The Warrior's Last Ride.—Muffled Feet.—Bit Off More Than We Could
Chew.—The Cunning Warriors Tricked Us.—We Carried Water in My
Boots.—Captain Lee Captures Their Camp.—How Lumpkins was Killed.—The
Sewall Gun Hoodooed the Comanches.—The Blood-curdling Yell, and We
were Afoot.—They Sure Waked Us Up.—Gathering the Clans.
I ran down the hill. Remounting, I said, "Come on, boys." Down the
cañon we went, meeting the expedition. After a brief report, Campbell
said: "We must get him, or he will ride on down, strike our trail, and
give the whole thing away." He added: "Say, Keyes, you are an Injun.
Can't you get that fellow?" Then he ordered Freed "to go up on the hill
and watch him." When he got up on the hill, which was only a few rods
from us, he said to us, "Now, boys, keep perfectly quiet. He is in a
fox trot, going east, and he is coming in closer to the cañon." One of
the Englishmen, whose camp had been plundered and destroyed, slipped
off from a wagon, ran up the hillside and said: "Where is the bloody
cuss? I want to kill him myself."
Keyes had ridden back down the cañon and had gone up a side draw to
intercept and kill him as he passed. By this time two of the other boys
had joined Freed, and, all unconscious of his near approaching death,
the Quohada Comanche was nearing the breaks.
The Englishman was armed with an express rifle, which he had brought
from Europe. Keyes had daubed both of his cheeks, demonstrating the
fact that "blood is thicker than water," and that the Indian blood in
his veins had cropped out in his actions.
On came the Quohada. These Indians had sneaked up and stolen Marshall
Sewall's life, and perhaps this same sign-rider was one of the party.
He was nearer the cañon. His Winchester rifle was in a scabbard,
fastened to the trappings of his saddle. The Englishman fired, and he
fell from his horse. Al. Waite and I were side by side facing each
other at the time. He whirled his horse and started up, and I with
him. When we got up on the flat the Indian was trying to get upon his
feet, and, his pony having bolted, was running on in the direction they
had been going. We soon overtook him, but he would dodge us, and in a
zigzag he would keep angling in closer to the breaks of the cañon.
The two trail-watchers whom Campbell left behind when we came into the
cañon now hurried on up to have a hand in what was going on. The four
of us finally caught the pony. I was not afraid but what Waite or I
either could run ahead of him, but he was an artful dodger, and simply
did not wish to be caught.
By this time we were over a mile down the cañon from the rest of the
boys. When we got back to them they had taken the Indian's body down
in the bottom, and left it in some tall reeds near a water-hole, so it
would be out of sight for the present.
Keyes wanted to take the scalp. But some of the boys said, "No, no,
Louie; we will kill them, but we must not mutilate the bodies."
Every field-glass—and there were twelve in the crowd—was now put to
use. Campbell now sent ten men ahead with glasses. He sent Jim Smith in
charge. They were to put out guards above the camping-place, on both
sides of the cañon, and also below the same. Hosea, the Mexican, went
along with them.
At 3 P. M. we were in this quiet nook, safely hidden from prying eyes.
What little breeze there was went directly down the cañon and under the
projecting bluff. It being safe to do so, we made a camp-fire, cooked
and ate. All hands were ravenously hungry. As soon as one appetite was
appeased, the man who possessed it went to the relief of another man on
guard, until all had been relieved from duty and fed.
Campbell, Smith and Freed withdrew from the crowd a short distance and
held a council. While they were talking Bill Kress asked the question,
which echo answered, "What did Campbell want an advisory board for?
Look at him out there planning the whole thing himself." I did some
thinking myself when he had appointed the five, Kress being one of the
number; but I was charitable enough to think that he wanted as many
of the party as possible to be distinguished by any glory that might
accrue from the expedition. The council having ended, those three came
in and Campbell addressed us in this way: "Now, boys, so far everything
seems to be going right. We three, whom you have chosen to lead you,
have the utmost confidence in your nerve; but it is one thing to talk
about cleaning out a camp of 150 or 160 fighting Indians where they
have their women and children along with them, for Indians will fight
harder and better then under these circumstances than they will at
any other time or place. We have decided to leave the wagons and camp
outfit here. We will be in three divisions, and all act in concert. I
will take one half of the mounted men, Smith the other half, and Freed
here will have command of you foot men. Cook and Godey will go with
Hosea to-night and locate their camp. We will follow up the cañon three
or four miles and await their return. If they find the camp they are
to get the lay of the ground, so that we will know how to place our
forces advantageously, in order to make an early-dawn attack. Smith and
his men are to charge through the camp on a run, passing on to their
pony herd, round it up, then circle around behind us; then if need
be he can bring his men to our assistance. And, boys, don't kill any
women or children if you can help it. After we have done all this, if
we do do it, we will govern ourselves according to the circumstances
then surrounding us." He closed his remarks by saying that he hoped and
believed every man would do his whole duty.
For a moment there was profound silence, then Louie Keyes, the part
Cherokee Indian, said that "it all sounded well, but how about that
dead Indian down in the tules? He was a sign-rider. He was making a
big circle around their camp to see if he could find any signs of
approaching enemies. He won't go to their camp to-night. That will
start them to wondering. They will then send scouts out in every
direction, and if we are discovered the jig is up; for they will break
for the sand-hills and get away from us."
"But," said Campbell, "that is one of the chances we will have to take."
