Western Experiences

Just as we left Arizona a new second lieutenant, Schwatka, joined me. He served with me for eight years, one of the most interesting officers Nannie and I ever met. He afterwards gained a national reputation in his search for the remains of the Franklin Expedition.

Three companies and the band went by wagon train to Fort Yuma, where we sold our ambulance to Captain Taylor, 2d Cavalry. Here we embarked on a river vessel for Puerto Isabel at the mouth of the Colorado, where we took the government steamer Newbern for San Francisco.

So disgusted with our Arizona experience were all the officers that when the boat pulled out from Yuma, we took off our shoes and beat the dust of Arizona over the rail, at the same time cursing the land.

The bore created by the contraction of the north end of the Gulf of California forces tides, sometimes eighteen feet high, along the lower Colorado, and the river is so tortuous that the distance from Yuma is three times what it is in a straight line. On our trip down, there being a very high tide, the captain endeavored to make a cut-off over the sand bars to save twelve miles. But the tide stranded the boat several miles from the main channel, and when morning came we could see no water. We remained until high tide the next night.

After a long but eventful journey we arrived at McPherson January 17, 1872, General Reynolds, who had been serving as general of volunteers in the reconstruction of Texas, assuming command of the regiment.

May, 1872, I was assigned to the sub-post of North Platte, in the fork of the North and South Platte Rivers on the Union Pacific Railroad. Here we met Spotted Tail, chief of the Brulé Tribe. (Appendix, 397.)

In July, 1872, General Sheridan ordered two companies ofmy regiment to escort Professor Marsh, of Yale College, with thirty students of that institution, on a paleontological expedition in the Bad Lands along the Niobrara River (one hundred miles north of the North Platte). We spent two months on that very interesting and successful duty, recovering from the washing sands of the steep banks of the Niobrara several wagon loads of prehistoric bones.

On December 2, 1872, Nannie and I spent three months of leave with her parents in Zanesville, during which we purchased an elaborate and very fine ambulance, shipping it to North Platte.

Next year General Sheridan detailed me to escort Lord Dunraven and three friends on a hunting expedition on the Loop River. Accompanied by Buffalo Bill (Cut, 154), the party was very successful in killing many elk, deer and antelope, remaining out about six weeks. One night Lord Dunraven came to my tent and we talked until long after midnight. I have never forgotten his declaration that the possibilities of the development of the American Republic were greater than any ever known in history; adding, "the curse of my country is its nobility."

In 1873 the agent for the Ogallala and Brulé Sioux gave permission for a large party of those sub-tribes to hunt buffalo on the Republican River, southern Nebraska, near the Kansas line. Unfortunately, the agent of the Pawnees gave a large party of that tribe permission to hunt in the same direction. These tribes were traditional enemies. I warned both agents of possible trouble, but without avail. The Pawnees arrived first; placed their women and children in camp and started out for the buffalo. When the Sioux arrived, their scouts discovered the Pawnee families, attacked the camp and killed one hundred and twenty-five, all save one or two children and a squaw, found by Captain Meinhold of the 3d Cavalry, sent out from Fort McPherson the next day. These were so badly wounded that they died.

The Pawnees, inferior to the Sioux, were compelled toreturn in sorrow to their reservation; the Sioux continuing their hunt.

W. F. Cody (Buffalo Bill).(Text, 153.)

Jim Bridger.(Text, 107.)

Jack Robertson.

In September, 1874, the Sioux entered the parade grounds at Forts Fetterman and Steele, and killed several soldiers (Appendix, 399). General Ord selected me to take five troops of cavalry, and two companies of infantry by rail to Rawlins, Wyoming, thence to Independence Rock, cross the Rig Horn Mountains, and destroy a camp of hostiles supposed to be near old Fort Reno. Unfortunately the Indians discovered our movements, and moved north beyond our reach.

April 14, 1875, General Crook ordered me to take command at Camp Sheridan, Nebraska. This march (Nannie accompanying me in her ambulance) was through a roadless, sandy country, with many streams and difficult crossings, practically unexplored.

