THE SPIRIT LAKE MASSACRE
BY
THOMAS TEAKLE
PUBLISHED AT IOWA CITY IOWA IN 1918 BY
THE STATE HISTORICAL SOCIETY OF IOWA
THE TORCH PRESS
CEDAR RAPIDS
IOWA
EDITOR’S INTRODUCTION
The massacre of the white settlers in the region of Lake Okoboji and
Spirit Lake in 1857 by a band of Indians under the leadership of
Inkpaduta has come to be known as “The Spirit Lake Massacre”, although
the tragedy was for the most part enacted on the borders of Lake
Okoboji. There seems, however, to be no substantial reason for
renaming the episode in the interest of geographical accuracy; and so
in this volume the familiar designation of “The Spirit Lake Massacre”
has been retained.
BENJ. F. SHAMBAUGH
OFFICE OF THE SUPERINTENDENT AND EDITOR
THE STATE HISTORICAL SOCIETY OF IOWA
IOWA CITY IOWA
AUTHOR’S PREFACE
It is probable that no event in the history of northwestern Iowa has
aroused more popular interest than that of the Spirit Lake Massacre of
March, 1857. Not alone in northwestern Iowa but also in the adjacent
sections of Minnesota and South Dakota is the story of its events and
associated incidents well known.
The Spirit Lake Massacre came as the culminating episode in a long
series of incidents intimately connected with the settlement of
northern and western Iowa. For years previous to 1857 the Indians of
the Siouan tribes had obstinately resisted white settlement and had
succeeded in a marked degree in retarding the movement. It may be said
with a reasonable degree of certainty that if the events of March,
1857, had not occurred the settlement of this region would have been
postponed for some years: the Massacre not only aroused the
authorities of the State of Iowa to the necessity of exerting the
force of military pressure upon the Indians to discourage or end their
forays, but it also enlisted the efforts of the Federal authorities in
the same direction. This joint interest and protection could have
only one result--the retirement of the Sioux to the region of the
Missouri and the rapid influx of white settlers. The Massacre
definitely settled the Indian question for Iowa: henceforth the red
man ceased to play any important part in the history of this
Commonwealth.
While the following pages are, as far as practicable, based upon
primary materials, the writer acknowledges his obligation to many
other sources in the notes and references which follow the text. Since
no adequate history of the Spirit Lake Massacre can be written wholly
from primary materials, considerable reliance upon secondary sources
has been found necessary in this work. Furthermore, the writer is well
aware that he has taken a number of new positions concerning causes
and incidents of the Massacre; but in this he feels well sustained by
the preponderance of authority.
Without the unflagging interest and the tireless enthusiasm and
encouragement of Dr. Benj. F. Shambaugh the more than four years of
research involved in this work would never have been undertaken or
carried through to its close. To many others the author also feels
himself obligated for invaluable assistance. Among these may be noted
Curator E. R. Harlan, Librarian Alice Marple, Assistant Editor Ida M.
Huntington, and Superintendent of Archives C. C. Stiles, all of the
Historical Department of Iowa. Dr. Dan E. Clark, Associate Editor in
The State Historical Society of Iowa, assisted in editing and
verifying the manuscript; and to him the author is indebted for the
index.
THOMAS TEAKLE
THE NORTH HIGH SCHOOL
DES MOINES IOWA
CONTENTS
I. THE ADVANCING FRONTIER 1
II. INDIAN WRONGS AND DISCONTENT 9
III. THE UNPROTECTED FRONTIER 17
IV. THE GRINDSTONE WAR AND THE DEATH OF SIDOMINADOTA 26
V. THE FRONTIER AND THE WINTER OF 1856-1857 37
VI. OKOBOJI AND SPRINGFIELD IN MARCH 1857 44
VII. THE JOURNEY EAST FOR SUPPLIES 59
VIII. THE INKPADUTA BAND 63
IX. INKPADUTA SEEKS REVENGE 72
X. THE SMITHLAND INCIDENT 78
XI. FROM SMITHLAND TO OKOBOJI 84
XII. THE FIRST DAY OF THE MASSACRE 94
XIII. THE SECOND DAY OF THE MASSACRE 108
XIV. FROM OKOBOJI TO HERON LAKE 113
XV. NEWS OF MASSACRE REACHES SPRINGFIELD AND FORT
RIDGELY 122
XVI. RELIEF SENT FROM FORT RIDGELY 128
XVII. PREPARATIONS FOR DEFENSE AT SPRINGFIELD 132
XVIII. INKPADUTA ATTACKS SPRINGFIELD 138
XIX. THE SETTLERS FLEE FROM SPRINGFIELD 147
XX. RELIEF ARRIVES FROM FORT RIDGELY 153
XXI. ORGANIZATION OF RELIEF AT FORT DODGE AND WEBSTER
CITY 159
XXII. THE MARCH FROM FORT DODGE TO MEDIUM LAKE 170
XXIII. FROM MEDIUM LAKE TO GRANGER’S POINT 182
XXIV. THE BURIAL DETAIL 192
XXV. RETURN OF THE RELIEF EXPEDITION 206
XXVI. THE DEATH OF MRS. THATCHER 215
XXVII. THE RANSOM OF MRS. MARBLE 225
XXVIII. THE DEATH OF MRS. NOBLE AND THE RANSOM OF ABBIE
GARDNER 232
XXIX. PURSUIT AND PUNISHMENT OF INKPADUTA 245
XXX. THE MEMORIAL TRIBUTES OF IOWA 260
XXXI. CHANGES OF SIXTY YEARS 269
NOTES AND REFERENCES 277
INDEX 321
I
THE ADVANCING FRONTIER
Clothed in myth and legend and held in sacred awe by the Siouan
Indian, Lake Okoboji and Spirit Lake had rested in seclusion for ages
at the headwaters of the Little Sioux. To the red men these lakes had
been a sort of Mecca, second only to the red pipestone quarry to the
northwest, for the silent adoration and worship of the Spirit.[1]
Although the region had been little disturbed by the whites the Sioux
were becoming uneasy as the frontier continued its westward advance.
By the middle of the nineteenth century the meeting and clashing of
the two races became more frequent.
This rivalry of the races was engendered by the white man’s disregard
of what the Indian held as sacred: it was embittered by the unstable
policies of the government. Finally, in the early days of March, 1857,
came one of those tragic events in the long series of misguided
attempts to deal with the Indian and solve the problem of the
frontier. In this terrible tragedy in the pioneer history of
northwestern Iowa, the lives of more than forty white people were
sacrificed. The Spirit Lake Massacre was the result of an Indian
policy which has been characterized as “vacillating, full of
inconsistencies and incongruities, of experiments and failures.”[2]
For the Sioux this policy had been the cause of frequent humiliation.
It must be frankly admitted that in dealing with the Indian the whites
too often lost sight of the fact that the red man was really a human
being, seeking to have his person as well as his rights respected. To
compel the respect which his proud spirit demanded, he frequently
resorted to massacre. In fact, an Indian was open to insults and abuse
from his fellow tribesmen until he had killed a foe.[3]
To some extent the Indian appreciated his own inferiority, and he was
expectantly on the alert to prevent being over-reached and deceived by
the whites. Suspicious by nature, he became doubly so when his
activities brought him into relation with another race. Unhappily he
was not always wrong in his suspicions of the white man’s deception,
and many unpleasant border difficulties sprang from his attempts to
match deception with deception. Physically superb, he too often had
recourse to those physical means of redress that have marked the
history of the frontier with tales of tragic revenge.[4]
Accustomed to the matching of intellects, the whites frequently
resorted to the stilted verbiage of treaties in their efforts to push
the Indian farther toward the setting sun. In these treaties the red
man found much cause for complaint--not so much in the strict wording
of the documents themselves as in the management of affairs they
induced. This too often exasperated and provoked the Indian.[5] To
him the Iowa country was a paradise. Not only was it his home and
hunting ground, but here centered much of the traditional lore of his
tribe and race. Thus Iowa was doubly dear to him and worth his most
determined effort to hold. As the wave of settlements advanced, the
Indian was induced to sell--sometimes under circumstances provoking a
strong suspicion of compulsion rather than voluntary agreement in the
transfer. He felt instinctively that he had to retire, but in his
racial pride he resented the necessity. He knew well the later
traditions of his race, in the light of which he could foresee that in
a very brief time force, which “comprises the elements of all Indian
treaties”,[6] would be used to drive him from his domain.
As tract after tract was ceded, lands that the Indian did not want
were given to him in exchange--lands devoid of good camping places and
wanting in such game as was essential to his very existence. Moreover,
the very lands the Indians prized most were the most sought for by the
whites. The qualities causing them to be prized by the one made them
desirable for the other. Thus the Indian’s subsistence became so
precarious that often he was on the verge of starvation. Coupled with
this deprivation of favorite pleasure and hunting grounds was the
white man’s idealistic dream of civilizing the Indian by making him
work at tilling the soil or at the various trades. This seemed to the
haughty red man a real degradation. He could die fighting, if need be;
but work he would not. His steadfast refusal to work or become
civilized could only end in banishment from the lands he valued so
highly. In view of this policy of forcing him into an involuntary
exile, one ceases to wonder that he grew discontented and rebelled
rather than submit.[7] He could not have done otherwise and retain his
pride of race.
Forcible dispossession of his ancestral hunting ranges, however, would
not have provoked in him an overweening hatred for the white man if it
had not been so often coupled with a show of military force. The sole
purpose of such military campaigns seems to have been to frighten the
Indian in order that he might learn to be peaceful and pliant through
fear of punishment.
These campaigns--of which the one by General Harney against the Sioux
ending in the affair of Ash Hollow on September 3, 1855, is the most
cruel example--sometimes ended not in pacification but in massacre in
which the ferocity of the white man vied with that of the Indian.
Harney had been recalled from Europe and sent into the West against
the Indians for no other purpose than that of terrifying them.[8] Such
affairs as this were most unworthy of the American soldier. Nor did
the Indian soon forget these atrocities: thereafter he seldom let an
opportunity pass which offered revenge.
The military expeditions referred to were frequently followed by the
making of treaties providing for land cessions and the consequent
westward recession of the Indians. Moreover, these treaties, the
making of which was stoutly resisted, were usually acknowledged only
by a tribal remnant; and so they were not deemed as binding by the
widely scattered major portion of the tribe. Their provisions were not
always observed, and often blood had to flow to secure a temporary
obedience. Thus the story of the government’s relations with the Sioux
became an alternation of treaties and Indian and white retaliatory
measures. A treaty was only too often accepted by the Indians as a
challenge for some shrewdly devised scheme of vengeful retaliation.
Through a series of treaties extending from 1825 to 1851 the Indian
occupants of Iowa soil were slowly but surely dispossessed. They felt
the westward push of white migration, and were fearful of being unable
to stem it. Unluckily for themselves they fell to intertribal
quarreling, and for the moment, being off their guard, they accepted
white mediation. Thus, the two treaties of Prairie du Chien had
attempted to settle the differences between the Sioux and their
traditional enemies, the confederated Sacs and Foxes.[9] But they did
not succeed, since the line established in the first of these two
treaties was so indefinite that neither white man nor Indian could
locate it to his own satisfaction. To the Sioux their claim to
northern and western Iowa seemed assured, and they proceeded
confidently to its occupation. The Sacs and Foxes believed the same
concerning their rights in southeastern Iowa and jealously sought to
exclude all others from it.
By the second treaty of Prairie du Chien there was established the
Neutral Ground, which only aggravated the difficulties already
existing.[10] Then, by the treaty of September 15, 1832, the eastern
portion of the Neutral Ground was designated as a reservation for the
Winnebagoes.[11] The Wahpekuta Sioux never forgot this action, which
they regarded as a violation of their proprietary rights in the
district; and from that time on they became increasingly more
difficult to deal with and more restive of restraint. Later the
Winnebagoes by two successive treaties made an absolute cession of
this land.[12] It was then opened to settlement, and the Sioux sulkily
retired westward.
In 1832 Black Hawk, the able Sac and Fox leader, burning with revenge
for past wrongs and fearful of his waning power as a tribal leader as
well as of the steady advance of the westward moving frontier,
declared war. The conflict was brief, resulting in the defeat of Black
Hawk. By four successive treaties covering the period from 1832 to
1842 he or his people were compelled to accede to agreements which had
for their purpose the removal of the Indians to lands west of the
Missouri wholly unsuited to their needs.[13]
Likewise the Iowas were required to surrender all claims which the
United States had recognized in former treaties as entitling them to
occupy Iowa soil.[14] With the surrender of all right or interest
which they held in the Iowa country they were in turn removed to a
reservation beyond the Missouri. Southern Iowa had not as yet been
cleared of its aboriginal inhabitants, for remnants of the
Pottawattamies, Chippewas, and Ottawas yet remained. By the treaty of
June 5 and 17, 1846, however, these Indians agreed to withdraw to
other reserves further west and south.[15]
The withdrawal of these tribes left only the Sioux who were striving
to maintain a precarious foothold in northwestern Iowa. The steadily
advancing frontier was menacing their peace of mind, as it now became
increasingly evident that they in turn would be ejected. Two
conditions, the urgent demands of alarmed and annoyed border settlers
and the troublesome character of the Sioux themselves, determined the
Indian authorities at Washington to remove the members of these
tribes. When informed of the government’s intention to remove them,
the Sioux begged to retain their lands. Notwithstanding Indian
importunities representatives of the Sissetons and Wahpetons were
cited to appear at Traverse des Sioux, Minnesota, to consider
withdrawal. Here they gloomily gathered at the time appointed. Though
outwardly ready to treat for withdrawal they did not conceal their
displeasure. On July 23, 1851, however, the treaty of Traverse des
Sioux was witnessed, by the terms of which these Indians were to
definitely withdraw from northwestern Iowa to lands on the Minnesota
River.[16]
At the close of the conference all seemed settled. But within a brief
time the Sioux, who had not been parties to the treaty, positively
refused to abide by its provisions. Later, at Mendota, Minnesota, on
August 5, 1851, the Mdewakanton and Wahpekuta tribes, in part,
acceded to the Sisseton and Wahpeton cessions.[17] These cessions had
not been accomplished without considerable opposition: strong tribal
parties refused their consent outright and threatened trouble.[18] For
the period of nearly a decade the frontier settlements of the
northwest were not free from the alarms created by these discontented
bands.
II
INDIAN WRONGS AND DISCONTENT
Unhappily the relinquishment of the Iowa country had not been free
from a strong suspicion of wrongs done the Indians. The Indians had
obstinately contested the giving up of these lands, and at no time was
a treaty of relinquishment signed that may be said to have expressed
the tribal will. These treaties of cession had instanced bad faith
toward the natives, unwarranted interference on the part of the trader
element, compulsion which at times approached intimidation in the
securing of signatures, allotment of lands to the Indians as reserves
that appeared worthless from the Indian viewpoint, undue urgency of
prospective settlers anxious to “squat” upon the vacated lands, and
the forceful effect of the presence of the military. All of these
factors had operated to secure cessions at the doubtful price of
irritating the Indian and arousing his resentment.
Officers in administrative charge of Indian affairs, far removed from
actual contact with the Indians, too often failed to realize that
Indian treaties should be regarded with some deference to their
observance. Promises were made concerning the payment of annuities
which were long delayed in their fulfillment or never kept: to the
Indian these promises seemed to be made only to be broken--as happened
in the treaty of Traverse des Sioux. According to second chieftain
Cloudman, the Indians for five years following the making of this
treaty remained quietly upon their reserve. At the expiration of that
time, not having heard of or received any of the money promised, they
began raiding the adjacent frontiers in an effort to produce
action.[19]
Lack of good faith in treaty matters often precipitated long periods
of bad feeling, and occasionally blood was shed before the Indians
could be convinced that faith was being kept or that agreements
entered into were in turn to be kept by them. If treaties had been
honestly and faithfully carried out in every instance it is not
unlikely that the Sioux and other Indians might have been far readier
to refrain from wrong-doing than was often the case. Altogether the
conditions on the frontier tended to create disaffection among the
Indians and a loss of respect for government promises.
Not infrequently, as has been noted, the Indians were allotted lands
that were wholly inadequate to supply their needs. The Sioux had
outlived “the means of subsistence of the hunter state”: they were
unable longer to eke out an existence exclusively through the spoils
of the chase.[20] The buffalo and larger game were rapidly
disappearing. But what was still worse, the Sioux often found upon
going to the specified reserves that their coming had been anticipated
by other hunters and the game was gone, if indeed any had ever been
there. In the presence of such conditions it was useless to appeal to
the garrison commanders--to whom such complaints seemed absurd. On the
other hand, the killing of intruders was nearly always resorted to as
a warning against marauders.[21] To live it was necessary to resist
the encroachment of others not of their kind, for barbarism demands a
wide range of untrammeled activity. Thus the Indians came to think
that “if they would have game to kill, they must kill men too.”[22]
A great deal of Indian discontent is traceable in the final analysis
to another cause: the presence upon the Indian reserve, as well as on
the white frontier, of a large number of undesirables, both red and
white. As forerunners of white settlement, many adventurous characters
found their way to the frontier posts and systematically preyed upon
the Indian. Undesirable as elements of civilization, they were equally
troublesome on the frontier. In civilized communities it was possible
to restrain them, but along the borderland this power was either
lacking or not organized. Oftentimes when these adventurers pushed
matters to an extremity, the outraged feelings of the Indian would
demand a settlement or make one. Unhappily, post commanders were often
only too willing to take up the needless quarrels of these frontier
disturbers and exact a severe and not always just settlement in their
behalf. Later when the more peaceably disposed settlers--the real
pioneers--began to arrive the Indian refused to make any distinction
between them and their more turbulent predecessors.
Again, the National government when settling the Indians upon their
reserves took no account of the fact that there were both good and bad
Indians--that there were Indian criminals as well as Indians willing
to abide by the rules of tribal law. Both good and bad were settled
indiscriminately upon the same reserve. The seditiously disposed were
constantly creating trouble, and the Indian people as a whole incurred
the blame and displeasure arising from the misdeeds of a few. These
matters irritated those Indians who were well disposed and created an
ever-ready excuse for an attack.
Such, in the main, had been the attitude of the government toward the
Sioux as the last of the Indian races inhabiting the Iowa country. It
had not been an altogether enlightened policy; nor had it been one
that was calculated to secure their good will. Instead, it had stirred
the Indians to wreak vengeance at every convenient opportunity.
However mistaken this policy toward the Indians had been, the attitude
toward the frontier and its white inhabitants had been no wiser and at
times scarcely as wise. Much Indian trouble and no few massacres
resulted from the loose administration of frontier affairs--more
specifically from the lack of control exercised over various
commercial interests whose chief justification for existence seemed to
have been that they might prey upon the near-by red inhabitants. The
government failed to appreciate the need for an adequate defense of
the frontier.
Venders of whiskey and other intoxicants frequented the frontiers and
Indian villages--unmolested, oftentimes, in pushing their sales.[23]
It is true that laws had been enacted by Congress with a view to
putting an end to the liquor nuisance among the Indians; but the
effective enforcement of these measures had scarcely been attempted.
If a more than usually zealous Indian agent forbade dealers to carry
on their nefarious business within reserved grounds, they would erect
their cabins upon the ceded lands immediately adjoining the
reserves--places to which the Indians were at all times free to go. To
make matters yet worse the agent was in some cases powerless to act
even though he desired to do so. The Chippewa agent, for example,
complained that the treaty of 1855 deprived him of assistants or force
through which to punish or apprehend violators of departmental rules
and regulations.[24]
Thus was produced that state of affairs where the Indian was being
robbed and debauched, while innocent settlers were threatened by
Indian violence during the periods of his drunken orgies. Not
infrequently the massacre of isolated settlers completed the tale of
an Indian visitation to a near-by liquor dealer’s establishment.
Fortunate it was that the Sioux, “the Iroquois of the West”, were slow
to take up and make their own the vices of their white neighbors.[25]
To the activities of another type of frontiersman, the trader, Indian
wars were sometimes due. In many instances the trader was an
individual who was unable to earn an honest living among his white
neighbors further east: necessity had made of him an exile from
civilization. These traders secured the confidence and good esteem of
the Indians in various and devious ways, and the latter soon became
indebted to them. In fact their deliberate aim in most cases was to
secure upon the Indian a leverage of such a character as to render
necessary the surrender of most of the Indian’s profits from the chase
or treaties. Because of the Indian’s profligacy it was necessary that
he should buy on credit if he bought at all. When government payments
became due, traders were always on hand, and their books invariably
showed Indian indebtedness enough to absorb a considerable portion if
not all of the payment. The Indians kept no books as a matter of
course; and not understanding those of the traders, they could not
deny the debt. As a matter of fact, the Indians were always willing to
anticipate the next payment in order to get credit. In the face of
this situation “the poverty and misery of the Indian were continually
growing”. Again, the Indian could not sue in the courts if he had so
desired. Out of such conditions trouble or bad feeling inevitably
arose.[26]
Owing to their long residence in the Indian country and their keen
knowledge of Indian character, the traders had become “the power
behind the throne”. This was especially true in treaty-making. The
Indian commissioners grew to realize the power of the traders in the
securing of treaties and were not slow to request their services. It
was to the financial interest of the traders that treaties should be
made, for thus there was insured a steady supply of money with which
the Indians could pay their debts. “The commissioners did not do much
more than feed the Indians and indicate what they wanted; the traders
did the rest.”[27] Due to their influence, the government habitually
incorporated in treaties a clause providing for the compulsory payment
of the Indian debts to the traders. These debts, in some cases, were
in the aggregate equivalent to small fortunes. To prevent abuses, the
traders were to be paid out of the first cash annuities.[28] It was
not an uncommon thing to have these debts absorb even more than these
first annuities. Hence, the Indian had to wait long for his first
money. Concerning this plan the Indians were not always consulted, but
the traders expressed their satisfaction.
In time matters grew so bad and the Indians became so rebellious that
Congress, in March, 1843, stipulated by law that no payment of Indian
debts to traders should henceforth be provided for in treaties. But
the traders were ingenious and evaded the law.[29] Matters came to a
crisis in 1853 when the Indians rebelled, claiming that by
misrepresentation in the treaties of Traverse des Sioux and Mendota in
1851 they had signed away their annuities to the traders to the amount
of two hundred thousand dollars. Investigation proved nothing.[30] As
Superintendent Cullen remarked upon this act of fraud, “it is equally
important to protect the Indians from the whites as the whites from
the Indians.” It is safe to say that if the traders had been curbed in
their operations many a frontier horror might have been averted. It is
no wonder that the Indian’s “untutored mind was, now and then, driven
to the distraction of savage vengeance”.[31]
III
THE UNPROTECTED FRONTIER
While failing to protect the Indians against the traders, the
government also failed to protect the frontier in an adequate manner
against the vengeance of the Indians who had a desire to even matters.
Apparently the government failed to realize that as the frontier
expanded to the west and northwest in Iowa there was also a growing
need for protection. Many unfortunate incidents had occurred along the
border before a government surveyor by the name of Marsh, from
Dubuque, was attacked near the Des Moines River in 1849.[32] Upon the
filing of Marsh’s complaint, soldiers, dispatched from Fort Snelling
in Minnesota, established Fort Clarke (later renamed Fort Dodge) on
August 23, 1850.[33] The inadequate garrison of this post, numbering
two officers and sixty-six men, was at this time practically the only
defense on the northwestern Iowa frontier.[34] Following the
establishment of this fort the predatory Sioux bands generally retired
westward ten or twenty miles.[35]
By 1851 the last remaining Sioux lands within the limits of Iowa had
been ceded and opened to settlement. Trouble for a time seemed at an
end. Until that time the only protection against the Indians was the
“watchfulness, courage and trusty arms” of the settlers themselves,
with the nearest troops probably one hundred fifty miles away at Fort
Randall on the Missouri and Fort Snelling in Minnesota near the mouth
of the Minnesota River. Occasional rumors of Sioux activity still came
from the outlying settlements. The most definite of these came from
the valley of the Boyer more than fifty miles to the southwest of Fort
Dodge. Here a family was attacked and some of its members carried away
as prisoners. This was in October, 1852. A detachment was sent from
Fort Dodge which took and held as hostages the Indian leaders,
Inkpaduta and Umpashota. Upon the return of the prisoners, the Indians
were liberated. Other Indian incursions reported from the north
usually dissipated into mere rumors.[36]
The apparent quietness of the Indians in this section induced General
Clarke, commanding the Sixth Military Division, to direct the
abandonment of Fort Dodge. This order, which was issued on March 30,
1853, directed the removal of the garrison to Fort Ridgely.[37] With
the abandonment of the post by Major Woods, there were left at Fort
Dodge only Major Williams, his son James B. Williams, and two
discharged soldiers. A more ill-advised order could scarcely have been
issued; for following the actual abandonment of the post on June 2,
1853, the Indians “inaugurated a reign of terror among the settlers as
far east as the Cedar river.”[38]
Many settlers in alarm began the abandonment of their homes; but many
others, having staked all in the development of their claims, decided
to remain and appeal to both the State and National governments for
protection. Appeal to the latter availed nothing. The Indian
authorities at Washington were entirely out of touch with the
situation: they were firm in the belief that the treaties of Traverse
des Sioux and Mendota had definitely settled the question of Indian
occupation in this section and that the Indians had withdrawn or had
ceased being troublesome.
Parties of Indians frequently returned to their former hunting
grounds, and nearly as frequently committed depredations more or less
terrorizing to the widely scattered settlers along the Des Moines.[39]
Weary of making unheeded appeals to National authorities, while the
Indian depredations became more alarming, the settlers appealed to the
State officials. Major William Williams,[40] who had accompanied the
troops at the time of the founding of Fort Dodge and who had remained
after its abandonment, was authorized by Governor Hempstead to
organize a force, if necessary, to protect the frontier.[41] Little,
however, could be done in the way of organizing an adequate force on
account of the widely scattered character of the settlements.
In a letter to Governor Grimes in 1855 Major Williams again expressed
his great anxiety for the safety of the frontier as the Indians had
become increasingly bolder. His former commission was renewed and he
was granted full power to act upon any sign of hostility. Not only
did Governor Grimes receive urgent letters from Major Williams, but
from others as well: he was beset with petitions for protection. The
Governor appears to have been wholly at a loss as to what
course to pursue, since he believed he had no power to act. He
appealed, therefore, to the Commissioner of Indian Affairs at
Washington--although he believed that his only reward would be an
acknowledgment of his letters with promise of action. Failing here, he
appealed to the President, but received no response. Finally, in
apparent despair, he wrote to Secretary of State George W. McCleary
that he knew not “how much credit to give to any of” the letters he
had received and in fact he had about made up his mind to disbelieve
them all.[42] As a last appeal for action, the Governor addressed a
letter to the Iowa delegation in Congress on January 3, 1855, in which
he expressed the hope that they would coöperate with him in pressing
the matter upon the attention of the proper Federal officials and in
urging badly needed relief.[43]
Not only were the settlers near Fort Dodge alarmed, but those in
Woodbury, Monona, and Harrison counties were even more disturbed,
owing to the hostile attitude of large bands of Omahas and Otoes in
that section. Near Sergeant Bluff large bands of Sioux had gathered
and expressed their determination to remain, while nearly five hundred
Sioux were encamped in the vicinity of Fort Dodge. These Indians
amused themselves by stealing hogs, cattle, and other property of the
settlers. Fears for the safety of the settlers were increased, in view
of the fact that the National government was now preparing to chastise
the Sioux near Fort Laramie for their manifold crimes committed along
the California and Oregon trail in Nebraska and Wyoming. It was
thought this action would cause the Sioux to seek refuge east of the
Missouri and, as a matter of revenge, carry death and destruction with
them as they fled toward the Mississippi Valley frontier.[44]
Because the Indians were becoming more threatening, appearing in
larger numbers than heretofore, and extending their depredations over
an increasingly wider territory, in the early winter of 1855 Governor
Grimes was asked to call out the militia; but he declined since he
believed he was “authorized to call out a military force only in case
of an actual insurrection or hostile invasion.”[45] Nearly everyone
now anticipated bloodshed. White men, illy disposed, were reaping
large profits from the sale of whiskey; while the Indians were
“becoming devils”. Hence, Governor Grimes on December 3, 1855,
addressed a letter to President Pierce urging that the Indians be
removed to their treaty reserves.
The Governor pointedly stated that the government owed protection to
these settlers in the homes it had encouraged them to occupy. He
further stated that a post in this section would curb the Indians and
give quiet to northwestern Iowa.[46] To be sure these troubles had not
reached any great magnitude, “yet there was a continuous succession
of annoying and suspicious occurrences which kept the frontier
settlements in a state of perpetual dread and apprehension, and made
life a burden”.[47] Even in the presence of this distressing condition
of affairs the military authorities of the National government did
nothing to relieve matters. No troops were sent to protect the
settlers, nor were the letters of Governor Grimes even granted
consideration. Thus there developed slowly but surely a situation
where the Indians grew sufficiently emboldened to make a general
attack.[48]
Such a policy, characterized by a disregard not only for Indian
welfare but also for the well-being of the white frontiersmen, could
only bring unhappy consequences. It became more and more apparent that
the Indians were bent upon concerted action of some sort. Annoyances
now occurred along the whole frontier, no part of which was free from
alarm. War parties were in evidence in nearly every section, and the
attitude of the Indians became one of defiance. Not only in Woodbury,
Monona, and Harrison counties, but in Buena Vista and what are now
Humboldt, Webster, Kossuth, Palo Alto, and Sac counties the settlers
were feeling the effects of Indian enmity.[49]
The resentment of the Indians at this time arose partly from a feeling
of jealousy toward the whites, partly from the fact that they were
retrograding, and partly from the undue influence of the American Fur
Company.
From the start the Indians, particularly the Sioux, had been jealous
and suspicious of the whites. As time passed and the Indian observed
indications of a general and permanent occupation by the whites of the
territory which he had known as home, his jealous fears increased. The
land of his fathers, the home of his traditions, was about to pass
into the hands of another people, to the intense sorrow of the Indian.
It “was a trying ordeal” and “naturally awakened in his breast
feelings of bitter regret and jealousy.”[50] His “distrust grew into
open protest as claims were staked off, cabins built, and the ground
prepared for cultivation.” It seemed that the Indians had resolved not
to submit “until they had entered an armed protest against the justice
of the claim which civilization makes to all the earth.”[51]
In addition to this feeling of jealousy and distrust of the whites,
the Indians were gradually retrograding by taking unto themselves many
of the vices of the white race. This was the inevitable result of a
loose administration of the frontier which permitted it to be invaded
in many places by refugees from civilization. Although this statement
may seem to be somewhat sweeping, it is a well-known fact that among
the first to appear on the frontier there were always some men of the
reckless, rough-and-ready type whose contempt for the finer things of
civilized life made a longer residence amid such surroundings
undesirable and frequently impossible.
Foremost among the causes of the red man’s retrogression may be cited
whiskey.[52] But there were other causes, such as the treaty of 1855
with the Chippewas, which rendered the agent powerless to control the
Indian or his seducers if he had so desired.[53] Then there were the
errors committed by people who were brought to the frontier by the
government as helpers in advancing the Indian’s welfare, but who had,
through mistaken methods, produced opposite results. Again, the Indian
had been mistakenly led downward “by many years of luxurious idleness
and riotous living.... In this state of demoralization they were
gathered up and thrown together on their little Reserve, where all the
worst characters could act in concert, and where they found bloody
work for their idle hands to do.”[54] The government had liberally
supplied them with tobacco, and they had never lacked money with which
to buy whiskey. Their wants had been looked after so paternally that
they had little else to do but spend their time in idleness. Craving
entertainment they soon learned to find it in a wrong way. They no
longer cared to hunt for food, since they did not need to do so. Soon
their expeditions became mere raids upon their protectors, accompanied
by unrestrained destruction committed to gratify their craving for
some form of entertainment. Thus, while the forces of retrogression
were at work the Indian was daily becoming more of a menace to the
well-disposed border settlers who viewed his changing attitude in
helpless terror.
But most insidious of all in keeping the Indian inimical to his white
neighbors was the influence of the fur traders--especially those of
the American Fur Company. The admitted purpose of this organization
was to keep the Indian a savage hunter and at the same time to
frighten the white settlers away from the frontier in order that the
annual crop of cheaply obtained but valuable furs might not suffer
diminution. To keep the Indian in such a condition it was necessary to
prevent him from assuming too friendly an attitude toward the
whites--in order that he might the better beat back or discourage
their westward advance. There were strong suspicions that more than
one attack upon border settlers by Indians occurred because the
presence of these settlers threatened the fur-gathering preserves of
the American Fur Company.
It would be wrong, however, to create the impression that the fur
traders operated in secret. Practically everyone knew their purpose
and methods: their purposes they openly admitted, and their methods
consisted largely in dispensing “fire water” and in selling to the
Indian on credit. The latter practice was useful, for it obligated the
Indian to serve the Company in realizing its ends. Perhaps the most
notable example of the Company’s interference with plans of Indian
amelioration is to be found in the case of the Winnebagoes. Their
agent, Joseph M. Street, one of the most enlightened Indian agents the
Iowa country ever knew, had for some years been striving to improve
the condition of the Winnebagoes, but without success. He had failed,
not because his plan was impracticable, but because he came into
direct conflict with the purposes and methods of the American Fur
Company.[55]
IV
THE GRINDSTONE WAR AND THE DEATH OF SIDOMINADOTA
The strained relations between the whites and the Indians resulted in
unfortunate incidents which served to intensify the bad feeling
already engendered. Of these, two may be noted as especially
significant in the frontier history of northwestern Iowa. Thus, in
1854 and 1855, the so-called “Grindstone War” caused the whites to
abandon the frontier for a time and spread alarm far and near. This
incident might properly be said to have had its origin in intertribal
hatred.
For some time a group of Winnebago families had been accustomed to
camp near Clear Lake. In this they had been encouraged by an old
Indian trader by the name of Hewett. At the same time there also
encamped among these Winnebagoes some Sac and Fox Indians who for
years, in the Iowa country, had been the greatest enemies of the
Sioux. When the latter became aware of the presence of these Sacs and
Foxes among the Winnebagoes they swooped down upon them and by mistake
scalped a Winnebago. Greatly alarmed, Hewett and his Indian friends
fled down the valley, telling their story, which appears to have
suffered somewhat from repetition as they proceeded. Within a brief
time about one hundred armed settlers collected at Masonic Grove.
According to some reports, about four hundred Sioux warriors fortified
themselves some twelve miles distant.[56] Thus matters remained during
1854 with no action from either party.
As time passed the Sioux became bolder, until matters reached a climax
in an incident which occurred near Lime Creek. A settler, James
Dickerson by name, possessed an unusually fine rooster which was
craved by a begging band of Indians. In chasing the rooster, a young
brave upset and demolished a grindstone, and then made off with the
largest piece in continued pursuit of the fowl. Dickerson pursued the
Indian and, seizing a piece of the grindstone, knocked him to the
ground, where he lay for a time insensible. The Indians, enraged at
Dickerson’s act, demanded a settlement for the injury to the brave,
making it plain that only Dickerson’s best horse or one hundred
dollars in money would satisfy them. After no little parleying, in
which Mrs. Dickerson acted as mediator, the Indians were pacified when
Mrs. Dickerson had given them about six dollars in money, a number of
quilts, and many other articles of household use.
This “grindstone incident” caused the settlers to become greatly
alarmed: men from Clear Lake, the Mason City settlement, and vicinity
organized and undertook to drive the Indians out of the country. After
a chase of some miles, the band of over twenty-five white men came in
sight of the rapidly fleeing Indians, who, realizing that they would
soon be surrounded and punished, signified a desire to settle matters.
Following an interchange of protests, the peace pipe was smoked, after
which the Indians resumed their way westward. This understanding,
however, did not allay the fears of the settlers who fled
panic-stricken to Nora Springs, abandoning for a time their claims in
the vicinity of Lime Creek and Clear Lake.[57]
However ready the Indians may have seemed to make peace, the settlers
feared for the future; and so along the line of settlements they
spread the alarm that the Indians were on the warpath. Many appeals
were made to Governor Hempstead for aid. But when he sent Major
William Williams from Fort Dodge to investigate the charges, the Major
reported that no danger from further attacks seemed to exist. Unable
to secure State protection, the settlers armed themselves. Doubtless
the “grindstone incident” soon ceased to impress the settlers with any
permanent sense of impending danger, for it was not long before they
began to return to their deserted claims.
But not far from the scene of this near tragedy there occurred another
incident which displays the temper not alone of the Indian but also of
the white borderer of the more troublesome type. It appears that this
tragic event grew to undue proportions mainly through the vengeful
hate of a frontiersman by the name of Lott. The incident, somewhat
trivial in itself, has been given so much prominence as a reputed
chief cause of the massacre at Okoboji that it is deemed worthy of
somewhat extended notice in this place.[58] Its connection with later
events may well be a matter of conjecture, owing to the character of
the Indians concerned.
* * * * *
For nearly a decade after the whites had begun to settle in
northwestern Iowa the inhabitants of that region had been obliged to
endure constant molestation from a roving band of Sisseton Sioux
Indians.[59] Though at first composed of only about five
lodges--mainly, it is said, of desperadoes and murderers--the band had
grown by the gathering of like characters, fleeing from their avenging
fellow-tribesmen, until it numbered at times nearly five hundred.[60]
The band as a whole only assembled from time to time for the purpose
of united warfare against others--particularly against isolated bands
of the Sac and Fox Indians.[61] It was known and feared from the Des
Moines westward to the Vermillion and northward to the Minnesota River
on account of its peculiarly ferocious and quarrelsome character. It
was, in short, a band of Indian outlaws. As such, it was hated and
feared by red men and white men alike. In its forays it spared neither
friend nor foe, but preyed upon both without discrimination. It
claimed no home, but roamed at will wherever its fancy might lead.
Leadership of this band had been early acquired by one Sidominadota or
“Two Fingers”. He had succeeded to the leadership of this loosely
consolidated band upon the death of Wamdisapa, an Indian of somewhat
milder disposition than his successor. Sidominadota well maintained
the savage character of the band and may be credited with the
inspiration of many vengeful and frightful deeds committed during his
brief leadership.[62] He was only nominally the head of the united
group, while really the leader of a small band seldom numbering more
than fifteen and frequently less. By all who had to deal with him, red
or white, he was looked upon with distrust. His fellow leaders
associated with him only in time of dire necessity, for they well knew
that Sidominadota would go any lengths to accomplish an end. While he
continued to make his refuge and headquarters along the Vermillion, as
did his predecessors, his favorite haunts were the headwaters of the
Des Moines and Little Sioux Rivers and the region of the Iowa
lakes.[63]
About 1847 Sidominadota began to frequent that portion of the Des
Moines Valley where Fort Dodge now stands. It was his band that in
1849 attacked a party of surveyors in charge of a man by the name of
Marsh about three miles from the present site of Fort Dodge. Marsh and
his party had been sent from Dubuque to run a correction line across
the State. After crossing to the west side of the Des Moines River,
they were notified by Sidominadota not to proceed with their work as
this territory was Indian land. With the departure of the Indians, the
surveyors continued to run their line. In a short time the Indians
returned, destroyed the instruments and landmarks of the surveyors,
stole their horses, and drove the men back across the Des Moines.[64]
About a year later some settlers, more adventurous than their fellows,
located near the mouth of the Boone River. Sidominadota, becoming
aware of the arrival of these settlers, paid them a visit and ended by
destroying their cabins and driving the people out of the country.
This sort of behavior was continued toward every white man who
ventured into that territory until the founding of Fort Dodge in 1850.
“Among others who had received indignities from this band was one
Henry Lott...who in 1846 settled near the mouth of Boone River in
Webster County.”[65] Lott’s past had been a varied one and much of it
was obscure. He boasted of New England origin, while his wife claimed
to be a daughter of an early Governor of Ohio or Pennsylvania. If,
however, we are to accept the judgment of their contemporaries the
family had degenerated.[66] Lott is almost always described as being
notoriously lawless, a horse thief, a vender of bad whiskey, a
criminal, half-civilized, a desperado, an outlaw, and a murderer.[67]
Up to the time he appeared in the valley of the Des Moines his whole
life had been one of adventure.
