"The Indians manifested considerable opposition to having any whites present. When several officers belonging to the 17th United States Infantry came up, Red Leaf—a chief of Red Cloud's band—leaped over a breastwork of logs and ordered the troops away. After parleying with the chief some time, the soldiers fell back and took a position which was not objectionable to the Indians, but from which they could obtain only a partial view of the performances. There was a large lodge, built in shape of an amphitheatre, with a hole in the centre. The sides and roof were covered with willows, forming a tolerable screen, but not so dense as to obstruct entirely the view. The performances began with low chants and incantations. Five young men were brought in and partially stripped, their mothers being present and assisting in the ceremony."Then the 'Medicine-man' began his part by cutting slits in the flesh of the young men and taking up the muscles with pincers. The old squaws assisted in lacerating the flesh of the boys with sharp knives. The squaws would at the same time keep up a howling, accompanied with a backward-and-forward movement. When the muscles were lifted out by pincers on the breast, one end of a kind of lariat (used for fastening horses while grazing), or buffalo thong, was tied to the bleeding flesh, while the other end was fastened to the top of the pole in the middle of the lodge. The first young man, when thus prepared, commenced dancing around the circle in a most frantic manner, pulling with all his might, so as to stretch out the rope, and by his jerking movements loosening himself by tearing out the flesh. The young man's dance was accompanied by a chant by those who were standing around, assisted by the thumping of a hideous drum, to keep the time. The young brave who was undergoing this self-torture finally succeeded in tearing himself loose, and the rope relaxed from its sudden tightness and fell back toward the centre pole with a piece of the flesh to which it was tied. The victim, who, up to this point, did not move a muscle of his face, fell down on the ground, exhausted from the pain, which human weakness could not further conceal. A squaw then rushed in and bore the young brave away. He had undergone the terrible ordeal, and amid the congratulations of the old men, would be complimented as a warrior of undoubted pluck and acknowledged prowess."Another of the young men, named Charles, was cut in two places under the shoulder blade; the flesh was raised with pincers, and thongs tied around the flesh and muscles thus raised. The thongs reached down below the knees and were tied to buffalo skulls. With these heavy weights dangling at the ends of the thongs, the young man was required to dance around the circle, to the sound of the drum and chants of the bystanders, until the skulls became detached by tearing out the flesh. They continued the performance until one of the skulls broke loose, but the other remained. The mother of the young man then rushed into the ring, leading a pony, and tied one end of the lariat which was around the pony's neck to the skull, which was still fastened to the young Indian. The latter then followed the pony round the ring, until nearly exhausted he fell on his face, and the skull was thereby torn out of the flesh. The sufferer's voice grew husky from joining in the chant; he groveled on the ground in violent contortions for a few minutes, and was then removed to the outside of the lodge."A third man had the lariat of the pony hitched to the raised muscles of his back, and was dragged in this way several times round the ring; but the force not being sufficient to tear loose from the flesh, the pony was backed up, and a slack being thus taken on the lariat, the pony was urged swiftly forward, and the sudden jerk tore the lariat out of the flesh."
"The Indians manifested considerable opposition to having any whites present. When several officers belonging to the 17th United States Infantry came up, Red Leaf—a chief of Red Cloud's band—leaped over a breastwork of logs and ordered the troops away. After parleying with the chief some time, the soldiers fell back and took a position which was not objectionable to the Indians, but from which they could obtain only a partial view of the performances. There was a large lodge, built in shape of an amphitheatre, with a hole in the centre. The sides and roof were covered with willows, forming a tolerable screen, but not so dense as to obstruct entirely the view. The performances began with low chants and incantations. Five young men were brought in and partially stripped, their mothers being present and assisting in the ceremony.
"Then the 'Medicine-man' began his part by cutting slits in the flesh of the young men and taking up the muscles with pincers. The old squaws assisted in lacerating the flesh of the boys with sharp knives. The squaws would at the same time keep up a howling, accompanied with a backward-and-forward movement. When the muscles were lifted out by pincers on the breast, one end of a kind of lariat (used for fastening horses while grazing), or buffalo thong, was tied to the bleeding flesh, while the other end was fastened to the top of the pole in the middle of the lodge. The first young man, when thus prepared, commenced dancing around the circle in a most frantic manner, pulling with all his might, so as to stretch out the rope, and by his jerking movements loosening himself by tearing out the flesh. The young man's dance was accompanied by a chant by those who were standing around, assisted by the thumping of a hideous drum, to keep the time. The young brave who was undergoing this self-torture finally succeeded in tearing himself loose, and the rope relaxed from its sudden tightness and fell back toward the centre pole with a piece of the flesh to which it was tied. The victim, who, up to this point, did not move a muscle of his face, fell down on the ground, exhausted from the pain, which human weakness could not further conceal. A squaw then rushed in and bore the young brave away. He had undergone the terrible ordeal, and amid the congratulations of the old men, would be complimented as a warrior of undoubted pluck and acknowledged prowess.
"Another of the young men, named Charles, was cut in two places under the shoulder blade; the flesh was raised with pincers, and thongs tied around the flesh and muscles thus raised. The thongs reached down below the knees and were tied to buffalo skulls. With these heavy weights dangling at the ends of the thongs, the young man was required to dance around the circle, to the sound of the drum and chants of the bystanders, until the skulls became detached by tearing out the flesh. They continued the performance until one of the skulls broke loose, but the other remained. The mother of the young man then rushed into the ring, leading a pony, and tied one end of the lariat which was around the pony's neck to the skull, which was still fastened to the young Indian. The latter then followed the pony round the ring, until nearly exhausted he fell on his face, and the skull was thereby torn out of the flesh. The sufferer's voice grew husky from joining in the chant; he groveled on the ground in violent contortions for a few minutes, and was then removed to the outside of the lodge.
"A third man had the lariat of the pony hitched to the raised muscles of his back, and was dragged in this way several times round the ring; but the force not being sufficient to tear loose from the flesh, the pony was backed up, and a slack being thus taken on the lariat, the pony was urged swiftly forward, and the sudden jerk tore the lariat out of the flesh."
Our informant having seen enough of these horrid performances to satisfy his curiosity, left with his companions, "without waiting to see the dance through." The dance, with its bloody orgies, lasted three whole days. This Sun Dance is not as common as formerly, and as the Indians settle on reservations, it is wholly done away with. The origin of the custom is uncertain.
JULESBURG.
My experience on the plains dates from September, 1867. The government ordered me to report to Fort Sedgwick, a post on the south side of the Platte River, three hundred and seventy-seven miles west of Omaha. This post lies four miles south of Julesburg, then the end of the Union Pacific Railroad. There were five thousand people there, and it was said to be the most wicked city in the world. Thieves and escaped convicts came here to gamble and lead bad lives, as they had done in Eastern cities, until driven away for fear of punishment; and often three or four would be shot down at night in drunken rows with their companions in vice and crime.
A mammoth tent was erected for a dance-house and gambling purposes. It was called "The King of the Hills," and was filled up with handsome mirrors, pianos, and furniture, and was the scene of all kinds of wickedness. It rented for six hundred dollars a day!
Here hundreds of men, engaged as freighters, teamsters, and "bull-whackers,"—as they were called, and who were in the employ of Wells, Fargo & Co. in freighting goods in large wagons to Idaho, Montana, Salt Lake, and California,—would congregate at night and gamble and carouse, spending all their three months' earnings, only to go back, earn more, and spend it again in this foolish and wicked manner.