Relieving Captain Sutorious of the command, I found Spotted Tail, chief of the Brulés, with about five thousand Indians at his agency, some of them Ogallalas. All were much excited at the encroachments of the whites on the reservation, and the scarcity of food. Spotted Tail declared the agent, Mr. Howard, deprived them of their governmental rations. The winter had been very severe and the snow very deep, driving the game out of the country.

Finding his statements true, I complained to the agent, who said he gave them all they were entitled to, and if they starved it wasn't his fault. There was no telegraphic communication, so without authority, I issued them several thousand dollars' worth of bacon and hard bread, telling the agent and reporting it to the War Department. Very shortly Jesse M. Lee, a first lieutenant of infantry, arrived with his appointment as Indian agent, dispossessing Howard.

Reef was issued by driving it in on the hoof, but flour, which was the principal ration, supplied by a contractor in Baltimore, was shipped to Cheyenne by rail, and there loaded onto wagons.

On the plea that so long a wagon journey would break singlebags, and spill the contents, 100 pounds of flour was covered with three sacks. At Cheyenne a Federal inspector marked and weighed the bags.

The Baltimore contractor arranged with this inspector to stamp each sack "100 pounds." This trebled the weight, as the agent emptied the flour into vessels brought by the squaws and kept the sacks as evidence that he had delivered three times the actual weight. Lee, finding that flour was delivered unweighed, looked at the sacks, found they were certified to contain one hundred pounds by the inspector, reported the trick and the contractor was arrested, tried and convicted.

Many of Spotted Tail's young men were getting up war parties to drive back the miners and settlers who were organizing on the Missouri River to enter the Black Hills. It was a violation of our treaties with the Indians, and it was part of the duty of the army to see that the treaties were respected. Captain Fergus Walker, 1st Infantry, wrote me from a point eighty miles east of Wounded Knee, May 15, 1875, that he had captured one such invading party and sent it under guard to Fort Randall, but that his thus greatly weakened force was unable to cope with others, particularly Major Gordon's mining company. He asked me, accordingly, to co-operate with him in this work, and arranged for the Indian scout by whom he sent the letter to intercept him on the Niobrara River with my reply.

General Sheridan's General Order No. 2, of March 17th, directed commanding officers in Indian reservations adjacent to the Black Hills "to burn the wagon trains, destroy the outfits and arrest the leaders, confining them at the nearest military post," of trespassers found on a reservation. Accordingly, with two companies of cavalry and a battery of gatling guns, commanded by Lieutenant Rockefeller, I marched to relieve Captain Walker.

Arriving at Antelope Creek at night, I sent two men in citizens' clothes to Walker's camp to tell him I would at daylight surround Major Gordon's mining company. At daybreak Ithrew my companies into line, the battery in the center, and when Walker's force appeared, Gordon's men, wakened by the noise, found themselves utterly helpless. Gordon's camp was in a river bend, between precipitous bluffs, with only a few hundred yards' space for entrance or exit.

Seizing Gordon and putting him in a bull pen, I ordered his second in command, Mr. Brockert, to parade his men and surrender their arms. While doing this, one of their guns went off. I called out they might have the first shot, but we would have the last, when they submissively declared they would make no resistance.

The prisoners were sent back to Fort Randall under Captain Walker, except Gordon, whom I took to Sheridan, where he was put in the guard house.

Both the newspapers and the public at Sioux City made complaints about my "arbitrary and unlawful act," and the grand jury found true bills against me, but I never had service.

Gordon was a Mason, as was my post trader at Sheridan. They concocted a scheme for Gordon's release. One Sunday morning the post trader approached and read me his commission as United States Commissioner, serving a writ demanding the delivery of Major Gordon. I told him if he did not tear up his commission I would put him in the guard house with his friend Gordon, as there was not enough room in that post for a commanding officer and post trader who, as U. S. Commissioner, would attempt to dominate the action of the military authorities. He destroyed his commission. Later, Gordon was transferred to the guard house at Fort Omaha, Nebraska, and was there held under indictment for violating the Indian non-intercourse laws. What finally became of him I never knew.

The government contemplated building a permanent post (the one then occupied was temporarily constructed of logs) and furnished a saw mill, lathe, shingle machine, sash and doors, and thirty skilled artisans to take timber from the pine forests, and construct the post as rapidly as possible.

