the Indians. I am kept awake hours every night by my uncontrollable fear
of their getting on top of the parapet and cutting holes in the canvas
over our very heads and getting into the room that way. A sentry is
supposed to walk around the top every few minutes, but I have very
little confidence in his protection. I really rely upon Hal more than
the sentry to give warning, for that dog can hear the stealthy step
of an Indian when a long distance from him. And I believe he can smell
them, too.
We bought a beautiful buffalo-calf robe for a bed for him, and that
night I folded it down nicely and called him to it, thinking he would be
delighted with so soft and warm a bed. But no! He went to it because I
called him and patted it, but put one foot on it he would not. He gave
a little growl, and putting his tail up, walked away with great dignity
and a look of having been insulted.
Of course the skin smelled strong of the tepee and Indians. We sunned
and aired it for days, and Farrar rubbed the fur with camphor and other
things to destroy the Indian odor, and after much persuading and any
amount of patience on our part, Hal finally condescended to use the
robe. He now considers it the finest thing on earth, and keeps close
watch of it at all times.
We have visits from Indians every day, and this variation from the
monotony is not agreeable to me, but Faye goes out and has long powwows
with them. They do not hesitate to ask for things, and the more you give
the more you may.
The other morning Faye saw a buffalo calf not far from the redoubt, and
decided to go for it, as we, also the men, were in need of fresh meat.
So he started off on Powder-Face, taking only a revolver with him. I
went outside to watch him ride off, and just as the calf disappeared
over a little hill and he after it, an Indian rode down the bluff at the
right, and about the same distance away as I thought Faye might be, and
started in a canter straight across in the direction Faye had gone. Very
soon he, also, was back of the little hill and out of sight.
I ran inside and called the sergeant, and was trying to explain the
situation to him as briefly as possible when he, without waiting for me
to finish, got his rifle and cartridge belt, and ordering a couple
of men to follow, started off on a hard run in the direction I had
designated. As soon as they reached the top of the hill they saw Faye,
and saw also that the Indian was with him. The men went on over slowly,
but stopped as soon as they got within rifle range of Faye, for of
course the Indian would never have attempted mischief when he knew that
the next instant he would be riddled with bullets. The Indian was facing
the soldiers and saw them at once, but they were at Faye's back, so he
did not know they were there until he turned to come home.
Faye says that the Indian was quite near before he saw him at all, as he
had not been thinking of Indians in his race after the little buffalo.
He came up and said "How!" of course, and then by signs asked to see
Faye's revolver, which has an ivory handle with nickel barrel and
trimmings, all of which the Indian saw at once, and decided to make his
own without loss of time, and then by disarming Faye he would be master
of things generally.
Faye pulled the pistol from its holster and held it out for the Indian
to look at, but with a tight grip on the handle and finger on trigger,
the muzzle pointed straight to his treacherous heart. This did not
disturb the Indian in the least, for he grasped the barrel and with a
twist of the wrist tried to jerk it down and out of Faye's hand. But
this he failed to do, so, with a sarcastic laugh, he settled himself
back on his pony to await a more favorable time when he could catch Faye
off guard. He wanted that glistening pistol, and he probably wanted the
fat pony also. And thus they sat facing each other for several minutes,
the Indian apparently quite indifferent to pistols and all things,
and Faye on the alert to protect himself against the first move of
treachery.
It would have been most unsafe for Faye to have turned from the crafty
savage, and just how long the heart-to-heart interview might have lasted
or what would have happened no one can tell if the coming in sight
of the soldiers with their long guns had not caused him to change his
tactics. After a while he grunted "How!" again, and, assuming an air of
great contempt for soldiers, guns, and shiny pistols, rode away and soon
disappeared over the bluff. There was only the one Indian in sight, but,
as the old sergeant said, "there might have been a dozen red devils just
over the bluff!"
