The Great Bannock War.
The last Indian war worthy of mention broke out in the spring of 1877.
It was preceded by none of the acts of outlawry which usually are a
prelude to savage outbreaks. There were none of the rumblings of the
coming storm which are almost invariable accompaniments of these
upheavals. Indeed, it came with the suddenness of a great conflagration,
and before the scattered settlers of western Idaho and eastern Oregon
were aware of danger, from a thousand to twelve hundred plumed and
mounted warriors were sweeping the country with the fierceness of a
cyclone.
As a rule the young and impatient warriors, thirsting for blood, fame
and the property of the white man, to say nothing of scalps, begin to
commit acts of outlawry before the plans of older heads are ripe for
execution. These acts consist of petty depredations, the stealing of
horses, killing of stock, and occasional murder of white men for arms
and ammunition. But in the case of the great Shoshone, or Bannock,
outbreak, there were none of these signs of the coming storm. Settlers
were therefore taken completely by surprise. Many were murdered, their
property stolen or destroyed, while others escaped as best they could.
From observation and experience I make the assertion that nine of every
ten Indian outbreaks are fomented by the "Medicine" men. These men are
at the same time both priest and doctor. They not only ward off the "bad
spirits," and cure the sick, but they forecast events. They deal out
"good medicine," to ward off the bullets of the white man, and by
jugglery and by working upon the superstitions of their followers,
impress them with the belief that they possess supernatural powers.
This was especially conspicuous in the Pine Ridge outbreak. The medicine
men made their deluded followers believe the white men were all to be
killed, that the cattle were to be turned to buffalo and that the red
man would again possess the country as their fathers had possessed it
in the long ago, and that all the dead and buried warriors were to
return to life. This doctrine was preached from the borders of Colorado
and the Dakotas to the Pacific, and from British Columbia to the
grottoes of the Gila. The doctrine probably had its origin in the
ignorant preaching of the religion of the Savior by honest but ignorant
Indian converts. They told their hearers of the death, burial and
resurrection of the Son of Man. The medicine men seized upon the idea
and preached a new religion and a new future for the red man.
Missionaries were sent from tribe to tribe to preach and teach the new
doctrine, and everywhere found willing converts.
The craze started in Nevada, among the Shoshones, and in a remarkably
short time spread throughout the tribes on both sides of the Rocky
Mountains. Lieutenant Strothers of the United States Army and I talked
with Piute Indians in Modoc County, after the "ghost dance" scare had
subsided, who were firm in the belief that a chief of the Piutes died
and then came back. They assured us that they had talked with a man who
had seen him, and that there could be no mistake. But they said: "Maybe
so; he did not know. The white man medicine heap too strong for Ingin."
So it was with the Bannocks. Their medicine men taught that the white
man was to be destroyed, that his horses, his cattle and his houses and
land were to revert to the original owners of the country. Accordingly
few houses were burned throughout the raid of several hundred miles.
Even the fences around the fields were not destroyed, but were left to
serve their purposes when the hated white man should be no more. The few
exceptions were where white men were caught in their homes and it was
necessary to burn the buildings in order to kill the owners. The home of
old man Smith in Happy Valley, on the north side of Stein Mountain, the
French ranch in Harney and the Cummins ranch on the John Day were
exceptions. In the fights at these places some of the Indians were
killed and the houses were burned out of revenge. With characteristic
Indian wantonness and wastefulness hundreds of cattle were shot down,
only the tongue being taken out for food. They, however, would come back
as buffalo and cover the land with plenty. But horses were everywhere
taken, and when that armed, mounted and tufted host debouched into
Harney Valley they had a mighty herd of from seven to ten thousand
horses.
The Bannocks, under their noted chief, Buffalo Horn, left their
reservation in Idaho and at once began the work of murder and plunder.
Buffalo Horn had served under Howard during a portion of the Nez Perce
war, but left him because of his dilatory tactics and his refusal to
attack when he had the enemy at his mercy. He told Col. Reddington, who
was following Howard as correspondent of the Oregonian and New York
Herald, that Howard did not know how to fight, that next summer he would
fight and show him how to make war.
