FORT PIERRE AND THE SIOUX INDIANS, 1855-1856.
Fort Pierre, situated on the west bank of the Missouri River, about
fifteen hundred miles above St. Louis, Mo., was an old trading post
belonging to the American Fur Co., which also had another post or two
higher up the river and one on the Yellowstone River. Fort Pierre was
the headquarters. It was a stockade structure, built of split logs
firmly set in the ground and twenty feet or more in height. There were
sheltered and protected turrets at the corners on top, which afforded
a look-out over a large area of flat country. The fort set back a
short distance from the bank and had a large gate on the river side.
There were also one or two smaller gates. The stockade enclosed a
square space, containing several well built log houses for the
traders, trappers, hunters and others. There were also storehouses and
a central vacant space of considerable size within the barrier. The
fort was built in 1832 by Pierre Chouteau, Jr., and recently sold to
the Government.
The stockade was built on high bottom land, well placed for defense
against the Indians. The prospect was uninterrupted for miles up or
down the river, and to the west the land was level and bare for some
miles to the foot-hills. To the east was the Missouri with a large
island opposite the fort and hilly land on the other side of the
river. To the north, on the bank of the river, less than half a mile
away, there was an Indian settlement of about twenty-five lodges. It
was there that the Indians who came to trade usually camped. The
surroundings were bleak and dreary to the extreme. One saw nothing but
prairie or a few stunted bushes in some shallow ravines near the
river. Wood for fuel had to be hauled a long distance.
We found here the three companies that had preceded us, also companies
"B" and "C" of my regiment who had marched across the country from
Fort Ridgely, Minnesota Territory. They were the first soldiers that
had ever been stationed in that part of the country. They brought a
herd of beef cattle and mules in charge of herders, who had managed to
get them there during the summer season with small loss.
During the six weeks or more that these five companies had preceded
us, they had been very busy setting up the portable houses that had
been brought up on the steamers. These houses were placed a short
distance behind the stockade, around three sides of a large
parallelogram, forming the parade ground--officers' houses on one
side, company quarters opposite and other houses on one end. The
necessary store houses were erected on the river front. The company
houses were intended to hold half a company each without crowding. We
moved into two of them on our arrival and had a little less than
thirty men in each house. They were single-story affairs with but one
room and of the flimsiest wood construction. The sills and floor beams
were entirely too light for the live weight to be carried, the upright
studding was about three by two inches, grooved on two sides to
receive panels made of three-quarter inch boards, which was all the
protection there was against the intense winter cold of that latitude.
There was no interior finish of any kind. The roof was of thin boards
covered with tarred paper and had a low pitch from a ridge to the
sides. The houses were set on wooden posts about two feet above the
ground.
Each house was furnished with two sheet iron stoves for burning wood,
and had stove pipes passing through the roof. The officers' houses
were the same, except that they were smaller and were divided into two
rooms by a thin board partition. These houses were very easily set up.
There was but little work on them except driving nails. They had been
previously painted a dark red color, both inside and out. Whoever
designed these cardboard houses--for they proved to be but little
better--had but a small conception of the requirements of that
climate. The winters were long, with deep snow and frequent blizzards.
The architect of these shelters was indirectly the cause of much
suffering. We built log huts for company kitchens, but we had no
mess-rooms.
On the day before the steamboat _Genoa_ left on her return trip
to St. Louis, partly loaded with furs, a paymaster, who returned on
her paid us for four months. We did not see a paymaster again until
the following May or June. A sutler had established a store, with a
miscellaneous stock of goods such as soldiers needed, also goods for
trading with the Indians. But the prices were so high that we could
not afford to buy much. This was due to the high cost of steamboat
transportation, which amounted to about fifty dollars per ton from St.
Louis.
About two weeks after our arrival at Fort Pierre, a courier from
Brigadier General William S. Harney, commander of the Sioux
expedition, arrived from Ash Hollow with an order for four companies
of the Second Infantry to be sent to him as re-enforcements.
It appeared that General Harney had fought a battle with the Brulé and
Ogalalla tribes of the Sioux, on September 3rd, 1855, at Ash Hollow on
the Blue Water creek. This is a tributary of the Platte River, about
two hundred and fifty miles south-west of Fort Pierre.
These were the Indians who had massacred Lieutenant Grattan and
twenty-one soldiers more than a year before, and for whose punishment
the Government had organized the Sioux expedition.
General Harney had started out from Fort Laramie with six small
companies of infantry and two of cavalry. After a march of nearly one
hundred and fifty miles, he skillfully approached the Indians' camp,
without the presence of his troops being suspected.
The Indians had been buffalo hunting during the summer, acquiring many
skins, and much dried buffalo meat. About seventy lodges had encamped
on the Blue Water in a sheltered valley, where they probably expected
to pass the coming winter.
The troops surprised the camp at day break, and attacked it
simultaneously from two sides. The Indians, unable to make any
organized resistance, fled in the direction where their ponies were
herded, but were pursued by the cavalry. Many were killed, among them
a number of squaws, for in the confusion it was difficult to
distinguish them from the warriors.
The chief, Little Thunderer, made his escape. The soldiers lost few in
this action, but the punishment to the Indians was very severe; and it
had its effect, for as long as we remained among the Sioux, only small
skirmishes took place.
The loss of all their lodges, provisions, arms, furs and other
property, which the general caused to be burned, was a severe blow to
them. They were also deprived of many of their ponies. After the
battle, the troops were encamped in a stronger position nearby. There
they awaited re-enforcements from Fort Pierre, where they intended to
winter, as the general deemed it imprudent to march his small force to
the fort, across the enemy's country, fearing that other tribes to the
north and east might form a coalition with the vanquished Indians.
My company was one of the four ordered to join General Harney, at Ash
Hollow; but I and a few more of the young boys were not taken along.
We were left at Fort Pierre with the two companies retained there. The
march proved to be very severe. Part of the route was across the
"Mauvaises Terres" (Bad Lands), where there was no vegetation. It was
a desert, where wood and water had to be carried in the waggons from
one camp to another.
Many curious specimens of fossil remains, picked up in the Bad Lands,
were brought by the soldiers to Fort Pierre. There were petrified
fish, lizards, frogs, etc. But nearly all were imperfect, and more or
less broken.
After a short rest, the united troops under General Harney, twelve
companies in all--quite a little army for those days--took up their
march for Fort Pierre, and arrived there early in November, without
any molestation from the Indians.
I have often regretted since that I was not allowed to go on this
march. I wanted to see that part of the country, through which but few
white men had ever traveled before.
General Harney's additional troops went into camp near our quarters.
The weather was getting cold; winter was approaching; firewood was
scarce, and had to be hauled a long distance. There was but a small
supply of forage for the cavalry horses, and scarcely any grass in the
vicinity of the fort. That had been eaten up by the mules and Indian
ponies. Water also had to be carted quite a distance from the river.
In view of these conditions, and as there were not enough portable
houses to shelter them, it was decided to put the six companies of the
Sixth Infantry, and the two companies of cavalry into cantonment. They
were accordingly sent about six miles up the river, where they built
log houses in the woods on the east bank of the Missouri and remained
there until the following spring.
General Harney took quarters in one of the buildings in the stockade.
Whenever it was my turn as orderly at the adjutant's office, one of my
duties was to bring the general, in a sealed envelope, the
"countersign," or watchword for the night. When I approached him,
saluted, and said: "General, the countersign," he would reply in his
gruff, stentorian voice, "Lay it on the table." I was always glad to
hustle out of his presence.
