Читать книгу The Scout and Ranger - James Pike - Страница 6
ОглавлениеMY FIRST INDIAN CAMPAIGN.
My expectations of finding employment as a printer, at Austin, were not realized, and I went back to Bell county, and turned my attention for a while to horse taming; but it was not long before there was found more congenial employment for me. The Kiowa, Comanche, and Kickapoo Indians suddenly began to wage a most relentless and cruel warfare upon the frontier settlements. Their first act of barbarity was committed far down in the country, within a few miles of where I was employed. About the 1st of May, 1859, a small detachment of Comanches appeared on the west side of Bell county, stole some horses, and drove a lance through the body of a little boy about twelve years of age; the act being done in the presence of an agonized mother, and of sisters frantic with grief and fear. The Indians, after mocking their terrified actions, galloped away, laughing and sneering at their agony. The neighborhood was at once aroused, and a few men went in pursuit; I, myself, constituting one of the party. The savages fled toward the mountains, at the head waters of the Colorado river; and high up on the San Gabriel, we came in sight of them; and at once the chase became so hot that the Indians "scattered,"—always their last strategic resort. We only succeeded in finding one, a gigantic fellow, who had long been known on the frontier, and was recognized by some of the pursuing party, as a famous Camanche warrior, called Big Foot. True to his own manhood, he sustained his reputation as a warrior to the very last, and ceased to resist only as he fell into the rolling waters of the San Gabriel, pierced with more than a dozen bullets from trusty Texan rifles. His body was swept away by the swift running stream; but his rifle, lance, and bow and arrows were captured, and divided out among the party as trophies. Big Foot was a giant in size and strength, being about seven feet high, and in all respects well proportioned; and his loss must have been severely felt by his tribe.
Their next outrage worthy of note, was the capture of two beautiful young ladies, named Whitson, whose persons they brutally violated. The ladies were walking home from a neighbor's house, where they had been on a visit, when they were suddenly surrounded by twenty-five savages, who committed the fearful deed already indicated, and then carried them away into a captivity a thousand times worse than death.
They lived near Weatherford, on the Brazos river, and after capturing them, the Indians carried them far out on the Staked Plains, stripped them, and left them on the open prairie, without a morsel of food, or a drop of water, and far away from any civilized habitation. When found they were lying beneath a little mesquit bush, locked in each other's arms, and quietly awaiting the approach of death. It was evident that they had been crazed by hunger, thirst, and cruel treatment, as their hands and arms were lacerated, as if they had struggled to tear the flesh from their own limbs. Luckily, we had a skillful surgeon and physician among our party, who immediately set about restoring them. We gave them liberally of our clothing and sewed blankets into skirts, so that they were soon as comfortable as could be expected. It was about two hours before sundown when we discovered them on a high plain, between the waters of the Colorado and the Double Mountain fork of the Brazos; and I do not think they could have survived more than thirty-six hours longer if left to themselves.
We started that night and went a short distance, and in the morning began our journey to the settlements in earnest. On the Clear fork of the Brazos the party separated; those of us who belonged down the country taking the route to Gatesville, while the friends and neighbors of the girls made haste to restore them to their sorrow-stricken parents and family. It was some time before they were sufficiently recovered to tell us their heart-rending story. Although they expressed their gratitude in the most fervent manner, and their eyes beamed with delight at the prospect of being restored to their home, their features wore a sad expression; and although we did all in our power to revive their spirits while they were with us, they were never seen to smile.
"His sufferings were excruciating, and the crackling fire was built so as to throw out a strong heat on his lacerated back."—Page 56.
This outrage threw the whole frontier into a frenzy of excitement, and wherever the story of their wrongs was repeated, it enkindled a blaze of indignation which only the blood of the Comanche could quench.
From this time every species of depredation became common. Horses were stolen; cattle shot; men, women, and children murdered, and their residences committed to the flames; the mangled bodies being thrown within and consumed by the devouring element; and to make matters worse, the people were unfortunately divided in sentiment, relative to which was the guilty tribe. One faction, led by the redoubtable John R. Baylor, ascribed the murders to the Reserve Indians of Texas; notwithstanding the fact that these tribes were under the care and supervision of Major Neighbors, a careful, energetic, and strictly honest agent, who had the roll called frequently; and no warriors were allowed to be absent from either of the two reservations without a written permission.
