THE FORT ON THE RIVER
Another day of easy marching brought the column to Swan Lake Creek,
about fifteen miles due north of the Little Cheyenne, where camp was
made to await the arrival of the Second Brigade, from Minnesota, which,
according to the arrangement between Generals Sibley and Sully, was to
join the expedition there. Scouting parties were sent on north toward
Bois Cache Creek to look for the expected troops; and while awaiting
their return Al had an opportunity to see illustrated in rather an
amusing way one phase of General Sully's bluff, soldierly character.
Some of the regiments which had marched from Fort Sully were quite
recently organized, and the General had not yet made the acquaintance of
all their officers; so at Swan Lake Creek, having a little leisure time,
he asked the commanders of these regiments to bring to headquarters
such of their officers as he had not met. Among them appeared a young
lieutenant of the Sixth Iowa Cavalry, dressed in a spotless new uniform
of the latest regulation cut, set off by a red silk sash and a
resplendent sabre-belt, and very strongly perfumed with musk. General
Sully, like General Grant, was very modest in his dress, and his
uniform, except for the shoulder-straps, differed little from that of a
private, while sometimes in the field he even wore civilian garments,
such as corduroy trousers and white felt hat. He detested gorgeous
uniforms, especially when the wearer had no particular claim to
soldierly eminence or ability. When his eye fell upon this particular
military dandy, he looked the young man over contemptuously and his lip
curled as he sniffed the odor of musk. Al, who was standing by, saw that
something was coming, and listened in amused silence.
"General Sully," said Major Ten Broeck, who had brought the fledgeling
officer for presentation, "allow me to introduce Lieutenant C----, of
Company ----, Sixth Iowa Cavalry."
"Lieutenant C----, eh?" grunted the General. "Well, Lieutenant, how
long have you been in the volunteer service?"
"About six months," replied the other, seeming to feel conscious that
such a lengthy period had made him a model military man in every
particular.
"Six months?" cried the General, striking his fist down on his knee.
"Why, great Heavens, man, I've been in the regular service for twenty
years, and don't smell half as bad as you do!"
With that he waved his hand impatiently to Major Ten Broeck to indicate
that the interview was ended, and the crestfallen young officer withdrew
hastily.
On the morning of June 30 the men, idling about the camp, descried the
columns of the Second Brigade, long, narrow ribbons in the distance,
crawling toward them across the limitless, gently rolling plain.
Rejoicing and excitement broke out on every hand, for it meant that
there would be no delay in the progress of the campaign, as many had
feared there might be, since the Minnesota troops had been obliged to
make a march of nearly three hundred and fifty miles from Fort Ridgely
to the rendezvous. That the junction of the two brigades was effected
so promptly in that vast wilderness was a matter for congratulation, and
General Sully seemed to feel that he could not too highly praise Colonel
Minor T. Thomas, the commanding officer of the Minnesota column, for the
promptness and skill with which he had conducted his march. The
newcomers went into camp beside the First Brigade, and the men of the
two commands were soon mingled, telling one another of their respective
experiences.
That evening, as soon as he had finished his duties for the day and
eaten his supper, Al strolled into the camp of the Second, or, as it was
generally called, the Minnesota Brigade, to see if he could find there
any old acquaintances, particularly any who might have been at Fort
Ridgely. Here and there fires were burning and the men were lounging
about in groups, talking, playing cards, or otherwise amusing
themselves. Long lines of cavalry horses extended between the company
streets, securely tied to picket lines; and near the creek a large train
of wagons was corralled, its outspanned mule teams, crowded within the
great circle of wagons, seeming almost countless. As he walked along
through the haze of dust made golden by the setting sun, Al noticed a
cavalryman sitting cross-legged by one of the fires, engaged in the
unmilitary task of sewing a button on his coat. The soldier's back was
toward him, but that back had an oddly familiar look. Al walked around
until he could see the trooper's profile, then, with an exclamation of
surprise and pleasure, he sprang forward and slapped the amateur tailor
on the shoulder.
"Wallace Smith!" he exclaimed. "Say, but I'm glad to see you, old
fellow."
Wallace looked up, startled, then sprang to his feet and gripped Al's
hand.
"Why, Al Briscoe!" he cried, "what on earth are you doing here? I had no
idea you were within a thousand miles."
