In November, 1890, I was returning from Europe with my Wild West
Company. When the New York pilot came aboard he brought a big packet of
papers. That was before the days of wireless, and we had had no tidings
of what was going on in the world since we had left the other side.
As he came up the ladder he recognized me, and shouted: "Colonel,
there's a big Indian war started! I guess you'll be needed out there."
I seized the papers and eagerly read the details of the threatened
outbreak. I was not surprised when, on arriving at Quarantine, I was
handed a telegram from General Miles.
I was requested to come to Chicago as soon as possible, and to
telegraph the time of my arrival. Canceling all New York engagements, I
caught the first train for the West, and in thirty-six hours reported
to General Miles in his headquarters.
He briefly described to me what had been happening and went over with
me the maps of the Western States where the Indians were getting ready
for war. He said that it was his understanding that the Bad Lands of
North Dakota had been selected as the battle-ground by the Indians, and
asked me to give him all the information I possessed about that country
and its accessibility for troops.
Miles was about to leave for the Pine Ridge Agency, and take command of
the campaign to put down the Indians.
I was thoroughly familiar with the Bad Lands, and spent an hour or more
in discussing the coming campaign with the general. We both agreed that
the Indians had selected a particularly good country for their
uprising, and an especially good season, as in winter, with the hills
covered with snow, and blizzards of almost daily occurrence, it would
be far harder to hunt them out than in summer, when the troops could
travel easily.
Miles said that Sitting Bull had his camp somewhere within forty or
fifty miles of the Standing Rock Agency, and was haranguing the Indians
thereabout, spreading the Messiah talk and getting them to join him. He
asked me if I could go immediately to Standing Rock and Fort Yates, and
thence to Sitting Bull's camp.
He knew that I was an old friend of the chief, and he believed that if
any one could induce the old fox to abandon his plans for a general war
I could. If I could not dissuade him from the warpath the general was
of the opinion that I might be able to delay him in taking it, so that
troops could be sent into the country in time to prevent a horrible
massacre of the defenseless white settlers, who were already in terror
of their lives.
I knew that this would be the most dangerous undertaking of my career.
I was sure that if I could reach Sitting Bull he would at least listen
to me. But in the present inflamed state of the Indian mind it would be
next to impossible to get to his camp alive.
Nevertheless I was quite ready to take the risk. I knew what fearful
damage could be done by a sudden uprising of fanatical and infuriated
Indians, and any danger to me personally was as nothing to the
importance of preventing such, a thing, if possible.
Having no standing as an army officer or as a Government agent, it was
necessary for me to be supplied with some sort of credentials, in order
to secure the assistance I should need on my mission. When I informed
General Miles of this he took one of his visiting-cards from a case and
wrote the following on the back of it:
To COMMANDING OFFICERS OF UNITED STATES TROOPS:
Furnish Colonel William F. Cody with any assistance or escort that
he may ask for.
NELSON A. MILES.
I took the next train for Mandan, N.D., which was the station nearest
the Standing Rock Agency. There I hired a livery team and driver for
the ride of sixty-five miles to the Agency. I had considerable
difficulty in securing a driver, as the report had gone abroad that all
the Indians were on the warpath, and few of the settlers cared to risk
their scalps on such a venture. But I went higher and higher in my
offers, till at last a liveryman figured that a hundred dollars was
sufficient reward for the risk, and, hitching up his team, told me to
come along.
After an intensely cold drive we reached the Agency, where I hurried
into the trader's store to thaw out by his stove. I had hardly arrived
before the trader came in and told me that Major McLaughlin, the Indian
agent, wanted to see me. News travels very fast in the Indian country,
especially in war times. Someone about the Post who had seen me driving
in had hurried to headquarters to inform the agent that Buffalo Bill
had arrived by way of reënforcements.
As soon as I got my chilled blood into circulation I went to the
major's quarters, and informed him of the purpose of my visit. We were
old friends, and he was very glad to see me, but he was much concerned
on learning what I intended to do.
"That is impossible!" he said. "The Sioux are threatening a great war.
At this very moment we do not know when the Indians here at the Agency
may rise. We can take care of our own situation, for we have four
troops of cavalry here, but we cannot permit you to go to Sitting
Bull's camp. Not only would you be killed before you got halfway there,
but your presence in the country would precipitate hostilities for
which we are not in the least prepared. I'm sorry, Cody, but it can't
be done."
More fully to persuade me of the truth of what he said he took me to
the quarters of Colonel Brown, the commander of the troops at the
Agency, and asked him to talk to me. Brown listened to my statement of
what I proposed and shook his head.
"I've heard of you, Cody, and of your nerve, but this is more than even
you can do. Sitting Bull's camp is forty miles away, and the country
between here and there is swarming with Indians all ready to go on the
warpath, and wholly beyond the sway of reason. I cannot permit you to
make this attempt."
"Do you hear, Cody?" said McLaughlin. "The only thing for you to do is
to stay all night with us and then return to the railroad. Even that
will be risky enough, even for you." "But go you must," added Brown.
"The Agency is under martial law, and I cannot permit you to remain any
longer than tomorrow morning."