Capt. Ross was the recognized leader of the other party, and contended stoutly for the innocence of the Reserve Indians, and alleged that the depredations were committed by the Comanches. But the fact that Baylor had once been the agent of the upper, or Clear fork Reserves, caused his statements to be believed, and secured him numerous followers. Major Neighbors, the agent of the Reserve Indians, denounced him as a liar; and this was the cause, and the only cause, of Baylor's warlike demonstration. Raising about four hundred men, he marched to the Lower Reserve, vowing vengeance at every step. He was met about a mile from the agency by a small body of Caddoes, Tonchues,[1] and Wacos, and a skirmish ensued, and Baylor was handsomely whipped, and compelled to retreat toward the Clear fork of the Brazos. His men then soon began to break up in squads, and scatter off—some to go home, others to hunt, while a few of the most daring ones pushed out after the wild Comanches.
While these stirring events were transpiring, Governor Runnells was not idle. He hastily fitted out a squadron of rangers, under command of Capt. John Henry Brown, an energetic and courageous man, who had had a wide experience in previous contests with the Indians, and was perfectly familiar with the frontier. This command was mustered at Belton, in Bell county, and left for the Indian country about the middle of June. I enlisted for six months, unless sooner discharged, and I presume the others entered for the same term.
Perhaps a description of our appearance will interest the reader. Imagine two hundred men dressed in every variety of costume, except the ordinary uniform, armed with double-barreled shot-guns, squirrel rifles, and Colt's six shooters, mounted on small, wiry, half wild horses, with Spanish saddles and Mexican spurs; unshaven, unwashed, undisciplined, but brave and generous men, riding pell-mell along roads, over the prairies, and through the woods, and you will be able to form a correct conception of a squad of Texan Rangers on the march. In such a band it is impossible to distinguish officers from privates, as the former have no distinct dress; and all act alike.
Usually, we encamped in a hollow square, placing our tents at regular intervals around the outside. The horses were tied to stakes by a forty foot rope, and allowed to graze outside the camp until "retreat," when they were led inside, and the rope shortened. Guards were posted outside the tents, and at some distance off; while the horse guards were inside the square. From Belton, we started in the direction of Gatesville, going up Cow House creek, and crossing the Owl creek mountains. Encamping on Owl creek, we disposed ourselves for the night, and felt felicitated at the prospect of several hours' rest after a hard day's travel; but our hopes were fallacious.
At about two o'clock in the morning, when all were wrapped in deep slumber—the previous quiet having been perfect—we were suddenly aroused by a terrific scream; the horses surged, and pranced around their stakes, their eyes glittering, and their nostrils distended, while they made the air reverberate with sharp piercing snorts of rage and fear. It became evident that an enemy of no mean pretensions was upon us; and the men, springing to their guns, at once prepared for a defense. For perhaps five minutes the camp was hushed and still; then again that fearful shriek rang out, and a large panther sprang from a tree almost over the Captain's tent, seized a piece of raw beef, which lay convenient, and was off with his booty so suddenly, that not a shot was fired. The animal was so large and powerful, that although the beef weighed at least thirty pounds, yet its flight was not in the least impeded. After indulging in a hearty laugh, and numerous speculations as to how the animal passed the guards unobserved, quiet was restored in the camp; and while most of the men again resigned themselves to slumber, the old hunters gathered in groups around the camp-fires, "spinning yarns," and relating remarkable adventures with "panter," "bar," and catamount, till daylight.
On the following day we passed through Gatesville, and encamped on the north side of town. The inhabitants insisted on presenting us with cakes, and pies, in lavish profusion, simply because, as one old man expressed it, while dealing out a basket full: "youre gwine whar you wont git no more soon." From Gatesville, our route lay through the "Cross Timbers," to the Red fork of the Brazos. We hunted deer, wild turkeys, and musk hogs; fished in the little streams on the route; had bullfights at almost every camp; had horse-races, foot-races, and all sorts of sports; had plenty to eat and drink; and, in short, a good time generally.
About the 8th of July, we reached the Caddoe village, and encamped at a famous chalybeate spring, the waters of which are slightly tinctured with salt. It was some time before we could reconcile ourselves to the drinking of salt water, but as it was all that was to be had, we were compelled to come to it. After we had pitched our tents, I was detailed with a squad of fifteen, to accompany Captain Brown to the agency, where he had orders to report.
