The Apache village had been represented as located only five or six
miles from our camp, but we found the distance nearly twice as great;
and although we rode rapidly, our horses being fresh, yet it was quite
dark before we reached the first lodge, the location of the rest of the
village being tolerably well defined by the apparently countless dogs,
whose barking at our approach called forth most of the inhabitants of
the village.
As our coming had been previously announced by Little Robe and Yellow
Bear, our arrival occasioned no surprise. Inquiring of the first we
saw where the stream of water was, as an Indian village is invariably
placed in close proximity to water, we were soon on our camp ground,
which was almost within the limits of the village. Our horses were soon
unsaddled and picketed out to graze, fires were started by the men
preparatory to the enjoyment of a cup of coffee, and every preliminary
made for a good night’s rest and early start in the morning. But here
the officers of the party encountered their first drawback. From some
unexplained cause the pack-mule which carried our blankets had with his
attendant failed thus far to put in an appearance. His head leader had
probably fallen behind, and in the darkness lost the party. The bugler
was sent to a neighboring eminence to sound signals with his bugle, in
the hope that the absent man with his mule might make his way to us,
but all to no purpose. We were soon forced to relinquish all hope of
seeing either man, mule, or blankets until daylight, and consequently
the prospect of enjoying a comfortable rest was exceedingly limited.
Saddle blankets were in great demand, but I was even more fortunate.
A large number of the Apaches had come from their lodges out of mere
curiosity to see us, hoping no doubt too that they might secure
something to eat. Among them was one with whom I was acquainted, and to
whom I made known the temporary loss of my blankets. By promising him
a pint of sugar and an equal amount of coffee on my return to my camp,
he agreed to loan me a buffalo robe until morning. With this wrapped
around me and the aid of a bright blazing camp fire, I passed a most
comfortable night among my less fortunate companions, as we all lay
stretched out on the ground, using our saddles for pillows.
Early next morning (our pack animals having come up in the night)
we were in our saddles, and on our way ready and eager for whatever
might be in store for us. The route taken by the guides led us along
the northern border of the Witchita Mountains, our general direction
being nearly due west. A brief description of these mountains and of
the surrounding scenery is contained in the first chapter of “Life on
the Plains.” As soon as it had become known in the main camp that the
expedition of which I now write was contemplated, young Brewster, who
had never relinquished his efforts or inquiries to determine the fate
of his lost sister, came to me with an earnest request to be taken as
one of the party--a request which I was only too glad to comply with.
No person who has not lived on the frontier and in an Indian country,
can correctly realize or thoroughly appreciate the extent to which a
frontiersman becomes familiar with, and apparently indifferent to the
accustomed dangers which surround him on every side. It is but another
verification of the truth of the old saying, “Familiarity breeds
contempt.”
After getting well on our way I began, through Romeo, conversing with
the two chiefs Little Robe and Yellow Bear, who rode at my side, upon
the topic which was uppermost in the minds of the entire party: When
and where should we probably find their people? Before our departure
they had given me to understand that the villages might be found on
some one of the small streams flowing in a southerly direction past the
western span of the Witchita mountains, a distance from our main camp
not exceeding sixty or seventy miles; but I could easily perceive that
neither of the chiefs spoke with a great degree of confidence. They
explained this by stating that the villages would not remain long in
one place, and it was difficult to say positively in what locality or
upon what stream we should find them; but that when we reached the last
peak of the Witchita mountains, which commanded an unlimited view of
the plains beyond, they would send up signal smoke, and perhaps be able
to obtain a reply from the village.
In the evening we reached a beautiful stream of water, with abundance
of wood in the vicinity; here we halted for the night. Our horses
were fastened to the trees, while the officers and men spread their
blankets on the ground, and in groups of twos and threes prepared
for the enjoyment of a good night’s rest. One sentry remained awake
during the night, and in order that the loss of sleep should be as
little as might be consistent with our safety, the relief, instead of
being composed of three men, each of whom would have to remain on duty
two hours for every four hours of rest, was increased in number so
that each member thereof was required to remain on post but a single
hour during the night. While I felt confidence in the good intentions
of the two chiefs, I did not neglect to advise the guards to keep a
watchful eye upon them, as we could not afford to run any avoidable
risks. Long after we had sought the solace of our blankets, and I had
dropped into a comfortable doze, I was awakened by an Indian song.
There was, of course, no occasion for alarm from this incident, yet
it was sufficient to induce me to get up and make my way to the small
fire, around which I knew the three Indians and Romeo to be lying, and
from the vicinity of which the singing evidently came. As I approached
the fire I found Neva, the Blackfoot, replenishing the small flame
with a few dried twigs, while Romeo and Yellow Bear were sitting near
by enjoying some well-broiled beef ribs. Little Robe was reclining,
in a half-sitting position, against a tree, and, apparently oblivious
to the presence of his companions, was singing or chanting an Indian
melody, the general tenor of which seemed to indicate a lightness of
spirits. Young Brewster--unable, perhaps, to sleep, owing to thoughts
of his lost sister--had joined the group, and appeared an interested
observer of what was going on. I inquired of Romeo why Little Robe had
selected such an unreasonable hour to indulge in his wild melodies.
Romeo repeated the inquiry to Little Robe, who replied that he had been
away from his lodge for a long time, and the thought of soon returning,
and of being with his people once more, had filled his heart with a
gladness which could only find utterance in song.
Taking a seat on the ground by the side of young Brewster, I joined the
group. As neither Little Robe nor Yellow Bear could understand a word
of English, and Neva was busily engaged with his culinary operations,
young Brewster, with unconcealed delight, informed me that from
conversations with Little Robe, who appeared in a more communicative
mood than usual, he felt cheered by the belief that at last he was
in a fair way to discover the whereabouts of his captive sister. He
then briefly detailed how Little Robe, little dreaming that his
listener was so deeply interested in his words, had admitted that the
Cheyennes had two white girls as prisoners, the date of the capture of
one of them and the personal description given by Little Robe closely
answering to that of Brewster’s sister. In the hope of gleaning other
valuable information from time to time, I advised the young man not
to acquaint the Indians with the fact that he had lost a sister by
capture; else, becoming suspicious, the supply of information might be
cut off.
The tidings in regard to the captured girls were most encouraging,
and spurred us to leave no effort untried to release them from the
horrors of their situation. Before daylight the following morning we
had breakfasted, and as soon as it was sufficiently light to enable
us to renew our march we set out, still keeping almost due west. In
the afternoon of that day we reached the last prominent peak of the
Witchita mountains, from which point Little Robe and Yellow Bear had
said they would send up a signal smoke.
I had often during an Indian campaign seen these signal smokes, on my
front, on my right and left--everywhere, in fact--but could never catch
a glimpse of the Indians who were engaged in making them, nor did I
comprehend at the time the precise import of the signals. I was glad,
therefore, to have an opportunity to stand behind the scenes, as it
were, and not only witness the _modus operandi_, but understand the
purpose of the actors.
Arriving at the base of the mountain or peak, the height of which did
not exceed one thousand feet, we dismounted, and leaving our horses on
the plain below, owing to the rough and rocky character of the ascent,
a small portion of our party, including of course, the two chiefs,
climbed to the summit. After sweeping the broad horizon which spread
out before us, and failing to discover any evidence of the presence
of an Indian village anywhere within the scope of our vision, the two
chiefs set about to make preparations necessary to enable them to “call
to the village,” as they expressed it.
