CHAPTER V
When I rode back to General Sheridan's headquarters, after a visit with
old friends at Hays City, I noticed several scouts in a little group
engaged in conversation on some important topic. Upon inquiry I learned
that General Sheridan wanted a dispatch sent to Fort Dodge, a distance
of ninety-five miles.
The Indians had recently killed two or three men engaged in carrying
dispatches over this route. On this account none of the scouts were at
all anxious to volunteer. A reward of several hundred dollars had
failed to secure any takers.
The scouts had heard of what I had done the day before. They asked me
if I did not think the journey to Fort Dodge dangerous. I gave as my
opinion that a man might possibly go through without seeing an Indian,
but that the chances were ten to one that he would have an exceedingly
lively run before he reached his destination, provided he got there at
all.
Leaving the scouts arguing as to whether any of them would undertake
the venture, I reported to General Sheridan. He informed me that he was
looking for a man to carry dispatches to Fort Dodge, and, while we were
talking, Dick Parr, his chief of scouts, came in to inform him that
none of his scouts would volunteer. Upon hearing this, I said:
"General, if no one is ready to volunteer, I'll carry your dispatches
myself."
"I had not thought of asking you to do this, Cody," said the general.
"You are already pretty hard-worked. But it is really important that
these dispatches should go through."
"If you don't get a courier before four this afternoon, I'll be ready
for business," I told him. "All I want is a fresh horse. Meanwhile I'll
get a little more rest."
It was not much of a rest, however, that I got. I went over to Hays
City and had a "time" with the boys. Coming back to the Post at the
appointed hour, I found that no scout had volunteered. I reported to
the general, who had secured an excellent horse for me. Handing me the
dispatches, he said:
"You can start as soon as you wish. The sooner the better. And good
luck to you, my boy!"
An hour later I was on my way. At dusk I crossed the Smoky Hill River.
I did not urge my horse much, as I was saving him for the latter end of
the journey, or for any run I might have to make should the "wild boys"
jump me.
Though I kept a sharp watch through the night I saw no Indians, and had
no adventures worth relating. Just at daylight I found myself
approaching Saw Log River, having ridden about seventy-five miles.
A company of colored cavalry, under command of Major Cox, was stationed
at this point. I approached the camp cautiously. The darky soldiers had
a habit of shooting first and crying "Halt!" afterward. When I got
within hearing distance I called out, and was answered by one of the
pickets. I shouted to him not to shoot, informing him that I carried
dispatches from Fort Hays. Then, calling the sergeant of the guard, I
went up to the vidette, who at once recognized me, and took me to the
tent of Major Cox.
This officer supplied me with a fresh horse, as requested by General
Sheridan in a letter I brought to him. After an hour's sleep and a
meal, I jumped into the saddle, and before sunrise was on my way. I
reached Fort Dodge, twenty-five miles further on, between nine and ten
o'clock without having seen a single Indian.
When I had delivered my dispatches, Johnny Austin, an old friend, who
was chief of scouts at the Post, invited me to come to his house for a
nap. When I awoke Austin told me there had been Indians all around the
Post. He was very much surprised that I had seen none of them. They had
run off cattle and horses, and occasionally killed a man. Indians, he
said, were also very thick on the Arkansas River between Fort Dodge and
Fort Larned, and had made considerable trouble. The commanding officer
of Fort Dodge was very anxious to send dispatches to Fort Larned, but
the scouts, like those at Fort Hays, were backward about volunteering.
Fort Larned was my Post, and I wanted to go there anyhow. So I told
Austin I would carry the dispatches, and if any of the boys wanted to
go along I would be glad of their company. This offer was reported to
the commanding officer. He sent for me, and said he would be glad to
have me take the dispatches, if I could stand the trip after what I had
already done.
"All I want is a fresh horse, sir," said I.
"I am sorry we haven't a decent horse," he replied, "but we have a
reliable and honest Government mule, if that will do you."
"Trot out the mule," I told him. "It is good enough for me. I am ready
at any time."
The mule was forthcoming. At dark I pulled out for Fort Larned, and
proceeded without interruption to Coon Creek, thirty miles from Fort
Dodge. I had left the wagon road some distance to the south, and
traveled parallel to it. This I decided would be the safer course, as
the Indians might be lying in watch for dispatch-bearers and scouts
along the main road.
At Coon Creek I dismounted and led the mule down to the river to get a
drink of water. While I was drinking the brute jerked loose and struck
out down the creek. I followed him, trusting that he would catch his
foot in the bridle rein and stop, but he made straight for the wagon
road, where I feared Indians would be lurking, without a pause. At last
he struck the road, but instead of turning back toward Fort Dodge he
headed for Fort Larned, keeping up a jogtrot that was just too fast to
permit me to overtake him.
