the trail, we marched until near sundown, when we arrived at the
banks of a small stream upon which, and near a cool, bubbling spring,
we discovered the evidences of an Indian camp, which must have not
only included the lodge whose trail we had been following, but about
a dozen others. Here was a speedier confirmation of my hopes than
I had anticipated. Here I determined to encamp until morning, and
while the cavalry were unsaddling and pitching their tents, I asked
Mo-nah-see-tah to examine the Indian camp minutely and to tell me how
long a time had elapsed since its occupation by the Indians, how many
constituted the party, and the character and probable indications of
the latter.
No detective could have set about the proposed examination with
greater thoroughness than did this Indian girl. The ashes of the camp
fires were raked carefully away and examined with all the scrutiny
of a chemical analysis. Bits of cloth or fragments of the skins of
animals found within the limits of the camp were lifted from their
resting-places as tenderly as if they were articles of greatest value.
Here and there were to be seen the bones of deer or antelope which had
been obtained by the Indians as food. These Mo-nah-see-tah examined
carefully; then, shattering them between two stones, the condition
of the marrow seemed a point of particular importance to her as
tending to determine the length of time the bones had been lying on
the camp. After many minutes spent in this examination, during which
I accompanied her, a silent but far from disinterested spectator,
she, apparently like a judge who had been carefully reviewing all the
evidence, gave me her conclusions, communicating with me, through the
medium of the sign language, with a grace characteristic of the Indian
race, and which added to the interest of her statements.
Briefly summed up her conclusions were as follows: twelve lodges had
encamped at that point, probably constituting the band of some petty
chief, the different members of which, like the one whose trail we
had that day discovered, had been separated for purposes of hunting,
but had been called together at that point preparatory to joining
the main village. The lodges had left this camp not to exceed two
weeks previous to that date, and in all probability had moved to the
rendezvous appointed for the main tribe, which would without doubt
be found by other small bands from time to time, until the village
would all be assembled at one point. Moving in this manner and at this
early season of the year, when grass was scarce and no enemy known to
be in the country, the Indians would make very short moves each day,
passing merely from one stream to another, not accomplishing in one day
a greater distance, probably, than the cavalry would in two or three
hours.
This intelligence, of course, was most gratifying, and for
encouragement was soon communicated to the individual members of the
command. The trail was found to lead almost in a northerly direction,
slightly inclining to the east. Perhaps no one of the command
experienced such a feeling of hope and anxious suspense as the new
discoveries gave rise to in the breast of young Brewster, who now more
than ever believed, and with reason too, that he was soon to unravel or
forever seal the fate of his lost sister, whose discovery and release
had been the governing impulses of his life for months past.
With renewed interest the cavalry resumed the pursuit at daylight the
following morning. We had marched but a few miles before we reached a
second camping ground, which had been occupied not only by those whose
trail we were then following, but the number of fires showed that
the strength of the Indians had been increased by about twenty-five
lodges, thus verifying the correctness of the surmises advanced by
Mo-nah-see-tah.
Continuing our progress, we had the satisfaction of seeing still
further accessions to the trail, until it was evident that at least
one hundred lodges had united and passed in one body on the trail. As
we marched in one day over the distance passed over in three by the
Indians, and as the latter were moving unsuspicious of the presence
of an enemy in that section of the country, the trail was becoming
freshened as we advanced.
That night we encamped with every precaution calculated to conceal our
presence from the Indians. No fires were permitted until after dark,
and then but small ones, for fear the quick and watchful eye of the
Indian might detect the ascending columns of smoke. As soon as the
men had prepared their suppers the fires were put out. In the morning
breakfast was prepared before daylight, and the fires at once smothered
by heaping damp earth over them.
Resuming the pursuit as soon as it was sufficiently light to follow
the trail, we soon arrived at the camp vacated by the Indians the
previous day, the extent of which showed that from three to four
hundred lodges of Indians had occupied the ground. In many places the
decayed embers of the lodge fires were still glowing; while the immense
quantity of young cottonwood timber found cut and lying throughout the
camp stripped of its young bark, showed that the Indian ponies were
being mainly subsisted on cottonwood bark, the spring grass not being
sufficiently advanced to answer the purpose. Nothing indicated that
the Indians had departed in a precipitate manner, or that they had
discovered our approach. It was reasonable, therefore, to suppose that
we would come in contact with them that day, if not actually reach the
village.
All our plans were made accordingly. The Osages, as usual, were kept
in the advance, that their quick eyes might the sooner discover the
Indians should they appear in our front. In order to avail myself of
the earliest information, I, with Colonel Cook, accompanied the Osages.
Two of the latter kept in advance of all, and as they neared a ridge
or commanding piece of ground they would cautiously approach the crest
on foot and peer beyond, to ascertain whether an enemy was in sight
before exposing our party to discovery. This proceeding, a customary
one with Indians, did not excite unusual attention upon the part of
Colonel Cook and myself, until once we saw Hard Rope, the head warrior,
who was in advance, slowly ascend a slight eminence in our front,
and, after casting one glimpse beyond, descend the hill and return to
us as rapidly as his pony could carry him. We almost anticipated his
report, so confident was everybody in the command that we were going to
overtake the village.
In a few words Hard Rope informed us that less than a mile beyond the
hill from which he had obtained a view, there was in plain sight a
large herd of Indian ponies grazing, being herded and driven by a few
Indian boys. As yet they had not seen us, but were liable to discover
the column of troops further to the rear. To judge of the situation I
dismounted, and, conducted by Hard Rope, advanced to the crest of the
hill in front and looked beyond; there I saw in plain view the herd of
ponies, numbering perhaps two hundred, and being driven in the opposite
direction toward what seemed the valley of a stream, as I could see the
tops of the forest trees which usually border the water courses.
The ponies and their protectors soon disappeared from view, but whether
they had discovered us yet or not I was unable to determine. Sending a
messenger back as rapidly as his horse could carry him, I directed the
troops to push to the front, and to come prepared for action. I knew
the village must be near at hand, probably in the vicinity of the trees
seen in the distance. As the country was perfectly open, free from
either ravines or timber capable of affording concealment to Indians, I
took my orderly with me and galloped in advance in the direction taken
by the Indians, leaving Colonel Cook to hasten and direct the troops as
the latter should arrive.
After advancing about half way to the bluff overlooking the valley I
saw about half a dozen Indian heads peering over the crest, evidently
watching my movements; this number was soon increased to upwards of
fifty. I was extremely anxious to satisfy myself as to the tribe whose
village was evidently near at hand. There was but little doubt that it
was the Cheyennes, for whom we had been searching. If this should prove
true, the two white girls whose discovery and release from captivity
had been one of the objects of the expedition, must be held prisoners
in the village which we were approaching; and to effect their release
unharmed then became my study, for I remembered the fate of the white
woman and child held captive by a band of this same tribe at the battle
of the Washita. I knew that the first shot fired on either side would
be the signal for the murder of the two white girls. While knowing the
Cheyennes to be deserving of castigation, and feeling assured that
they were almost in our power, I did not dare to imperil the lives of
the two white captives by making an attack on the village, although
never before or since have we seen so favorable an opportunity for
administering well-merited punishment to one of the strongest and most
troublesome of the hostile tribes. Desiring to establish a truce with
the Indians before the troops should arrive, I began making signals
inviting a conference. This was done by simply riding in a circle, and
occasionally advancing toward the Indians on the bluff in a zigzag
manner. Immediately there appeared on the bluffs about twenty mounted
Indians; from this group three advanced toward me at a gallop, soon
followed by the others of the party. I cast my eyes behind me to see
if the troops were near, but the head of the column was still a mile
or more in rear. My orderly was near me, and I could see Colonel Cook
rapidly approaching about midway between the column and my position.