After scrambling over a very high mountain, and getting a horse killed, and a man accidently shot in the leg, we came in sight of the agency, where everything appeared to be in a high state of excitement. Captain Ross, the sub-agent, and Captain Plummer, commanding the United States regulars, at the post, had mistaken us for Baylor's men, and had accordingly prepared for a vigorous defense. The Indians were mustered in the rear of the regulars, who were drawn up in line, so as to command the approaches to the palisade fort; while two pieces of artillery, loaded with grape, were placed so as to sweep the road, by which we were approaching, and a small body of cavalry stood prepared to distinguish itself, whenever opportunity offered. We held on the even tenor of our way, until arriving within short pistol range, when the troops were dismissed, and all gathered around us, to know who we were, where we came from, what we were going to do, and how we were going to do it? They were glad to see us, and treated us with every kindness. When Captain Brown explained his business to the Indians, and told them he had orders to whip Baylor off and away from their country, they were so delighted, that they could scarcely find words or means to express their joy. The chiefs of the different tribes crowded around the Captain, followed by their principal warriors, and in their eloquent sign language, and in broken English, expressed their friendship, as manifestly, as the most polished phrases could have portrayed it.
This was the Lower Reserve—the upper manifesting a different temper. Their head chief, Katampsie, possessed a warlike disposition. Exceedingly suspicious in all his dealings with the whites, and crafty as a fox, he was not so easily satisfied of our good intentions. He was at a loss to understand how one portion of the people of Texas should want to wage war on him, while another party, claiming to be the troops of the governor, should come professing friendship to the Indians, and hostilities to the white men, who had recently paid him a visit. He knew, and recognized no authority but the United States, and his own free will. When, therefore, he was informed that we were ordered to shoot any of his warriors found off the reservation, he regarded us as open enemies, and he himself was the first to set our authority at defiance.
After the first interview, we went back to our camp at the Caddoe village. A few days afterward, Lieut. Tob. Carmack, with twelve men was sent up the Clear fork of the Brazos, with orders to scour the river bottom, in every direction, to see that none of the wild Comanches were lurking in the thick timber along the river—a very dangerous service; and we had orders not to fire a shot in any emergency, unless at an Indian.
After scouting the country a considerable time, we discovered signs of Indians, of a nature to lead us to believe that we were in the vicinity of a considerable force of Comanche, or Kiowa warriors. We struck the trail just before night, and consequently had but little daylight by which to follow it; and we consequently left it, and went down near the river bank to encamp. We tied our horses in a well concealed place, and established ourselves in a strongly defensive position, by the side of a bluff, on the second bank of the river, and kindled but a single small fire, to favor the guard, who had to watch both camps, and horses; after which we laid down to sleep. I came on guard, as the first relief, and Old Sharp as the second; and I was also to stand the last relief, in place of a young man who was sick; so that the guard duty for that night fell exclusively on Old Sharp and myself. Sharp was an experienced hunter and woodsman, and had had many an encounter with the Indians. He was social and lively, and about forty years of age; well built, with dark, keen eyes, black hair, and of swarthy complexion, with wiry frame; he was active and brave, and he received the name of "Old Sharp," not on account of age, but because of his expression and quaint manner. Never was the camp safer from surprise, than when he stood sentinel.