About the same time, the Shoshones, under Egan and Otis, left their
reservation and united their forces in Harney Valley, numbering at that
time from a thousand to twelve hundred warriors. They were encumbered,
however, by their women and children and a vast herd of stock, and as a
result moved slowly. Meantime the scattered detachments of troops were
being concentrated and sent in pursuit. But while this was being done
the tufted host swept a belt thirty miles wide through western Idaho and
eastern Oregon, spreading death and destruction in its path. At Happy
Valley they killed old man Smith and his son. Both had escaped with
their families to Camp Harney, but had imprudently returned to gather up
their horses and bring away a few household effects. Another brother and
a young man had accompanied them, but had turned aside to look for
stock. The two young men arrived at the ranch after nightfall. It was
very dark, and before they were aware of the fact they rode into a herd
of horses. But supposing they were animals gathered by the father and
brother, rode on. When near the center a mighty wail smote their ears.
Some of the Indians had been killed by the Smiths, and the women were
wailing a funeral dirge. One who has never heard that wail cannot
imagine its rhythmic terrors.
When the appalling noise broke upon their ears the young man with Smith
started to wheel his horse and flee. But Smith caught the bridle reins
and whispered to him, "For God's sake don't run," and, holding to the
reins, quietly rode out of the herd, the darkness of the night alone
proving their salvation.
At the French ranch on Blixen River an attack was made by a detached war
party, but Mr. French saved himself and men by cool daring and steady
bravery. All were endeavoring to make their escape, French holding the
Indians at bay while the others fled along the road. He was the only man
armed in the crowd, and at turns in the road would make a stand,
checking for a time the savages. The Chinese cook was killed and left
where he fell, being horribly mutilated by the Indians. Most of the men
with French were in wagons, and only for the bravery displayed by him
would certainly have been killed.
About the same time two men were coming out with teams, and hearing of
the Indian raid, left their wagons and fled to the Shirk ranch in Catlow
Valley. After a few days they returned for their wagons, being
accompanied by W. H. Shirk, now a banker at Lakeview, Oregon. The wagons
were found as left, and after hitching up the horses, Mr. Shirk rode on
ahead, imprudently leaving his rifle in one of the wagons. On the grade
above the Blixen ranch Shirk looked back and saw the men coming and had
little thought of danger. The men drove up to the crossing, when they
were fired upon and both killed. Mr. Shirk was also fired upon, but
miraculously escaped death. An Indian on a fleet horse was pursuing him,
and his own horse was lagging. As he neared the sage brush toward which
he had been making, Mr. Shirk looked back and to his relief saw the
Indian off his horse. He thinks the horse fell with the Indian, but they
pursued him no farther and he made good his escape. Many other
miraculous escapes were made by both men and women, some of the latter
escaping almost in their night clothes and on barebacked horses.
During all this time the scattered forces of the department were being
concentrated and sent in pursuit. That indomitable old Scotch hero and
Indian fighter, Bernard--who had risen from a government blacksmith to
the rank of Colonel of cavalry--who believed that the best way to subdue
Indians was to fight and kill them and not to run them to death--was
following with four companies of cavalry, numbering 136 men. Behind him
was Gen. Howard, with 400 infantry, but with his ox teams and dilatory
tactics managed to herd them two days ahead. As the cavalry under
Bernard drew near, the Indians called in all detached parties and
concentrated their forces. On the 7th of June Pete French joined Bernard
with 65 ranchers and cowboys.
Bernard had been ordered by Gen. Howard not to attack, but to wait until
he came up. At old Camp Curry, on the western side of Harney Valley, or
more properly speaking, on Silver Creek, on the evening of the 7th,
Bernard's scouts reported the Indians encamped in the valley, at the
Baker ranch, seven miles away. In spite of orders, Bernard, always
spoiling for a fight, determined to make the attack at daylight. His
four companies numbered 136 men, besides French's volunteers. Bernard
had no confidence in the French contingent and declined to permit them
to accompany his command in the attack. He directed French, however, to
make a dash for the horse herd and if possible capture the animals,
while with his regulars he would charge the main camp. Bernard
afterwards, in explanation of his disobedience of orders, claimed that
he was misled by his scouts.