Directing the orderly to remain stationary, I advanced toward the
Indians a few paces, and as soon as they were sufficiently near made
signs to them to halt, and then for but one of their number to advance
midway and meet me. This was assented to, and I advanced with my
revolver in my left hand, while my right hand was held aloft as a token
that I was inclined to be friendly. The Indian met me as agreed upon,
and in response to my offer exchanged friendly greetings, and shook
hands. From him I learned that the village of the entire Cheyenne tribe
was located on the streams in front of us, and that Medicine Arrow,
the head chief of the Cheyennes, was in the group of Indians then in
view from where we stood. Little Robe, with his band numbering about
forty lodges, was a short distance further down the stream. I asked
the Indian to send for Medicine Arrow, as I desired to talk with the
head chief. Calling to one of his companions, who had halted within
hailing distance, the latter was directed to convey to Medicine Arrow
my message, to do which he set off at a gallop.
At this juncture I perceived that the Indians, to the number of twenty
or more, had approached quite near, while some of the party seemed
disposed to advance to where I was. To this I had decided objections,
and so indicated to the Indian who was with me. He complied with my
wishes, and directed his companions to remain where they were. As a
precaution of safety, I took good care to keep the person of the Indian
between me and his friends. Medicine Arrow soon came galloping up
accompanied by a chief.
While engaged in shaking hands with him and his companions, and
exchanging the usual salutation, “How,” with the new arrivals, I
observed that the Indians who had been occupying a retired position
had joined the group, and I found myself in the midst of about twenty
chiefs and warriors. Medicine Arrow exhibited the most earnest desire
to learn from me the number of troops following me. Whether this
question was prompted by any contemplated act of treachery, in case my
followers were few in number, or not, I do not know. But if treachery
was thought of, the idea was abandoned when I informed him that my
followers numbered fifteen hundred men, the advance guard being then in
sight. Medicine Arrow then informed me that his village was near by,
and that the women and children would be greatly excited and alarmed
by the approach of so large a body of troops. To give assurance to them
he urged me to accompany him to his village in advance of the troops,
and by my presence satisfy his people that no attack upon them would be
made. This I consented to do.
By this time Colonel Cook had again joined me, also Dr. Lippincott.
Leaving the doctor with directions for the troops, and taking Colonel
Cook with me, I started with Medicine Arrow and a considerable party
of his warriors to the village, Medicine Arrow urging us to put our
horses to the gallop. The reader may regard this movement on my part as
having been anything but prudent, and I will admit that viewed in the
ordinary light it might seem to partake somewhat of a foolhardy errand.
But I can assure them that no one could be more thoroughly convinced
of the treachery and bloodthirsty disposition of the Indian than I
am, nor would I ever trust life in their hands except it was to their
interest to preserve that life; for no class of beings act so much
from self-interest as the Indian, and on this occasion I knew, before
accepting the proposal of the chief to enter his village, that he and
every member of his band felt it to be to their interest not only to
protect me from harm, but treat me with every consideration, as the
near approach of the troops and the formidable number of the latter
would deter the Indians from any act of hostility, knowing as they did
that in case of an outbreak of any kind it would be impossible for a
great portion of the village, particularly the women and children, to
escape. I considered all this before proceeding to the village.
As we were turning our horses’ heads in the direction of the village,
I caught sight of a familiar face in the group of Indians about me; it
was that of Mah-wis-sa, the squaw whom I had sent as peace commissioner
from our camp near Fort Sill, and who had failed to return. She
recognized me at once, and laughed when I uttered the word “Mutah-ka,”
referring to the hunting-knife I had loaned her as she was about to
depart on her errand of peace. A brisk gallop soon brought us to the
village, which was located beneath the trees on the bank of a beautiful
stream of clear running water. The name of the latter I found to be the
Sweetwater; it is one of the tributaries of Red river, and is indicated
on the map as crossing the 100th meridian not far south of the Canadian
river.
Medicine Arrow hurried me to his lodge, which was located almost in
the centre of the village, the latter being the most extensive I had
ever seen. As soon as I had entered the lodge I was invited to a seat
on one of the many buffalo robes spread on the ground about the inner
circumference of the lodge. By Medicine Arrow’s direction the village
crier, in a loud tone of voice, began calling the chiefs together
in council. No delay occurred in their assembling. One by one they
approached and entered the lodge, until fifteen of the leading chiefs
had taken their seats in the circle within the lodge in the order of
their rank. I was assigned the post of honor, being seated on the right
of Medicine Arrow, while on my immediate right sat the medicine man of
the tribe, an official scarcely second in influence to the head chief.
The squaw of Medicine Arrow built a huge fire in the centre of the
lodge. As soon as all the chiefs had assembled, the ceremonies, which
were different from any I ever witnessed before or since, began.
The chiefs sat in silence while the medicine man drew forth from a
capacious buckskin tobacco pouch, profusely ornamented with beads and
porcupine quills, a large red clay pipe, with a stem about the size of
an ordinary walking-stick. From another buckskin pouch which hung at
his girdle he drew forth a handful of kinnikinic, and placed it on a
cloth spread on the ground before him; to this he added, in various
amounts, dried leaves and herbs, with which he seemed well supplied.
After thoroughly mixing these ingredients, he proceeded with solemn
ceremony to fill the pipe with the mixture, muttering at times certain
incantations, by which no doubt it was intended to neutralize any power
or proclivity for harm I may have been supposed to possess.
To all of this I was a silent but far from disinterested spectator. My
interest perceptibly increased when the medicine man, who was sitting
close to me, extended his left hand and grasped my right, pressing it
strongly against his body over the region of his heart, at the same
time, and with complete devoutness of manner, engaging in what seemed
to me a petition or prayer to the Great Spirit; the other chiefs from
time to time ejaculating, in the most earnest manner, their responses,
the latter being made simultaneously. To the Indians it was a most
solemn occasion, and scarcely less impressive to me, who could only
judge of what was transpiring by catching an occasional word, and by
closely following their signs.
After the conclusion of the address or prayer by the medicine man, the
latter released my hand, which up to this time had been tightly grasped
in his, and taking the long clay pipe in both hands, it likewise was
apparently placed under an imaginary potent spell, by a ceremony almost
as long as that which I have just described. This being ended, the
medicine man, first pointing slowly with the stem of the pipe to each
of the four points of the compass, turned to me, and without even so
much as saying, “Smoke, sir?” placed the mouthpiece of the long stem in
my mouth, still holding the bowl of the pipe in his hand.
Again taking my right hand in his left, the favor or protecting
influence of the Great Spirit was again invoked in the most earnest
and solemn manner, the other chiefs joining at regular intervals with
their responses. Finally, releasing my hand, the medicine man lighted
a match, and applying it to the pipe made signs to me to smoke. A
desire to conform as far as practicable to the wishes of the Indians,
and a curiosity to study a new and interesting phase of the Indian
character, prompted me to obey the direction of the medicine man, and
I accordingly began puffing away with as great a degree of nonchalance
as a man unaccustomed to smoking could well assume. Now being, as I
have just stated, one of that class which does not number smoking
among its accomplishments, I took the first few whiffs with a degree
of confidence which I felt justified in assuming, as I imagined the
smoking portion of the ceremony was to be the same as usually observed
among Indians so devoted to the practice, in which each individual
takes the pipe, enjoys half a dozen whiffs, and passes it to his next
neighbor on his left. That much I felt equal to; but when, after
blowing away the first half dozen puffs of smoke from my face, the
medicine man still retained his hold of the pipe, with an evident
desire that I should continue the enjoyment of this Indian luxury, I
proceeded more deliberately, although no such rule of restraint seemed
to govern the volubility of the medicine man, whose invocation and
chants continued with unabated vigor and rapidity.