I had my gun in hand, and was sorely tempted to shoot him more than
once, and probably would have done so but for the fear of bringing the
Indians down on me. But he was going my way, so I trudged along after
him mile after mile, indulging from time to time in strong language
regarding the entire mule fraternity. The mule stuck to the road and
kept on for Fort Larned, and I did the same thing. The distance was
thirty-five miles. As day was beginning to break, we--the mule and
myself--found ourselves on a hill looking down on the Pawnee Fork, on
which Fort Larned was located, only four miles away. When the sunrise
gun sounded we were within half a mile of the Post.
I was thoroughly out of patience by this time.
"Now, Mr. Mule," I said, "it is my turn," and threw my gun to my
shoulder. Like the majority of Government mules, he was not easy to
kill. He died hard, but he died.
Hearing the report of the gun, the troops came rushing out to see what
was the matter. When they heard my story they agreed that the mule had
got no more than his deserts. I took the saddle and bridle and
proceeded to the Post, where I delivered my dispatches to Captain
Parker. I then went to Dick Curtis's house at the scouts' headquarters
and put in several hours of solid sleep.
During the day General Hazen returned from Fort Harker. He had
important dispatches to send to General Sheridan. I was feeling highly
elated over my ride, and as I was breaking the scout records I
volunteered for this mission.
The general accepted my offer, though he said there was no necessity of
my killing myself. I said I had business which called me to Fort Hays,
anyway, and that it would make no difference to the other scouts if he
gave me the job, as none of them were particularly eager for the
journey.
Accordingly, that night, I mounted an excellent horse, and next morning
at daylight reached General Sheridan's headquarters at Fort Hays.
The general was surprised to see me, and still more so when I told him
of the time I had made on the rides I had successfully undertaken. I
believe this record of mine has never been beaten in a country infested
with Indians and subject to blizzards and other violent weather
conditions.
To sum up, I had ridden from Fort Larned to Fort Zarrah, a distance of
sixty-five miles and back in twelve hours. Ten miles must be added to
this for the distance the Indians took me across the Arkansas River. In
the succeeding twenty-four hours I had gone from Fort Larned to Fort
Hays, sixty-five miles, in eight hours. During the next twenty-four
hours I rode from Fort Hays to Fort Dodge, ninety-five miles. The
following night I traveled from Fort Dodge to Fort Larned, thirty miles
on mule back and thirty-five miles on foot, in twelve hours, and the
next night sixty-five miles more from Fort Larned to Fort Hays.
Altogether I had ridden and walked three hundred and sixty-five miles
in fifty-eight hours, an average of over six miles an hour.
Taking into consideration the fact that most of this riding was done in
the night over wild country, with no roads to follow, and that I had
continually to look out for Indians, it was regarded at the time as a
big ride as well as a dangerous one.
What I have set down here concerning it can be verified by referring to
the autobiography of General Sheridan.
General Sheridan complimented me highly on this achievement. He told me
I need not report back to General Hazen, as he had more important work
for me to do. The Fifth Cavalry, one of the finest regiments of the
army, was on its way to the Department of the Missouri, and he was
going to send an expedition against the Dog Soldier Indians who were
infesting the Republican River region.
"Cody," he said, "I am going to appoint you guide and chief of scouts
of the command. How does that suit you?"
I told him it suited me first rate and thanked him for the honor.
The Dog Soldier Indians were a band of Cheyennes and of unruly,
turbulent members of other tribes who would not enter into any treaty,
and would have kept no treaty if they had made one. They had always
refused to go on a reservation. They got their name from the word
"Cheyenne," which is derived from chien, the French word for "dog."
On the third of October the Fifth Cavalry arrived at Fort Hays, and I
at once began making the acquaintance of the members of the regiment.
General Sheridan introduced me to Colonel Royal, the commander, whom I
found a gallant officer and an agreeable gentleman. I also became
acquainted with Major W.H. Brown, Major Walker, Captain Sweetman,
Quartermaster E.M. Hays, and many others of the men with whom I was
soon to be associated.
General Sheridan, being anxious to punish the Indians who had lately
fought General Forsythe, did not give the regiment much of a rest. On
October 5th it began the march to Beaver Creek country.
The first night we camped on the south fork of Big Creek, four miles
west of Hays City. By this time I had become well acquainted with Major
Brown and Captain Sweetman. They invited me to mess with them, and a
jolly mess we had. There were other scouts with the command besides
myself. I particularly remember Tom Kenahan, Hank Fields, and a
character called "Nosey."