I have alluded in a former article to the perfect system of signals
in use among the Indians of the plains. That which I am about to
describe briefly was but one of many employed by them. First gathering
an armful of dried grass and weeds, this was carried and placed upon
the highest point of the peak, where, everything being in readiness,
the match was applied close to the ground; but the blaze was no sooner
well lighted and about to envelop the entire amount of grass collected,
than Little Robe began smothering it with the unlighted portion. This
accomplished, a slender column of gray smoke began to ascend in a
perpendicular column. This, however, was not enough, as such a signal,
or the appearance of such, might be created by white men, or might rise
from a simple camp fire. Little Robe now took his scarlet blanket from
his shoulders, and with a graceful wave threw it so as to cover the
smouldering grass, when, assisted by Yellow Bear, he held the corners
and sides so closely to the ground as to almost completely confine and
cut off the column of smoke. Waiting but for a few moments, and until
he saw the smoke beginning to escape from beneath, he suddenly threw
the blanket aside, and a beautiful balloon shaped column puffed upward,
like the white cloud of smoke which attends the discharge of a field
piece.
Again casting the blanket on the pile of grass, the column was
interrupted as before, and again in due time released, so that a
succession of elongated, egg-shaped puffs of smoke kept ascending
toward the sky in the most regular manner. This beadlike column of
smoke, considering the height from which it began to ascend, was
visible from points on the level plain fifty miles distant.
The sight of these two Indian chiefs so intently engaged in this simple
but effective mode of telegraphing was to me full of interest, and this
incident was vividly recalled when I came across Stanley’s painting of
“The Signal,” in which two chiefs or warriors are standing upon a large
rock, with lighted torch in hand, while far in the distance is to be
seen the answering column, as it ascends above the tops of the trees,
from the valley where no doubt the village is pleasantly located. In
our case, however, the picture was not so complete in its results. For
strain our eager eyes as we might in every direction, no responsive
signal could be discovered, and finally the chiefs were reluctantly
forced to acknowledge that the villages were not where they expected
to find them, and that to reach them would probably involve a longer
journey than we had anticipated. Descending from the mountain, we
continued our journey, still directing our course nearly due west, as
the two chiefs felt confident the villages were in that direction. That
day and the next passed without further incident.
After arriving at camp on the second evening, a conversation with the
two Indian chiefs made it seem probable that our journey would have to
be prolonged several days beyond the time which was deemed necessary
when we left the main camp. And as our supply of provisions was limited
to our supposed wants during the shorter journey, it was necessary
to adopt measures for obtaining fresh supplies. This was the more
imperative as the country through which we were then passing was almost
devoid of game. Our party was so small in number that our safety would
be greatly imperilled by any serious reduction, yet it was a measure
of necessity that a message should be sent back to General Sheridan,
informing him of our changed plans and providing for a renewal of our
stores.
I acquainted the men of my command with my desire, and it was not long
before a soldierly young trooper announced that he would volunteer to
carry a despatch safely through. The gallant offer was accepted, and
I was soon seated on the ground, pencil in hand, writing to General
Sheridan a hurried account of our progress thus far and our plans for
the future, with a request to forward to us a supply of provisions;
adding that the party escorting them could follow on our trail, and I
would arrange to find them when required. I also requested that Colonel
Cook, who commanded the sharpshooters, should be detailed to command
the escort, and that California Joe might also be sent with the party.
It was decided that the despatch bearer should remain in camp with us
until dark and then set out on his return to the main camp. Being well
mounted, well armed, and a cool, daring young fellow, I felt but little
anxiety as to his success. Leaving him to make his solitary journey
guided by the light of the stars, and concealing himself during the
day, we will continue our search after what then seemed to us the two
lost tribes.
Daylight as usual found us in our saddles, the country continuing
interesting but less rolling, and (we judge by appearances) less
productive. We saw but little game along our line of march, and the
importance of time rendered delays of all kinds undesirable. The
countenances of Little Robe and Yellow Bear wore an anxious look,
and I could see that they began to doubt their ability to determine
positively the locality of the villages. Neva, the Blackfoot, was
full of stories connected with his experiences under General Fremont,
and appeared more hopeful than the two chiefs. He claimed to be a
son-in-law of Kit Carson, his wife, a half-breed, being deceased.
Carson, it appeared, had always regarded Neva with favor, and often
made him and his family handsome presents. I afterwards saw a son of
Neva, an extremely handsome boy of fourteen, whose comely face and
features clearly betrayed the mixture of blood indicated by Neva.
Yellow Bear finally encouraged us by stating that by noon the following
day we would arrive at a stream, on whose banks he expected to find
the Arapaho village, and perhaps that of the Cheyennes. This gave us
renewed hope, and furnished us a topic of conversation after we had
reached our camp that night. Nothing occurred worthy of note until
about noon next day, when Yellow Bear informed me that we were within
a few miles of the stream to which he had referred the day before, and
added that if the village was there his people would have a lookout
posted on a little knoll which we would find about a mile from the
village in our direction; and as the appearance of our entire force
might give alarm, Yellow Bear suggested that he, with Little Robe,
Romeo, Neva, myself, and two or three others, should ride some distance
in advance.
Remembering the proneness of the Indians to stratagem, I was yet
impressed not only with the apparent sincerity of Yellow Bear thus far,
but by the soundness of the reasons he gave for our moving in advance.
I assented to his proposition, but my confidence was not sufficiently
great to prevent me from quietly slipping a fresh cartridge in my
rifle, as it lay in front of me across my saddle-bow, nor from
unbuttoning the strap which held my revolver in place by my side.
Fortunately, however, nothing occurred to make it necessary to displace
either rifle or revolver.
After riding in advance for a couple of miles, Yellow Bear pointed out
in the distance the little mound at which he predicted we would see
something posted in the way of information concerning his tribe. If
the latter was not in the vicinity a letter would no doubt be found at
the mound, which now became an object of interest to all of us, each
striving to be the first to discover the confirmation of Yellow Bear’s
prediction.
In this way we continued to approach the mound until not more than
a mile of level plain separated us from it, and still nothing could
be seen to encourage us, when, owing to my reason being quickened by
the excitement of the occasion, thus giving me an advantage over the
chiefs, or from other causes, I caught sight of what would ordinarily
have been taken for two half-round stones or small bowlders, just
visible above the upper circle of the mound, as projected against the
sky beyond. A second glance convinced me that instead of the stones
which they so closely resembled, they were neither more nor less than
the upper parts of the heads of two Indians, who were no doubt studying
our movements with a view of determining whether we were a friendly or
war party.
Reassuring myself by the aid of my field-glass, I announced my
discovery to the chiefs and the rest of the party. Yellow Bear
immediately cantered his pony a few yards to the front, when, freeing
his scarlet blanket from his shoulders, he waved it twice or thrice in
a mysterious manner, and waited anxiously the response. In a moment
the two Indians, the tops of whose heads had alone been visible, rode
boldly to the crest of the mound and answered the signal of Yellow
Bear, who uttered a quick, oft-repeated whoop, and, at my suggestion,
galloped in advance, to inform his people who we were, and our object
in visiting them. By the time we reached the mound all necessary
explanations had been made, and the two Indians advanced at Yellow
Bear’s bidding and shook hands with me, afterward going through the
same ceremony with the other officers. Yellow Bear then despatched one
of the Indians to the village, less than two miles distant, to give
news of our approach.
It seemed that they had scarcely had time to reach the village, before
young and old began flocking out to meet us, some on ponies, others on
mules, and occasionally two full-grown Indians would be seen mounted on
one diminutive pony. If any of our party had feared that our errand was
attended with risk, their minds probably underwent a change when they
looked around, and upon all sides saw armed warriors, whose numbers
exceeded ours more than ten to one, and whose entire bearing and
demeanor toward us gave promise of any but hostile feelings.