One never knows when the "red devils" are near, for they hide themselves
back of a bunch of sage brush, and their ponies, whose hoofs are never
shod, can get over the ground very swiftly and steal upon you almost as
noiselessly as their owners. It is needless to say that we did not have
fresh buffalo that day! And the buffalo calf ran on to the herd wholly
unconscious of his narrow escape.
We expect to return to Camp Supply in a few days, and in many ways I
shall be sorry to leave this place. It is terrible to be so isolated,
when one thinks about it, especially if one should be ill. I shall miss
Miss Dickinson in the garrison very much, and our daily rides together.
General Dickinson and his family passed here last week on their way to
his new station.
CAMP SUPPLY, INDIAN TERRITORY, February, 1873.
UPON our return from the Cimarron we found a dear, clean house all
ready for us to move into. It was a delightful surprise, and after the
wretched huts we have been living in ever since we came to this post,
the house with its white walls and board floors seems like fairyland. It
is made of vertical logs of course, the same as the other quarters, but
these have been freshly chinked, and covered on the inside with canvas.
General Bourke ordered the quartermaster to fix the house for us, and I
am glad that Major Knox was the one to receive the order, for I have not
forgotten how disagreeable he was about the fixing up of our first house
here. One can imagine how he must have fumed over the issuing of so much
canvas, boards, and even the nails for the quarters of only a second
lieutenant!
Many changes have been made during the few weeks General Bourke has been
here, the most important having been the separating of the white troops
from the colored when on guard duty. The officers and men of the colored
cavalry have not liked this, naturally, but it was outrageous to put
white and black in the same little guard room, and colored sergeants
over white corporals and privates. It was good cause for desertion. But
all that is at an end now. General Dickinson is no longer commanding
officer, and best of all, the colored troops have been ordered to
another department, and the two troops of white cavalry that are to
relieve them are here now and in camp not far from the post, waiting for
the barracks to be vacated.
We have felt very brave since the camp has been established, and two
days ago several of us drove over to a Cheyenne village that is a mile
or so up the creek. But soon after we got there we did not feel a bit
brave, for we had not been out of the ambulance more than five minutes,
when one of their criers came racing in on a very wet pony, and rode
like mad in and out among the tepees, all the time screaming something
at the top of his voice.
Instantly there was a jabbering by all of them and great commotion. Each
Indian talked and there seemed to be no one to listen. Several tepees
were taken down wonderfully quick, and a number of ponies were hurried
in, saddled, and ridden away at race speed, a few squaws wailing as they
watched them go, guns in their hands. Other squaws stood around looking
at us, and showing intense hatred through their wicked eyes. It was soon
discovered by all of us that the village was really not attractive, and
four scared women came back to the garrison as fast as government mules
could bring them! What was the cause of so much excitement we will
probably never know--and of course we should not have gone there without
an officer, and yet, what could one man have done against all those
savages!
We were honored by a visit from a chief the other day. He was a Cheyenne
from the village, presumably, and his name was White Horse. He must
have been born a chief for he was young, very dignified, and very
good-looking, too, for an Indian. Of course his face was painted in a
hideous way, but his leggings and clothing generally were far more
tidy than those of most Indians. His chest was literally covered with
polished teeth of animals, beads, and wampum, arranged artistically in
a sort of breastplate, and his scalp lock, which had evidently been
plaited with much care, was ornamented with a very beautiful long
feather.
Fortunately Faye was at home when he came, for he walked right in,
unannounced, except the usual "How!" Faye gave him a chair, and this he
placed in the middle of the room in a position so he could watch both
doors, and then his rifle was laid carefully upon the floor at his right
side. He could speak his name, but not another word of English, so,
thinking to entertain him, Faye reached for a rifle that was standing in
one corner of the room to show him, as it was of a recent make. Although
the rifle was almost at the Indian's back the suspicious savage saw
what Faye was doing, and like a flash he seized his own gun and laid it
across his knees, all the time looking straight at Faye to see what he
intended to do next. Not a muscle of his race moved, but his eyes were
wonderful, brilliant, and piercing, and plainly said, "Go ahead, I'm
ready!"
