fortitude and stoicism in resisting pain and torture without wincing. A
young officer, who witnessed the "Sun Dance" last year, at the Cheyenne
agency, a few miles above Fort Sully, on the Missouri River, gives the
following account:
"The Indians manifested considerable opposition to having any
whites present. When several officers belonging to the 17th United
States Infantry came up, Red Leaf--a chief of Red Cloud's
band--leaped over a breastwork of logs and ordered the troops away.
After parleying with the chief some time, the soldiers fell back
and took a position which was not objectionable to the Indians, but
from which they could obtain only a partial view of the
performances. There was a large lodge, built in shape of an
amphitheatre, with a hole in the centre. The sides and roof were
covered with willows, forming a tolerable screen, but not so dense
as to obstruct entirely the view. The performances began with low
chants and incantations. Five young men were brought in and
partially stripped, their mothers being present and assisting in
the ceremony.
"Then the 'Medicine-man' began his part by cutting slits in the
flesh of the young men and taking up the muscles with pincers. The
old squaws assisted in lacerating the flesh of the boys with sharp
knives. The squaws would at the same time keep up a howling,
accompanied with a backward-and-forward movement. When the muscles
were lifted out by pincers on the breast, one end of a kind of
lariat (used for fastening horses while grazing), or buffalo thong,
was tied to the bleeding flesh, while the other end was fastened to
the top of the pole in the middle of the lodge. The first young
man, when thus prepared, commenced dancing around the circle in a
most frantic manner, pulling with all his might, so as to stretch
out the rope, and by his jerking movements loosening himself by
tearing out the flesh. The young man's dance was accompanied by a
chant by those who were standing around, assisted by the thumping
of a hideous drum, to keep the time. The young brave who was
undergoing this self-torture finally succeeded in tearing himself
loose, and the rope relaxed from its sudden tightness and fell back
toward the centre pole with a piece of the flesh to which it was
tied. The victim, who, up to this point, did not move a muscle of
his face, fell down on the ground, exhausted from the pain, which
human weakness could not further conceal. A squaw then rushed in
and bore the young brave away. He had undergone the terrible
ordeal, and amid the congratulations of the old men, would be
complimented as a warrior of undoubted pluck and acknowledged
prowess.
"Another of the young men, named Charles, was cut in two places
under the shoulder blade; the flesh was raised with pincers, and
thongs tied around the flesh and muscles thus raised. The thongs
reached down below the knees and were tied to buffalo skulls. With
these heavy weights dangling at the ends of the thongs, the young
man was required to dance around the circle, to the sound of the
drum and chants of the bystanders, until the skulls became detached
by tearing out the flesh. They continued the performance until one
of the skulls broke loose, but the other remained. The mother of
the young man then rushed into the ring, leading a pony, and tied
one end of the lariat which was around the pony's neck to the
skull, which was still fastened to the young Indian. The latter
then followed the pony round the ring, until nearly exhausted he
fell on his face, and the skull was thereby torn out of the flesh.
The sufferer's voice grew husky from joining in the chant; he
groveled on the ground in violent contortions for a few minutes,
and was then removed to the outside of the lodge.
"A third man had the lariat of the pony hitched to the raised
muscles of his back, and was dragged in this way several times
round the ring; but the force not being sufficient to tear loose
from the flesh, the pony was backed up, and a slack being thus
taken on the lariat, the pony was urged swiftly forward, and the
sudden jerk tore the lariat out of the flesh."
Our informant having seen enough of these horrid performances to
satisfy his curiosity, left with his companions, "without waiting to
see the dance through." The dance, with its bloody orgies, lasted three
whole days. This Sun Dance is not as common as formerly, and as the
Indians settle on reservations, it is wholly done away with. The origin
of the custom is uncertain.
JULESBURG.
My experience on the plains dates from September, 1867. The government
ordered me to report to Fort Sedgwick, a post on the south side of the
Platte River, three hundred and seventy-seven miles west of Omaha. This
post lies four miles south of Julesburg, then the end of the Union
Pacific Railroad. There were five thousand people there, and it was
said to be the most wicked city in the world. Thieves and escaped
convicts came here to gamble and lead bad lives, as they had done in
Eastern cities, until driven away for fear of punishment; and often
three or four would be shot down at night in drunken rows with their
companions in vice and crime.
