CHAPTER XVII.
THE SUMMER CAMPAIGN OF 1876—THE SIOUX AND CHEYENNES GETTING UGLY—RAIDING THE SETTLEMENTS—ATTEMPT TO AMBUSCADE CROOK—KILLING THE MAIL-RIDER—THE STORY OF THE FETTERMAN MASSACRE—LAKE DE SMET—OUR FIRST THUNDER STORM—A SOLDIER’S BURIAL—THE SIOUX ATTACK OUR CAMP—TROUT-FISHING—BEAR-HUNTING—CALAMITY JANE—THE CROW AND SHOSHONE ALLIES JOIN THE COMMAND—THE WAR DANCE AND MEDICINE SONG.
The lack of coöperation by the troops in the Department of Dakota had been severely felt; such coöperation had been promised and confidently expected. It needed no profoundly technical military mind to see that with two or three strong columns in the field seeking out the hostiles, each column able to hold its own against the enemy, the chances of escape for the Sioux and Cheyennes would be materially lessened, and those of success for the operations of either column, or both, perceptibly increased. But, with the exception of a telegram from General Custer, then at Fort Lincoln, dated February 27th, making inquiry as to the time fixed for the departure of the column under Reynolds—which question was answered by wire the same day—nothing had been heard of any column from the Missouri River camps going out after the Indians whom the authorities wished to have driven into the reservations.
With the opening of spring the phases of the problem presented greater complexity. The recalcitrant Indians were satisfied of their ability not only to elude pursuit but to present a bold front to the troops, and to whip them on the field of their choice. They had whipped us—so at least it seemed to them—on the 17th of March; why could they not do the same on any other day—the 17th of May, or the 17th of August? Crook determined to wait for the new grass, without which it would be impossible to campaign far away from the line of supplies, and to let the groundbecome thoroughly dry from the early thaws, before he resumed the offensive. This would give to such columns as might be designated in the north as coöperating forces opportunity to get into the field; as it would also afford the restless young element on the several reservations chance to deliberate between the policy of peace and war, between remaining quiet at the agencies, or starting out on a career of depredation and bloodshed.
Each day came news, stoutly denied by the agents, that there were parties slipping away to recruit the forces of the hostiles; it was only prudent to know in advance exactly how many there would be in our front, and have them in our front instead of imperilling our rear by starting out with a leaven of discontent which might do grievous harm to the ranchos and settlements near the Union Pacific Railroad. That the main body of the Sioux and Cheyennes was “ugly” no longer admitted of doubt. Hostilities were not limited to grumbling and growling, to surly looks and ungracious acts, to mere threats against the agents or some isolated ranchos; they became active and venomous, especially along the lines of travel leading to the disputed territory—the “Black Hills.” Attacks upon trains were a daily—an hourly—occurrence. In one of these the son-in-law of “Red Cloud” was killed. To defend these travellers there was no better method than by carrying the war into Africa, and, by means of swift-moving columns, come upon the villages of the hostiles and destroy them, giving no time to the young men for amusements.
Three of the infantry companies from Fort Omaha and Fort Bridger were detailed to guard the road between Fort Laramie and Custer City; each company went into an entrenched camp with rifle-pits dug, and all preparations made for withstanding a siege until help should arrive. Trains could make their way from one to the other of these fortified camps with much less danger than before their establishment, while there were two companies of cavalry, under officers of great experience, to patrol from Buffalo Gap, at the entrance to the hills, and the North Platte. These officers were Captain Russell, who had seen much service in Arizona and New Mexico against the Apaches, and “Teddy” Egan, of the Second Cavalry, who had led the charge into the village of “Crazy Horse” on St. Patrick’s Day. Both of these officers and their troops did all that Crook expected of them, andthat was a great deal. The same praise belongs to the little detachments of infantry, who rendered yeoman service. Egan was fortunate enough to come up just in the nick of time, as a train was surrounded and fired upon by six hundred warriors; he led the charge, and the Indians took to flight.
There were attacks all along the line: eastward in Nebraska, the Sioux became very bold, and raided the horse and cattle ranchos in the Loup Valley; they were pursued by Lieutenant Charles Heyl, Twenty-third Infantry, with a small detail of men mounted upon mules from the quartermaster’s corral, and compelled to stand and fight, dropping their plunder, having one of their number killed, but killing one of our best men—Corporal Dougherty. In Wyoming, they raided the Chug, and there killed one of the old settlers—Huntoon—and ran off thirty-two horses. Lieutenant Allison, Second Cavalry, took the trail, and would have run his prey down had it not been for a blinding snow-storm which suddenly arose and obliterated the tracks of the marauders; sufficient was learned, however, to satisfy Allison that the raiders were straight from the Red Cloud Agency. When the body of Huntoon was found, it had eleven wounds—three from arrows. The same or similar tales came in from all points of the compass—from the villages of the friendly Shoshones and Bannocks in the Wind River Mountains to the scattered homes on the Lodge Pole and the Frenchman.
A large number of the enlisted men belonging to the companies at Fort D. A. Russell (near Cheyenne, Wyoming) deserted, alleging as a reason that they did not care to serve under officers who would abandon their dead and dying to the foe. Every available man of the mounted service in the Department of the Platte was called into requisition for this campaign; the posts which had been garrisoned by them were occupied by infantry companies sent from Omaha, Salt Lake, and elsewhere. The point of concentration was Fort Fetterman, and the date set as early as practicable after the first day of May. Two other strong columns were also to take the field—one under General John Gibbon, consisting of the troops from the Montana camps; the other, under General Alfred H. Terry, to start from Fort Lincoln, and to comprise every man available from the posts in the eastern portion of the Department of Dakota. While the different detachments were marching to the point of rendezvous, Crook hurried to FortLaramie, and thence eastward to the Red Cloud Agency to hold a conference with the chiefs.