The morning of the 6th we pulled out to the north. During the day I was
particularly struck with the appearance of the regiment. It was a
beautiful command, and when strung out on the prairies with, a train of
seventy-five six-mule wagons, ambulances, and pack-mules, I felt very
proud of my position as guide and chief of scouts with such a warlike
expedition.
Just as we were going into camp on the Saline River that night we ran
into a band of some fifteen Indians. They saw us, and dashed across the
creek, followed by some bullets which we sent after them.
This little band proved to be only a scouting party, so we followed it
only a mile or two. Our attention was directed shortly to a herd of
buffaloes, and we killed ten or fifteen for the command.
Next day we marched thirty miles. When we went into camp Colonel Royal
asked me to go out and kill some buffaloes for the boys.
"All right, colonel," I said; "send along a wagon to bring in the
meat."
"I am not in the habit of sending out my wagons till I know there is
something to be hauled in," he said. "Kill your buffaloes first, and
I'll send the wagons."
Without further words I went out on my hunt. After a short absence I
returned and asked the colonel to send his wagons for the half-dozen
buffaloes I had killed.
The following afternoon he again requested me to go out after
buffaloes. I didn't ask for any wagons this time, but rode out some
distance, and, coming upon a small herd, headed seven or eight of them
directly for the camp. Instead of shooting them I ran them at full
speed right into the place and then killed them one after another in
rapid succession.
Colonel Royal, who witnessed the whole proceeding, was annoyed and
puzzled, as he could see no good reason why I had not killed the
buffaloes on the prairie.
Coming up angry, he demanded an explanation.
"I can't allow any such business as this, Cody," he exclaimed. "What do
you mean by it!"
"I didn't care about asking for wagons this time, Colonel," I replied.
"I thought I would make the buffaloes furnish their own
transportation."
The colonel saw the force of my defense, and had no more to say on the
subject.
No Indians had been seen in the vicinity during the day. Colonel Royal,
having posted his pickets, supposed that everything was serene for the
night. But before morning we were aroused by shots, and immediately
afterward one of the mounted pickets came galloping into camp with the
announcement that there were Indians close at hand. All the companies
fell into line, prepared and eager for action. The men were still new
to Indian fighting. Many of them were excited.
But, despite the alarm, no Indians made their appearance. Upon going to
the post where the picket said he had seen them, none were to be found,
nor could the faintest trace be discovered.
The sentinel, an Irishman, insisted that there certainly had been
redskins there.
"But you must be mistaken," said the colonel.
"Upon me sowl, I'm not. As sure as me name's Pat Maloney, wan iv them
red devils hit me on th' head with a club, so he did," persisted the
picket.
When morning came we made a successful effort to clear up the mystery.
Elk tracks were found in the vicinity, and it was undoubtedly a herd of
elk that had frightened the picket. When he turned to flee he must have
hit his head on an overhanging limb, which he supposed was the club of
a redskin, bent on his murder. It was hard, however, to convince him
that he could have been mistaken.
Three days' march brought us to Beaver Creek, where we encamped and
where scouts were sent out in different directions. None of these
parties discovered Indians, and they all returned to camp at about the
same time. They found it in a state of excitement. A few hours before
the return of the scouts the camp had been attacked by a party of
redskins, who had killed two men and made off with sixty horses
belonging to Company H.
That evening the command started on the trail of the horse thieves.
Major Brown with two companies and three days' rations pushed ahead in
advance of the main command. On the eighteenth day out, being
unsuccessful in the chase, and nearly out of rations, the entire
command marched toward the nearest railroad station and camped on the
Saline river, three miles distant from Buffalo Tank.
While waiting for supplies we were joined by a new commanding officer,
Brevet-Major-Greneral E.A. Carr, who was the senior major of the
regiment and ranked Colonel Royal. He brought with him the celebrated
Forsythe Scouts, who were commanded by Lieutenant Pepoon, a
regular-army officer.
While in this camp, Major Brown welcomed a new lieutenant, who had come
to fill a vacancy in the command. This was A.B. Bache, and on the day
he was to arrive Major Brown had his private ambulance brought out and
invited me to ride with him to the railroad station to meet the
lieutenant. On the way to the depot he said:
"Now, Cody, we'll give Bache a lively little ride, and shake him up a
little."
The new arrival was given a back seat in the ambulance when he got off
the train, and we headed for the camp.
Presently Major Brown took the reins from his driver and at once began
whipping the mules. When he had got them into a lively gallop he
pulled out his revolver and fired several shots. The road was terribly
rough and the night was intensely dark. We could not see where we were
going, and it was a wonderful piece of luck that the wagon did not tip
over and break our necks.