One day I came over to the city, and while driving from the express office, heard pistol-shots, and soon saw the men, women, and children running in every direction. I got out of the way, fearing danger, and listened, till I had heard at least twenty shots, and then all was still. I went round to ascertain the cause, and soon found myself among a crowd of excited persons. I learned that a bad young man had robbed a poor negro boy of one hundred and thirty dollars he had earned at the railroad station, and had laid it by to go to his home in Baltimore. The fellow denied it, and said "he'd shoot any one who tried to arrest him." A police officer followed him into a saloon, when the thief at once turned and fired at the officer, wounding him in his right elbow, so he could not reach his pistols in his belt. But some friend handed him one, and with it he knocked the villain down, behind a stove. He then begged for his life, saying he would give up the money and a thousand dollars for his life. But it was too late. The officer shot him in the forehead, and when I entered, he was weltering in a pool of blood. All said, "Served him right!" This is a law of Western life. If two men get into a dispute, and one puts his hand to his pocket, as if to draw a weapon, the other is sure to shoot his enemy, as the law is, "a life for a life."
Julesburgtook its name from a small place just below Sedgwick, where a Frenchman named Jules built a ranch and raised cattle a long time before the railroad was built. Here passengers to Denver would get their meals, and the horses were changed on the stage route to Denver and to Salt Lake. Some Indians it is said killed the old man Jules, and his ranch having been taken possession of by the Indians, was shelled by cannon from Fort Sedgwick, and burned down. Mr. Greeley must remember this station, which he and Mr. Colfax and Gov. Bross, of Illinois, passed on their overland trip to California some ten years ago, and where they dined upon the universal fare,—corn-bread, coffee, and bacon.
The city of Julesburg, as it was called in 1867, was visited by a party of editors from Chicago, Cleveland, etc. They came in one of Pullman's palace cars to see the contractor of the Union Pacific Railroad lay the track, as many as four miles each day. Being anxious to write home to their papers all the wonderful things they saw and heard, they came across a strange, wild-looking man named "Sam Stanton," dressed in a buckskin suit, with a broad-brimmed hat. Sam was a returned California miner, of long experience on the plains. Him they invited to come into the beautiful car, to tell them some stories of pioneer life; and, in order to incite him, orexcitehis imagination to do so, they invited him to drink some champagne wine. As it happened, Sam had never before tasted any stimulants but common whisky, and the champagne getting into his head, made him a little tipsy.
"You want me to show you how we put out the lights in the ranches, I suppose?"
"Yes," they said; "tell us anything of Western life."
"Well, here goes," he said, and at once drew his revolver and began popping away at the beautiful globe lamps which adorned the car! Of course all the party stampeded for the door. They had had enough of Sam's stories.
It is a rule for the last one that gets into bed to put out the light; but a lazy fellow will crawl into bed and, taking aim, extinguish the light by firing off his pistol at the flame!
A "Ranch" is simply a one-story log-house, with two or three rooms, and a thatched roof of straw. Sometimes they are made of a-do-be,—a kind of dried clay-brick, such as are found in Mexico and some parts of California and Texas.
A BRAVE BOY AND SOME INDIANS.
When the railroad had been built as far as Plum Creek, two hundred and thirty miles west of Omaha, in 1866, the track-layers saw a lot of Indians coming toward them from over the bluffs; and the poor Irishmen, dreading nothing so much as the sight of a red-skin, at once took to their heels to hide from the foe. Along with these men were needed covered wagons, with which they carried tools, etc., and in which at night they slept. In one of them a boy was sitting, about twelve or fourteen years of age. He saw nothing of the stampede of workmen, but soon was aroused by the yell of the Indians. He seized a Spencer rifle lying close by him, and, putting the muzzle through a slit of the canvas cover, took good aim at the foremost Indian, and when within a few yards, he shot off his rifle and felled him to the ground. Another rode up, and met the same fate. Several then rushed up and dragged off the bodies of the two Indians slain, and all at once made a quick retreat!
The Indians seeing several wagons there, supposed each one contained armed soldiers or men; and they were quick to see that the white man's skill was more than their bows and arrows. And yet there was only that brave little fellow, who saved the whole "outfit," and whose name ought to be recorded as a true hero.
AN INDIAN MEAL.
Boys would be surprised to see how much an Indian can eat at a single meal. A "big chief" can eat a whole goose or turkey at one sitting. The Indians eat right along, till they have gorged themselves and can eat no more. Perhaps it is because they seldom get what is called "a square meal," and so when plenty offers they make the most of it. One day, four chiefs of the Ar-ap-a-hoe tribe came to Fort Russell, to see about getting rations for three hundred of their tribe. They soon found their way to the commanding officer, at headquarters. He gave each one a cigar, which they puffed away at for some time. At last one of them made a motion to his mouth, signifying they were "hungry." Nearly all the tribes of wild Indians convey their ideas more by signs than by words. But the general would not take the hint. He said if he fed them once, they would come every day. A lady, however, took pity on them, and said to me, "Let us make contributions from each family, and give the poor fellows something to eat." Some brought meat, some biscuit and bread, and I made them some coffee, after inviting them to come into my yard. The children, boys and girls, assembled to see the four chiefs sitting around the table in the yard devour the food we had prepared for them.
There was no milk in the coffee, but I knew Indians were not used to it, and all things being ready, the coffee hot and the bacon smoking and smelling savory, I expected they would fall to and eat like good fellows. But I was surprised that one of them looked at the pail of coffee and gave a grunt of disapprobation. I supposed from what I had heard that an Indian would drink coffee, swallowing thegroundsand all. But on a close look, I discoveredabout a dozen flieswere floating on top. I took a spoon and removed them, and tasting it myself, passed it round to each one in a bowl; and this time they gave another grunt,—but it was one of approbation. They ate and ate till we thought they'd split, and then asked permission to carry off in a bag what they could not stow away in their capacious stomachs!
An Indian seldom shows any signs of joy or of sorrow in any emotion whatever. But when they meet a white friend, or are surprised at anything, they exclaim, "How! how!" and shake hands all round.
An Indian trader told me at North Platte some anecdotes of their characteristics. They are all very fond of sugar, and very fond of whisky. They will often sell a buffalo robe for a bowl of sugar, and at any time would give a pony for a gallon of rye or rum.
He told me that he once saw an Indian choke a squaw to get a lump of sugar out of her mouth which he coveted! And a storekeeper at Julesburg (Mr. Pease) said he sold a big pup to an Indian for a robe, and the Indian seized the dog, cut his throat, and, soon as dead, threw pup into a kettle to boil up for soup!
SHALL THE INDIANS BE EXTERMINATED?
This is the cry of Western men. It is very easy to talk of "extermination." General Harney, an old Indian fighter, told General Sherman that a general war with the Indians would cost the government $50,000,000 a year, and stop for a long time the running of the Pacific Railroad. They fight only at an advantage,—when they outnumber the whites. They fight, scatter away, and reunite again; hide away in canons (canyons), gorges, and mountain fastnesses, where no soldier can find them. It would be a war of fifty years' duration.
General Sherman is reported to have said at a meeting of the Indian Peace Commissioners, at Fort Laramie, with several tribes, "Say to the head chief that President Grant loves the red men and will do all he can for them. But they must behave themselves, and if they don't, tell himI'll kill them!" The old chief began to mutter away something to himself and others.
"What does he say?" said the general.
"Why," said the interpreter, "he says, 'catch 'em first, then kill them!'"
Have they never been wronged by white men? Have you never heard of the Sand Creek massacre?
There had been some trouble between the Cheyennes and Arapahoes and some soldiers near Fort Lyon, in 1864, south of Denver, Colorado, where these Indians have a reservation. The origin of the trouble is uncertain. Major Anthony was sent out to fight them; but on his arrival he found them peaceable,—they had given up their prisoners and horses.