Thus everything was planned. Hosea cut up two grain-sacks with which he
could muffle his horse's feet, and he told Godey and me to do the same.
We did so, but my horse got so nervous in trying to put them on him
that it was deemed best to take a quieter horse, which I did for this
occasion.
At good dark we three started up the cañon. It was thoroughly
understood that shortly after our departure the whole party was to
follow up about four miles, put out a guard, and wait for our return.
Each man was to take one blanket and the boys were to get what sleep
they could while we were gone.
After the three of us had gone about five miles, we came to the forks
of the cañon, the north prong coming from near due west and the south
prong from the south by a little east. Here we all dismounted. Godey
held the three horses while the Mexican and I walked about fifty yards
up the north prong. We were in a beaten trail which was made either by
buffaloes or ponies.
Hosea got down upon his knees and after I spread a blanket over him
he lit a match from time to time. He did this several times while he
was examining the trail. He said there were pony-tracks in the trail,
and they were coming down. We then came back, passed Godey, went a
few steps up the south fork, and did the same. Here the tracks were
going up. We proceeded up the south fork, riding very slowly, about a
half-mile, and dismounted.
We again repeated the match-lighting as at the mouth of the cañon.
Here the sides of the cañon were sloping and the breaks were lower.
We proceeded still farther, and came to a dead horse lying across the
well-beaten path over which we were passing. Here I put the blanket
over the guide's head. He lit a match and examined the trail, after
which he said in a whisper that he and I would go on afoot. I told
Godey what he said. Then we went ahead.
We must have gone fully a mile, when we halted and sat down. He
whispered, "Now let us listen."
After listening for some little time and hearing no unusual sound, he
again whispered, saying, "There is a long deep water-hole just around
the next bend a little above us;" and there was where he expected to
find the camp.
[Illustration: APACHE FAMILY.]
Any one who has attempted to crawl up close to a hostile Indian camp
on a dim, moonless, starlit night will realize the necessity of using
the utmost precaution, and can imagine to what a tension the nerves are
keyed. The whir of a night-thrush, the flutter of a disturbed bird, a
misstep, a stumble, an involuntary cough or a sneeze, or anything that
would attract an alert ear which might be in close proximity,—all these
things must be taken into account; and together, in a locality that had
not been seen in daylight, will produce a peculiar feeling.
We went a few steps farther; the path we were on ran close up to the
base of the hill at the bend, and we were practically out of the cañon
and right at the lower end of the water-hole Hosea spoke about. We
remained here as much as five minutes, and could neither see nor hear
any sign of the camp.
We were lying down, side by side, trying to skylight the surroundings.
The Mexican reached over and gripped my shoulder, arose, and then
slowly started back down the cañon, I following. We went at a snail's
gait. Not a word was uttered until we got back to Godey, when we
remounted our horses. The guide led the way and we followed him up out
of the cañon to the west, and when well up out on the flat we halted,
and Hosea said that he was mistaken about the location of the camp;
that it must be on the North Fork at some water-holes which he could
find.
I said, "Well, lead out." And for an hour we rode northwest and came
to the breaks of the North Fork, and here for an hour and a half we
cautiously reconnoitered, finding the water-holes but no camp.
We watered our horses here.
The Mexican dismounted. Seating himself on the ground, he placed both
hands over his face and eyes, and there he sat in mute stillness for
several minutes. More than a year later he told me at Fort Sill what
then passed through his mind.
When he arose he said, "Now I am sure I can find them, but we can't
do it and get back to the boys and get them there by daylight." He
said they were surely around the next bend in the draw above the long
water-hole we had visited on the South Fork; said he could take us all
across a plain from where the boys were, and get there yet by daylight.
Back we went to where the crowd was. They were restless, and some were
grumbling at our long absence. For it was now near morning. The wind
was coming from the south, and several of the men declared they could
smell a grease-smoke which emitted from all camps, more or less, where
much meat or marrow-bones were roasted. I said nothing, as I could not
smell a smoke, on account of a catarrh.
I made a full report of our trip, and told them that Hosea said if we
would move quickly we could yet get there and surprise them. Campbell
was outspoken in his belief that the Mexican was deceiving us on
account of the Mexican meat-hunters who frequented this region from
Fort Sumner on the Pecos river, in New Mexico, and that he believed
some of them might be with these same Indians, and that Hosea wished to
spare them. So Hosea, faithful Hosea, was under a cloud.
"Let us hurry," said Freed.
Out of the cavern we started; across the arm of the plain we went. When
broad daylight of the 18th day of March, 1877, came, we were three
miles from the camp and a hard fight.
Just as the dawn came, Hosea and I rode spiritedly ahead. I was now
riding the large nervous chestnut-sorrel horse. When we were a mile
and a half ahead of the advancing column we saw two Indians riding
leisurely toward their ponies, which were southeast of their camp. They
evidently had not discovered us. They went out of sight behind a rise
in the ground.
We could now see a large band of horses and ponies on a higher plain
of land beyond. To our right half a mile were the breaks of the head
of the cañon the three of us were in the night before. The camp was
straight ahead; off less than a mile and a half. We could see the tops
of several tepees.
"To the canyone!" said the guide. "Go! Hurry! Tell the men to hurry to
that white place!" (some white chalky breaks he pointed to).
I turned, let the sorrel out, and soon had the boys on the run for the
breaks, which we all reached just as the sun had cleared the horizon.
We entered the head of the cañon about 300 yards below the long
water-hole that Hosea and I were at the night before.