A mammoth tent was erected for a dance-house and gambling purposes. It
was called "The King of the Hills," and was filled up with handsome
mirrors, pianos, and furniture, and was the scene of all kinds of
wickedness. It rented for six hundred dollars a day!
Here hundreds of men, engaged as freighters, teamsters, and
"bull-whackers,"--as they were called, and who were in the employ of
Wells, Fargo & Co. in freighting goods in large wagons to Idaho,
Montana, Salt Lake, and California,--would congregate at night and
gamble and carouse, spending all their three months' earnings, only to
go back, earn more, and spend it again in this foolish and wicked
manner.
One day I came over to the city, and while driving from the express
office, heard pistol-shots, and soon saw the men, women, and children
running in every direction. I got out of the way, fearing danger, and
listened, till I had heard at least twenty shots, and then all was
still. I went round to ascertain the cause, and soon found myself among
a crowd of excited persons. I learned that a bad young man had robbed a
poor negro boy of one hundred and thirty dollars he had earned at the
railroad station, and had laid it by to go to his home in Baltimore.
The fellow denied it, and said "he'd shoot any one who tried to arrest
him." A police officer followed him into a saloon, when the thief at
once turned and fired at the officer, wounding him in his right elbow,
so he could not reach his pistols in his belt. But some friend handed
him one, and with it he knocked the villain down, behind a stove. He
then begged for his life, saying he would give up the money and a
thousand dollars for his life. But it was too late. The officer shot
him in the forehead, and when I entered, he was weltering in a pool of
blood. All said, "Served him right!" This is a law of Western life. If
two men get into a dispute, and one puts his hand to his pocket, as if
to draw a weapon, the other is sure to shoot his enemy, as the law is,
"_a life for a life_."
JULESBURG took its name from a small place just below Sedgwick, where a
Frenchman named Jules built a ranch and raised cattle a long time
before the railroad was built. Here passengers to Denver would get
their meals, and the horses were changed on the stage route to Denver
and to Salt Lake. Some Indians it is said killed the old man Jules, and
his ranch having been taken possession of by the Indians, was shelled
by cannon from Fort Sedgwick, and burned down. Mr. Greeley must
remember this station, which he and Mr. Colfax and Gov. Bross, of
Illinois, passed on their overland trip to California some ten years
ago, and where they dined upon the universal fare,--corn-bread, coffee,
and bacon.
The city of Julesburg, as it was called in 1867, was visited by a party
of editors from Chicago, Cleveland, etc. They came in one of Pullman's
palace cars to see the contractor of the Union Pacific Railroad lay the
track, as many as four miles each day. Being anxious to write home to
their papers all the wonderful things they saw and heard, they came
across a strange, wild-looking man named "Sam Stanton," dressed in a
buckskin suit, with a broad-brimmed hat. Sam was a returned California
miner, of long experience on the plains. Him they invited to come into
the beautiful car, to tell them some stories of pioneer life; and, in
order to incite him, or _excite_ his imagination to do so, they invited
him to drink some champagne wine. As it happened, Sam had never before
tasted any stimulants but common whisky, and the champagne getting into
his head, made him a little tipsy.
"You want me to show you how we put out the lights in the ranches, I
suppose?"
"Yes," they said; "tell us anything of Western life."
"Well, here goes," he said, and at once drew his revolver and began
popping away at the beautiful globe lamps which adorned the car! Of
course all the party stampeded for the door. They had had enough of
Sam's stories.
It is a rule for the last one that gets into bed to put out the light;
but a lazy fellow will crawl into bed and, taking aim, extinguish the
light by firing off his pistol at the flame!
A "Ranch" is simply a one-story log-house, with two or three rooms, and
a thatched roof of straw. Sometimes they are made of a-do-be,--a kind
of dried clay-brick, such as are found in Mexico and some parts of
California and Texas.
A BRAVE BOY AND SOME INDIANS.