His first appearance in Iowa, so far as known, was at Red Rock, Marion
County, in 1845, where he essayed the role of Indian trader while
dealing out bad whiskey to the Indians and surreptitiously stealing
their ponies. It is said that his Red Rock neighbors in 1846
requested him to leave the neighborhood--which he did by moving on to
Pea’s Point. Here his stay seems to have been brief, for during the
same year he is found located on the Des Moines River near the mouth
of the Boone, where he erected a cabin and resumed his whiskey-selling
and horse-stealing.[68]
Lott’s horse-stealing activities caused the Indians to grow
suspicious; and finally they traced the loss of five ponies directly
to him and his fellow marauders. This led to an Indian council which
decided that Lott should be driven out of the country. Accordingly he
was waited upon by Sidominadota and warned “that he was an intruder;
that he had settled on the Sioux hunting grounds”; and that he was
expected to get off at once. Lott contended that he was not an
intruder and refused to go. The Indians then began the destruction of
his property: his horses and cattle were shot, his bee-hives rifled,
and his family threatened. Lott seems to have been something of a
coward, for when the Indians began taking summary action he fled.
While the Indians were destroying or stealing his property and abusing
the helpless members of his family he, according to his own story,
crossed the river and secreted himself in the brush. Later he and his
stepson, leaving his wife and young children to the mercy of the
Indians, fled down the Des Moines River to Pea’s Point, a short
distance south of the present site of Boone.
Here Lott related his story to John Pea and others of the settlement.
Aroused by his tale, the settlers organized a relief party to return
to his cabin and if possible to punish the Indians. An appeal for more
help was sent to Elk Rapids, sixteen miles away. At this point lived
Chemeuse or “Johnny Green”, a half-breed Pottawattamie and Musquakie
chief, with many of his people who traditionally hated the Sioux. The
chief with twenty-six of his men and seven settlers from Pea’s Point
went to Lott’s assistance. It was past the middle of December, and the
weather was intensely cold. After Lott’s flight from his cabin, his
twelve-year-old son, Milton, had started in search of his father, but
when about twenty miles from his home and three miles from Boonesboro
had frozen to death.[69] The relief party, on December 18,1846, found
the dead body of the boy a short distance below the village of
Centerville. After burying the body on the spot where it was found,
the party continued on its way to Lott’s cabin. When they arrived they
found that the Indians had gone. The family was safe, though suffering
and destitute as they had been robbed of everything. The wife,
however, had been so mistreated and had suffered so extremely from
exposure that she died a short time thereafter.[70]
Vowing vengeance, Lott moved south to the settlements and built a
second cabin.[71] Here and at other points in the vicinity he remained
a few years, according to all accounts, and bided his time in true
frontier style. In the autumn of 1853 he and his stepson passed
through Fort Dodge on their way to settle at a new location. In early
November he selected a site for his cabin about thirty miles north of
Fort Dodge, in Humboldt County, at a point where a small creek joins
the Des Moines River. This creek has since been named Lott’s Creek in
honor of the first white settler in that vicinity.[72] With three
barrels of bad whiskey, he re-opened trade with the Indians. And the
trade was good; for at this time there was only one cabin, other than
his own, north of Fort Dodge--the cabin of William Miller which was
located six miles from Fort Dodge.
In January following Lott’s new settling, Sidominadota and his
family--which was composed of his squaw, mother, four children, and
two orphan children--came up the Des Moines and encamped on “Bloody
Run”, a short distance below the mouth of Lott’s Creek. Aware of the
coming of the old chief, Lott plotted his destruction. Going to the
lodge of Sidominadota, where he perceived that he was not recognized,
Lott reported the presence of a large drove of elk feeding on the Des
Moines bottom at a point since known as the “Big Bend”.[73] The
chief’s family being in sore need of food, the Indian was easily
trapped by the ruse. Sidominadota, having been liberally treated to
whiskey, mounted his pony and set out for the hunt; while Lott and his
stepson followed. When a safe distance away from the Indian camp and
beyond earshot, Lott and his stepson fired upon the Indian, killing
him outright. Secreting themselves during the day, the murderers, at
the coming of darkness, disguised themselves as Indians, returned to
the lodge of the murdered Indian, raised a terrific war cry for
purposes of deception, and then surprised and killed all the members
of the family except a boy of twelve and a girl of ten years who
escaped under cover of darkness.[74]
Completing the work of destruction, Lott returned to his own cabin,
burned it to make the whole affair appear the work of Indians, and in
the company of his stepson fled down the Des Moines Valley. Some years
later a report came back to Iowa that he had made his way to
California and had there been lynched by a vigilance committee.[75]
Something more than a week after the murder of Sidominadota and his
family a band of Indians from a camp on the Lizard Creek, while
hunting in the vicinity of the mouth of “Bloody Run”, discovered what
had taken place. They reported the fact not only to Fort Ridgely but
also to Major Williams at Fort Dodge, demanding an investigation and
the righting of the wrong as far as possible. Major Williams at once
raised a company of whites and Indians and set out in an attempt to
locate the murderers, but to no avail. The Indians were firm in their
conviction that Lott had committed the deed. A coroner’s jury under
the direction of Coroner John Johns met at Homer, the county seat of
Webster County, and placed the guilt upon Lott and his stepson. But no
very great effort was or could be made by the authorities to secure
the offenders, owing to the start of ten days which they had secured.
Later they were indicted by a grand jury sitting in Des Moines, which
ended the attempt to find and punish them.[76] The Indians were highly
incensed not only at the murder itself, but at the apparent inaction
of the authorities in apprehending and punishing the murderers.
Many reports became current as to the final disposition of the dead
chief’s body after it had been taken to Homer for the inquest. These
reports only added to the embitterment of the Indians, who had
expected much from the inquest, having been told that this would
settle matters. That the inquest took somewhat the form of a farce was
due to the attitude of the prosecuting attorney of Hamilton County,
Granville Berkley, who humorously conducted the affair.
Fearing later unpleasant results, the whites attempted to pacify the
Indians with many promises. But the Indians grew sullen and suspicious
and behaved in such a manner as to create the impression that they
might retaliate. It soon became evident that the authorities had no
intention of keeping their promises. The Indians after some
threatening seem to have disappeared.[77] One can understand how such
incidents, coupled with past grievances, “real or only imaginary”,
might in the end lead to desperate deeds.
V
THE FRONTIER AND THE WINTER OF 1856-1857
With the Indians in a most unhappy and vengeful state of mind the
Traverse des Sioux Treaty lands were thrown open for settlement in
1853. For several years people had settled along the border of this
territory patiently awaiting the opening. Assurances were given the
settlers that the Sioux were all established upon their reserve
seventy miles north of Iowa’s northern boundary. With these assurances
of safety, the settlers rapidly pushed to the westward of the Des
Moines River which hitherto had been the farthest limit of their
movement.
The line of frontier settlements by 1857 extended in a semi-circle
from Sioux City to Fort Dodge as a center and thence to or near
Springfield (now Jackson) in Minnesota.[78] Only a brief time served
to destroy this line as the settlers moved westward in search of the
choicest claims. Before discussing the events which were soon to
transpire it will be well to note the outward movement of this
frontier to the northwest. The effect upon the Indians of the sudden
outward bulging of the line was little short of maddening, as they
felt themselves being swept onward by a tide they could not stem. All
of their illy concealed hatred of the whites now bade fair to be
loosed, while all past wrongs seemed about to be avenged.
Times were now “flush” and the tide of emigration “swept across the
state with an impetus that carried everything before it.”[79] During
the summer of 1855 “land-hunters, claim seekers and explorers”
steadily flowed into northwestern Iowa. At this time little more was
done by many of the settlers than to make temporary improvements,
after which they returned eastward planning to take up permanent
possession in the following summer.[80]
The main arteries for this westward movement were the Little Sioux and
the Des Moines. From Fort Dodge the wave spread out in fan-shape to
the furthermost limits of the frontier. The lines of the movement were
in the main determined by two facts: Fort Dodge had been established
as a United States land office for the territory west and north, and
Lizard Creek made that region readily accessible to settlers. Up the
Des Moines, settlers had pushed to the point where Jackson, Minnesota,
now stands. Many had stopped at occasional points along the Des Moines
and made permanent settlements. Near the present site of Algona, in
1854, two brothers, Asa C. Call and Ambrose A. Call, made “the first
settlement on either branch of the Des Moines above the forks.”[81] To
the west of Algona at Medium Lake was the “Irish Colony”--a group of
five or six families of Irish extraction from Kane County, Illinois.
This settlement has become the Emmetsburg of to-day.[82] George
Granger had staked out and settled upon a claim in Emmet County just
south of the State line, and beyond this was Springfield, Minnesota,
with six families. Thus a line of isolated settlements extended up the
Des Moines Valley from Fort Dodge to Springfield.
To the northwest of Fort Dodge the incoming settlers moved up the
course of Lizard Creek, which they followed to its beginning. Thence
they crossed to the Little Sioux and settled near Sioux Rapids and
Peterson. Near the latter place in the midwinter of 1855-1856 had come
J. A. Kirchner and Jacob Kirchner, in company with Ambrose S. Mead.
They did nothing at this time but select claims and return to Cedar
Falls, from whence they returned in the early spring. After putting in
his crops J. A. Kirchner had returned to New York. About the time of
his departure, James Bicknell with his family and two men by the name
of Wilcox also arrived at the little settlement in Clay County. Up the
Little Sioux to the north were about six families at what became known
as Gillett’s Grove.[83] In the early spring of 1856 the Hon. William
Freeborn of Red Wing, Minnesota, and others projected a settlement at
Spirit Lake. Their first attempt had not met with much success, and
they now awaited the coming of the spring of 1857 to renew the
attempt.[84] In the late summer of 1856 about forty people had settled
along the shores of Lake Okoboji and Spirit Lake.
Following the original movement up Lizard Creek and the Des Moines
River, settlers had begun pushing up the course of the Little Sioux
from the Missouri River to a later junction with those coming by way
of Lizard Creek to Sioux Rapids and beyond. This movement was marked
by an initial settlement at the present site of Smithland, Woodbury
County, in about 1851 by a group of three apostate Mormons from
Kanesville.[85] In the spring of 1856 the Milford, Massachusetts,
Emigration Company had founded a colony of about twelve families near
Pilot Rock in Cherokee County.[86] The site chosen was a little north
of the present city of Cherokee. Nearly ten miles above this point was
a second settlement. To the northeast of these, in Buena Vista County,
was the Weaver family at Barnes’s Grove. Above this in O’Brien County
was H. H. Waterman, at Waterman, who could boast of being the only
white man within the confines of that county. Further up the Little
Sioux, in the southwestern corner of Clay County, were the families of
Mead, Kirchner, and Taylor.[87]
This stretch of settlements outlined the extreme limits of the
frontier. To the west there were no settlers; while to the north and
northeast the nearest settlements were those on the Minnesota and
Watonwan rivers.[88] Although on ceded ground, all of these
settlements were in the heart of the Indian country, where the passing
of Indian bands was not uncommon. All were separated from each other
by vast stretches of prairie, and frequently the settlers of one place
were wholly unaware of the presence of any other white people in the
region. Their complete isolation from each other and consequent
helplessness in case of Indian attacks were probably best known by the
Indians who not infrequently visited them. This isolation appears the
more complete when it is recalled that the nearest railroad station in
Iowa at that time was Iowa City--over two hundred miles away.
By 1857, therefore, the northwestern frontier may be described as
“commencing at Sioux City and extending irregularly in a northeasterly
direction, by way of Correctionville, Cherokee, Waterman, Peterson,
Sioux Rapids, Gillett’s Grove and Okoboji, to Spirit Lake; thence
turning abruptly to the east by way of Estherville and Emmet to the
headwaters of the Des Moines and Blue Earth Rivers, where it extended
into Minnesota, terminating at Mankato.”[89]
Thus was the meeting-ground of the Indians and the white settlers
rather roughly demarked when the winter of 1856-1857 began. Although
the fertility of its soil had not been doubted and its great natural
beauty and attractiveness as a region of boundless prairies had never
been disputed, the northwest had acquired a reputation of climatic
extremes--of hot summers and cold winters. This partly accounted for
the fact that many settlers delayed their permanent coming to the
region until they were amply prepared for the vicissitudes of climate
which they must endure in their new homes. Glowing reports had brought
the region into general notice, and by the fall of 1856 many people
to the east were preparing to migrate to this wonderful country in the
not distant future.
“The winter of 1856-7 set in with a fury, steadiness and severity,
which make it a land-mark in the experience of every person”[90] who
passed through it. The storms came early in November, and for weeks
northwestern Iowa witnessed nothing but a succession of terrific
blizzards, accompanied by the most intense cold. By December 1, 1856,
the snow was three feet deep on the level and from fifteen to twenty
in the ravines and other low places. Communication of settlement with
settlement was well-nigh impossible. The scattered settlers were illy
prepared for such a winter: their cabins were unfinished and generally
without floors, as all lumber had to be hauled a distance of more than
one hundred miles. Most of the settlers had planted no crops during
the preceding growing season; hence provisions were scarce and could
only be obtained by the use of snowshoes and hand sleds. Wild game was
nowhere to be had, for it had either migrated before the oncoming
storms or perished in the snow.
As the season progressed the intensity of the cold also increased;
while heavy wind-driven snows continued to fall at frequent intervals.
The prairies became bleak and barren snow-covered wastes, lashed by
terrific winds and untenanted by man or beast. The closing of February
and the opening of March witnessed no abatement in the severity of the
winter. The snow which had been falling the whole winter long yet
remained on the ground. Indeed, the season was so prolonged that it is
said spring came only in late April, while May and June were cold. In
July great banks of snow were yet to be seen in some of the sheltered
places.[91]
Although the white settlers suffered considerably from self-imposed
denial of food and from unsuitable houses in which to shelter
themselves, their privations could not compare with those of the
Indians. In Dakota, which was their winter home, they suffered
terribly. Their game was gone--where they did not know. Nor were they
able to follow it if they had known. As the winds swept over the
prairies of Dakota and sharply penetrated the thickets wherein they
lodged, their desperation grew apace. At last, in the closing days of
February, the intense suffering from cold and famine could be endured
no longer and they sallied forth. The course of their march spread out
to the east, the north, and the south, and took them to the white
settlements along the Iowa and Minnesota frontiers where they sought
and took both food and shelter.[92]
VI
OKOBOJI AND SPRINGFIELD IN MARCH 1857
Of the settlements made or projected in northwestern Iowa previous to
1857, those having preeminent interest in this connection were along
the shores of Lake Okoboji and Spirit Lake in Dickinson County.
Although this lake region had been visited many times in the spring
and summer of 1855, no settlements had been made at that time. The
visitors had simply planned to return as soon as arrangements for
permanent occupancy could be perfected. They had been attracted
thither by the tales told by Indians and traders concerning the great
natural beauty of the region.
For some time the lake region had been well-known to the traders and
voyageurs of the upper Mississippi Valley, and their tales concerning
it were all favorable. The French interpreter of the Lewis and Clark
expedition wrote so clearly of the region as to leave no doubt as to
his having been there. He it was who first wrote of the _Lac
D’Esprit_, mentioning it for its great natural beauty of location and
as being the chief seat of one of the Dakotan tribes. Hunters,
traders, trappers, and adventurers visited the region frequently
thereafter, but left only oral accounts as to its character and worth.
The same region was visited in the summer of 1838 by Nicollet and
John C. Fremont, who made observations as to elevation, latitude, and
longitude. It was following this official visit that white
frontiersmen began to frequent the locality.
All reports of the region indicated it was the favored home of the
Wahpekuta Yankton Sioux. Spirit Lake especially was believed by this
tribe to be the scene of various myths and legends intimately
connected with the origin and life of the tribe. It was reputed to be
always under the watchful care of the Great Spirit whose presence
therein was clearly evidenced by the lake’s turbulent waters which
were never at rest. It was this suggestion of the supernatural--a sort
of mystic veil surrounding the region--that led many people to visit
it. Some came only to view the lake and, having done so, departed to
add perhaps one more legendary tale to the volume of its romance.
Practically every visitor enlarged upon the great charms of the groves
of natural timber bordering its shores.
But in nearly all of the accounts and tales of the region there was
persistent confusion with regard to the several bodies of water. The
Indians had always plainly distinguished at least three lakes; while
reports by white men as persistently spoke of only one. The Indians
knew of Okoboji, “the place of rest”, of Minnetonka, “the great
water”, and of Minnewaukon, “the lake of demons or spirits” or _Lac
D’Esprit_ or Spirit Lake as it is known to-day. It is the first of
these, Lake Okoboji, with which this narrative is primarily
concerned. Upon its borders the first permanent white settlers built
their cabins and staked their claims; and here was perpetrated the
awful tragedy which has come to be known as the Spirit Lake Massacre.
The lakes, lying closely together as a group, occupy a large portion
of the townships of Spirit Lake, Center Grove, and Lakeville. The
northernmost and somewhat the largest of the group is Spirit Lake,
which is about ten square miles in area. The northern shore of this
lake touches upon or extends into Minnesota along practically the
whole of its course. To the south, not connected at this time, and
extending in a narrowed, almost tortuous course, stretches East
Okoboji for a distance of over six miles. At no point is East Okoboji
much over three-quarters of a mile in width. West Okoboji lies to the
west of its companion and is connected with it by a narrow strait a
few yards in width. The west lake stretches to the west and north,
circling in a segment of a circle nearly halfway back to the north and
east to Spirit Lake. In length it is about the same as the east lake,
although its width is over four times as great at one point. Issuing
from the southernmost bay of East Okoboji is the outlet stream, which
at a distance of six miles from its source effects a junction with the
main stream of the Little Sioux.
The shores of the Okoboji lakes are in the main well wooded, while
those of Spirit Lake have only occasional clumps of trees. Along the
shores of the latter prairie and water usually meet without
interruption by bands of timber. In some respects the Okobojis
present a reasonably good reproduction of the smaller lakes of
southern New York and New England. Thus easterners felt that here
could be reproduced the familiar scenes of “back home”. Although the
attractiveness of the place was widely known, no one had settled in
the region before the middle of the century. The vanguard of the
permanent settlers came on July 16, 1856, with the arrival of Rowland
Gardner and his family.
THE LAKE REGION: THE SCENE OF THE SPIRIT LAKE MASSACRE
[Illustration: THE LAKE REGION: THE SCENE OF THE SPIRIT LAKE MASSACRE]
Rowland Gardner was a native of Connecticut, having been born in New
Haven in 1815. Here he spent his boyhood years and learned the trade
of comb-maker. Growing tired of life in New Haven he migrated to
Seneca, New York, where he resumed his trade. At the occupation of
comb-maker he had been able to accumulate some three thousand dollars,
which, for the time, was considered rather a comfortable little
fortune.[93] On March 22, 1836, he married Frances M. Smith, and four
children, Mary, Eliza, Abigail, and Rowland, were born while the
family lived at Seneca. Abigail, the youngest daughter who is to
figure so largely in the story of the Spirit Lake Massacre, was born
in 1843. Later the father abandoned the trade of comb-maker and turned
to that of sawyer. This change in occupation did not come, however,
until the family had again moved--this time to Greenwood, New York.
Again, in 1850, they removed to the near-by town of Rexville.
But Gardner had a love for roaming that could not be satisfied by
short moves; and so it was not long before he left Rexville for Ohio.
His first stop in that State was at Edyington, where he opened a
boarding house. His next resolve was to go to the then Far West. Thus,
in the spring of 1854 he made his way with his family to Shell Rock,
Iowa.[94] Here the family spent their first winter in the West and
suffered much from the change of climate. Shell Rock, however, was
only a temporary stopping place, for Gardner had no thought of
settling short of the farthest bounds of the frontier.
In the early spring of 1855 Gardner, in company with his son-in-law,
Harvey Luce, made a rather extensive prospecting tour to the west and
north. He seems to have decided to settle, for a time at least, at
Clear Lake; for a little later we find him and Luce with their united
families moving up the Shell Rock Valley to Nora Springs and thence
across the prairie to Clear Lake. This journey consumed the greater
portion of April and early May. Settling too late to plant crops that
season, the families could not look forward to a very comfortable
year.
Gardner and Luce decided upon Clear Lake for the same reason that
later led them to settle at Lake Okoboji. To a New Englander
accustomed to the lakes and streams of his native parts, Clear Lake
with its waters and groves made a strong appeal--one that could not
readily be resisted. Open prairies seemed to be “the abomination of
desolation” itself. The Mason City settlement on Lime Creek was
thought of, but the natural advantages of Clear Lake outweighed any
inclination in that direction. At this time Mason City was little more
than a station on the westward trail: it consisted of only three or
four houses on the open, wind-swept prairie.
It was while the Gardner family was living at Clear Lake that there
occurred the so-called “Grindstone War”, in which indeed they were
active participants. After the scare had spent its force, Gardner
again grew uneasy; and, having heard of the attractiveness of the lake
region farther to the west along the frontier, he became anxious to
settle there. Thus, scarcely had they harvested a first crop when the
Gardners were once more en route to the westward. The small returns
from the sale of the claim at Clear Lake were invested in some oxen,
cows, and young cattle.[95]
To the homeseeker the lake region was regarded as a “promised land”.
This was largely due to its natural beauties as well as to the very
great abundance of fish in the lake waters and the plenitude of wild
game in the groves along its shores. Many claim seekers had visited
the region previous to July, 1856, but no claims had been staked out.
The Gardners found no settlers at the time of their arrival.[96] In
fact no settlers had been seen by them since leaving the claim of the
Call brothers near the present site of Algona.
The journey from Clear Lake had been an arduous one, having been made
with ox teams hitched to heavy, cumbrous carts into which had been
loaded not only the family but the household goods and the farming
implements as well as the food supply. Thus burdened the oxen could
make only slow progress even under the most favorable conditions.
Furthermore, it seems that the Iowa plains had suffered from an
over-abundance of rain that summer: numberless quagmires were
encountered; while many streams could hardly be forded on account of
their swollen condition. Added to these conditions was the uncertainty
of the route--due to lack of knowledge of the country. Many a time it
was necessary to unload and carry articles of freight over difficult
places. Enduring these trials with the fortitude of well-tried
pioneers they steadily pushed on. Upon July 16th they came to the
southeastern shores of West Okoboji; and here they rested, for they
were at their journey’s end.
Since leaving New York the Gardner family had been augmented by a
union with the family of Harvey Luce. The latter had planned from the
first to unite his fortunes with those of the Gardners, but had been
unable to do so at the time of their leaving New York. Luce had
married Mary, the eldest of the Gardner girls; and at the time of
their arrival at Lake Okoboji, the family numbered two children,
Albert aged four and Amanda aged one.[97] The Gardner-Luce party was
thus composed of nine persons at the time of its arrival.
Luce and Gardner did not settle at once: while the families tented,
the men spent several days in a careful survey of the lake shores and
the surrounding prairie region, the better to determine a suitable
site. Since the lake region was to be the place of their permanent
settlement they desired to make a careful selection of lands.
In the end it was decided to build cabins upon the southeastern shore
of the west lake. The location selected was several rods southeast of
what is now Pillsbury’s Point upon the high, oak-wooded ridge which
terminated in that point of land. The site was ideal. To the north and
northwest the outlook presented a sweeping view of the lake; while to
the south there was as fair a prospect of prairie land as any country
could afford. No better selection for a home could have been made. The
erection of a log cabin for the Gardners was begun at once. Fronting
south, this cabin was for its time rather pretentious, since it was
one and one-half stories high.
The season being far too advanced for the planting of crops little
could be done besides preparing the land for the next year. This was
accomplished by breaking some of the prairie sod. In addition hay was
made as feed for the oxen and other cattle during the long winter
season. The making of the hay was largely carried through by Mrs.
Gardner and her children, including Mrs. Luce; while Gardner and Luce
pushed ahead with the building of the cabins in order to afford
protection for all as soon as possible. Shelter was also provided for
the cattle. By the time this had been done, the season was so far
advanced that, though the Luce cabin had been begun, its completion
had to be postponed until the return of favorable weather in the
coming year. Thus it came about that the Luces took up their abode
with the Gardners for the winter which was now upon them.[98]
While out prospecting for claim sites in the two or three days
following their arrival, Luce and Gardner heard a report of fire-arms
and upon tracing it to its source found that other settlers had just
arrived in the vicinity. The camp of the new arrivals was in process
of being pitched on the shore of the west lake near the strait
connecting the two Okobojis. The party was composed of Carl and
William Granger, Bertell E. Snyder, and Dr. Isaac H. Harriott. They
had come to the lake region for the purpose of examining the country
with a view to future settlement.[99] Having completed their
reconnaissance, the members of the party were preparing to spend some
time in the neighborhood hunting and fishing.
These newcomers came to be so well pleased with the advantages of the
region that they finally resolved to spend the winter here and
possibly make a permanent settlement. After reaching this conclusion
they constructed a cabin on Smith’s Point north of the strait. These
men, moreover, were members of a townsite company which had been
founded in May, 1856, at Red Wing, Minnesota. As promoters it was
their purpose to start a town on the border of some one of the lakes
in this region. The Grangers as leading stockholders in the concern
laid claim to the point upon which the cabin was built, as well as to
all the land lying along the northern shore of the east lake. After
resolving upon permanent settlement all but William Granger decided to
remain during the coming fall and winter and engage in preparing the
townsite for prospective settlers. William Granger was the only
married man of the group, and his purpose in returning to Red Wing was
two-fold--that of advertising the townsite which had been selected and
of bringing back his family in the spring of 1857.[100]
Although the Gardner and Luce families were the first to arrive at the
lakes, they had not long to wait before other groups began to arrive,
all of whom hurried preparations for the winter that was now not far
removed. The sound of the saw and hammer was soon heard in a number of
places along the lake shores, while signs of still greater activity in
the future grew apace. All of the newcomers located within a radius of
six miles of the Gardner cabin.[101] The nearest settlement was that
at Springfield, Minnesota, about eighteen miles to the northeast;
while to the south the nearest was at Gillett’s Grove, more than forty
miles away.[102] Neither of these settlements had made any provision
for its protection against a hostile party of any kind. So far as
anyone knew no reason existed for their apparent feeling of assurance
against danger.
So rapidly had emigration set in that by November 1, 1856, there were
six separate groups of people prepared to spend the winter in this
vicinity. The first family to arrive after the Gardners was that of
James H. Mattock, who came with his wife and five children directly
from Delaware County, Iowa. They settled south of the strait, nearly
opposite the site chosen by the party from Red Wing, and the place of
their settlement has since become locally known as Mattock’s Grove.
The site was about one mile from the Gardner-Luce cabin. With the
Mattock family had also come a Robert Madison, who was about eighteen
years of age. Robert Madison had preceded the other members of his
family, who were still in Delaware County but were planning to move to
the lake region when suitable accommodations had been provided for
them by the son.[103]
From Hampton, Franklin County, Iowa, there came in the late fall the
families of Joel Howe, Alvin Noble, and Joseph M. Thatcher. These
people had been neighbors at Hampton and had come west as a group.
They settled along the east shore of East Okoboji, some two or three
miles from the Mattock cabin. The Howe family was large, consisting of
Mr. and Mrs. Howe and six children. Jonathan, the eldest of the
children and a young man of twenty-three, remained in Hampton, since
it was planned that he should come out in the following spring or as
soon as he could procure the supplies which would be needed by the
three families in their work of pioneering. Alvin Noble, Howe’s
son-in-law, brought with him his wife and one child--a two year old
son. The Thatcher family was also small, consisting of Mr. and Mrs.
Thatcher and a child about seven months of age. The Howe cabin was the
first to be erected and was also the nearest to those on West
Okoboji. When it had been completed, all hands joined in the erection
of a cabin about a mile beyond or northeast of Howe’s place which was
to be jointly occupied by the Noble and Thatcher families until
further arrangements could be made. Boarding with the latter families
was Morris Markham--a sort of frontiersman from Hampton, Iowa.[104]
Late in September came Mr. and Mrs. William Marble from Linn County,
Iowa. Having stopped temporarily on the Okoboji lakes, the Marbles
after some prospecting decided to locate on the southwest shore of
Spirit Lake--distant, in an air line, about six miles from the
Gardners and perhaps a mile less from the Howes. Their cabin was the
most isolated of all--which made it easily possible for events to
transpire upon the shores of the Okobojis without the knowledge of the
Marbles for days or even weeks.[105]
Such was the chain of settlements of those pioneers who were to pass
the frightful winter of 1856-1857 on this isolated frontier. As winter
closed in upon them they felt reasonably secure, since Indians had
only very rarely been seen. With little or no experience of frontier
life on an American prairie, they believed their supply of provisions
to be ample for the closed season. No one anticipated an unusual
winter. During February a trapper named Joseph Harshman came to the
cabin of the Red Wing people. Being a man of genial disposition he was
encouraged to spend the remaining portion of the winter with them.
Whence he came no one knew; nor did anyone inquire concerning his
antecedents, since on the frontier such questions were regarded as
discourteous to the stranger.
About eighteen miles to the northeast, on the Des Moines River in
Minnesota, was the newly formed settlement of Springfield. Here were
to be found by the winter of 1856-1857 about six or seven families.
The town had been platted in the summer of 1856 by three
brothers--William, George, and Charles Wood of Mankato, Minnesota. For
many years these brothers had been widely known in Minnesota and the
northwest as Indian traders. By the winter of 1856-1857 they had
concentrated their trading interests in a store in Springfield, which
made the little village the meeting and trading place of the Indians
and whites for many miles around. Indeed, Springfield was the only
settlement of note within a radius of fifty miles.[106]
Most of the settlers comprising the Springfield, or as it was
sometimes called the “Des Moines City” settlement, had come from
northeastern Iowa. The vanguard had appeared in August, 1856, and had
located on the east side of the Des Moines River. The Wood brothers
had come somewhat earlier and had established their post on the west
side of the river, where they laid out the town which they planned to
promote. As in the region of the lakes, the cabins were widely
scattered up and down the river for seven or eight miles.[107] By the
opening of winter the settlement had about seventeen able-bodied men
and twelve adult women; but by March, 1857, the number had somewhat
increased so that the settlement had about forty-seven people in all,
living in seven or eight family groups.
In general the cabins were centered about the home of J. B. Thomas,
who had built in the edge of the timber near the river about one and a
half miles from the Wood brothers’ store. In this family were Mr. and
Mrs. Thomas and five children, the eldest of whom was a boy, Willie,
of twelve or thirteen years. About two miles from the Thomas cabin
upon the open prairie lived Joshua Stewart with his wife and three
children; while the Wheeler cabin was about three-fourths of a mile
and the John Bradshaw home nearly one and a half miles away. The Adam
P. Shiegley cabin, where he and one son lived, was the most isolated,
being far removed from all of the others. In addition, there were the
homes of Strong, Skinner, Smith, Church, and Harshman.
In the family of Dr. E. B. N. Strong, the community surgeon, were Dr.
and Mrs. Strong, two children, and Miss Eliza Gardner, the daughter of
Rowland Gardner of the Okoboji settlement.[108] The Strongs had made
the acquaintance of the Gardners after the latter had come to the
lakes. As Mrs. Strong was not in good health Eliza Gardner had been
prevailed upon to accompany the Strongs to their new home at
Springfield. In the Church home were Mr. and Mrs. William L. Church,
two children, and Miss Drusilla Swanger, a sister of Mrs. Church. The
family of J. B. Skinner comprised, beside himself, his wife and two
children; while in the Harshman home there were also two children.
Mr. and Mrs. William Nelson had one child; while Mr. and Mrs. Robert
Smith and a second Harshman and wife were without children.[109] The
unmarried men of the community were Joseph Cheffins, Henry Tretts,
Jareb Palmer, David N. Carver, Nathaniel Frost, John Henderson, and
John Bradshaw. As the result of being badly frozen during the winter
of 1856-1857, it had been necessary for Dr. Strong to amputate both of
Henderson’s legs and one of Smith’s. These operations had been
performed shortly before the visit of the Indians in March,
1857.[110]
VII
THE JOURNEY EAST FOR SUPPLIES
By February the unusual severity of the winter was occasioning some
alarm at the lake settlements--particularly as the stock of provisions
laid by for the winter was nearing exhaustion. In view of the deep
snow and the intense cold it seemed more than foolish to think of
attempting to make one’s way even to the nearest depot of
supplies--which was Fort Dodge. The banks of snow were fifteen and
often twenty feet high and offered an almost impassable obstruction to
the use of teams. Add to this the intensity of the cold, and one can
well imagine what courage or dire necessity it must have required to
induce the traveller to set out for the purpose of making his way over
an untrodden and in many respects an unknown waste of snow. But the
food situation was such that it became increasingly evident that some
effort must soon be made to relieve a condition which might become
intolerable. Moreover, no one had had any experience in this section
which would serve as an index to indicate how long the winter season
might continue.
Finally, it was decided that Luce and Thatcher were to return to their
former homes in the eastern section of the State in quest of the
needed food. With a sled and an ox team they set out in the early
days of February. The journey proved to be one of almost incredible
hardships: the cold was nearly unendurable, while the banks of snow so
impeded their progress that not infrequently little advance was made
as the result of a whole day’s effort. In the end, however, they made
their way safely to Hampton, but only to suffer the disappointment of
learning that the settlers here could do little or nothing for them.
Compelled to go still farther, they pushed on to Shell Rock, Cedar
Falls, and Waterloo before they were able to obtain sufficient
supplies for all the people at the lakes.
Securing at last the needed supplies, they remained at Cedar Falls for
a brief time to permit the recuperation of both their oxen and
themselves. Finally, they began preparations for the return journey
which would probably prove more trying than the one east, for now they
would be compelled to face the cutting winds and hard driven snows of
the open prairies. Although warning of the possible hardships of such
a journey was given by Luce and Thatcher, the prospects did not deter
four young men from accompanying the two settlers upon their return to
the lakes. These men were Robert Clark, a young friend of Luce from
Waterloo; Jonathan Howe, the son of Joel Howe already settled at
Okoboji; Enoch Ryan from Hampton, a son-in-law of Joel Howe; and Asa
Burtch, a brother of Mrs. Joseph M. Thatcher.
In spite of the difficulties encountered, all went well on the return
until the party reached a point known as Shippey’s near the mouth of
Cylinder Creek in Palo Alto County, about ten miles south of the
“Irish Colony”. Here the overloaded and exhausted oxen were unable to
proceed any further. After some deliberation it was decided that
Burtch and Thatcher should remain at Shippey’s and care for the oxen
until they had regained their strength sufficiently to allow them to
proceed upon the journey. Meanwhile, Luce, Clark, Howe, and Ryan were
to hasten onward to the lakes with the good word that succor was near
at hand. They made the trip on foot and in two days, reaching the
settlements on the evening of March 6th. Here they found all well with
the settlers who rejoiced at the prospect of relief in the near
future.[111]
By a careful husbanding of resources and a system of mutual exchange
the settlers had been able to prevent much suffering which a lack of
care might have entailed. But the time had not elapsed without the
occasional appearance of Indians. Apparently a number of red men were
wintering in the groves near by, as it seemed unlikely that they could
have come from any great distance. They were always friendly in their
attitude toward the whites, who from time to time took occasion to
relieve their too evident suffering from cold and hunger. They had not
only been invited within the cabins to share the comfortable
firesides, but were also encouraged to share in the settlers’ humble
meals if they happened to arrive at meal time. They never left a
settler’s cabin empty-handed at any time.
But as the time for the opening of spring neared it had been noted
that the Indians grew more restless and less sociable: they seemed to
avoid contact with the whites as much as possible. At the same time,
the settlers, untrained in Indian ways, saw nothing singular in their
later attitude and felt no occasion for alarm. Future developments,
however, were to show that there had been more than one occasion for
alarm. More than once the Indians had been observed to stalk each
cabin and in other ways manifest an undue interest in the settlers.
This, however, was accounted for at the time as untutored curiosity in
things new and strange.
VIII
THE INKPADUTA BAND
For a number of years preceding the killing of Sidominadota another
Indian band, similar in character to that led by the murdered leader,
had roamed the country and terrorized the people between the Des
Moines and the Big Sioux rivers. Under the leadership of Inkpaduta or
“Scarlet Point”, this band had frequented in particular the headwaters
of the Des Moines: they resorted to the Big Sioux and beyond only when
fleeing from punishment.[112] Their refuge beyond the Big Sioux was
with the Yanktons, whose camps along the James or Dakota River were
always an asylum for outlawed and disorderly Sioux bands. Here
Inkpaduta was free to go at any time for shelter and defense. But with
no other group was Inkpaduta able to maintain even the semblance of
friendly relations.[113] The Inkpaduta band of Indians had become
well-known either by the name of its leader or as the “Red Top” band,
from the fact that it frequently carried pennons of red cloth attached
to lance ends.[114]
Inkpaduta, the leader of the band, was a Wahpekuta Sioux of a
villainous and unsavory reputation even among his own tribesmen, who
feared or hated him. Due to his misdeeds he had been expelled from
membership in his own _gens_ division of the Wahpekuta Sioux.[115] But
this did not serve as a lesson in proper conduct; instead it seemed
only to enrage him to the point of committing other and worse
deeds--if such were possible. Owing to his lawless disposition a
serious quarrel arose among the Wahpekutas. Originally this division
seems to have arisen out of a very marked difference in opinion as to
the proper attitude to assume toward their hereditary enemies, the Sac
and Fox Indians. One section advised a cessation of hostilities which
seemed to have resulted in the accomplishment of no purpose. Moreover,
in several of the encounters the Wahpekutas had suffered severe losses
which they had not been able to successfully recoup.
A second division of the tribe led by Wamdisapa, or “Black Eagle”, was
so quarrelsome and revengeful that it stoutly opposed any
consideration looking toward peace. Black Eagle is characterized as “a
reckless, lawless fellow, always at war” with other tribes. After the
treaties of Prairie du Chien in 1825 and 1830, he was “one of the
first” of the Sioux to violate their provisions by making war upon the
neighboring tribes. His conduct in this respect grew especially bad
after the treaty of 1830, when his attitude won for him the “ill will
of all his people”, who claimed that his conduct provoked their
enemies to make many reprisals upon them. Refusing to alter his
conduct, Wamdisapa and a small group of kindred spirits were virtually
driven away from the tribe and no longer considered as its
members.[116]
Striking out boldly across the prairies of Minnesota, the outlaws took
a course which led them south and west: they were evidently headed for
the lower James, the place of their future rendezvous. Their course
led them to the present site of Algona, where they tarried for some
time. Resuming their flight, they travelled westward, crossing the Big
Sioux. Finally, they established themselves on the Jacques or James
River in the vicinity of Spirit Lake, South Dakota.[117] After
removing to this region they were not infrequently known as the
“Santies” of the James. They seemed to have lost their identity with
the Wahpekutas.
As this party of defection grew in numbers, differences of opinion
arose among them. After suffering disruption the band reorganized
under two leaders or chieftans--Wamdisapa and Tasagi (“His Cane”).
Under this dual leadership, they seemed for a time to prosper as never
before. But their misdeeds became so numerous that the neighboring
Sioux requested them to leave the country.[118] The dual chieftanship
was not continued beyond the lives of the original holders, since
internal jealousies and ambitions rendered it not only undesirable but
impossible. The quarrels were largely due to temperamental differences
in the leaders. Tasagi was of a mild disposition; while Wamdisapa was
noted for his quarrelsome, ferocious, and revengeful nature.
After signing the treaty of 1836, Wamdisapa shifted his band to the
Blue Earth region. From here he conducted raids into the Iowa country
against the Sacs and Foxes, who, in retaliating, made no distinction
between the Indians of Wamdisapa and those of Tasagi on the Cannon
River. This caused much suffering among the Cannon River people; but
Wamdisapa could not be prevailed upon to discontinue his raids. In the
meantime Wamdisapa’s son, Inkpaduta, had grown to manhood and
leadership. He seems to have inherited to the full the relentless
cruelty of his father. More ambitious for leadership than his father,
he planned to unite as speedily as possible the leadership which his
father had been content to share with Tasagi.
