The Indian War of 1864 - Chapters 13-15



CHAPTER XIII.
MAY 17, 1864.--THE INSPECTOR.--THE REPORT.--THE IRON-GRAY HORSE.--THE 
RUNAWAY.--THE HOSPITAL.--THE HORSE SALE.--FAIRNESS OF CAPTAIN O'BRIEN.--
PRIVATE MURPHY.--ARMY AS A SCHOOL.--JOHN SMITH.--GRAY, THE HUNTER.--THE 
OTTER SLIDE.--GAME IN THE MOONLIGHT.--THE BULL ELK.--ANIMAL LANGUAGE.

   ON MAY 17, 1864, traveling with an escort, there came to our Post the 
Chief Inspector of the Department, to give us and the Post an inspection, 
from which we afterwards heard as follows from the Chief of Cavalry, from 
whose report I make the following quotation:

"HEADQUARTERS DEPARTMENT OF KANSAS.
OFFICE CHIEF OF CAVALRY,
FORT LEAVENWORTH, July 7, 1864.

Captain N. J. O'Brien
Co. 'F' Seventh Iowa Cavalry,
Fort Cottonwood, Nebr. Ter.
   "CAPTAIN: The cavalry inspection report of Chief of Cavalry, District 
of Nebraska, shows ... your company is reported as having no ammunition on 
hand, and this is the second month that it is so reported. In all other 
respects the report is perfect, and the District Chief of Cavalry in his 
remarks adds:

'COTTONWOOD SPRINGS, May 19, 1864.
   'Inspected Companies G and F, 7th Iowa Cavalry, this day. COMPANY F, 
before reported, is in good condition, well drilled, and well disciplined, 
horses in good order; twelve men are reported sick; some of them are 
confined to quarters by reason of very sore eyes. I report the companies 
without ammunition because the Post Commander takes charge of the 
ammunition, and only issues to the companies as needed for immediate use.'

   "Respectfully forwarded through headquarters, District of Nebraska.

Very respectfully,
B. S. Henning, Major,
Chief of Cavalry." 

   This report of the eyes is a fact of which I have spoken before. The 
incessant wind which blew upon the plains, and kept the sand and alkali in 
circulation, affected the eyes of the men, and there were constantly some 
of the men who were unable to do much until their eyes were well; and this 
was so general a matter that all of the ranches kept large spectacles or 
goggles to sell to the "pilgrims" and we had a lot in our company to be 
used by the men when they felt that they were beginning to suffer.

   I have spoken briefly of the arrival of Company C, May 19, 1864, which 
came to take the place of Company G. A circumstance happened on the 
arrival of Company C which it always made me sorry to recollect, and it 
was in this wise: My big iron-gray horse didn't get exercise enough, and 
was always hungering and thirsting for a run. We knew of the coming of 
Company C, and I saw them when they got within two miles of the Post. For 
my horse I had had the blacksmith make an iron band as a curb to go under 
his jaw. I imagined I could stop him any time with such a curb bit, or 
else break his jaw. I whistled up the two dogs, Fannie and Kearney, and 
started down to meet Company C. After I had got about a half-mile below 
the Post, a jack-rabbit jumped up, and the two dogs started yelping after 
it towards the bluffs. In my effort to turn the horse away from the dogs 
and rabbit, and get him towards the company, I pulled heavily upon the 
reins, so much so that the curb broke, and it left me with nothing but a 
straight pull on the bridle-bit. The horse, full of vim and vigor, kept on 
after the dogs. While chasing one rabbit, another would jump up in front 
of him, and the dogs would go off after the second rabbit. In about ten 
minutes I had passed Company C, and was going down the valley, my horse 
following the dogs as if he were a greyhound himself, and enjoying the 
sport as much as they. I endeavored to turn him around, back onto the 
road. He kept going like the wind, and I pulled and tugged on him until I 
was weak as a kitten. I always thought I could ride a horse (having been 
in the cavalry service for over two years) wherever I wanted to go, but 
this horse and the dogs just seemed to play over the prairie and there was 
no stopping it. By throwing all my weight upon one side of the bridle, and 
pulling and sawing, I happened to get him turned a little, and away from 
the dogs. But soon they passed me on a fresh trail, and I found myself 
floundering among the banks of the river. The horse and dogs plunged and 
ran, and I stayed on the back of the horse, absolutely powerless to check 
him. The horse ran around with me as hard as he could go for nearly two 
hours, and when the rabbits got away the dogs would ran alongside the 
horse, and jump and bark at his bridle-bit. Finally the horse and dogs got 
started back towards the Post, and I went with them. I was just riding, 
just staying on the back of the horse. I had pulled and pulled until I was 
so tired I couldn't pull a pound weight. I had a sort of gone feeling, was 
covered with perspiration, and had lost my hat. Company C had come to the 
Post and gone to their quarters, when finally the horse made up his mind 
to go to the Post, and with every effort which muscle and speed could 
show, the horse came up the road to the Post. Seeing that I must be in the 
presence of my soldiers, I made an effort and took hold of the reins and 
appeared to pull. Just as the horse was going through the parade-ground 
one of the soldiers ran and jumped in front of him. The horse stopped 
stiff-legged, and I went on over his head, over his ears, and onto the top 
of my head and back of my neck, and I just remember the appearance of the 
soldier and the beginning of my flight. Several hours after, I woke up in 
the hospital, and the doctor was rubbing me with alcohol and a soldier was 
letting wellwater fall from a canteen held high above my head, and 
dropping upon my forehead. There were several hours of a thought vacuum in 
my memory. The doctor still kept at work after I came to, and a lot of the 
soldiers stood around to see whether I was going to make it or not, 
because the doctor could not tell the extent of my injuries. As a matter 
of fact, I was not injured much. I was just entirely used up, and I struck 
on my head just hard enough for it to thoroughly stun. I wanted to show 
that I was not injured, and the doctor said he couldn't find any fractures 
or apparent injury; so in the morning I got them to help me up and dress, 
and at roll-call which we had at half-past five, I got out, with very 
great effort, and stood in front of the company, and attended the 
performances and disbanded the company, and sent them back to the 
barracks, and then went back to the hospital and collapsed for a couple of 
days. Then I got up, and was as well as ever.

