Mexican Volunteers, especially, enjoyed themselves hugely. From
privations of various kinds, to which they had shown themselves to be
well trained, and which consequently affected them but little, they
were suddenly placed in a state of comparative comfort and even luxury
rarely realized at their own homes. They had not much else to do
beyond guarding their animals and attending to such other minor duties
as were required by camp duties. Had not their hardy ponies required
the rest that was now being given them, these troops would have been
kept in more active service; but, as this could not be, they were
allowed a respite, which they themselves turned into pleasure. Foot
races and various athletic games were concocted and played by them,
making the time pass merrily by. Their discipline and respect for
their officers had reached a degree seldom, if ever, attained by
volunteer soldiers, and which, in many respects, could be imitated
with advantage by regular troops.
But the time soon arrived for the march to be resumed.
At a council held among the chief officers, it was decided that the
best and surest course to be followed would be to divide the forces
and send them out in quest of the Indians, as if they were separate
commands. Thus it might happen that being caught between the two,
as they were running from danger they would rush into it and receive
chastisement sufficient to answer all purposes. Acting on this plan,
Colonel St. Vrain, with most of the Volunteers, was ordered to proceed
in one direction, while Colonel Fauntleroy, with the main division,
started in another; while on his route, Colonel Fauntleroy traveled
close in under the mountains, and kept his men as much concealed as
possible, making most of his marches by night. He traveled through the
Valley of San Luis up to its head.
The Valley of San Luis is about one hundred miles in length. Its
greatest width is fifty miles. On either side, it is bounded
by snow-capped mountains. The scenery of the valley is very
prepossessing, being sure to enchant the eye throughout its entire
length. In the south, the valley is continuous with prairie land,
which extends down as far as the settlement of Rio Colorado. It is
well watered by mountain streams and bears the appearance of being an
excellent farming district; but, the probability is, that its climate
is too cold for raising crops, and that its true value will be found
chiefly to consist in using it for grazing purposes. From time to
time, the Indians have reported that it contains gold mines, but there
are no authentic proofs that this is a fact.
At one time, the Indians succeeded in making the Mexicans converts
to the belief in the existence of these mines, as they showed them
specimens of gold which they affirmed to have been taken from them.
It was agreed that, for this valuable information, presents, such as
blankets, horses, and guns, should be made to those Indians who had
openly proclaimed the good news, provided they could conduct the
Mexicans to them. A party was formed and started to explore the
valley, but, as nothing was afterwards heard of their success, and, as
many of them, to all external appearances, were as poor as ever when
they returned, it is presumed that they were duped by the Indians. The
bottom land of the Rio Grande which skirts the southern border of the
valley of San Luis, is, judging from the luxuriant hay crops which it
produces, year by year, quite a good farming section; and, no doubt,
ere long, the Mexicans will there establish a new settlement and thus
practically demonstrate the use to which this beautiful valley can be
put.
While passing up the valley of San Luis, Colonel Fauntleroy came to
the Punchi Pass. This pass is the main opening through the mountains
which bound the valley of San Luis on the north. The pass itself is
less than half a mile wide, but yet, it presents some of the grandest
scenery human eyes ever beheld. The mountains, on either side, are
not so lofty as their compeers close by, but they are rugged and
picturesque. Through the pass runs a bold stream, which, at about
midway (and at this time) was obstructed by a beaver dam, that was so
scientifically constructed as immediately to attract the attention of
the entire party. Near to this dam, there is a very large hot spring,
which is located close under the base of one of the mountain sides,
and which, under the favorable circumstance of a fine day, lends
enchantment to the view. The Punchi Pass is but a few miles long and
leads into a beautiful little valley, called by the Mexicans after the
same name which is given to the pass.
On arriving at the Punchi Pass, Col. Fauntleroy proceeded on through
it to the head-waters of the Arkansas river, where, fortunately, a
fresh trail made by the Indians was found. This trail was followed
with such assiduity and prudence that the camp of some spies belonging
to the enemy, and which was in their rear, was passed by the Americans
one night without their presence being noticed. Early the ensuing
morning (before the break of day), the main village of the Indians
was discovered. Its occupants were enjoying a war and scalp dance, and
their voices, as engaged in the song which usually accompanies
such festivities, could be heard for a distance of at least a mile.
Unconscious of danger, they were having a merry time. One can imagine,
better than can be described, the scene that followed when three
hundred loaded rifles poured their contents into this crowd. Suffice
it to say, that among those who survived this terrible retribution,
the greatest consternation prevailed; but, as a dernier resort, they
began to fly, when they were hotly pursued by the soldiers. Before
quitting their late camp, some of the savages had managed to get
their own rifles, and with them to fire several shots which did some
execution, as two soldiers were killed and two wounded.
Thus it will be seen that the main village of these Apaches and Utahs
fell into the hands of the Americans. It proved to be rich in plunder,
for it contained all their stock of dried buffalo meat, besides other
provisions. Also several cart-loads of robes, saddles, weapons, ropes,
skins, blankets, trinkets and camp equipage. Most of this property was
collected and destroyed by fire, being of little use to the command,
whose means of conveyance was limited to their own actual wants.
The number of Indians killed in this surprise has been variously
estimated, as has been also the number of the red men on the ground
when the carnage commenced; but all agree that this was the severest
blow these savages had ever received.
Among the many other objects of curiosity found by the victors, was
a "Medicine lodge," which had, from appearance, but recently been in
full blast. It was highly (and to Indian eyes it must have been very
artistically) decorated, and contained all the emblems and symbols of
witchcraft. If sickness was to be frightened away, or even coaxed
to dethrone itself from the afflicted, there was sufficient in this
temple of the Indian gods, seemingly, to have answered either purpose.