It was during trips like this—while rolling over the endless plains of Wyoming, now rivalling the emerald in their vernal splendors—that General Crook was at his best: a clear-headed thinker, a fluent conversationalist, and a most pleasant companion. He expressed himself freely in regard to the coming campaign, but said that while the Sioux and Cheyennes were a brave and bold people, from the very nature of the case they would never stand punishment as the Apaches had done. The tribes of the plains had accumulated much property in ponies and other things, and the loss of that would be felt most deeply. Crook hoped to sound the chiefs at the Red Cloud Agency, and learn about where each stood on the question of peace or hostility; he also hoped to be able to enlist a small contingent of scouts for service with the troops. General Crook was unable to find the agent who was absent, but in his place he explained to the agency clerk what he wanted. The latter did all he could to prevent any of the chiefs from coming to see General Crook; nevertheless, “Sitting Bull of the South,” “Rocky Bear,” and “Three Bears,” prominent in the tribe, came over to the office of the military commander, Major Jordan, of the Ninth Infantry, and there met Crook, who had with him Colonel Stanton, Colonel Jordan, Frank Gruard, and myself. These men spoke in most favorable terms of the propositions laid down by General Crook, and old “Sitting Bull” (who, although bearing the same name, was as good asthe“Sitting Bull” was bad) assured General Crook that even if no other chief in the tribe assisted, he would gather together thirty-five or forty of his young men and go with the soldiers to help drive the hostiles back to their reservations.
Although frustrated by the machinations of underlings of the Indian Bureau at that particular time, all these men kept the word then given, and appeared in the campaign undertaken later on in the fall. “Sitting Bull” was too feeble to go out in person, but sent some of his best young men; and “Three Bears” and “Rocky Bear” went as they promised they would, and were among the bravest and most active of all the command, red or white. When Agent Hastings returned there seemed to be a great change in the feelings of the Indians, and it was evidentthat he had done his best to set them against the idea of helping in the campaign. He expressed himself to the effect that while he would not forbid any Indian from going, he would not recommend any such movement. General Crook said that at the council where General Grant had decided that the northern Sioux should go upon their reservations or be whipped, there were present, Secretary Chandler, Assistant Secretary Cowan, Commissioner Smith, and Secretary Belknap. The chiefs were, “Red Cloud,” “Old Man afraid of his Horses,” “Blue Horse,” “American Horse,” “Little Wound,” “Sitting Bull of the South,” and “Rocky Bear.” With Agent Hastings were, Inspector Vandever, and one of the contractors for Indian supplies, and Mr. R. E. Strahorn. The contractor to whom reference is here made was afterwards—in the month of November, 1878—convicted by a Wyoming court, for frauds at this time, at this Red Cloud Agency, and sent to the penitentiary for two years. Nothing came of this part of the conference; the Indians, acting under bad advice, as we learned afterwards, declined to entertain any proposition of enlisting their people as scouts, and were then told by General Crook that if they were not willing to do their part in maintaining order among their own people and in their own country, he would telegraph for the Crows, and Bannocks, and Shoshones to send down the bands they had asked permission to send.
The Sioux appeared very much better off than any of the tribes I had seen until that time. All of the men wore loose trousers of dark blue cloth; moccasins of buck or buffalo skin covered with bead work; and were wrapped in Mackinaw blankets, dark blue or black in color, closely enveloping the frame; some of these blankets were variegated by a transverse band of bright red cloth worked over with beads, while underneath appeared dark woollen shirts. Strings of beads, shells, and brass rings encircled each neck. The hair was worn long but plain, the median line painted with vermilion or red ochre. Their faces were not marked with paint of any kind, an unusual thing with Indians in those days.
Smoking was done with beautiful pipes of the reddish ochreous stone called “Catlinite,” brought from the quarries on the Missouri. The bowls were prolonged to allow the nicotine to flow downwards, and were decorated with inlaid silver, speaking highlyof the industrial capabilities of our aborigines. The stem was a long reed or handle of ash, perforated and beautifully ornamented with feathers and porcupine quills. Each smoker would take three or four whiffs, and then pass the pipe to the neighbor on his left.
General Crook was grievously disappointed at the turn affairs had taken, but he said nothing and kept his own counsel. Had he obtained three or four hundred warriors from Red Cloud and Spotted Tail the hostile element would have been reduced to that extent, and the danger to the feeble and poorly protected settlements along the Union Pacific lessened in the same ratio, leaving out of consideration any possible value these young men might be as scouts and trailers, familiar with all the haunts and devices of the hostiles. Be it remembered that while these efforts were going on, the hay scales at the Red Cloud Agency had been burned, and the government herds run off from both Red Cloud and Spotted Tail Agencies.
