No Flesh. Having held his seat during the dinner in the hope that he
might at least be invited to a second table, he was somewhat sullen.
After a while he exclaimed, "Well, you must have had a great deal to
eat."
"Why do you think so?" I asked.
"Because it took you so long to eat it," he rejoined.
Seeing he was not likely to receive an invitation, and convinced
from Nannie's demeanor toward him that the fault lay with her, he
shook hands in a very dignified manner with everyone in the room save
Nannie. She was sitting near the door, and when he came near he drew
himself up in a most scornful manner and passed quickly out.
This amused not only the officers, but the Indians.
Soon after, when strolling together through the Indian encampments,
I remarked, "Suppose we call on No Flesh." "Very well," she said, "I
would just as soon."
No Flesh appeared much astonished, but he invited us in his tent,
asking us to be seated on the ground, which we did. Two squaws and
several children were present. He looked sternly in my face for some
moments, and then exclaimed:
"You--no chief!" pointing to me with his forefinger. Then pointing
with his left forefinger to Nannie, he held it up vertically, thus,
(pointing hand symbol 1) as representing her; and pointing to me
with his right forefinger, held it up thus, (pointing hand symbol
2) as representing me. He then placed them vertically together,
thus, (pointing hand symbols 2 and 1) as representing our relative
standing in authority.
All nomadic Indians have a common sign language and communicate with
each other without the use of words.
No Flesh intended the most absolute insult one man could give another.
We burst out together in laughter. This greatly puzzled No Flesh, who
could not conceive how any man, much less a soldier, could brook such
an insult. It was with great effort, stoical as the Indian is, that he
preserved his equanimity.
One day while overlooking the construction of the post, Spotted Tail
said through his interpreter, "Well, I have been wondering if you were
going to stay; now I know you are." I asked him how he knew, and he
replied, "I have been among white men long enough to know when they
put rocks under their houses they are going to stay."
The old commanding officer's quarters, the best in the old post, was
preserved intact, with all its furniture, cooking stove and utensils.
When we moved to the new post I formally presented this house to
Spotted Tail, in the name of the Great White Father, with General
Crook's authority. He and his wives and children were very thankful in
their hope for better comforts in the future. A short time thereafter,
I saw the house was vacant and found Spotted Tail was again living in
tepees under the cottonwood trees in the midst of his village. Asking
him why, he replied his squaws found it impossible to keep the house
clean. They threw the bones and refuse on the floor and could not
learn to sweep out or wipe up, so that flies and maggots became so
intolerable they were compelled to move. They could move tepees in a
few minutes to fresh sward, as had been Indian habit for generations.
With all my knowledge of the Indian habits, this surprised me as I
suppose it will surprise the reader.
One day Spotted Tail brought Lone Horn, a Minneconjou chief, to my
tent, asking me to show him some courtesy. He had never been in a
military post or on an Indian reservation. The trader supplied a
can of lemon sugar and I made some lemonade. Lone Horn had ridden
far, on a very hot July day. He emptied his glass; then Spotted Tail
exclaimed, "Have you drank all that? You had better lie down and hold
on to the grass, for the whole world will begin to turn over in a few
minutes."
Lone Horn, seeing the rest of us had drank only a portion, was really
alarmed and imagined he felt the influence. I mention this to show
Spotted Tail's humor, notwithstanding the popular opinion that Indians
have none.
Efforts to enter the Black Hills had excited the entire Sioux
confederation, and they began to talk of war. The leading chiefs
of all the tribes except the Minneconjous and Ogallalas tried to
restrain them, but it was difficult. In each reservation the young
men organized war bands and went ostensibly to hunt but really in
hope they would find opportunity to attack and destroy emigrants,
prospectors or stock-men unawares, which they often did.
The great unrest among the Indians and the settlements adjoining
their reservations alarmed the Indian Department. Before the winter
had fairly set in, the President authorized the War Department to
chastise some of the war-like tribes that were encamped not far from
their reservations in the West, ostensibly for hunting purposes,
but really to organize war parties for depredations in the spring.
