and Kiowa made a combined attack upon the buffalo hunters intrenched in
the fort of the Adobe Walls, on South Canadian river, in the Texas
panhandle. The engagement began about the 27th, and continued several
days, the Indians attacking with desperate courage, urged on by their
medicine-man, who had assured them that the bullets of the whites could
not hurt them. The hunters, however, had a small field cannon, and with
this, protected as they were by the solid walls of adobe, they finally
compelled the Indians to withdraw with considerable loss. The
medicine-man excused the result on the ground that his medicine was for
guns and not for cannon. The combined force was led by Quanah, the
present noted head chief of the Comanche, who informed the author that
he had seven hundred warriors in the fight, but added sententiously, "No
use Indians fight adobe." The result convinced him of the falsity of the
claims of medicine-men, against whom he has ever since used his powerful
influence in his tribe. Finding their position untenable without
military protection, which was refused by the general commanding the
department, the buffalo hunters soon afterward abandoned the fort. The
location is known among the Kiowa as "The place where Quanah led his
confederates" (see _Report, 39_; _War, 2_; Record, 2).
On July 3 a small wagon train in charge of Patrick Hennessey and three
other men, loaded with supplies from Wichita, Kansas, for the Wichita
agency at Anadarko, was attacked by Cheyenne on the trail where now
stands the town of Hennessey, Oklahoma. The four white men were killed
and scalped, the stores and mules taken, and the wagons burned.
Hennessey was tortured by being tied to a wagon wheel and burned upon a
pile of grain taken from his own wagon. This last deed was the work of
some Osage who came up while the Cheyenne were still there, and who
secured the larger share of the plunder. These same Osage were
ostensibly friends of the whites, and had completely deceived their
agent and missionary into the belief that they were doing all in their
power to quiet the hostile tribes. The bodies of three of the men killed
were buried by a neighboring ranchman, who had warned them of their
danger only a few hours before, and unsuccessfully endeavored to
persuade them to turn back. Hennessey's remains were buried two days
later by a party under agent Miles(_Battey, 8_; _Report, 40_).
FRIENDLIES COLLECTED AT FORT SILL
By this time the Cheyenne agency at Darlington was closely surrounded by
bands of hostiles. Arming a small force of employés, the agent proceeded
north to Wichita, Kansas, for assistance, after sending a courier
through by night to Colonel Davidson at Fort Sill for temporary aid.
That officer promptly sent a troop of cavalry, which, however, was
intercepted at the Wichita agency (Anadarko), then threatened by the
Kiowa and Comanche. In response to the appeals of Agent Miles, a
sufficient force of cavalry and infantry was sent from Fort Leavenworth
to protect the Darlington agency. As soon as it had appeared that war
was inevitable, Whirlwind, head chief of the tribe, with his band of
Cheyenne, had moved into the agency, where he remained steadfastly
peaceable. White-shield also ranged himself on the side of peace, and
consented to carry a message to the hostile camp, as a result of which
Little-robe and a number of others broke away at night and came into the
agency, being compelled to abandon their tipis and most of their
household goods to effect their escape (_Report, 41_).
The Kiowa medicine dance, which was held usually in June, had been
postponed on account of the absence of Lone-wolf, who had gone to Texas
after the bodies of his son and nephew. On his return it was held at a
point on the North fork of Red river (see the calendar, 1874), being
attended in force by the Comanche and Cheyenne, who made a strong effort
to engage the Kiowa in the war. The dance closed on the 3d of July, when
a small minority, led by Lone-wolf and Swan, decided for war and joined
the hostiles, but the majority, under Kicking-bird, declared for peace
and came in to the agency at Fort Sill. Here the friendly Indians of the
different tribes belonging to the agency--Kiowa, Comanche, and
Apache--were directed to encamp together on Cache creek, where they were
enrolled by order of Colonel Davidson, after which none were to be
allowed to come in and join the camp of the friendlies without
surrendering their arms and obtaining a guarantee from the agent that
they were guiltless of hostile acts. Similar orders were carried out in
regard to the Indians of the Wichita agency at Anadarko. The enrollment
showed four-fifths of the Kiowa among the friendlies, although, as the
agent remarks, doubtless some of them did not deserve the name. With
some inconsistency, Lone-wolf sent a message declaring his desire for
peace and asking permission to come in to the friendly camp; but, as he
was considered the leader and one of the most guilty of the hostiles,
his request was refused. In the meantime orders had been issued from the
War Department, on July 21, authorizing the military to punish the
hostiles wherever found, even to pursuing them upon their reservations.