There was no arguing with these men. So I resorted to my credentials.
Taking General Miles's card from my pocket, I laid it before Colonel
Brown.
"What does this mean?" he demanded, and passed the card to McLaughlin.
"It looks like orders," said McLaughlin.
"Yes," said Brown, "and I can't disobey them."
Just then Captain Fatchett, an old friend of mine, came into the
quarters, and Brown turned me over to him for entertainment until I
should formulate my plans for my visit to Sitting Bull. I had never
served with the Eighth Cavalry to which the companies at the Post
belonged, but I had many friends among the officers, and spent a very
pleasant afternoon and evening talking over old times, and getting
information about the present situation.
After guard-mount the next morning I told Colonel Brown that I did not
think I would require an escort for my visit, as the presence of a
number of armed men in the Indian country would be sure to start the
trouble it was our purpose to avoid, or to delay as long as possible.
The man who had driven me over was anxious to return at once, so I
asked for a light spring-wagon and a team of mules.
"Wait an hour or two," said the colonel, "and I'll send the
quartermaster to you."
I waited, and he employed the time, as I afterward learned, in
telegraphing to General Miles, to the Commissioner of Indian Affairs,
to the Secretary of the Interior, and to President Harrison. He
informed all of them that I was there, insisting on going to Sitting
Bull's camp, and that such an errand would not only result in my death,
but would precipitate the outbreak then brewing, and for which he was
not at all prepared. He besought all of them to instruct me to return
to Mandan.
While he waited for replies to his dispatches I hunted about the camp
for someone who knew just where Sitting Bull was located and how to get
there. I also wanted a first-class interpreter, as I would have matters
to discuss with Sitting Bull beyond his mastery of English or mine of
Sioux to express. At last I found a man who agreed to go with me as
guide for five hundred dollars, which I promised him without a protest.
Then I went over to the post-trader's store and bought all manner of
presents which I knew would be acceptable to Sitting Bull, his squaw,
and his children.
When I returned to Colonel Brown's quarters he endeavored once more to
put me off. But I would not be put off. I informed him that I had
explicit orders from General Miles as to my mission, and that if he
interfered with me he was violating the orders of his commanding
officer and running into very serious trouble.
At last he reluctantly sent for the quartermaster, and ordered him to
have a span of good mules hitched to a light spring-wagon.
The wagon was driven to the post-trader's store, where I found my guide
and interpreter, and loaded aboard the presents I had bought for the
old warrior. With plenty of robes to keep out the intense cold, we
started out on our journey, a little apprehensive, but fully determined
to go through with it. Five or six miles from the Post we met three men
in a wagon driving toward the Agency. They told us that Sitting Bull's
camp had been lately moved, and that it was now further down the river.
I knew that if the old man was really on the warpath he would be moving
up the river, not down, so I felt considerably reassured.
When we had proceeded a few miles further we heard a yell behind us,
and, looking back, saw a rider approaching at full speed. This proved
to be one of Major McLaughlin's Indian scouts. He bore a telegram
reading:
COLONEL WILLIAM F. CODY, Fort Yates, N.D.:
The order for the detention of Sitting Bull has been rescinded.
You are hereby ordered to return to Chicago and report to General
Miles.
BENJAMIN HARRISON, President.
That ended my mission to Sitting Bull. I still believe I could have got
safely through the country, though there were plenty of chances that I
would be killed or wounded in the attempt.
I returned to the Post, turned back my presents at a loss to myself,
and paid the interpreter fifty dollars for his day's work. He was very
glad to have the fifty and a whole skin, for he could not figure how
the five hundred would be of much help to him if he had been stretched
out on the Plains with an Indian bullet through him.
I was supplied with conveyance back to Mandan by Colonel Brown and took
my departure the next morning. Afterward, in Indianapolis, President
Harrison informed me that he had allowed himself to be persuaded
against my mission in opposition to his own judgment, and said he was
very sorry that he had not allowed me to proceed.
It developed afterward that the people who had moved the President to
interfere consisted of a party of philanthropists who advanced the
argument that my visit would precipitate a war in which Sitting Bull
would be killed, and it was to spare the life of this man that I was
stopped!
The result of the President's order was that the Ghost Dance War
followed very shortly, and with it came the death of Sitting Bull.
I found that General Miles knew exactly why I had been turned back from
my trip to Sitting Bull. But he was a soldier, and made no criticism of
the order of a superior. General Miles was glad to hear that I had been
made a brigadier-general, but he was still more pleased with the fact
that I knew so many Indians at the Agency.
"You can get around among them," he said, "and learn their intentions
better than any other man I know."
I remained with General Miles until the final surrender of the North
American Indians to the United States Government after three hundred
years of warfare.
This surrender was made to Miles, then lieutenant-general of the army,
and it was eminently fitting that a man who had so ably conducted the
fight of the white race against them and had dealt with them so justly
and honorably should have received their surrender.
With that event ended one of the most picturesque phases of Western
life--Indian fighting. It was with that that I was identified from my
youth to my middle age, and in the time I spent on the Plains, Indian
warfare reached its greatest severity and its highest development.