When the consolidation of the leadership did not progress as rapidly
as Inkpaduta wished, it is said that he hastened the event by securing
the murder of Tasagi. This occurred probably in 1839.[119] As
Inkpaduta had planned so it came to pass that upon Wamdisapa’s early
death the two divisions accepted in the main Inkpaduta’s leadership.
At the same time a strong faction refused his leadership. Becoming
alarmed for his safety Inkpaduta fled further into the Blue Earth
country, hoping thereby to gain time for the firmer union of his loyal
followers.[120] Even so he could not tarry long since the Cannon River
Wahpekutas were on his trail. With a still smaller number of followers
he again fled--this time to northern Iowa--preferring to brave the
hatred of the Sacs and Foxes to that of his fellow Wahpekutas.
It is thought that the incident of Tasagi’s murder and the later
flights nearly broke up the band of Wamdisapa, so that it could
scarcely be said to exist. In a few years, however, through a
prolonged series of intertribal quarrels conditions had become such
that Inkpaduta was recognized as the undisputed master of the greater
and more turbulent sections of both of the original bands. By the time
of the successful realization of his plans--about 1848--Inkpaduta had
made a reputation for relentless savagery that had spread throughout
northwestern Iowa, Dakota, and Minnesota. Upon him rests the stigma of
having planned the murder not only of Tasagi but also of his own
father.[121] His band seemed to thrive upon its evil reputation: thus
it is said that “from time to time some villainous Sioux committed a
murder, or other gross crime upon some other member of the tribe, and
fled for fear of vengeance to the outlawed band of Wahpakootas for
protection.”[122]
The Inkpaduta band of Indians became, as it were, accursed. It could
call no place its home--excepting perhaps the temporary winter
rendezvous with the Spirit Lake Yanktons. Thus the members of this
band became as “Ishmaelites whose hands were against all other
men”.[123] The character of its members was that of its leader, who
acted as a magnet to draw to him the worst types from the surrounding
tribes. Even according to the Indian moral code they would be classed
as toughs and criminals. Inkpaduta was universally reputed as the most
blood-thirsty Indian leader in the Northwest. Whites and Indians upon
whom his displeasure might fall feared him as death itself. The
members of his band became widely known as the renegades and outlaws
of the frontier. Spending their lives as wanderers and marauders, they
never remained long in any locality. “They went as far west as the
Missouri, as far north as the Cheyenne, as far south and east as the
Upper Des Moines, in Iowa.”[124] Their life of necessity was but an
outgrowth of their villainous disposition. It has been said that their
actions grew so unbearably bad that even Sidominadota--by many
regarded as an arch fiend--left the band and went far down the course
of the Des Moines the better to escape the wrath of its leader.[125]
It was soon after this act that Sidominadota and Lott crossed paths
with the result that the Indian’s life paid the forfeit.
Many of the unpleasant incidents in frontier life from 1836 to 1857 in
Minnesota and Iowa were directly chargeable to these Bedouins of the
prairies who tarried at a “trading house but a few minutes and in
seeming fear and dread hurried away.” The first exploit officially
credited to the band was the massacre of Wamundiyakapi, a Wahpekuta
chief, along with seventeen warriors on the headwaters of the Des
Moines in Murray County, Minnesota, in 1849. Prior to 1850 they had
broken up, plundered, and driven away two parties of United States
surveyors. The cabins of numerous settlers in the upper Des Moines
country had also been wantonly destroyed and they had been driven from
the country--in face of the fact that it was well known what band was
at work and where its usual rendezvous was located.[126] Settlers
along the Boyer River had also suffered outrages at its hands as late
as 1852. Major William Williams stated it as his opinion that a
general attack upon the frontier was planned to occur about 1855; but
the plans failed for some unknown reason. Inkpaduta seems to have been
much displeased thereat and attempted to take upon himself the
execution of the original plan.[127]
The unusually strenuous life which had been led by the band was having
a telling effect upon its membership: by 1852 there were evidences of
a near dispersion. It seems that even to a criminal Indian compulsory
exile from his race was distasteful, and one by one the followers of
Inkpaduta were slipping away. To stimulate an interest in his band,
Inkpaduta appears to have settled upon a plan of making concerted
attacks upon the northwestern frontier of settlements; and he was
successful in creating in the minds of some the belief that he had
general control of no less than five or six hundred warriors operating
along the frontier in isolated bands of fifteen or twenty Indians
each. It is now positively known that such was not the case and that
at the time of its greatest prosperity the Inkpaduta band did not
number more than fifty or sixty souls. By the autumn of 1856 the group
had become so diminished in numbers that it was upon the eve of
dispersion.
This rapid disintegration of the band could be accounted for by the
character of its leader. His arrogance was rapidly rendering followers
impossible. Inkpaduta, in 1856, was evidently between fifty and sixty
years of age. He was born, probably in 1800, on the Watonwan River in
Minnesota. For a Wahpekuta Sioux he was large, being probably more
than six feet tall and very strongly built. He was not a person of
pleasing appearance; for, coupled with the immoral character of his
life, smallpox had badly marked him. Indeed, he presented an unusually
repulsive appearance. His features were coarse; his countenance was of
brutal cast; and he was very near-sighted. His near-sightedness became
total blindness in old age, so that at the time of the battle of the
Little Big Horn he was carefully piloted about by his small grandsons
who, managing to save him from the general slaughter, succeeded in
having him safely carried into Canada in the party of Sitting
Bull.[128]
Although his band as a whole was of bad repute, Inkpaduta stood out
above his followers on account of his hatred for the whites, his
revengeful disposition, and his nearly matchless success in war.[129]
Mrs. Sharp speaks of him as “a savage monster in human shape, fitted
only for the darkest corner in Hades.”[130] “Of all the base
characters among his fellow outlaws, his nature seems to have been the
vilest, and his heart the blackest.”[131] “It was only as a war chief
that he won a place in the admiration of the Indians. In civil life
they would have none of him. Except where bloodshedding was the
business in hand, they knew by sore experience he was not to be
trusted.... It is scarcely probable from all of his conduct that he
was other than he seemed, a terrible monster.”[132]
His unusual disposition was coupled with an ambition to see his people
and tribe restored once again to their wide and extensive hunting
ranges. As he witnessed the frontier expanding westward he saw his
great ambition vanish, and he was irritated beyond control.
Unspeakably immoral himself, he nevertheless hated the vices of the
whites that were slowly taking hold upon the members of his band and
race.
He yearned to be a party to the treaties of the Wahpekutas as a chief
and to share in the annuities which resulted therefrom. The annuities,
with the exception of those of 1854 and 1856, he was permitted to
enjoy. Upon the death of Wamdisapa it appears that Inkpaduta was
definitely dropped from membership in the Wahpekutas; and so he was
not consulted regarding the disposal of the Minnesota and northwestern
Iowa lands. It was thought that he had forfeited his council rights;
but when the first payment was made he was on hand and demanded his
share--which was denied him by the agent. He then turned his attention
to the treaty-making Indians and compelled them to pay him the share
which he claimed in the annuities. Thereafter he appeared annually,
and only twice was he definitely refused. This denial was an affront
extremely hard for him to bear, for it was to him a denial of his
rights in the name and birthright of the Wahpekuta Sioux.[133]
Claiming the Yankton and Santee tribal rights he appears to have
gained an acknowledgment of them by the year 1865.
IX
INKPADUTA SEEKS REVENGE
Burning with hatred for Indians and white men alike, Inkpaduta and his
band left the Fort Ridgely Agency of the Lower Sioux in the autumn of
1856. They appear to have gone westward to the Big Sioux, where they
spent some time in hunting and fishing. Their next and final move,
before entering camp for the winter, was to the Yankton camp near
Spirit Lake, South Dakota. There Inkpaduta planned to spend the winter
of 1856-1857 with his well-tried friends and protectors. Doubtless
during the fearful ordeal of that unusual season when they suffered
from cold and hunger they recalled past wrongs, which they now
credited with causing their present condition, and planned revenge
upon their persecutors.[134]
The question has frequently been raised as to where the Inkpaduta band
of Indians really passed the winter season of 1856-1857. Some writers
have held that they remained at Loon Lake, in Minnesota; while others
have insisted that they camped among the Yanktons in Dakota. The
latter seems the more probable. Indeed, it is highly improbable that
any Indians, after having suffered, as all agree this band had
suffered during the winter in the valleys of the Des Moines and
Little Sioux, would go down the valley of the one, as they are reputed
to have done, and finding no food on the way down, as all taking this
view agree was the case, until they arrived at Smithland, would then
have doubled back upon a trail known to be barren. It is far more
probable that the band wintered in Dakota, and with the approach of
spring returned to their favorite hunting grounds. When they had been
denied food at Smithland, they at once started up the Little Sioux and
hastened to the hunting grounds of presumed plenty. One thing is
certain: at the first breaking of winter they were on the move.[135]
It so happened that in February, 1857, there came a promise of spring,
and with this promise Inkpaduta and his band of Indians left their
winter camp. Verging upon starvation, they hastened on foot or on
horseback toward the white settlements along the Iowa frontier; and it
can truly be said of Inkpaduta that “wherever he appeared, murder and
theft marked his trail”.[136] Reaching the Big Sioux, he and his
followers passed down its course and across its waters to the
beginning of the white settlements upon the Little Sioux in eastern
Woodbury County.
At the time of arrival at these settlements the band was not
large--having, presumably, been sadly depleted by desertion or by the
severity of the winter. Apparently there were only about ten lodges in
all, comprising men, women, and children. So far as known the warriors
in February, 1857, included the following: Inkpaduta, the leader;
Roaring Cloud and Fire Cloud, the twin sons of Inkpaduta; Sacred
Plume; Old Man; Putting on Walking; Rattling, son-in-law of Inkpaduta;
Big Face; His Great Gun; Red Leg; Shifting Wind; and Tahtay-Shkope
Kah-gah, whose name does not appear to be translatable. Nothing
further need be said of the band’s personnel than that they had been
well trained by Inkpaduta for the work in hand.[137]
As the settlements were neared it doubtless seemed to the Indians that
they were approaching a land of plenty, for game which had hitherto
been seen nowhere now began to make an occasional appearance. It must
have seemed to their primitive minds that this region, their land of
plenty, had been usurped by the whites. They were eager for revenge
and prepared to carry arson, murder, and pillage the full length of
Iowa’s western frontier.
It should be borne in mind, as events rapidly follow, that the deeds
of these Indians were not by any means spontaneous or the result of
any single or isolated incident or circumstance. As an explanation of
what occurred in Iowa in the spring of 1857, there has been advanced
the theory that Inkpaduta was merely seeking revenge for the murder of
his brother, Sidominadota. This explanation has been advanced so
frequently that it has been long accepted by most people as an
undoubted fact. In all probability, however, such was not the motive
of the Indians: on the contrary the real cause must be sought in the
innate character of the band that committed the tragic deed. In fact
this unhappy incident in Iowa’s pioneer history was but one of many
justly charged against this particular band of wild Bedouins of the
prairies.
The murder of Sidominadota in all probability did not cause Inkpaduta
much concern. Moreover, it should be said at the outset that Inkpaduta
and Sidominadota were not brothers--as has so often been
claimed--since Inkpaduta was a Lower Sioux, a Wahpekuta; while
Sidominadota was an Upper Sioux, a Sisseton. Hence they could not have
been brothers. It is true that in some phases of Indian relationship
they might have been spoken of as brothers, but the conditions making
such a reference even remotely possible were not present in the case
of these two Indian leaders. Hence the theory of blood revenge can not
be accepted. Furthermore, the term “brother” with the Sioux was not
limited to blood relationship. “The tribe consists of a group of men
calling one another brother, who are husbands to a group of women
calling one another sister.” To call one another brother was a common
practice and carried with it no idea of relationship as ordinarily
interpreted.
Granting that the two were brothers, if Inkpaduta could not have
avenged the death within a year he could not have done so thereafter
according to the practice of blood revenge universally taught and
practiced among the Sioux. In religious practice and ceremonial
observance Inkpaduta was neither a heretic nor an outcast. The Sioux
have never been noted for retentive memories in matters of revenge,
but rather for their laxity.
Inkpaduta was superior to Sidominadota in rank; hence he would not
have succeeded him and could not have taken up blood revenge as his
successor. Moreover, these two men had bitterly disagreed, and
Sidominadota had severed all relation and connection with Inkpaduta or
any of his band and had grown to be one of the bitterest and most
vindictive of enemies. Inkpaduta knew this. It is likely that
Inkpaduta would have rejoiced at the news of his enemy’s death: it is
certain that the murder would not have caused him much if any concern.
“With him it was every man for himself; he never had a sentiment so
noble and dignified as that of revenge, and would not turn on his heel
to retaliate for the slaughter of his nearest friend.”[138]
Again, according to Siouan practice each band is absolutely separate:
one band must not concern itself with the affairs of another. War
would inevitably have followed such conduct. Although Inkpaduta was
lawless in many respects, no instance in which he broke over the
strict letter of this custom has come to light.
Finally, the bands were so widely separated and so busily engaged in
dodging each other that “it is doubtful whether Inkpadoota ever heard
the particulars of All Over Red’s murder; it is certain that he would
not have been concerned if he had.”
Thus it seems evident that Inkpaduta could not have been on a mission
of blood revenge: it seems more probable that his own character and
that of the members of his group, coupled with an overemphasized
conviction of wrongs suffered in years past, allied with the intense
suffering of the moment, had produced an outburst of savage frenzy
culminating in murder. This would seem to be more in keeping with the
known character of the Indian and in line with his known conduct. The
idea of blood revenge has made a strong appeal since it was advanced
as an explanation by Major William Williams, but it can not be made to
rest upon a foundation of known and recognized facts in connection
with the Spirit Lake Massacre.[139]
X
THE SMITHLAND INCIDENT
The approach of Inkpaduta and his band to the white settlements was
unobserved--due probably to the fact that the severity of the winter
had driven into the settlement all the traders and trappers who were
commonly the purveyors of such news along the frontier. Although the
Indians appeared at Smithland on the Little Sioux in southeastern
Woodbury County unannounced, no alarm was felt since they had been
there before and seemed quite friendly. Even now they bore, outwardly
at least, every indication of friendship for the whites. Quietly and
inoffensively they begged from the settlers who, pitying their evident
starving condition, gave as liberally as they could to satisfy their
needs rather than their demands.[140]
It seems that the Indians had been at the settlement but a brief time
when they discovered that the whites had not been able to complete the
harvesting of the past season’s corn crop on account of the coming of
the early and deep snows. Much of the corn had been buried, where the
settlers had been content to leave it for husking in early spring.
Upon making this discovery the Indians with a will set about
gathering corn from the fields. Very naturally the settlers objected
and demanded that the Indians desist, which they did after some
jangling and expressions of ill feeling. They did not, however, cease
their demands for food.
The settlers now assumed a plainly unfriendly attitude toward the
Indians, which in turn gave impetus to a change in the temper and
attitude of the Indians toward the whites. They soon became sullen and
insolent, with a manifest tendency to commit a variety of malicious
acts--probably for the purpose of trying the temper of the settlers.
Only acts of a trivial character, however, were actually committed;
and so the wiser heads in Smithland were successful in warding off for
some time any serious trouble.
Several days after the arrival of the Indians a large drove of elk
appeared in the timber on the river bottom. This meant plenty to the
nearly famished Indians, and they at once began preparations for the
hunt in which all were to participate. When the hunt had gotten well
under way an Indian was attacked by a settler’s dog which apparently
had become over zealous in the chase. The Indian retaliated by killing
the dog. Then the owner of the dog sought to even matters by
administering a rather severe beating to the Indian, at the same time
forcibly disarming him. To a young Indian brave such treatment was an
insult calling for retaliation. When the other settlers learned of
this reckless action on the part of one of their number they grew
alarmed, for they knew Indian character well enough to conclude that
the incident was not a closed one by any means.
Meanwhile the petty pilfering and thieving by the Indians continued.
Especially annoying were the squaws who, constantly haunting the
cabins and other buildings of the settlement, would sometimes carry
away grain and hay. Occasionally a settler catching a squaw in the act
would give her a whipping--which only increased the tension of the
situation. Finally, a settlers’ council was called, the result of
which was an effort to disarm the Indians as an assurance of safety.
Failing to realize the full purport of what was being done, the
Indians offered little opposition. The guns were hidden, and for a
while the settlers breathed easily. But in their alarm, they had
really taken a very unwise course. They probably thought that the
Indians would soon come forward and offer some reasonable and peaceful
settlement of any wrongs that had been committed. In this, however,
the settlers exhibited little appreciation of the character of the
Sioux Indian.[141]
Not a little enraged, the Indians committed other depredations upon
the settlers; and it was not long before the settlers awoke to a
realization of the mistake they had made. But they soon committed a
worse blunder in seeking to correct the first. A militia company of
twenty-one men was organized among the men of Smithland and vicinity
under the leadership of Seth Smith, the founder of the settlement.
Captain Smith was selected as leader of the organization not for his
known military ability, but because he owned a “magnificent suit of
regimentals, with its quivering epaulettes, gaily bedecked cocked hat
and flashing sword.” Surely these would strike terror to the souls of
the Indians.
The party was quickly and quietly prepared for a demonstration of
military power, after which they marched to the Indian camp and there
paraded before the Indians. When the demonstration was ended, Captain
Smith demanded of the Indians that they leave at once. This seemed
impossible to the Indians, who are said to have replied that the
weather was so cold and the snows so deep up north that nothing to eat
could be secured by them in that direction. They added, however, that
they would like to go on down the river to the camps of the Omahas and
treat with them. This the whites did not seem to think would be
advisable: they evidently thought that the Indians would visit them
again upon their return to the north. When denied the privilege of
passing on to the Omahas the Indians flatly refused to leave at
all--an action that may have been due in part to the fact that not all
of the Indians were then in the camp.[142]
The settlers, finding themselves sufficiently strong after this
demonstration of military preparedness, began a series of annoying
acts directed toward the Indians, who seemed to submit stoically to
these impositions. Finally, one morning the settlers were not a
little gratified to discover that the Indians had gone. But the joy
was only temporary; for the Indians later reappeared with
guns--possibly the very ones that had been taken from them by the
settlers. How they secured these arms was not known; but it was
evident that the reclamation of their property had a marked effect
upon their conduct. They now became defiant and openly committed theft
to satisfy their wants; for they knew that they were now better
prepared for resistance than were the whites.
It was shortly before this time that General Harney had conducted his
march through the Indian country in Kansas and Nebraska, thence
westward into Wyoming, and back northeastward to or near Fort Pierre
in Dakota. Every Sioux knew of him and held him in a sort of
superstitious awe or dread. They thought of him as one guided and
guarded by the Almighty in his work as an avenger. Aware of the regard
with which the Sioux held Harney, it was proposed by the settlers to
use him as a means of ridding themselves of their Indian guests.
Accordingly a settler donned the soiled uniform of an army officer and
at sunset appeared in the edge of the timber on the bank of the Little
Sioux opposite the Indian camp. His appearance there was called to the
attention of the Indians, along with the suggestion that the stranger
was Harney, in all likelihood, in close pursuit of them. The ruse, it
is said, was effective: that same night the Indians fled up the river
from Smithland. As they fled it became increasingly evident that they
were thirsting for revenge. From suffering indignities themselves they
now turned to the infliction of atrocities upon whomsoever chanced to
cross their path. While the more level-headed settlers at Smithland
regretted the tricks played upon the Indians, all congratulated
themselves upon being rid of their unwelcome guests.[143]
XI
FROM SMITHLAND TO OKOBOJI
After leaving Smithland the next place visited by Inkpaduta and his
band seems to have been Correctionville--a place about twenty miles up
the course of the Little Sioux. Here the Indians appear to have been
friendly at first; but they were not long in the settlement before
their begging and thieving led to opposition from the whites. Indeed,
during the later portion of their stay they used their guise of
friendship only for the purpose of securing an entrance to the cabins
of the settlers, and having been admitted helped themselves to
whatever was most convenient and best suited to their needs, such as
food, guns, and ammunition.
The ugliness of their real character for the first time appeared in
their treatment of a settler by the name of Robert Hammond. It seems
that Hammond resisted their thieving after he had admitted them to his
cabin, with the result that he was badly beaten. This episode appears
to have started the Indians upon their fiendish career. Having left
Hammond helpless in his cabin, they turned, when some distance away,
and literally shot the cabin door off its hinges. This was done,
presumably, as a warning of what was likely to happen if they were
further interfered with. They then left the settlement and continued
their journey northward.
As he proceeded up the course of the Little Sioux, Inkpaduta followed
the policy of sending out scouting and foraging parties into the
surrounding country. At nearly every cabin found by these parties
everything in the line of guns, food, and ammunition was either
carried off or destroyed. Not infrequently the stock of the
settler--hogs, cattle, or horses--was killed and left untouched: the
Indians seemed now to be seeking to destroy rather than to take for
their own use.
The next settlement reached by the band was Pilot Rock in Cherokee
County. While pausing here for a brief time scouts were sent out in
all directions through the surrounding country. Very little transpired
at Pilot Rock other than the taking of food and arms. Here the Indians
found no opposition upon the part of the settlers; and when they had
satisfied themselves they left the community.
Another settlement visited was that of the Milford Colony, which was
located a little north of the present town of Cherokee. Cattle and
hogs were shot, doors torn from their hinges, and furniture ruined.
Bedding was torn into shreds, and feather ticks were ripped open and
the contents scattered upon the prairie. Here the Indians remained for
three days; and while the settlers suffered only from fright and the
destruction of property, they were only too happy to note the red
men’s preparations for leaving.
The Indians had tarried at Milford Colony evidently for rest and
recuperation, finding here more supplies than they had encountered
elsewhere. This was doubtless due to the fact that the settlers,
having but lately come west from Milford, Massachusetts, were well
provided against possible future needs. For three days the Indians
feasted and appeared to deliberate. Upon the evening of the third day
two of the Milford pioneers returned from a business trip to Sac City.
The arrival of Parkhurst and Lebourveau seemed to arouse the Indians’
suspicion. They demanded to be told from whence the settlers had come.
Not having received the desired information they probably concluded
they were being pursued and that night left the settlement. After the
departure of the Indians, the Milford pioneers deserted the colony and
sought refuge at various places--at Ashland, at Onawa, and at
Smithland.
As they came to isolated cabins north of this settlement the Indians
resorted to various modes of terrorizing the pioneers. At the cabin of
Lemuel Parkhurst they amused themselves for an hour or more by
striking their tomahawks into the floor and logs of the cabin, while
flourishing scalping knives about the heads of the affrighted
occupants. Mrs. Parkhurst finally pacified them by preparing a meal
which she set before them. Having consumed this meal, they proffered
the peace pipe, shook hands, and departed.
At the cabin of James A. Brown they seemed to be seeking entertainment
rather than food. After compelling Brown to mount a hay stack, two
Indians climbed up--one armed with a rifle, the other with a
pitchfork. They amused themselves by testing the steadiness of Brown’s
nerve. He was alternately lunged at by the possessor of the fork and
levelled at by the holder of the gun. After thus amusing themselves
for ten or fifteen minutes, the Indians allowed him to get down and go
to his cabin. They then went to the stable, killed an ox, and
attempted to steal a horse; but the animal was so vicious that they
finally gave up the attempt and left. These are but incidents
illustrative of the behavior of the Indians as they passed to the
north of Cherokee and up the Little Sioux.[144]
Arriving in the northwestern corner of Buena Vista County, their
conduct became, if possible, still more vicious. Wherever they
appeared they were sullen, as contrasted with their tendency to talk
and seek entertainment at points further down the river. Waste,
violence, and cruelty now characterized their actions. At the home of
a Mr. Weaver they not only wantonly shot all his hogs and cattle, but
also roughly handled him and the members of his family. Satisfied with
this, they moved off to the northwest.
They were next heard of at the home of H. H. Waterman in O’Brien
County. The visit to the Waterman cabin, however, seems to have been
from a scouting detachment rather than from the band as a whole. In
Waterman’s own words “Seven big strapping Sioux bucks stopped at my
house; they were so tall I had to look up at them”. They told him of
the Smithland affair. Although they seemed much excited, Waterman paid
little attention to their story for he recognized them as the same
Indians that had called upon him more than once before. He did,
however, become alarmed when they began stealing his property--to
which he finally objected. But they took everything they could lay
hands on; and ended by beating Waterman in the back and stringing him
up by the thumbs. Apparently satisfied, they committed no further
mischief, but departed in the direction from which they had come.[145]
After the episode at the Waterman cabin the band concentrated at the
site of the present town of Peterson in southwestern Clay County,
where they found white settlers--at which they were apparently much
surprised. Peterson was only a short distance away from the cabins of
Weaver in Buena Vista County and Waterman in O’Brien. Here it would
seem they began in earnest the campaign of terror which was to end in
massacre at the lakes and in the attack upon Springfield. They were no
longer satisfied with thieving and pillaging; but the torturing of
people and the taking of human life now seemed to be the pronounced
bent and purpose of their raid. The mere presence of white people
seemed to infuriate them to frenzied acts, and the wonder is that the
general massacre of the settlers did not begin at Peterson rather than
at Okoboji.
As already noted there were at Peterson by February, 1857, the
families of James Bicknell, Jacob Kirchner, and Ambrose S. Mead.
Although the news of Indian depredations had reached these families
before the coming of the Indians themselves, conditions were such that
no steps could be taken to offer resistance. The Bicknell cabin,
being located the furthest to the south and west, was reached first.
This probability had been anticipated, for by the time the Indians
arrived the inmates had fled to the shelter of the Kirchner home
across the river. At the Bicknell home everything was either taken or
destroyed. Early on the following morning the Indians crossed the
river and appeared at the Kirchner home, where were huddled closely
together for mutual protection the families of Bicknell and Jacob
Kirchner. Here the Indians repeated their atrocities, leaving only the
cabin and the lives of the settlers.
Although the Meads have been spoken of as a part of the Peterson
settlement, they were not properly so since they were located some
little distance up the course of the stream and were nearer the open
prairie. It seems that they had not been warned of the coming of the
Indians. Mr. Mead was absent at Cedar Falls; but before going he had
arranged with a family by the name of Taylor to jointly occupy the
Mead cabin with Mrs. Mead and the children. When the Indians appeared
Mr. E. Taylor resisted their meddling in matters about the cabin. This
enraged them and they threatened to kill him unless he desisted from
objecting to their pillaging. Fearing that they might carry out the
threat, Taylor managed to elude the watchfulness of the Indians and
started south with a view to procuring help. Mrs. Mead meanwhile had
been knocked down and otherwise abused for resisting.
The whole affair at the Mead cabin ended by the Indians attempting to
carry off the women and children as prisoners. They succeeded in
carrying away Hattie, the eldest of the Mead children, but when they
attempted to take Emma Mead, who was about ten years of age, she
resisted so strongly that they contented themselves with beating her
all the way back to her cabin home and then letting her go. The Taylor
child was kicked into the fireplace where he was fearfully burned;
while his mother and Mrs. Mead were carried away to camp. On the
following morning the prisoners were allowed to return to their home.
The Indians evidently feared pursuit or did not care to be burdened
with prisoners at this time.[146]
Mr. Taylor made good his escape and started across the country to the
Sac City settlement for aid. After some privation, he was successful
in reaching the settlement. A relief party consisting of a company of
men under Enoch Ross as captain made the march up the Raccoon River to
Storm Lake and across country to the Mead home on the Little Sioux. Of
course the Indians were gone by this time, but the company started up
the river in pursuit. It is written by someone that a member of the
party when out on a reconnaissance, discovered the Indians, and at
once hurried back to report his discovery. Upon reaching the main
party he found an active quarrel going on among the members; and when
he reported his news the company at once disbanded and hurried home.
Other accounts have related that the Indians were pursued to within a
few miles of Spencer, when the company was stopped by a terrific
blizzard and compelled to turn back without having accomplished its
purpose of punishing the Indians.[147]
While the Sac County relief party was forming and on its way across
the country, the Indians had moved up the river to the little group of
cabins where Sioux Rapids now stands. No damage was done at this
settlement, the band seeming to be content with asking and receiving.
Before the relief party arrived, the Indians had reached Gillett’s
Grove where again they seemed disposed to create trouble.
In the summer and fall of 1856 the Gillett brothers had settled in
what was perhaps the finest body of timber along the whole course of
the Little Sioux. Through this grove, dividing it nearly equally,
flows the Little Sioux. Each of the two brothers had built a cabin
upon his claim, one on either bank of the stream. In preparing for the
winter they thought in the main only of their need of food and
shelter: they troubled themselves little concerning an Indian
visitation, reasoning that such an event was quite unlikely as Indians
had not been seen since their arrival. Moreover, fishing in that
region was poor and game was extremely scarce.
Great therefore was the surprise of the Gillett brothers when in the
late winter they learned of the arrival of an Indian party. Although
the cabins were well placed for purposes of shelter, the Indians
readily located them and at once paid them a visit. The red men were
well received and their wants attended to by the settlers. Seeming
well pleased they left with protestations of friendship. A few days
later a second and different group appeared, led by the same Indian
as the first. As the days passed this red man’s visits became
unpleasantly frequent, but thus far no offensive attitude had been
assumed by the Indians. When, however, he began paying unwelcome
attentions to Mrs. Gillett it was decided to put an end to his coming.
One day, after the Indian had been peculiarly annoying, Gillett
followed him and at some distance from the cabin shot him. The next
morning the brothers visited the spot where the Indian had fallen, and
finding the body beheaded it. Having committed this outrage they
became frightened and decided upon flight to save themselves from
Indian vengeance. Accordingly, they hastily packed a few belongings
and started across the country toward Fort Dodge. It was later learned
that when the Indians discovered the body of the murdered man they
destroyed as much of the Gillett property as they could lay hands
upon. The influence of this murder in provoking the terrible deeds
committed by the Indians a few days later when they reached the lakes
can not be definitely determined.[148]
When the Gilletts fled from their homes they knew not whence they were
going except that they were seeking to escape from Indian retribution.
They finally decided to make an attempt to reach Fort Dodge, although
they realized that this would be an exceedingly difficult task since
they knew only in a general way the direction in which that station
lay. In their wanderings they finally reached the little settlement at
Sioux Rapids, where after some counselling it was decided to send
couriers to Fort Dodge for relief. Abner Bell, E. Weaver, and one of
the Wilcox brothers were chosen to make the journey.
It was near the first of March when the men from Sioux Rapids reached
Fort Dodge with the intelligence of the Indian depredations along the
Little Sioux. At first their story was not believed; but as other
reports of Indian depredations in this region continued to come in the
people of Fort Dodge came to the conclusion that there must be some
truth in what they had been told by the men from Sioux Rapids. Then
they became alarmed as they saw evidence of some great plan of Indian
revenge against the whole of the exposed frontier. Later the story of
Bell and his fellow couriers was confirmed by reports from the
Gilletts themselves, from Christian Kirchner, and from Ambrose S.
Mead.
An attempt was made to organize a relief party at Fort Dodge, but the
effort was soon abandoned by its promoters. The distance was greater
than seventy miles, the snow was deep, the cold intense, and the
treeless prairies were being constantly visited by terrific storms,
all of which combined to make the success of such an expedition seem
like the last thing that could be expected. Doubt was strong that such
a party would ever be able to reach its destination or offer succor to
the settlers on the frontier even though it should be fortunate enough
to reach them. It was finally decided that any attempt at relief would
probably end in a needless sacrifice of human lives. In the light of
future events it may be said that this decision was indeed a wise
one.[149]
XII
THE FIRST DAY OF THE MASSACRE
Nothing is known of the Inkpaduta band from the time of the episode at
Gillett’s Grove until its appearance at the lakes on the evening of
Saturday, March 7, 1857. From events that followed, it is inferred
that they were in a fiendish temper at the time of their arrival and
that this temper developed in intensity during their stay upon the
Okoboji shores. The Indians celebrated their arrival by holding a war
dance. Mrs. Sharp refers to this ceremony as a scalp dance; but such
it could not have been, since with the Sioux as with other Indians
such a dance is held only when scalps have been taken. It is known
positively that none had been taken up to the time of their arrival at
the lakes.
What must have been the feelings of the settlers when the Indians,
arriving near sundown, began the celebration of the war dance of the
Sioux! As the hideous painted forms of the red men in a half squat
position, in short, quick jumps kept time to the weird accompaniment
of the dance, lifting both feet from the ground at once, the settlers
must have felt that something unusual was brewing. And when the
cadence of the dance was momentarily stopped and the sharp cutting
notes of the war whoop rent the frosty air one can scarcely imagine
that they could have remained wholly ignorant of its purpose. And yet
it is said that the settlers slept that night as they had slept before
the appearance of the band; and on the ensuing morning they went
quietly and calmly about the duties of their homes wondering, perhaps,
when the Indians would leave.[150]
The people at the lakes had received no inkling of the events that had
been transpiring to the south, for they were isolated from all other
white settlements. They had come to this region so late and under such
circumstances that none of the settlers to the south knew they were
there. Then, too, the character of the season and the difficulties of
transportation were such that no one would think of making a journey
in that direction. To the people who had settled along the Little
Sioux relief lay in the direction from which they had come--which was
also the direction of their source of supplies. Thus it happened that
no warning of impending danger from Indian attacks was given to these
advanced settlements. Having no information concerning the conduct of
red men in the valley to the south, the settlers at the lakes did not
anticipate any unfriendly acts upon the part of the Indians who were
now in their midst.
The Indians selected as a site for their camp a spot directly across
the trail which led from the Gardner cabin to the Mattock cabin and
from thence became the highway of communication between all of the
cabins of the settlement. Thus its location was strategic in an
attack upon the settlers. For purposes of conducting their war dance
it was necessary that the tepees should be so pitched as to surround a
hollow square. It was directly across this square that the trail ran.
Thus the Gardners were cut off from the remainder of the settlement.
That there was design in so placing the camp can not positively be
asserted; but its location did have the effect of isolating the
Gardners.
The day before the arrival of the Indians, Luce and his three
companions had come in from Shippey’s, where Thatcher and Burtch had
been left with the exhausted oxen. The evening of their arrival had
witnessed a slight moderation in the temperature which was still felt
on the morning of the seventh. Everyone had begun to feel that
possibly spring might not be far distant.
During the absence of Luce and Thatcher it had been decided by the
people of the settlement that Gardner should undertake a trip to Fort
Dodge upon their return. Wants had arisen during their absence which
it was believed could be satisfied by going to Fort Dodge as the
nearest outpost for supplies. It was also deemed desirable to make the
trip before the breaking of winter should render the roads impassable.
Thus, when Luce and Thatcher returned with the news that relief was
near, Gardner at once began preparations to start upon his trip two
days later or on the morning of Sunday, March eighth. The purpose of
the trip was not only to secure food, but also to purchase implements
which would be needed in the spring’s agricultural activities.[151]
The morning of March eighth dawned cold but clear and bright,
forecasting for Gardner the likelihood of a pleasant first day’s
journey. Having learned from the accounts of Luce something of the
condition of the prairie, Gardner arose early in order that as much as
possible of his journey might be accomplished during the first day.
Not only did Gardner himself arise early, but every member of his
family did likewise in order that each might contribute something
toward speeding him upon his journey.
Breakfast having been prepared and placed upon the table by Mrs.
Gardner and her daughter Mrs. Luce, the members of the family were
gathering about the table when the latch of the door was lifted and a
tall Indian stepped within the cabin with protestations of hunger and
friendship. Mrs. Gardner at once prepared an additional place at the
table which the Indian was invited to occupy. The Indian accepted this
hospitality and seated himself with the family; and all were soon
engaged in partaking of the morning’s meal.
It soon developed that this Indian visitor was but a forerunner of
more who were to follow. Before the meal had been finished the door
was again opened and fourteen Indian warriors, besides women and
children, crowded into the cabin. All demanded food, the while
protesting friendship as the first comer had done. The Gardners at
once set about the satisfaction of this demand as far as possible from
their limited store. At first the Indians seemed concerned solely with
the gratification of their appetites. But when their hunger had been
appeased a member of the party suddenly became insolent. Then others
in a sullen overbearing manner demanded various things other than
food.
The Indian who had been the first to enter the cabin now demanded that
he be given ammunition. Another demanded gun-caps; and yet another
asked for powder. Mr. Gardner, willing to appease the Indians if
possible and rid himself and family of the intruders, secured his box
of gun-caps and prepared to distribute them to all. This did not prove
to be satisfactory to one of the number who snatched the box from his
hand, appropriating all the caps for himself. Upon the wall hung the
powder-horn which another buck attempted to secure, but was prevented
from doing so by Mr. Luce who at this moment interfered. This
interference angered the Indian who drew up and leveled his gun as if
intending to shoot. But Luce was too alert for the Indian and struck
the weapon from his hand. The Indians did not seem inclined to carry
matters further and withdrew from the cabin--but in a very bad frame
of mind.[152]
As they were slowly and sullenly withdrawing from the Gardner cabin,
Bertell E. Snyder and Dr. Harriott, from the cabin across the strait,
appeared with letters which they wished to send with Gardner to Fort
Dodge. They had been unaware of the presence of the Indian camp until
they had come to it that morning. Gardner expressed his fears of
future trouble to these men who only ridiculed the thought, refusing
to believe that there was any possibility of danger. Nevertheless,
Gardner advised that a warning be sent to the settlers urging them to
concentrate at the Gardner cabin should trouble arise. To Harriott and
Snyder this did not seem necessary: they left for home, protesting
that there was no occasion for uneasiness. Gardner, however, told them
that under the conditions then developing he did not plan to go to
Fort Dodge.
In the meantime the Indians had not returned to their camp, but were
seen to be prowling about in the vicinity of the Gardner cabin. On
their way home Harriott and Snyder met and did some trading with a
group of the red men by whom they had been intercepted. So sure were
the two men that the Indians were friendly that they did not consider
the fact of their presence worth mentioning as they passed the Mattock
cabin. As a further indication of their confidence in the friendly
character of the red men, it is noted that in a letter written by Dr.
Harriott, presumably after his return from the Gardner cabin, he
states that Indians had camped near by but they were very friendly and
had occasioned no uneasiness among the settlers.
At the same time the fears of the Gardners were increased by the sight
of Indians in the near-by timber and by occasional calls at the cabin
where new demands were made, many of which could not be met. Although
the Indians seemed to maintain a certain gravity of demeanor and
apparently were only seeking to gratify their physical wants, Gardner
remained firm in his conviction that trouble was brewing and that the
remaining settlers should be warned of the impending danger. After
much counselling it was decided that Luce and Clark should go at once
by a roundabout path along the lake shore to warn the other settlers
and to advise that they gather in the Mattock cabin as the one best
adapted for defense.
Luce and Clark set out upon their mission about two o’clock in the
afternoon. They were to make their way first of all to the Mattock
cabin, since it was nearer the Indian camp. Plans decided upon by
Gardner, Luce, and Clark were also to be told to the Mattock people so
that they might have ample opportunity to prepare for the proposed
concentration of the settlers. After this they were to go as far and
as rapidly as possible on their work of warning the settlers on the
east lake before nightfall would of necessity end their mission.[153]
The fears of the people at the Gardner cabin had been considerably
increased by the attitude of the Indians when they took their leave
shortly after noon. During the whole of the forenoon they had done no
damage to property, and their only overt act had been their behavior
within the cabin in the early morning. But they seem now to have
suffered a change of mind, for as they moved away toward their camp
they drove before them the Gardner-Luce cattle--about six in
number--shooting them as they proceeded. Apparently there was no
motive in doing this--unless, perhaps, it was the fiendish
satisfaction in the taking of life. They did not seem to want the
cattle as food, since they left them untouched.
About mid-afternoon a number of shots were heard in the direction of
the Mattock cabin. As the afternoon wore away there came no evidence
as to the meaning of the firing. The suspense became fearful as all
manner of suggestions were offered in explanation of the shooting.
Gardner reasoned that it could not have concerned Luce and Clark since
they had had plenty of time to be further on their journey than the
cabin of Mattock. Mrs. Luce became frantic, for she had believed from
the first that her husband would never return. If the Indians should
kill any one it would surely be Luce on account of his foiling the
savages in their purpose in the morning; and in this intuition she was
right. Luce and Clark had not gone far on their mission when they were
intercepted and shot by the Indians. This fact, however, did not
develop until weeks later when their dead bodies were found along the
lake shore not a great distance from Luce’s home. Thus no warning of
peril reached the Mattock family.