General Crook was therefore directed to begin a winter campaign. He
organized a command at Fort D. A. Russell of ten companies of the 3d
Cavalry, including mine, several of the 2d Cavalry and four of the 4th
Cavalry. I was stationed at Fort D. A. Russell for the winter, Nannie
accompanying me.
So many troops made Cheyenne a large and interesting post, Nannie
becoming prominent in the garrison. One day she took me to a meeting
of the officers and ladies at the post hospital to organize an amateur
theatrical company. The call was issued by Major Dubois, who announced
the object of the meeting, when, to my surprise, I was called as
permanent chairman, the first time, I believe, I ever presided. Three
young second lieutenants were appointed to devise a program and name
the actors for the monthly meetings. Later a program was sent around
in which I, who make no pretensions to theatricals, was designated to
act Sir Toby Tittmouse, a leading part.
Nannie and these youngsters had entrapped me. I told her I could not
in months commit to memory the long part I was given, but Nannie
reminded me I had, as presiding officer, approved the proceedings and
that I could not back out! She rehearsed me and taught me to play
my part, sitting up many nights, conscious that Sir Toby's loud and
turbulent language would impress the help in the kitchen that we were
quarreling. Taking an interest in it I found it not so difficult after
all, and Nannie rigged me up in a costume that would have surprised
Sir Toby himself. She constructed a remarkable wig of angora wool, and
made me knee breeches and large buttoned coat, which, with a cane,
fitted the character so well that when the play was produced, my own
colonel, Reynolds, declared that he did not know who was playing the
part. This gave me courage, and I afterward acted a principal part as
Mr. Potter in "Still Waters Run Deep."
Early in 1875, the campaign intended to subdue the rising war spirit
of the Indians took definite shape, and our command left Fort D. A.
Russell and proceeded towards old Fort Phil Kearny, where it was
reported some outlying bands were located on Powder River.
We took thirty days' beef on the hoof, which was issued as rations.
Two days from Fort Fetterman, crossing Cheyenne Creek, the command was
surprised by some Indians; every head of cattle was driven off, one of
the herders killed and one or two soldiers wounded, leaving the troops
without any fresh meat. When we reached Phil Kearny, we abandoned
every wheel, resorting to pack mules, and struck out for Powder River.
There had been a deep snow some weeks previous, and cold weather
succeeding warm created a crust that would sometimes hold a horse. The
night after we left Phil Kearny there came another severe snowstorm
with high, intensely cold winds. The drifting snow and hard crusts
rendered it difficult for our animals to travel.
We followed Otter Creek, which runs into the Yellowstone, parallel
to Powder River, to an abandoned Sioux camp, thirty miles from
Powder River, in which we found the remains of a captured and killed
Blackfoot Indian.
Scouts reported a hunting party of Sioux in the direction of Powder
River, in what in their opinion was a village. General Crook directed
Reynolds to take eight troops with two days' rations (leaving him with
the pack train and two troops to follow), and capture the village if
he could find it.
At daybreak, on the banks of the river, the scouts reported the
village. Preparations were made to attack.
Owing to the age and feebleness of Colonel Reynolds and the bitter
feud that existed in the regiment (similar to that in the 7th
Cavalry between Colonel Sturgis and his friends and Colonel Custer
and his friends, that proved so disastrous at the Little Big Horn),
this attack on the village on Powder River proved a lamentable
failure. Reynolds disobeyed Crook's order to hold the village until
his arrival, abandoning the field and retiring in the direction of
Fetterman. It is perhaps better not to go into details here in regard
to this humiliating failure, further than to say that several officers
were tried for misconduct.
We were out of rations and other supplies, so there was nothing left
but to return without successfully accomplishing the object for which
we had been sent.
Through agents the Indian Department then took a hand and endeavored
to quiet the Indians, but with little success. On June 18, 1875,
Mr. Ed. P. Smith, the Commissioner of Indian Affairs, organized
a commission to treat with the Sioux. It was composed of very
distinguished men. Senator William B. Allison was the president, and
General Terry among the thirteen members who met at Fort Robinson,
September 20, 1875. I commanded the escort, consisting of my own and
Captain Eagan's white horse company of the 2d Cavalry.
