CHAPTER VI
When I returned to General Carr's command after my experience as a
prisoner I was informed that the general had been waiting for me for
two weeks.
"I'm glad you've come, Bill," said the general. "While we've been at
this Post a number of valuable animals have been stolen, as well as
many Government horses and mules. We think the thieves are still near
the fort. Fresh tracks have been found near Fort Lyon. Perhaps Bill
Green, the scout who has been up there, can tell you something about
them."
Sending for Green, I found that he had marked the place where he had
lost the trail of the marauders.
Next morning, accompanied by Green, Jack Farley, and another scout, I
set out after the horse-thieves.
While making a circuit about the tracks we had found leading away from
the spot where Green discovered them, we found the trail of twelve
animals--four mules and eight horses--in the edge of the sandhills.
From this point we had no trouble in trailing them down to the Arkansas
River. This stream they had followed toward Denver, whither they were
undoubtedly bound.
When we got within four miles of Denver we found that the thieves had
passed four days before. I concluded that they had decided to dispose
of the animals in Denver. I was aware that Saturday was the big auction
day there, so we went to a hotel outside the town to await that day. I
was too well known in the city to show myself there, for the thieves
would have taken alarm had they learned of my presence.
Early Saturday morning we rode into the city and stabled our animals at
the Elephant Corral. I secured a room in a hotel overlooking the
corral, and took up a post of observation. I did not have to wait long.
A man, whom I recognized at once as Williams, one of our old packers,
rode into the ring, mounted on Lieutenant Forbush's mule, and leading
another Government mule. This mule had been recently branded, and over
the "U.S." a plain "D B" had been stamped.
As the man's confederate did not appear I decided he was outside with
the rest of the stolen animals.
When Mr. Forbush's mule was put up at auction I came down to the corral
and walked through the crowd of bidders.
The packer saw me, and tried to get away, but I seized him firmly by
the shoulder.
"I guess, my friend," said I, "that you'll have to go with me. Make any
resistance and I'll shoot you on the spot!"
To the auctioneer and an inquisitive officer I showed my commission as
a United States detective. With Farley and Green, who were close at
hand, I took my prisoner three miles down the Platte. There we
dismounted, and began preparations to hang our prisoner to a limb. We
informed him that he could escape this fate only by telling us where
his partner was hidden.
He at first denied having any partner, but when we gave him five
minutes to live unless he told the truth, he said his pal was in an
unoccupied house three miles farther down the river.
We took up our journey, and, coming in sight of the house, saw a number
of animals grazing near it. As we rode to the door, another of our old
packers, whom I recognized as Bill Bevins, stepped to the front door. I
instantly covered him with my rifle and ordered him to throw up his
hands before he could draw his revolver.
Looking through the house, we found saddles, pack-saddles, lariats,
blankets, overcoats, and two Henry rifles. We returned with the whole
outfit to Denver, where we lodged Williams and Bevins in jail. The next
day we tied each man to a mule and started on the return journey.
At the hotel where we had stopped before making the arrests, we were
joined by our man with the pack mule. That night we camped on Cherry
Creek, seventeen miles from Denver.
It was April, and the weather was cold and stormy. We found a warm and
cozy camping-place in the bend of the creek. We made our beds in a
row--feet to the fire. The prisoners had thus far been docile and I did
not think it necessary to hobble them. They slept inside, and it was
arranged that some one was to be constantly on guard. About one o'clock
in the morning it began snowing. Shortly before three, Jack Farley, who
was on guard, and sitting at the foot of the bed with his back to the
prisoners, was kicked into the fire by Williams. The next instant
Bevins, who had got hold of his shoes, sprang up, jumped over the fire,
and started away on the run.
As soon as I was enough awake to comprehend what was going on I sent a
shot after him. Williams attempted to follow Bevins, but as he did so I
knocked him down with the butt of my revolver. Farley had by this time
got out of the fire. Green had started after Bevins, firing at him as
he ran, but the thief made his escape into the brush.
In his flight, unfortunately for him, he dropped one of his shoes.