General Pope, commanding the department, at once set the troops in
motion, and a vigorous campaign began from the north and south of the
exposed territory.
FIGHT AT ANADARKO, THE WICHITA AGENCY
Late in August a band of Nokoni Comanche came into the camp of friendly
Comanche at the Wichita agency (Anadarko), desiring to remain. Colonel
Davidson, commanding at Fort Sill, went over with a detachment of
troops to receive their surrender. They agreed to give up their arms,
and had already delivered a number of guns and pistols, when a question
arose as to the bows and arrows, and a messenger was sent to the
commanding officer to decide the matter. While the messenger was gone,
the chief, Red-food, gave a whoop--whether as a battle signal or merely
to call another chief, is a disputed point--and was immediately fired
upon by the guard. Lone-wolf and his Kiowa were on the ground and at
once opened fire on the troops. A general fight ensued (August 22), the
excitement being intense, as it happened to be ration day and nearly all
the Indians of the Wichita agency were present--Caddo, Wichita,
Delaware, and Pawnee--as well as a large number of the Kiowa, Comanche,
and Apache of the other agency. Runners hurried to all the camps with
the news that the troops were killing the Indians; but, notwithstanding,
the fighting was confined to the Kiowa and Comanche, who attacked the
agency, burning the schoolhouse, sacking Shirley's trading store,
burning several houses of the friendly Indians, killing at least four
citizens, and wounding several soldiers. While some fled to places of
safety, others kept up the attack until next day, when, failing in a
final attempt to take and burn the agency, they withdrew. According to
the statement of the Indians, they lost two men and one woman killed and
a few wounded. A part of the Kiowa engaged had been enrolled at Fort
Sill among the friendlies, but had gone without permission to the
Wichita agency some days before. Some of the Comanche who fled at the
time of the fight came in soon after and reported to Colonel Davidson,
and, on being assured that no harm was intended them, returned with him
to the friendly camp at Fort Sill. In regard to this encounter, the
Comanche disclaimed any hostile intention at the start, and the fact
that they had voluntarily come in and surrendered their guns would show
that it was the result of a panic arising from a misunderstanding (see
the calendar; also _Report, 42_; _Battey, 9_; _Record, 3_).
As showing the moral effect of a knowledge of the power of the white
man, it is worthy of record that only one of the Kiowa delegates to
Washington in 1872 joined the hostiles, that one, Lone-wolf, being
avowedly incited to his course by a thirst for vengeance for his son
(_Report, 43_). As a commentary on the treatment frequently accorded
"friendlies" during an outbreak, it may also be noted that the enrolled
Kiowa, Comanche, and Apache were located two miles from Fort Sill, where
Texas horse thieves stole over nineteen hundred of their animals within
a year, while they themselves were kept almost at starvation point by
the contractor's failure to supply their rations. Notwithstanding these
discouragements they continued loyal, and sent as many of their children
to school as could be accommodated (_Battey, 10_).
After the fight at the Wichita agency most of the Kiowa and Comanche
concerned fled to the Staked plain, where the hostiles made their chief
headquarters. Some others not already enrolled now came in and asked
permission to join the friendly camp. Set-t'aiñte, Big-tree,
Woman-heart, and Poor-buffalo (Pá-tádal, "Lean-buffalo-bull"), who had
been enrolled at the beginning, but had gone without permission to the
Washita and fled from there at the time of the fight, came in soon after
to the Cheyenne agency at Darlington and surrendered with a large number
of their people, saying that they were tired of war, but did not like
Fort Sill. As it was believed that they had taken part in hostilities,
they were not allowed again to resume their position as friendlies, but
were sent back as prisoners of war to Fort Sill, where their arms and
horses were taken from them and the men were imprisoned, the chiefs
being put in irons. Soon afterward Set-t'aiñte was returned to the Texas
penitentiary (_Report, 44_).