[Indians take their squaws and papooses with them when they go on hunting expeditions. The squaws prepare all the meat, dry all the game for winter food, and tan the buffalo- and deer-hides to sell. They live in tents or lodges, called "Tepees," made of tanned buffalo-skins, and usually hold about five persons, in which they cook and sleep.On the war-path, they leave their squaws and papooses in their villages. This was the case when Colonel Chivington (formerly a preacher) charged that they were hostile, as an apology for his wholesale slaughter.]
Five hundred Indians of all ages flocked, soon as attacked, to the head chief's camp,—"Black Kettle,"—and he raised the American flag,with a white truce beneath. This, you know, is respected in all civilized warfare. Then the slaughter began.
One who saw it said, "The troops (mainly volunteers) committed all manner of depredations on their victims,—scalped them, knocked out their brains. The white men used their knives, cutting squaws to pieces, clubbed little children, knocking out their brains and mutilating their bodies in every sense of the word." Thus imitating savage warfare by nominally Christian men.
Robert Bent testified thus:
"I saw a little girl about five years of age, who had been hid in the sand; two soldiers discovered her, drew their pistols and shot her, and then pulled her out of the sand by her arm," etc.
This occurred at the time government officials in Denver had sent for them,—had a "talk" with them,—advising them to go just where they were. Before he was killed, Black Kettle, one of the chiefs, thus addressed the governor at Denver:
"We have come with our eyes shut, following Major Wynkoop's handful of men, like coming through the fire. All we ask is, that we may have peace with the whites. We want to hold you by the hand. You are our father. We have been traveling through a cloud. The sky has been dark ever since the war began."These braves who are here with me, are willing to do all I say. We want to take good news home to our people, that they may sleep in peace."I have not come here with a little wolf-bark!But have come to talk plain with you. We must live near the buffalo or starve. When I go home, I will tell my people I have taken your hand, and all of the white chiefs in Denver, and then they will feel well, and so will all the tribes on the plains, when we have eaten and drank with them."
"We have come with our eyes shut, following Major Wynkoop's handful of men, like coming through the fire. All we ask is, that we may have peace with the whites. We want to hold you by the hand. You are our father. We have been traveling through a cloud. The sky has been dark ever since the war began.
"These braves who are here with me, are willing to do all I say. We want to take good news home to our people, that they may sleep in peace.
"I have not come here with a little wolf-bark!But have come to talk plain with you. We must live near the buffalo or starve. When I go home, I will tell my people I have taken your hand, and all of the white chiefs in Denver, and then they will feel well, and so will all the tribes on the plains, when we have eaten and drank with them."
And yet one hundred and twenty friendly Indians were all slain, and the war that followed cost $40,000,000.
Acouncil of Indianswas held previous to the "Chivington massacre," which stamped the character of Black Kettle, the Cheyenne chief, as noble and brave. It seems that he had purchased from an Arapahoe band two girls named Laura Roper, aged eighteen, and Belle Ewbanks, aged six years, who were captured by the Indians, after attacking Roper's ranch, on the Little Blue River, in July, 1864. Two little boys were also captured at the same time. They were carried off to the Republican River, and Black Kettle bought them for five or six ponies, to give them to their parents. Certainly a generous act. He gave them up, and met the Commissioners in council, together with several Arapahoe chiefs of small bands, all of whom were confederate together to kill the Commissioners and bring on a general war.
Black Kettle knew it, and was determined to expose the plot and break it up. But the party of white officials, with Colonel E. W. Wynkoop, were in the dark about their evil intentions. The Indians called Colonel W. "The Tall Chief that don't lie."
"Black Kettle"—Mo-ke-ta-va-ta—Colonel Tappan says, "was the most remarkable man of the age for magnanimity, generosity, courage, and integrity. His hospitality to destitute emigrants and travelers on the plains for years, had no limit within the utmost extent of his means; giving liberally of his stores of provisions, clothing, and horses. His fame as an orator was widely known. He was great in council, and his word was law. Hundreds of whites are indebted to him for their lives.... He held Colonel Chivington's men at bay for seven hours, and carried to a place of safety three hundred of his women and children,—twenty of his braves and his own wife pierced with a dozen bullets.
"Previous to the conflict, after his two brothers had been shot down and cut to pieces before his eyes (while approaching the troops to notify them of the friendly character of the Indians), he aided three white men to escape from the village, one of them a soldier. They were his guests, whom he suspected of being spies, 'but did not know it,' and they are now living to the eternal fame and honor of the chieftain. From Sand Creek he fled to the Sioux camp, where it was determined to make war upon the whites in retaliation. He protested against interfering with women and children, and insisted upon fighting the men. He was overruled. Thereupon he resigned his office as chief, and assumed the garb of a brave. He soon after made peace for his tribe, which was faithfully kept until the burning of their village two years afterward. A war again ensued, in which he took no part, having promised never again to raise his hands against the whites. He was the first to meet the Peace Commissioners at Medicine Lodge Creek. His many services and virtues plead like angels trumpet-tongued against the deep damnation of his taking off."
Well, when the council assembled, among them were about a dozen chiefs of Arapahoes, Cheyennes, etc.; the worst of whom was Neva,—Long-nose,—an Arapahoe with one eye, and that a very ugly one. He was an outlaw, commanding twenty or thirty warriors. All were seated in a tent, and this fellow became boisterous, and wrangled, clamoring for a general war against all whites. It was a most exciting time. The chiefs stripped almost naked, and worked themselves up into a great excitement. At last, Black Kettle rose up, and pointing his finger at Neva, thus addressed him:
"You, you call yourself brave! I know what you mean. You come here to kill these white friends whom I have invited to come and have a talk with us. They don't know what you mean, but I do. You brave! (sneeringly.) I'll tell you what you are: your mouth is wide, so (measuring a foot with his hands),—your tongue so long (with his forefinger marking six inches on his arm),—and it hangs in the middle, going both ways. You're a coward, and dare not fight me." Here all the Indians gave a grunt of approbation. "Now, go," said he, "and begone! This council is broken up; I have said it; you hear my words; begone!" And they slunk off, completely cowed down.
Dog-soldiers were with them, well equipped for a big fight, and these white men beguiled, would all have been slain only for Mo-ke-ta-va-ta. A "dog-soldier" is a youth who has won, gradually, by successful use of the bow and arrow, a position to use the gun, and stand to the warriors just as our police force do to us, in guarding property, etc. These boys have a stick, called a "coo," on which they make a notch for everything they kill,—a kind of tally,—and when the coo is of a certain length, they are promoted to the rank of a "dog-soldier."
INDIANS DON'T BELIEVE HALF THEY HEAR.
When several chiefs are allowed to visit Washington on errands for their tribes, to get more given them, they tell their people how numerous are the children of their Great Father they have met on their way, and what big guns they saw, etc. But those at home believe it is a lie, gotten up by the "white man's medicine," as they call it. All have heard of a young chief whose father gave a stick, on which he should cut a notch for every white man he met. But it soon got full, and he threw it away.
The most amusing experience is told of a lot of Indians having been induced to go into a photographer's and have their likenesses taken. The operator asked a chief to look at his squaw (sitting for her phiz) through the camera. It looks as though one was sitting, or rather standing on his head,—reversing one's position. The chief was very angry at seeing his squaw in such an uncomely attitude, and he walked over and beat her. She denied it, but he saw it. He looked again, and again she was turned upside down. He said it was the white man's medicine, and would have nothing to do with it!
An Indian boy was asked some questions by one of the Peace Commissioners about some trouble, and he said to a chief, "Does the boy tell the truth?"
"Yes," replied the chief, "you may believe what he says; he never saw a white man before!"
ARMY OFFICERS.