When the railroad had been built as far as Plum Creek, two hundred and
thirty miles west of Omaha, in 1866, the track-layers saw a lot of
Indians coming toward them from over the bluffs; and the poor Irishmen,
dreading nothing so much as the sight of a red-skin, at once took to
their heels to hide from the foe. Along with these men were needed
covered wagons, with which they carried tools, etc., and in which at
night they slept. In one of them a boy was sitting, about twelve or
fourteen years of age. He saw nothing of the stampede of workmen, but
soon was aroused by the yell of the Indians. He seized a Spencer rifle
lying close by him, and, putting the muzzle through a slit of the
canvas cover, took good aim at the foremost Indian, and when within a
few yards, he shot off his rifle and felled him to the ground. Another
rode up, and met the same fate. Several then rushed up and dragged off
the bodies of the two Indians slain, and all at once made a quick
retreat!
The Indians seeing several wagons there, supposed each one contained
armed soldiers or men; and they were quick to see that the white man's
skill was more than their bows and arrows. And yet there was only that
brave little fellow, who saved the whole "_outfit_," and whose name
ought to be recorded as a true hero.
AN INDIAN MEAL.
Boys would be surprised to see how much an Indian can eat at a single
meal. A "big chief" can eat a whole goose or turkey at one sitting. The
Indians eat right along, till they have gorged themselves and can eat
no more. Perhaps it is because they seldom get what is called "a square
meal," and so when plenty offers they make the most of it. One day,
four chiefs of the Ar-ap-a-hoe tribe came to Fort Russell, to see about
getting rations for three hundred of their tribe. They soon found their
way to the commanding officer, at headquarters. He gave each one a
cigar, which they puffed away at for some time. At last one of them
made a motion to his mouth, signifying they were "hungry." Nearly all
the tribes of wild Indians convey their ideas more by signs than by
words. But the general would not take the hint. He said if he fed them
once, they would come every day. A lady, however, took pity on them,
and said to me, "Let us make contributions from each family, and give
the poor fellows something to eat." Some brought meat, some biscuit and
bread, and I made them some coffee, after inviting them to come into my
yard. The children, boys and girls, assembled to see the four chiefs
sitting around the table in the yard devour the food we had prepared
for them.
There was no milk in the coffee, but I knew Indians were not used to
it, and all things being ready, the coffee hot and the bacon smoking
and smelling savory, I expected they would fall to and eat like good
fellows. But I was surprised that one of them looked at the pail of
coffee and gave a grunt of disapprobation. I supposed from what I had
heard that an Indian would drink coffee, swallowing the _grounds_ and
all. But on a close look, I discovered _about a dozen flies_ were
floating on top. I took a spoon and removed them, and tasting it
myself, passed it round to each one in a bowl; and this time they gave
another grunt,--but it was one of approbation. They ate and ate till we
thought they'd split, and then asked permission to carry off in a bag
what they could not stow away in their capacious stomachs!
An Indian seldom shows any signs of joy or of sorrow in any emotion
whatever. But when they meet a white friend, or are surprised at
anything, they exclaim, "How! how!" and shake hands all round.
An Indian trader told me at North Platte some anecdotes of their
characteristics. They are all very fond of sugar, and very fond of
whisky. They will often sell a buffalo robe for a bowl of sugar, and at
any time would give a pony for a gallon of rye or rum.
He told me that he once saw an Indian choke a squaw to get a lump of
sugar out of her mouth which he coveted! And a storekeeper at Julesburg
(Mr. Pease) said he sold a big pup to an Indian for a robe, and the
Indian seized the dog, cut his throat, and, soon as dead, threw pup
into a kettle to boil up for soup!
SHALL THE INDIANS BE EXTERMINATED?
This is the cry of Western men. It is very easy to talk of
"extermination." General Harney, an old Indian fighter, told General
Sherman that a general war with the Indians would cost the government
$50,000,000 a year, and stop for a long time the running of the Pacific
Railroad. They fight only at an advantage,--when they outnumber the
whites. They fight, scatter away, and reunite again; hide away in
canons (_canyons_), gorges, and mountain fastnesses, where no soldier
can find them. It would be a war of fifty years' duration.
General Sherman is reported to have said at a meeting of the Indian
Peace Commissioners, at Fort Laramie, with several tribes, "Say to the
head chief that President Grant loves the red men and will do all he
can for them. But they must behave themselves, and if they don't, tell
him _I'll kill them_!" The old chief began to mutter away something to
himself and others.
"What does he say?" said the general.
