BESET IN THE BAD LANDS
On regaining the prairie, the boys found that General Sully had already
gone up to the Sioux camps at one side of the ravine by which they had
ascended. They at once followed, passing the artillery and the wagon
train on the way. When they arrived they found most of the army already
assembling on the farther side of the hostile camps, at the base of
Tahkahokuty. Far up on the top of the mountain a number of Indians had
gathered and were firing upon the troops at very long range. Although
the soldiers were very much exhausted by their efforts of the afternoon
and were sorely in need of food and rest, it was evident that these
annoying neighbors must be dispersed before nightfall. Moreover, it was
known that good water was to be found somewhere near the mountain top,
at the Falling Spring of Tahkahokuty, as the Indians called the spot,
and since the troops were suffering for water, an advance was
imperative. General Sully inspected the enemy's position, then said to
Colonel Thomas, who was with him,
"Colonel, do you think some of the Eighth Minnesota could clear those
fellows out and get possession of the spring, if Captain Jones shells
ahead of them?"
"They certainly can and will, General," responded Thomas.
"Four companies ought to be enough," continued Sully. "The rest of the
troops can be having mess while they are gone."
"I will instruct Major Camp to make the advance," replied the Colonel,
riding away.
Al stepped to the General's side.
"May I have permission to accompany Major Camp, General?" he asked.
"This afternoon I came face to face with the Indian who has my brother a
prisoner,--Te-o-kun-ko,--but he got away. I might possibly see him again
up there."
"The Indian who has your brother?" exclaimed the General, much
surprised. "How do you know?"
"By the scar on his cheek and neck and by the way he looked when I
called him by name," answered Al.
"Why, in that case, of course you can go," the General replied. "But be
careful; he is undoubtedly a desperate fellow. However, it isn't likely
you will see him again. Most of them have gotten as far away as they can
by this time." Then he added, "By the way, since you are going, watch
for a practical path to the top for cavalry and wagons. The army may
have to go up there, and I certainly shall to-morrow."
Al mounted Cottontail and rode away. He had hardly reached Major Camp's
detachment, which had dismounted and was deploying to the right as
skirmishers, when the guns of the Third Minnesota Battery began once
more to boom. Their elevating-screws had been run down to the last
thread in order that the muzzles might be raised enough to throw their
shells upon the overhanging mountain crest. The projectiles carried to
their mark, bursting in sprays of pale, orange flame high above the
topmost rocks. But they did not entirely dislodge the enemy, and after a
few rounds the battery was obliged to cease firing owing to the advance
of the skirmish line.
Up along the steep, boulder-strewn breast of Tahkahokuty, through timber
and underbrush, went the thin, irregular line, eagerly watched by the
troops below and but feebly opposed by the warriors above. It was hard
climbing, and more than once Al and others in the detachment stumbled
and fell over stones or tree roots. As they neared the top and came into
clear view from the crest, the fire of the Indians increased in
intensity, though the savages continued to shoot high so that very few
of the soldiers suffered. At length the cavalrymen scrambled over the
last ledge, too breathless to shout in response to the hearty cheers of
their comrades far below, but not too breathless to follow on a run
after the Sioux who had been bold enough to await their coming and still
showed fight around the ravine of the Falling Spring. The struggle was
sharp and decisive but it lasted only for a moment. A few carbines and
sabres clashed with lances and muskets, then the rear guard of the
Sioux, unable, as always, to stand the test of hand-to-hand conflict,
broke for the nearest cover behind them and disappeared in the tumbled
wilderness of mountains beyond, whither their families and the bulk of
their army had already gone.
Some deserted lodges stood around the triumphant Minnesotans on the
lofty eminence, but they were few in number compared to those in the
vast camp below. Al saw nothing of Te-o-kun-ko in the handful of
warriors who fled before them; and while the men were filling their
canteens at the spring of cool, crystal water which burst from the rocks
near at hand, he walked along the crest of the ridge, looking for a less
abrupt ascent than the one they had followed. From his position, the
view spread before him in the golden glow of early twilight was
magnificent. Far below and seemingly almost at his feet, lay the bivouac
of the army. He could see the soldiers moving about, some of them still
tossing their hats in enthusiasm over the success of the charge. They
looked like pygmies, and the sound of their cheers came up to him faint
and far away. Farther out from the ridge lay the myriad dots of the
Sioux lodges, and beyond them, extending for miles upon miles until
lost in the haze of the horizon, stretched the countless rough ranges of
hills over which the army had passed in the morning. The treeless
expanse of crests and slopes, lying like a tumbled green counterpane in
the distance, was now as still and peaceful as if it had never known the
turmoil of battle or the trample of armed men.
At length Al retraced his steps and joined Major Camp, whose men were
now ready to descend to the main body, with the exception of a strong
picket left to hold and patrol the mountain top. Once more back at
headquarters, Al was not long in finishing his supper and rolling
himself in his blanket. But, though weary with the exertions and
excitement through which he had passed since daybreak, he lay for a
while thinking over the events of the past nine hours, while one by one
the sounds of the camp died away around him, and the soldiers lay down
to rest. Most of his thoughts were naturally of his encounter with
Te-o-kun-ko and the mystifying conduct of the latter. Why had the
Yanktonais failed to shoot him when he lay there between the rocks,
utterly helpless? It would have been the most natural thing in the world
for an Indian to do, for they seldom show mercy, especially in the heat
of battle. Why had that strange, bewildered expression come over the
Indian's face when Al called him by name? And, most perplexing of all,
where was Tommy now? Among the women and children who had fled away
before the army could overtake them, or in some distant, secluded place
where Te-o-kun-ko had left him for safe-keeping? All these questions
were utterly baffling; no amount of thinking could bring a satisfactory
answer to a single one of them; and at length Al, weary in body and
mind, sunk into the dreamless slumber which had already enveloped his
comrades on every side.
The bugles were blaring out the reveille long before daylight next
morning, and in a short time the army had eaten its breakfast, formed in
column and was marching away by the left flank along the base of
Tahkahokuty, seeking a passage around or through the mountain into the
country beyond, whither the enemy had fled. General Sully himself went
straight up to the crest by a pathway which had been discovered by Al
and others the previous evening, but what he saw there was extremely
discouraging. As far as the eye could look to the northward the country
was intersected by precipitous hills and steep ravines, some of the
latter one hundred feet deep, entirely impracticable for either cavalry
or wagons. The army marched for six or seven miles along the foot of the
mountain without finding a route by which it could be ascended or
turned, and at last the General, bearing in mind that he had rations
left for only two more days, reluctantly gave the order to halt and
countermarch to the abandoned Sioux camps, in order that these might be
destroyed before the army returned to Heart River.
Large detachments from the Second and Eighth Minnesota, the Sixth Iowa,
and the Dakota Cavalry were at once detailed as fatigue parties and
placed under command of Colonel McLaren to collect and burn the lodge
poles and lodge skins, the vast accumulations of dried buffalo meat and
dried berries,--food which, though great in quantity, was utterly unfit
for white men,--the tanned robes, clothing, cooking utensils, saddles,
travois poles, and countless other articles left in the camps and the
near-by ravines. Thirteen companies were engaged in the task, and they
spent half a day of hard work at it, when, finding that they would be
unable to finish by evening, they set the woods and prairie on fire, and
burned the remainder of the captured property in one great
conflagration. The poles and coverings of between fourteen and sixteen
hundred lodges were destroyed, being the camp equipment, so General
Sully estimated, of between five and six thousand warriors and their
families. If correct, this meant that at Tahkahokuty the Sioux had
assembled a greater army than they ever brought together on any other
field, before or since.
A little while after noon the troops began their return march,
bivouacking that night about six miles from the battlefield, where they
were assailed by a body of Indians about dusk, but repulsed the attack
easily. Next day they reached Knife River, and on July 31, by a march of
thirty-five miles, regained Captain Tripp's camp on the Heart. They
found every one there safe and well; but, though no Indians had been
seen during the absence of the main column, both the emigrants and the
camp guard were exceedingly glad to see the army back again, as it
relieved them from their enforced idleness and assured the early renewal
of the westward march. While the army was away, Captain Tripp had
employed his men in digging a strong line of rifle-pits around the camp,
which was now in a condition to withstand the attacks of any number of
Indians.
The next two days were spent by the troops in resting themselves and
their animals, for all were very weary from the hard marching and
fighting of the past week; and by General Sully in trying to determine
upon the best route to follow in his further march toward the
Yellowstone. Al was absent from headquarters during most of the time,
making out commissary requisitions and returns in the wagon train,
though once, on the second day, he saw General Sully as the latter
passed through the train with Lieutenant Bacon, closely inspecting the
contents of each wagon. When, toward evening, he returned to
headquarters, he at once asked Wallace Smith, who had been there
continuously, what had happened during the day.
"Oh, the General seems to be having a lively time deciding what to do,"
answered Wallace. "It must be a hard question. He had all the Indian and
half-breed scouts in here for hours to-day, questioning them about the
routes to the Yellowstone. All of them, excepting one, told him they
knew nothing of the country due west of us, which must be terribly rough
bad lands, from what they say. They declare they have never ventured
into it and advised the General to return to the Cannonball and then
move west to the mouth of Powder River and down the Yellowstone to where
the boats are to meet us. But that means a long, roundabout march of
probably two or three weeks; so the General went and inspected the
wagons to see if there were supplies enough to make it."
"Yes, I saw him," interrupted Al. "There are just six days' full rations
left now."
"That's what he said when he came back," Wallace continued. "He was a
good deal worked up, and told the guides they must find a way for the
army to march straight west from here across the Little Missouri. But
all of them said it was impossible, except one Yanktonais. He declared
he had been back and forth across the Bad Lands of the Little Missouri a
number of times on hunting expeditions, and he is sure he can lead the
army through if some digging is done in the worst places to make a road
for the wagons and artillery."
"Just one man?" exclaimed Al. "My gracious! suppose he should lead us
into a trap?"
Wallace shrugged his shoulders.
"Well, of course, he might," he agreed. "But what else can be done?
There are not rations enough to last over the other route, nor even
enough to take us back to Fort Rice. Anyway, the General has decided to
trust this chap and make the attempt and we shall start up Heart River
to-morrow morning. You know our rations are to be cut down from one-half
to one-third, so as to make them last."
"Yes, I know," answered Al. "We were issuing reduced rations this
evening. I hope we are not going to run into an ambush," he added. "But
there is no doubt General Sully knows what he is doing; he always does."
That evening the troops were paraded and heard the General's
congratulatory orders on their conduct in the recent battle. Soon after,
they retired to rest, and it seemed that but a few moments had passed in
this refreshing occupation when reveille called them up to their labors
again. The advance guard soon moved out, followed by the military wagon
train with strong columns of troops of the Second Brigade on each flank,
the First Brigade bringing up the rear. Then with much confusion and
shouting, the Montana emigrant train finally got under way and moved out
of the intrenched camp, leaving the latter to lie, with parapets slowly
crumbling under the rains of summer and the blizzards of winter, an
object of curiosity and vague uneasiness to straggling Indians and
prowling wolves.
For three days the army pushed steadily westward up the valley of the
Heart, through a pleasant country whose hills often showed the
outcroppings of large veins of coal. Each night's camp was made in a
spot well supplied with water, grass, and wood, and the men began to
believe that the terrors of the country ahead, so vividly described by
the Indian guides, had no existence save in the imaginations of the
latter. No hostiles were seen, but the column passed one camp ground,
recently abandoned, which showed the sites of several hundred lodges; so
no one could doubt that the stealthy enemy was still in the neighborhood
and probably watching the progress of the column closely.
Toward evening on August 5, the third day of the march, the advance
guard on arriving at the crest of a hill, similar to dozens of other
hills they had crossed that day, suddenly came to a halt. The troops
behind them could see by their gestures of excitement that they had
discovered something unusual ahead. The army and the trains were halted
and the General rode forward to the advance guard, accompanied by his
staff.
When they reached the crest of the hill and looked out beyond it, not a
man spoke for a moment, though at the first glance a few uttered
ejaculations of astonishment or dismay and then became silent. Before
them in the brilliant sunlight and lengthening shadows of late afternoon
spread a scene of such weird and desolate grandeur as has few parallels
in the world. Six hundred feet below lay the bottom of a vast basin,
apparently twenty-five or thirty miles in diameter. From rim to rim it
was piled with cones and pyramids of volcanic rock or baked clay and
other hills of every imaginable fantastic shape, some of the peaks
rising to a level with the surrounding country and some lower, but all
glowing with confused and varied color, from gray and yellow to blue and
brick red. Over all this huge, extinct oven of what had doubtless been,
sometime in ages gone, a great coal bed which had burned out, hardly a
sign of vegetation was visible save here and there a few small,
straggling cedars or bushes on the barren hillsides. The place resembled
strongly the ruins of some mighty, prehistoric city, but more strongly
still it reminded the beholder of some of Dante's vivid descriptions of
the infernal regions.
They bivouacked that night on the prairie and early next morning
marched down into the forbidding basin, knowing not whether they would
ever emerge from it alive.
All day long in suffocating heat and under the glare of an almost
intolerable sun they toiled forward, winding in and out through gorges
with high, perpendicular walls and yawning ravines so narrow that only
one wagon could pass at a time. No water could be found save a little
which was bitter with alkali. A large pioneer party was in advance,
grading along hillsides and filling gullies so that the wagons might
pass; by nightfall the army had succeeded in covering twelve miles and
found itself on the bank of the Little Missouri, where at least water
and grass were abundant. But the expedition was literally buried in the
Bad Lands, which, on the western side of the stream, still stretched
before them in a wilderness of mountains and gorges even more forbidding
than those they had already passed. Fortunately no Indians had yet
opposed them, and many of the men, especially those in the advance and
on the flanks, had found some pleasure mixed with their labor in
viewing the strange and beautiful rock formations through which they
passed. Here were many petrified stumps and fallen trunks of trees on
the tops and sides of the hills. Some of them were of immense size and
wonderfully preserved, showing the bark, the stumps of branches, and the
age rings of the interior wood. At one place was seen what the men
called a "petrified sawmill", consisting of what appeared like a pile of
lumber and slabs under the edge of a hill and, close by it, a large
tree, cut up into logs of exact length, such as might be found around
any sawmill, but all of stone as hard as granite. In addition to the
trees, many of the men found impressions of leaves in the rocks of sizes
and shapes belonging to no vegetation of the present age, while others
discovered the footprints of unknown animals which had once inhabited
this ancient land.
Colonel Pattee with his detachment of the Seventh Iowa crossed the
Little Missouri the following morning to trace out, if possible, with
the Yanktonais guide, a route leading westward from the river. He was
gone for some hours and, meanwhile, a few of the men seized the
opportunity to take their horses outside the lines in search of better
grazing. They had not been out very long when they saw a party of thirty
or forty Indians bearing down upon them, intent on cutting them off from
camp. The soldiers were too few to think of fighting, so they fled at
utmost speed, and all succeeded in getting in, though several escaped
very narrowly. The attempted surprise seemed to be the signal of the
Indians for the beginning of a general attack on the army, for in a
moment the bluffs across the river were swarming with warriors, who
opened a hot fire on the camp, though at such long range that their
bullets could not reach half the distance. Just after they began firing,
a horseman dashed out of the ravine directly beneath their position,
which Colonel Pattee's detachment had ascended, and plunging into the
river, trotted and galloped his horse across amid a great splashing of
water. It was Lieutenant Dale, who had followed Colonel Pattee with an
order an hour or two before. General Sully met him at the river bank.
"What's the matter?" he demanded, the moment the Lieutenant reached
him.
"The Seventh Iowa is attacked back there two or three miles, in the
hills," replied Dale. "Colonel Pattee wants reinforcements."
He had scarcely finished speaking when there arose the sound of many
hurried hoof beats in the ravine from which he had just emerged. The
General looked toward it with a growing smile which presently broke into
a laugh as a confused crowd of cavalry rushed from the ravine and
galloped furiously down to and through the river.
"The Seventh has evidently come after its own reinforcements,
Lieutenant," said he. "They must be in a hurry for them."
"It looks like it," answered Dale, grinning.
He retired, while the leading officer of the frightened cavalry hastily
explained to the General that the Indians had come upon them in such a
position and in such numbers that the only way they could save
themselves was by instant flight.
"Is that so?" asked Al of the Lieutenant, after hearing this
explanation.
"No," returned Dale, laughing, as he dismounted and sat down
cross-legged on the ground for a moment's rest. "They were just scared,
but it's no wonder. There are enough redskins around to have made it
true. I believe the whole Sioux Nation is out in front of us there. They
pretty nearly got me; tumbled a couple of ton rock down when I was
coming through that ravine and just missed my horse by about six inches,
and they fairly singed my hair with bullets. I guess the ball has
started again."
The ball had started again, sure enough, for when the army crossed the
river next morning and began threading the succession of ravines and
canyons which Colonel Pattee had traced and partially dug out the day
before, it was instantly attacked by the Sioux on all sides, in numbers
seemingly as great as had fought at Tahkahokuty. On this day detachments
from the Second Brigade formed the advance guard, under Major Robert H.
Rose, of the Second Minnesota, supported by Jones's battery. The rest of
the Second Brigade guarded the army wagon train, with strong flanking
parties out on each side to hold the hills and transverse valleys from
which the enemy might fire upon or charge the train. Behind the Second
Brigade came the First, similarly protecting the Montana emigrant train,
the Coyotes and two companies of the Sixth Iowa bringing up the rear,
while Pope's battery held itself ready to shell the hills or ravines
whenever the enemy appeared in sufficient force to justify unlimbering
the guns.
The march was slow and fatiguing in the extreme. The Indians, holding
the tops and sides of the long succession of narrow passes or canyons
through which the army must go, poured their fire down upon the troops
until dislodged by the fire of the artillery or the approach of the
flankers, when they would fall back to another position of like strength
and repeat their tactics. The wagons, after advancing about three miles,
were parked in a space where the pass opened to a somewhat greater
width; while the troops, pushing on, cleared the hills to allow the
fatigue parties to dig out and level some three miles more of road. Then
once more the unwieldy train unwound into column and crept carefully
forward along the trail. The latter, in spite of the efforts of the
pioneers, was often so narrow and slanting that it was all several men
could do to keep the wagons from overturning and blocking the road
permanently. Officers and men were working together on the firing line
and among the trains, coatless and dripping with sweat in a temperature
of one hundred and ten degrees in the shade. Their throats were parched
with thirst, for the water brought from the Little Missouri was soon
exhausted, and no more could be obtained throughout the day except at
one tiny spring, to which the Indians clung so stubbornly that they were
only dislodged by the Second Minnesota after a sharp fight.
Attack after attack was launched on the advance guard; and when repulsed
there by the steady volleys of the cavalry carbines and shells of the
Third Minnesota Battery, the warriors would concentrate and rush upon
one or the other flank, if the ground was open, or else lie in
concealment and fire upon it as it approached. Up and down the hills in
every direction the braves could be seen, riding their nimble-footed
ponies along slopes so steep that it seemed even a dismounted man could
not keep his footing there.
Toward noon a serious misfortune fell on the army in the loss of the
Yanktonais guide, the only man who knew the country through which they
were passing. He had proved very faithful to his trust, and in his zeal
to lead the march correctly, he had ventured too far to the front, where
he was severely wounded in the breast, the bullet coming out under his
shoulder blade.
All day long the members of the General's staff were on the run,
carrying orders, suggestions or cautions to the commanders of the
various organizations, hurrying forward the lagging wagons and sometimes
themselves becoming involved in one or another of the many skirmishes
constantly blazing up among the tumbled hills. Once Lieutenant Dale rode
back to the General's position near the head of the column, with the
blood running over his face from a wound in the cheek.
"Oh, are you badly hurt?" asked Al, who happened to be there, startled
and anxious.
"No," the Lieutenant returned, lightly, dabbing some of the blood from
his cheek. "I've been back to the rear guard to tell Captain Miner that
the redskins were getting ready to swing around on him. They did, just
about as I got there, and stirred him up pretty lively, but the boys
repulsed them. One fellow grazed my cheek, that's all. Just look at
them!" His glance swept the surrounding hills, on every one of which
groups or masses of Indians were to be seen. "They seem to be
everywhere, and for every one killed it looks as though ten new ones
sprang out of the ground." He looked at Al and an ominous expression
passed over his face. "Have you ever heard of Kabul Pass?" he inquired,
in a low tone.
Al returned his glance steadily.
"Yes, I have," he admitted, slowly.
"It looks something like that around here, doesn't it?" the Lieutenant
continued. "Only one man came out of Kabul Pass alive, you remember."
"Why, you're right," answered Al, feeling a passing throb of foreboding.
"But I think we shall do better than that," he added, hopefully.
"Oh, no doubt," agreed Dale. "I was just thinking of the similarity of
positions, that's all."
In an instant his mood changed and he laughed at a sudden recollection.
"I saw a funny thing back there," he chuckled. "You know the oxen those
emigrants are driving are pretty well fagged out; every now and then one
of them lies down and has to be exchanged for a fresh one from the herd.
The rear guard has orders to shoot all the exhausted animals, so the
Indians won't get them. While I was back there one big ox fell over, and
he was unyoked and left on the ground, looking as good as dead. But as
the rear guard passed him, he heard their shots and then the yells of
the redskins close behind, and he raised his head and looked at the
Indians. They were pushing up, hoping to catch him alive. I guess he
didn't like their looks, for all at once he scrambled to his feet and
made a bolt for the herd, charging right through the rear guard with his
tail sticking straight out and his eyes bulging with fright. Now he's
travelling with the rest of the cattle and seems as well as any of
them."
Al laughed heartily. "He ought to have a medal," he declared.
"Yes, he had," agreed Lieutenant Dale, "a leather one, anyway."
A long time after noon, the walls of the canyon through which the column
was marching became gradually lower, and after a while the hard-pressed
troops and trains found themselves passing out of the dangerous defile
upon a comparatively level plateau, higher than most of the surrounding
Bad Lands, though it was girt on all sides by the characteristic peaks
and gulches of the region. Here General Sully decided to make camp for
the night, though he had marched only ten miles, for here had been found
a little grass and a large pool of stagnant, muddy rain water, which,
however, was better than none at all, and no one could tell whether any
existed farther on. The troops were placed in very compact formation and
the trains corralled, the emigrants a little to the east of the military
camp.