While absent on this expedition, General Crook, who had relieved General Ord, appeared at the post with some of his staff on inspection. He left an order for me to select a new location for a five-company post and construct it after my own plans, which I did.

Having an excellent quartermaster in Lieutenant Rockefeller, we accomplished the most expeditious post construction in the history of the army. Each captain constructed his own barracks and quarters, after plans I prepared, dividing the skilled artisans between them. As the men were anxious to get into their new homes, trees felled in the morning were often part of buildings before sundown, Lieutenant Lemly of the cavalry being particularly active, and all the officers strove hard to complete their quarters as soon as possible. We were comfortably housed before the first of October. All the buildings were constructed as a shell of upright inch boards around a framework, lined with the ordinary sized unburnt bricks, dried in the sun and plastered inside.

Meanwhile, Nannie formed an agreeable acquaintance with Spotted Tail, whom she liked from first sight. He was a fine-looking man, with engaging manners, perfectly loyal to the government, a lover of peace, knowing no good could come to his people from war with the army. He had the highest respect for and confidence in officers.

There was a sub-chief under Spotted Tail named No Flesh, a weakling, not thought much of by the head chiefs. Nannie frequently invited Spotted Tail to dinner, sometimes with other most respected chiefs, and No Flesh tried in every way to establish friendly relations with her. He proffered his services to paint her some pictures of his exploits as a warrior, for which she paid him. In one of these pictures he represents himself engaged in a great battle with U. S. Cavalry, killing a captain. I regret I can not reproduce his detailed description of his heroism.

Courtesy, Smithsonian Institution.Brulé Chief Spotted Tail.

Courtesy, Smithsonian Institution.

Brulé Chief Spotted Tail.

Courtesy, Smithsonian Institution.Brulé Chief No Flesh.

Courtesy, Smithsonian Institution.

Brulé Chief No Flesh.

No Flesh Battle Picture.

The shod horse tracks in the picture represent the cavalry, and the unshod pony tracks represent Indian ponies. Thefaces on the margin are the attacking cavalry. It will be seen that he killed a soldier before he killed the captain.

Engaged in this work, he would remain at the house for hours, hoping to gain favor with Nannie.

Observing Nannie had great influence with me and with Spotted Tail, and noticing she bought fruits and paid for them herself, he knew of course that she was no squaw, and that she had authority.

One day Captain McDougall and several officers of the 7th Cavalry arrived at the post, with a scouting command to rest for a few days and secure supplies.

Nannie invited the officers to dine with Spotted Tail, Standing Elk, and White Thunder, but, as usual, did not include No Flesh. No Flesh learned the news rather late, but, a few moments after we had taken our seats, announced himself at the door and was seated in the parlor by the orderly.

When dinner was over we returned to the parlor and shook hands with No Flesh. Having held his seat during the dinner in the hope that he might at least be invited to a second table, he was somewhat sullen. After a while he exclaimed, "Well, you must have had a great deal to eat."

"Why do you think so?" I asked.

"Because it took you so long to eat it," he rejoined.

Seeing he was not likely to receive an invitation, and convinced from Nannie's demeanor toward him that the fault lay with her, he shook hands in a very dignified manner with everyone in the room save Nannie. She was sitting near the door, and when he came near he drew himself up in a most scornful manner and passed quickly out.

This amused not only the officers, but the Indians.

Soon after, when strolling together through the Indian encampments, I remarked, "Suppose we call on No Flesh." "Very well," she said, "I would just as soon."

No Flesh appeared much astonished, but he invited us in his tent, asking us to be seated on the ground, which we did.Two squaws and several children were present. He looked sternly in my face for some moments, and then exclaimed:

"You—no chief!" pointing to me with his forefinger. Then pointing with his left forefinger to Nannie, he held it up vertically, thus,handas representing her; and pointing to me with his right forefinger, held it up thus,handas representing me. He then placed them vertically together, thus,handhandas representing our relative standing in authority.

All nomadic Indians have a common sign language and communicate with each other without the use of words.