   The question then arose with me, what I should do with my iron-gray 
horse. If I had been in a fight with the Indians, I should have certainly 
lost my life. I had the blacksmith put in another bar on the bridle-bit, 
but I made up my mind that I would not keep the horse. An Iowa Colonel bad 
been shot off from him at the celebrated battle of Pittsburg Landing, and 
I thought I would not take any chances. I will anticipate my story 
somewhat by saying that I put up a sign at MacDonald's ranch, reading 
"Horse for Sale." A little while after that I was up the river from the 
Post, drilling the company and riding this horse, when a wagon train went 
by. A man came up to me and asked me if I was the man who had the horse 
for sale. I told him "Yes," and that the price was $150. He felt the horse 
all over, looked in his mouth, held up his feet, and finally said, "I'll 
take him." He said, "I promised to get my wife a horse," and I said, "You 
don't want this horse. This is no horse for a woman to ride." In the mean 
time the woman had come up, and she said that she could ride as fast as 
any horse could run, and they thought I was trying to back out from the 
sale. Thereupon I had them wait until I finished my drilling, then I took 
my company back to the Post, and the man walked back, paid me the money, 
and took the horse. I told Sergeant Howe to go back with the man and see 
the woman and to tell her that the horse was very swift, might run away, 
and that she would have to be careful. Howe delivered the message, and the 
woman scoffed at it, and said that a horse couldn't run any too fast to 
suit her. She got on board of the horse and the train started on. Howe 
stated that in about five minutes the woman was scudding across the 
prairie and away from the road on the horse, lightning speed. He said he 
watched her until she went clear to the bluffs, and disappeared. Then he 
came down to the Post as fast as possible, and said that we might have to 
send somebody up there to help them. But to all that I was quite 
indifferent, and thought that I would not act until I was requested. I am 
glad to say that I never heard of the matter after. I was now left with 
only one horse.

   According to army regulations, a cavalry officer should have two 
horses -- one for himself, and one for his orderly; the army regulations 
allowed issue of rations both to the orderly and the two horses. I had one 
good horse, and although I had no particular use for another at that time, 
I immediately began looking around for one. I finally succeeded, as will 
hereinafterwards appear. 

   The inspection which we had got from Major Armstrong was a very full 
and thorough one. Our drill captured the Major entirely, and the condition 
of our horses pleased him very much; he told Captain O'Brien that our 
company was the best drilled and disciplined company along the Platte 
river or in the entire command. The Captain told the Major that he was 
very pleased to hear it, and for the Major to give me half of the credit 
for it, which was very courteous on the part of Captain O'Brien. The 
Captain was not only one of the best officers in the United States 
service, but he was very fair-minded, and didn't try to steal all the 
glory there was afloat. He never shirked any duty himself, and he never 
hesitated to give credit where credit was due to any of his subordinates. 
For that reason my recollection of my service with him remained most 
delightful; and was entirely different, I think, from that of any other 
junior officer in the regiment. There was no other company in which there 
was not bickering and quarreling and disputes between the officers. In 
fact, it is almost incredible that there were so many quarrels as there 
were, although I know from experience in my former regiments that the same 
conditions elsewhere prevailed. Superior officers were always trying to 
unhorse some subordinate, and get him out of the service so as to get some 
friend or relative in his place, and subordinates were keeping black marks 
upon their superiors so as to get them court-martialed and dismissed from 
the service. There was never any of that feeling in our company. The 
officers of our company all stood together, and the men appreciated it, 
and did their part towards making the company an exceptionally good one.

   In our company was a little young Irishman by the name of Murphy. 
Murphy was ambitious, and talkative. He enlisted at the age of nineteen. 
He had a fine, rich brogue, and it was a pleasure to listen to him. He was 
fond of drink, and began to get bad after we got to Cottonwood Springs, 
but he still did a lot of work. He was very handy with the ax, and could 
do about two men's work in chopping. Murphy wanted to be promoted. He was 
anxious for distinction, and when he couldn't be corporal, he thought the 
next thing was to get drunk. He was a fascinating little fellow, and where 
he got his whisky was always a great puzzle to us. Finally we got to 
putting Murphy in the guard-house, and by the first of November, 1863, he 
had developed a great thirst for liquor. In addition to that, he was a 
great politician, and was always shouting for Gen. George B. McClellan, 
who he said was the greatest Irishman in America. A large portion of our 
soldiers didn't like McClellan, and he had long since been relieved from 
the command of the Army of the Potomac; had been relegated to the rear, 
and was being talked of by the Democratic party as President of the United 
States. Murphy was everlastingly shouting for McClellan, whether drunk or 
sober, -- generally the former, in the guard-house. The result was that 
the guard-house was a sort of Democratic headquarters for Murphy and 
McClellan. Along in the latter part of May, 1864, Murphy had been much 
drunk and had made a lot of trouble. I determined to set out a row of 
trees, principally box-elders, around the parade-ground, and I took Murphy 
out of the guard-house, gave him a spade, and detailed a corporal to keep 
him going. I got a corporal that did not believe in political democracy, 
and he kept Murphy digging day after day in good shape. But in spite of 
everything we could do, although Murphy was taken back to the guard-house, 
and was carefully watched, and kept digging day after day, he kept half 
drunk all of the time. How that man managed to get whisky was one of the 
greatest of puzzles. It seemed that he could absorb it from the air, or 
suck it up from the sandy and arid plain. Murphy, from being one of the 
most active and capable young men, became just the opposite. He went to 
pieces, and finally died in the hospital a total wreck, about eight months 
after the last date named.