When the first minute had added to itself four more, and still I was
expected to make a miniature volcano of myself, minus the ashes, I
began to grow solicitous as to what might be the effect if I was
subjected to this course of treatment. I pictured to myself the
commander of an important expedition seated in solemn council with a
score and a half of dusky chieftains, the pipe of peace being passed,
and before it had left the hands of the aforesaid commander, he
becoming deathly sick, owing to lack of familiarity with the noxious
weed or its substitutes. I imagined the sudden termination of the
council, the absurdity of the figure cut, and the contempt of the
chiefs for one who must, under the circumstances, appear so deficient
in manly accomplishments. These and a hundred similar ideas flashed
through my mind as I kept pulling vigorously at the pipe, and wondering
when this thing would terminate.
Fortunately for my peace of body as well as of mind, after a period
which seemed to me equal to a quarter of an hour at least, I felt
relieved by the medicine man taking the pipe from my mouth, and,
after refilling it, handing it to the head chief, sitting on my left,
who, drawing three or four long, silent whiffs, passed it to his next
neighbor on his left; and in similar manner it made the circle of the
chiefs, until it finally returned to the medicine man, who, after
taking a few final whiffs, laid it aside, much to my relief, as I
feared the consequences of a repetition of my former effort.
Romeo, the interpreter, having been mounted upon an indifferent
animal, had fallen to the rear of the column during the march that
day, and I was deprived of his services during my interview with the
chief. Colonel Cook, during this time, was in an adjoining lodge, each
moment naturally becoming more solicitous lest upon the arrival of the
troops there should be a collision between the Indians and the excited
volunteers. To the inquiries of the chiefs I explained the object of
our march, without alluding to the two captive girls, the time not
having arrived for discussing that subject. Having resolved to obtain
the release of the captives, all other purposes were necessarily laid
aside; and as I knew that the captives could not be released should
hostilities once occur between the troops and Indians, I became for
the time being an ardent advocate of peace measures, and informed the
chiefs that such was my purpose at the time. I also requested them to
inform me where I would find the most suitable camping ground in the
vicinity of the village, to which request Medicine Arrow replied that
he would accompany me in person and point out the desired ground.
When this offer was made I accepted it as a kindness, but when the
chief conducted me to a camp ground separated from the village, and
from all view of the latter, I had reason to modify my opinion of his
pretended kindness, particularly when coupled with his subsequent
conduct. My command soon came up, and was conducted to the camp ground
indicated by Medicine Arrow, the distance between the camp and the
village not exceeding three-fourths of a mile. I was still uncertain
as to whether there were any grounds to doubt that the two white girls
were captives in Medicine Arrow’s village. I anxiously awaited the
arrival of Mo-nah-see-tah, who could and would solve this question. She
came with the main body of the troops, and I at once informed her whose
village it was alongside of which we were located.
To my inquiry as to whether the two white girls were prisoners in
Medicine Arrow’s village, she promptly replied in the affirmative,
and at the same time exhibited a desire to aid as far as possible in
effecting their release. It was still early in the afternoon, and I did
not deem it necessary, or even advisable, to proceed with undue haste
in the negotiations by which I expected to bring about the release of
the two captives. Although our camp, as already explained, was cut off
from a view of the village, yet I had provided against either surprise
or strategem, by posting some of my men on prominent points near by,
from which they obtained a full view of both our camp and the village,
and thus rendered it impossible for any important movement to take
place in the latter without being seen. I felt confident that as soon
as it was dark the entire village would probably steal away, and leave
us in the lurch; but I proposed to make my demand for the surrender of
the captives long before darkness should aid the Indians in eluding us.
From fifty to one hundred chiefs, warriors, and young men were
assembled at my headquarters, or about the camp fire built in front
of headquarters. Apparently they were there from motives of mere
curiosity, but later developments proved they had another object in
view. Finally Medicine Arrow came to my camp, accompanied by some of
his head men, and after shaking hands with apparent cordiality, stated
that some of his young men, desirous of manifesting their friendship
for us, would visit our camp in a few minutes, and entertain us by a
serenade. This idea was a novel one to me, and I awaited the arrival of
the serenaders with no little curiosity.
Before their arrival, however, my lookouts reported unusual commotion
and activity in the Indian village. The herd of the latter had been
called in, and officers sent by me to investigate this matter confirmed
the report, and added that everything indicated a contemplated flight
on the part of the Indians. I began then to comprehend the object
of the proposed serenade; it was to occupy our attention while the
village could pack up and take flight. Pretending ignorance of what was
transpiring in the village, I continued to converse, through Romeo,
with the chiefs, until the arrival of the Indian musicians. These,
numbering about a dozen young men, were mounted on ponies which,
like themselves, were ornamented in the highest degree, according to
Indian fashion. The musicians were feathered and painted in the most
horrible as well as fantastic manner. Their instruments consisted of
reeds, the sounds from which more nearly resembled those of the fife
than any other, although there was a total lack of harmony between the
various pieces. As soon as the musicians arrived they began riding in
a gallop in a small circle, of which circle our little group, composed
of a few officers and the chiefs, composed the centre. The display of
horsemanship was superb, and made amends for the discordant sounds
given forth as music.
During all this time reports continued to come in, leaving no room to
doubt that the entire village was preparing to decamp. To have opposed
this movement by a display of force on the part of the troops would
have only precipitated a terrible conflict, for which I was not yet
prepared, keeping in mind the rescue of the white girls. I did not
propose, however, to relinquish the advantage we then had by our close
proximity to the village, and permit the latter to place several miles
between us.
Knowing that the musicians would soon depart, and with them perhaps
the chiefs and warriors then grouped about my camp fire, I determined
to seize the principal chiefs then present, permit the village to
depart if necessary, and hold the captured chiefs as hostages for the
surrender of the white girls and the future good behavior of the tribe.
This was a move requiring not only promptness but most delicate and
careful handling, in order to avoid bloodshed. Quietly passing the
word to a few of the officers who sat near me around the camp fire, I
directed them to leave the group one by one, and, in such manner as
not to attract the attention of the Indians, proceed to their companies
and select quickly some of their most reliable men, instructing the
latter to assemble around and near my camp fire, well armed, as if
merely attracted there by the Indian serenade. The men thus selected
were to come singly, appear as unconcerned as possible, and be in
readiness to act promptly, but to do nothing without orders from me.
In this manner about one hundred of my men were, in an inconceivably
short space of time, mingled with the Indians, who, to the number of
forty or more, sat or stood about my camp fire, laughing in their
sleeves (had they not been minus these appendages), no doubt, at the
clever dodge by which they were entertaining the white men while their
village was hastening preparations for a speedy flight. When the
musicians had apparently exhausted their programme, they took their
departure, informing us that later in the evening they would return and
repeat the performance; they might have added, “with an entire change
of programme.”