Some potentate of the magnitude of a great chief had, evidently, but
a few hours since, been its occupant; for, in his hurry to desert
the premises, on hearing the music of the white man's rifle, he had
forgotten his beautiful head-dress of feathers, and other articles
pertaining to his wardrobe, which designated to the captors his high
rank. Perhaps, and the surmise may not be far out of the way, this
chief was suffering from a gun-shot wound inflicted in a recent
fight by his pale-faced enemy, and having received one of their
most dangerous potions of lead, he was not anxious for another, and
therefore made his escape with the activity of a well man.
In this expedition, a company of artillery,[11] who have before been
described, doing duty as infantry, performed a feat that will compare
well with anything of the same kind on record. These men, under the
command of Lieutenant Beall, who shared all the privations of his
soldiers, marched on foot through a mixture of mud and snow, nearly
ankle deep, over an uneven country, from the Mosco Pass in the Valley
of San Luis, to the head-waters of the Arkansas River, a distance
which is computed at eighty-five miles, in thirty-six hours, including
all their stoppages. This company had been long celebrated as being
expert marksmen, therefore, their services were much needed when
the Indian village was discovered. Although nearly broken down with
fatigue, yet as soon as the electrifying news of the enemy being so
near at hand reached them, it seemed to inspire them with new vigor.
They dashed ahead, and gallantly led the van in this assault which
terminated so favorably to the side of the Americans.
[Footnote 11: D Company, 2d Regiment U. S. Artillery.]
Colonel Fauntleroy was not satisfied with the victory already
obtained; but, after having accomplished all that was possible for him
in this quarter, and having scattered the Indians to the four winds,
he determined to make forced marches in order to surprise another band
of them who were supposed to be located in a distant mountain haunt
well known to his guide. His object in thus hurrying away from the
scenes of his late triumph, was to reach and surprise the Indians
before their friends had time to travel to and apprise them of their
defeat. In this manoeuvre he was also successful. He came upon this
second band also before they were aware of their danger. They were
routed, and after severe loss were followed far into the mountains.
At this camp, Blanco, the celebrated Apache chief, was driven to such
close quarters that he evidently began to feel that the safety of his
whole tribe stood in jeopardy. He made his appearance on a high point
of rocks and asked the white men who occupied the plain beneath for a
parley, which was granted him. He said, in the Spanish language,
that he and his Indians wished to make peace; that they were tired of
fighting. In reply, he was informed that the terms he demanded would
be listened to on his coming into the soldiers' camp. He was going on
to say that he was afraid to trust himself there, when a bullet was
sent whizzing by his head, which caused him to decamp in all haste. It
was ascertained, afterwards, that a Mexican, who had great antipathy
to this chief, had, unknown to the rest of the party, crept secretly
up into the rocks. When he had reached a place where Blanco was within
the range of his rifle, he fired; but, as the reader has inferred, he
missed an accurate aim.
At this latter camp or village, and near the close of this same day,
another incident happened which will long be remembered by those who
witnessed it. Two Indians who probably had been absent to some distant
section of the country, having no knowledge of the matters which had
lately been transpiring, were seen approaching. Gradually, they
drew near to a cotton-wood grove of trees in which the soldiers were
resting, thinking no doubt, that they were there about to meet their
friends. A mountaineer by the name of Stewart, who commanded the Spy
company, and another man, one of the Mexican Volunteers, immediately
on seeing the Indians, sprang upon the backs of their horses which
chanced to be near by, and started out to attack them. Not until these
Indians saw the men advancing, were they made aware of their danger;
when instantly they turned around their animals, and put them on a
keen run for the nearest mountain. They were pursued and the race
hotly contested for at least two miles; but, the Indians succeeded in
making their escape, although shots were fired at them, and returned
by the Indians. In doing so, one of them was obliged to dismount and
leave his horse behind him, which fell into the hands of his pursuers.
At the time that the chief Blanco was endeavoring to gain a parley,
a stirring scene was being enacted at the soldiers' camp, which was
several miles distant. Most of the soldiers had left it and were then
out engaged in the business of scouring the country. In the camp there
were all the pack animals, provisions, luggage etc., of the command.
To guard this property there were only about fifty men left, who,
anticipating no danger, were employing themselves in cooking and
otherwise providing for the wants of their absent friends against
their return. The herd of mules was scattered about, and grazing under
the charge of a few herders. Suddenly a band of about one hundred
warriors, were discovered coming down the little valley where the camp
was located. The alarm was given, when each man seizing his rifle,
rushed to place himself in the line of sentinels which were forming
around the property. The mules were quickly driven together in a
compact body into the centre of the camp. Hardly had this movement
been performed, before the red men came galloping by. Seeing the
smallness of the force opposed to them, they made two or three
attempts at an attack on the weakest points of the lines. They
were about to succeed, when a shout went up from the Americans, who
descried relief in the shape of the foot company which, having been
left behind for one night in order to make easy marches and thus
partially rest themselves, was now approaching. The Indians saw
the near approach of this powerful reinforcement, and using that
discretion which is often the better part of valor, they started off
and were soon lost sight of. Had not this reinforcement providentially
thus arrived, the Indians would have certainly captured the pack mules
belonging to the soldiers, and got away with them. Never was succor
hailed with more delight, than on this occasion; for, had the red men
succeeded in this endeavor, the benefits of this whole campaign would
have been greatly frustrated.
Colonel Fauntleroy, after thoroughly scouring the adjacent country in
the hope of meeting with parties of straggling Indians, but, as the
result proved, without success, returned to Fort Massachusetts, where
he had the satisfaction of learning that Colonel St. Vrain, in his
expedition, had caught other bands of these same Indians, and most
severely chastised them.
The Fort Massachusetts here referred to has recently been abandoned
and another one has been built, distant about six miles from the
original site. The name is retained for the new defences, which are
located on the river Trinchera. The present location is picturesque,
and beautiful in the extreme.