No Flesh intended the most absolute insult one man could give another. We burst out together in laughter. This greatly puzzled No Flesh, who could not conceive how any man, much less a soldier, could brook such an insult. It was with great effort, stoical as the Indian is, that he preserved his equanimity.

One day while overlooking the construction of the post, Spotted Tail said through his interpreter, "Well, I have been wondering if you were going to stay; now I know you are." I asked him how he knew, and he replied, "I have been among white men long enough to know when they put rocks under their houses they are going to stay."

The old commanding officer's quarters, the best in the old post, was preserved intact, with all its furniture, cooking stove and utensils. When we moved to the new post I formally presented this house to Spotted Tail, in the name of the Great White Father, with General Crook's authority. He and his wives and children were very thankful in their hope for better comforts in the future. A short time thereafter, I saw the house was vacant and found Spotted Tail was again living in tepees under the cottonwood trees in the midst of his village. Asking him why, he replied his squaws found it impossible tokeep the house clean. They threw the bones and refuse on the floor and could not learn to sweep out or wipe up, so that flies and maggots became so intolerable they were compelled to move. They could move tepees in a few minutes to fresh sward, as had been Indian habit for generations. With all my knowledge of the Indian habits, this surprised me as I suppose it will surprise the reader.

One day Spotted Tail brought Lone Horn, a Minneconjou chief, to my tent, asking me to show him some courtesy. He had never been in a military post or on an Indian reservation. The trader supplied a can of lemon sugar and I made some lemonade. Lone Horn had ridden far, on a very hot July day. He emptied his glass; then Spotted Tail exclaimed, "Have you drank all that? You had better lie down and hold on to the grass, for the whole world will begin to turn over in a few minutes."

Lone Horn, seeing the rest of us had drank only a portion, was really alarmed and imagined he felt the influence. I mention this to show Spotted Tail's humor, notwithstanding the popular opinion that Indians have none.

Efforts to enter the Black Hills had excited the entire Sioux confederation, and they began to talk of war. The leading chiefs of all the tribes except the Minneconjous and Ogallalas tried to restrain them, but it was difficult. In each reservation the young men organized war bands and went ostensibly to hunt but really in hope they would find opportunity to attack and destroy emigrants, prospectors or stock-men unawares, which they often did.

The great unrest among the Indians and the settlements adjoining their reservations alarmed the Indian Department. Before the winter had fairly set in, the President authorized the War Department to chastise some of the war-like tribes that were encamped not far from their reservations in the West, ostensibly for hunting purposes, but really to organize war parties for depredations in the spring. General Crook was therefore directed to begin a winter campaign. He organizeda command at Fort D. A. Russell of ten companies of the 3d Cavalry, including mine, several of the 2d Cavalry and four of the 4th Cavalry. I was stationed at Fort D. A. Russell for the winter, Nannie accompanying me.

So many troops made Cheyenne a large and interesting post, Nannie becoming prominent in the garrison. One day she took me to a meeting of the officers and ladies at the post hospital to organize an amateur theatrical company. The call was issued by Major Dubois, who announced the object of the meeting, when, to my surprise, I was called as permanent chairman, the first time, I believe, I ever presided. Three young second lieutenants were appointed to devise a program and name the actors for the monthly meetings. Later a program was sent around in which I, who make no pretensions to theatricals, was designated to act Sir Toby Tittmouse, a leading part.

Nannie and these youngsters had entrapped me. I told her I could not in months commit to memory the long part I was given, but Nannie reminded me I had, as presiding officer, approved the proceedings and that I could not back out! She rehearsed me and taught me to play my part, sitting up many nights, conscious that Sir Toby's loud and turbulent language would impress the help in the kitchen that we were quarreling. Taking an interest in it I found it not so difficult after all, and Nannie rigged me up in a costume that would have surprised Sir Toby himself. She constructed a remarkable wig of angora wool, and made me knee breeches and large buttoned coat, which, with a cane, fitted the character so well that when the play was produced, my own colonel, Reynolds, declared that he did not know who was playing the part. This gave me courage, and I afterward acted a principal part as Mr. Potter in "Still Waters Run Deep."