The army officers are generally friends of the Indians. They are certainly, as a rule, just to the well-behaved Indians, and ready to sacrifice their lives in punishing bad ones.
General W. S. Harney, a retired army officer, is among the most noted. His life will be a most interesting one, full of adventure with the red men. General Harney graduated at West Point when nineteen years old, was sent out to the frontier, where he has lived fifty years. Grown gray in their companionship, and cradled in experience with the Indian tribes, says "I never knew an Indian chief to break his word!"
Major-General George H. Thomas, who commanded at Camp Cooper, Texas, some ten years ago, made a forced march of a hundred miles, with one hundred and twenty cavalry, to protect a village of Comanches from Baylor and three thousand rangers that were marching to destroy them. General Thomas was successful. He then marched in rear of the Indians hundreds of miles to shield them from the Texans. This gallant and chivalric officer died with a reputation dear to our country.
Major-General John Sedgwick, who fell during the war of the rebellion, rendered similar services on the plains, in defense of the Arapahoes, at about the same time; and Colonel Edward W. Wynkoop, five years later, in behalf of the Cheyennes.
Other officers might be mentioned for similar services, among them Generals Z. Taylor, W. S. Harney, and Alfred H. Terry. The last mentioned, two years ago, with a strong head, heart, and hand, squelched a conspiracy in Montana to exterminate the Crow Indians. Again, the next summer, flying across the plains, and up the Missouri river as fast as steam could carry him, to rescue a Sioux village from the border settlers. This splendid officer was removed from the command of the Department of Dakota, to make room for Hancock.
Captain Silas S. Soule, in Colorado, a few years ago, and Lieutenant Philip Sheridan, in Oregon, ten years since, might also be referred to in this connection, as drawing their swords in defense of the Indians and the right.
WHAT SHALL BE DONE?
The question is, How can the problem be solved, so as to best protect and secure the rights of the Indians, and at the same time promote the welfare of both races?
Within the memory of the writer, the tomahawk once reflected the light of burning cabins along the Tennessee, Ohio, Illinois, and Missouri Rivers, and the scalping-knives dripped with the blood of our border settlers, as we have driven the Indians back, back, to the setting sun!
But behold the change to-day, where the church has missions, and the red men are treated like immortal beings, with souls to be saved.
Mr. Wm. Welsh says of what he saw in Nebraska: "The blanket and bow discarded; the spear is broken, and the hatchet and war-club lie buried. The skin-lodge (tepee) has given place to the cottage and the mansion. Among the Santee Sioux, on Niobrara River, in Nebraska, the Episcopal Church has a mission, where one can see the murderous weapons and the conjuror's charms, by aid of which the medicine-man wrought his fiendish arts.
"That is thepipe-stem,—never smoked except on the war-path,—always blackened, being associated with deeds of darkness.
"These," he says, "are laid at the feet of our Christian missionaries, such as Bishops Whipple and Clarkson, and Rev. Mr. Hinman; where school-houses abound, and the feet of many thousand little children, thirsting after knowledge, are seen entering those vestibules of science; while churches, consecrated to the Christian's God, reflect for miles the sun's rays, tokens of a brighter light to their darkened heathen souls!
"Dear children, thanks to our holy religion, a few faithful men, taking their lives in their hands, have gone forth at the church's call,—bearing precious seed,—struggled and toiled, endured severe privations, afflictions, and trials, and saved in tears the germs of light, truth, and hope, which to-day have ripened into a glorious harvest of intelligence and Christian civilization! Christ said, 'It must needs be that offenses come, but woe unto that man by whom the offense cometh.'"
Now, if the wrongs accumulated, done to the poor, ignorant pagan Indians for years and years since the Mayflower landed her pilgrims on these shores, are to be redressed in this world (for there is no repentance for nations after), and if a God of justice so require that we atone to them, or suffer greater torments from their children, who shall say it is not a righteous retribution?
If we find them fierce, hostile, and revengeful, if they are cruel, and sometimes perpetrate atrocities that sicken the soul, and almost paralyze us with horror,—burning and pillaging,—let us remember that two hundred and fifty years of injustice, oppression, and wrong, heaped upon them byourrace, with cold, calculating, and relentless perseverance, have filled them with the passion of revenge and made them desperate. If you and I, boys, were Indians, we would do just as Indians do.Their tender mercies are cruel, but there is a reason why it is so.
The former Indian agents, on a salary of eighteen hundred dollars a year, got very rich in a short time. How could they do so but by swindling the poor Indians, who have no idea of the relative value of money, or the cost of goods?
Not long since a tribe just above us was paid off their annuities in shoddy blankets; they were bought back again with whisky, and another tribe was paid with the same blankets; and one agent took out several thousand "elastics" (girls know what I mean) to pay the Indians (among other things), and yet no wild Indian ever wore a stocking!
Again, as the Indian is crowded back beyond the tide of emigration, and hanging like the froth of the billows upon the very edge is generally a host of law-defying whites, who introduce among the Indians every form of demoralization and disease with which depraved humanity in its most degraded form is afflicted. These the Indian see more of than anybody else (except the military, whom they look upon mostly as protectors), as good people come along, the Indian mustpush on, still farther toward the setting sun!
A GOOD JOKE BY LITTLE RAVEN.
Little Raven, an Arapahoe chief, laughed heartily when we told him something about heaven and hell; remarking, "All good men—white and red men—would go to heaven; all bad men, white or red, would go to hell." Inquiring the cause of his merriment when he had recovered his breath, he said, "I was much pleased with what you say of those two places, and the kind of people that will go to each when they come to die. It is a good notion,—heap good,—for if all the whites are like the ones I know, when Indian gets to heaven but few whites will trouble him there; pretty much all go to t'other place!"
HOW THE INDIAN IS CHEATED.
It is true, as General Harney remarked, "Better to board and lodge them at the Fifth Avenue Hotel than to fight them, as a matter of economy." Besides depleting the Indian appropriation fund, voted annually by Congress, of millions of dollars, but which was used to carry on elections, and the Indian got what was left; which may be compared to cheese-parings and cheese, or skim-milk and cream. The Indian gets the parings and the skim-milk!
The Quaker agents, as they are called, are doing a good work, because they see that honest dealings are had with the annuities paid them. If the President had done little else, this feature of reform will redound to his credit forever.
BURIAL OF A CHIEF'S DAUGHTER.
Spotted Tail, the head chief of the Brule Sioux, sent a request to the commanding officer at Fort Laramie, saying "his daughter had died in Powder River country (fifteen days' journey), and had begged her father to have her grave made among the whites." Consent was given, she having been known to the officers for several years, and her death was brought on by exposure to the hardships of wild Indian life, and also from grief, that her tribe would go to war.
He was met outside the "Post" by the officers, with the honors due his station. The officer in command spoke in words of comfort, saying, "he sympathized with him, and was pleased at this mark of confidence in committing to his care the remains of his loved child. The Great Spirit had taken her, and he never did anything except for some good purpose. Everything should be prepared for the funeral at sunset, and as the sun went down, it might remind him of the darkness left in his lodge when his daughter was taken away; but as the sun would surely rise again, so she would rise, and some day we would all meet in the land of the Great Spirit."
The chief exhibited great emotion at these words, and shed tears; a thing quite unusual in an Indian. He took the hand of the officer and said, "This must be a dream for me to be in such a fine room, and surrounded by such as you. Have I been asleep during the last four years of hardship and trial, dreaming that all is to be well again? or is this real? Yes, I see that it is,—the beautiful day, the sky blue, without a cloud; the wind calm and still, to suit the errand I came on, and remind me that you offer me peace! We think we have been much wronged, and entitled to compensation for damage done and distress caused by making so many roads through our country, driving and destroying the buffalo and game. My heart is very sad, and I cannot talk on business. I will wait and see the counselors the Great Father will send."