After their departure the conversation continued with the chiefs until,
by glancing about me, I saw that a sufficient number of my men had
mingled with the Indians to answer my purpose. Of the forty or more
Indians in the group, there were but few chiefs, the majority being
young men or boys. My attention was devoted to the chiefs, and acting
upon the principle that for the purposes desired half a dozen would
be as valuable as half a hundred, I determined to seize the principal
chiefs then present, and permit the others to depart. To do this
without taking or losing life now became the problem. Indicating in a
quiet manner to some of my men who were nearest to me to be ready to
prevent the escape of three or four of the Indians whom I pointed out,
I then directed Romeo to command silence on the part of the Indians,
and to inform them that I was about to communicate something of great
importance to them. This was sufficient to attract their undivided
attention. I then rose from my seat near the fire, and unbuckling my
revolver from my waist asked the Indians to observe that I threw my
weapons upon the ground, as an evidence that in what I was about to do
I did not desire or propose to shed blood unless forced to do so. I
then asked the chiefs to look about them and count the armed men whom I
had posted among and around them, completely cutting off every avenue
of escape. They had attempted, under pretence of a friendly visit to my
camp, to deceive me, in order that their village might elude us, but
their designs had been frustrated, and they were now in our power. I
asked them to quietly submit to what was now inevitable, and promised
them that if they and their people responded in the proper manner to
the reasonable demands which I intended to make, all would be well, and
they would be restored to their people.
The reader must not imagine that this was listened to in tame silence
by the thoroughly excited Indians, old and young. Upon the first
intimation from me regarding the armed men, and before I could explain
their purpose, every Indian who was dismounted sprang instantly to
his feet, while those who were mounted gathered the reins of their
ponies; all drew their revolvers or strung their bows, and for a few
moments it seemed as if nothing could avert a collision, which could
only terminate in the annihilation of the Indians, and an equal or
perhaps greater loss on our part. A single shot fired, an indiscreet
word uttered, would have been the signal to commence. My men behaved
admirably, taking their positions in such manner that each Indian
was confronted by at least two men. All this time the Indians were
gesticulating and talking in the most excited manner; the boys and
young men counselling resistance, the older men and chiefs urging
prudence until an understanding could be had.
The powers of Romeo as interpreter were employed without stint, in
repeating to the chiefs my urgent appeals to restrain their young
men and avoid bloodshed. Even at this date I recall no more exciting
experience with Indians than the occasion of which I now write. Near me
stood a tall, gray-haired chief, who, while entreating his people to be
discreet, kept his cocked revolver in his hand ready for use, should
the emergency demand it. He was one of the few whom I had determined to
hold. Near him stood another, a most powerful and forbidding-looking
warrior, who was without firearms, but who was armed with a bow,
already strung, and a quiver full of iron-pointed arrows. His coolness
during this scene of danger and excitement was often the subject of
remark afterward between the officers whose attention had been drawn
to him. He stood apparently unaffected by the excitement about him,
but not unmindful of the surrounding danger. Holding his bow in one
hand, with the other he continued to draw from his quiver arrow after
arrow. Each one he would examine as coolly as if he expected to engage
in target practice. First he would cast his eye along the shaft of the
arrow, to see if it was perfectly straight and true. Then he would with
thumb and finger gently feel the point and edge of the barbed head,
returning to the quiver each one whose condition did not satisfy him.
In this manner he continued until he had selected perhaps half a dozen
arrows, with which he seemed satisfied, and which he retained in his
hand, while his quick eye did not permit a single incident about him
to escape unnoticed. The noise of voices and the excitement increased
until a movement began on the part of the Indians who were mounted,
principally the young men and boys. If the latter could be allowed to
escape and the chiefs be retained, the desired object would be gained.
Suddenly a rush was made. But for the fact that my men were ordered not
to fire, the attempt of the Indians would not have been successful. I,
as well as the other officers near me, called upon the men not to fire.
The result was that all but four broke through the lines and made their
escape. The four detained, however, were those desired, being chiefs
and warriors of prominence.
Forming my men about them in such impassable ranks that a glance was
sufficient to show how futile all further efforts to escape would
prove, I then explained to the four captive Indians that I knew the
design under which they had visited our camp; that I also knew that in
their village were held as captives two white girls, whose release the
troops were there to enforce, and to effect their release, as well as
to compel the Cheyennes to abandon the war path and return to their
reservation, I had seized the four Indians as hostages. To prove my
sincerity and earnest desire to arrange these matters amicably, and
without resort to force, the Indians were told they might select one of
their number, whom I would release and send as a messenger of peace to
the village, the latter having left in indiscriminate flight as soon as
the seizure of the chiefs was made.
It became a matter of great difficulty, without the employment of
forces to induce the four Indians to give up their arms. I explained
to them that they were prisoners, and it was one of our customs to
disarm all men held as prisoners. Should they be released, however, I
assured them their arms would be restored to them. No argument could
prevail upon them to relinquish their arms until I stated to them that
a persistence in their refusal would compel me to summon a sufficient
number of men to take the arms by force; and it was even necessary to
parade the men in front of them before the arms were finally given up.
After a lengthy conference with each other, they announced that they
had agreed upon one of their number who, in accordance with my promise,
should be released and sent to the tribe as bearer of my demands, and
of any messages they might desire to send to their people.
I accordingly caused bountiful presents of coffee and sugar to be given
the one so chosen, returned to him his pony and arms, and intrusted
him with verbal messages to his tribe, the substance of which was as
follows: First, I demanded the unconditional surrender of the two
white girls held captive in the village; hitherto surrenders of white
captives by Indians had only been made on payment of heavy ransom.
Second, I required the Cheyenne village, as an evidence of peaceable
intentions and good faith on their part, to proceed at once to their
reservation, and to locate near Camp Supply, reporting to the military
commander at that station. Third, I sent a friendly message to Little
Robe, inviting him to visit me with a view to the speedy settlement of
the questions at issue, promising him unmolested transit coming and
returning for him and as many of his people as chose to visit me. In
case of failure to comply with the first two of my demands, hostilities
would be continued, and my command would at once commence the pursuit
of the village, which, considering its size and the poor condition of
the ponies at that early season of the year, would be unable to escape
from the cavalry.
The Indian who was to go as bearer of these demands was also invited to
return, assured that whether the response of his people should prove
favorable or not, he should be granted a safe-conduct between the camp
and the village. Inwardly congratulating himself, no doubt, upon the
good fortune which gave him his liberty, the messenger of peace or war,
as his tribe might elect, took his departure for his village. With him
went the earnest wishes for success of every inmate of the camp; but
if this was the feeling of the command generally, who can realize the
intense interest and anxiety with which young Brewster now awaited the
result of this effort to secure the freedom of his sister? And if the
two forlorn, helpless girls knew of the presence of troops of their
own race, what must have been the bitter despondency, the painful
relinquishment of all hope as they saw the village and its occupants
commencing a hasty flight, and no apparent effort upon the part of the
troops to effect their release?
What comfort it would have been to these ill-fated maidens could they
have known, before being hurried from the village, of the steps already
taken to restore them to home and friends, or better still, if one
of them could have known that almost within the sound of her voice,
a brother was patiently but determinedly biding the time that should
restore his sister to his arms.
Relying upon the influence which I believed Little Robe would exert
upon his people, and knowing the pressure we were able to bring to
bear through the three chiefs we held as hostages, I felt confident
that sooner or later the Cheyennes would be forced to release the
two white girls from their captivity. Placing a strong guard over
the three chiefs, and warning them not to attempt to escape if they
valued their lives, I returned to my tent after having ordered every
comfort possible to be provided for our prisoners consistent with their
position.
It was perhaps an hour or more after dark when an Indian voice was
heard calling from one of the hillocks overlooking the camp. I
proceeded to the guard fire near which the three chiefs were still
seated engaged in conversation, and through Romeo inquired who the
parties were whose voices we heard, and their object. They informed me
that the voices were those of some of their young men who were anxious
to ascertain if their friends the captives were still alive. Anxious
that they should not only see that their friends were alive, but well
treated, I desired to induce them to come within our lines and visit
the captive chiefs. This was communicated to them through the chiefs,
who called to them in tones capable of being heard far beyond the point
at which the young Indians were posted. But this did not satisfy their
suspicious natures; they imagined some trap, and declined to accept the
invitation. Romeo, the only one who could converse freely in the Indian
tongue, might have been able to persuade them to come in, but it was
not safe for him to venture beyond the line of our pickets and trust
himself in the power of the young Indians.