For two hours time dragged on slowly and fearfully at the Gardner
home: all eyes watched either for Indians or for the return of the
messengers. Neither came. When the sun had sunk to the horizon
Gardner stepped outside to look about. Suddenly he came running back
calling that the Indians were coming. Upon entering the cabin he began
barring the door, determined after the experience of the morning not
to allow the red men to enter. Mrs. Gardner objected that they should
have faith in the good intentions of the Indians and that it was
better for one not to shed the blood of another. Yielding to her
importunities, Gardner desisted from barricading the door. The family
now awaited in terror the second coming of the Indians.
Looking through the windows they observed nine warriors hurrying
toward them from the direction of the camp. With no more formality
than during their morning visit they again entered the cabin. One
glance sufficed to tell the frightened family that the anticipated
trouble was upon them. The first demand of the Indians was for
flour--not only for a part of what the Gardners had but for all. The
scarcity of flour had been one of the reasons for the planned trip to
Fort Dodge; and yet, at the risk of causing his family to suffer
privation, Gardner turned to the flour barrel to gratify the demands
of the Indians. As he turned a buck raised his gun to shoot. It seems
that either Mrs. Gardner or Mrs. Luce made a move to stay the act of
the Indian, but failed. Gardner fell to the floor, the third victim of
the Indian massacre at Okoboji. Having made a beginning, the Indians
no longer restrained the impulses of their savage nature. After the
killing of Gardner their stay at Okoboji became a carnival of murder.
As soon as Gardner fell, the quest for flour was lost sight of and the
Indians turned upon the two women who had attempted to protect the
object of their rage. Mrs. Luce and Mrs. Gardner were seized and held
by several Indians while others beat them into insensibility and death
with the butts of their guns. This was but the work of a moment.
Indeed, so quickly had it been done that Abbie Gardner did not see the
act herself; in her later relations of the affair she relied wholly
upon stories related to her frequently by the Indians in their flight
following the massacre. Without pause Mr. and Mrs. Gardner and Mrs.
Luce were scalped--an act of savagery which the children were
compelled to witness. When the Indians entered the cabin, Abbie was
striving to quiet the younger child of her sister, while the other
Luce child clung to one side of her chair and at the other side
crouched Abbie’s brother, Rowland Gardner, Jr.
Having destroyed the parents, the Indians now turned to the
destruction of the children. Rowland Gardner and the two Luce children
were torn away from Abbie and beaten to death against the posts of the
door and the trunks of trees in the yard. Dropping the dead bodies
upon the ground, the Indians appeared to counsel concerning the
further disposition of the house and its only living inmate. At the
close of their deliberation Abbie was seized by one of the Indians
and, much to her surprise, was not killed but led away in the
direction of the Indian camp. Her last sight of her family showed them
strewn lifeless and bleeding about the doorstep of her home.[154]
Before the Gardner cabin was deserted by the Indians it was completely
ransacked. Chests were broken open and their contents scattered about
the house and yard. All available food stores and clothing were
carried away to the camp. Abbie had abundant opportunity to learn this
when later about their evening camp fires bucks and squaws alike,
arrayed in the clothing of the murdered people, wildly recounted the
incidents of the day. Although she had been carried away from her home
without any provision for clothing against the winter’s cold, she was
not allowed to share in the wearing of the stolen goods. Shivering
from cold and fright, she witnessed the fiendish joy with which the
events of that memorable day were told and retold by the Indians.
As the evening wore on preparations for the scalp dance began. Soon
the rhythmic cadence of the hideous dance song started, and the scalps
of the day, elevated on the ends of long poles, could be seen swaying
back and forth marking time with the movements of the women who bore
them. At every shriek of the dancing women, the captive girl doubtless
thought her time had come. In the darkness, lighted occasionally by
the flaring of a firebrand, the distorted and hideously painted faces
of the savages swinging alternately backward and forward in the dance
must have seemed to the prisoner a veritable dance of demons. The
dance lasted far into the night, with no sleep for the child who was
momentarily expecting to fall a victim of savage fury. Toward morning
the dance ended and the savages sought a brief respite in sleep to
strengthen them for the work of the succeeding day. At the breaking of
the early dawn the Indians were again astir, making preparations for a
continuation of their bloody work.[155]
While the inmates of the Gardner cabin were being massacred similar
events were transpiring at the home of the Mattocks. What actually
happened at this cabin is not known, since no living witnesses, other
than red men, survived to tell the tale. From the position of the
bodies when found, it is inferred that the Mattocks must have sensed
the situation; but thinking that their own home was lacking in
security had started for the cabin of Harriott, Snyder, and Granger
across the strait. Mrs. Sharp states that when the Indians brought her
to their camp, which had been moved during the day and pitched near
the Mattock home, the cabin was in flames and shrieks of human beings
were issuing from it.[156] But this could hardly have been true unless
there were persons staying at the Mattock cabin unknown to others in
the settlement, since all the people were later accounted for in the
bodies found.
Snyder, Harriott, and Harshman apparently discovered what was
happening across the strait, and with rifles in hand came to the
rescue. This is inferred from the fact that their bodies were found in
company with those of the Mattocks. Resistance had evidently been made
by the men: it is not unlikely that they were attempting to cover the
retreat of Mrs. Mattock and her children, since they were in advance,
while Mattock, Snyder, Madison, Harshman, and Harriott were in the
rear with the gun in each case lying by the side of the dead owner.
Harriott’s gun had its stock broken as if it had been used for a club
after other means of defense had been exhausted. Further evidence that
resistance was offered to the Indians is to be found in the fact that
one young Indian was badly injured, possibly by Dr. Harriott. No one,
however, was spared in the attack by the Indians at that point: the
dead bodies of eleven persons were found on the path between the two
cabins. These were later identified as Mr. and Mrs. Mattock, their
five children, Dr. Harriott, Bertell Snyder, Robert Madison, and
Joseph Harshman.[157] To make the destruction more complete, fire was
set to the Mattock cabin which was soon in ruins.
It is said that, leaving the Gardner cabin shortly after noon, the
Indians had gone to Mattock’s cabin where they wished to get some hay
with which to feed their ponies. While they were in the act of taking
the hay objection was raised. A parley over the matter seems to have
been carried on for some time before the Indians arrived at the
killing point. Mattock sent to the Red Wing cabin for help, and
Harriott, Snyder, and Harshman responded. Meanwhile the Indians
appeared to withdraw, and it was probably decided by Mattock, as a
measure of added safety, to take the members of his family to the Red
Wing cabin. They were in the act of doing so, Mrs. Mattock and the
children ahead and the men in the rear guarding the retreat, when they
were fired upon by the Indians from ambush. All were killed outright
except Harriott, who resisted and before being disposed of had badly
wounded at least one Indian.[158] In their relation of the event the
Indians spoke of all having left the cabin before it was destroyed by
fire.
Across the strait at the Red Wing or Granger cabin, Carl Granger, who
for some reason remained at his cabin when the others crossed to the
Mattock home, was brutally slain and scalped. The Indians killed him
by splitting his head open with an ax which had evidently been taken
from the wood pile near by.[159]
Thus the close of the first day of the massacre witnessed a toll of
twenty lives. Three groups of settlers had been wholly wiped out--with
the exception of one child who was carried away into captivity.
XIII
THE SECOND DAY OF THE MASSACRE
Although the scalp dance had continued far into the small hours of the
previous night, the Indians were astir early on the morning of the
ninth of March. They were determined upon completing the fiendish work
which they had so well begun on the previous day. No council was held
so far as the only white inmate of their tepees could discern. At the
same time every Indian seemed to know where to go and what was to be
done. There was no confusion of plans or hitch in their execution at
any point.
It was on the morning of March ninth that a portion of the Inkpaduta
band started for the Howe and Thatcher cabins which were nearly three
miles from the Indian encampment. As already noted, the settlers about
the lakes had established a sort of mutual exchange system among
themselves for the purpose of husbanding their food supplies during
the absence of Luce and Thatcher on the expedition to Waterloo and
other points in eastern Iowa. This morning Mrs. Howe discovered that
the supply of meal was so nearly exhausted that it would be necessary
to procure an additional supply from one of the neighbors. Thus it was
that on this Monday morning Howe started on what proved to be a
fateful trip to the home of either Gardner or Mattock. With his sack
thrown over his shoulder he took the path along the south shore of the
east lake. He was wholly ignorant of the recent arrival of the
Indians.
As Howe walked briskly along he may have been revolving in his mind
possible plans for his work in the coming season; or he may have been
speculating as to when his neighbor Thatcher would return from the
trip back east. Possibly he was cherishing the hope that the
privations of the winter might have ample compensation in an abundant
harvest. Whatever his thoughts may have been as he walked along the
lake, they were soon brought to an end by the Indians, who in all
probability quickly disposed of their victim. The details of the
murder are not known; but the badly mutilated body was later found and
given burial by the Fort Dodge relief party.
After murdering Howe the Indians stealthily hastened on to his cabin.
Here the wife and children were as unprepared for the Indians as was
the husband and father. Mrs. Howe was no doubt busy in the performance
of her Monday morning duties. Engrossed with these activities she, in
all likelihood, did not discover the approach of the red men until
they were upon her. After killing Mrs. Howe the Indians proceeded to
dispatch the remaining members of the family--a grown son and
daughter, and three younger children. It seemed obvious to the
members of the relief party, from the conditions which they found at
the Howe cabin, that there had been no resistance offered to the
Indians. No scalping was done here or at any other place after the red
men had left the Mattock cabin. Nor did the savages stop to plunder or
destroy after taking the lives of this family, but hurried on to the
next stage in their work--which consisted of dealing death to the
members of the Noble and Thatcher families.
Arriving at the cabin of Noble and Thatcher the Indians secured
admission by professing friendship. Here they made demands which could
not be granted; and then, as at the Gardner home, they resorted to
insult. Their insolence was resisted by Noble and one Ryan--a
son-in-law of Howe who had but lately come from Hampton and was
staying with the Nobles. This was evidently what the Indians desired,
for without further provocation they shot both Ryan and Noble. The
former was killed instantly; but Noble was able to walk to the door,
where he fell dead after exclaiming “Oh, I am killed!” The two
children were then torn from their mothers and dragged by the feet out
of the house where they were dashed to death against the oak trees of
the door yard. This seems to have satisfied the Indians’ desire for
human blood, for they desisted from killing Mrs. Noble and Mrs.
Thatcher. For some time the Indians busied themselves in destroying
hogs and cattle and in chasing the poultry. Finally, they returned to
the cabin where they ransacked its contents, destroying what they did
not happen to want. In the end Mrs. Noble and Mrs. Thatcher were
seized and led away as prisoners.
Obviously the horrible work at the Howe cabin had not been completed
to the satisfaction of the Indians, since upon their return trip they
stopped and resumed the destruction of what life was still in
evidence. Here a fearful sight met the eyes of the two captive women.
Scattered about the door yard they saw the mutilated bodies of the
members of the Howe family; while Mrs. Noble found the dead body of
her mother under a bed where she had evidently crawled for the purpose
of shielding herself from further attacks after she had been terribly
beaten with a flatiron. In the yard Mrs. Noble found her thirteen year
old brother Jacob, sitting propped up against a tree. He had been
horribly beaten and evidently left for dead; but having managed to
crawl to a tree he had raised himself to a sitting posture. Although
conscious, he was unable to speak. Mrs. Noble urged him to make his
way into the house and conceal himself in the clothing of a bed and
there await rescue. The boy made the effort, but was discovered by the
Indians and killed.[160]
Having completed their destructive work at the Howe cabin, the Indians
hastened to their own camp. When Mrs. Noble and Mrs. Thatcher were
brought into the camp, Abbie Gardner was permitted to visit them in
the tepee set aside for the latest captives. For about an hour the
three captives were permitted to talk over their experiences, after
which they were separated. Thenceforth each captive was required to
remain in a tepee wholly separated and isolated from the others.
The captives were now subjected to training through which the Indians
evidently hoped to re-make them into real pale-faced squaws. From the
beginning they were required to paint their faces and dress their hair
as Indians. They were frequently subjected to torturing ordeals which
seemed to have no purpose other than that of noting what the reaction
would be. At times they were, as far as the captives could discern,
made ready for death so that the red men might see how they would
behave under such trying conditions. Guns and revolvers would be
loaded and with drawn triggers pointed at them as with intent to
shoot, but no shooting occurred. These feints at shooting furnished
the Indians a great deal of what appeared to be real amusement. For
days they would recite again and again the details of the massacre at
the lakes. But this treatment was only a foretaste of what was in
store for the captives. For weeks, until they were released by death
or ransom, they were to be subjected to nearly every annoyance that
the ingenuity of the Indians might invent.[161]
XIV
FROM OKOBOJI TO HERON LAKE
Following the massacre little was done by the Indians except to search
the vicinity of the lakes for the homes of other settlers. And so for
a brief time scouting parties were at work; but obviously no other
cabins were found, since the parties returned empty-handed. On the
morning of Tuesday, March tenth, the camp was broken, West Okoboji was
crossed on the ice, and after a move of three miles to the northwest,
camp was again pitched in what was known as the Madison Grove. The
Indians seemed inclined to move very deliberately. This may be
accounted for by the fact that they knew they were not pursued. At the
Madison Grove they remained but one night, and at early dawn of the
eleventh they moved north to a grove beyond the cabin of William
Marble on the southwest shore of Spirit Lake.
From Gillett’s Grove the journey for the Indians had become easier
inasmuch as they had procured horses and sleds. These must have been
obtained by scouting parties while the main body was encamped at Lost
Island Lake. Since the Indians had not learned how to hitch the horses
to the sleds Abbie Gardner, Mrs. Noble, and Mrs. Thatcher now
undertook the task of teaching them how to handle horses and sleds
with the thought that travelling might be made easier. In this they
were mistaken; for no sooner had the red men learned their lessons
than the bucks took to riding while the squaws and captives were
required to walk and carry the heavy packs for the whole party. The
horses and sleds were for pleasure and not for the transportation of
freight and workers.
So deliberate were the movements of the band that although the camp
was broken up early in the morning of Wednesday, the eleventh, it was
not pitched at the new place, which was only a few miles to the north
of Marble’s cabin, until late in the afternoon of the same day. As the
Indians proceeded they made numerous side trips, partly for scouting
purposes and partly for the pursuit of game. Frequently the squaws and
captives found it necessary to pause in their march in order that the
bucks might make these side excursions. Under more favorable
conditions this would have been most welcome as a relief from fatigue,
but now each stop was anticipated as a period of intense suffering
from cold and exposure.
As the sun approached the western horizon the Indians began to exert
themselves in quest of a suitable camping place for the night. After
no little inspection of their surroundings, they decided to camp north
of the Marble grove. In reaching this spot they had so circled the
Marble cabin that they were not seen by the Marbles; nor had the
captives seen the cabin of their white neighbors. Although the
captives could discern that a council was held that evening, they had
no means of ascertaining its purpose.
Thursday, March twelfth, was a day of inactivity in the camp: the
Indians spent the time in gorging themselves upon what food remained
from their raids upon the larders and barnyards of the unfortunate
white settlers. Nor is the statement fully substantiated that on
Thursday a friendly Indian visited the Marbles and informed them that
the settlers to the south had all been killed a day or two previously.
Even though the suspicion of the Marbles had possibly been aroused,
the depth of the snow would have made it difficult if not impossible
for them to get out and attempt a verification of the Indian’s
statement. Moreover, it does not appear that the Marbles took
precautions against possible surprise.[162]
Upon the morning of Friday, the thirteenth, the Indians are said to
have arisen early and with great care removed from their faces the
paint which until now had indicated that they were on the warpath and
which would have served as a warning to the Marbles whom they were now
planning to visit.[163] Approaching the cabin they signalled
protestations of friendship. Upon being invited to enter they set
their guns down just without the door. This little procedure attracted
the attention of Mrs. Marble, who had never before seen an Indian
leave his gun outside the cabin. The Marbles had just risen from the
breakfast table when the Indians were seen to emerge from the timber
and approach the house. Having entered the cabin the guests asked for
food--a request which Mrs. Marble at once set about to gratify. While
she was doing so the Indians, noting Marble’s gun, bantered him for a
trade. Marble accepted the banter, and soon a deal was completed for
one of the Indian guns. The outcome of the trade seemed to be a matter
of no little elation for the Indians who hilariously turned to the
food which had been placed before them.
After eating, the Indian with whom the trade had been made proposed
that the relative worth of the guns should be determined by their
actual use and indicated a desire for target practice. Although Mrs.
Marble protested the advisability of such a contest her husband agreed
to the proposal. When a suitable wooden slab had been secured and set
up the practice shooting was begun. All went well, the Indians
appearing to enjoy the sport immensely, until the impact of the shots
caused the target to fall. The Indians indicated to Marble that he
should replace the slab. Laying down his gun, Marble stepped out from
the group. This guileless act on the part of Marble gave the Indians
their opportunity for treachery. When the white men had gone but a
short distance the Indians, as if by preconcerted action, raised their
guns, took aim at Marble, and fired. Marble instantly fell dead.
Meanwhile, Mrs. Marble had been standing at the window watching the
target work. When she saw her husband lay down his gun and start to
replace the mark she divined that treachery would follow. And so she
left the window and started forward to warn her husband when the
volley was fired into his back. Fleeing from the cabin, Mrs. Marble
started for the timber; but she was soon overtaken and dragged back to
the scene of her husband’s death and by signs told that she was to be
held as a captive. Following the shooting the cabin was pillaged and
Marble was stripped of a leather belt containing a thousand dollars in
gold which he had planned to use in improving his claim at the
earliest opportunity.[164]
With Mrs. Marble the Indians quickly returned to camp. Again, as after
the taking of Mrs. Noble and Mrs. Thatcher, the captives, now four in
number, were permitted to meet in the same tepee, while the Indians
busied themselves in the adjustment of other matters. The meeting was
brief and once again the captives were completely isolated from each
other. That evening the events of the day were celebrated by a dance.
The massacre of Marble was the last act in the Indian attacks upon the
white settlements at the lakes. Only four individuals had survived to
tell the story of the frightful deeds committed since the morning of
Sunday, March eighth. Of the four, only two were destined to return to
the homes of friends or relatives and relate their tales of suffering
and Indian cruelties.
When the work of destruction of the settlements along the shores of
East Okoboji, West Okoboji, and Spirit Lake was completed with the
shooting of Marble, the total number of human lives taken reached
thirty-two. The list comprised the following persons: Robert Clark,
Rowland Gardner, Francis M. Gardner, Rowland Gardner, Jr., Carl
Granger, Joseph Harshman, Isaac H. Harriott, Joel Howe, Millie Howe,
Jonathan Howe, Sardis Howe, Alfred Howe, Jacob Howe, Philetus Howe,
Harvey Luce, Mary M. Luce, Albert Luce, Amanda Luce, William Marble,
James H. Mattock, Mary M. Mattock, Alice Mattock, Daniel Mattock,
Agnes Mattock, Jacob M. Mattock, Jackson A. Mattock, Robert Madison,
Alvin Noble, John Noble, Enoch Ryan, Bertell E. Snyder, and Dora
Thatcher.[165]
The tale is told that, before leaving the region of the lakes, the
Indians left a record of their deeds. They are reputed to have
stripped the bark from the trunk of a large tree in the Marble grove
and upon the white surface recorded in black paint a detailed
description of their exploits. The number of cabins they had visited
was shown as six, while the largest, presumably the Mattock cabin, was
represented as in flames. The number of persons whose lives had paid
the forfeit of their visit was also to be seen--each individual being
so drawn as to show the position in which he had been left by his
murderers. An attempt was even made to distinquish white men from red
men--the white people being shown as pierced by arrows. This
pictographic reproduction of the massacre is said to have remained
clearly visible for many years after the massacre and was frequently
visited by interested or curious persons who came to the region.[166]
Upon leaving the Marble grove, Inkpaduta and his band moved leisurely
in a northwestward direction. From the time of their departure from
this point, the lot of the captives grew steadily more difficult to
bear. The snows of winter melted under the influence of the spring sun
on occasional days and caused the prairie trails to become two or
three feet deep in slush, except on the exposed knolls which the winds
had swept free from snow. In such places an opportunity was afforded
the burden bearers to stand on reasonably solid footing. Not
infrequently they would be compelled to flounder through gullies and
ravines ten or twelve feet deep in soft, yielding snow; while an
occasional stream must be waded waist deep in icily cold water. This
made the plight of the unfortunate white women doubly hard.
Mrs. Thatcher, who had not been in good health at the beginning of her
captivity, found the bearing of the burdens imposed upon her and the
long, wearisome marches under such conditions nearly unendurable, but
she sustained her strength with the hope that relief would come in
time. The sublimity of her faith in rescue was of great inspiration to
her companion sufferers who otherwise would soon have lost all hope.
But, despite their faith and hope, the captives daily noted that their
journey was leading them steadily farther away from the bounds of
civilization. No stop longer than over night was made by the Indians
at any point in their march for nearly two weeks, when they arrived at
Heron Lake, Minnesota, about thirty miles northwest of Spirit Lake and
seventeen miles in the same direction from Springfield, Minnesota.
The encampments of the Indians from the time of leaving Spirit Lake
had been of the most temporary character, but upon reaching Heron Lake
preparations were made for a camp of many days duration. After
completing the camp, Inkpaduta’s band at once prepared for a raid upon
the white settlements in the vicinity. The warrior members of the band
bedaubed their faces with paint, while the squaws hastened their
departure by putting the weapons in condition and aiding in various
minor ways. When all preparations had been completed, each warrior
“with rifle in hand and scalping knife in belt” sallied forth to the
taking of more human lives. The squaws and papooses were left at the
camp to guard the captives, and upon the departure of the war party
the women took every possible means of acquainting the captives with
the fact that the expedition was one against the whites. It soon
developed, from the direction taken by the party, that Springfield was
their objective point.[167]
The food which the Indians had taken from the cabins of the massacred
settlers was now nearly exhausted. Hence, upon the departure of the
warriors there was rejoicing among the squaws who saw in the
expedition the possibility of more feasting. But what of the feelings
of the captives? Who can picture the condition of the mind of Abbie
Gardner when she realized that the Indians were bound for Springfield?
There in the home of Dr. Strong was her sister, Eliza, who except for
herself, was the only surviving member of the family that had come
into the West. In all probability Eliza was doomed to the same fate as
Abbie had seen meted out to her father, mother, relatives, and
friends. The possibility was too horrible for contemplation. The
mental anguish of the young girl became almost more than could be
endured; but the hope of some saving miracle working for the life of
her sister sustained her for the days of waiting that were to elapse
before the return of the war party.
XV
NEWS OF THE MASSACRE REACHES SPRINGFIELD AND FORT RIDGELY
Morris Markham, who had followed the Okoboji settlers to the lake
region, spent the winter in trapping along the lakes and in the
marshes of the Upper Des Moines. He had brought with him a yoke of
oxen which, during the early days of the winter, had strayed away and
were thought to be somewhere in the valley of the Des Moines. But they
could not be located; and finally the effort to trace them was
abandoned. No information concerning their whereabouts had been
received until the sixth of March, when Luce brought word that the
oxen were to be found at Big Island Grove in Emmet County. On the
following morning Markham left for Big Island Grove where he
discovered and identified his property. After spending a few hours in
visiting the settlers he started upon the return trip to the cabin of
Noble and Thatcher. Owing to the state of the weather and the
conditions of travel, he did not attempt to bring the oxen back at
this time, but returned alone and on foot.
Owing to his imperfect knowledge of the country and to the darkness
that had settled down before he had come within known territory,
Markham missed the cabin he was seeking and found himself instead at
the Gardner home. As he approached the cabin he was surprised to find
it deserted. No light could be seen nor was any sound to be heard.
Looking more closely he saw the mutilated bodies of the Gardners
scattered about the yard; and upon entering the open door of the cabin
he beheld the badly pillaged condition of the once happy home.
It was nearly eleven o’clock on the Monday night following the attack
upon the Gardners when Markham reached the scene of desolation and
horror. Since he had been walking from early morning and had traveled
more than thirty miles he felt the need of rest and food, and so
without delay set out for the Mattock cabin. He had not gone far when
he was startled by the barking of a dog in the low brush just ahead.
Stopping and peering through the shrubs he saw directly across his
path the camp in which the Indians were then sitting in solemn council
over the events of the day. The barking of the dog for some
unexplainable reason passed wholly unheeded by the Indians who
continued in consultation over their fiendish deeds. Markham slipped
by them and hastened as rapidly as he could across the ice of the east
lake to the place he called home.
Upon his arrival at the Howe cabin the same scene of violence,
confusion, and desolation greeted him. Sickened at the horrible sight,
cold, hungry, and exhausted he pushed on to the home of Noble and
Thatcher, hoping that there all would be well. Instead, he found only
an empty cabin and murdered friends. Afraid to pass the remainder of
the night in a cabin which had been so fearfully visited, he dragged
himself to a near-by timbered ravine where he remained until dawn.
Fearful that if he lay down he would fall asleep and freeze to
death--for the night was bitterly cold--he kept moving through a
limited section of the ravine.[168]
With the coming of daylight Markham set out for the nearest
settlement, which was Granger’s Point on the Des Moines River. With
feet already badly bruised and frozen he journeyed on to spread the
tidings of what he had discovered. Famished and half frozen, he
struggled for eighteen miles through obstacles that would have
deterred all but the most heroic. Completely exhausted from continuous
exposure for thirty-six hours, he finally reached the home of George
Granger, where he related the story of what he had seen.
Two trappers who happened to be staying temporarily at the Granger
home started at once down the Des Moines Valley for Fort Dodge. Upon
arriving at Fort Dodge they told the tale of the terrible massacre at
the lakes, but their story was so confusing and incoherent that they
were not believed. Those who had authority refused to act upon this
recital of events; and thus it came about that the first warning of
trouble along the frontier went unheeded.[169]
Resting for only a brief time at the Granger home, Markham accompanied
by George Granger started north to Springfield to warn that group of
settlers against the Indians who had stricken Okoboji. It had
occurred to them that the red men might also visit the Minnesota
settlement; and they hoped to reach the place before the Indians
appeared and thus prevent a repetition of the affair at the lakes.
At Springfield these bearers of bad tidings had a wholly different
reception than that accorded the men who carried the news to Fort
Dodge. No sooner did the people at this place become aware of the
outbreak than they took measures looking toward protection from a
similar attack. The coming of Markham and Granger was indeed
fortunate, for if the information had not reached them when it did it
is not unlikely that the settlers of Springfield would have met a fate
similar to that of the people at Okoboji.
While some of the settlers fled at once upon receipt of the news,
others remained; and a few gave their lives as the price of refusal to
believe that danger was imminent. Among these was the Indian trader
and settlement storekeeper, William Wood, who steadfastly refused to
believe that a massacre would be attempted at Springfield. His refusal
to believe that the community was in danger was doubtless due to the
fact that he had traded with the Indians for years and did not note,
in his recent dealings with them, any cause for alarm.[170]
The thought uppermost in the minds of most members of the settlement
was to send a relief party to the lakes at once. After some
deliberation this was deemed unwise: soberer second thought convinced
them that it would be better to take measures for their own
protection. At the time there were fifteen able-bodied men and about
twelve adult women in the village.[171] This number, it was argued,
would make a reasonably efficient fighting force in case of
attack--although they realized that they would be able to resist for
only a brief time, since they were in no condition for a prolonged
defense. And so it was decided to send messengers to the United States
military authorities at Fort Ridgely for aid.
Two young men, Joseph B. Cheffins who had come thither with the trader
William Wood, and a young German, Henry Tretts, were selected to bear
the message for help to the Lower Agency of the Sioux.[172] These men
carried with them a written statement of facts which was signed by
individuals at Springfield who personally knew the agent of the Lower
Sioux at Red Wood.[173] Cheffins and Tretts left Springfield at once,
but they were not able to reach the Lower Agency until the eighteenth.
The trip was one of unusual privation. Owing to the exigencies of the
situation, the men had left hastily and without making adequate
preparation for the hardships of such a journey. The direct distance
between the two points was not greater than seventy miles, but owing
to difficulties encountered they had been obliged to detour and thus
the distance traveled was more than one hundred miles. Under the most
favorable conditions they made but little better than fifteen miles
per day. The trip was undertaken on foot through deep snow and for
most of the way under the disabling effects of a dazzling sun. When
the Lower Agency was reached they could scarcely see--so severely were
they suffering from snow blindness. They were also physically
exhausted, for they had traveled almost continuously with but very
little rest. After their arrival they were forced to remain in bed for
two days before they were able to begin the return journey to
Springfield.[174]
XVI
RELIEF SENT FROM FORT RIDGELY
Charles E. Flandrau was at this time the agent for the Lower Sioux,
and as soon as he was informed of the situation to the south he
proceeded at once to Fort Ridgely, which was located on the Minnesota
River fourteen miles southeast of the agency. Here he immediately had
an interview with Colonel E. B. Alexander of the Tenth Infantry who
was then in command of the post. As the result of this conference,
Colonel Alexander, on the morning of the nineteenth, ordered Company D
of the Tenth Infantry, under the command of Captain Barnard E.
Bee[175] and Lieutenant Alexander Murry, to prepare for an expedition
to Springfield and if need be to Spirit Lake. So expeditiously did the
military authorities operate that at half past twelve, less than three
hours and a half after the order was issued, Captain Bee with a
company of forty-eight men was on the march to the scene of reported
trouble.[176]
Realizing that if they wished to make any considerable progress the
company must travel by some other means than on foot, the expedition
started in sleds drawn by mules. The original intention was to strike
directly across the country in order to reach the afflicted people as
soon as possible. But this route had to be abandoned, for it was soon
found to be impracticable owing to the depth of the snow. Captain Bee
in reporting upon the march stated that he took, “by advice of
experienced guides, a long and circuitous route down the valley of the
Minnesota, as far as South Bend, for the purpose of following, as long
as possible, a beaten track.”
Concerning the difficulties encountered on the trip Captain Bee
reported that “the season was unpropitious for military operations;
the snow lay in heavy masses on the track which I was following, but
these masses were thawing and could not bear the weight of the men,
much less that of the heavy sleds with which I was compelled to
travel.
“The narrative of a single day’s march is the history of the whole:
wading through deep drifts; cutting through them with the spade and
shovel; extricating mules and sleighs from sloughs, or dragging the
latter up steep hills or over bare spaces of prairie; the men wet from
morning till night, and sleeping on the snow. Such were the obstacles
I encountered while still on the beaten track, the terminus of which
was a farm belonging to a man by the name of Slocum. From this point
to the Des Moines was an unbroken waste of snow.”[177]
The route mentioned by Captain Bee would have taken him down the
valley of the Minnesota for forty-five miles to Mankato--every mile of
which would have carried him east of his objective point, Springfield.
From Mankato, it must have been necessary to double back for
twenty-five miles following the course of the Watonwan to Madelia, a
few miles southwest of which was the farm of Isaac Slocum. This was as
far as any road could be followed, since the region beyond was a
wilderness. Indeed Slocum’s was the westernmost white settlement in
that section of the country. Captain Bee was still nearly fifty miles
to the northeast of Springfield.
At the mouth of the Little Rock River, only a few miles below Fort
Ridgely, Captain Bee secured a young half-breed guide, Joseph La
Framboise, who was reputed to know the country well. But under the
conditions then existing no guide could be expected to be infallible.
The difficulties encountered only attested too well what could be
looked forward to in the future. Agent Flandrau and his interpreter
Philander Prescott, a French Canadian voyageur, also accompanied the
party.
According to Flandrau “the first day’s march was appalling.” Indeed,
at the close of this first day’s struggling he was willing to call the
whole undertaking hopeless, because so “much time had elapsed since
the murders were committed, and so much more would necessarily be
consumed before the troops could possibly reach the lake, that I felt
assured that no good could result from going on”.[178] On the
following day Flandrau and Prescott, with “a light sleigh and a fine
team”, forged ahead to Slocum’s farm in the hope of learning more
details of what had taken place at the lakes. Finding the road beyond
this point impassable they turned back. At South Bend, on March
twenty-second, they met Captain Bee’s expeditionary force. Feeling the
absolute impossibility of pushing beyond Slocum’s, they advised him to
turn back.[179] Although Captain Bee admitted the apparent
hopelessness of the task, his military training prompted him to reply:
“My orders are to go to Spirit Lake, and to do what I can. It is not
for me to interpret my orders, but to obey them. I shall go on until
it becomes physically impossible to proceed further. It will then be
time to turn back”.[180] And so he pressed on.
On the morning of March twenty-sixth Captain Bee and his company of
men left Slocum’s for Springfield.[181] Thus it happened that on the
same morning that Inkpaduta and his party left Heron Lake, taking the
direction of Springfield, the Fort Ridgely relief party left Slocum’s,
pushing toward the same point. But mark the difference in their
relative rate of progress. While Captain Bee, encumbered with the
ponderous army equipment, found progress nearly impossible, Inkpaduta,
unimpeded by equipment of any kind save rifles and scalping knives,
easily covered the distance from Heron Lake to Springfield in one
day.
XVII
PREPARATIONS FOR DEFENSE AT SPRINGFIELD
Springfield had been located and platted by the Indian traders, George
and William Wood, who built their post on the west side of the Des
Moines; while the settlers who came later, mostly from Iowa, selected
claims and built cabins on the east side of the river. The cabins of
the settlers were not closely grouped, but were scattered up and down
the river valley for seven or eight miles. Owing to this isolation the
settlers could not be of much service to each other in the matter of
defense. Moreover, the difficulty of successful individual defense was
appreciated; and so at the conference which followed the arrival of
Markham and Granger, it was decided to concentrate so far as possible.
In this conference the Wood brothers did not participate, as they
scouted even the possibility of trouble--so confident were they of the
friendliness of the Indians and of their own ability to keep them from
hostile acts. According to Jareb Palmer, the Woods believed that only
two houses had been robbed at the lakes, that the robbery had been
laid to the Indians for no good reason whatever, and that in all
likelihood it “had been done by the whites, as there had been some
difficulty at the Lake in regard to claims.”[182]
Having decided to concentrate, the Springfield settlers selected the
cabins of James B. Thomas and William T. Wheeler as the points of
defense. The Thomas cabin was distant about one and a half miles from
the Wood brothers’ store, and the Wheeler cabin about three-quarters
of a mile beyond that of Thomas. Various reasons led to the selection
of these cabins, the principal of which were their size and the great
strength with which they had been built. In the end it appears that
not all of the settlers were gathered in these two cabins. The Joshua
Stewart family, consisting of Mr. Stewart, Mrs. Stewart, and three
children, were originally at the Thomas cabin; but owing to the
physical condition of Mrs. Stewart, who had been overwrought by the
fear of Indian attack, and the too crowded condition at the Thomas
home, it was necessary for the family to return to their own home.
This they did after a stay of two or three days at the Thomas
cabin.[183] The Stewart cabin was located about one-half mile from
that of Thomas.
At the Thomas cabin there remained nineteen individuals--the major
portion of the settlement. These included Mr. and Mrs. James B. Thomas
and six children, the oldest of whom was about thirteen; Mrs. E. B. N.
Strong and two children; Mrs. William L. Church, two small children,
and a sister, Miss Drusilla Swanger; Miss Eliza Gardner, a daughter of
Rowland Gardner who was massacred at Okoboji; John Bradshaw, Morris
Markham, and David N. Carver.[184] At the Wheeler cabin were collected
Mr. and Mrs. J. B. Skinner and two children; Mr. and Mrs. William
Nelson and one child; Mr. and Mrs. Robert Smith; John Henderson; and
the little son of Adam P. Shiegley.[185] Meanwhile a number of people
had fled from the settlement as soon as the news of the massacre at
the lakes had arrived. Thus, collected in two or three groups the
Springfield settlers continued to live for several days without any
sign of the approach of hostile Indians. In time their vigil relaxed,
and at intervals a settler would leave the cabin to secure some much
needed article. At no time for many days was anyone able to note any
real cause for alarm in what was seen or heard.
The Thomas cabin, about which most of the events centered, was located
in the edge of the timber which bordered the river. The design of the
dwelling was that of the double type, each section being about sixteen
feet square and joined by what was known in pioneer phraseology as a
“dog trot”--a narrow and somewhat open connecting passageway. One part
was used as a kitchen and a general livingroom; while the other part
was reserved as a sitting room, which on occasion served as a spare
bed-room. The one room faced the prairie; while the other looked out
upon the timber of the river. The windows had been so placed that
through them a view in all cardinal directions might be secured--which
in addition to the port-holes was deemed a wise precaution. About ten
rods from the cabin, and in the edge of the timber, was the stable,
near which were a hay rack and some stacks of hay. Beyond these was a
ravine which descended rapidly to the river.[186] Out upon the open
prairie, nearly three-fourths of a mile away, was the cabin of Adam
Shiegley.
On the tenth day of March--before the arrival of Granger and
Markham--Jareb Palmer and Nathaniel Frost had gone to the Slocum farm
for the purpose of bringing home some supplies which had been
abandoned some time previously in the drifts a few miles from the farm
house. After an absence of nine days they returned on March
nineteenth. The first house of the settlement reached by them was the
store of the Wood brothers. Upon entering they found two strange
Indians, “each of whom had a double barrelled gun, a tommyhawk and
knife; one of them a very tall Indian was painted black; they were
very busy trading and did not seem inclined to talk much, but said
they were from Spirit Lake and that there were twenty lodges of them,
all of whom would be at Springfield in two days. They purchased a keg
of powder, some shot, lead, blankets, beads and other trinkets.”[187]
When they had completed their varied purchasing, which amounted in all
to more than eighty dollars, they paid for them in gold, which act
aroused the curiosity of Frost and Palmer, as gold was an almost
unknown form of money in that region.[188]
Before these Indians had completed their trading and departed, two
friendly Indians, Umpashota, or Smoky Moccasin, and Black Buffalo,
entered and greeted them in a cordial manner. The two groups were
soon engaged in conversation which grew excited and ended in the
abrupt departure of the strangers. On the same day, Smoky Moccasin,
for some reason that did not appear clear, moved his tepees to
Coursalle’s trading post.[189] On the following day when he was
interrogated by George Wood as to what he knew of the visiting
Indians, Smoky Moccasin admitted that he had been told that “they had
raided the Spirit Lake settlements, and killed all the inmates, except
four young women prisoners without having one of their number injured
in any manner.” When questioned further he “said he feared they were
lingering somewhere in the neighborhood and intended more mischief.
‘At any rate’ said the Moccasin, ‘I am going to remain close to my
camp for awhile.’”[190]
In spite of this evidence of Indian activity and the promise of a
visitation the Wood brothers remained unconvinced that danger lurked
near, and ridiculed the fears of the settlers on the east side of the
river. But they were not the only ones who were now doubting Markham’s
story: the failure of the Indian attack to develop had caused several
of the settlers to ask why they had grown so alarmed. Among them
gradually developed a feeling that they would like to hear a version
of the story from one of their own number. Thus it transpired that
Jareb Palmer volunteered to go to the lakes if some other man would
accompany him. Markham, anxious to prove the correctness of what he
had told, expressed his willingness to make the return trip. On
Saturday morning, March twenty-first, the pair set out, carrying
supplies for a journey of two days. They planned to go first to the
Marble cabin, and if all was well there they would go on down to the
lower settlements on Okoboji. They had been instructed by the
Springfield people to return at once if they found that the Marble
cabin had been plundered and that the evidence of Indian attack was
plain.
Having no definite route which they could follow with assurance, the
men struck out boldly to the southwest across the trackless prairie in
the general direction of the lakes. Without incident or loss of way
they reached Spirit Lake and made their way to the Marble cabin, which
was found deserted. A closer examination revealed the fact that trunks
had been broken open and the contents of the house scattered
everywhere. The body of Mr. Marble, however, was nowhere to be seen.