Early in 1875, the campaign intended to subdue the rising war spirit of the Indians took definite shape, and our command left Fort D. A. Russell and proceeded towards old FortPhil Kearny, where it was reported some outlying bands were located on Powder River.

We took thirty days' beef on the hoof, which was issued as rations. Two days from Fort Fetterman, crossing Cheyenne Creek, the command was surprised by some Indians; every head of cattle was driven off, one of the herders killed and one or two soldiers wounded, leaving the troops without any fresh meat. When we reached Phil Kearny, we abandoned every wheel, resorting to pack mules, and struck out for Powder River.

There had been a deep snow some weeks previous, and cold weather succeeding warm created a crust that would sometimes hold a horse. The night after we left Phil Kearny there came another severe snowstorm with high, intensely cold winds. The drifting snow and hard crusts rendered it difficult for our animals to travel.

We followed Otter Creek, which runs into the Yellowstone, parallel to Powder River, to an abandoned Sioux camp, thirty miles from Powder River, in which we found the remains of a captured and killed Blackfoot Indian.

Scouts reported a hunting party of Sioux in the direction of Powder River, in what in their opinion was a village. General Crook directed Reynolds to take eight troops with two days' rations (leaving him with the pack train and two troops to follow), and capture the village if he could find it.

At daybreak, on the banks of the river, the scouts reported the village. Preparations were made to attack.

Owing to the age and feebleness of Colonel Reynolds and the bitter feud that existed in the regiment (similar to that in the 7th Cavalry between Colonel Sturgis and his friends and Colonel Custer and his friends, that proved so disastrous at the Little Big Horn), this attack on the village on Powder River proved a lamentable failure. Reynolds disobeyed Crook's order to hold the village until his arrival, abandoning the field and retiring in the direction of Fetterman. It is perhaps betternot to go into details here in regard to this humiliating failure, further than to say that several officers were tried for misconduct.

We were out of rations and other supplies, so there was nothing left but to return without successfully accomplishing the object for which we had been sent.

Through agents the Indian Department then took a hand and endeavored to quiet the Indians, but with little success. On June 18, 1875, Mr. Ed. P. Smith, the Commissioner of Indian Affairs, organized a commission to treat with the Sioux. It was composed of very distinguished men. Senator William B. Allison was the president, and General Terry among the thirteen members who met at Fort Robinson, September 20, 1875. I commanded the escort, consisting of my own and Captain Eagan's white horse company of the 2d Cavalry.

The majority of the Indians refused to enter the post, declaring they would make no treaty under duress. The commission agreed to meet in a grove on the White River, eight miles northeast of the post. Spotted Tail, who accompanied me from Fort Sheridan, warned me it was a mistake to meet outside the post, and kept his best friends around my ambulance.

The commission sat under a large tarpaulin, the chiefs sitting on the ground. Senator Allison was to make the introductory speech, and Red Cloud and Spotted Tail were scheduled to reply favorably to the surrender of the Black Hills for certain considerations.

There were present perhaps 20,000 Indians, representing probably 40,000 or 45,000 of various tribes. Probably three-fourths of the grown males of the consolidated tribes were present and might have subscribed to a new treaty in accordance with its provisions, that it be with the consent of three-fourths of the Indians, which supposedly meant the grown people, although the treaty did not so state. The Indians were given to understand that the whites must have the land, so that they became alarmed, and most of them threatened war.

Eagan's mounted company, drawn up in single line, I placed on the right of the commission, my own on the left. Allison began his address, during which hostile Indians, well armed, formed man for man in the rear of Eagan's men. "Young-Man-Afraid-of-His-Horses," a captain of a company of friendly Indians, asked permission to form his men in the rear of the hostile Indians, to which I consented.

When Red Cloud was about to speak, "Little Big Man," astride an American horse, two revolvers belted to his waist, but otherwise naked save for a breech clout, moccasins and war headgear, rode between the commission and the seated Indian chiefs and proclaimed, "I will kill the first Indian chief who speaks favorably to the selling of the Black Hills."

Spotted Tail, fearing a massacre, advised that the commission get back to the fort as quickly as possible. General Terry consulted with Allison, and then ordered the commission into the ambulances to make for the post. I placed Eagan's company on each flank and my own in the rear of the ambulances. At least half the men warriors pressed about us threatening to kill some member of the commission.

