By this time the whole country was aroused. The news was heralded abroad on the wings of the wind. The newspapers, as is their custom, in glaring headlines, magnified the extent of the depredations, and gave alarming accounts of the atrocities committed by the Indians. Everybody was on the lookout, those in the neighborhood fearing a visitation of the marauders, and those far away living in expectation of the next savage depredation. The excitement reached such a high degree of intensity that the department ordered Lieutenant-Colonel Lewis to take charge of the field of action, which for some time had been a field of inaction as the gentleman who was supposed to be at the head of the movement against the Indians was but a poor apology for a successful military commander. It may be well to remark that this man was soon relegated to the military scrap-heap in disgrace.
When Lieut-Col. Lewis was notified of the appointment, he responded with alacrity. He set out at once from Dodge City with his command. He soon was on the trail of the Indians. A short journey westward brought him to the point where the band had crossed the Arkansas on their way northward.
In the meantime the Indians were pursuing their way with considerable speed. They may have realized that another expedition would be organized to follow on their trail, or another commander would be put in charge of the one they had left so unceremoniously on the night of their escape, but whatever their conclusions were, they did not stop to commit any more outrages until they reached the North Beaver, or Sand Creek. On their arrival there, they saw they were about to have a fight on their hands, as the lieutenant-colonel had followed their trail with such speed that he was almost upon them. Escape for the time being was out of the question, andthey resolved to fight. Lewis did not want to kill them, but preferred to have them surrender and return to the reservation. Such idea did not enter into Dull Knife’s calculations, and he decided to fight rather than return to the place of his recent abode.
It was now getting late in the afternoon. Considerable sharp-shooting had been done on both sides for some time, and then a skirmish took place. Each party was doing what execution it could without exposing itself to any more danger than was necessary. The Indians endeavored to make every shot count as their ammunition was getting scarce, and the soldiers were employing the same mode of warfare as their opponents, though it was not the scarcity of powder, but rather the desire to preserve their anatomy from the missiles of the enemy that induced them to seek shelter behind every bush and hillock. The lieutenant-colonel was a busy man, directing the operations of his troops, and looking after things in general. The battle lagged along until evening, without much evidence of success for either party. Towards evening Lewis rode out to the firing line to get a closer view of things and to lend his men the encouragement of his presence. When he reached the zone of fire, one of the Indian scouts approached him and advised him to dismount from his horse as he would very probably be shot if he remained exposed in such a manner to the fire of the enemy. The lieutenant-colonel did not heed the advice so freely given by his scout, and in less than ten minutes he received a bullet in the thigh. The missile struck an artery, and as a result, the lieutenant-colonel died a few hours later from loss of blood, (My authority for the above statement is G. W. Brown, who was lying not twenty feet away when the scout gave the warning of danger. This gentleman, is now living at Cushion Oil Field). He piloted the ambulance bearing the lieutenant colonel under the command of Lieutenant Gardner and escort to Fort Wallace that same night, as he was familiar with that part of the country owingto the fact that he had hunted buffalo all through that section of the country in the early days. After the escort had proceeded on its journey for about six miles, a rider returned to the lieutenant and told him that the lieutenant-colonel had died. This sad news was a shock to the company, as he was a man of the highest type of bravery, and his demise was regretted by every man in the command. When the news was first broken to the troops a look of grim determination settled upon the countenance of every man, which meant that at the first opportunity they would avenge the death of him who they loved so well. The fortunes of war averted the blow for the present, for, during the night, Dull Knife and his followers fled, leaving nothing behind but the embers of his camp fires to show where he had taken his stand. The soldiers started in hot pursuit, as they did not want their enemies to go unpunished. They had not followed the trail very far when they learned that the Indians had divided their forces and gone in different directions. Wild Hog, the chief adviser of Dull Knife went towards the north-east, over to Sappa Creek, where he and his followers murdered over forty persons, pillaged their stock and burned what they could not conveniently carry off. Dull Knife with the rest of the band headed due north. This division of the Indians compelled the soldiers to adopt the same method of procedure. They were accordingly organized into two divisions and set off in hot pursuit of their wily foes. From this time onward the expedition assumed the character of a running fight. This system of pillage, and plunder, on the part of the Indians, with the pursuit on the part of the soldiers, was maintained until the 7th Cavalry, under General Samuel D. Sturgis succeeded in capturing both bands on the Niobrara River in the vicinity of the place in which Camp Niobrara was built, and about 15 miles east of Camp Sheridan. This event occured in the month of October, 1878, but I cannot give the exact date of the occurrence. The captives were then taken as prisonersof war to Fort Robinson, Neb., or, as it was then called, Camp Robinson. They were placed in the guard house and held there until New Year’s night, 1879, when they broke out, killed the guards and made their escape through the sand hills until they had almost reached the Wyoming line.
When the news was brought that Dull Knife had killed his guards and made his escape, everything was in a flutter of excitement. Preparations were immediately made for pursuit. At dawn, as soon as it was possible to observe the direction of the trail, the bugle sounded and the Third Cavalry mounted their horses and set out in pursuit of the wily old villain who had so often eluded them. They followed hastily all forenoon and the further they advanced, the clearer the signs manifested to them the fact that they were close upon the fleeing Indians. In the afternoon they overtook the band in the said hills close to the border line of Wyoming. When Captain Wessels rode up to them, he immediately ordered them to surrender. Dull Knife’s reply to this was a rifle shot that killed an Indian scout belonging to the cavalry. He repeated with another shot at Captain Wessels. The bullet struck the captain but did not inflict a mortal wound. The action of Dull Knife was a sufficient guarantee that he did not intend to surrender, and immediately the troops poured a succession of volleys into the foe. When the smoke of battle cleared away, and the few who remained alive surrendered, it was discovered that Dull Knife himself, his daughter who was present, and about two thirds of his followers had all gone to the Happy Hunting Grounds together. After giving the proper attention to the wounded, and burying the dead, the troops with the prisoners returned to Camp Robinson. Among the number returning to the fort were Wild Hog and many other leading spirits of the movement. They were held there until the spring of 1879, when the leaders were sent to Dodge City, Ford county, Kansas to be tried for murder and other crimes.
I called upon those notable characters while they were supposed to be in durance vile, and found them the most conspicuous and best entertained men in prison. The representatives of different illustrated newspapers were there, sketching their pictures, and treating them to cigars. It was certainly a very novel sight to me, and I thought it strange that the citizens of Dodge City had not formed a necktie party for the entertainment of the whole party of savages, for they were well aware of the characters of their guests and well acquainted with the amount of crime and rascality they had perpetrated almost within view of the town itself. However, everything seemed to be following along the even tenor of its way, and I came to the conclusion that Dodge City was a very law abiding city, and was a good town to live in (especially when one is acquainted with the early history of the place). I cannot refrain from remarking that, if a white man, or a body of white men, had been guilty of one-tenth of the crimes perpetrated by the Indians who were then sojourning in their town, they would have been hanged as high as they could be raised on a lariat rope, or shot to pieces in the streets. Strange are the dealings of man with man.
Great Awakening of the West; Buffalo Hunters; Quakers’ Influence; Indian Disturbances; A Treaty Made and Broken, Etc.
When the first railroad construction train started West from the Missouri River, with its gangs of graders, tie-slingers, and track layers, the sound of the locomotive whistle proclaimed to the Indian more plainly than any language could do, that the days of his activity over that vast expanse of country were about to terminate, peaceably if possible, but forcibly if necessary. The company kept in its employ one or more buffalo hunters to supply the boarding car with fresh meat which was plentiful on the prairie in those days. The engineers had staked out the right-of-way, and established the different grades in advance, and everything was kept in good shape for the speedy progress of the work. The Indian saw all this. He also saw the graders, the tracklayers, the spike drivers, and heard the locomotive whistle. He saw the engineers and the buffalo hunters, but he failed to see the real cause of his trouble. He could not see the promoters of that great undertaking and enterprise, because they were beyond the reach of his limited vision. They were in their luxurious offices figuring on the possibilities and probabilities of one day declaring large dividends on that stupendous undertaking that was to reach out to the gold mines of Colorado and on through the mountains to the Pacific coast. The promoters could see at a glance that it was useless to expect any great returns from the capital invested if they were to be dependent on any freight or traffic from the Indian. They needed not to be told that he was not an agriculturist. He was not a stockman and had no use for agricultural implementssuch as threshers, sulky plows, fanning mills or corn shellers. He made his living by hunting and fishing and was to a certain extent self supporting and independent of all railroads. He was not accustomed to take his squaw and papooses to any foreign watering place to spend the summer. Whenever he felt like taking a few days’ recreation, he bundled his camp equipage and with his family started for some creek where there were plenty of fish and there remained until his visit was completed. Sometimes several families went together and had a big time talking over Indian customs and the ways of the white man. This had been their custom from time immemorial and any act performed by the white man to disturb his equanimity or distract him, was looked upon as an outrage and sacrilege, and any who did such things were served with summary punishment.
The capitalists could see at a glance that the Indians were not a class of people to build up a profitable industry and felt it their duty to remove them from that section of the country in order to induce stockmen and farmers to occupy it. As a step in that direction they created a market for buffalo hides, which seemed to have the desired effect, for it was but a short time until many adventurous spirits who could gather together enough money to buy a span of ponies, a wagon and ammunition for the purpose, were engaged in the business, some as hunters, others as skinners. As soon as they had a load of hide they shipped them to market and with the proceeds prepared for another trip to the range again. Few but the hardiest and bravest young men could stand the dangers, trials, and exposure which they confronted in all kinds of weather.
There was one young man that I feel a pardonable pride in mentioning as engaged in that undertaking, namely W. F. Cody, who by his dexterity with the rifle had acquired the title of “Buffalo Bill,†and who had become famous as an Indian scout and had established an international reputation as the greatest marksman andhorseback rider in the western plains. He was also chief of scouts and confidential friend of General Phil Sheridan, and at this writing is the owner and proprietor of Buffalo Bill’s Wild West Show. His was a plain case of ‘survival of the fittest.’ The Indian looked upon his kind as trespassers and intruders and as he had no navy or war department behind him other than the tribal medicine man who decided the war movements of his tribe by incantations or by observation of the way the smoke blew from his camp fire, after deliberating on the general condition of the country, the signs of the moon, as well as the inroads the hunters were making on the buffalo which he considered his private property, decided to go on the warpath and kill off a few buffalo hunters and discourage any future invasion of what he felt was his private right. When he began his undertaking he soon learned that hunting the buffalo hunter was entirely different from hunting the buffalo, and it was a work that two could engage in from opposite angles, at the same time, with the advantage greatly in favor of the buffalo hunter as he was always well armed, and an expert marksman; and in this particular they soon learned to have a high regard for Buffalo Bill. To such a degree did they come to admire him that they looked upon him as a being of a higher order, and not of the common clay. Things came to such a pass after some experience with the buffalo hunter, that the Indian never took any chances with him, but when the hunter pointed to a distant horizon, the aborigines usually followed the direction without further parley.
Prior to the time of which I write, the Quaker sect came into close touch with the Indian Department in Washington, D. C., and formed what was called the Indian Bureau. They urged the only sane and proper way to civilize the Indian was to educate him and teach him agriculture. General Hazen was placed at the head of the movement and a conference was called at Medicine Lodge, Kansas, which the Comanches, Kiowas,Cheyennes, and Arapahoes were invited to attend. General Harney presided, surrounded by reporters, interpreters and such other attendants as were required to lend dignity to a court of such magnitude. After several days of vexation and worry, they succeeded in formulating a treaty which was supposed to be signed by all the chiefs of those different tribes, by which they agreed, for certain considerations made and provided, to vacate all that country lying between the Platte and Arkansas Rivers and go southward to take up their permanent abode in what was then known as Indian Territory. The Comanches and Kiowas were located on Red River and in the vicinity of the Wichita mountains. The Arapahoes were located south of the North Canadian. The Cheyennes were allotted the country along Pond Creek, in what was known as Cherokee strip. The Quakers were not slow to learn that they had made a fatal mistake in locating the Cheyennes so close to the state line of Kansas, as the State of Kansas at that time was not governed by prohibition laws and the bootlegger was abroad in the land, and unless some steps were taken very speedily it would be a question of only a short time before the bootlegger would have all the Indians’ portable possessions over in the State of Kansas. I happen to be personally acquainted with a man who was engaged in that business and he told me that at one time he had traded a boot full of whiskey for nine head of ponies. He had no jug and rather than lose the deal, he pulled off his boot and filled it from his keg and then started off with his ponies for Kansas. The agent left in charge readily saw that such conditions could not hold out long. There were marshals who had been appointed to guard and protect the interests of the Indians, but some of them were in secret collusion with the bootlegger and received a share of the gain. As a consequence of this condition the agent decided to remove the Cheyennes southward to the North Canadian where a permanent agency was established and put under the control andmanagement of Mr. Darling and even to this day is known as the Darlington Agency. A large portion of the Cheyenne tribe settled there and adopted the white man’s way of farming. After they drew their allottments, the government employed white men to go among them and instruct them in the management of their affairs, and how to sow and cultivate their crops. Women were also sent as matrons among them to instruct the squaws in the art of fulfilling household and social duties. Schools were built and teachers employed, and the advance they have made is really surprising.
The treaty of Medicine Lodge, it was hoped, would put an end to all hostilities between the Indians and the whites and bring about a settled condition of affairs, but such was not to be the case, for a large percent of the Cheyennes and a considerable portion of the Arapahoes became disgruntled and claimed they had not signed the treaty, and others claimed that the interpreters did not properly translate their wishes and said they were not going south to the Territory and would not comply with any of the requirements of the treaty, or, in other words, they were going to stay where they were, and go and come as they pleased regardless of the white man’s feelings in the matter. The leaders of this discontented branch of the different tribes were Roman Nose, Black Kettle, Turkey Leg, and Dull Knife, with a few smaller chiefs. These bands of Indians kept roaming back and forth between the Platte River on the north and the Cimmaron River on the south and west to the Rocky Mountains, and at one time went eastward as far as Council Grove, Kansas, where the Kaw Indians, a peaceable tribe, were located. They raided them and after killing a few of them, ran off their stock and returned to their favorite hunting grounds.
This was kept up continually for years. Robbing stage coaches, killing freighters, raiding stock ranches, or murdering the frontier settlers seemed to be a favorite pastime with them. Ever since the treaty of MedicineLodge, they kept growing bolder and more threatening. Brigadier General Sully who was in command at Fort Larned at that time, called their attention to the fact that there had to be a change in their attitude toward the whites, or he would be compelled to take action against them. When they received this notice a delegation of the leaders called on the General for a conference. They reported that all the mischief had been perpetrated by some young Indians that were dissatisfied with the treaty, and had acted entirely contrary to the wishes of their leaders. They begged him to supply them with ammunition and arms, and assured him that there would be no more trouble along that line. The foxy old bucks knew that they were lying and if the old general had been educated on the plains instead of a military academy, he would have known it too but he was one of those good-natured, easy-going old fogies who were much more intended to take charge of a Sunday school class than of a branch of the army. At all events, after a good deal of palavering and soft-soaping the old general issued an order for the agent to turn over to them the firearms with the understanding that they should return to the reservation and behave themselves and commit no further depredations on any person; all of which they meekly agreed to perform. It was not 24 hours after receiving the arms until old Black Kettle with a few of his confederates were making medicine on the Pawnee and Walnut Creeks. The band started north to the Saline River and commenced the most atrocious murders, rapes, and other acts too abominable to be placed in print. They did not stop there to complete their work of plunder and pillage, but hastened on until they reached the Solomon river where their villanous and blood-thirsty designs were carried out in full force and effect. They murdered about fifteen farmers and two women, and committed other depredations and horrors too hideous to repeat here. They carried off all the stock they could find, besides taking away two little girls who were never heard ofafterwards. On their return to the Saline River they started in to complete the work of destruction they had only partly accomplished on their way to the Solomon. By this time the farmers had congregated at a farm house and were making ready to fight them when they should arrive. They did not have long to wait, for they were hardly inside the farm house when the Indians appeared and began their pow-wow and war cry and firing into the dwelling. Just about the time they were getting under headway with the work of pillage and plunder, Captain Benteen heard the firing and came to the rescue of the settlers. He had heard at Fort Zarah that the Indians were on the war-path and how they had treated two women who were afterwards taken to the fort for care and protection after their bitter experience with the noble red Man. He started out with a troop of cavalry and reached the besieged just in time to save them from the horrors which they would be compelled to face if captured. There were 200 Cheyennes on that raid and when Captain Benteen appeared on the scene, they scattered like a flock of quail. These Indians drifted back in the direction whence they had come and remained a short while with the Black Kettle band on the Walnut and finally crossed the Arkansas and went southward toward the Cimmaron River.
The old brigadier general had by this time awakened from his lethargy and found that he had been out-generalled by the Indians. He decided to take immediate steps to punish them for their treachery and deception. There was a large body of Indians operating between the Arkansas and Cimmaron, and Brigadier General Sully concluded to go out and give them a good thrashing to settle accounts for their past treachery and misdeeds. These Indians were a mixed body of different tribes and seemed as anxious to meet the general as he was to meet them. After three different engagements in which the general was defeated, he was compelled to return to Fort Dodge to avoid being captured by them.
Sheridan’s Arrival; Kansas Volunteers’ Disasterous March; Sheridan’s Activity; Custer’s Engagement With the Indians, Etc.
About this time General Phil. H. Sheridan made his appearance in the Indian country, bringing some additional soldiers under the command of General Custer. He also asked for a regiment of Kansas volunteers. His request was granted and the recruits were placed under the command of Colonel Crawford with orders to meet General Sheridan at the junction of Wolf and Beaver Creeks, or what is now known as Camp Supply.
When the regiment had been enrolled and the men were ready and anxious to make the journey, General Sheridan, in order to facilitate matters and avoid any disappointment, sent two guides to pilot the new recruits to their destination. It was now getting late in the year and each day brought its quota of snow, rain, or sleet, but in spite of such unfavorable conditions, the boys made no complaint, but rode patiently along their tedious journey. After they had been out a few days the colonel seemed to grow impatient and irritable, and began to dictate to the guides and volunteered his advice as to the direction they should pursue. He wanted to turn to the left and cross the Cimmaron River and insisted on his idea to such a degree that the guides, or scouts, withdrew their services then and there and left him to select when and where he would elect to ford the river. The weather being stormy the Colonel lost his way and through his impatience finally lost his head and did not know where he was. The brakes and canyons on the north side of the river were filled with snow that had drifted in from the prairie. In his desperation hestarted to cross the stream and spent several days floundering around through the snowbanks and drifts. After he succeeded in crossing the river he found it as hard to get out of the difficulty as it was to get into it. To add to his misfortune, he had neglected to bring along sufficient food for horses or men. However, he succeeded in getting out and up on the flats south of the river at the expense of a great number of horses, but was fortunate enough not to lose a single man. The situation was not improved in any measure as he did not know where he was. He continued southward until he reached the North Canadian River. Here his remaining horses kept themselves alive by browsing in the timber while the men were compelled to live on what hackberries they could find.
As Colonel Crawford did not arrive at the expected time, nor for several days afterward, General Sheridan became anxious for his safety and sent out scouts to see if any trace of him could be found. With much risk and effort they found the colonel and what was left of his cavalry about twenty miles below the designated place of meeting. To say they were in a deplorable condition, would be putting it mildly. The moment General Sheridan received word of the disaster that had befallen Colonel Crawford’s command, he sent out men and teams to their relief with instructions to bring them into camp. The relief party did not arrive any too soon as the men and horses were in a very sorry plight, owing to their lack of nourishing food. One thing alone was in their favor in their present deplorable condition and that was the abundant supply of dead timber at hand which afforded them an opportunity to keep warm, or rather keep from freezing, a thing which was entirely lacking on the Cimmaron. I may as well say that they were all afoot by this time, as the horses that were still alive, were reduced to such a state of weakness that they were unable to carry their riders. It took two days to get them into camp, owing to their enfeebled condition. General Sheridan’s headquarters was then located on the northbank of the North Canadian river about four or five miles south east of where the present city of Woodward, Okla., is situated. On the departure of the command from Topeka the newspapers in flaming headlines announced the affair to the world, but their great expectations were converted into “Crawford’s Calamity.â€
In the face of all this vexatious delay, awaiting re-enforcements from Colonel Crawford, General Sheridan did not relax his energy in the least. He kept everybody at work fixing up a base of supplies that would be in his reach until the termination of that campaign which he intended to settle during the winter months whilst the Indian ponies were poor and weak and unable to transport belongings any distance. He also knew that if he delayed matters until warm weather when there would be plenty of grass, he would have to fight those Indians from the British possessions to Texas. He was down there to fight those Indians or make them return to their reservations to remain there and behave themselves and stop prowling all over the country committing depredations. He had no time to engage in peace treaties and had no guns to turn over to them, and there was no chance for any trickery or treachery with him. He did not want to smoke the pipe of peace with them and then be shot in the back and killed as Turkey Legs and his band did with his scouts Comstock and Glover. He was there for permanent peace or a permanent fight and the choice rested with them. There was no swapping of horses or palavering. He meant business.
By this time General Sheridan’s headquarters very much resembled a Canadian North-west logging camp. Everybody was kept busy, some hauling logs, others digging trenches for the stockades, others were bringing poles and brush to cover rude pole sheds for the purpose of affording a temporary shelter for the stock. If there was anybody idle, it was some one who was too ill to work, or who had hidden in the brush to avoid work. The scouts were kept busy scouring the country in search ofsome trail or sign of the Indians and finally were rewarded by the discovery of a trail leading southward, which showed a large body of Indians had gone in that direction. On receiving that information General Custer asked permission from General Sheridan to fit out an expedition to follow them. The request was readily granted by General Sheridan, as he was anxious to bring the campaign to a close as speedily as possible. As soon as Custer had his troops in proper shape he set out in the direction indicated by the scouts. After crossing Wolf Creek and getting well up on the divide he discovered the trail, but found it very difficult to follow owing to the snow having drifted and covered any marks they had left behind them. Occasionally, where the wind had blown the snow from some high place he found all evidence required to justify him in keeping up the pursuit. He maintained his route until he reached the north brakes of the South Canadian and went into camp for the night in the least protected place he could find and made things as comfortable as circumstances would permit. Next morning after taking a survey of the situation he found himself confronted with a great and dangerous undertaking through having to ford the river. As every man who has ever crossed it with a loaded wagon knows, it is one of the most treacherous streams to ford, in the Southwest; and to add to the miry condition of the river it was frozen over, but the ice was not of sufficient thickness to bear the weight of the horses, much less the heavy wagons that were to follow them. General Custer, a persevering and an energetic man, was not daunted by this present difficulty. He sloped down the bank of the river and set his men to work cutting a channel across and clearing the ice from it, so that it would not cut or injure the stock in crossing. After passing the cavalry back and forth several times to settle the quicksand, he sent forward the freight and supply wagons and with great difficulty succeeded in landing on the south side. Here he stopped for dinner as it was after twelveo’clock when the last wagon passed up the bank. After dinner they hooked up and started on their perilous under taking of climbing and winding their dangerous way through the canyons and sand hills until they reached the flats that divide the South Canadian and Washita Rivers. The distance traveled that afternoon was not very great but the difficulties and obstacles to be overcome were very trying. The general decided to have an early supper and after a consultation with his officers determined to make a night drive as the moon shone brightly and the trail was now becoming so plain that the scouts felt there would be no difficulty in following it. Accordingly they hitched up after their slight rest and set out under the leadership of two Osage Indian scouts together with California Joe, a white man who had been on the frontier all his life and who understood the language of the different tribes. Custer had learned from his scouts that it was the intention of the Indians to go into winter quarters on the Washita, but was not certain of the exact locality. Consequently he had to use great caution in trying to discover their where abouts. He found some smouldering campfires, which showed that they were not very far in advance. The scouts did not proceed very much farther until one of them on looking over a bluff discovered the main camp and then hastened back and made the fact known to the general. Custer then and there stopped the outfit and went into consultation with his officers. It was now past twelve o’clock and he decided to make no attack until after daybreak. He arranged to divide his force into four different sections, each squad to be under the command of an officer, and at daylight, at the sound of the bugle, they were to make a charge. All was carried out as planned, with the precision of clockwork. At dawn the bugle sounded and the band struck up the tune of “Garry Owen†and the troops dashed in on the gallop. When they reached the camp from the different directions, the battle began. At the first volley fired, the Indians triedto escape, and some of them, succeeded in getting away, but the most of them, were shot down, either in their teepees, or as they were fleeing to some place of safety; others dropped behind trees or logs and fought like demons, but it was useless as they were overmatched. When the smoke of battle cleared away there were over one hundred dead Indians lying on the camp ground.
It was General Sherman, I believe, who said “war is hell,†a statement which, proved to be absolutely correct in this instance for the wailing of the squaws and the screaming of the papooses together with the groans of the dying made a wierd accompaniment to the cracking of rifles and the commands of the officers. After the flurry of the battle had somewhat subsided, Custer ordered all that were alive, squaws and papooses, to be taken prisoners and put in charge of a squad of soldiers, whilst the remainder busied themselves burning the teepees, provisions, and other camp equipage found there. When the work of destruction was completed he ordered all their ponies, about two hundred in number, to be brought in and shot. To the reader this may appear cruel and inhuman, but it was only a just retribution for the deeds this same band had committed on the Saline and Solomon Rivers in Kansas, where they spared neither age nor sex, but perpetrated outrages on women that are too beastly for publication, and this was a small installment on what was due them. On roll call it was found that Major Elliot and fifteen men were missing.
The Kiowas and the Comanche tribes were camped but three or four miles below where the battle took place, and it did not take them very long to make their appearance about five or six thousand strong. Here was a fresh problem for Custer to solve. If he was looking for a fight with the Indians, they were at hand. Why did he not attack them? Why did they not attack him? Why did not Custer make an effort to find out what had become of Major Elliot and the fifteen missing men who had been with him. I shall explain that as I seeit from my point of view. There is no doubt in my mind that General Custer was afraid to attack those two tribes, and was also afraid to make an attempt to find Major Elliot and his companions, as his conduct that evening abundantly proves. He had sent his scout, California Joe, with a dispatch telling Sheridan of his condition and asking him to send re-enforcements at once. That afternoon he held a consultation with his officers and decided to return to Camp Supply to reorganize his men and get more forces to engage in battle with those two tribes. Now the question might be asked, why did not the Indians attack him? There was but one reason and that was that they were afraid. They had force enough to defeat Custer, but there was something else to take into consideration. They knew General Sheridan was someplace in the country and was, perhaps, at that time waiting to catch them in a trap. They were not afraid of Custer and his command, but they knew that if Sheridan ever got them in a tight place, it would be good-bye, Mr. Indian, for there would be nothing left of him. It was a plain case of where Custer was afraid and the other ‘dassent,’ it averted, as a result, one of the worst slaughters that ever occured in the Indian Territory.
In looking over the dead, Chief Black Kettle was identified. He had been instrumental in starting out the band that had committed all the depredations in the Saline and Solomon valleys, and but a few months prior to this time had defiantly refused, when asked by General Sheridan to come into Fort Dodge with the promise that he would be properly cared for. He declared that he was going on the warpath and made good his declaration as the battle on the Washita will show.
Sheridan’s Camp; Discovery of Elliot and Companions; A Truce; Capture of Comanches and Kiowas Return to Camp.
The night of the battle, Custer started for Camp Supply and very nearly overtook his scout, California Joe, as the latter had to hide so much on the way to avoid being caught by the Indians; and I believe that Custer made a record trip, as he was afraid of the same thing. When he returned and Major Elliot’s absence was not satisfactorily explained, General Sheridan showed great dissatisfaction. He issued an order to get everything in readiness at once and decided to take a hand in that business himself to see if he could not discover what had become of Elliot. The Kansas volunteers having lost most of their horses in the snow banks on the Cimmaron River, with the remainder unfit for service, were organized as infantry and taken along. In fact, every available man was taken from Camp Supply except those who were required to guard the provisions and look after the stock. Although Sheridan was a graduate of West Point, he never encumbered himself with any West Point tactics in fighting Indians. He just put on his fighting clothes and set out to whip them into subjection regardless of any military parade, and usually accomplished what he set out to do. There was one feature of all his expeditions which he never neglected, and that was that he never failed to keep in touch with the best and most reliable scouts and guides to be found, and once he had secured them he never failed to be governed by their instructions, as he was well aware that such men understood the topography of the country much better than some titled professor of a military academy. Such scoutshe found on this occasion. He took along as his guide and chief of scouts, one Ben Clark, because Ben was married into the Cheyenne tribe and understood and spoke the tribal languages fluently. He also took along California Joe, as he was a good scout and was familiar with all the customs and habits of the Indians, having lived and dealt with them all the way from California to Texas. He was invaluable as a scout and guide, but had one fault, of which I shall speak later on, that tried the patience of the general sorely at times, but still Sheridan could not afford to part with him. Those two, with the addition to two Osage Indian scouts, were all that he brought into service. When everything was in readiness the general set out with the firm determination to settle the Indian trouble for once and for all time to come, if possible. He took General Custer with him, as he was familiar with the route and also with the locality of the recent battle. He took as his ambulance driver Johnny Murphy, a lad scarcely out of his teens and who acted in that capacity until the close of the campaign. The first night out they camped on the south bank of Wolf Creek where they found an abundance of timber and living water, two essentials at that time as the weather was hovering around the zero mark. The men were becoming accustomed to the cold and stood up in it like Esquimaux. Next morning they were up and away to cross the divide to the South Canadian. The snow was still quite deep on the flats and the moisture had softened the soil which had not frozen sufficiently to hold up the heavy freight wagons, which made it a tedious and toilsome trip to reach the river. Clark being acquainted with the country guided them down a canyon where they found timber and a fair shelter. There they went into camp for the night. Next morning one of the real trials of the journey confronted them. The river had to be forded and they were forced to repeat the labors that Custer had performed on the former occasion and as the ice was not thick enough to bear a heavy weight. They had to cuta channel and remove the ice from it and trample the quicksand with the cavalry to make it fordable for the wagons. They accomplished the crossing with a great deal of difficulty and hardships, as most of them were wet from trampeling through the stream or assisting the lumbering wagons on their way. When the last team had crossed they were glad to know that this difficulty had been overcome. (The reader sitting on a balcony, viewing troops of cavalry prancing along the paved streets seems to enjoy the spectacle and can easily come to imagine that the cavalry man’s life is one continual round of pleasure, but let him change his location and go and sit with me on the south porch of a snow bank and see those same soldiers fording a treacherous stream in the winter season and his impressions of the gay and happy life will be suddenly changed.) When out of the brakes and the canyons they were on the last lap of their journey to the battle ground where Custer had wound up the wild and turbulent career of Black Kettle and his band of Cheyenne warriors. This day was but a repetition of the day before except that at noon they camped long enough to feed the stock some grain, as the mules were becoming tired and jaded from the bad condition of the prairie. After dinner they resumed their journey and that evening went into camp about two miles from the scene of Custer’s fight with the Cheyennes a few days previous. Next morning they set out and in a short time arrived at the battle ground. They stopped to examine the place which gave every evidence of a severe conflict. After Sheridan had examined the field he sent out scouts and squads of soldiers to scour the surrounding country in search of Major Elliott and the fifteen missing men. They were found about two miles from the battle ground, dead, and stripped of their clothing and mutilated in the most horrible manner. The mutilation was the work of the squaws. They had not been scalped and their bodies lay not very far apart and the number of empty shells lying near each body showed the desperate defense they hadmade. It was learned afterward that Major Elliott had followed a band of fugitives and captured them, and when returning was met and overpowered by a large band of Kiowas and their dead bodies were left there for the squaws to mutilate. When this discovery was made and the news brought to Gen. Sheridan, he was in no frame of mind to adopt any conciliatory measures towards the Indians, besides it had a strong tendency to lessen his respect for Gen. Custer for not making some effort to learn what had become of Major Elliot and his fifteen companions. Sheridan was now in the right humor for a fight. He wanted to fight and was going to have a fight or a footrace with the first Indians he met. He started down the Washita, where the Kiowas and the Comanches had their headquarters. His progress was closely watched by the Indians. They pulled up everything and moved on in advance of him, but well out of his reach. They were certainly in a predicament as they could not cover up their trail by scattering out over the plain, as they would do in summer time, as the snow on the prairie gave evidence of every move they made and things were in such a shape that it was either fight or surrender. Gen. Sheridan did not seem to care which. They continued to move down stream with Sheridan in pursuit until the third day when they sent a messenger back carrying a white flag and a letter from Gen. Hazen, chairman of the peace committee, asking for a conference with the General. The reader can readily see about how Sheridan felt on the subject. He sent back word to them that there was but one way in which he would recognize Hazen’s request for a conference and that was that he would give them twenty-four hours to surrender and come in as prisoners of war, or a fight would start at the expiration of that time. He was compelled to acknowledge the flag of truce and the Indians were well aware of that fact. Reluctantly he gave them the 24 hours to surrender or prepare for battle, as the recent outrages on the settlers on the Saline and Solomon Rivers, thebarbarous treatment of Major Elliot and his companions were fresh in the mind of Sheridan. The Indian, aware of the value of the flag of truce used it always to his advantage when in a tight place, though they had no respect for it in their own dealings with others. Sheridan was waiting anxiously for the expiration of the time of truce, but the Indians forestalled the allotted time by about four hours. If the thing was to be done over again, I do not believe that Sheridan would have paid any attention to the flag of truce, as the first sight that met the General’s eye after he had marched into their camp and taken Chief Lone Wolf and Chief Satanta prisoners, was the body of a white woman who had been kidnapped from near Fort Lyon by Satanta and kept to gratify his savage lust. When he found escape impossible, he shot her to avoid giving her up to her rescuers and took her white child by the feet and dashed its brains out against a tree. When the fiend shot the woman, whose name was Mrs. Blynn, he held the gun so close to her that her face was powder-burned. In her death, I imagine that there was relief brought to one poor tortured soul.
During the armistice, which did not last twenty-four hours, the Indians killed all their ponies rather than turn them over to their conquerors. After the preliminaries of surrender were completed, they were ordered back to Ft. Cobb and accordingly started back to fulfill their agreement. Any one familiar with the lay of that country can begin to appreciate the difficulty Gen. Sheridan had on hand. Moreover, the reluctance of the Indians to return made the journey all the more difficult. They had a thousand different excuses to delay the journey, but it availed them nothing. They were kept on the move and closely watched. In spite of the vigilance exercised by the troops, some of the Indians managed to escape. At every opportunity some of them would dodge through the brush along the way and make their escape. Satanta seeing the success of his companions, made a dash for liberty also. He was immediately captured bythe soldiers and put in handcuffs. To show no partiality in the matter, Chief Lone Wolf was also manacled. To give further proof of his intentions to compel them to submit, he told Lone Wolf and Satanta that unless those Indians who had made their escape did not return very soon, he would hang the two of them without ceremony. That put a different complexion on things. The two chiefs immediately communicated with their followers, who at once sent out runners in different directions to bring back the escaped prisoners. They succeeded in bringing in most of them in fact enough of them returned to move Sheridan to defer the hanging of the two chiefs.
It is my belief that Sheridan afterward regretted that he did not hang the two of them, as they richly deserved it for their past atrocities. I had the pleasure last year, 1912, of seeing old Chief Lone Wolf strutting around the streets of Hobart, Okla., wearing a celluloid collar and derby hat, breaking himself into the habits and customs of the white man. The sight of him caused me to wonder if he ever stopped to consider how near he came to having his neck cracked by Gen. Sheridan and how richly he deserved it.
After carefully looking over the situation in all its different aspects, Sheridan concluded that Fort Cobb was not the proper place to establish his headquarters. He decided to take all his prisoners over to Cache Creek where he would have more and better material to construct a small fort for the protection of the frontier of Texas. This part had been subjected to the raids of the Indians very frequently in the past and they were likely to make an incursion at any time. When he had brought most of the Indians there, he set to work building temporary headquarters and gave the place the name of Fort Sill, after one of his old schoolmates. He held Satanta, Lone Wolf; Little Robe, and several other lesser chiefs as hostages for the faithful performance of all the conditions of the surrender with the explicit understandingthat any violation of any of the terms of it would mean the hanging of the whole party. This understanding had a very salutary effect and a strong tendency to establish order and discipline. These acts may seem to show Sheridan to be a cruel man, but I will say, judging from his action in caring for the remains of Mrs. Blynn and her child who had been so brutally murdered, in taking them to Fort Arbuckle and giving them a Christian burial, he has shown that his heart was in the right place.
California Joe’s Weakness; A Trip to Camp Supply; Bringing in Renegade Indians; Expedition to Panhandle, etc.
Previously to the time of which I am writing, the General had sent a bunch of cavalry horses to Fort Arbuckle where he had made arrangements for their keep. The Chickasaw and Choctaw Indians raised some crops and had feed to spare and agreed to look after the horses. The General thought by this time they would be sufficiently recuperated to be of service to him in his present needs. Consequently he fitted up an escort and an ambulance and took California Joe along as scout and guide to go and get them. (I promised the reader to tell him of Joe’s one fault and will take this opportunity of doing so.) When they had arrived at Ft. Arbuckle, they found everything in better shape than they had expected. The General began making preparations for his return to Fort Sill. When everything was ready he found to his surprise and amazement that California Joe was gloriously drunk. As the prohibitory law in regard to the sale of intoxicants was in full force, in the Indian Territory, he could not account for Joe’s condition. He thought he would remain over a day or so to give Joe a chance to sleep off the effects of his overdose of liquid joy. The next day found Joe as happy as a clam in high water and there was no indication of a scarcity of liquor. The General was face to face with a difficulty. He could not remain longer at Ft. Arbuckle, and he could not go on without Joe, as he might need his services at any time. Patience ceased to be a virtue and he bundled Joe into the ambulance, jumped in himself and started off. They all reachedFort Sill the next day safe and sober. In the meantime the General had not learned where his scout had obtained the liquor to make him drunk. Joe himself told me years afterwards that he had obtained access to the General’s jug.
Upon his arrival at the fort, he found everything in as good condition as the circumstances might warrant. It was a city of soldiers and Indians. The habitations consisted of teepees and tents, while dug-outs were in course of construction in case of a storm.
As it was one of Gen. Sheridan’s principles to allow no guilty man to escape, he ordered Gen. Custer to take a company of men, mounted on the horses he had brought from Ft. Arbuckle, with some scouts among whom was to be found California Joe, and proceed to the head of the Red river and bring back those Indians who had escaped after the surrender when returning to Ft. Cobb.
After Gen. Custer had taken his departure, Gen. Sheridan made provision for the policing and government of the camp, also for the distribution of rations to the Indians during his absence. As soon as he had completed these regulations in a satisfactory manner, he began his own preparations for a trip to Camp Supply. All these things took time and caused him no little vexation, but he was equal to the emergency, and as soon as the work was done he took his escort and full camp equipage and set out. It was now getting along toward the first of March and the soft soil made the wheeling of all vehicles a slavish task for man and beast. In spite of this difficulty, he proceeded on his way and crossed the Washita above Ft. Cobb and continued in a northerly direction until he reached the South Canadian where to his great surprise he found the water very low, and what was more pleasing, he found that the ice was all gone. The season was not far enough advanced to thaw the snow on the mountains and consequently, the river being almost dry, was easily forded. It is unnecessary for me to go into details ofthat journey as it was but a repetition of his former trip to Fort Sill, except for the floundering around in the snow banks and the cutting of a passage through the ice to make a crossing possible. These latter difficulties he escaped, owing to the lateness of the season. Difficult passages through bad canyons were also avoided owing to Ben Clark’s thorough knowledge of the country. At best, it was a tedious journey and on the seventh day after leaving Fort Sill, he crossed the North Canadian just below the junction where the Beaver and Wolf Creeks form the headquarters of the North Canadian. From there he proceeded to Camp Supply, which was only a short distance away. When Sheridan arrived at the camp, he found a message awaiting him, which had been brought from Fort Dodge, Kansas, by stage. The despatch contained the announcement of his promotion to the position of Lieut. General of the army and requested him to proceed at once to Washington, D. C. Sheridan did not seem much surprised at his promotion, and continued to perform his usual duties of looking after the Indians and ordering supplies. (He saw to it that those old squaws who had mangled and mutilated his soldier-comrades should be properly cared for as prisoners of war.) (In fact, he was about the busiest man in camp.)
Before Gen. Sheridan had left Camp Sill, Gen. Custer had returned from his trip to the head of Red river, which he had made at his own request. He reported that he had found nothing but a bleak waste. He stated that there was no sign of animal or vegetable life to be seen and that he did not think it possible for the Indians to subsist there. On hearing this report Gen. Sheridan said nothing but took the matter into consideration and, after revolving the affair in his own mind for some time, it was plain to be seen that he was dissatisfied with the report. He ordered Gen. Custer to increase his force by taking the Kansas volunteers and mounting them on the horses he had brought from Fort Arbuckle, to refit and refurnish them thirty days rationsand return. He also ordered him to take a full complement of scouts and scour the country until he did find the Indians and bring them into Camp Supply, or whip them into subjection, with all of which Custer was ready to cheerfully comply. The camp was now alive, each soldier fitting up his belongings for a return trip. Gen. Sheridan told Custer that he had to return to Supply and that he wanted the Indian business closed up as soon as possible and for all time to come; that he did not want the band left at liberty until the grass was green as they would then be self-supporting and could prey upon the stockmen and the settlers at will; that it was his duty to prevent this and he would, regardless of consequences.
It did not take long to make the proper preparations for the return trip, and Custer took a sufficient number of men to overpower any ordinary band of Indians, and on the following morning set out for the Panhandle country. Gen. Sheridan intended to set out the same day, but as he said he had neglected his correspondence, he thought it better to take another day to devote to that matter and arrange everything of that nature before leaving.
On the second day afterwards he had his baggage and other effects packed ready for the trip and went down to the corral to bid his old comrades and teamsters good-bye. He made them a short talk, thanking them for their faithful services they had always so readily rendered. He said that whilst he did not ever expect to return to that post again, that he would be glad to meet any of them, at any time or place. After shaking hands with all the boys he started for the ambulance which was to take him away. When he met Johnny Murphy, his tried and trusty teamster all through the campaign, he said, “Well, Johnnie, I am going to leave you. Be a good boy, and if you should ever come to Washington, call on me. I shall always be glad to meet you.†He shook hands with him and when he had gone a shortdistance, he turned and shouted back, “Now, Johnnie, do not fail to call on me.†At his departure there could be seen on the cheeks of more than one of those old battle-scarred veterans, a glistening tear, the true token of deep-seated regret. It was a sorrowful parting as these men had followed him through the din of battle for four years during the rebellion and through the Indian campaigns and had come to look upon him as their dearest friend for whom it was a pleasure to shed their blood in the performance of duty. But such was life in the west. When he had gone, each turned to his duty and tried to forget his sorrow. It was such little traits as this that made Sheridan loved by his own men, revered by his friends, and admired and respected by his enemies.
The General had hoped to be able to reach Washington to lead his old command in the Inaugural parade on March 4th, but such was not to be, as his duties in the Territory delayed him, too long, as it was now March 2nd. He set out as soon as it was possible for him to leave his command. If there was any bad weather, it seemed to be his luck to be out in it. It sleeted and as scout and guide to go and get them. I promised the rained all during the journey to Bluff Creek and continued to do the same all the way to Dodge City.
Gen. Custer, a very energetic man and strict disciplinarian, too strict in fact to always retain the respect of his men, kept everybody and everything on the move. The snow was now fast disappearing from the Territory, but the mud and slush caused by the thawing snow, made travelling a slavish task. Each day was a repetition of the preceding one and such it continued to be until they reached the Panhandle country where they found more snow and less protection from the winds. They still advanced keeping the scouts well to the fore to escape any chance of being taken by surprise. Each day brought the same routine of duties and the same results until it became monotonous, so much so that theboys said that they would like to have a little fight just for a change and to liven things up a little. On and on they went across the dreary desolate plain, with not even a buffalo to be seen as they had been driven from the flats by the severe storms that swept that part of the country prior to the trip. A gray wolf might be seen occasionally, or perhaps an antelope, but that was about all as the wild horses or mustangs had sought shelter in the canyons or brakes. Desolation reigned supreme and were it not for the company they found in each other they wouldn’t have been able to endure the loneliness of the place. Duty urged them on, and forward they went well out on the Staked Plains. One day the scouts returned with the information that they had discovered an Indian village. Such news was music to their ears and each and all began to prepare for the impending conflict. Strange as it may seem, those Indians were aware of the approach of the scouts and fully realized their danger. The scouts had scarcely returned to camp when Custer saw through his field-glasses a lively movement among the Indians. He knew that he had sufficient force to crush them, but hesitated to do so as he had learned that they held two white women as captives, and thought it best to parley with them, for if he attacked them they might repeat the act of cruelty and cold-blooded murder that was perpetrated by Satanta on the Washita rather than deliver her up to her rescuers. They did not have to wait, for it was a short time until the white flag which the Indian always kept within easy reach, was brought forth. When well out from the village and not far distant from the train, the general and his staff with an interpreter went out to meet them. It did not take long to arrange the preliminaries as they were anxious to surrender, or more so, than he was to capture them. Whilst the negotiations were being conducted for their surrender and return to Camp Supply, Chief Tall Bull made his escape with a few followers and was not heard of until a year later whenthe report was made that General Parr had made a final settlement with him and sent him “where the wicked cease from troublingâ€, and “the weary are at rest,†up on the Republican river in Colorado.
About the first request made by these Indians was for chuckaway as they were almost famished for want of something to eat. Custer readily acceded to their demand and gave them a liberal supply of rations. Then they made ready to move. They had no pianos, sewing machines, or bric-a-brac to pack and crate, but they had a good quantity of buffalo robes, blankets, tanned buckskin, pots, skillets, and other belongings of an Indian camp and it took some time to get them in readiness for transportation. To a person who has never witnessed such a thing, it is very interesting. The teepees had to be taken down and put in shape to be packed on ponies. In fact, everything had to be packed on ponies as a wagon was an unknown thing to them. They had a substitute for the wagon which they made from a green cow hide. This while soft and pliable they fastened by each corner to a post and weighted down the center until it assumed the form of a large dish. When it became dry and hard, they attached it to two long teepee poles fastened one on each side of a pony. Into the hide they then put anything they wished to transport and turned the pony loose with the rest of the herd. I have seen them place papooses in this rude vehicle and the old pony wandered at will over the prairie. The teepee poles were made of cedar and were very light. Sometimes as many as a dozen poles would be fastened to a pony with other luggage fastened on his back. The young babies, or small papooses, were strapped to the squaws shoulders where she usually carried it in all kinds of weather. The older children climbed on the back of a pony, as that is about the first thing they learned, and were ready for any kind of a journey. The Indian ponies are usually very docile as they are broken to handle from colthood. It is a very rare thing to seeone of them bucking or running away, and consequently we seldom hear of an accident to an Indian caused by a vicious horse.
When everything was in readiness, the general gave orders to set out and off they started on their return trip to Camp Supply. Their progress was necessarily very slow owing to the starved condition of their ponies, but Custer urged them on to the limit of their endurance as he had now a great many new boarders on hand and he feared that he might run short of supplies. Each day of the journey was like the other. One thing was favorable, the weather was warmer and the ground was not so soft and muddy as on their advance into that country. One day one of the soldiers shot a buffalo and he and his comrades cut off the hump and one hind quarter to divide among his companions. He told the Indians to help themselves to the rest. The general called a halt to give the Indians a chance to attend to the remnant of the buffalo and put the cook to work preparing some of the hump for himself. They also fed the stock some grain and by the time the General finished his slice of hump there was not enough of that buffalo left to bait a mouse trap. There was nothing left but the horns, hooves, and bones. Even the entrails did not escape their ravenous appetite. Nevertheless, the buffalo saved the General’s commissary the necessity of providing one good meal and that was quite a consideration at that particular time, as provisions were beginning to get low. Each day brought its quota of petty annoyances. Sometimes a wagon would bog down in the creek, or a whiffle-tree would break or a mule balk. But that is all the part of a journey. On they went until they came to the South Canadian river where they expected to meet the greatest difficulty of their trip, but to the surprise of all parties, the water was very low and they succeeded in crossing it with much less trouble than they had to contend with in crossing some of the smaller streams. The quicksand was their greatest obstacle to beencountered in the way. The Indian ponies, as I have said, being very poor and weak, one of them would frequently fall and flounder around in the quicksand throwing his burden, a squaw and her papoose. There they struggled with the treacherous sands until a soldier equal to the emergency would gallantly go to their rescue and bring them back to safety on the opposite bank. The bucks faced the ordeal very reluctantly, but seeing that it was a case of the ‘devil take the hindmost’ they removed their moccasins, blankets, and in many cases reduced themselves to a state of primitive simplicity, and made their way across as best they could. Much to the relief of the commanding officer the last of them, after a good deal of struggling and snorting, landed on the north bank of the treacherous stream in safety. The general in his eagerness to proceed, did not wait for them to arrange their toilets, but pushed on through the brakes and canyons until he reached the flats where he went into camp. He was eager to reach his destination to unload his responsibility and one cannot blame him for that feeling after performing such an arduous task. It took three more days to reach Camp Supply where Gen. Custer turned over his charge to the Indian Department and in due course of time discharged the regiment that had rendered such valuable service. During that expedition Custer had brought back those renegades and turned them over to the Department without firing a gun except at game on the way.