Signs about the cabin seemed to suggest that the place had been
visited some five days before the arrival of the men from Springfield,
although there were fresh moccasin tracks along the lake shore which
appeared to be only one day old. After examining the situation
carefully the men decided to return at once, as enough had been seen
to convince them that Indians had been there. Palmer was firmly
convinced that Markham’s story was only too true. The return trip was
made during the afternoon and the early evening of the same day
without incident.[191]
XVIII
INKPADUTA ATTACKS SPRINGFIELD
The morning of March twenty-sixth dawned bright at Springfield; and
the settlers at the Thomas cabin were astir early making preparations
for the expected attack. The messengers from Spirit Lake had returned
and no one longer doubted the strong possibility that Springfield
would be visited by the Indians. While the supply of food, fire-arms,
and ammunition which they had procured was sufficient for a resistance
of some days, there was a shortage of wood. And so, on the morning of
the twenty-sixth a number of the settlers were out chopping and
hauling wood. As they carried on their preparations they hoped that
the soldiers from Fort Ridgely would soon appear bringing the needed
relief and protection. Cheffins and Tretts had been gone nearly two
weeks; surely relief could now be expected any day or hour. Happy in
the expectation that relief must be near the settlers slackened still
more the vigil which they had been keeping and became somewhat
careless. The forenoon wore away without incident, and a generous
supply of wood was accumulated which would last for several days.
While preparations were thus going forward, Inkpaduta and his band of
red men were hastening from Heron Lake toward Springfield. The wily
Inkpaduta did not wish to make a precipitate attack, for his spies
sent out on the nineteenth had probably informed him of how the
settlers were preparing for opposition. As his party stole into the
timber along the Des Moines near the Thomas cabin, he sent scouts
forward to reconnoiter. Thus while the unsuspecting settlers were at
work the spies of Inkpaduta were stealthily lurking in the near-by
timber stalking their white brothers as they would some wild beast of
the forest.
The settlers were unable to complete the task which they had
undertaken by noon, and as everything seemed so very favorable it was
thought advisable to continue the work without interruption.
Accordingly, they did not pause to eat the mid-day meal that had been
prepared for them, but continued working until about two o’clock in
the afternoon. They then withdrew into the cabin to eat their long
deferred dinner. While thus engaged they were startled by a cry from
Willie Thomas, who was outside at play and who now thought that Henry
Tretts was coming.[192]
Immediately the people in the cabin rushed out hoping that the report
was true and that the messengers sent to Fort Ridgely were in fact
returning. In the distance a man was observed to be approaching. He
was clad in civilian dress and to all outward appearances bore a close
resemblance to one of the messengers. In fact, so close was the
resemblance that David Carver exclaimed, “Yes, it’s Henry Tretts!”
But the words had scarcely been uttered before a volley of shots came
from hitherto unseen guns in the direction of the timber. As near as
could be determined fully a dozen guns had been discharged from the
underbrush near the stable and hay stacks. The supposed white man was
only a decoy Indian dressed in white men’s clothing and sent out for
the sole purpose of drawing the settlers from the cabin. While he was
slowly approaching the cabin, Inkpaduta and his men had crept up the
ravine to the rear of the stable and posted themselves for action when
the ruse worked out as planned.
In confusion the surprised settlers--men, women, and
children--scrambled back into the cabin. Doors and windows were closed
and barricaded, while women screamed. Bradshaw and Markham, as soon as
the doors had been secured, seized their rifles and stood ready to
shoot any Indian who might have the hardihood to show himself. The
window shutters had been fastened open on the outside thus making it
necessary to use the table to close one window; while puncheons were
torn from the floor to cover other windows and aid in rendering the
cabin bullet proof.
Meanwhile, the Indians kept up a constant fire; but Bradshaw and
Markham kept them well in hiding by shooting at any who happened to
show themselves. While the men were busy reloading, an Indian was seen
to emerge from the brush near the stable and start for the house.
Mrs. Church hastily seized a loaded gun and, thrusting it through a
porthole, fired. After the firing the Indian was nowhere to be seen
and it was concluded that he had either been badly wounded or killed
by the shot. Three or four Indians next appeared from a hazel thicket,
but the emptying of the contents of a number of guns into their midst
caused them to disappear. All of this had taken place in four or five
minutes after the first volley fired by the Indians. In that brief
time the Indian attack had been repelled, windows shuttered from
within by temporary means, and all doors barricaded securely against a
rush attack.
During the attack no one had had time or thought for anything except
the necessity of repelling the Indians. When a lull came it was found
that several persons had been wounded. Mr. Thomas was bleeding
profusely from a wound in his left arm where a bullet had broken a
bone. Later this wound, owing to lack of attention, became so
irritated and infected that amputation was necessary. David Carver was
suffering greatly, for a bullet or buckshot had passed through the
fleshy part of his right arm, penetrated his side, and affected his
lung; while Miss Swanger, who had been hit on the shoulder, was
suffering considerably from pain and was very weak from the loss of
blood. It was she who has been alluded to as saying that she was too
weak to fight but could pray, and so fell “upon her knees, fervently
petitioning the God of Battles to help until the fight closed.”[193]
Willie Thomas, who had given the alarm, was missing and no one seemed
able to account for him until his older brother stated that after the
door had been closed he heard groaning from the doorstep. It was
presumed that the boy had been killed. At all events no one felt that
it would be wise to open the door at this juncture. It later developed
that he had been shot through the head and had probably died in a
brief time.
There were now left in the cabin only three able-bodied men who could
be counted upon for effective defense. These men were Jareb Palmer,
John Bradshaw, and Morris Markham. Dr. Strong had gone to the Wheeler
cabin that forenoon to dress the wounds of Smith and Henderson and had
not returned at the time of the attack.[194]
The heavy firing by the Indians did not continue for more than seven
or eight minutes when it became desultory in character. Occasionally
an Indian would be seen skulking through the edge of the timber, but
not one allowed himself to come within range of the cabin. It is
presumed that they had counted upon a complete surprise as at Okoboji
and were not supplied with the ammunition necessary to conduct a
continuous attack. The firing, however, continued until sunset. It was
later discovered that the Indians had withdrawn at this time, although
this fact was not known to the inmates of the cabin. The desultory
nature of the Indian fire had allowed the settlers to prepare, and
soon six guns were projecting from as many port-holes and covering as
many possible lines of approach. This evidence of readiness in the
cabin may have led the Indians to defer or abandon their attack.[195]
Meanwhile, the Wood brothers were paying dearly for their misplaced
confidence in the peaceful intentions of the red men. It was
reported--but the statement has never been confirmed--that when the
firing upon the Thomas cabin began William Wood, thinking no harm
would come to him, started to cross the river with a view to
investigating the cause. When he reached the west bank of the stream,
he ran into a group of Indians who at once riddled him with bullets.
It is further asserted that a pile of brush was then collected, his
lifeless body thrown upon it, and the whole set on fire. This
conclusion is drawn from the fact that in a pile of wood ashes, not
far from the river’s edge, a group of the Fort Ridgely soldiers later
found charred human bones and with them a twenty dollar gold
piece.[196] The body of George Wood was found, while that of William
Wood was never discovered--unless the charred bones indicated his
fate. Since the Wood brothers were the only persons in the settlement
who had gold coin it was thought that the remains in the ashes were
those of William Wood.
George Wood, who had remained at the store in his brother’s absence,
possibly witnessed his brother’s fate and attempted to forestall a
similar one for himself by striving to reach the settlers’ cabins.
But he was too late. He succeeded in reaching the river and in
crossing it, but while trying to secrete himself in the underbrush he
was seen by the Indians and shot. His body was subjected to no further
violence.[197]
It would seem that during the afternoon, while the attack was being
made upon the Thomas cabin, Inkpaduta selected three of his band to
raid the remaining cabins or at least to investigate them for plunder
in case they should be found abandoned. It was probably this trio of
Indians who attacked and killed George and William Wood.
The first cabin visited by the three Indians was that of Joshua
Stewart. Mr. Stewart was called to the door by one of the number and
requested to sell a hog. Some gold coins were displayed by the Indian
as evidence that the hog would be paid for when purchased. Mr. Stewart
being willing to sell, stepped back into the house to secure his cap
and coat. When he reappeared and stepped out into the yard, he was
instantly shot by the two Indians who had not appeared to be concerned
in the deal. Upon hearing the shots, Mrs. Stewart and the children ran
out of the cabin. They, too, were instantly shot down by the Indians
and their bodies horribly mutilated with knives.
According to Captain Bee, it was here that “the savages revelled in
blood. When I visited the spot, the father lay dead on his threshold,
the mother, with one arm encircling her murdered infant, lay outside
the door, and by her side was stretched the lifeless body of a little
girl of three summers”.[198] But Johnny, a lad of perhaps ten years,
eluded the Indians and made his escape. In his own relation to the
people at the Thomas cabin he stated that he hid behind a log in the
yard while the savages did their work of murder and plunder. After
they left he ran to the cabin of Robert Smith, but was frightened
away; from there he made his way to the Thomas cabin where he arrived
at dusk and was taken in by the inmates--who, however, came near
shooting him for an Indian prowler.[199]
After completing their ghastly work at the Stewart home, the Indians
returned in the direction of the Wood store, which they probably
planned to pillage. When passing the Wheeler home, they attempted no
further molestation than to shoot an ox and empty the contents of
their guns into the cabin. One of the charges narrowly missed Mr.
Henderson who was lying helpless as the result of his recent
amputations. For some reason the Indians did not take the trouble to
determine whether any people were really occupying the house.[200]
From here the Indians appear to have gone directly to the Wood store,
where they finished their work and then departed for Heron Lake. At
the time, however, the departure of the Indians was not known to the
terrified inhabitants of the settlement.
At the Wood store on the west side of the river guns, powder, shot,
and lead were found in reasonably large quantities and appropriated.
But this was not all; food and dry goods were also found and taken.
It is said that when they returned to Heron Lake “they had twelve
horses, heavily laden with dry goods, groceries, powder, lead,
bed-quilts, wearing apparel, provisions, etc.... Among this plunder
were several bolts of calico and red flannel. Of these, especially the
flannel, they were exceedingly proud; decorating themselves with it in
fantastic fashion. Red leggings, red shirts, red blankets, and red in
every conceivable way, was the style there, as long as it
lasted.”[201]
XIX
THE SETTLERS FLEE FROM SPRINGFIELD
When quiet had reigned for some little time and darkness had fallen,
there being no signs that the Indians would reopen their attack, the
inmates of the Thomas cabin began to discuss the best course to
pursue. It was the general belief that they would again be attacked if
they remained: in fact they reasoned that to remain would be to invite
an attack. But would not the soldiers from Fort Ridgely soon bring
relief? And yet they had no means of knowing whether their messengers
had ever reached that post. Having reached the fort, might not their
story have been received in the same manner in which the people of
Springfield had greeted the tale of Markham? No idea had been gained
as to the numerical strength of the Indians: although they seemed to
be about twelve in number, there was a possibility that they might be
ten or twenty times as many, and well prepared to carry the attack
through to a conclusive end.
Some suggested flight; but there seemed to be many obstacles to such a
course. Nothing was known of the whereabouts of the Indians: they
might be lurking near the cabin awaiting the appearance of its inmates
for the purpose of picking them off as they came out. Again, they
were more than fifty miles from any adequate place of refuge; while
the nearest settlement was no less than fifteen miles away. But worst
of all the snow was deep and there was not even a known trail upon the
wintry wastes that could be followed with certainty. Moreover, there
were among them three badly wounded people whose suffering would only
be intensified by the cold and exposure incident to such a flight. And
there were children in the party: would they be able to endure such a
journey as flight would compel them to undergo? From the hardships
encountered by Markham in his trip from the lakes it was known that a
journey of fifty miles under the existing conditions of weather would
be a hard trial of endurance, even for the strongest and most rugged
person.
In the course of the discussion someone called attention to the fact
that the Indians had driven away the Thomas horses. How were they to
move Carver who was unable to walk and Thomas who was so weak that at
best it was believed he could live but a short time? Carver was
willing to be left behind if by so doing the safety of the others
could be assured; but none of his companions were willing to consider
such a proposition. When the thought of flight was about to be
abandoned someone recalled that the Indians had not taken the Thomas
oxen. If they had not been killed, they must be safe in the stable.
Markham, who had twice before volunteered to risk his life, offered to
go to the stable, and if the oxen were there hitch them to the sled
and drive to the door.[202] Meanwhile, in the cabin preparations were
to be made for flight.
When Markham returned to the cabin he reported that every thing seemed
to indicate that the Indians had given up the attack and left the
vicinity. He had been gone nearly half an hour, which led the people
in the cabin to fear that he too had fallen a victim of Indian lust.
And so they were overjoyed when he finally appeared at the door with
the ox-drawn sled. Feather ticks were first taken to the sled and upon
them the wounded Thomas, Carver, and Miss Swanger were placed. Around
them were packed such articles as were deemed necessary upon the
journey.
The night sky was obscured by clouds and the darkness was intense,
which would make it possible for the fleeing settlers to elude the
watchfulness of the Indians if any happened to be lurking in the
vicinity of the cabin. About nine o’clock the nineteen frightened and
wretchedly equipped refugees left the Thomas cabin.[203] Ahead of the
oxen walked Markham, Bradshaw, and Palmer, with rifles in their hands,
ready to protect the women, children, and wounded from possible
attack. Then came the ox-drawn sled piled with feather beds, the
wounded, blankets, bed-quilts, and provisions. Upon either side and
behind the sled walked the women, carrying or leading the children.
Progress was slow since no distinct trail could be discerned in the
darkness. Frequently they would stop and by signs and consultation
assure themselves that they were moving in the proper direction. Often
they missed the way and were compelled to alter their course. At two
o’clock in the morning, having made an advance of only five miles,
they concluded to halt and await the dawn.[204] Where they were they
did not know. Blankets and bed-quilts were spread upon the snow; and
upon these the women, children, and wounded lay down, while the men
stood guard. With the coming of day the refugees again pushed forward,
but found that they could make little headway because of the deep snow
drifts through which the men had to break a way for the oxen and sled.
In less than an hour the party, finding further progress well-nigh
impossible, decided to halt. After some deliberation it was decided to
send Palmer ahead about ten miles to Granger’s Point for help. Palmer,
having succeeded in making his way to the Point without incident,
returned with George Granger, who very willingly brought his ox team
to the rescue of the stranded settlers. A Mr. Addington also
accompanied Palmer upon the return trip. When about a mile to the
north of Granger’s place a man was observed on the open prairie.
Addington jumped off the sled and started toward him. The man turned
and ran, but was soon overtaken. He was found to be Dr. Strong of
Springfield who had fled from the Wheeler cabin that same morning,
supposing that his wife and children had been killed in the attack
upon the Thomas cabin.
In the meantime the stranded settlers, thinking they saw Indians in
pursuit, had left their wounded companions in the sled and taken to
the open prairie in flight--an effort which greatly exhausted the
women. Returning to the sled the march onward to Granger’s Point was
resumed. After remaining here for two days to recuperate they
continued their journey southward toward Fort Dodge.[205]
It will be recalled that the Wheeler cabin had received but one volley
from a group of three Indians who passed without stopping. The inmates
had doubtless heard the continuous firing in the direction of the
Thomas cabin during the afternoon and had surmised that something
serious must have happened. As all was quiet at the cabin on the
following morning, the anxiety of Mrs. Robert Smith to know what had
really transpired at the Thomas cabin overcame her fears. With the
fortitude characteristic of pioneer women, she determined to visit the
cabin as early as possible. When she arrived at the cabin she found
the body of Willie Thomas lying at the side of the doorstep. Greatly
alarmed she investigated no further, but returned at once to the
Wheeler cabin. Her hasty conclusion was that all the inmates of the
Thomas cabin had been murdered by the Indians. Thus Dr. Strong, having
heard the report of Mrs. Smith, concluded that his family had been
murdered and that his own safety was all that was left for him to
consider; and so he fled toward the settlements in Iowa.
The flight of Dr. Strong left Mr. Skinner as the only able-bodied man
at the Wheeler house. He and the three women--Mrs. Skinner, Mrs.
Nelson, Mrs. Smith--decided to escape if possible before receiving a
second visit from the Indians. Mrs. Smith strongly protested against
the plan of leaving her husband, but he bade her go and save her own
life.[206] The problem of escape with these people was a vastly more
difficult one than with the party at the Thomas cabin, since they had
no team or other means of transportation. From the first it was
evident that the disabled men must be abandoned--a plan in which the
men themselves willingly acquiesced.
After providing for the comfort of those who were to be left behind,
Mr. Skinner and the three women set out. Smith attempted to follow,
but was compelled to return to the cabin after again overcoming the
objections of his wife at going without him. The only individual,
other than Smith and Henderson, who could not be taken was the little
son of Adam P. Shiegley. After the departure of the grownups this boy
made his way to the home of a settler who had not been disturbed and
was there well taken care of until found by his father who later came
in search of his son. Two days later, on Sunday, March twenty-ninth,
the Wheeler party arrived at Granger’s Point where they joined the
people from the Thomas cabin.[207]
XX
RELIEF ARRIVES FROM FORT RIDGELY
On the morning of March twenty-sixth the relief expedition from Fort
Ridgely was laboriously seeking to make its way through nearly
impassable drifts of snow. Captain Bee had scarcely struck camp that
morning when two white men from the Des Moines River--probably Nelson
and Frost from Springfield--came in for supplies. They reported that
the Indians, to the number of thirty lodges, were encamped at
Coursalle’s Grove about eight or nine miles to the north of
Springfield. Coursalle, known as “Gaboo” among the borderers and
settlers, was a half-blood Sisseton who was well-known throughout the
surrounding country as a trapper, trader, and intermediary between the
whites and the Indians. With this information Captain Bee pushed
forward with renewed energy, hoping to reach Coursalle’s before the
Indians should leave.
After encountering and overcoming nearly insurmountable obstacles of
roads and weather Captain Bee finally reached the trader’s post. The
grove and its vicinity were thoroughly reconnoitered with no success
other than the rounding up of Coursalle and his family. Coursalle
grudgingly gave the information that Inkpaduta’s band had in truth
wiped out not only the settlements at the southern lakes, but also
those at Springfield. From Springfield the Indians had gone to Heron
Lake, twenty-five miles to the west, and were headed for the Yankton
country on the Missouri. Further knowledge concerning their
whereabouts Coursalle said he did not have.
Coursalle seemed so confident that the Indians were still at Heron
Lake that Captain Bee decided to pursue and punish them before going
to Springfield with his command. Having been told that only the dead
were to be found at either Spirit Lake or Springfield, he concluded
that little could be gained and perhaps everything lost if he should
hasten to the scenes of the massacres and allow the perpetrators of
the horrible deeds to escape without punishment. Hence “at retreat”
that evening he called for no less than twenty volunteers to go on an
expedition early the next morning for the purpose of punishing the
Indians. The response from the men was unanimous, and when early
morning came Captain Bee and Lieutenant Murry with the guides,
Coursalle and La Framboise, together with all the men of the command,
started out. It was expected that upon the approach of the soldiers
the Indians would probably attempt flight. To prevent their succeeding
in this, the teamsters were taken along to lead the mules, numbering
thirteen in all, to be used as mounts in the pursuit of the fleeing
Indians.[208]
The road taken under the guidance of Coursalle led them in a direct
line across the open prairie from the trading post to the lake. This
open route was taken because it shortened the distance to fifteen
miles between the two points. The approach to the lake proved easy,
and by ten o’clock the lake had been reached and wholly surrounded by
Captain Bee’s men so that it would have been difficult for any one to
have escaped unnoticed. The instructions were that when the camp and
Indians were found a single shot should be fired as a signal for the
ingathering of the troops. In about a half hour after the deploying of
the men a shot was heard in the direction taken by La Framboise. He
had found the place of their camp, but the Indians themselves had
gone. The camp gave every evidence of the destruction of the
settlements “with all its traces of plunder and rapine; books,
scissors, articles of female apparel, furs, and traps, were scattered
on the ground”.[209] The guides, after examining the ashes of the camp
fire and other signs, pronounced the camp to be about three or four
days old. If such were the truth, it was plain that further pursuit
would be useless.
There was, however, one more hope which was eagerly seized by Captain
Bee. Coursalle suggested that possibly the band had moved to another
lake about four miles to the northwestward. This lake being much
larger and its borders more heavily timbered the Indians might have
gone on to it for better concealment. Such a possibility appealed to
Captain Bee, who was not long in detailing Lieutenant Murry with ten
men and Coursalle as guide to make a dash to that point by means of
mule mounts. If signs there should prove as old as at the first lake
the members of the party were instructed to lose no time in returning,
since further pursuit would be useless. The dash was made as planned;
and signs in abundance were found, but Coursalle pronounced them to be
at least twenty-four hours old. Such being the case Lieutenant Murry
returned to the main command.
It has been charged that Coursalle lacked good faith in that he
purposely declared the signs many hours older than they were in order
to assure the escape of the Inkpaduta band.[210] Captain Bee, however,
stated in a public letter that “Gaboo was in front of my men” and “his
whole demeanor convinced me that he had come out to fight”, for his
life had been threatened by the band.[211] It was also further charged
that Mrs. Coursalle was observed wearing Mrs. Church’s shawl; but this
was discredited by several competent observers. The fact remains,
however, that Captain Bee’s men approached much nearer the band than
they knew--which gives color to the view that Coursalle either
practiced deception or was not wise in wood and camp lore.
How near the troops came to the Indian band is disclosed in the
testimony of both Mrs. Sharp and Mrs. Marble who were with the Indians
as captives. They both state that at three o’clock in the afternoon
Lieutenant Murry’s men reached the same place that the Indians had
left at about nine in the morning. Furthermore, the Indians were even
then within reach, being encamped on a low stretch of ground bordering
a small stream just over a slight rise of ground west of the lake.
They were so located that while the Indian lookout was able from the
treetops to see for miles around, the camp itself could not easily be
seen.
Mrs. Sharp relates that as soon as the lookout reported the approach
of the soldiers of Lieutenant Murry, “the squaws at once extinguished
the fires by pouring on water, that the smoke might not be seen; tore
down the tents; packed their plunder; and ... one Indian was detailed
to stand guard over us, and to kill us if there was an attack. The
rest of the warriors prepared for battle.... The excitement manifested
by the Indians was for a little while intense; and although less
manifested ours was fully as great, as we were well aware that the
Indians meant all they said when they told us we were to be shot, in
case of an attack. We therefore knew that an attack would be certain
_death to us_, whatever the results might be in other respects. After
an hour and a half of this exciting suspense ... a sudden change came
to us. The soldiers, it seems, just here decided to turn back.”[212]
Upon Lieutenant Murry’s return, it was decided to give up the pursuit.
This decision was based in part upon the report made by Lieutenant
Murry and Coursalle and also on the fact that the supplies were
nearly exhausted. From this point Captain Bee’s command went to
Springfield. Here Smith and Henderson were found in the Wheeler cabin
where they had been left two days previously. They were in good
spirits despite their desolation. They had been visited by Mr.
Shiegley who was in search of his boy. These men related to Captain
Bee the story of events so far as they knew it, telling of the flight
of their companions in the direction of Granger’s. Captain Bee at once
sent a man in search of the fugitives who were to be invited to
return. They were to be assured that the Indians were gone and that a
guard of soldiers would be stationed at Springfield for their
protection. The messenger, however, failed to overtake the refugees
and in a few days returned. Meanwhile, Captain Bee sent a detail of
twenty men under Lieutenant Murry to Spirit Lake to bury the dead.
Murry went no farther than the Marble cabin where he found and buried
Marble’s body and then returned to Springfield.
In a final adjustment of matters, Captain Bee left a detail of
twenty-eight non-commissioned officers and privates at Springfield
under Lieutenant Murry. This detail, while only temporary, remained
until April twentieth when it was relieved by a second detail which,
under Lieutenant John McNab, remained until late in the fall of 1857.
Captain Bee reported at Fort Ridgely on April eighth, after an absence
of about three weeks.[213]
XXI
ORGANIZATION OF RELIEF AT FORT DODGE AND WEBSTER CITY
When the citizens of Fort Dodge and Webster City were convinced by
repeated tales of Indian horrors that assistance was needed they
organized a relief party to fend off the savage forays of the Sioux.
The trials and sufferings of this little volunteer band have few if
any parallels in the pioneer history of the Mississippi Valley.
Unprepared for such a venture as the journey proved to be, they
nevertheless met its ordeals with a courage that attests the hardihood
of the pioneers who chose the task of advancing the frontier.
Early in November, 1856, Orlando C. Howe (a lawyer and later a
professor of law at the State University of Iowa), R. U. Wheelock, and
B. F. Parmenter, guided by a well-known and widely experienced western
trapper, Wiltfong, came from Newton, Jasper County, Iowa, to the lake
region on a land-hunting tour. They were particularly attracted by the
natural beauty of the region and before leaving staked out claims to
the southeast of Marble’s place on what is now the site of the town of
Spirit Lake. Like many other prospective settlers at that time they
did not plan to remain during the winter season; and so, after
visiting for some days among the settlers on the south and east shores
of the Okobojis, they returned to Jasper County. The route homeward
led them to Loon Lake, where they are said to have found Inkpaduta’s
band encamped. The band seems to have been peaceful enough at the time
of the visit; indeed, they made a rather favorable impression upon
these prospective settlers.
Although the season had been severe Howe, Wheelock, and Parmenter
expected the usual breaking of winter during the closing week of
March, when they anticipated that travel across the prairies would be
difficult if not impossible owing to the overabundance of snow. It was
to forestall delays caused by the melting snows that they started
about the first of March for the lake region with ox wagons heavily
laden with seed, food supplies, and agricultural implements. From the
very start they made but indifferent progress owing to the deep snows
and continued intensity of the cold. Tarrying but a short time at Fort
Dodge to replenish their supplies and renew former acquaintances, they
proceeded up the west side of the Des Moines Valley to their
destination. Following the trail up this side of the valley, they
missed the two trappers who came down from Granger’s Point carrying
the news of the massacre to Fort Dodge. When within two or three miles
of their destination, and somewhere to the southeast of Gar Lake, on
the evening of March fifteenth their oxen became too exhausted to
proceed further. Temporarily abandoning the load and the oxen, the men
went forward on foot to the settlements along the East Okoboji Lake.
About midnight, after spending several hours in groping their way
through the timber along the lake, they came to the Noble and Thatcher
cabin. Failing to receive a response after repeated rapping upon the
door they pushed the door open and entered only to find everything in
confusion. Hesitating to remain for the night amid such evidences of
violence, they left at once and made their way along the trail in the
direction of the cabin of Joel Howe. At this cabin likewise on account
of the darkness they did not discover that there were dead bodies
lying in the yard. Entering they found the cabin deserted; but the
hour was so late that they decided to remain and make further
investigations on the morrow.
The following morning they soon discovered the dead bodies in the yard
and other evidences of an Indian visit. From here they crossed the
east lake to the Mattock cabin, which they found in ashes; while the
clearing around the cabin was strewn with the bodies of the
slaughtered members of the family. They now had all the evidence
necessary to convince them that an Indian war party had visited the
settlement and wiped out the white population. Without further delay
they started for the settlements to the southeast along the Des
Moines. So anxious were they to spread the news as speedily as
possible that Parmenter remained behind to follow more slowly with
the oxen, while the other two men rushed on ahead on foot. On Saturday
evening, March twenty-first, they arrived at Fort Dodge with the news
of the Indian massacre at the lakes. So well-known was Howe in that
vicinity that no one hesitated to believe the information which he
brought of the Indian raid on the frontier.[214]
When Howe and Wheelock had recited the story of conditions as they
found them at the lakes, it coincided so nearly with information
already brought to the community that no one could doubt the urgent
need for immediate action. And so it was resolved to hold a meeting
for the purpose of determining the course to be followed. This meeting
was called for the next afternoon (which was Sunday) in the
schoolhouse of the village. When the meeting convened practically
every able-bodied man in Fort Dodge and vicinity was present. Major
William Williams presided as chairman, and Charles B. Richards acted
as secretary.[215] Howe and Wheelock were called upon to relate their
tale of horrors at the lakes. The recital gave rise to great
excitement: the people realized their own proximity to danger.
It was the unanimous sentiment of the meeting that immediate and
resolute action should be taken to deal with the situation. The
chairman, Major Williams, read a commission held by him from Governor
Grimes empowering him in any emergency that might arise to take such
action as seemed best in the light of existing circumstances.[216] It
was thereupon resolved that at least two companies of volunteers
should be called for and sent to the lakes to rescue the living, bury
the dead, and if possible overtake and punish the perpetrators of the
massacre. Nearly eighty men volunteered at once to join the proposed
expedition.
Before the meeting adjourned a messenger, in the person of a Mr.
White,[217] was named to carry the news of the massacre to Homer,
Border Plains, and Webster City, and to ask the coöperation of these
communities in the recruiting of members for the expedition. To make
the plea for assistance as effective as possible, Howe was requested
to accompany the messenger to these places. The response at Webster
City was as spontaneous as at Fort Dodge. Upon the arrival of the
messengers a meeting was called in the village schoolhouse, so that
all might hear the story of the Indian outrages. Volunteers were
called for, and by nine o’clock on the morning of the twenty-third a
company of twenty-eight men had been selected to undertake the
expedition. Only young men were encouraged to volunteer, since it was
thought that the older men would not be able to undergo the trials of
the trip to and from the lakes. But when both young and old insisted
upon going a sort of selective draft was resorted to. On Monday
morning, March twenty-third, all who had volunteered were ranged in a
row and J. D. Maxwell, the county judge, was called upon to make the
selection, which he did to the satisfaction of all.[218]
But there were problems other than the securing of volunteers to be
met and solved--such as the procuring of tents, provisions, wagons or
sleds, and teams, without which the expedition would have little hope
of success. By contributions the company was provided with a varied
collection of fire-arms, a wagon, two or three yoke of oxen, food, and
some extra clothing and blankets. Among those who gave liberally were
“W. C. and S. Willson, A. Moon, the Brewers, Charles T. Fenton, S. B.
Rosenkrans, the Funks, E. W. Saulsbury and B. S. Mason.”[219] At this
time the village of Webster City could boast of but few people who
were able to provide much assistance; but each did his best and in the
end the volunteers were reasonably well outfitted for the journey.
Departure from Webster City was delayed until one o’clock in the
afternoon of the twenty-third, owing to the difficulty of securing the
necessary equipment for the men. Even then they were not adequately
equipped. Indeed, it was impossible to foresee and prepare for the
trials to be faced on the expedition. Moreover, not one of these
people had had any experience in contending with the elements under
such conditions as then prevailed.
The Webster City company arrived at Fort Dodge about nine o’clock in
the evening of the same day and was given a rousing welcome. No better
testimonial to the spirit and determination of the men, untrained as
they were, can be given than to say that they made the march of more
than twenty miles in eight hours over nearly impassable roads. The
snow had thawed just enough to cause it to yield readily under the
tread of the men--making the march one continuous flounder from
Webster City to Fort Dodge.[220]
In the evening, immediately following the arrival at Fort Dodge,
officers for the company were chosen by ballot. The company as then
organized was designated as Company C and was officered as follows:
John C. Johnson, Captain; John N. Maxwell, First Lieutenant; Frank B.
Mason, Second Lieutenant; Harris Hoover, Sergeant; and A. Newton
Hathaway, Corporal. The privates were William K. Laughlin and Michael
Sweeney of the Webster City settlement; and Thomas Anderson, Thomas B.
Bonebright, James Brainard, Sherman Cassady, Patrick Conlan, Henry E.
Dalley, John Erie, Emery W. Gates, John Gates, Josiah Griffith, James
Hickey, Humphrey C. Hillock, M. W. Howland, Elias D. Kellogg, A. S.
Leonard, F. R. Moody, John Nolan (or Nowland), J. C. Pemberton, Alonzo
Richardson, Patrick Stafford, and A. K. Tullis of the country
immediately adjacent to Webster City.[221]
Captain Johnson was not a Webster City man but came from Bach Grove.
In view of the later incidents of the trip his enlistment was somewhat
pathetic. He arrived in town, after the beginning of the meeting,
which he attended with a friend. He was so impressed by the spirit of
the occasion that he volunteered, being one of the first who expressed
a willingness to go. He at once sent word to his mother concerning
the mission upon which he was going, saying that he probably would not
see her for some time--not thinking that it might be his lot never to
return.[222]
While news of the massacre was being carried to Homer, Webster City,
and Border Plains, the citizens of Fort Dodge and vicinity were hard
at work organizing their groups of volunteers, so that by the time the
Webster City unit had arrived they were ready for some form of united
action. Here too it was thought best to select only the younger men,
since the inclemency of the weather as well as the marching conditions
at this time would be a severe drain upon the physical endurance of
the strongest. In addition it was recognized that the young men would
not have in many instances the care of dependent families. Fully
eighty men had stepped forward in response to the call for volunteers,
and from these two companies were organized.
Early on Monday morning each of the two companies selected officers.
Charles B. Richards, who had acted as secretary of the first general
meeting, was selected as Captain of Company A; while John F. Duncombe
was chosen to head Company B. Captain Richards at once selected
Franklin A. Stratton as First Lieutenant, L. K. Wright as Sergeant,
and Solon Mason as Corporal; while Captain Duncombe named James Linn
as First Lieutenant, Smith E. Stevens, Second Lieutenant, William N.
Koons, Sergeant, and Thomas Callagan as Corporal of Company B.[223]
The Roster of Company A at the time of its organization on March 23rd
comprised the following privates: George W. Brizee, William E.
Burkholder, Henry Carse, ---- Chatterton, Julius Conrad, L. D.
Crawford, J. W. Dawson, William De Fore or William A. De Foe, John
Farney, William N. Ford, John Gales, William McCauley, E. Mahan,
Michael Maher, B. F. Parmenter, W. F. Porter, L. B. Ridgeway, George
P. Smith, Roderick A. Smith, Winton Smith, Owen S. Spencer, C.
Stebbins, Silas Van Cleave, D. Westerfield, and R. U. Wheelock.
In Company B were enrolled the following: Jesse Addington, D. H.
Baker, Hiram Benjamin, Orlando Bice, R. F. Carter, Richard Carter,
Michael Cavanaugh, A. E. Crouse, John Hefley, Orlando C. Howe, D. F.
Howell, Albert S. Johnson, Michael McCarty, G. F. McClure, Robert
McCormick, John N. McFarland, A. S. Malcolm, Daniel Morrissey, Jonas
Murray, Daniel Okeson, John O’Laughlin, W. Searles, Guernsey Smith,
Reuben Whetstone, John White, Washington Williams, and William R.
Wilson.[224]
These companies when organized were equipped in the same manner as at
Webster City--that is, by contributions from those older men who,
finding age a bar to joining the expedition, contributed whatever they
found possible “near the end of a severe winter in a frontier town one
hundred and fifty miles from any source of supply.”[225] Scarcely was
there a man or woman in the little hamlet or in the surrounding
country who did not offer something--guns, ammunition, food, gloves,
wearing apparel, blankets, or other articles that might prove useful
on the journey. The equipment of arms varied from the worst
conditioned shotgun to some of the finest type of Sharps rifle to be
found on the frontier.[226] All of Monday, after the muster in, was
spent in collecting the equipment for the expedition. After some
little effort two or three ox teams and wagons were secured to haul
the food supplies, bedding, and camp equipment. A team and wagon was
allotted to each company, so that all supplies for each organization
might be kept separate and distinct. The imperfect means of
transportation permitted the taking of only limited supplies; and no
grain or forage could be taken upon which the oxen might subsist. It
was thought, strangely enough, that the cattle might be able to forage
for themselves at the various camping or stopping places along the
route.
After the companies had been organized as separate units and the
Webster City contingent had arrived, a closer coördination of the
forces was effected. A general meeting of the three organizations was
called and the matter of coördination discussed. In the end it was
decided to organize as a battalion. Major William Williams, the only
person who had had military experience and who had been empowered by
Governor Grimes to act in such an emergency, was chosen to command the
battalion thus created. This was a recognition of the undoubted
ability and vigor of the first postmaster, first mayor, and first
citizen of Fort Dodge--especially since his age of sixty years was far
beyond that considered desirable for members of the expedition.[227]
The future proved the wisdom of the selection, for his command of the
situation had much to do with shaping the later developments more
fortunately than otherwise might have been the case. George B. Sherman
was selected as quartermaster and commissary; and in order to enable
him to better perform his duties he was detached from Company A into
which he had already been mustered. Dr. George R. Bissell of Fort
Dodge was selected as surgeon, and he proved a most worthy and helpful
member of the expedition. Thus organized, the battalion numbered at
the time of leaving Fort Dodge a total of ninety-one officers and
enlisted men.
XXII
THE MARCH FROM FORT DODGE TO MEDIUM LAKE
Though somewhat delayed by inability to secure transportation, the
relief battalion from Fort Dodge and Webster City got under way about
noon on Tuesday, March twenty-fourth, within four days after receiving
the news of the massacre.[228] The first day’s march did not record
much progress, as the men had advanced only about six or seven miles
when they encamped at the mouth of Beaver Creek. By this time they had
begun to realize that they were no more than raw recruits with no
knowledge or appreciation of active service. With snow nearly four
feet deep on the level, and with ravines, gulches, and low places
completely filled, they encountered from the beginning almost endless
difficulties in marching and in the transportation of supplies. Not a
man was intimately acquainted with the surrounding country. Frequently
they found themselves plunged into snow-filled creek beds where with
the oxen they floundered vainly for some time in more than fifteen or
twenty feet of drifted snow before they gained the lesser depth
beyond. The difficulties were greatly increased by the lack of
sufficient transportation facilities.
Having halted for the night each company built a monster camp fire
around which the men gathered, each endeavoring to prepare his own
supper since neither company was provided with a cook. “It was quite
amusing to see ‘the boys’ mix up meal, bake ‘slap jacks’, fry meat,
wash dishes and act the ‘housewife’ generally, but ’tis said ‘practice
makes perfect’ and the truth of the adage was substantiated in the
case under consideration for before our return some of the boys became
quite expert in the handicraft above mentioned.
“One of our Lieutenants--a jolly good fellow, by the way--averred that
he could throw a ‘griddle-cake’ out of the roof of a log cabin, which
he temporarily occupied, and while it performed divers circumgyrations
in mid-air, could run out and catch it ‘t’other side up’ on the
spider.”[229] Emery W. Gates of Company C is said to have successfully
demonstrated his ability to perform this feat while the expedition was
in camp at McKnight’s Point.[230] He was later appointed cook of his
company, in which capacity he rendered most acceptable service.
After finishing their first meal the men made ready for the night.
Each man had been provided with one blanket, and in this he rolled
himself for sleep that came to but few. Many found the pillowing of
the head upon the ground or snow not conducive to slumber, while a few
were prevented from sleeping by the heavy slumber of others. “My first
night on this expedition”, says Captain Duncombe, “will never pass
from my memory. It is as vivid now as it was at the time. I, too,
slept on a snowbank and had as my next neighbor one of those horrible
snorers who could make a danger signal louder than a locomotive
whistle and more musical than a calliope in the procession of a
circus.”[231]
The morning of the twenty-fifth saw the men awake and astir early in
the preparation of a breakfast that failed to satisfy. On this second
day the line of march led them up the course of the Des Moines--the
plan being to travel upon the ice of the river in order to avoid the
dangerous pitfalls of the land. The point which they hoped to reach
was Dakota City just above the junction of the east and west forks of
the Des Moines. In attempting to use the ice as a roadway, the men
were compelled to cross and recross the river no less than fifteen or
twenty times. In the end this plan of march proved impracticable since
the ice in places was not strong enough to sustain the weight of the
men; whenever a weak place was reached it was necessary to leave the
river and struggle along over the ravines which broke the banks of the
river.
Matters became much worse as the day developed into one of
considerable warmth. The water running down from the hillsides
collected in the depressions and turned the snow of the ravines into
slush. With dazzling brilliancy the sun shone upon the white snow, and
many of the men suffered so severely from snow-blindness as to become
practically helpless. The rays reflected from the snow also burned the
hands and faces of the men.[232] By night the battalion had covered
no more than the ten miles to Dakota City. Here they camped as best
they could. Some were able to secure places in stables, and a few were
taken into the homes; but by far the greater number were compelled to
sleep in their blankets on the open prairie. By this time some of the
men were showing evidence of exhaustion, while others were suffering a
very marked decline in spirits.