Leaving Williams in charge of Farley and "Long Doc," the man with the
pack mule, Green and I struck out for Bevins. We heard him breaking
through the brush, but, knowing it would be useless to try to follow
him on foot, we went back and saddled two of the fastest horses. At
daylight we struck out on his trail, which was plainly visible in the
snow.
Though he had an hour and a half's start his track lay through a
country covered with prickly pear. We knew that with a bare foot he
could make little progress. We could see, however by the long jumps he
was taking, that he was making excellent time. Soon the trail became
spotted with blood, where the thorns of the prickly pear had pierced
his shoeless foot.
After a run of twelve miles we saw Bevins crossing a ridge two miles
ahead. We reached the ridge just as he was descending the divide toward
the South Platte, which at this point was very deep and swift.
If he got across the stream he stood a good chance of escape. We pushed
our horses as fast as possible, and when we got within range I told him
to halt or I would shoot. He knew I was a good shot, and coolly sat
down to wait for us.
"Bevins, you gave us a good chase," I said, as we rode up.
"Yes," he returned calmly, "and if I'd had fifteen minutes' more start
and got across the Platte you'd never have caught me."
Bevins's flight was the most remarkable feat of its kind I have ever
heard of. A man who could run barefooted in the snow through a
prickly-pear patch was surely a "tough one." When I looked at the man's
bleeding foot I really felt sorry for him. He asked me for my knife,
and when I gave it to him he dug the thorns out of his foot with its
sharp point. I consider him the gamest man I ever met.
I could not suffer a man with such a foot to walk, so I dismounted, and
he rode my horse back to camp, while Green and I rode the other horse
by turns. We kept a close watch on our prisoner. We had had plenty of
proof that he needed it. His injured foot must have pained him
fearfully, but never a word of complaint escaped him.
After breakfasting we resumed our journey. We had no further trouble
till we reached the Arkansas River, where we found a vacant cabin and
took possession of it for the night.
There was no fear that Bevins would try to escape. His foot was swollen
to a great size, and was useless. Believing that Williams could not get
away from the cabin, we unbound him.
The cabin was comfortably warmed and well-lighted by the fire. We left
"Long Doc" on guard and went to sleep.
At one o'clock Williams asked "Doc" to allow him to step to the door
for a minute. "Doc" had his revolver in hand, and did not think it
necessary to waken us. He granted the request. With "Doc," revolver in
hand, watching him, Williams walked to the outer edge of the floor.
Suddenly he made a spring to the right and was out of sight in the
black darkness before his guard could even raise his revolver.
"Doc" leaped after him, firing just as he rounded the corner of the
cabin. The report brought us all to our feet. I at once covered Bevins
with my revolver, but, seeing that he could barely stir, I lowered it.
Then in came "Doc," swearing a blue streak and announcing that Williams
had escaped. Nothing was left us but to gather our horses close to the
cabin and stand guard the rest of the night to prevent the possibility
of our late prisoner sneaking in and getting away with one of them.
This was the last I ever saw or heard of Williams, but we got back to
Fort Lyon with Bevins.
Though we had lost one of our prisoners, General Carr complimented us
on the success of our trip. The next day we took Bevins to Bogg's
Ranch, on Picket Wire Creek, where he was to await trial. But he never
was tried. He made his escape, as I had expected he would do.
In 1872 I heard that he was at his old tricks on Laramie Plains. A
little later he sent word to me that if he ever met me he would kill me
on sight. Shortly thereafter he was arrested and convicted for robbery,
but made his escape from Laramie City prison. Later he organized a
desperate gang of outlaws which infested the country north of the Union
Pacific. When, the stage began running between Cheyenne and Deadwood,
these outlaws robbed coaches and passengers, often making big hauls of
plunder. Finally most of the gang were caught, tried, and convicted,
and sent to the penitentiary for a number of years. Bevins was among
the number.
Soon after my return to Fort Lyon, the Fifth Cavalry was ordered to the
Department of the Platte. While we were at Fort Wallace, getting
supplies en route I passed the quarters of General Bankhead, who had
ordered my arrest on the occasion of my last visit to that Post. The
general sent out for me, and as I entered his office he extended his
hand.
"I hope you have no hard feelings for me, Cody," he said. "I have just
had a talk with General Carr and Quartermaster Hays. If you had told me
you had permission to ride that horse and mule, there would have been
no trouble."
"That's all right, General," I said. "I don't believe your
quartermaster's agent will ever circulate any more false stories about
me."
"No," said the general; "he hasn't recovered yet from the beating you
gave him."
When the command reached the north fork of the Beaver, I rode down the
valley toward the stream, and discovered a large fresh Indian trail. I
found tracks scattered all over the valley and on both sides of the
creek, as if a large village had recently passed that way. I estimated
there could not be less than four hundred lodges, or between
twenty-five hundred and three thousand warriors, women, and children in
the band.
When I reported my discovery to General Carr, he halted his regiment,
and, after consulting a few minutes, ordered me to select a ravine, or
as low ground as possible, so that the troops might be kept out of
sight of the Indians until we could strike the creek.
We went into camp on the Beaver. The general ordered Lieutenant Ward to
take twelve men and myself and follow up the trail for several miles.
Our orders were to find out how fast the Indians were traveling. I soon
made up my mind by the frequency of their camps that they were moving
slowly, hunting as they journeyed.
After we had scouted about twelve miles, keeping our horses well
concealed under the bank of the creek, Ward and I left our horses and
crept to a high knoll where there was a good view for some distance
down-stream. As we looked over the summit of the hill we saw a whole
Indian village, not three miles away. Thousands of ponies were grazing
on the prairie. To our left, on the opposite side of the creek, two or
three parties of Indians were coming in, laden with buffalo meat.
"This is no place for us, Lieutenant," said I. "I think we have
business at the camp which must be attended to as soon as possible."
"I agree with you," he returned. "The quicker we get there the better."
We came down the hill as fast as we could and joined our men.
Lieutenant Ward hurriedly wrote a note and sent it to General Carr by a
corporal. As the man started away on a gallop Ward said: "We will
march, slowly back until we meet the troops. I think General Carr will
soon be here."
A minute or two later we heard shots in the direction taken by our
courier. Presently he came flying back around the bend of the creek,
with three or four Indians in hot pursuit. The lieutenant, with his
squad of soldiers, charged upon them. They turned and ran across the
stream.
"This will not do," said Ward, when the last redskin had disappeared.
"The whole village will know the soldiers are near by."
"Lieutenant," said I, "give me that note. I'll take it to the general."
He gladly handed me the dispatch. Spurring my horse, I dashed up the
creek. Soon I observed another party of Indians returning to the
village with meat. I did not wait for them to attack me, but sent a
shot after them at long range.
In less than an hour I reached the camp and delivered the dispatch to
General Carr. "Boots and Saddles" was sounded, and all the troops save
two companies, which were left to guard the supply train, were soon
galloping toward the Indian camp.
When we had ridden three miles we met Lieutenant Ward. He had run into
a party of Indian hunters. One of their number had been killed in the
encounter, and one of Ward's horses had been wounded.
At the end of five miles we came in sight of hundreds of Indians,
advancing up the creek to meet us.
They formed a complete line on our front. General Carr, who wanted to
strike their village, ordered the troops to charge, break through the
line, and keep straight on.
No doubt this movement would have been successfully executed had it not
been for the daredevil, rattle-brained Lieutenant Schinosky, commanding
Company B. Misunderstanding the orders, he charged on the Indians on
the left, while the rest of the command swept through the line. The
main body was keeping straight on toward the village when it was
discovered that Schinosky and his company were surrounded by five
hundred Indians.
To save the company, General Carr was forced to order a halt and hurry
back to the rescue. During the short fight Schinosky had several men
and a number of horses killed.
Valuable time had been consumed by the rescue. Night was coming on. The
Indians were fighting desperately to keep us from reaching their
village, whose population, having been informed by courier of what was
going on, was packing up and getting away.
During the afternoon we had all we could do to hold our own with the
mounted warriors. They stayed stubbornly in our front, contesting every
inch of ground.
The wagon-train, which had been ordered to come up, had not arrived.
Fearful that it had been surrounded, General Carr ordered the command
to return and look for it. We found it at nine o'clock that night, and
went into camp.
Next morning, when we moved down the creek, not an Indian was to be
seen. Village and all, they had disappeared. Two miles down the stream
we came to a spot where the village had been located. Here we found
many articles which had been left in the hurry of flight. These we
gathered up and burned.
The trail, which we followed as rapidly as possible, led northeast
toward the Republican River. On reaching that stream a halt was
ordered. Next morning at daylight we again pulled out. We gained
rapidly on the Indians, and could occasionally see them from a
distance.
About eleven o 'clock that morning, while Major Babcock was ahead with
his company, and as we were crossing a deep ravine, we were surprised
by perhaps three hundred warriors. They at once began a lively fire.
Our men galloped out of the ravine to the rough prairie and returned
it. We soon succeeded in driving the enemy before us. At one time we
were so close upon them that they threw away most of their lodges and
camp equipment, and left their played-out horses behind them. For miles
we could see Indian furniture strewn in all directions.
Soon they scattered into small bodies, dividing the trail. At night our
horses began to give out, and a halt was called. A company was detailed
to collect all the loose Indian ponies, and to burn the abandoned camp
equipment.
We were now nearly out of rations. I was sent for supplies to the
nearest supply point, old Fort Kearney, sixty miles distant.
Shortly after this the command reached Fort McPherson, which for some
time thereafter continued to be the headquarters of the Fifth Cavalry.
We remained there for ten days, fitting out for a new expedition. We
were reenforced by three companies of the celebrated Pawnee Indian
Scouts, commanded by Major Frank North. At General Carr's
recommendation I was now made chief of scouts in the Department of the
Platte, with better pay. I had not sought this position.
I became a firm friend of Major North and his officers from the start.
The scouts had made a good reputation for themselves. They had
performed brave and valuable services in fighting against the Sioux,
whose bitter enemies they were. During our stay at Fort McPherson I
made the acquaintance of Lieutenant George P. Belden, known as "The
White Chief." His life has been written by Colonel Brisbin, of the
army. Belden was a dashing rider and an excellent shot. An hour after
our introduction he challenged me to a rifle match, which was at once
arranged.
We were to shoot ten shots each at two hundred yards for fifty dollars
a side. Belden was to use a Henry rifle. I was to shoot my old
"Lucretia." This match I won. Belden at once proposed another, a
hundred-yard match, as I was shooting over his distance. This he won.
We were now even, and we stopped right there.
While we were at Fort McPherson, General Augur and
Brevet-Brigadier-General Thomas Duncan, colonel of the Fifth Cavalry,
paid us a visit for the purpose of reviewing our command. The men
turned out in fine style, and showed themselves to be well-drilled
soldiers. Next the Pawnee scouts were reviewed. It was amusing to see
them in their full uniform. They had been supplied with the regular
cavalry uniform, but on this occasion some of them had heavy overcoats,
others large black hats with all the brass accoutrements attached; some
were minus trousers and wore only breech-clouts. Some had regulation
pantaloons, but only shirts. Part of them had cut the breech of their
pantaloons away, leaving only the leggings. Still others had big brass
spurs, but wore no boots nor moccasins.
But they understood the drill remarkably well for Indians. The commands
were given them by Major North, who spoke their tongue as readily as
any full-blooded Pawnee. They were well mounted, and felt proud of the
fact that they were regular United States soldiers. That evening after
the drill many ladies attended the dance of the Indians. Of all savages
I have ever seen, the Pawnees are the most accomplished dancers.
Our command set out on the trail the next day. Shortly afterward, when
we were encamped on the Republican River near the mouth of the Beaver,
we heard the yells of Indians, followed by shots, in the vicinity of
our mule herd, which had been driven down to water.
Presently one of the herders, with an arrow still quivering in his
flesh, came dashing into the camp.
My horse was close at hand. Mounting him bareback, I galloped after the
mule herd, which had been stampeded. I supposed that I would be the
first man on the scene. But I found I was mistaken. The Pawnee scouts,
unlike regular soldiers, had not waited for the formality of orders
from their officers. Jumping their ponies bareback and putting ropes in
the animals' mouths, they had hurried to the place from which the shots
came and got there before I did.
The marauders proved to be a party of fifty or more Sioux, who had
endeavored to stampede our animals. They were painfully surprised to
find their inveterate enemies, the Pawnees, coming toward them at full
gallop. They had no idea the Pawnees were with the command. They knew
that it would take regular soldiers a few minutes to turn out, and
fancied they would have plenty of time to stampede the herd and get
away.
In a running fight of fifteen or twenty miles several of the Sioux were
killed. I was mounted on an excellent horse Colonel Royal had selected
for me. For the first mile or two I was in advance of the Pawnees. Soon
a Pawnee shot past me. I could not help admiring the horse he was
riding. I determined that if possible that horse should be mine. He was
a big buckskin, or yellow horse. I took a careful look at him, so as to
recognize him when we got back to camp.
After the chase was over I rode over to Major North and asked him about
the animal. I was told that he was one of the favorite steeds of the
command.
"What chance is there to trade for him?" I asked.
"It is a Government horse," replied the Major. "The Indian who rides
him is very much attached to him."
I told Major North I had fallen in love with the horse, and asked if he
had any objections to my trying to secure him. He replied that he had
not. A few days later, after making the Indian several presents, I
persuaded him to trade horses with me. In this way I became possessed
of the buckskin, although he still remained Government property. I
named him Buckskin Joe, and he proved to be a second Brigham.
I rode him during the summers of '69, '70, '71, and '72. He was the
horse ridden by the Grand Duke Alexis on his buffalo hunt. In the
winter of '72, after I had left Fort McPherson, Buckskin Joe was
condemned and sold at public sale to Dave Perry at North Platte. In
1877 he presented him to me. He remained on my ranch on the Dismal
River for many years, stone blind, until he died.
At the end of twenty days, after a few unimportant running fights, we
found ourselves back to the Republican River.
Hitherto the Pawnee scouts had not taken much interest in me. But while
at the camp I gained their respect and admiration by showing them how
to kill buffaloes. Though they were excellent buffalo killers, for
Indians, I had never seen them kill more than four or five animals in
one run. A number of them would surround a herd and dash in on it, each
one killing from one to four buffaloes. I had gone out in company with
Major North, and watched them make a "surround." Twenty Pawnees,
circling a herd, killed thirty-two buffaloes.
As they were cutting up the animals, another herd appeared. The Pawnees
were getting ready to surround it, when I asked Major North to keep
them back to let me show them what I could do. He did as I requested. I
knew Buckskin Joe was a good buffalo horse, and, feeling confident that
I would astonish the Indians, I galloped in among the herd. I did
astonish them. In less than a half-mile run I dropped thirty-six,
killing a buffalo at nearly every shot. The dead animals were strung
out over the prairie less than fifty feet apart. This manner of killing
greatly pleased the Indians. They called me "Big Chief," and thereafter
I had a high place in their esteem.
We soon left the camp and took a westward course up the Republican
River. Major North, with two companies of his Pawnees, and Colonel
Royal, with two or three companies of cavalry, made a scout north of
the river.
After making camp on the Blacktail Deer Fork we observed a band of
Indians coming over the prairie at full gallop, singing and yelling and
waving their lances and long poles. We first supposed them to be the
hostile Sioux, and for a few moments all was excitement. But the
Pawnees, to our surprise, made no effort to go out to attack them.
Presently they began singing themselves. Major North walked over to
General Carr and said:
"General, those are our men. They had had a fight. That is the way they
act when they come back from battle with captured scalps."
The Pawnees came into camp on the run. We soon learned that they had
run across a party of Sioux who were following a big Indian trail. The
Sioux had evidently been in a fight. Two or three had been wounded, and
were being carried by the others. The Pawnees "jumped" them, and killed
three or four of their number.
Next morning our command came up to the Indian trail where the Sioux
had been found. We followed it for several days. From the number of
campfires we passed we could see that we were gaining on the Sioux.
Wherever they had camped we found the print of a woman's shoe. This
made us all the more eager to overtake them, for it was plain that they
had a white woman as their captive.
All the best horses were selected by the general, and orders were given
for a forced march. The wagon-train was to follow as rapidly as
possible, while the command pushed on ahead.
I was ordered to pick out five or six of the best Pawnees and proceed
in advance of the command, keeping ten or twelve miles ahead, so that
when the Indians were overtaken we could learn the location of their
camp, and give the troops the required information in time to plan an
effective attack.
When we were ten miles in advance of the regiment we began to move
cautiously. We looked carefully over the summits of the hills before
exposing ourselves to observation from the front. At last we made out
the village, encamped in the sandhills south of the South Platte River
at Summit Springs.
Here I left the Pawnees to watch, while I rode back to the command and
informed General Carr that the Indians were in sight.
The men were immediately ordered to tighten their saddles and otherwise
to prepare for action. I changed my horse for old Buckskin Joe. He had
been led for me up to this time, and was comparatively fresh. Acting on
my suggestion, General Carr made a circuit to the north. I knew that if
the Indians had scouts out they would naturally watch in the direction
whence they had come. When we had passed the camp, and were between it
and the river, we turned and started back.
By this maneuver we avoided detection by the Sioux scouts. The general
kept the command wholly out of sight until within a mile of the
village. Then the advance guard was halted till all the soldiers caught
up. Orders were issued that at the sound of the charge the whole
command was to rush into the village.
As we halted on the summit of the hill overlooking the still
unsuspecting Sioux, General Carr called to his bugler:
"Sound the charge!"
The bugler, in his excitement, forgot the notes of the call. Again the
general ordered "Sound the charge!" and again the musician was unable
to obey the command.
Quartermaster Hays, who had obtained permission to join the command,
comprehended the plight of the bugler. Rushing up to him, he seized the
bugle, and sounded the call himself, in clear, distinct tones. As the
troops rushed forward he threw the bugle away, and, drawing his pistol,
was among the first to enter the village. The Indians had just driven
up their horses and were preparing to move camp when they saw the
soldiers.
Many of them jumped on their ponies, and, leaving everything behind
them, advanced to meet the attack. On second thought, however, they
decided it would be useless to resist. Those who were mounted rode
away, while those on foot fled for the neighboring hills. We charged
through their village, shooting right and left at everything we saw.
Pawnees, officers, and regular soldiers were all mixed together, while
the Sioux went flying away in every direction.
The general had instructed the soldiers to keep a sharp look-out for
white women when they entered the village. Two were soon found. One of
them was wounded, and the other had just been killed. Both were Swedes,
and the survivor could not speak English.
A Swedish soldier was soon found to act as interpreter. The woman's
name was Weichel. She said that as soon as the Indians saw the troops
coming, a squaw, the wife of Tall Bull, had killed Mrs. Alerdice, her
companion in captivity, with a hatchet. The infuriated squaw had
attacked Mrs. Weichel, wounding her. The purpose of the squaw was
apparently to prevent both women from telling the soldiers how cruelly
they had been treated.
The attack lasted but a little while. The Indians were driven several
miles away. The soldiers gathered in the herd of Indian horses, which
was running wild over the prairie, and drove the animals back into
camp. After a survey of our work we found we had killed about one
hundred and forty Indians and captured one hundred and twenty squaws
and papooses, two hundred lodges, and eight hundred horses and mules.
General Carr ordered that all the tepees, lodges, buffalo robes, camp
equipage, and provisions, including a large quantity of buffalo meat,
should be gathered and burned. Mrs. Alerdice, the murdered Swedish
captive, was buried. Captain Kane read the burial service, as we had no
chaplain with us. While this was going on, the Sioux warriors recovered
from their panic and came back to give us battle. All around the attack
a fight began. I was on the skirmish line, and noticed an Indian who
was riding a large bay horse, and giving orders to his men in his own
language.
I could understand part of what he said. He was telling them that they
had lost everything and were ruined, and was entreating them to follow
him until they died. The horse this chief was riding was extremely
fleet. I determined to capture him if possible, but I was afraid to
fire at the rider lest I kill the horse.
Often the Indian, as he rode around the skirmish line, passed the head
of a ravine. It occurred to me that if I dismounted and crept up the
ravine, I could, as he passed, easily drop him from the saddle with no
fear of hitting the horse. Accordingly I crept into the ravine and
secreted myself there to wait till Mr. Chief came riding by.
When he was not more than thirty yards away I fired. The next instant
he tumbled from the saddle, and the horse kept on his way without a
rider. Instead of running back to the Indians, he galloped toward the
soldiers, by one of whom he was caught.
Lieutenant Mason, who had been very conspicuous in the fight and had
killed two or three Indians himself, came galloping up the ravine, and,
jumping from his horse, secured the elaborate war-bonnet from the head
of the dead chief, together with all his other accoutrements.
We both rejoined the soldiers. I started in search of the horse, and
found him in the possession of Sergeant McGrath, who had captured him.
McGrath knew that I had been trying to get the horse, and he had seen
me kill its rider. He handed the animal over to me at once. I little
thought at the time that I had captured the fastest running horse west
of the Missouri River, but this later proved to be the fact.
Late that evening our wagon-train arrived. Mrs. Weichel, the wounded
woman, had been carefully attended by the surgeons, and we placed her
in the ambulance. Gathering up the prisoners, squaws, and papooses, we
set out for the South Platte River, eight miles distant, where we went
into camp.
Next morning, by order of General Carr, all the money found in the
village was turned over to the adjutant. Above two thousand dollars was
collected, and the entire amount was given to Mrs. Weichel.
The command now proceeded to Fort Sedgwick, from which point the
particulars of our fight, which took place Sunday, July 11, 1869, was
telegraphed to all parts of the country.
During our two weeks' stay at this Post, General Augur, of the
Department of the Platte, made us a visit, and complimented the command
highly on the gallant service it had performed. Tall Bull and his
Indians had long been a terror to the border settlements. For their
crushing defeat, and the killing of the chief, General Carr and the
command were complimented in General Orders.
Mrs. Weichel was cared for in the Post hospital. After her recovery she
married the hospital steward. Her former husband had been killed by the
Indians. Our prisoners were sent to the Whetstone Agency, on the
Missouri, where Spotted Tail and the friendly Sioux were then living.
The captured horses and mules were distributed among the officers and
soldiers.
Among the animals which I thus obtained were my Tall Bull horse and a
pony which I called Powder Face. This animal figured afterward in the
stories of "Ned Buntline," and became famous.
One day, while we were waiting at Fort McPherson, General Carr received
a telegram announcing that the Indians had made a dash on the Union
Pacific, killing several section men and running off stock of
O'Fallen's Station. An expedition was going out of Fort McPherson to
catch and punish the redskins if possible.
I was ordered by General Carr to accompany this expedition. That night
I proceeded by rail to Fort McPherson Station, and from there rode
horseback to the fort. Two companies, under command of Major Brown, had
been ordered out. Next morning, as we were about to start, Major Brown
said to me:
"By the way, Cody, we're going to have a character with us on this
scout. It's old 'Ned Buntline,' the novelist."
At the same time I saw a stoutly built man near by who wore a blue
military coat. On his breast were pinned perhaps twenty badges of
secret societies and gold medals. He limped a little as he approached
me, and I concluded that this must be the novelist.
"He has a good mark to shoot at on his left breast," I said to Brown,
"but he looks like a soldier." I was introduced to him by his real
name, which was Colonel E.Z.C. Judson.
"I was to deliver a temperance lecture tonight," said my new
acquaintance, "but no lecture for me when there is a prospect of a
fight. The major has offered me a horse, but I don't know how I shall
stand the ride."
I assured him that he would soon feel at home in the saddle, and we set
out. The command headed for the North Platte, which had been swollen by
mountain rains. In crossing we had to swim our horses. Buntline was the
first man across.
We reached O'Fallen's Station at eleven o'clock. In a short time I
succeeded in finding an Indian trail. The party of Indians, which had
come up from the south, seemed to be a small one. We followed the track
of the Indians, to the North Platte, but they had a start of two days.
Major Brown soon abandoned the pursuit, and returned to Fort Sedgwick.
During this short scout, Buntline had plied me with questions. He was
anxious to go out on the next scout with me.
By this time I had learned that my horse, Tall Bull, was a remarkably
fast runner. Therefore, when Lieutenant Mason, who owned a racer,
challenged me to a race, I immediately accepted. We were to run our
horses a single dash of a half mile for five hundred dollars a side.
Several of the officers, as well as Rube Wood, the post-trader, offered
to make side bets with me. I took them up until I had my last cent on
Tall Bull.
I saw from the start that it would be easy to beat the lieutenant's
horse, and kept Tall Bull in check, so that no one might know how fast
he really was. I won easily, and pocketed a snug sum. Everybody was now
talking horse race. Major Brown said that if Tall Bull could beat the
Pawnees' fast horse, I could break his whole command.
The next day all the troops were paid off, including the Pawnees. For
two or three days our Indian allies did nothing but run horses, as all
the lately captured animals had to be tested to determine which was the
swiftest. Finally the Pawnees offered to run their favorite against
Tall Bull. They raised three hundred dollars to bet on their horse, and
I covered the money. In addition I took numerous side bets. The race
was a single dash of a mile. Tall Bull won without any trouble, and I
was ahead on this race about seven hundred dollars.
I also got up a race for my pony, Powder Face, against a fast pony
belonging to Major Lute North, of the Pawnee Scouts. I selected a small
boy living at the Post for a jockey, Major North rode his own pony. The
Pawnees, as usual, wanted to bet on their pony, but as I had not yet
ascertained the running qualities of Powder Face I did not care to risk
much on him. Had I known him as well as I did afterward I would have
backed him with every cent I had. He proved to be one of the swiftest
ponies I ever saw, and had evidently been kept as a racer.
The dash between the ponies was to be four hundred yards. When I led
Powder Face over the course he seemed to understand what he was there
for. North was on his pony; my boy was up. I had all I could do to hold
the fiery little fellow back. He was so lively on his feet that I
feared his young rider might not be able to stick on his back.
At last the order to start was given by the judges. I brought Powder
Face up to the score, and the word "Go!" was given. So swiftly did he
jump away that he left his rider sitting on the ground. Nevertheless he
went through and won the race without a rider. It was an easy victory,
and after that I could get no more races.
General Carr having obtained a leave of absence, Colonel Royal was
given command of an expedition that was ordered to go out after the
Indians. In a few days we set out for the Republican, where, we had
learned, there were plenty of Indians.
At Frenchman's Fork we discovered a village, but did not surprise it,
for the Indians had seen us approaching and were in retreat as we
reached their camping-place.
We chased them down-stream and through the sandhills, but they made
better time than we did, and the pursuit was abandoned.
While we were in the sandhills, scouting the Niobrara country, the
Pawnee Indians brought into camp some very large bones, one of which
the surgeon of the expedition pronounced to be the thigh bone of a
human being. The Indians said the bones were those of a race of people
who long ago had lived in that country. They said these people were
three times the size of a man of the present day, that they were so
swift and strong that they could run by the side of a buffalo, and,
taking the animal in one arm, could tear off a leg and eat it as they
ran.
These giants, said the Indians, denied the existence of a Great Spirit.
When they heard the thunder or saw the lightning, they laughed and
declared that they were greater than either. This so displeased the
Great Spirit that he caused a deluge. The water rose higher and higher
till it drove these proud giants from the low grounds to the hills and
thence to the mountains. At last even the mountaintops were submerged
and the mammoth men were drowned.
After the flood subsided, the Great Spirit came to the conclusion that
he had made men too large and powerful. He therefore corrected his
mistake by creating a race of the size and strength of the men of the
present day. This is the reason, the Indians told us, that the man of
modern times is small and not like the giants of old. The story has
been handed down among the Pawnees for generations, but what is its
origin no man can say.
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