WINGED ARROW'S MEDICINE
_OR_
THE MASSACRE AT FORT PHIL KEARNEY
BY
HARRY CASTLEMON
_Author of "The First Capture" "Gun Boat Series," etc., etc._
_ILLUSTRATED_
BY
W. H. FRY
AKRON, OHIO
_THE SAALFIELD PUBLISHING COMPANY_
NEW YORK CHICAGO
[Illustration: "STEADY, THERE!" HE SHOUTED. "RIGHT FRONT INTO LINE!
REVOLVERS! GIVE THEM THE BEST YOU'VE GOT!"]
COPYRIGHT, 1901
BY
THE SAALFIELD PUBLISHING CO.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I.
PAGE
THE SECOND LIEUTENANT 9
CHAPTER II.
AN INVITATION 21
CHAPTER III.
WINGED ARROW 34
CHAPTER IV.
THE MEDICINE 47
CHAPTER V.
THE REPRIMAND 59
CHAPTER VI.
THE BUNDLE OF SAGE BRUSH 71
CHAPTER VII.
"GOOD-BY, CYRUS" 86
CHAPTER VIII.
IN THE HANDS OF THE SIOUX 101
CHAPTER IX.
THE MEDICINE WORKS WONDERS 116
CHAPTER X.
GUY IS ASTONISHED 133
CHAPTER XI.
IN THE SIGNAL TOWER 150
CHAPTER XII.
WHAT GUY SAW 167
CHAPTER XIII.
COLONEL CARRINGTON IS DEPRESSED 181
CHAPTER XIV.
IN THE SIOUX CAMP 200
CHAPTER XV.
WHAT WINGED ARROW SAW 214
CHAPTER XVI.
AFTER THE MASSACRE 228
CHAPTER XVII.
RE-ENFORCEMENTS ARRIVE 242
CHAPTER XVIII.
A PRISONER AT LAST 259
CHAPTER XIX.
CONCLUSION 274
CHAPTER I.
THE SECOND LIEUTENANT
Guy Preston was a young and beardless boy fresh from "The Point." He
was now attached to the --th cavalry and was one of three hundred men
who had been ordered to that faraway country to assist in building the
fort, which was named after the lamented hero, Phil Kearney. He had
left the fort a short time before, and was out after prairie chickens,
being armed with a double-barreled shotgun. The brace of birds which
was tied to the pommel of his saddle proved that he was something of
an adept at shooting on the wing. He was dressed in the uniform of
the cavalry service, with a pair of straps on his shoulders that were
decidedly the worse for wear, and his horse, a Kentucky thoroughbred,
which, although seemingly impatient to exhibit the mettle that was in
him, was obedient to the rein and stopped or went ahead when his owner
commanded him.
"There do not seem to be many chickens here, Tom, and so I think we
will go back to the Fort," said Guy, raising himself in his stirrups
and casting impatient glances on all sides of him. "We were told to
stay within sight of the fortifications, but that last prairie chicken
was too much for me. It made me disobey orders. There does not seem to
be any Sioux here either, and I don't see why they cannot let us alone.
We could see plenty of fun in hunting if that miserable Red Cloud was
out of the way."
Guy Preston was not the only one who wished that same thing of Red
Cloud. His regiment had been stationed, in the first place, at Fort
Robinson in Nebraska, which was the central point from which operations
against the hostiles were organized. And what had caused this Red
Cloud to go on the warpath? It was simply because the United States
government had determined to open a road to Montana by way of Powder
River. The way the road was laid out made it necessary that it should
pass through the favorite hunting ground of the Sioux Indians, and some
of them were fiercely opposed to it. The authorities made treaties with
the hereditary chiefs by whom the right of way was granted, but the
dissatisfaction that arose on account of it was so great that it led to
an open rupture.
Red Cloud was not an hereditary chief; that is, he was not a chief of
any sort. He belonged to "the rank and file" of the band, but he was
ambitious to become something better. The uneasiness among the Indians
gave him a glorious chance. He denounced the treaties and their makers,
and declared war to the knife against every white man who came over
that road or ventured into that country.
There are always some discontented ones among the Indians, men who
cannot rest easy unless they are on the warpath, and crowds of these
warriors flocked to his standard. The Sioux nation was the most
powerful of any tribe on this continent. They were rich in everything
that goes to make up an Indian's idea of wealth,--ponies, furs, and
weapons; and, more than all, the countless numbers of buffalo that
roamed through the Powder River country made them independent of the
whites. They numbered 20,000 in all, and could put 3,000 warriors in
the field. The hereditary chiefs very soon found themselves deserted
and powerless when Red Cloud raised his standard, and in some instances
were only too glad to preserve their control over their bands by
acknowledging the new chief as their master. Finding himself at the
head of so strong a force, Red Cloud took to the warpath at once, and
a long, tedious war ensued, during which he made a great reputation.
Avoiding any serious engagement, he so harassed all trains and
expeditions sent against him that the few troops then in his country
could scarcely be said to hold even the ground they actually stood
upon. Several forts were established, but they protected only what
was inside their palisades. A load of wood for fuel could not be cut
outside without a conflict, and it finally culminated in the terrible
tragedy which it is the purpose of this story to reveal,--for this is a
true tale, and we tell it just as it happened.