We left the Red Cloud Agency at four o’clock in the morning, and began the ascent of the Valley of the “White Earth” creek. After going several miles, on looking back we saw a great cloud of signal smoke puff up from the bluffs back of the Indian villages, but just what sort of a signal it was no one in our party knew. As it happened, we had a strong force, and instead of the usual escort of ten men or less, with which General Crook travelled from one post or agency to another, we had no less than sixty-five men all told, made up of Crook’s own escort, the escort of Paymaster Stanton, returning from the pay trip. Colonel Ludington, Inspector General of the Department of the Platte, was also present with his escort, returning from a tour of inspection of the troops and camps along the northern border. A dozen or more of the ranchers and others living in the country had improved the opportunity to get to the railroad with perfect safety, and thus we were a formidable body. At the head of the White Earth we halted alongside of a pretty spring to eat some lunch, and there were passed by the mail-rider, a man named Clark, who exchanged the compliments of the day, and then drove on toward the post which he was never to reach. He was ambuscaded and killed by the band of Sioux who had planned to assassinate Crook but were deterred by our unexpectedly large force, and, rather than go without killing something, slaughteredthe poor mail-rider, and drove off his horses. That was the meaning of the smoke puff at Red Cloud; it was, as we learned long afterwards, the signal to the conspirators that Crook and his party were leaving the post.
We passed through Laramie and on to Fetterman as fast as horses and mules could draw us. Not all the troops had yet reached Fetterman, the condition of the road from Medicine Bow being fearfully bad. Crook, after some difficulty, had a cable ferry established, in working order. The first day sixty thousand pounds of stores were carried across the river; the second, one hundred thousand pounds, besides soldiers by solid companies. Every wagon and nearly every mule and horse had to be carried over in the same manner, because the animals would not approach the swift current of the swollen Platte; here they showed more sense than the men in charge of them, and seemed to know instinctively that the current of the river was too strong to be breasted by man or horse. One of the teamsters, Dill, fell into the river, and was swept down before the eyes of scores of terrified spectators and drowned. The current had the velocity of a mill-race, and the depth was found to vary from ten to twelve feet close to the shore. Frank Gruard was sent across the North Platte with a small party of scouts and soldiers to examine into the condition of the road, and while out on this duty came very near being cut off by a reconnoitring band of the enemy.
General Crook assumed command in General Orders, No. 1, May 28, 1876. Colonel William B. Royall, Third Cavalry, was assigned to the command of the fifteen companies of cavalry forming part of the expedition, having under him Colonel Alexander W. Evans, commanding the ten companies of the Third Cavalry, and Major H. E. Noyes, commanding the five of the Second Cavalry.
Five companies of the Ninth and Fourth Infantry were placed under the command of Colonel Alexander Chambers, of the Fourth Infantry; Captain Nickerson and Lieutenant Bourke were announced as Aides-de-Camp; Captain George M. Randall, Twenty-third Infantry, as Chief of Scouts; Captain William Stanton as Chief Engineer Officer; Captain John V. Furey as Chief Quartermaster; First Lieutenant John W. Bubb as Commissary of Subsistence; Assistant Surgeon AlbertHartsuff as Medical Director. The companies starting out on this expedition and the officers connected with them were as follows: Company “A,” Third Cavalry, Lieutenant Charles Morton; Company “B,” Third Cavalry, Captain Meinhold, Lieutenant Simpson; Company “C,” Third Cavalry, Captain Van Vliet, Lieutenant Von Leuttewitz; Company “D,” Third Cavalry, Captain Guy V. Henry, Lieutenant W. W. Robinson; Company “E,” Third Cavalry, Captain Sutorius; Company “F,” Third Cavalry, Lieutenant B. Reynolds; Company “G,” Third Cavalry, Lieutenant Emmet Crawford; Company “I,” Third Cavalry, Captain Andrews, Lieutenants A. D. King and Foster; Company “L,” Third Cavalry, Captain P. D. Vroom, Lieutenant Chase; Company “M,” Third Cavalry, Captain Anson Mills and Lieutenants A. C. Paul and Schwatka; Company “A,” Second Cavalry, Captain Dewees, Lieutenant Peirson; Company “B,” Second Cavalry, Lieutenant Rawolle; Company “E,” Second Cavalry, Captain Wells, Lieutenant Sibley; Company “I,” Second Cavalry, Captain H. E. Noyes; Company “G,” Second Cavalry, Lieutenants Swigert and Huntington; Company “C,” Ninth Infantry, Captain Sam Munson, Lieutenant T. H. Capron; Company “H,” Ninth Infantry, Captain A. S. Burt, Lieutenant E. B. Robertson; Company “G,” Ninth Infantry, Captain T. B. Burroughs, Lieutenant W. L. Carpenter; Company “D,” Fourth Infantry, Captain A. B. Cain, Lieutenant H. Seton; Company “F,” Fourth Infantry, Captain Gerard Luhn.
Assistant surgeons: Patzki, Stevens, and Powell.
Chief of pack trains: Mr. Thomas Moore.
Chief of wagon trains: Mr. Charles Russell.
Guides: Frank Gruard, Louis Richaud, Baptiste Pourrier (“Big Bat”).
The press of the country was represented by Joseph Wasson, of thePress, Philadelphia,Tribune, New York, andAlta California, of San Francisco, California; Robert E. Strahorn, of theTribune, Chicago,Rocky Mountain News, Denver, Colorado,Sun, Cheyenne, Wyoming, andRepublican, Omaha, Nebraska; John F. Finerty,Times, Chicago; T. B. MacMillan,Inter-Ocean, Chicago; R. B. Davenport,Herald, New York.
Our camp on the north side of the North Platte presented a picturesque appearance, with its long rows of shelter tentsarranged symmetrically in a meadow bounded on three sides by the stream; the herds of animals grazing or running about; the trains of wagons and mules passing from point to point, united to form a picture of animation and spirit. We had a train of one hundred and three six-mule wagons, besides one of hundreds of pack-mules; and the work of ferriage became too great for mortal strength, and the ferrymen were almost exhausted both by their legitimate duties and by those of mending and splicing the boat and the cable which were leaking or snapping several times a day.