Time wore on slowly that night, as it is a lonely task to stand guard, in the depths of the trackless forests of the southwest, with no sound reaching the ear, except the twitter of the night bird, the hoot of the owl, the occasional sighing of a tired horse, or the breathing of one's wearied companions. Perhaps the sentinel, at such a time, may find that his thoughts have left him, and are wandering away amid more pleasant scenes—by chance reveling with delighted friends, or lingering around loved ones at home, who anxiously await his tardy coming. It is a cruel thing, when one is lost in sweet reverie, to be recalled to a sense of his isolated and dangerous situation, by the melancholy howl of a wolf, the agonized screaming of the panther, or, as is often the case, by the muffled sound of moccasined feet, stealing around him. Not unfrequently is the sentinel first made aware of the danger which surrounds him, by the sharp twang of the bowstring, and the plunging of an arrow deep into his flesh. I had become wearied with watching on this night, and my mind was lost in a dreamy reverie; I had done my best to pierce the gloom of the forest with my eye, in order to detect the slightest movement; I had listened to every sound, with an eagerness, which those who have stood sentinel, and have had the lives of hundreds of their companions entrusted to their care, can readily comprehend; I saw around me the sleeping forms of my companions, and felt, and knew, that upon my watchfulness, and fidelity, depended their safety, and their lives. My time had passed away slowly enough. Not an unwonted sound had broken in upon the solemn stillness of the night; and at length, when my time had expired, I went to arouse Old Sharp; but had scarcely touched him, when a loud rattling of rocks at the water edge, brought him to his feet instantaneously. "What's that?" said he, in a whisper. "Horse loose, I reckon," was my reply, in an undertone, and leaving Sharp on guard, I slipped down to the river bank, which was here about eight feet high, and perpendicular. I was advancing rapidly, with my left hand raised before me, to protect my face from overhanging boughs, and my right on the stock of my "Navy Six," when the sound of rattling rocks was repeated, but I failed to detect the hard ring of horses' hoofs, and I therefore at once concluded an Indian was secreted in the vicinity. I was going rapidly toward the sound, which, in turn, seemed to approach me, when I suddenly stepped over the bank down on the hard rocks, and found myself confronted by a full grown black bear; indeed, I had almost fallen on his head.
I sprang to my feet without delay, and drew my pistol as quickly as possible, but it was too late. Just as I regained my feet, the bear reared upon his hind legs, bellowed piteously with fright, almost turned a back summersault, and then fled precipitately across the shoal, and into the thickets on the opposite bank of the river.
Returning to Sharp, he wanted to know what the "row" was, and I informed him that it was a bear that had made the noise. "Yes, yes," he replied, "but I allowed you had knifed the 'cuss,' from the way he 'bellered.'" This was the first time I thought of my knife, though I then carried a splendid Bowie knife in my belt. The bear had awaked some of the men by his bellowing, but as soon as they discovered that no harm had been done, and that the "varmint" had made his escape, they lazily rolled themselves up in their blankets and slept again.
Sharp was fully aroused by this little incident, but was not at all pleased that I had suffered the "bar" to escape. "You had oughter have knifed him," he insisted; but I was satisfied to let the bear off with Uncle Toby's address to the fly: "go, poor devil, the world is big enough for me and thee."
Old Sharp now seated himself on the ranger's chair, that is, an inverted saddle, and I took a seat beside him, to see what would turn up next, or if our nocturnal friend would pay us another visit. The little affair at once roused in Old Sharp's mind the recollection of many a scene, and hair-breadth escape, and he went on to relate several adventures of his own, with "bar;" our conversation, of course, being carried on in a whisper; and he concluded his narratives with: "but la, boy, the bars a'in't savage in this country like they are furder north; they git plenty to eat in the southern country, but furder north, 'specially in the winter season, when pressed with hunger, they git terribly severe."
By the time he had concluded his stories, I was too sleepy to continue the confab, so I picked out a good place by the side of an old log, where there were plenty of dry leaves, for a bed, and laid down to sleep, although I was some distance from the remainder of the party. I had been asleep some time, when I felt a sense of closeness or warmness, and woke up; and judge my surprise on finding myself entirely covered up with the leaves, and I felt Sharp's hand upon me, at the same moment.
"Come, my boy," said he, "there is danger here."
In an instant I was on my feet, rifle in hand, ready for any emergency. "Injuns?" I asked.
"Look thar," said he, pointing to a dark object, slowly retreating into the shadows of the timber.
Instantly I brought my rifle to bear upon it, when Sharp laid his hand on my shoulder, saying, in a whisper,
"Stop, boy, thar's Injuns about, and ye musn't shoot."
At this moment, the animal turned around, and came back a few paces toward us, stopped with one fore foot partially raised, and glared upon us in an apparently mingled rage and astonishment. Sharp only tightened his grip on my shoulder, and whispered:
"Look him right straight in the eyes, boy."