   And so it was in the army. The army was a most wonderful school. Many 
of the men improved from the moment they got into the company; they kept 
improving, educating one another, and building up right along in physique 
and in mind. Others who were good men seemed to go wrong, and from bad to 
worse, until they were of no account whatever. I never could understand 
it. The army is a great school and builds men up, and gives them benefits 
which they could nowhere else obtain; but to obtain these benefits they 
have to take unknown chances, and assume the risk of becoming utterly 
worthless.

   About the middle of May, 1864, there came into our camp a strange 
person. I made no memorandum of it at the time. He was a fellow with 
hardly any clothes, and was sunburned, tanned, covered with mud and 
scratches, and made a bad appearance at the Post. Several soldiers 
gathered around him, and he said his name was John Smith. As everybody who 
was a fugitive from justice called himself "John Smith," we paid but 
little attention to him. He did not tell his story, but he looked like a 
man who had been a tramp, and had slept in all kinds of gutters, had been 
kicked around, and had just awakened from a prolonged spree. My suggestion 
to him was that he should get out of camp, and move on. He disappeared, 
but soon thereafter returned and cut much of a figure; further on he will 
be heard of.

   There also came into camp a man who said his true name was Gray, and 
that he had made hunting an occupation; they called him "the hunter," 
which had been abbreviated finally to the name, "Hunter." In a short time 
he appeared in company with John Smith, who had got washed up, dressed up, 
and shaved; he was now quite a presentable looking fellow. We told him and 
Hunter that if they would bring in buffalo, deer-meat or wild turkeys, we 
would pay for it by the pound, just the same as for beef. They went off 
hunting, I don't know where, and came in with several horseback-loads of 
meat, amounting to about $30.

   About the time of the full moon in May, 1864, (20th,) it was suggested 
that we ought to go over to the other side of the island and find the best 
ford across the North arm of the river. Sam Fitchie, one of the trappers 
around the Post, and "Hunter" proffered to guide us, but thought we had 
better not go until evening, because, as the trapper said, "We will 
probably go up towards the head of the island, and there s a lot of beaver 
and otter up there, and if you never saw them playing it would be a sight 
which you would enjoy." We started late in the afternoon, about sundown, 
and found the river running pretty high. Going up towards the head of the 
island, there was an old arm of the river which had been obstructed, and 
we found a great number of places where the beaver had cut down cottonwood 
trees and made a marsh.

   As the hour grew later and the moon was up brightly, the guide took us 
into a clump of short cottonwoods and willow brush, further up toward the 
head of the island, where a little thread of the river was running rapidly 
between banks that were about ten feet high. He cautioned us to be quiet 
and to get off our horses, tie them, and walk a short distance until we 
would come to where he said we would find the wild animals playing; and 
sure enough, there they were. On the bank, down into the river, had been 
cut sliding-places, and the beaver and otter were crawling up out of the 
water onto the bank in one place, and, all wet with the water, were 
sliding down a gap in the bank in another place. The otter were sort of 
snarling all the time, and the beaver were sputtering away at each other. 
There were three of the slides running down to the water, and when these 
animals were coming up out of the water and sliding down as fast as they 
could make it, they were like a lot of little boys sliding down a hill. 
They came up at one place through an accessible gap in the bank, and then 
slid down through the other. The otter would slide down and go under the 
water and not come up again for twenty or fifty feet, then they would head 
again for the bank and take another slide. The beavers, as they slid down 
the bank, kept patting it with their broad, trowel-like tails and as they 
came down into the water they would sniff, but not go under. Other little 
animals were soon around, but they were not on the slide. The guide said 
that they were mink and muskrat. One time a little flock of them all went 
down in a company in the stream, sporting and playing about. It was a most 
interesting sight, and we watched it for an hour. We had no desire to 
interfere with their play, nor did we dare to fire a gun, not knowing but 
what Indians might be secreted in the neighborhood. The moon shone very 
brightly, and lit up the stream so that everything could be plainly seen. 
The sliding was all done on the north bank of the stream across from us. 
We kept back in the shade of the willow brush, and were not seen. However, 
all at once, through some cause or other, every animal quickly 
disappeared, and not a thing of life was visible, although we waited for 
nearly half an hour. They had evidently gotten acquainted with our 
presence and had communicated it to one another. "Hunter" declared that he 
could see the outline of a big bull elk in the willow brush across the 
stream opposite us, and tried to point it out to me, but I could not see 
it. "Hunter" had many of the Indian superstitions; among others was one 
that wild animals understood the language and signs of all of the other 
wild animals, and that if one wild animal or bird gave a note of fear, 
surprise or warning, all of the others understood it, took notice and 
acted upon it. "Hunter" said the bull elk gave us away; at any rate, every 
living thing suddenly disappeared.

   The only result of our ride was that we found that just at that time 
the north bank of the river at that point was difficult to cross. It 
seemed that the coming warm spring had melted the snow on the mountains on 
the North Platte, and the river was running high and full and cold, on the 
north side of the island.



CHAPTER XIV.
MAY 21, 1864.--JOE JEWETT AND SHARP.--RUMORS FROM TURKEY CREEK.--INDIAN 
ALARMS.--CONFEDERATE OFFICERS AMONG THE INDIANS.--PICKETING COTTONWOOD 
CANYON.--MYSELF AND RYAN.--DESERTION OF RYAN.--JACKSON AND MCFARLAND.--
INDIANS APPEAR.--WAGON CAPTURED.--INDIAN SIGNALS.--MAY 25, 1864.--MITCHELL 
APPEARS.--SECOND COUNCIL.--THE DISCUSSION.--THE POSTPONEMENT.--O-WAY-SEE'-
CHA PRESERVES ORDER.  