Campbell got all the mounted men into line and took the fourteen to the
right, as we were faced, and Smith took the left. We all dismounted,
readjusted and cinched saddles, tied our hats behind our saddles, and
remounted, Campbell filing his platoon, which I happened to be in, to
the right and up the slope for the level of the plain. Smith did the
same with his men to the left.
When we were well on top, the two mounted platoons were nearly 200
yards apart, and the infantry, as we now called it, were in the draw
between us, with orders to stick to the draw. Joe Freed was ordered to
get his men to within 200 yards of the camp as soon as he could, and
put them in open skirmish line, but was not to go into the Indian camp.
When all was supposed to be in readiness, Campbell called out, "All
right, Smith; go for them!"
Just as they started, Campbell, being on the extreme left of our
platoon, rode past in the rear and said, "Boys, get about five paces
apart; keep that way as much as you can, and keep as good an alignment
as possible."
When he was well out to the right and about three paces in front, he
gave the command, "FORWARD!"
Joe Jackson was next to me on my right, Billy Devins next to Joe on his
right; to my left was Squirrel-eye. We were now facing due east and
going at a moderate trot. Louie Keyes, on the extreme left, commenced
the old Cherokee war-chant; his horse had raised a gallop. He was quite
far out and ahead. That started Squirlie with his old Rebel yell; and
soon we were all going at a rapid gait in an irregular line.
When we came in sight of the first row of tepees we saw the warriors
running toward us, having poured out of their tepees, coming on afoot
as fast as they could run. We began firing. The Indians got to the
summit of a little rise between their camp and us, and dropping down on
their bellies opened up a rapid fire on us at 200 yards.
Campbell, spurring his horse to its utmost speed, got in the lead of
all, and riding down the front of the line said, "Back to the draw!"
repeating it several times, but before half of us could turn our
horses Joe Jackson fell from his saddle. Lee Grimes's horse was shot
in the forehead, and in falling broke Lee's left wrist. Billy Devins
dismounted, I following suit; we both ran to where Jackson was, letting
our horses run back with the rest. Each of us took a good strong hold
of Jackson and were dragging him back, when Billy's hold broke, he
having been hit in the arm.
"For God's sake, boys," said Jackson, "drop flat upon the ground or
they will get you both."
Lee Grimes crawled like a snake to where we were, and the three of us,
one shot in the arm, another with a broken wrist, and I unhurt, lay in
front of Jackson, and heard the bullets passing over us, but could not
see the Indians that were shooting in our direction.
Presently, off to our front and left, we saw as many as one hundred
Indians creeping up to the crest of a little hill on the north side of
the draw, about 250 yards from us, and on the opposite side of that
crest was Jim Smith and his men, dismounted, and firing on the ones
on our side that we could not see. We all three began shooting at the
ones we saw crawling up to the crest. Our work soon proved effective,
for the rest of Campbell's platoon, after getting their horses to cover
and leaving two men to hold and herd them, crawled forward on the flat,
and getting sight of the same band we were shooting at made the place
untenable.
Back down the hill and out of sight they went, dragging six of their
number after them.
The firing in our direction having ceased, we took Jackson back to
where our horses were, in a little side-draw of the main stream.
Campbell brought the rest of his men back; and no sooner was this
done than from the right and at the head of this draw there passed
about twenty mounted Indians on the dead run, strung out at intervals
of about six rods, shooting down the draw at us as they passed, and,
circling to the right, crossed the main draw about 200 yards below us.
At the same time another party of them were doing the same thing from
the opposite side, running from near their camp along the plain on
the north and crossing the main draw a little closer to us than the
ones that were crossing from our side.
[Illustration: POCKET CAÑON FIGHT BETWEEN HUNTERS AND COMANCHE
WARRIORS, AT EASTERN EDGE OF STAKED PLAINS.]
And for the next three hours, if one could have been where his vision
could have taken in the entire field of operations, he would have
witnessed one of the most spectacular dramas ever enacted, the head
of Thompson's cañon being the stage. Five of us ran up the side-draw
to near the crest and flattened out. Six of the boys ran northeast
seventy-five yards to where the side-draw went off to the main ravine;
and as the warriors came running down, crossing the draw from the north
side, the six men worked their breech-blocks lively, and fired rapidly
until they had all crossed the ravine, ascended the slope and passed
out of sight of them onto the main flat.
Not all of them, for one of their number fell from his horse in the
ravine; another had his horse killed as he ascended the slope. As they
passed us that were near the head of this side-draw, they were a good
200 yards out from us, and we were firing away at them as they passed.
In this run we killed two horses, and their riders ran for the sharp
bend in the draw, south of their camp.
Squirrel-eye rose up and ran quite up onto the crest and said, "Here,
boys, here!" We all hurried up to where he was. He had fired once,
and was just taking aim again when we arrived. He was shooting at the
Indian the other boys had killed the horse from under, and who was near
300 yards off and running for the same draw in the bend. The other one,
too, had now got in, but, being farther out on the flat, was making a
detour to keep out of the range of our long guns. He still lacked fully
thirty rods of getting to cover. We all took a hand, and showered lead
all around him.
All at once, he was flat upon the ground. Whether we hit him or not,
we never knew for sure. We crawled back to our position as rapidly as
we could, for we were now being fired at from the direction in which we
first advanced. We had barely got in place again when the firing in the
direction of where Smith and the infantry were now together slackened,
and for a few moments there were only a few desultory shots.
