As soon as the command abandoned the camp, the Indians reoccupied it,
and under the fire of the sharpshooters, hauled down several of their
teepees, hastily bundled together the greater portion of their plunder,
packed a number of horses with it, and, mounting their riding ponies,
the squaws and children beat a hasty retreat down the valley, driving
the herd of loose horses with them. They had hot work breaking camp,
and several of them and their horses were killed while thus engaged.
Two of Joseph's wives and a daughter of Looking Glass were among the
slain, who were believed to have been killed at this time.
When the command retired into the timber, the Indians followed and
surrounded them, taking cover along the river banks below, and behind
rocks and trees on the hill-sides above. The men dug rifle pits with
their trowel bayonets and piled up rocks to protect themselves as best
they could, and a sharpshooting fight was kept up from this position
all day. At times, the Indians' fire was close and destructive, and
here Lieutenant English received a mortal wound. Captain Williams was
struck a second time, and a number of men killed and wounded.
Two large pine trees stand on the open hill-side some 400 yards from
the mouth of the gulch. Behind one of these an Indian took cover early
in the morning and staid there until late in the afternoon. He proved
to be an excellent long-range shot, and harassed the troops sorely by
his fire until a soldier who had crawled up the gulch some distance
above the main body, and who was equally expert in the use of his
rifle, got a cross-fire on him and finally drove him out. He went down
the hill on a run and took refuge in the willows, but with one arm
dangling at his side in a way that left no doubt in the minds of those
who saw him that it was broken.
A large number of Indians crawled up as close to the troops as they
dared, and the voices of the leaders could be heard urging their
companions to push on. A half-breed in the camp, familiar with the Nez
Perce tongue, heard White Bird encouraging his men and urging them to
charge, assuring them that the white soldiers' ammunition was nearly
gone. But he was unable to raise their courage to the desired point,
and no assault was made. The troops held their ground nobly, wasting no
ammunition, and yet returning the fire of the savages with coolness,
accuracy, and regularity; and from the number of dead Indians and pools
of blood found on the hill-side the next day, learned that their work
here had not been in vain.
During the afternoon of the 8th the wagon-train and howitzer had been
brought down to within five miles of the Indian camp, parked, and
fortified by Hugh Kirkendall, the citizen wagonmaster in charge, aided
by the few men who had been left with him as train guard.
An amusing incident occurred that night, and yet one that came near
costing Kirkendall his life. Among the men left with the train was
William Woodcock, Lieutenant Jacobs' servant. He was armed with a
double-barreled shotgun and ordered to take his turn on guard.
During the still hours of the night the wagonmaster was making the
"rounds" to see if the men were on the alert. As he approached
William's post the latter called out to him to "halt"; and, without
waiting to learn whether his challenge had been heeded, blazed away at
the intruder, whom he took to be a prowling redskin. The charge of
buckshot tore up the ground and cut down the brush about the
wagonmaster, but fortunately none of them hit him. William showed
himself to be a vigilant sentry, but a poor shot, and it is supposed
that he will never hear the last of "Who goes there?--_bang!_" while
there is a survivor of the expedition.
At daylight on the morning of the 9th three non-commissioned officers,
and three men started to the front with the howitzer under the
direction of Joe Blodgett, the scout. They succeeded in getting it up
to within half a mile of the scene of action a little after sunrise.
They took it across Trail Creek and up on the bluff, where they were in
the act of putting it in position to open fire, when a body of about
thirty mounted Indians saw it, and ascertaining that only a few men
were with it charged with the intention of capturing it. Two of the
soldiers who were with the piece became panic-stricken and fled when
they saw the Indians coming, and did not stop until they reached the
settlement a hundred miles away, where they spread the news that
Gibbon's whole command had been captured and massacred. So far as is
known, this is the only instance in which cowardice was shown by any
man in the command.