SET-T'AIÑTE
Set-t'aiñte, "White-bear," better known as Satanta, who was thus finally
removed from the field of action, is one of the most prominent men in
Kiowa history, being noted among the most daring and successful warriors
of the tribe, while in authority he held the rank of second chief,
standing next after Lone-wolf. He has already been mentioned as a
leading chief in 1864. His eloquence and vigor of expression in his
native language, a peculiarly forcible one, had gained for him the title
of the "Orator of the Plains." Every line of his strongly marked
features showed the character of the man--a brave, forceful, untamable
savage (figure 45). The persistent efforts of the Kiowa to secure his
release prove the estimation in which he was held by his tribe. He came
early into prominence and was one of the signers of the treaty of 1867,
his name being second on the list. His seizure by General Custer the
next year, in order to compel the Kiowa to come into the reservation,
and his subsequent release, have been narrated. His arrest in 1871 for
being concerned in an attack upon a wagon train in Texas, the
commutation of the death sentence, and his release by the state
authorities in 1873, have also been noted in the proper place. He was
still, however, considered as a hostage for the good conduct of his
people, and subject to rearrest whenever they became troublesome. As was
almost inevitable, he became involved in the outbreak of the succeeding
year, although apparently more by accident than deliberate purpose, and
on coming in to Cheyenne agency with others in the fall of 1874 he was
again arrested and turned over to the military authorities and by them
sent back to the state penitentiary at Huntsville, Texas, to serve out
his life sentence (_Report, 45_). When informed by Horace P. Jones, the
government interpreter at Fort Sill, that he was to be returned to
prison, he expressed himself bitterly, claiming that he had kept his
parole and that there were others far more guilty than he. What affected
him most was the entire separation from his people. He was taken back to
prison in November, 1874, and four years later, refusing to live longer
in confinement, he committed suicide by throwing himself from an upper
story of the prison, October 11, 1878 (_Whatley letter_).
Set-t'aiñte, whose name among the Kiowa is still one to conjure by,
first acquired his title of "Orator of the Plains" in connection with
the events which led to the treaty of Medicine Lodge, in 1867. He was
already sufficiently distinguished among his own people as a leader on
the warpath. In May preceding the treaty he visited Fort Larned, and,
confronting General Hancock, he denounced agent Leavenworth and
complained of the aggressions of the white men in a fiery speech, which
is described as a masterly effort, from its opening, when he called the
sun to witness that he would "talk straight," to the close, when,
looking around over the prairie, he said that it was large and good, and
declared that he did not want it stained with blood.
A few months later he escorted General Harney and the commissioners from
the post to the spot where the Indians were gathering for the treaty. In
spite of stringent orders before starting, the soldiers and camp
followers soon began an indiscriminate slaughter of the buffalo along
the line of march. As described by a correspondent--
They recklessly shot down the buffalo, simply that they might boast
of it. After cutting out their tongues, they left the carcasses
where they fell. The reader will readily perceive that when the
Indians complain at every council of the decrease of the buffalo,
such wanton waste of good meat could not be a pleasing sight to the
greatest chief on the American plains. Satanta, never backward in
speech, resented in strong terms the shooting of his game on his
own ground. Said he, while his eyes flashed and his lips curled
with scorn: "Has the white man become a child, that he should
recklessly kill and not eat? When the red men slay game, they do so
that they may live and not starve." Sound logic! Only persons
devoid of sense or honor could have been guilty of such conduct in
the enemy's country, especially when the commissioners were
endeavoring to conciliate them with presents and reconcile them to
the propositions about to be propounded.
The protest had its effect, no more shooting was allowed, and those
responsible for the outrage were placed under arrest.