In this emergency I thought of Mo-nah-see-tah, in whom I had every
confidence, and who I believed might be successful in inducing her
friends to come in. Sending for her, I soon acquainted her with
my plan, to which she gave her ready assent, only expressing an
apprehension that in passing our own chain of sentries in the darkness,
they might mistake her for an enemy and fire upon her. This difficulty
I removed by offering to escort her safely through the line of pickets,
and there await her return. Starting at once in the darkness, she
clinging to my hand with the natural timidity of a girl, we proceeded
to the picket station nearest to the point from which the sound of
voices had come, and after explaining to the sentry our purpose, passed
beyond as far as it was prudent to do, and then, bidding Mo-nah-see-tah
to proceed on her mission, I halted to await her return. A few moments
later I heard her voice in the darkness calling to her friends beyond;
back came the quick response, and soon after I could distinguish the
tones of the assembled group as Mo-nah-see-tah endeavored to convince
them of their security in trusting to the promises made them.
Her arguments finally prevailed over their suspicions, and in the dim
light of the stars I could see her returning, accompanied by four
or five others. Not caring to tempt them by meeting them alone so
far from support, I slowly retired until I was near the picket post.
Here the Indians found me, and after the form of an introduction by
Mo-nah-see-tah and a general hand-shaking, the entire party proceeded
without hesitation to the guard fire, where they joined their less
fortunate chiefs.
It may strike the reader with some surprise that Mo-nah-see-tah,
herself a captive in our hands, should have voluntarily returned
to us that night after once being safely beyond our lines. But she
only confirmed the confidence that was placed in her. During her
imprisonment, if her stay in our camp without a guard may be termed
imprisonment, she had become a great favorite with the entire command;
not only this, but she believed she would in due time be given up to
her own people, and that until then she would receive kind treatment at
our hands and be exposed to less personal danger and suffering during
hostilities than if with her village.
The visit of the young men to our camp that night could not but have a
beneficial influence upon the tribe, as they were enabled to see that
the three chiefs were being treated with the utmost consideration, and
were being held, as informed at first, simply as hostages, to enforce
compliance with demands which even an Indian’s ideas of right and
wrong must pronounce just. After a lengthy conversation between the
captives and their friends, the latter took their departure, charged
with messages to the village, both from the captive chiefs and me,
similar to those transmitted through the chief who had been released
for that purpose.
The following day was passed without incident in awaiting the arrival
of tidings from the village. Early in the afternoon the pickets
reported a small body of Indians in sight. Upon a nearer approach
the party appeared to consist of about fifty mounted Indians. They
rode steadily in the direction of the camp, with no apparent wish to
conceal their movements, thus indicating that they were on an errand
of peace. When within half a mile or less of camp the entire party
dismounted, and after picketing their ponies out to graze, advanced on
foot directly toward camp. So strange a proceeding, and at a time when
the excitement regarding our relations with the Indians ran high, was
sufficient to assemble nearly all the occupants of camp to watch the
approach of this delegation of Indians. The latter were apparelled in
their best and most highly colored clothes. As they came near, it was
perceived that several paces in advance of the main group strode two
chiefs, evidently leaders of the party; both advanced with uncovered
heads. Suddenly I thought I detected a familiar face and form in the
taller of the two chiefs in front, and on more careful scrutiny I
recognized my former friend and guest Little Robe, who had thus quickly
responded to my invitation to cast aside all doubts and come and visit
me, with a view to bringing about more friendly relations between his
people and the whites.
As soon as I recognized him I advanced to meet him. He grasped my
hand and embraced me with what seemed to me real cordiality. Waiting
until the other members of his party came up, I shook hands with each
individual, and then invited them to my tent. As the tent would not
accommodate the entire party, Little Robe designated about a dozen of
the most important, who entered, while the others remained outside. I
soon found that in Little Robe I had a hearty coadjutor in the work
before me. He admitted that the white girls were held as captives in
the Cheyenne village, which was the first positive evidence received
of this fact. He also stated, what I had no reason to doubt, that
he had at various times attempted to purchase them, with a view, if
successful, of returning them to the nearest military post; but his
efforts in this direction had always failed. He admitted the justice
of my demands upon his people, and assured me that to bring about a
satisfactory condition of affairs he would use every exertion and
employ all the influence at his command. It was to assure me of this
desire on his part that he had hastened to visit me.
Knowing that the surest and speediest way to establish a state of
good feeling in an Indian is to provide liberally for the wants of
his stomach, I ordered a beef to be killed and distributed among the
followers of Little Robe; with this also were distributed the usual
supplies of coffee, sugar, flour, etc., so that the recipients were
not only prepared to regard us as at least very kindly disposed, but I
knew the effect on the village, when the result of the visit, and the
treatment extended to our guests was described, would materially aid us
in our negotiations with the tribe.
Little Robe, while earnest in his desire to see the white girls
returned to us, frankly admitted that his influence was not supreme,
and there were those who would object to their release, at least
without compensation; and it might be that a satisfactory settlement
of the question might be delayed for many days. After partaking of a
bountiful repast, Little Robe and his party set out for the village,
promising to send me word the following day as to his success. Another
day was passed in waiting, when the chief who had accompanied Little
Robe the previous day again visited us, but brought no decisive or
satisfactory reply. The substance of the reply was that the Cheyennes
desired us to release the three chiefs then held by us as hostages,
after which they would be prepared to consider the question of the
release of the two white girls. To this I sent back a reply that we
would remain in the camp we then occupied until the following day,
when, if a favorable answer should not have been received, we would
follow on their trail and encamp nearer to the village, the great
distance then separating us, about twelve miles, being a hindrance in
the way of transmitting messages promptly from one to the other.
I knew that the village was in no condition for a rapid or extended
flight, and could be overhauled by the cavalry whenever desired; at
the same time, to allow as much freedom in their deliberations as
possible, I had not been unwilling that a few miles should separate us.
No reply was received; consequently we packed up and marched down the
Sweetwater, on the trail of the village, about ten miles, and went into
camp. Here I received another visit from the chief who had previously
acted as diplomatic courier between the camp and village, but the
response of the Cheyennes was still unsatisfactory, and exhibited a
disinclination on their part to make any decided promises respecting
the release of the captive white girls. They insisted as preliminary
to such decision that the three chiefs held by us should be restored
to liberty, after which we might discuss the question relating to the
release of the girls.
I will not weary the reader by describing the various subterfuges
resorted to by the Indians, by which they strove to avoid or delay the
surrender of the white girls without first, as had been customary,
receiving a ransom. Finally, after I had almost exhausted the patience
of the troops, particularly of the Kansas regiment which had been
raised and organized mainly to effect the recapture of the white
girls, or else avenge the outrage of which they had been the victims,
I determined to force matters to an issue without further quibbling on
the part of the Indians.
I sent for a delegation of chiefs from the Cheyenne village to receive
my ultimatum. They came, and upon their arrival I assembled them in my
tent, the three captured chiefs being also permitted to be present, as
the conference, as will be seen, was to be of deep interest to them.
After recounting to the chiefs the incidents of our pursuit of the
village, their surprise at being overtaken, the stratagems by which
they hoped to elude us, the steps we had already taken to obtain the
release of the white girls, and the delays interposed by the Indians,
I stated that I had but one other message to send to the village; and
upon the chiefs of the latter would rest the responsibility of peace
or war. Further delay would not be submitted to on our part. We knew
they had two of our race captives in the village, and we were there to
demand and enforce the demand for their release, cost what it might.