   ON MAY 21st two old hunters and stage-drivers, one, a half-breed, 
called "Joe Jewett," and the other, "Sharp," came and told us that the 
combined Cheyennes and Brules, down on Turkey Creek, about forty miles 
southwest of Fort Kearney and about seventy miles southeast of us, were 
having a fight; that they had surrounded a body of Colorado soldiers, and 
an Indian runner had said that ten of the soldiers had already been 
killed; that they were the soldiers who worked the artillery belonging to 
the detachment; that the artillery was consequently worthless, and that 
the Indians had surrounded the soldiers to prevent reinforcement, and were 
trying to starve them out. This information we forwarded to Fort Kearney 
by wire, but we never got any reply, nor received any orders in regard to 
our own action; it is probable that the rumor was an exaggerated one, 
although we prepared affidavits for Joe Jewett and Sharp to sign 
concerning the whole business, and they swore to the affidavits on 
information and belief, and we forwarded them. All of the women on the 
road were immediately sent down to Fort Kearney, which was a safe place, 
and perhaps none remained upon the road along its line from Kearney to 
near Denver except Mrs. MacDonald at our Post, and our laundress, 'Linty,' 
hereinbefore referred to.

   The Indian runner was the Indian telegraph of that day. The Indian was 
given a message. He conned it over and learned it. He delivered it word 
for word; that was his business and his only aim. If he told a he it was 
not his lie. It was the lie of the man who sent him. He remembered the 
message, word for word.

   Our understanding was that the Cheyennes and Comanches had been 
thoroughly aroused by Confederate officers, and there were reports that 
some bands of Indians, not desiring to join the uprising, had killed some 
of the Confederate ambassadors. I afterwards remember seeing a report that 
the Osages had killed eight Confederate officers under like circumstances, 
in one bunch. At any rate, the Confederate officers had arrayed the 
Indians against us as far as Kansas and southern Nebraska were concerned, 
but the Brules were principally north of the Platte River. It was about 
this time that through Mr. Gilman we were informed that an Indian runner 
had said a Cheyenne chief had been up through the bands of the Brule Sioux 
north of the river, showing a sergeant's cavalry jacket, his watch and 
paraphernalia as trophies, and was instituting war dances. We were told 
that this would, of course, eventually precipitate the Brule Sioux upon 
us. We kept careful guard around our Post to prevent an ambush or 
surprise. We could be surprised only from one quarter, and that was 
towards the south. One man could keep view of the country east, west and 
north of us, but there was nothing to prevent the Indians from biding in 
the ramifications of Cottonwood Canyon, and making a dash at the Post.

   So we had Cottonwood Canyon and its prongs inspected every day, and at 
night after dark we ran a picket-post well up into the Canyon, and had the 
pickets signaled every thirty minutes. The way was this: After dark we 
went up quietly with a strong body, say twenty men, on foot, and nestled 
into some protected corner, and then put out pickets. We had no loud 
hailing or calling of pickets, but the one who visited the picket was to 
go stealthily or crawl on the ground. The hailing-sign was by raps with a 
pebble upon the saber scabbard. If he could not find the picket when he 
thought he had gone near enough, the inspector gave three raps, to which 
the picket should respond with two, then a reply of one, and counter reply 
of one.

   I was out on one of these picket stations one night, along in the 
latter part of May, and the men were located at a certain washout. I 
settled myself about twenty yards farther up, in a little swale. 
Everything had been still for a while, but I had kept wide awake. Around 
upon one side of me I beard a stealthy noise as of some one crawling, and 
I made up my mind it was an Indian. I, with great caution and quiet, 
turned over and brought my revolver to bear upon the indistinct object. In 
a very short time John Ryan of my company, of whom I have spoken, rose 
upon his hands and feet and found me with a revolver presented at his 
face. He had threatened to kill me as before stated, and he was in all 
probability now bent upon that object. By having been awake, and 
anticipating danger, he found when he came up in the dark that I had the 
drop on him. He never raised his revolver, but remained motionless, 
knowing that his life was in my hands. I asked him what he was doing, and 
he said he was trying to find the picket-post. He had come out that night 
with the detail, and knew where it was; I pointed out the way to go, kept 
him covered with my revolver, and he went back. The next day I brought him 
up standing; told him that there was murder in him, and that I must see 
that he was properly taken care of. I took him, and put him in the guard-
house myself, and preferred charges against him. The final outcome was 
that he and two of his pals, Jackson and McFarland, whom I had put in the 
guard-house for stealing coffee from the mess, managed to saw out, get 
horses and two revolvers each, escape, and all get away. They dashed 
straight down south into the Indian country, knowing that they could not 
travel the roads east or west. Whether they ever lived through it or not, 
I do not know. I have never heard of them since. They were three of about 
the worst men that I ever saw. Jackson and McFarland without doubt were 
deserters from the Confederate army. The three were incorrigible thieves, 
and suffered a good part from the treatment which they deserved and got. 
They were under guard and doing fatigue duty, and sleeping in the guard-
house, a good deal of the time.

   In order to carry out the sequence of individual narrative, I have gone 
ahead of my story. Coming back now to May 23rd: We noticed a wagon going 
up the river on the other side; who the people were we did not know, but 
the Indians made a dash upon them right opposite the Post in broad 
daylight, killed two men, set fire to the wagon, and ran off with the 
horses. We could not get to them. We went down, and crossed the south 
branch of the river, which was pretty high, and which was very dangerous, 
but having all succeeded in getting across and reaching the stream of the 
North Platte on the north side of the island, we found a torrent coming 
down from the melted snows, and a stream fully eight feet deep. It was 
impossible to cross it and the Indians knew it, and they bade us defiance, 
and shook their fresh scalps at us. Indians were reported all along the 
line of the road; they were on the bluffs on our side, scrutinizing the 
road; at night we saw fire-arrows go up on both sides of us, and on the 
opposite sides of the river. During the day from time to time we saw the 
puff-signals of smoke. The Indians had an agreed set of signals which we 
did not understand, but which were plain to them, and by which they 
signalized everything of importance along the line. One was a smokepuff, 
which was made by gathering a light pile of dead grass, not much of it, so 
that it would bum quickly, almost instantly. Sometimes they were made with 
gunpowder in the grass. The number and manner of these puffs conveyed the 
signal. The puff would seem to last only about four seconds. With my field-
glass I could get up on the hill near the Post, and see smoke signals by 
day and fire-arrows by night from time to time, although there were but 
few on the south side, and these off at a distance.