Instinctively I did as I was ordered; never moving a muscle, but gazing straight into those two great, fiery eyeballs. We stood thus for perhaps twenty seconds, when the animal, putting its foot softly to the ground, stepped half a dozen paces toward us, and stooped upon its hinder legs for a moment, while its tail moved gracefully to and fro. It eyed us thus for perhaps five seconds, then turned itself and again retreated into the depths of the forest, looking back as it went, until it got a considerable distance from us, when it uttered a scream so loud and shrill, that it echoed through the woods like the shriek of a terrified woman, except that it was louder than the human voice. It was a panther of the largest size; and as it disappeared, Old Sharp relaxed his grasp upon my shoulder, saying slowly:
"I thought that varmint war about to give us some trouble. Pick up your blanket, boy, and come up where we kin see the horses, thar's danger here; thar's Injuns in these woods. I've bin oneasy for some time; wake up t'other chap if you're sleepy, we must have two men out at onct."
I declined, however, to awaken the sick man, who, though an agreeable companion and a good soldier, was in too feeble health to endure the fatigues of so rugged a service. I then informed Sharp that I was willing to stand with him till morning; and from that time till daylight nothing occurred to further disturb the camp.
Early next morning we dispatched our breakfast, mounted our horses and again struck out on the trail, keeping a good lookout for Indians. It was scarcely half an hour after sunrise when we descried a faint smoke curling up through the timber on the river bottoms, but apparently not in the direction in which we were traveling. Leaving the trail, we moved directly toward the smoke at a charge; and as we entered the timber, we could see ten or a dozen Indians spring up from the ground, rifles in hand, the whole party scampering off toward a thicket some distance away. There was no chance to cut them off from the thicket before they could enter it; but we kept up the charge until we had come within two hundred yards of it, when we received a pretty well-directed volley from behind the bushes. We then hastened to surround the thicket as quickly as possible; but while we were doing this, the savages mounted their horses, and charged out upon and over us, I might almost say, for we had deployed too far to be able to rally in time to prevent it.
Lieut. Carmack rallied his men and made preparations for a pursuit. We had discharged a portion of our yagers and pistols in the melee, which had to be reloaded; and one of our men had received a wound in the arm from an arrow, and two horses had been hurt in the charge. It was a short job to extract the arrows from the horses, though they fought and kicked frantically; but not so with the man. Carmack tried to pull the arrow out, but it was no go. Next Sharp proposed to try it; he had had some experience in such matters, having been wounded more than once with arrows in his time. Opening his hands, he took the arrow between his palms and began rolling and lifting it, at the same time. The wounded man whose name was Williams, sat still on a log and endured the torture heroically. It lasted a full minute—this rolling and twisting—before the dull arrow had cut its way out of the flesh. His success so elated Sharp, that he held it up triumphantly, saying:
"Thar, now, I told you so; ef you'd a pulled agin on that arrer, you'd a did the business for that arm. Do you see that?" he continued, pointing to where the arrow was bent against the bone; "now the wonder is, that the spike hadn't a come out the fust pull you made."
Hastily bandaging Williams' arm, we mounted and commenced the pursuit. The Indians had headed directly for the Upper Reserve, now about twelve miles distant. We pursued till we were satisfied they belonged to Katampsie's band of Reserve Comanches, when turning, we struck out on our return to the Caddoe village. While passing through the settlements we were informed of a great many petty outrages committed by both Reserves, since their fight with Baylor's party. At one place they had robbed a man's dwelling; at another, thrown down the fences, and rode through and trampled down whole fields of corn; one man had been robbed of a fine mare; several watermelon patches had been plundered; and in one of the last-named offenses, we chanced to catch a party; but they mounted their horses and were quickly off. Not content with what they could eat, each man had some sort of a sack, and some of them, two or three, all filled with melons. As they fled we closed in on them at a charge, but our horses were tired, and no match for their fresh ponies. When the pursuit was at its hight, they hastily cut their sacks loose from their saddles and dropped them on the trail.
Not desiring to provoke hostilities with the Lower Reserve, to which these Indians belonged, we did not fire upon them; nor did they attempt to fire upon us. They perfectly understood our orders whenever found off their Reserves; but they evidently did not fear us much, for when they were high up on the mountain, one of them turned in his saddle and shouted back:
"White man's hoss no good; Injun's hoss heap good; white man no catch um. You go home; hoss heap sick; me see um." Then, with a loud laugh, he pressed on with his companions. Carmack did not fancy following them into the mountain, for there were at least thirty of them; and they would have been more than a match for us, if they assumed a hostile attitude. We dismounted here and helped ourselves to the captured melons and encamped near by for the night. We procured milk from the settlers in the vicinity; and the women brought us warm bread, fresh butter, etc., which proved a great treat, as we had been living for some days on meat alone.
On the following day we rode back to the Caddoe village and once more found everything in excitement; the cause being a report to the effect that the wild Comanches had come down on the Lower Reserve and stolen seventy-five head of horses, and then made good their escape. Captain Brown, with as many of his men as could be spared, and a large force of regulars and friendly Indians, were soon on the trail, while a party of us that were left, had nothing to do but to rest ourselves and horses until they returned.
About the first of August, Captain Brown sent Captain Knowlin to the fork, with similar orders given to Lieut. Carmack, viz: to fire on any of Katampsie's band who might be found off their reservation. We had the usual amount of sport all the way up the Brazos, killing deer, turkeys and antelope in abundance, together with a venerable bear, so old she was nearly toothless. We saw no Indian signs until we got within about three miles of the Reserve line on the east, when we were suddenly attacked while at dinner, by about ninety Comanches. Our horses were concealed in a thicket near by, and were not discovered by the Indians at all, or it would have been impossible for us to have saved them. We were seated round in a ring, with our smoking mess pans filled with stewed venison, in the center, when we were suddenly startled by the long, fierce war-hoop, and looking up, we saw a large party of Comanches in full war paint and costume, each with every feather that his vanity, or the custom of his tribe would prompt or allow him to wear, streaming in the wind, while their horses were literally bedizzened with paint and silver plate. The warriors' shields and clothing were likewise spangled all over with silver; but we had no time to enjoy this splendid array of barbaric pomp, although it was one possessed of fearful interest to us.
When we first discovered them they were under full headway, coming around a point of timber; and the next instant they came down upon us at a charge. We had barely time to seize our rifles, which were lying beside us, and spring to the side of a house near by, when they sent a shower of arrows among us. We delivered a hasty but well directed volley as we ran, and emptied seven of their saddles. Staggered and annoyed at resistance from so small a party, they circled away to a safe distance, reformed and charged down upon us again; this time sweeping around us in a complete circle and getting between us and our horses. But their arrows flew among us harmlessly, while five more of the assailants fell from our well directed fire. But they were not yet defeated, and returned upon us a third time. We were then ordered to aim at their horses, and I think the bullet of every man must have taken effect, and some must have got two shots, for we killed fifteen horses, and there were but thirteen of us in our party.
The Indians now circled away out of sight, around the point of timber where we had first observed them, and did not return. Presently we saw a runner start for the village at full speed, and in about half an hour we could see squaws and boys carrying guns and shot pouches to the Indians in the timber. Seeing this the Lieutenant inquired:
"What do you say, boys, shall we fight with them?"
"Fight them," was the answer on all sides.
We had a hope of being relieved by the regulars from Camp Cooper, and this, with our recent success, made us confident of victory. By this time we could see the Indians filing around the point of timber and approaching us on foot, in the fullest confidence. They moved on toward us until nearly within rifle range, when they went down into a deep ravine, which ran nearly in a half circle around the house, and about one hundred and eighty yards distant from it. It was evident from their deliberate movements, that they intended to make sure work of it this time, even if it was slow. For my part, I could almost feel the scalp slip on my head. The savages followed down the ravine and were soon within short range, and began to peep over the bank at us. We kept a close watch but did not fire a gun, for we were expecting a charge. We kept ourselves well sheltered by the corners of the house, while the Indians hugged the bank. Presently the report of a rifle was heard in the ravine, which was followed by a volley, almost as well delivered as if fired by disciplined soldiers. Then was heard the war-whoop, and the fire became general, but irregular—each man loading and shooting as fast as possible. We only discharged our rifles when we saw a sure mark, always taking care that not more than two or three pieces were fired at a time, holding our loaded guns and pistols ready to receive a charge; but it did not come, and the Indians, after keeping up a desultory firing for an hour and a half, struck out for their village, carrying with them their dead and wounded.