Then all at once came the sound of a volley from the main draw to our
left and a little in front of us. Then, pop! pop! a few more shots and
Smith at the head of his party came leading their horses down the main
draw, turned up the side-draw and joined our party.
We were called in and placed about a good wide pace apart. Eighteen
of us were ordered to crawl to the crest and shoot at everything that
showed up. Smith and Campbell exchanged a few words when they met.
Campbell said, "Boys, we must leave this place. Smith will take horses
and wounded men down to the side ravine that comes in at the long
water-hole, while we will crawl up on that crest and fire a few volleys
at the camp, then hold the position until Joe Freed and his footmen can
get out of the mess they are in."
When the eighteen of us got to the crest the Comanche camp was in
plain view, near 400 yards distant. There was a large band of horses
on the slope back of it, and fifty or sixty ponies at the camp. Some
were packed and others were being packed. All this work was being done
by the squaws and children. Off to the left of the camp was a red
flag on a pole. To the right of the camp was an Indian manipulating
a looking-glass. A strong breeze had sprung up, blowing from the
direction of camp toward us down the draw. Estimating the distance, we
fired two volleys at the camp, when zip! spat! whirr! came a fusillade
round and about us.
"Let the camp alone and mow the grass at the crest this side of it,"
said Campbell; and in a very short time three hundred rounds of
ammunition had been fired, sweeping the crest for a hundred yards up
and down it from where their position then was. Then some of the boys
opened on the camp again with deliberate aim, while special targets
were being picked out at the camp.
Freed and his men came marching up the side-draw that we were on the
crest of. They were all present, and even jolly. Poor Hosea, who had
gone in with them, had received a painful wound in the shoulder, but
was wearing a grin on his face. Freed called to me to come down. Not
having more than sixty feet to go, I was soon there. He said, "Now, you
find out what the guide has been telling me. I can't understand him. In
all his talk he keeps saying something about Apaches."
Hosea was holding his right shoulder lower than the other; had his
right arm in a sling. Smith's men were now firing from the side-draw at
the long water-hole. The boys on the crest were shooting pretty lively,
too. Several of Freed's men were going up the slope to join Campbell's
men on the crest.
I explained to Hosea what Freed wanted me to find out, and to my
surprise he told us that we were fighting over 300 Indians; that
the camp around the bend, which Campbell's men had not seen at all,
were Staked Plains Apaches; and he was sure there must be 200 of
them. I called Campbell down and told him what the scout had said.
He laughed and said, "Maybe we have bit off more than we can chew."
Then, addressing himself to those who immediately surrounded him and
were present: "Well, boys, speak up; what do you think is best to do?
Seeing what I did at the opening of this fight I thought I was taking
my men into needless slaughter. That was why I fell back to this place;
and I have felt badly about the whole affair; for I did not know what
effect our falling back would have on the other two divisions."
We advised him to send Freed and his men to join Smith while we kept up
a fusillade toward the camp.
The Indians having ceased firing, we were sure they were preparing some
ruse. Freed started, after receiving instructions to rake, shoot up the
main draw toward camp when he approached it, then pass on, join Smith,
and from the top of the hill above the long water-hole open up a strong
firing upon the camp. This would give us a chance to join them without
being in danger of a rear attack or rush from the Indians.
The plan was carried out, and worked well. We were all soon
concentrated, and holding a good position again. Smith informed us that
his men had opened fire on about fifty Indians that had ridden down the
cañon, keeping about a mile out on the plain.
Just then a thick smoke came down toward us from the Indian camp; and,
just as the smoke was nearing us, a daring young Indian, dressed in
war-bonnet and breech-clout, and riding a white horse that went like
a streak, dashed across the draw below us not more than 200 yards
away. He drew the fire of half our men, some shooting the second and
third time, before his horse, which was on a dead run, _fell_ and
rolled over. Fully fifty more shots were fired before this painted,
war-bonneted brave fell.
Then up the cañon came the party which had passed down; out onto the
plain they came on a run, waving shields and uttering their wild,
demoniac yell, once heard never to be forgotten. They were one-fourth
of a mile from us when they suddenly halted.
Here Ben Jackson made his first remark since the fight began: "Keep
your eyes towards their camp, boys; them fellers down in there have
done that on purpose to draw our fire so that the main band of warriors
can make a sneak on us down the draw, through that smoke."
'Twas a timely remark. Sure enough—here they came, pouring over the
crest of the side-draw we had just vacated. But the smoke was not so
thick as they wished it to be. For some were seen and must have been
hit before they all got into it. The grass they had fired did not burn
well, and soon the atmosphere was again clear.
But the cunning warriors had tricked us; and it was not until nearly
a month later that we understood or knew the meaning of each of their
moves in the fight, and the real execution our buffalo-guns had done.
The party of warriors down the draw rode out upon the south side, and,
making a wide detour, rode into the draw above camp.
There was now a complete lull. Joe Jackson, being wounded, had a
burning thirst, and began calling for water. Not a canteen or cup of
any kind in the crowd. I was wearing a pair of new boots which I had
put on the day we left Rath's. It was nearly 100 yards out in the
little valley to where the water was. Three different ones had started
to crawl down to the water. I was really suffering from thirst myself.
It was nearing noon, and my head was aching as if it would burst.
Ben Jackson said, "Boys, if you will shoot pretty lively at this edge
of that side-draw, and up the main draw a little, Cook and I will crawl
down and bring up a couple of bootfuls of water."