The majority of the Indians refused to enter the post, declaring they
would make no treaty under duress. The commission agreed to meet in a
grove on the White River, eight miles northeast of the post. Spotted
Tail, who accompanied me from Fort Sheridan, warned me it was a
mistake to meet outside the post, and kept his best friends around my
ambulance.
The commission sat under a large tarpaulin, the chiefs sitting on
the ground. Senator Allison was to make the introductory speech, and
Red Cloud and Spotted Tail were scheduled to reply favorably to the
surrender of the Black Hills for certain considerations.
There were present perhaps 20,000 Indians, representing probably
40,000 or 45,000 of various tribes. Probably three-fourths of the
grown males of the consolidated tribes were present and might have
subscribed to a new treaty in accordance with its provisions, that it
be with the consent of three-fourths of the Indians, which supposedly
meant the grown people, although the treaty did not so state. The
Indians were given to understand that the whites must have the land,
so that they became alarmed, and most of them threatened war.
Eagan's mounted company, drawn up in single line, I placed on the
right of the commission, my own on the left. Allison began his
address, during which hostile Indians, well armed, formed man for
man in the rear of Eagan's men. "Young-Man-Afraid-of-His-Horses," a
captain of a company of friendly Indians, asked permission to form his
men in the rear of the hostile Indians, to which I consented.
When Red Cloud was about to speak, "Little Big Man," astride an
American horse, two revolvers belted to his waist, but otherwise naked
save for a breech clout, moccasins and war headgear, rode between the
commission and the seated Indian chiefs and proclaimed, "I will kill
the first Indian chief who speaks favorably to the selling of the
Black Hills."
Spotted Tail, fearing a massacre, advised that the commission get
back to the fort as quickly as possible. General Terry consulted with
Allison, and then ordered the commission into the ambulances to make
for the post. I placed Eagan's company on each flank and my own in the
rear of the ambulances. At least half the men warriors pressed about
us threatening to kill some member of the commission.
One young warrior in particular, riding furiously into our ranks,
frenziedly declared that he would have the blood of a commissioner.
Fortunately we reserved our fire.
A friendly Indian soldier showed him an innocent colt grazing about
one hundred yards away and told him he could appease his anger by
killing it. Strange to say, he consented, rode out and shot the colt
dead, and the whole of the hostile Sioux retired to the main body at
the place of our meeting. Thus ended the efforts of this commission to
formulate a treaty.
Failure of both Crook's expedition and the efforts of the commission
made it certain that hostilities would be resumed in the spring, so
that General Terry, commanding the Department of Dakota, and General
Crook, commanding the Department of the Platte, were instructed to
organize large commands for the purpose of pursuing and punishing all
Sioux found away from their reservations.
The Commissioner of Indian Affairs instructed his agents to warn the
chiefs to call in all Indians away from the reservation, notifying
that all found away would be punished. This only excited the war-like
young bucks and caused them to move in the early spring as far west
as they could go. At that time the buffalo were driven by encroaching
settlements and the railroads from their southern grazing grounds into
the country west and north of the Sioux reservation.
Crook first met the Indians in a slight engagement on Tongue River,
Montana.
Terry, meanwhile, so separated from Crook by distance and hostile
Indians as to prevent communication, had searched for the hostiles on
the north. He discovered their trail on the Yellowstone at the mouth
of the Rosebud, and organized an expedition under General Custer with
the entire 7th Cavalry to pursue it.
General Crook's expedition is described in detail (Appendix, 400),
save what occurred after his separation from General Terry's command.
The hostile Indians separated, some going to Canada and others turning
eastward. General Crook determined to follow the latter, depending
entirely on pack mules for transportation. With scanty rations, he
undertook a long and distressing march through the dry and barren
country, with little knowledge of its streams and trails. Both men and
officers became restless and many of the horses were shot for want of
sustenance.