The remaining four men stood bravely by the gun, however, loaded and
fired it twice at the assaulting party, and then, as the Indians closed
around it, used their rifles on them. When they saw that they could not
successfully defend the piece, they threw it off the trunnion and
retreated. Corporal Sayles was killed and Sergeants Daily and
Fredericks wounded at their posts. The horses that were hauling the
piece were both shot down. Private Bennett, the driver, was caught
under one of them in its fall, and pretended to be dead until the
Indians withdrew, when he took out his knife, cut the harness, and then
prodding the animal, which was still alive, made it move sufficiently
to release him, and he retreated and reached the wagon-train, where
Sergeants Daily and Fredericks also arrived later in the day.
The Indians, finding the howitzer useless to themselves, took the
wheels off the trunnion, hid them in the brush, and taking a pack-mule
that had been brought up with the howitzer and which was loaded with
2,000 rifle cartridges, returned to their camp.
The loss of the cannon was a serious blow to the command, for, could it
have been gotten into position and held, it could have done excellent
service in shelling the Indians out of their strongholds, whence they
so annoyed the troops. The piece could not consistently have been more
strongly guarded, however, than it was, for every available man was
needed in the assault on the camp. The loss of the 2,000 rounds of
rifle cartridges also weakened the command seriously, for it compelled
the men to reserve their fire all day, in order to make the supply
taken into the action with them hold out. Had this extra supply reached
them, they could have killed many more Indians during the day than they
did.
Meantime the fight continued to rage at the mouth of the gulch, with
varying fortunes and misfortunes on either side. Late in the afternoon
a smoke was seen rising from beyond the brow of the hill below Gibbon's
position, and the cry went forth that the Indians had fired the grass.
A wind was blowing the fire directly toward the beleaguered band, and
all were greatly alarmed. The General had feared that the Indians would
resort to this measure, for he knew it to be a part of the Nez Perces'
war tactics, and he believed that they intended to follow up the fire
and assault his men while blinded by the smoke. Yet he was not
dismayed. He urged his men to stand firm in the face of this new
danger.
"If the worst comes, my men," said he, "if this fire reaches us, we
will charge through it, meet the redskins in the open ground, and send
them to a hotter place than they have prepared for us." The fire burned
fiercely until within a few yards of the intrenchments, and the men
were blinded and nearly suffocated by the smoke. But again the fortunes
of war were with the beleaguered band, for just before the fire reached
them the wind shifted squarely about, came down off the hills from the
west, and the fire, blown back upon its own blackened embers, faltered,
flickered, and died out. At this lucky turn in their fortunes the
soldiers cheered wildly, and the Indians cursed savagely.
The men had left the wagons in the forenoon of the previous day with
one day's rations, but in the charge across the river many of their
haversacks had been filled with water, and the scant supply of food
that remained in them destroyed. Others, more fortunate, had divided
their few remaining crackers with their comrades who were thus
deprived, so that all were now without provisions and suffering from
hunger. The gulch in which they had taken cover was dry and rocky, and
as the August sun poured his scorching rays upon the men they suffered
for water. True, the river flowed within a few hundred yards of them,
but the man who attempted to reach it did so at the risk of his life,
and there were no more lives to spare. Not until nightfall did the
commanding officer deem it prudent to send out a fatigue party for
water. Then three men volunteered to go, and under cover of darkness,
and of a firing party, they made the trip safely, filling and bringing
in as many canteens as they could carry.
The men cut up Lieutenant Woodruff's horse (which the Indians had
conveniently killed within the lines), and as they dared not make
camp-fires, devoured full rations of him raw. The night was cold, and
again the men suffered greatly for bedding. The Indians kept firing
into the woods occasionally, even after dark, so that the soldiers were
unable to rest. Once or twice they charged up almost to Gibbon's lines
and delivered volleys on the men, but were speedily repulsed in each
case by a fusilade from the intrenchments.