The scene, it is added, was the most impressive I ever saw, and all the Indians were awed into silence. A scaffold was erected (see print) at the cemetery, and a coffin was made. Just before sunset, the body was carried, followed by the father and other relatives, with chaplain,[2]officers, soldiers, and Indians. The chaplain read the beautiful burial-service, interpreted by another to them.
One said, "I can hardly describe my feelings at witnessing here this first Christian burial of an Indian, and one of such consideration among her tribe. The hour, the place, the solemnity, even the restrained weeping of the mother and other relatives, all combined to affect me deeply."
It is added: the officers, to gratify Monica's father, each placed an offering in her coffin. Colonel Maynadier, a pair of gauntlets, to keep her hands warm (it was winter), Mr. Bullock gave a handsome piece of red cassimere to cover the coffin. To complete the Indian ceremony, her two milk-white ponies were killed and their heads and tails nailed on the coffin. These ponies the Indians supposed she would ride again in the hunting-grounds whither she had gone.
2 (Return)Rev. A. Wright, post-chaplain, U. S. A.
AN INDIAN RAID ON SIDNEY STATION, UNION PACIFIC RAILROAD.
In the month of April, 1868, while returning from the East, we took dinner at Sidney Station, on the railroad, four hundred and fourteen miles west of Omaha, at noon. While we were there, two freight conductors brought in their trains and dined at the same time we did, and when we started they were on the platform and said good-by to us. They concluded to go out a fishing, a mile or two from the settlement, behind one of the bluffs. We had not left on our way to Cheyenne more than about an hour, when we learned by telegraph at "Antelope Station" (thirty-seven miles), that a band of twenty or thirty Sioux Indians had come suddenly upon the two conductors, named Cahoone and Kinney, and, after a severe conflict, had shot both through with arrows, and scalped one of them (Cahoone), besides killing some of the railroad hands at work repairing the road near by the scene of conflict. Presently we met a special train, consisting of engine and caboose-car, coming with tremendous speed,—one mile a minute,—containing Dr. Latham, surgeon of the railroad from Cheyenne. It seems that the soldiers—a small company—were completely surprised, and not being mounted, could only protect the station, but could not follow up the Indians to punish them for their audacity.
There were nearly two hundred and fifty people, including one hundred infantry soldiers, at the station; and the alarm of "Indians" being given, the whole population turned out with such arms as they could lay hold of. The sight of so many persons disconcerted the Indians, and they checked their horses within a respectable distance of the station. About two hundred shots were fired,—many of them in the wildest manner, and mostly hurting nobody.
The Indians rode round the upper side of Sidney—i.e.west—after the affray with the conductors, and attacked the section-men, circling round and round (as usual in their mode of Indian warfare, to draw out the fire of their enemies, till they exhaust their ammunition), till they had killed several of the poor Irishmen at work. These men had with them a hand-car, and the boss had a rifle with him, and only one charge or cartridge in his gun. He did the best he could, however, by jumping on the car and taking aim at his enemies, and keeping the gun pointed towards them, while the men worked the hand-car safe into Sidney Station. He escaped with his life, and several of his comrades.
These two conductors had about seven arrows shot into each of them, several going right through their bodies, and which had to be broken off to draw them out. One—Thomas Cahoone—was scalped twice, on the top and back of his head. The other—William Kinney—kept his captor at bay by a pistol he had, and thus aiming at the Indian, saved his hair. Both were brought up carefully in the caboose-car to Cheyenne, and next day I saw them under Dr. Latham's treatment. All thought that both would surely die, but both got well; and the one who was scalped is now living at a station on the Union Pacific Railroad. It is a terrible operation to be scalped, and few survive it. But, thanks to the surgeon's skill, these men are living, and feel very much like taking vengeance on their tormentors,—if they ever catch them!
WHY DO INDIANS SCALP THEIR ENEMIES?
I have been a good deal puzzled to know the origin of this custom, of always scalping a foe in battle, both among themselves and in fighting white people. A negro is never scalped by the Indians. In conversing with Major A. S. Burt, of 9th United States Infantry, at our post, who has had much experience among the Indians on the plains, I learn some things which give a clue to the matter, which agree with all I can hear. He says that each Indian wears a "scalp-lock" (see engraving), which is a long tuft of hair, into which the Indian inserts his medicine, which consists generally of a few quills of eagle's feathers. This "medicine" is simply a "charm," as we call it, gotten by purchase of the medicine-man of the tribe. The medicine-man is the most influential man in each tribe. He professes to be able to conjure, by his arts and influence with the Great Spirit, certain articles, which he sells to the Indians of his tribe. This "medicine" the superstitious believe will cure diseases, and help him against his enemy in battle. Hence, in scalping a fallen foe, the victor deprives him of his charm, and shows it in triumph, as a token of his skill in battle. If you visit an Indian in his tent, and ask him to show you his "medicine," he will do so, if you pay him in such things as he needs to make therewith a feast, both for himself and an offering to his medicine idol; but as the idol can't eat, it goes of course into the stomach of the live Indian![3]
Another idea: the Indian believes that the spirit of the enemy he slays enters into himself, and he is thereby made the stronger; hencehe slays all that he can. I have seen young warriors in the streets of Cheyenne, with their hair reaching down almost to their heels; and all along it you'd see strung round pieces of silver, from the size of a silver dollar to a tea-saucer; each one of which was a tell-tale of the number of the scalps the young fellow had taken. It was what the ladies would call a "waterfall!"
Speaking of this, as revealing the pride of Indians in showing their prowess, I learned of ayoung buck, coming into a post and walking round, dressed in the top of Indian fashion,—i.e.with paint on his face, feathers in his hair, and brass ornaments on his leggins. These young fellows put on all the gewgaws they can to make a show of importance. Well, he finally walked into the post-trader's store, and asked Mr. Bullock if he didn't think it made the officersfaintwhen they saw him? "Yes," said he, "I think you'd better take off some of your things (pointing to his trappings), they will scare somebody."
3 (Return)The Indian keeps his "medicine" hung up in his tent, and prays to it,—dreams about it,—and if his dream is of good luck, he acts accordingly. This applies to hunting, going on war expeditions, etc.; in short, it is his sort of saint, to which he pays idolatrous worship.
INDIAN BOY'S EDUCATION.
When an Indian gets to be eighteen years old, it is expected that he will strike out for himself, and do some act to show his bravery; and that begins in striking somebody to kill them (a white or Indian of a hostile tribe), and to steal stock, a horse, or mule, or cattle.
No young warrior can get a wife till he has taken the scalp of a white man or Indian, and have stolen a horse or pony. This being a law of the Sioux, so in proportion as he scalps and steals horses so does his number of wives increase, and the greater a warrior does he become. In short, he becomes "a big heap chief." What to us becomes a murder or a theft,—the very first act of a young Indian,—in his own tribe is a great and praiseworthy deed. So you see what blood has been shed, and other acts of cruelty caused by Spotted Tail, Red Cloud, and others, who have imbrued their hands in the blood of innocent victims with a fiendish delight that savages only know and take pleasure in.
As the arrows tell of the tribe to which they belong,—colored near the end,—green for the Sioux, blue, Cheyenne, red or brown, Arrapahoes, black feathers, Crow,—so the tribe to which an Indian murderer belongs is known by the method (usually) by which the victim is scalped. The Cheyennes remove a piece not larger than a silver dollar from immediately over the left ear; the Arrapahoes take the same from over the right ear. Others take from the crown, forehead, or nape of the neck. The Utes take the entire scalp from ear to ear, and from forehead to nape of neck.
