope Hills and strike nearly due south,
aiming to encamp that night on some one of the small streams forming
the headwaters of the Washita river, where we would again unite the two
portions of the command and continue our march to the south.
Major Elliot was a very zealous officer, and daylight found him and
his command on the march in the execution of the duty to which they
had been assigned. Those of us who remained behind were soon busily
occupied in making preparations to effect a crossing of the Canadian.
California Joe had been engaged since early dawn searching for a ford
which would be practicable for our wagons; the troopers and horses
could cross almost anywhere. A safe fording place barely practicable
was soon reported, and the cavalry and wagon train began moving over.
It was a tedious process; sometimes the treacherous quicksand would
yield beneath the heavily laden wagons, and double the usual number of
mules would be required to extricate the load. In less than three hours
the last wagon and the rear guard of the cavalry had made a successful
crossing. Looming up in our front like towering battlements were the
Antelope Hills. These prominent landmarks, which can be seen from a
distance of over twenty miles in all directions, are situated near the
south bank of the Canadian, and at 100 deg. W. longitude. The Antelope
Hills form a group of five separate hillocks, and are sometimes called
Boundary Mounts. They vary in height above the average level of the
plains between one hundred and fifty and three hundred feet. Two of the
hills are conical and the others oblong; they are composed of porous
sandstone, and are crowned with white and regular terraces about six
yards in depth. From the summit of these terraces one enjoys a most
commanding view. On the left is to be seen the red bed of the Canadian,
whose tortuous windings, coming from the southwest, direct their course
for a while northwards, and finally disappear in a distant easterly
direction. The horizon is but an immense circle of snowy whiteness,
of which the centre is the point of observation. Here and there a few
acclivities rise above the plains, divided by rows of stunted trees,
indicating a ravine, or more frequently a humble brook such as that on
whose banks we camped the night previous to crossing the Canadian. It
never occurred to any of us, when folding our tents that bleak winter
morning on the bank of the Canadian, that there were those among our
number who had bidden a last and final adieu to the friendly shelter
of their canvas-covered homes; that for some of us, some who could but
sadly be spared, the last reveille had sounded, and that when sleep
again closed their eyes it would be that sleep from which there is no
awakening. But I am anticipating.
One by one the huge army wagons, with their immense white covers, began
the long ascent which was necessary to be overcome before attaining
the level of the plains. As fast as they reached the high ground the
leading wagons were halted and parked to await the arrival of the
last to cross the river. In the mean time the cavalry had closed up
and dismounted, except the rear guard, which was just then to be seen
approaching from the river, indicating that “everything was closed
up.” I was about to direct the chief bugler to sound “To horse,” when
far in the distance, on the white surface of the snow, I descried a
horseman approaching us as rapidly as his tired steed could carry him.
The direction was that in which Elliot’s command was supposed to be,
and the horseman approaching could be none other than a messenger from
Elliot. What tidings would he bring? was my first thought. Perhaps
Elliot could not find a ford by which to cross the Canadian, and
simply desired instructions as to what his course should be. Perhaps he
has discovered an Indian trail--a fresh one; but it must be fresh if
one at all, as the snow is scarcely three days old. If a trail has been
discovered, then woe unto the luckless Indians whose footprints are
discoverable in the snow; for so long as that remains and the endurance
of men and horses holds out, just so long will we follow that trail,
until the pursuer and pursued are brought face to face, or the one or
the other succumbs to the fatigues and exhaustion of the race. These
and a host of kindred thoughts flashed in rapid succession through my
mind as soon as I had discovered the distant approach of the scout, for
a scout I knew it must be. As yet none of the command had observed his
coming, not being on as high ground as where I stood. By means of my
field glass I was able to make out the familiar form of “Corbin,” one
of the scouts. After due waiting, when minutes seemed like hours, the
scout galloped up to where I was waiting, and in a few hurried, almost
breathless words, informed me that Elliot’s command, after moving up
the north bank of the Canadian about twelve miles, had discovered the
trail of an Indian war party numbering upwards of one hundred and fifty
strong; that the trail was not twenty-four hours old, and the party had
crossed the Canadian and taken a course a little east of south. Elliot
had crossed his command, and at once token up the pursuit as rapidly as
his horses could travel. Here was news, and of a desirable character. I
asked the scout if he could overtake Elliot if furnished with a fresh
horse. He thought he could. A horse was at once supplied him, and he
was told to rejoin Elliot as soon as possible, with instructions to
continue the pursuit with all possible vigor, and I would move with
the main command in such direction as to strike his trail about dark.
If the Indians changed their general direction, he was to inform me of
the fact; and if I could not overtake him by eight o’clock that night,
Elliot was to halt his command and await my arrival, when the combined
force would move as circumstances might determine. My resolution was
formed in a moment, and as quickly put in train of execution. The bugle
summoned all the officers to report at once. There was no tardiness on
their part, for while they had not heard the report brought in by the
scout, they had witnessed his unexpected arrival and his equally sudden
departure--circumstances which told them plainer than mere words that
something unusual was in the air. The moment they were all assembled
about me I acquainted them with the intelligence received from Elliot,
and at the same time informed them that we would at once set out to
join in the pursuit--a pursuit which could and would only end when we
overtook our enemies. And in order that we should not be trammelled
in our movements, it was my intention then and there to abandon our
train of wagons, taking with us only such supplies as we could carry
on our persons and strapped to our saddles. The train would be left
under the protection of about eighty men detailed from the different
troops, and under command of one officer, to whom orders would be given
to follow us with the train as rapidly as the character of our route
would permit. Each trooper was to carry with him one hundred rounds
of ammunition, a small amount of coffee and hard bread, and on his
saddle an equally small allowance of forage for his horse. Tents and
extra blankets were to be left with the wagons. We were to move in
light marching order as far as this was practicable. Then taking out my
watch, the officers were notified that in twenty minutes from that time
“the advance” would be sounded and the march in pursuit begun--the
intervening time to be devoted to carrying out the instructions just
given. In a moment every man and officer in the command was vigorously
at work preparing to set out for a rough ride, the extent or result of
which no one could foresee. Wagons were emptied, mess chests called
upon to contribute from their stores, ammunition chests opened and
their contents distributed to the troopers. The most inferior of the
horses were selected to fill up the detail of eighty cavalry which
was to remain and escort the train; an extra amount of clothing was
donned by some who realized that when the bitter, freezing hours of
night came we would not have the comforts of tents and camp-fire to
sustain us. If we had looked with proper dread upon the discomforts of
the past three days, the severity of the storm, the deep snow, and our
limited facilities for withstanding the inclemencies of midwinter even
when provided with shelter, food, and fire, what was the prospect now
opened before us when we proposed to relinquish even the few comforts
we had at command, and start out on a mission not only full of danger,
but where food would be very limited, and then only of the plainest
kind? Shelterless we should be in the midst of the wide, open plains,
where the winds blow with greater force, and owing to our proximity
to the Indians even fires would be too costly an aid to our comfort
to be allowed. Yet these thoughts scarcely found a place in the minds
of any members of the command. All felt that a great opportunity was
before us, and to improve it only required determination and firmness
on our part. How thoroughly and manfully every demand of this kind
was responded to by my command, I will endeavor to relate in the next
chapter.