May 29, 1876, saw the column moving out from its camp in front of Fort Fetterman; the long black line of mounted men stretched for more than a mile with nothing to break the sombreness of color save the flashing of the sun’s rays back from carbines and bridles. An undulating streak of white told where the wagons were already under way, and a puff of dust just in front indicated the line of march of the infantry battalion. As we were moving along the same road described in the campaign of the winter, no further mention is necessary until after passing old Fort Reno. Meinhold, with two companies, was sent on in advance to reconnoitre the country, and report the state of the road as well as any signs of the proximity of large bands of the enemy. Van Vliet was instructed to push ahead, and keep a look-out for the Crow and Shoshone scouts who had promised to join the command at or near Reno. In spite of the fact that summer was already with us, a heavy snow-storm attacked the column on June 1st, at the time of our coming in sight of the Big Horn Mountains. The day was miserably cold, water froze in the camp-kettles, and there was much discomfort owing to the keen wind blowing down from the frozen crests of the Big Horn. From Reno, Gruard, Richaud, and “Big Bat” were sent to see what had become of the Crows, and lead them back to our command on the line of march.
Before he left Frank gave an account, from the story told him by the Sioux who had participated in it, of the massacre near this place of the force of officers and men enticed out from old Fort Kearney. In this sad affair we lost three officers—Fetterman, Brown, and Grummond—and seventy-five enlisted, with three civilians, names unknown. The Sioux admitted to Frank that they had suffered to the extent of one hundred and eighty-five,killed and wounded. I mention this story here at the place where we heard it from Frank’s lips, although we afterwards marched over the very spot where the massacre occurred.
We broke camp at a very early hour, the infantry being out on the road by four o’clock each morning, the cavalry remaining for some time later to let the animals have the benefit of the grass freshened by the frost of the night previous. We were getting quite close to Cloud Peak, the loftiest point in the Big Horn range; its massy dome towered high in the sky, white with a mantle of snow; here and there a streak of darkness betrayed the attempts of the tall pine trees on the summit to penetrate to the open air above them. Heavy belts of forest covered the sides of the range below the snow line, and extended along the skirts of the foot-hills well out into the plains below. The singing of meadow-larks, and the chirping of thousands of grasshoppers, enlivened the morning air; and save these no sound broke the stillness, except the rumbling of wagons slowly creeping along the road. The dismal snow-storm of which so much complaint had been made was rapidly superseded by most charming weather: a serene atmosphere, balmy breeze, and cloudless sky were the assurances that summer had come at last, and, as if anxious to repair past negligence, was about to favor us with all its charms. The country in which we now were was a great grassy plain covered with herbage just heading into seed. There was no timber except upon the spurs of the Big Horn, which loomed up on our left covered with heavy masses of pine, fir, oak, and juniper. From the innumerable seams and gashes in the flanks of this noble range issue the feeders of the Tongue and Powder, each insignificant in itself, but so well distributed that the country is as well adapted for pasturage as any in the world. The bluffs are full of coal of varying qualities, from lignite to a good commercial article; one of the men of the command brought in a curious specimen of this lignite, which at one end was coal and at the other was silicified. Buffalo tracks and Indian signs were becoming frequent.
Clear Creek, upon which we made camp, was a beautiful stream—fifty feet wide, two feet deep; current rapid and as much as eight miles an hour; water icy-cold from the melting of the snow-banks on the Big Horn; bottom of gravel; banks gently sloping; approaches good. Grass was excellent, but fuel ratherscarce in the immediate vicinity of the road. Birds, antelope, and fish began to figure on the mess canvas; the fish, a variety of sucker, very palatable, were secured by shooting a bullet under them and stunning them, so that they rose to the surface, and were then seized. Trout were not yet found; they appear in the greatest quantity in the waters of Tongue River, the next stream beyond to the west. There is a variety of tortoise in the waters of these mountains which is most toothsome, and to my uncultivated taste fully as good as the Maryland terrapin.
Here we were visited by messengers from a party of Montana miners who were travelling across country from the Black Hills back to the Yellowstone; the party numbered sixty-five, and had to use every precaution to prevent stampede and surprise; every night they dug rifle-pits, and surrounded themselves with rocks, palisades, or anything else that could be made to resist a charge from the Sioux, whose trails were becoming very thick and plenty. There were many pony, but few lodge-pole, tracks, a sure indication that the men were slipping out from Red Cloud and Spotted Tail agencies and uniting with the hostiles, but leaving their families at home, under the protection of the reservations. It always seemed to me that that little party of Montana miners displayed more true grit, more common sense, and more intelligence in their desperate march through a scarcely known country filled with hostile Indians than almost any similar party which I can now recall; they were prepared for every emergency, and did excellent service under Crook at the Rosebud; but before reaching their objective point, I am sorry to say, many of their number fell victims to a relentless and wily foe.