MAKING PRESENTS.
A grocer in Julesburg had married a squaw; after awhile she left him and joined her tribe. Coming that way again, she came and looked in upon her former husband at the back-door, while all her relations stood staring around to see if she would be welcomed back again. But he took no notice of her. One of his friends said to him, "Joe, why don't you go and call her in, you know you are glad to see her back again; you certainly want her?"
"No, no," said he, "I ain't going to make any fuss over her at all. If I do, the whole crowd of her relations, uncles, aunts, and cousins, will come in to shake hands, and congratulate me with 'How, how,' expecting each one to have a pound of sugar. No, no, you don't catch me."
INDIANS MAKING SIGNALS.
The Indians can make signals to the distance of eight or ten miles to their confederates. This is done in two ways: first, by lighting one or more fires; secondly, by flashing the sunlight by small mirrors from one bluff to another. Thus, by day or by night, they can communicate at great distances. They have "field-glasses" also.
If an Indian is benighted on the plains, he can make himself quite comfortable, where a white man would perish in the winter with cold. He will gather some buffalo chips, and strike a fire with a flint, sitting close to it, and throwing his blanket around him in shape of a tent, and let the smoke go out of a hole at the top. He thus looks at night like a stump on fire.
MERCIFUL INDIANS.
A poor old German was traveling in Colorado with his wagon, when he was set upon by a lot of Indians. They drew their bows to shoot him, when he dropped upon his knees and began to pray vehemently. "Oh," said he, "mine goot friends, please don't shoot me! I'm joost the best friends what you have got. I never killed not nobody, and please don't shoot a poor fellow like me." The Indians did not understand a word he said, but he acted in such a ludicrous manner, they thought he was crazy, and so they let him pass unharmed. They seemed to have a sense of the ludicrous, as they went off laughing at the poor Dutchman quite heartily.
A SCENE AT NORTH PLATTE.
After the treaty with the Indians at Fort Laramie, in 1868, the Peace Commission adjourned, part to go with General Sherman to New Mexico, a part to meet at Fort Rice, Dakota, with General Terry, part to go up to Fort Bridger, in Wyoming, with General Augur, and another with Commissioner Taylor at North Platte, Nebraska, to meet different tribes not present at Laramie. There I went to see Spotted Tail's band, and learn all I could of Indian life. Spotted Tail was off on the Republican River, in Kansas, hunting buffalo with White Bear and Man-who-owns-his-Horses, nephew of Spotted Tail. Mr. Goodell, of Chicago, was there, to see if he could not induce the Indians to undertake the weaving of blankets and shawls, etc. by hand-looms, such as are in use in the Ohio Penitentiary. I went with him to hear what they would say. Rolled up in a blanket were specimens of woolen yarn of bright colors, and a piece of cloth partly woven, and he had a picture of a girl sitting at the loom in the act of weaving. Around us gathered all the young squaws, who expressed great delight at the whole thing and seemed to comprehend it; while young Indian lads stood at a distance and only gave a grunt of qualified satisfaction, or reservation. I should think there would be no difficulty in introducing such work, as the squaws will readily labor on anything that promises to add to their comfort or adornment of their persons.
Then quite an amusing incident occurred, which I must relate, though the joke was upon myself, or my friend, Mr. G——. Seeing a tall young squaw standing in front of her tent, I said, "Let us go and see what she is doing." She had made her morning toilet, and was very prettily dressed in gay colors, with a long red shawl on, coming down to her feet. I should say the entrance to the tepees or tents is through a hole hidden by a round hoop, covered with deer-skin, hanging by a string only, so as to be thrust aside easily when one wants to enter.
I said to her, "Me wa-se-na-cha-wa-kon!" That is to say, I am a medicine-man, or minister of the Great Spirit. "Wa-kon" means Great Spirit. Looking first at me, then at Mr. G——, she raised her finger and said, "Me no want." Then she turned and rushed into her tent,—shot in like a prairie-dog into his hole,—leaving us to feel rather silly by being so suddenly "cut" by a young beauty on the plains. I said, "Mr. G——, she evidently don't like your good looks or mine," and we walked off quite mortified. The interpreter explained her conduct, saying she was not "sick," and therefore did not want any "charm" to make her well.
Here I saw an Indian child, five years old, dressed in a most elegant suit of buckskin, embroidered with beads and horse-hair of various colors. The frock came below the knees, with a handsome fringe at the bottom, and underneath the little fellow wore leggins and moccasins. I never saw any child dressed so beautiful or looking like a little prince, as he was, of the tribe. I would have given fifty dollars for the "outfit," if I had a child to wear it. How is it that these rude children of nature can do such beautiful bead-work,—all of the figures as regular as if laid out by geometrical rule,—or as perfect as any lady could make the figures of an afghan?
This station of the Union Pacific Railroad is just beyond the crossing of the Platte River, of half a mile in width.
It is an important little place of a few hundred people, on account of the machine-shops and round-house for locomotives, and as one of the main points where Indians cross from Dakota to the Republican River when on hunting expeditions. Hence a company of soldiers are stationed here to protect the railroad and the long bridge just east of the town. All along the road, at each station, are troops also for protection, who usually "turn out," range in file, and "present arms" as the train approaches.
Here we met a white man named Pratt,—that is to say, if he were washed in the river he would look white,—who said that he had lived with the tribe for sixteen years, and had nine (half-breed) children, and they were more filthy and squalid than those of any other lodge.
A squaw had died here, and was buried as usual, by elevating the body upon upright poles. A stock of food was left with her at night, to eat on the way to the other country. But lo! in the morning she came down and ate it all up, saying to her friends, "She wanted to see her aunt before departing." She lived a week longer, and died, as it was supposed, again. It is said that her friends got tired of such fooling, and being determined to end the matter, adopted the white man's mode of covering her up in the ground! Again she rose up and preferred some new request; but thinking the old enchantress had stayed long enough this side the hunting grounds, they forced her down and laid sufficient turf upon her to keep her quiet for a long last sleep.
Among the Pawnees at Columbus, on the reservation near the railroad, an Indian trader makes a good thing out of the poor fellows in this way:
For instance, the Indian Bureau pays off the tribe twice a year. In the spring, blankets, etc.; these are worth at least three dollars each. The Indians sell these blankets for a double handful of coffee and sugar. Then they buy them back in the fall with money and buffalo meat, which they sell to the trader at six cents the pound. He then cures the meat and sells it back to them for twenty-five cents the pound; thus making nine per cent. on it. Some one, it is said, complained to the government about it, and they sent a new agent to them; but the Pawnees had confidence in the old agent or trader named Platt, and they stoutly refused to trade with the new man!
ACROSS THE PLAINS.
When Vice-President Colfax and Horace Greeley, and Governor Bross of Illinois, made the journey overland to California, about twelve years since, they went all the way by stage from the Missouri River to Denver, Colorado, to Salt Lake, etc., through the mountains of the Sierra Nevada. It took them about thirty days to go. Mr. Greeley said he "could think of these plains (called in your maps the 'Great American Desert') as fit for nothing but to fill up between commercial cities!" But he was partly mistaken, as his friends are now planting a colony (named Greeley) of intelligent settlers on the Cach-le-pow-dre Creek, south of Cheyenne, fifty-five miles toward Denver, where ninety thousand acres of land have been secured for tillage, and where saw-mills and stores and dwellings are to be erected. The success of this enterprise has led to another one. The railroadhas projected civilization one hundred years ahead, opening up a highway for commerce from New York to the "Golden Gate," to Asia, Africa, and China, which will astonish the world and divert the course of trade to the Pacific coast.
But you are interested mainly, I see, in reading about the incidents which attended the opening up of this great national highway.