One young warrior in particular, riding furiously into our ranks, frenziedly declared that he would have the blood of a commissioner. Fortunately we reserved our fire.

A friendly Indian soldier showed him an innocent colt grazing about one hundred yards away and told him he could appease his anger by killing it. Strange to say, he consented, rode out and shot the colt dead, and the whole of the hostile Sioux retired to the main body at the place of our meeting. Thus ended the efforts of this commission to formulate a treaty.

Failure of both Crook's expedition and the efforts of the commission made it certain that hostilities would be resumed in the spring, so that General Terry, commanding the Department of Dakota, and General Crook, commanding the Department of the Platte, were instructed to organize large commandsfor the purpose of pursuing and punishing all Sioux found away from their reservations.

The Commissioner of Indian Affairs instructed his agents to warn the chiefs to call in all Indians away from the reservation, notifying that all found away would be punished. This only excited the war-like young bucks and caused them to move in the early spring as far west as they could go. At that time the buffalo were driven by encroaching settlements and the railroads from their southern grazing grounds into the country west and north of the Sioux reservation.

Crook first met the Indians in a slight engagement on Tongue River, Montana.

Terry, meanwhile, so separated from Crook by distance and hostile Indians as to prevent communication, had searched for the hostiles on the north. He discovered their trail on the Yellowstone at the mouth of the Rosebud, and organized an expedition under General Custer with the entire 7th Cavalry to pursue it.

General Crook's expedition is described in detail (Appendix, 400), save what occurred after his separation from General Terry's command.

The hostile Indians separated, some going to Canada and others turning eastward. General Crook determined to follow the latter, depending entirely on pack mules for transportation. With scanty rations, he undertook a long and distressing march through the dry and barren country, with little knowledge of its streams and trails. Both men and officers became restless and many of the horses were shot for want of sustenance.

When near the Missouri River, Crook turned southwest toward the Black Hills, crossing the North and South Cannonball rivers. Here many officers and men became dismounted, and it was feared they might perish for want of rations. There was no game, many ate horse flesh, and had no knowledge of woodcraft, course, or direction.

On the 8th of September, as I was bringing in the rear squadron of the command, having shot seventy horses that day, General Crook, in consultation with General Merritt, directed me to select one hundred and fifty of the best men and horses from my regiment, take Chief Packer Moore, with fifty pack mules, to Deadwood, in the Black Hills, and bring back supplies to the command. His last words were that should I encounter a village I should attack and hold it. It was nine o'clock before I could collect my command, and I left so hurriedly that no medical officer was sent with me. The night was very dark. I took with me Grouard, one of the best scouts we had, especially proficient in woodcraft.

Although there were no stars and insufficient light to see the surrounding land, somehow Grouard took us in the right direction. About midnight he lighted a match and showed me the fresh tracks of ponies on the banks of a little lake. We were close to the Indians. It began to rain as we lay down, holding the lariats of our horses, and it was with difficulty that we obtained a little sleep.

It was still raining at daylight, but we were early up and off, seeing by the mountain ranges we were going toward the Black Hills.

In the afternoon Grouard signaled a halt, saying we were near an Indian village. He had observed Indian hunters with their ponies packed with game. We were on the banks of a small stream, which Grouard said was near Slim Buttes. We hid under the banks and cottonwood trees, drenched with cold rain, until three in the morning, when I determined to attack. I did not know its strength, but was willing to take my chances in view of General Crook's positive orders.

Moving as close to the village as possible, I left the quartermaster, Lieutenant Bubb, with the pack mules and twenty-five soldiers. My plan was to dismount fifty men under Crawford and fifty under Von Luettwitz, retaining twenty-five mounted, under Schwatka, to charge through the village and drive theponies away as soon as we were discovered, when Crawford would attack them on the right and Von Luettwitz on the left.