I then informed them that if by sunset the following day the two
white girls were not restored to our hands unharmed, the lives of the
three chiefs would be forfeited, and the troops would resume active
hostilities. At the same time I called attention to the fact that in
the famished condition of their ponies they could not expect to escape
the pursuit of the cavalry. Every argument which might have weight in
influencing a favorable decision was stated to them. The conference
then broke up, and the three chiefs were remanded to the custody of
the guard. The delegation from the village, after a brief interview
with their captive comrades, took a hasty departure, and set out upon
their return to the village, deeply impressed, apparently, with the
importance of promptness in communicating to the chiefs at the village
the decision which had been arrived at regarding the captives.
The terms given to the Indians soon became known to every individual in
the command, and naturally excited the deepest interest. All hoped for
a favorable issue, but no one regarded the events then transpiring with
the intense interest and anxiety felt by young Brewster, who now saw
that his long-cherished hope to recover his sister was either about to
be realized, or forever sealed in disappointment.
The captive chiefs did not pretend to conceal their solicitude as
to the part they were involuntarily made to play in the events then
transpiring. I did not expect prompt action on the part of the chiefs
in the village. I knew they would practise every delay conceivable
before complying with our demands; but when the question was forced
upon them as to whether they preferred to deliver up the white girls
to us or to force by their refusal the execution of the three chiefs,
their decision would be in favor of their people.
Three o’clock arrived, and no tidings from the village. By this time
the officers and men of the command had assembled near headquarters,
and upon the small eminences near by, eagerly watching the horizon
in the direction of the village, to catch the first glimpse of the
messengers who must soon arrive to avert the execution of the three
chiefs. Even the three chiefs became despondent as the sun slowly but
surely approached the horizon, and no tidings from the village reached
them. Finally Romeo came to me and stated that the three chiefs desired
to see me. I repaired to their place of confinement at once, and was
asked by the younger of the three if it was my firm purpose to make
good my words in the event of the failure of their people to release
the white girls. I replied in the affirmative. The chief then attempted
a little Indian diplomacy, by assuring me that in the village and among
his own people he was a man of great consequence, and could exert a
wide influence; for this reason he requested me to release him, and he
would hasten to the village, obtain the release of the two girls, and
return in time to save his two companions.
When this proposition was first made I attributed it to fear that
the chiefs in the village might decline to restore the two girls to
liberty, and the lives of the three chiefs would be sacrificed thereby;
but subsequent events proved that while this consideration may have
had its influence, the principal motive which prompted the proposition
was a desire to escape from our hands before the white girls should
be restored to us, as the chief referred to had been a party to their
capture and to the subsequent ill treatment they had received.
I replied to his proposal, that if he was of such importance in his
tribe as he claimed to be, he was the most proper person for me to
retain possession of, as his people would be more likely to accede to
my demands to save his life than that of a person of less consequence.
The sun was perhaps an hour high when the dim outlines of about twenty
mounted figures were discerned against the horizon, on a high hill,
two or three miles to the west of us. Instantly all eyes were directed
to the party, but the distance was too great to enable any of us to
clearly define either the number or character of the group. The eyes of
the three chiefs perceptibly brightened with hope. Securing my field
glass, I carefully scanned the party on the hill. Every one about me
waited in anxious suspense the result of my examination. Gradually,
under the magnifying powers of the glass, I was able to make out the
figures in sight. I could only determine at first that the group was,
as might be imagined, composed of Indians, and began counting them
audibly, when I discovered two figures mounted upon the same pony.
As soon as this was announced several of my companions at once
exclaimed, “Can they be the girls?” I could detect nothing, however, in
their appearance warranting such a conclusion, their dress apparently
being the same as that of the other individuals of the group. While
endeavoring to make out something more definite in regard to the party,
I saw the two figures descend from the pony, and, leaving the rest
of the group, advance toward us on foot. All this I reported to the
anxious bystanders, who became now more than ever convinced that the
two figures approaching must be the two girls. I began describing the
appearance of the two as well as I could, with the aid of the glass:
“One seems to have a short, heavy figure; the other is considerably
taller and more slender.” Young Brewster, who stood at my side,
immediately responded, “The last one must be my sister; she is quite
tall. Let me go and meet them; this anxiety is more than I can endure.”
But this I declined, fearing that should one of the two now approaching
us prove to be his sister, seeing her in the forlorn condition in
which she must be might provoke young Brewster beyond control, and
induce him to attempt to obtain revenge in a manner not governed by
either prudence or propriety. So I reluctantly declined to permit him
to advance beyond our lines. But by this time the two figures had
approached near enough to enable me clearly to determine that they were
really of white complexion, and undoubtedly the two girls whose release
we were so impatiently waiting for.
As the Kansas volunteers had left their homes and various occupations
in civil life to accomplish, among other results, the release of the
two girls who had been abducted from the frontier of their State, I
deemed it appropriate that that regiment should be the first to welcome
the two released captives to friends and freedom. Accordingly the three
senior officers of the regiment were designated to proceed beyond our
lines and conduct the two girls to camp--a duty whose performance
carried its pleasure with it. The three officers advanced to meet
the two figures (I use the term figures, as the dress was of that
nondescript pattern which renders this term most appropriate). They had
passed one fourth of the distance, perhaps, when young Brewster, whom
I had detained at my side with difficulty, bounded away, and the next
moment was running at full speed to greet his long-lost sister. Dashing
past the three officers, he clasped in his arms the taller of the two
girls. This told us all we had hoped for. We awaited their approach,
and as they drew near to the little brook which flowed just beyond the
point occupied by the group of officers around me, I stepped forward,
and extending my hands to the two girls, bade them a hearty welcome to
liberty. In a moment officers and men were struggling about them upon
all sides, eager to take them by the hand, and testify the great joy
felt at their deliverance from a life of captivity.
Men whom I have seen face death without quailing found their eyes
filled with tears, unable to restrain the deep emotion produced by this
joyful event. The appearance of the two girls was sufficient to excite
our deepest sympathy. Miss White, the younger of the two, though not
beautiful, possessed a most interesting face. Her companion would have
been pronounced beautiful by the most critical judge, being of such a
type as one might imagine Maud Müller to be.
Their joy at their deliverance, however, could not hide the evidences
of privation and suffering to which they had been subjected by their
cruel captors. They were clothed in dresses made from flour sacks, the
brand of the mills being plainly seen on each dress; showing that the
Indians who had held them in captivity had obtained their provisions
from the Government at some agency. The entire dress of the two girls
was as nearly like the Indian mode as possible; both wore leggings
and moccasins; both wore their hair in two long braids, and as if to
propitiate us, the Indians, before releasing them, had added to the
wardrobe of the two girls various rude ornaments, such as are worn by
squaws. About their wrists they wore coils of brass wire; on their
fingers had been placed numerous rings, and about their necks strings
of variously colored beads. Almost the first remark I heard young
Brewster make after the arrival of the two girls was, “Sister, do take
those hateful things off.”
Fortunately they were not the only white women in camp. I had a
white woman as cook, and to enable the two girls to improve their
wardrobe a little before relating to us the history of their capture
and captivity, they were conducted to the tent of the white woman
referred to, from whose limited wardrobe they were able to obtain
enough to replace the dresses made of flour sacks, and in a few minutes
reappeared presenting a much more civilized appearance than when they
first entered camp.
In a previous chapter I have given the main incidents of their capture.