At last the commanding officer at Fort Robinson became out of all
patience and determined to bring the Sioux to close quarters; so he
sent Colonel Carrington on a long campaign with a force strong enough
to follow the Sioux wherever they went, destroying their villages and
reducing them to submission. The Colonel was also instructed to build
a strong post upon the Powder or Tongue rivers and operate against
them from there. The Fort was built at last and named after one of the
bravest generals who gave up his life during our Civil War; but it
was only after long months of toil and hardship. Red Cloud's warriors
followed him all the way, stealing such stock as strayed away from
the camp and cutting off small bodies of men that were sent out any
distance from the main body. Guy Preston was there and saw how the
hostiles operated, and we will venture the assertion that more than
once he thought of home, and, if the truth must be told, he did not
blame the Indians for fighting. The lands which they were forced to
give up were their home, and they were about to surrender their only
means of subsistence. The buffalo comprised all they had. It furnished
them with food and raiment, coverings for their beds and the tepees in
which they lived. The whites did not kill what they wanted for use,
but wantonly slaughtered thousands simply to make a "record." All the
scum of civilization fled to the frontier, and Bills and Dicks whose
reputations were not of the best swaggered about the streets of canvas
cities during the winter and roamed the plains during the summer to
shoot buffalo. These people did not know or did not care what the
buffalo meant to the Indian. It meant that when they were gone, the
Indian would starve to death. No matter what treaties our government
made with the Indians, it had no effect upon the reckless whites. They
encouraged the slaughter of the game. Future historians will have to
record that all our Western Indian wars were brought about by the acts
of irresponsible and disreputable characters who usurped all the best
hunting lands and attacked every band of Indians they saw, whether
friendly or hostile, Sioux or Pawnees.
Red Cloud was a man of great foresight, although born in a humble
position. He saw that the government could not or would not keep
their treaties and forbid these adventurers from trespassing on their
hunting grounds, and forthwith, relying upon his assumed popularity,
which came to him the moment he declared war on the whites, he called
a convention of all the Sioux and allied tribes. When that convention
met he rehearsed their wrongs and it was decided that they would do
what any brave people would do under the same circumstances--fight the
whites as long as possible. As I said, a long war was the result;
so when Colonel Carrington entrenched himself behind the stockade of
Fort Phil Kearney, he shut himself off from the civilized world. He
was there, and the Indians resolved that he should stay there. Even
his most experienced and bravest scouts could not get through to take
dispatches to his superiors. They found Indians all around them, and
they were seen and driven back. The wily chief located his village at
no great distance away, and established a code of signals by which he
could be informed at any time just what the soldiers were doing in the
Fort. Every wood train that went out was attacked, and a strong force
was necessary for their protection. In spite of all the precautions
they could use, between fifteen and twenty soldiers were killed during
the months of November and December.
But Red Cloud was by no means satisfied with what he had done. He
wanted to get rid of the whites entirely, but he had not taken
measures to do it; so he called another convention to meet in his
village some time in December. Then he broached his program. After
repeating that the buffalo would all be killed, which was the worst
thing that could happen to a plain Indian, he said: "We must take this
Fort. If we once whip these soldiers and burn their palisade, the
government will not send out any more." All the other chiefs believed
that, and they decided upon a stratagem which will appear as our story
progresses.
Guy Preston, as well as all the younger officers in the Fort, was not
very well pleased to be shut up inside those log walls with no chance
to make themselves famous by fighting the Indians, and, worse than
all, he could look over the stockade at almost any time of the day and
see the prairie chickens flitting about as if there were not a hostile
Sioux within a hundred miles of them.
"What is the reason the Colonel will not let one of us go out and knock
over a few of them for dinner?" he said to a sentry one day while he
stood by his side watching them. "I don't see a single Sioux in sight."
"No, sir," replied the sentry. "But they are there, sure enough. Every
little tuft of grass hides one."
"But why don't they show themselves?"
"They do when they can make anything by it. Have you forgotten Mike and
Tony?"
The sentry called the names of two plainsmen,--experienced scouts they
were too,--who had attempted to leave the Fort only a few nights before
with some papers that the Colonel wished particularly to send to his
superior officer. They had been gone about three hours, but when they
returned they looked as though they had been through three or four
wars. They barely escaped and that was all; and Tony carried with him
the mark of an arrow which came near ending his career then and there.
"But this is daytime," said Guy. "I don't see what harm there can be in
riding around over the prairie in plain sight of the post. I believe I
will ask the Colonel to let me try it on."
"Very good, sir," replied the sentry. "But he won't let you go."
The Lieutenant did not catch all this reply, but hurried away to
find the commanding officer. He sent in his name by the Orderly and
presently entered the room to which young officers of his rank seldom
went unless to receive orders or listen to a reprimand. The Colonel
was in his shirt sleeves and pacing back and forth, and now and then
he took one of his hands out of his pockets to run it impatiently
through his hair. He seemed to have forgotten that he was a soldier and
commander of the Fort besides, for he was so impatient at being shut up
without remedy that he could scarcely control himself. He stopped and
turned toward Mr. Preston with something like a frown upon his face.
"Well, what is it now?" he inquired. "Do you know where the Indians
are?"
"No, sir, and I don't believe there is one within two miles of the
Fort," answered the Lieutenant.
The Colonel walked to his table, picked up his eyeglasses and put them
on. He wanted to look at the officer who could give such an opinion as
this.
"I should like permission to ride out on the prairie a little way and
shoot some of those prairie chickens which are so thick out there,"
said Mr. Preston. "I saw some within twenty yards of the post."
The Colonel stared hard at Mr. Preston and then drew up the nearest
chair and sat down. At first he opened his mouth as if to give a very
emphatic reply to this strange request, but on second thought he
shouted:--
"Orderly, tell the Adjutant I want to see him."