Finally Bache asked, good-humoredly:
"Is this the way you break in all your new lieutenants, Major?"
"Oh, no," returned the major. "But this is the way we often ride in
this country. Keep your seat, Mr. Bache, and we'll take you through on
time," he quoted, from Hank Monk's famous admonition to Horace Greeley.
We were now rattling down a steep hill at full speed. Just as we
reached the bottom, the front wheels struck a deep ditch over which the
mules had jumped. We were all brought up standing, and Bache plunged
forward headlong to the front of the vehicle.
"Take the back seat, lieutenant," said Major Brown sternly.
Bache replied that he had been trying to do so, keeping his nerve and
his temper. We soon got the wagon out of the ditch and resumed our
drive. We swung into camp under full headway, and created considerable
amusement. Everyone recognized the ambulance, and knew that Major Brown
and I were out for a lark, so little was said about the exploit.
Next morning at an early hour the command started out on another Indian
hunt. General Carr, who had a pretty good idea where he would be likely
to find them, directed me to guide him by the nearest route to Elephant
Fork, on Beaver Creek.
When we arrived at the South Fork of the Beaver, after two days' march,
we discovered a fresh Indian trail. We had followed it hurriedly for
eight miles when we discovered, on a bluff ahead, a large number of
Indians.
General Carr ordered Lieutenant Pepoon's scouts and Company M to the
front. Company M was commanded by Lieutenant Schinosky, a reckless
dare-devil born in France, who was eager for a brush with the Indians.
In his anxiety to get into the fight he pushed his company nearly a
mile in advance of the main command, when he was jumped by some four
hundred Indians. Until our main force could come to his support he had
as lively a little fight as any one could have asked for.
As the battle proceeded, the Indians continued to increase in numbers.
At last it became apparent that we were fighting eight hundred or a
thousand of them. The engagement was general. There were killed and
wounded on both sides. The Indians were obviously fighting to give
their families and village a chance to get away. We had surprised them
with a larger force than they knew was in that part of the country. The
battle continued steadily until dark. We drove them before us, but they
fought stubbornly. At night they annoyed us by firing down into our
camp from the encircling hills. Several times it was necessary to order
out the command to dislodge them and to drive them back where they
could do no damage.
After one of these sallies, Captain Sweetman, Lieutenant Bache, and
myself were taking supper together when "Whang!" came a bullet into Mr.
Bache's plate. We finished our supper without having any more such
close calls.
At daylight next morning we took the trail again, soon reaching the
spot where the Indians had camped the night before. Here there had been
a large village, consisting of five hundred lodges. Continuing our
pursuit, we came in sight of the retreating village at two in the
afternoon. At once the warriors turned back and gave us battle.
To delay us as much as possible they set fire to the prairie grass in
front and on all sides of us. For the remainder of the afternoon we
kept up a running fight. Repeatedly the Indians attempted to lead us
away from the trail of their fleeing village. But their trail was
easily followed by the tepee poles, camp-kettles, robes, and all the
paraphernalia which proved too heavy to carry for long, and which were
dropped in the flight. It was useless to try to follow them after
nightfall, and at dark we went into camp.
Next morning we were again on the trail, which led north and back
toward Beaver Creek. The trail crossed this stream a few miles from
where we had first discovered the Indians. They had made almost a
complete circle in the hope of misleading us.
Late in the afternoon we again saw them going over a hill far ahead.
Toward evening the main body of warriors once more came back and fought
us, but we continued to drive them till dusk, when we encamped for the
night.
Soon the Indians, finding they could not hold out against us, scattered
in every direction. We followed the main trail to the Republican River,
where we made a cut-off and proceeded north toward the Platte.
Here we found that the Indians, traveling day and night, had got a long
start. General Carr decided we had pushed them so hard and given them
such a thorough scaring that they would leave the Republican country
and go north across the railroad. It seemed, therefore, unnecessary to
pursue them any further. Most of the Indians did cross the river near
Ogallah as he predicted, and thence continued northward.
That night we returned to the Republican River and camped in a grove of
cottonwoods, which I named Carr's Grove in honor of our commander.
General Carr informed me that the next day's march would be toward the
headwaters of the Beaver. I said that the distance was about
twenty-five miles, and he said we would make it the next day. Getting
an early start in the morning, we struck out across the prairie. My
position, as guide, was the advance guard. About two o'clock General
Carr overtook me and asked me how far I supposed it was to water. I
replied that I thought it was about eight miles, although we could see
no sign of a stream ahead.
"Pepoon's scouts say you are traveling in the wrong direction," said
the general. "They say, the way you are bearing, it will be fifteen
miles before we strike any branches of the Beaver, and that when you do
you will find no water, for they are dry at this season of the year in
this locality."