The story of their captivity was that of hundreds of other women and
girls whose husbands, fathers, or brothers take their lives in their
hands and seek homes on the frontier. There was much in their story not
appropriate for these pages. They described how great their joy was at
encountering each other for the first time as prisoners in the hands
of the Indians. They had been traded repeatedly from the hands of one
chief to those of another, the last transfer having been effected only
two weeks prior to their release. Soon after their first meeting, it
was their good fortune, comparatively, to become the property of one
chief. This threw them into each other’s society, and tended to lighten
the horrors of their captivity. While thrown together in this manner,
they planned an escape. Their plan, it seems, was more the result of
desperation than of careful deliberation, as they had no idea as to
what state or territory the village was then in, nor in what direction
to travel should they escape from the village. Indeed, one of their
first questions on entering our lines was to ask in what part of the
country we were.
Determining at all hazards, however, to flee from their captors at the
first opportunity, and trust to chance to lead them to the settlements
or to some military post, they escaped from the village one night and
travelled for several hours in a northerly direction. During this
attempt to regain their liberty, they reached a wagon road, over
which wagons and horses had passed recently, and were congratulating
themselves upon the success of their effort, when a bullet whistled
past them, and in close proximity to them. Casting an anxious look,
they saw, to their horror and disappointment, their late captor or
owner riding at full speed in pursuit. Escape was impossible. Nothing
remained but to await the arrival of the chief, who came up excited
with savage rage at the idea of their attempt to escape him. Marching
back on foot to the village, they became the recipients of renewed
insults and taunts. Nor did it end here. The squaws of the village,
always jealous of white women when captives, took this opportunity to
treat them with the greatest severity for their attempt to regain their
liberty. The old chief, also, decided upon a change of programme. He
had invested several ponies when he became the possessor of the two
girls, and he did not propose to risk the loss of this property. So he
determined to separate the two girls by selling one of them; and the
two friends in misfortune were torn from each other. Miss White, in
consideration of three ponies given in exchange, passed into the hands
of another chief, whose lodge was generally located some miles from
that of her late master.
The story of the two girls, containing accounts of wrongs and ill
treatment sufficient to have ended the existence of less determined
persons, is too long to be given here. Besides indignities and insults
far more terrible than death itself, the physical suffering to which
the two girls were subjected was too great almost to be believed. They
were required to transport huge burdens on their backs, large enough
to have made a load for a beast of burden. They were limited to barely
enough food to sustain life; sometimes a small morsel of mule meat, not
more than an inch square, was their allowance of food for twenty-four
hours. The squaws beat them unmercifully with clubs whenever the men
were not present. Upon one occasion one of the girls was felled to the
ground by a blow from a club in the hands of one of the squaws. Their
joy therefore at regaining their freedom after a captivity of nearly a
year can be better imagined than described; while that of the brother
who had struggled so long and determinedly to regain his sister could
not be expressed in words.
After the momentary excitement consequent upon the safe arrival of
the girls in camp had subsided, officers, particularly of the Kansas
volunteers, came to me with the remark that when we first overtook the
Cheyenne village and I failed to order an attack when all the chances
were in our favor, they mentally condemned my decision as a mistake;
but with the results accomplished afterwards they found ample reason to
amend their first judgment, and frankly and cordially admit that the
release of the two captives was far more gratifying than any victory
over the Indians could have been if purchased by the sacrifice of their
lives.
With this happy termination of this much of our negotiations with the
Indians, I determined to march in the morning for Camp Supply, Indian
Territory, satisfied that with the three chiefs in our possession, and
the squaws and children captured at the Washita still held as prisoners
at Fort Hays, Kansas, we could compel the Cheyennes to abandon the war
path and return to their reservation. The three chiefs begged to be
released, upon the ground that their people had delivered up the two
girls; but this I told them was but one of the two conditions imposed;
the other required the tribe to return to their reservation, and until
this was done they need not hope for freedom; but in the mean while I
assured them of kind treatment at our hands.
Before dark a delegation of chiefs from the village visited camp to
likewise urge the release of the three chiefs. My reply to them was the
same as that I had given to the captives. I assured them, however, that
upon complying with their treaty obligations, and returning to their
reservation, the three chiefs would be restored to their people, and
we would return to them also the women and children captured at the
Washita. Seeing that no modification of these terms could be obtained,
they finally promised to accede to them, saying that their ponies, as
I knew to be the fact, were in no condition to travel, but as soon as
practicable they would surely proceed with their entire village to Camp
Supply, and abandon the war path forever; a promise which, as a tribe,
they have adhered to, from that day to this, with strict faith, so far
as my knowledge extends.
I had not heard from General Sheridan since we separated at Fort
Sill; he to set out for Camp Supply, and I with my command to begin
my present movement. But when near Camp Supply a courier met me with
despatches from General Sheridan--who had been meanwhile summoned to
Washington--informing me in regard to the arrangements made for my
command upon its arrival at Camp Supply. The Kansas volunteers were
to march to Fort Hays, and there be mustered out of the service. The
Seventh Cavalry was also to proceed to the same point, and there await
further orders, as the General in his note stated that he had concluded
to draw in the Seventh, and end the campaign.
In reply to my letter, written subsequently from Camp Supply, giving
him a detailed account of our operations, including the release of
the two white girls, I received a letter of warm encouragement from
the General, written from Chicago, where he had just established his
present headquarters. In that letter he wrote: “I am very much rejoiced
at the success of your expedition, and feel proud of our winter’s
operations and of the officers and men who have borne its privations
and hardships so manfully.... Give my kind regards to the officers, and
say how happy I should be to see them should any of them come this way
on leave.” These words of hearty sympathy and approval, from one who
had not only shared but appreciated at their true worth our “privations
and hardships,” were far more cheering and valued than the empty honor
contained in half a dozen brevets bestowed grudgingly, and recalled in
a moment of pique.
Making a brief halt at Camp Supply to rest our animals and replenish
our stores, my command continued its march to Fort Hays, crossing the
Arkansas river at Fort Dodge, Kansas. Upon our arrival at Fort Hays we
were met by the husband of young Brewster’s sister, who had learned
of her restoration to liberty from the published despatches which had
preceded us to Fort Hays. He was still lame from the effects of the
bullet wound received at the time the Indians carried off his bride,
whom he had given up as dead or lost to him forever. The joy of their
meeting went far to smooth over their late sorrow. They could not find
language to express their gratitude to the troops for their efforts
in restoring them to each other. As the Indians had robbed them of
everything at the time of the attack, a collection was taken up among
the troops for their benefit, which resulted in the accumulation of
several hundred dollars, to be divided between the two captives. The
time came for our guests to leave us, and rejoin their people, or
such of them as had survived the attack of the Indians. Good-bys were
spoken, and the two girls, so lately victims of the most heartless and
cruel captivity, departed, with husband, brother, and friends, for
their frontier homes, bearing with them the warm sympathies and cordial
good wishes of every soldier in the command.
Mo-nah-see-tah was anxious to visit her friends who were now captives
at Fort Hays, and who were kept in a large stockade at the post, our
camp being placed some two or three miles below the post. Accordingly
she repaired to the stockade, and spent several hours, relating, no
doubt, the story of our march since they had separated from each other.
She preferred to live in the cavalry camp, where she was allowed to
roam without the restraint of a guard; but it was deemed advisable
soon after to place her with the other women and children inside the
stockade. The three captive chiefs were also transferred to the same
place for safe keeping. Here a most unfortunate misunderstanding arose.