Not deeming it best to allow them to encircle us too closely, I
requested Yellow Bear, in whose peaceable desires I had confidence,
to direct his people to remain at some distance from us, so as not to
impede our progress; at the same time to inform them that it was our
purpose to pitch our camp immediately alongside of theirs, when full
opportunity would be given for interchange of visits. This proposition
seemed to meet with favor, and our route was left unobstructed. A short
ride brought us to the village, the lodges composing which were dotted
in a picturesque manner along the left branch of Mulberry creek, one of
the tributaries of Red river.
I decided to cross the creek and bivouac on the right bank, opposite
the lower end of the village, and within easy pistol range of the
nearest lodge. This location may strike the reader with some surprise,
and may suggest the inquiry why we did not locate ourselves at some
point further removed from the village. It must be remembered that in
undertaking to penetrate the Indian country with so small a force,
I acted throughout upon the belief that if proper precautions were
adopted, the Indians would not molest us. Indians contemplating a
battle, either offensive or defensive, are always anxious to have their
women and children removed from all danger thereof. By our watchfulness
we intended to let the Indians see that there would be no opportunity
for them to take us by surprise, but that if fighting was intended,
it should not be all on one side. For this reason I decided to locate
our camp as close as convenient to the village, knowing that the close
proximity of their women and children, and their necessary exposure
in case of conflict, would operate as a powerful argument in favor of
peace, when the question of peace or war came to be discussed.
But right here I will do the Arapahoes justice, by asserting that after
the first council, which took place in my camp the same evening, and
after they had had an opportunity to learn the exact character and
object of our mission, as told to them by me, and confirmed by the
earnest addresses of Yellow Bear and Little Robe, they evinced toward
us nothing but friendly feeling, and exhibited a ready willingness to
conform to the only demand we made of them, which was that they should
proceed at once, with their entire village, to our main camp, within
their reservation, and then report to General Sheridan.
[Illustration: LITTLE RAVEN, HEAD CHIEF OF THE ARAPAHOES.]
Little Raven, the head chief, spoke for his people, and expressed their
gratification at the reports brought to them by Yellow Bear and Little
Robe. They accepted with gladness the offer of peace, and promised
to set out in three days to proceed to our main camp, near the site
of Fort Sill. As it was quite late before the council concluded the
discussion of questions pertaining to the Arapahoes, no reference was
made to the Cheyennes; besides, I knew that Little Robe would be
able to gather all possible information concerning them.
Little Raven invited me to visit him the following day in his village,
an invitation I promised to accept. Before the chiefs separated, I
requested Little Raven to give notice through them to all his people,
that after it became dark it would no longer be safe for any of them
to approach our camp, as, according to our invariable custom, guards
would be posted about camp during the entire night; and as we could
not distinguish friends from foes in the darkness, the sentries would
be ordered to fire on every object seen approaching our camp. To this
Little Raven and his chiefs promised assent. I then further informed
him that during our stay near them we should always be glad, during
the hours of daylight, to receive visits from him or from any of his
people, but to prevent confusion or misunderstanding, not more than
twenty Indians would be permitted to visit our camp at one time. This
also was agreed to, and the chiefs, after shaking hands and uttering
the customary “How,” departed to their village. Yellow Bear remained
only long enough to say that, his family being in the village, he
preferred, of course, to be with them, but assured us that his people
were sincere in their protestations of peace, and that we might sleep
as soundly as if we were back among our comrades, in the main camp,
with no fears of unfriendly interruption.
After tethering our horses and pack mules securely in our midst, and
posting the guards for the night, each one of our little party, first
satisfying himself that his firearms were in good order and loaded,
spread his blanket on the ground, and, with his saddle for a pillow,
the sky unobscured by tent or roof above him, was soon reposing
comfortably on the broad bosom of mother earth, where, banishing
from the mind as quickly as possible all visions of Indians, peace
commissioners, etc., sleep soon came to the relief of each, and we
all, except the guards, rested as peacefully and comfortably as if at
home under our mother’s roof; and yet we all, in seeking our lowly
couches that night, felt that the chances were about even whether or
not we should be awakened by the war whoop of our dusky neighbors.
Nothing occurred, however, to disturb our dreams or break our slumber,
save, perhaps, in my own case. From a greater sense of responsibility,
perhaps, than rested on my comrades, but not greater danger, I awoke
at different hours during the night, and to assure myself that all was
well, rose up to a sitting posture on the ground, and, aided by the
clear sky and bright starlight, looked about me, only to see, however,
the dim outlines of my sleeping comrades as they lay in all manner
of attitudes around me, wrapped in their blankets of gray, while our
faithful horses, picketed in the midst of their sleeping riders, were
variously disposed, some lying down, resting from the fatigues of the
march, others nibbling the few tufts of grass which the shortness
of their tether enabled them to reach. That which gave me strongest
assurance of safety, however, as I glanced across the little stream,
and beheld the conical forms of the white lodges of the Indians, was
the silent picture of the sentry as he paced his lonely post within
a few feet of where I lay. And when to my inquiry, in subdued tones,
if all had been quiet during the night, came the prompt, soldierly
response, “All quiet, sir,” I felt renewed confidence, and again sought
the solace of my equestrian pillow.
Breakfasting before the stars bade us good night, or rather good
morning, daylight found us ready for the duties of the day. As soon as
the Indians were prepared for my visit, Yellow Bear came to inform me
of the fact, and to escort me to Little Raven’s lodge. Romeo and Neva
accompanied me, the former as interpreter. I directed Captain Robbins,
the officer next in rank, to cause all men to remain closely in camp
during my absence, and to be careful not to permit more than the
authorized number of Indians to enter; also to watch well the Indian
village, not that I believed there would be an attempt at stratagem,
but deemed it well to be on guard. To convince the Indians of my own
sincerity, I left my rifle and revolver with my men, a measure of not
such great significance as it might at first seem, as the question
of arms or no arms would have exercised but little influence in
determining my fate had the Indians, as I never for a moment believed,
intended treachery.
Arrived at Little Raven’s lodge, I found him surrounded by all his
principal chiefs, a place being reserved by his side for me. After the
usual smoke and the preliminary moments of silence, which strongly
reminded me of the deep silence which is the prelude to religious
services in some of our churches, Little Raven began a speech, which
was mainly a review of what had been agreed upon the evening before,
and closed with the statement that his people were highly pleased to
see white men among them as friends, and that the idea of complying
with my demand in regard to proceeding to our main camp had been
discussed with great favor by all of his people, who were delighted
with this opportunity of terminating the war. All questions affecting
the Arapahoes being satisfactorily disposed of, I now introduced the
subject of the whereabouts of the Cheyenne village, stating that my
purpose was to extend to them the same terms as had been accepted by
the Arapahoes.
To this I could obtain no decisive or satisfactory reply. The Cheyennes
were represented to be moving constantly, hence the difficulty in
informing me accurately as to their location; but all agreed that the
Cheyennes were a long distance west of where we then were. Finally I
obtained a promise from Little Raven that he would select two of his
active young warriors, who would accompany me in my search for the
Cheyenne village, and whose knowledge of the country and acquaintance
with the Cheyennes would be of incalculable service to me. As the
limited amount of provisions on hand would not justify us in continuing
our search for the Cheyennes, I decided to await the arrival of Colonel
Cook, who, I felt confident, would reach us in a few days.