To prevent any stampede of our stock which might be attempted, our method of establishing pickets became especially rigid: in addition to the mounted vedettes encircling bivouac, and occupying commanding buttes and bluffs, solid companies were thrown out a mile or two in advance and kept mounted, with the purpose of holding in check all parties of the enemy which might attempt to rush down upon the herds and frighten them off by waving blankets, yelling, firing guns, or other tricks in which the savages were adepts. One platoon kept saddled ready for instant work; the others were allowed to loosen the cinches, but not to unsaddle. Eight miles from the ruins of old Fort Kearney, to the east, we passed Lake De Smet, named afterthe zealous missionary, Father De Smet, whose noble life was devoted to the advancement of the Sioux, Pawnees, Arapahoes, Crows, Blackfeet, Cheyennes, Cœurs d’Alenes, and Nez Percés, and whose silent ministrations refute the calumny that the American Indian is not responsive to efforts for his improvement. The view of this body of water, from the roadside, is very beautiful; in length, it is nearly three miles; in width, not quite a mile. The water is clear and cold, but alkaline and disagreeable to the taste. Game and ducks in great numbers resort to this lake, probably on account of the mineral contained in its waters, and a variety of pickerel is said to be abundant. Buffalo were seen near this bivouac—at old Fort Kearney—and elk meat was brought into camp with beaver, antelope, pin-tailed grouse, and sickle-billed curlew.
Our camp on Prairie Dog Creek, at its junction with the Tongue River, was memorable from being the scene of the killing of the first buffalo found within shooting distance of the column. Mosquitoes became troublesome near the water courses. Prairie-dog villages lined the trail in all places where the sandy soil admitted of easy digging. The last hour or two of this march was very unpleasant. The heat of the sun became almost unbearable. Dense masses of clouds moved sluggishly up from the west and north, while light flaky feathers of vapor flitted across the sky, coquetting with the breeze, now obscuring the sun, now revealing his rays. Low, rumbling thunder sullenly boomed across the horizon, and with the first flash of lightning changed into an almost continuous roar. The nearest peaks of the Big Horn were hid from our gaze. The heavy arch of clouds supported itself upon the crests of the bluffs enclosing the valley of our camp. It was a pretty picture; the parks of wagons and pack-mules, the bright rows of tentage, and the moving animals and men gave enough animation to relieve the otherwise too sombre view of the elements at war. Six buffaloes were killed this day.
On the 7th of June we buried the soldier of Meinhold’s company who had accidentally wounded himself with his own revolver while chopping wood. Besides the escort prescribed by the regulations, the funeral cortege was swollen by additions from all the companies of the expedition, the pack-train, wagoners, officers, and others, reaching an aggregate of over six hundred.Colonel Guy V. Henry, Third Cavalry, read in a very feeling manner the burial service from the “Book of Common Prayer,” the cavalry trumpets sounded “taps,” a handful of earth was thrown down upon the remains, the grave was rapidly filled up, and the companies at quick step returned to their tents. There was no labored panegyric delivered over the body of Tiernan, but the kind reminiscences of his comrades were equivalent to an eulogy of which an archbishop might have been proud. Soldiers are the freest from care of any set of men on earth; the grave had not closed on their comrade before they were discussing other incidents of the day, and had forgotten the sad rites of sepulture in which they had just participated. To be more charitable, we were seeing so much that was novel and interesting that it was impossible to chain the mind down to one train of thought. Captain Noyes had wandered off during the storm of the night previous, and remained out of camp all night hunting for good trout pools. A herd of buffaloes had trotted down close to our bivouac, and many of our command had been unable to resist the temptation to go out and have a shot; we knocked over half a dozen or more of the old bulls, and brought the meat back for the use of the messes.
The conversation ran upon the difficulty experienced by the pioneer party under Captain Andrews, Third Cavalry, in smoothing and straightening the road during the marches of the past two or three days. General Crook had been successful in finding the nests and the eggs of some rare birds, the white-ringed blackbird, the Missouri skylark, and the crow of this region. He had all his life been an enthusiastic collector of specimens in natural history, especially in all that relates to nests and eggs, and had been an appreciative observer of the valuable work done on the frontier in that direction by Captain Charles Bendire, of the First Cavalry.
During the 8th of June there was some excitement among us, owing to the interchange of conversation between our pickets and a party of Indians late the previous night. It could not be determined at the moment whether the language used was Sioux or Crow, or both, but there was a series of calls and questions which our men did not fully understand; one query was to the effect that ours might be a Crow camp. A pony was found outside our lines, evidently left by the visitors. Despatches werereceived by General Crook notifying him that all able-bodied male Indians had left the Red Cloud Agency, and that the Fifth Cavalry had been ordered up from Kansas to take post in our rear; also that the Shoshones had sent one hundred and twenty of their warriors to help him, and that we should look for their arrival almost any day. They were marching across the mountains from their reservation in the Wind River range, in the heart of the Rockies.
June 9, 1876, the monotony of camp life was agreeably broken by an attack upon our lines made in a most energetic manner by the Sioux and Cheyennes. We had reached a most picturesque and charming camp on the beautiful Tongue River, and had thrown out our pickets upon the hill tops, when suddenly the pickets began to show signs of uneasiness, and to first walk and then trot their horses around in a circle, a warning that they had seen something dangerous. The Indians did not wait for a moment, but moved up in good style, driving in our pickets and taking position in the rocks, from which they rained down a severe fire which did no great damage but was extremely annoying while it lasted. We had only two men wounded, one in the leg, another in the arm, both by glancing bullets, and neither wound dangerous, and three horses and two mules wounded, most of which died. The attacking party had made the mistake of aiming at the tents, which at the moment were unoccupied; but bullets ripped through the canvas, split the ridge poles, smashed the pipes of the Sibley stoves, and imbedded themselves in the tail-boards of the wagons. Burt, Munson, and Burroughs were ordered out with their rifles, and Mills was ordered to take his own company of the Third Cavalry and those of Sutorius, Andrews, and Lawson, from Royall’s command, and go across the Tongue and drive the enemy, which they did. The infantry held the buttes on our right until after sundown.