"I came up with General Sully from St. Louis to help look for my brother
Tommy," Al answered. "And you?"
"I am a private in the Eighth Minnesota," explained Wallace. "I became
eighteen just before the column left Minnesota, and as soon as I did, I
enlisted." He looked inquiringly at Al's civilian clothes. "Aren't you
in the service?" he asked.
"No; not old enough," Al replied. "But I'm serving just about the same
as a soldier. Practically I am on General Sully's staff."
"Whew-w!" whistled Wallace. "Lucky boy. That must be great. How did it
happen?"
Mutual explanations followed and before long each of the boys knew the
main facts of the other's history since they parted, nearly two years
before.
"There are other old acquaintances of yours with us," said Wallace,
presently. "You remember Sergeant Jones, who commanded the artillery at
Fort Ridgely?"
"Indeed I do," Al replied, recalling with quickened pulses the
Sergeant's gallantry. "Is he here?"
"Yes. He is now Captain Jones, of the Third Minnesota Battery and he is
in command of our artillery; two six-pounder field guns and two
twelve-pounder mountain howitzers, of his battery."
"He certainly deserved promotion for his work at Fort Ridgely,"
exclaimed Al, enthusiastically.
"Yes, he did," agreed Wallace, "and his men say he is a fine officer."
"Is Lieutenant Sheehan along?" asked Al.
"No, the Fifth has been down South for nearly two years, and he with
them. But you remember Major Brown? He is chief of scouts with us, and
has a company of about fifty Indians. Then there are several men among
our different regiments who were at Fort Ridgely as refugees and who
have since enlisted."
"How many men are in your brigade?" Al asked.
"I believe between fifteen and sixteen hundred," Wallace replied, "not,
of course, including the teamsters with the wagon train. Let me see.
There is our entire regiment, the Eighth Infantry; we are all mounted
for this campaign. Minor T. Thomas is our Colonel, but as he is in
command of the brigade, Lieutenant-Colonel Rogers is actually commanding
the regiment. Then there are four companies of the Thirtieth Wisconsin,
under Colonel Dill, and six companies of the Second Minnesota Cavalry
under Colonel McLaren, besides the artillery and a train of
ninety-three wagons and twelve ambulances, each drawn by a six-mule
team. We have quite a herd of beef cattle, too. So you see there are
enough animals with us alone to eat up all the grass in this country for
miles around in short order; and I suppose there are about as many with
your brigade."
"Yes, there are a lot of them," agreed Al. "We can't stay very long in
one place and find forage enough, unless rain comes to make the grass
grow."
The boys, very happy to meet one another again, talked for several hours
and then at last they separated for the night, each promising to see the
other as often as possible. The camp had quieted down, and most of the
men of both brigades, weary with the marching and other work of the past
few days, were wrapped in deep slumber; but all around the camps were
heavy guards, and the sentries, alert and watchful, were pacing their
beats. They looked shadowy and ghost-like under the starlight as Al
passed along, making his way through the company streets of little white
dog-tents, each backed by its long picket-line of horses, standing or
lying almost motionless in the gloom. It was not many minutes after he
had reached his own cot in one of the big Sibley tents of headquarters
before Al, too, was sleeping the profound and dreamless sleep of youth
and health.
General Sully's orders from General Pope were to establish a fort on the
Missouri River somewhere near the point where the Long Lake River
entered the stream. The plan of the Government at this time was to erect
and maintain a chain of military posts, of which the new fort should be
one, extending from Minnesota to central Montana, which should serve not
only to hold the Indians in check but also to protect emigrants going
through the Sioux country from the East, across Dakota, to the new
Montana gold-mining districts. A well marked trail had become
established through this section since 1862, but the hostility of the
Indians was such that none but very strong parties of emigrants could
make use of it. The Government wished to render the route more safe; and
the new fort on the Missouri, as well as the one General Sully was
expected to build on the Yellowstone, was part of the chain, which
began at Fort Abercrombie, Minnesota, on the Red River of the North.
For four days after the junction of the two brigades, the entire command
lay in camp for the purpose of resting both men and animals. The time
passed quietly and not unpleasantly, but with no unusual incidents.