On behalf of the confederate tribes, he made the leading speech in reply
to the commissioners. It is thus given by the correspondent of the New
York Times:
"You, the commissioners, have come from afar to listen to our
grievances. My heart is glad, and I shall hide nothing from you. I
understood that you were coming down to see us. I moved away from
those disposed for war, and I also came along to see you. The
Kiowas and Comanches have not been fighting. We were away down
south when we heard, you were coming to see us. The Cheyennes are
those who have been fighting with you. They did it in broad
daylight so that all could see them. If I had been fighting I would
have done it by day and not in the dark. Two years ago I made peace
with Generals Harney, Sanborn, and Colonel Leavenworth at the mouth
of the Little Arkansas. That peace I have never broken. When the
grass was growing in the spring, a large body of soldiers came
along on the Santa Fé road. I had not done anything and therefore I
was not afraid. All the chiefs of the Kiowas, Comanches, and
Arapahos are here today; they have come to listen to good words. We
have been waiting here a long time to see you and are getting
tired. All the land south of the Arkansas belongs to the Kiowas and
Comanches, and I don't want to give away any of it. I love the land
and the buffalo and will not part with it. I want you to
understand well what I say. Write it on paper. Let the Great Father
see it, and let me hear what he has to say. I want you to
understand also, that the Kiowas and Comanches don't want to fight,
and have not been fighting since we made the treaty. I hear a great
deal of good talk from the gentlemen whom the Great Father sends
us, but they never do what they say. I don't want any of the
medicine lodges [schools and churches] within the country. I want
the children raised as I was. When I make peace, it is a long and
lasting one--there is no end to it. We thank you for your presents.
All the headmen and braves are happy. They will do what you want
them, for they know you are doing the best you can. I and they will
do our best also. When I look upon you, I know you are all big
chiefs. While you are in this country we go to sleep happy and are
not afraid. I have heard that you intend to settle us on a
reservation near the mountains. I don't want to settle. I love to
roam over the prairies. There I feel free and happy, but when we
settle down we grow pale and die. I have laid aside my lance, bow,
and shield, and yet I feel safe in your presence. I have told you
the truth. I have no little lies hid about me, but I don't know how
it is with the commissioners. Are they as clear as I am? A long
time ago this land belonged to our fathers; but when I go up to the
river I see camps of soldiers on its banks. These soldiers cut down
my timber; they kill my buffalo; and when I see that, my heart
feels like bursting; I feel sorry. I have spoken."
The above is a plain unvarnished statement of facts, such as no
Indian on the plains could produce but Satanta. It must be
remembered that in cunning or native diplomacy Satanta has no
equal. In worth and influence Red Cloud is his rival; but in
boldness, daring, and merciless cruelty Satanta is far superior,
and yet there are some good points in this dusky chieftain which
command admiration. If a white man does him an injury, he never
forgives him; but if on the other hand the white man has done him a
service, death can alone prevent him from paying the debt. The
speech of Satanta caused the commissioners to look rather blank,
and when he pictured in his usual graphic manner how he loved his
land, his buffalo, and his traditions, there was a world of feeling
in his tones, betraying his knowledge of the vast difference
between the power of the aggressive pale face and his waning race.
A certain dim foreboding of the Indian's fate swept across his
mind, and in its passage lit his eyes up with a fierce light, and
his voice rose to a pitch of frenzy as he exclaimed: "We don't want
to settle--I love to roam over the prairie; there I am free and
happy."
His farewell speech, to the commissioners at the conclusion of the
treaty is thus noted in the same newspaper:
On this occasion the old chief was accompanied by one hundred of
the principal warriors of the Kiowa tribe; and immediately after
its close, this tribe, as well as the Comanches, struck camp and
left for the Cimarron River in the south. He spoke with a gravity
and earnestness that added force to his words. "If," said he, "the
treaty bring prosperity to us, we of course will like it the
better. If it bring prosperity or adversity, we will not abandon
it." He alluded delicately to the fact that the white man often
forgot to keep his treaties with the Indian; and then at the close,
referring to the treaty just made, he rose to the heights of
friendship, offering his heart and his hospitality, and adding:
"For your sakes, the green grass shall not be stained with the
blood of the whites. Your people shall again be our people, and
peace shall be our mutual heritage. Good-bye. You may not see me
again. But remember Satanta as the white man's friend." He is
spoken of as having a very grave yet musical voice, and at times
displays the deepest emotion.