I saw the whole performance and was wondering if I had not better run
for assistance, when Faye laughed, and motioned the Indian to put his
rifle down again, at the same time pulling the trigger of his own to
assure him that it was not loaded. This apparently satisfied him, but he
did not put his gun back on the floor, but let it rest across his knees
all the time he sat there. And that was for the longest time--and never
once did he change his position, turn his head, or, as we could see,
move an eyelid! But nevertheless he made one feel that it was not
necessary for him to turn his head--that it was all eyes, that he could
see up and down and across and could read one's very thoughts, too.
The Indian from whom we bought Powder-Face--his name is Dog, you will
remember--has found us out, and like a dog comes every day for something
to eat. He always walks right into the kitchen; if the door is closed he
opens it. If he is not given things he stands around with the greatest
patience, giving little grunts now and then, and watches Farrar
until the poor soldier becomes worn out and in self-defense gives him
something, knowing full well all the time that trouble is being stored
up for the next day. The Indian never seems cross, but smiles at
everything, which is most unusual in a savage.
With the white cavalry is a classmate of Faye's, Lieutenant Isham,
and yesterday I went out to camp with him and rode his horse, a large,
spirited animal. It was the horse's first experience with a side saddle,
and at first he objected to the habit and jumped around and snorted
quite a little, but he soon saw that I was really not a dangerous person
and quieted down.
As Lieutenant Isham and I were cantering along at a nice brisk gait we
met Faye, who was returning from the camp on Powder-Face, and it could
be plainly seen that he disapproved of my mount. But he would not turn
back with us, however, and we went on to camp without him. There is
something very fascinating about a military camp--it is always so
precise and trim--the little tents for the men pitched in long straight
lines, each one looking as though it had been given especial attention,
and with all things is the same military precision and neatness. It was
afternoon stables and we rode around to the picket lines to watch the
horses getting their grooming.
When I got home Faye was quick to tell me that I would certainly be
killed if I continued to ride every untrained horse that came along! Not
a very pleasant prospect for me; but I told him that I did not want to
mortify him and myself, too, by refusing to mount horses that his own
classmates, particularly those in the cavalry, asked me to ride, and
that I knew very well he would much prefer to see me on a spirited
animal than a "gentle ladies' horse" that any inexperienced rider could
manage. So we decided that the horse, after all, was not a vicious
beast, and I am to ride him again to-morrow.
Last evening we gave a delightful little dance in the hall in honor of
the officers and their wives who are to go, and the officers who have
come. We all wore our most becoming gowns, and anyone unacquainted with
army life on the frontier would have been surprised to see what handsome
dresses can be brought forth, even at this far-away post, when occasion
demands. There are two very pretty girls from the East visiting in the
garrison, and several of the wives of officers are young and attractive,
and the mingling of the pretty faces and bright-colored dresses with the
dark blue and gold of the uniforms made a beautiful scene. It is not in
the least surprising that girls become so silly over brass buttons. Even
the wives get silly over them sometimes!
CAMP SUPPLY, INDIAN TERRITORY, April, 1873.
IN the last mail Faye heard from his application for transfer to another
company, and the order will be issued as soon as the lieutenant in that
company has been promoted, which will be in a few weeks. This will
take us back to Fort Lyon with old friends, and Faye to a company whose
captain is a gentleman. He was one of Faye's instructors at West Point.
I have a new horse--and a lively one, too--so lively that I have not
ridden him yet. He was a present from Lieutenant Isham, and the way in
which he happened to possess him makes a pretty little story. The troop
had been sent out on a scout, and was on its way back to the post to be
paid, when one evening this pony trotted into camp and at once tried
to be friendly with the cavalry horses, but the poor thing was so
frightfully hideous with its painted coat the horses would not permit
him to come near them for some time. But the men caught him and brought
him on to the stables, where there was trouble at once, for almost every
man in the troop claimed ownership. So it was finally decided by the
captain that as soon as the troop had been paid the horse should be
raffled, that each man in that one troop could have the privilege of
buying a chance at one dollar, and that the money should go in the troop
fund. This arrangement delighted the men, as it promised something new
in the way of a frolic.