"I think the scouts are mistaken, General," I said. "The Beaver has
more water near its head than it has below. At the place where we will
strike the stream we will find immense beaver dams, big and strong
enough to cross your whole command if you wish."
"Well, go ahead," he said. "I leave it to you. But, remember, I don't
want a dry camp."
"No danger of that," I returned and rode on. As I predicted, we found
water seven or eight miles further on. Hidden in the hills was a
beautiful little tributary of the Beaver. We had no trouble in
selecting a fine camp with good spring water and excellent grass.
Learning that the stream, which was but eight miles long, was without a
name, the general took out his map, and, locating it, christened it
Cody's Creek, which name it still bears.
Early the next morning we pulled out for the Beaver. As we were
approaching the stream I rode on ahead of the advance guard in order to
find a crossing. Just as I turned a bend of the creek "Bang!" went a
shot, and down went my horse, accompanied by myself.
I disentangled myself and jumped clear of the carcass, turning my guns
loose at two Indians whom I discovered in the direction from which the
shot had come. In the suddenness of it all I missed my aim. The Indians
fired two or three more shots, and I returned the compliment by
wounding one of their horses.
On the other side of the creek I saw a few lodges moving rapidly away,
and also mounted warriors. They also saw me and began blazing away with
their guns. The Indians who had killed my horse were retreating across
the creek, using a beaver dam for a bridge. I accelerated their pace by
sending a few shots after them and also fired at the warriors across
the stream. I was undecided as to whether it would be best to run back
to the command on foot or to retain my position. The troops, I knew,
would come up in a few minutes. The sound of the firing would hasten
their arrival.
The Indians soon saw that I was alone. They turned and charged down the
hill, and were about to cross the creek and corral me when the advance
guard of the command appeared over the ridge and dashed forward to my
rescue. Then the redskins whirled and made off.
When General Carr arrived he ordered Company I to pursue the band. I
accompanied Lieutenant Brady, who commanded the company. For several
hours we had a running fight with the Indians, capturing several of
their horses and most of their lodges. At night we returned to the
command, which by this time had crossed the dam.
For several days we scouted along the river. We had two or three lively
skirmishes, but at last our supplies began to run low, and the general
ordered us to return to Fort Wallace, which we reached three days
afterward.
While the regiment remained here, waiting for orders, I spent most of
my time hunting buffaloes. One day while I was out with a small party,
fifty Indians jumped us, and we had a terrific battle for an hour. We
finally managed to drive them off, with four of their warriors killed.
With me were a number of excellent marksmen, and they did fine work,
sending bullets thick and fast where they would do the most execution.
Two or three of our horses were hit. One man was wounded. We were ready
and willing to stay with the Indians as long as they would stay with
us. But they gave it up at last. We finished our hunt and returned to
the Post with plenty of buffalo meat. Here we received the compliments
of General Carr on our little fight.
In a few days orders came from General Sheridan to make a winter
campaign in the Canadian River country. We were to proceed to Fort Lyon
on the Arkansas River and fit out for the expedition. Leaving Fort
Wallace in November, 1868, we arrived at Fort Lyon in the latter part
of the month, and began the work of outfitting.
Three weeks before this, General Penrose had left the Post with a
command of three hundred men. He had taken no wagons with him. His
supply train was composed of pack mules. General Carr was ordered to
follow with supplies on Penrose's trail and to overtake him as soon as
possible. I was particularly anxious to catch up with Penrose's
command, as my old friend, "Wild Bill," was among his scouts.
For the first three days we followed the trail easily. Then we were
caught in Freeze-Out Canon by a fearful snowstorm. This compelled us to
go into camp for a day.
It now became impossible longer to follow Penrose's trail. The ground
was covered with snow, and he had left no sign to show in which
direction he was going.
General Carr sent for me, and told me it was highly important that we
should not lose the trail. He instructed me to take some scouts, and,
while the command remained in camp, to push on as far as possible to
seek for some sign that would indicate the direction Penrose had taken.
Accompanied by four men, I started out in a blinding snowstorm. We rode
twenty-four miles in a southerly direction till we reached a tributary
of the Cimarron. From here we scouted up and down the stream for a few
miles, and at last turned up one of Penrose's old camps.
It was now late in the afternoon. If the camp was to come up the next
day it was necessary for us to return immediately with our information.
We built a fire in a sheltered spot, broiled some venison we had shot
during the day, and after a substantial meal I started back alone,
leaving the others behind.
It was eleven o'clock when I got back into camp. A light was still
burning in General Carr's tent. He was sitting up to await my return.