Several summer thunder showers came, greatly improving the grass and
relieving the discomfort which the expedition had previously suffered
from the dust. Though nearly every one was idle most of the time, Al
found plenty to keep him busy. The camp was seven miles from the
Missouri, where the steamboats lay, and the Dakota Cavalry was ordered
to the river as a guard for them. Then the wagon-train, in sections,
went down to reload from the reserve supplies on the boats. Thus Al was
frequently obliged to go back and forth on Cottontail between the
encampment and the river, sometimes finding a chance while at the latter
point to spend a little time with his friends of the Dakota Cavalry or
with those acquaintances among the steamboat men whom he had come to
know during the long trip from St. Louis to Fort Sully.
At length, on the third of July, General Sully put the First Brigade in
motion for the mouth of Long Lake River, distant about one hundred
miles, and, after instructing the Second Brigade to proceed thither also
on the next day, he set out himself on the _Island City_ to examine the
river banks for a suitable site on which to build the new fort. As an
escort for the boat he took a company of troops, and most of the members
of his staff also went with him; but Al remained with the column, as his
duties demanded his presence there. The marches were long but not
exhausting, and by the eighth of July all the forces were assembled on
the Missouri a short distance above the mouth of Long Lake River.
Directly opposite, on the west bank of the Missouri, was the site on
which the General had decided to build Fort Rice, as the new post was to
be called.
The location was an ideal one. It was a level tableland with a permanent
bank along the river nearly one hundred feet high, and behind it rose a
majestic range of sandstone bluffs, which, just below the post swept out
boldly to the brink of the Missouri and followed it down to the mouth of
the Cannonball River, eight miles south. Along the base of the bluffs
extended a long, narrow belt of heavy timber, and another and much
larger forest covered the wide valley above the post. Immediately in
front of the latter the river was narrow, insuring a good crossing at
nearly all seasons, its only disadvantage being that, owing to the high
bank on which the fort stood, the ferry and steamboat landing had to be
made about half a mile down stream.
On the arrival of the army, a ferry, consisting of a long cable
stretched from bank to bank across the Missouri, on which a flatboat was
guided back and forth, was immediately put in operation. Some of the
troops, including the Dakota Cavalry, crossed on it and went into camp
near the site of the fort. The steamers were then unloaded and put to
work crossing the rest of the troops and the wagon-train, and the army
was soon all assembled on the west bank. Two sawmills, one operated by
a steam-engine and the other by horse-power, the entire equipment for
which had been brought along, were now started and began rapidly getting
out building materials, the timber being brought from the near-by
forests. Great cottonwood logs for the walls were squared to dimensions
of six by eight inches, and planks and boards were sawed for the
interior work. The stockade, with bastions on the northeast and
southwest corners, was also built of cottonwood.
The four companies of the Thirteenth Wisconsin, under Colonel Dill,
which were to be left to garrison the completed work, also constructed
it. They were composed of men from the Wisconsin lumbering districts,
who knew their business thoroughly; and with so many hands to do the
work it proceeded rapidly. In an incredibly short time barracks for
eight companies, officers' quarters, hospital, and storehouses, began to
take on an appearance of permanency which must have filled the scouts of
the hostile Indians with anger and dread, as they lay watching day by
day from distant ridges and buttes.
A short time after camp was pitched at Fort Rice a long line of wagons
made its appearance on the hills across the river and came dragging
slowly down the trail made by the army, until it reached the river bank.
It was a large party of emigrants from Minnesota, which had followed the
Second Brigade for the purpose of having the protection of the army in
crossing the country between the Missouri and the Yellowstone. There
were about a hundred and twenty-five wagons in the train and several
hundred people, including many women and children, and they were bound
for the gold fields. Their wagons were drawn by ox-teams. Their arrival
drew forth an explosion from General Sully.
"The idea of bringing women and children into such a country as this,"
he exclaimed. "I've got to protect them because the Government has
guaranteed them safe conduct through the Sioux lands and told them that
I will look after them. And so here they are, with a lot of lumbering
ox-teams, good for about six miles a day. How in the name of sense do
they expect to keep up with cavalry?"
"You can detach an escort to stay with them," suggested one of the staff
officers.
"Yes, of course I can," returned the General. "That's one of the worst
features of the business. We'll have to cut down our fighting force in
order to look after this travelling nursery, and the whole army'll have
to potter along and mark time when the Indians are just ahead, so that
the ladies can have their noontime nap. They will be everlastingly
hindering us in one way or another. I wish I could send them back where
they came from."