In due time the paymaster arrived, the men were paid, and then in a few
minutes there was brisk business going on over at the quarters of
the troop! Every enlisted man in the troop--sergeants, corporals, and
privates, eighty-four in all--bought a chance, thus making a fine
sum for the fund. A private won the horse, of whom Lieutenant Isham
immediately bought him and presented him to me.
He is about fifteen hands high and not in the least of a pony build, but
is remarkably slender, with fine head and large intelligent eyes. Just
what his color is we do not know, for he is stained in red-brown stripes
all over his body, around his legs, and on his face, but we think he is
a light gray. When he wandered to camp, a small bell was tied around
his neck with a piece of red flannel, and this, with his having been so
carefully stained, indicates almost conclusively that he was a pet. Some
of the soldiers insist that he was a race pony, because he is not only
very swift, but has been taught to take three tremendous jumps at the
very beginning of his run, which gives him an immense advantage, but
which his rider may sometimes fail to appreciate. These jumps are often
taught the Indian race ponies. The horse is gentle with Faye and is
certainly graceful, but he is hard to hold and inclined to bolt, so I
will not try him until he becomes more civilized.
The Indians are very bold again. A few days ago Lieutenant Golden was in
to luncheon, and while we were at the table we saw several Kiowas rush
across the creek and stampede five or six horses that belonged to our
milkman, who has a ranch just outside the garrison. In a few minutes an
orderly appeared with an order for Lieutenant Golden and ten men to go
after them without delay, and bring the horses back.
Of course he started at once, and chased those Indians all the
afternoon, and got so close to them once or twice that they saw the
necessity of lightening the weight on their tired ponies, and threw off
their old saddles and all sorts of things, even little bags of shot, but
all the time they held on to their guns and managed to keep the stolen
horses ahead of them. They had extra ponies, too, that they swung
themselves over on when the ridden beasts began to lag a little. When
night came on Lieutenant Golden was compelled to give up the chase, and
had to return to the post without having recovered one of the stolen
horses.
One never knows here what dreadful things may come up any moment.
Everything was quiet and peaceful when we sat down to luncheon, yet in
less than ten minutes we saw the rush of the Indians and the stampede of
the milkman's horses right from our dining-room window. The horses were
close to the post too. Splendid cavalry horses were sent after them,
but it requires a very swift horse to overtake those tough little Indian
ponies at any time, and the Kiowas probably were on their best ponies
when they stampeded the horses, for they knew, undoubtedly, that cavalry
would soon be after them.
DODGE CITY, KANSAS, June, 1873.
WE reached this place yesterday, expecting to take the cars this morning
for Granada, but the servant who was to have come from Kansas City on
that train will not be here until to-morrow. When the time came to say
good-by, I was sorry to leave a number of the friends at Camp Supply,
particularly Mrs. Hunt, with whom we stayed the last few days, while we
were packing. Everyone was at the ambulance to see us off--except the
Phillips family.
We were three days coming up, because of one or two delays the very
first day. One of the wagons broke down soon after we left the post,
and an hour or so was lost in repairing it, and at Buffalo Creek we were
delayed a long time by an enormous herd of buffalo. It was a sight that
probably we will never see again. The valley was almost black with the
big animals, and there must have been hundreds and hundreds of them on
either side of the road. They seemed very restless, and were constantly
moving about instead of grazing upon the buffalo grass, which is
unusually fine along that valley, and this made us suspect that they had
been chased and hunted until the small bands had been driven together
into one big herd. Possibly the hunters had done this themselves, so
the slaughter could be the greater and the easier. It is remarkable that
such grand-looking beasts should have so little sense as to invariably
cross the road right in front of moving teams, and fairly challenge
one to make targets of them. It was this crossing of large numbers that
detained us so long yesterday.