He was overjoyed at the news I brought him. He had been extremely
anxious concerning the safety of Penrose. Rousing up his cook, he
ordered a hot supper for me, which, after my long, cold ride, I greatly
appreciated. I passed the night in the general's tent, and woke the
next morning fully refreshed and ready for a big day's work.
The snow had drifted deeply overnight, and the command had a hard tramp
through it when it set out next morning for the Cimarron. In many
ravines the drifts had filled in to a great depth. Often the teamsters
had to shovel their way through.
At sundown we reached the Cimarron, and went into a nice warm camp. The
next morning, on looking around, we found that Penrose, who was not
encumbered with wagons, had kept on the west side of the Cimarron. Here
the country was so rough that we could not stay on the trail with
wagons. But we knew that he would continue down the river, and the
general gave orders to take the best route down-stream, which I found
to be on the east side. Before we could make any headway with our wagon
trains we had to leave the river and get out on the divide.
For some distance we found a good road, but suddenly we were brought up
standing on a high table-land overlooking the beautiful winding creek
that lay far below us. How to get the wagons down became a serious
problem for the officers.
We were in the foothills of the rough Raton Mountains. The bluff we
were on was steep and rugged.
"Cody," said General Carr, "we're in a nice fix now."
"That's nothing," I replied.
"But you never can take the train down."
"Never mind the train, General. You are looking for a good camp. How
does that valley suit you?"
"That will do," he said. "I can easily descend with the cavalry, but
how to get the wagons down is a puzzler."
"By the time your camp is located the wagons will be there," I said.
"All right," he returned. "I'll leave it to you, inasmuch as you seem
to want to be the boss." He ordered the command to dismount and lead
the horses down the mountain. When the wagon-train, which was a mile in
the rear, came up, one of the drivers asked:
"How are we going to get down there?"
"Run down, slide down, fall down--any way to get down," I told him.
"We never can do it," said another wagon-master. "It's too steep. The
wagons will run over the mules."
"Oh, no," I said. "The mules will have to keep out of the way."
I instructed Wilson, the chief wagon-master, to bring up his
mess-wagon. He drove the wagon to the brink of the bluff. Following my
directions, he brought out extra chains with which we locked both
wheels on each side, and then rough-locked them.
This done, we started the wagons down the hill. The wheel-horses, or
rather the wheel-mules, were good on the hold back, and we got along
beautifully till the wagon had nearly reached the bottom of the
declivity. Then the wagon crowded the mules so hard that they started
on the run and came galloping down into the valley to the spot General
Carr had selected for his camp. There was not the slightest accident.
Three other wagons followed in the same way. In half an hour every
wagon was in the camp. It was an exciting sight to see the six-mule
teams come almost straight down the mountainside and finally break into
a run. At times it seemed certain that the wagon must turn a somersault
and land on the mules, but nothing of the kind happened.
Our march proved be a lucky one so far as gaining on Penrose was
concerned. The route he had taken on the west side of the stream was
rough and bad, and with our great wagon-train we made as many miles in
one day as he had in seven.
His command had taken a high table-land whose sides were so steep that
not even a pack mule could make the descent, and he had been obliged to
retrace the trail for a great distance, losing three days while doing
so.
The incident of this particular camp we had selected was an exciting
turkey hunt. We found the trees along the river bank literally alive
with turkeys. After unsaddling the horses, two or three hundred
soldiers surrounded a grove of timber, and there was a grand turkey
round-up. Guns, clubs, and even stones were used as weapons. Of course,
after the hunt we had roast turkey, boiled turkey, fried turkey, and
turkey on toast for our fare, and in honor of the birds which had
provided this treat we named the place Camp Turkey.
When we left camp we had an easy trail for several days. Penrose had
taken a southerly direction toward the Canadian River. No Indians were
to be seen, nor did we find any signs of them.
One day, while riding in advance of the command down San Francisco
Creek, I heard some one calling my name from a little bunch of willow
brush on the opposite bank of the stream. Looking closely at the spot,
I saw a colored soldier.
"Sakes alive, Massa Bill, am dat you?" shouted the man, whom I
recognized as a member of the Tenth Cavalry.
"Come out o' heah," I heard him call to someone behind him. "Heah's
Massa Buffalo Bill." Then he sang out to me: "Massa Bill, is you got
any hahdtack?"
"Nary a bit of hardtack, but the wagons will be along presently, and
you can get all you want."
"Dat's de best news Ah's heahd fo' sixteen long days, Massa Bill."
"Where's your command? Where's General Penrose?" I demanded.
"Dunno," said the darky. "We got lost, an' we's been starvin' ever
since."
By this time two other negroes had emerged from their hiding-place.