   On the 25th of May, 1864, Captain O'Brien went down the road with 
twenty-five men to ascertain some facts and he came back with a great 
quantity of Indian rumors, which were current along the road. May 26th 
General Mitchell arrived, coming back with Captain O'Brien and a small 
escort, and with the General was one of his aides-de-camp, a Lieutenant 
Williams, of whom I have heretofore spoken as being a brave young officer 
from Kentucky. My former acquaintance with General Mitchell made his visit 
a very pleasant one to me. We furnished him an escort, and he went up the 
road some little distance, and came back, and started John Smith and 
"Hunter" on an Indian scout. Smith and "Hunter" claimed to have a hold 
upon the Cheyennes, and to be well acquainted in the villages, and said 
that they were not afraid to go down into the Cheyenne country and see 
what was going on. To anticipate my story, I may say that they were gone 
about a week, and came back, having been chased by the Cheyennes. They 
were unable to find out anything about matters, and all they could report 
was that the southern Cheyennes, that is, the Cheyennes south of the 
Platte river, extending down across Kansas, were all hostile, on the war-
path, and knew no friends. Reports frequently came that they were ravaging 
the Kansas frontier, which was then in eastern Kansas; that they had 
sealed up the Smoky Hill road from central Kansas west to Denver; were 
fighting pilgrims along the Arkansas river, and were harassing the 
Colorado settlements east of Denver and Colorado City down on the Fountain 
river.

   In the meantime a large number of Brule Indians came in, all declaring 
their friendship; they camped down on the south side of the river, a 
couple of miles above our camp. There was a large band of them. They were 
principally Brule Sioux, and were under the command of "Shan-tag-a-lisk," 
called by his translated name, "Spotted Tail." There was also the chief of 
the Ogallallah Sioux, who was one of the most peaceful of them all, "O-way-
see'-cha," going by his translated name of "Bad Wound." There was a new 
one, representing some northern band, said to be the Minne-kaw'-zhouz. 
This chief was called Zheul-lee. He went by his translated name as "The 
Whistler." We had another Indian council, which was practically a 
duplicate of the one hereinbefore described. About the same persons were 
present, except the Big Mandan; he was reported to have gone up the 
Missouri river. In making further inquiry as to why the Big Mandan was 
ever in a Sioux council, the interpreter told me that the Big Mandan was 
probably a Mandan boy who had been captured, and raised by the Sioux; that 
as he grew to be a very large man, and an important man, and had no 
knowledge of the Mandan tribe, and was now in reality a Sioux, he had got 
as his adoption name the title of "The Big Mandan."

   General Mitchell ordered the issuance of a lot of rations to these 
Indians, and fed them up, good and hearty; gave them lots of bacon, 
coffee, and hard-bread, also killed some beef, and let them have the head 
and all the entrails, and offal, which they seemed to prefer to the meat. 
At any rate, they ate up all the insides of the beeves which we killed. 
Captain O'Brien went up to see them upon some order, I don't know what, 
but the men in the Post were kept under arms all the time, although it was 
perhaps unnecessary, for the Sioux would not have made a dash when they 
had their women and children present, and there were in the camp a number 
of each. The Sioux seemed to have changed their ideas but little since the 
last council meeting. The surveyors had been called in from the Niobrara 
river, and that source of trouble was quieted. General Mitchell promised 
that their distribution of stuff at the Woc-co-pom'-any agency, upon the 
North Platte, should not be disturbed, or withheld, and that there should 
be added to it some provisions, bacon, molasses, and hardbread, on 
condition of their not taking the war-path. The same kind of speeches was 
practically made as before; the Indian wanted to know what his white 
brother would do for him, and the white brother knew that it was cheaper 
to clothe and feed him than fight him. General Mitchell insisted, as be 
did before, that the earth belonged to the people on it per capita, and no 
Indian had any more right to increased acreage than the white brother had. 
And he also pointed out to Mr. Indian that here the Indian had no primary 
right to the soil, but that it belonged originally to those from whom the 
Sioux had taken it when the Chippewas, their ancient enemy, had driven 
them west. And that rights to land, if accumulated by conquest by the 
Indians, could be accumulated by the whites. Mitchell had his speech well 
in hand, as he had before, and he argued with the Indian at every point. 
The council was entirely uneventful. The pipe of peace was passed around, 
and we all smoked it with a stoic and reverential silence. The Indian 
being told that he had no right to the Platte valley unless he wanted to 
use or cultivate it, appeared to see the propriety of letting those have 
it who could use it. At any rate, he preferred molasses, hard-bread and 
bacon to the occupation of the river valley. He knew there was no game 
along the river-bed where the wagons were constantly going, and it was of 
no value to him whatever; therefore three-point Mackinaw blankets that 
were nice and red, appealed to him strongly. Shan-tag-a-lisk had a 
daughter who was very ambitious. General Harney in former days had given 
the mother an Episcopal prayerbook, and she carried it as a talisman of 
good luck all her life. The daughter had made up her mind to not marry 
anybody who was not a "Capitan," which was a Spanish name the Sioux used, 
and which comprised any officer from corporal up to general. Of this 
daughter I have written elsewhere, in a magazine; see supplement hereto.