The Indian ponies near the village discovered us by smell and stampeded into the village. Schwatka charged through the village, driving the horses as far as he could, and Crawford and Von Luettwitz carried out their instructions and drove most of the Indians pell-mell from their tepees, which were laced on the side facing us. These lacings, being wet, were so hard to untie that the Indians cut their way through on the other side of the elkskin tepees and ran to the rocks on the opposite side of the stream, taking only their arms with them.

Von Luettwitz, standing near me on a slight elevation, was shot through the knee; I caught him as he fell. We found the village rich in fruit and game, and I despatched three couriers at intervals, to inform General Crook that we would hold the village until he came.

The Indian Chief, American Horse, was mortally wounded in the stomach. With some of his followers, mostly women and children, he took refuge in a cave in a ravine, where they entrenched themselves with the soft clay. There were fifty tepees in this village and probably two hundred and fifty Indians, mostly warriors. Grouard got into conversation with some and tried to persuade them to surrender, but they said that they had dispatched runners to the main body of the Sioux, less than eight miles distant, and would hold out until they were relieved.

The leading part of Crook's command, those with the best horses, arrived about 11.30. The rest of his command appeared soon after, at the same time the Indian forces arrived to relieve their distressed comrades. They came in great numbers, but when Crook deployed almost an equal number, the Indians retired and we held the village.

Some of my men, entering the village, discovered a little girl three or four years old, who sprang up and ran away like a young partridge. The soldiers caught her and brought herto me. She was in great distress until I assured her, by petting her and giving her food, that she was in no danger, when she became somewhat contented.

After General Crook's men had persuaded the Indians hidden in the cave to surrender, there being many killed and wounded among them, I and my orderly took this little girl down to see the captives and the dead. Among others, the soldiers had dragged out the bodies of two fine looking half-breed squaws, only partly dressed, bloody and mangled with many wounds. The little girl began to scream and fought the orderly until he placed her on the ground, when she ran and embraced one of these squaws, who was her mother.

On returning to my station on the hill, I told Adjutant Lemly I intended to adopt this little girl, as I had slain her mother.

The Indian chief was taken to one of the tepees and the surgeon told him he would die before midnight. He accepted his doom without a blanch or shudder, and soon died.

Crook told me to take the same command and at daylight proceed to the Black Hills and execute my mission. Before starting, Adjutant Lemly asked me if I really intended to take the little girl. I told him I did, when he remarked, "Well, how do you think Mrs. Mills will like it?" It was the first time I had given that side of the matter a thought, and I decided to leave the child where I found her.

We arrived at Deadwood at nine the next night. Everyone was in great excitement, because communication with the outer world was shut off by the surrounding Indians. All readily assisted me in collecting supplies sufficient to load the fifty pack mules. With fifty head of cattle, we met Crook's command, the second morning, forty miles distant. They were in practically a starving condition, having subsisted on the ponies I captured at Slim Buttes.

Some time in June, 1914, the historian of South Dakota, Mr. Doane Robinson, sent me a volume in which he published the reports of the Battle of Slim Buttes, and also a map ofthe battle-ground by the State engineer, which purported to give in detail the topography in Section 27, Township 17 north, Range 8 east. On examining it, I could not recognize it as representing the location.

Meanwhile, Mr. W. M. Camp, editor of the Railway Review, had called on me to get some details of this fight, stating that he was writing a history of the Indian War of 1876. Showing him Mr. Robinson's book, I told him that, having no faith that he had made the proper location, I had invited General Charles Morton, who was present at the fight, to go with me in July and try to find the true location, and asked him to go with us, which he readily consented to do.

We invited Mr. Robinson to accompany us to the battleground in order that the question of location might be definitely settled. He agreed to join us on the train at Pierre at midnight on July 14th. Mr. Robinson failed to keep his engagement, but, at Belle Fourche, his son, a boy of about twenty years old, reported to us, stating his father had asked him to go with us. He was of no assistance, however, as he knew nothing about the matter, and did not seem interested in it.

After several days' search, we found the location described in Mr. Robinson's history in the map before referred to, but neither General Morton nor I could reconcile the topography represented on the map with the location as we remembered it. There were no evidences of a fight, no rifle pits, which we remembered well to have made, and which could not have been obliterated. We spent several days trying to find the true location, but were eventually compelled to abandon the search, the conditions being exceedingly unfavorable to the investigation because of poor roads, rains, and excessively hot weather.