The general was very tall and powerfully built. He wore a long white
beard, and his white hair was also long. In spite of his age, he was
erect--a remarkably commanding figure. Many of the Indians knew and
feared him. Among them he was known as the "Great White Chief."
General Harney had been in the Seminole, and other Indian wars. He was
colonel of the Second Dragoons, in the war with Mexico, and was
promoted to Brevet Brigadier General.
During the absence of my company on the march to Ash Hollow and
return, I had but little to do and spent much of my time in wandering
about the environs of Fort Pierre. With others I crossed the river in
a canoe, and on the opposite side we found great quantities of wild
grapes, which were fairly good to eat, though somewhat tart. We
squeezed the juice out of them, and with the addition of sugar and
water, made a very palatable drink.
There were some prairie-dog villages on the plain west of the fort,
and it was interesting to watch these alert and nimble animals, no
larger than a squirrel, running about and having sentinels posted on
some higher point near their underground dwellings. These sentries sat
upon their haunches, and watched carefully in all directions. Whenever
we got within a certain distance of them, they gave a shrill, sharp
bark, which started all the others running for the various holes. No
matter how quiet we kept, or how long we remained, they did not come
out again until we were a long distance away.
I became acquainted with some of the employees of the American Fur
Company, who were mostly French-Canadians, with a few half-breed
Indians among them. Some of them were married to squaws and lived at
the Indian camp close by. From these men, who were mostly hunters,
trappers or guides, I heard many interesting stories of their
hazardous lives and their experiences among the Indians, whose
language most of them spoke. They were often useful as interpreters.
To me, the most interesting people at Fort Pierre were the Indians,
among whom I passed the greater part of my leisure time. This intimate
association with the savages continued all through my service on the
frontiers, a period of about five years in Nebraska and Minnesota
Territories.
I have read the beautiful stories of Fennimore Cooper and other
writers of Indian romances. I have also read some of the stories of
explorers and the able and interesting works of men who lived among
the North American Indians and studied them. But I do not intend to
quote from any of them. I shall simply relate here what I learned
about the Indians from persons living in close contact with them
during my time and the impressions they made on my youthful mind, as I
can remember them now, after a period of fifty years since I left the
Indian country to take part in the Civil War, in 1861.
Nebraska Territory in 1855, extended from Minnesota Territory, on the
east, to the Rocky mountains, on the west; and from Kansas Territory,
on the south, to the British possessions, on the north. It has since
been partitioned into North and South Dakota, Nebraska, Wyoming and
Montana. The greater part of this immense territory was claimed and
inhabited by the Sioux Indians, a name given to them by the
French-Canadians, who also gave French names to some of the tribes
composing the Sioux, such as the Gross Ventres, Brules, etc. These
Frenchmen also named the rivers, streams and mountains, many of which
have since been re-named.
The Indians called themselves Dakotas, and did not recognize the name
of Sioux. They were divided into a number of tribes, each ruled by a
chief. The following are the names of some of the tribes, with the
most of whom we came in contact: Poncas, Yanktons, Yanktonnas,
Uncapapas, Blackfeet, Rikarees, Minnikanye, Ogallalas, Brules. Certain
tribes were sub-divided into bands, such as the "Two-Kettle-Band," and
"Smutty-Bear-Band," both of whom were Yanktons.
Lieutenant Gouverneur K. Warren, of the Topographical Engineers,
U.S.A., who made surveys in the Dakota country in 1855, 1856 and 1857,
and to whom we furnished an escort, estimated the Dakota Indians at
about three thousand lodges, which would represent a population of
twenty-four thousand, of which five thousand were warriors.
During a decade, their numbers had decreased from wars with the
Chippawa Indians and other tribes in the north, while in the south,
near the white settlements, the mortality from the small-pox had been
very great among Poncas and Yanktons. I noticed that many of them were
pock-marked, and some had become blind in one eye from the disease,
which their medicine-men could neither cure nor prevent from becoming
epidemic.
It was obvious that the more northern tribes of the Dakotas, who had
seen but a few whites, were superior to those of the south, near the
settlements, whose contact with the whites had degraded them. The
Indians who inhabited the more northern and western parts of Nebraska
were fine specimens of their race, for they still lived in their
aboriginal way. Game was yet abundant. They were proud and warlike and
possessed many ponies. Their tepees were larger, finer and more
decorated. They were rich in furs of all kinds, which they bartered
with the traders for guns, powder, lead, beads, calico, knives,
tomahawks, etc. Many of them had guns, but most of these were old
flint-locks. Bows and arrows were by no means abandoned and they
continued to manufacture and use them. They also had many dogs, which
closely resembled wolves, except in color. These dogs, some of them
very large, they used in many ways, often as beasts of burden--and as
a choice article of food on festive occasions.
The distinctive features of the Dakotas were their broad faces with
high cheek bones; their high, broad, receding foreheads and coarse,
coal-black hair, slightly wavy like a horse's mane. The men, or bucks,
as we called them, wore no beards. The very little hair that grew on
their faces, they carefully removed. I often saw them engaged in
plucking out hairs from their faces with tweezers and the aid of a
small mirror. Some of them even plucked the hair from their eyebrows.
The men were generally tall, or looked so because of their erect
bearing. Sinewy and slender as a rule, quick and active, they seemed
better looking than the women. They wore buckskin leggings and
buckskin shirts in winter, fringed and ornamented, moccasins,
elaborately beaded, and colored blankets or soft buffalo robes. They
wore no head covering, simply a few eagle feathers. Hats or war
bonnets were only worn on special occasions. They were fond of wearing
large brass rings in their ears, the weight of which pulled the lobes
so far down as to be grotesque. Many wore armlets and wristlets of
heavy brass wire, wound around many times, and a necklace of bears'
claws.
The complexion of the Dakotas ranged all the way from a pale saffron
to a deep copper color. When they were decked out in their full
paraphernalia, with their faces and upper parts of their bodies
painted in various colors, knives and tomahawks thrust into their
belts, and bows and quivers slung over their shoulders, they presented
a formidable and picturesque appearance.
I saw but a small proportion of very old bucks or squaws among them.
Possibly they had a way of getting rid of them when they became old
and helpless. Neither were children very numerous, although they
practised polygamy. I suppose many of these died in infancy.
Of the many Indian chiefs whom I saw at Fort Pierre, I can only recall
the names of two, Struck-by-the-Ree and Smutty-Bear, who were there
frequently and in whose tepees I smoked the pipe. Both were well along
in years.
Of the squaws but few could be called handsome and it would be
flattery to say that many were even good looking. While they were
generally lithe and graceful in their youth, laborious work and severe
hardships aged them early. They inclined to stoutness more than the
males, and many of the elder ones had backs that were bent from
carrying heavy burdens.
The squaws planted corn, dug up edible roots, gathered and dried
fruit, skinned the game which the men killed, cut up and dried the
buffalo meat, tanned the skins, made moccasins and garments, did the
cooking, fetched water and carried fire wood or buffalo chips for long
distances on their backs. They put up and took down the teepees,
loaded the ponies, and did all kinds of other work, frequently with a
papoose or two fastened to their backs.
The males did little more than hunt and fish, make bows and arrows,
and carve pipes and stems. The young Indians herded and took care of
the ponies and some few horses which had probably been stolen from the
settlers. Sometimes they helped the squaws in setting up the large,
heavy teepees. This is about all I ever saw them do, save for playing
polo with a ball and crooked stick, while mounted on their fleet and
active ponies, very much the same as the game is played among the
whites to-day.