   But the Indians did not seem to be satisfied. They would not sign 
anything nor come to any definite conclusion. They still wanted the Smoky 
Hill route between Kansas and Denver closed. They seemed willing to permit 
travel west on the Arkansas and on the Platte, but all north of the Platte 
to the Upper Missouri and all south of the Platte to the Arkansas they 
wanted to be left alone. They also wanted to come and go across the Platte 
as they pleased. General Mitchell was inflexible; he demanded that they 
stay away from the Platte, and that they let the Smoky Hill route alone. 
And Mitchell told the chiefs plainly that they must control and restrain 
their young men or there would be war. In order to bring about a permanent 
understanding, Mitchell told the chiefs to talk with their people fully, 
and meet him again. So he made another postponement of fifty days, and 
told them to all be back and that he would come up and meet them, He also 
told them he was determined to stop them from warring with the Pawnees; 
that he wanted a treaty of peace between all of his Indians, and that at 
the next meeting it must be fixed up. Mitchell wore a full Brigadier's 
uniform with a yellow silk sash over his shoulder, and looked like a king. 
He was a good deal of a king, and he certainly talked like a king, and the 
Indians understood him. He tried to impress on them that if they were 
friends of his, the chiefs must restrain their young men. The party broke 
up with the understanding that they would meet at Cottonwood Springs in 
fifty days and come to a better understanding, and if possible a final 
understanding, upon the subjects involved. General Mitchell issued them 
some rations, and they promised to control their young men so that no 
overt acts would be committed during the coming interval. I do not want to 
get ahead of my story, but as a matter of fact, O-way-see'-cha afterwards 
went north across the Platte to get out of the way of the Cheyennes, and 
Spotted Tail went, and hid his band up in the Big Horn range. So that, so 
far as the Sioux were concerned, the fights with them, which took place 
soon after, were only fights with wild, erratic war parties of young men 
who could not be controlled. It was stated to me by a person who claimed 
to know, that after O-way-see'-cha got back from this council to his tribe 
south of the Platte, several young men, stated by one person to be eleven 
in number, and by another to be seventeen in number, started out to raid 
the Platte valley, and that they did so, and killed several, doing much 
damage, with a loss to themselves of a couple killed. And it was stated 
that O-way-see'-cha, the moment that he had heard that they had left his 
camp, got his head-men and warriors together, took the tents and property, 
all which they could find of these raiding young men, and burned it up, 
and killed all of their horses and dogs. This was said to have put an end 
to the Ogallallah branch of the Sioux trouble, but it was these war 
parties from the various Sioux bands that made trouble hereinafter 
related. The difficulty was that the chiefs could not control their 
people. The Indians were a wild, bloodthirsty set of barbarians, and one 
half, at least, of them deserved killing as much as the wolves which 
barked around their tepees.

   The time of these conventions was generally set by a formula; the 
Indians could not go by the days of the month, so the date was fixed for a 
certain number of moons ahead, and the time set was "when the moon is 
straight up at sunset." When the moon was overhead at sunset it gave time 
for the pow-wow, and then the Indians had a full moon in which they could 
ride night and day going home.



CHAPTER XV.
THE TRAVEL.--THE MORMON TRAIN.--THE COURT-MARTIAL.--ONE HUNDRED MILES IN 
42 HOURS.--PROCEEDINGS AT COURT-MARTIAL.--AN OFFICER COURT-MARTIALED.--
RETURN TO COTTONWOOD.--THE DANCE.--THE PREPARATIONS FOR THE TRIP.--JULY 
18, 1864.

   IN THE mean time the travel along the road bad been very much 
interfered with; trains were consolidated, and sent through with military 
escorts. About half of our post was continually on the road, every day 
escorting stages and trains. The trains went in a consolidated manner with 
many armed men, and at night they were corralled and regular picket guards 
established. Indians were seen around at all times, but in small numbers 
and nothing of particular event took place except theft and stampedes of 
loose stock. During June we were constantly on the go. Among one of the 
caravans that passed us was a Mormon train that must have been five or six 
miles long, twelve yoke of oxen to each wagon. It was a train the like of 
which passes belief, except to those who have seen one of them. Large bull-
wagons, loaded to the top of the bows with merchandise of which no 
outsider knew anything, passed slowly up the river at about the rate of a 
mile an hour. They said the freight ran 7,000 pounds to the wagon. It was 
all day passing us, June 23rd.

   The most ignorant of foreign immigrants composed the train. Among them 
was a large proportion of women -- old, coarse-looking, cruel-looking, and 
ignorant, and with the features and appearance of being persons who had 
had an exceedingly hard lot in life. There were but few young women, and 
these were of an ignorant, coarse-looking class. The persons who were in 
control were smart, intelligent-looking people, who handled the others 
with apparent ease. Everybody was carrying something. Some had large and 
bulky loads. There were push-carts in the train, and wheeled light 
vehicles pulled by men and women. The oddity of the situation, the 
altitude, the exhilaration of the climate, seemed to have infected them 
all with good nature, and a sort of coarse happiness. I went out and 
looked at the train, and marveled greatly that there should be a religion 
which could make absolute slaves out of people, and that the slavery would 
be such a change of conditions as could be enjoyable. It did really look 
like a big missionary scheme that had some sense and some reason to it. 
These Mormons paid no attention whatever to the Indians. They traveled 
along as if there were no such thing as Indians. They even seemed to be 
dissatisfied with being protected by us, but we rode with a squad in 
advance of them, and a little squad in the rear of them, which, together 
with a flank patrol, could rally on a bugle-call, if necessary; but to the 
Mormons there never seemed to be any such necessity. There was a sort of 
Masonic understanding of some kind between the Indians and the Mormons 
which we never understood, and which will be noticed by events further on.