Bernard broke camp two hours before daylight, or about two o'clock in
the morning. He reached the camp just at break of day. Evidently the
Indians were not prepared for him, and "Little Bearskin Dick," one of
the chiefs, rode out with a white flag in his hand. Bernard had already
made a talk to his men, especially to the recruits, telling them they
might as well be killed by the Indians as by him, as he would kill the
first man that flinched. As Dick rode up, Bernard spoke to a sargeant
and asked him if he was going to "let the black rascal ride over him."
Instantly several carbines rang out and "Little Bearskin Dick" for the
first time in his life was a "good Indian."
At the same instant the bugle sounded the charge, and the troops bore
down upon the encampment, firing their rifles first and then drawing
their revolvers and firing as they swept through the great camp. But
Bernard had not been fully informed regarding the lay of the camp. After
sweeping through he discovered to his dismay that the Indians were
encamped on the margin of an impenetrable swamp--in a semi-circle, as
it were, and he could go no farther. Nothing dismayed, the column
wheeled and rode helter-skelter back the road they had come, this time
his men using their sabres. When clear of the camp Bernard turned his
attention to the men under Pete French. The latter had gotten into a
"hot box," two of his men had been killed and one or two wounded and
required help. Bernard was not slow in giving it, and when all were
safely joined, Bernard dismounted his men and fought the Indians for
several hours with his carbines.
The loss sustained by Bernard in the charge and subsequent engagement
was four men killed and several wounded, not counting the loss sustained
by French. Bernard continued to hover near the Indians throughout the
day. He had taught them a lesson they would not forget. Those terrible
troopers on open ground, they discovered, could go where they liked, and
that nothing could stop them. Accordingly toward night they withdrew to
a rim rock, protected on three sides by high perpendicular walls. The
neck of their fort was then fortified and the savages felt they could
bid defiance to the fierce troopers. In this fight the Indians lost
heavily, forty-two bodies being pulled out of a crevice in the rim rock
where they had been concealed. Among this number was Buffalo Horn, the
greatest leader of the hostiles.
Toward evening Gen. Howard arrived within seven miles of the hostiles.
Bernard sent a courier telling of the position of the Indians and that
with reinforcements and howitzers under Howard the surrender could be
forced in a few hours, or days at most. They had entrapped themselves,
and without water must surrender at the discretion of the soldiers. Gen.
Howard, however, complained that his troops were worn out, that he could
not come up until the following day, and ended by ordering the command
under Bernard to return to his camp. This was Gen. Howard's first fatal
blunder, to be followed by others equally as serious. The Indians
remained in their position until the next day, when they moved out
towards the head of the South Fork of the John Day River. They camped on
Buck Mountain three days while Howard was resting his troops. They then
moved out leisurely to the north, keeping in the rough mountains to be
out of the reach of Bernard's terrible cavalry.
Meanwhile Gen. Howard followed, keeping pace with the Indians. His men
were mostly employed in grading roads through the rough, broken country
to enable his ox teams to follow. Some have questioned this statement.
But I saw with my own eyes the road down Swamp Creek and the mountain
road leading down to the South John Day River, seven miles south of the
mouth of Murderer's Creek. At the South John Day crossing he again laid
over three days while the Indians were resting at the Stewart ranch,
seven miles away. Think of an army following a horde of Indians through
one of the roughest countries imaginable! No wonder that the fiery
Bernard hovered close up to them, ready to strike when opportunity and
an excuse for disobeying orders was presented.
Rumors of the coming of the Indians had reached John Day Valley, and my
old friend Jim Clark gathered a force of 26 men and started out to
discover, if possible, which way the Indians were heading. At Murderer's
Creek he ran into them almost before he knew it. They were not the
skulking Indians of former years, armed with bows and arrows, but
fierce, wild horsemen, armed with modern weapons. In a running fight
that followed, a young man named Aldrige was killed and Jim Clark's
horse shot from, under him. He escaped into the brush and defended
himself so successfully, more than one of the redskins biting the dust,
that when night closed in he made his way on foot through the brush to
the river and followed the stream all night, wading and swimming it
twenty-six times. The balance of his command escaped by outrunning their
pursuers and all reached the valley in safety.