In one of his fights, Col. St. Vrain had overtaken the red men on
the prairies, where a running battle ensued, in which the volunteers
killed many of the enemy, and made several prisoners. During this
skirmish, the Indians tried the ruse of setting fire to the prairie
grass, and, as the wind was blowing in the direction from which their
foes were coming, they hoped thereby to impede their progress, and
thus give themselves time to escape; but the volunteers boldly rode
through the flames, and successfully continued the chase.
The time for which the New Mexican volunteers had enlisted, was
fast drawing to a close; but, as the hostile Utahs and Apaches were
scattered to the four winds, it was thought best not to send out
again a regularly appointed force to act against them. Instead, while
awaiting the effect of their late telling blows, it was decided to
be judicious to keep out, in different directions, small scouting
parties, who could better follow the trails of the small parties of
fugitive Indians with some prospect of success. It was now the
season for the richly laden caravans to arrive on the borders of the
territory, and perchance they might fall in with bands of the hostile
savages of sufficient strength to cause them trouble; or, it might
be, the Indians would combine in sufficient strength, being driven by
pressing want, to capture some one of these trains, and thus obtain
the material for renewing the contest. In view of these apprehensions,
it was decided that the regular troops should go out on the plains,
where they could be on hand ready to afford protection in case
of need. Major Blake, in command of the dragoons, started out
and faithfully performed this mission. After this duty was fully
accomplished, he visited the mountains to the northeast of Fort
Massachusetts, and then returned to Taos _viâ_ the fort and the
intervening Mexican towns.
While intimating the dangers which may befall trains on their journey
across the plains, especially in time of Indian war, it may be well
to narrate a fatal adventure which once happened to a mail party
while traveling this route. Not many miles from Fort Union, and on
the plains, there is a clump of hills known as the "Wagon Mound," so
called from their resemblance to one of those peculiar wagons which
are used to transport valuable freight across the country. It being
dangerous times, a party of ten picked men had been sent out to insure
the safe transit of the mail. Everything went well with the little
band of travelers, and their prospects were becoming bright for making
a safe journey, when, suddenly, a large band of hostile Apaches
and Utahs hove in sight. The mail party, on making this discovery,
immediately halted and prepared for a fight. The Indians very
soon granted to them this favor. At first, the attack was sharply
maintained, but, at last, fortune favored the whites, for the time
being, and they succeeded in repulsing their foes, who retreated out
of sight. The mail party, being thus freed from the unpleasant society
of the Indians, at once hitched up their teams and proceeded on their
route. It was afterwards learned that the Apaches made the first
attack, but, they were countenanced by the Utahs, who remained close
by. On the return of the unsuccessful war party of Apaches to the
Utahs, the latter at once commenced charging them with cowardice, and
boasted that they could have done better. The true state of the case
was, that the Utahs were using the Apaches as tools by which to gain
plunder, crying "go dog," while they themselves were keeping out
of harm's way. The anger of the Apaches was fully aroused at these
derisive imputations. Under the new impulse, they said to the Utahs,
if you will help, we will return and show you whether we are afraid
to meet these pale-faces. Another attack having been decided upon,
the Indians set out and overtook the mail party once more near to this
"Wagon Mound." It was snowing fast at the time, therefore, the white
men were comfortably traveling in their vehicles and had their guns
protected with suitable coverings to prevent their being injured, for
they anticipated no further danger. The curtains of the mail wagons
were all fastened down, and there was no look-out kept, for it was
considered sufficient to prepare for the furies of the storm. The
Indians accordingly approached unperceived and made such a desperate
attack that all the white men were quickly killed. Not one, if the
boasts of the Indians can be believed, had time to get out from his
seat. Several days elapsed and no tidings were heard of the expected
mail party; therefore, a body of men started out in quest of the
missing men and found them sleeping the last sleep which knows no
awakening. The bodies of the dead were decently interred; and, since
that day, the "Wagon Mound" is pointed out to the traveler accompanied
with a historical account of this awful tragedy.
During the campaign under consideration, several Indian children were
captured. These were generally under the age of ten years. They could
not stand the kindly-planned treatment which they received while in
bondage, for many of them died from over-eating, after having so long
been accustomed to Indian frugality. One of the women prisoners
taken, openly declared, and there is no reason why she should not be
believed, that many of the younger children belonging to her tribe had
been strangled by their parents and friends in order to prevent
their becoming an inconvenience, and thus prevent their being able to
prosecute the war, thereby showing that their hatred of the white
man was deeply rooted, and that their anger had been aroused to its
highest degree. On the publishing of peace, those Indian children who
still lived, were collected, and, through the Indian agents, restored
to their relatives and friends. The good effect which the moral of
this campaign had on the surrounding Indian nations cannot be denied.
They soon became loud in proclaiming their friendships for the
Americans. Taking advantage of the now crippled condition of the Utahs
and Apaches, their enemies the Arrapahoes and Cheyennes were ready
to pounce upon them at a moment's warning. The opportunity did not,
however, present itself until long after peace had been established
with the white men, when the Utahs and Apaches had been able to
recover from their losses and collect again.
War party after war party of Cheyennes and Arrapahoes entered the
country of their old enemies the Apaches and Utahs, but returned
unable to find them. Yellow Bear, a head war chief of the Arrapahoes,
did not accompany his braves on these expeditions, and he would
not believe that they could not find either the Apaches or Utahs;
therefore, to show his people that there was one warrior living of the
olden stamp, he started, accompanied only by his youngest squaw,
to meet and fight them. A severe snow-storm compelled this noble
chieftain to come into Fort Massachusetts. While he was there the
commanding officer of the post endeavored to dissuade him from his
rash undertaking. In reply the chief said:
"Captain, my young men are no longer warriors. They have become
squaws. I sent them to seek our nation's enemies. They went,
discovered their fires and counted their lodges, but were afraid to
attack them. I am now on my way to find the Utah village, where I
intend, either to smoke the pipe of peace, or offer fight to any three
of their chiefs. If they kill me otherwise than fairly, perhaps it
will stir up once more the fire in the breast of the warriors of the
Arrapahoe nation."