The dangers attending the building of the road were sometimes very great, as the Indians saw very plainly that it was the white man's encroachment on his hunting-grounds. And when even the telegraph-poles were being put up, long before, the Indians imagined that the government was thus putting them up to fence off their hunting-grounds, so they could not get any more buffalo! And once, after I came to Fort Sedgwick, the wires were said to be "down," and no communication could be had with other posts in the upper country. It was feared that the Indians had been tampering with the wires, and torn them down. But the operators went out under an escort of soldiers to see what the difficulty was. They came back again in a couple of days, and reported that the Indians had not meddled with the wires at all. But it seemed that some buffaloes in a large drove had taken the privilege of scratching their rumps against the poles, and thus tore them down; and getting their horns entangled in the wires, the wild creatures had carried off about four miles of telegraph-wire!
WHY DOES NOT THE INDIAN MEDDLE WITH THE TELEGRAPH?
It is said that the pioneer company over the plains got together several chiefs and explained as well as they could themodus operandiof obtaining electricity from the clouds, and making it useful in conveying intelligence to great distances. This was hard for them to believe, because they are superstitious, and attribute all phenomena they do not fully understand toconjurationorcharms, such as their medicine-man practices. However, they concluded to put the matter to a test.
So it was that two principal Indians, about one hundred miles apart, agreed to send a message over the lines on a given day, and then they would travel toward each other as fast as they could to see if the message (known only to themselves and the operator) should be correct. Of course it proved as we would expect, and they were satisfied. This intelligence has spread from one tribe to another, and they, believing that it is somehow (as it is in truth) connected with the Great Spirit who controls the winds and the storms; hence they do not meddle with it.
PLUM CREEK MASSACRE.
But it is not to be supposed that the Indians quietly submitted to the building of the railroad through their country.
The most formidable obstacle which was met with in building the road occurred in 1866, by the throwing off the track a train of cars at Plum Creek, near the Platte River, two hundred and thirty miles west of Omaha.
The Indians were led on by a half-breed, and probably one or more scalawag whites were engaged in this diabolical act, as one was found among the killed with his face painted black and wearing Indian clothing. Some one having a fertile imagination made a picture of this scene, and I saw it copied in Philadelphia for some wall-paper to ornament hotel dining-rooms. Speaking to some ladies there about the delightful trip to California over the Pacific Railroad, one exclaimed, "I would like to visit California, but oh, my! I never could venture on the danger. Just look at the picture in the window, corner Chestnut Street and Broad. The horrid Indians have thrown the cars off the track, and killing all the passengers!" I explained to her that it was a fancy sketch entirely, gotten up for a bar-room wall-paper, and that it was ridiculous and false; for the picture was made to show the locomotive off the rail, and the Indians riding round the cars in white shirt sleeves and bright-red, flaring neckties, like gay cavaliers or brigands!
PAWNEE INDIANS—YELLOW SUN AND BLUE HAWK.
Both these Indians declare themselves innocent of the crime of murder. I visited Omaha in the fall of 1869, where they were lodged in jail awaiting their trial. Just before I came one of them had escaped, and gone back to the Pawnee reservation, near Columbus. Here the sheriff and soldiers found him with his squaw, decked out in all their style of paint and ornament, ready for the sacrifice. He was ready and willing to be slainamonghis own people, but to go back and suffer the ignominy of being hung up by the neck till dead was more than he could bear. If the Indian dies in this way, all believe they cannot enter into the happy hunting-grounds.
They were supposed to have murdered Edward McMurty, near Grand Island, Nebraska, in June, 1868.
After being shut up in a filthy jail about two years, they were acquitted. This was a sample of the way we dispense justice in our courts of law.
A TRIP TO FORT LARAMIE.
This post was established a great many years since by the American Fur Company, to trade with the Indians, buying furs and peltries of them in return for various articles of merchandise, such as tobacco, sugar, coffee, blankets, calico, beads, etc. Mr. John Jacob Astor, the millionaire of New York, made his great wealth by dealing in furs with the Indians.
It is related of an agent of the company that while weighing the furs, he would place his foot on the scales and call it a pound! Of course he could keep it on as long as he chose, and the Indians would be none the wiser. It is a good story, but in nowise related to Mr. Astor, who was reputed to be honest, and at one time very poor.
It was full of curiosity that I started from Fort Russell with the paymaster, Major Burbank, Inspector-General Sweitzer, Medical Director J. B. Brown, and others, on the last of May, 1870, with an escort of a dozen cavalry, to pay a few days' visit to Laramie, ninety-five miles north-east of our post. Leaving at noon in procession, with three ambulances and as many army wagons, scaling the bluffs, bare of everything like trees or shrubs, and only covered with grass and wild flowers, and now and then sage-bush and prickly-pear cactus, which are very troublesome to the horses' feet. The roads were, as usual, very hard and fine, so that up hill and down dale we made six miles to the hour all the way. Our first station was Horse Creek, twenty-five miles, where we camped on a fine stream of water for the night. When a party thus camps out, the wagons are corraled, as it is called,—i.e.a circle is made of them and the horses are tethered inside orlariatedwith a rope long enough to let them feed, and this is held by an iron stake or pin driven into the ground. Then the tents are put up in a line, and at once begins the work of gathering brush and sticks (or buffalo-chips), with which to cook a savory supper of bacon, potatoes, and hot coffee. This is the time for cracking jokes, telling stories of pioneer life,—and the colored boys are full of fun. We had one from the South named Tom Williams, belonging to Colonel Mason, of the 5th Cavalry. After enjoying our evening meal and getting ready to lie down in our tents, spread on the grass, as the evening approached, the sun was sinking behind Laramie Peak,—a mountain far away in the Black Hills, towering up eight thousand feet,—and all nature was hushed into repose, and each one with his lungs full of the light air, and his body weary with a long ride, just dropping off to sleep,—all at once there was a yell and halloo outside, which caused me to jump up and look out to see if any red-skins had broke through the guard and invaded our peaceful circle. Instead of scalping Sioux, there was nothing the matter but the return of a drove of large beef-cattle we had passed grazing on the Chugwater, and which sought our camping-ground on account of a bare place where they could lie down and be warm for the night. Our Tom was racing up and down among them, yelling "Hi, hi!" and shaking his blanket in all directions to stampede the poor cattle, who had as good a right as we to the soil.
Pickets were stationed all around us, and, save the snoring of some tired sleeper and the occasional braying of a mule or two, we slept soundly, with no fear of Indians. Here we met a white man and his wife, a squaw, and several others, who were waiting for Red Cloud and his chiefs, who were on their way to Washington from Fort Fetterman. They were related to John Reichaud, a half-breed belonging to Red Cloud's party. This Reichaud had lived about Laramie and Fetterman for many years, and, by raising stock and trading, had accumulated, it is said, about two hundred thousand dollars. During last winter, while drunk, he quarreled with a soldier, and a little while after, in passing some barracks at Fetterman, he aimed his revolver at a soldier, who was sitting in front of his quarters, named Kernan, and killed him, supposing it was the same soldier he had just before been quarreling with. Finding out his mistake, he fled away up to Red Cloud's camp, and while there incited the Indians to make war upon the whites. At the time we were going up, General John E. Smith was journeying towards us with Red Cloud and his band of warriors, and having Reichaud as the chief's prisoner. It was said he expected to get the President to pardon him and allow him to establish a trading-post for the Ogallallas. The feeling against this outlaw was such as to make General Smith fear that some one at Cheyenne would shoot him, and so the party turned off to Pine Bluff Station, about forty-three miles east of that town. We thus missed seeing them. But there were other objects of interest in our journey, and we went on to the mail station, called the Chug, a place not of much note,—for beside a company of cavalry, there were not a dozen ranches there on the beautiful stream, along whose banks were growing willow-trees, and the cottonwood also. Besides, there were half a dozen tepees filled with half-breeds, who are herders and wood-choppers in the mountains.