On the march north from Dakota City the real difficulties of the
expedition developed. Beyond this point the snow was piled so high
that frequently the groves and timber along the river could not be
reached. When such conditions were encountered the command was
compelled to keep to the open prairie. This was not, however,
practicable for any considerable time on account of the cutting wind
that swept across the snow fields. Having to choose between two evils,
they elected what appeared to be the lesser and kept within the
shelter of the timber regardless of the difficulties.
To overcome the difficulties on the third day out from Fort Dodge and
the first day north of Dakota City, it was found necessary to send the
men ahead in double files to break a road for the ox teams and wagons
which followed. By marching and counter-marching the snow was beaten
down so that it was made possible for the oxen to drag the wagons
through the deep drifts. This did not, however, always solve the
transportation problem, for even with such help the oxen were
frequently unable to move the wagons. When the oxen became stalled in
a snow bank a long rope was attached to the wagon so that all hands
could take hold and pull together with the oxen. By almost herculean
efforts the wagons were thus dragged through the drifts of snow. Often
the snow would accumulate in great piles in front of the wagons, which
caused many pauses in the march. The marching and counter-marching,
the dragging of wagons by man power, and the clearing away of snow
continued during the two days out from Dakota City. Under such
conditions the advance of the command was painfully slow.
But the drifts were not the worst obstacle. When ravines or stream
heads were encountered in the line of march the oxen could do little
but flounder in the snow which was then four or five times as deep as
on the level ground of the prairie. They could scarcely secure a
footing, for here the soft snow had usually been converted into almost
bottomless slush. At such times the men would “wade through, stack
arms, return and unhitch the teams, and attach ropes to them and _draw
them through_”; this done, they “performed a similar operation on the
wagons”.[233] It was necessary to resort to this method of advance
every mile or two.
In the face of such conditions, it became very evident that the timber
at McKnight’s Point could not be reached on scheduled time.[234] When
the companies came to appreciate more fully the difficulties before
them, Captain Duncombe, Lieutenant Maxwell, and R. U. Wheelock were
sent ahead as scouts to pick out a better road and if possible secure
a camping place near timber and water.[235] To guide the advancing
column, beacon fires were built; but these were of little or no use to
the men in the rear. The main body of marchers, wet, hungry, and
suffering acutely from the cold, toiled on until darkness made further
progress seem an impossibility. Major Williams therefore called a halt
and “put it to a vote whether we should camp where we were, or still
persist in getting to the Point. A majority voted to camp where we
were, although several preferred to keep on, fearing we would freeze
to death anyway, and that it was as well to keep moving. We were on
the bleak prairie.... We had no tents to shelter us; so, to many the
outlook was extremely forbidding, but all acquiesced in the will of
the majority.”[236]
The place selected for the camp was a high ridge from which the snow
had been blown by the winter’s winds. Each company went into its own
camp. The tarpaulin covers for the wagons were removed and stretched
around the wagons so as to form a shelter from the wind. Upon the
ground under the wagons the men placed their oil-skin coats to serve
as a floor upon which to pile the bedding. Wet boots were used for
pillows. Then, huddled closely together under the wagons so that when
one turned all had to do likewise, the weary volunteers “turned in”
for the night. Being some distance from the timber they could obtain
no wood with which to kindle fires--without which the men were unable
to warm themselves, dry their clothing, or cook their food. For supper
they had nothing to eat save crackers and uncooked ham; and the same
diet made up the breakfast on the following morning.[237]
Early Friday morning the companies continued the march toward
McKnight’s Point, where they arrived about noon. Here they found
Duncombe, Wheelock, and Maxwell awaiting them. In nearly two days the
battalion had covered a distance of something over twelve miles from
Dakota City to McKnight’s Point. Even at this slow rate of progress
they arrived in a thoroughly exhausted condition.
Captain Duncombe had reached the Point the evening before in a very
benumbed condition and nearly unconscious from the exposure and
suffering occasioned by the intensity of the cold. In explaining his
condition, however, a story was later told by a member of the
expedition to the effect that as the Point was neared by the three
scouts Duncombe became exhausted and appeared to be unable to proceed.
Wheelock had with him what was thought to be a cordial, some of which
he offered to the Captain. The “cordial” proved to be laudanum, which
so affected Duncombe that had it not been for Wheelock and Maxwell,
who kept him awake and moving, he would have been overcome. When
within two miles of the Point, Maxwell started for help. Too exhausted
to walk, he lay down on the snow and rolled himself over and over till
he reached the grove; while Wheelock remained with Duncombe to keep
him awake and moving. At the grove Maxwell found a cabin in which were
Jeremiah Evans and William L. Church. Hearing Maxwell’s story, they at
once set out to rescue Duncombe and Wheelock. In rolling over and over
in the snow Maxwell had made a trail which the rescuers had no trouble
in following to the suffering men. After being dragged to the cabin,
Duncombe fell asleep and could not be aroused. But by the time the
expedition arrived on the following day he had awakened and appeared
to be little or none the worse for his unusual experience.[238]
By Saturday a number of the men were ill from exposure, but
uncomplainingly continued the trying march. Major Williams, although
the oldest man of the expeditionary force, bore his privations
extremely well, giving no evidence of exhaustion. If anything the
trials of the march had aroused in him a still stronger and sterner
fighting spirit. Some of the force, apparently bearing the trials
well, were reported as complaining. One of these men is said to have
been a veteran of the Mexican War and often made the boast that he had
been the third soldier to enter the Mexican fortress of Churubusco
when it was stormed and taken by the American forces. But now he
declared the continuance of the march “would result in the destruction
of the entire command”.[239]
Calling a meeting of the battalion, Major Williams addressed the men
upon the duties and obligations of the expedition, and he ended by
declaring: “You now understand this is not to be a holiday campaign,
and every man in the battalion who feels that he has gone far enough
is at liberty to return.”[240] No one was willing to accept the offer.
It appears, however, that Daniel Okeson and John O’Laughlin, who had
been accepted under protest on account of their age, were now
discharged from Company B on account of disabilities incident to their
years. Under protest they accepted discharge and returned to Fort
Dodge.
The battalion’s ranks, however, were not depleted by these dismissals,
as Jeremiah Evans and William L. Church at once enlisted--the former
in Company B and the latter in Company C.[241] Evans had been a
settler at McKnight’s Point for some time, and it was at his cabin
that the advance scouts were received and cared for. Church, whose
home was at Springfield, Minnesota, had been on a trip to Fort Dodge
for supplies and had stopped at the Evans cabin on his return up the
river on the Fort Ridgely trail. Upon his arrival he had been told of
the massacre at the lakes and also that a relief expedition was being
organized at Fort Dodge to rescue the whites who might have escaped
and to punish the Indians who had done the deed. Upon hearing this he
had resolved to await the coming of the expedition and enlist for
service.
At McKnight’s Point a halt of a half-day on Friday afternoon was taken
for purposes of recuperation. Here a number of deserted cabins
furnished shelter for the men. It was at this halt that Company C
selected Emery W. Gates as cook. Following his appointment it is said
that Gates prepared for the men one of the best meals they had ever
eaten; and they agreed that their stay here was one “grand, good
time”.[242]
Company A also celebrated, but in an entirely different manner. To
divert the minds of those who were suffering from the hardships of the
march, Captain Richards decided to hold a mock court-martial. The
victim, a man by the name of Brizee, was of course unaware of the fake
character of the affair and took the proceeding with great
seriousness. It seems that the tar box of Company A’s wagon had been
lost, and for this Brizee was held responsible. The formal trial
procedure--the organization of the court, the summoning of witnesses,
the taking of testimony, and the rendering of a formal decision--was
carried through and Brizee was declared guilty. In all solemnity he
was sentenced to be shot. It is said that he was very much frightened
and most earnestly implored a pardon which was finally granted.[243]
On the morning of Saturday, the twenty-eighth, the three companies
bade goodbye to McKnight’s Point and started for Shippey’s Point,
which was located on the west fork of Cylinder Creek about two miles
above the junction of the main stream with the Des Moines. Since
leaving Dakota City the expedition had followed as nearly as possible
the Fort Ridgely road up the Des Moines Valley--a route which it was
planned to continue as far as practicable. At McCormick’s place about
two miles below Shippey’s, they met Angus McBane, Cyrus C. Carpenter,
William P. Pollock, and Andrew Hood, who had heard of the massacre at
the Irish Colony and were hastening south to Fort Dodge to
report.[244] These men at once joined Company A.
It was at Shippey’s Point that J. M. Thatcher and Asa Burtch were
found anxiously awaiting the coming of the battalion. Thatcher was
nearly frantic over the reported fate of his family, but had been
induced by Burtch to await the coming of the relief party--in Company
B of which the two men now enlisted.[245] The load of supplies--mostly
flour, which Luce and Thatcher had been taking to the lakes from the
eastern part of the state--was confiscated for the use of the
battalion as the supplies of the party were growing uncomfortably low
and Sherman, the commissary, was becoming nervous.
On Sunday morning the onward march was resumed with the Irish
settlement on Medium Lake as the objective point for the day. As the
expedition moved further to the north, the difficulties of the march
became greater because the snow increased in depth. From Shippey’s
Point the march followed the Dragoon Trail, although no team had been
able to make its way over this road for weeks. To the tired men the
drifts seemed mountain high, while the depth of the snow in the low
places seemed fathomless. The “colony” was finally reached without
incident.
The settlement at Medium Lake comprised about twelve or fifteen Irish
families who had come from Illinois in the fall of 1856. They had
selected claims along the Des Moines River, but had made no permanent
improvements. Instead, they had built temporary cabins in a grove at
the southwest corner of Medium Lake where they planned to spend the
winter.[246] In time this temporary settlement developed into the town
of Emmetsburg, which to the present day has retained a large
percentage of people of Irish nativity. Here also were many people who
had fled from the perils of an Indian attack and had come together for
the winter. They were found living in rudely constructed cabin
shelters or in dugouts.[247] Destitute of provisions, they were as far
as possible being supported from the slender stores of their Irish
neighbors upon whose pity they had thrown themselves.
While here the expeditionary force was augmented by new recruits:
thereafter it comprised one hundred and twenty-five men. Since most of
these persons did not formally enlist their names do not appear upon
the official muster roll of the battalion. Not only did the companies
receive recruits at Medium Lake, but it was here that they were able
to exchange their worn out oxen for fresh teams. They were also able
to replenish somewhat their commissary department, for the new members
brought with them as much food as the settlement was able to spare.
XXIII
FROM MEDIUM LAKE TO GRANGER’S POINT
On Monday morning the expedition set out very much refreshed; for the
men had not only feasted the evening before but that morning they
“butchered a cow that had been wintered on prairie hay. The beef was
not exactly porterhouse steak, but it was food for hungry men.”[248]
The day’s march was a hard one, and when Big Island Grove near the Mud
Lakes was reached the men were so exhausted that they threw themselves
on the ground, rolled up in their blankets, and went to sleep without
supper.
Ex-Governor Carpenter, in relating his experiences as a member of the
expedition, says that there was after the lapse of forty-one years a
picture before him “of Capt. Charles B. Richards and Lieutenant F. A.
Stratton ... with two or three of the men, cutting wood, punching the
fire, and baking pancakes, until long after midnight; and as they
would get enough baked for a meal they would waken some tired and
hungry man and give him his supper: and the exercises in Company A
were but a sample of what was in progress in each of the
companies.”[249] Thus the greater portion of the night was spent by
the solicitous officers in caring for their men.
After leaving Medium Lake evidences of the presence of Indians were
observed from time to time. What appeared to be moccasin tracks were
frequently seen. Cattle had been killed in such a manner as to leave
no doubt that the work had been done by Indians. At Big Island Grove
many signs of Indians were found. On an island in the middle of the
lake the Indians had constructed a look-out in the tree-tops from
which they were able to see the country for miles around. Better
evidence still of the fact that their visits were recent was the
report that the campfires were still glowing, and that fishing holes
were found in the ice.[250]
Many members of the expedition believed that the Indians, after
raiding the settlements at the lake, would cross over to the Des
Moines and proceed south on a war of extermination; and the signs at
Big Island Grove were very readily accepted as a substantiation of
this belief. It is probable, however, that this was a mistaken
conclusion. Sleepy-Eye had frequently rendezvoused at Big Island
Grove, and the arrival of the expedition may have followed closely his
departure on the spring hunting trip. It is not probable that
Inkpaduta’s men went east of the lakes or south of Springfield.
On the evening of the arrival of the expedition at Big Island Grove,
Major Williams decided that since they were evidently in the Indian
country the march should thereafter be made with more caution.
Accordingly, he called for volunteers for an advance scouting party of
ten men whose work would be to precede the main expeditionary force
and keep a sharp look-out for the near approach of Indians and to
observe, interpret, and report any signs that might be discovered.
They were to maintain an advance of perhaps three miles over the main
column. Major Williams selected as the commander of this advance guard
William L. Church, who of all the members of the expedition was the
most familiar with the country in which they were now moving, since he
had passed through it a number of times after settling at Springfield.
Those who had volunteered as his companions were Lieutenant Maxwell,
Thatcher, Hathaway, F. R. Mason, Laughlin, A. S. Johnson, De Foe,
Carpenter, and another man whose identity seems to have been forgotten
shortly after the return of the expedition to Fort Dodge.[251]
The members of the advance guard were astir early Tuesday morning; and
while they breakfasted, rations for three days were made ready for
each man. These rations when totalled amounted to forty pounds of corn
meal and twenty pounds of wheat flour. In addition the men were
allowed each a piece of corn bread about six inches square, which was
supposed to be divided among the meals of the succeeding three days;
but a number of the men, deciding that the easiest way to carry the
bread was to eat it, immediately set about doing that very thing. The
scouting party left the main body of the expedition about six o’clock
on a beautiful winter’s morning--although it was in fact the closing
day of March. Orders were given to the men to scout north, northwest,
and northeast of the route to be followed by the main body. Lieutenant
Maxwell and Laughlin, being true plainsmen, took the lead, while the
remaining eight were soon envying “the ease and celerity with which”
they “with their long legs and wiry frames, pulled through the snow
and across the snow-drifts”.[252]
The advance had made about twelve miles when the men paused on the
bare ridge of the Des Moines water-shed for the mid-day meal. Mason
was stationed as sentry, while the others ate in the sheltered lea of
the ridge. At some distance from the other members of the party, Mason
had been at his post only a short time when he saw far to the
northwest a black spot come into view. It soon became evident that the
spot was moving. The attention of the other members of the party was
called to the discovery. After sighting with their ramrods for some
minutes, they too concluded that the object was really on the move.
Furthermore it was agreed that the moving object must be a party of
Indians; and so an attack was planned.
The squad advanced on the run to meet the party, which was probably
two miles away. But no sooner had the whites started toward the
“Indians” than the latter were observed to hold a hurried
consultation. Between the two parties was a willow-bordered creek
toward which each started for the apparent purpose of ambushing the
other. The advance guard, having reached and passed the creek first,
scaled the knoll or ridge of ground just beyond. Having reached the
crest of the swell, the expeditionists prepared to fight. The opposing
force halted and likewise seemed to prepare for defense. Before
beginning the attack, however, the arrival of Church and a second man
was awaited. When these men had come up, breathless but ready for the
fray, the order to advance was given. Suddenly Church gave a shout and
sprang forward exclaiming: “My God, there’s my wife and babies!” The
“Indians” turned out to be none other than the refugees from
Springfield, Minnesota. The meeting was both dramatic and pathetic.
For days relatives and friends of the refugees had believed them
dead--victims of Indian barbarities. Now some were reunited with their
loved ones, while others received word that their kin were lying in
the snows of the lake region or had been carried away in captivity by
the Indians.[253]
A pathetic sight, indeed, were these terrified fugitives. “In the
haste of their flight they had taken but few provisions and scanty
clothing. The women had worn out their shoes; their dresses were worn
into fringe about the ankles; the children were crying with hunger and
cold; the wounded were in a deplorable condition for want of surgical
aid. Their food was entirely exhausted; they had no means of making
fire; their blankets and clothing were wet and frozen.... The refugees
were so overcome ... that they sank down in the snow, crying and
laughing alternately, as their deliverers gathered around them.”[254]
The wounded were in a terrible condition. “Mr. Thomas was traveling
with his hand dangling by the cords of his arm, having been shot
through the wrist.”[255] They were “almost exhausted from the toilsome
march, lack of food, exposure to the inclement weather, and the
terrible anxiety of the previous week.”[256]
From the story of the refugees it seems that while painfully making
their way southward, and almost ready to perish from cold, starvation,
and physical exhaustion, they saw appear upon the summit of a ridge
far to the southeastward a group of men whom they, too, supposed to be
Indians. It happened that the men of the advance guard were wearing
shawls as a protection from the cold, and so they really did have the
appearance of blanket-clad Indians. The refugees were wild with terror
for they felt that their end had certainly come. There was only one
man in the party who really had the courage and was able to fight.
Loading the eight rifles which were in the possession of the party,
John Bradshaw prepared to meet the enemy single-handed, ready to
sacrifice his life if necessary in the defense of the helpless members
of the party. It is said that he stood rifle in hand until Church,
breaking from the ranks of the advance guard, ran forward shouting for
his wife and children. Not until then was it evident to the refugees
that friends rather than enemies were approaching.[257]
Mason and Smith were chosen to carry the news back to the main body of
the expedition, which at this time was nearly eight miles to the rear.
Mason declares that he was so excited that notwithstanding his
fatigue he ran the whole distance. When the messengers were within two
miles of the expedition their coming was observed by Captains Duncombe
and Richards who rode out to meet them. Major Williams was sent for
and a consultation held. Mason, Duncombe, Richards, and Dr. Bissell
were ordered by Major Williams to push forward as rapidly as possible
to the aid of the refugees. At four o’clock in the afternoon the start
was made, and so well did the men make the return trip that the
fugitives from Springfield were reached about nine o’clock. The
advance guard and the fugitives were found in the shelter of the creek
willows over a mile from where they had been left. Camp had been
pitched--if such it could be called. Meanwhile, a storm had come up
and it was raining furiously, which only increased the sad plight of
the starving and ragged refugees who were without adequate
shelter.[258]
When the main expeditionary body arrived about midnight strenuous
efforts were made to provide some sort of comfort for the distressed
and starving fugitives. The only semblance to a tent in the
expedition’s equipment--one made of blankets patched together--was
provided them, and their wounds were dressed by Dr. Bissell. Being so
near the scene of the massacre, it was feared that even then Indians
might be in the vicinity of the camp. And so guards were placed to
prevent a surprise attack. Since the men were greatly exhausted by
the day’s efforts, they were relieved of guard duty each hour. Thus
little rest came to any of the men that night. In the morning the
refugees were again fed and provided with blankets by the
expeditionary force from its already slender store. Being thus
outfitted, they were given a guard and sent on to the Irish Colony.
Mr. Church left the expedition at this point to accompany his wife and
children to Fort Dodge and Webster City.
Learning from the fugitives the facts concerning the presence of the
Indians at Springfield, Major Williams decided to push toward that
point as rapidly as possible. When the march was resumed on the
morning following the meeting with the refugees from Springfield, the
expedition moved in the direction of Granger’s Point. John Bradshaw,
Morris Markham, and Jareb Palmer did not continue with the refugees,
but enlisted as members of the expeditionary force, each hoping for a
chance to even up matters with the red men.
The march to the Granger settlement was enlivened by a little incident
that aided much in detracting from the trying ordeal of the march. In
the morning additional precautions were taken to guard against a
surprise by Indians: a small group of men were selected by Major
Williams to scout just ahead of the main body and ascertain if Indians
might chance to be in the timber along the streams and about the
lakes. The scouts were given orders to fire their guns only in case
they found Indians. The advance had continued about three miles when
the crack of a gun was heard, followed by a number of reports in quick
succession from the timber just ahead. Immediately two men emerged
from the timber on the run. Captain Duncombe who was about a mile in
advance of his command thought the runners to be Indians, and he at
once gave chase hoping to head them off before they could enter
another grove a short distance beyond and for which they were
evidently making. Being mounted, Duncombe soon approached near enough
to recognize two of the expedition scouts.
It was soon learned that while passing through the timber two old
hunter members of the squad chanced to see some beavers sunning
themselves on the ice. Unable to resist the first impulse, they
emptied the contents of their guns at the unsuspecting animals. The
men seen running out of the timber were only chasing some of the
animals that had not been killed by the initial volley. Meanwhile, the
whole expeditionary force had been halted, and with loaded guns put in
readiness for the attack. Some members, unable to control themselves,
did not wait for the command, but broke ranks and ran toward the
imagined Indians with guns ready for firing. After some little time
the expedition was again restored to a state of order and the march
resumed.
Upon reaching Granger’s Point that evening, they were very
inhospitably received by a man and boy who were occupying the cabin.
Little information and absolutely no assistance could be secured from
them. They reported that they had no food, withdrew into the cabin,
and barred the door. Within a brief time, however, a horseman arrived,
who proved to be a United States regular from Captain Bee’s command
which had but lately arrived at Springfield. He brought the
information of Bee’s arrival, of the flight of the Indians westward,
and of Bee’s sending a detail to Spirit Lake to bury the dead. He
said, however, that the detail had visited only one cabin on Spirit
Lake and had there found one body which they buried. They had made no
attempt to reach the lower lakes on account of bad weather and roads
and the shortage of provisions.
That night Major Williams called a council, and upon a review of the
facts it was decided to abandon the chase. But since the bodies of the
massacred were yet unburied, it was thought that a detail of
volunteers should proceed to the lakes on that mission.[259]
XXIV
THE BURIAL DETAIL
When morning came the conclusions of the council were reported to the
command, and volunteers, not over twenty-five in number, were called
for to serve on the burial detail. The report met with a most cordial
response and the full quota of volunteers was obtained at once. Those
who signified their willingness to serve were: Captain J. C. Johnson
and Captain Charles B. Richards, Lieutenant John N. Maxwell, and
privates Henry Carse, William E. Burkholder, William Ford, H. E.
Dalley, Orlando C. Howe, George P. Smith, Owen S. Spencer, Carl
Stebbins, Silas Van Cleave, R. U. Wheelock, R. A. Smith, William A. De
Foe, B. F. Parmenter, Jesse Addington, R. McCormick, J. M. Thatcher,
William R. Wilson, William K. Laughlin, Elias D. Kellogg, and another
whose name is not known.[260]
These men were placed by Major Williams under the immediate command of
Captain Johnson of Company C; and on the morning of April second the
detail, supplied with two days’ rations, took up its march for the
lakes. From the outset their undertaking was precarious; with limited
rations the men had no assurance that they would be able to secure any
more supplies. Nevertheless, they courageously undertook the
humanitarian task with the hope that somehow the future would care for
itself.
The burial detail was to proceed to the lakes, perform the sad task of
burying the dead, and rejoin the main command at the Irish settlement
on Medium Lake. Accompanied by two mounted men--Captain Richards and
another whose name is now lost--the detail set out upon its journey;
but at the crossing of the Des Moines, the first stream reached, the
horsemen were unable to force a passage. The men crossed safely on a
log; but the horses could not be forced to swim the channel, and after
an hour’s work Captain Richards, and his companion gave up the effort
and returned to the main command.[261]
Without incident the members of the party reached the southeastern
shore of the east lake about two o’clock in the afternoon. Making
their way to the Noble and Thatcher cabin, they found the bodies of
Enoch Ryan and Alvin Noble at the rear of the house. Each body had
been riddled with bullets. The yard and adjacent prairie were thickly
sprinkled with feathers which had come from the destroyed feather
ticks for which the Indians had had no use. The bodies were buried at
the foot of a large oak tree near the house. While some of the party
were interring the dead at this cabin, others walked on to the Howe
cabin where seven bodies were found lying about the cabin doorstep.
Among the mangled remains found in the yard Thatcher identified his
infant child. The burials at the Howe cabin were completed late in
the afternoon; but darkness prevented the men from proceeding to the
other cabins. Returning to the Thatcher cabin they there planned to
pass the night. The body of the Thatcher child was interred near the
head of a ravine not far from the Thatcher cabin. This was in keeping
with the desire of the father that his child should be buried upon his
own property. Returning to the Howe cabin the following morning, they
found the body of a boy of about thirteen years of age lying at the
side of a fallen tree in the dooryard. This apparently was Jacob, the
brother of Mrs. Noble, whom she vainly tried to get into the house.
The burial detail reported the interment of eight bodies at the Howe
cabin.
From Howe’s cabin they proceeded to the settlements on the west lake.
At this juncture the party was divided, and one section under Captain
Johnson took the lake shore trail, while a second under Lieutenant
Maxwell crossed the lake directly in line with the Mattock cabin. The
Johnson party is said to have found the body of Joel Howe near the
trail and to have buried it near the spot where it was found--a place
which was lost sight of until its alleged discovery in August, 1914,
by a young man, Lee Goodenough of Knoxville, Iowa, while attending a
Young Men’s Christian Association camp.[262] At the Mattock cabin the
dead were found widely scattered through the clearing and along the
trail toward the Granger home across the strait. Every evidence of a
desperate resistance was noted. Dr. Harriott was found with his broken
rifle still grasped in his hand. Eleven bodies were collected and
buried at this place.
Across the strait at the Granger cabin they found the body of Carl
Granger horribly mutilated, as by cutting or slashing with some sharp
instrument about the face. Near him lay his dog which had evidently
remained faithfully by him to the last. The dog’s body was also
terribly mangled.
The Gardner home was the last place to be visited. Here six bodies
were found and buried about fifty yards to the southeast of the cabin
on a spot said to have been designated by Eliza Gardner when she met
the rescue party. As yet the bodies of Luce and Clark had not been
found; indeed they were not found until the following June when they
were discovered near the outlet of the east lake. Their burial place
is not known.[263]
By the time the work of interment was completed at the Gardner cabin,
it was late in the afternoon. The rations of the party were all but
gone; but the night was coming on, and so the party decided to remain
and camp to the north of the Gardner cabin. Fortunately Wilson’s
memory came to the rescue of the party in their stress for food: he
now recalled that in the fall when a visitor at the Gardner cabin he
had seen Gardner bury a box of potatoes beneath the stove to insure
them against being frozen during the winter. Upon investigation there
was discovered nearly a bushel of the potatoes which satisfied the
hunger of the men that evening and on the following morning.
After this potato breakfast on the morning of April fourth, sixteen of
the twenty-three men composing the detail began the return trip; while
seven of the party having interests to look after at the lakes,
decided to remain a few days longer. Those who decided to remain were
R. A. Smith, Orlando C. Howe, R. U. Wheelock, B. F. Parmenter, Asa
Burtch, J. M. Thatcher, and William R. Wilson. Howe and Wheelock
remained to make sure of their load of supplies which Parmenter had
been compelled to abandon when his two companions started ahead of him
to Fort Dodge with the news of the massacre.[264]
It appears, however, that the split in the party is to be attributed
to something besides business demands. There was a disagreement over
the best route to be taken on the return trip. While breakfasting that
morning the discussion had arisen. The majority favored as direct a
route as possible across the open prairie to the Irish Colony. Others
of the party did not consider such a route to be safe, arguing that it
would be better to retrace the route by which they had come--which
route would lead them to Granger’s Point and thence to the Irish
Colony. Meanwhile, a storm was gathering which seemed to add force to
the arguments of those in favor of a known road.
The matter could not be settled by argument; and so, after breakfast
Captain Johnson, gave the command to fall in. “After the men had
fallen in he gave the further order, ‘All who favor starting at once
across the prairie, step three paces to the front; the rest stand
fast’.... What little provision was left in camp was speedily packed
and the party made ready to depart at once.”[265] Captain Johnson and
Burkholder urged united action upon the seven who stood fast; but the
appeal was unavailing, for the seven men remained steadfast in their
conviction that the course as planned was wrong. They offered to join
the party if they would take the Granger route; but Johnson and
Burkholder stood as firmly against that proposition as the seven were
opposed to their plans. Thus the two groups parted company--good
friends but each firmly convinced that the other was in the wrong. The
members of the party that left took all the food, and were allowed to
do so because those who remained behind counted upon securing their
store from the wagonload of supplies which had been left somewhere out
on the prairie.
The men who remained set out at once to locate the wagon and bring in
the needed food. It appears that there was no difficulty in finding
the wagon with its cargo of supplies. When each man had loaded himself
with a supply, they returned as rapidly as possible for the gathering
storm had broken and snow was falling heavily. In a short time, it
became a blinding, driving whirlwind of snow. Reaching the cabin, they
laid in a supply of fuel. Being well armed, they felt no alarm at the
prospect of an Indian attack. All that could be done while the storm
raged was to await patiently its abatement. Only after two days did
the fury of the storm abate sufficiently to permit the men to leave
the cabin in safety.
The morning of the second day after the beginning of the blizzard
dawned clear and intensely cold, although the weather had moderated
somewhat since the previous evening. The snow was frozen with a hard
crust and upon it the party from the Gardner cabin made their way
rapidly in the direction of Granger’s Point. When they arrived at the
Des Moines they found the river completely frozen, which made the
crossing easy. Thus with little trouble they were again at Granger’s
Point where they had left the main body five days previously. They now
procured a team and wagon, loaded their baggage, and, after resting a
day, started for the Irish settlement. At this point they found some
of the wounded from the Springfield settlement who had not been able
to proceed with the main command. Here also was Henry Carse who, as
will be seen, suffered so terribly on the night out from the Gardner
cabin. Resting a day at the Irish settlement, they resumed their
journey to Fort Dodge. What had been a small party on leaving the
Gardner cabin had more than doubled in number when the Irish colonists
were bidden goodbye.
When Cylinder Creek was reached the party succeeded through great
effort in effecting a crossing. The undertaking required the whole of
an afternoon, but by nightfall the men succeeded in reaching Shippey’s
Point two miles beyond. “From here the party proceeded on their way to
Fort Dodge, which they reached without further adventures than such as
are incident to swimming swollen streams and living on short rations,
which, in some instances, consisted of a handful of flour and a little
salt, which they mixed up with water and baked over a campfire. A few
of the party shot, dressed and broiled some muskrats and tried to make
the rest believe they considered them good eating, but that diet did
not become popular.”[266]
* * * * *
The early part of the day upon which Captain Johnson and party left
the Gardner cabin, after the disagreement of the morning, was quite
warm, and the rapidly melting snow added greatly to the difficulties
of traveling. Being forced to wade through sloughs several feet deep
in slush the men were soon wet to the shoulders. But they plodded on
cheerfully for they were on the way home after the completion of an
arduous duty. While they were in this cheery frame of mind, the
blizzard broke upon them in all its fury about four in the afternoon.
With the storm came a rapid fall in temperature, and it was not long
before the clothes of the members of the party were frozen stiff from
feet to shoulders--rendering progress next to impossible.
With the oncoming of the storm began the first disagreement among the
men after leaving the Gardner cabin in the morning. Again, it was a
matter of the best route to be taken. Jonas Murray, a trapper who had
volunteered as guide, claimed to be thoroughly familiar with the
country. Not all, however, were willing to accept his guidance.
Spencer and McCormick were the first to break away from his
leadership. This they did when Mud Creek was reached only about eight
or nine miles from the point of starting. Crossing far to the north of
where Murray maintained was the proper place, these men struck
directly east for the settlement which they reached within a short
time after the storm broke upon them.[267]
The other members of the party lost much valuable time in wandering
southward along the course of Mud Creek. Finally a crossing was
effected, but much farther to the south than several thought it should
have been. Against the protests of a number, Murray continued to lead
the party still farther south. Near sunset Maxwell and Laughlin found
a township corner pit, at which they proposed to camp for the night
since they feared the loss of direction in the oncoming darkness. But
Murray, Johnson, and Burkholder, thought it best to continue and so
the party pressed on.[268] Ahead of them was a lake to the east of
which was a great stretch of uncommonly high grass which seemed to
afford good shelter. Maxwell, Laughlin, and seven others started to
walk around this lake to the east; but Johnson, Burkholder, Addington,
G. P. Smith, and Murray went around in the opposite direction. Finding
a shelter Laughlin called to Johnson’s party which could then only be
dimly seen through the sedge. Apparently he was not heard, for the men
struck out toward the southeast and were not again seen before the
Irish settlement was reached. Laughlin’s party decided to remain where
it was rather than attempt to follow.
As soon as the halt was made the men tumbled down in a shivering heap
and huddled closely together to keep from freezing. In crossing
sloughs several men had removed their boots to keep them dry, while
others had cut holes in the leather in order to let the water out.
Carse had removed his boots, but found it impossible to replace them
for they were frozen stiff. He then tore his blanket into pieces and
wrapped his feet as well as he could, but even then he suffered
fearfully from the cold. Maxwell and Laughlin, realizing the danger of
freezing to death, did not permit themselves to sleep the whole night
through: they kept constantly on the move and compelled the others to
do the same. Whenever any man fell asleep the others would pick him
up, arouse him, and force him to remain awake and on the move
regardless of his objections. Some of the men begged that they be
allowed to sleep, protesting that moving about in their ice stiffened
garments was worse punishment than they could bear. Thus all night
long the awful vigil was kept. It was largely due to the tireless
watching of Maxwell and Laughlin that no one froze to death, although
the temperature that night was said to have been thirty-four degrees
below zero at points in Iowa much farther south.[269]
The next day opened clear and cold. About eight miles to the east was
seen a grove of timber. Every man expressed himself as willing and
able to travel; and so without breakfast (for they had no food) the
party started in that direction, believing that the timber bordered
the Des Moines. Maxwell was the last to leave camp, and when about
three miles from the timber he found Carse sitting on the sunny side
of a small mound trying to pull on his frozen boots. The blanket
wrappings of his feet had already become so worn in traveling over the
ice and snow that he could go no further. Maxwell endeavored to take
Carse along with him, but every time he tried to guide him toward the
timber Carse obstinately insisted on taking the opposite direction. It
soon became evident that the man had grown delirious and that nothing
could be done with him on the open prairie. Henry E. Dalley, seeing
the difficulty, came to Maxwell’s assistance. The two were able to get
Carse to the timber, by which time he was unconscious and blood was
streaming from his mouth.[270]
Laughlin and Kellogg, who had reached the timber first, had set about
the building of a fire when it was discovered that not a member of the
party had matches. Laughlin’s ingenuity, however, came to the rescue.
He had a gun and powder, and was wearing a vest with a heavy, quilted
cotton lining. Removing some of the cotton from his vest he loaded the
gun with a powder charge and rammed it down tight with cotton. He
then discharged the gun into a piece of rotten wood which, after some
attention, began blazing. Dalley soon arrived with the helpless Carse.
When the blanket wrappings were removed from Carse’s feet the skin of
the soles came with them. Dalley finally succeeded in stopping the
bleeding and in reviving him. It was only a few nights before that
Carse had befriended Dalley by taking him under his own blanket. The
boy--for such he was, being less than twenty years of age--was poorly
clad and had suffered much from the trials of the expedition. His
youthful strength and courage, however, carried him safely through to
the end. Meanwhile, Kellogg had seated himself at the base of a tree
and before anyone had observed his need for attention he too had
become unconscious from exposure. Before he could be revived it was
necessary to cut his icy clothing away from his body as the only
practicable means of removing it. When this had been done he gradually
regained consciousness and seemed but little the worse for his
experience.[271]
Laughlin and Maxwell, having attended those who were needing help and
noting that all were as comfortable as conditions would permit,
started out to cross the river with a view to locating the Irish
settlement. They found the river frozen thick enough to support them,
with the exception of a few spots over which they improvised a bridge
of poles. Making their way to the margin of the timber, they saw the
settlement in plain sight not over three miles away. Help was at once
secured which enabled them to get the disabled members of the party
across the river and to safety in the homes of the settlement. Here
they found Major Williams awaiting their coming.
Without delay Major Williams sent men down the Des Moines to look for
Johnson and his companions. They remained out during the whole of the
day; and when they returned near dark reported that they had
discovered no trace of the men, but had found a cabin in which a good
fire was burning. The Major concluded that the men had been at the
cabin and had then gone southward, following the course of the river.
Three of the five men in the party--Smith, Addington, and Murray--came
to the settlement the following morning but could give little
information concerning Johnson and Burkholder. Smith had been the last
to see them; and his story left no doubt in the minds of most of his
hearers that the two men had perished somewhere to the west of the Des
Moines River.
The two unfortunate men having become completely exhausted by wading
streams and sloughs had finally sat down declaring that they were
unable to go any farther. They were sheeted with ice from head to
feet. Their feet were badly frozen and, unable to walk, they insisted,
against Smith’s advice, upon removing their boots. Realizing that they
could not replace the boots they cut their blankets in strips with
which to wrap their feet. At this time they were in sight of the
timber along the Des Moines River, which they were urged to exert
every effort to reach. But they were unable to rise from the ground.
“After vainly trying for a long time to get them to make another
effort to reach the timber, Smith at last realized that to save his
own life he must leave them. After going some distance he looked back
and saw them still on their knees in the snow, apparently unable to
rise. It is not likely they ever left the spot where Smith left them,
but, overcome with cold, they finally sank down and perished side by
side.”[272] Nearly eleven years later two skeletons were found near
the place where Smith said he left his companions. By the guns and
powder flasks lying near them the skeletons were identified as being
those of Johnson and Burkholder.[273]
XXV
RETURN OF THE RELIEF EXPEDITION
From Granger’s Point the return of the main body of the command was
uneventful until the Irish settlement was reached and passed. It will
be recalled that when the burial detail was outfitted nearly all of
the scanty rations then remaining were turned over to them because of
the probable hardships which would be encountered in venturing into
the hostile lake region. Thus the main command was hard pressed in the
matter of providing itself with adequate supplies. By the end of the
first day the command had reached the cabin of an old trapper near the
shore of Mud Lake. The experiences of the first night out are
illustrative of the extremity to which members of the expedition were
driven upon their homeward journey.
At the trapper’s cabin were found the frozen carcasses of some beaver,
which it was thought could be utilized as food. But frozen beaver even
when roasted failed to satisfy the hunger of the men. Captain Richards
tells of one member of his company, George W. Brizee, who, as a result
of exposure was suffering from a severe case of toothache and very
sore feet. Finally, the pain in his feet grew easier. But “his tooth
reminded him that it needed his attention; and after lying down and
trying to sleep, frequently reiterating that he knew he should die, he
got up and went out and returned with a hind-quarter of beaver and
began to roast it over the coals; and in a half-reclining position he
spent the entire night roasting and trying to eat the tough, leathery
meat, first consigning his feet to a warmer climate, and then as his
toothache for a time attracted most of his attention, giving us a
lecture on dentistry; when his tooth was relieved for a short time he
would, with both hands holding on to the partially roasted quarter of
beaver, get hold with his teeth and try to tear off a piece! The
picture by the weird light of the fire was a striking one”.[274]
The party did not tarry long at the Irish settlement, which was
reached on the evening of the next day, since it was evident that the
settlers had barely sufficient food to keep themselves alive and would
surely suffer if the command remained for any length of time.[275] The
day of leaving Medium Lake was a cloudy one and rather warm--just such
a day as is sure to start the water running from rapidly melting snow.
Only a short distance had been traveled when rain began falling--first
as a drizzle, but by the time Cylinder Creek was reached it was a
downpour. The prairies were flooded, while Cylinder Creek was about
half a mile wide, completely covering its rather narrow bottom, which
was under from two to five feet of water, while the main channel had a
depth of fifteen to twenty feet and was from sixty to eighty feet
wide. Obviously the problem of crossing would be a serious one.
Arriving at the border of the valley about two o’clock in the
afternoon the command vainly sought a passage. Then suddenly the wind
veered sharply to the northwest and became a gale--the rain changing
into a blinding fall of snow. This was the fearful blizzard of April
fourth that overtook the Johnson party on its return from the Gardner
cabin.