This speech was delivered with so much pathos, and yet with such
an oratorical air, that the interpreter was enabled to catch and
translate every word of it. Yellow Bear was now informed of the recent
campaign against the Utahs and Apaches, but the news made no change in
his determination. The advice was words thrown away, as he was found
conversant with the whole proceedings of the campaign. We have brought
in this incident to show how surrounding tribes are directly affected
and personally interested in the results of all military transactions
with hostile Indians. As we have taken up for a theme the story of
this brave and really noble Indian, it may prove interesting to some
of our readers if we complete the picture. Yellow Bear has always
been the firm friend of Kit Carson both by word and action. He is the
finest specimen of an Indian that the writer ever laid eyes on. He
stands in his moccasins over six feet; is straight and symmetrically
proportioned. The head, however, is the main attraction of this
Indian. Never was a statesman possessed of a better. We once heard him
address a large council of his warriors, and, although we could not
understand one word he said, yet our attention was fixed on the man,
for we never saw either before or since such majestic gestures, mixed
with equal grace, in any speaker. It was a master-piece of acting,
and from the "humphs," or grunts, ejaculated by his auditors, we were
inclined to think that the speech was impressive. There is one great
point about this chief which those who are familiar with the Indian
race, as they now exist, cannot but admire. He has never been known
to beg; rather than do this, we believe, he would actually starve. We
will finish this description of Yellow Bear by adding that he
finally listened to the advice of the then commanding officer of Fort
Massachusetts, and returned to his own nation.
On the final arrival at Taos of the troops engaged in this brilliant
Indian campaign against the Utahs and Apaches, they received orders
to disband. Those whose calling was arms, returned to their respective
military posts, while the New Mexicans scattered to seek their homes,
where they were received and justly treated as heroes. Before the
forces were dispersed, the Pueblo Indians, who had been employed in
the spy companies, gave, with the aid of their friends, by moonlight,
a grand war-dance entertainment in the plaza of the town. It proved a
fine display of this time-honored Indian custom.
The combined efforts of the two commanders, Colonel Fauntleroy and
Lieutenant-Colonel St. Vrain, aided by their followers, among whom Kit
Carson played a most conspicuous and important part, had the effect to
compel the Indians to send a delegate to Santa Fé, commissioned to sue
for peace. Peace was finally granted, which formed a most happy and
pleasing termination to this brilliant Indian campaign.
It proved afterwards that a great mistake was made in hastily allowing
these Indians to evade the punishment they so richly deserved, and
which was being so summarily inflicted, by entertaining so soon
conciliatory measures. At the council that was subsequently held, it
was found that only a part of the Apaches were present to sanction the
proceedings, and that the remainder were still in the mountains and
were either hostile or undecided what course they would pursue. Kit
Carson, their agent, was at the meeting, and earnestly opposed the
policy of making a treaty so long as any portion of the two nations
were insubordinate, as it offered a loop hole for those present to
creep out whenever they were so inclined. He said, "that now was the
time, if ever, when they might, at a small additional expense, and
with the prospect of saving many valuable lives, show these Indians
that they were dealing with a powerful government." His voice and
experience were overruled by the other officials present and the
treaty was made. It stipulated that the Indians should receive certain
sums annually in case they would settle down and commence farming,
and that they should be allowed to select their own locality within
certain prescribed limits. The making of such offers to tribes of
savages half subdued is absurd. The wisdom of this assertion has since
been clearly shown, for hardly one article contained in the treaty
there made has been carried out. The actions of those Apaches present
at the council were trifling in the extreme, notwithstanding which,
they were presented with some cattle. These they objected to receiving
on the ground that they were not fat enough to suit their fastidious
tastes. They insolently addressed the Government officials in the
following strain: "If you do not give us better, we will again take
the road where we can have our choice."
The fact was that these half-starved rascals saw that the white men
were anxious to make peace, and hence they assumed a haughty air in
order to drive a good bargain.
The great results which should have been brought about by the
teachings of Colonels Fauntleroy and St. Vrain, by this weak
diplomacy, were more or less frustrated. These gentlemen, however, had
won great renown. They had the savages driven to such extremes that
one more expedition, led by them in person, would have subdued all
their obstinacy and made them over anxious for peace. The Indians had
been seven times caught, and, on every one of the occasions, they had
been greatly worsted. They had lost at least five hundred horses, all
their camp equipage, ammunition, provisions, and most of their
arms, and were indeed almost at the mercy of the whites. Under
these circumstances they should have been shown true magnanimity and
greatness, by forcing them into that course which was and is for their
own welfare as well as the welfare of the country, and against which,
they themselves so blindly contend. Say to an Indian, that ere many
years have passed by the buffalo will all be destroyed, and he will
answer you "that the 'Great Spirit' rains them down in the mountains
for his red children." This is a fair example of the manner in which
most of them listen to the voice of reason. It requires practical and
active demonstrations by means of rifles and other weapons to
teach, them that they will not be permitted to plunder and murder at
pleasure. The wrong of this conduct they are as well aware of as their
white brethren. It is by rifle arguments that their treaties become
worth the value of the paper upon which they are written.
It is a well known fact that people who live in Indian countries
prefer to have the red men at war, rather than bound to peace by such
slender ties as they are usually called upon to take upon themselves.
In the former case, the settler knows what to expect and is always
prepared for the worst so far as it lies in his power; but, in the
latter position, he is continually exposed to the caprices of a race
who are in many respects as changeable as the very air they breathe.
In the old Mexican town of Don Fernandez de Taos, as we have before
said, resides at the present time Kit Carson. A stranger entering this
town, and especially at a little distance from it, is reminded of a
number of brick-kilns just previous to being burnt, and all huddled
together without any regard being paid to symmetry. In order to reach
the Plaza, which is the main feature of attraction belonging to
the town, the traveler is obliged to follow the crooks and turns of
several unattractive streets. The home of Kit Carson faces on the west
side of this public square. It is a building only one story in height;
but, as it extends over a considerable space of ground, it makes up in
part this defect, and within, it is surpassed by but few other houses
in the country for the degree of comfort which is furnishes to its
occupants. On most any fair day, around the doors of this house may be
seen many Indians of various tribes who are either waiting for their
companions within, or else for the opportunity to present itself so
that they themselves can enter.
Business or no business to transact with Kit Carson, they cannot come
to town without visiting "Father Kit," and having a smoke and talk
with him. Kit Carson enjoys himself in their society, for his heart
and hand have long since taught them that, irrespective of the office
which he holds towards them, he is their true friend and benefactor.
Never is his patience exhausted by their lengthy visits. He listens
to their narrations of grievances which they lay freely before him for
his counsel, even in matters exclusively personal. Being familiar with
all those things which will, in the least, touch their feelings and
make them interested, he finds no difficulty in entering into the
spirit of their affairs in a manner that exactly suits their tastes.
This causes them to look upon him in the same light as they would upon
some brave and experienced chief of their own race.
Kit Carson takes every opportunity to warn the Indians against the use
of intoxicating drinks, and shows them by his own example, that "fire
water" is a dangerous luxury which man does not require and in which
he should not indulge. Notwithstanding his best efforts, now and then
they get under its influence. On becoming sober, they are so ashamed
of their conduct that they often keep clear of their agent until
they think he has forgotten the occurrence. Kit Carson, to a certain
extent, treats Indians as a wise father does his own children; hence,
he has won their respect as well as confidence, which fact has given
him more influence over them, than any other man in the country where
he lives. When Kit Carson enters the various villages of the Indians
under his supervision, he is invariably received with the most marked
attention. Having selected the warrior whose guest he intends to be,
he accompanies him to his lodge, which is known during his stay as
the "soldiers' lodge." He gives himself no concern about his horse,
saddle, bridle rifle or any minor thing. The brave whom he has thus
honoured, considers that he has assumed the responsibility of a
"soldier," and so styles himself. This making of a "soldier" is no
every day business with the Indians. It is only when they are visited
by some great personage for whom they have the greatest respect, that
this ceremony is gone through with. When thus favored, the "soldier,"
at once, becomes the sworn friend of the white man who occupies his
lodge, and will fight and die for him even against his own brethren.
It is the opinion of Kit Carson, that Indians should not be allowed
to come, when it pleases them, into the settlements. Every visit which
they thus make is detrimental to them in many ways. He thinks that
the time thus spent could be better employed in hunting or otherwise
providing for the wants of their families. In the towns of the
frontiers they do nothing but beg and learn the vices of the white
man, which, added to their own, make them as dangerous and wicked as
men can be. In lieu thereof, he advises that mission and agency
houses should be established in their midst, when supplies should
be furnished to them in a time of need. As matters stand now, the
Indians, during a severe winter, or from some unforeseen accident, are
liable to become suddenly destitute. They are then compelled either
to starve or to make inroads upon the property of the settlers on the
frontiers. Besides his Indian friends, Kit Carson is surrounded by
a host of Mexicans and Americans, to whom he has greatly endeared
himself. To his children Kit Carson is a kind and indulgent father,
and to best illustrate his self-sacrificing attachment for them, it
is only necessary to relate one striking incident of its proof. A few
years since, he was returning to Taos from Rayado, whither he had been
on a visit in company with his wife, two children, and two servants
(a Mexican man and woman). The party had completed the first half of
their journey, and were jogging along over a tract of prairie land
that was of considerable extent, when suddenly, Kit Carson discovered,
far off, a band of about forty Indians. Being so exposed, he at once
concluded that he also had been seen, for while he was looking, he
thought he could see the speed of their riding animals increase. The
glaring rays of the sun impeded his view, so that he could not discern
at such a distance, either from their dress or appearance, to
what tribe they belonged. He was in a section of country that was
frequently visited by the marauding Camanches, and, as their signs had
been recently seen in the neighborhood, he made up his mind that it
was a band of this tribe that he now saw. No time was to be lost; so,
dismounting from the very fleet horse he was riding, he placed in
his saddle his wife and eldest child. To the first named he gave
directions "to follow on the trail that led to Taos, and let the
bridle reins be a little slack, so that the horse would know what was
expected of him, when he would travel at the top of his speed. He said
that he intended to ride towards the Indians and engage them at first
in a parley, and then if necessary offer them a single-handed combat.
At any rate, before they could manage to kill him, she would have
sufficient time to lessen her danger. As to the remainder of the party
he added, there was no alternative but for them to take their chances
for life or death." Bidding his wife and boy good bye, with one
heart-rending look, he turned to face his apparent doom. As Kit
approached the Indians, they began to call out his name. As soon as he
heard this, he aroused himself from the agonizing frame of mind he had
been laboring under after parting with all that was so dear to him,
and as he had thought, for the last time. To his joy, Kit quickly
recognized before him, the familiar faces of some of his Indian
friends. They had come, as they afterwards informed him, to see him
and his helpless charge safely lodged in their home, for they had
become aware that he was exposed to great danger. While the friends
were talking, some of the Indians began to laugh, which caused Carson
to turn his head and look in the direction they were gazing. To his
astonishment and disgust, he saw (the truth was too evident to be
mistaken) that the cowardly Mexican man had, on his leaving, pulled
off from her horse Mrs. Carson and her child, and having mounted the
animal himself, was making good his escape. The Indians wished to keep
up the ruse, pursue, Attempt to overtake and punish the poltroon; but
Kit Carson was too thankful that matters had gone so well; therefore,
he said that he felt that he could excuse such dastardly conduct, and
requested the Indians to let it pass unnoticed. It is hardly necessary
to add that with his faithful body-guard who had come to watch over
him from feelings of earnest respect, gratitude and affectionate
regard, the agent accomplished the remainder of his journey in perfect
safety.
Several years have elapsed, as the reader can easily estimate, since
Kit Carson met, while traveling home from one of his expeditions,
the Mormon delegate to Congress who had first informed him of his
appointment as Indian agent. During this length of time Kit Carson has
retained this office and rendered satisfactory service. The tract of
country over which the Indians roam who are especially connected
with his agency, is about equal in its area, to any one of the larger
States in the American Confederacy. The Indians who are under his
jurisdiction, are large and powerful bands of the Apaches and Utahs;
but, as we have said before, neighboring tribes freely seek his
counsel, aid and protectorate power as they may require it, and they
all, from habit, consider that they have a claim on his services.
To best illustrate this, we have but to cite one instance of which a
thousand similar exist. Two Indian women were taken prisoners by the
red men of the plains from a band of savages not under the immediate
control of Kit Carson, who inhabited a section of New Mexico. These
squaws, while captives, were subjected to the severest labor and the
most brutal punishment which Indian ingenuity could invent. For one
year they submitted without exhibiting any outward symptoms by which
their condition could be known; but, at the end of that time, they
resolved to escape, even if they were killed in the attempt. Watching
a favorable opportunity, they started, and fortunately, so well laid
their plans, that, for some time, they were not missed. On their
prolonged absence being noticed, a party who were well mounted
commenced the pursuit, no doubt believing that, to recapture the
runaways would be an easy task. The squaws however eluded these
horsemen, and, on foot, made their way to Kit Carson's house at Taos.
By him they were hospitably received, entertained and amply provided
for. They had traveled on foot for hundreds of miles, and, while en
route, had lived on roots and such other food as fell in their way. In
their reduced condition, it required kindness, proper diet and rest
to resuscitate them. In the comfortable house to which they had come,
these things were at hand, and were freely given, without hoping for
the rewards which man can give. The pursuers of these unfortunate
Indian women followed on their trail, which, with native instinct, the
squaws had made as indistinct as possible, until they found themselves
at a Mexican settlement, within the boundaries of New Mexico. Here
they were informed that their late captives were safe under the
protection of Kit Carson. This name acted like magic in settling their
future mode of proceedings. They needed nothing more to bid them face
about and retrace their steps to their own homes. The squaws, in the
household of Kit Carson, rapidly recruited, and when the time came for
them to be sent to their own tribe, they went away rejoicing at their
good fortune; first in making their escape, and second, because they
had been so humanely treated by a man whose name they had often heard,
but never before seen. As we have said before and with truth, this is
but one example out of thousands which have passed by unheralded since
Kit Carson first commenced his official career as Indian agent.
The duties of an agent are not by Kit Carson confined to the mere
letter of the law. His is a heart that could not be happy were he not
daily doing some equitable and humane act to ameliorate the condition
of the Indian race. The strict duties of an Indian agent require that
he should receive and disburse certain sums of money in purchasing
such minor articles as the tribes over which he is placed may require.
He has to give monthly and quarterly reports to the General Government
and the superintendent of the Territory he is in, of the condition,
crimes, practices, habits, intentions, health, and such other things
as pertain to the economy of his charge. How seldom is this knowledge
properly attained and how often are these things intrusted to clerks
while the principal receives the emoluments of his office! Of the
details which make the Indian happy or miserable, he, too frequently,
knows but little about, except from routine. The agent, if he be a fit
man, and the Indian is by no means slow in forming his estimate of
the person he has to deal with, is received into the confidence of
the tribes, when, after sufficient trial, he has been proved worthy of
their esteem and friendship. When once he has gained a foothold in the
affections of the savages, his task assumes the condition of pleasure
rather than severe labor; but, if he is ignorant of the minute
workings of his business, he is generally imposed upon and always
disliked to such a degree that no honorable man would retain such a
position longer than to find out his unpopularity and the causes of
it. The Indian agent, to perform his duties well, must be continually
at his agency house, or among the Indians, in order that he may
personally attend to their wants and protect them from the mercenary
visits and contact of outside intruders, who are continually watching
their opportunity, like hungry wolves, to prey upon and cheat them in
every shape and form. In fine, he is to assist the superintendent in
managing the entire Indian family. .
The business of Indian agent, which he strictly and conscientiously
attends to, keeps Kit Carson employed during the most of his time;
yet, as often as once each year, he manages affairs so that he can
spend a few weeks in the exciting scenes of the chase. On these
excursions, which are eagerly looked forward to by his friends, he is
accompanied by the crack shots of the country, including his Indian
and Mexican friends. On horseback and on open prairies, Kit Carson is
indisputably the greatest hunter in America, if indeed he is not the
greatest hunter now living. He has killed, in the brief space of three
consecutive hours, with his rifle, twenty-two antelope, at a time when
the game was so scarce, that other men who followed the business of
hunting under pay, and were no ordinary shots, thought themselves
doing well to bring down six of the same animals. It gives the
greatest satisfaction to the people of New Mexico that Kit Carson
is, from time to time, reinstalled in his office of Indian agent,
notwithstanding the other great changes that have been and are
continually making in their politics. His fitness for the position
which he holds cannot be doubted, when the good already accomplished
by his efforts is considered. No one would be so loath to part with
his services as the Indians themselves. His influence reaches far
beyond his own tribes, and is felt by the Cheyennes, Arrapahoes, and
Kiowas, who are fast becoming very chary about visiting, with hostile
intentions, the settlements of northern New Mexico.
Kit Carson is still in the full vigor of his manhood, and is capable
of undergoing almost any amount of privation and hardship; therefore
we infer that to the country he has adopted; he will be spared many
years to come, as one of its most valuable citizens. And when the time
arrives for his final exit from this stage of life, he will bequeath
to his family and friends a spotless character and an enviable
reputation.
FINIS.
* * * * *
RECENTLY ISSUED,
BY W.R.C. CLARK & CO.,
348 BROADWAY,
APPLETON'S BUILDING.
GEORGE MELVILLE,
AN AMERICAN NOVEL.
One handsome 12mo. volume, nearly 400 pages. Price $1.00
CONTENTS.
I. George Melville and Thomas F. Griswold determine that "Old Sassy"
had better look out.
II. Horses _versus_ Thorn-Apple Tree Limbs.
III. "Wait for the Wagon."
IV. The Boyhood Days of George Melville.
V. The Excursion Party for Niagara--Astor House--James Mordaunt--The
Plot.
VI. Aurora--Cayuga Lake--The Pic-nic.
VII. Clara Edgemonte's Mistake.
VIII. Melville's and Griswold's Tour--A true Hand and firm Seat always
come in Play.
IX. Sunset at Niagara--James Mordaunt's Declaration.
X. The Morning Walk--An Old Friend in Duplicate.
XI. Hon. B.F. Mortimer--H.B. Edgemonte, Esq.,--James Mordaunt,
Esq.--Frederick Mortimer--Thomas F. Griswold--George Melville--Mrs.
Mortimer--Mrs. Edgemonte--Bell Mortimer--Clara Edgemonte--The
Breakfast Party.
XII. Bob Shank--The Fire--The Cave.
XIII. Bell hates the Rain, but finally has no Objection to it--Miss
Blackwood's Party.
XIV. Various Things material both to the Story and the Reader--The
Catfish Railroad Scheme.
XV. Ahead--Back again.
XVI. Who is Uncle Sam--Syracuse--Camillus--Junction--Auburn--A New
York Lawyer obtains a Case (a hard one).
XVII. The Dinner Party at Aurora--The Telegram--Mrs. Tryon's Glance.
XVIII. Broadway, New York--James Mordaunt, Esq., at his Office in Wall
street--Is he a Married Man?
XIX. Rev. John Furnace--The Funeral--The Lawsuit--The Catfish Railroad
Stock at a Premium.
XX. Arrival of the Liverpool Steamer--New York Firemen--Griswold's
Heroism--The Catfish Railroad Stock falling--Trouble.
XXI. Short but Interesting.
XXII. A Sail on Cayuga Lake before Breakfast--Thermometer thirty
Degrees below Zero--Two Miles a Minute under a fair Wind--Bell
Mortimer takes an Observation--The Surprise not a Surprise--The
Race Home--The Ice-Boat too much for the Horses--The Runaway--The
Rescue,--Love told without Words--Death cheated, of his Prey.
XXIII. Plans for the Future.
XXIV. Commencement Day at Hamilton College--William Hastings--How a
Clerk in New York City may obtain a Partnership.
XXV. A Friend in Need.
XXVI. New York City Corporation Counsel--All Marriage Notices not
Agreeable.
XXVII. Sarah E. Graham's call at Mordaunt's Law Office--A Cool
Scene--James Mordaunt in trouble.
XXVIII. George Melville under a Cloud.
XXIX. The Metropolis of America never sleeps--Scene in Twenty-Third
street late at Night.
XXX. An Arrest--A Promise made, and a Promise given.
XXXI. A Station on the N.Y. Central Railroad--Car
Manufactory--Reception of a Convict at the Auburn State Prison--The
Model Prison of the United States.
XXXII. More about the Prison.
XXXIII. James Mordaunt, Esq., triumphs.
XXXIV. Mr. M----l, Chief of the New York Police, puts his Private Seal
upon a Coffin in Greenwood Cemetery.
XXXV. A Council of War.
XXXVI. A Smash-up in Broadway, N.Y.--The New York Hospital--The New
York Press--Sarah E. Graham a Lunatic.
XXXVII. Bell and Charger.
XXXVIII. An Ante-Breakfast Ride--The Homestead of an American
Statesman.
XXXIX. Fort-Hill Cemetery--"Who is there to Mourn for Logan?"--How to
carry on a Correspondence with a Convict--Distant View of the Auburn
State Prison--Bell Mortimer in her Sanctum.
XL. A Change in the progress of Events foreshadowed--Exercise of
Wits--The Statesman proves too much for the Lawyer.
XLI. An Alumnus of Hamilton College, _nolens volens_, becomes a
Skillful Mechanic.
XLII. A Ray of Hope.
XLIII. Woman's Rights--The State Lunatic Asylum at Utica, Oneida
County, N.Y.
XLIV. The Arrest--Interview with the Governor of the Empire State.
XLV. A Mountain in Massachusetts--The Home of an ex-President of the
United States.
XLVI. Another Telegram--Early rising sometimes proves very agreeable.
XLVII. Bell Mortimer makes the Acquaintance of Sarah E. Graham.
XLVIII. The Homestead of an American Mechanic--A Proposition.
XLIX. Trial of the Action "Wilcox against Mordaunt"--Thomas F.
Griswold, Esquire, addresses the Jury--The Utica Asylum again--One of
the Biters bitten.
L. Death of a New York City Policeman--A Trial, Sentence, and
Execution--Ought Governors hold the Pardoning Power?
LI. The Island Martha's Vineyard.
LII. Sunday-school in Prison--The Chaplain and his Convict
Congregation--A Convict who had well earned his position reflects--Two
Deaths.
LIII. A Wedding--Wedding Tour--Conclusion.
NOTICES OF THE PRESS.
From the _Boston Traveller_.
"The language is chaste and dignified, and varies to suit the
different circumstances. A high-toned integrity, clear common sense,
and a true representation of life in its real and sound aspects,
characterize the work."
"One of the best novels of the day."
From the _New York Leader_.
"A work of much power, possessing vastly more of that reality, which
makes the real charm of a romance, than anything which has preceded it
this season."
From the _Cincinnati Commercial_.
"A well written volume, spicy with interest, and quite above the every
day average of the flood of works of fiction."
From the _Chambersburg (Pa.) Independent_.
"We submit the work to the perusal of our readers, as one replete with
interest and instruction."
From the _Ladies' Visitor_.
"'GEORGE MELVILLE,' coming just now, will be even more certain of a
warm reception than if he only swelled the crowd of claimants for the
popular favor."
From the _Albany (N.Y.) Knickerbocker_.
"The style is dashing, and the scenes and incidents in the highest
degree interesting. We commend 'GEORGE MELVILLE' to our readers."
From the _Morristown (N.J.) Banner_.
"The main features have evidently been actual occurrences, and are
skillfully worked together by a talented writer, who, with an eye to
its good moral influence has made a book which is at once pleasing,
interesting and exciting."
From the _Constitution_ (Middletown, Ct.)
"A book of great interest and spirit, and one that brings out, in a
strong light, some peculiar traits of American character."
From the _Critic_.
"An unusually well-written and interesting book."
From the _Boston Saturday Evening Gazette_.
"There is a deal of promise in a new novel just out called 'GEORGE
MELVILLE.' It is a dashing, clever, well-written story; its characters
talk with animation and plenty of animal spirit, and 'the plot
converges to an issue' according to the most approved rules. It has
the American Stamp, and imitates no transatlantic author--a merit
worth noticing."
From the _New York Sunday Times_.
"Its style is graphic, careless, romping and fanciful, and it is
really captivating."
From the _Albany Evening Journal_.
"The style is lively; the dialogues frequent and effective; the graver
scenes well drawn and the book wholly what it purports to be--an
American Novel, characteristically descriptive of American Life."
From the _New York Sunday Mercury_.
"A book that will repay the reader for the time spent in its perusal.
A pleasant companion for Saratoga, or the sea-shore."
From the _Educational Herald_.
"Its descriptions and pictures are very graphic."
The following notice from the _Toledo Blade_, is so just and true that
we copy it entire:
"We had almost said, after reading this story, 'The good old days of
Cooper have come again.' It is really refreshing, in the midst of so
much literary pretension, to meet with something of real merit.
"The conception of the plot is admirable--the characters finely
portrayed--the scenery true to nature and the interest maintained
throughout. Its life-like pictures, as well as the style of its author
must commend it to every one who feels any interest in the revival
of a genuine, home-bred American literature. When such tales as
this reflecting on our own manners, scenery, morals and laws can be
produced, there is little reason that our fiction-writers should be
superseded by foreigners. A tale of equal merit with this, so neatly
told, so entirely American, has not of late been issued from the
press.
"The scenery of Central New York--a sail on the placid waters
of Cayuga Lake in summer, and across the ice which covers it in
winter--the picturesque views around Auburn and the grand sublimity of
Niagara, are alike portrayed in vivid characters.
"Character is as well delineated as scenery. Dark and light
shades--gay and corrupt life--vanity, vice and virtue, all perform
their appropriate parts, in making up a goodly number of men and
women, who once fairly introduced, carry themselves very naturally
through plot and counter plot, to the close of a story which aptly
illustrates the elements composing American society, in its various
phases. There are many such victims as Melville, and many such true
hearted girls as Bell Mortimer.
"We do not pretend that the writer has attained perfection. The book
has faults--but these may be overcome by a writer of so much real
ability, and we hope his pen will not be allowed to remain idle.
"GEORGE MELVILLE is a pleasant story--written in a chaste style with a
good moral, and we cheerfully commend it to our readers."
*** Copies sent by mail to any part of the United States, pre-paid,
upon receipt of price.
* * * * *
A BEAUTIFUL GIFT BOOK.
SHELLS
FROM THE
SEA-SHORE OF LIFE,
GATHERED BY
PEARLY SHELLEY.
* * * * *
This work comprises the lighter and more sketchy productions of one
of the most original and distinguished writers in the country.
The "Shells" are symbolical of the various lights and shades of
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embody a series of writings which may be called
THE PARABLES OF THE WORLD!
Every one of the series contains a moral which the Christian as
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Some of these brilliant sketches symbolized in Shells, were originally
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The "Shells" are published in a style which makes them, in their
typographical and external dress, equal to their intellectual and
moral interest, and renders them one of the most beautiful and
appropriate presents that can be selected for the holidays.
One vol., 12mo., with twenty-one original
illustrations, cloth, $0 75
Cloth, full gilt, 1 25
W.R.C. CLARK & CO., PUBLISHERS,
348 BROADWAY, NEW YORK.
(Appletons' Building.)
* * * * *
ALSO, LATELY ISSUED, THE FOLLOWING
NEW MUSIC.
SISTER SPIRIT, STAY NOT HERE--SONG.
Price Fifty Cents.
WORDS AND MUSIC BY C. HATCH SMITH.
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Either of the above pieces will be sent by mail, post-paid, upon
receipt of the price, or all of them on receipt of 75 cents.
W.R.C. CLARK & CO., PUBLISHERS,
No. 348 Broadway, New York.