"All right," they said. And as the boys fired away we crawled down and
both got a good drink of water, bathed our heads, then, taking off both
of my boots and filling them with water, we crawled back, each of us
holding a tight grip to the top of a boot-leg.
Joe Jackson quenched his thirst. Then we gave Grimes and Hosea the rest
of the water. "Shorty," the druggist, had done what he could, which
was not much, for the wounded men, Jackson and Hosea; but he bandaged
Grimes's broken wrist, and gave each of them a drink of fourth-proof
brandy from a bottle that had been put into Bill Kress's saddle-pockets.
We were in this place nearly an hour. Then the three commanders divided
us into two parties, sending half of us on up this side-draw, with
orders to crawl on our all-fours along the plain and get opposite the
mouth of the draw that we of Campbell's men had vacated, and that we
believed to be the one the main bodies of Indians were in. This party
was in charge of Smith. They had been gone from us nearly half an hour,
when their guns were heard; for the space of four or five minutes there
was a general fusillade from both sides.
At last our boys drove them out up the draw; and as they went up over
the crest going south they came into our view. They were running toward
the sand-hills four miles away.
It was then we opened fire upon them at long range. After firing four
or five times apiece, Campbell selected five men to remain with the
wounded men and horses. Then he said, "Come on, boys; let's regain our
old position. There goes Jim Smith and his men across the draw."
On the run we went, just as fast as we could go, and we were soon on
the crest of the side-draw that we first fell back to. The tepees that
we had had the view of then were down; not a sign of a living thing in
sight.
"Have we licked them?"
"Yes," "No," would come the answer.
"Let's go into their camp now."
"No, don't do that; let's not get too far from those wounded men and
our horses."
"I'm choking for water."
"I'm so hungry I could eat a raw coyote."
"Hello, Shorty; where is that war pony you said you was going to ride
back, as you was walking up here last night?"
"Say, my dear Johnny Bull, you are chock-full of sand; that old
blunderbuss of yourn scart 'em out of the country!"
"Shake, Deacon; I haven't had time to be sociable with you to-day; but
no offense was meant."
"Pardon me, Carr; but you look worse than the devil."
And thus this good-natured, tired, thirsty, hungry crowd bandied one
another while Campbell, Smith and Freed were in council.
"Back to the wagons, boys!" came the order. "Smith, you keep your men
here until the rest of us cross the main draw."
Away we marched. After we had crossed the draw and were lined up facing
toward the abandoned camp, Smith's men rejoined us, and down the draw
we went to the long water-hole, previously putting out a guard on top
of the plain. Everybody drank a sufficient amount of water. The horses
were brought down and watered.
The ends of a blanket were laced together around two pieces of
lodge-poles, several of which were lying around and near the
watering-place. We made a stretcher for Joe Jackson. Squirrel-eye,
George Cornett, Hi. Bickerdyke and I rode back and got Grimes's saddle.
We now all felt that we were masters of the field since the Indians had
fled. Then we followed down the plain and got the war-bonnet from the
brave that rode to his death on the snow-white horse. Then we were off
for the supply camp.
We got there an hour before sundown. We unsaddled and turned our horses
loose. No fear of a raid for the present. The fires were built and a
hurry-up supper prepared.
We opened two boxes of crackers; carved a big cheese; made two
camp-kettles full of oyster-soup; opened peach cans by the dozen; set
out a keg of pickles; opened a firkin of oleomargarine; made lots of
strong coffee; and sat down to a feast. We had eaten nothing since four
o'clock the day before.
After supper we attended all three of our worst wounded men the best
we could. We probed Hosea's wound through the shoulder; washed it out
clean; sprinkled it with iodoform and tied bandages around it as well
as we could; made splints for Grimes's broken wrist, bound it up, and
kept water handy for him to bathe it.
Poor Joe Jackson had been hit in the groin, by Sewall's gun, which was
a 45, just as we turned, when we fell back the first time. The ball
passed through, and lodged. He was hauled in a wagon 150 miles, to Fort
Griffin, where the post surgeon extracted the bullet. But, poor fellow,
after two months of suffering, although in the mean time he got up and
went around after his surgical work was done, he took a relapse, and
died.
The next morning we started back to Rath's. We arrived there on the 22d
of the month. Just a week later, Captain Lee, of G Company, Tenth U.
S. Cavalry, with five Tonkawa Indians for guides, scouts and trailers,
and his seventy-two colored troopers, took the field, under orders
from General Ord, who at that time was in command of the Military
Department of Texas, with his headquarters at San Antonio.
Captain Lee's special mission was to find these Indians and bring them
in. From him we learned all that we did not know already in regard to
our fight with the Indians on the 18th of March. It was now believed
that, for a time at least, we would be safe by going in small parties
to bring in the hides from the many camps in the Brazos country.
Kress, Rees, Benson, Moore, Crawford and I went in a body to our
different camps for the hides we yet had on the range. Rath sent
freight teams to haul the hides and bring them in. The work took nearly
two weeks' time in all. Some of the hunters went out ten to twenty
miles, selecting new camps, in hopes of getting a few hides now and
then.
Soon a general carelessness prevailed. The Indians swept over the
range again, coming to within five miles of Rath's, killing three more
hunters, destroying several camps, and running off the stock.