"Why," said the interpreter, "he says, '_catch 'em first, then kill
them_!'"
Have they never been wronged by white men? Have you never heard of the
Sand Creek massacre?
There had been some trouble between the Cheyennes and Arapahoes and
some soldiers near Fort Lyon, in 1864, south of Denver, Colorado, where
these Indians have a reservation. The origin of the trouble is
uncertain. Major Anthony was sent out to fight them; but on his arrival
he found them peaceable,--they had given up their prisoners and horses.
[Indians take their squaws and papooses with them when they go on
hunting expeditions. The squaws prepare all the meat, dry all the game
for winter food, and tan the buffalo- and deer-hides to sell. They live
in tents or lodges, called "Tepees," made of tanned buffalo-skins, and
usually hold about five persons, in which they cook and sleep. _On the
war-path_, they leave their squaws and papooses in their villages. This
was the case when Colonel Chivington (formerly a preacher) charged that
they were hostile, as an apology for his wholesale slaughter.]
Five hundred Indians of all ages flocked, soon as attacked, to the head
chief's camp,--"Black Kettle,"--and he raised the American flag, _with
a white truce beneath_. This, you know, is respected in all civilized
warfare. Then the slaughter began.
One who saw it said, "The troops (mainly volunteers) committed all
manner of depredations on their victims,--_scalped them_, knocked out
their brains. The white men used their knives, cutting squaws to
pieces, clubbed little children, knocking out their brains and
mutilating their bodies in every sense of the word." Thus imitating
savage warfare by nominally Christian men.
Robert Bent testified thus:
"I saw a little girl about five years of age, who had been hid in
the sand; two soldiers discovered her, drew their pistols and shot
her, and then pulled her out of the sand by her arm," etc.
This occurred at the time government officials in Denver had sent for
them,--had a "talk" with them,--advising them to go just where they
were. Before he was killed, Black Kettle, one of the chiefs, thus
addressed the governor at Denver:
"We have come with our eyes shut, following Major Wynkoop's handful
of men, like coming through the fire. All we ask is, that we may
have peace with the whites. We want to hold you by the hand. You
are our father. We have been traveling through a cloud. The sky has
been dark ever since the war began.
"These braves who are here with me, are willing to do all I say. We
want to take good news home to our people, that they may sleep in
peace.
"_I have not come here with a little wolf-bark!_ But have come to
talk plain with you. We must live near the buffalo or starve. When
I go home, I will tell my people I have taken your hand, and all of
the white chiefs in Denver, and then they will feel well, and so
will all the tribes on the plains, when we have eaten and drank
with them."
And yet one hundred and twenty friendly Indians were all slain, and the
war that followed cost $40,000,000.
A _council of Indians_ was held previous to the "Chivington massacre,"
which stamped the character of Black Kettle, the Cheyenne chief, as
noble and brave. It seems that he had purchased from an Arapahoe band
two girls named Laura Roper, aged eighteen, and Belle Ewbanks, aged six
years, who were captured by the Indians, after attacking Roper's ranch,
on the Little Blue River, in July, 1864. Two little boys were also
captured at the same time. They were carried off to the Republican
River, and Black Kettle bought them for five or six ponies, to give
them to their parents. Certainly a generous act. He gave them up, and
met the Commissioners in council, together with several Arapahoe chiefs
of small bands, all of whom were confederate together to kill the
Commissioners and bring on a general war.
Black Kettle knew it, and was determined to expose the plot and break
it up. But the party of white officials, with Colonel E. W. Wynkoop,
were in the dark about their evil intentions. The Indians called
Colonel W. "The Tall Chief that don't lie."
"Black Kettle"--Mo-ke-ta-va-ta--Colonel Tappan says, "was the most
remarkable man of the age for magnanimity, generosity, courage, and
integrity. His hospitality to destitute emigrants and travelers on
the plains for years, had no limit within the utmost extent of his
means; giving liberally of his stores of provisions, clothing, and
horses. His fame as an orator was widely known. He was great in
council, and his word was law. Hundreds of whites are indebted to him
for their lives.... He held Colonel Chivington's men at bay for seven
hours, and carried to a place of safety three hundred of his women and
children,--twenty of his braves and his own wife pierced with a dozen
bullets.