As soon as the news spread, the women and children were sent to Canyon
City and something over a hundred men gathered at the ranch of a man
named Cummins. The latter had seen some service and was elected captain.
Some were horseback and others had come in wagons. While the men were
making final preparations for starting out in search of Jim Clark, a
horseman was seen riding along the side of the mountain to the east of
the Cummins ranch. Warren Cassner pointed to the horseman and asked
Cummins what it meant. "Oh, I guess it is a sheep herder," replied the
old man. "A queer looking sheep herder," replied Cassner, and mounting
his horse started out to make an investigation. West of the Cummins
house the river was lined with tall cottonwoods which obscured a view of
the bald mountain side beyond. As Cassner raised the side of the
mountain, enabling him to look over and beyond the cottonwoods, he
discovered that the whole mountain side was covered with Indians. Twelve
hundred Indians and eight thousand head of horses blackened the side of
the slope. He called to the men below to get out. At the same time he
saw a party of Indians cutting him off from his men.
Then began a race seldom witnessed in Indian or any other kind of
warfare. Men on horseback fled for dear life, while others piled into
wagons and followed as fast as teams could travel. But Cummins was a
brave man and had a cool head. He succeeded in rallying a half dozen
horsemen and at points on the road made such a determined stand that the
wagons were enabled to escape. At one point Emil Scheutz was standing by
the side of Cummins, when some Indians that had worked around to the
side fired a volley, one of the bullets ripping a trench in Scheutz's
breast that one could lay his arm into. Scheutz staggered and told
Cummins he was shot. The latter helped him to mount his horse and amid a
rain of bullets fled for life. That was the last stand. But only for the
fact that Bernard had followed the Indians closely, preventing them from
scattering, all would have been massacreed. As it was most of the men
kept running until Canyon City was reached, each imagining the fellow
behind an Indian.
At the Cassner ranch many halted and were that evening joined by Col.
Bernard with his cavalry. Bernard was told that there were six hundred
Umatilla Indians at Fox Valley only a few miles from the John Day River,
and knowing that they were only waiting to be joined by the Bannocks,
determined to attack the latter before reaching them. He was told that
the Bannock's must pass through a canyon to reach Fox Valley. That was
his opportunity, and he had sounded "boots and saddles" when Gen.
Howard, surrounded by a strong body guard, rode up and ordered him to
remain where he was. This was an awful blunder, and cost the lives of a
number of settlers in Fox Valley. They, all unconscious of danger, were
resting in fancied security when the Bannocks arrived, fraternized with
the Umatillas and butchered them in cold blood.
But Gen. Howard had made a still more serious blunder. Gen. Grover was
coming into John Day Valley with 400 troops and had reached Prairie
City, south of Canyon City, and about 45 miles from the Cummins Ranch.
He was coming in ahead of the Indians and would have been in a position,
with the troops under Howard, to surround and destroy the savages. He
was, however, halted by orders from Howard and turned back to the
Malheur Reservation. In justice to Gen. Howard it should be said that he
claimed his aide misunderstood the orders, and caused the fatal blunder.
But be that as it may, it saved the savages from annihilation or
surrender and cost the lives of a large number of citizens throughout
eastern Oregon.
From John Day Valley, Gen. Howard continued to herd the savages,
following with his ox teams and his army of road makers, while the enemy
were sweeping a belt thirty miles in width through the State and
spreading death and desolation in their path. Many skirmishes took place
before the Indians reached the Umatilla Reservation. Here Gen. Miles
encountered them and in the battle that followed completely routed them.
Disheartened and losing confidence in the good medicine of their
medicine men, the savages split up, a portion going on to Snake River
and the Columbia, while the Stein's mountain and Nevada Piutes doubled
on their tracks and started back, for a greater portion of the way over
the road they had come. This again left the settlers exposed to butchery
and plunder. The military had followed the main bands towards the
Columbia and Snake Rivers. One band attempted to cross the Columbia by
swimming their stock. A steamer had been despatched up the river armed
with gattling guns and protected by a force of soldiers. While the vast
herd of horses and Indians were struggling in the water the boat came in
sight and opened with the gatlings. Some of the Indians succeeded in
crossing, but most of them were driven back, and the carcasses of
Indians and horses floated down the river.