Two days after this last raid, Tom Lumpkins, having returned to Rath's,
ran amuck. After making some slighting remarks about our expedition
against the Indians and getting a reprimand from the hunter who had
loaned me the sorrel horse for the campaign, he deliberately drew his
pistol and shot, breaking the man's arm near the shoulder. At the
time Lumpkins shot him, he (the man) was sitting upon a chair, and my
partner, Crawford, was cutting his hair. He was totally unarmed.
This all happened in the saloon. Crawford stepped in front of Lumpkins
and said, "What do you mean, Tom?"
"Get out of the way, Crawford; he has insulted me."
Just then Jim Smith pulled out his revolver, ran up, jerked Crawford to
one side, and fired.
Tom then backed toward the door, shooting as he went, Smith following
him up.
As Lumpkins came out of the door he turned to his left, still walking
backward toward a wagon that John Godey and I were in, sacking up dried
buffalo tongues. Smith kept following him up, shooting as he advanced.
Lumpkins fell about ten feet from the wagon. One of the bullets from
Smith's revolver went through the pine wagon-box and lodged in the sack
of dried tongues. Godey held the sack while I put the tongues into the
sack.
The hunter whose arm was broken by Lumpkins, was an American-born
Swede. He was not with us in the fight, but was enthusiastic in his
praise of the manner in which the men conducted themselves who were
there, and, being a rather impulsive man, he quickly rebuked the insult.
Jim Smith had previously, come very near having trouble on this very
same subject, with Lumpkins. This being the case, it was apparent
to all that Smith was justifiable in what he did, under existing
circumstances.
The wounded man and I had met several times during the past two and
one-half years, and we had become quite intimate. At his special
request I took him to Fort Griffin, that being the nearest place to
a doctor or surgeon. As we were starting away, the boys were making
arrangements to give Lumpkins as decent a burial as they could, Smith
saying that he would defray all expenses of the burial.
Smith and several eye-witnesses of the killing all went to Fort Griffin
also, where Smith surrendered himself to the civil authorities of
Shackleford county. The record of his trial in April, 1877, says:
"_Justifiable homicide_."
While at Fort Griffin we learned that Captain Lee had found the
Indians; had captured their camp, together with all their women and
children.
The next day after returning from Fort Griffin, Crawford and I settled
up all our affairs in regard to our partnership in the hunting
business. After everything was settled satisfactorily between us, he
took me aside and told me that "he never was so anxious to get to a
peaceful, quiet, steady plodding place, in his life." Said his "nerves
were not made for startling commotions." He said: "I have a mother,
as I told you, who is dependent upon me; I have money enough now to
buy a nice little place in Benton county, Arkansas, where I can make
an excellent living, and make Mother as happy as she ever could be."
He had before this told me of his father being killed at the siege
of Vicksburg, and of their home in Missouri being broken up by the
Federals. The ex-Confederates would call us "Unionists," ringing the
changes to "Yanks."
After I had heard him through I took him by the hand and said: "Willis,
I regret to part from you; but am glad you are so solicitous for your
mother's welfare. Your idea of a good quiet home is an excellent one;
and from this on I'll often think of you and imagine you contentedly
situated."
The next day he started with a big hide-train for Fort Worth. I never
met him again, but we kept track of each other for several years
through the mails.
On the 25th of April there were some twenty-five or thirty of us
lounging around the store and saloon at Rath's, when Captain Lee rode
into the little place, bringing in most of the women and children
of Nigger Horse's band. They all camped close by that night. This
Captain Lee was one of the descendants of the famous "Light Horse
Harry," of Revolutionary fame, also a relative of the great Confederate
general, "Marse" Robert E. Lee, the man who would not allow Gen. Grant
to turn his right flank. Capt. Lee was a tall, square-shouldered,
well-proportioned man, of great muscular strength, having a splendid
voice and very distinct articulation. He was a fluent talker. He "would
like to meet some of the hunters who had fought the Indians on the
plains at the head of Thompson's cañon."
Just then Jim Harvey approached him and saluted, saying, "How do you
do, Captain Lee?"
"Why, Jim Harvey, old Fourth Cavalry, ha! ha! Citizen Harvey now?"
"Yes, time expired at Fort Dodge three years ago; been hunting ever
since."
"Were you at the hunters' fight?"
"Yes;" then looking over the crowd, now all at the store, "there are
about half of the boys here now."
Then for an hour or more he entertained us with the details of his
expedition and the Indians, and the Indians' story of our fight. We
were sure we had killed a dozen Indians, but were surprised to learn
that 31 had been killed outright, and 4 died the next day; that 22
more were wounded, and, when we were shooting lively at the camp, and
the band of horses beyond, that we had killed 15 pack-horses already
loaded; and the mounted warriors that were running and circling around
us were only doing it to draw our fire so that the Indians could move
camp without all being killed. We could now account for a good many
things that happened that day.
[Illustration: BUFFALO-HUNTERS FIGHTING COMANCHES AND APACHES, MARCH
18, 1877, ON THE STAKED PLAINS.]
And when we learned that the sand-hills to which they fled were
honey-combed with caves and tunnels, shored and timbered up to keep
them from caving in; and that the Indians hoped that we would follow
them there, where they could finally annihilate us, we thought our
fight with them was a good day's work for us.
And we learned, also, that the Apaches from the Guadalupe Mountains,
west of the Pecos river, had fled back to their own retreat more than
100 miles away; and that Captain Lee had been to our battle-ground.
Tonkawa Johnson and his four tribesmen had trailed the Indians to these
sand-hills, to find that they had left there after the Apaches had
abandoned them, and they had gone on west to Laguna Plata, eight miles
west of Casa Amarilla.