Captains Richards and Duncombe, not despairing of being able to effect
a crossing of the main channel, undertook to improvise a boat out of a
nearly new wagon box. With very little effort this wagon box was
caulked water tight with bedquilt cotton. Solon Mason and Guernsey
Smith were the men chosen to assist in getting the boat across the
channel. But the wind blew so hard that, although Richards and
Duncombe bailed water as rapidly as they could, the party scarcely
reached the opposite side of the channel before the make-believe boat
sank--the men barely saving themselves from drowning. Thus the attempt
to take all across in that manner failed.[276] Having no blankets and
unable to assist their comrades on the opposite side, there was
nothing to do but hasten on to Shippey’s Point which was two or three
miles distant.[277] This point they reached about nine o’clock at
night. Here they were liberally fed, and by sitting around the fire
all night were able to dry their clothes by exposing first one side
and then the other to the fire.
When morning came the storm had abated somewhat, and so it was decided
to return to the creek in an effort to locate the command. Mason had
not gone far when he succumbed to the cold and had to be taken back.
It seems that in crossing the Cylinder he had lost both overcoat and
cap. Upon their arrival at the east side of the bottom the men could
see nothing on the other side to indicate the presence of their
comrades. After spending some time in trying to accomplish a crossing,
they gave up the attempt and returned to Shippey’s. There they
remained until about the middle of the afternoon when they again
returned to the creek. This time they were no more successful than
before. Resigned to the thought that the remainder of the command had
either perished or returned to Medium Lake, they wandered back to
Shippey’s. Shortly after their return, Hoover and Howland came in and
reported that when they left the command all were safe on the west
side, though suffering considerably while waiting for the channel to
freeze.
Early on Monday morning, while the blizzard was yet raging and the
cold was still intense, the little group at Shippey’s once more
started for the creek in an effort to locate their companions.
Reaching the creek, the little group saw the men on the opposite side
making preparations to cross--the storm by this time having abated so
that a crossing might be attempted. The creek was now solidly frozen
so that the task of crossing was easy. The way to Shippey’s was soon
made. Here they told the story of how they had saved themselves from
the terrors of the awful storm.
From this story it appears that no thought of returning to the Irish
settlement had been entertained by those who had been left behind.
Major Williams and two or three others had, indeed, returned, hoping
that they would there find the burial detail and guide them to the
Cylinder Creek camp. Those at the latter place resolved to remain and
await the dying down of the storm before making any further attempt at
crossing; and they set to work to improvise a shelter. Again the
tarpaulin wagon covers were brought into use and supplemented with
blankets, which when fastened together were stretched around and over
the wagon frames and then staked down to the frozen ground. This
improvised shelter was completely closed excepting a small flap
opening on the south or lea side which served the purpose of a door.
Then with blankets and other covers a common bed was made; and into
this the party crowded, wet from head to feet. Here they remained from
Saturday night until Monday morning when a few ventured out to examine
the state of the weather.[278] Finding conditions satisfactory they
began the crossing after having tarried “_over forty hours, without
food or fire, on the open prairie, with the mercury at 32° below
zero_.”[279]
It is little wonder that when they started to make the crossing the
men had scarcely “strength enough to reach the opposite shore....
Every man’s mouth was open wide, his tongue hanging out, and in some
instances blood running from nose or mouth.”[280] Governor Carpenter,
in commenting upon this terrific test of endurance notes that “since
that experience upon Cylinder Creek, I have marched with armies
engaged in actual war. During three and a half years’ service, the
army with which I was connected, marched from Cairo to Chattanooga,
from Chattanooga to Atlanta, from Atlanta to the Sea, and from the Sea
through the Carolinas to Richmond.... But I never in those weary years
experienced a conflict with the elements that could be compared with
the two nights and one day on Cylinder Creek.”[281]
After refreshing themselves at Shippey’s the men held a consultation
and reached the decision that henceforth the command should break up
into small details--a plan that seemed necessary on account of the
increasing difficulty of securing food. Each group was to find its way
home in the best manner it might be able to devise. Every man was
ordered to rid himself of all surplus baggage, retaining only his
blanket. Thus the expedition really came to an end with the crossing
of Cylinder Creek. But the hardships of the men were not ended; before
a number of the squads reached home they endured trials almost as
severe as those encountered before crossing the Cylinder.
The experience of the little group which Frank R. Mason undertook to
guide is perhaps typical of the hardships of the journey south from
Shippey’s. Mason had frequently been north of Fort Dodge hunting in
the timber along Lott’s Creek, and for that reason he was selected by
a Webster City group to pilot them home. With his party he struck out
boldly across the prairie in a line which he thought would lead to a
clearing in the timber where he knew they would receive a hearty
welcome. As darkness came on the men began to show exhaustion; but the
looked-for timber along Lott’s Creek did not appear. One of the men,
Hathaway by name, became wholly exhausted and had to be carried.
Within a short time he became delirious; and then the united efforts
of three of the party were needed to keep him under control, with only
indifferent success. Finally passing into a stupor he was more easily
managed.
When Mason and his companions reached the timber at about eleven
o’clock the expected cabin could not be found. The men grew impatient
and at times were inclined to criticize Mason as an incompetent guide.
Having reached a slight elevation or ridge, and despairing of locating
the cabin, they prepared to spend the night. Snow was cleared away
until the bare ground was reached and upon this they threw themselves.
They had had no food since the start; indeed they had not brought any
with them, for they had expected to reach the cabin before nightfall.
When they had lain sleepless for nearly an hour, voices were heard and
out of the darkness appeared human forms.[282] The newcomers were Mr.
and Mrs. Elwood Collins who were returning from an evening spent at a
neighbor’s home.
The finding of the men is thus described by Mrs. Collins. “Husband and
I, after having stayed later than usual at a neighbor’s, started for
home.... All at once the outline of dark objects appeared before
us.... I at first thought we might be upon a company of Indians! We
were too near to retreat.... I then heard groans of distress, and I
thought sobs.... We had a lantern, and as the light shone upon the
place my pity was truly stirred. There, with the snow crushed beneath
them, were eight men; some sitting, some reclining, and others lying
flat upon their backs!”[283]
Having been piloted to the clearing the men slept that night in the
cabin loft. In the morning they breakfasted hastily and resumed their
journey to Webster City. Hathaway and Gates had to be left at the
cabin as they were not able to proceed. This day’s experience was but
a repetition of the previous one. As darkness fell the men were again
exhausted, but by crawling on hands and knees they managed to reach
the cabin of a Mr. Corsau where they were taken in for the night. On
the following day they were taken by Corsau to Webster City. Thus
ended, for this Webster City group, the fearful experience of
attempting to relieve the settlers of the lake region from Indian
attacks.
For the Fort Dodge men the task of making their way home was easier,
as it did not necessitate the crossing of as many streams--which at
this time were in flood condition. At the same time their trip was not
lacking in incidents of trial. They arranged the march from cabin to
cabin so that they might have no difficulty in procuring food, for
they, too, made no attempt to carry supplies. More than once the men
experienced trials similar to those encountered by the Mason party,
and like them they too found the place searched for before hope was
gone. Within three or four days after leaving Cylinder Creek, all
parties had straggled in--weary, worn, and wasted. They were met with
a hearty welcome from friends who had thought them in all probability
lost on the northwestern prairies. All who had volunteered in the
expedition returned home in safety, except Johnson and Burkholder who
perished in the snow.
XXVI
THE DEATH OF MRS. THATCHER
From March twenty-sixth to April tenth, while the relief expedition
from Fort Dodge and Webster City was making its way painfully to and
from the scene of the massacre at the lakes, Inkpaduta and his band
continued their flight. When Lieutenant Murry’s men had been sighted
by the look-out, warning of their approach was communicated through
the Indian camp. The warriors crouched among the willows along the
creek ready to spring out upon their pursuers, while the squaws and
children made hurried preparations for a hasty retreat if need be.
Meanwhile, a warrior stood guard over the helpless white captives with
orders to shoot them the moment the soldiers should attack. But
Coursalle and La Framboise, who were guiding Murry’s men, declared
that the signs were so old that pursuit would be hopeless; and so the
soldiers returned to the main command. No sooner had they started on
their return than Inkpaduta fled from his temporary camp and began the
long journey to the Big Sioux, the James, and the region beyond.
The Indians were now thoroughly alarmed at the nearness of danger, and
for two days and nights they kept up a continuous flight. No stops
were made to prepare food: if they ate at all it was while they were
on the move. Such a sustained flight would have been arduous enough
for untrained marchers under the most favorable conditions, but for
the women captives it was terrible. Not only were they compelled to
wade through snow and slush but they were burdened with loads which
might well have been regarded as too heavy for men to bear.
Mrs. Marble states that upon leaving Heron Lake she and her associates
“were forced to carry heavy packs, and perform the degrading and
menial services in the camp ... that the pack ... consisted of two
bags of shot, each weighing twenty-five pounds, and a lot of camp
furniture, increasing the weight of the pack to 100 pounds. On top of
this heavy load ... was placed the additional weight of an Indian
urchin of some three or four years of age.”[284] The papoose which she
was supposed to carry seemed to consider that it was entitled to as
many liberties and as much attention when carried by her as it would
have enjoyed if in the care of its mother. Mrs. Marble objected to
making friends with the baby, and watching her opportunity would
scratch it in the face until the Indians, hearing its cries, finally
concluded it didn’t like her and took it away.
Abbie Gardner, though but a girl, was also burdened with a
pack--though its weight was somewhat less than that carried by Mrs.
Marble. It was made up of “eight bars of lead, one pint of leadballs,
one tepee cover made of the heaviest, thickest cloth, one blanket, one
bed-comforter, one iron bar, three feet long and half an inch thick
... one gun, and one piece of wood several inches wide and four feet
long, to keep the pack in shape.”[285]
This burdening of the captives was the more objectionable to them
since the Indian men were encumbered with nothing but a gun. As a
matter of course the squaws carried packs, but they were accustomed to
such burden-bearing and knew how to save themselves from its ill
effects. Moreover, the squaws were frequently equipped with a sort of
crude snowshoe which greatly aided them in walking. The white captives
sank deep into the snow at every step. They dared not stop to rest,
for whenever they slackened their pace the Indians would level guns at
them and resort to various other devices to keep them moving.
The food which the Indians had secured at Okoboji and Springfield
supplied them for about four weeks. Following this they made little or
no effort to secure food by hunting. If game crossed their path they
would kill it--if they could do so without much effort. But there was
no organization of hunting parties. After the confiscated supplies
were exhausted, they contented themselves with muskrat and skunk; and
as a luxury, Mrs. Sharp relates, they indulged in dog. As spring
opened they were able to secure a few ducks and geese, which seemed
very plentiful, but of which the Indians obtained only a few. Such
delicacies, however, were never shared with the captives: they were
not even allowed to assist in their preparation.
The treatment of the horses secured at Okoboji and Springfield was
still worse. There was neither hay nor grass--little or nothing upon
which the horses might feed. Even so they were given but slight
opportunity to feed. Before the Big Sioux had been reached nearly all
of the horses taken in the raids at the lakes had died of
starvation.[286]
Continued pursuit and ultimate capture by the soldiers seem to have
soon lost their terrors for the Indians. Although they kept constantly
on the move, progress was not very rapid--largely owing to the huge
drifts of snow over and through which they were compelled to travel.
Their first stopping-place, after nearly two weeks of uninterrupted
marching, was at the great red pipestone quarry in southwestern
Minnesota. This was but little more than one hundred miles northwest
of Heron Lake. Here they remained for a day quarrying pipestone and
fashioning pipes. A further cause for delay was the fact that the snow
was rapidly melting and travel, even for the Indians, was very
difficult.
The Indians were now in a sacred region to which all the Sioux were
wont to make frequent journeys--a region closely associated with the
superstitions of their race. Here the footprints made by the Great
Spirit when he alighted upon the earth could be seen. It was while he
stood here that a stream of water burst forth from beneath his feet
and flowed away to nourish the plain. Here it was that the Great
Spirit fashioned a pipe and smoked: huge volumes of smoke issued forth
serving as a signal for all the tribes to assemble from far and near.
When so assembled, the Great Spirit, blowing the smoke over all, bade
them meet here always in peace even though they might be at war
elsewhere. Moreover, if they wished to receive his favor, the calumet
must be fashioned from the rock upon which he stood. Having thus
enjoined his people, the Great Spirit disappeared in a cloud. It is
said that ever afterward when the Indians met at the pipestone quarry,
they met in peace though elsewhere they might be at war.[287]
After leaving the pipestone region so much time was consumed by the
Indians in camping that it might be said they camped more than they
marched. This is explained by the fact that they felt themselves now
wholly free from the danger of pursuit. Spring was rapidly approaching
and the smaller game was becoming more plentiful; and so they did not
feel the need of hastening to the buffalo ranges in Dakota.
The burdens of the captives grew increasingly more difficult. Although
snow no longer impeded their march, the rains were frequent and the
rivers and creeks were flowing wide over the valleys. When it rained
they were without shelter. The streams were crossed by the Indians on
the backs of the few ponies that yet survived. But the captives had
to wade at the risk of losing their lives: they could not swim.
Notwithstanding the hardships through which they were compelled to
pass, all but Mrs. Thatcher were faring much better than might have
been expected. Mrs. Marble, Mrs. Noble, and Abbie Gardner were willing
to appear resigned to their lot and did all that was requested of
them: they even appeared ready and willing to perform the many menial
duties which fell to their lot. With Mrs. Thatcher, however, it was
different. She had from the first rebelled at the service imposed by
her Indian captors; nor did she hesitate to show them very plainly her
frame of mind. This attitude on her part proved to be most
unfortunate.
From the beginning of her captivity Mrs. Thatcher had been ill with
phlebitis, which before the end of two weeks had developed into
virulent blood poisoning.[288] Indeed, so serious was her condition
that for a large portion of the march she had been relieved of much of
her pack. At the pipestone quarry and on the march after leaving that
region the medicine man of the band had undertaken to treat her--and
the treatment seemed to help her. To such an extent had she been
relieved that the Indians considered her again able to bear a pack.
Thus it happened that when they arrived at the crossing of the Big
Sioux near the present village of Flandrau, Mrs. Thatcher was laden as
heavily as were the other three captives.
This crossing had been for generations the fording place of the red
peoples in their pilgrimages to the pipestone quarry. Normally the
river at this point is wide but shallow. But “the vast amount of snow
which covered the ground that memorable winter had nearly gone, by
reason of the rapid thawing during the last few weeks, causing the
river to rise beyond all ordinary bounds, and assume majestic
proportions.”[289] Throughout the greater portion of the upper course
of the Big Sioux it flows between perpendicular and continuous cliffs
of red jasper rocks peculiar to the region, but at or near this
traditional crossing place the stone cliffs were neither high nor
continuous. Moreover, at this particular time so many tree trunks had
become lodged by the spring freshets that at one point a bridge
crossing was formed. Upon this the Indians proposed to cross, instead
of attempting the more dangerous method of fording. At the prospect of
crossing the swollen stream, the captives were terrified, believing
that they would again be compelled to wade. They despaired of being
able to get across. The situation seemed quite hopeless.
As soon as the determination to cross had been reached, an Indian
warrior--the one who had seized the box of caps from Gardner--removed
the pack from Mrs. Thatcher’s back and transferred it to his own.[290]
This in itself was ominous, and Mrs. Thatcher was not slow to perceive
that some unusual disposition was to be made of her. As she was
ordered forward to the driftwood bridge she spoke to her companions,
bidding them goodbye and saying as she did so: “If any of you escape,
tell my dear husband that I wanted to live for his sake.”[291] When
she had made the middle of the stream, the Indian carrying her pack
suddenly tripped her into the river. Retaining her presence of mind
she was able by desperate efforts to keep herself afloat. A number of
times she succeeded in making her way to the banks of the stream
where, grasping the roots of trees, she strove to pull herself out of
the water. But each time she was met by an Indian who clubbed her
loose and with a long pole pushed her into the main current. Finally,
as she came to shore and grasped the roots of a tree for what proved
to be the last time, an Indian who had always been peculiarly brutal
in his treatment of the captive raised his gun and shot her through
the head, killing her instantly.[292]
Mrs. Marble relates that the death of Mrs. Thatcher “was hailed by the
Indian women with loud shouts of joy and exultation.--The feelings of
the surviving prisoners at this horrid murder, cannot be imagined.
They beheld in Mrs. Thatcher’s death, the fate reserved for them, when
overpowered by fatigue, they would be unable to proceed.”[293]
The death of Mrs. Thatcher was a sad blow to the remaining captives:
it was particularly distressing to Mrs. Noble. These two women had
been lifelong friends and had married cousins. The families had come
to the frontier together, had lived in the same cabin, and had
planned to build homes as nearly together as possible. Mrs. Noble was
so depressed and so bereft of any hope that in the evening she
proposed to the other captives that they steal away to the Big Sioux
and drown themselves. Mrs Marble, however, succeeded in convincing her
that such an act would be useless. But from this time Mrs. Noble
seemed to be wholly indifferent as to her treatment or possible fate
at the hands of her captors. The captives were now made to realize as
never before the heartlessness of their captors: they lived in the
expectation that any day might see for them the end of life.
Before them lay many days of the most wearisome travel. It is true
that walking had become easier, for spring had really come and the
trails were much improved. With spring had come also the blossoming of
the prairies; but in this there was neither charm nor beauty for the
captives as they wearily plodded on knowing not whither they were
bound. After crossing the Big Sioux the journey was continued in a
nearly direct line westward. Other bands of Sioux or Yanktons were now
frequently seen; and notwithstanding the reputation of Inkpaduta, he
and his band were usually very cordially met by other Indians. Indeed,
they were more than cordially greeted from time to time at these
chance meetings. The fact that they seemed to be known by all bands
they chanced to meet suggests that they were not strangers to the
region. The story of how they obtained their captives, which was
always told, seemed to be received with every sign of approbation.
By May fifth Inkpaduta and his band had reached Lake M’da Chan-Pta-Ya
Tonka (Lake with a Grove of Big Trees). This body of water lies to the
east of the present town of Madison, South Dakota, at the headwaters
of Skunk Creek, and for that reason it has sometimes been called Skunk
Lake.[294] Situated about thirty miles west of Flandrau, South Dakota,
it is now known as Lake Madison. At the time it was visited by
Inkpaduta it was on the margin of the buffalo range. Hunting was now
quite the order of the day, and food became plentiful. The dressing
and preparing of skins occupied the time of the squaws.
XXVII
THE RANSOM OF MRS. MARBLE
In view of the events which followed the camping of the Indians at
Skunk Lake, it may be well to take note of the attempts made by the
Indian agent and by the Territory of Minnesota to rescue the captives
and punish the Indians. When the news of the massacre reached St. Paul
and other Minnesota towns it created no little excitement. The Sioux
were blamed as a nation, and this gave rise to a demand for their
punishment without just regard for the identification of the actual
perpetrators of the deed.
Charles E. Flandrau, the agent of the Mississippi Sioux who was then
located at the agency on the Yellow Medicine, solved the problem of
the identity of the murderers to his own satisfaction, and late in
April began the publication of articles in a number of the most widely
circulated newspapers in Minnesota in which he explained to the people
of the Territory the real identity of the Indians concerned. While
doing this he was also conferring with Colonel E. B. Alexander,
commander of the Tenth United States Infantry then stationed at Fort
Ridgely, Minnesota, concerning the best course to be pursued in the
attempt to rescue the captives and apprehend the Indians. It was very
clear to both that only such a course could be adopted and followed
as would be reasonably sure to guarantee the safety of the white women
who presumably were still held in captivity by Inkpaduta’s band. It
was felt by both Agent Flandrau and Colonel Alexander that the release
of the captives must be secured by resort to some means other than
force; but neither of these men was able to devise the proper means.
While they were seeking a solution of the difficulty, news was brought
of the ransoming of Mrs. Marble.
It seems that two Indian brothers from the Yellow Medicine Agency, who
had been Christianized by the Rev. Stephen R. Riggs, had gone into the
district beyond the Big Sioux to take part in the spring hunt along
with other members of their tribe. While in the vicinity of Skunk
Lake, the brothers, Ma-kpe-ya-ka-ho-ton (Sounding Heavens) and
Se-ha-ho-ta (Gray foot) by name, sons of Spirit Walker, Chief of the
Lac qui Parle Wahpetons, heard that Inkpaduta had lately passed
through the region.[295] They were also told that his band held as
captives three white women who had been taken in a raid which they had
but lately made upon the settlements at the lakes. The first feeling
of the brothers was one of pity for the captives, since they well knew
the ferocious character of the Inkpaduta band. Discussing the matter
between themselves, they decided to visit the camp of Inkpaduta for
the purpose of securing the release of the captives. The plan met with
disapproval when it was submitted to their companions who feared the
consequences. But the brothers were so strongly convinced that they
could secure the release of at least one of the prisoners, and
possibly of all, that they refused the advice of their fellows and set
out on the trail of Inkpaduta.
Anticipating that the release of the captives might only be secured
through ransom, the brothers had collected from their companions as
much in the way of personal belongings as could be spared. Adding this
to their own supply they thought they had sufficient property to
accomplish their purpose. Being Indians themselves, and therefore well
acquainted with the Indian attitude of mind, they did not take their
possessions with them when they went to Inkpaduta’s camp to negotiate.
Instead they concealed the property in the brush on the lake shore not
far distant. At first they were not received with any show of
cordiality, for they were known to be Christian Indians: Inkpaduta
suspected them as spies, and they were constantly watched, since they
were supposed to be in direct communication with United States
soldiers. Frequently, as they would move about the camp, an alarm
would be raised that soldiers were coming.[296]
The first night spent by the brothers in the camp was wholly taken up
with the recital of the well-worn tale of the massacre. At daybreak
the brothers broached the reason for their coming. All forenoon the
proposition was argued. Grayfoot, acting in the capacity of spokesman
of the brothers, did not hesitate to tell Inkpaduta the enormity of
the crime he had committed.[297] But Inkpaduta remained unimpressed;
and not until mid-afternoon did he give any sign of wavering. Finally
he proposed that the brothers take only one of the captives. This, he
added, would show his good faith in the matter. It was also quite
evident that this proposition was made for the purpose of getting rid
of his unwelcome and tenacious visitors as soon as possible. The price
demanded for the release of even one of the captives was so high that
there was nothing to do but accept the offer--especially since it was
clear that a longer parley was useless. The price for the one was to
be “one gun, a lot of blankets, a keg of powder, and a small supply of
Indian trinkets.”[298]
It appears that Inkpaduta did not value any one of the captives more
highly than the other, and so he was willing that the brothers should
exercise the privilege of choice. In a tepee only a short distance
away the white women were engaged in some of the menial tasks of the
afternoon. Grayfoot walked over to the tent and looked in. At first he
decided upon Mrs. Noble, being touched by her appearance of
unhappiness. But when he beckoned her to follow him from the tent, she
became angry and refused to comply. This apparently did not discourage
Grayfoot, for he turned to Mrs. Marble and repeated the signal. Mrs.
Marble, having resolved upon ready compliance with the demands of the
Indians, at once followed him from the tepee. It should be said that
there was little thought of selecting Miss Gardner for she was
regarded as relatively safe from harsh treatment by her captors on
account of her youth.[299] With Mrs. Marble, Grayfoot and Sounding
Heavens, accompanied by two of Inkpaduta’s Indians, returned to the
camp upon the Big Sioux.
Upon reaching this camp Mrs. Marble was informed by a Frenchman, who
happened to be in the camp, of the real purpose of the Indian
brothers. The brothers now hastened to the tepee of Spirit Walker at
Lac qui Parle where they arrived on May twentieth, the journey having
occupied ten days. Here Mrs. Marble was given clothing and as good
care as the means of Spirit Walker and his squaw would permit. Word
was taken in a few days to the missionaries, Riggs and Williamson, at
the upper agency that one of the Spirit Lake captives was at the tepee
of Spirit Walker. They at once hastened to the chief’s lodge where
they found Mrs. Marble happily situated and somewhat reluctant to
leave her new-found and kind friends. Upon leaving the lodge she was
placed in the care of Agent Flandrau who started with her at once for
St. Paul where they arrived on May thirtieth.
In writing of Mrs. Marble’s arrival in St. Paul the _St. Paul Pioneer_
describes her as being “about twenty-five years of age; of medium
size, and very pleasant looking. She is a native of Darke county,
Ohio, and moved to Michigan about ten years ago. She has been twice
married. Her first husband’s name was Phips. After his death, she
married Mr. Marble, with whom she removed to Linn county, Iowa, and
ultimately to Spirit Lake in Dick[in]son county. Mrs. M. is in a very
destitute condition,--her husband has been murdered and as to whether
her parents are alive or not, she is ignorant. We trust those who are
blessed with a supply of this world’s goods will contribute liberally
in aid of this unfortunate woman. The privations she has undergone,
and her present destitute condition commend her to the consideration
of the benevolent.”[300]
The Indian brothers in notifying Agent Flandrau of their ransom of
Mrs. Marble took occasion to remind him that they deemed the act
worthy of a somewhat liberal reward, for, quoting the language of
their letter, “it was perilous business, which we think should be
liberally rewarded. We claim for our services $500 each. We do not
want it in horses, they would be killed by jealous young men. We do
not wish it in ammunition and goods, these we should be obliged to
divide with others. The laborer is worthy of his own reward. We want
it in money, which we can make more serviceable to ourselves than it
could be in any other form. This is what we have to say.”[301]
To the agent this claim presented a problem difficult to handle, since
he could see no way in which to secure the amount demanded. At the
same time he did not for a moment consider the demand unjust--indeed
he was surprised at its reasonableness. Having no public money at his
disposal, if he met the demand it would necessarily be from private
funds of his own or from the generosity of others. His own private
funds amounted to but little more than five hundred dollars; and so
an equal amount had to be secured from other sources.[302] But where
should he go to solicit funds? When his own ingenuity failed to solve
the problem he called missionary Riggs into conference. They decided
upon a bold stroke of finance, which was nothing less than the
issuance of a Territorial bond for the amount required. This proved a
happy solution of the difficulty, and although they acted without
legal authority they issued the paper in good faith.[303]
XXVIII
THE DEATH OF MRS. NOBLE AND THE RANSOM OF ABBIE GARDNER
From Mrs. Marble was obtained the information as to the whereabouts of
the other captives. Without delay Agent Flandrau and the Rev. Stephen
H. Riggs began to lay plans for their rescue. A dominant motive in
Agent Flandrau’s desire to reward the brothers was to stimulate
interest in the rescue of those who remained in the hands of the
Indians. In this he was successful; for at once a number of whites and
Indians proffered their services. It was not, however, deemed
desirable that the rescue should be undertaken by any but red men.
Accordingly all whites who applied were at once rejected.
The elimination finally left three volunteers--Paul Ma-za-ku-ta-ma-ni
(sometimes called Little Paul) one of the staunchest native followers
of Rev. Riggs,[304] An-pe-tu-tok-cha (John Other Day),[305] and
Che-tan-maza. Equipped with the following outfit these Indians were
told to use it to the best advantage in securing the release of the
two remaining captives:
Wagon and double harness $110.00
Four horses 600.00
Twelve three-point blankets, four blue and
eight white 56.00
Twenty-two yards of blue squaw cloth 44.00
Thirty-seven and a half yards of calico 5.37
Twenty pounds of tobacco 10.00
One sack of shot 4.00
One dozen shirts 13.00
Ribbon 4.75
Fifty pounds of powder 25.00
Corn 4.00
Flour 10.00
Coffee 1.50
Sugar 1.50
This bill of goods totalling $889.12, was purchased by Agent Flandrau
of the traders at the Yellow Medicine Agency on credit, as he could
not from his own private funds make cash payment to that amount. Thus
equipped the Indians left the Yellow Medicine Agency on May
twenty-third bound southwestward in an effort to locate Inkpaduta and
negotiate with him for the release of his captives.[306]
As soon as Mrs. Marble and her purchasers left the camp on Lake
Madison it was evident to Inkpaduta that it would not be long until
soldiers would again be on his trail. He felt sure that the captive’s
return to civilization would result in redoubled energies to apprehend
him. Hence, as soon as his two envoys to the hunting camp on the Big
Sioux returned, he was once more on the move. He went first to Lake
Herman, which was only a short distance from Lake Madison. From Lake
Herman his course led northwestward and then up the valley of the
James or Dakota River.
About two weeks after the breaking of camp at Lake Madison they fell
in with a band of Yanktons. In this band was a one-legged fellow,
Wanduskaihanke (End of the Snake) by name, who, having an eye for
business and having heard of the ransom of Mrs. Marble, decided to buy
the remaining captives, take them to the Missouri River forts, and
there offer them for sale. A bargain was soon struck with Inkpaduta,
who now seemed anxious to rid himself of his charges, and the transfer
of property at once took place. But for some reason not clear the
Yankton instead of continuing with his band remained with Inkpaduta’s
party, which now moved directly north, headed for the Earth Lodges of
the Yanktons. Apparently the Indians under Inkpaduta paid no further
heed to the captives.
Thus matters had stood for some days when one evening, as Mrs. Noble
and Miss Gardner were preparing for the night’s rest, Roaring Cloud, a
son of Inkpaduta, entered. The captives suspected that trouble was at
hand and anxiously waited to see what form it might take. Roaring
Cloud had no sooner entered than he ordered Mrs. Noble out of the
tent. She refused to comply. Enraged, he grasped her by one arm and
with his other hand seized a stick of wood which happened to be close
by. Dragging her out of the tepee, he struck her three or four heavy
blows on the head, thus ending her life. On the following morning, as
the squaws were breaking camp, the warriors gathered about the dead
body and amused themselves by shooting arrows into it.
That the Indians with their remaining captive now journeyed well into
the range of the buffalo is evidenced by the testimony of Mrs. Sharp
who said that they “crossed one prairie so vast and so perfectly
devoid of timber, that for days not even a hazel-brush, or a sprout
large enough for a riding-whip could be found.” As they “attained the
more elevated points the scene was really sublime. Look in any
direction, and the grassy plain was bounded only by the horizon....
The only things to be seen, except grass, were wild fowls, birds,
buffalo, and antelope. The supply of buffalo seemed almost as
limitless as the grass. This was their own realm, and they showed no
inclination to surrender it, not even to the Sioux.”[307]
Within two days after the killing of Mrs. Noble the Indians crossed
the James somewhere near the mouth of Snake Creek and encamped a short
distance to the south of the site of the present town of Ashton. Not
far removed was a permanent camp of about one hundred and ninety
lodges of Yankton Sioux.
The arrival of the white captive created a stir in the Yankton camp.
Their great curiosity was probably due to the fact that she was the
first white person that many of them had ever seen. Her hair and skin
were examined with intense admiration. “No sooner was one company out
of the _teepe_ (sic) than others came; and so they kept it up from
morning until night, day after day”.[308] The excitement over the
white captive had scarcely died away when it was renewed by the
arrival of the three Indian emissaries from the Yellow Medicine, who
came garbed in civilized attire, “coats and white shirts, with
starched bosoms.”[309] They had taken up Inkpaduta’s trail at Lake
Madison and had closely followed it all the way without overtaking the
band.
Considerable time was spent in parleying for the captive, but the
Yankton owner remained firm in his refusal of the terms offered. At
the close of the second day he stated that he would have to submit the
question of sale to a tribal vote, since he lacked the power to
negotiate it himself. This brought to light the fact that there were
two parties in the tribe--one favoring immediate sale, the other
maintaining that it would be better to take the captive to the
Missouri River country.
While these negotiations were in progress groups of Yanktons visited
Abbie Gardner. With great gusto they dwelt upon the situation that
existed in the council from time to time. Each group had its own
version as to her future disposition. “One would say that I would be
taken to the river and drowned.... Another would tell me that I would
be bound to a stake and burned, showing the manner in which I would
writhe and struggle in the flames. Another declared that I was to be
cut to pieces by inches; taking his knife and beginning at my toes, or
fingers, he would show how piece after piece was to be cut off”.[310]
Finally the captive was relieved by a Yankton squaw who told her that
there was no truth in these explanations, since the council had
decided that she was to be freed by sale to the stranger Indians who
would take her back to the whites. Thus on the fifth day of the
council the party for immediate sale won, and the tribal vote
expressed a willingness to close the bargain as soon as possible.
The price paid for the ransom of Abbie Gardner was probably “two
horses, twelve blankets, two kegs of powder, twenty pounds of tobacco,
thirty-two yards of blue squaw cloth, thirty-seven and a half yards of
calico and ribbon, and other small articles”.[311] Although there is
no little disagreement as to how much was actually paid for her
ransom, it is certain that none of the many articles with which the
Indians were provided to secure the release of Mrs. Noble and Miss
Gardner were ever turned back or accounted for by the three Indians.
From this it may fairly be presumed that all were used in bringing
about the ransom.
After the purchase price had been paid and the captive turned over to
her new care-takers, they were all urged by the Yanktons to remain and
attend a feast to be given in their honor. Abbie Gardner, however, was
anxious to make her return to civilization as speedily as possible.
She had also observed in the preparations which were being made that
roast dog was to be served at the feast, and so declined to attend,
urging upon her guides an immediate departure. In spite of her failure
to appreciate the honor of a dog feast, the Yankton chief,
Ma-to-wa-ken, ordered that the wagon be piled high with buffalo skins
and meat. So well filled was the wagon that only Miss Gardner could be
accommodated in addition to the load.[312] As a further assurance of
good will the chief sent two of his best men along as a guard. They
were to accompany the group to the Wahpeton Agency before turning
back. Evidently this was a safeguard against attack from Inkpaduta’s
men, for it appears that a number of his party followed for four days
before turning back to the camp on Snake Creek.[313]
The return trip of Abbie Gardner was strikingly different from her
forced flight, since now she was the only member of the party who rode
while all the others walked. The first adventure of the journey which
proved to her the good intentions of the Indians was at the crossing
of the James River. When the party arrived at the stream, the girl was
placed in a frail little boat not more than five or six feet in
length--just large enough for herself. In her fright she recalled the
Yankton’s tales of her early killing by her purchasers. But she was
soon happily assured of their good intentions. Having placed her in
the frail boat, they attached a strong rawhide thong cable to one end.
When these preparations for crossing were completed, the Indians
divested themselves of most of their clothing, plunged into the
stream, and led or guided the canoe and its occupant safely across to
the opposite bank. From this time on the girl’s confidence in her
guides grew with every evidence of their good will toward her.
The return journey was without any unusual incident. After a week of
uninterrupted traveling, they came to a region thickly populated with
Indians, and to the great joy of Abbie Gardner there were a large
number of log houses in addition to the primitive and loathsome
tepees. She thought these were inhabited by white people when she
first sighted them, but later she discovered that such was not the
case: they were all inhabited by Indians. After two more days of
travel, she reached the home of a half-breed family who could talk
English. It was here that she learned that her guides had been sent
out by the authorities to bring her in. While they tarried here for a
day and a half Abbie made a suit for herself out of cloth furnished by
the half-breed girls at whose home she lodged.[314] The next stop was
at the Yellow Medicine mission on the confines of civilization. Here
the girl was given into the temporary care of the missionaries, Dr.
and Mrs. Thomas S. Williamson. The date of her arrival at this point
was on or about the tenth day of June. Her joy was altogether
unbounded when she found herself once more lodged in the home of a
person of her own race; for she now fully realized that her
deliverance was actual and not a fanciful dream.
* * * * *
While this expedition was being successfully carried out, Agent
Flandrau had gone to St. Paul with Mrs. Marble, whom he tells us he
took thither in his own wagon. As soon as they arrived Mrs. Marble was
turned over to a Mrs. Long, the wife of Steve Long, proprietor of the
Fuller House then located at the northeast corner of Jackson and
Seventh Streets. Mrs. Long was instructed to outfit her in the most
becoming and “effective widow’s weeds obtainable in the market”.[315]
When this had been satisfactorily accomplished, Mrs. Marble was
presented to the people at a public meeting or reception in the hotel.
Before the reception came to a close over one thousand dollars had
been contributed toward her future support. This was turned over to
Governor Medary to be used in whatever manner the Governor thought
best. Mrs. Marble was detained in St. Paul for only a brief time, due
to her great desire to return to her friends and relatives in the
East. At the time of her leaving, Governor Medary gave her two hundred
and fifty dollars of the money contributed and placed the remainder in
a St. Paul bank. Later the bank failed and nothing could be realized
on the deposit.[316]
* * * * *
At the time of Abbie Gardner’s arrival at the Yellow Medicine station,
the annuity Indians were in revolt because of the non-payment of
annuities then due. These annuities were being held up until the
Indians would agree to coöperate in apprehending Inkpaduta and his
band. A massacre seemed imminent at any moment; but within two days
after her arrival the Indians tentatively agreed to coöperate and all
became peaceful. The return of quiet among the Indians enabled a
certain Mr. Robinson to join in the trip to St. Paul. The journey was
by means of a team and a cumbersome lumber wagon which, owing to the
almost unbroken roads, did not permit of either rapid or comfortable
travel. Sunday, or the day following their start, was spent at
Redwood, Lower Agency, just above Fort Ridgely. Word was carried in
advance to Captain Bee, who at this time was in command at the post.
Upon the receipt of the news the Captain at once sent his horse and
buggy with the urgent request that the girl return with his orderly to
spend Sunday at the post with his family. But her Indian rescuers were
suspicious of an attempt to deprive them of their reward and would not
consent to her going unless they accompanied her. Of course such an
arrangement could not be made, and so the acceptance of Captain Bee’s
kind invitation was impossible.
Since Abbie Gardner could not spend Sunday at the fort, the officers,
Captain Bee and Lieutenant Murry, resolved to express their admiration
for the girl’s fortitude and courage in another way. Previous to her
arrival at the post on the following day, these officers solicited
from the soldiers a purse containing several dollars in gold, which
with a gold ring were presented to her upon her arrival. The
presentation was made by Mrs. Bee on behalf of the contributors to the
fund. Lieutenant Murry presented her, as a personal testimonial of his
regard for her wonderful bravery, an elegant shawl and a dress
pattern of the finest cloth that could be obtained at the post
trader’s store.[317]
From Fort Ridgely the rescue party followed the cross country trail to
Traverse des Sioux, then the head of navigation on the Minnesota
River. Here they embarked on a steamer; and on June 22nd they reached
Shakopee where a large crowd awaited their coming. Again Abbie Gardner
was presented with a purse of money amounting to some thirty dollars.
The news of her coming had preceded her down the river to St. Paul,
and when she arrived there on the evening of the same day she was
again met by a large number of people. Accompanied by her rescuers and
the Yankton messenger, she was hurried to a carriage and taken to the
Fuller House. The landlady, the same who had cared for Mrs. Marble,
immediately took her in charge with the same purpose in view as on the
previous occasion--that of making her presentable for a public
reception.
Previous to her arrival it had been arranged that Abbie Gardner should
be formally and publicly turned over to the Governor by her rescuers.
Thus, at ten o’clock on the morning of Tuesday, June twenty-third, in
the public receiving room of the Fuller House the ceremony took place
in the presence of a large number of ladies and gentlemen who were
specially invited to be present. There was much speechmaking, in which
Governor Medary, Agent Flandrau, Ma-za-ku-ta-ma-ni, and
An-pe-tu-tok-cha took the prominent parts. Ma-za-ku-ta-ma-ni reminded
Governor Medary of the great regard in which his people held the
whites and how on account of their desire to manifest this respect he
and his companions had been willing to undertake the perilous
mission--which they really believed at the outset might prove to be a
fatal undertaking. An-pe-tu-tok-cha followed his companion with a
relation of the salient features of the journey to and from the
Yankton camp and with a description of the difficulties met and
overcome in the council while the negotiation for the captive’s ransom
was pending.
Governor Medary in reply cautioned the Indians against fraternizing or
holding any form of communication with the lawless elements of the
plains Indians; and he assured them that the great service they had
rendered would be rewarded in a proper manner, and that an account of
their mission would be sent to the Great Father at Washington as soon
as possible.[318]
At the close of the ceremony Agent Flandrau presented Abbie Gardner
with a magnificent Indian war bonnet--the gift of the Yankton chief,
Ma-to-wa-ken, from whom she had been purchased. The bonnet had been
entrusted to the keeping of Ma-za-ku-ta-ma-ni with instructions to
have it presented to the girl when she should be safely delivered to
their White Father, the Governor. Following these formalities an
elaborate state dinner was served in honor of the released captive and
her rescuers.