"Why don't you?" asked some one.
The General looked at the speaker disgustedly.
"Do you know what would happen if I sent them back?" he asked. "I should
be reprimanded by the Secretary of War, at the very least. It seems as
though the petting and protection of a handful of emigrants, most of
them runaways from the draft, is regarded as of more importance than the
success of military operations; at least, that has usually been my
experience in the past. Also, a howl would go up all over the country
about the cruelty of that hard-hearted military dictator, Sully, who
refused to lend to a few poor struggling emigrants the assistance of his
mighty army. Oh, no, I must take them along; that's all there is to
it."
A day or two after this, Al was in one of the supply wagons, when a
shadow came across the rear opening of the canvas top, whose back-flaps
he had drawn aside in order to see better as he worked. He looked up to
see peering in at him two bearded individuals wearing wide-brimmed felt
hats, checked shirts, and blue overalls, the latter tucked into the tops
of their cowhide boots. They were evidently members of the emigrant
party.
"We want to buy some grub from you," said one of the men, looking over
the contents of the wagon as if he were inspecting the shelves of a
grocery store. "Gimme a box o' that hardtack and a couple o' slabs o'
bacon and about ten pounds o' sugar, and,--"
"Why, I can't sell you anything," interrupted Al, taken very much by
surprise.
"Sure you kin," persisted the man, jingling some coins in his hand.
"I've got money; I'll pay cash."
"But these are Government stores," Al answered. "I'm not authorized to
sell them."
"Oh, well, that'll be all right," the would-be customer dismissed the
objection with a wave of the hand. "We're gettin' low on grub over in
our camp, and we want to hang on to what we've got till we git acrost
the Yellowstone. O' course we've got to eat, and the army's got to
supply us, 'specially when we're willin' to pay fer stuff. Old Sully
knows that." He spoke as if he considered the idea of paying as a great
concession, for which the Government ought to be very grateful.
"I do not think that _General_ Sully brought supplies along for more
than his own men," replied Al, putting emphasis upon the title, for he
resented the disrespectful tone used by the emigrant. "However," he
added, "I will ask the quartermaster."
He jumped from the wagon and, followed by the two emigrants, sought
Lieutenant Bacon.
"Why, I never heard of such brass," exclaimed the latter in an undertone
when Al had found him and explained the demands of the emigrants. "Of
course we haven't any supplies for these fellows. Why didn't they bring
along enough to last them?"
He turned to the men and repeated what Al had already told them. But
they were stubborn and declined to accept the quartermaster's refusal.
Indeed, they became angry and began condemning the General, the
Northwestern Indian Expedition, and the army, in unmeasured terms.
"Now, that will do," at last exclaimed Lieutenant Bacon, sharply, tired
of their insolence. "I'll take you to General Sully and he can decide
the matter."
When the question had been explained to him, the General was plainly
irritated but he held his temper in check.
"I have not enough supplies here now to outfit this post until next
Spring and to carry my army through the coming campaign," said he. "Some
of my boats are now busy bringing up supplies which were left at Farm
Island, that there may be sufficient to take us through. Why didn't you
bring enough yourselves to last you?"
"Because we was told we could get 'em from you," replied one of the men.
"Who told you that?"
"Well, them that ought to know," answered the other, evasively.
"They were mistaken," said the General. "I simply cannot let you have
supplies."
"Well, it's a blamed funny thing," exclaimed one of the emigrants,
assuming a tone of outraged virtue, "if a General and a great big army
can let poor emigrants starve to death; folks that are goin' out,
riskin' their lives and everything to settle up wild land and make this
here country great."
"You're going out from motives of pure patriotism alone, I suppose?"
asked the General, sarcastically. "You're not going because there's gold
out there and you want to make your fortunes?"
"Well, maybe we can make a livin'," answered the emigrant who had done
most of the talking, a little abashed, "but we'll build up the country,
just the same."