Mr. Camp and I both corresponded with General Charles King, also present at this battle, and who Mr. Robinson claimed had furnished him with the map from which he made the location. General King replied that he had never furnished Mr. Robinson with a map sufficient to make the location and,after examining the map in his book, said it was not the correct location.

I am now in receipt of a letter from Mr. Camp, dated June 21, 1917, in which he informs me that he went on another expedition and, after considerable search, found the true location on June 19th, in Section 10, Township 18 north, Range 8 east, which is on Gap Creek, one of the main branches of Rabbit Creek, about three miles from Reva Gap, three-quarters of a mile from Mr. W. W. Mitchell's house, and nine miles north of Robinson's location. Mr. Camp found the rifle pits and many other convincing evidences of the fight, including numerous empty shells, much broken pottery and other Indian utensils, all of which corresponded to my own and other reports of the battle.

Crook stayed in the Black Hills recuperating for several weeks, when, the campaign being closed, the whole command proceeded to Fort Robinson, where it was disbanded and the various organizations sent to their proper posts. I was transferred to Camp Sheridan, where Nannie joined me and where Chief "Touch the Clouds," of the Minneconjous, came in and surrendered (Appendix, 412).

During our second stay at Sheridan, many interesting incidents occurred. Spotted Tail gave a dog feast in Nannie's honor, which she gladly attended and danced freely with the squaws, to their great delight. They boiled many dogs in large kettles, but Nannie did not have the courage to partake of the feast, which she ever afterwards regretted.

One afternoon a Sister of Charity from a Kansas City convent drove to my quarters with a novice, stating that she had been sent to me by General Mackenzie, then commanding Fort Robinson. She was on a mission to procure subscriptions for the erection of a hospital at Kansas City.

Sister Mary remained with us for several days. A very intelligent and entertaining woman, she was a welcome guest to both Nannie and me. Expressing a desire to see Spotted Tail, we prepared a little entertainment and invited him tothe house, together with a few ladies and officers, Lieutenant Schwatka, who afterwards became famous, being one. The refreshments consisted of cider, cakes and apples.

Spotted Tail appeared in full Indian dress, accompanied by one of his wives and his daughter, Shonkoo, an interesting girl of seventeen. Sister Mary, dressed in the conventional robes of her order, conversed with Spotted Tail through the interpreter for some time before we passed the refreshments.

After all present had been provided with a glass of cider, Sister Mary danced gaily to the center of the room and announced that she would like to clink glasses with the great chief Spotted Tail. Upon hearing her request, Spotted Tail, quite as gracefully and gaily, danced up to her. This wild country could hardly show a stranger spectacle than a Sister of Charity, in her peaceful robes, and a savage warrior, in his war-like paraphernalia, clinking glasses!

The conversation lasted for some hours, the squaw and her daughter saying little. Finally it occurred to me that it might be interesting to Sister Mary to take this young girl back with her to the convent, and I made the suggestion to her. Her eyes sparkled with delight as she said that it would be a feather in her cap. "Is it possible that we can arrange it?" she asked.

On making the suggestion to Spotted Tail, his face also beamed. He would like nothing better than that his daughter should live among the white people and learn their ways and customs, and he had great confidence in the Sisters of Charity. While the matter was thoroughly discussed by Sister Mary and Spotted Tail, I watched Shonkoo and her mother.

The mother appeared delighted, but Shonkoo was expressionless. I suggested to the interpreter that it might be well to see what the daughter had to say, but when this was communicated to Spotted Tail, he said, "That is all right. She will go."

I arranged to furnish the transportation to the railroad, a distance of about one hundred miles. They would be readyto depart in three days, Spotted Tail stating that he would bring his daughter then to my quarters and place her in charge of the sister.

The morning the start was to be made, everything was ready but Shonkoo. In her place came a message from Spotted Tail to Sister Mary and me to the effect that Shonkoo had eloped the night before with a young Indian by the name of Lone Elk, and Sister Mary returned to her convent despondent, empty handed, and minus the feather in her cap, so far as her efforts to civilize Shonkoo were concerned.

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