Then Captain Lee found them at a time when most of the warriors were
out on raids; and his first duty sergeant had been killed by old Nigger
Horse himself. At the same time the sergeant killed both Nigger Horse
and his squaw, as they were trying to make their escape, both mounted
upon one pony; five other warriors were killed, too.
It had been a running fight for eight miles toward the Blue sand-hills.
Those who got away fled to them. He had destroyed near three tons of
jerked meat; had melted nearly 300 pounds of bar lead and run it into a
cake in a hole in the ground. His men carried fifteen parts of cans of
Dupont powder up the margin of the lake from camp and blew it up, for
three purposes:
First, To keep it from falling into the hand of the exasperated Indian
raiders when they returned and found their chief dead, and most of
their women and children captives.
Second, To show the captives that the white man had plenty more.
Third, Because he could not well carry it back to us.
The primers, some 10,000, he brought back with him; also a map he had
made, showing where we could find the cake of lead. The lead, powder,
and primers had been taken from the different hunters' camps, by Indian
raiders, when they plundered and raided them. Captain Lee told us to
look for a raid on this place at any time; complimented us, so far as
he was personally concerned, for the manner in which we had "ginned
them up"; hoped the buffaloes would soon be destroyed and the country
made safe for the ranchman and home-builder.
Harvey, West and myself went out to his camp with him near a mile.
We found the camp settled for the night, the captives on one side,
near one hundred feet, with a strong guard around them; then the
darky soldiers lounging and resting. Tonkawa Johnson and his friendly
companions camped close by Captain Lee's quarters, which were now ready
for him; and his cook was preparing his evening meal.
Harvey said: "Captain Lee, Tonkawa Johnson talks fairly good English;
speaks good Spanish, and understands the Comanche language thoroughly.
We would like to get your permission to have him go with us into the
captive camp. We want to find out, if we can, how they liked the Sewall
gun."
"Yes, certainly; go right in. Orderly, get Johnson and take him into
their camp with these men." Harvey told Johnson what questions to ask.
Lying upon an untanned buffalo-hide was a weazen-faced buck that had
had his left eye shot out in our fight with them. Near him was another
one, sitting up, with both arms broken, they having been broken in the
fight with Lee.
When the talk which we had with them, through the interpreter, was
ended, we had elicited many additional facts, to those already stated,
in regard to our two encounters with them. The Sewall gun had been a
hoodoo to them. Everyone who had used it had either been killed or
been badly wounded.
When Freed heard this he was in high glee. For he had contended all the
time that he had killed the first Indian who used the Sewall gun to
shoot at the hunters, which was in the first encounter with them, in
the stronghold at the edge of the Staked Plains. The second Indian who
used the gun was badly wounded. Then Nigger Horse's son took it, and it
was he that first used it, at our big fight, as we now called our 18th
of March fight. And he too fell with the gun in his hands. Then Cinco
Plumas, or Five Feathers, used it until near the close of the fight,
when he too fell. The Indians said they left the Sewall gun in the
tunneled sand-hills, wrapped up in a blanket with the two scalp-locks
they had taken from Sewall. These superstitious creatures imagined the
gun and scalp-locks were "bad medicine" for them; when, as a matter of
fact, each one who used the gun placed himself in an exposed position
in order to do effective work at long range. And, not being so well
practiced in calculating distances as the hunters were, they laid all
their misfortunes to the gun. We also learned that the looking-glass
that Nigger Horse signaled with was smashed to smithereens by a bullet
from one of our guns. A pappoose had been killed which was strapped
to its mother's back. But this, of course, was because the pappoose
happened to be where it was when the bullet passed along.
The next morning Captain Lee took up his march to Fort Griffin, where
he was stationed, and the captives were sent on to Fort Sill.
On the 30th of April George Cornett came into Rath's and reported that
John Sharp had been badly wounded the day before, near Double Mountain,
and he wanted help to bring him in. The Indians had plundered his
camp, cut the spokes out of his wagon, and run off his team. Louie
Keyes, Cornett, Squirrel-eye, Hi. Bickerdyke, Joe Freed, Jim Harvey and
myself took Rath's buggy team and went out after him. I drove the team;
the others were on horseback.
We got to where Sharp was, in a brush thicket below his camp. We
started back with him that night; came on back to the Double Mountain
Fork; stopped to feed the horses and eat a cold lunch. We were now
four miles from Rath. As the day-streaks were visible in the east on
the morning of the first of May, 1877, we heard rapid firing in the
direction of Rath's. We hooked the team to the buggy and all started
for the place.
After going a mile or so, Harvey thought it best for some one to ride
on rapidly to a high point about a mile ahead, and try to make out what
it all meant. Squirlie, ever ready and ever present, fairly flew up the
trail, and went to the summit of the high point where Rath's was in
plain view, and much of the surrounding country also. One good, short
look seemed to have satisfied him.
Back he came to us, on a dead run.
"Boys, they have tricked us. There are about seventy-five Injuns just
over the hill," said he, as he pointed south. "They are going west to
beat h——l, driving over 100 head of horses."
So, while we hurried on east as fast as we could go, "Keno," the O Z
mare and Pinto were all going west.
When we arrived at Rath's we met a cheap-looking crowd. There were
about fifty men there, all told, and, with two exceptions, all flat
afoot. The Indians had made a clean job of this raid.