In the meanwhile the day fixed for the departure of the Arapahoes came,
and the village was all commotion and activity, lodges being taken
down and packed on ponies and mules; the activity, I might mention,
being confined, however, to the squaws, the noble lords of the forest
sitting unconcernedly by, quietly smoking their long red clay pipes. I
was sorry to lose the services of Yellow Bear, but it was necessary for
him to accompany his people, particularly as he represented the peace
element. I gave him a letter to General Sheridan, in which I informed
the latter of our meeting with the Arapahoes, the council, and the
final agreement. In view of the further extension of our journey, I
requested a second detachment to be sent on our trail, with supplies,
to meet us on our return. Everything being in readiness, the chiefs,
commencing with Little Raven, gathered around me, and bade me good-by,
Yellow Bear being the last to take his leave. This being ended, the
entire village was put in motion, and soon stretched itself into a
long, irregular column.
The chiefs formed the advance; next came the squaws and children and
the old men, followed by the pack animals bearing the lodges and
household goods; after these came the herd, consisting of hundreds of
loose ponies and mules, driven by squaws; while on the outskirts of the
entire cavalcade rode the young men and boys, performing the part of
assistants to the herders, but more important as flankers or videttes
in case of danger or attack. Nor must I omit another important element
in estimating the population of an Indian village, the dogs. These
were without number, and of all colors and sizes. It was difficult to
determine which outnumbered the other, the dogs or their owners. Some
of the former were mere puppies, unable to travel; these were carefully
stowed away in a comfortable sort of basket, made of willows, and
securely attached to the back of one of the pack animals, the mother of
the interesting family trotting along contentedly by the side of the
latter.
After the excitement attending the departure of the Indians had passed,
and the last glimpse of the departing village had been had, our little
party seemed lonely enough, as we stood huddled together on the bank
of Mulberry creek. There was nothing to be done until the arrival of
our expected supplies. Little Robe, impatient at the proposed delay,
concluded to start at once in quest of his people, and if possible
persuade them to meet us instead of awaiting our arrival. He evidently
was anxious to have peace concluded with the Cheyennes, and thus enable
his people to be placed on the same secure footing with the Arapahoes.
Instead of opposing, I encouraged him in the execution of his plan,
although loath to part with him. The two young Arapahoes were to remain
with me, however, and by concert of plan between them and Little Robe
we would be able to follow the trail.
It was agreed that if Little Robe should come up with his people and
be able to induce them to return, he was to send up smoke signals each
morning and evening, in order that we might receive notice of their
approach and be able to regulate our march accordingly. Giving him a
sufficient supply of coffee, sugar, and hard bread, we saw Little Robe
set out on his solitary journey in the character of a veritable peace
commissioner.
I might fill several pages in describing the various expedients to
which our little party resorted in order to dispose of our time while
waiting the arrival of our supplies. How Romeo, by the promise of a
small reward in case he was successful, was induced to attempt to ride
a beautiful Indian pony, which we had caught on the plains, and which
was still as wild and unbroken as if he had never felt the hand of man.
The ground selected was a broad border of deep sand, extending up and
down the valley. Two long lariats were securely fastened to the halter.
At the end of one was my brother. I officiated at the end of the other,
with the pony standing midway between us, some twenty feet from either,
and up to his fetlocks in sand, an anxious spectator of what was going
on. Everything being in readiness, Romeo, with never a fear or doubt as
to the result, stepped quietly up to the side of the pony, who, turning
his head somewhat inquiringly, uttered a few snorts indicative of
anything but gentleness. Romeo, who was as active as a cat, succeeded
in placing his hands on the pony’s back, and with an injunction to us
to keep firm hold on the lariats, he sprang lightly upon the back of
the pony and seized the mane. I have seen trained mules, the delight of
boys who attend the circus, and sometimes of persons of more advanced
age, and have witnessed the laughable efforts of the youngsters who
vainly endeavor to ride the contumacious quadruped once around the
ring; but I remember nothing of this description to equal or resemble
the frantic plunges of the Indian pony in his untrained efforts to free
his back from its burden, nor the equally frantic and earnest efforts
of the rider to maintain his position. Fortunately for the holders
of the lariats, they exceeded the length of the pony’s legs, or his
heels, which were being elevated in all directions, and almost at the
same time, would have compelled us to relinquish our hold, and leave
Romeo to his fate. As both pony and rider seemed to redouble their
efforts for the mastery, the scene became more ludicrous, while the
hearty and prolonged shouts of laughter from the bystanders on all
sides seemed only to add intensity to the contest.
This may strike the reader as a not very dignified proceeding,
particularly upon the part of one of the lariat holders; but we were
not studying how to appear dignified, but how to amuse ourselves. So
exhausted did I become with unrestrained laughter, as I beheld Romeo
in his lofty gyrations about a centre which belonged to the movable
order, that a much further prolongation of the sport would have forced
me to relinquish my hold on the lariat. But I was spared this result.
The pony, as if studying the problem, had indulged in almost every
conceivable form of leaping, and now, rising almost perpendicularly
on his hind legs, stood erect, pawing the air with his fore legs, and
compelling Romeo, in order to prevent himself from sliding off, to
clasp him about the neck with both arms. The pony seemed almost as
if waiting this situation, as with the utmost quickness, and before
Romeo could resume his seat, he descended from his elevated attitude,
and the next moment his head was almost touching the ground, and his
heels occupied the space just vacated by his head in mid air. This
sudden change was too much for Romeo, and as if projected from an
ancient catapult, he departed from his place on the back of the pony,
and landed on the deep, soft sand, many feet in advance of his late
opponent. Three times was this repeated, with almost the same result,
until finally Romeo, as he brushed the sand from his matted locks,
expressed it as his opinion that no one but an Indian could ride that
pony. As Romeo was half Indian, the distinction seemed finely drawn.
Innumerable were the tricks played on each other by one and all;
everything seemed legitimate sport which tended to kill time. Three
days after the departure of the Arapaho village, the lookout reported
that parties were in sight some three or four miles in the direction
taken by the village. This created no little excitement in camp.
Field-glasses were brought into immediate requisition, and after
a careful examination of the parties, who could be plainly seen
approaching us in the distance, we all came to the conclusion that what
we saw must be the escort with our supplies. A few horses were soon
saddled, and two of the officers, with some of the men, galloped out to
meet the advancing party. It proved to be Colonel Cook, with California
Joe and a dozen men, bringing with them several pack animals loaded
with fresh supplies.
I need not say how we welcomed their arrival. It was too late in the
day to make it desirable for us to set out on the trail of Little
Robe, as it was necessary to unpack and issue rations and repack the
remainder; so that it was concluded to remain until next morning, an
additional reason in favor of this resolution being that the horses
of Colonel Cook’s party would have the benefit of rest. The account
given by Colonel Cook and California Joe concerning their march
was exceedingly interesting. It will be remembered that it was the
expectation that we would find the Arapaho village nearer our main
camp than we afterward did, and in my letter to General Sheridan I had
intimated that Colonel Cook would probably overtake us at a point not
far from the termination of the Witchita mountains.
Colonel Cook arrived at the designated point, but we, of course, had
gone, and not finding any letter or signal at our deserted camp, he
became, not unnaturally, anxious as to where we had gone. This will
not be wondered at when it is remembered that he had but thirteen men
with him, and was then in a hostile country, and far from all support.
However, he had nothing to do but to continue on our trail. That night
will no doubt live long in the memory of Colonel Cook.
After reaching camp with his little party, in a small piece of timber,
he, as he afterward related to me, began taking a mental survey of
his situation. For fear of misleading the reader, I will here remark,
as I have indicated in previous chapters, that fear, or a lack of the
highest order of personal courage, was not numbered among the traits of
character possessed by this officer. After seeing that the animals were
properly secured for the night, and his men made comfortable, he sat
down by the camp fire awaiting the preparation of his evening meal. In
the mean time California Joe found him, and entered into a discussion
as to the probabilities of overtaking us soon, and in a kind of Jack
Bunsby style suggested, if not, why not?