The chiefs had been confined inside the same enclosure with the women
and children, but in separate tents. The commanding officer of the
post decided to remove them to rooms in the guard-house, adjoining
the stockade. This was decided upon as a measure of security. There
was no interpreter kept at the post; consequently there was no way of
communicating with the Indians except by rude signs, and even this
method was but indifferently understood by the infantry soldiers
constituting the garrison of the post. From accounts given me by the
Indians afterwards, it seems the men of the guard, in the execution of
the order to transfer the three chiefs, entered the stockade muskets
in hand, and upon the failure of the chiefs to comprehend what was
required of them, the soldiers attempted to push the chiefs from the
stockade by force, pointing with their bayonets to the outside. The
chiefs, failing to understand a word spoken to them, and with the
natural suspicion of their race, imagined that they were being led or
driven forth to execution, and determined to die there and then. An
attack was at once made upon the guard with knives which they carried
beneath their blankets. The sergeant of the guard received a stab
in the back which almost proved mortal. This was the signal for a
determined fight between the three chiefs and the guard, the latter
having the decided advantage in numbers and weapons. The result could
not be long doubtful. One of the chiefs, Big Head, the young man who
had proposed to proceed to the village and obtain the release of the
two white girls, fell dead at the first fire of the guard. The oldest
of the three, Dull Knife, received a bayonet wound through the body
which proved fatal in a few days. The third, Fat Bear, was felled by a
blow from the butt of a musket, but did not receive serious injury.
Knowing that I could converse with the Indians, and from my
acquaintance with them might be able to quiet the excitement among the
remaining prisoners, the commanding officer of the post sent to me
for assistance. Upon repairing to the stockade, I found the women and
children in a state of great excitement and huddled together inside
their tents. Entering the stockade, I soon learned their version
of the affair, which did not vary materially from that just given.
Mo-nah-see-tah pointed to a bullet-hole in her blanket, the effect of
a stray shot fired during the mêlée. The affair was a source of deep
regret to all.
The Cheyennes, in accordance with their promise made to me, returned
to their reservation; and having thus far complied with the terms of
the agreement then made, it devolved upon the military authorities to
return to them their people whom we had, up to that time and since
the battle of the Washita, retained as prisoners of war. An order was
accordingly issued releasing the only surviving chief, Fat Bear, and
the women and children then held at Fort Hays. Wagons and subsistence
were furnished them from Fort Hays to Camp Supply, and a squadron of
the Seventh Cavalry escorted them to the latter point, where they were
received by their own people. Mo-nah-see-tah, although gladdened by the
prospect of being restored to her people, exhibited marked feelings of
regret when the time for her departure arrived. She had grown quite
accustomed to the easy, idle life she had led among the troops, as
compared with that mere existence of toil and drudgery to which all
tribes of Indians consign their squaws.
Romeo, who had accompanied us throughout the events described in these
pages as interpreter, took unto himself a wife from the Cheyenne
village, and thereafter became a sort of trader between the whites
and Indians. I believe he is still acting in that capacity. Lone Wolf
is still the leading chief of the Kiowas; but if public and private
advices are to be relied upon, he has acted with extremely bad faith
toward the Government, and even as these lines are being penned is
reported as absent from his reservation, leading a war party of
his people in committing depredations upon the people of the Texas
frontier. Satanta, since his release from the Texas State prison, has
led a comparatively quiet and uneventful life. How much of this is
due to his incarceration in prison for a short term of years can only
be inferred. Little Raven continues to exercise the powers of head
chief of the Arapahoes, although he is too old and infirm to exercise
active command. My former friend and companion, Yellow Bear, is the
second chief in rank to Little Raven, and probably will succeed to
the dignities of the latter ere many years have rolled around. Little
Robe, of the Cheyennes, whose acts and words were always on the side of
peace, died some three years ago.
A few words in regard to one other character with whom the reader of
these sketches has been made acquainted, and I shall have disposed
of the principal personages, not included in the military, whom the
reader has encountered from time to time. California Joe accompanied
my command to Fort Hays, Kansas, on the Kansas Pacific railroad, when
the troops were partially disbanded and sent to different stations.
California Joe had never seen a railroad nor a locomotive, and here
determined to improve his first opportunity in these respects, and to
take a trip in the cars to Leavenworth, distant about four hundred
miles. A few days afterward an officer of my command, happening to be
called to Leavenworth, thought he recognized a familiar form and face
in front of the leading hotel of the city. A closer scrutiny showed
that the party recognized was none other than California Joe. But how
changed! Under the manipulations of the barber, and through the aid
of the proprietor of a gentleman’s furnishing store, the long, curly
locks and beard of California Joe, both of which had avoided contact
with comb, brush, or razor for many years, had undergone a complete
metamorphosis. His hair and beard were neatly trimmed and combed, while
his figure, a very commanding one, had discarded the rough suit of the
frontiersman, and was now adorned by the latest efforts of fashion. If
the reader imagines, however, that these changes were in keeping with
the taste of California Joe, the impression is wholly incorrect. He had
effected them simply for a sensation. The following day he took the
cars for the West, satisfied with the faint glimpse of civilization he
had had.
As I soon after left that portion of the plains in which these scenes
are laid, I saw no more of California Joe; but I often wondered what
had become of my loquacious friend, whose droll sayings and quaint
remarks had often served to relieve the tedium of the march or to
enliven the group about the camp-fire. I had begun, after a few years
had passed without trace or tidings from Joe, to fear that he had
perhaps gone to that happy hunting ground to which he no doubt had sent
more than one dusky enemy, when a few weeks ago I was most agreeably
surprised to receive indubitable evidence that California Joe was still
in the land of the living, but exactly where I could not determine,
as his letter was simply dated “Sierre Nevade Mountains, California.”
Now as this range of mountains extends through the entire length and
embraces a considerable portion of the State of California, Joe’s
address could not be definitely determined. But as his letter is so
characteristic of the man, I here introduce it as the valedictory of
California Joe:
SIERRE NEVADE MOUNTAINS, CALEFORNIA, March 16, 1874.
Dear General after my respets to you and Lady i thought that i
tell you that i am still on top of land yit i hev been in the
rockey mountain the most of the time sence last I seen you but i
got on the railroad and started west and the first thing I knew I
landed in san Francisco so I could not go any further except goin
by water and salt water at that so i turned back and headed for
the mountains once more resolved never to go railroading no more i
drifted up with the tide to sacramento city and i landed my boat so
i took up through town they say thar is 20 thousand people living
thar but it looks to me like to be 100 thousand counting chinaman
and all i cant describe my wolfish feeling but i think that i look
just like i did when we was chasing Buffalo on the cimarone so I
struck up through town and i come to a large fine building crowded
with people so bulged in to see what was going on and when i got in
to the counsil house i took a look around at the crowd and i seen
the most of them had bald heads so i thought to myself i struck it
now that they are indian peace commissioners so i look to see if
i would know any of them but not one so after while the smartess
lookin one got up and said gentlemen i introduce a bill to have
speckle mountain trout and fish eggs imported to california to
be put in the american Bear and yuba rivers--those rivers is so
muddy that a tadpole could not live in them caused by mining--did
any body ever hear of speckle trout living in muddy water and the
next thing was the game law and that was very near as bad as the
Fish for they aint no game in the country as big as mawking bird i
heard some fellow behind me ask how long is the legislaturs been in
session then i dropt on myself it wuzent Indian commissioners after
all so i slid out took across to chinatown and they smelt like a
kiowa camp in August with plenty buffalo meat around--it was gettin
late so no place to go not got a red cent so i happen to think of
an old friend back of town that i knowed 25 years ago so i lit out
and sure enough he was thar just as i left him 25 years ago baching
[leading the life of bachelor--G. A. C.] so i got a few seads i
going to plant in a few days give my respects to the 7th calvery
and except the same yoursly