"That's very true," the General replied, earnestly, "and I'm willing to
do all that I can to help you through, so long as it does not seriously
interfere with the objects of the campaign I am here to make against
the Indians. You can certainly understand that I must and will obey my
orders from the Government, regardless of any other considerations. I
will afford protection to your train as far as my army is going, but
more than that I cannot promise. As for supplies, I am satisfied that
you have enough with you to carry you through if you exercise care in
their use. I do not believe that men would start out on such an
expedition as yours with insufficient food. Am I not right?" He leaned
forward in his camp chair and gave the men a searching look. Their eyes
fell and they moved their feet uneasily. But the General's glance
demanded an answer to his question.
"Mebbe we could scratch along," admitted one of them, reluctantly.
"So I thought," said the General. "You merely figured that by getting
army supplies while you were with the troops you could be less sparing
with your own. But I can't accommodate you. Good-day."
He turned to other matters, and his disappointed visitors took
themselves away, still grumbling.
Ten days after the troops had arrived on the site of the new fort, a
mere naked tract of virgin land perhaps never before trodden by the feet
of white men, they were ready to leave it behind them, covered with an
extensive and well-built military post which was destined to be occupied
by United States soldiers for many years to come. A few lodges of
Indians which had come in and surrendered at Fort Rice had confirmed the
reports of those at Fort Sully concerning the great encampment of
sixteen hundred lodges of hostiles assembled in a strong position
somewhere near the head of Heart River or on the Little Missouri. They
claimed that they had experienced the greatest difficulty in getting
away from the hostile camp, and had finally been able to do so only on
the plea of buffalo-hunting. They further declared that the hostiles
were confident in their strength and were boasting that they would
utterly destroy the army of white soldiers if the latter should venture
to attack them. So there was a prospect of plenty of excitement in store
when, on the morning of July 18, General Sully, unalarmed by such
reports, started westward with his army with wagons loaded, troops
fully equipped and liberally supplied with ammunition, and horses and
mules freshly shod.
Just before starting, the General went on board the _Island City_ to
give some parting instructions to Captain Lamont, who was under orders
to proceed up the Missouri and the Yellowstone, in company with the
_Chippewa Falls_, under Captain Hutchison, and the _Alone_, under
Captain Rea, to meet the column with fresh supplies when it should reach
the Yellowstone. The _Island City_ was loaded chiefly with corn for the
horses, but she carried also a considerable quantity of barrelled pork
for the troops, and most of the building materials for the intended post
on the Yellowstone; while the _Chippewa Falls_ and the _Alone_ carried
chiefly rations.
"Now, don't fail me, Captain," said the General, as he turned to leave
the _Island City's_ deck and follow his troops, already winding out of
sight across the plateau and up through a break in the westward bluffs.
"My animals will probably find poor picking out in that rough country
we are going through, and they'll need corn."
"We'll be there waiting for you, General, if human exertions can do it,"
replied Captain Lamont. "But you must remember that the Yellowstone has
never been navigated before, and I don't know what snags or rocks we may
run into."
"You can make it, and you must," said the General, "and don't forget the
place you are to meet me,--the Brasseau Trading House, about sixty miles
above the mouth."
"I'll be on the watch for you," answered the Captain.
"That's right; be on the watch," the General assented. Then suddenly he
opened his field-glass case and took out the glasses. "Here's something
for you to keep watch with," he continued, handing them to the Captain.
"I have another pair and you may find these useful. I have carried them
for a long time, and they are good glasses."
The Captain thanked him warmly, and the General walked ashore
accompanied by his officers, and they mounted their horses.
"Good-bye, Captain," said Al, as he started to follow them. "I hope you
will have a good trip, and that I shall see you soon again."
He little knew, as he spoke, when and under what unforeseen
circumstances the last part of his wish was to be fulfilled.
"Thank you, Al," returned the steamboat officer, giving his hand a
kindly grip. "The same to you. Don't get yourself shot to pieces; and I
hope next time I see you, you will have your brother with you."
"Oh, I hope so," returned Al, earnestly. "We're sure to find him up
there in the Bad Lands."
As he crossed the landing-stage and walked out to where Cottontail was
standing, he saw the deckhand, Jim, leaning against the companion
stairs, regarding him with a scowl of hatred, but he gave the fellow
hardly a passing thought. He followed the staff at a gallop, and as they
passed up the bluffs in the wake of the rear-guard the hills were
re-echoing to the bellowing whistle of the steamboats, blowing them a
parting salute and Godspeed.