General Gibbon had heard nothing from his wagon-train since leaving it,
and the fact that mounted parties of Indians were frequently seen
passing in his rear made it extremely dangerous to attempt to pass to
or from it. Indeed, he feared the train had been captured, for it was
but lightly guarded, and during the night he started a runner to Deer
Lodge for medical assistance and supplies. This man, W. H. Edwards by
name, succeeded in making his way out through the Indian lines under
cover of darkness, and walked or ran to Frenche's Gulch, a distance of
nearly sixty miles, where he got a horse, and made the remaining forty
miles during the following night, arriving at Deer Lodge on the morning
of August 11.
On the morning of the 10th, a courier arrived from General Howard,
informing Gibbon that he (Howard) was hurrying to his assistance with
twenty cavalrymen and thirty Warm Spring Indians. On being questioned
as to the supply-train, this courier reported that he had seen nothing
of it, which statement greatly increased the fear of the men that it
had been captured and destroyed. Later in the day, however, a messenger
arrived from the train, bringing the cheering news that it was safe.
The Indians had menaced it all day, but the guard in charge of it had
fortified their position and fired upon the savages whenever they came
in sight with such telling effect that the latter had made no
determined attack. Howard's messenger had passed the train in the night
without seeing it.
Early on the morning of the 10th, Sergeant Mildon H. Wilson, of Company
K, with six men, was sent back to bring up the train, and later in the
day, Captain Browning and Lieutenant Woodbridge, with twenty men, all
of whom had volunteered for the service, were sent to take charge of
it. They met the train on the way, in charge of Sergeant Wilson, and
with it succeeded in reaching the command just at sundown, bringing the
blankets and provisions so much needed by the men.
This detachment performed a hazardous and meritorious piece of work in
thus rescuing and bringing up the train, for large parties of Indians
were still scouting through the woods and hills watching for
opportunities to cut off any small body of troops who might be found
away from the main command and with whom they might successfully
contend.
In the face of this danger, Browning and Woodbridge, with their few
supporters, marched nearly ten miles through the swampy, brush-lined
ravine, and succeeded in moving the train over roads that were well
nigh impassable under the most favorable circumstances. The wagons had
to be literally carried over some of the worst places, the mules having
all they could do to get through without pulling a pound.
As soon as the train had been safely delivered to the command, General
Gibbon asked for a volunteer messenger to go to Deer Lodge with
additional dispatches, fearing that Edwards might have been killed or
captured en route, and Sergeant Wilson, the hero of so many brave
deeds, promptly volunteered for this perilous service. He started at
once, rode all night, and reached his destination only a few hours
behind Edwards.
The last party of Indians withdrew about 11 o'clock on the night of the
10th, giving the soldiers a parting shower of bullets, but it was not
known until daylight on the morning of the 11th that all had really
gone.
From the time the last shots were fired, as stated, all was quiet, and
the men got a few hours of much-needed rest, such as it was, for they
had slept but two hours in the past forty-eight. The fight was over;
the enemy was gone. The sun that rose on the morning of the 11th, shone
brightly over as beautiful a valley as the eye of man ever beheld, and
the blackening corpses that lay strewn upon the field were the only
remaining evidences of the bloody tragedy that had so lately been
enacted there.
Acts of personal heroism in the fight were numerous, and it would be a
pleasure to record them all, but at this late date it is impossible to
obtain full particulars of this nature. Among those worthy of special
mention, however, is this same Sergeant Wilson, of Company K, who,
during the fight among the lodges, killed an Indian who was in the act
of aiming at Lieutenant Jacobs, at very short range, and but for the
quickness of Wilson's movements and the accuracy of his aim, Jacobs
would undoubtedly have been killed. Wilson distinguished himself
several times during the day, and is known to have killed several
Indians. Indeed, it is said that his rifle seldom cracked but an Indian
was seen to fall. He was subsequently promoted to regimental
quartermaster sergeant, for gallant and meritorious conduct on that
day.