When near the Missouri River, Crook turned southwest toward the Black
Hills, crossing the North and South Cannonball rivers. Here many
officers and men became dismounted, and it was feared they might
perish for want of rations. There was no game, many ate horse flesh,
and had no knowledge of woodcraft, course, or direction.
On the 8th of September, as I was bringing in the rear squadron of
the command, having shot seventy horses that day, General Crook, in
consultation with General Merritt, directed me to select one hundred
and fifty of the best men and horses from my regiment, take Chief
Packer Moore, with fifty pack mules, to Deadwood, in the Black Hills,
and bring back supplies to the command. His last words were that
should I encounter a village I should attack and hold it. It was nine
o'clock before I could collect my command, and I left so hurriedly
that no medical officer was sent with me. The night was very dark.
I took with me Grouard, one of the best scouts we had, especially
proficient in woodcraft.
Although there were no stars and insufficient light to see the
surrounding land, somehow Grouard took us in the right direction.
About midnight he lighted a match and showed me the fresh tracks of
ponies on the banks of a little lake. We were close to the Indians. It
began to rain as we lay down, holding the lariats of our horses, and
it was with difficulty that we obtained a little sleep.
It was still raining at daylight, but we were early up and off, seeing
by the mountain ranges we were going toward the Black Hills.
In the afternoon Grouard signaled a halt, saying we were near an
Indian village. He had observed Indian hunters with their ponies
packed with game. We were on the banks of a small stream, which
Grouard said was near Slim Buttes. We hid under the banks and
cottonwood trees, drenched with cold rain, until three in the morning,
when I determined to attack. I did not know its strength, but was
willing to take my chances in view of General Crook's positive orders.
Moving as close to the village as possible, I left the quartermaster,
Lieutenant Bubb, with the pack mules and twenty-five soldiers. My
plan was to dismount fifty men under Crawford and fifty under Von
Luettwitz, retaining twenty-five mounted, under Schwatka, to charge
through the village and drive the ponies away as soon as we were
discovered, when Crawford would attack them on the right and Von
Luettwitz on the left.
The Indian ponies near the village discovered us by smell and
stampeded into the village. Schwatka charged through the village,
driving the horses as far as he could, and Crawford and Von Luettwitz
carried out their instructions and drove most of the Indians pell-mell
from their tepees, which were laced on the side facing us. These
lacings, being wet, were so hard to untie that the Indians cut their
way through on the other side of the elkskin tepees and ran to the
rocks on the opposite side of the stream, taking only their arms with
them.
Von Luettwitz, standing near me on a slight elevation, was shot
through the knee; I caught him as he fell. We found the village rich
in fruit and game, and I despatched three couriers at intervals, to
inform General Crook that we would hold the village until he came.
The Indian Chief, American Horse, was mortally wounded in the stomach.
With some of his followers, mostly women and children, he took refuge
in a cave in a ravine, where they entrenched themselves with the soft
clay. There were fifty tepees in this village and probably two hundred
and fifty Indians, mostly warriors. Grouard got into conversation with
some and tried to persuade them to surrender, but they said that they
had dispatched runners to the main body of the Sioux, less than eight
miles distant, and would hold out until they were relieved.
The leading part of Crook's command, those with the best horses,
arrived about 11.30. The rest of his command appeared soon after, at
the same time the Indian forces arrived to relieve their distressed
comrades. They came in great numbers, but when Crook deployed almost
an equal number, the Indians retired and we held the village.
Some of my men, entering the village, discovered a little girl three
or four years old, who sprang up and ran away like a young partridge.
The soldiers caught her and brought her to me. She was in great
distress until I assured her, by petting her and giving her food, that
she was in no danger, when she became somewhat contented.
After General Crook's men had persuaded the Indians hidden in the cave
to surrender, there being many killed and wounded among them, I and my
orderly took this little girl down to see the captives and the dead.
Among others, the soldiers had dragged out the bodies of two fine
looking half-breed squaws, only partly dressed, bloody and mangled
with many wounds. The little girl began to scream and fought the
orderly until he placed her on the ground, when she ran and embraced
one of these squaws, who was her mother.