"Previous to the conflict, after his two brothers had been shot down
and cut to pieces before his eyes (while approaching the troops to
notify them of the friendly character of the Indians), he aided three
white men to escape from the village, one of them a soldier. They were
his guests, whom he suspected of being spies, 'but did not know it,'
and they are now living to the eternal fame and honor of the chieftain.
From Sand Creek he fled to the Sioux camp, where it was determined
to make war upon the whites in retaliation. He protested against
interfering with women and children, and insisted upon fighting the
men. He was overruled. Thereupon he resigned his office as chief, and
assumed the garb of a brave. He soon after made peace for his tribe,
which was faithfully kept until the burning of their village two years
afterward. A war again ensued, in which he took no part, having
promised never again to raise his hands against the whites. He was the
first to meet the Peace Commissioners at Medicine Lodge Creek. His many
services and virtues plead like angels trumpet-tongued against the deep
damnation of his taking off."
Well, when the council assembled, among them were about a dozen chiefs
of Arapahoes, Cheyennes, etc.; the worst of whom was Neva,--Long-nose,--an
Arapahoe with one eye, and that a very ugly one. He was an outlaw,
commanding twenty or thirty warriors. All were seated in a tent, and
this fellow became boisterous, and wrangled, clamoring for a general
war against all whites. It was a most exciting time. The chiefs stripped
almost naked, and worked themselves up into a great excitement. At
last, Black Kettle rose up, and pointing his finger at Neva, thus
addressed him:
"You, you call yourself brave! I know what you mean. You come here to
kill these white friends whom I have invited to come and have a talk
with us. They don't know what you mean, but I do. You brave!
(sneeringly.) I'll tell you what you are: your mouth is wide, so
(measuring a foot with his hands),--your tongue so long (with his
forefinger marking six inches on his arm),--_and it hangs in the
middle, going both ways_. You're a coward, and dare not fight me." Here
all the Indians gave a grunt of approbation. "Now, go," said he, "and
begone! This council is broken up; I have said it; you hear my words;
begone!" And they slunk off, completely cowed down.
Dog-soldiers were with them, well equipped for a big fight, and these
white men beguiled, would all have been slain only for Mo-ke-ta-va-ta.
A "dog-soldier" is a youth who has won, gradually, by successful use of
the bow and arrow, a position to use the gun, and stand to the warriors
just as our police force do to us, in guarding property, etc. These
boys have a stick, called a "coo," on which they make a notch for
everything they kill,--a kind of tally,--and when the coo is of a
certain length, they are promoted to the rank of a "dog-soldier."
INDIANS DON'T BELIEVE HALF THEY HEAR.
When several chiefs are allowed to visit Washington on errands for
their tribes, to get more given them, they tell their people how
numerous are the children of their Great Father they have met on their
way, and what big guns they saw, etc. But those at home believe it is a
lie, gotten up by the "white man's medicine," as they call it. All have
heard of a young chief whose father gave a stick, on which he should
cut a notch for every white man he met. But it soon got full, and he
threw it away.
The most amusing experience is told of a lot of Indians having been
induced to go into a photographer's and have their likenesses taken.
The operator asked a chief to look at his squaw (sitting for her phiz)
through the camera. It looks as though one was sitting, or rather
standing on his head,--reversing one's position. The chief was very
angry at seeing his squaw in such an uncomely attitude, and he walked
over and beat her. She denied it, but he saw it. He looked again, and
again she was turned upside down. He said it was the white man's
medicine, and would have nothing to do with it!
An Indian boy was asked some questions by one of the Peace
Commissioners about some trouble, and he said to a chief, "Does the boy
tell the truth?"
"Yes," replied the chief, "you may believe what he says; he never saw a
white man before!"
ARMY OFFICERS.
The army officers are generally friends of the Indians. They are
certainly, as a rule, just to the well-behaved Indians, and ready to
sacrifice their lives in punishing bad ones.
General W. S. Harney, a retired army officer, is among the most noted.
His life will be a most interesting one, full of adventure with the red
men. General Harney graduated at West Point when nineteen years old,
was sent out to the frontier, where he has lived fifty years. Grown
gray in their companionship, and cradled in experience with the Indian
tribes, says "I never knew an Indian chief to break his word!"