It was apparent that they had been expecting us, their horses being ornamented and feathered with great care. Their own faces were also elaborately painted, and they were decked out in their most fanciful war dress. After they dismounted they fought us with Mississippi rifles; and, as evidence of the skill with which they were handled, it is only necessary to state that over fourteen hundred bullets struck the house, and perhaps as many more whistled disagreeably near to it. As there were no loop holes in the house, we were compelled to fight around the corners, which prevented us from doing as much execution as we otherwise would have done; but with all this, the savages were severely punished, as we counted eighteen litters taking off dead and wounded, and found, beside, three corpses which they had been unable to carry away.
As soon as they commenced leaving we began to fear they would be reinforced and return, and we immediately dispatched a voting man named Gus Sublett, for the Caddoe village for more men. He was a manly fellow, and would do as he promised—go through or die! We immediately began to put the house in a good state of defense, cutting loop holes on every side, and covering the roof with raw hides, to prevent it from being fired by burning arrows. We had two men badly wounded who claimed considerable attention, as they suffered severely; one of them, Patrick O'Brien, having received a ball in his hip, and the other, whose name was Terry, had been shot in the calf of the leg.
After twenty-eight hours our reinforcements arrived, when we felt a perfect ability to hold our own; but we were not attacked; the Indians remaining on the Reserve without any further admonitions. I do not know that the savages would have left off where they did, had it not been for the intervention of Major Lieper, their agent, who appeared on the ground just after the fight was over; and, on our promise to cease firing, rode over and had a pow wow with Katampsie, in which the latter expressed a willingness to "quit and call it even," provided we would do the same; but Captain Knowlin insisted that Katampsie should give us six sacks of flour and two hundred pounds of bacon, as "blood money;" and to this he agreed, but refused to let more than three of our men go into his village after it.
The Indians then gathered up their fallen braves and returned in sullen silence to their village; but that silence was not long maintained, for their women speedily began to "howl" the dead. This is a regular ceremony among them, at which, in addition to outbursts of grief and exclamations of sorrow from relatives and friends of the deceased, all the old crones of the tribe join in howling over the remains. An Indian "wake" is a noisy concern—especially if the deceased is a man of note. A wife crops her hair off, even around her neck, and scarifies her breasts, arms, and thighs, as a token of mourning for her husband; and a daughter undergoes similar manipulations on the death of her father. The scarifying knife is fixed in the end of a stick, so as to gauge the cut to a certain depth, generally well through the skin, in order to form a tolerably broad scar. Although the process is a severe one, they not only readily endure it, but use the knife on themselves.
On the day following the fight Sterling White, Sublett, and myself went into the village after our "blood money." When Katampsie saw us coming he sprang to his feet, vowing vengeance. The old fellow had several squaws about his tent, who, I suppose were his wives, as they all seized hold of him and held him tightly as soon as they saw us prepare to defend ourselves. The chief raved and tore, jumped up and down, and cursed us in Spanish, finally worrying the women down till they were obliged to turn him loose; when, instead of carrying out his threats, he quietly sat down on a dilapidated cracker box, folded his arms across his breast, and appeared for some time lost in meditation.
Again we pressed our demand, when he arose, and in company with some of his leading warriors, went with us to Major Lieper, and requested him to fill our requisition from the government stores, which was promptly done, and we left the inhospitable village for camp, well satisfied that Katampsie's warriors were not inclined to back their chief in his hostile intentions toward the whites.
A small force was left to patrol the country up and down, to see that the Indians obeyed orders, while the remainder of our party returned to the camp at the Caddoe village. The men at the upper agency were left under charge of Captain Knowlin, while Captain Brown, with the main force, went down the country to guard the more exposed settlements.
While we were near the Caddoe village, a reliable citizen came into our camp and reported having seen a considerable force of Indians on Rock creek, a little over twenty miles distant. Judging from the intelligence received as to the number of warriors, Captain Brown thought it prudent to prepare for a defense of his camp rather than to start in pursuit. We were out of ammunition; and to procure a supply, it was necessary for some one to go to Belknap, twenty-two miles distant, and it fell to my lot to be the messenger. It was by no means a pleasant task, partly because the weather was exceedingly hot, but especially because all the Indians in that region had come to look upon the Rangers as enemies. I passed through the agency, and as long as I was near the regulars I felt perfectly safe; but was a little doubtful as to personal safety outside of their jurisdiction. About half way between the agency and Belknap, in going around a short turn in the road, I met sixteen warriors riding along at a walk. Instantly the foremost of them strung their bows and unslung their quivers; but I rode deliberately and boldly up, till within the length of a lance of them, when one of them made signs for me to stop, which I did. Four of them tried to ride behind me, but having seen them string their bows, I refused to let them pass; at the same time throwing my horse around so that a gigantic forest tree covered my back.