On returning to my station on the hill, I told Adjutant Lemly I
intended to adopt this little girl, as I had slain her mother.
The Indian chief was taken to one of the tepees and the surgeon told
him he would die before midnight. He accepted his doom without a
blanch or shudder, and soon died.
Crook told me to take the same command and at daylight proceed to the
Black Hills and execute my mission. Before starting, Adjutant Lemly
asked me if I really intended to take the little girl. I told him I
did, when he remarked, "Well, how do you think Mrs. Mills will like
it?" It was the first time I had given that side of the matter a
thought, and I decided to leave the child where I found her.
We arrived at Deadwood at nine the next night. Everyone was in great
excitement, because communication with the outer world was shut off
by the surrounding Indians. All readily assisted me in collecting
supplies sufficient to load the fifty pack mules. With fifty head
of cattle, we met Crook's command, the second morning, forty miles
distant. They were in practically a starving condition, having
subsisted on the ponies I captured at Slim Buttes.
Some time in June, 1914, the historian of South Dakota, Mr. Doane
Robinson, sent me a volume in which he published the reports of the
Battle of Slim Buttes, and also a map of the battle-ground by the
State engineer, which purported to give in detail the topography in
Section 27, Township 17 north, Range 8 east. On examining it, I could
not recognize it as representing the location.
Meanwhile, Mr. W. M. Camp, editor of the Railway Review, had called on
me to get some details of this fight, stating that he was writing a
history of the Indian War of 1876. Showing him Mr. Robinson's book, I
told him that, having no faith that he had made the proper location, I
had invited General Charles Morton, who was present at the fight, to
go with me in July and try to find the true location, and asked him to
go with us, which he readily consented to do.
We invited Mr. Robinson to accompany us to the battleground in order
that the question of location might be definitely settled. He agreed
to join us on the train at Pierre at midnight on July 14th. Mr.
Robinson failed to keep his engagement, but, at Belle Fourche, his
son, a boy of about twenty years old, reported to us, stating his
father had asked him to go with us. He was of no assistance, however,
as he knew nothing about the matter, and did not seem interested in it.
After several days' search, we found the location described in Mr.
Robinson's history in the map before referred to, but neither General
Morton nor I could reconcile the topography represented on the map
with the location as we remembered it. There were no evidences of
a fight, no rifle pits, which we remembered well to have made, and
which could not have been obliterated. We spent several days trying
to find the true location, but were eventually compelled to abandon
the search, the conditions being exceedingly unfavorable to the
investigation because of poor roads, rains, and excessively hot
weather.
Mr. Camp and I both corresponded with General Charles King, also
present at this battle, and who Mr. Robinson claimed had furnished him
with the map from which he made the location. General King replied
that he had never furnished Mr. Robinson with a map sufficient to make
the location and, after examining the map in his book, said it was
not the correct location.
I am now in receipt of a letter from Mr. Camp, dated June 21, 1917,
in which he informs me that he went on another expedition and, after
considerable search, found the true location on June 19th, in Section
10, Township 18 north, Range 8 east, which is on Gap Creek, one of
the main branches of Rabbit Creek, about three miles from Reva Gap,
three-quarters of a mile from Mr. W. W. Mitchell's house, and nine
miles north of Robinson's location. Mr. Camp found the rifle pits and
many other convincing evidences of the fight, including numerous empty
shells, much broken pottery and other Indian utensils, all of which
corresponded to my own and other reports of the battle.
Crook stayed in the Black Hills recuperating for several weeks,
when, the campaign being closed, the whole command proceeded to Fort
Robinson, where it was disbanded and the various organizations sent to
their proper posts. I was transferred to Camp Sheridan, where Nannie
joined me and where Chief "Touch the Clouds," of the Minneconjous,
came in and surrendered (Appendix, 412).
During our second stay at Sheridan, many interesting incidents
occurred. Spotted Tail gave a dog feast in Nannie's honor, which she
gladly attended and danced freely with the squaws, to their great
delight. They boiled many dogs in large kettles, but Nannie did not
have the courage to partake of the feast, which she ever afterwards
regretted.