   On July 1st, while everything was excitement as regarded the Indian 
scare, I got word to go to Fort Kearney immediately as a member of a court-
martial. General Mitchell was there, and some officers had been doing 
improper things, and there were several soldiers that needed trying for 
desertion, murder, and other offenses. So the General desired a court-
martial to meet there, and quickly clear up the docket. The General was a 
man who was quite firm, and decided. It was told of him that during an 
engagement down in Kentucky he was not pleased with the way a Lieutenant 
acted, and as soon as the skirmish was over he called up the Lieutenant, 
and hailing an orderly sergeant who was passing by, made the orderly 
sergeant cut off the Lieutenant's shoulder-straps, escort him out to the 
edge of camp, and tell him to "git."

   Knowing the Indian custom of not doing any fighting at night, I started 
for Fort Kearney and rode down fifteen miles to Gilmans' ranch that night, 
with an escort of two men; the next day I rode fifty miles, and sent the 
escort back. The next day I got into Fort Kearney promptly, and very much 
to the satisfaction of General Mitchell. Coming down the Platte, the 
mosquitoes and buffalo-gnats were very annoying. They seemed to be 
suddenly rising from damp places along the river; but as the breeze was 
from the south we did not get the full force of the inconvenience. When 
there was a lull in the breeze we suffered considerably, and our horses 
much more. I got into Fort Kearney before noon, having made the hundred 
miles in about 42 hours. The road was on the south side of the river, at 
that time.

   Immediately after dinner the court-martial convened. Lieutenant Schenck 
of Company "C" was Judge Advocate of the court. Captain O'Brien, my 
captain, was already at the post, having been summoned there for 
consultation before I came. The president of the court-martial was a 
Colonel from somewhere, and the number of the court was nine besides the 
Judge Advocate (Lieutenant Schenck), which made ten. The court-martial was 
not a particularly eventful one, and I would not undertake to describe the 
method of the proceedings if it were not for the change that has taken 
place in those matters since then. The court-martial as then held was held 
on the old-fashioned plan, and the proceedings were somewhat as follows:

   The indictment against the officer was framed in the shape of "charges" 
and "specifications." For instance, charge first -- "Conduct unbecoming an 
officer and a gentleman." Specification first -- In this, that he did so-
and-so, Specification second -- In this, that he did something else; and 
so on and so forth. Then charge second -- "Insubordination." Specification 
first -- In this, that he spoke so-and-so to somebody. Specification 
second -- In this, that he kicked somebody; and so forth and so forth.

   It was the rule that the court-martial should have a majority of its 
members of a higher rank than the accused, and that they should sit around 
the table in the order of their rank on each side in full uniform. So in 
this case the Colonel sat at the head of the table, and the officers 
tapered down in rank right and left until at the end was the junior 
officer (myself), and the Judge Advocate opposite me. In those days there 
were no shorthand reporters nor typewriters, and all the evidence and 
proceedings had to be got up in long-hand, certified up to the commander, 
so that appeals and arguments might be made thereon. The accused was 
brought in, the charges and specifications read to him, and to each of the 
specifications he pleaded "Not guilty," and then to the charge as a whole, 
"Not guilty"; then to the next specifications and to the next charge. Then 
the accused was asked to become a witness, and to be sworn, but was told 
that he was under no obligation to give any evidence against himself if he 
did not want to, and he might refuse to be sworn, and might refuse to 
testify. In some instances the accused said he preferred to testify, and 
then he was examined like any other witness. The Judge Advocate was the 
prosecutor, and in the condition of the art as it then existed, he had a 
large tab of blank paper in front of him, and began writing down the 
questions. Every question must be written down, and then the answer must 
be written down. And around the table sat the court in full uniform, 
nothing being left off of official decorations. As to cavalry officers, 
they even had on their spurs and silk sashes.

   If there was any officer who had neglected any portion of his official 
dress, the accused had the right to challenge him until he got himself 
properly clad. But he had no right to challenge any of the party otherwise 
except for cause, which very seldom happened. The slow progress of writing 
out questions and writing down the answers was most aggravating. Then the 
witness always took plenty of time to answer, and often flanked the 
question. Then the prosecutor would write out another question, and as 
fast as these questions and answers were made they were stuck together by 
paste into a long roll, to be transcribed. Ever and anon some member of 
the court who thought he was gifted with superior intuition, would object 
to one of the questions put by the Judge Advocate, and the court would 
look around to see whether anybody seconded the objection. If nobody 
seconded it, the presiding officer would say, "Do you insist upon your 
objection?" and if the officer said, "Yes," then the court would order the 
accused to be taken out of the room by the man with a bayonet who had him 
in charge. Then the door would be closed and an executive session would 
begin. Then the officer would fully state his objection, and the objection 
would be voted upon, and the youngest in rank voted first. It just 
happened that I was the youngest in rank, most of them being Captains, and 
I generally had the first say, and I was always delighted when my view was 
concurred in. And if it was decided that the question should be put, the 
accused was brought back, and the question put and with deliberation 
answered.