They affected not to understand me, when I drew my pistol from my belt, and said to them in Mexican, "parreti, amigos!"[2] and immediately they stopped, with a cunning laugh, and turned to their chief, as if awaiting orders. The Chief, whose name I learned was Placido, and who was afterward my firm friend, seemed to regard me with suspicion. Eyeing me from head to foot, he asked me some questions in his own tongue; but I told him I did not understand him; but he went on, delivering a lengthy discourse, still speaking in Indian; and seemed to regard me with an air that said, "I know very well what I am saying, and you must understand it."
"Seeing myself in a critical position, I drew a box of prairie matches from my pocket, and then, all at once, threw them into one of the grass lodges, and in an instant it was in a blaze."—Page 66.
I now said in Mexican—"no entiende"—I don't understand. He then looked at me, for some time, and inquired my name, speaking in Mexican, and I told him my patronimic. He then accused me of being a Texan and an enemy. I understood him now perfectly; his eyes fairly blazed with malicious anger, as I deliberately eyed him from head to foot. I began to think it was a mixed case as to whether or not I passed further inspection. The savages stood around me, in a half circle, seemingly determined to know, for certain, all about me; and at the same time, the lack of a medium to convey ideas, rendered our situation peculiarly embarrassing, particularly as they had already begun to show unmistakable signs of hostility. They held a short consultation in their own tongue, after which the Chief again asked me my name, speaking in Mexican. I again favored him with it, but it was evidently not the information he sought; and he hesitated a moment as if to recall some forgotten word, when he said:
"Donde vienne usted?" (where do you come from?)
Without hesitation, I answered, "From Fort Arbuckle."
"Por donde vamos?" (where are you going?) he continued.
"To Fort Belknap," was my answer.
"Que quiere alla?" he persisted in inquiring.
I told him I had a "big letter" for Captain Thompson, from Captain Plummer, and that I was a United States soldier, and not a Texan; and that I was friendly to them so long as they were friendly to the United States soldiers; and this being delivered in a very earnest manner, and tolerable lingo, made some impression; for, pointing to my drawn pistol, he indicated a desire to have it returned to its scabbard. I pointed to their bows, and intimated that I wanted them returned to their quivers. They looked at one another, and laughed, and then unstrung their bows, while I, at the same time, put my pistol in my belt.
After expressing great love for the United States soldiers, and undying hatred to all Texans, they bid me "Adios," and galloped away; not, however, until they had bantered me for a horse race and a horse "swap." I watched them till they had disappeared, and then resumed my journey. I got through all right, and with my ammunition and carts, returned to Caddoe Village.
On my way back, I heard most piercing cries of pain, near an Indian camp; and as it was quite dark, I approached as nearly as possible, in order to discover whence it proceeded. Riding cautiously, and keeping on soft ground, I approached within one hundred and fifty yards of a large fire, from which the shrieks appeared to emanate, when I discovered about forty warriors in a circle around a tree to which a prisoner was tied. From his appearance, I took him to be a Comanche; and his captors were trying his manhood by threshing him with a raw-hide rope. His sufferings were excruciating; and the crackling fire was built so as to throw out a strong heat on his lacerated back. He was greatly exhausted when I saw him, and he was not bearing himself with that stoicism which the Indian is supposed to possess. He was probably put to death that night. His captors were exceedingly grave, and quiet, during the short time I watched them; not one moving from his place except the one who applied the lash.
The victim had probably ventured too far, while following the avocation of a Comanche warrior, viz.: horse stealing, and had fallen into the hands of the Philistines, who, although they themselves might not set a better example, were determined to convince the unlucky one that it was a great crime to be caught. Fearing that, if discovered, I might become more than a disinterested spectator of the scene, and not relishing the idea of assisting the prisoner in playing his particular role, I rode away as quietly as I approached, and put out for our camp, in a hurry. Residents of a civilized country will find it difficult to believe that I witnessed this scene within three miles of the agency, and that the actors were Delawares, who have been for years under the supervision of the United States authorities; yet the statement is as true as it is lamentable.