Another who heard him on this occasion says:
The great chief, Satanta, in delivering his address spoke with a
dignity and force that could not but be appreciated. He is a great
orator and of unbounded influence in the council (_Ind. Miscel.,
xii, 3804--3833_).
[Illustration: BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY
SEVENTEENTH ANNUAL REPORT PL. LXII
INSIDE OF SET-T'AIÑTE'S SHIELD]
He is thus described by Keim in 1870:
For several years Satanta has filled the office of head chief. A
peculiar dash of manner; a grin equal to all occasions; a
remarkable shrewdness exhibited in managing affairs between the
different tribes with which his people come in contact, or their
intercourse with the national government, have won for him a
prestige which he has very well maintained. Satanta, when I first
met him, was a man of about fifty years of age. He rose first
through prowess on the warpath, and afterward through skill in
council and diplomacy. He had an intelligent face, and was large in
frame and of muscular development, exhibiting also a tendency to
obesity. Lately Satanta has found a threatening rival in Lone-wolf,
the war chief of the tribe (_Keim, 3_).
Three years later we get the following notice from one who saw him with
Big-tree, in 1873, while serving his first incarceration in the Texas
penitentiary:
In the corridor of the penitentiary I saw a tall, finely-formed
man, with bronzed complexion, and long, flowing, brown hair, a man
princely in carriage, on whom even the prison garb seemed elegant,
and was told that it was Satanta, the chief of the Kiowas, who with
his brother chief, Big-tree, is held to account for murder. I was
presently introduced to a venerable bigamist who was Satanta's
chosen boon companion, on account of his smattering of Spanish, and
through this anxious prisoner was presented at court. Satanta had
come into the workroom, where he was popularly supposed to labor,
but where he never performed a stroke of work, and had seated
himself on a pile of oakum, with his hands folded across his
massive chest [figure 150]. His fellow prisoner explained to
Satanta, in Spanish, that we desired to converse with him,
whereupon he rose and suddenly stretching out his hand gave mine a
ponderous grasp, saying: "How!" He then responded, always through
the aged wife-deceiver, to the few trivial questions I asked, and
sat down, motioning to me to be seated with as much dignity and
grace as though he were a monarch receiving a foreign ambassador.
His face was good; there was a delicate curve of pain at the lips,
which contrasted oddly with the strong Indian cast of his other
features. Although he is much more than 60 years old, he hardly
seemed 40, so erect, elastic, vigorous was he. When asked if he
ever expected liberation, and what he would do if it should come,
he responded, "Quien sabe?" with the most stoical indifference.
Big-tree was briskly at work plaiting a chair seat in another
apartment and chewing tobacco vigorously. His face was clear cut
and handsome, his coal black hair swept his shoulders, and he only
paused to brush it back and give us a swift glance as we entered,
then briskly plaited as before (_Scribner, 1_).
The particular offense for which Set-t'aiñte was first arrested was a
raid upon some teamsters on Salt creek, Jack county, Texas. In response
to a letter of inquiry, the following concise statement in regard to his
prison life and tragic death was obtained from Mr L. A. Whatley,
superintendent of Texas penitentiaries, writing from Huntsville, under
date of March 3, 1896:
At the July term of the district court of Jack county, in the year
1871, Satanta was convicted of murder and sentenced to life
imprisonment in the Texas state penitentiary. He was received at
the Huntsville prison on the 2d of November, 1871. Upon the
recommendation of President U. S. Grant, Governor E. J. Davis, on
August 19, 1873, set Satanta at liberty upon parole, i. e.,
conditioned upon his good behavior. It seems, however, that he
violated his parole, for he was arrested and recommitted to the
prison at Huntsville by Lieutenant General Sheridan on the 8th of
November, 1874. On October 11, 1878, Satanta committed suicide by
throwing himself from the second story of the prison hospital,
from the effects of which he died within a few hours. He was buried
at the prison cemetery, where his grave can be identified to this
day. During the period of his incarceration in this prison Satanta
behaved well, but was very reticent and stoical.
Such was the end of the man who had said: "When I roam over the prairie
I feel free and happy, but when I sit down I grow pale and die."