   The result was that we made slow headway, but the method was in all 
respects observed. There is generally in every court-martial some simple, 
meager, vain fellow who wants to show off, and be conspicuous, and take a 
great deal of a part in the proceedings. He makes a court-martial as 
irritable and petulant a proceeding as can well be imagined. And for 
slowness there is nothing equal to it as carried out under the old regime. 
Every once in a while some member of the court would want to ask a 
question. So that a member of the court would write out a question, and 
hand it to the presiding officer. He would stop the proceedings so he 
could read the question, and if he did not want to have it put he would 
ask the member if be insisted. If the member said, "Yes," out went the 
accused, and the question was read and voted on by everybody present. At 
times every member of the court-martial would be writing questions, and 
they would be flooded onto the Judge Advocate. If the presiding officer 
thought a question all right, he would send it down to the Judge Advocate 
to be asked. Then somebody on the court would object, having the right to 
object, and then out would go the accused, under guard, and the matter 
would be discussed. Besides this, there was always somebody who wanted to 
make a show of philanthropy, and thought his principal duty was to be 
humane, and impede the prosecution. Then the Judge Advocate would lean to 
the other side, and ply questions with great speed and fertility. When the 
evidence was all in, it was a great pile of scrap-paper stuck together 
with paste. Then the court listened to anybody who wanted to address the 
court, only they were limited to time if it were thought best. Sometimes 
the Captain or some soldier who was being tried, would come in and make a 
talk on behalf of his man. Once in a while a lawyer was brought up, who 
acted pompous and pretended to know it all, and read authorities from law 
books that were not pertinent. Finally the court came to vote, and began 
at the bottom; the youngest in commission got up and verbally expressed 
his opinion first, then wrote it, and handed it to the presiding officer. 
If there was any difference to talk over and discuss, they did so, and 
generally arrived at some compromise verdict. After the verdict came the 
sentence; then all this quantity of literature that had been formed was 
copied off and sent to the commanding officer for his approval. This 
writing was done by hand, and if they wanted three copies, which was 
sometimes the case when an officer was tried and determined to appeal, one 
person read aloud the record, sentence by sentence, while three 
simultaneously copied it. A court-martial in July, in full uniform, all 
buttoned up to the chin, with a sash on, is very uninteresting and 
unpleasant work.

   In order to make speed at this court-martial, we worked nights and 
Sundays, right along, and at the end of two weeks we had convicted and 
sentenced various soldiers for various crimes and misdemeanors, and had 
disposed of two officers, -- one officer for general worthlessness, 
drunkenness, want of discipline, and the spending of and embezzlement of 
his company's fund; and another officer for a very strange and unofficer-
like proceeding. He had come to Fort Kearney and was detailed there, and 
he sent for his wife and young son, a boy about ten or twelve years of 
age. The officer immediately began buying for family use from the 
commissary a great amount of flour, sugar, and dried apples. As he got 
these at what it cost the Government, it was about half-price as they sold 
outside of the post. He got several barrels of sugar, several large sacks 
of dried apples, and a great quantity of flour. It was finally discovered 
that in one of the neglected kitchens of the officers' quarters, the 
Captain's wife and boy were making apple pies and selling them for fifteen 
cents apiece. As the Government furnished the wood and sold supplies 
cheaply, the boy made a great quantity of money by selling these pies to 
the overland immigration, and to the soldiers, and persons around the 
post. As near as we could figure, they had made six or seven hundred 
dollars net on it, and the Captain had furthered the whole scheme. We 
considered it the limit, and let him out of the service, and put an end to 
that sort of business at the post.

   All at once, while the court-martial was going off, news came of Indian 
depredations west of Fort Laramie, and I was relieved from services on the 
court-martial and was told to proceed as rapidly as possible to my post. 
General Mitchell told me in the morning to get ready to go with him on a 
little expedition which he contemplated, and to have thirty days' rations 
for my men and horses loaded and ready in two wagons. I left Fort Kearney 
after dinner, and rode that afternoon thirty-five miles up the river. 
There had been a rain. The breeze changed from the south to the north and 
the air was moist and hot. Anticipating the gnats and mosquitoes, I had 
got a small piece of mosquito netting at a store at Dobytown. I had not 
gone far upon the road when I ran into clouds of gnats. After a while my 
horse showed symptoms of great pain. The gnats were in dense quantities. I 
had the mosquito netting over my face. The horse was suffering very much 
both at his nose and eyes, and he was constantly shaking his head to keep 
them out of his ears. I took the mosquito netting off my own face, and put 
it over my horse's and tied my handkerchief over my face. The wind blowing 
over the river kept the road filled with swarms of mosquitoes and gnats. I 
finally got to a ranch, and wanted a larger handkerchief. The only 
handkerchief large enough was a yellow silk one costing $5. This I bought, 
and, cutting some willow boughs from a place on the edge of the river, I 
made two large whisk brooms, one for each hand, and dropping the reins on 
the saddle I rode the horse on the run, switching at every step either on 
the right or left of his head with these bush brooms which I had in my 
hand, Finally, towards the evening, I got past these clouds of mosquitoes 
and gnats, and felt greatly relieved. The mosquitoes and gnats would hover 
around one another in the air and made heavy, cloud-like banks that you 
could see plainly long distances ahead, and feel plainly the resistance of 
when you rode into them. I made this trip alone, without any escort, but 
was in no particular danger, because I was frequently passing large trains 
not very far apart which had escorts. I was up bright and early on the 
16th, and rode into the post, a distance of 65 miles that day, stopping at 
Gilmans' and getting a fresh horse after I had ridden my own horse fifty 
miles.

   When I got into our post that night, I found a great number of campers 
and pilgrims at the post. They were afraid to go ahead, and there were 
nearly a thousand thus camped. And there was quite a number of women among 
them, and they were having a dance at MacDonald's store, and out on the 
hard flat ground in front of his store. There were several stages full of 
ladies going through as passengers on the coaches from the west, and some 
of them were really nice people. I had ridden only sixty-five miles that 
day, and didn't feel very tired, so I got into the dance, and we ran it 
until daylight. And as I had some experience in calling cotillion figures, 
I served about an hour after midnight as reinforcement in that particular. 
The people had to do something, and they might just as well have some fun 
as to sit around the camp-fire and look at the wind blow the ashes away.

   The next day I got the company all out, inspected their arms, clothing, 
horses, equipment, and everything. I also packed up thirty days' supplies 
and got the wagons ready. This was done in the manner Captain O'Brien 
ordered, whom I had left at Fort Kearney, and who was coming up with 
General Mitchell. He told me to have the company look its best, and I told 
the boys to brush up their jackets, and get on some style. We put in the 
whole of July 18th in getting in shape to move, as the General had 
promised to come along, and be there on the morning of the 19th.