They had deserted Penrose's command, which was out of rations and in a
starving condition. They were trying to make their way back to old Fort
Lyon. General Carr concluded, from what they could tell him, that
Penrose was somewhere on Polladora Creek. But nothing definite was to
be gleaned from the starving darkies, for they knew very little
themselves.
General Carr was deeply distressed to learn that Penrose and his men
were in such bad shape. He ordered Major Brown to start out the next
morning with two companies of cavalry and fifty pack mules, loaded with
provisions, and to make all possible speed to reach and relieve the
suffering soldiers. I went with this detachment. On the third day out
we found the half-famished soldiers encamped on the Polladora. The camp
presented a pitiful sight. For over two weeks the men had only quarter
rations and were now nearly starved to death. Over two hundred mules
were lying dead, having succumbed to fatigue and starvation.
Penrose, having no hope that he would be found, had sent back a company
of the Seventh Cavalry to Fort Lyon for supplies. As yet no word had
been heard from them. The rations brought by Major Brown arrived none
too soon. They were the means of saving many lives.
Almost the first man I saw after reaching the camp was my true and
tried friend, "Wild Bill." That night we had a jolly reunion around the
campfires.
When General Carr came up with his force, he took command of all the
troops, as he was the senior officer. When a good camp had been
selected he unloaded his wagons and sent them back to Fort Lyon for
supplies. He then picked out five hundred of the best men and horses,
and, taking his pack-train with him, started south for the Canadian
River. The remainder of the troops were left at the supply camp.
I was ordered to accompany the expedition bound for the Canadian River.
We struck the south fork of this stream at a point a few miles above
the old adobe walls that were once a fort. Here Kit Carson had had a
big Indian fight.
We were now within twelve miles of a new supply depot called Fort
Evans, established for the Third Cavalry and Evans's expedition from
New Mexico.
The scouts who brought this information reported also that they
expected the arrival of a bull-train from New Mexico with a large
quantity of beer for the soldiers.
"Wild Bill" and I determined to "lay" for this beer. That very evening
it came along, and the beer destined for the soldiers at Fort Evans
never reached them. It went straight down the thirsty throats of
General Carr's command.
The Mexicans living near Fort Evans had brewed the beer. They were
taking it to Fort Evans to sell to the troops. But it found a better
market without going so far. It was sold to our boys in pint cups, and,
as the weather was very cold, we warmed it by putting the ends of our
picket pins, heated red-hot, into the brew before we partook of it. The
result was one of the biggest beer jollifications it has ever been my
misfortune to attend.
One evening General Carr summoned me to his tent. He said he wanted to
send some scouts with dispatches to Fort Supply, to be forwarded from
there to General Sheridan. He ordered me to call the scouts together
and to select the men who were to go.
I asked if I were to go, but he replied that he could not spare me. The
distance to Camp Supply was about two hundred miles. Because of the
very cold weather it was sure to be a hard trip. None of the scouts
were at all keen about undertaking it, but it was finally settled that
"Wild Bill," "Little Geary," a half-breed, and three other scouts
should carry the dispatches. They took their departure the next day
with orders to return as soon, as possible.
We scouted for several days along the Canadian River, finding no sign
of Indians. The general then returned to camp, and soon our wagon-train
returned with provisions from Fort Lyon. Our animals were in poor
condition, so we remained in different camps along San Francisco Creek
and on the North Fork of the Canadian till "Wild Bill" and his scouts
returned from Fort Supply.
Among the scouts in Penrose's command were fifteen Mexicans. Among them
and the Americans a bitter feud existed. When Carr united Penrose's
command with his own, and I was made chief of scouts, this feud grew
more intense than ever. The Mexicans often threatened to "clean us
out," but they postponed the execution of the threat from time to time.
At last, however, when we were all in the sutler's store, the
long-expected fight took place, with the result that the Mexicans were
severely beaten.
On hearing of the row, General Carr sent for "Wild Bill" and me. From
various reports he had made up his mind that we were the instigators of
the affair. After listening to what we had to say, however, he decided
that the Mexicans were as much to blame as we were. It is possible that
both "Wild Bill" and I had imbibed a few more drinks than we needed
that evening. General Carr said to me:
"Cody, there are plenty of antelopes in the country. You can do some
hunting while we stay here." After that my time was spent in the chase,
and I had fine success. I killed from twenty to twenty-five antelopes
every day, and the camp was supplied with fresh meat.
When the horses and mules belonging to the outfit had been sufficiently
recruited to travel, we returned to Fort Lyon, reaching there in March,
1869. The command recruited and rested for thirty days before
proceeding to the Department of the Platte, whither it had been
ordered.
At my request, General Carr kindly granted me a month's leave of
absence to visit my family in St. Louis. He instructed Captain Hays,
our quartermaster, to let me ride my mule and horse to Sheridan, 140
miles distant. At Sheridan I was to take the train for St. Louis.
I was instructed to leave the animals in the quartermaster's corral at
Fort Wallace until I should come back. Instead of doing this, I put
them both in charge of my old friend Perry, the hotel-keeper at
Sheridan.
After twenty days, pleasantly spent with my family at St. Louis, I
returned to Sheridan. There I learned that my horse and mule had been
seized by the Government.
The quartermaster's agent at Sheridan had reported to General Bankhead,
commanding at Fort Wallace, and to Captain Laufer, the quartermaster,
that I had left the country and had sold the animals to Perry. Laufer
took possession of the animals, and threatened to have Perry arrested
for buying Government property. He refused to pay any attention to
Perry's statement that I would return in a few days, and that the
animals had merely been left in his care.
As soon as I found this out I proceeded to the office of the
quartermaster's agent who had told this lie, and gave him the thrashing
he richly deserved. When I had finished with him he hastened to the
fort, reported what had happened, and returned with a guard to protect
him.
Next morning, securing a horse from Perry, I rode to Fort Wallace and
demanded my horse and mule from General Bankhead. I told him they were
Quartermaster Hays's property and belonged to General Carr's command,
and explained that I had obtained permission to ride them to Sheridan
and return.
General Bankhead gruffly ordered me out of his office and off the
reservation, declaring that if I didn't leave in a hurry he would have
me removed by force.
I told him he might do this and be hanged, using, very possibly, a
stronger expression. That night, while sleeping at the Perry House, I
was awakened by a tap on my shoulder and was astonished to see the room
filled with armed negro soldiers with their guns all pointed at me. The
first word came from the sergeant.
"Now looka heah, Massa Bill; if you move we'll blow you off de fahm,
suah!" Just then Captain Ezekial entered, and ordered the soldiers to
stand back.
"I'm sorry, Bill," he said, when I demanded to know what this meant.
"But I've been ordered by General Bankhead to arrest you and bring you
to Fort Wallace."
"All right," said I. "But you could have made the arrest without
bringing the whole Thirty-eighth Infantry with you."
"I know that, Bill, but you've not been in a very good humor the last
day or two, and we didn't know how you'd act."
I dressed hurriedly and accompanied the captain to Fort Wallace. When
we reached there at two o'clock in the morning the captain said:
"Bill, I'm sorry, but my orders are to put you in the guardhouse."
I told him I did not blame him for carrying out orders, and was made a
guardhouse prisoner for the first and only time in my life. The
sergeant of the guard, who was an old friend from Captain Graham's
company, refused to put me in a cell, kindly allowing me to sleep in
his own bed, and in a few minutes I was sound asleep.
Captain Graham called to see me in the morning. He said it was a shame
to lock me up, and promised to speak to the general about it. At
guard-mount, when I was not summoned, I sent word to Captain Graham
that I wanted to see General Bankhead. He sent back word that the
general refused to have anything to do with me.
As it was impossible to send word to General Carr, I determined to send
a dispatch direct to General Sheridan. I wrote out a long telegram,
informing him of my difficulty. But when it was taken to the telegraph
office for transmission the operator refused to send it at once.
Instead he showed it to General Bankhead, who tore it up. When no reply
came I went to the office, accompanied by a guard, and learned from the
operator what he had done.
"See here, my young friend," said I, "this is a public telegraph line.
I want my telegram sent, or there'll be trouble."
He knew very well it was his duty to send the dispatch. I rewrote it
and gave it to him, with the money to pay for it. But before he made
any effort to transmit it he called on General Bankhead and informed
him of what I had said. Seeing that the dispatch would have to go
through, the general sent for me.
"If I let you go, sir, will you leave the Post at once and not bother
anyone at Sheridan?" he demanded.
"No, sir," I replied, "I'll do nothing of the kind. I'll remain in the
guardhouse till I get an answer from General Sheridan."
"If I give you your horse and mule will you proceed at once to Fort
Lyon?"
"No, sir; I have some bills to settle at Sheridan and some other
business to transact."
"Well, sir, will you at least promise not to interfere any further with
the quartermaster's agent at Sheridan?"
"I shall not trouble him any more, sir. I have had all I want from
him."
General Bankhead thereupon sent for Captain Laufer and ordered him to
turn the horse and mule over to me. In a few minutes I was on my way to
Sheridan, and, having settled my business there, I proceeded to Fort
Lyon, arriving there two days afterward. I related my adventures to
General Carr, Major Brown, and the other officers, who were highly
amused thereby.
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