The more Colonel Cook looked at the matter, the more trying seemed his
position. Had he known, as we then knew, that the Arapahoes had been
found, and a peaceful agreement entered into, it would have solved all
his difficulty. Of this he of course was ignorant, and thoughts ran
through his mind that perhaps my little party had been led on only
to be massacred, and his would follow blindly to the same fate. This
recalled all former Indian atrocities with which he was familiar, while
prominent above them all rose before him the fate of young Kidder and
party, whose fate is recorded in a former chapter.
In thinking of this, Colonel Cook was struck by a coincidence. Kidder’s
party consisted of almost the identical number which composed his own.
Kidder had a guide, and Cook had California Joe; all of which, without
attaching any importance to his words, the latter took pains to remind
Colonel Cook of. By the time supper was prepared Colonel Cook felt the
responsibilities of his position too strongly to have any appetite for
food, so that when supper was commenced he simply declined it, and
invited California Joe to help himself--an invitation the latter was
not slow in accepting. Posting his guards for the night, Colonel Cook
felt that to sleep was impossible. He took his seat by the camp fire,
and with his arms by his side impatiently waited the coming of dawn.
California Joe, who regarded the present as of far more importance than
the future, and whose slumber would have been little disturbed even had
he known that hostile Indians were soon to be encountered, disposed of
Colonel Cook’s supper, and then, wrapping himself up in his blanket,
stretched himself under a tree near the fire, and was soon sleeping
soundly. His brief account of the enjoyment he derived from Colonel
Cook’s supper was characteristic: “Thar I sot an’ sot a eatin’ uv that
young man’s wittles, while he in his cavalry boots, with his pistols in
his belt, stood a lookin’ inter the fire.”
Early next morning, as soon as the light was sufficient to enable them
to follow our trail, Colonel Cook and his party were on their way.
About noon, as they were passing over a low ridge, yet sufficiently
high to enable them to see for miles beyond, the eyes of one of the
party caught a view of a long line of dark-looking objects miles in
advance, yet directly in their path. Each moment the objects became
more distinct, until finally Colonel Cook, who was studying them
intently through his glass, pronounced the simple word, “Indians.” “Ef
that is so, Colonel, thar’s a many one uv ’em,” was the sober response
of California Joe, who rode at his side.
By this time the Indians could be plainly seen, although numbers of
them continued to gallop up from the rear. It was evident from their
movements that they had discovered Colonel Cook’s party almost as soon
as he had seen them, and that the entire body of Indians was directing
its march toward the little eminence from which the white men were now
watching their movements. “What do yer think about it now, Colonel?”
said California Joe, at last breaking the silence. “Well, Joe, we
must do the best we can; there is no use in running.” “You’re right,”
replied Joe; “an Injun’ll beat a white man runnin’ every time, so I
’spect our best holt is fitin’, but, Lor’ a’ mercy! look at ’em; thar
ain’t enuff uv us to go half round!”
Getting his little party collected in good order, and speaking
words of encouragement to all, Colonel Cook quietly awaited further
developments. His thoughts in the meanwhile must have been such as
he probably never wishes to indulge in again. All sorts of terrible
visions and ideas flashed through his mind; the most prominent as well
as plausible being that the Indians had made away with my party, and
from Little Robe and Yellow Bear had learned of the expected supplies,
with their small escort, and were now in search of the latter. Whatever
varied thoughts of this character chased each other through his brain,
he at once came to the firm resolve that whatever fate was in store for
him, he would meet it like a soldier, and if the worst came he would
fight to the last.
By this time it was seen that a single Indian was galloping in advance
of the rest, as if hastening to reach the white men. “That’s a queer
dodge,” remarked California Joe; but the mystery was soon cleared
away, as the Indian began to draw near to the party without slackening
his pace. Colonel Cook and California Joe instinctively advanced to
meet him, when to their great joy and surprise it proved to be none
other than the faithful Yellow Bear, who, realizing the situation, had
ridden in advance of his people in order to assure the whites of their
friendly character. His coming no doubt caused the hearts of Colonel
Cook and his party to beat lighter. Or, as California Joe expressed it:
“When I seed it wuz Yaller Bar I knowed we wuz all right.” From Yellow
Bear Colonel Cook learned where he might expect to find us, and thus
another cause of anxiety was lifted from his mind.
The morning after my party had been reinforced by the arrival just
described, we set out under guidance of Neva and the two young Arapaho
warriors, and followed the direction in which Little Robe had gone.
It being one of the winter months, the Indian ponies were still
in unfit condition to make long or rapid marches; for this reason
the two Arapahoes had left their ponies with the village, and were
accompanying or rather preceding us on foot; an undertaking which they
seemed to have no difficulty in accomplishing. The grazing became more
indifferent each day as we journeyed toward the west, until finally we
ceased to rely upon it, but as a substitute fed our horses upon the
bark of the young cottonwood trees which are generally found fringing
the borders of the streams. In spite, however, of our utmost care, our
horses and pack animals, having exhausted their supply of forage, began
to fail in strength and condition under their cottonwood bark diet.
After reaching and crossing Red river at a point west of that at which
the survey of Marcy and McClellan crossed it, and failing to discover
any indication of the recent occupation of the ground by Indians, I had
fears that if I prolonged my journey much further our animals would
not be able to reach the main camp, so famished had they become in
the last few days. I therefore, after consultation with Neva and the
two Arapahoes, decided to recross to the north bank of Red river, and
follow up its course until we should reach a small tributary coming in
from the northwest, and which Neva informed me would furnish a good
camp ground. In the meanwhile Neva, who was well mounted on a hardy,
active mule, was to take with him the two young Arapahoes, and push on
in advance in search of the Cheyenne village, the understanding being
that I should follow in his direction until the stream referred to was
reached, where I would await his return for three days. Should he fail
to rejoin us in that time, we would commence our return march to the
main camp.
When it was known that this plan had been definitely settled upon,
young Brewster, who never for a moment had become discouraged as to his
final success in discovering his lost sister, came to me, and in the
most earnest manner asked permission to accompany Neva in his search
for the Cheyenne village. I did everything I could to dissuade him from
so dangerous a project.
No arguments were of any avail. He felt satisfied that his sister
was a prisoner in the Cheyenne village, and this his last and only
opportunity to gain a knowledge of the fact; and even with the chances
of death or torture staring him in the face he preferred to risk all,
and learn the truth, rather than live longer in a state of horrible
uncertainty. Against my judgment in the matter, I was forced by his
importunate manner to grant him permission to accompany Neva.
Taking a suitable amount of supplies with them, the three Indians and
young Brewster set out, Neva being the only one of the party mounted.
After they had left us we moved in the same direction, with the
intention of halting on the stream indicated by Neva, there to await
their return. While the reader is also waiting their return, I will
refer to an incident which should have appeared in an earlier part
of this chapter. It was neither more nor less than what might, among
fashionable notices in the Indian press--provided they had one--have
been termed an elopement in high life.
One evening after we had gone into camp, many long weary miles from
our point of starting, and when we supposed we had left all the
Kiowas safely in camp awaiting the release of their two chiefs, Lone
Wolf and Satanta, we were all surprised to see a young and handsome
Kiowa warrior gallop into our midst accompanied by a young squaw, who
certainly could not have reached the age which distinguishes the woman
from the girl. In a few moments our little party gathered about these
two wayfarers, eager to learn the cause of their sudden and unexpected
visit. The girl was possessed of almost marvellous beauty, a beauty
so remarkable that my companions of that march refer to her to this
day as the most beautiful squaw they have ever seen. Her graceful and
well-rounded form, her clearly-cut features, her dark expressive eyes,
fringed with long silken lashes, cheeks rich with the color of youth,
teeth of pearly whiteness occasionally peeping from between her full,
rosy lips, added withal to a most bewitching manner, required not the
romance of her story to make her an object of deep interest in the eyes
of the gallants of our party. But to their story.
She was the daughter of Black Eagle, at that time the acting head chief
of the Kiowas. The young warrior who rode at her side was somewhat of
a young Lochinvar in disposition. It was the old, old story, only to
be repeated again by these representatives of the red man--mutual and
determined love on the part of the youngsters, opposition equally
determined upon the part of Black Eagle; not that the young warrior
was objectionable, but unfortunately, as is but too often the case, he
was poor, and could not offer in exchange for the hand of a chief’s
daughter the proper number of ponies. Black Eagle was inexorable--the
lovers, constancy itself. There was but one thing for them to do, and
they did it.
Aware of our proposed expedition in search of the Cheyennes and
Arapahoes, they timed their affairs accordingly. Giving us time to
get two days the start, they slipped away from their village at dusk
the evening of the second day after our departure, and hastening
unperceived to a thicket near by, where the lover had taken the
precaution to conceal two of the fleetest ponies of the village already
saddled, they were soon in their saddles and galloping for love and
life away from the Kiowa village. I say galloping for life, for by the
Indian law, if the father or relatives of the girl could overtake the
lovers within twenty-four hours, the life of the young woman would pay
the forfeit.
They followed our trail in order to avail themselves of our protection
by travelling with us as far as our course might lead them in the
direction of the Staked Plains, on the borders of which a straggling
band of Kiowas, under the chief Woman Heart, was supposed to be,
and which the lovers intended to join, at least until the rage of
_paterfamilias_ should subside and they be invited to return. This in
brief was their story. I need not add that they found a hearty welcome
in our midst, and were assured that they need no longer fear pursuit.
That evening, after the camp fires were lighted, the officers of our
party, with Romeo as interpreter, gathered about the camp fire of
the bridal couple and passed a pleasant hour in conversation. Their
happiness and exultation at their success in escaping from their
village were too powerful to be restrained, and in many delicate little
ways the bride--for by Indian law twenty-four hours’ absence from the
village with her lover made her a bride--plainly betrayed her exceeding
fondness for him who had risked all to claim her as his own.
After my return to the main camp I met Black Eagle, and informed him
that his daughter and her husband had been companions of our march.
“Yes. Why did you not kill him?” was his reply, which upon inquiry he
explained by saying that if some person had kindly put an end to the
life of his son-in-law, it would have benefited him to the value of
several ponies; his difficulty seeming to be in overcoming the loss
of the ponies which should have been paid for his daughter’s hand. I
afterwards learned, however, that the haughty chief became reconciled
to the wilful lovers, and invited them to return to his lodge, an
invitation they were not tardy in accepting.
We pitched our camp at the point agreed upon between Neva and myself,
and prepared to await the return of his party. Neva had been informed
that our delay could not extend beyond three days, as our store of
provisions and forage was almost exhausted, and this fact alone would
force us to retrace our steps. I had hoped that during the time we
were to spend in camp, hunting parties might be able to bring in a
sufficient amount of game to satisfy our wants; but although parties
were despatched in all directions, not an animal or bird could be
found. So barren was the country as to offer no inducements that would
attract game of any species.
Our last ounce of meat had been eaten, and the men, after one day’s
deprivation of this essential part of their rations, were almost
ravenous. Our horses had several days since eaten their last ration
of grain, and the grass was so sparse and indifferent as to furnish
insufficient diet to sustain life. Resort was had to cottonwood bark,
to obtain which we cut down large numbers of the trees, and fed our
horses upon the young bark of the branches. Knowing that in answer
to my second request supplies of provisions both for men and horses
must be on their way and probably near to us, I determined to begin
our return march one day sooner than I had expected when Neva and his
companions left us, as they would be able on finding our camp to follow
our trail and overtake us.
We moved only a few miles, but even this short distance was sufficient
to demonstrate how weak and famished our horses had become, one of
them dying from starvation before we reached camp, the first day
of our return march. This circumstance, however, was turned to our
advantage. Much has been said and written in praise of the savoriness
of horseflesh as a diet. Our necessities compelled us to put this
question to practical test, and the animal had scarcely fallen, unable
to rise again, when it was decided to prepare his carcass for food.
That evening the men treated themselves to a bountiful repast made up
of roasts, steaks, and broils, all from the flesh of the poor animal,
whose death was attributable to starvation alone. Judging, however,
from the jolly laughter which rang through camp at supper time, the
introduction of this new article of diet met with a cordial reception.
Soon after finishing our supper, we discovered in the distance and
following in our trail a horseman. We at once concluded that this
must be Neva, a fact rendered conclusive by the aid of a field-glass.
Various were the surmises indulged in by the different members of our
party as to the success of Neva’s mission. What had become of his
companions, particularly young Brewster? These and many other inquiries
suggested themselves as we watched his approach. We could almost read
the answer on Neva’s face when he reached us as to the success of his
search for the Cheyennes. Disappointment, hunger, and fatigue were
plainly marked in his features as he dismounted and shook hands with
us. Knowing that one of the characteristics of the Indian is to talk
but little until the wants of the inner man have been fully attended
to, I at once ordered him a steak. One of the party, however, fearing
that if he knew the exact character of the diet offered him he might
from some superstitious cause decline it, suggested that Neva be
asked if he would like a nice buffalo steak, a deception which seemed
somewhat justifiable under the circumstances. To this Neva returned
a hearty affirmative, when one of the men placed before him a raw
steak, whose dimensions would have amply gratified the appetites of an
ordinary family of half a dozen. Having held the steak over the blazing
fire until sufficiently done to suit his taste, Neva seated himself
on the ground near by and began helping himself liberally to the
dripping morsel. After he had indulged for some time in this pleasing
entertainment, and having made no remark, one of the officers inquired
of him if he was hungry.
“Yes,” was his reply, but added in his very indifferent English, “Poor
buffano, poor buffano.” None of us ever informed him of the little
deception which had been practised upon him.
His account of his journey was brief. He had travelled nearly due
west, accompanied by Brewster and the two young Arapahoes, and had
discovered a trail of the Cheyenne village some two weeks old, leading
still further to the west, and under circumstances which induced him
to believe the village had moved far away. Under these circumstances
there was no course left to him but to return. The Arapahoes decided to
follow on and join the Cheyenne village. Neva and young Brewster began
their return together, but the latter, being unable to travel as fast
as Neva, fell behind. Neva, anxious to keep his promise and rejoin us
at the time and place indicated, pushed forward as rapidly as possible.
Young Brewster, however, manfully struggled along, and reached our camp
a few hours after Neva’s arrival.
The next morning we set out on our homeward or return march. During the
night one of our horses strayed away from camp, and as one of the men
thought he could find it before we made our start in the morning, he
left camp with that purpose. Failing to rejoin us at the proper time, I
sent parties in search of him, but they returned unsuccessful. We were
compelled by our necessities to move without further delay. Weeks and
months elapsed, and no tidings of the lost trooper reached us, when
one day, while encamped near Fort Hays, Kansas, hundreds of miles from
the locality of which I am now writing, who should step up to my tent
but the man who was lost from us in northwestern Texas. He had become
bewildered after losing sight of our camp, took the wrong direction,
and was never able thereafter during his wanderings to determine his
course. Fortunately he took a southerly route, and after nearly two
months of solitary roaming over the plains of northern Texas, he
arrived at a military post south of Red river in Texas, and by way of
Galveston, the Gulf of Mexico, the Mississippi and Missouri rivers,
rejoined his regiment in Kansas.
As we gained the crest of the hill from which we obtained a view of the
white tents which formed our camp, there was no one of our little party
who did not enjoy a deep feeling of gratitude and thankfulness that our
long and trying journey was about to end under happier auspices than
many might have supposed when we began it. We had found the Arapahoes,
and succeeded in placing them on their reservation, where, from that
date to the present time, they have remained, never engaging as a tribe
in making war or committing depredations on the whites, so far as my
knowledge extends.
We did not succeed so well with the Cheyennes, but we established facts
regarding their location, disposition, and intentions as to peace,
which were of invaluable service to us in determining future operations
looking to the establishment of peace with them.
Our arrival in camp created a sensation among our comrades, who had
seen us depart upon what they might well have considered an errand of
questionable prudence. Leaving my companions of the march to answer
the many queries of those who had not accompanied us, I galloped
across the narrow plain which separated General Sheridan’s tents from
my camp, and was soon greeted by the General and staff in terms of
hearty welcome. Repairing to the General’s tent, I soon recounted the
principal incidents of my expedition, with most of which the reader
has been already made acquainted. I found that the Arapahoes had kept
their promise, made to me while I was in their village, and that the
village was then located near our main camp. It might be proper here to
remark that, although a period of several years has elapsed since the
Arapahoes were induced to accept the offer of peace made to them, and
promised to relinquish in the future their predatory mode of life, yet
to this day, so far as I know, they as a tribe have remained at peace
with the white men.
This remark may not, and probably does not, apply to particular
individuals of the tribe, but it is due to the tribe to state that
their conduct, since the events related in the preceding chapter, has
been greatly to their credit, as well as to the peace and comfort
of the settlers of the frontier; results wholly due to the Washita
campaign and the subsequent events with which the reader of these
articles is familiar.
The conduct of the Cheyennes, however, in declining our proffers of
peace, left the Indian question in that section of country still
unsettled; but this only rendered new plans necessary, plans which
were quickly determined upon. Other events of great public importance
rendered General Sheridan’s presence necessary elsewhere at an early
day.
It was therefore decided that he, accompanied by his escort of scouts
under Lieutenant Pepoon, should proceed northward to Camp Supply, while
I, with the Seventh Regulars and the Nineteenth Kansas Cavalry, and
my Osage scouts, a force numbering about fifteen hundred men, should
move westward in quest of the recalcitrant Cheyennes, and administer
to them such treatment as their past conduct might merit and existing
circumstances demanded. Satanta and Lone Wolf were still prisoners in
our hands, a portion of their tribe having failed thus far to comply
with the terms of the agreement by which they were to settle down
peaceably on their reservation. As the greater portion of the tribe,
however, was then encamped near us, and as both Satanta and Lone Wolf
were loud in their protestations of peace, it was decided to release
them. Accordingly, after conference with General Sheridan, I went to
the lodge in which I kept the two chiefs closely guarded as prisoners,
and informed them of the decision which had been arrived at in their
behalf, the only response being a most hearty and emphatic “How” from
the two robust chieftains.
General Sheridan had up to this time declined all their requests for
an interview, but now deemed it best to see them and speak a few
words of warning and caution as to their future conduct. No peace
commissioners were ever entertained by promises of good behavior,
peaceable intentions, and regrets for past offences, which smacked of
greater earnestness and sincerity than those volunteered by Lone Wolf
and Satanta when informed that they were free to rejoin their people.
According to their voluntary representations, their love for their
white brothers was unbounded; their desire for peace, their hatred of
war, ungovernable; and nothing would satisfy them in future but to be
permitted to lead their people “the white man’s road,” by cultivating
the soil, building schoolhouses and churches, and forever eschewing a
predatory or warlike life.
Alas, the instability of human resolutions--particularly of the human
in an Indian! and the resolutions are expressed--not formed--simply
to obtain a certain advantage, or, as is most usually the case, to
tickle the fanciful imagination of some thoroughly well-meaning but
utterly impractical peace commissioner, whose favorable influence is
believed by the Indian to be all-potent in securing fresh invoices of
new blankets, breech-loading arms, and provisions. Neither blankets,
breech-loading arms, nor an unnecessary amount of provisions were
distributed by the military among the adherents of Satanta and Lone
Wolf.
Scarcely one year had elapsed, however, before Satanta defiantly
informed the General of the Army, then on a visit to Fort Sill, that
he had just returned from an expedition to Texas, during which he
and his party had murdered and robbed several white men. It was this
confession which led to Satanta’s trial, conviction, and sentence to
death by the civil authorities of Texas. Through the intercession of
the General Government, the Executive of Texas was induced to commute
the punishment of Satanta from hanging to imprisonment for life, a step
which all familiar with Indians and Indian management knew would result
sooner or later in his release, and that of his confederate, Big Tree.
Importuned constantly by the tender-hearted representations of the
peace commissioners, who could not be induced to look upon Satanta and
Big Tree as murderers, the Governor of Texas very unwisely yielded to
their persistent appeals, and upon the strength of promises solemnly
made by the peace commissioners, according to which not only Satanta
and Big Tree were to abstain from acts of bloodshed and murder in the
future, but their entire tribe was also to remain at peace and within
their reservation limits, the two chiefs who had unfortunately escaped
the halter were again turned loose to engage in acts of hostility
against the whites; an opportunity they and their treacherous people
have not been slow to improve from that day to this.
The winter of 1868–’69 was rapidly terminating, acting as a forcible
reminder to us that if we hoped to operate in the field with any
advantage over the Cheyennes, the movement must be made before the
spring grass should make its appearance for the benefit of the Indian
ponies. Accordingly, as soon as our arrangements were perfected, our
camp at the present site of Fort Sill, Indian Territory, was broken up,
and General Sheridan, accompanied by his staff and escort, set out for
Camp Supply in the north, while my command faced westward and began
its search for the Cheyennes, passing along the southern base of the
Witchita mountains, on the afternoon of inauguration day, at old Camp
Radziminsky, a station which had been occupied by our troops prior to
the war between the Northern and Southern States, and whose name, no
doubt, will recall pleasant reminiscences to many who afterwards wore
the blue or the gray.
On the morning of the first day after leaving the Witchita mountains
behind us, no little excitement was created throughout the command
by the discovery of a column of smoke directly on our course, and
apparently about fifteen or twenty miles in front of us. That Indians
had originated the fire was beyond a doubt, as we all knew that beyond
us, in the direction of the smoke, the country was inhabited by no
human beings save hostile Indians. I at once decided to push on with
the command to the point from which the smoke was ascending, and
discover if possible some trace of the Indians. Be it understood that
neither I nor any members of my command supposed for one moment that
when we arrived at the desired point we would find the Indians there
awaiting our arrival, but we did hope to discover their trail. Of the
many experienced frontiermen embraced in the command, including of
course California Joe, there were none who judged the distance which
separated us from the smoke as greater than could be easily passed over
by us before three or four o’clock that afternoon.
It was evidently not a signal smoke--ascending from a single point and
regulated by human control--but appeared from our standpoint more like
a fire communicated to the prairie grass from an abandoned or neglected
camp fire. Pushing on as rapidly as our horses could travel, we were
again reminded from time to time of the deceptive character of the
plains as regards distances. When three o’clock arrived, and we had
been marching steadily for nine hours, the dense and changing columns
of deep gray smoke, which had been our guiding point all day, seemed
as far distant as when our march began in the morning. Except to water
our animals, and once to enable the men to prepare a cup of coffee,
no halts were made from six o’clock in the morning until we finally
reached the desired locality--not at three or four o’clock in the
afternoon, but at two o’clock that night.
Our surmises proved correct. The fire had evidently been communicated
to the dry winter grass from some Indian camp fire. The Indians of
course had gone; but where? As this was a question that could not
be solved until daylight, and as all of us were glad enough of an
opportunity to get a few hours’ repose, the troops bivouacked in
promiscuous order as they arrived.
Only those who have enjoyed similar experiences know how brief the
preparation required for sleep. As for myself, as soon as the necessary
directions had been given relating to the command, I unsaddled my
horse, arranged my saddle for my pillow, tethered my horse within easy
reach, and in less time than has been required to write these few
lines, I was enjoying one of those slumbers which only come as the
reward of a day of earnest activity in the saddle.
As soon as it was light enough for our purpose, we were in the saddle
and searching in all directions for the trail left by the Indians
who had fired the prairie. Our Osage scouts were not long in making
the desired discovery. The trail led westward, following the general
course of a small valley in which it was first discovered. The party
was evidently a small one, numbering not more than fifteen persons,
but the direction in which they were moving led me to hope that by
following them carefully and with due caution to prevent discovery of
our pursuit, we might be led to the main village.
All that day our Osage scouts clung to the trail with the pertinacity
of sleuth hounds. The course led us up and across several different
streams of beautiful, clear water; but to our great disappointment, and
to that of our horses as well, we discovered, upon attempting to quench
our thirst at different times, that every stream was impregnated to the
fullest degree with salt.
Later in the day this became a serious matter, and had we not been on
an Indian trail, I should have entertained earnest apprehensions as
to whether or not we were destined to find pure water by continuing
further in the direction we were then moving; but I felt confident that
the Indians we were pursuing were familiar with the country, and would
no doubt lead us, unintentionally of course, to streams of fresh water.
One of the streams we crossed was so strongly impregnated with salt
that the edges near the banks were covered with a border of pure
white salt, resembling the borders of ice often seen along rivulets
in winter. This border was from one to three feet in width, and
sufficiently thick to support the weight of a horse. Fortunately the
Indian trail, as I had anticipated, led us to a refreshing spring of
pure, cold water near by. Here we halted to prepare a cup of coffee
before continuing the pursuit.
While halted at this point I observed a trooper approaching with an
armful of huge cakes of pure white salt, gathered from the salt stream
just described, and which flowed at the foot of the hill from which
also bubbled forth the spring of fresh water to which we were indebted
for the means of preparing our first meal on that day. Salt was not an
abundant article with us at that time, and the trooper referred to,
aware of this fact, had, in behalf of himself and comrades, collected
from the literal “salt of the earth” a quantity ample for all present
need. After conveying his valuable load to the vicinity of the cook
fire, he broke the cakes of salt into small particles with an axe, and
then passing the fragments through a coffee-mill, he was in possession
of table salt whose quality would have satisfied a more exacting
epicure than a hungry cavalryman.
Finishing our meal, which not only was our breakfast for that day, but
a late dinner as well, we resumed the pursuit, observing before doing
so that the Indians had also made a brief halt at the same point, and
had built a fire and prepared their meal, as we had done after them.
Crossing a high ridge, or divide, the trail led us down into a
beautiful open valley. After following up the course of the latter
several miles, the freshness of the trail indicated that the Indians
had passed over it that same day. As it was not our purpose to overtake
them, but to follow as closely as prudence would allow, I determined
to go into camp until the following morning. Soon after resuming the
pursuit next day rain began to fall, at first slowly, but later in
the day in copious showers. I knew the Indians would not travel in
the rain if they could avoid it, unless they knew they were pursued,
and of this fact I had reason to believe they were still ignorant, as
evidences found all along the trail indicated that they were moving
very leisurely.
To avoid placing ourselves in too close proximity to them, I ordered
a halt about noon, and began preparation for camping for the night.
Our wagons were still in rear. In the mean time the horses were all
unsaddled and picketed out in the usual manner to graze. As was my
usual custom upon halting for the night, I had directed the Osage
scouts, instead of halting and unsaddling, to advance in the direction
we were to follow next day, and examine the country for a distance of
a few miles. We had barely completed the unsaddling of our horses and
disposed of them over the grazing ground, when I discovered the Osage
scouts returning over the ridge in front of us as fast as their ponies
could carry them. Their story was soon told. Disliking to travel in the
rain, the Indians whom we were pursuing had gone into camp also, and
the Osage scouts had discovered them not more than a mile from us, the
ridge referred to preventing the Indians from seeing us or being seen
by us.
Quickly the words “Saddle up” flew from mouth to mouth, and in a
marvellously brief time officers and men were in the saddle and, under
the guidance of the Osage scouts, were moving stealthily to surprise
the Indian camp. Passing around a little spur of the dividing ridge,
there before us, at a distance of but a few hundred yards, stood the
half-erected lodges of the Indians, while scattered here and there
in the immediate vicinity were to be seen the Indian ponies and pack
animals, grazing in apparent unconsciousness of the close proximity of
an enemy. At a given signal the cavalry put spurs to their steeds, drew
their revolvers, and in a few moments were in possession of the Indian
camp, ponies and all--no, not all, for not a single Indian could be
discovered.
The troops were deployed at a gallop in all directions, but failed to
find the trace of an Indian. Our capture was apparently an empty one.
How the occupants of the Indian camp had first discovered our presence
and afterwards contrived to elude us was a mystery which even puzzled
our Osage scouts. This mystery was afterwards explained, and in order
to avoid detaining the reader, I will anticipate sufficiently to state
that in the course of subsequent events we came face to face, under a
flag of truce, with the late occupants of the Indian camp, and learned
from them that in this instance history had reproduced itself. Rome was
saved by the cackling of geese: the Indians owed their safety to the
barking of dogs--not the barking of dogs belonging to their own camp,
but to ours.
It seemed that during the haste and excitement attendant upon the
discovery of the close proximity of the Indian camp to ours, two of our
dogs, whether or not sharing in the bellicose humor of their masters,
engaged in a quarrel, the noise of which reached the quick ears of the
Indians nearly one mile distant. Comprehending the situation at once,
the Indians, realizing the danger of delay, abandoned their camp and
ponies and fled on foot, the better to effect concealment and elude
pursuit.
On the following day we resumed the march. There being no longer any
trail for us to follow, we continued in the same direction, believing
that the small party we had been pursuing had been directing their
course toward the location of the main village, which was somewhere
to the westward of us. Day after day we travelled in this direction,
hoping to discover some sign or trail which might give us a clue
to the whereabouts of the Cheyenne village. We had left the Indian
Territory far behind us, and had advanced into Texas well toward the
102d meridian of longitude. Nearly all hope of discovering the Indians
had vanished from the minds of the officers and men, when late in the
afternoon the trail of a single lodge was discovered, leading in a
southwesterly direction. The trail was nearly if not quite one month
old; hence it did not give great encouragement. To the surprise of most
of the command, I changed the direction of our march at once, and put
the Osages on the trail, having decided to follow it.
This may seem to the reader an ill-advised move, but the idea under
which the decision was made was, that the owner of the lodge the trail
of which we had discovered had probably been absent from the main
village in search of game, as is customary for small parties of Indians
at that season of the year. In the spring, however, the entire tribe
assembles at one point and determines its plans and movements for the
summer, whether relating to war or hunting. There was a chance--a
slight one, it is true--that the trail of the single lodge just
discovered might lead us to the rendezvous of the tribe. I deemed it
worthy of our attention, and a pursuit of a few days at furthest would
determine the matter.