The squaws' clothing closely resembled that of the bucks. They wore
buckskin moccasins, leggings and a skirt, but they were very fond of
gay colored calico garments, which they wore in the summer time. The
material for these they obtain from traders or soldiers. We often
bought calico of the sutler and traded it with the squaws for
moccasins or furs. We could always make a better bargain if the calico
had glaring colors and fantastic figures. The squaws also wore a
blanket or robe, and when they covered up their heads with that,
leaving only their broad faces exposed, they looked so much like the
young bucks that it was difficult to distinguish the sexes by sight.
This was the cause of some ridiculous mistakes by the soldiers.
Observance of ceremonies and duties toward the dead was also the
performance of squaws. When an Indian died the squaws sewed up the
body in several wraps of buffalo hide together with his personal
belongings--his gun, his bow and arrows, his knife, tomahawk, pipe
and, in fact, all his minor property. Some ears of corn and other food
were always placed inside the shroud to provision him for the journey
to the spirit land.
The Dakotas did not bury their dead. They either secured them in the
branches of trees or on a rude, strong scaffold made of forked sticks
and poles, set atop some hill, where it was plainly visible for miles
around. Among the Ponca tribe, however, I saw bodies placed on the
ground on top of a knoll with a pediment-shaped structure of split
logs over them. They were encased in stones and sods to secure them,
but many had fallen into decay and were partly open to the ravages of
wolves and other animals.
Sometimes on marches through the country we had a few Indian guides
who took some of their squaws with them. Whenever the squaws sighted
an Indian burial place they rode towards it, dismounted, and set up a
mournful howl. Then they deposited some ears of corn or some pemican
at the foot of the tree or scaffold.
On a hill within sight of Fort Pierre, there was a large, high
scaffold, on which some dozens of Indians' bodies were lashed with
strips of buffalo skins. I visited the place one day with some
companions. We found that a recent storm had demolished a part of the
old structure, and nearly a dozen of the bodies had fallen to the
ground. In many cases the dry, brittle wrappings of skins had been
broken open by the fall, exposing the contents to plain view.
It seemed to me most singular that the bodies had not putrified, but
appeared to have simply shriveled up in that pure, dry atmosphere. It
was as if they had been mummified by nature. There appeared to be no
flesh, but a parchment like skin clung to the bones, and the raven
black hair adhered to the skull.
The bodies were all fully dressed and had on all their ornaments. I
noticed one among them that wore a British officer's red uniform coat
with epaulets and gilded buttons. I regret to say that some of the
soldiers committed the sacrilege of appropriating some of the articles
inclosed with the bodies, such as knives, tomahawks, flints and steel,
and made practical use of them.
A group of squaws sometimes visited the fort with cunning looking
little papooses' heads peeping out over their shoulders followed by
small children who were afraid of the soldiers. They meandered around
until they found the huts where the soldiers' wives and families
lived. There they would squat on the ground and spend hours watching
the white women at their domestic work. By way of diversion they
occasionally placed one of their children between their knees, and set
to work picking small insects out of the child's hair. They had a very
original and effective way of disposing of the captive. They held him
between the thumb and finger, placed him between the front teeth and
bit him to death.
The squaws wore their black, coarse hair in two long braids. The
parting in the center was generally made conspicuous with vermillion
paint. The color of their cheeks was heightened by the same material,
with perhaps a yellow ring around the eyes. If in mourning, a simple,
irregular patch of white paint on the forehead seemed to be all that
was needed. They greased their hair liberally with buffalo fat which,
when rancid, emitted an unpleasant odor.
It was interesting to watch the arrival of a band of Indians at a
military post. This happened often at Fort Pierre except in winter.
Sometimes they came with a grievance against white settlers or
hunters, or with a complaint against a neighboring tribe who were
violating a treaty. But often they visited us simply out of curiosity.
They came in large and small parties, sometimes several hundred or
more, including squaws and children.
I often watched the long line coming down the hills or across the
prairie, the men riding in advance two by two on their unshod ponies.
After them came squaws riding straddle and leading pack horses. Next
came a line of ponies in single file, with a number of long lodge
poles lashed to their sides. One end of the poles dragged on the
ground behind, making what is called an Indian trail. On these poles,
behind the pony, there was fastened a network on which were piled the
teepees, furs, cooking utensils, and other articles used by the
Indians. The ponies were led by boys or girls mounted or on foot.
Frontiersmen called these conveyances "travoys." Bringing up the rear
were a number of large dogs dragging smaller travoys in which children
rode. Old squaws or invalids rode as best they could on top of the
baggage on the larger travoys.
When a suitable camping place near the post was reached, there was a
halt and a closing up of the long column. The bucks had a short parley
with the squaws. Then they dismounted and sat down on the grass in
groups and commenced smoking their pipes, while the squaws unpacked
the ponies, and began to put up the teepees in line and at regular
intervals. Some of the larger teepees, with their long poles, were
heavy to raise and required the assistance of the younger bucks. When
the ponies were all unpacked and unsaddled, they were driven off to
water and graze on the prairie. The tired dogs lay down, and went to
sleep. The squaws continued at their tasks. Some in search of
fire-wood, others went off with kettles for water or were busy within
the teepees. When the teepees were ready, the Indians entered them and
after a time emerged, if the sun was not too low, dressed--or rather
undressed--in full war paint. They were naked from the waist up. Some
wore feathered bonnets; others had eagle feathers in their hair. But
the faces of all were grotesquely painted in colors that suited their
fancy. Some were hideous.
They also painted part of their bodies, particularly the ribs. When
this was done alternately in white and black it made them look like
living skeletons. They were unarmed, except for a knife or tomahawk
carried in their waist belts. A few squaws, their faces also painted,
and each with a small drum like a tambourine, joined them.
By this time an interpreter had appeared. They donned their robes or
blankets, and without any regular formation, started for the parade
ground. In front of the commanding officer's house they came to a
halt. The commandant with other officers was ready to receive them. A
lot of the soldiers not on duty and citizen employees soon formed a
group of spectators. The Indians threw off their robes and blankets
and formed a circle. The squaws stationed outside of the circle
commenced a monosyllabic chant in a low voice at first, but gradually
rising. This was responded to by the bucks in a like manner, while the
squaws beat a tom-tom on their drums. Then they began to dance around
the circle, slowly at first, with heads and bodies thrust forward,
backs curved, feet moving stiffly up and down, elbows against the
sides, forearms extended straight forward and fists doubled. In this
way the dance went on for five or ten minutes, increasing in speed
until it ended in a furious beating of the drums and an ear piercing
yell or war-whoop.
After this interesting ceremony had been repeated once or twice, the
Indians advanced in a body towards the officers, headed by their
chief, who commenced a "talk," which was interpreted to the commanding
officer, and was frequently assented to by a grunt from the other
Indians. When the chief had concluded, his place would be taken by
another, a real orator perhaps, whose language was fluent and gestures
dramatic.
The complaints of the Indians were often about settlers encroaching on
their lands, or about a party of white hunters who had caused the
buffaloes to migrate to other parts. If they had no particular
grievance, they would tell that they were good Indians and loved the
whites, especially the soldiers. Then they would ask for food. When the
Indians had finished the commanding officer's reply was interpreted to
them, and received with grunts of satisfaction or dissent. Sometimes
another talk was held on the following day, but they all ended by an
order on the commissary for several days' rations for every member of
the party. Sometimes the Indians prolonged their stay and induced the
commanding officer to grant them a second issue of rations. By the time
they reached the commissary store house, a number of the squaws were on
hand ready to receive the rations which consisted of bacon, flour or
hard bread (biscuits) in barrels, rice, beans, ground coffee and sugar.
No salt, pepper, vinegar, candles or soap was issued to them. They had
no use or desire for these--particularly the soap.
To watch the distribution of the rations, which were given to them in
bulk and in the original packages so far as possible, was very
amusing. At first everything received was carried to a clear place
some distance from the store house. The barrels were carried as well
as the boxes, for the Indians did not understand about rolling them
until some of the soldiers showed them how to do it. The squaws, who
represented families, spread blankets or robes on the grass into which
to receive their share. Some of the Indians opened the barrels and
boxes awkwardly with tomahawks and knives and commenced the division
under the supervision of the chief, with a lot of jabbering from the
squaws. They seemed to get along fairly well with articles that could
be counted, such as sides of bacon or biscuits; but coffee, sugar,
rice, etc., they divided in small cupfulls for each individual, until
the supply was exhausted. The squaws then shouldered the bundles and
followed the bucks back to their camp with happy expressions.
I have also seen one of our beef cattle issued to a large party. The
Indians would drive the frightened animal near to their camp and kill
him by shooting. Then the squaws skinned him and cut him up, utilizing
many parts of the carcass that a white man would throw away.
On the night when rations had been issued there was a feast in camp.
They gorged themselves, beat their drums, and sang long after we
soldiers had to retire after tattoo.
I distinctly remember my first visit to the Indian camp at Fort
Pierre, accompanied by some other soldiers. There were about two dozen
lodges. Half of them were visitors. The others remained there
permanently, and lived on what they got from the soldiers and fur
company employees. The latter were a rather lazy lot and did but
little hunting, so long as they could get enough to eat around the
fort. The first salute we received was from a pack of wolfish-looking
dogs of all sizes which barked furiously but did not attempt to bite
and were easily shooed away.
We walked all through the camp and noted that there were large,
fine-looking teepees, decorated with Indian paintings of animals,
etc., on the exterior. These had an air of opulence about them that
seemed to indicate the owner to be the possessor of many squaws and
ponies. There were also many more teepees that were less pretentious
and a few small, old and tattered ones that showed the poverty of the
owner. It was much like other villages the world over. The palace and
the hovel were in close proximity. Back of the teepees squaws were
cooking something in kettles hung on a pole, supported over the fire
by two forked sticks. They always cooked outside until the weather got
cold. Some children played and ran around just as white children do.
The teepees were of tanned buffalo hides, closely sewed together with
a strong thread made from the sinews of the same animal. They were
conical in shape and were upheld by a number of long, slender but very
strong poles, placed in a circle on the bottom at regular intervals
and meeting on top where they were interlocked. There was an opening
above for the smoke to escape. The entrance was through a slit on the
side, high enough for a man to pass through nearly upright and spread
apart on the bottom to make the passage easier. Over this opening a
piece of tanned hide was usually hung to keep out the weather. These
teepees could be kept warm and comfortable in the coldest of weather,
and were far more durable than the best canvas tents.
We entered one of the best lodges without the formality of knocking
against the side of the opening and saying "How-ko-ta," as we had not
yet learned Indian etiquette. The interior appeared dark at first
after the bright sunlight; but we distinguished the inmates to consist
of several Indians, some squaws and a few children. They all squatted
onto robes spread around the sides of the lodge, which formed their
bedding. We were apparently received in a friendly manner, and by
words and signs were invited to sit down among them. We squatted like
our hosts with our legs crossed. The Indians did not appear to have
been doing anything but conversing. Some of the squaws, however, were
sewing beads on moccasins.
The smaller children shrunk back and stared at us. Presently one of
the bucks produced a long wooden stemmed pipe of polished red stone,
which he filled with kinnikinic, the Indians' substitute for tobacco,
from a buckskin pouch and lit the pipe with a piece of punk ignited
from a flint and steel. He took five or six whiffs of the pipe very
deliberately, and swallowed all the smoke. Then he handed the pipe to
a soldier on his left. As he did this he began to exhale all the smoke
he had in him slowly through his nostrils. The soldier imitated the
Indian in taking a half a dozen whiffs, but he did not swallow the
smoke. In this way the "Pipe of Peace" passed around the circle from
Indian to soldier, and soldier to Indian, myself included. We
understood enough not to offend against the Indian custom of passing
the pipe from mouth to mouth by wiping the mouth piece. After the
smoke there was an attempt at talk of which neither party understood
anything. The young squaws watched us closely and giggled
occasionally. I tried to make one of them understand that I wanted a
pair of moccasins. She brought out a bundle of them, and showed me
some handsome ones. But we failed to make a bargain. I had to make a
few visits with an experienced person before I learned to trade with
them.
The kinnikinic that the Indians smoked was the bark of a red willow
that grew along the streams. They first removed the outside red bark,
then carefully scraped off the greenish second bark with a knife
without cutting into the wood. These shavings were dried in the sun or
before a fire. When crisp they were rubbed into small particles
between the hands. The Indians were fond of mixing a little tobacco,
cut up small, with the bark, but I never saw them smoke pure tobacco,
as they could not inhale its smoke. The bark of the red willow, when
mixed with tobacco, made an agreeable, fragrant smoke. The soldiers
often used it.
Before we left the teepee we gave the Indians a generous piece of plug
tobacco which seemed to please them very much and caused them to say,
"Was-te-da," which means "good."
We entered several other lodges on this, our first visit, and had more
smokes. But I learned later that the smoking ceremony only took place
on the first visit, and not on subsequent calls, unless we brought
with us a stranger who had not visited the lodge before. We were
received in a friendly way in most of the lodges, yet once in a while
we heard an ominous growl from within and thought it best to keep out.
While many of the older Indians were very austere and dignified in
their intercourse with soldiers, the younger ones were inclined to be
droll, particularly the younger squaws, with whom, on account of my
youth I suppose, I seemed to become a welcome visitor. I went to the
Indian camp almost daily, sometimes with a companion but more often
without one.
Many of the soldiers became as much interested in the Indians as I
was. We began to imitate them. We wore moccasins when not on duty. We
sometimes built a council fire back of our quarters, around which we
squatted after dark wrapped in blankets like Indians. We smoked the
"pipe of peace," and we had "talks." There were some good mimics among
us, who could deliver a speech to the rest of the "warriors," which
neither the orator nor anyone else understood. We painted our faces
and imitated war dances with their accompanying drum beats and chant,
not forgetting to yell furiously at the end. We called each other by
the most ridiculous "Indian" names. Mine was, "Why-a-so," but that was
a real name given to me by some of the young Indians and squaws. It
meant "musician."
We got up imitation war parties and scalped our helpless prisoners or
burned them at the stake. In fact, we were like a lot of boys, and got
plenty of fun out of it while the novelty lasted.
I soon became interested in the Dakota language and tried to learn all
I could. I got a memorandum book and pencil. When in a teepee I asked
the names of various objects to which I pointed. When these were given
to me, I wrote them in my book in phonetic spelling. When I read them
off to the Indians on my next visit they were much interested and
laughed when I mispronounced a word. In this way I picked up quite a
vocabulary, but when it came to pronouns, adjectives and verbs, my
progress was slow. This was partly due to the various meanings of the
same word. Numbers were easy for the Dakotas could not count above
ten. After that it was so many tens and units. They generally kept a
tally for any considerable number that was to be remembered by making
notches on a stick. I never attained any considerable proficiency in
the language, but I learned enough to ask simple questions and make my
wants known. I could understand the meaning of much of what they said
after I became a little familiar with the many signs used when
talking. Some of the Indians evinced a desire to learn English and
easily acquired some nouns. But beyond that they could only imitate
sounds without understanding their meanings. This was taken advantage
of by some wags among the soldiers, who taught them to utter the most
ridiculous phrases. This never failed to provoke a laugh, which seemed
to please the Indians.
About the first thing I remarked in the Dakota language, was that the
vowels a, e, i, o, and u, had the long Italian sound in pronunciation,
and that the greater part of the words, whether nouns, pronouns,
verbs, or adjectives, ended in a vowel, which was always accented, and
of which the following are examples:
Buffalo Ta-tai-ka
Horse Shun-ka-ka
Dog Shun-ka
Blanket Shin-na-hota
Water Mi-ni
Whiskey Mi-ni-wa-ka
Silver Money Kash-pa-pi
Bread or Crackers Ak-yu-a-pe
Woman Wee-a
Plenty O-ta
Missouri River Mi-ni-tan-ka
Mississippi River Mi-ni-so-ta
I, thou, he Mi-a, Ni-a, Ee-a
Ride Ga-ki-a
Far Te-ha
Large Tan-ka
Many signs were used by the Indians in their conversation, as for
instance, the phrase "Mi-a, ga-ki-a, te-ha, shun-ka-ka," meaning "I am
going to ride far," had to be accompanied by the sign of straddling
the first finger of the left hand with the first two fingers of the
right, to indicate riding on horseback. Each tribe also had a sign by
which the members could make themselves known. That of the Dakotas was
the drawing of the open right hand across the throat from left to
right.
Another peculiarity of the language was the total absence of the
consonant "R." I cannot recall a single word that had any sound
resembling that letter in it.
Early in November ice began to form on the edge of the river in places
where the current was not strong. The nights were cold, and we found
our blankets insufficient for comfort. Buffalo robes and other furs
were still fairly plentiful, and could be had from traders or Indians
at a very moderate price. Many of the soldiers bought them to keep
warm. I got a fine large one in trade for about three dollars, also a
deer skin for two dollars. Old and worn robes could be had much
cheaper.
The Indians who lived near the fort permanently soon learned the value
of money and how to spend it at the sutler's store. They liked the
bright silver dollars, for one of which the squaws would sell us a
pair of nice moccasins ornamented with beads. A plainer pair could be
had for half a dollar.
The army at the present time is very wisely supplied with clothing
suitable to the climate the soldiers are serving in. In my time,
however, the kind and quantity of clothing was the same, whether you
were stationed in Florida or Nebraska. Any additional clothing we
needed in that cold climate we were obliged to provide and pay for
ourselves.
By the latter part of November, the Missouri river was entirely frozen
over with ice thick enough for wagons to cross. We had snow, but no
great quantity as yet. The thin walls of our pasteboard houses were
covered on the inside with a hoar-frost, which stayed there and grew
thicker. We dug deep trenches around the houses and banked up the
earth against them to make the floors warmer. One day we had a furious
wind storm, accompanied by drifting snow. The roofs of some of the
more exposed houses were carried off and the sides blown in,
fortunately without serious damage to the inmates. Other houses were
only saved by the passing of ropes over the roofs and putting braces
against the sides. This was the beginning of a period of suffering,
which lasted until the following spring and was the worst we had in
the Dakota country. After the storm it was realized that the frail
houses, the scarcity of fire wood and the bleak location, made Fort
Pierre an unsuitable place to winter troops. Therefore, one company
was ordered to a well wooded island below the fort, while three
companies, of which mine was one, were sent to build log huts in the
woods on the opposite side of the river, about five miles above and
within a mile of where the companies of the Sixth Infantry and the two
cavalry companies were located. Two other companies, the headquarters
and the band, remained at Fort Pierre. They improved the houses they
occupied with the debris from the houses that the storm had destroyed.
We put up tents near the river bank. A place about a half mile back on
higher ground was selected for the cantonment, where it was not likely
to be overflowed by the rise of the river in the spring. We cleared it
of underbrush and cut down the trees, mostly cottonwoods. There we
commenced to erect log huts.
We had been furnished with a lot of axes, large saws, crow bars, picks
and shovels by the quartermaster's department. Every man not required
for any other duty was put to work on the huts. We worked with a will,
for we suffered severely from the constantly increasing cold in our
tents, which we could not heat. They were not "Sibley" tents, and we
had no iron stoves. The ground was frozen hard and the snow was deep.
Evenings, when our work was done and if the wind was not too strong,
we built large fires in the company streets in front of the tents.
Before these we warmed ourselves before turning in for the night. Soon
nearly every man's blue trousers were scorched brown on the backs from
standing too close to the fires. Our clothing was insufficient. We had
to wear two shirts at one time and two pairs of trousers and
stockings.
Although I was not required to work on the log huts, I did so
voluntarily to keep from freezing. I could not stay in the tent
without being covered up with my bedding, and I did not wish to stand
or sit around a fire all day, to be scorched on one side and frozen on
the other, while my eyes smarted with the smoke.
We built two log cabins for each company in the roughest way, leaving
the bark on the logs, notching them at the angles, and roughly cutting
off the projections at the corners. We sawed out an opening for one
door and one window, and built a wide fire place at one end opposite
the end that was pierced by the single window. We had great difficulty
finding stone enough to build the fire places, which were about six
feet high and had wooden chimneys plastered with mud. These chimneys
gave us much trouble by constantly getting on fire.
The roofs we formed of split logs, laid with the split side down on a
pitch, and reaching from one wall to the other in a single span. On
this we put a thick layer of brush and shrub, covered with about
twelve inches of earth pounded down hard. The cracks between the logs
were chinked with wood and daubed with mud. We had to build fires to
take the frost out of the ground before we could dig for our mud. When
we mixed it with warm water to the proper consistency for daubing, it
froze so quickly that we could not make the walls and roof tight
enough to keep the cold wind out.
The huts had a dirt floor. We constructed rude two-story bunks of
split logs along both sides, with a passage only six feet between
them. There was a little more space around the fire place. There was
no lumber of any kind for doors and no sashes for windows, so we hung
a piece of an old canvas wagon cover over the door-holes, both inside
and out. The window opening we covered with a piece of white muslin
bought at the sutler's store. We built smaller single-room huts for
the officers and the married soldiers whose wives had been left at
Fort Pierre until the huts were ready for them. We also built a
kitchen for each company, with a bread oven in it, some store houses,
a small hospital and a guard-house. We did not build any mess-rooms.
Each soldier had to go to the kitchen for his rations and eat them in
his quarters.
I think it was about the middle of December, when we broke up our camp
at the river and moved into the log huts at "Cantonment Miller," as it
was officially named. The change was for the better, but the huts
proved to be very uncomfortable. The stationary bunks took up so much
of the room that we were uncomfortably crowded and the place was dark.
When we started a fire the ground began to thaw out for some distance
in front of the fireplace and turn to soft mud, but the earth remained
frozen hard at the other end of the room. The fire had little effect
on the cold air of the room in severe weather, except in its immediate
vicinity. We burned green cottonwood, a very poor material for
heating. While the logs burned on one end the sap ran out at the
other. We got some ash and a little cedar wood, which was better,
although we had to go long distances for it. Details of men went out
and dragged in on home-made sleds the better kind of wood needed for
cooking and baking. Cottonwood was plentiful all around us.
In January and February the thermometer sometimes dropped to forty
degree below zero, but when we made an unusually large fire the
chimney caught fire. We had to keep pails of water ready to extinguish
the blaze. On very cold nights the men took hourly turns to keep up
the fire and to watch the chimney. The snow was deep and drifted
through the chinks of our log huts. We often found large patches of
snow covering our bedding in the morning.
At supper-time every evening we got a loaf of bread which the company
baker had made that day. We put it into our haversacks, which were
hung against the wall of the hut. The next morning it was frozen as
hard as stone. We had to knock off chunks with an axe and thaw them at
the fire before we could bite into them. Some of the men took their
haversacks to bed with them to keep their bread from freezing.
Three soldiers at Fort Pierre attempted to desert to the settlements.
They perished before they had gone a hundred miles, and their
skeletons were found the following summer by a scouting party.
We hauled our water from the Missouri half a mile away. The ice was
more than three feet thick and the hole we had cut through it to get
at the water froze over every night and had to be re-opened in the
morning.
By this time we had accumulated plenty of furs. My bunkie, Sergeant
McMillan, and I possessed three buffalo robes, two deer skins and some
wolf skins. With these and four blankets, we had a warm bed on the
coldest nights. I had the company tailor make a sort of a cloak for me
from a buffalo skin, beaver skin mittens and a cap with ear-laps. A
squaw made a pair of buffalo skin boots for me with the hair inside
and large enough to wear over my shoes. Most of the soldiers made
their own fur clothing, such as caps, mittens, coats and boots, and
produced some curious looking objects. One of them made for himself a
complete outfit of boots, pantaloons, jacket and cap of buffalo skin
with the hair outside. He presented a weird picture when dressed in
them and was given the name of "Standing Buffalo."
We were permitted to wear anything we pleased on or off duty, except
at inspection or muster. These, however, took place in the company
quarters during the severest cold. To expose ourselves, even for ten
minutes on parade out of doors, without furs, would have resulted in
frost-bitten ears and noses. The officers clothed themselves about the
same as the soldiers. There was a herd of beef cattle on our side of
the river and when the snow became too deep for them to find any more
prairie grass, and as there was neither forage nor hay for them, they
were driven into the woods to feed on the bark of young trees. They
began to die off rapidly from starvation and exposure after the
change.
The French-Canadian chief cattle-herder, who reported to the
commissary officer each day, would say in his peculiar English,
"M'sieu! One catt ees died! Two catt ees died!" as the case might be.
The carcasses were left where they died, and were quickly devoured by
the wolves. The wolves often came around our quarters at night,
attracted by the offal from the kitchens. They howled hideously. We
caught one occasionally by an ingenious trap. After many of the cattle
died, the remainder were slaughtered. The meat was allowed to freeze
and was piled up in the store houses. There was scarcely any trace of
fat remaining. It was not nutritious. When boiled it showed
greenish-yellow streaks running through it that made it repulsive. I
could not eat any of it. When I needed a change from pork or bacon, I
got some pemican from the Indians. Pemican is buffalo meat cut in thin
slices, without any fat, and dried in the sun without salting. It was
nutritious, but hard to chew. It could be pounded into a kind of meal,
and when mixed with pork-fat and fried in a pan, it was an acceptable
dish. This and a piece of game, when I could get it, made an agreeable
change in diet.
The cavalry companies lost more than one-third of their horses during
the long, severe winter. The shelter for the horses was built of
brushwood and there was no forage. The men removed the snow where long
dry grass was to be found, and stripped the bark from young trees to
feed the horses. Some of the horses lost their ears or tails from
frostbites. The mules stood the hardship better than the horses.
Mortality was not so great among them, but they also lost some ears
and tails.
About mid-winter, scurvy made its appearance. We had been fed on a
salt meat diet for nearly eight months and, with the exception of a
few wild fruits, had had no vegetables. Those who were attacked became
pale and listless. After awhile their gums began to bleed and their
teeth loosened. Their joints swelled and the flesh became soft. If a
finger was pressed hard into the fleshy part of the arm, it left a
dent that remained for hours. We did not suffer so much from scurvy at
Cantonment Miller as did the soldiers at Fort Pierre. The few serious
cases we had we sent to the hospital there. Little could be done for
them, except to give them lime-juice, which was among the medical
stores. With great trouble some potatoes were obtained during the
winter from the "States," as we called it. These were given to the
sick, raw, scraped fine and mixed with vinegar and improved their
condition very much. However, a few men died of the disease in the
hospital at Fort Pierre. In the early spring, when the snow melted, we
dug up roots that grew in the woods, a few inches below the ground as
we saw the squaws do. The roots resembled a thin sweet potato in shape
and were white in color. They could be eaten raw or boiled and were
quite mealy and palatable. Not knowing the proper name for these roots
we called them artichokes. The sick improved rapidly upon eating them,
and as spring progressed, they all recovered.
An Indian camp of about twenty lodges, belonging to the Yonktonna
tribe of the Dakotas, had located within easy distance of Cantonment
Miller and remained there until the following spring. We soon had a
well beaten path through the deep snow leading to the camp. There I
had the best opportunity during my entire service to observe the
Indians closely in their domestic relations. I became known to some of
them myself and made progress in the study of their language. For a
period of more than five months, I went to the camp very often in the
day time and sometimes in the evening. I often remained for hours in
one or two of some half a dozen lodges which I had selected as my
favorites, after having made the round of the entire camp. The lodges
had fires in them and were warmer and more comfortable than our huts
and never ceased to interest me. The Indians seemed to have plenty to
eat and lived quite comfortably. They had stores of pemican, corn,
roots, dried fruits and buffalo tallow, which had been melted and put
into bladders for preservation. They also had some game when the bucks
went hunting.
I was invited to eat with them and did so a few times when they had
cooked meat of some sort; but I excused myself when I saw any
mysterious dish. I brought them some coffee and sugar once in a while
and showed the squaws how to make coffee, of which they became very
fond. When any of them visited the cantonment, which happened almost
daily, I often gave those that I knew, part of my ration of bread for
the papooses, or a piece of tobacco for the bucks. This, in a measure,
repaid their hospitality. A singular thing which I noticed was that
many of their children, from about three to five years of age, had
abnormally developed paunches, which made them look ridiculous when
they toddled almost naked about the teepee.
When the children attained their fifth or sixth year they became
slender and graceful. I was told that an almost constant meat diet was
supposed to be the cause of their curious development.
One day I saw a little toddler step into his father's dish of food.
The man, without a word of scolding, took off the child's moccasin,
scraped it clean with his horn spoon, then dug a hole in the dirt
floor beside his dish, buried and covered up the scrapings and
continued his meal, undisturbed by the incident.
Both parents showed affection for their children, and in my presence,
at least, I never saw the Indians act with brutality toward their
squaws or children. The children had dolls and played much as white
children do. The older boys often practised shooting at a mark with a
bow and arrow. They were very shy with the soldiers and so were the
wolfish looking dogs. It was almost impossible to win the confidence
of either. Nevertheless, a soldier of company I got the consent of the
parents to take an Indian boy to our quarters and keep him there. He
made a suit of soldier's clothes for him and slept with him all the
winter. "Paddy," as we called him, became quite a pet in the company
and was learning English with a comical Irish accent, acquired from
his tutor, when his mother came and took him away in the spring. At
the same time the rest of the Indians went away, and we never saw or
heard of him again.
The Indians played games among themselves, and the soldiers tried to
teach them the use of cards, but they were unable to learn or
understand the simplest of such games. We, therefore, invented a
special game for them, in which the greatest number of spots on a card
took the trick, for they could count up to ten at least. They admired
the Jacks more than the Kings. They were the big chiefs and the Kings
next. Any card could beat the Queen, which was the "Wee-a" or squaw.
They took great interest in this game. I could do a few simple tricks
with cards, which mystified and amused them. Some of them had a
considerable sense of humor and often laughed heartily.
I was shown some Indian scalps, which had long black hair dangling
from them. The skin was soft, and looked and felt as though it had
been tanned. To me it seemed very thick. I do not know if they had any
white scalps. If so, they never showed us any.
Sometimes one of the Indians produced a buckskin bag ornamented with
beads, wherein he kept his most cherished treasures, and drew
therefrom a written paper, which some white trader or hunter had given
to him. This he would proudly hand to us for examination. These papers
were very much of the same tone as this model: "O-kee-ha (red heart)
is a good and trustworthy Indian, and I recommend him to anyone who
wants a safe guide and a good hunter." One of the Indians had several
such papers, one of which he would always show last. This had
evidently been written by some wag or, perhaps, a truthful man, and
ran something like this: "Beware of this Indian, Big Crow, he is a
thief and a liar, and will murder you if he gets a chance. Take
warning!" As this paper never failed to provoke a laugh, he no doubt
set a greater value on it than on all the others he owned.
When the weather was bad I sometimes watched the bucks making arrows
and pipes, while the squaws were industriously employed on moccasins
or some article of clothing. The making of arrows was quite a delicate
operation, with the few tools they had. The stem of the arrow had to
be true, straight and balanced properly. The feathers must be
carefully glued on and the head firmly affixed with sinew, thread and
gum. Metal arrow heads were made by laboriously grinding pieces of
hoopiron, or the like, which they had picked up somewhere, to the
required size and shape. Other heads were made of chipped flint. War
arrow heads were made with sharp barbs to prevent them from being
easily extracted.
Some of the pipes they manufactured were plain, and others handsomely
inlaid with lead. They were made of a dense, fine grained but soft
working stone of a beautiful red color. To obtain this stone they made
long and weary journeys to the Pipe Mountain, which was somewhere in
the northern part of Minnesota Territory. There, it is said, they
prayed to the Great Spirit before removing any of the stone which they
esteemed so highly. The pipes were carefully bored and finished with a
high polish, which took many hours of patient labor. The long pipe
stems were made of some tough, flexible wood, the same that they made
their bows of. They were round or flat in shape, sometimes twisted,
and the wood polished and ornamented. The hole through the stem was
made slowly and carefully with a piece of wire heated red hot. The
mouth piece was neatly tapered and rounded. These pipes were a
valuable article of trade. A fine pipe was worth a pony in trade with
the Indians in remote parts of the country. I bought one and paid a
good price for it. I had great difficulty to persuade an Indian to
sell me a piece of the stone to make a pipe for myself.
I have at times witnessed the entire performance of an Indian feast. A
squaw selected a fat-looking dog, and tied him fast in some secluded
place for several days, giving him nothing to eat, and only water to
drink. She then fed him with a mixture of pemican and dried fruits
made into a moist soft paste, and let him eat all he could of it.
This, I suppose, was to serve as a stuffing or forcemeat, for she
killed him by knocking him on the head with a tomahawk, before
digestion commenced. His hind legs were then tied together, and he was
hung by a cord head down from a pole supported on two forked sticks
over a low fire. With a firebrand the squaw burnt off every hair on
his body close to the skin, and rubbed him with buffalo fat. The squaw
would sit for many hours turning and basting the carcass with melted
fat. The dog was thus roasted whole, for he had not been disemboweled.
In the evening the family were joined by relatives and friends whom
they had invited. The teepee was well crowded when the feast
commenced. The dog was cut up, and all gorged themselves to their full
capacity. The most desired morsels seemed to be the bowels and other
soft parts. When the eating was over, the squaws beat the drums,
chanted songs, and all made merry until long after we soldiers were in
bed. I looked in at some of these feasts and was invited to partake.
Although it was considered an honor, I declined. A few of the soldiers
did eat some roasted dog, and declared it tasted good. The Indians
preferred it to the finest venison.
There was a young soldier in my company, who became so infatuated with
the Indian life that he spent every spare minute in their camp. He
made great progress in learning their language, and never missed a dog
feast. He was a black haired, dark-complexioned man, who tried to make
himself look as much like an Indian as possible by plucking out all
the hair that grew on his face. In the spring, when the Indians broke
camp and departed, he was missed a day or two later. We learned that
he had joined the tribe, but no effort was then made to recapture him.
During the long, cold winter we got a mail from the "States" about
once in three weeks. It went to Fort Pierre and was sent to us from
there.
There was no sutler at Cantonment Miller. When we wanted anything from
the store, we had to go five miles to Fort Pierre for it or have it
brought by a comrade who made the trip.
One calm sunny morning--we had a few such days--when the thermometer
was but a few degrees below zero, another boy and I got a pass to go
to the fort. Not anticipating any change in the weather, we did not
dress ourselves quite so warmly as we should have done, for zero was
considered a comfortable temperature if the wind was not blowing, and
we discarded some of our heaviest furs when the temperature was at
that point or higher. We two boys crossed the Missouri on the ice and
walked down to the fort on the opposite side, which was less hilly
than the east bank. We made a few purchases at the sutler's store,
visited our friends and had dinner with them. It became much colder
early in the afternoon, and the wind began to blow. We were admonished
to return early, which we did; but by the time we had come about half
way the wind was blowing a gale and the cold was increasing. We tried
to cross the river and gain the woods on the other side, but the bare
ice was as slippery as glass. The fierce wind knocked us over, and
blew us like corks along on the ice. With great exertion we crawled on
shore and got into a ravine where we were partly sheltered from the
wind. Here we kept in motion. There was no wood to make a fire and to
sit down meant freezing to death. We had our mittens and our fur caps
protected our ears, but our noses and cheeks turned white with frost,
and we rubbed them with snow several times. I think we both feared
that we would perish in that ravine, when suddenly, as daylight began
to fade, the wind died down and we were able to proceed. We arrived at
our quarters half frozen, and it took some days to recover.
There was an officer at Cantonment Miller named James Curtis who was
the First Lieutenant of Company B. He singled me out from among the
boys and was most kind to me.
While stationed at Fort Pierre I had bought a flute from a member of
the band, and took lessons from him. As I understood something about
music and played on the fife, I made rapid progress on the flute and
had become a fair player when Lieutenant Curtis asked me to come to
his lonely cabin and play duets with him. He was an excellent player,
and had a lot of music books, also works on history, science, etc. In
fact, he owned quite a little library, for he was a great student and
did not spend his time drinking whiskey and playing cards like some of
the other officers did. He loaned me books to read and gave me lessons
to study, which I recited to him and he corrected my exercises. After
these lessons we played music until tattoo. This went on for three or
four nights a week, while we were at the cantonment. I learned more
during that time than during all my previous schooling.
Lieutenant Curtis was a graduate of West Point. Very much to my regret
he resigned his commission in the spring to enter civil life. He
rejoined the army in 1861, and served in the West during the Civil
War. I never met him again, and do not know whether he is still
living, but I remember him as a man who befriended me when I was a
boy, and I shall always entertain the most profound feeling of
gratitude toward him.
A contrast to Lieut. Curtis was the officer who commanded the company
which wintered on the island below Fort Pierre. He was always more or
less under the influence of liquor and abused the men in his command.
In one of his drunken fits he shot a private of his company, wounding
him so severely the man died a few days after. A pretense of an
investigation was made. It was called an accident and hushed up,
though the man was deliberately shot while lying in his tent after he
had had some words with the officer. Two years later his slayer died
wretchedly of delirium tremens at another military post.
In the early part of April we were startled one night by loud reports
like the firing of a heavy cannon. This was caused by the cracking of
the thick ice, which began to break up and move in a day or two and
afforded an interesting spectacle. Some time later the river began to
rise until it overflowed its banks, and was miles wide in the low
lands. Then there came drift wood in enormous quantities. For several
days at a time the river would be covered with it from shore to shore
at the narrower places. It seemed as though a man could walk across on
the floating logs. The high water continued for a long time. It fell
very slowly and some time in May it seemed stationary for a while as
the snows melted much further north. We were cut off from all
communication with Fort Pierre for a time, until boats could cross the
river after the flood subsided.
The Indians began to make preparations for departure. The squaws were
busy dressing such skins as they had not tanned before cold weather.
This they did by stretching them on an upright framework made of poles
lashed together. Then they scraped them thin with a steel scraper and
treated them with a preparation that made them soft and pliable.
About the first week in May, when their ponies had attained a fair
condition, they struck their tents one day and disappeared over the
hills.
We received orders to abandon Cantonment Miller and return to Fort
Pierre, where all of General Harney's troops were to be assembled for
a great treaty that was soon to be made there with the Indians. We
crossed the river in a Mackinaw boat belonging to the American Fur
Company. These were large, flat-bottomed boats with tapering prows and
square sterns. They were used by the company to carry furs from its
more northern posts on the Missouri and Yellowstone rivers.
We went into camp after we crossed the river as it was too late to
march to Fort Pierre that day, and had just finished putting up our
tents, when a tremendous wind storm struck us. It blew down the tents
and scattered them as well as every other movable article over the
prairie. It was all over in a short time, but we slept without tents
that night. Next day after picking up all of the articles we could
find, and loading them on wagons, we marched to Fort Pierre and went
into permanent camp close to the stockade. Within a few days all of
the troops had assembled, and encamped there.
In March General Harney had sent messages to all the tribes of the
Dakotas, to assemble at Fort Pierre on May twentieth for a council
treaty.
The Indians had some way of noting the date, probably by tally on a
stick of wood. I think that representatives from all the Dakotas were
present on that day, except the Brules and the Ogallalas, who had been
so severely punished the previous September.
The Indians began to arrive about ten days before the appointed time,
and soon the great plain about Fort Pierre was dotted with nearly a
thousand teepees.
Each of the tribes had a large representation of men, women and some
children. It was estimated that seven thousand were present, of whom
one-third were warriors. It was a grand spectacle, such an assemblage
of Indians had not been seen for many years. Among them were proud and
magnificent savages who had traveled long distances to be present.
As soon as the arriving Indians became numerous, we were forbidden to
visit their camp. Neither were the Indians allowed within the sentinel
lines of ours. At night the sentry posts were doubled and extra
ammunition was issued. We practically slept on our arms while the
council lasted, for their warriors out-numbered us at least three to
one. Our garrison and camp were open to an attack from all sides, and
the temper of so great a body of Indians was very uncertain.
On the appointed day the council commenced. At first only a few
hundred of the chiefs and other head men of the tribes were present.
The council was held outside of the stockade, the Indians sitting on
the grass in a semi-circle facing the General. With the commandant
were some other officers, clerks and interpreters, a few orderlies and
a small guard of soldiers. These were all on a slightly raised
platform, the officers being seated in front. The dignified,
white-haired general was in the center and his imposing figure towered
above all the others.
We could only view the council from a distance, as sentinels kept us
beyond a certain boundary. But we could observe the dramatic gestures
of the Indian orators and hear the grunts of approval. What the great
talk was all about we did not know.
The council went on in this way for three to four days. On the fourth
or fifth day the meeting commenced earlier, and nearly all the
warriors, to the number of several thousand, were present. They were
painted, and their lustrous dark skins glistened in the bright
sunlight when they had cast off their robes and blankets. It was a
sight long to be remembered, and the like of it was probably never
seen in after years. On this day a treaty of peace was concluded. The
Indians buried the hatchet, as it was customary to say. The Sioux War
was over, and during our stay in their country we had no more serious
trouble with them. It was only after the withdrawal of the regular
soldiers to take part in the Civil War that they became unruly again,
and committed atrocities among the settlers of Minnesota in 1862.
On the night of the day when the treaty had been concluded there
seemed to be a great "pow-wow" in the Indian camp. We could hear the
tom-toms, and the voices of the bucks and squaws until early morning.
On the following afternoon we were treated to a remarkable sight. Two
thousand Indians marched to the stockade, where General Harney had his
headquarters, and saluted his appearance by blowing on reed musical
instruments made from willows which grew abundantly along the river.
At the same time a large number of squaws beat on drums. The curious
noise could be heard for miles around.
While the council was on, the first steamboat of the season or
"wa-ta-pe-ta-choo-choo," as the Indians called it, arrived. It was the
_Genoa_, which had brought my company up the river the previous
summer. With her arrived a paymaster and Lieutenant Gouverneur K.
Warren, who later commanded the Fifth Army Corps in the Civil War. He
was to make surveys in the Dakota country and was accompanied by some
scientists. My regiment furnished him with an escort, who traveled
with him until fall. He returned the following season and continued
his surveys.
Many of the Indians present had never seen a steamboat. Hundreds of
them and their squaws lined the river bank, when the _Genoa_ was
sighted. They noted the puffs of steam ejected by her engines, and
declared that the wa-ta-pe-ta was puffing, out of breath, and tired
out after her long journey.
The Indians had brought great quantities of furs with them, and
trading with the American Fur Company and the sutler was brisk. The
_Genoa_ on her return trip could carry only a part of the vast
quantity of furs the company had accumulated. Some of the Indians
departed a few days after the treaty was made. Others lingered for a
while, but in about two weeks nearly all had disappeared. When their
numbers had materially diminished, restrictions against visiting their
camps were withdrawn, and I had interesting experiences in observing
the customs and manners of some far away tribes, whom I was not likely
ever to see again.
About the first of June orders were issued to abandon Fort Pierre, as
it was most unsuitable for a military post. The troops who had come
from Fort Laramie in the fall returned there, and of my regiment four
companies and the band took up their march to a point on the Missouri,
a few hundred miles below Fort Pierre, where they built a post called
Fort Randall. The other two companies, B and D, marched to a place on
the Missouri, midway between Forts Pierre and Randall, to establish
Fort Lookout.
The remaining portable houses at Fort Pierre were taken down and with
other materials were put on rafts and floated down the river to be
re-used in building quarters at the two new posts.
Our experience since we arrived at Fort Pierre had been very trying
through the incompetency or carelessness of someone in authority. We
were ill prepared for the rigors of so severe a climate as to
clothing, food, quarters and medical stores. Men died from exposure
and from scurvy, and many animals succumbed to starvation. Officers
and soldiers suffered alike. The miserable huts in which we lived
during the winter were unfit for stables. We almost froze in them, and
when the spring came, the mud roofs leaked like sieves.
I look back upon the winter passed at Fort Pierre as one of great
suffering and hardship, by far the worst that I went through during my
service.