This attack was only a bluff on the part of “Crazy Horse” to keep his word to Crook that he would begin to fight the latter just as soon as he touched the waters of the Tongue River; we had scoffed at the message at first, believing it to have been an invention of some of the agency half-breeds, but there were many who now believed in its authenticity. Every one was glad the attack had been made; if it did nothing else, it proved thatwe were not going to have our marching for nothing; it kept vedettes and guards on the alert and camp in condition for fight at a moment’s notice. Grass becoming scarce on Tongue River Crook moved his command to the confluence of the two forks of Goose Creek, which is the largest affluent of the Tongue; the distance was a trifle over seventeen miles, and during the march a hail-storm of great severity visited us and continued its pestiferous attentions for some time after tents had been erected. The situation at the new camp had many advantages: excellent pasturage was secured from the slopes of the hills; water flowed in the greatest profusion—clear, sweet, and icy cold, murmuring gently in the channels on each side; fire-wood in sufficiency could be gathered along the banks; the view of the mountains was beautiful and exhilarating, and the climate serene and bracing. Goose Creek was twenty-five yards wide, with a uniform depth of three feet, but greatly swollen by recent rains and the melting of the snow-banks up in the mountains.
We had to settle down and await the return of Frank Gruard, Louis Richaud, and “Big Bat,” concerning whose safety not a few of the command began to express misgivings, notwithstanding they were all experienced frontiersmen, able to look out for their own safety under almost any contingencies. The more sanguine held to the view that the Crows had retired farther into their own country on account of the assembling of great bands of their enemies—the Sioux and Cheyennes—and that our emissaries had to travel much farther than they had first contemplated. But they had been separated from us for ten or twelve days, and it was becoming a matter of grave concern what to do about them.
In a bivouac of that kind the great object of life is to kill time. Drilling and guard duty occupy very few minutes, reading and writing become irksome, and conversation narrowly escapes the imputation of rank stupidity. We had enjoyed several pony races, but the best plugs for that sort of work—Major Burt’s white and Lieutenant Robertson’s bay—had both been shot during the skirmish of the 9th of the month, the former fatally, and we no longer enjoyed the pleasure of seeing races in which the stakes were nothing but a can of corn or a haunch of venison on each side, but which attracted as large and as deeply interested crowds as many more pretentious affairs within thelimits of civilization. The sending in of the mail every week or ten days excited a ripple of concern, and the packages of letters made up to be forwarded showed that our soldiers were men of intelligence and not absolutely severed from home ties. The packages were wrapped very tightly, first in waxed cloth and then in oiled muslin, the official communications of most importance being tied to the courier’s person, the others packed on a led mule. At sundown the courier, Harrison, who had undertaken this dangerous business, set out on his return to Fort Fetterman, accompanied by a non-commissioned officer whose time had expired. They were to ride only by night, and never follow the road too closely; by hiding in little coves high up in the hills during the day they could most easily escape detection by prowling bands of Indians coming out from the agencies, but at best it was taking their lives in their hands.
The packers organized a foot-race, and bets as high as five and ten thousand dollars were freely waged. These were of the class known in Arizona as “jawbone,” and in Wyoming as “wind”; the largest amount of cash that I saw change hands was twenty-five cents. Rattlesnakes began to emerge from their winter seclusion, and to appear again in society; Lieutenant Lemly found an immense one coiled up in his blankets, and waked the echoes with his yells for help. The weather had assumed a most charming phase; the gently undulating prairie upon whose bosom camp reposed was decked with the greenest and most nutritive grasses; our animals lazily nibbled along the hill skirts or slept in the genial light of the sun. In the shade of the box-elder and willows along the stream beds the song of the sweet-voiced meadow lark was heard all day. At rare moments the chirping of grasshoppers might be distinguished in the herbage; in front of our line of tents a cook was burning or browning coffee—it was just as often one as the other—an idle recruit watching the process with a semi-attentive stupefaction. The report of a carbine, aimed and fired by one exasperated teamster at another attracted general notice; the assailant was at once put in confinement and a languid discussion of the merits or supposed merits of the case undulated from tent to tent. Parties of whist-players devoted themselves to their favorite game; other players eked out a share of diversion with home-made checker-boards. Those who felt disposed totest their skill as anglers were fairly rewarded; the trout began to bite languidly at first and with exasperating deliberation, but making up for it all later on, when a good mess could be hooked in a few minutes. Noyes and Wells and Randall were the trout maniacs, but they had many followers in their gentle lunacy, which, before the hot weather had ended, spread throughout the whole command. Mills and his men were more inclined to go up in the higher altitudes and hunt for bear; they brought in a good-sized “cinnamon,” which was some time afterwards followed by other specimens of the bruin family; elk and deer and buffaloes, the last chiefly the meat of old bulls driven out of the herds to the northwest, gave relish and variety to the ordinary rations and additional topics for conversation.
General Crook was an enthusiastic hunter and fisher, and never failed to return with some tribute exacted from the beasts of the hills or the swimmers of the pools; but he frequently joined Burt and Carpenter in their search for rare birds and butterflies, with which the rolling plains at the base of the Big Horn were filled. We caught one very fine specimen of the prairie owl, which seemed wonderfully tame, and comported itself with rare dignity; the name of “Sitting Bull” was conferred unanimously, and borne so long as the bird honored camp with its presence. Lieutenant Foster made numbers of interesting sketches of the scenery of the Big Horn and the hills nearest the Goose Creek; one of the packers, a man with decided artistic abilities, named Stanley, was busy at every spare moment sketching groups of teamsters, scouts, animals, and wagons, with delicacy of execution and excellent effect. Captain Stanton, our engineer officer, took his altitudes daily and noted the positions of the stars. Newspapers were read to pieces, and such books as had found their way with the command were passed from hand to hand and read eagerly. Mr. Wasson and I made an arrangement to peruse each day either one of Shakespeare’s plays or an essay by Macaulay, and to discuss them together. The discovery of the first mess of luscious strawberries occasioned more excitement than any of the news received in the journals of the time, and an alarm on the picket line from the accidental discharge of a carbine or rifle would bring out all the conversational strength of young and old.
It was whispered that one of our teamsters was a woman, and no other than “Calamity Jane,” a character famed in borderstory; she had donned the raiment of the alleged rougher sex, and was skinning mules with the best of them. She was eccentric and wayward rather than bad, and had adopted male attire more to aid her in getting a living than for any improper purpose. “Jane” was as rough and burly as any of her messmates, and it is doubtful if her sex would ever have been discovered had not the wagon-master noted that she didn’t cuss her mules with the enthusiasm to be expected from a graduate of Patrick & Saulsbury’s Black Hills Stage Line, as she had represented herself to be. The Montana miners whom we had found near old Fort Reno began to “prospect” the gulches, but met with slight success.
During the afternoon of June 14th Frank Gruard and Louis Richaud returned, bringing with them an old Crow chief; they reported having been obliged to travel as far as old Fort Smith, on the Big Horn, and that they had there seen a large village of Crows, numbering more than two hundred lodges. While preparing a cup of coffee the smoke from their little fire was discovered by the Crow scouts, and all the young warriors of the village, mistaking them for a small band of Sioux raiders, charged across the river and attacked them, nearly killing both Frank and Bat before mutual recognition was made and satisfactory greetings exchanged. The Crows were at first reluctant to send any of their men to aid in the war against the Sioux, alleging that they were compelled to get meat for their women and children, and the buffaloes were now close to them in great herds; we might stay out too long; the enemy was so close to the Crows that reprisals might be attempted, and many of the Crow women, children, and old men would fall beneath the bullet and the lance. But at last they consented to send a detachment of one hundred and seventy-five of their best men to see Crook and talk the matter over. Frank led them to our deserted camp on the Tongue River, upon seeing which they became alarmed, and supposed that we must have had a defeat from the Sioux and been compelled to abandon the country; only sixteen followed further; of these Frank and Louis took the old chief and rode as rapidly as possible to our camp on the Goose, leaving Bat to jog along with fifteen others and join at leisure.
General Crook ordered a hot meal of coffee, sugar, biscuits, butter, venison, and stewed dried apples to be set before the guest and guides, and then had a long talk with the formerthrough the “sign language,” the curious medium of correspondence between all the tribes east of the Rocky Mountains, from the Saskatchewan to the Pecos. This language is ideagraphic and not literal in its elements, and has strong resemblance to the figure speech of deaf mutes. Every word, every idea to be conveyed, has its characteristic symbol; the rapidity of transmission is almost telegraphic; and, as will be demonstrated later on, every possible topic finds adequate expression. The old chief explained to Frank that the troops from Montana (Gibbon’s command) were encamped on the left bank of the Yellowstone, opposite the mouth of the Rosebud, unable to cross; the hostile Sioux were watching the troops from the other side. An attempt made by Gibbon to throw his troops across had resulted in the drowning of one company’s horses in the flood; the Sioux had also, in some unexplained way, succeeded in running off the ponies belonging to the thirty Crow scouts attached to Gibbon’s command.
The main body of the hostile Sioux and Cheyennes was encamped on the Tongue, near the mouth of Otter Creek, and between that and the Yellowstone. The Crows had heard that a large band of Shoshones had started out to join Crook, and should soon be with him at his present camp. It was a small detachment of Crow scouts that had alarmed our pickets by yelling some ten nights previously. As soon as the meal and the conversation were ended Crook sent the old chief back with Louis Richaud and Major Burt, who from previous service among the Crows was well acquainted with many of them, to halt the main body and induce them to enter our camp. Burt was entirely successful in his mission, and before dusk he was with us again, this time riding at the head of a long retinue of savage retainers, whose grotesque head-dresses, variegated garments, wild little ponies, and war-like accoutrements made a quaint and curious spectacle.
While the main column halted just inside our camp, the three chiefs—“Old Crow,” “Medicine Crow,” and “Good Heart”—were presented to General Crook, and made the recipients of some little attentions in the way of food. Our newly-arrived allies bivouacked in our midst, sending their herd of ponies out to graze alongside of our own horses. The entire band numbered one hundred and seventy-six, as near as we could ascertain; each had two ponies. The first thing they did was to erect the war-lodgesof saplings, covered over with blankets or pieces of canvas; fires were next built, and a feast prepared of the supplies of coffee, sugar, and hard-tack dealt out by the commissary; these are the prime luxuries of an Indian’s life. A curious crowd of lookers-on—officers, soldiers, teamsters, and packers—congregated around the little squads of Crows, watching with eager attention their every movement. The Indians seemed proud of the distinguished position they occupied in popular estimation, and were soon on terms of easy familiarity with the soldiers, some of whom could talk a sentence or two of Crow, and others were expert to a slight extent in the sign language.
In stature, complexion, dress, and general demeanor a marked contrast was observable between our friends and the Sioux Indians, a contrast decidedly to the advantage of the former. The Absaroka or Crow Indians, perhaps as a consequence of their residence among the elevated banks and cool, fresh mountain ranges between the Big Horn River and the Yellowstone, are somewhat fairer than the other tribes about them; they are all above medium height, not a few being quite tall, and many have a noble expression of countenance. Their dress consisted of a shirt of flannel, cotton, or buckskin; breech-clout; leggings of blanket; moccasins of deer, elk, or buffalo hide; coat of bright-colored blanket, made with loose sleeves and hood; and a head-dress fashioned in divers shapes, but most frequently formed from an old black army hat, with the top cut out and sides bound round with feathers, fur, and scarlet cloth. Their arms were all breechloaders, throwing cartridges of calibre .50 with an occasional .45. Lances, medicine-poles, and tomahawks figured in the procession. The tomahawks, made of long knives inserted in shafts or handles of wood and horn, were murderous weapons. Accompanying these Indians were a few little boys, whose business was to hold horses and other unimportant work while their elders conducted the dangerous operations of the campaign.
At “retreat” all the battalion commanders and staff officers assembled in front of the tent of the commanding general, and listened to his terse instructions regarding the approaching march. We were to cut loose from our wagons, each officer and soldier carrying four days’ rations of hard bread, coffee, and bacon in saddle-pockets, and one hundred rounds of ammunition in belts or pouches; one blanket to each person. The wagonswere to be parked and left behind in a defensible position on the Tongue or Goose, and under the protection of the men unable for any reason to join in the forward movement; all the infantrymen who could ride and who so desired were to be mounted on mules from the pack-trains with saddles from the wagons or from the cavalry companies which could spare them. If successful in attacking a village, the supplies of dried meat and other food were to be saved, and we should then, in place of returning immediately to our train, push on to make a combination with either Terry or Gibbon, as the case might be.
Scarcely had this brief conference been ended when a long line of glittering lances and brightly polished weapons of fire announced the anxiously expected advent of our other allies, the Shoshones or Snakes, who, to the number of eighty-six, galloped rapidly up to headquarters and came left front into line in splendid style. No trained warriors of civilized armies ever executed the movement more prettily. Exclamations of wonder and praise greeted the barbaric array of these fierce warriors, warmly welcomed by their former enemies but at present strong friends—the Crows. General Crook moved out to review their line of battle, resplendent in all the fantastic adornment of feathers, beads, brass buttons, bells, scarlet cloth, and flashing lances. The Shoshones were not slow to perceive the favorable impression made, and when the order came for them to file off by the right moved with the precision of clock-work and the pride of veterans.
A grand council was the next feature of the evening’s entertainment. Around a huge fire of crackling boughs the officers of the command arranged themselves in two rows, the interest and curiosity depicted upon their countenances acting as a foil to the stolidity and imperturbable calmness of the Indians squatted upon the ground on the other side. The breezes blowing the smoke aside would occasionally enable the flames to bring out in bold and sudden relief the intense blackness of the night, the sepulchral whiteness of the tents and wagon-sheets, the blue coats of officers and soldiers (who thronged among the wagons behind their superiors), the red, white, yellow, and black beaded blankets of the savages, whose aquiline features and glittering eyes had become still more aquiline and still more glittering, and the small group in the centre of the circle composed ofGeneral Crook and his staff, the interpreters—Frank Gruard and “Big Bat” and Louis—and the Indian chiefs. One quadrant was reserved for the Shoshones, another for the Crows. Each tribe selected one spokesman, who repeated to his people the words of the General as they were made known by the interpreters. Ejaculations of “Ugh! ugh!” were the only signs of approval, but it was easy enough to see that nothing was lost that was addressed to them. Pipes of the same kind as those the Sioux have were kept in industrious circulation. The remarks made by General Crook were almost identical with those addressed to the Crows alone earlier in the evening; the Indians asked the privilege of scouting in their own way, which was conceded.
An adjournment was ordered at between ten and eleven o’clock to allow such of our allies as so desired to seek much-needed rest. The Shoshones had ridden sixty miles, and night was far advanced. The erroneousness of this assumption was disclosed very speedily. A long series of monotonous howls, shrieks, groans, and nasal yells, emphasized by a perfectly ear-piercing succession of thumps upon drums improvised from“parfleche”(tanned buffalo skin), attracted nearly all the soldiers and many of the officers not on duty to the allied camp. Peeping into the different lodges was very much like peeping through the key-hole of Hades.
Crouched around little fires not affording as much light as an ordinary tallow candle, the swarthy figures of the naked and half-naked Indians were visible, moving and chanting in unison with some leader. No words were distinguishable; the ceremony partook of the nature of an abominable incantation, and as far as I could judge had a semi-religious character. One of the Indians, mounted on a pony and stripped almost naked, passed along from lodge to lodge, stopping in front of each and calling upon the Great Spirit (so our interpreter said) to send them plenty of scalps, a big Sioux village, and lots of ponies. The inmates would respond with, if possible, increased vehemence, and the old saying about making night hideous was emphatically suggested. With this wild requiem ringing in his ears one of our soldiers, a patient in hospital, Private William Nelson, Company “L,” Third Cavalry, breathed his last. The herd of beef cattle, now reduced to six, became scared by the din and broke madly for the hills. All night the rain pattered down.