When we got out about fifteen miles on the road, an Apache Indian
appeared, and so suddenly that it seemed as if he must have sprung up
from the ground. He was in full war dress--that is, no dress at all
except the breech clout and moccasins--and his face and whole naked body
were stained in many colors in the most hideous manner. In his scalp
lock was fastened a number of eagle feathers, and of course he wore two
or three necklaces of beads and wampum. There was nothing unusual
about the pony he was riding, except that it was larger and in
better condition than the average Indian horse, but the one he was
leading--undoubtedly his war horse--was a most beautiful animal, one of
the most beautiful I ever saw.
The Apache evidently appreciated the horse, for he had stained only his
face, but this had been made quite as frightful as that of the Indian.
The pony was of a bright cream color, slender, and with a perfect head
and small ears, and one could see that he was quick and agile in every
movement. He was well groomed, too. The long, heavy mane had been parted
from ears to withers, and then twisted and roped on either side with
strips of some red stuff that ended in long streamers, which were blown
out in a most fantastic way when the pony was running. The long tail
was roped only enough to fasten at the top a number of strips of the red
that hung almost to the ground over the hair. Imagine all this savage
hideousness rushing upon you--on a yellow horse with a mane of waving
red! His very presence on an ordinary trotting pony was enough to freeze
the blood in one's veins.
That he was a spy was plainly to be seen, and we knew also that his band
was probably not far away. He seemed in very good spirits, asked for
"tobac," and rode along with us some distance--long enough to make a
careful estimate of our value and our strength. Finally he left us and
disappeared over the hills. Then the little escort of ten men received
orders from Faye to be on the alert, and hold themselves and their
rifles ready for a sudden attack.
We rode on and on, hoping to reach the Cimarron Redoubt before dark, but
that had to be given up and camp was made at Snake Creek, ten miles the
other side. Not one Indian had been seen on the road except the Apache,
and this made us all the more uncomfortable. Snake Creek was where the
two couriers were shot by Indians last summer, and that did not add to
our feelings of security--at least not mine. We were in a little coulee,
too, where it would have been an easy matter for Indians to have sneaked
upon us. No one in the camp slept much that night, and most of the men
were walking post to guard the animals. And those mules! I never heard
mules, and horses also, sneeze and cough and make so much unnecessary
noise as those animals made that night. And Hal acted like a crazy
dog--barking and growling and rushing out of the tent every two minutes,
terrifying me each time with the fear that he might have heard the
stealthy step of a murderous savage.
Everyone lived through the night, however, but we were all glad to make
an early start, so before daylight we were on the road. The old sergeant
agreed with Faye in thinking that we were in a trap at the camp, and
should move on early. We did not stop at the Redoubt, but I saw as we
passed that the red curtains were still at the little window.
It seems that we are not much more safe in this place than we were in
camp in an Indian country. The town is dreadful and has the reputation
of being one of the very worst in the West since the railroad has been
built. They say that gamblers and all sorts of "toughs" follow a new
road. After breakfast this morning we started for a walk to give Hal a
little run, but when we got to the office the hotel proprietor told us
that the dog must be led, otherwise he would undoubtedly be stolen right
before our eyes. Faye said: "No one would dare do such a thing; I would
have him arrested." But the man said there was no one here who would
make the arrest, as there certainly would be two or more revolvers to
argue with first, and in any case the dog would be lost to us, for if
the thief saw that he could not hold him the dog would undoubtedly be
shot. Just imagine such a thing! So Hal was led by his chain, but he
looked so abused and miserable, and I was so frightened and nervous, our
outing was short, and here we are shut up in our little room.
We can see the car track from the window, and I wonder how it will seem
to go over in a car, the country that we came across in wagons only
one year ago. From Granada we will go to the post in an ambulance, a
distance of forty or more miles. But a ride of fifty miles over these
plains has no terrors for me now. The horses, furniture, and other
things went on in a box car this morning. It is very annoying to be
detained here so long, and I am a little worried about that girl. The
telegram says she was too sick to start yesterday.
FORT LYON, COLORADO TERRITORY, June, 1873.