On the following day, which was June twenty-fourth, Abbie Gardner,
under the escort of Governor Medary and accompanied by a certain L. P.
Lee, embarked on the steamer “Galena” for Iowa, for the purpose of
finding her sister Eliza, who had been so fortunate as to escape the
massacres at Okoboji and Springfield. Governor Medary accompanied her
as far as Dubuque. In case the sister could not be located, he
proposed to take Abbie to Columbus, Ohio, and adopt her into his own
family.[319] From Dubuque Mr. Lee conducted Miss Gardner to Fort Dodge
where she was left in the care of Major William Williams, who promised
to have her taken as soon as possible to the home of her sister. It
seems that Eliza Gardner had married William R. Wilson of Company B of
the Fort Dodge relief expedition and was then living at Hampton, Iowa.
At Hampton anxiously awaiting the captive’s return was not only her
sister, but also Mr. Thatcher who was hoping that he might yet hear
something favorable concerning Mrs. Thatcher. To Abbie Gardner fell
the sad duty of conveying to him the last words spoken by Mrs.
Thatcher as she started to cross what turned out to be a river of
death.[320]
XXIX
PURSUIT AND PUNISHMENT OF INKPADUTA
Immediately after the departure of Abbie Gardner, Agent Flandrau and
her rescuers returned to the Yellow Medicine Agency. Here Agent
Flandrau proceeded to make a settlement with the Indians who had so
well demonstrated their good faith. Without difficulty the matter was
adjusted upon the basis of a four hundred dollar cash payment to each
or a total of twelve hundred dollars.[321] The legislature of
Minnesota Territory had acted in the matter while these Indians were
on their mission; and the payment was now made on behalf of Governor
Medary.
By the first of May sentiment had begun to crystallize in favor of
some form of action by the Territorial legislature looking toward the
rescue of the captives. Before such action could be taken, Mrs. Marble
was brought in. This only increased the interest in the welfare of
those yet remaining in the hands of the Indians somewhere on the
Dakota plains. An insistent popular demand arose for immediate action;
and this demand was met by an appropriation of ten thousand
dollars.[322] But the news of this action had not reached Agent
Flandrau at the time he sent his Indians to the rescue. The Territory
willingly honored all obligations contracted by him for the purpose
of the ransom, even paying the principal and interest upon the
ingeniously contrived but extra-legal bond. In securing the release of
Abbie Gardner and Mrs. Marble somewhat more than three thousand
dollars were expended out of the ten thousand appropriated.[323]
As soon as Agent Flandrau had outfitted his Indians and had seen them
off on their journey for the rescue of Mrs. Noble and Abbie Gardner,
he went to Fort Ridgely to confer with Colonel Alexander as to the
best plan of operating against Inkpaduta. In any event the plan was to
be put in operation only on receipt of word that the captives were
safe from further harm. Colonel Alexander was very enthusiastic over
the suggested punishment of Inkpaduta’s band, and he signified his
willingness to detail no less than five companies to proceed to the
Skunk Lake region and close in upon the Indian outlaws from as many
directions. This plan it was believed would, destroy all possibility
of escape. But before arrangements had been fully matured, Colonel
Alexander was ordered by the War Department to get his forces under
way immediately and unite with those under General Albert Sidney
Johnston who was marching west to quell the Mormon disturbances in
Utah. Unfortunately the successor to Colonel Alexander had but little
interest in the matter, and Agent Flandrau’s scheme had to be given
up, at least for a time.
Following quickly upon the order received by Colonel Alexander was one
sent by the Secretary of the Interior to Agent Flandrau “to
investigate and report the facts in the case, and the measures”[324]
which in his judgment would be most effective in ferreting out and
punishing the marauders. This order somewhat irritated the agent as he
had already reported fully upon the facts and had suggested the best
measures to be taken in dealing with the outlaws. In commenting upon
this incident the agent wrote some years later that he “had become so
thoroughly convinced of the imbecility of a military administration,
which clothed and equipped its troops exactly in the same manner for
duty in the tropical climate of Florida, and the frigid region of
Minnesota, that I took advantage of the invitation, to lay before the
authorities some of my notions as to what was the proper thing to
do”.[325]
Agent Flandrau does not appear to have considered the request for a
report as being urgent, since he sent no reply until August
twenty-seventh, nearly two months later. In the report he took
occasion to suggest a remedy for the causes of the failure of Captain
Bee’s detail to capture Inkpaduta’s band before it made the attack on
Springfield. As has already been stated the slow progress of the
detail was not alone due to the depth of the snow, but also to the
unwieldly character of the men’s equipment. Concerning this situation
the agent observed that “the ordinary means of transportation in the
army is, as you well know, by heavy wagons drawn by mules. In the
winter these wagons are placed upon sleds, and where there are roads
for them to go upon, they can do well enough. But, as I have before
said, it will be very seldom if ever, that troops will be called upon
to act in a country where there are roads of any kind made in the
snow, consequently these sleds and mules are useless.” In lieu of this
sort of equipment, he recommended that troops, to be effective in
winter, should be equipped with snowshoes. In concluding he asked that
men be placed on the frontier “who will at all times and under all
circumstances, be _superior_ to the enemy they have to contend with,
and I would have no fear of a recurrence of the difficulties of last
spring”.[326]
The annuities due the Sioux Indians in accordance with the treaties of
Traverse des Sioux and Mendota were customarily paid them at the upper
and lower agencies during the closing week in June of each year. Upon
such occasions the Indians flocked to these points by the thousands
from Minnesota and Dakota. They came prepared to celebrate; and this
they commonly did for several days both before and after the payment
was made. It was not alone the annuity Indians who assembled, but the
undesirable whites of the frontier also came to pick up whatever money
might be obtainable. At this particular time--late in June, 1857--in
addition to about six thousand annuity Indians, many such desperate
characters had gathered at the agencies and may be considered
responsible for much that happened.
When all had gathered in at the two agencies, the Superintendent of
Indian Affairs, W. J. Cullen, called a conference at the Upper Agency.
This council, attended by representatives from all bands of the Upper
Sioux and a few from the lower tribes, was addressed by Superintendent
Cullen. He told them plainly that they would be held responsible for
the conduct of the lawless characters of their nation, and that in
view of this responsibility they should without delay devise some
means of apprehending Inkpaduta. Leaving them to deliberate and report
later, he proceeded to the Lower Agency, where he called a like
council of the Mdewakanton and Wahpekuta bands to meet on July
twelfth. At this meeting he made the same demands as at the Upper
Agency and with like result.
Within a brief time Cullen received deputations from both branches of
the Sioux informing him that they neither could nor would comply with
his demands unless United States soldiers were sent with them. He
communicated the demand to Major Sherman, then commanding at Fort
Ridgely, who replied that soldiers could not be furnished for such an
undertaking since there was not a sufficient number then at the post
to make it advisable to spare any; and “the policy of sending soldiers
to co-operate with Indians ... would only expose troops to treachery
on the part of the Indians.” Then, too, “a body of Indians on an
expedition of that kind would rely on troops to do the work of
capturing and killing ... in case they should have an engagement with
the party they were seeking”.[327]
Admitting the soundness of this answer Superintendent Cullen informed
the Indian envoys that United States troops could not be furnished for
such a purpose, and he stated that unless the Indians decided to
undertake such an expedition alone and unaided, other measures than
those already taken would be resorted to from necessity. No further
action coming from the Indians, Superintendent Cullen determined to
withhold the annuities.[328]
On the thirteenth the Indians again declined to go in pursuit of
Inkpaduta without the aid of United States troops. On the fourteenth
they began consolidating their bands and it became evident to all that
trouble was afoot. Matters were growing more critical every day. The
whites became alarmed and began to leave their farms. Many fled to the
post or left the country altogether. The situation reached a climax on
the evening of the fifteenth when a Sisseton, without provocation,
stabbed a soldier of Major Sherman’s command. The Indian escaped and
fled to the Sisseton camp where he was received and protected. This
incident evidenced the determination of these Indians to protect
rather than punish law-breakers.[329]
The crisis was made more acute by the demand for the release of the
Indian to the military authorities. Major Sherman made the demand and
was refused. The officer sent by him was received “with two hundred of
their guns pointed towards him”. Delivery of the culprit was, however,
promised for the next morning. At that time “they came down from their
lodges, numbering about twenty-five hundred warriors, all armed and
painted, evidently prepared for fight. Many surrounded and came into
the camp; they asked a council”.[330] They were told that their
request could not be granted until they surrendered the culprit and
laid their guns aside. By deceit they then sought to draw out the
Indian agents and army officers one by one to talk, with the intention
of killing them when they had been drawn into a council. In this plan
they were frustrated, and on the following day they surrendered the
culprit. The Indians were probably emboldened by the panic which then
existed throughout the whole of southern and western Minnesota. They
construed the situation as “an open confession of cowardice, fear and
weakness” upon the part of the Indian and military authorities, and
they were ready to flout both at any opportunity.[331]
At this time Little Crow appeared and tendered his best offices in
quieting the disturbance and expelling the malcontents. While these
rebellious proceedings were taking place at the Upper Agency, he had
been at the Redwood Agency. Owing to his intercession and influence,
the Indians at the Lower Agency sent word within a day or two that
they were willing to undertake the pursuit and punishment of
Inkpaduta. In this resolve they were also joined by the Sissetons.
Because of Little Crow’s undoubted influence in bringing his tribesmen
to terms, it was decided to place him in command of the expedition if
such an appointment was acceptable to its members--which proved to be
the case. But the Indians were in no condition to embark on such an
expedition, since they were without food or supplies of any kind. Upon
their assurance of good faith in the prosecution of the expedition
they were promised the needed supplies.
Thus equipped the Indian expedition started in pursuit of Inkpaduta on
the nineteenth day of July. To hold them to the faithful performance
of their promise, Superintendent Cullen sent his interpreter, Joseph
Campbell, and six half-breeds along to report upon operations. One
hundred and six warriors under Little Crow made up the personnel of
the company, in addition to Campbell and the half-breeds.[332] The
membership came from the whole Sioux nation represented at the
agencies, being recruited from the seventeen bands of the Upper Sioux
and the eight bands of the Lower Sioux.
After an absence of sixteen days the Little Crow expeditionary force
returned to the Upper Agency on the fourth of August. They reported
that on July twenty-eighth, on arriving at Skunk Lake, they found six
lodges of Inkpaduta’s people. These were divided into two encampments
of three lodges each, about three miles apart. Prior to the arrival of
the expedition the lodges were deserted by their occupants who fled to
the Big Drift Wood Lake, twenty miles away. They had evidently fled to
this lake for the better protection it would afford, owing to the rank
growth of reeds in its shallow waters. When the pursuers came up with
the fleeing Indians fighting began at once, but it had continued only
a half hour when darkness put an end to the conflict. In the morning
three prisoners were taken, two squaws and a boy, and three men were
found killed and one wounded. Of those killed one was identified as
Mak-pi-a-pe-ta or Fire Cloud, a twin son of Inkpaduta. It was also
learned from the captives that a defection had arisen in Inkpaduta’s
band, as a result of which Inkpaduta and a few followers had broken
away and gone to the Snake Creek camp of the Yanktons. Not feeling
strong enough to make demands upon a camp of over a thousand Yankton
friends of Inkpaduta the expedition had returned to report.[333]
But Superintendent Cullen was not satisfied with what had been done
and he plainly spoke his mind. His insistence irritated not only
Little Crow, but other leaders of the Sioux at both agencies. Cullen,
however, was determined and he called a council of the Sissetons and
Wahpetons at the Upper Agency on August tenth. The Indian
representatives were sullen and Superintendent Cullen was tactless,
with the result that many sharp replies were exchanged to the
disadvantage of both parties. Wahpuja Wicasta accused the
Superintendent of being dissatisfied because they, the Indians, had
failed to bring back a piece of Inkpaduta that he, Superintendent
Cullen, might taste of it and thus pronounce upon its genuineness and
prove their good faith in the pursuit of the outlaw.[334]
Ma-za-ku-ta-ma-ni, representing the soldier lodge which had been
formed, spoke bitterly concerning the wrongs done the Indians and
accused Superintendent Cullen of breaking faith in his relations with
the soldiers and in his failure to reward the efforts which they had
honestly put forth.[335] Superintendent Cullen failed to accomplish
his purpose and in the end had to admit the need for action upon the
part of the military arm of the government. Such action he now
recommended, as well as the payment of the annuities long overdue. It
is a reflection upon the effectiveness of the military to note that no
further action was taken to punish the outlaw and his band.
For a few years Inkpaduta was lost sight of. Apparently he had ceased
his activities along the frontier. For five years he remained in
seclusion. In the summer of 1862 a portion of the band appeared at the
Yellow Medicine Agency, hoping to share in the annuities of that year.
Agent Galbraith, hearing of their presence, sent Lieutenant T. J.
Sheehan with a few soldiers to drive them away from the agency. But
their friends had warned them; and when the detail surrounded the camp
to the south of Lake Benton the Indians were gone. The trail was
followed for some distance, but it suddenly ended leaving not a trace
of its continuance.
It must not be supposed, however, that Inkpaduta contented himself
with a life of complete inactivity. He is presumed to have joined with
Little Crow in a plan for the expulsion of all whites from the Dakota
country which was to culminate in the massacres of 1862. During the
progress of this revolt his presence was several times reported, and
toward its close he is said to have gone westward and united with the
Santees of the Missouri. In a few years he succeeded in uniting this
tribe with the Yanktons and then secured the leadership.
But he had now grown too old to be aggressive, and so his leadership
was more nominal than real. According to Holcombe “Inkpadoota’s last
appearance in an historical scene was at the Custer massacre, in the
Little Big Horn, in Eastern Montana, in June, 1876. On the morning of
the day that General Custer made his ill-fated ride upon the Indian
camp, Inkpadoota, then seventy-five years old, and stone blind, was
sitting on the banks of the Little Big Horn ... with two of his
grandsons, and the three were fishing in the stream. The little boys
were the first to see Major Reno’s command as it came riding up the
valley to hold the Indians on the south, while Custer should come upon
them from the north. They ran as fast as they could encumbered with
their blind and decrepit grandsire, and gave the alarm in time for
Gall and Grass to come down and drive back Reno, and then hasten back
and exterminate Custer and his force. At this time, and for ten years
before, Inkpadoota had been blind, and no longer regarded as a leader
of any body, for he could not walk without a guide. He and his two
surviving sons fled with Sitting Bull to Canada, finally locating at
the Canadian Red Pipestone Quarry, in Southwestern Manitoba. Here, in
1894, Dr. Charles Eastman, the well-known Indian authority, found the
descendants of Inkpadoota.... However, the bloody-minded old savage
himself had died miserably some years before”.[336] Thus ended the
life of an implacable foe of the white race, who for nearly forty
years had terrorized the northwestern frontier from the Mississippi
River in Iowa to the far away Rockies of Canada.
Of the original band but little more remains to be said. While the
excitement was at its highest in the closing days of June, 1857,
incident to the non-payment of the annuities, Agent Flandrau, then at
the Lower Agency, received a note from Sam Brown, a trader on the
Yellow Medicine. The note brought the information that Inkpaduta and
several of his band were then at the Upper Agency. The agent
immediately sent a messenger to Fort Ridgely requesting help. He was
given a detachment of fifteen men under Lieutenant Murry. While these
troops were on the way from Fort Ridgely to the Redwood Agency, Agent
Flandrau recruited a volunteer force of perhaps twenty-five men to
assist in the operations against Inkpaduta. Among these volunteers was
the well-known scout and interpreter, Joseph Campbell, who was almost
an indispensable adjunct of any such expedition. When these
preparations had been completed, the Indian messenger was sent back to
the Upper Agency with the request that a guide be sent out to meet and
lead them to the outlaw’s camp.
At dusk the united forces started for the Yellow Medicine. About
midway between the two agencies there was a high mound or butte which
overlooked the whole of the surrounding country for miles. The trail
being followed was that of the Sioux and according to their custom it
passed over the summit of the elevation. When the party had reached
the summit they found An-pe-tu-tok-cha or Other Day who had been sent
by Brown to guide them to the camp. When found he was quietly sitting
by the side of the trail, engaged in his favorite pastime of smoking.
Upon being accosted he gave not the slightest evidence of recognition
or interest. When he finally replied to questions put to him he
admitted that a few of Inkpaduta’s Indians were near the Yellow
Medicine, up the river about five miles, and numbered perhaps six
lodges. Further than this he either did not have, or did not care to
give, information. When questioned as to methods of attack he declared
the best plan would be to “charge down on the camp, and when they see
the soldiers, they will know who they are after, and any of
_Ink-pa-du-ta’s_ people that are there, will run or show fight, the
rest will remain passive.”[337] This plan, after being confirmed by
Campbell as best, was adopted.
With Other Day as guide, the march was resumed. The party reached the
river, about one mile below the camp, just at dawn. The camp was
pitched on a plateau or open prairie about a quarter of a mile from
the river. To reach the shelter of the river it would be necessary for
one fleeing from the camp to pass across the open space and go down a
precipitous descent of about fifty feet. When within a half mile of
the camp, a charge was ordered by Lieutenant Murry. Nearly
simultaneously with this command an Indian, leading a squaw, ran from
one of the lodges toward the river. Other Day at once called out that
there was the man, and rifles instantly cracked. Obviously the
fugitive was not hit, for he safely made the shelter of the brush
along the river in the face of a continued fire.
In his hurried flight the Indian was not unarmed, for he carried a
double-barreled shot-gun. This fact made it extremely dangerous to go
into the brush after him or even to attempt a reconnaissance. That he
intended to defend himself was evident, for as soon as he reached the
shelter of the brush he began firing on the attacking party. Each shot
from him was greeted with a volley from the soldiers, which soon put
an end to his firing. When found the body of the man was riddled with
bullets. Upon investigation the individual proved to be none other
than Roaring Cloud, son of Inkpaduta, the Indian who had so
atrociously attacked and murdered Mrs. Noble.
The squaw whom he led at the beginning of his dash for the river was
taken prisoner in the hope that she might assist in identifying the
Indian who had been killed, as well as give information about other
inhabitants of the camp. Taking her prisoner, however, proved most
unfortunate, for it produced a great commotion at the Upper Agency
which only added fuel to the excitement over the deferred annuities.
On the return it was necessary to pass through the camps of over
seven thousand Indians. According to Agent Flandrau “the excitement
among them was terrible. The squaw kept up a howling such as a squaw
in distress only can make. The Indians swarmed about us, guns in hand,
and scowled upon us in the most threatening manner.... I then began to
realize the desperate temerity of the enterprise. Our salvation was
simply the moral force of the government that was behind us. We
reached the Agency buildings in safety, and took possession of a log
house, where we remained several days in a state of sleepless anxiety,
until relieved by Major Sherman with the famous old Buena Vista
battery.... We felt ... like the man who was chased by a bear, and
finally seized his paws around a tree; he wanted somebody _to help him
let go_.”[338] With the coming of the battery the Indians became
quiet.
XXX
THE MEMORIAL TRIBUTES OF IOWA
From what has preceded one might conclude that Minnesota Territory
alone was sufficiently interested in the welfare of the captives and
the punishment of the marauders to take official action relative
thereto. Although such was not the case, it is true that Minnesota
Territory through its legislative body was the first to take official
notice of the situation and attempt a remedy. To be sure the Governors
of Iowa had for several years been insistent in making demands upon
the Federal government for the protection of the northwestern
frontier; but nothing was accomplished. Both the Iowa legislature and
Congress remained obdurate.
The delay on the part of Iowa was in large part due to the belief that
the frontier troubles demanded action by the Federal authorities
rather than by the State.[339] After the presentation of numerous
petitions and following considerable debate, the Thirty-fifth Congress
enacted a relief measure on June 14, 1858, by which the sum of twenty
thousand dollars was appropriated “for defraying the expenses of the
several expeditions against Ink-pa-du-tah’s band, and in the search,
ransom, and recovery of the female captives taken by said band in
eighteen hundred and fifty-seven”.[340] This fund was to be expended
under the direction of the Secretary of the Interior, who in turn
designated the Superintendent of Indian Affairs, W. J. Cullen of St.
Paul, Minnesota, as the disbursing agent of the Department.
Under the provisions of this act claims aggregating $7180.36 were
presented by Iowans to Superintendent Cullen.[341] Upon the submission
of required proof and the auditing of claims submitted, Superintendent
Cullen recommended a payment of $3156.36 to apply on supplies
furnished the Iowa relief expedition, and $1657.00 for services
rendered by individual members of the expedition, making a total of
$4813.36.[342] These claims were duly certified to the Secretary of
the Interior, and the auditors of the Department, after eight months
of examination of proof, advised the payment of $3628.43--a cut of
$1184.93 from the Superintendent’s recommendations.[343]
The act of the Thirty-fifth Congress was later supplemented by a
second and a third act by the Thirty-sixth Congress under dates of
June 19 and 21, 1860--the first[344] of which set aside $16,679.90,
and the second[345] $18,988.84 for the further reimbursement of the
State. These measures were further supplemented during the same
Congress by an act, under date of March 2, 1861, indemnifying the
“citizens of Iowa and Minnesota for the destruction of property at or
near Spirit Lake by Ink-pa-du-tah’s band of Sioux Indians”, to the
amount of $9,640.74.[346] By these acts the Federal government had set
aside a total of $65,308.48 to indemnify the citizens of Iowa and
Minnesota for lives lost, property destroyed, and expenses incurred in
connection with the rescue of the captives and the punishment of the
outlaws. Further than this Congress refused to act, the consensus of
opinion in Congress being that the States concerned should supply any
further needed relief.
Almost two years after Congress had officially recognized the need of
the State for assistance in handling the Indian frontier problem, the
Iowa legislature took action. On March 12, 1860, a bill was enacted
into law whereby “the sum of three thousand dollars, or so much
thereof as shall be necessary” was appropriated for the aid of those
members of the relief expedition who had drawn largely upon their
private means to finance the undertaking, but who had not been
afforded the expected relief by the Federal government.
Under the provisions of this act the Governor was made the auditor of
all claims presented in accordance with its provisions. He was
directed to secure copies of all claims filed with the Federal
government and, when satisfied by the evidence submitted that such as
were yet unpaid were just, he might issue an order upon the Treasurer
of State to pay the claims.[347] This law was supplemented on March
twenty-second by a second act looking toward the relief of persons
specifically named in the law,[348] although no additional funds for
such purpose were provided. Under the provisions of these acts there
was disbursed under order of the Governor a total of $1126.02, which
was distributed among eighty-two claimants.[349]
Before the matter had been finally closed the strife between North and
South eliminated from the public mind an interest in all things save
the momentous struggle then in progress. Thus it happened that the
Spirit Lake Massacre and the relief expeditions were lost from view
for more than a generation. But there was one individual with an
abiding interest who for thirty years cherished the hope of
commemorating in some way the heroic struggles of that little group of
men who went from Webster City in March, 1857, to relieve the settlers
at the lakes. In the summer of 1887 Charles Aldrich, long a resident
of Webster City, proposed placing a brass tablet in some suitable
place in that city in memory of Company C of the relief expedition.
The decision was quickly reached to place the memorial in the Hamilton
County court house and to ask the board of supervisors to appropriate
three hundred dollars to meet the expense. A petition was circulated
in the city and throughout the county requesting such action. Owing to
the good will and work of Charles T. Fenton, president of the board,
the petition was granted and a committee was appointed to secure and
place the memorial.[350]
August twelfth was the date set for the unveiling and dedication of
the tablet. Mr. Aldrich planned an elaborate program which was to be
given in the court room of the newly erected building; but more than
two thousand people attended the ceremony, and so the exercises were
held on the lawn in front of the court house. Brief addresses were
made by Governor William Larrabee, ex-Governor C. C. Carpenter, Mayor
McMurray, Captains Richards and Duncombe, Lieutenant John N. Maxwell,
Privates William Laughlin and Michael Sweeney, and Mr. Charles
Aldrich. The speeches were so planned as to offer a complete review of
the attempt to carry relief to the settlers at Spirit Lake and Lake
Okoboji. The tablet consisted of “a slab of Champlain marble, upon
which is artistically mounted a plate of polished brass containing the
names of the Hamilton county members of the expedition and a number of
other suitable inscriptions.”[351] Thus did Hamilton County place “in
a position of honor in the Hamilton County court house a lasting
attestation to the patriotic spirit of appreciation which animates her
citizens.”[352]
Encouraged by the response in his home county, Mr. Aldrich set about
the stimulation of sentiment in the State at large favoring the
erection by the State of some fitting memorial to those pioneers whose
lives were sacrificed in March, 1857. This proved a long drawn out and
arduous task. The public had all but forgotten the incident; memories
had to be refreshed, and a desire for commemoration aroused. This
proved too great an undertaking for one person, and so Mr. Aldrich
turned to the legislative body of the State. Here he obtained only an
indifferent response. But with the awakening in Hamilton County the
interest in the project spread; and when the Twenty-fifth General
Assembly convened in January, 1894, it became evident that favorable
action might be hoped for.
By far the most active and efficient work was done by Mrs. Abbie
Gardner Sharp, who came to Des Moines at the very beginning of the
session and remained until near its close. In her efforts to secure
action she was most ably seconded by Senator A. B. Funk of Spirit
Lake. On January twenty-ninth a bill was simultaneously introduced in
the Senate and House of Representatives, providing for the proper
interment of the remains of the victims of the massacre and the
erection of a suitable commemorative monument.[353] The bill carried
an appropriation of five thousand dollars which was to be expended
under the supervision of a commission of five persons appointed by the
Governor. Suitable grounds were to be selected near the scene of the
massacre. These grounds were to “be purchased, reinterments made and
monument erected before the 4th day of July, 1895.”[354] So well had
the matter been canvassed among the members of the legislature that
there were but few negative votes on the measure. The bill was
approved by the Governor on March 30th, and went into effect on April
4, 1894.
On April tenth Governor Frank D. Jackson appointed as members of the
commission Hon. J. F. Duncombe and ex-Governor C. C. Carpenter of Fort
Dodge, Mrs. Abbie Gardner Sharp of Okoboji, Hon. R. A. Smith of
Spirit Lake, and Charles Aldrich of Des Moines. Within a short time
the commission met at Fort Dodge and later at the Gardner cabin on
Lake Okoboji. The commission effected an organization by selecting
ex-Governor Carpenter as chairman and Mrs. Sharp as secretary. They
quickly decided on the selection of the lot adjacent to and south of
the Gardner cabin. This site was immediately presented to the State by
its owners, the Okoboji South Beach Company. On June 20, 1894, the P.
N. Peterson Granite Company of St. Paul, Minnesota, was awarded the
contract for the erection of the memorial. The specifications provided
that the monument should be “a shaft 55 feet high above the
foundation, in alternate blocks of rough and polished Minnesota
granite, with a die 6 × 6 feet, upon which should be placed four
bronze tablets--for the sum of $4,500. The inscriptions placed upon
the tablets may be described as follows: On the east, the list of
murdered settlers; on the west, a complete roster of the relief
expedition commanded by Major William Williams; on the south,
historical memoranda relating to the loss of Capt. J. C. Johnson and
Private W. E. Burkholder, the list of settlers who escaped from
Springfield (now Jackson), Minn., etc.; and on the north, the coat of
arms of Iowa, with these words: ‘Erected by order of the 25th General
Assembly of the State of Iowa.’”[355]
So diligently did the contracting company apply itself in the erection
of the memorial that early in March, 1895, four months before the
expiration of its contract, the monument was ready for inspection. On
March 14, 1895, the commission met at Okoboji and inspected and
accepted the work. Upon July twenty-eighth over five thousand people
came by wagon and excursion train, from a radius of over fifty miles,
to witness the formal dedication of the memorial and its presentation
to the State. The gathering was significant in that it marked the
opening of a new era in the appropriate marking of historic sites not
only in Iowa but in the Middle West. In the words of the Hon. R. A.
Smith, it was “meet and fitting that to the pioneer the same as the
soldier should be accorded the meed of praise and recognition ... a
just, though long delayed, tribute to the memory of the brave and
hardy, though unpretentious and unpretending, band of settlers who
sacrificed their lives in their attempts to build them homes on this
then far away northwestern frontier.”[356]
Upon the platform were seated ex-Governor C. C. Carpenter and Hon. R.
A. Smith, members of the relief expedition; Mrs. I. A. Thomas, Rev.
Valentine C. Thomas, and Jareb Palmer, who fortunately escaped the
massacre at Springfield; Judge Charles E. Flandrau, the Indian agent
who made possible the project to rescue Abbie Gardner, and Chetanmaza,
the Siouan Indian whose intrepidity secured her release; Mrs. Abbie
Gardner Sharp a survivor of the massacre at Okoboji; and various State
officials. The memorial was presented to the State by ex-Governor C.
C. Carpenter upon behalf of the commission under whose direction it
had been erected, and was accepted for the State by Lieutenant
Governor Warren S. Dungan and Hon. W. S. Richards.
Thus the people of Iowa, through their law-making body, paid a fitting
though somewhat tardy tribute to the memory of the pioneers who,
imbued with the true American spirit of progress, were willing to
brave the hardships of the frontier that those who came later might
share the blessings of a richer civilization. In the words of one of
the speakers of the occasion, “Let us hope that this awakening is not
ephemeral or temporary.... The story told by this memorial shaft is
but a faint expression of the toils endured, the dangers braved and
the sacrifices made by the unfortunate victims whose remains lie
buried here”.[357] The memorial “not only commemorates the great
tragedy which crimsoned the waters of these lakes, but it will keep
alive the memory of a species of American character which will soon
become extinct. As we look away to the west, we are impressed that
there is no longer an American frontier; and when the frontier shall
have faded away, the pioneer will live only in history, and in the
monuments which will preserve his memory.”[358]
XXXI
CHANGES OF SIXTY YEARS
When one looks back over the sixty years that have elapsed since
Ma-za-ku-ta-ma-ni delivered his bitter invective against white
infidelity at the Upper Agency on the Yellow Medicine, one can only
wonder at the transformation which has been wrought in what was
popularly known east of the Alleghenies as the Great American Desert.
In sixty years the frontier has moved steadily westward until to-day
it is gone not alone from the Mississippi Valley but from the American
continent. What was a vast expanse of prairie in 1857 has become a
country of prosperous homes.
Where then not a town was to be found to-day may be seen numerous
large cities throbbing with industrial life, while towns and villages
dot the landscape everywhere. Loneliness and desolation have given way
to that condition where man’s habitation is found at every turn. In
sixty years this area has changed from the frontier of civilization to
the very center of its arts and industries. In a country where Indians
were met with by the thousands in 1857, one may now travel for days
across the plains without catching a glimpse of a red man. The Indian
has all but gone from a land where he once roamed free and
uncontrolled.
Similarly time has dealt with the people of a different race who
played major or minor parts in the tragedy at Spirit Lake and
Springfield in 1857. Indeed, time has not always dealt kindly with
them, and in more than one instance they have suffered much from its
ravages. No one who survived the terrible experience of March, 1857,
on the borders of the northwestern lakes was able to regain title to
the claims of murdered relatives. The Gardner, Thatcher, and Marble
claims were all preëmpted by the settlers of 1858 without regard to
their former holders. Those preëmpting were perhaps acting within
their legal rights; but the first comers, under the customs of the
frontier, were entitled to the claims which they had staked out.
So widely have the survivors of the events of 1857 scattered that
to-day but one individual, Mrs. Abbie Gardner Sharp, remains at or
near the scene of the massacre. While living with her sister Eliza at
Hampton, Iowa, Miss Abbie Gardner became acquainted with Casville
Sharp, a young relative of the Noble and Thatcher families. On August
16, 1857, they were married. About a year after the marriage, Mr. and
Mrs. Sharp visited the scene of the tragedy at Okoboji in the hope of
securing some settlement for the Gardner claim. Although a small
amount was paid Mrs. Sharp by J. S. Prescott who had preëmpted the
claim, the sum was only nominal and in no sense an adequate
compensation for the property lost.
Mrs. Sharp continued to live in Iowa; but not until 1891 did she
regain the site of her childhood home at Okoboji. At that time a
company interested in the promotion of the Okobojis as a pleasure
resort acquired title to some thirteen acres of land at Pillsbury’s
Point, West Okoboji. This area included the Gardner cabin. The
syndicate at once plotted the land for sale as sites for summer
cottages. Out of the proceeds derived from the sale of her history of
the massacre, Mrs. Sharp acquired the lot upon which stands the
original log cabin home--the scene of the massacre.[359] The summer
tourist at Okoboji may yet (in 1918) enter the original log cabin and
learn from Mrs. Sharp the story of her captivity and rescue.
Mrs. Marble, the only other survivor of the massacre at Lake Okoboji
and Spirit Lake, likewise found her husband’s claim preëmpted upon her
return. Less fortunate than Mrs. Sharp, she was unable to secure any
compensation. For some years she was lost to the knowledge of her Iowa
and Minnesota friends. At length, in the early eighties, she was
located at Sidell, Napa County, California. Meanwhile, she had married
a Mr. Silbaugh. Since then little information has been obtained
concerning her, other than that of her death a number of years
ago.[360] Thus Mrs. Sharp is now the sole survivor of the massacre at
the lakes.
With the survivors of the Springfield massacre it has been different.
All who survived were able to regain their claims, since they returned
within a brief time to the scene of the massacre and before their
holdings had been preëmpted by settlers in the rush of 1857-1858. In
1913 occurred the death of Mrs. Irene A. Thomas whose cabin was made
the rendezvous of the settlers at Springfield, and whose son Willie
was the first known victim of the Indian attack. Her husband, it will
be recalled, had one arm so badly shattered as to necessitate
amputation upon reaching Fort Dodge. A remaining son, Valentine C.
Thomas, who was a young boy at the time of the massacre, later served
as a minister in Marshalltown, Iowa, where he died in August, 1915.
Mrs. Eliza Gardner McGowan was at that time still living in Fort
Wayne, Indiana. It will be recalled that following the return of the
relief expedition to Fort Dodge she married William R. Wilson, a
member of the expedition. For many years Mr. and Mrs. Wilson lived at
Hampton and Mason City, Iowa. Some time after Mr. Wilson’s death, Mrs.
Wilson married a Mr. McGowan and removed to Fort Wayne.
It may be remembered that Johnnie Stewart escaped by hiding in the
dooryard of his home while the members of his family were being
ruthlessly slaughtered by the Indians. After the Indians left he
crawled to the Thomas cabin, which he reached at dusk, was recognized
and taken in. In 1915 he was living at Byron, Minnesota; and, from the
latest information obtained he is still living at that place. There
also survives a Mrs. Gillespie of Blaine, Washington, who at the time
of the Springfield attack was Miss Drusilla Swanger, sister of Mrs.
William L. Church.
As we of another generation seek recreation at Okoboji, let us pause
in retrospection. Let us, “when we contemplate the dangers braved, the
hardships and privations endured, and the final suffering and
sacrifice which fell to the lot of the victims whose dust and ashes
have been gathered together and interred in this historic spot”, be
conscious that we are paying “a deserved tribute to courage and
self-denial, endurance and self-sacrifice”.[361]
NOTES AND REFERENCES
CHAPTER I
[1] See Richman’s _John Brown Among the Quakers, and Other Sketches_,
p. 203.
[2] _Senate Documents_, 1st Session, 32nd Congress, Vol. III, Doc. No.
1, p. 411.
[3] Flandrau’s _State-Building in the West_ in the _Collections of the
Minnesota Historical Society_, Vol. VIII, pp. 483, 484.
[4] Judge Charles E. Flandrau’s _State-Building in the West_ in the
_Collections of the Minnesota Historical Society_, Vol. VIII, p. 483.
[5] Rev. Moses N. Adams’s _The Sioux Outbreak in the Year 1862_ in the
_Collections of the Minnesota Historical Society_, Vol. IX, p. 432.
[6] “The inferior power knows perfectly well that, if it does not
accept the terms, it will ultimately be forced out of its domains,
and it accepts. This comprises the elements of all Indian
treaties.”--Flandrau’s _State-Building in the West_ in the
_Collections of the Minnesota Historical Society_, Vol. VIII, p. 483.
[7] Flandrau’s _State-Building in the West_ in the _Collections of the
Minnesota Historical Society_, Vol. VIII, pp. 483, 484.
[8] The massacre at Ash Hollow, often mentioned as a cause of the
massacre at Okoboji, was the culmination of a campaign of terror
planned by Gen. Harney against the Oglala and Brulé Sioux. The line of
march was Fort Leavenworth, Fort Kearney, Fort Laramie, and Fort
Pierre. At Ash Hollow near the Blue River and about four miles from
the left bank of the North Platte he found Little Thunder’s band of
the Brulé Sioux. When his cavalry had surrounded the Indians, he
planned an advance with his infantry. Little Thunder desired a
council. Gen. Harney refused, saying that he had come to fight. As
Harney advanced, he motioned the Indians to run. They did so and ran
directly into Harney’s cavalry. Finding themselves trapped, they
fought savagely to the end. “The battle of Ash Hollow was little more
than a massacre of the Brulés.... Though hailed as a great victory ...
the battle of Ash Hollow was a ... disgrace to the officer who planned
and executed it. The Indians were trapped and knew it ... and the
massacre which ensued was as needless and as barbarous as any
which the Dakotas have at any time visited upon the white
people.”--Robinson’s _History of the Dakota or Sioux Indians_ in the
_South Dakota Historical Collections_, Vol. II, pp. 224, 225. See also
_General Harney_ in the _South Dakota Historical Collections_, Vol. I,
pp. 107, 108; Beam’s _Reminiscences of Early Days in Nebraska_ in the
_Transactions and Reports of the Nebraska State Historical Society_,
Vol. III, pp. 301, 302; _House Executive Documents_, 1st Session, 34th
Congress, Vol. I, Pt. II, Doc. No. 1, pp. 49-51.
[9] Royce’s _Indian Land Cessions in the United States_ in the
_Eighteenth Annual Report of the Bureau of American Ethnology_, Part
II, pp. 710-712, 726; Kappler’s _Indian Affairs: Laws and Treaties_,
Vol. II, pp. 250-255, 305-310.
[10] See references in note 9 above.
[11] Royce’s _Indian Land Cessions_, p. 736; Kappler’s _Indian
Affairs: Laws and Treaties_, Vol. II, p. 346.
[12] Royce’s _Indian Land Cessions_, p. 737.
[13] Royce’s _Indian Land Cessions_, pp. 736, 737, 762, 763, 766-768,
778, 779; Kappler’s _Indian Affairs: Laws and Treaties_, Vol. II, pp.
349, 474-477, 495, 546-549.
[14] Royce’s _Indian Land Cessions_, pp. 768, 772; Kappler’s _Indian
Affairs: Laws and Treaties_, Vol. II, pp. 500, 518.
[15] Royce’s _Indian Land Cessions_, p. 778; Kappler’s _Indian
Affairs: Laws and Treaties_, Vol. II, pp. 557-560.
[16] In exchange for all lands claimed by the Sioux in northwestern
Iowa and southwestern Minnesota they were granted a reservation as
follows: “all that tract of country on either side of the Minnesota
River, from the western boundary of the lands herein ceded, east, to
the Tchay-tam-bay River on the north, and to Yellow Medicine River
on the south side, to extend, on each side, a distance of not
less than 10 miles from the general course of said river; the
boundaries of said tract to be marked out by as straight lines as
practicable”.--Kappler’s _Indian Affairs: Laws and Treaties_, Vol.
II, p. 590; Hughes’s _The Treaty of Traverse des Sioux in 1851_ in the
_Collections of the Minnesota Historical Society_, Vol. X, Pt. I, pp.
112, 113.
[17] Royce’s _Indian Land Cessions_, p. 784; Kappler’s _Indian
Affairs: Laws and Treaties_, Vol. II, pp. 591-593.
[18] “It was with great reluctance that the Sioux Indians consented to
surrender this favorite hunting and camping ground to the whites, as
they did by the treaty of 1851.”--Gue’s _History of Iowa_, Vol. I, p.
288.