There were night-watches out, it was true. But they had taken all the
horses northeast in the evening, about two miles, and let them loose to
practically roam and graze at will. The herders must have been sound
asleep. A general carelessness prevailed. Only two men were on guard at
Rath's. Camp wagons were scattered here and there over forty acres of
ground. Several men were sleeping at their camps. Some were sleeping in
the store. Several had their beds made down in the aisles of the big
hide-ricks.
The Indians were in two parties of about fifty each. One party rounded
up and secured the horses in close herd and drove them around a
half-mile south of the store. The store faced west, the saloon and
restaurant east. The two were a street's width apart.
Just as daylight was dawning, fifty of these reckless thieves made a
run between the buildings, shooting right and left and yelling as only
Comanches can yell. They passed on to the bunch of horses, struck west
with them, and kept moving. They had not injured a man in their run
through camps and village. But, as one of the boys remarked, "They sure
did wake us up."
It was during this same morning that the organization of what was
afterwards known as "The Forlorn Hope" was talked of. We sent Sharp on
to the hospital at Fort Griffin, and we put in the day "holding the
empty sack" as the phrase went, and organized. There were thirty-eight
men present who had lost all of their horses, mules, and ponies. Sam
Carr was furious. Besides his two large fine mules, "Prince" was gone.
He talked nearly the entire day about him; and when one of the boys
said, "And you had a fine mule team, Sam," he replied, "Yes, but I can
get more mules; but I can never get another 'Prince.'"
I am sure my readers love a noble horse. And Prince belonged in this
category. He was a dapple-gray gelding, fifteen and three-fourths hands
high; was seven years old; weighed eleven hundred pounds. His sire came
from the Bluegrass region of Kentucky to near Topeka, Kansas, where
Prince was foaled, and owned by Samuel Carr. He grew up on the Kansas
farm a pet.
Sam was, and had been, his only trainer; and for performing many
tricks, Prince was as perfect as horse could be. At the word of command
he would go lame, and could scarcely hobble about. He would lie down
and appear to be dead. He would hold his head side wise with ears
erect, at the command to "listen!" His master would have him lie down
and hold his head erect. Then he would kneel on one knee, place his
gun-muzzle on the crown of Prince's head between his ears, and fire the
gun, and Prince would not even "bat" an eye. Carr would tell him to
lie down; then he would lie down beside him, and, touching him on hip
and wither, would say: "Now, cuddle up!" Then Prince would flatten out
and bring all four of his legs up against Carr's body. He was fleet on
foot; had great power of endurance, and was an excellent swimmer. He
would follow his master anywhere he went, if told to do so. Carr would
buy sugar in cubes, and nearly always kept a supply of cube sugar on
hand for Prince. I heard Carr say to him once, "Oh, Prince, I found
some sugar." The horse walked up and ate it from his hand.
Is it any wonder that big tears came coursing down the man's cheeks
when he found out his faithful horse was gone? At first the boys were
inclined to joke him about Prince. One of them said, "Well, Sam, if
we don't get him back when we go out after the Quohada again we will
get you a Dolly-Varden horse like that buzzard-headed pinto of Cook's
that went off with him." But when the boys saw how Sam took the loss of
Prince so much to heart, they ceased joking him.
After having a general talk about ways and means, and nearly all being
of one mind, we all decided to practice Indian for the summer, if it
took that long to accomplish what we now had resolved to do; which was:
To take wagons as far as General McKenzie's supply camp of the '74 war;
then pack our supplies, and roam the Staked Plains until we found the
Indians' headquarters; then set them afoot as they did us, and fight
them to a finish if they followed us.
Accordingly, we elected James Harvey to command us, all agreeing to
obey implicitly, and execute the commands given us. Dick Wilkinson
was made chief packer, to have regular detailed assistants. Sol. Rees
was put in charge of the medical supplies. I was appointed Hosea's
interpreter. He was to select anyone he chose to scout with him. Carr,
Frank Perry and Bill Kress were sent to the cattle ranches, near Fort
Griffin, to purchase saddle-horses and pack animals.
A new campaign was inaugurated. Powder-face Hudson and three other
hunters came in that evening from Quinn's. The Indians had not gone
there, so they had their horses. Hudson hitched up his team the next
morning, and the three men who were to go after the horses threw their
saddles into the wagon. West told them to come into the store and get
anything they wanted; after which the four of them started for the
settlements near Griffin.
The party that took Sharp to the hospital returned the fourth day,
bringing the big chestnut-sorrel horse that I rode in the fight on the
18th of March. They also brought a letter from Oleson, the Swede, who
loaned him to me for the March expedition. He was my horse now. I wish
I had his letter to reproduce here. The horse was given to me as a
gracious gift from a man whom I had befriended and who had learned that
I was afoot.
When I took him to Griffin after Lumpkins had shot him, we took all his
camp outfit and stock along. I had put a new cover on his wagon; and
got Mr. Jackson's permission to back the wagon against his barn in the
corral; and had taken Oleson's three horses to a pasture three miles
down the Clear Fork; and I charged him nothing from the time I left
Rath until my return; and so he remembered me in my present loss by
making me a present of the horse.
Word now came to us that the entire border of the settlements was on
the _qui vive_, from Fort Concho to Henrietta. From North Concho to the
Brazos there was hardly a cattle ranch but had lost horses, the Indians
having broken up into small parties; had stealthily slipped in and made
a simultaneous raid for horses, taking them for a hundred miles up and
down the border, and had closed, for the present, by gathering the
clans together and setting the hunters afoot by their raid on Rath.