While the paymaster was dispensing the greenbacks to Uncle Sam's boys, the doctor and I sallied out with a guide in search of those much admired
MOSS AGATES,
which are here found in great abundance, even quarried out of a bluff and carried off by the wagon-load. The guide had been there but once, and somehow or other he could not locate it exactly, and we had a ride out of six miles and back without finding the spot. Still, we picked up a few on the way. As these are now so much the fashion for jewelry, I will describe them. First, I should say that most suppose they contain real moss, or fern-leaves, so distinct are they seen in a clear agate to resemble them. Thus you see imitations of pine-trees, vines, a deer's head, and sprigs of various kinds; but it is through iron solutions penetrating them when in a soluble state. If you take a pen and drop some ink into a tumbler of water, it will scatter and form for the moment an appearance like a moss agate. These agates, when found on bluffs or dry places, are coated over with a white covering of lime or alkali. Those in the beds of rivers found along the line of the Pacific Railroad, are smooth and transparent. They are called the "Cheyenne brown agate," "Granger water agate," "Church Buttes light-blue agate," and the "Sweet-water agate."
There are great quantities of them near Church Butte and Granger stations, nearly nine hundred miles west of Missouri River. You have to poke among cobble-stones, etc. to find them, and when a person comes upon a handsome specimen, he will shout, as did a minister from Chicago, one day, with me, when he picked up a nice one as large as an egg,—"Glory hallelujah!"
It is like searching for gold and silver,—very exciting, and far more pleasurable than fishing or hunting. A friend here has about sixty pounds of agates, for which he was offered by a lapidary in New York five dollars a pound. A handsome stone for a ring or pin is worth, when cut into shape, from three to five dollars. The lapidary cuts them with a steel wheel, about eight inches in diameter, using oil and diamond-dust in cutting and polishing.
A YOUNG BRAVE.
At Chug Station I met a frontiersman named Phillips, of long experience, who told me in his new adobe house of an old chief who had lost five sons, and when the first was slain he cut off a piece of his thumb, next of his forefinger, and so on, till five told of his boys killed. The last was a brave, and supposed no ball could hit him, wearing, he supposed, "a charmed life." He came to the "Chug" and dared them to shoot. As he and three or four more had killed a white man and wounded others, the people all turned out, and Phillips shot the bold young fellow, and wounded the rest of the party so that they died. The body of the young Indian lay by the roadside for several weeks, till the wolves and ravens had picked his bones, and I picked up his skull, pierced through with several balls, to bring back and present to the post-surgeon.
This grinning skull was lying on the grass which covered the roadside, and almost beneath towering monuments or bluffs of sandstone, which jut out at several points on the road, running along for great distances, and towering up several hundred feet high. We passed soon after several of these projections, which look like fortifications and baronial castles of some knights of the olden time. "Chimney Rock" is well known to travelers as a series of fluted columns, and standing solitary, as sentinels in the desert, they look solemn, lonely, and sublime. Old George, the stage-driver, has passed them twice a week for many years, and the wonder is he has not lost his scalp.
Sometimes the chiefs and old Indians will cut slits in their cheeks and rub ashes in them, sitting over the fire and bemoaning the loss of their dead children. They present a horrid appearance to one who looks at their pagan mode of bewailing the departed.
Arrived at Fort Laramie on the third day, we were courteously welcomed by Colonel F. F. Flint, of the 4th Infantry, commandant of the post. Delicacy dictates that we forbear to speak of the charming family which surrounds him; but the rarity of Christian households in the army made our visit there like to an oasis in the desert.
To visit the Indian graves surrounding the post was a prominent object before us in going. Lieutenant Theodore F. True, with an orderly, two mules, and a horse saddled, found us fording the Laramie River to inspect the grave,—if such it can be called, as shown in the picture on this page,—where the body was dried up like a mummy, and nothing else but fragments of a buffalo-robe dangling in the wind was to be seen. Relic hunters had carried away everything in the shape of bow and arrow, wampum, etc.
We moralized over this beautiful feature of Indian superstition, wherein they are certainly free from the horrid thought that any one is ever buried alive!
Next we sought the place where the remains of Mon-i-ca, daughter of Zin-ta-gah-lat-skah, was placed, by her request, in the white man's cemetery, and alongside of the body of her uncle Sho-ta,—"Old Smoke,"—an old warrior. The coffin was made at the post, and elevated on posts about ten feet high. They cover these coffins with handsome red broadcloth, and deposit in each all the trinkets and valuables belonging to the departed. One other grave there the Indians visit annually, and mourn over with their lamentations,—that of a Frenchman named Sublette, who brought them down and directed them how to vanquish their enemies, the Pawnees, in a great battle.
THE HEAD CHIEF—RED CLOUD.
Red Cloud is regarded as the head chief of the Sioux nation, and for over twenty years has been thus venerated. He is fifty-three years old, and claims to have fought in eighty-seven battles, often wounded, but never badly hurt. Red Cloud is about six feet six inches in his stockings (I mean moccasins), large features, high cheek bones, and a big mouth, and walks knock-kneed, as others do. His face is painted, and his ears pierced for gaudy rings, which men and women have an equal pride for. His and other chiefs' robes were beautifully worked with hair, beads, and jewels. His leggins were red, handsomely worked with beads and horse-hair and ribbons, and his moccasins were fit for a prince to wear.
He has encountered the Utes, Pawnees, Snakes, Blackfeet, Crows, and Omahas. Thirty-three years ago, while he was the youngest of the braves, he engaged with a party of one hundred and twenty-five warriors of his tribe, and only twenty-five escaped alive. Twice was he wounded, and so distinguished by his daring that he was made a chief for his skill in fighting. Then he rose in rank to the highest station, and he holds it to-day. His people regard him as one of the greatest warriors on the plains, being skilled with the tomahawk, rifle, and bow and arrow, and in councils of chiefs, his wonderful sagacity and eloquence have stamped him, in the eyes of all Indians, as worthy of veneration and implicit obedience. As I had missed the party on their way to Washington by a few hours' tarrying on the "Chug," and General Smith had taken a short cut across to Pine Bluff Station, seventy-three miles below Cheyenne, to avoid a conflict anticipated about Richaud, I will give an account gleaned from others, of this expedition, which it is hoped may result in lasting peace.
The "outfit" assembled in front of General Flint's house, on their arrival at Fort Laramie, and got up a regular war-dance to amuse the general's family and others there. This chief, Red Cloud, whose fame had extended hardly east of the Missouri River, has now spread over the world; and from his wigwam and hunting-grounds, he is heard of across the Atlantic as a great man of destiny. He has passed through Omaha and Chicago to Washington in his war-paint, ornamented with eagle's feathers, buffalo-skins, horse-hair, bears' claws, and trophies of his skill, which he values more highly than a brigadier the stars upon his shoulders!
Along with him were nineteen of his braves and four squaws, which is a small number, considering that the Indian is a Mormon in the matter of polygamy. The Indianbuyshis wife (or wives) by giving a pony for the prize; and when Mother Bickerdyck, the army-nurse, saw "Friday" in Kansas, and upbraided him with havingtwosquaws, he said, "Well, give me one white squaw, and I'll be content; you know one white squaw is equal to two Indian squaws!"
General Smith was a favorite of Red Cloud's, having met him in the Powder River country, and under circumstances which made him respected among the Sioux Indians.
The chiefs on Red Cloud's staff, and going to Washington, were: