Qass. 
 
 f ■ ■ / / ? / 
 
 r-^ /^ 
 
PIONEEK HEEOES 
 
 AND. 
 
 ■ DARING- DEEDS: 
 
 THE 
 
 LIVES AND FAMOUS EXPLOITS 
 
 OF 
 
 DE SOTO, 
 
 CHAMPLAIN, LA SALLE, 
 
 SMITH, STAXDISH, BOONE, KENTON, 
 
 BRADY, CROCKETT, BOWIE, HOUSTON, CARSON, 
 
 HARNEY, CUSTER, CALIFORNIA JOE, 
 
 WILD BILL, BUFFALO BH^L, 
 
 MILES, CROOK, 
 
 AXD 
 
 <vrHEK IIEEO EXPLOEEES, EENOWNED FEONTIEE 
 
 EIGHTEEN, AND CELEBEATED EAELY 
 
 SETTLEES OF AMEEICA. 
 
 ] STORY OF THE MOST INTERESTING EVENTS 
 OF BORDER LIFE, FROM THE - EARLIEST 
 TIMES TO THE PRESENT. 
 
 BY D. M. KELSEY. 
 
 i 
 
 ^■^ ;/?/ _^T 
 
 
 PROFUSELY ILLUSTRATED. 
 
 PHILADELPHIA AND ST. LOUIS : 
 SCA]NL\IELL & COJNIPANY, PUBLISHEKS. 
 
 FOND DU LAC, "WIS. : G. L. BENJAMIN. 
 SAN FRANCISCO : J. DEWING & CO. 
 1882. 
 

 Copyright 1882, 
 By SCA]VI]VIELL & COMPAINY. 
 
 All Eielits Eeserved. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 MANY are the books that give in interesting detail the ad- 
 ventures of a single or a few heroes, or of a restricted region 
 of the American frontiers. But it has been the conception of this 
 volume to present a broad view, embracing the more celebrated 
 episodes of the life led by the most noted pioneer explorers, 
 early settlers and brave soldiers who have won distinction in 
 border warfare. It is surely a worthy task to gather, in a natu- 
 ral, chronological succession, records of those thrilling exploits, 
 the recitals of which, oft repeated, have secured their heroes 
 immortality. 
 
 If it be objected that many of these worthies seemed to lack a 
 sufficient respect for the sacredness of human life, their surround- 
 ings should be remembered. If they were aj^parently too ready 
 with the knife or the trigger, it was because their own lives were 
 felt to be held cheaply by many about them who were unre- 
 strainable by law. 
 
 At least we have glorilied no gory outlaws, nor have we paint- 
 ed in alluring colors the road to the j^enitentiary or the scaffold. 
 
 The chain is nearly complete: "not entirely, for it was not de- 
 signed to make a set history of all border events of interest. 
 The chief aim has been to.disj^lay the differing phases of the same 
 long battle on the frontiers, from decade to decade, through centu- 
 ries, as the Indian races were gradually pushed back by the march 
 of the encroaching white race, till it enveloped them on all sides. 
 It is impossible to give, in a single volume, or, indeed, in a small 
 library, the lives of all Americans who have met with remarkable 
 and thrilling adventures with either brute or human aborigines. 
 But it is believed that the most typical character of each strong- 
 ly marked period has been selected ; and while it is also imprac- 
 
PREPACE. 
 
 ticable to include all the stories relating to such men, it is thought 
 that those incidents most characteristic of a man and his times, 
 and possessing the most interest to the reader, have been chosen. 
 
 So many diiferent volumes have been consulted, that to refer 
 each statement to the authority upon which it is based would 
 needlessly encumber the book. When the original possesses spe- 
 cial interest, as in the case of Boone's Autobiography, or Crock- 
 ett's Diary in the Alamo, it is specially quoted. 
 
 St. Louis, July, 1882. D. M. K. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTEE I. 
 
 FERDINAND DE SOTO. 
 Eirtb and Education — The Grandee's Daughter — Getting Eid of the Lover — In Amer- 
 ica — The Duel — Sentenced to Death — With Pizarro in South America — Acquires 
 Wealth at Last — Returns to Spain — Honors — Marriage — Discontented — Organ- 
 izes an Expedition to Elorida — His Lieutenant — Hostile Reception by Natives — 
 Obdurate Ucita — The Lieutenant Goes out for Wool and Conies Back Shorn — 
 De Soto Gets Fairly on the Way— To the Land of Gold Hats— Perversity of the 
 Indians — Attacked on Every Hand — Yitacucho's Plot and its Miscarriage — De 
 Soto Still Resolute — Presses Forward — The Indian Princess — Spanish Gratitude 
 — Tuscaloosa— A Grand Reception, a Battle and a ^lassacre — Northward through 
 Difficulties— The Father of Waters— Still Westward, Ho l-j-Driven Bade— Insults 
 and Injuries — Siclcncss — Death — His Grave — The End of the Romance. . . 19^6 
 
 CHAPTEE II, 
 THE FRENCH PIONEERS. 
 Wliy They Came — Dragons, Griffins and Demons — Cartier — Cilvmplaix — Early 
 Life — The Colonists — A Canadian Winter — Explorations — Kindness to the In- 
 dians — Return to France — Back to Canada Again — A Convert that Liked Pie — 
 Building Quebec — Intense Cold — Champlaiu Takes the War-path — The Battle on 
 Lake Champlain — The Iroquois Make the Acquaintance of a Gun — Presenting 
 the Head of an Iroquois to the King — Another Campaign — Finding the Way to 
 China — A Brazen Liar — A Defeat — Difficulties with Disorderly Colonists — Death 
 of Champlain — Father Marquette — The Jesuits in America — From Canada 
 Dowm the Mississippi to the Arkansas — Death of the Missionary — La SjILLE — 
 Early Life — Coming to Canada — Glowing Indian Accounts of the Country — ^Ex- 
 ploration of the Ohio — Preparations for Another Expedition — Obtains a Patent 
 —Builds a Stone Fort and a Ship — Treachery and Disaster — To the Mississippi 
 — Kindly Received— Monso's Night Visit and its Consequences — A Perilous Jour- 
 ney — A False Alarm — Another Plan — Traverses the IVIississippi — Bcaujeu Deserts 
 —In Texas— To Canada for Help— Discord— A Sliot fi-om the Grass— Death of 
 La Salle 47-81 
 
 CHAPTEE III. 
 C.\PTAIN JOHN SMITH. 
 
 His Early Ambition — Serves as a Soldier — Studies Military Science — Is Thrown Over- 
 board — ^Adventures in the Turkish War — A Lively Champion — Capture and 
 Slavery — ^Escape — Joins the Virginian Colony — Dissensions on the Voyage — Ac- 
 cused o'f Conspiracy — Settlement and Explorations — Oifends the Officials — Con- 
 founds his Accusers — The First Fight — Hardships in the Colony — An Expedi- 
 tion—Surprised by the Savages— Desperate Fight^Captured by Indians— Poca- 
 
via CONTENTS. 
 
 hontas Saves Smith — 3Iacle President of the Colony — A Cure for Profanity — 
 Plot against Powhatan— Trick for Trick — Takes a Chief Captive — Bringing the 
 Dead to Life — What the Company Desired — Savages Experiment with Powder 
 — Reinforcements — Hurt by an Explosion — Returns to England — Goes to Kew 
 England — Captured hy Pirates — Escapes in a Small Boat — Pocahontas in Eng- 
 land — Massacre at Jamestown — ^Death of Smith . • . . • 82-109 
 
 CHAPTEE lY. 
 CAPTAIN MILES STANDISH. 
 Descent — Service in Flanders — The Puritans — Attempts to Depart for " Virginia " 
 — Voyage on the IMayflower — Exploring the Coast — Attacked by Indians — Ter- 
 rible Weather — Landmg of the Pilgrims at Plymouth — Building Homes — Sick- 
 ness and Death in the Colony — Danger Threatens — Samoset's Welcome— Visit of 
 Massasoit' — Treaty — Avenging Squantum — Expedition Northward — Declaration 
 of War — Sending Back the Snake-skin — Priscilla — Squantum's False Reports — 
 Obtaining Food — Weymouth — Standish's Fight with Pecksnot, the Braggart — 
 Report of Standish's Death — Marriage of John Alden and Priscilla — Return of 
 the Captain — ilassasoit Requests Help — Trouble with Neighboring Colonies — 
 Removal to Duxbury — Pequod War — Death of Capt. Standish — ilassasoit's Suc- 
 cessors — Indian Jealousy of White Rule — King Philip's War Begins — Movmt 
 Hope — Brookfield — The Swamp Fight — Philip Resolute — A Savage's Revenge 
 —King Philip's Death— End of the War . . . . . 110-146 
 
 CHAPTEE V. 
 
 GENERAL ISRAEL PUTNAM. 
 
 Early Years— Thrashing the City Boy— Caught Up a Tree— Shoot, I Tell Tou !— 
 Removal to Connecticut — The Famous Wolf Adventure — A Popular Hero — 
 French and Indian War — Braddock's Defeat — Putnam as a Ranger— A Danger- 
 ous Situation — In the ]\Iidst of the Enemy — A Pierced Canteen — A W'ary Senti- 
 nel — ^Attack on the Boats — The Biter Bit — Cowardly Subordinates — Wood-cut- 
 ting — Disregarding Orders to Save Comrades — The Barracks on Fire — Putnam 
 Saves the Magazine — Down the Rapids of the Hudson — ]Major Rogers' Careless- 
 ness — A Fight in the Woods — Putnam Captured — Brutality of the Indians— Pre- 
 paring for the Torture — Rescued— Exchanged— Taking the Ship — Pontiac's Con- 
 spiracy — Return Home — Oppression of the Colonies — Endeavors of British to 
 Bribe American Officers — Bimker Hill — Superintending Har4 Work — The Dash 
 Down Horseneck — Two Duels, in Both of which Wit is his Weapon — Paralysm 
 —Death 117-176 
 
 CHAPTEE VI. 
 
 CAPTAIN SAMUEL BRADY. , 
 
 Early Life — A Volunteer Rifleman — No Commission, if You Please — ^An Officer in 
 Spite of Refusal — Another Kind of Work — The Reason Why — Sent to Sandusky 
 — Rescues Prisoners — ^Another Trip — Shooting the Dog — "Give the Others a 
 Chance" — The Others Get a Chance — But Brady Gets the Scalps — Phouts — 
 They Take a Prisoner — Phouts Gets Disgusted, and the Prisoner Gets Killed — 
 Brady Captured — A Pappoose in Danger — Three Big Injuns Sitting in a Row — 
 Brady Takes Aim and Away they Go — ^A Night Attacl< — At Brady's Lake — 
 
CONTENTS, IX 
 
 Brad}'s Leap Across the Cuyahoga — A New Kind ofWild TutJcov — brought to 
 Trial— A Friendly WitncsB— Last Days 177-192 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 COLOKEL DANIEL BOONE, 
 Boone's Fame — Early Training — A Deer Turns Out a Dear — Leaves North Carolina 
 for Kentucky — The Neutral or " Dark and Bloody Ground " — Captured by the 
 Indians — The Escape — The Lonely Camp — Squire Boone's Arrival — Alone in the 
 "Wilderness — Savage Visits — Kemovea his Family to Kentucky — Attack on the 
 Emigi'ants — Disheartened Companions— The Dunmore 'War — Back Again— Settle- 
 ment at Boonesborough — Bcjection of the Peace-Belt — Capture of the Three Girls 
 — The Kescue — The First Siege of Boonesborough' — The Second Siege — Capture 
 of Boone and Surrender of his Party — A Particular Attachment for Boone — His 
 Indian Toilet — Escapes Again — A Smart Fight — The Third Siege — Parlejing — ■ 
 "A Singular Custom" — An Unsuccessful Attempt at Treachery by the Besiegers — 
 A Mine and a Countermine — The Siege Eaised — Saltmaking — Squire Boone Killed 
 — Flight for Lifer— The Hat Stratagem — Robbed — Unjust Suspicions — A Bloody 
 Fight — Attack on Bryhnt's Station — The Water Carriers — The Decoy — Cunning" 
 against Cunning — Pieinforcements — Pursuit of the Indians — McGarj's Easb 
 Courage — A Battle that Becomes a Slaughter — Heavy Loss — Flight to the Settle- 
 ments — Noble Deeds — Peace — Boone a Farmer — The Tobacco Stratagem — • 
 Throws Dust in the Eyes of the Indians — Land Speculators — Loses His Home — 
 Eemo\'es East — Too Crowded — Learns of a Happy Land — To "NVIiich He Ee- 
 moves — Prosperity — Trouble Again -with Titles — Paying Off Dol)ts — Old Age 
 —Death 193-226 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 SEVION KENTON. 
 
 A Boyish Passion — His First Victory — Disastrous Eesult — His Flight — "Wanderings 
 and ^\dventures — In Dunmore's War — ^\.t Boonesborough — Saves Bf)one from 
 the Indians — A Horse-Stealing Expedition — Captured — Plenty of Fun for the 
 Indians — Not So Much for Kenton — Too ]Much of a Free Eide — A Hug — At- 
 tempts to Escape — Eccapture — The Council House — Condemned to the Torture 
 and Death — Simon Girty — The Eenegade's Intercession — The Unreasonableness 
 of his Eequest — The Decision Eeversed— A Larger Council Confirms the First — ■ 
 Girty Powerless — Logan Fails to Save Kenton — The Captive is Borrowed — But 
 Not Eetumed to the Lenders — Escapes to Boonesborough — Ser\'ice as Soldier — 
 Loses his Land — Effort to Eegain it — Visits the Legislature — Unexpected Honors 
 — " Proudest Day of My Life "—Death 227-245 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 OTHEE HEEOES OF THE DAYS OF BOONE. 
 
 Thk Wetzels— Boyish Years— Capture of Jacob and Lewis "Wetzel — Escape of the 
 Boys — Killing of ]\rills — Lewis "Wetzel Chased by Four Indians — Lewis Wetzel 
 Loading Avhile Eunning — "Him Gun Always Loaded" — Jacob Wetzel and Ken- 
 tfin Go on a Hunt — Old AYctzel's Heroism while Mortally Wounded — AA'eng- 
 ing their Father — ]\Iartin "\^'etzel Captured — Kills Three Indians and Escapes 
 
X CONTENTS. 
 
 — Lewis Wetzel Hunts Indians — Trees Four — One Gets Away — Shoots an In- 
 dian in Time of Peace — Imprisoned — Military Dignity — ^An Amusing Game — 
 "VMaich Deceives the Guard — Escapes — Piu-suing Marauders — An Impetuous Lov- 
 er — The Poks — A Party of Avengers — Two Birds with One Stone — The Birds are 
 Very Much Alive — Andrew Poe's Fight with Two Indians — A Desperate Battle 
 — Nip and Tuck — Help Arrives — Shot by Friends — jMajor Saiiuel McCulloch 
 — Siege of Fort Henry — ^IcCulloch's Force Amves — Gets into the Fort — But 
 the Major is Cut Oft— Famous Leap Down Wheeling Creek . . . 246-262 
 
 . CHAPTEE X. 
 
 LEWIS AND CLARKE EXPEDITION. 
 
 The West in 1800 — Census Figures Then and Now — Attempts at Making Overland 
 Passages to the Pacific — Purchase of Louisiana from the French — Jeflerson's Plan 
 — Setting Out of the Expedition — The Ancestors of the Osages — Coimcils with the 
 Indians — ^A Treacherous Eivcr — Indian Horse Thieves — Amusing the Visitors — 
 A Fight Threatened — Winter Quarters — Assault on a Small Party — Losses 
 — A Ketaliatory Expedition — Bear Fights — A Close Shave— ^A Buflalo Hunt — 
 Exploring — Difficulties of the Journey — Appalling Stories — Trading with the 
 Nez Perces Indians — Crossing the Mountains — Descending the Columbia — Win- 
 ter Quarters — Eye- Water Medicine Men — On the Return — Encamp with Eight 
 Blackfeet — Thie\nshness of their Visitors — Deceitful Conduct — A Lively Time 
 — -The Jom-ney's End 263-277 
 
 CHAPTEE XI. 
 
 . GEN. "WaLLLiM HENPvY HAREISON. 
 
 Birth and Education — Commissioned Ensign — Service among Ohio Indians — Civil 
 Appointments — British vs. American Treatment of Indians — Turbulent State of 
 the Country — Elskwatawa, the Prophet — Tecumseh, the Chief— Indian Efforts 
 at Beformution — Shawnee Eights and Superiority — Tecumseh's Education and 
 Early Experiences — League of the Tribes — Appeals to Superstition — Eloquence 
 of the Prophet — The Prophet's Towti — Tecumseh's Life-work — Etforts to Con- 
 ciliate Indians — Eeception of the IMessenger — Outwitting the Governor — Eumors 
 of War— Haughty Treatment — Council at A'incennes — Almost a Fight — Depart- 
 ure of Harrison for the Indian Village — Encampment on the Tippecanoe — The 
 Attack— The Battle— Defeat of the Prophet— The Prophet's Generalship— Peace 
 in Indiana — Gov. Harrison's Courage — Tecumseh Eeturns — Gives the Prophet a 
 Shaking — Which He Deserves— The Chief Joins the British — Indians Spoiling 
 for a Fight — Disgusted at Ectreat — Tecumseh's Independence — The Battle — 
 Death of Tecumseh — Gen. Harrison's Military Eeputation — Conduct Aspersed — 
 Vindicated — Eesignation — Political Success — The Log-cabin and Hard Cider 
 Campaign — " Tippecanoe and Tyler, too "-^Sudden Death . . 278-301 
 
 CHAPTEE XII. 
 
 COLONEL DAVID CROCIvETT. 
 
 His Family and Birth — Childhood — Hired Out — Euns Home — Three Daj's at School 
 — Why He Left — How Ho Eetiuned, Three Years Later — School Again — A 
 
CONTENTS. xi 
 
 Wedding in Prospect— Sldll as a Marksman— But He Did j^ot Hit the Lady's 
 Heart — Jilted — Disconsolate — Until He Finds Another — 3Iarried— Soldier-Life 
 —Loses His Wife — Marries Another— Made a Magistrate— Writs in "Verbal 
 Writing "—Elected Colonel of Militia— Member of the State Legislature— Losses 
 in Business — Kemoval to the "Shakes"— His Eifle, Betsy— Powder for Christ- 
 mas Guns — A Bear Fight— In the Legislature Again — Electioneering— Stump 
 Speeches — Popular Orator}-- Opposition to Jackson — More Bear Hunting — A 
 Business Venture— A Narrow Escape— Elected to Congress— A Pleasure Trip 
 North— Enthusiastic Pveception— "Go Ahead "—Ten Quarts of Pvum for a Coon- 
 skin— Job Snelling's Honesty— Defeated— G. T. T.— Thimblerig— " Live Hon- 
 estly or Die Bravely " — Encounter with a Cougar — Enters San Antonio — Defense 
 of the Alamo — A Skirmish — Storming of the Alamo — SuiTender — Barbarity of 
 Santa Anna — Death of Crockett 302-329 
 
 CHAPTEE XIII. 
 
 GENERAL SAM HOUSTON. 
 
 Early Settlement of Texas— Thk Austins— Difficulties Besetting the Colonists — 
 Death of the Elder Austin — Lajfitte, the Pirate — Stephen F. Austin — The 
 Fredonia Trouble — Mexican Suspicion — Murder of Hunter — Houston's Early 
 Life — Serves with Jackson in the Creek War — Severe Wounds — High Honors — 
 Governor of Tennessee — Sudden and Unaccountable Departure — Adopted by 
 the Indians — Colonel Bowie — His Famous Knife — A Fight on a Sand-bar — 
 Search for Silver Mines— Attacked by the Indians — An Obstinate Defense — 
 President Santa Anna — Austii.'s Mission to Mexico — Lnprisonment and Trial 
 for Treason — Pteleased — Confusion in Texas — War Approaching— Houston 
 Made Commander-in-Chief— Siege of the Alamo by the Texans— The Grass 
 Fight— Surrender of the Fortress— Storming of the Alamo— Death of Colonel 
 Travis— Death of Colonel Bowie— Goliad— Brutal Massacre of the Prisoners- 
 Battle of San Jacinto — " Remember the Alamo ! " — Signal Victory loiiominious 
 
 Capture of General Santa Anna— Acknowledges the Independence of Texas- 
 Houston Elected President— Death of Austin— Mexican Raids— Snively Expedi- 
 — Texas Enters the United States— Houston Elected U. S. Senator-^Opposes 
 2S8ion— Resigns Office of Governor— Death— His Name .... 330-360 
 
 tion- 
 
 Seces 
 
 CHAPTEE XIV. 
 KIT CARSON. 
 
 A Boy Hunter— In New Mexico— Surgery on the Plains— Trapping— Indian Horse 
 Thieves— Pursuit by Trappers— Digger Indians— Success in Trapping— Indian 
 Thieves Attacked Successfullj'- Perilous Situation— A Narrow Escape— Pursu- 
 ing the Horse Thief— Fight with Two Bears — Up a Tree— Fight with In- 
 dians—Carson Saves His Friend— The Rendezvous of Trappers— A Duel with a 
 Braggart— More Horse Thieves— Attack on Indians— Carson's Brave Generosit;^ 
 —Encounter with Mountain Lion— Another Indian Battle— The War Dance— 
 "Monarch of the Prairies "—Hunter for Bent's Fort— The Peacemaker— The In- 
 dian W;ife— John C. Fremont— Exploring Expeditions— Incidents of the Jour- 
 ney—Too Big a Load— "Indians! Indians .'"—The Frenchmen's Jealousy of 
 Carson — The Eetm-n — Carson Settles in New Mexico— On another Trip Avith 
 
Xii CONTENTS. 
 
 Fremont — Great Salt Lake — Diggers and Fish Eaters — Klannath Lake — Searcli- 
 ing for the Imaginary — Crossing the Mountains — Dismal Warnings — The Indian 
 Guide Deserts — Severe Hardships — Accomplish the Passage — Carson Rescues 
 Fremont — Fremont's Third Expedition — The Mexican War Threatens — News 
 from Home — Camp Attacked by Indians — Lives Lost — Revenge — Destroying 
 Indian Village— Fremont Saves Carson — A Wary Old Warrior Foiled — Carson 
 Sent to Washington — Meets Gen. Kearney, and Returns with Him — Severe 
 Fight with Mexicans— Carson Goes for Help — A Heroic Journey — Close of the 
 War — Recognition of Carson's Services — Fremont's Fourth Expedition — Indian 
 Horse Thieves, Again — Saves Two Merchants from Desjicradoes — A Captive in 
 Indian Hands — Brigadier-General — Death 361-40? 
 
 CHAPTEE XV. 
 
 GEN. WILLIAM S. HARNEY. 
 
 A Teimessecan — Intended to be a Sailor — But Commissioned Lieutenant in the Army 
 — Service in the South — Lafltte and His Pirates — An Encounter with Them — In 
 St. Louis — An Indian Council — O'Fallon's Rashness — Race with an Indian — 
 Another Race — How an Offender Escaped a Whipping, and Capt. Harney's 
 Anger was Cooled by a Ducking — Black Hawk — Thi? War — An Indian Victory 
 — "The Two Ponies," Harney and Lincoln — A Reconnoissance— Defeat of Black 
 Hawlc— Capt. Harney's IMarriage- To Florida— The Seminoles— Repulse of the 
 Indians— Osceola— The Treaty Broken— A New Kind of Treaty— Harney's 
 Influence — A Treacherous Night Attack — Escape through the Woods — Alarmed 
 at a Canoe— That Proves to be Empty— Useless Bloodhounds— Fight in the 
 Everglades — End of the Florida War — The Mexican War — Rival Generals' 
 Jealousies — Gallantry at Cerro Gordo— Brevetted Brigadier-General — Indian 
 Troubles on the Borders — Gen. Harney to Whip the Indians — He Does it — 
 Buncombe — In Oregon — Return to St. Louis — The Civil War Begins — Urged to 
 Join the Confederate Army — Retired from Service — Member of the Indian Peace 
 Commission — " You were a Friend of M}^ Father'' . , . 403-428 
 
 CHAPTEE XVI. 
 
 GEN. GEORGE A. CUSTER. 
 Boyhood— A Cadet— Strict Discipline— " Walking Extras"— A Fair Fight— The 
 Officer of the Guard is Sent to the Guard House — Court-Martialed — Never Hears 
 the Decision — Active Service in the War — Ambition — Results of the Battle of 
 Aldie— The Boy-General— End of the Civil War— Westward, Ho !— To Fight 
 Indians — Gen. Hancoclv's Expedition — A Fight Threatened — An Empty Camp 
 — A Buffalo Hunt — The Buffalo Escapes, and the Horse is Killed — Satanta — 
 Custer's First Lessons in Indian Nature — The Attack on the Wagon-Train — 
 Comstock, the Scout — The Kidder Massacre — Comstock's Opinion — Rapid 
 Marching — Court-^Iartialed — Suspended — Restored by Request of Officers— Cal- 
 
 • roRxiA ,IoE -Origin and Experiences — Condemned to the Torture — Saved 
 
 — The Rescue of the White Girl — "An Ambulance ISIan or a Hoss Man?" — 
 Joe's Pride Gets a Fall — Drill — A Winter Campaign — March through the Snow- 
 storm — California Joe's Opinion — Reconnoitcring — The Attack on the Cheyenne 
 Village — ^A Hornets' Nest — The Hornets are Crushed — The Seventh Cavalry 
 
CONTENTS. XUl 
 
 Congratulated — Custer Hurries Up an Indian ]\Ioving — Eescue of Captives — 
 Submission of the Indians— Ordered to the Eastr— Buffalo Hunting with the 
 Grand Duke— To the West Again— A Mid-day ISIap and the Awakening— The 
 Triangle Kide— A Fight- The Black Hills Expedition— Capture and Trial of 
 Rain-in-the-Face- His Reputation and His Ominous Oath— Custer Summoned 
 to Washington — Executive Vengeance — The INIarch to the Little Big Horn — 
 Plan of Attack— Eeno's Hesitation and Repulse— Benteen's Disohedience— The 
 Last Rally— "We Have Killed Them All" 429-473 
 
 CHAPTEE XVII. 
 
 WILD BILL. 
 
 Description — Learning to Shoot — His First Treasure — Shooting Wolves — To Kan- 
 sas — Joins Lane's Company— Astonishes the Natives by His Marksmanship — 
 Winning a Name — Farmer — Stage Driver — Reputation — The Best Shot on the 
 Plains— Attack on Indians— Encounter with a Bear — Fight with the McCandlas 
 Gang — A New Title — Brigade Wagon-Master — In Disgrace — Retrieval — Sharp- 
 shooting at Pea Ridge — A Spy — A Dare-Devil Game — Which Proves Successful 
 — Entering the Confederate Lines Again — Daring Escape — Racing— Dead Broke 
 — A Spy Again — Discovered — In Prison — A Sleepy Guard and a Rusty Knife — 
 How He Got Black Nell — A Friend's Devotion and the General's Surprise — A 
 Mean Indian Trick— Duel with Conquering Bear— Put Upon — Spoiling for a 
 Fight— Wild Bill SatiBfies the Natives— Fight with Four Men— Chief of Scouts 
 —Kills Black Kettle— Wounded— A Lively Marshal of Hays City— "Pretty 
 Quiet, Thank You, for a Frontier Towti " — Fight with Fifteen Soldiers — Escape, 
 Terribly Wounded — A Plan for Making Money — Dead Broke — Out of His 
 Element — Marshal of Abilene — A Texan's Revenge — It Costs More than it 
 Comes to — Jumping for Life — "Settle it with Me" — On the Stage — Wants Real 
 Whiskey — No Fun Allowed, so He Leaves in Disgust — The Black Hills — The 
 Hunter is Hunted — ]\[arriage — In Deadwood — Foully Murdered — Wild Bill's 
 Character 474-510 
 
 CHAPTEE XVIII. 
 
 BUFFALO BILL. 
 
 Boyhood — The California Gold Fever — Kansas Troubles — A Hero for Imitation — 
 Billings as a Bocarro — Saving his Father — Congenial Emplojanent — A Fight 
 at School— Herdmg — Attacked by the Indians — Billy's First Redskin — Defended 
 by Wild Bill — A Breastwork of Dead Mules — A Broken Leg — Alone in the 
 Dug-Out — Saved by liain-in-the-Face — Pony Express Rider — Attack on the 
 Stage-Coach — The Horse Thieves' Den — Escape — He had Cleaned out the 
 Ranch — One of Chandler's Gang — Scoutmg — Enlisted — Marriage — Hotel-Keep- 
 ing — Scouting Again — The Tenth Cavalry Don't "Blow de Injuns offer «de 
 Farm "—Frightened Darkies— Half-Owner of a Town — The Town Moves and 
 Cody Breaks— A Kind Offer of Some Meatr-But He Supplies Himself— The 
 Spunky Tenth Cavalry Again — Employed as Hunter — Wms His Name — Four 
 Thousand Two Hundred Buffaloes in Eighteen Months — A Race for Life — At 
 Bay — The Fire Signal— A Buflalo-KUling Match— Comstock Badly Beaten — 
 
XIV CONTENTS. 
 
 " How, How ! " — Indian Humor — Which Bill Doesn't Appreciate — The " Whoa- 
 Haws" — Lie against Lie — A Trustworthy Messenger — Flight — Bringing Meat 
 into Camp — Breaking in a New Lieutenant — The Fifth Cavalry Victorious — 
 Shooting Tall Bull — Justice Cody — An Effective "Writ of Keplevin — Eastern 
 Hunting Parties — An Imperial Pupil — How the Grand Duke Killed his First 
 Buffalo — On tpe Stage — Member of the Legislature — Buntline's Energj' — Suc- 
 cess as an Actor — Scouting Again — The Cheyennes Leave their Reservation — 
 But the Fifth Cavalry Induces them to Eeturn — Cody Engages an Indian in 
 Single Combat — " The First Scalp for Custer " — Later Services . . 511-556 
 
 CHAPTEE XIX. 
 
 TEN YEARS OF INDIAN WAEFAEE. 
 
 Both Sides of the Question — The Modoc War — The Lava Beds — Peace Commission- 
 ers — A Parley — The Canby Massacre — Attacking the Modocs — Desertion of the 
 Waniors — Surrender of Captain Jack — Trial and Execution of the Murderers — 
 A Quiet Interim — The Battle on the Eosebud — A Slippery Enemj- — Gex. Crook 
 — His Advance — Reinforcements — Junction of Forces — A Secret Approach — 
 Gen. McKenzie's Attack on the Cheyennes — A Galling Fire — Help not Needed 
 — Retreat of the Cheyennes — Cold Reception — Gen. Miles^HIs Expedition 
 against the Sioux — Fighting in a Snowstorm — The Nez Perce Campaign — Chief 
 Joseph — He is Tired — Nobody Prevents His Taking a Rest — Plenty of Fighting 
 Soon Gives Him One— A Ute Outbreak— A Battle— Death of Major Thorn- 
 burgh — Capt. Payne's Defense — Six Days Under Fire — A Reinforcement — The 
 Colored Troo'ps Fought Nobly — An Ounce of Prevention — Mutterings of the 
 Storm 557-578 
 
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 ouster's last rally on the little big horn, FuU Page, Frontispiece. - 
 
 THE PIONEER SETTLER, , 
 FERDINAND DE SOTO, . ' 
 
 SPANIARDS ENSLAVING INDIANS, 
 REPELLING THE LANDING, . 
 AMBUSHING SPANIARDS, 
 DE SOTO's MARCH, . 
 
 the tight at mobile, . 
 
 discovery op the mississippi, 
 
 indian fleet meeting de soto, 
 
 burial op de soto, 
 
 departure op the spaniards, 
 
 jacques cartier, . 
 
 samuel de champlain, 
 
 champlain takes the war path, 
 
 jesuit missionary preaching to the indians, 
 
 marquette descending the mississippi, . 
 
 monso's visit, ...... 
 
 assassination of la salle, 
 
 captain john smith, ..... 
 
 building of jamestown, .... 
 
 smith surprised by the savages, 
 
 smith saved by pocahontas, 
 
 desperate fight with the chief of the pashiphays 
 
 pocahontas, ..... 
 
 pocahontas presented at court, 
 
 destruction op a virginia settlement, 
 
 landing of the pilgrims, .... 
 
 first church in new england, . 
 
 samoset's visit, 
 
 winslow's visit to massasoit, 
 
 sending back the snake-skin, 
 
 standisil's fight with pecksnot, 
 
 ambushing settlers, . 
 
 a narrow bridge to victory, 
 
 death of king philip, 
 
 puritan settler defending his home 
 
 " shoot, i tell you," . 
 
 PUTNAM IN THE WOLF'S CAVE, 
 
 TAKING CAPTIVES, 
 
 GENERAL ISRAEL PUTNAM, . 
 
 Full Page, 
 
 FuU Page, 
 
 Full Page, 
 
 Full Page, 
 
 Title Vignette. 
 
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 Full Page, 123 
 
 ' Full Page, 128 
 
 FuU Page, 133 
 
 FuU Page, 139 
 
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 FuU Page, 144 
 
 FuU Page, 146 
 
 . 148 
 
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 FuU Page, 154 
 
 159 
 
XVI 
 
 LIST OP ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 PUTNAM TORMENTED, 
 
 INDIAN SQUAW BETRAYING PONTIAC's CONSPIRACY, 
 
 PONTIAC'S VISIT TO MAJOR GLADWIN, 
 
 PUTNAlVl's FLIGHT DOWN THE ROCKS AT HORSENECK, 
 
 PONTIAC, 
 
 killing of pontiac, 
 
 the council on a tree, 
 
 Brady's leap, 
 
 daniel boone, . 
 
 capture op boone and stewart, 
 
 GENERAL CLARKE REJECTING THE PEACE BELT, FuU PclCje, 
 
 INDIANS ATTACKING BOONESBOROUGH, . 
 
 BOONE's INDIAN TOILET, 
 
 BOONE PURSUED BY THE INDIANS, 
 
 WOMEN GETTING WATER FOR THE FORT, 
 
 ARRIVAL OP REINFORCEMENTS, . 
 
 THE TOBACCO STRATAGEM, . 
 
 THE hunter's paradise, 
 
 the grave op boone, 
 kenton rescuing boone, 
 Kenton's mazeppa ride, . 
 desperate effort to escape, 
 simon girty, the renegade, 
 lewis wetzel loading while 
 
 LOADED," 
 ANDY POe's fight WITH BIGFOOT, 
 MCCULLOCH'S LEAP, 
 THE OSAGES' FATHER-IN-LAW, 
 A CLOSE SHAVE, 
 KILLING THE THIEF, 
 GENERAL WM. H. HARRISON, 
 ELSKWATAWA, '^ THE PROPHET," .... 
 "THE EARTH IS OUR MOTHER" GENERAL HARRISON's COUNCIL 
 
 with tecumseh, 
 death of tecumseh, 
 david crockett, 
 crockett on the stump, , 
 Crockett's fight with a bear, 
 shipwrecked on the river, 
 Crockett's first buffalo hunt, 
 desperate fight with a cougar, 
 general cos, 
 
 storming of the alamo, . 
 defence op the alamo, 
 
 DEATH OP CROCKETT, .... FuIl PcUje, 
 
 MONUMENT TO THE DEFENDERS OP THE ALAMO 
 
 LAFITTE, THE PIRATE, 
 
 THE MURDER OF HUNTER, 
 
 HOUSTON WOUNDED IN THE CREEK WAR, , 
 
 GENERAL SANTA ANNA, . . . 
 
 Full Page, 
 
 Full Page, 
 
 RUNNING — "HIM GUN ALWAYS 
 
 . Full Page, 
 
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LIST OP ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 A TEXAN RANGER, . 
 
 GENERAL SAM HOUSTON, 
 
 HOUSTON DICTATING ORDERS, 
 
 HOUSTON AT SAN JACINTO, 
 
 THE FINDING OF " THE MIGHTY AND GLORIOUS,' 
 
 SANTA ANNA BEFORE HOUSTON, 
 
 SURGERY ON THE PLAINS, . 
 
 CHRISTOPHER CARSON, . 
 
 INDIAN CAPTURING HORSES, 
 
 A NARROW ESCAPE, 
 
 THE PURSUIT OF THE HORSE THIEF, 
 
 A FIGHT WITH GRIZZLIES, 
 
 THE SUMMER RENDEZVOUS, .... Full JPcUje, 
 
 CARSON's duel WITH THE BRAGGART. 
 
 defending a fallen comrade, 
 
 indian war dance, 
 
 Carson's house at taos, . 
 
 fremont rescued by carson, 
 
 carson saved by fremont, .... 
 
 MEXICAN TOAVNS SURRENDERING TO GENERAL KEARNEY, Full Page, 
 
 gen. john c. fremont, ..... 
 
 gen. wm. s. harney, 
 
 Harney's race with the indian, 
 
 another race and a cold bath, 
 
 black hawk, 
 
 OSCEOLA, 
 
 A TREATY OF WAR, . 
 
 BILLY BOWLEGS, 
 
 IN THE EVERGLADES, 
 
 GEN. WINPIELD S. SCOTT, 
 
 GEN. GEORGE A. CUSTER, .... Full F^Cje, 
 
 INDIANS VIEWING THE PACIFIC RAILROAD, . Full Pligt', 
 
 THE EVENING CONCERT, .... Fvll Page, 
 
 THE ATTACK ON THE WAGON-TRAIN, . . Fvll Page, 
 
 GEN. PHILIP H. SHERIDAN, ..... 
 
 CALIFORNIA JOE, 
 
 THE SURPRISE OF THE CHEYENNE VILLAGE, . FuIl Page. 
 
 THE MESSENGER OF DEFEAT, 
 
 A BUFFALO HUNT, ...... 
 
 THE TRIANGLE RIDE, .... Full Page, 
 
 CAPTURE OP RAIN-IN-THE-FACE, .... 
 
 "we have KILLED THEM ALL ! " THE MESSENGER OF VICTORY, 
 
 WILD BILL SHOOTING WOLVES, .... 
 
 WILD BILL (j. B. HICKOK), ..... 
 
 WILD bill's FIGHT WITH THE BEAR, 
 
 FIGHT WITH THE Mf'CANDLAS GANG, .... 
 TAKING TO THE WATER, ..... 
 
 KILLING THE SLEEPING SENTINEL, .... 
 
 CONQUERING BEAR, ..... 
 
 SPOILING FOR A FIGHT, ..... 
 
 344 
 
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xvin 
 
 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 '^ ain't you satisfied ? " . 
 
 WILD bill's fight WITH FIFTEEN SOLDIERS, . 
 
 THE MURDER OF WILD BILL, .... 
 
 BILLINGS AS A BOCARRO, . . . FvU Page, 
 
 BILLY KILLS HIS FIRST INDIAN, .... 
 
 THE DEPARTURE OF THE STAGES, . . FuU PcUje, 
 
 THE ATTACK ON THE STAGE, . . . Full Page, 
 
 ESCAPING FROM THE HORSE-THIEVES, .... 
 
 AFTER THE SURPRISE, .... Full Page, 
 
 BUFFALO BILL (W. F. CODY), ..... 
 
 " KEEP OFF ! " A CENTER SHOT, .... 
 
 " HOW, HOW I" . 
 
 MAKING BUFFALOES FURNISH THEIR OWN TRANSPORTATION, 
 
 THE SHOOTING OF TALL BULL, . - . , . 
 
 " LOOK OUT ! " 
 
 SHOWING THE GRAND DUKE HOW TO KILL BUFFALOES, 
 
 AN ARROW THROUGH A BUFFALO, . 
 
 TEXAS JACK (j. B. OMOHUNDRO), 
 
 THE FIRST SCALP FOR CUSTER, 
 
 MASSACRE OP MINNESOTA SETTLERS, 
 
 THE NOBLE RED MAN OF THE POETS 
 
 THE REAL ARTICLE, 
 
 GEN. E. R. S. CANBY, 
 
 THE MODOC STRONGHOLD, 
 
 THE FIGHT IN THE LAVA BEDS 
 
 CAPTAIN JACK, . 
 
 HOOKER JIM, 
 
 SCHONCHIN, 
 
 BOSTON CHARLEY, 
 
 SHACK NASTY JIM, 
 
 GEN. C. H. CROOK, 
 
 THE BATTLE ON THE ROSEBUD, . . FuII Page, 
 
 AN OASIS IN THE DESERT, . . . Fvll Page, 
 
 THE INDIAN CAMP, 
 
 GENERAL N. A. MILES, 
 
 GENERAL O. O. HOWARD, 
 
 CAPTAIN D. L. PAYNE (THE CIMARRON SCOUT), 
 
 Full Page, 
 
 Full Page, 
 Fvll Page, 
 
 498 
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PIONEER BCEROES 
 
 AND 
 
 DARING DEEDS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 FEEDIXAXI) 1)E SOTO. 
 
 THE little wallod town of Xeres, one hundred and thirty 
 miles southwest of Madrid, is like plenty of other Spanish 
 towns, though it would look strange to our eyes. Around its 
 walls rise hills on which are built 
 the strong, rude castles of the 
 old nobility ; fallen into ruins 
 now, and not far from that three 
 hundred years ago. In one of 
 the oldest aud most ruinous of 
 these was born, in the year 1500, 
 a boy, who was named Ferdi- 
 nand de Soto. A poor Spaniard 
 is the proudest man on the face 
 of the earth, and his pride grows 
 with the growth of his poverty. 
 The parents of this boy had noble 
 blood and the old castle; he 
 could not be allowed to engage 
 in any kind of work, for that would be a disgrace to his family; 
 so he grew up in honorable idleness. 
 
 So poor was the elder De Soto that he could not afford to edu- 
 cate his son in accordance with his rank. We can imagine the life 
 which the boy led; taught, perhaps, by some old servant the manly 
 accomplishments in which he became proficient at an early age. 
 His natural advantages were very great, and the tall, well-foi-med, 
 
 FERDIX.iJST) DE SOTO. 
 
20 FERDINAND DE SOTO. 
 
 active, handsome youth seemed to have a natural aptitude for 
 horsemansliip, fencing, and other necessary acquirements of the 
 time. Such was the beauty of his person and the grace and 
 dignity of his bearing that the young De Soto attracted the at- 
 tention of a wealthy nobleman, Don* Pedro Arias de Avila, and 
 was by him adopted, and sent to be educated at one of the Spanish 
 universities. When this happened, he was seventeen years old • 
 old enough to have acquired considerable skill in riding and fenc- 
 ing, and literary culture was not necessary for a nobleman. Such 
 was the progress, as shown in frequent tournaments, that he was 
 soon regarded as one who was likely to become the mirror of 
 knighthood. 
 
 While De Soto was still at the university, his patron had been 
 appointed governor at Darien, whence, in 1519, he returned to 
 Spain to arrange his affairs for a longer stay. His adopted son 
 was very useful to him in many ways, and was treated like a be- 
 loved child. De Avila, however, really considered him as little 
 more than a beggar living on his bounty, and when, a few months 
 after his return, the young man asked the hand of his second 
 daughter. Donna Isabella, his rage was equalled only by his as- 
 tonishment. He answered contemptuously, and dismissed it from 
 his mind. But his daughter threatened to retire into a convent; 
 De Avila knew that she had inherited from him a strong will and 
 unyielding spirit; so he resolved to defeat the youthful lovers by 
 strategy. 
 
 De Soto had retired to his father's ruined castle, there to med- 
 itate upon his failure and its causes. He was of as noble a family 
 as Donna Isabella, and had the education and bearing of a gen- 
 tleman; his moral character was unspotted — far better than De 
 Avila's own. The one thing lacking was wealth. For this had 
 his suit been rejected with contempt ; riches should be the object 
 of his ambition. When a man proposes this as the end of all his 
 work, when every effort is bent to the achievement of this pur- 
 pose, he becomes — what De Soto became. 
 
 Casting about for some scheme which should prevent Donna Isa- 
 bella's marrying this penniless young nobleman, or burying her- 
 self in a convent, De Avila at first decided that he would have the 
 suitor assassinated. But De Soto's death by such means would 
 drive her to desperation as surely as anything that his ingenuity 
 could devise. With the cunning for which he was notorious, he hit 
 upon a plan which was satisfactory. De Soto had determined that 
 
TERDINAND DE SOTO. 21 
 
 the wealth of the newly discovered continent was the best source 
 at which to enrich himself, and would have offered his services to 
 the captain of one of the many expeditions that were being fitted 
 out ; but he had no means to obtain the necessary outfit. To De 
 Avila he would not go, and from no other source could he ob- 
 tain hel}). 
 
 In the midst of his perplexity, a most unexpected offer came. 
 The crafty old Spaniard, well knowing what dangers could be 
 thrust as honors upon his subordinates, proffered a captain's 
 commission and outfit to our hero, with the prospect of acquiring 
 unlimited wealth in the proposed invasion of Peru. Yet he 
 worded his invitation so courteously as to make De Soto feel 
 that his knightly prowess was the reason why it was given, and 
 that his expected services would be of great value. Arrived at 
 Darien, DeSoto was constantly employed upon the most danger- 
 ous missions. De Avila had reversed the polic}'' of his predeces- 
 sor in ofiice, Balboa, who had won the hearts of the Indians, al- 
 ways disposed to treat Europeans well ; and had inflicted the 
 greatest cruelties imaginable upon the gentle and unoffending 
 natives. His underlings were encouraged in all kinds of wanton 
 barbarity; and the cruelty which in Spain fed upon the blood of 
 heretics, in the New World hunted down the Indians as if they 
 had been wild beasts. Torn limb from liinb by blood-hounds, 
 mutilated by the axe, burned at the stake — such were the pun- 
 ishments inflicted upon them for the atrocious crime of being 
 American aborigines. 
 
 De Soto, had resolved to become rich, at any cost but his hon- 
 or; this he could not sacrifice, and often he must disobey the or- 
 ders of the governor. One instance out of many, say his contem- 
 porary historians, has come down to us. Don Pedro had re- 
 solved, for some trifling reason, that a certain Indian village 
 should be destroyed, and sent Caj^t. Perez, a man after his own 
 heart, to De Soto, with orders for the latter to proceed against 
 it with his troops. The village was to be burned, and every liv- 
 ing creature in it put to the sword. The messenger was per- 
 mitted to detail the whole plan of procedure; when he had fin- 
 ished, De Soto, who felt such a commission an insult, answered : 
 
 " Tell the governor that my life and services are always at his 
 disposal when the duty to be performed is such as may become a 
 Christian and a gentleman. But inthe j^resentcase, Capt. Perez, 
 I think that Don Pedro would have shown more discretion by 
 
22 FERDINAND DE SOTO. 
 
 intrusting you with this commission, instead of sending you with 
 the order to myself." 
 
 Don Pedro heard the answer with joy — it was just what he de- 
 sired. With a grim smile, he said to the messenger, who was a 
 noted duelist, never failing to kill his antagonist: 
 
 "Well, my friend, if 3'ou, who area vigorous young soldier, 
 can patiently endure De Soto's insolence, I see no reason why an 
 infirm old man like myself should not show equal forbearance." 
 
 Stung to the quick by this taunt, the fiery Spaniard lost no 
 time in challenging his comrade. The duel was then the recog- 
 nized way of deciding any quarrel between gentlemen, and this 
 took place in the presence of all the officers and soldiers of the 
 colony. Contrary to general expectation, De Soto succeeded in 
 disarming his antagonist, and although the latter was silent when 
 the victor bade him ask for his life, spared him, sheathing his 
 sword with the remark : 
 
 "A life that is not worth asking for is not worth taking." 
 
 Perez, ashamed of being thus defeated by a stripling, who had 
 as yet attained but little fame as a soldier, threw up his commis- 
 sion and went back to Spain. 
 
 De Soto continued to preserve his self-respect, even though it 
 taught him to despise his superior officers. A man of his discern- 
 ment could not help seeing that they were a disgrace to the 
 country which they represented, and the chivalrous young ad- 
 venturer took no pains to conceal his contempt. De Avila's 
 hatred for him increased, and the young captain was warned 
 solemnly by a friendly astrologer, whose life he had s/ived, that 
 the utmost caution would be necessary if he would avoid a dis- 
 graceful death. This friend, who was suspected of dealing in 
 magic, professed to gather his information from the stars, but the 
 probability is that he only betrayed the confidence of the governor. 
 De Avila dare not persecute his enemy too openly, however ; 
 both because of the effect which it would have on his daughter, 
 and because he felt that one more abuse of his power might be 
 fatal. But an honorable death in battle, he determined, should be 
 the young man's fate. De Soto felt the danger to which he was 
 exposed; so far as the object of his coming to the New World 
 was concerned, he had failed ; he coiUd not acquire wealth, as his 
 companions did, by murder and robber}^ ; for five years he had 
 held no communication with Donna Isabella, their letters having 
 been intercepted by De Avila. As the term of the governor's 
 
FERDINAND DE SOTO. 23 
 
 aiithoi-ity drew to a close, since his successor was on liis way to 
 America, Do Soto even received sentence of death for opjDosing 
 the execution of an innocent man, but fortunately for our story, 
 was pardoned by the new ruler. He had before this been urged 
 by Pizarro tojoin an exploring- expedition of which the latter 
 was commander, but had refused, not choosing to submit himself 
 to this base-born adventurer. Nor was the character of Pizarro's 
 followers such as to tempt a man of knightly renown and truth 
 to his standard. They never, on their earlier expeditions, made 
 an attack, except where the hope of plunder was the obvious 
 inducement and there was but little danger of resistance. But 
 De Soto wished to escaj)e frona the dangerous neighborhood of 
 De Avila, who was now governor of Nicaragua ; he had been 
 employed in various exploring expeditions, but in spite of being 
 ten years and more in this new country, he had not become any 
 wealthier. But the long association with these men had weaken- 
 ed his moral sense; he had played with pitch and been defiled. 
 Pizarro, determining upon another expedition, offered him a po- 
 sition second only to his own, and the offer was accepted. With 
 his characteristic independence, however, De Soto did not 
 hesitate to reject orders which were contrary to his sense of pru- 
 dence or of right. Pizarro readily ignored this insubordination, 
 as he was by no means brave enough to quarrel with any but 
 helpless persons. 
 
 The conquest of Peru was a series of dreadful massacres, com- 
 mitted without provocation uf)on a peaceful and helpless people. 
 How much part De Soto took in this so-called war cannot now 
 be determined ; the Spanish historians endeavor to cover up the 
 crimes of their countrymen with excuses, and to increase the 
 glory of the leader by every possible means ; it is probable that 
 De Soto was, to some extent, an innocent tool in the hands of 
 Pizarro and his brothers. His manly bearing, his open and hon- 
 orable candor, his personal appearance, all doubtless contributed 
 to increase the trust of the too credulous Peruvians in the good 
 intentions of the Spaniards. Whatever repugnance he may have 
 had to their acts of cruelty, he continued to be one of their num- 
 ber; and although he endeavored to lessen the ransom of the 
 unfortunate Inca as far as lay in his power, he did not hesitate 
 to accept his share, which amounted to a sum equal to more than 
 a quarter-million dollars of our money. Let us do him the just- 
 ice, however, to record that the perfidious murder of the monarch 
 
24 FERDINAND DE SOTO. 
 
 took place during his absence on an errand that Pizarro devised 
 for the purpose, and that, on his return, his anger was real, his 
 disgust sincere. 
 
 Let us pass raj)idly over the remainder of this time, when he 
 was the lieutenant of a man who never hesitated to defraud or 
 deceive any one about him. The plan was carried out, and Peru 
 obliged to submit to the ruffian Spaniard. But in Spain, at least, 
 it was known that Do Soto was the only one of the invading force 
 that could be called a hero ; that without his courage and pru- 
 dence the expedition would have been the most miserable of fail- 
 ures. [Returning to his transatlantic home, he found that his 
 reputation had preceded him, and he was everywhere received 
 with the most flattering distinction. All classes looked uj^on him 
 as the model of what a man should be. His dearest hope was 
 fulfilled in his union with Donna Isabella, and the happy couple 
 were received at court with the highest marks of favor. As a re- 
 ward for his services, the king conferred upon him the title of 
 Marquis, and his society was sought by the most distinguished 
 nobles of the land. His style of living was in accordance with 
 the extent of his newly acquired fortune ; indeed, such magnifi- 
 cence reigned in the mansion which he had bought that, after 
 living two years in Seville, he found that one-half of his wealth 
 was gone. 
 
 He thereupon determined to embark upon another adventure 
 of a similar character. The S^Daniards laid claim to J^orth as 
 well as to South America ; those few who had returned from a pre- 
 vious expedition under De ISTarvaez had given glowing accounts 
 of the immense treasures of Florida, as the whole region north of 
 the Gulf of Mexico was called. The adventurers had told also of 
 the character of the natives ; the Indians in the southern latitudes 
 they had found peaceful and unresisting ; these were fierce and 
 poAverful. De Soto's brave soiil had revolted at the sight of the 
 atrocious cruelties practiced upon the unoffending and defense- 
 less Indians of the south; these sterner natives of the north 
 woiild be foemen more worthy of such a conquerer as himself. 
 Hoping to find both gold and glory in Florida, he requested per- 
 mission from the king to undertake the conquest at his own ex- 
 pense. As he did not desire any aid from the royal treasury, 
 his proposition was readily assented to, and he was created Gov- 
 ernor of Cuba and President of Florida. 
 
 He had no difficulty in obtaining recruits. Aside from the 
 
FERDINAND DE SOTO. 
 
 25 
 
 hopes of wealth in which all indulged, it would he an honor to 
 serve under so distinguished a commander. His own position 
 was such that the Spaniards thought success assured, since he 
 risked the glorious reputation and immense wealth which he had 
 already acquired. They flocked to his standard from all sides ; 
 property was sacrificed to procure suitable outfits; one man, it 
 is recorded, had to take his wife with him, since there was noth- 
 ing left to maintain her. So great was the number that it was 
 impossible for all to go, and some who had sold their estates for 
 their equipment were obliged to remain at home. De Soto select- 
 ed for his companions six hundred ; according to some authori- 
 
 SPAXIAKDS KN'SLAVIXO IXKIANS. 
 
 ties, a thousand of the aspirants; and in the early part of April,' 
 1538, they embarked in ten ships for the El Dorado that they ex- 
 pected to find. Donna Isabella refused to be again separated 
 from him by the broad Atlantic, and accompanied the expedition 
 as far as Havana. 
 
 Some time was spent in Cuba, in feasting and memy-making. 
 An old and wealthy Cuban, who was anxious to obtain a number 
 of Indians as slaves to work his mines, was made lieutenant, in 
 place of ISTuno de Tobar, whom De Soto deprived of his office. 
 Here, too, they obtained a supply of excellent horses, the island 
 having been well stocked with these animals by the first settlers. 
 
26 
 
 FERDINAND DE SOTO. 
 
 "All went merry as a 2iiarriage-bell/' and although the previous 
 expeditions had all been extremely unfortunate, no one dreamed 
 but that this would be crowned with the most brilliant success. 
 
 Setting sail from Havana May 18, 1538, the voyage was so pro- 
 longed by contrary winds that it was a week before they came in 
 sight of the coast of Florida. Two leagues from the shore they 
 dropped anchor, the shallow water preventing a nearer aj)proach. 
 They already began to see the difficulties which would surround 
 them ; for beacon-fires kindled upon the beach by the natives 
 gave the Indians farther off intelligence of their coming. The 
 earlier explorers had been received by the aborigines with the 
 greatest kindness, and as in the other parts of America which the 
 Spaniards had settled, had been treated with the most wanton 
 cruelty. Less forgiving than their southern brethren, the most 
 deeply injured chief became the implacable enemy of the white 
 man. Their countrymen had sown the wind, and the history of 
 the next four years shows how De Soto and companions reaped 
 the whirlwind. 
 
 The Indians soon gathered upon the shore, and with hostile 
 demonstrations showed their evident purpose of opposing the 
 disembarkation of the troops; so De Soto, not choosing to come 
 into collision with the natives immediately, gav-e orders to pro- 
 ceed about two leagues farther up the bay (Tampa),- and land 
 there. This was in what is now known as Hillsboro bay, a 
 branch of that more important one on the western coast of the 
 present state of Florida already mentioned. 
 
 It seems hardly possible that De Soto, after his experiences in 
 Central and South America, should not have known why the In- 
 dians did not receive him and his followers as they had received 
 his predecessors in the work of exploration. Such seems to be 
 the case, however ; for when, after they had proceeded about 
 ten miles inland, two or three fugitive Indians were captured and 
 brought to him, and told him, in reply to his questions, of the 
 inhumanities practiced by De Narvaez, he saw, for the first time, 
 if we may believe the chroniclers, a new and unfailing source of 
 danger. He endeavored, however, to propitiate the chief, Ucita, 
 who had received such great injuries — the mutilation of his per- 
 son, and murder of his mother, — and loading these captives with 
 presents, sent them with friendly messages to their chief. 
 
 "Bring me no speeches or promises from these men," exclaim- 
 ed the justly indignant savage; "I want only their heads!" 
 
FERDINAND DE SOTO. 
 
 i^m'p'iP.vMi^ V 
 
 
 
 
 i^. :\\ li: 
 
 4fr|_^l^fe^4iHl\^^ 
 
28 FERDINAND DE SOTO. 
 
 De Soto knew the power of Ucita, and the strength of his tribe ; 
 he knew that this chief nmst be concilated by every means in his 
 power ; that if it were necessary for the Spaniards to retreat to 
 their ships, tliey ought not to have such an enemy between them 
 and the sea. But Ucita received all the messages and presents 
 sent him as he had received the first. 
 
 De Soto had been especially unfortunate in his choice of a lieu- 
 tenant whose object was so far at variance with his own. The 
 Cuban, Yasco Porcallo, however, soon desired to retire from the 
 service, and was permitted to do so. He was greatly offended at 
 what he considered Ucita's unreasonable obstinacy in returning 
 the presents of the S2:)aniards and refusing to hold friendly inter- 
 course with them, and requested permission to punish the cacique. 
 Having received De Soto's approval of the undertaking, he made 
 all the preparations which he considered necessary for his pur- 
 pose, boasting that he would bring with him, when he returned, 
 the insolent chief and as many of his people as could be conveni- 
 iently transported to Cuba. Arraying himself in a suit of glitter- 
 ing armor, and mounting a very fine horse, he set out, at the head 
 of his troop of horsemen, in a style befitting a knight going to a 
 tournament. His ardor, whether arising from his anger at the 
 chief or his desire of obtaining slaves, so hastened him onward 
 that his followers were scarcely able to keep up with him. Coming' 
 to the edge of a bog, they remonstrated with him, telling him 
 that it was impassable for horsemen as heavily accoutered as 
 they were. But he would not listen to them, and to prove that 
 they were wrong dashed into the morass. Here his steed strug- 
 gled and plunged for a few minutes, and then fell so that Por- 
 callo's leg was caught under the animal's body. Deeper and 
 deeper they sank, and although the danger was imminent, the 
 soldiers did not attempt to restrain their merriment. At length 
 he crawled out, his shining armor encrusted with a thick coat of 
 black slime, and the fire of his courage completely quenched. Ee- 
 signing his commission, he left behind him all the hopes of win- 
 ning new laurels and acquiring a new source of wealth, and 
 went back to Cuba to mourn over the loss of his expensive outfit. 
 
 A slave-hunting expedition of Porcallo's had, however, proved 
 very fortunate ; not indeed to himself, but to the little army. It 
 had resulted in their meeting with a Spaniard of the party of De 
 IS"arvaez, one Juan Ortiz, who had been captured and condemned 
 to death by Ucita, but by the aid of the cacique's daughter, 
 
FERDINAND DE SOTO. 29 
 
 had escaped to the more merciful prince to wliom she was be- 
 trothed. Through him, his friend, the cacique Mocoso, became 
 theirs, and later provided them with a guide. 
 
 Being ready to penetrate still farther into the heart of the 
 country, the ships were sent back to Cuba. The reason for such 
 action has been questioned very often ; one solution offered being 
 that De Soto desired to show his men that, there was no hope of 
 return. We can easily account for it in this way, without sup- 
 posing that they needed such a spur; he could not leave enough 
 men to defend the vessels without seriously crippling his force, and 
 if left unguarded, they would be destroyed by the Indians. Care- 
 fully calculating the time that would j^robably be required for 
 the i^roposed journey, he despatched the ships to Cuba with di- 
 rections to return with a supply of provisions and other neces- 
 saries at the expiration of that period. 
 
 With the guide furnished by Mocoso, a small party was de- 
 spatched northward to explore the country. About seventeen 
 leagues to the north of the main camp, they came upon an Indian 
 village, the inhabitants of which had heard of their coming, and 
 taken to the woods in terror. A deputation soon arrived from 
 the cacique, offering any service in their power. Don Balthasar 
 G-allegos, the leader, put the messengers in chains, to show his 
 appreciation of the kindness shown him, and required them to 
 inform him where he could find a land abounding in gold and 
 silver. The crafty natives made reply that far to the northwest 
 was a land of everlasting summer, and of inestimable wealth ; 
 that the people there wore hats or helmets of gold ; and similar 
 stories. Incredible as they aj)pear to us, the Spaniards accepted 
 these tales as true, and Gallegos hastily despatched eight of his 
 men to take the news to De Soto. To use the words of the Port- 
 uguese narrator who is one of the chief authorities for this histo- 
 ry : " De Soto and all his soldiers were very much comforted 
 by the assurance that their toils were about to be rewarded by 
 the discovery of another Peru." As the toils increased, the "com- 
 fort" diminished. 
 
 De Soto determined to follow Gallegos immediately, and leav- 
 ing Captain Calderon with a troop of forty men to protect the 
 ships on their return, set out with the main body of the army. 
 But he met with many difficulties. Mocoso, the only chief at all 
 friendly to the Spaniards, refused to furnish guides ; the conduct 
 of Gallegos had stirred up a violent opposition from the Indians j 
 
80 
 
 FERDINAND DE SOTO. 
 
 and by these the difficulties of the way were considerably in- 
 creased. Eushing out from the thickets by which the Spaniards 
 passed, the nimble Indians would discharge a flight of arrows in- 
 to the ranks of the white men, and return to the shelter from 
 which they had emerged before the clumsier soldiers could lay 
 hold of their weapons. Many of De Soto's men were killed and 
 wounded by these sudden assailants. 
 
 The morasses so common in that part of Florida offered an- 
 other serious difficulty. A short time after meeting with Gralle- 
 gos and his party, they came to Long Swamp, as it is now called, 
 more than a league in breadth. After searching for several days 
 for a path which would lead across it, they built rafts, but were 
 two days in crossing. Mounted men were sent ahead to find 
 some practicable pathway through the untraveled wilderness, 
 
 but were often killed by Indians, 
 who^ shot their fatal arrows from 
 the shelter of trees. Several pris- 
 oners were taken, and compelled 
 to act as guides, but were more faith- 
 ful to their people than to their cap- 
 tors ; purposely misleading them, 
 and then pretending to have mis- 
 taken their way. Angry at the de- 
 ception, the Spaniards delivered 
 two or three of them to the blood- 
 hounds; but they died bravely, re- 
 gretting, like an American of later 
 date, that each " had but one life to 
 give for his country." 
 
 Having crossed a second morass, 
 
 and a sluggish stream, where they 
 
 lost, by. the Indian arrows, some 
 
 men who were engaged in repairing 
 
 a bridge that had been destroyed 
 
 to delay them, they took several 
 
 prisoners, of the tribe of the cacique 
 
 of Acuera. De Soto treated these 
 
 with much kindness, and sent them 
 
 AAiBirsHHjg SPANIARDS. with prcscuts to propose a treaty to 
 
 their caci(|^ue, The chief replied that with such as the Spaniards 
 
 he wisliod to b^ always at war, and that the only kindness they 
 
FERDINAND DE SOTO. 31 
 
 could do him or his peojole was to leave the coiintiy. In this he 
 persisted, notwithstanding De Soto's earnest efforts to conclude a 
 peace with him. Threats were added to his refusal, and the army- 
 was seriously annoyed during the twenty days which they stayed 
 on the edge of his territory, fourteen Spaniards being killed. The 
 Indians could not be drawn into an open battle, and De Soto, seeing 
 that the loss was all on his side and would before long seriously im- 
 pair his strength, withdrew to Ocala, forty miles farther north. 
 The village, the largest they had yet seen, was deserted. They 
 had hoped to find provisions here, but were disappointed. They 
 had consumed their whole stock of food and were sorely pressed 
 by hunger. They soon found themselves, however, in a country 
 that by its appearance promised better things. Extensive corn 
 fields gave them hopes of abundant food for themselves, their 
 horses and the drove of hogs they had brought; the ground was 
 firin, no morasses appearing, and the way no longer lay through 
 thick forests. But still they met with the same opposition on 
 the part of -the natives, who very naturally distrusted the coun- 
 trymen of those who had, years before, used them so cruelly. 
 Nor did this feeling confine its expression to threats. 
 
 One cacique, Vitacucho, invited the Spaniards to visit him, and 
 for some time entertained them with every care which hospitality 
 could command ; having plotted a massacre when the Spaniards 
 should be completely off their guard. Four of De Soto's Indian 
 interpreters were intrusted with the secret, and the fact that they 
 betrayed their countrymen to him shows that he must have treated 
 them with something of kindness. De Soto feigned ignorance of 
 the plan, however, and trusted to his own address to save his 
 men. 
 
 When Yitacucho had arranged everything to his satisfaction, 
 he invited De Soto to witness a display of his forces. The gov- 
 ernor accepted thi-s invitatign — he could not well do otherwise, — 
 and, under pretense of showing the greater respect to the chief, 
 ordered his soldiers to appear completely armed as if for battle. 
 The cacique liked this as little as De Soto liked the invitation, 
 but, like him, could make no objection. With the appearance of 
 the closest friendship the two commanders walked side by side to 
 the field where the two armies were drawn up. 
 
 Several thousand warriors, young and athletic men, with nod- 
 ding plumes of the swan and heron that made them look like 
 giants, were placed between an imperyious thicket on one hand 
 
32 FERDINAND DE SOTO. 
 
 and two small lakes on the other. They appeared to be unarmed, 
 as they had hidden their bows and arrows in the grass. Opposite 
 these was formed the Spanish infantry, the cavalry being between 
 the two armies which were on foot. Yitacucho gave the signal 
 agreed upon, and the Indians snatched np their arms to rush upon 
 the Spaniards. But De Soto's men had had instructions how to act, 
 and the twelve who were in immediate attendance upon himself 
 seized the cacique and bound him securely. The governor, 
 springing upon his horse, would have charged upon the natives 
 with that headlong valor for which he was famous, but a shower 
 of arrows killed his steed. Mounting a second one, the furious 
 assault which he led soon broke the Indians' line of battle, and 
 they fled in confusion. Some of them plunged into the lakes, 
 and from under the broad leaves of the water-lilies which grcAv 
 there in abundance, continued, for ten hours, to discharge ar- 
 rows at the Spaniards. It must be remembered that this is the 
 account of the Spanish historians, who always shield their coun- 
 trymen at the expense of the Indians. The more imjiartial Port- 
 uguese narrators say that the interpreters who betraj^ed 
 Vitacucho's confidence were unworthy of the trust which De 
 Soto reposed in their statements, and that, on the field of battle, 
 the cacique was seized before his men had made any hostile dem- 
 onstration. Be this as it may, Vitacucho and many of his tribe 
 were reduced to slavery, that was terminated by death, when, a 
 week later, they attempted to regain their liberty. 
 
 The Indians of this tribe and others had told them much of the 
 difficulties which they had yet to encounter, and which De Narvaez 
 and his men had undergone in the very country through which 
 they were soon to pass. Disheartened by these stories as well as 
 by the death of so many of their companions, the Spaniards in- 
 sisted upon returning to the place where they had disembarked, 
 and abandoning the country as soon %s the ships came from Ha- 
 A'^ana. Except De Soto himself, there was not a man in the army 
 who was disposed to pursue the adventure any further. The gov- 
 ernor was '' a stern man, and of few words," but when once his 
 mind was made up, he was inflexible. '' You, who are so easily dis- 
 couraged," he said, " may stay behind. You have never seen me 
 shrink from the post of danger; and I will now advance, with 
 two hundred men, or even a smaller number, and meet all the 
 enemies that are likely to offer any opposition to our progress." 
 
 They encamped for the winter at the head of the bay of Appa- 
 
FERDINAND DE SOTO. 
 
 33 
 
 lachee, and from this point a message was despatched to Cuba, 
 desiring that supplies might be sent thitlier early in the spring; 
 and another after Captain Calderon and his troop. The ships 
 had returned from Cuba in the meantime, bringing abundant 
 supplies of all necessaries, and a letter to De Soto from his wife. 
 This is of interest, urging him, as it does, to give up the adven- 
 ture, if it must be prosecuted with the same cruelties which others 
 had practised, and of which she had only heard since his depar- 
 ture. ''Not for all the riches of the country," she wrote, "would 
 
 ^l//A I 
 
 Wf^'^- 
 
 UK SOTOS MARCU. 
 
 I have j6\\ commit one act, the remembrance of which would be 
 painful to you hereafter." De Soto loved his wife, and wished to 
 make her happy, but preferred to do this in his own way. He 
 had invested all that remained of his fortune in equipping this 
 expedition, and a failure would bo utter ruin. In spite of her 
 entreaties, then, as well as of the mutinous murmurs of his sol- 
 diers, he determined to press forward to the land of gold. 
 
 In March, 1540, the Spaniards left their winter qiiarters, and 
 proceeded on their journey. " I will not turn back," the gov- 
 ernor had said, "till I have seen the poverty of the country with 
 snine own eyes ; " and his words stimulated his followers to 
 
34 TERDINAND DE SOTO. 
 
 greater exertions and endurance. The Spaniards were now on 
 the way to the gold fields of Georgia, which they had nearly 
 reached when, for some reason, they turned aside. They had, at 
 one point, been assured by their guide that they would reach 
 the land of gold in four days, but after a nine days' journey it 
 still mocked them. To increase their troubles, their stock of 
 provisions, with which they had been supplied by a friendly 
 cacique, was nearly consumed ; and their search for food was not 
 always successful. The Indian trail, which they had heretofore 
 followed, had failed them ; and suffering intensely with hunger, 
 they made their way slowly through the pathless forests, that 
 seemed to stretch to the end of the world. At last, after endur- 
 ing hardships bej^ond description, they came once more to a 
 highly cultivated and open country. Two leagues farther on, 
 they came in sight of an Indian town, which was situated on the 
 farther side of a river. On the 'nearer bank they encamped, and 
 here, seated in state on the margin of the river, De Soto received 
 the Indians who crossed in canoes. These were men of rank and 
 authority, and after a variety of salutations, demanded to be in- 
 formed if the white men came for peace or war. The governor 
 replied, as usual, that he wished to be at peace with the people 
 of that country, and hoped to be supplied with provisions. They 
 answered that the last crop had been unusually bad, and they 
 had hardly enough for their own people ; but that they would 
 inform the maiden who was their ruler of this request; and re- 
 embarking, they returned to the town. 
 
 The news that this tribe was governed by a woman was re- 
 ceived with joy by the Spaniards, for that was one point in the 
 description which the Indians had given of the land of gold. 
 "When this princess, who was only about nineteen years old, vis- 
 ited their camp in the course of a few hours, her personal adorn- 
 ment confirmed their hopes ; so rich were her ornaments of pearls 
 and gold. She repeated what had been said about the poor har- 
 vest, but said that one of two magazines of corn, reserved for 
 future exigencies, should be bestowed upon the strangers ; and 
 presented her necklace, of invaluable pearls, to the governor. 
 
 Her generosity was rewarded in a truly Spanish way. Al- 
 though *' treated with every mark of respect," she was strictly 
 guarded in the midst of her own dominions — "a necessary meas- 
 ure to keep her people in subordination to the Spaniards." The 
 temples and tombs were sacked for the pearls to be found there, 
 
FERDINAND DE SOTO. 35 
 
 the booty from one mausoleum amounting to five hundred pounds 
 in weight. This town, Cofachiqui, was probably situated at the 
 junction of the Broad and Savannah rivers. So j)leasant did the 
 Spaniards find it that they desired to settle there, but De Soto 
 was determined to press on to the Peru of North America. For 
 twenty years avarice had been his leading passion, and it was too 
 strong for him now to resist it. 
 
 The unhajipy princess was obliged to accompany them when, 
 on the third of May, 1540, they left Cofachiqui to proceed yet far- 
 ther on their journey. She was compelled to call upon her sub- 
 jects for all kinds of assistance for the explorers, especially to 
 carry burdens from one place to another. But she finally con- 
 trived to make her escape, and such was De Soto's chivalry, 
 which had at last come to the surface, that he would not jiermit 
 his men to pursue her. 
 
 At a town called Chenalla, supposed to be the same as Qua- 
 latche, at the source of the Chattahoochee, they again changed 
 their course, turning towards the south-west. In the latter part 
 of July they were at Coosa, where, in the course of the season, 
 they found the delicious wild grape which still abounds in Ala' 
 bama. Eeceived and well entertained for some time by the gi 
 gantic chief Tuscaloosa, they offended him by their assuming 
 authority, as usual, over him and his tribe. Do Soto, after a rest 
 at this village, prepared to resume his march, accomj)anied by 
 the cacique. A Spanish guard had been given the Indian, under 
 pretense of honoring him, and his satisfied manner and his con- 
 tinued kindness led them to believe that he did not suspect that 
 he was a prisoner. Their course was towards Mavilla (Mobile), 
 a town under the government of a cacique tributary to Tusca- 
 loosa. To this subject prince the chief, when they approached 
 the town, sent orders to prepare a grand entertainment for the 
 guests he would bring with him; adding to this message a tokeu 
 which would tell his real meaning. 
 
 In conformity with the wishes of the cacique, the warriors be- 
 longing to the town were mustered, arms were collected, and 
 every possible preparation made for rescuing Tuscaloosa. As the 
 Spaniards aj^proached Mavilla, they were filled with astonish- 
 ment at the strength of the fortifications, and with alarm at the bus- 
 tle of preparations. Their fears were allayed, however, by the na- 
 ture of their welcome, and when, after they had been conducted to 
 the quarters provided for them, Tuscaloosa informed De Soto that 
 
36 TERDINAND DE SOTO. 
 
 he wished to retire for a short time to converse with his people and 
 make further arrangements for the comfort of his guests, the 
 governor, although suspicious of his intentions, could not raise 
 any reasonable objection. Breakfast was prepared, by De Soto's 
 order, for himself and the cacique, as they were accustomed to 
 cat at the same table. Tuscaloosa was summoned, but did not 
 answer the call ; again and again he was called j at last a Spanish 
 officer imperiously ordered him to obey. It was the signal for 
 the battle. 
 
 "What would these unmannerly people have with my chief? " 
 asked an Indian warrior, angrily; "Down with the villains! 
 We can endure their insolence no longer." 
 
 He was killed instantly by a single blow from the cutlass of 
 Gallegos, and the fight began. The Spaniards endeavored to es- 
 cape from the town as soon as possible ; but on their way to the 
 gates, several of them were killed or wounded. The flint-headed 
 arrows penetrated the armor of the Spaniards, and De Soto saw 
 his men falling around him with fearful rapidity. Eetreat now 
 « — and he could not continue the fight under these circumstances, — 
 and the prestige of the Spaniards would be lost; they would no long- 
 er bo regarded as invincible, and would soon be driven out of the 
 country'. Dismounting, he snatched up an axe, and advanced 
 towards the wooden wall of the town, which protected the enemy 
 from the fire of his men. Perceiving his purpose, DeMoscoso 
 and two or three other brave soldiers followed him ; but the 
 torrent of stones which the Indians poured down uijon them 
 crushed the less vigorous to the earth, and De Soto and De Mos- 
 coso continued the work alone. At last a breach was made, 
 wide enough for the admission of the cavalry. 
 
 The village soon presented a scene of the utmost horror. The 
 cavalry had dashed in upon the Indians, who retreated hastily to 
 the houses ; the infantry followed. From every side the flint- 
 headed arrows came in showers, dealing death to man and horse. 
 The Spaniards set fire'to the houses, and the terrors of the flames 
 were added to those of the sword. The light structures of reeds 
 and dry timbers burnt with fearful ra2)idity, and the fire spread 
 all over the town in a short time. The cries of the women, more 
 than a thousand of whom were burned to death, were added to 
 the horrid din of the battle. In the market-place of the town was 
 Tuscaloosa, with a small body of his bravest warriors, who 
 fought desperately while their countrymen perished around them. 
 
PERDINAND DE SOTO. 
 
 37 
 
 Kot even did the charge of cavalry which De Soto led make them 
 disperse. Shoulder to shoulder, heart to heart, stood these earli- 
 est defondor'^ of our countrv. KoAvtho two chief's iiress forwnrd 
 
 to a personal encounter with each other — the mounted, mail-clad 
 knight of Spain and the gigantic warrior of the Avilderness. But 
 if one be defended by his shining armor, the other is shielded by 
 
38 FERDINAND DE SOTO. 
 
 the love of his people. Other warriors throw themselves before 
 him, and engage in the hopeless combat. One by one they fall 
 before that lance, dripping with the blood of their race, and at 
 last De Soto and Tuscaloosa meet. The immense war-club is 
 raised for a blow, but with a chivalry that the lion-hearted king 
 might have envied, and the fearless and blameless knight of 
 France would have admired, its descent is arrested. An arrow 
 has pierced Do Soto's hauberk, and the wounded man is spared 
 by the chief. De Soto conceals his wound, lest his men be dis- 
 heartened and yield to the enemy. For hours the fight continues, 
 and the Spanish army is weakened by fatigue, fainting with 
 hunger and thirst. But fortunately for them, the main body 
 came up (for only the van, of two hundred and fifty men, had 
 been engaged), and the tide turned in their favor. Still the 
 Indians fought on, now desperately ; often Tuscaloosa forced his 
 way to where the battle raged fiercest, hoping in the thickest of 
 the battle to meet again with the Spanish leader ; but again he is 
 prevented by his people. At last he sees that all is lost, and 
 rushing into a house near by, is almost instantly buried by the 
 falling timbers. JSTot an Indian escaped from fire and sword. 
 The number of those who perished is stated at from two thou- 
 sand five hundred to four thousand, though Bancroft thinks even 
 the smaller number exaggerated. 
 
 The Spaniards remained for almost a month in the neighbor- 
 hood of Mavilla, before the wounded had sufficiently recovered 
 to march. Nov. 18, they left the ruined town, and proceeded 
 almost due north for five days. They were much delayed in 
 crossing the Tombigbee, as the Indians disputed their passage 
 twelve days. A further march of ten days brought them to a 
 spot where they encamped for the winter; probably in the north- 
 ern part of the present state of Mississippi. 
 
 The ships had arrived with fresh supplies from Cuba when De 
 Soto gave orders to march northward from Mavilla; supplies 
 which were all the more needed by them, since all their baggage 
 had perished in the flames which consumed the Indian town. 
 Why, in the face of these facts, he should have turned directly 
 away from the needed provisions, is a matter for speculation 
 only. His motive was probably in his fear that, an easy passage 
 homeward being provided, they would desert him and return to 
 Cuba. It will be recollected that he had expended nearly all his 
 fortune in equipping this expedition; that he was resolved not 
 
FERDINAND DE SOTO. 39 
 
 to return without acquiring such wealth in Florida as Cortez had 
 found in Mexico, or Pizarro in Peru. 
 
 The Spanish historian records, as something remarkable, that 
 his countrymen lived peacefull}- here for the space of two months. 
 The corn was standing in the fields when they first encamped, 
 although the ground was covered with snow. They were plenti- 
 fully supplied with food during the winter by the Indians, but, 
 as usual, attempted to impose uj^on the good nature of their ben- 
 efactors. "When the spring opened, I)e Soto demanded that two 
 hundred Indians should be sent with him to carry the burdens of 
 his compan}^. This was a requirement not unusual with the 
 Spaniards, but strange to the Chickasaws. Determined to de- 
 stroy the strangers, even at the sacrifice of their own homes, the 
 Indians set fire to their own village, where the Spaniards were 
 encamped, and attacked them. Had they been as resolute as 
 Tuscaloosa's warriors, they would have been successful, but they 
 speedily withdrew into the forests. Here they remained for a 
 week, which time the Spaniards employed in erecting forges, 
 tempering swords, and fashioning lances; so that when the na- 
 tives finally summoned up enough resolution to attack them 
 again, they were well prepared for resistance. 
 
 The fire in this Chickasaw village had destroyed what they 
 had saved from the flames of Mavilla, and clad only in skins and 
 in mats of ivy, the miserable remnant of the once gallant army 
 continued the journey. For seven days they struggled through 
 the wilderness, where the dense forest alternated only with al- 
 most impassable marshes. Their spirits sank — surely they had 
 come to the end of the world — but the iron will of the leader saw 
 ahead the star of hope, and its rays, though faint and uncertain, 
 v/ere still golden. At last they came to an Indian village on thf 
 banks of a mighty river, and from the height on which it stood 
 De Soto saw the yellow flood of the Father of Waters, more than 
 a mile broad, bearing upon its mighty tide the monarchs of the 
 forest that had been undermined by its changing current. For 
 the first time, the eye of a white man beheld that mighty flood 
 which to-day is bridged for our needs ; which the skill of the en- 
 gineer has annihilated, as all distances and dangers have been 
 conquered. 
 
 His arrival awakening much curiosity among the Indians on 
 the west bank, they came out in a great multitude, armed with 
 bows and arrows, and gaudily painted, and crowned with nod- 
 
40 
 
 FERDINAND DE SOTO. 
 
 DISCOVERY OF THE MISSISSIPPI. 
 
FERDINAND DE SOTO. 
 
 41 
 
 ding plumes, their chiefs sitting under the awnings of two hun- 
 dred large canoes, and bringing gifts of food to the Spaniards. 
 
 Here they encamped for twenty days, building boats on which 
 to cross the Mississippi. The Indians seemed at first disposed to 
 resistance, but were awed by the evidently superior strength of 
 the white men. At length eight large scows, each large enough 
 to transport fifty men and ten horses, were completed ; probably 
 
 
 IXDIAX FLERT MEKTINO DE SOTO. 
 
 enough to transport all the men at 
 one time, as many had perished on 
 the way, by disease as well as by 
 violence; and the river was crossed. 
 This was the region of mineral wealth, as De Soto believed, 
 and they plunged still more deeply into the heart of the conti- 
 nent. Here, in the country of the Bakotas, they were regard- 
 ed as the children of the sun, and the blind were brought 
 into their presence to be healed. The leader answered their 
 supplications with the words: "Pray only to God, who is in 
 heaven, for whatsoever you need." 
 
 Journeying toward the northwest, they reache<l a point proba- 
 
42 FERDINAND DE SOTO. 
 
 bly near White Eiver, two hundred miles west of the Mississippi ; 
 having crossed the main stream, according to most authorities, 
 at about the boundary line between the present states of Missis- 
 sippi and Tennessee. Then, turning southward, they came into 
 the country of the Comanches. Here they met with such treat- 
 ment and acted in such a manner, that, although the Spanish his- 
 torian does not hint at such a word, we are forced to conclude 
 that the gallant Spaniards retreated from the hostile Indians. 
 They encamped for the winter in the midst of a less warlike peo- 
 ple, living on the banks of the Washita; and seem to have treat- 
 ed the inhabitants with more than their usual barbarity. It will 
 be remembered that the men engaged in this expedition were 
 rather more humane, owing to the restraint im^iosed by their 
 leader, than the majority of Spaniards who had dealings with the 
 natives j but De Soto seems to have lost his humanity as his 
 hopes died away ; perhaps he was even then suffering from the 
 malarial influences of the country. Certain it is that the life 
 and happiness of an Indian were valued less than ever, and any 
 trifling consideration of safety would induce him to order a vil- 
 lage burned. 
 
 Misfortunes thickened around them ; the winter was unusually 
 severe, and they suffered from disease as well as privations. Juan 
 Ortiz, the veteran of De Narvaez' expedition, who had been 
 so long in captivity, and who had been invaluable as a guide, 
 died during this winter — an ii*reparable loss. Every hunting 
 party met with loss before it returned, from the arrows of the 
 Indians j and only the indomitable will of the leader sustained 
 them. 
 
 . Hope had led them onward, but now, even to tne keen eye of 
 De Soto, there was no ray visible. Sadly, as spring drew near, 
 he ordered preparation to be made for the journey — it was to go 
 back whence they had come. Through a country inhabited by 
 races they had wronged, where every day must see a contest be- 
 tween them and the hostile natives, through marshes intersected 
 by a network of bayous, through dense forests where the light of 
 day scarcely penetrated to the slimy ooze on which they must 
 tread, back to the Mississippi. They followed the course of the 
 Washita, then of the Eed Eiver, at the mouth of which they found 
 a country called G-uachoya. The chief could not tell them how 
 far they were from the sea; he only knew that the course of the riv- 
 er, farther south, lay through an uninhabited waste. An explor- 
 
FERDINAND DE SOTO. 43 
 
 ing party sent onward traveled, eight days through the cane- 
 brakes, almost impassable, and the dense woods, and were only 
 able to advance thirty miles. Horses and men were dying with 
 fearful rapidity and the governor's heart sank. The natives 
 must soon overpower them, so rapidly was their number dimin- 
 ishing. One last resort was tried. 
 
 Mindful of the adoration of the northern tribes, he said to a 
 chief near IsTatchez, that he was of supernatural birth. 
 
 " You say you are the child of the sun," answers the Indian, 
 with a touch of contempt for the falsehood ; " dry up the river, 
 and I believe you." 
 
 De Soto was in the midst of a vast wilderness; more than half 
 of his army had perished by disease, accident and the devastation 
 of war ; and nearly all who survived looked upon him as the 
 author of all their sufferings. They had hoped to be cured of 
 their diseases by drinking of the hot springs of Arkansas, whither 
 the natives had directed them ; there, they thought, might be 
 that fountain of youth which Ponce de Leon had sought, and 
 perished in the seeking; but this hope, too, had been in vain. 
 The behavior of the cacique on whom he had tried to practise 
 the deception mentioned above, was insulting in the extreme, 
 and two years before, his land would have been laid waste, his 
 people murdered. But now, the proud Spaniard must submit to 
 every affront — revenge or resentment could not be his. 
 
 To these ills was added bodily weakness. The soul of the 
 hero may feel but slightly the pain of a wound, counting it pleas- 
 ure to suffer for his country or the right ; but the dull languor 
 of disease wears upon him as the dropping of water wears away 
 the stone. Oppressed by inelancholy and bodily infirmity, 
 De Soto looked around him and saw that none of his subordi- 
 nates had inspired the Indians with a wholesome fear ; that 
 although the natives had, in spite of the chiefs contempt, almost 
 reverenced him as a god while he was in his usual health, 
 they now began to suspect that he was mortal like themselves. 
 
 In his youth, while still under the command of De Avila, an 
 astrologer had foretold that his life would resemble that of 
 Balboa, the discoverer of the Pacific ocean; and that he would 
 live no longer than De Avila's unfortunate predecessor in the 
 government of Darien. The limit was reached now, and the old 
 prediction often recurred to his mind, but was as often banished. 
 A monk of considerable medical skill soon reported that the 
 
44 
 
 FERDINAND DE SOTO. 
 
 commander was gradually succumbing to his disease, which must 
 soon prove fatal. 
 
 " This is no more than I have expected," he answered calmly, 
 when told of his condition ; " and I submit without a murmur 
 to the will of God." 
 
 He called the officers together, and bade them choose his suc- 
 cessor; then, when they left the choice to him, nominated De Mos- 
 coso. He counselled them as to their future course, and entrusted 
 DeMoscoso with a message for Donna Isabella. He took leave of 
 the soldiers, whose every hardship he had shared, whose every 
 danger ho had braved ; and May 21, 1542, he died. 
 
 Secretly, at night, they dug his grave ; silently the}- lowered 
 his body into it; fearful that the Indians, if they knew of his 
 death, would fall upon his followers and destroy them utterly. 
 The next day they announced to the natives that the leader was 
 better, although not yet able to leave his tent; and to conceal 
 their gi'ief, they instituted a sort of tournament. Backward and 
 forward over the grave of their general they rode, apparently in 
 the greatest joy. The impassible savages looked on, and sus- 
 pected the truth. 
 
 BURIAL OF T)E SOTO. 
 
 The searching inquiries of the cacique soon revealed this sus- 
 picion to the Spaniards, and fearful that the grave of De Soto 
 would be desecrated as they had defiled the Indian tombs, they 
 exhumed his body, and weighting the winding-sheet heavily with 
 sand, lowered it, at midnight, silently into the Mississippi. Th«> 
 
46 FERDINAND DE SOTO. 
 
 broad golden flood parted to receive the body of the gold-seeker 
 and closed above him and his hopes forever. 
 
 There is not much more to tell. The Spaniards, no longer led 
 by the spirit that would press onward, no matter through what 
 difficulties and dangers, resolved to proceed towards ISTew Spain 
 without delay. It was unanimously decided that a journey by 
 land would be less dangerous than one by water, and they under- 
 took to find a way to Mexico through the pathless forests. After 
 wandering two hundred miles west of the river, they turned back 
 in despair, and sought the banks of the Mississippi again. Here 
 they devoted themselves to the construction of brigantines, no 
 pasy matter for men in their condition, and, more than a j^ear 
 after De Soto's death, were ready for their voyage. Seventeen 
 days after their departure, followed by the arrows and the hate 
 of the Indians, they had traveled the five hundred miles to 
 the mouth of the Mississippi, but thirty-three more had passed 
 before they reached Panuco, a town on the coast of Mex- 
 ico about two hundred and sixty miles from the boundary of 
 the present state of Texas. 
 
 Here they remained for a long time, quarreling so much among 
 themselves that the Mexican viceroy was at last obliged to inter- 
 pose his authority ; not, however, until many of the three hundred 
 and eleven survivors of this ill-starred company had perished at 
 the hands of their comrades. 
 
 For three years, no inteWigence of the exj)edition had reached 
 Havana. Donna Isabella waited day after day, month after month, 
 year after year, for tidings from Florida. None came. Her cheek 
 paled, her eye dimmed with tears. At last some one who had re- 
 turned from Mexico told the tale as it had been told to him, of 
 the hardships and dangers they had met, of the mighty river they 
 had discovered, and of the death of their leader. Three days 
 after this confirmation of her fears, her soul rejoined his who.se 
 body rests beneath the mighty river which he discovered. 
 
CHAPTER n. 
 
 FEENCH PIONEEES. 
 
 FOE years after the adventurous Grenoese returned- safe from 
 his voyage to the east by way of the west, the new world 
 A\ hieh he had given to Castile and Leon was claimed by many 
 other nations, and regarded by all as the land for the attainment 
 of wealth and glory. England claimed the northern continent 
 in right of Cabot's discovery of Newfoundland and Labrador in 
 1497 ; France claimed the same por- 
 tion by virtue of the exploration of 
 this sea by a daring Frenchman in 
 1488, who told Columbus of the west- 
 ern land ; and Spain held with pride 
 to the gift of the pope — all America. ^" 
 In the sixteenth century, these were 
 the three great powers of Europe, -— 
 and no one was strong enough to f' ■ 
 expel the others from the territory 
 claimed. The Bj^aniards, then, came 
 here to seek wealth; the English, to 
 add to their territory; the French, 
 to fish, and extend the limits of the papal authority over a new 
 realm. Of course these were not the only motives of each, but 
 they were the principal causes operating to send white men to 
 the new world. 
 
 JACQU1<;S CARTIKR. 
 
 JACQUES CAETIER. 
 
 Within fifty j^ears after the first voyage of Columbus, French 
 sailors had explored the coast of Canada, discovered the 8t. Law- 
 rence, and established fisheries oft^ the coast of Newfoundland. 
 Jacques Cartier,- a sturdy Breton, was the leader of the most im- 
 portant of these expeditions. Nor were they trifling dangers 
 vv'hich these sailors braved, Eeliable accounts of even older ex- 
 
48 SAMUEL DE CHAMPLAIN. 
 
 plorers told of the dreadful beings peopling Canada ; it was the. 
 home of the dragon, the griffin, and no one knew what other ani- 
 mals that were not to be feared in any other part of the world ; 
 and at least one island was inhabited by demons, whose blood- 
 curdling yells could be heard by the unwary navigator venturing 
 too close to the shore. Despite such dangers, however, the fish- 
 eries were claimed, the land was explored, and in 1541 a settle- 
 ment was established near the site of what is now Quebec. 
 
 The French early made friends with the Indians, and the alli- 
 ances between them have become matters of history. The differ- 
 ence between the estimation in which the native held the French- 
 man and that in which he held the Spaniard and Englishman was 
 probably due to the early treatment he experienced at the hands 
 of the whites. The Indians of the South were exasperated by the 
 treatment received from I)e Soto's men; the savages of New 
 England never forgot the outrage committed by Captain Hunt; 
 but the French, if they kidnapped the Indians later, gained their 
 friendshij) first. We need not follow longer the efforts of Cartier 
 •to establish settlements in I^ew France. The religious wars in the 
 mother country sent to Florida those haj^less colonists that per- 
 ished at the hands of the Spaniards, but none of the dominant 
 faith could be spared for explorations or settlements in the north. 
 
 SAMUEL DE CHAMPLAIN. 
 
 When France was once more at peace, interest iix the exten- 
 sion of her territory revived, and after several voyages that re- 
 sulted in no permanent foothold being obtained, an expedition 
 was organized under the leadership of a man whose name, given 
 to his discoveries, has become a household word along our Cana- 
 dian border — Samuel de Champlain. 
 
 Born in 1567, at a small seaport on the Bay of Biscay, his life 
 had been sjjcnt in adventure and danger upon sea and land. 
 Commissioned a captain in the royal navy at an early age, at 
 twenty -three he became a soldier in the armies with which Henry 
 IV established his claim to the crown of France, and for eight 
 years fought bravely. The recognition of Henry's authority 
 put an end to the war, and Champlain, finding his occupation 
 gone, was forced to seek some new outlet for his adventurous 
 spirit. The space of two years and a half was occupied by a voy- 
 age to the West Indies and to Mexico. It is a noticeable fact 
 that this bold, keen-sighted Frenchman, visiting Panama in 1592, 
 
SAMUEL DE CHAMPLAIN. 49 
 
 conceived the idea of a ship-canal across the istlnnus, and saw 
 the same advantages that De Lesseps sees to-day in a similar 
 plan, Avhich our own famous engineer, Eads, condemns as imprac- 
 ticable. Returning to France, ho found that an old soldier, De 
 Chastes, had obtained from the king a patent granting him a 
 monopoly of the fur-trade with the Indians of Canada. They had 
 been companions-in-arms, and De Chastes knew that Champlain, 
 young, ardent, yet ripe in experience, a skillful seaman and a 
 practised soldier, was above all others the man for his enterprise. 
 Setting sail in 1603, they found that the numerous tribes, of 
 whom Cartier had told, had vanished, doubtless with the drag- 
 ons and demons. A few wandering Algonquins made a rude 
 maj:) of the country on the deck of the little vessel, indicating 
 Niagara as a rapid ; Champlain essayed to pass the rapids of 
 St. Louis, but failed, and the expedition returned to Trance. 
 
 De Chastes was dead, but his mantle fell upon the Sieur de 
 Monts, who, in the succeeding year, secured a patent from the 
 King (patents cost nothing), being emiDowered to imj^ress idlers 
 and vagabonds as material for his colony. It was a strange mix- 
 ture of men that filled his two ships — thieves and ruffians 
 dragged on board by force, gentlemen by rank and nature, Catholic 
 priests and Huguenot ministers. We will not detail the quar- 
 rels that arose between these latter elements on the voyage, nor 
 the horror of devout Catholic and Calvinist when the sacri- 
 legious crew insisted upon burying in one grave a priest and a 
 minister who had died on the same day, to see if they would lie 
 peaceably together. 
 
 Sounding, exploring, surveying, they finally selected an island 
 which they called St. Croix, in the river which now bears that 
 name, as the site of their village ; a position having no advan- 
 tages except that it readily admitted of defense; but as one aim 
 of the expedition was to convert the Indians, it seemed some- 
 what strange that this qualification should be considered so im- 
 portant. Soldiers, sailors, artisans, betook themselves to their 
 task, and before the winter closed in, had erected dwellings for 
 all. The ships returned to France, leaving this strangely assort- 
 ed company to endure the hardships of a northern winter. De- 
 spite the sheltering belt of cedars at the upper end of the island, 
 the north wind swept down upon them with a severitj' they had 
 never known before. Immense floating cakes of ice kept them 
 for days from the mainland, thus cutting off supplies of wood and 
 4 
 
60 
 
 SAMUEL DE CHAMPLAIN. 
 
 water; cider and wine, frozen solid, were served out by the 
 pound; scurvy brol-ce out, and thirty-five of the seventy-nine set- 
 tlers died before spring. Only Champlain's indomitable tenacity 
 of purpose kept them from despair; but we may know that he 
 was not less glad than thej^, when, in the spring, supplies and 
 reinforcements arrived from France. De Monts was by this time 
 fully aware of the disadvantages of his present location, and tried, 
 although unsuccessfully, to find a suitable place somewhere on 
 the coast of the present state of Maine, which Champlain had ex- 
 plored the previous September. Failing in this plan, he deter- 
 mined to go to the inland harbor of Port Eoyal, and there he es- 
 tablished his colony at the mouth of the Annapolis Eiver. But 
 enemies, jealous of his monopoly, were busily at work against him 
 in Paris, and he was forced to return thither, leaving Champlain, 
 Pontgrave and Champdore in command at Port Eoyal. 
 
 Another winter of hardships, 
 although less severe than the last, 
 brought them to the spring of 1606. 
 Champlain, in a badly built vessel 
 of eighteen tons, explored the 
 coast as far as the southeastern 
 part of Massachusetts, but with 
 little resulting advantage. The 
 peninsula of Cape Cod he found 
 thickly studded with the wigwams 
 of a warlike race, who inflicted 
 some injury upon a part of the 
 company that, contrary to orders, 
 landed; two being killed, and the others flying to the boat, brist- 
 ling with arrows as a porcupine with quills. The savages were re- 
 pulsed by a charge of Champlain with nine men, and the dead bu- 
 ried with j)roper solemnities. During the interment, they could see 
 the Indians upon a neighboring hill, dancing with glee and mock- 
 ing them by unseemly gestures; and as soon as the graves in the 
 wilderness were left unguarded, the bodies were exhumed and 
 burned, the clothes being shared among the natives. 
 
 Disgusted by the reception no less than by the character of the 
 country itself, Champlain and his men returned to Port Eoyal, 
 where the winter, less severe than those already experienced, 
 was spent. At dinner, the aged chief Memberton was a daily 
 guest at the table of the principal persons, and warriors, squaws 
 
 SAMUEL 1)E CHAMPLAIX. 
 
SAMUEL DE CHAMPLAIN. 51 
 
 and children sat on the floor or crouched in the corners, await- 
 ing eagerly and humbly a portion of bread or biscuit. Treated 
 always with kindness, they became very fond of the French, act- 
 ing as guides and instructors when the Europeans would hunt 
 those aiaimals peculiar to America. The colonists had been well 
 fed throughout the winter, such was the abundance of game ; and 
 as spring opened, and the grain planted in the fall began to grow, 
 new life seemed infused into their efforts. But their prosperity 
 received a siidden blow, in the king's withdrawal of the monopo- 
 ly of the fur trade, and, to the grief of the aged Memberton, they 
 returned to France in the fall of 1607. When the last boat-load 
 left Port Eoyal, the shore resounded with lamentations ; and 
 nothing could console the afllicted savages but oft repeated prom- 
 ises of a speedy return. 
 
 Three years later, a second colony was established in the same 
 place, under the auspices of the queen regent (for Henry lY was 
 dead) and the Jesuits. Membei;ton and many of his people were 
 baptized ; to those who came seeking spiritual counsel, the good 
 fathers gave food in abundance; and one hopeful convert, when 
 dying, inquired with considerable solicitude if in heaven he would 
 find pies as good as those which the French had given him. Yet 
 the missionaries wrote home of their excellent success, and Mem- 
 berton, at his death, was said to be a devout Christian. 
 
 The succeeding years of the colony Avere filled with misfor- 
 tunes, terminating in the capture of most of the settlers by the 
 English, and the complete destruction of the village. But even 
 while the Jesuits had been feeding and baptizing the Indians, a 
 lonely ship had sailed up the St. Lawrence. In the heart of the 
 commander were bright hopes of the land of which he was al- 
 ready enamored. Ascending the vast flood, twenty miles from 
 shore to shore, they came to a point where the stream suddenly 
 contracted to a mile in width; on one hand the green heights of 
 Point Levi; on the other, the cliffs, named by the Indians, be- 
 cause here the stream narrowed, Quebec. Soon the solitudes saw 
 a gan^ of men at work, felling trees, and in a few weeks a pile of 
 wooden buildings rose on the brinkof the St. Lawrence. A strong- 
 wooden wall surrounded an inclosure containing three buildings, 
 a court-yard, and a tall dove-cote. This wall was pierced by 
 loop-holes for musketry, and a moat and three or four small 
 cannon gave greater securit}'. Here Champlain was left with 
 twenty-eight men, and the ship returned to FrancT:.. 
 
52 SAMUEL DE CHAMPLAIN. 
 
 Starving Indians beset the fort, begging for food; now, ter- 
 rified by prophetic dreams of their enemies, imploring shelter 
 within the enclosure. How the winter passed with them, we 
 do not know. Champlain has recorded little besides the in- 
 tense cold, and in the latter j)art of the cold weather, their suf- 
 ferings from scurvy. But spring came on, and as the woods 
 put on a more cheerful dress than the icy covering they had 
 worn so long, the poor, disease-stricken creatures crept out 
 into the May sunshine, and saw, in the young grass of the mead- 
 ows, where the marsh-marigolds shone like miniature suns, the 
 graves of twenty of their companions. Champlain alone seems to 
 to have escaped the ravages of the disease which was then the 
 scourge of mankind, and with new vigor drawn from the spring 
 sunshine, he anticipated the long-desired journey to the south- 
 west. Difficulties there were in the way, but even while his sol- 
 dier heart despised them, he formed a plan for evading them. The 
 Indian tribes, to whom peace was unknown, infested with their 
 scaljiing parties the streams and j^athways of the forest, increas- 
 ing tenfold its inseparable risks. Anticipating surprises, he re- 
 solved to join a war part}^, and fight his way to discovery. The 
 tribes east of the Mississippi were divided into two vast families, 
 the Algonquins and the Huron-Iroquois, and these were never at 
 peace with eacvh other. Opportunity was not lacking, for the 
 surrounding Indians had frequently visited Quebec during the 
 winter, and had been struck with amazement and admiration 
 when they saw the suj)erior military skill and accoutrements of 
 the French. A young Algonquin chief had urged Champlain to 
 join him, in the spring, in a campaign against his enemies, the 
 Iroquois, and Champlain, hoping to hold the balance of power 
 between the nations of the Kew "World, and thus attain for 
 France an unquestioned suj)remacy, assented to the plan. 
 
 Waiting for the coming of the war-party, he at last set out 
 without it ; but, moving up the St. Lawrence, saw, thickly clus- 
 tered in the forest, the lodges of his allies. The southern family 
 of Indians was divided by a mortal enmity, and the Hurons were 
 with the Algonquins. Two chiefs, then, received the steel-clad 
 strangers, and they were conducted to their lodge by a staring 
 crowd of savages. Few of the warriors had ever seen a white 
 man, and they surrounded these in si:)eechless wonder. There 
 were feasting, smoking, speeches; and these necessary ceremo- 
 nies having cemented the bond of friendship between them, all 
 
SAMUEL DE CHAMPLAIN. 53 
 
 descended together to Quebec ; for the warriors must see with 
 their own eyes the wonderful town where dwelt these wonderful 
 men. 
 
 It was the twenty-eighth of May, 1609, before their curiosity 
 was fully satisfied ; before war-dance and war-feast had been 
 often enough repeated ; before they were ready to start upon the 
 journey which had been planned. Twelve w^hito men, in a small 
 shalloji, were in the midst of the swarm of bark canoes that hun- 
 dreds of dusky arms, with steady, measured sweep, were driving 
 onward. Reaching the mouth of a river then called des Iroquois, 
 but since named Richelieu, they encamped for two days, the war- 
 riors hunting and then quarreling among themselves. Three- 
 fourths of their number, as the result of their disagreement, re- 
 turned home, leaving the rest to pursu.e their course up the broad 
 and quiet river. 
 
 The shalloj) outsailed the canoes, and anxious to know the char- 
 acter of the stream before venturing too far, Champlain, leaving 
 the boat in charge of four men, proceeded on foot through the 
 woods. His Indian allies had assured him that throughout the 
 proposed journey his shallop could pass unobstructed; but he 
 now heard the hoarse surging of rapids, and saw the water thick- 
 ly set with rocks, through which no larger boat than the birch- 
 bark canoe could be safely steered. Returning to the shallop, 
 he found that the savages had overtaken it, and mildly rebuked 
 them for the deception put upon him; adding that he was never- 
 theless determined to perform his part of the contract. Nine 
 men, with the shallop, returned to Quebec, while Champlain, 
 with two volunteers, went onward in the Indian canoes. Sixty 
 warriors and twenty-fbur canoes were counted, as the Indians, 
 carrying their light vessels on their shoulders, filed in long pro- 
 cession through the forest to the smooth water above the rapids. 
 
 Landing towards the close of the day, less than two hours suf- 
 ficed for the constructioTi of a strong defensive half-moon, open 
 on the river-side, and large enough to contain all the light sheds 
 and huts, hastily erected for the night. Scouts were despatched 
 in all directions, and returning, reported no danger near. The 
 medicine-man, concealed in his hut, invoked the Manitou. The 
 chief took more practical measures to insure their safety; gath- 
 ering bundles of sticks, he named each one for some warrior as 
 he stuck it into the ground ; the savages gathered around and 
 studied this arrangement attentively for a few moments, and then, 
 
54 SAMUEL DE CHAMPLAIN. 
 
 forming into battle array as thus indicated, they broke their 
 ranks, mingled a few moments in the wildest confusion, and re- 
 formed with wonderful alacrity and skill. At last the camj) was 
 still; no sentinel's measured tread disturbed the silence, for al- 
 though every warrior was wrapped in slumber, the breaking of 
 a twig would instantly arouse them all. 
 
 Advancing further south, the river widened as they went. 
 Channels where ships might float, broad stretches of water, ex- 
 tended from shore to shore of the large islands, leagues in extent, 
 and Champlain entered the lake which now bears his name. We 
 need not dilate upon the beauty of the scene which here met his 
 gaze ; our interest rather centers in the adventures which here 
 awaited him and his allies. 
 
 Progress was now becoming dangerous, and greater precau- 
 tions were therefore adopted. Lying all day close in the depths 
 of the forest, at twilight they would embark again, and pursue 
 their way until dawn. Their intention was to follow the natural 
 highway marked out by lakes and rivers, and which became, in 
 the following century, the grand pathway of war, and to attack 
 some outlying town of their enemies on the Hudson river; but 
 they did not have to go so far. Among the aborigines, dreams 
 had always been regarded as supernatural in origin, and as pro- 
 j)hecies or guidance for the future. Champlain had been eagerly 
 questioned as to his dreams, but his unbroken slumbers had hither- 
 to disappointed his allies. At last, on the twenty-ninth of July, 
 he was able to answer their inquiries to their satisfaction ; he had 
 dreamed of the Iroquois drowning in the lake ; of his wish to 
 succor them, and of the Algonquin advice to leave them to the 
 fate which they deserved. Highly elated at this utterance of their 
 oracle, they pushed forward on their nightly journey. 
 
 It was ten o'clock before they saw before them on the lake a 
 mass of dark objects moving towards them — the canoes of the 
 Iroquois. Each party saw the other and distinguished an enemy 
 by the paint and ornaments worn; and war-cries, making the 
 night hideous, pealed over the dark water. The Iroquois were 
 near the shore, and quickly took advantage of their superior 
 position, landing, and with iron axes taken in war from the 
 Canadian tribes, and with stone hatchets of their own making, 
 working like beavers in cutting down trees for a barricade. The 
 Algonquins, thus made the attacking party, lashed their canoes 
 to long poles, and, remaining a bow-shot from their enemies, dan- 
 
SAMUEL DE CHAMPLAIN. 55 
 
 ced all night long-with as much vigor as the frailty of their vessels 
 would permit ; making up for any short comings in this direction 
 by the energy displayed in hurling abuse, sarcasm, menace and 
 boasting at the garrison — eompliments returned with interest. 
 
 The attack was deferred until daybreak. At dawn Champlain 
 and his two followers put on the light armor of the time, and 
 armed with sword and arquebus, prepared for the fight. The 
 three Frenchmen were in different canoes, and each concealed 
 himself, as the Algonquins approached the shore, either by lying 
 flat in the bottom, or by covering himself with an Indian robe. 
 Landing without opposition, at some distance from the Iroquois, 
 they presently saw the enemy filing out of their barricade — two 
 hundred tall, strong men, of the boldest and fiercest warriors in 
 America. Advancing through the forest with an order which 
 excited the admiration of the veteran French soldier, he noted 
 several chiefs that were conspicuous by their tall plumes, and 
 has particularly described their armor, of twigs interwoven with 
 cords, and shields of wood or hides. 
 
 Alarmed at the large opposing force, the Algonquins called 
 with loud cries for their champion. As Champlain, clad from 
 head to foot in armor, a plumed casque increasing his apparent 
 height, advanced to the front through the avenue opened in the 
 ranks of red men, the Iroquois stood and stared in speechless 
 wonder. Before they had recovered from their surprise, his 
 arquebus, clumsy enough to our eyes, but all-sufficient for the 
 time, was levelled; a loud roar rang through the woods; one of 
 their chiefs fell dead, and another by his side rolled among the 
 bushes. Quickly following up their success the Algonquins echo- 
 ed the report of his gun with the wild yell with which they were 
 accustomed to startle their enemies and awaken their own cour- 
 age, and a flight of arrows darkened the air. For a moment the 
 Iroquois stood firm, and answered arrow for arrow ; but when 
 the deadly thunder broke again and again, they turned and fled 
 in uncontrollable terror. Like dogs after deer, the allied Hurons 
 and Algonquins tore through the thicket in hot pursuit. Some 
 of the Iroquois were killed, more were captured ; and the vic- 
 tory was complete. 
 
 At night, they bivouacked in the forest, and prepared to tor- 
 ture one of the captives. Champlain sickened at the dreadful 
 sight, and asked to be allowed to shoot him. At first refusing 
 his request, they tore the scalp from the living man's head ; then, 
 
56 
 
 SAMUEL DE CHAMPLAIN. 
 
SAMUEL DE CHAMPLAIN. 57 
 
 as the Frenchman turned away in disgust and anger, called out : 
 
 '' Do as you will with him." 
 
 He turned again, and the captive's sufferings were mercifully 
 ended by the bullet which sped to his heart. 
 
 Eetreating promptly — a measure which, with the Indians, al- 
 ways followed victory, — in three or four da^^s they arrived at the 
 mouth of the Eichelieu. Here they separated, the Ilurons and 
 Algonqnins, each with a share of prisoners to be tortured, pro- 
 ceeding towards the Ottawa, and Champlain, with a small party 
 of Montagnais, returning to Quebec. 
 
 Champlain went back to France soon after this expedition, 
 which occurred in 1(309, and recounted his exploits to the king, 
 to whom he presented the head of a dead Iroquois, and various 
 natiiral curiosities from Canada. Setting sail early in the spring 
 of 1610, a short time before the king's assassination, he repaired 
 immediately upon his arrival to the rendezvous with the Hurons 
 and Algonquins at the mouth of the Eichelieu. These had prom- 
 ised to guide him to the great lakes on whose shores were cop- 
 2:)er mines, and the Montagnais were to lead ,him northward to 
 Hudson's Bay. To each of these he had promised the same re- 
 ward — help in a second warlike expedition against the Iroquois, 
 and it was in a boat surrounded by a multitude of canoes, filled 
 with lank-haired Montagnais warriors, that he repaired to the 
 rendezvous appointed. 
 
 On the nineteenth of June, an island in the St. Lawrence was 
 swarming with busy and noisy savages, Champlain's allies, cut- 
 ting down trees to clear the ground for a dance and a feast with 
 which they intended to welcome the hourly-expected Algon- 
 quins. Suddenly a canoe came in sight, and as the paddles urged 
 it forward with unusual haste, the messenger called to them that 
 the Algonquins were in the forest, a league away, fighting with 
 the Iroquois. "With cries of piercing shrillness, they leaped into 
 their canoes, and made for the shore, Chamj^lain and his four 
 Frenchmen being among them. The' light barks shot through the 
 water,.and as the prow grated on the pebbles, each wai'rior snatch- 
 ed up his light arms and sped like a greyhoimd into the woods. 
 The Frenchmen, untrained to the wilderness, and encumbered by 
 heavier clothing and arms, soon fell far into the rear. Deserted 
 in the midst of a swamp, over which their light-footed allies had 
 bounded undeterred, having to wade through w^ater knee-deep, 
 to climb over fallen trees, among slimy logs and entangled roots, 
 
58 SAMUEL DE CHAMPLAIN. 
 
 tripped by vines, lashed by recoiling boughs, " cruell}^ persecu- 
 ted" by swarm of mosquitoes, the poor Frenchmen, loaded down 
 by their armor, at length hailed two Indians running in the dis- 
 tance, and obliged them to act as guides to the presence of the 
 enemy. The Iroquois stood at bay behind a breast-work of 
 trunks, boughs and matted foliage; the Algonquins had attacked 
 them, but had met with a bloody rejiulse, and now flocked around 
 them, half hidden in the edges of the forest, eager and clamor- 
 ous, yet afraid to renew the fight until the arrival of their allies. 
 A wild yell welcomed the Frenchmen ; another, from within the 
 barricade, defied them. A storm of arrows from both sides fol- 
 lowed ; Champlain and one of his men were wounded by the 
 stone-headed missiles, but drawing the arrows from the flesh, ran 
 up to the barricade. At the sight of the terrible strangers, clad 
 in lightning and armed with thunder, the Iroquois threw them- 
 selves flat upon the earth. Gaining new courage from their allies, 
 the Algonquins rushed up to the barricade, and began to tear 
 away the trees composing it. Some fur-traders, who had heard 
 the firing, now came up, and could not resist the impulse to join 
 In the fight. They* oj^ened fire upon the besieged Indians, who, 
 wild with terror, leaped and writhed to dodge the shot which 
 their frail armor could not resist. At a signal from Champlain, 
 the wild horde charged upon the impromptu fort, and forced 
 an entrance. Some of the Iroquois were cut down, as, war-club 
 in hand, they stood hewing at their enemies ; some climbed the 
 barrier and were killed by the raging mob without, or, reaching 
 the river, were drowned in its blood stained current; fifteen sur- 
 vived and were taken prisoners. Of these, Champlain could save 
 but one from the torture, and one was quartered and eaten. 
 
 According to the custom of the Indians, the victors had no 
 thought of following up their success. Elated at their victory, 
 they indulged in all the festivities that their experience could 
 suggest; and after a few days returned home with the ghastly 
 trophies of the blow struck on the enemy. Champlain had per- 
 formed his share of the contract, but for some reason which does 
 not appear, did not claim from the Indians the fulfillment of their 
 promise. Probably cares connected with his colony, and dan- 
 ger to it arising from the assassination of the king, tidings of 
 which awaited him on his return, called him to France without 
 delay. Certainly he sailed thither without loss of time, and re- 
 mained until the following spring (1611). 
 
SAMUEL DE CHAMPLAIN. 59 
 
 The entanglement of his ship among drifting fields and moun- 
 tains of ice, off the coast of Newfoundland, on his return voyage, 
 jDroved but an omen of the difficulties which were to follow. Anx- 
 ious to establish a permanent j^ost, through which the advantages 
 of trade with the great Indian communities of the interior should 
 be secured to DeMonts, he found that wild reports of the wonders 
 of New France had brought thither numberless adventurers, 
 eager for riches ; and saw that whatever he might accomplish or 
 undergo would be for their advantage. 
 
 'Nor were the Indians pleased at the coming of this legion of 
 traders. A band of Hurons, loaded with skins, came to the ren- 
 dezvous. The traders saluted them from their vessels and fright- 
 ened them nearly to death ; they could not understand how the 
 same explosion might be used to express both enmity and respect, 
 to kill or to honor, as the case might be. Still further frightened by 
 the bearing of the disorderly crowd, they awakened Champlain, 
 late at night, and invited him to their camp. There he found the 
 chiefs and warriors assembled in council. The peace-pipe was 
 proffered and accepted, and in troubled tones the chief said : 
 
 " Come to our country, buy our beaver, build a fort, teach us 
 the true faith, but do not bring this crowd with you." 
 
 Believing that these lawless bands of rival traders, all well- 
 armed, intended to attack, plunder and kill them, it required all 
 Champlain's powers of persuasion to keep the peace. The night 
 was spent in friendly talk, but the frightened Indians soon broke 
 up their camp, and went, some to their homes, some to fight the 
 Iroquois, while the traders returned to Tadoussac, and Champlain 
 to Quebec. 
 
 Such was the state of affairs that Champlain was now obliged 
 to go to France, to seek some powerful patron for the colony. 
 This was accomplished, and as lieutenant for the nobleman 
 who became lieutenant-general for the king, he returned to in- 
 fuse new life into the little settlement that looked to him for 
 support in all its trials. Yet, though he was the life and soul 
 of New France, though without him it would soon have been 
 left again to the Indians, his great object was not to establish 
 colonies there. In his eyes, fur-trade and settlements were 
 but means to an end, or rather, to two ends. These two great 
 objects w-ere to find a way to China and to convert the In 
 dians. Many of the rival traders were given an interest in the 
 company, so that much of the trouble from that quarter had van- 
 
60 SAMUEL DE CHAMPLAIN. 
 
 ished } and every possible arrangement was made to further his 
 plans for exploring expeditions. His heart must have leaped 
 high when a 3'oung Frenchman, who had been with the Algon- 
 quins up the Ottawa, reappeared in Paris with a wonderful, yet 
 not improbable story of a voyage to the northern sea, distant 
 from Montreal only seventeen days' journey. Many eminent 
 persons about the court urged Champlain to follow up these 
 discoveries; and the daring adventurer, nothing loath, again 
 crossed the Atlantic in the spring of 1613, and with four French- 
 men and one Indian, set out from the neighborhood of Montreal 
 to find the promised passage to the northern ocean. 
 
 We will not follow them in their daily toil as they made their 
 way up the Ottawa; now over rocks, now through the woods, 
 they had to carry their canoes ; launching them, by turns they 
 pushed, dragged, lifted, paddled, shoved with poles the light 
 structures of birch-bark. Here, where rapid after rapid made the 
 river a foamy slope, where, smooth and shining, the water 
 glided softly in and out the shadows of the trees, while the terri- 
 fied settlers at Jamestown dared not venture out of cannon-shot 
 of their town, and when no white man's home disturbed the New 
 England Indian's solitude, Champlain and his men boldly pressed 
 forward into the wilderness where never before had a white man 
 set foot; and planted the huge crosses of white cedar, symbols of 
 the white man's faith, along the banks of the stream. 
 
 Keeping the course advised by the Indians, they reached a far 
 inland point by a path so beset with difficulties that a chief whom 
 they visited said, in astonishincnt, v>^liile he offered the calumet: 
 
 "These white men must have fallen from the clouds ; for how 
 else could they have reached us through the woods and rapids 
 which even we find it hard to pass ? The French chief can do 
 anything. All that we have hoard of him must be true." 
 
 Proceeding still northward, he was entertained with great re- 
 joicings by Tessonat, chief of the tribes north of Lake Coulange, 
 Avho was, however, only with difficulty persuaded to furnish him 
 with canoes for the further prosecution of his journey ; and after 
 he had agreed to help them, the promise was withdrawn, they 
 urging that rapids, rocks, cataracts, and the wickedness of the 
 Nipissings would bar their way. But Champlain stood firm. 
 
 " This young man," he said, pointing to the adventurer who 
 had told of his wonderful travels, "has been to their country, and 
 did not find the road or the people so bad as you have said." 
 
SAMUEL DE CHAMPLAIN. 61 
 
 ^' Nicholas," demanded the chief, " did you say that 3^011 had 
 been to the country of the JSTipissings ?" 
 
 Summoning all his effrontery, Nicholas asseverated that he 
 had been there. His reply was followed by a fierce outcry from 
 the contemptuous savages, which the unceremonious chief cut 
 short with the blunt words : 
 
 "You are a liar. You know very well that you slept here with 
 my people every night and hunted with them all the daj^, so that 
 if you ever went, it must have been while you were asleep. How 
 can yoii lie to your chief? He ought to torture you, for you are 
 an enemy to him." 
 
 Questioned privately by Champlain, Nicholas Vignan swore 
 that he had spoken truth, but when the Indians asked him con- 
 cerning his route, he had no answer to make. Champlain, hav- 
 ing come so far, and through such difficulties, was naturally 
 anxious to believe his countrj^man, and thus displeased the In- 
 dians. "When, however, he was ready to go, he again questioned 
 Vignan, who fell on his knees and implored forgiveness for his 
 imposture. No further reason remained for their journey, and 
 somewhat crestfallen, the adventurers returned to that point 
 where Montreal now stands. 
 
 AYhen Champlain returned from a voyage to France in 1615, 
 four Franciscans accomi^anied him, to labor for the conversion 
 of the Indians. Two remained in Quebec, two went as traveling 
 missionaries among the Montagnais and the Hurons. But the 
 Indians wished temporal, rather than spiritual assistance, and 
 urged Champlain to accomjjany them upon an inroad into the 
 country of their enemies, the Iroquois. No special adventure 
 made the journej^ remarkable. The war-party penetrated as far 
 south as the southern shore of Lake Oneida, where an Iroquois 
 village then stood. This was attacked under the generalship of 
 Champlain, but such was the confusion into which his savage sol- 
 diers fell in their attempt to follow European methods, that they 
 were repulsed, and absolutely refusing to again assail the town, 
 retreated. 
 
 The Hurons had promised Champlain an escort to Quebec, but 
 each warrior found some reason for refusing to lend his canoe, 
 and the chiefs had no power but persuasion. Undoubtedly the 
 defeat, which had jDroven Champlain not invincible, had much to 
 do with their refusal ; even though it was caused by their own 
 sudden retreat. Nothing was to be done, therefore, but to re- 
 
62 SAMUEL DE CHAMPLAIN. 
 
 main all winter in the Huron Village, and he accepted the shel- 
 ter of the lodge belonging to a chief named Durantal. 
 
 Although they would not discommode themselves to escort him 
 to Quebec, Champlain was treated with all honor while at the 
 Indian village ; and when, on one occasion, allured by the 
 strange bird that we know as the red-headed woodpecker, he 
 went far into the woods, and losing his way, was gone several 
 days, they searched for him without ceasing, and welcomed him 
 back with the most extravagant expressions of joy. To prevent 
 the occurrence of such a misfortune again, Durantal would nev- 
 er afterward allow him to go into the forest without an attendant. 
 
 Eeturning to Quebec in the spring, he was welcomed as one 
 arisen from the grave, for the Indians had reported that he was 
 dead. His forest wanderings were now over; a new task, al- 
 though a less congenial one, awaited him ; and he devoted him- 
 self to nursing the puny colony into life and strength with the 
 same interest and energy which he had put into his exploring ex- 
 peditions and military raids. Quebec could hardly be called a 
 settlement; it was half trading-post, half mission ; and although 
 Champlain was the nominal commander, the merchants and the 
 friars, between them, controlled everything. All was discord and 
 disorder, the two ruling classes uniting in but one thing : hatred 
 and jealousy of Champlain. 
 
 The governor displayed considerable tact in dealing with these 
 almost unmanageable elements ; but there seemed to be no end 
 to his misfortunes. He at last believed that he had bound the 
 company of merchants to engagements that they would not 
 break, and in this vain hope brought his wife to the new coun- 
 try with which his name was now so closely identified. But his 
 hope proved vain. Matters went from bad to worse, and at last 
 the Indians formed a plot to utterly destroy the French. They 
 were, however, betrayed by one of their number, and came to 
 seek for peace. In 1622, an inroad from the Iroquois settlement 
 occasioned considerable alarm, but ten years had not caused them 
 to forget the fatal guns, and they hastily retreated when they 
 found the town prepared for defense. 
 
 The life of Champlain is the history of Quebec for nearly thir- 
 ty years. But the most useful life is not always possessed of the 
 m.ost interest ; then let us pass over in silence the next thirteen 
 years, eventful to the struggling colony, but of little importance 
 save to the local antiquarian. 1635 was the date of the severest 
 
MARQUETTE. 
 
 63 
 
 misfortune which had yet befallen the sti'uggling colony, for then 
 it was that Champlain died. His strong hand had sustained it 
 through troubles from without and dissensions within ; winning 
 the resjiect of the savages, he prevented danger from that quar- 
 ter; and by his indefatigable exertions foiled the efforts of those 
 who would have sacrificed everything to their own gain. 
 
 MARQUETTE. 
 
 But, while Champlain was dead, the spirit of adventure was 
 still alive, although for a little time it slumbered. It will be re- 
 membered that a number of Franciscans had come to JSTew France 
 
 JEStTTT MISSIONARY PREACHING TO THE INDIANS. 
 
 to engage in missionary work ; later, when Calvinists were per- 
 mitted to trade there, it was on the express condition that they 
 maintain a certain number of Jesuits in this wilderness. These 
 men, vowed not only to chastity, poverty and obedience, but to 
 go wherever their superior should send them, left the cells where 
 they had, perhaps, studied half their lives away, and wore away 
 the remainder of their days amid the hardships of the wilderness. 
 They claimed to be successful in their work, and certainly the 
 claim is justified if we consider only the number of converts ; but 
 
64 MARQUETTE. 
 
 when wo eoiuo to the extent of conversion which each Indian 
 underwent^ tl:ie case is altered. Whatever they niay or may not 
 have accomplished spiritually, certainly they thought they were 
 doingtheir duty, and no privations deterred, no dangers daunted 
 them. They penetrated into the wilderness in every direction, 
 and becoming embued with the spirit of adventure, are enrolled 
 among the most famous of explorers. 
 
 Such a man was Father Marquette, whoso name has become in- 
 dissolubly connected with the history of the Mississippi. Born in 
 France in 1637, he came to Canada as a Jesuit missionary in 1666, 
 and immediately applied himself to the study of several dialects 
 of the Algonquin tongue. A year and a half had been spent in 
 this way when he was sent to found a mission subordinate to the 
 main one at Quebec. A year or more after this, he was sent, for a 
 similar purpose, to La Pointe, among the Ottawas and Hurons ; 
 here he heard of a mighty river lying to the southwest, called in 
 the Indian tongue by a name signifying " Father of Waters." 
 The ideas entertained by the Europeans of that age regarding 
 the extent of the western continent seem to us absurd. They did 
 not realize that the width was so much greater at the middle part 
 of North America than it had been found to be in Mexico ; and 
 were continually expecting to come upon the Pacific after a com- 
 paratively short journey. When the Indians, then, told him of 
 this great river rising in the west and flowing to the south, Father 
 Marquette's first thought was that it would furnish a highway to 
 the South Sea, as the Pacific was then called. He had already 
 dreamed of converting all the tribes dwelling in that' region, and 
 to this hope was added that keen desire of adventurous ex^jlora- 
 tions that had possessed Cartier and Champlain, and was even 
 then urging the Sieur de La Salle onward over the same course. 
 
 Frontenac, then governor of Quebec, readily listened to such 
 suggestions, and in 1673 commissioned Louis Joliet to undertake 
 the tour of discovery, Marquette being instructed by the Jesuits 
 to accompany him. On the seventeenth of May they started from 
 Mackinaw, having already explored and rudely mapped the 
 shores of three of the Great Lakes — Huron, Michigan and Supe- 
 rior. Floating along the streams on their route, carrying 
 their canoes from water to water, and finally reaching the Wis- 
 consin, it was just a month after their departure from Mackinaw 
 that they came to the mouth of that river, and beheld the broad 
 blue flood of the Mississippi. Descending this for days, they 
 
MARQUETTfi, 
 
 65 
 
 traveled three hundred miles before they saw the face of any 
 human being but those in their own company. At last' they saw 
 a trail on the eastern side of the river, and, following it, came to 
 a town of the Illinois. Here they were kindly received, this 
 tribe being a branch of the great Algonquin family with which- 
 the French had firmly allied themselves; and much refreshed bj^ 
 this evidence that- they were not all alone in the wilderness, they 
 continued their journey. Past the mouth of the Missouri, whose 
 
 
 MARQUETTE DE-SCENDING THE MISSISSIPPI. 
 
 swift current bore the trunks and large branches of trees with 
 resistless power onward, and sapping the foundation of huge 
 sandy bluffs, swept them into its own flood of muddy water 3 
 past the mouth of the Ohio, whose volume was now so much 
 greater than at any other season of the year ; past the flat and 
 marshy lands below the level of the water, protected only by the 
 natural levees Mdiich the river itself had formed, and which, at 
 that season, had probably given way to the vast flood's impetu- 
 ous force. Perhaps the spring rains had swollen the volume of 
 the main stream and its tributaries, and it was over a vast golden 
 sea that the two frail canoes floated. 
 
 At the mouth of the Arkansas they found a higher degree of 
 civilization than they had yet observed among the natives. 
 6 
 
66 . LA SALLE. 
 
 These Indians, who told them it was but ten days* journey to the 
 sea, had plainly had intercourse with the Spaniards, for they had 
 weapons and tools of steel, and glass bottles for use as powder 
 flasks. Fearful lest they should fall into the hands of these white 
 men, whom the Indians described as clothed like the French, and 
 possessed of images and beads, they turned back home. Four 
 months sufficed for the completion of this voyage of more than 
 two thousand miles, the return route being somewhat different 
 than that by which they had come ; for they ascended the Illi- 
 nois, and are supposed to have made the portage to Lake Michi- 
 gan near where Chicago now stands. 
 
 But the Jesuit missionary had accomplished but little ; his ex- 
 plorations were regarded as mere preparation for his prime ob- 
 ject. In October of the following year he set out, with a party 
 requiring ten canoes for transportation, to form a mission settle- 
 ment in the country of the Illinois. The western shore of Lake 
 Michigan was skirted, and the mouth of the Chicago reached. 
 Disease had already laid her hand heavily upon him, and enfee- 
 bled by its weight, he decided to go no farther at that time. 
 Throughout the winter the party remained there, only removing 
 when, in the spring, a freshet nearly carried away their log hut. 
 Arriving at the Indian town of Kaskaskia, he was ^'received like 
 an angel from heaven." Here, however, ho did not linger, but 
 went upon another exploring expedition along the eastern shore 
 of Lake Michigan, where, on the bank of a small stream south of 
 that which now bears his name, he at last yielded to the disease 
 which had so long enfeebled him, and was buried on the shores 
 of the lake. A year later (1676) his bones were conveyed rever- 
 entially by a party of his Indian converts to the mission of St. 
 Ignace, and there buried with due solemnities. 
 
 LA SALLE. 
 
 While the Jesuits, as represented by Father Marquette, were 
 exj)loring the valley of the Mississippi and the region drained by 
 the more westerly of the chain of great lakes, another element 
 of Canadian life was entering into the same work in another di- 
 rection. While the Jesuits were able to control the Indians to a 
 marvellous degree, it was only while the fathers alone assumed 
 such power; any division of it with the traders or the civil au- 
 thority was fatal to its further existence. So far, then, from the 
 purposes of trade being served by the missionaries, the efforts of 
 
LA SALLE. 67 
 
 these men rather retarded commerce between their countrymen 
 and their converts. There was, however, in Canada, another 
 class of ecclesiastics, that united more readily with the laymen — 
 the Franciscans, — and it was in conjunction with the priests of 
 this order that the famous Sieur de la Salle made his tours of ex- 
 ploration. 
 
 Robert Cavelier,de la Salle was born in Rouen, of a good fam- 
 ily, about 1643, although no definite record of the year of his birth 
 has been found. Educated in a Jesuit seminary for the priest- 
 hood, for some reason he failed to enter upon the life for which 
 he had been intended ; what that reason may have been cannot be 
 discovered after the lapse of more than two centuries; but the 
 fact that he received no share in his father's property shows what 
 course had been marked out for him, and the testimonials he re- 
 ceived upon leaving college give no room for believing his con- 
 duct forbade his ordination. 
 
 Coming to Canada about 1667, for several j^ears-his only aim 
 seems to have been the accumulation of a modest competence by 
 means of trading with the Indians. Considering his limited 
 means, his operations were on a bold scale ; with the same enter- 
 prising spirit which afterwards made him famous, he pushed for- 
 ward to the frontier, erected trading-houses, and superintending 
 in person the details of his business, freighted his bark canoes 
 and ascended the rapids of the St. Lawrence and other rivers. 
 Here he learned from the Indians the only kind of navigation . 
 which then existed on the inland streams and lakes of this 
 country. 
 
 While engaged in this work, he had gained much knowledge 
 of the language and customs of the Indians with whom he trad- 
 ed; and hearing from them, as Father Marquette had already 
 heard, wonderful stories of the countries and rivers south of them, 
 his imagination was kindled, his adventurous spirit excited ; and 
 he anticipated that fame and fortune would result from the dis- 
 covery of a short and easy route to China. The Great Lakes 
 had been but recently explored, and filled with new hope by the 
 certainty that such bodies of water extended in that direction, 
 he conjectured that the Pacific lay not far from the western end 
 of Superior, or that a chain of similar lakes would furnish an easy 
 passage if it were farther off. 
 
 His chief trading establishment was on the island of Montreal, 
 and was called, in commemoration of his hopes and plans, La 
 
68 LA SALLE. 
 
 Chine. Here a band of Senccas spent the winter of 1668-9, in ac- 
 cordance with a custom which had obtained among the Indians 
 of attaching themselves to any party of w^hite men from whom 
 they could beg food and shelter. These told him of the great 
 Ohio, rising in their country and flowing to the sea, but so long 
 as to require eight or nine months to paddle to its mouth. La 
 Salle felt assured that this stream must empty into the Gulf of 
 California, explored less than thirty years before by the Span- 
 iards, and determined to seek the passage of which he had 
 dreamed so long. 
 
 But he was no mere dreamer of dreams ; with good, hard com- 
 mon sense, he made preparations for a journey to be undertaken 
 upon the representations of the natives of the country through 
 which he was to go, in search of a passage which the most 
 learned geographers of the age fully believed to exist. To us, 
 who better appreciate the deceitfulness of the Indians, his abso- 
 lute trust in them seems as ridiculous as the object of his expedi- 
 tion ; but our knowledge of the country, and its natives, it must 
 be remembered, has grown to its present proportions in a time 
 longer by two centuries than was accorded to Champlain and 
 La Salle. His seignory of lands surrounding Montreal must be 
 sold to meet the expenses, for the jjatent which he obtained only 
 authorized an expedition at his own exjDense. On the sixth of 
 July, 1669, while Father Marquette was still only forming plans 
 • for discovery and conversion in the far southwest, he started uj) 
 the St. Lawrence with fourteen men and four canoes. Thirty 
 days afterward, they reached the broad waters of Ontario, and 
 skirting the shore to the mouth of the G-enesee, remained there a 
 month seeking information of the Indians and making treaties 
 with them. Continuing on their course, they met Joliet, who 
 was then on his M^ay from the copper mines of Michigan, and who 
 furnished them with a rude map of the country through which he 
 had passed. At the western end of Ontario, they found a Shaw- 
 nee captive of the northern tribes, who promised to conduct them 
 to the Ohio in six weeks. 
 
 Purther record of the expedition have we none. It is only 
 known that he exjilored the Ohio as far down as the rapids at 
 Louisville. He learned from the natives that this atream em^)- 
 tied into that greater river which, according to their account, 
 lost itself in the vast lowlands of the south ; perhajis he would 
 have continued his journey, but his men deserted in a body, 
 
LA SALLE. 69 
 
 and he had to make the best of his way, alone, back to Canada — 
 a distance of four hundred leagues, requiring nearly a year. 
 
 But his ardor was not damped by failure. He knew that the 
 longer expedition which he now desired to undertake would re- 
 quire more capital than he had, or could hope to raise by his per- 
 sonal influence. Endeavoring to learn to exercise that patience 
 which he knew was so necessary, he watched sharply for his op- 
 portunity. He had net long to wait before an opening presented 
 itself. The Iroquois had never forgotten the defeats that they had 
 suffered when Champlain had aided their enemies, the Algon- 
 quins, and had commenced their inroads even before his death. 
 Their insane fear of fire-arms had considerably diminished, and 
 their hostility had consequently taken a more open form. The 
 governor of Quebec began the erection of a chain of forts de- 
 signed to resist their entrance into New France, and La Salle 
 aspired to the command of one of these. Fort Frontenac, erected 
 at the eastern extremity of Lake Ontario, would give great ad- 
 vantages for the execution of his projects of trade and discovery. 
 Fortunate in winning the favor of the governor. Count Fronte- 
 nac, who was a man with a strong mind and an equally strong 
 will, he went to France in 1675, and laid his plans before the far- 
 sighted minister, Colbert, to whom, among other things, the 
 colonial affairs had been entrusted. 
 
 Although we have learned but little of La Salle's early years 
 in Canada, the reception with which he met would lead us to 
 suppose that his life had been one which made him respected 
 by all men for his sound sense and steady devotion to work. By 
 Colbert's influence, a patent was issued, granting the government 
 and territory of Fort Frontenac to La Salle, on condition that he 
 rebuild the fort with stone and repay Frontenac for his outlay. 
 The garrison was to be maintained at his own expense, and cer- 
 tain portions of the land to bo cleared. The grant of the land and 
 authority, the nobility conferred upon him, and the j)rivileges of 
 trade and discovery were the advantages gained by his grant. 
 
 Applying himself diligently to his work, it was not long before 
 he had performed his part of the contract, and'a massive stone 
 fort replaced the old one with its palisades and embankments. 
 Trees were felled, fields jilanted, and gardens, herds and poultry 
 yards enlivened the scene. Not neglecting trade, on which he 
 depended for the resources to maintain his garrison and repay 
 the borrowed money, he built three small barks with decks, with 
 
70 LA SALLE. 
 
 which to navigate the Ontario and traffic with the savages. Here 
 he lived quietly, trading with the Indians, although the stories 
 of the discoveries of Marquette and Joliet inflamed him with a 
 stronger desire to trace the river which they had explored, and 
 which he had never yet seen, to its mouth. His work here was 
 only preparatory to the grand enterprise upon which he had so 
 long set his heart, and encouraged by Frontenac's approval and 
 offers of assistance, he went to France again in 1677, to obtain 
 means for 'his journey. 
 
 Eeceived with the same kindness as before, his requests were 
 readily granted, since he asked from the government no money, 
 but only a confirmation of his rights, with authority to push his 
 discoveries as far as he chose to the westward, and to build forts, 
 as he had built Fort Frontenac, wherever he thought proper. 
 Besides this generous permission to go where he could and build 
 wherever he chose, providing always that he paid his own ex- 
 penses, he received a grant of the monopoly of the fur trade with 
 all Indians except those that were already accustomed to take 
 their furs to Montreal. 
 
 By the recommendation of a nobleman who had promoted his 
 suit at court. La Salle took into his service Chevalier de Tonti, 
 a man of caj)acity, courage and resolution, who proved a most 
 valuable officer and friend. With about thirty persons, a quan- 
 tity of arms and merchandise, and materials for rigging small 
 vessels, he set sail from Eochelle two months after receiving his 
 patent, and arriving at Quebec near the end of September, imme- 
 diately proceeded to Fort Frontenac. 
 
 The season was now far advanced in this severe northern cli- 
 mate, and La Salle made all haste to begin preparations for his 
 journey in the spring. He thought it necessary to build a vessel 
 above the falls, that he might uge the great highway of the lakes, 
 and for this purpose Tonti was despatched to find a jioint in the 
 upper part of Niagara Eiver, or in Lake Erie, which would serve 
 their purpose. Embassadors were also sent to the neighboring 
 Indians, since their friendship was necessary to the success of 
 the enterprise. Nor was their natural suspicion the only thing 
 which he had to combat; jealous of his monopoly, the Canadian 
 traders had sent messengers to inform the Indians that his plan 
 of building forts was intended to work them evil ; as, protected 
 in this way, he could compel them to do whatever he might wish. 
 Although he was able to counteract these efforts to some degree, 
 
LA SALLE. 
 
 71 
 
 the savages hovered around the ship-builders, and entered the 
 camp with a lack of ceremony rather alarming. They refused to 
 sell their corn, and plotted to burn the vessel on the stocks. 
 Suffering from cold, and often from hunger, fearing always a 
 hostile descent of the savages, the men became discontented, and 
 it required Father Hennepin's utmost endeavors to allay their 
 fears. 
 
 Meanwhile La Salle was at Frontenae, whither he had returned 
 after driving the first bolt of the brigantine, endeavoring to 
 counteract the efforts of his enemies. Spreading reports that he 
 was about to engage in an extremely dangerous undertaking, 
 enormously expensive and yielding but little hope of his return, 
 their rumors so alarmed his creditors in Quebec and Montreal 
 that they seized upon his effects there and sold them out at great 
 loss to him. The delay which would be necessary to rectify this 
 would prevent the success of his expedition, for this year at least ; 
 so he submitted patiently to his misfortunes. 
 
 At last the ship was ready, and his other preparations were 
 complete. On the seventh of August, 1679, the sails of the Griffin 
 were spread to the winds of Lake Erie, and making fearlessly 
 for the midst of the great fresh water sea, they descried, on the 
 third day, the islands in the western end. A storm beset them 
 in Huron, and with the usual bitterness of the followers of great 
 explorers, many of his men complained of the dangers into which 
 they had been led. They escaped from the storm, however, but 
 only to meet with new difficulties. Their first object was to 
 make a favorable impression upon the Indians, whose friendship 
 was so necessary to their success ; but this task was harder than 
 they had anticipated. While the natives received and entertain- 
 ed La Salle with great civility, and looked in wonder at the 
 great wooden canoe, their show of friendship was more politic 
 than sincere, and produced no effect upon their future conduct. 
 
 JSTor was this the only disadvantage under which they labored. 
 Fifteen men had been sent forward to collect provisions, but had 
 been tampered with, and had squandered a part of the merchan- 
 dise with which they had been provided for trading. HoM^ever, 
 hoping that some would prove faithful to their trust, a belief 
 which later events justified, they continued on their course. 
 
 Met at a point on the northern shore of Lake Michigan by 
 some of his men, who had accumulated a considerable stock of 
 furs, La Salle suddenly determined to make a remittance to his 
 
72 LA SALLE. 
 
 creditors, and, despite the dissatisfaction of his men, sent the 
 brigantine back to Niagara with the skins. Henceforth their 
 joiirne}^ was to be made in canoes. 
 
 The company remaining, after the boat had left them, consist- 
 ed of fourteen persons, to be transported in four bark canoes. 
 Through either stormy or favorable weather they pursued their 
 way until they reached the western end of the lake. Landing 
 here, to enjoy a little rest, the foot-prints of men were seen in 
 the sand. As La Salle wished to avoid the Indians as much as 
 possible, he gave express orders that each should be on his 
 guard, and remain perfectly quiet. One enthusiastic sportsman 
 could not resist the temptation to shoot a bear which had climbed 
 a tree for the grapes growing in great profusion over every such 
 support, and the noise of his gun was heard by a party of Fox 
 Indians who were hunting near by. Creeping silently to the 
 camp, in the night, their presence was discovered and the alarm 
 given. But the Indians protested their friendship to the white 
 men, alleging that they supposed it to be a party of Iroquois 
 whom they thought were in the neighborhood, and who were 
 their deadly enemies. It was only to see if their suspicions were 
 correct that they had come so near the camp. 
 
 La Salle accepted this explanation, not caring to embroil him- 
 self unnecessarily, and allowed them to leave the camp. But 
 not long after they had gone, the Frenchmen discovered that a 
 coat and some other articles had been stolen. This altered the 
 case. If they submitted quietl}^ to this outrage, and allowed the 
 theft to go unpunished, it would doubtless be often repeated, 
 and La Salle determined to have satisfaction. A short expedi- 
 tion into the woods resulted in the capture of two Indians, one of 
 whom was despatched to his chief with a message that unless 
 the stolen articles were restored, the life of the jirisoner would be 
 forfeited. The message occasioned considerable perplexity in 
 the Indian camp, for the articles had been cut into many pieces 
 for distribution ; and they decided that the only resort would be 
 to rescue the prisoner by force. Acting upon this decision, they 
 attempted a surprise, but their plan was discovered in time for 
 the Frenchmen to select and advance to such a position as the 
 Indians were not likely to assail. Father Hennepin ascribes the 
 bloodless settlement of the trouble to his own valor in going 
 among the armed warriors as a peacemaker. Matters were final- 
 ly settled to the satisfaction of all concerned, by the Indians pay- 
 
LA SALLE. 73 
 
 ing for the stolen articles with skins, and in the feasts, dances 
 and speeches which followed, the savages exerted their utmost 
 ingenuity to show their respect for the French. 
 
 Eeaching the rendezvox»s which had been appointed with Tonti, 
 and finding that, contrary to expectation, that party had not 3'ct 
 arrived, La Salle had considerably difficulty in detaining his men, 
 who wished to push on to the country of the Illinois, that they 
 might there obtain the much needed supplies of corn. They were 
 now at the mouth of the Miami river, and La Salle wishing to 
 keep them employed, knowing well what would be the result of 
 idleness, set his men to building a fort upon an admirable site 
 which presented itself. The labor of felling trees and raising a 
 breastwork of logs, of sounding the river at its entrance to see 
 if it would admit the Griffin, and of marking the main channel 
 thus discovered, while messengers were sent to urge the captain 
 of the vessel to join them as soon as possible, occupied them until 
 the end of November. No food could be obtained but bear's 
 meat, of which they speedily grew tired, and the danger of mut- 
 iny and desertion increased from day to day. 
 
 At lust Tonti arrived with his party, bringing two canoes load- 
 ed with deer that had been but recently killed, and the unwel- 
 come intelligence that the G-riffin had never reached Mackinaw, 
 nor, indeed, had she ever been heard from. La Salle, having 
 waited as long as possible, now determined to set forward, and 
 on the third of December the whole party left the fort. Some 
 difficulty was experienced in finding the portage. La Salle land- 
 ed to make the exploration alone, but marshy ground compelled 
 him to made a wide circuit, and night overtaking him, he was 
 unable to return until the next day; when, as we may suppose, 
 he was heartily welcomed by his anxious followers, who had 
 feared that he had met with some accident. At last, the eastern 
 Indian who accompanied them found the portage, and after carry- 
 ing their canoes five or six miles, they floated down the Kanka- 
 kee, one of the branches of the Illinois. 
 
 "We need not follow them, day by day, on this mid-winter voy- 
 age through the desolate, marshy country which the Kankakee 
 drains. For nearly a month they saw no human habitation or 
 roving Indians. It was not until a day or so after Christmas that 
 ihoj came upon an Indian village, deserted, since the warriors 
 were hunting. Here they found stores of buried corn, which of- 
 
74 
 
 LA SALLE. 
 
 fered an irresistible temptation to men who for months had had 
 no food but flesh. 
 
 It was on the first day of the year 1680 that, entering Lake 
 Peoria, and paddling through its whole length, they encoimtered, 
 at its lower end, a party of Indians who had encamped there. 
 Sailing boldly to the shore, the sight of the armed strangers 
 quickly threw the whole Indian camp into confusion. La Salle 
 did not wish to seek hostilities, but he was well aware that any 
 appearance of timidity would only invite attack. The savages, 
 however, finding .that they were not beset, offered calumets, 
 
 MOXSO .S VISIT. 
 
 which the French accepted with secret joy. The remainder of 
 the day was passed in confirming the treaty thus begun, and both 
 parties retired to rest, entirely satisfied. 
 
 During the night, however, this amicable feeling Avas destroy- 
 ed. Monso, a chief of one of the tribes living near Fox river, 
 accompanied by several Miamis, with valuable presents of tools, 
 utensils and weapons of steel, came to warn the chiefs of this 
 party against La Salle. 
 
 *' He is friend to the Iroquois, and their spy. After him will 
 come a war-jiarty of that tribe, and he will unite with them to 
 
LA SALLE. 75 
 
 fight the Illinois. He is a bad man. The French told me this, 
 and I tell you because I love the Illinois, and wish them to pro- 
 tect themselves against this double-tongued enemy." 
 
 Monso arrived and departed while the French were asleep, and 
 it was only by the change in the manner of their hosts that they 
 became aware of the intrigue. La Salle, on entering the camp in 
 the morning, was puzzled at the coolness with which he was re- 
 ceived, and had some difficulty in drawing the story from one of 
 the chiefs. His efforts to reassure the Indians were only partial- 
 ly successful, for one of the chiefs of high i:ank made a long 
 speech dissuading him from his perilous scheme of descending the 
 Mississippi. The dangers which would beset them were painted 
 in the darkest colors — crocodiles, serpents and frightful mon- 
 sters ; falls, rapids and whirlpools ; savage and blood-thirsty 
 men along its banks, who would suffer no man to descend the 
 stream. As the interpreter repeated this speech, La Salle could 
 see that his men changed countenance at th.e fearful picture, be- 
 lieving every word that was said. He saw, too, what was the mo- 
 tive of the Indian, in thus trying to persuade him to turn back. 
 
 " The dangers that you tell of, " he answered, gravely, " are 
 such as are not found in any rivei*. There are not so many in 
 one place. JSTikanape himself docs not believe all that he has said; 
 then how does he expect that we should think his words true? 
 Even if such dangers do lie before us, Frenchmen are brave, and 
 will be only the more willing to go on, since the more dangerous 
 the enterj)rise, the greater will be the glory. Kikanape desires 
 our welfare, but there is something else at the bottom of his 
 heart — he is jealous of his white brothers. They have been frank 
 and open with him, but he has listened to the words of Monso, 
 who crept into the camp at midnight, and stole off before the 
 men of whom he had told lies could know he was there. Let 
 Nikanape say now if he has any cause for suspecting his white 
 brothers, and they will explain all things to him." 
 
 Nikanape took this reproof in good part, and friendship was 
 again complete. But his words had done their work ; six of 
 La Salle's men deserted, and he was only able to keeji the rest 
 contented by putting them at work upon a fort near the lake. 
 To this he gave a name expressive of the discouragements and 
 disasters which they had experienced — Creoecoeur, the Broken 
 Heart. 
 
 The contradiction of Xikanape's stories about the dangers and 
 
76 LA SALLE. 
 
 difficulties of the lower Mississippi, by some wandering Indians 
 from the south, greatly encouraged the men, and they worked 
 industriously on the fort and on a brigantine which was to trans- 
 port them. But with the present means it was impossible to finish 
 the boat; more iron, cordage and other materials were needed, 
 and La Salle determined to go for them himself. That no time 
 might be lost, he planned an exploring exjjedition to the sources 
 of the Mississippi, and desj)atched Father Hennepin with two 
 companions, amply supplied with goods to exchange for provis- 
 ions, and for conciliatory presents to the Indians, upon the long 
 voyage. He himself, with three Frenchmen and an Indian, set 
 out two days later for the long overland journey of twelve hun- 
 dred miles, to be performed on foot, through a country where the 
 numerous rivers were swollen by the rains and melting snows. 
 
 Fortune seemed to desert the company when La Salle departed 
 from Fort Crevecocur. On his journey he found an admirable 
 site for a fort, and sent word to Tonti, whom he had left in com- 
 mand, to construct it. The jolace chosen was near that village of 
 the Illinois which had been deserted when they passed it, and 
 from which they had obtained corn. But while Tonti was exe- 
 cuting these orders, more than half of his company deserted, 
 taking with them such arms and j^rovisions as they could carry. 
 Thus Aveakened by the loss of men and supplies, Tonti could only 
 fall back to the great village of the Illinois, there to. await the 
 return of La Salle. The summer was spent by the soldiers in 
 teaching the Indians the use of fire-arms, and some simple mili- 
 tary maneuvers ; and by the priests in attempting to communi- 
 cate to the savages the doctrine and precepts of Christianity. 
 
 They had been in the camp some six months when it was re- 
 ported that an army of four or five hundred *[roquois and Miamis 
 was advancing into the Illinois country. La Salle was among 
 them, added the messenger, conspicuous by his hat and coat. 
 The Illinois cried out against the treachery of the French, threat- 
 ening to put to death those who were in the camp. It required 
 all Tonti's powers of persuasion to ^^revent this blow, and he, as 
 a proof of his sincerity, off'ered to join them, Avith his compan-. 
 ions, in an attack upon the enemy. 
 
 The off'er was accepted, and when the great superiority of the 
 opposing force was known, he Avas despatched, at his OAvn request, 
 as mediator, being attended only b}^ a priest. The hat and jack- 
 et, said to be La Salle's, proved to be worn by an Iroquois war- 
 
LA SALLE. 77 
 
 rior. The Iroquois made peace, but afterwards, discovering the 
 weakness of their enemies, prowled about the village and end- 
 eavored to provoke a quarrel. One after another, the Illinois 
 warriors stole off, and Tonti and his men, thus left alone and face 
 to face with such a formidable encmj', had but one course left 
 them; betaking themselves to an old and leaky canoe, without 
 provisions or supplies of any kind, they made the best speed they 
 could up the river. They had not traveled far before the water 
 broke into their canoe so fast that they were forced to leave it, and 
 go by land, two hundred miles, to the nearest Indian village, where 
 they were certain of finding friends. Subsisting on such roots as 
 they could find, without a comj)ass or path to guide them, their 
 lacerated feet but poorly protected, they were worn out with 
 hunger and fatigue when, after a fifteen daj^'s journey, they ar- 
 rived at their destination, where they were kindly received, and 
 hospitably entertained. La Salle arrived at Port Frontenac to 
 find that the machinations of his enemies had succeeded to their 
 fullest extent, and that his aft'airs were in the utmost disorder ; 
 but the stern nature of the adventurer, which never asked help or 
 counsel of his followers, sustained him through this trial, and he 
 soon started off again. It was with a company of fifty-four per- 
 sons that he set out again to explore the Mississippi, twenty-three 
 of whom were Frenchmen. The history of their voyage down 
 the mighty river is one succession of stories of hospitable wel- 
 comes by the Indians. The tribes seemed to vie with each other 
 in their kindly entertainment of the strangers. Only one, the 
 Quinipissas, received them at all unkindly, but La Salle took no 
 notice of the flight of arrows which showed their hostility, and 
 they desisted from the attack. Crosses were set up at various 
 points upon the way, and at the mouth of the river a column 
 was erected, a leaden plate with suitable inscrijition buried, and 
 the country solemnly taken possession of in the name of the king. 
 La Salle wished to form a settlement on the banks of the Mis- 
 sissippi, but his ideas growing as time went on, he determined, 
 upon arriving at Fort Frontenac, to go to France and ask the as- 
 sistance of the government in a more extensive scheme of colon- 
 ization than could be carried out without such help. His friend, 
 Count de Frontenac, had been succeeded in the governorshij:) of 
 Canada by one La Barre, who, possessed by an insatiable jeal- 
 ousy of his predecessor, lost no opportunity of reversing his i:)oli- 
 cy and injuring his friends. To the enemies of La Salle, since 
 
/8 LA SALLE. 
 
 that brave and resolute explorer had been so steadily befriended 
 by Frontenae, he lent a willing ear, and repeated their calumnies 
 to the court. But La Salle had strong and powerful friends in 
 Paris, and La Barre's efforts failed. Four ships were fitted out, 
 and about two hundred and eighty persons embarked, to settle 
 in Louisiana, setting sail in July, 1684. 
 
 Unfortunately for its success, the expedition had two command- 
 ers, of extremely different temperaments, and neither disposed 
 to yield an inch to the other. Beaujeu, an old sailor and soldier, 
 in charge of the navigation of the ships, was indignant at being 
 under direction of a man who had no military rank; La Salle 
 might have soothed his wounded vanity by deferring to his 
 judgment, or by at least consulting his opinion ; but reserved 
 and cold, he matured his plans in his own mind, and issued his 
 orders when they were fully formed. Of course, Beaujeu knew, 
 before he accepted the position, that it was but the second in the 
 expedition, and that La Salle held no military rank ; but, brood- 
 ing over the indignities which he conceived he suffered, and 
 o^ffended by La Salle's manner, he thwarted and balked the com- 
 mander's plans in every possible way. 
 
 Owing partly to this state of enmity between those chief in 
 command, partly to unavoidable circumstances, the voyage was 
 a succession of disasters. One ship was captured by the Span- 
 iards j La Salle had made a mistake in calculating the latitude 
 when, on his previous expedition, he had reached the mouth of the 
 Mississippi, and they anchored in Matagorda bay ; one ship was 
 wrecked here, and Beaujeu sailed off to France with the third of 
 the fleet. ^ 
 
 It was not long before they became involved in difficulties with 
 the Indians. A bale of blankets from the wreck had floated to 
 the shore and had been aj^propriated by the natives, who had 
 previously carried off three men, but released them at La Salle's 
 application. He thought that it would be a good opportunity to 
 get canoes in exchange for the blankets, and the second lieuten- 
 ant, Du Hamel, oft'ered to go with a party in his boat to negoti- 
 ate. Unfortunatel}', this officer did not possess that native tact 
 in dealing with the savages which enabled La Salle to control 
 them; marching fully armed from their landing place to the vil- 
 lage, and unable to make themselves understood, the Indians did 
 not know whether to look upon them as friends or enemies. 
 Their seizure of a parcel of skins and a couple of canoes was look- 
 
LA SALLE. 79 
 
 ed upon as a declaration of wai- ; the Indians piirsned them, over- 
 took them in the night at their encampment near the boat, killed 
 two and wounded two, and then fled in terror at the discharge 
 of a musket. 
 
 This unfortunate event cast a gloom over the minds of all the 
 settlers, many beginning to murmur at their condition, and to talk 
 of returning to France. Only the stern, unbending spirit of La 
 Salle kept them from utter despair; and his resolution sustained 
 and encouraged them even in the dark days that were to follow. 
 Leaving more than one-half of the hundred and eighty that re- 
 mained, to construct a temporary shelter and rude fort of the pieces 
 of timber that could be obtained from the wreck, and directing the 
 captain of one vessel to sail close along the shore. La Salle, with 
 a force of fifty men, set out on an exploring expedition, desiring 
 to ascertain if this were one mouth of the Mississippi, as he sup- 
 posed. 
 
 The colony was soon removed to the mouth of the Lavaca river, 
 a point in the soiith-eastern part of the present state of Texas ; 
 La Salle continued his explorations and found that the Mississip- 
 pi delta was not anywhere near this location. Summer and au- 
 tumn passed in exploring the surrounding country, in building a 
 fort and houses of the timbers which they had brought from the 
 wreck and from trees laboriously cut down and transj^orted from 
 the forest; in that task common to all the colonies in the New 
 World — burial of the dead. 
 
 With indomitable pluck, La Salle now resolved to obtain help 
 from Canada for his colony, and with that purpose in view set out 
 with a considerable party in November, 1685. Five months pass- 
 ed with privation and discord at Fort St. Louis, as the settlement 
 was called ; no man knows what dangers and difficulties besetting 
 the men struggling through the wilderness ; at last, discouraged 
 and bafiicd, half of the party returned; the others had j^erished 
 on the way. Fever seized upon the leader, whose spirit was still 
 unbroken ; well for him had the disease proved fatal ! But he 
 recovered from the slow, wasting sickness ; again his tall form 
 and fixed, calm features rose in majesty above the desponding, 
 quarreling, discontented crew ; again he planned to get help from 
 Canada ; again, having lost eight men in the canebrakes of Lou- 
 isiana, he was forced to return without accomplishing his object. 
 
 But the situation of the colony was too desperate for him to 
 despair; he must keep up courage for all; and with unwearied 
 
80 
 
 LA SALLE. 
 
 patience he again organized an expedition to seek help in the 
 north, setting out January 12, 1G87. Of the nearly two hundred 
 who had landed, but forty-five re7nained. La Salle was the leader, 
 therefore ho was the one to blame ; and with curiously childish 
 logic, they would have charged all their misfortunes upon him. 
 It was in accordance with this view of the matter that three of 
 his companions on this last expedition formed a conspiracy to de- 
 stroy this bane of the colonists. They had already, in a quarrel, 
 killed three of the party, and given La Salle to understand that 
 the victims had deserted ; and this bloody deed probably sug- 
 
 ASSASSINATION OF LA SALLE. 
 
 g-ested that the destruction of the Sieur do la Salle would be a 
 preventive of punishment for these murders. But the leader was 
 not satisfied at this explanation of the absence of men whom he 
 had always known to be trustworthy, and, with Father Anastase, 
 and tAVO natives as guides, set out in search of them. The bloody 
 cravat of one was found, and the birds of prey, hovering over 
 their heads, aroused their suspicions. The conspirators had 
 crossed the stream, and, as La Salle fired at the eagles, recrossed. 
 As one ap]jroached him, he demanded : 
 
 " Where is Moragnet? " naming one of the murdered men. 
 
LA SALLE. 81 
 
 '^ Along- the river ])ank/' was the vague reply, and from the 
 musket of his confederate, concealed in the long grass, a ball 
 struck La Salle's head. The plan had been carried out, the 
 wound was mortal. The firm lijis were powerless to utter a word 
 during the one hour of life that remained to him ; the strong hand 
 could only feebly press that of Father Anastase, in token that the 
 brain still comprehended the words of Christian consolation. On 
 a sj^ot unknown now, known then only to a priest and the assas- 
 sins, died Eobert Cavelier, Sieur de la Salle ; a man who had ex- 
 plored half a continent, and who is not surpassed by any in his 
 indomitable will and great achievements; "constant in adversities, 
 intrepid, generous, engaging, adroit, skillful, and capable of any- 
 thing ;" in the prime of life, in the midst of his labors, without 
 having tasted the fruit of his toil ; noble in aim, in character, in 
 person ; too far above those around him in capacity, too haughty 
 and imperious in manner ; he died, the victim of the machina- 
 tions of jealous enemies, of his own energy and virtues, and of his 
 own faults. Such were really the three powers that conspired 
 against his life ; three distinct elements blended in one by the 
 hatred of jealous, unreasoning, unmanageable subordinates. 
 
CHAPTER HI. 
 
 CAPTAIN JOHN SMITH. 
 
 THE early history of Capt. John Smith, the Englishman whose 
 name is so closely connected with the first permanent settle- 
 ment made by his countrymen within our borders, is a series of 
 adventures equalled only by those of the Seven Champions of 
 Christendom and Jack the G-iant-Killer. Whether they arc 
 equally as authentic, we have no means of determining, but the 
 more probable events of that part of his life shall be briefly 
 sketched out, and the reader may believe as much as he chooses. 
 Iji justice to the authorities who state these adventures as undoubt- 
 ed facts, let us remember that he is universally conceded to have 
 been such a spirit as would naturally seek exciting scenes ; that 
 his age was the age of romantic deeds; that the actions of his la- 
 ter life showed qualities that could have been developed only by 
 a course of training somewhat similar to that which he is said to 
 have enjoyed. 
 
 In 1592, at the age of thirteen, he had disposed of all his boy- 
 ish property in order to equip himself for a sea^voyage, to be 
 commenced before his parents should be aware of his plans ; but 
 they died when his arrangements were still incomplete, leaving 
 him a considerable estate. The trip was only deferred, however, 
 and two years later, finding the counting-house desk at which he 
 had been placed as little to his liking as school, he embarked for 
 the continent with the son of a nobleman. Leaving this young 
 gentleman's train, he Avent to the Low Countries and served as a 
 soldier there for three or four years ; returning to England, to 
 his old home, he lived for some time in a lodge in a wood, study- 
 ing military history and tactics, and supplied with all the luxu- 
 ries of civilization b}^ a faithful servant. 
 
 He soon became tired of this almost solitary life, however, and 
 returned to the continent, but was s« unfortunate as to be robbed 
 on his way from the Netherlands to France ; so that on his arri- 
 
CAPTAIN JOHN SMITH. 
 
 83 
 
 val in the latter country, he must sell his cloak to pay for his 
 passage. Embarking for Italy, the devout Catholics in the ves- 
 sel attributed the violent tempest which arose to the presence of the 
 heretic, and Smith was thrown overboard. He had but little diffi- 
 culty, however, in swimming to an island near by, where he was 
 soon picked "up by a less devout sea-captain. A chance encoun- 
 ter with a Yenetian vessel resulted in its destruction, and the 
 
 CAPTAIXJOHN SMITH. 
 
 division of its cargo among the conquerers. Smith's share 
 amounted to something over two thousand dollars of our money, 
 and with this sum he traveled for a while in Italy. 
 
 But he soon gratified his curiosity by the sights to bo seen here, 
 and departed to the court of the Archduke of Austria, wlio was 
 then waging war with Turke3^ This was in the latter part of 
 the year 1601. The Turkish arm}^ laid siege to Olj^mpach, and 
 were much harassed by an Austrian force surrounding them. If 
 
84 CAPTAIN JOHN SMITH. 
 
 the two armies, the garrison and that outside, could co-operate, 
 success would be almost certain ; but no one would venture to 
 pass the Turkish lines. Smith had already explained to the com- 
 mander of the garrison a system of signals by torches, invented by 
 a classical author; and he now declared himself ready to spell 
 out any message which it was desired to send to the besieged 
 commander. The entire success of his plan won for him the com- 
 mand of a troop of two hundred and fifty men. 
 
 In more than one similar expedient he was equally fortunate ; 
 his inventive and adaptive genius showed itself strongly at this 
 time, and was cultivated for the necessities of his after life. 
 Leaving the service of the arch-duke, and entering that of anoth- 
 er prince, who was contending with Germany and the Turks at 
 once, Smith was one day in cam^) when a Turk of rank and re- 
 nown sent to challenge any one of the Christians to fight with 
 him " to delight the ladies, who did long to see some courtlike 
 pastime." So many were ready to accept this challenge, that 
 their claims had to be decided by lot, and Smith was the cham- 
 pion thus selected, Isot only did this Turk fall by his hand, but 
 another who Avould have avenged his friend's death, and a third 
 whom. Smith challenged, met the same fate. Suitable honors re- 
 warded him, one being a coat of arms bearing three Turks' heads 
 on a shield, and a Latin motto : " To conquer is to live." 
 
 In a battle shortly after this. Smith was wounded and left for 
 dead on the field. The Turks captured him, and concluding, from 
 the richness of his armor, that he was a nobleman, took some 
 pains to cure him in order to obtain a large ransom for him. 
 Learning their mistake, they sold him as a slave ; and he was 
 bought by an officer and presented to his lady-love. This fair 
 Turk, Avhose name is unj)ronounceable, fell violently in love with 
 Smith, and in order to protect him from her mother's ill-treat- 
 ment, sent him to her brother. To this brother she confessed her 
 aff'ection for the handsome young slave, hoping that it would in- 
 fluence him to kindness ; but it had the opposite eff'ect. Smith's 
 condition was made so unendurable that he determined to escape. 
 He at last succeeded in doing so, having killed his master in an 
 ungovernable rage excited by ill-treatment. 
 
 He had hardly reached Christian lands again, and thus become 
 safe from pursuit, before he set sail to the African coast, to take 
 part in a civil war that had broken out in Barbary. He had pru- 
 dently reserved his choice of party until he shoiUd know the 
 
CAPTAIN JOHN SMITH. 85 
 
 merits of each, and finding that both were equally unworthy, 
 sailed back to Europe in the same vessel in which he came. 
 Weaiy of his wandering life, he returned to England in 1604, and 
 settling on his paternal estates, spent a few years in peace. 
 
 Within the past twenty years, various Englishmen had, at dif- 
 ferent times, received permission to colonize ISTorth America, but 
 none had been successful in the enterprise. In 1606, a new com- 
 pany was formed for this purpose, and a charter j)i"ocured from 
 King James I. That monarch took an active interest in the ex- 
 pedition, and busied himself in framing a code of laws for their 
 government. The summer was spent in preparations, and Dec. 
 19, 1606, a squadron of three small vessels, with one hundred and 
 five colonists on board, besides the sailors, left London. Among 
 the more important men were Captains Gosnold and Smith, Ed- 
 ward M. Wingfield, a London merchant, Richard Ilakluyt, who 
 had been one of Sir Walter Raleigh's colonists, and Mr. Robert 
 Hunt, a clergyman. There were twelve laborers, four carpenters 
 and forty-eight " gentlemen." 
 
 Dissensions sprang up during the voyage. As the names and 
 instructions of the council aj^pointed for their local government 
 had, by the folly of James, been sealed in a box not to be opened 
 until they landed, no competent authority existed to check the 
 progress of envy and disorder. Their detention of six weeks off 
 the coast of England, on account of contrary winds, did not prove 
 a favorable beginning of the voyage; and the conimander of the 
 squadron chose the very indirect route by way of the Canary 
 islands. On their ai'rival at these islands, the flames of discord 
 broke out with renewed fury, and Captain Smith, whose reputa- 
 tion and manner had made him extremely popular with the main 
 body of the colonists, suffered from the envy of their leaders. He 
 was charged with entering into a conspiracy to murder the council, 
 usurp the government and make himself king of Virginia. As the 
 sealed box was in their own hands, it does not appear how Smith 
 was to be sure that he had chosen the proper victims ; neither is it 
 quite clear how a man of ordinary common sense could exjject 
 to maintain himself as king of Virginia without any outside aid, 
 against the Indians, who might prove hostile ; but the absurdity 
 of these charges was overlooked, and he was kept a close pris- 
 oner during the rest of the voyage. 
 
 It was not until the twenty-sixth of April that they came in 
 sight of the mainland of North America, naming the point Caj)e 
 
86 
 
 CAPTAIN JOHN SMITH. 
 
 Henry, in honor of the Prince of Wales. Sailing up the James 
 river for forty miles, they found a country more beautiful than 
 any they had ever seen. It was fertile and well watered, the 
 landscape picturesquely varied with hills, valleys, and j)lains, all 
 newly decked with the loveliness of spring. Landing at Point 
 Comfort on the fourth day after their arrival, they were approach- 
 ed by five Indians ; who at first seemed afraid of the strangers, 
 but were easily re-assured. A visit to their town was proposed ; 
 accepting the invitation, the Indians gave them corn-bread, to- 
 bacco and pipes, and entertained them with a dance. 
 
 On the thirteenth of May, they pitched on a j^lace for their set- 
 
 BUILDIXO OF JAMESTOWN. 
 
 tlement, a peninsula on the north side of the James, about forty 
 miles from the mouth. The mysterious sealed box was opened, 
 and the names of the council ascertained. It is curious that al- 
 most the first act of this council should have been one of disobed- 
 ience to their superior power ; for, although Cai^tain Smith was 
 expressl}^ named as one of their number, they excluded him from 
 all share in the government of the colon}'. 
 
 All hands set to work. The council planned a fort, but the 
 president, Wingfield, would not tolerate the erection ofanj' forti- 
 ficxitions, except a half-moon of the boughs of trees. A " clearing," 
 to anticipate an expression used later in our history, was made 
 in the forest, their tents were pitched, garden-land prepared, 
 
CAPTAIN JOHN SMITH. Of 
 
 nets made, and oveiy thina; done to prepare for the seciirit}' and 
 welfare of the colony. Soon after, Newport and Smith, with a 
 party of twenty, Avere sent out to discover the head of James 
 river. The fact that Smith's exclusion from the council did not 
 render him unwilling to do everything in his power to benefit the 
 colonists shows what manner of man he was. This expedition 
 is rendered interesting by the fact that they visited Powhatan, 
 the famous chief of the near future, during their absence ; and won 
 his gratitude by the present of a hatchet. The savages were in- 
 clined to murmur at this intrusion upon their domains, but 
 the chief concealed his fears, only saying to them : 
 
 " They hurt you not; they take but a little waste land." 
 
 On their return, they found that the colony had sufl^ered from 
 the carelessness of the president in not providing it with a suf- 
 ficient defense ; for the Indians had attacked it, wounding seven- 
 teen men and killing one boy. The fire-arms alarmed the In- 
 dians, and compelled them to retreat ; and the president, wise by 
 sad experience, took steps to enable the Englishmen to defend 
 themselves. 
 
 Captain Newport was now ready to return to England, and a 
 strong eftbrt was made to send Captain Smith thither to be repri- 
 manded by the council there, his enemies claiming that this would 
 be an act of kindness to him, as it would avoid the publicity of a 
 legal trial, which might injure his reputation and endanger his 
 life. Smith was not to be deceived by their pretended anxiety 
 for his welfare and safetj^, however ; he knew that he could not 
 be convicted of any crime except by a perversion of justice, and 
 he trusted to his popularity in the colony to prevent this. He 
 accordingly insisted upon being tried, was acquitted by acclama- 
 tion, and his chief accuser. President Wingfield, sentenced to j^ay 
 a fine of two hundred pounds. This seems to have been some- 
 what in the nature of ." damages," for Smith had the entire dis- 
 posal of it, turning it over, as an act of generositj'', to the general 
 fund of the colony. 
 
 On the fifteenth of June, Captain Newport sailed for England. 
 By this time the colonists had learned something of what diffi- 
 culties they must overcome, what hardships they must endure. 
 The fertility of the soil rendered the toil of cultivation greater, 
 although the harvest would be more plentiful ; the summer heat 
 was intolerable to the laborers accustomed to a more equable 
 climate, and, in conjunction with the moisture, generated dis- 
 
88 CAPTAIN JOHN SMITH. 
 
 ease ; their stock of provisions was nearly exhausted. Unaccus- 
 tomed to work and to privation, they sank rapidly under this 
 accumulation of troubles; so. that, by the end of June, "hardly 
 ten of them were able to stand." Such were the difficulties of 
 their position, the imperfect shelter, the unusually hard work, 
 the unaccustomed heat, the scanty and insufficient food, the sud- 
 den change from the comforts enjoyed in a highly civilized coun- 
 try to the labor and exposure of the wilderness, that fifty of 
 their number died during the summer. 
 
 The president and another member of the council had convert- 
 ed the best of the public stores to their own use, and had plotted 
 to escape to England in the colony's bark. Smith was gradually 
 rising to his proj)er position — that of the first place in the colony. 
 Given a company of men under any pressing need of assistance 
 from each other, and the one best fitted to give that aid will be 
 their head, as surely as cork rises to the surface of the water. 
 The pressure of circumstances had hitherto kept Smith a sub- 
 ordinate, but he was rapidly assuming the position due to his 
 character and abilities. Only three members of the council were 
 left after Wingfield and his accomplice had been expelled from 
 that body ; and of these two were extremely unpopular. Surely 
 that ruler who can retain the aff^'ections of a people discontented 
 with their circumstances must have a genius for government ! 
 
 Smith's words and deeds soon re-animated the colonists ; tak- 
 ing upon himself the most laborious part of the work, he soon had 
 sufficient shelter for them from the approaching winter ; their 
 stock of provisions being well-nigh exhausted, he resolved to make 
 search for a fresh sujiply. Proceeding by water, with only fi-ve 
 or six men, to where Hampton now stands, he fell in with some 
 Indians and endeavored to get food from them. But the cunning 
 savages knew very well the state of affairs at Jamestown, and 
 would mockingly offer the poor half-starved Englishmen a hand- 
 ful of corn, or a morsel of bread, in exchange for guns and cloth- 
 ing. This was not to be borne, and the Indians retreated hastily 
 into the woods before a volley of musketry. Marching to their 
 houses, he found plenty of corn, but would not permit his men to 
 touch it, as he expected the Indians to return with a large force 
 to attack them. In this he was not disappointed. A body of 
 sixty or seventy warriors, horrid in war-paint, and bearing a 
 singular idol of stuffed and painted skins, soon appeared, singing 
 and dancing, armed with bows and arrows and clubs. A second 
 
CAPTAIN JOHN SMITH. 89 
 
 volley dispersed them in terror, bring-ing several to the ground 
 and prostrating their idol. This latter loss was not to be endur- 
 ed, and a priest was sent to negotiate for the restoration of the 
 monster. Smith told them that if six of them would come un- 
 armed and load his boat with corn, he would not only return 
 their idol, but give them beads and hatchets besides. They joy- 
 fully accepted these terms and brought not only corn, but turkeys, 
 venison and wild fowl in large quantities. 
 
 We may imagine the welcome which Smith received on his re- 
 turn; but it was a gratitude that did not prompt them to save 
 him trouble or danger. Their wastefulness was so great that 
 many such journeys must be made during the fall, although the 
 Indians were now so amicably disposed that they met him with 
 baskets of corn as he landed. His absence from the colony was 
 like the turning of the school teacher's back — everything was in 
 confusion at once. Wingfield and Kendall renewed their plot for 
 escaping to England, and although this project was nipped in the 
 bud by Smith's unexpectedly early return, it was not done with- 
 out a skirmish, in which Kendall was killed. An attempt of two 
 others to abandon the coimtry was also frustrated by Smith's 
 power and influence. The quaint old chronicler tells us : " The 
 Spaniard never more greedily desired gold than he victual, nor 
 his soldiers more to abandon the country than he to keep it." 
 
 The influence of plentiful food was soon apparent. At the ap- 
 proach of winter, the river was covered with wild-fowl, and the 
 Indians supplied them bountifully with corn, beans and pump- 
 kins. This abundance of good cheer raised their spirits and cured 
 their home-sickness ; and for a little while the colony enjoyed 
 peace. 
 
 The South Sea was considered the ocean-path to every kind of 
 wealth. The western coast of the continent had been explored 
 by the Spaniards and by Drake, and the maps of that day exhib- 
 ited a tolerably accurate delineation of l^orth America; but with 
 singular ignorance, the colonists had been directed to seek com- 
 munication with the South Sea by ascending a river that flowed 
 from the northwest. Such a stream was the Chickahominy, and 
 up this Smith proceeded on an exploring ex2:)edition; leaving the 
 helpless colony to itself unwillingly enough, but dri-^jen to the 
 task by the rebukes of the council for his dilatoriness in obeying 
 the injunctions of his sujieriors. Ascending as far as his barge 
 could float, sometimes being obliged to cut a way through the 
 
90 CAPTAIN JOHN SMITH. 
 
 trees that had fallen into the river, he left the vessel in charge of 
 the main party, with strict injunctions not to leave it, and with 
 two Englishmen as companions, and two Indians as guides, as- 
 cended still farther in a canoe. Leaving this boat in the care of 
 the two white men, he proceeded to the head of the river, twenty 
 miles farther on, and occupied himself in shooting game. 
 
 SMITH SURPRISED BY THE SAVAGES. 
 
 Almost as a matter of course, his orders were disregarded by 
 the men left at the barge, and they went straggling into the 
 woods. Here they were suddenly attacked by Opeehancanough, 
 brother of Powhatan, with a force of three hundred men. One 
 of their number was taken prisoner, and the others had consid- 
 erable difRculty in escaping. The Indians extorted from their 
 prisoner all that he knew of Captain Smith's whereabouts, and 
 then put him to death in the most barbarous manner. Follow- 
 ing the path of the leader, they came upon the two men left in 
 charge of the canoe, sleeping by a fire, and killed them. Smith 
 was woimdcd in the thigh by an arrow, but using one of his 
 
CAPTAIN JOHN SMITH. 91 
 
 guides as a shield, by desj^crate fighting, killed three Indians 
 and wounded many others. He might have succeeded in escap- 
 ing, but paying more attention to his enemies than to the line of 
 retreat, he sank waist-deep in a morass. Even here, such was 
 the terror inspired by his courage and his gun, that they dared 
 not approach him, until, being almost dead with cold, he threw 
 away his arms and surrendered himself. 
 
 As they led him to the fire, and chafed his benumbed limbs, 
 he was in momentary expectation of a cruel death, but his pres- 
 ence of mind did not desert him. lie knew that any exhibition 
 of fear or of a desire for life, would do him harm rather than 
 good. Without thus incurring their contempt he demanded to 
 see their chief. Displaying to Opechancanough a pocket com- 
 pass, he amused him and the Indians that gathered around by 
 an explanation of its powers 5 the vibrations of the needle and 
 the transparency of the glass were alike wonderful. Smith fur- 
 ther tried to explain to them the courses of the heavenly bodies, 
 the spherical shape of the earth, the alternation of day and 
 .night, the extent of the continents and oceans, the relative posi- 
 tions of nations and their antipodes, and many other every day 
 matters (to us) which were doubtless extremely wonderful to 
 the savages, always providing that they understood one-half of 
 what he told them. 
 
 Led in a sort of triumphal procession to their chief town, he 
 was served so liberally with provisions that he thought they 
 must intend to kill and eat him as soon as he was sufficiently fat, 
 and the prospect did not tend to sharpen his appetite. The 
 winter Avas an unusually severe one on both continents, and Smith 
 was nearly perishing with the cold, when an Indian to whom, on 
 his first arrival, he had given some beads and trinkets, brought 
 him a fur garment, a most acceptable gift. 
 
 The Indians were making great preparations for an attack on 
 Jamestown, and wished Smith to help them; promising him as a 
 reward for such service, not only life and liberty, but as much 
 land and as many women as he could wish. He knew only too well 
 what must be the confusion prevailing in Jamestown, and endeav- 
 ored to dissuade them from their purpose, describing to them the 
 dangers which they must face, from the springing of mines 
 and from the warlike engines. But his efforts were not com- 
 pletely successful until he had jiroven the truth of his words. 
 They assented to his proposition to send messengers to the colony. 
 
92 CAPTAIN JOHN SMITH. 
 
 and he wrote a note, tellino; his countrymen of the danger that 
 threatened, desiring them to send him certain articles, and 
 instructing them to give the messengers a wholesome fright. He 
 told the Indians what would happen to them, but they only 
 half believed him; but when, on reaching the neighborhood of 
 Jamestown, they saw men coming out to meet them, they turned 
 and fled in dismay, for the first of his prophecies had been ful- 
 filled ; fortunately in their flight they had dropped the note. 
 Coming back cautiously i'n the evening, they found the very 
 thinsrs that Smith had told them would be sent to him. When 
 they returned to camp, and made known the wonderful adven- 
 ture, the Indians concluding that a man who " could make the 
 j^aper speak," was not to be trifled with, laid aside all thoughts 
 of attacking Jamestown, and carried him about the country in 
 triumph, exhibiting him to the various tribes. 
 
 It was verjT' hard for them to decide whether he was a good or 
 an evil spirit ; it was only certain that he was a being of a higher 
 order. In order to determine his nature, they practiced incanta- 
 tions about him for three days, but, it seems, without any result. 
 Itw^as reserved for Powhatan, the brother of Opechancanough, and 
 a council of w^arriors to decide his fate. The verdict was death, 
 and they prepared to execute the sentence without delay. Two 
 large stones were brought in, and his head placed u^ion them. 
 The immense clubs were raised by the savage executioners, who 
 looked for their chief to give the signal for the blow, when the 
 "tenne or twelve years old daughter" of Powhatan sprang for- 
 ward and laid her own head upon the captive's, so that the blow 
 must first kill her. He had easily won her affections, the differ- 
 ence between his personal appearance and that of her kinsmen 
 perhaps first attracting her childish eyes ; but her entreaties had 
 not availed; now, however, she clung to his neck, refusing to 
 leave him until his safety should be assured. The story has been 
 doubted ; disproved almost as conclusively, to a sceptical mind, 
 as that of William Tell and the ajDple, or George Washington and 
 his hatchet; but it rests on Smith's own authority, being found 
 in his work on Virginia; and one would think that he ought to 
 know. 
 
 Pocahontas not onl}^ saved Smith's life, but procured his liberty. 
 With the childish superstition of an untutored race, the Indians 
 looked upon her interference as dictated by some higher power, 
 and Powhatan released him, on condition that two pieces of can- 
 
CAPTAIN JOHN SMITH. 
 
 93 
 
 non and a grindstone be sent to him. Arrived safely at James- 
 town, Smitli ordered two demi-cnlverins to be loaded with stones 
 and fired into a group of trees covered wnth icicles, as an evidence 
 of their power. As the boughs and ice came rattling down, the 
 frightened Indians decided that the guns would be too heavy, 
 and gladly accepted a few trinkets in their place. 
 
 .SMITH SAVED BY POCAHOJfTAS. 
 
 As usual when he returned after any absence, Smith found the 
 colony in the utmost confusion; one party having determined to 
 go back to England. Captain Smith, however, brought his can- 
 non to bear upon the bark, threatening to sink her if they per- 
 sisted in going. In revenge for this, several of them formed a 
 conspiracy to put him to death, saying that ho had led to death 
 
94 CAPTAIN JOHN SMITH. 
 
 the three men killed when he was captured, and was consequently 
 guilty of their murder ; but Smith soon showed them their weak- 
 ness and his strength. The colonists were encouraged by the 
 plentiful supply of provisions with which they were now fur- 
 nished by the Indians, Pocahontas with her attendants visiting 
 them every few days, and bringing them an abundance of food. 
 The other savages, also, brought in corn, and sold it to Smith at 
 his own price. 
 
 This prosperity was destroyed oy the action of Newport, who, 
 with ostentatious prodigalit}^, gave them many times as- much 
 for their goods as Smith would allow them. The president and 
 council, also, jealous of Smith's popularity, j)ursued the same 
 course. 
 
 A destructive fire broke out in Jamestown not long after ISTew- 
 port's arrival, and occasioned them a considerable loss in arms, 
 bedding, wearing apparel and provisions. The ship remained 
 fourteen weeks, instead of two, the crew gathering up the sand 
 and earth in which the glittering mica resembled gold ; and Math 
 this increased number for so long a time, and the necessity of 
 victualling the ship with no stingy hand, lest the sailors prevent 
 others from joining them, they ran very short of food. 
 
 For some time after the departure of the vessel, the colonists 
 were considerably annoyed by the Indians. Powhatan, reading 
 Newport's character readily, sent him twenty fat turkeys, with a 
 request for as many swords in return. Meeting with success, he 
 tried the same plan with Captain Smith ; disaj^pointed here, he 
 ordered his warriors to hover around Jamestown and take pos- 
 session of the Englishmen's weapons whenever possible. The 
 colonists had received strict orders to remain at peace with the 
 Indians, and " this charitable humor prevailed till well it chanced 
 they meddled with Caj)tain Smith." As a consequence of his 
 prompt and energetic action, Powhatan sent to sue for peace, dis- 
 claiming the acts of his warriors. Pocahontas was one of the 
 messengers, and for her sake only, as he pretended, Captain Smith 
 consented to liberate the prisoners he had taken and conclude 
 a peace. 
 
 The arrival of the Phcenix aroused them to new activity, not 
 only from the ample stock of provisions which it brought, but 
 from the influence of the commander. Captain Nelson, whose 
 generous and manly conduct ably seconded Smith's efforts. In 
 June, 1608, this vessel set sail for England, accompanied a shoi't 
 
CAPTAIN JOHN SMITH. 95 
 
 distance by Smith, who, with a party of fourteen men, had been 
 sent to explore the coast. Parting with the Phoenix at Capo 
 Henry, they exjjlored the bay as far as the Potomac, and returned 
 July 21st. Although in Jamestown only three days before set- 
 ting out on another expedition, Smith was during that short in- 
 terval elected president, being thus accorded the honors where 
 he had so long done the work. On neither the first or second ex- 
 pedition did they meet with any adventures of particular interest, 
 although on the second they were often attacked by parties of 
 Indians. These fights, however, resulted always in the same 
 way — the repulse of the red men with no loss on the part of the 
 whites. Smith and his party returned to Jamestown early in 
 September, having, in three months, sailed about three thousand 
 miles, and explored the whole coast of Chesapeake Bay. The 
 map which he drew is, even in the light of modern geographical 
 knowledge, of considerable accuracy. 
 
 Soon after their return, Captain Newport arrived with new in- 
 structions from the council in England. Like many of the others 
 interested in the colony, he was very jealous of Captain Smith, 
 and had induced the comjoany in England to grant him suchj^ow- 
 ers as would enable him to gratify his own conceit and outdo the 
 exploits of his rival. He obtained from them a special commis- 
 sion to act independently of the council of Virginia in organizing 
 an expedition to accom})lish one of three purposes : either to find 
 a lumj:) of gold, to discover a certain passage to the Pacific, or to 
 obtain information of the lost colonists of Eoanoke. The}- prob- 
 ably stated the desired ends in what they thought the order of 
 their importance. As the party would be obliged to pass through 
 Powhatan's country, they sent as conciliatory presents a bed and 
 chair of state, a suit of scarlet clothes, a cloak and a crown. A 
 barge, Avhich was so built that it could easily be taken to pieces 
 and put together again, had been provided for the trip. 
 
 Smith saw at a glance the difliculties which would beset them, 
 as, weakened by jirivation and disease, they attempted, in mid- 
 winter, to make their way through an unknown country, full of 
 merciless enemies. Then, too, he said, Powhatan could always 
 be bought by a piece of copper or a few beads, while these iirefi- 
 ents would give him so great an idea of his own importance as 
 to make him unendurably insolent for the future. Notwithstand- 
 ing his arguments, however, the council decided to despatch 
 Captain Newport with a hundred and twenty chosen men^ leaving 
 
96 CAPTAIN JOHN SMITir. 
 
 only eighty or ninety weak and sickly ones behind, to load the 
 ship. This expedition returned to the colony disheartened, be- 
 fore a Aveek had jiassed. 
 
 The ship, on its last arrival, had brought over new immigrants, 
 among whom were two wotnen, the first who had come to the 
 colony. The greater part of the men were so-called "gentle- 
 men" — men ashamed to work, but not ashamed to get money by 
 any other means. Incited by the words and example of the pres- 
 ident, however, who worked with them, many of them set to Avork 
 felling trees ; so great was their j)rofanity while engaged in this 
 labor, especially trying to their delicate hands, that Smith kept 
 a record of each one's oaths during the day, and poured the same 
 number of cans.of cold water down the offender's sleeve at night. 
 This original punishment soon effected the desired end, but there 
 were many other difficulties to contend with, resulting like this 
 from the kind of men sent out by the company. 
 
 The supplies of food received from the Indians were exceeding- 
 ly scanty and uncertain, and Smith desired to j)ut the colony 
 beyond the danger of want. He accordingly formed the plan of 
 making Powhatan his prisoner, knowing that by this means he 
 could force the Indians to provide him amply with food. For 
 this jiurpose, he proposed to go to Kecoughtan, and was making 
 preparations when Powhatan sent an invitation to the white 
 men to visit him • with a promise that he would load their ship 
 with corn, if they would build him a house and give him a grind- 
 stone, fifty swords, some muskets, a cock and a hen, and a large 
 quantity of beads and co2:)2)er. But the men sent to build the 
 house betrayed Smith's intentions to Powhatan, and the wily 
 savage was put upon his guard. 
 
 Smith set out with a party of forty-six volunteers to execute 
 his purjjose, and was liberally entertained by Powhatan, who 
 gave no intimation of his knowledge of the plot against himself. 
 He disposed his warriors so carefully, however, that Smith did 
 Bot find it prudent to attack him. The Indians prepared to fall 
 upon the English and destroy them that night, as they were en- 
 camjjed near Kecoughtan. " Notwithstanding, the eternal, all- 
 seeing God did prevent him, and by a strange means. For Poca- 
 hontas, his dearest jewel and daughter, in that dark night, came 
 through the irksome woods, and told our captain great cheer 
 should be sent us hje and bye; but Powhatan, and all the power 
 J|e could jnake, would after come kill us all, if they that brought 
 
CAPTAIN JOHN SMITH. 97 
 
 it could not kill us with our own weapons, while we were at 
 supj)er. Therefore, if we would live, she wished us presently to 
 be gone. Such things as she delighted in he would have given 
 her; but with the tears running down her cheeks, she said she 
 durst not be seen to have anj"; for, if Powhatan should know it, 
 she were but dead ; and so she ran away by herself, as she came." 
 Could anj^thing be added to the simple words of the old chron- 
 icle to make the picture more touching? It was impossible for 
 the English to return to Jamestown until the tide should change, 
 and they remained where they were, so on. their guard that no 
 bloM^ was struck ; and the party soon departed for Pamunkey. 
 
 No sooner were the Englishmen out of sight than Powhatan 
 sent two of the G-erman builders, whose treachery was wholly un- 
 suspected by Smith, to impose a plausible story ujjon the English 
 at Jamestown. Everything was going well, they said, but Cap- 
 tain Smith had need of some weapons, ammunition and clothing. 
 These were given to them without any hesitation, and, with six 
 or seven of the more timid colonists whom they prevailed uj^on 
 to join them, they returned to Kecoughtan. This trick, together 
 with their peculiar dexterity in stealing, and the skill of one of 
 their number who was a blacksmith, added to the stores of Pow- 
 hatan the much-desired weajions of the white men. 
 
 The visit to Pamunkey had vevy nearly resulted in the same 
 way as that to Kecoughtan would have ended but for the inter- 
 ference of Pocahontas. Opechancanoixgh was frightened into 
 jiroviding them with sufficient corn, but while he was still enter- 
 taining them with the greatest professions of friendship, seven 
 hundred warriors surrounded the house, fully armed, ready to 
 shoot the first Englishman that appeared. The treacherous sav- 
 age endeavored to quiet Smith's suspicions, and invited him to 
 come outside the door to receive a present. Captain Smith, who 
 strongly susjDected his perfidious purj^ose, no longer restrained 
 his imlignation, but seizing him by his long scalp-lock, and clap- 
 jDing his pistol to his breast, led him out trembling into the midst 
 of his people. Tlie result was an immediate surrender of their 
 arms, and a most x>lentiful supply of food ; they thronged around 
 Captain Smith with their commodities, in such numbers, for two 
 or three hours, that he became absolutely tired out with 'the bar- 
 tering, although the corn was readily sold at the price he fixed. 
 Palling asleep after this labor, the Indians showed their sincerity 
 by attacking his party, but were speedily routed, 
 7 
 
98 CAPTAIN JOHN SMITH. 
 
 Leaving Pamvinkey upon receij)! of the sad intelligence that 
 eleven of the colonists had been drowned, Smith returned to 
 Jamestown by way of Kecoughtan. Powhatan had commanded 
 his subjects, on pain of death, to kill Captain Smith by some 
 means or other, while the Englishman had not yet given up the 
 idea of capturing the chief. Both parties were so on the alert that, 
 although there were many stratagems, none succeeded. Pow- 
 hatan could not induce the Indians to attack the settlers openly, 
 on account of their terror of fire-arms ; and they were ready to 
 propitiate by loads of provisions if they had any reason to sus- 
 pect Smith of hostility toward them. The most important 
 stratagem of those mentioned was the attempt to poison their 
 guests; which, fortunately for all the white men in Virginia, 
 was unsuccessful. 
 
 Arriving at Jamestown, Smith found, as usual, that no work 
 had been done during his absence. Their provisions had been 
 much injured by the rain, and many of their tools and weapons 
 had been stolen by the Indians. The new charter which had 
 recently taken the place of the original one, gave much more 
 power to the president, who had previously been to a great 
 degree under the control of the council. While this was an 
 evil, because it admitted of such gross abuses as only the one-man 
 power can, it worked for good under the wise administration of 
 Smith. The food already on hand, together with that recently 
 obtained from the Indians, was enough to keep them for a year, 
 properly used, and they were rigorously prohibited from wast- 
 ing it. Six hours a da}^ must be spent in labor by each man, 
 while, previously, thirty or forty industrious men had worked 
 hard to maintain the idlers, numbering three times as many. 
 
 From time to time they missed powder, shot, arms and tools, 
 and for a long period were unable to account for the continual 
 lessening of such stores. At last they discovered that these arti- 
 cles were secretly conveyed to the Germans who were with Pow- 
 hatan, by confederates in the town. Four or five of these at- 
 tempted to desert, but meeting some of their comrades in the 
 woods, went back, to disarm suspicion. At about the same time, 
 forty or fifty Indians v^'^ere lying in ambush about a mile from 
 Jamestown, waiting to attack Captain Smith. He had alrcad}^ 
 been informed that one of the Germans was in the wood, and 
 with a party of twenty, marched to the place where he ivas said 
 to be; but did not find him. Despatching his followers to inter- 
 
CAPTAIN JOHN SMITH. 
 
 99 
 
 cept the renegade on his way hack to Kecoughtan, Smith, armed 
 only with a sword, returned alone towards Jamestown. 
 
 His disregard of his own safety had nearly resulted fatally, for 
 he had not heen long out of the hearing of his OAvn men before he 
 met the gigantic and powerful chief of the Pashiphays, a trilni- 
 tary of Powhatan's and leader of the warriors in ambush. lie at 
 
 
 DESPERATE FIGHT WTTIl TtrE CHIEF OF THE PASHIPHAY.S. 
 
 first tried, by cunning, to get Smith within range of the arrows 
 of his men, but failing in this, attempted to shoot him. The bow 
 was strung, the arrow fitted to its j^lace, when Smith suddenly 
 grappled with him, and the two struggled for dear life. Each 
 must bend his every power to prevent his antagonist from gain- 
 
100 CAPTAIN JOHN SMITH. 
 
 ing the mastery ; relax his grasp a nionient, to seize a weapon, 
 and he was a doomed man. Bnt the superior strength of the huge 
 savage was gradually making itself felt, and Smith could feel 
 himself being dragged to the river. At last, notwithstanding his 
 efforts, both were in the water, the Indian trying to drown the 
 Avhite man. A despairing clutch at the throat of the savage near- 
 ly strangled him, and as he relaxed his hold a moment. Smith 
 drew his sword. The dusky giant no longer resisted, but begged 
 most piteonsly for his life. Captain Smith led him prisoner to 
 Jamestown and put him in chains. 
 
 Captain Smith made an effort to exchange his captive for the 
 Germans who were with Powhatan, but they refused to come, 
 and the chief would not force them. While negotiations were 
 slowly progressing, the captive chief escaped from Jamestown, 
 and the Englishmen had no prisoner to exchange. 
 
 Captain Smith next went on an expedition against the Pashi- 
 phays, to punish them for past misconduct and to frighten them 
 into good bejiavior in the future. Several of the Indians were 
 killed, their houses were burned, and their canoes and fishing- 
 weirs taken, some of the latter being fixed at Jamestown. As he 
 was returning, he was assaulted bj" a party of them, who threw 
 down their arms and sued for peace when they saw who it was. 
 Peace was made on condition that they would supply him with 
 jiro visions, which they gladly did. 
 
 On his return to Jamestown, Smith found that the Indians had 
 been guilty of various thefts ; among other things, a pistol had 
 been stolen, and the thief had escaped with his booty. His two 
 brothers, however, were still at their usual home, and w^re ar- 
 rested and brought to Jamestown. Thence one was sent to the 
 thief, with the message that if the j^istol were not restored before 
 midnight, the third brother, who was kept a jirisoner, would be 
 hanged. The prisoner was placed in a dark, cold dungeon, 
 Avhere Captain Smith, pitying his condition as, naked, he lay 
 sliivering and hungry, sent him food and some charcoal to make 
 a fire. 
 
 It was nearly midnight before the messenger returned, trem- 
 bling lest he should be too late. The pistol was restored, and 
 the dungeon oj)ened to liberate the captive — he lay upon the 
 floor, motionless, cold. The poor messenger, who had used his 
 utmost sj)eed to save his brother, broke into the wildest lamen- 
 tations over his body. Smith knew that the swoon resulted from, 
 
CAPTAIN JOHN SMITH. 101 
 
 a neglect to open tlie barred window to let the fumes of the char- 
 coal escape, and told the mourner that he would restore his bro- 
 ther. Brandy and vinegar brought back his consciousness, but 
 his mind was so confused that his brother was as much alarmed 
 as ever. A night's sleep, however, restored him fully, and the 
 wondering savages were dismissed, with a jDresent, to spread the 
 story of the dead restored to life by Captain Smith. 
 
 Another incident, about the same time, taught them that all 
 the superiority of the white men did not lie in their tools and 
 arms. An Indian had, by some means, gotten hold of a bag of 
 gunpowder and the back-piece of a suit of armor. He had seen 
 the soldiers at Jamestown dry powder over the fire in such a 
 receptacle, and jiroceeded to display his knowdcdge to his admir- 
 ing countrymen by imitating the jirocess. Unfortunately for 
 himself, he continued it too long; the powder exploded, killing 
 h'un and one or two of those peeping curiously over his shoulder, 
 and wounding several others. This, together with their past ex- 
 perience in facing the fire of guns, made them doubly desirous 
 of peace, and stolen articles were restored and thieves given np 
 to punishment. 
 
 The English thus lived in peace for some time, and prospered 
 as never before. Twenty new houses were built, the church was 
 repaired, a block-house built on the isthmus of Jamestown and on 
 a neighboring island, and thirty or forty acres of ground put under 
 cultivation. In the midst of their labors, they found that of their 
 stock of corn, fully one-half had rotted, and the remainder had 
 been almost consumed by the rats, which had been left by the 
 ship, and had increased very fast; so that they were obliged to 
 leave everything else and devote their energies to getting food. 
 The Indians brought in plenty of venison and wild-fowl, and 
 there were many oysters and fish in the river, so that there was 
 no danger of starvation; Powhatan, too, had spared them half of 
 his whole stock of corn. It was some trouble to obtain the food, 
 and many of the colonists were intolerably lazy. These would 
 have sold tools and arms, even their houses and cannon, sooner 
 than dredge for oysters. A plot to leave the country, and simi- 
 lar mutinous proceedings, were for a time overlooked ; but Smith 
 detected and severely punished the ringleader, and sharply re- 
 primanded the others. He told them that they must work not 
 only for themselves, bnt for the sick ; and threatened that who- 
 ever was lax in his work should be banished until he should 
 
102 CAPTAIN gOIIN SMITH. 
 
 either alter his conduct or starve. Of course some declared this 
 course cruel and tyrannical, but none dared to disobey. Some 
 were billeted upon the Indians, where they were so well treated 
 that others invited themselves to do the same j but the Indians, 
 fearful of displeasing Captain Smith, sent them back. 
 
 A vessel coinmanded by Captaiti Argall arrived in the spring 
 of 1G09, with letters from the council in England. The course 
 of the president was severely blamed by these gentlemen, who 
 had expected the colonj^ to make them suddenly and enormously 
 rich. This desired end was to be obtained by the discovery of a 
 short and easy passage to the South Sea, or by working the vast 
 mines which they were convinced must be under Virginian soil, 
 since Peru and Mexico had so rewarded the Spaniards. The 
 failure of the colonists was probably due to Smith's harsh treat- 
 ment of the Indians, which had prevented them from giving the 
 information they must possess. Smith, in all his communica- 
 tions addressed to the council, had endeavored to dispel the 
 illusions under which they labored • he had tried to make them 
 believe his storj^ of the difficulties with which he must contend, 
 and that they could not soon expect to derive any income from 
 Virginia. His efforts were futile, however, as shown by these 
 Icttei-s. 
 
 A new charter was granted, and in May, 1609, a fleet of nine 
 vessels, with five hundred men, women and children, set sail for 
 Virginia. Of the noblemen and gentlemen who held high posi- 
 tions in the new government, the vice-admiral. Captain Newport, 
 was the only one who had ever been in Virginia. Two of the 
 vessels were wrecked on the passage, but the other seven arrived 
 safelj'. But the three men to whom authority was given to 
 supplant the existing government at Jamestown, of whom IS'ew- 
 port was one, had been lost at sea j and while there was no one 
 whom they would recognize as their governor, they would not 
 submit themselves to Smith, against whom they were prejudiced 
 by three mutineers, Sicklemore,' Archer and Martin, whom he 
 formerl}' had banished. The whole community was in such confu- 
 sion that the more sensible and judicious men entreated Smith to 
 enforce his authority, and save them from destruction. His 
 easiest course would have been to return to England, but he was 
 too unselfishly devoted to the best interests of the colony to do 
 that, and he resolutely maintained his authority over the unruly 
 flock. It was thought best to divide their numbers, and two 
 
CAPTAIN JOHN SMITH. 
 
 103 
 
 other settlements wore m:ule, each being iirovided Avith food 
 from the general store. These, however, were unfortunate, and 
 the men placed there soon returned to Jamestown. 
 
 Returning home after an attempt to procure safety from the 
 Indians for one of these branch colonies, as he lay asleep in a 
 boat, a bag of gunpowder near by exploded, tearing and burn- 
 ing his flesh in a dreadful manner. Eatcliffe (alias Sicklemore), 
 Archer and some others had again become mutinous, and the 
 time for their trial was drawing near. " Conscience doth make 
 CO wards, of us all," and afraid of the result of such trial, they 
 formed a plot to murder Smith in his bed, knowing that no one 
 else could hold them in 
 check. At the last mo- 
 ment, the conspirator 
 who was to execute the 
 plot felt his heart fail 
 him, and he could notfire. 
 Thej^ next thought that 
 by gaining possession of 
 the government they 
 could escape punishment, 
 and tried to do so. Pcv- 
 ered and tormented by|^ 
 his wounds, Capt. Smith*; 
 lost patience in this con- 
 tinual struggle with the 
 ingratitude of men whom 
 ho would have benefited,' 
 and determined to go to "^^nfu 
 England; although his '^Wf^j/J II 
 friends wished to av'enge 
 his injuries by the death of the conspirators, he would not 
 plunge the colony into civil war to preserve his own dignity. 
 His wounds, too, grew very dangerous, for lack of such surgical 
 aid as could be obtained only in the old country; and he des- 
 paired of recovering, if he remained in Virginia. In the early 
 part of the autumn of 1609, then, he left Jamestown, never to re- 
 turn to it again. 
 
 Here, for five years, the record is a blank. We know that he 
 was coldly received in England ; but that is nothing new ; the 
 company liad been for a long time displeased at his conduct, both 
 
 POCAHONTAS. 
 
104 CAPTAIN JOHN SMITH. 
 
 in treating the Indians as he did, and in so stubbornly refusing 
 to find a gold mine. He jirobably retired to his estate after the 
 cure of his wounds, remaining there in the quiet life which he 
 had once sought in his 3'outh. But he was not destined to end 
 his days in the obscurity of an .English country house. 
 
 In 1614 an expedition of two ships was fitted out by four Lon- 
 don merchants and himself, for the purposes of trade and exj^lor- 
 ation in North Virginia, as New England was then called. The 
 idea of settlement on these inhospitable shores had been aban- 
 doned by the English for the present, but the fisheries and the 
 fur-trade were not relinquished, vessels being sent thither annu- 
 ally. The enterprise was in the highest degree successful. Seven 
 months ( according to one authority six) sufficed for the whole 
 voyage ; the sailors did not suffer from sickness ; and the freights 
 were profitable. While the sailors were busy with their hooks 
 and lines. Smith examined the shores from the Penobscot to Cape 
 Cod and prepared a map of the coast, naming the country New 
 England. Yet the voyage was not free from crime. After Smith 
 had sailed for England, Thomas Hunt, the commander of the 
 second shij), kidnapped a large party of Indians, and setting sail 
 for Spain, sold them into slavery, He was indignantly dismiss- 
 ed from his office by his employers when they heard of his guilt ; 
 but this could not prevent the evil consequences of the mischief 
 he had done. The outrage sank deep into the hearts of the In- 
 dians, and in after years they visited their vengeance upon in- 
 nocent men belonging to the same race as did he who had so 
 cruelly wronged them. 
 
 Putting into the port of Plymouth on his return to England, 
 Smith related his adventures to some friends whom he thought 
 " interested in the dead patent for this unregarded country," and 
 the Plymouth Company, by flattering hopes*and great promises, 
 induced him to seiwe them. The South Yii'ginia Company, his 
 old employers, had learned his value from the state of their col- 
 ony after he left it, and made him overtures which his previous 
 engagement to the rival association obliged him to decline. He 
 endeavored to persuade the two companies to unite their forces, 
 a course Avhieh had many advantages, but the rivalry existing 
 between them Avould not admit of this sensible j)lan. 
 
 Four ships were to have been furnished him, but the poor suc- 
 cess of a previous expedition, which had suffered from the Indians 
 so enraged at Hunt, had cooled the enthusiasm of the company; 
 
CAPTAIN JOHN SMITH. 105 
 
 and when, earl}' in January, 1615, he reached Plymonth, it re- 
 quired his utmost exertions, seconded by the influence of others, 
 to obtain two ships. With one vessel of two hundred tons, and 
 one of only fifty, in which there were, besides seamen, sixteen 
 men destined to remain as settlers, he set sail from Plymouth 
 the following March. One hundred and twenty leagues out, 
 they encountered such a violent storm that Capt. Smith's vessel 
 was dismasted and obliged to return to Plymouth. 
 
 From this port he again set out late in June, in a small bark 
 of sixty tons, manned by thirty sailors, and carrying the same 
 sixteen settlers .who had been with him before. Misfortune 
 seemed to follow them, for they had not gone far before they fell 
 in with an English pirate. The crew insisted upon surrendering 
 without resistance, but although he had only four guns to the pi- 
 rate's thirty-six, Smith would not do it. The fears of the crew 
 were allayed in a strange manner, for their captain, speaking 
 with the pirate, found that the commander and some of the crew 
 had been old comrades of his in the Turkish campaigns, and had 
 recently escaped from slavery at Tunis, stealing the shij^. They 
 were withoiit provisions and had mutinied, and offered to put 
 Captain Smith in command, or to carry him wherever he wanted 
 to go ; but both offers were declined, and the little vessel sailed 
 on, only to meet with two Prench pirates near Fayal. Again 
 the crew would have had him surrender j but, telling them that 
 he would rather blow up the ship, he succeeded in escaping after 
 a running fight. 
 
 He had not left the neighborhood of the Azores when he was 
 chased and overtaken by four French men-of-war, who had 
 orders from their sovereign to seize pirates of all nations. At 
 the command of the admiral. Captain Smith showed his commis- 
 sion under the great seal, to prove that he was not a pirate, and 
 ought, of course, to have been allowed to go on his way, as 
 England and France were at peace; but the Frenchman 
 detained him prisoner, plundered his vessel and niannt>d it with 
 Frenchmen, distributing the English sailors and settlers among 
 the shijjs of his own fleet. After a few days, he gave the Eng- 
 lishmen their vessel again, together with the greater part of 
 their provisions. 
 
 Captain Smith now made preparations for continuing the voy- 
 age, although many of the crew, disheartened b}^ their bad luck, 
 wished to go back to Plymouth ; when one day, before they had 
 
106 CAPTAIN JOHN SMITH. 
 
 parted from the French fleet, the admiral sent for him to come 
 aboard the flagship. He went, alone. While he was there, the 
 French ship, which was really no better than a jiirate, spread her 
 sails and gave chase to a strange vessel, and was followed by her 
 consorts. The English crew w^ere now able to do as they had so 
 long wished, and they turned the ship's course homeward. 
 The sixteen landsmen, however, knew nothing of this until they 
 sailed into the harbor of Plymouth. 
 
 This abduction of Captain S7nith "vvas doubtless caused by the 
 calumnies of his own crew, who were anxious to get rid of him, 
 that they might return home. The admiral's ship, separated 
 from the rest of the fleet by a storm, continued her piratical 
 course alone. When an English ship was attacked, Smith was 
 confined in the hold, but was obliged to fight with them in any 
 engagement with Sjianish vessels. Having spent the summer in 
 this way, they carried him to Rochelle ; where they detained him a 
 j)risoner on board a vessel in the harbor, although they had 
 promised to give him a share in their jDrizes to remunerate him 
 .for his losses. 
 
 In order to avoid sharing with him, they accused him of burn- 
 ing Port Roj^al in 1613, and endeavored to compel him to give 
 them a discharge in full before the proper authorit}^, threatening 
 to imprison him if he refused. While he was considering this, an 
 opportunity of escape offered itself. A violent storm arose. In 
 the midst of it, while it was dark, Captain Smith threw himself 
 into a small boat, and with a half pike for an oar, pushed out to 
 sea. The storm was so violent that the coast Avas strewn with 
 wrecks. Twelve hours he passed in the frail boat, expecting ever}' 
 moment to Tdc swallowed up by the waves ; till by the returning 
 tide he was thrown upon a marshy island, where, wet, half-frozen, 
 tired and hungry, he was found by some fowlers and taken back 
 to Rochelle. Landing here, he lodged a comjilaint against the 
 admiral Avho had kept him prisoner, and whose ship had been 
 wrecked in the late storm. This action seems to have led to no 
 result but the granting of a certificate of the truth of his state- 
 ment, his story having been confirmed by some sailors that es- 
 caped from the Avreck of the French vessel. But he found kind 
 friends wdio assisted him in getting passage to England. 
 
 Having published a description of ISTew England, written dur- 
 ing his captivity, and a map of the same section made during his 
 first voyage thither, he spent many months of the succeeding 
 
CAPTAIN JOHN SMITH. 
 
 107 
 
 year (1610) in traveling about England, distributing copies of his 
 book, and endeavoring to excite the enthusiasm of the people. 
 He appealed to the desires and passions ' of men, promising vast 
 dominions to the noblemen, mercantile profits to the speculators, 
 and a competence to men of small means. But the ftiilure of many 
 late expeditions had put people on their guard about the ISTew 
 World, and his only reward was the title of " Admiral of jS'ew 
 England," conferred upon him by the Plymouth Company. 
 It was in the summer of this same year that Pocahontas, now 
 
 POCAHONTAS PRESENTED AT COURT. 
 
 the wife of John Rolfe, visited England, and was received with 
 great ceremony and presented at court. The Indians had been 
 told that Smith was dead, but Powhatan, knowing that his " coun- 
 trymen will lie much," commanded them to find out the truth. 
 She desired to be allowed to call Smith " father," as she had been 
 accustomed to do in Virginia, but he " durst not, because she was 
 a king's daughter." 
 
 When Smith had had his interview with Pocahontas, he had 
 been, according to his own words, on the eve of sailing to Kew 
 England ; but for some reason, did not go. Later, he made an- 
 
108 
 
 CAPTAIN JOHN SMITH. 
 
 otlier eifort to go to the new country for which he had done so 
 much. 
 
 In March, 1622, the Indians, no longer restrained by the in- 
 fluence of Pocahontas, attacked the settlement at Jamestown, and 
 massacred three hundred and forty-seven Englishmen. The news 
 created great excitement in the mother country, and Capt. Smith, 
 deeply affected by this misfortune of the colony in which he took 
 so keen an interest, was very anxious to be allowed to go to Vir- 
 
 DESTRUCTIOX OF A VlRGINlji. SETTLEMENT. 
 
 ginia in person^ to avenge the outrage. The company professed 
 itself too much impoverished, however, to bear the expense of 
 such an expedition ; and their plan, which was to remunerate him 
 and his soldiers out of the pillage, was rejected by him with the 
 contemptuous statement that he would not give twenty pounds 
 for all the pillage that could be obtained from the savages in 
 twenty years. 
 
 With this, he retires from the history of the colonies, if we ex- 
 cept his answers to commissioners appointed shortly before the 
 
CAPTAIN JOHN SMITH, 109 
 
 charter of Virginia Avas abrogated, to inquire into the abuses of 
 authority by the comi)any. His death occurred in London, in 
 1631, in the fifty -second 3'ear of his ago. We could relate little 
 of his early history that is not to be doubted ; performing his 
 "work at Jamestown, -when his connection Avith the American col- 
 onies ceased he sank into obscurity again, until death. 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 CAPTAIN MILES STAXDISH. 
 
 "He was a gentleman born, eoulcl trace his pedigree plainly, 
 Back to Hugh Staudish, ofDiLxbury Hall, ia Laneusbire, England, 
 ■;:- * * * * 
 
 Heir inito vast estates of which he was basely defrauded." 
 
 SUCH are the words which Longfellow ascribes to John 
 Alden, the friend of Miles Standish; not poetic license to 
 grace the picture of a fictitious hero, but the truth about a real 
 man. The captain of Plymouth was indeed of good descent, as 
 English records attest ; and more than once his descendants in 
 America have made efforts to regain possession of the "vast es- 
 tates." But he left ancestral honors behind him when he sailed 
 away from England ; it is chiefly with the name which he made 
 for himself in this country that we arc concerned. 
 
 He was born at the family seat, Duxbury Hall, in Lancashire, 
 in the year 1584. Educated as a soldier, he was commissioned 
 a lieutenant at an early age, as he held this rank in "Queen Eliza- 
 beth's forces," and was but nineteen when her death left the 
 kingdom to James I. For some time he was in a regiment which 
 garrisoned a town in the Netherlands, where the struggle for 
 independence of Spain was going on ; but peace having been de- 
 clared, England withdrew the troops which she had sent to aid 
 the patriots. Standish, however, did not return with his regi- 
 ment, but remained in Lcyden with a little colony of his country- 
 men who had fled from religious persecution in their native land. 
 
 Theirs was a pitiful story. Eegarding the practices of the Es- 
 tablished Church as' leading back to error, they had striven to 
 use the same simiilicity in their public worship for which, later, 
 the WcslcA'S strove ; but the bigotry of the queen gave no latitude; 
 all must conform to the established ritual. Determining to leave 
 the rural homes which they loved so dearl}^, to seek religious liber- 
 ty in a country where the very language would be strange; where, 
 simple husbftudmen as they were, they must make their living 
 
CAPTAIN MILES STANDISH. Ill 
 
 in the intricacies of trade; they were betrayed by the commander 
 of the vessel in which they were to sail, and taken back to stripes 
 and imprisonment. A second effort was hardly more successful, for 
 as they were embarking, the Dutch captain was so much alarmed 
 by the approach of a body of soldiery, that he sailed off, bearing 
 half of the oppressed people with him, while "halfwept upon the 
 shore." Those left behind were exposed to the most cruel treat- 
 ment from the soldiery ; hurried from one magistrate to another, 
 no one could find a fitting punishment for innocence, and at last 
 they were released. This did not mean happiness, however. Of 
 their sufferings, penniless, friendless, homeless, we have no writ- 
 ten record; some doubtless perished of exposure, some found 
 charitable friends who enabled them to reach Amsterdam. Hith- 
 er had come fugitive Protestants from all j^arts of Europe, and it 
 was a place renowned for liberality of ideas. Whether the farm- 
 ers from England found it imjoossible to make a living in this busy 
 commercial city, or whether it was from some other cause, they 
 soon removed to Leyden. 
 
 But they were not content to remain " strangers in a strange 
 land," where the very language was unfamiliar to their ears ; 
 and they determined, before very many years had elapsed, to 
 settle in "Yirginia," if they could obtain permission to do so. It 
 will be remembered that this name, now restricted to two states, 
 was then applied to all American territory which had been under 
 the dominion, nominally, of the Virgin Queen, Elizabeth. The 
 only permission which they could obtain was that King James I 
 would " connive at them, and not molest them, providing they 
 carried themselves peaceably." 
 
 When Captain Standish first cast in his lot with the Pilgrims 
 is not definitely known. The independence of the Dutch Eepub- 
 lic had been virtually acknowledged in 1609, and the English 
 troops must have been withdrawn soon afterAvards ; so that it 
 could not have been very long after this time that he became in- 
 terested in the little community, Nor do we know why he at- 
 tached himself to them; certainly it could not have been for re- 
 ligious reasons, or he would have become a member of the church ; 
 it may have been the love of adventure, or perhaps the Instinct 
 of a chivalrous nature to succor tlie distressed. Certain it is 
 that his bravery and sagacity in dealing with the Indians contri- 
 buted greatly to the success of their undertaking. 
 
 The story of their setting sail from Delft, being driven back to 
 
112 CAPTAIN MILES STANDISH. 
 
 Plymouth by the unseaworthiness of one of their two vessels, and 
 setting out again with the one remaining to them, is too well 
 known to require repetition here. He did not assume importance 
 in the affairs which he knew others could manage better than he 
 could, and was content to wait for his active service until they 
 should have arrived in the country which Capt. John Smith had 
 already named New England. Let us, then, leave to historians 
 of the Pilgrim Fathers the account of the Mayflower's final de- 
 parture on the sixth of September, 1820, and the tedious voyage 
 of sixty-four days. Nor will we describe their efforts' to reach 
 the mouth of the Hudson, where they had desired to land. 
 
 So much were they tossed about by storms that it was with a 
 feeling of relief that they cast anchor in a safe harbor at the ex- 
 tremity of Cape Cod, on the morning of the eleventh of JS'ovem- 
 ber. Just before entering this harbor, they had drawn up the 
 brief compact which bound them to each other, and had chosen 
 John Carver as governor and Miles Standish as military leader. 
 Under the latter, a party of sixteen men was sent on shore to 
 make a short exploring tour, to return, of course, that night, 
 since the next day was Sunda3\ Their report was littlo calcu- 
 lated to reassure those who had remained; a tongue of barren 
 land, about a mile in breadth, uninhabited, although covered with 
 a dense forest of evergreens and dwarf oaks, without fresh wa- 
 ter — such was their first knowledge of America. 
 
 The Mayflower had only been chartered for the voyage, and 
 their authority over the vessel was hence more liinitcd than if 
 she had been their own property. This led to some disadvanta- 
 ges to which less determined men might have succumbed ; but 
 when the captain refused to leave the safe harbor in which he 
 was lying, and peril his vessel by coasting about in these unknown 
 seas, the sturdy colonists went to work to prepare for service a 
 large shalloj) which they had brought with them. This had been 
 but partially put together in England, and the work of finishing 
 it, and of repairing the injuries it had received during the voy- 
 age, consumed sixteen or seventeen days. But the impatient 
 temper of Caj)tain Standish could not endure this continued in- 
 action, and on the following "Wednesday he set out, with a party 
 of fifteen men, upon a more extended tour than the first had 
 been. The danger of this journey was so well known that it 
 "was rather permitted than approved," by the elder men who 
 remained at work in the ship. Besides these sixteen soldiers, 
 
CAPTAIN MILES STANDISH. 113 
 
 who had each liis musket, sword and corselet, William Bradford, 
 Stephen Hopkins and Edward Tilley went with them " for coun- 
 sel and advice." 
 
 Following the coast for ahout a mile, they saAv six or seven 
 Indians approaching them, accompanied by a dog. The very 
 sight of the white men awakened such terror in the minds of the 
 savages that they turned and fled into the woods. The English- , 
 men pursued, hoping to be able to make friends with them ; but 
 their motives were not appreciated by the natives, who had suf- 
 fered, perhaps, at the hands of other white men. Night came 
 c^ while they were still engaged in the bootless chase, and they 
 encamped at a point about ten miles from the vessel, continuing 
 the pursuit the next day. But this Thursday was filled with dis- 
 coveries. A spring of fresh water, the first that they had seen, was 
 found bubbling up from the earth in a deep valley ; farther on 
 was a small fresh water lake. They found several mounds of 
 curious appearance, and dug into them ; bnt coming upon decay- 
 ing bows and arrows and similar articles, they reverently re- 
 placed the earth that formed the only monument to some depart- 
 ed chief. A mound unlike these was discovered later, and found 
 to be a store-house. Here they saw, for the first time, that 
 " blessing more precious than gold," Indian corn ; the sign of that 
 fertility in which the true wealth of the New World consists. 
 They were not disposed to rob "the natives whose foresight had 
 placed this food here, but their stock of provisions was running 
 low, and they took the corn, resolving to repay the owners when- 
 ever they should be found. 
 
 They had been directed not to remain away more than two 
 days, so that they must now bend their steps toward the ship. 
 Losing their way in the woods, their low spirits yielded to 
 laughter when Mr. Bradford was unceremoniously swung up into 
 the air while examining an ingeniously contrived deer-trap. 
 Friday afternoon, with clothes torn by the branches in the thick 
 woods, and feet blistered by the long tramp, they reached the 
 ship again, having found no jilace suitable for the location of 
 the colony. 
 
 A third and longer expedition was made, this time partly by 
 water, as the shallop was now prepared, but with no better suc- 
 cess than the others. Only one man, the second mate of the 
 Mayflower, had been in the country before, and he described to 
 them the location of a large navigable river with a good harbor. 
 
Il4 CAPTAIN MILES STANDISH. 
 
 about twenty-five miles due west of Cape Cod. To this point, 
 then, they resolved to go. It was necessary for them to find 
 very soon a place of settlement, as the captain of the vessel grew 
 very impatient and threatened to set sail for England, leaving 
 them where they were. Ten picked men, among whom the best 
 known were Gov. Carver, Mr. Bradford and Captain Standish, 
 set out in the shallop in the afternoon of the sixth of December, 
 well-armed and provisioned, and determined to find a suitable 
 location if any such existed. Pushing on, although the waves were 
 unusually high, and the sj^ray, freezing as it dashed over them, 
 covered them with an icy armor, they entered late in the even- 
 ing a small, shallow cave. Twelve Indians, who were on the 
 beach, fled at their approach. 
 
 It was deemed necessary to keep guard over their camp at 
 night, as the temper of the Indians had not been tried. The sec- 
 ond night this sentinel called " Arm ! arm ! " but the '■'■ hideous 
 and great cry" they heard ceased at the sound of a couple of 
 musket shots, and they concluded that it was a comjjany of 
 wolves. The next morning, after prayers, but before breakfast, 
 they heard voices like those of the night, and a shower of ar- 
 rows fell in the camp. Captain Standish was the first to seize 
 his flint-lock and fire, and his shot was quickly followed by a 
 second. Others were read}", but Jie gave orders not to shoot at 
 random, but to wait until aim could be taken. The yells of the 
 Indians indicated that they had a large force, and the whites 
 feared that they might, by a sudden sally, possess themselves of 
 the shallop and cut ofl^ all chances of retreat. Captain Standish, 
 to prevent this, divided his force, five being appointed to defend 
 their barricaded camp, where were their arms and provisions, 
 and five to protect the vessel. 
 
 The thick winter clothes and the mail of the Englishmen form- 
 ed a sufficient protection against the arrows, though they were 
 thrown with great force, and being tipped with flint and bone, 
 and sometimes with brass from a fishing-vessel, could inflict very 
 bad wounds. Their flight, however, could be seen, as they did 
 not come with the rapidity of bullets, and the whites could often 
 dodge what might otherAvise have been deadly missiles. One In- 
 dian of remarkable stature, apj)arently the leader of the whole 
 band, was noticed for the accuracy of his aim and the rapidity 
 with which he shot. Sheltered by a large tree, his voice could 
 be heard above the din of the conflict, animating his followers to 
 
CAPTAIN MILES STANDISH. 1.15 
 
 still greater displays of daring and exertion. The bark of the 
 tree was splintered by musket shots, but for a long time he was 
 unhurt. Captain Standish was but watching his chance, however, 
 and when the burly savage exposed his arm in the attempt to 
 despatch another shaft, he sent a bullet home. The Indian, 
 apj)arently bewildered by the effect of the unseen agency which 
 had mangled his arm, stood still for an instant; then, uttering a 
 dismal cry, disappeared in the forest, followed by his compan- 
 ions. Hardly had the echoes of the last shot died away before 
 the Indians were gone, and the silence of the woods and the 
 murmur of the sea succeeded the wild clamor of an Indian fight. 
 Eeturning to their camp, the Pilgrims gave thanks to God for 
 their deliverance, and gathering up their amis and provisions, 
 prepared to return. 
 
 If they had reached this point by a stormy way, still greater 
 was the danger which beset them as they returned. The rain 
 which had been falling had changed to sleet ; the waves dashed 
 into their boat, drenching them completely and covering 
 their clothing and the ropes with ice. Hour after hour they 
 sought for some place where they could safely malce the attempt 
 to land, but could find none. Their rudder was swept away ; 
 their mast was broken into three pieces, their sail being dashed 
 into the sea ; twilight was darkening into night when the pilot 
 exclaimed, with a gesture and tone of despair: 
 
 '■'■ The Lord have mercy upon us ! I was never in this place be- 
 fore. All that we can do is to run the boat ashore through the 
 breakers." 
 
 Dazed b5^ the words of the man in whose skill they had trusted, 
 who had cheered them by telling, from time to time, of safe har- 
 bors near at hand, they were about to obey his insane counsel 
 and rush to certain death, when, "tibove the roar of the wind, the 
 surging of the waves and the pitiless hissing of the sleet, there 
 rang out, clear and sharp as the crack of a musket, the tones of 
 their captain : 
 
 "If ye be men, seize your oars, or we are all cast away!" 
 
 Plying the oars vigorously, as if incited to new efforts by this 
 appeal to their manhood, they succeeded in reaching a compara- 
 tively quiet inlet, dimly discerned from the boat through the 
 sjiray and the mist and the gathering darkness. Having learned 
 from experience that the woods might bo full of savages, they 
 at first decided to pass the night in the boat; but their suiferings 
 
116 
 
 CAPTAIN MILES STANDISH. 
 
 becoming unendurable, tbey thought more lightly of the danger 
 of attack, and kindled a fire on shore. Here they were in less 
 danger than they had thought, for when morning dawned, bitter- 
 ly cold, but bright and sunshiny, they found they were on a small 
 island. Here, then, they remained all the next day, drying 
 their clothes, resting, and otherwise preparing for the observance 
 of the Sabbath to-morrow. Time was precious, the season was 
 advancing; their companions were in suspense as to their fate; 
 but the Sabbath was observed as conscientiously as if in England. 
 Early Monday morning they continued their voyage, search- 
 
 « \\\ 
 
 ing for the navig- 
 
 able river which 
 had been described 
 |- to them, but which 
 they failed to find. 
 Landing, they dis- 
 covered one or two 
 small streams of 
 pure water, and 
 saw several fields 
 '^rf which the Indians 
 had evidently cul- 
 tl^ ated in the past, 
 but for some cause 
 abandoned. Al- 
 tliough it was not 
 the Land of Prom- 
 ise which they had 
 expected when 
 they sailed ' from 
 'l^^ England, it was far 
 suj^erior to any- 
 thing yet found ; 
 p. and they pushed 
 across the bay to 
 acquaint their com- 
 panions with the 
 results. 
 
 It is not necessary to tell again what poet and historian alike 
 have delighted to record — the landing of the Pilgrim Fathers, 
 Deeaxober 22. 1620. on the only rock large enough for the pur- 
 
 LAXDINQ OF THE PILGRIMS 
 
CAPTAIN MILES STANDISH. 117 
 
 pose to bo found on the sandy coast. ISTor need we detail the 
 hibor of erecting the log houses which were to be their shelter 
 from the cold and stormy weather which so much impeded their 
 work. They had landed on Friday, and Saturday was spent in 
 hewing trees and dragging them into the clearing chosen for the 
 little village. Beasts of burden they had none, and the lack 
 of such assistance made their progress very slow. Assembling 
 in their partially finished store-house the next day, for the usual 
 Sabbath devotions, they were startled by the demoniac yells 
 which some of them had heard in their first encounter with the 
 natives. The foresight of the captain had provided for such a 
 contingenc}', and when he gave the word of command every 
 man, musket in hand, was at his post. Sheltered by the log- 
 walls of the building, they could have repelled almost any num- 
 of Indians, but the wary savages did not wait to prove this. 
 They had already learned the efficacy of the muskets, and when 
 they saw the settlers were armed and ready for an attack, 
 they retreated rapidly into the woods without having showed 
 themselves. 
 
 The next day was Christmas. In the evening tliey heard the 
 war-whoops of the same savages, who again retreated without 
 further molesting them. Their work of building was continued 
 through the week — hard labor for men, one-half of whom were* 
 already wasting away with consumption and lung-fevers, con- 
 tracted in their exposure to the extraordinarily cold winter. 
 Notwithstanding the pressing need of shelter, the necessity for 
 means of defense was still greater, and all hands set to work to 
 complete the fort crowning Burial Hill, and commanding all the 
 approaches to the chosen site of the village. 
 
 On the fourth of January, Captain Standish, taking with him 
 four well-armed men, plunged boldly into the forest, hoiking to be 
 able to establish friendly relations with the Indians. For more 
 than a week the settlers had watched with alarm the columns of 
 smoke rising in the morning sky, and the gleam of the camp-fires 
 illuming the darkness of the night. So rapidly had the number 
 of these fires increased that they had judged the natives were 
 gathering around them in great force, preparatory to an attack 
 which should be fatal to the colony. .Captain Standish Avished 
 to find the Indians at their rendezvous, but it was i^robable that 
 they had their scouts so stationed as to give them due warning 
 of the approach of the white men, and although he came upon 
 
ILS CAPTAIN MILES STANDISH. 
 
 their deserted wigwams and even the glowing embers of their 
 camp-fires, he failed to find the objects of his search. 
 
 We will not dwell longer on the difficiilties with which they 
 had already contended. Another trouble, greater than any be- 
 fore, was to come upon the colony, was to come to the home of 
 the captain. Exposure, privation and anxiety had done their 
 work, and many of the colonists died during the winter. The 
 first grave made was that of Rose, the wife of Miles Standish — a 
 sweet English flower, too delicate to withstand the severity of a 
 Massachusetts winter. Of his wooing we have learned nothing, 
 of his grief no record remains; the first intimation that we have 
 of his marriage is the statement of his wife's death, and we can 
 only guess that the poet has rightly interjoreted his character in 
 attributing to him the sentiment : 
 
 " Since Eose Standish died, my life lias been Aveary and dreary." 
 
 Hers was the first of many graves. Before the winter had 
 wholly passed away, it could have been truthfully said that the 
 record of misery was kept by the graves of the governor and 
 half the company. ]S'or could aftection perform its lastofiiccs, in 
 beautifying the resting-places of the beloved clay; lest the In- 
 dians, seeing how many graves there were, should judge truly 
 of the weakness of the colony, the burials were secret, and every 
 ♦effort made to do away with all traces of digging up the earth. 
 
 -It is but a confirmation of the respect in "which we would hold 
 the brave man, when we find that courage does not make him 
 brutal ; as, indeed, true courage never does. All through this 
 terrible winter, when the living could scarcely bury the dead, 
 when the well could scarcely tend the sick, when there were but 
 six or seven men fit to bear arms, and they might at any moment 
 be attacked by a thousand Indians, side by side with the man of 
 God was the man of war, transfoi'med for the time being into an 
 angel of mercy; tending the sufferers with a hand as gentle as a 
 woman's, performing all thc'homely and necessary services which 
 the sick require. Yet in the midst of the hcMnng of wood and 
 drawing of water, the defense of the settlers was not neglected. 
 
 On the nineteenth of February, Captain Standish was invested 
 with almost absolute powers as a military commander by the 
 frightened and weakened colonists ; and even while they were in 
 consultation, the danger became more imminent. Two Indians 
 made their ajipearance uj^on a small eminence about a quarter of a 
 mile off, and signaled that they wished to speak to the white 
 
CAPTAIN MILES STANDISII. 
 
 119 
 
 ■men. Altlioug'h it was so clearly a decoy to an ambuscade, Captain 
 Standish, wholly unarmed, accomjianied by Mr. Stephen Hopkins, 
 who cai'ried his gun, advanced to meet them. Reaching the hill, 
 Mr. Hopkins laid down his musket, and in this entirely defence- 
 less condition the two brave men went on. This strange conduct 
 is easily enough explained when we remember that the Puritans 
 were anxious to make friends with the Indians. The latter had 
 always been the aj.tacking party, and the whites had acted only 
 in self-defense. As the two men went on, the Indians who had 
 
 FIRST CHURCH IN" NEW ENGLANT). 
 
 signaled them, turned and fled precipitately into the forest, 
 and when the tojj of the hill was reached, not a savage was in 
 sight, although they could hear the noise of a great many retreat- 
 ing. They were much perplexed to know what was meant by 
 such conduct, but lost no time in returning to the fort. 
 
 Perceiving that they could not hope for peace from the Indians, 
 Capv^ain Standish mounted three small guns u]ion the platform 
 of the rude fort, and assigned to every man his post in time of 
 attack. It was now the middle of March; the severity of the 
 winter was a thing of the past, and although the fighting force 
 
120 CArTAIN MILES STANDISH. 
 
 was not yet increased, the invalids were beginning to recover. 
 Captain Standish had assembled all who were capable of bearing 
 arms to complete their military preparations, when, to their sur- 
 prise, a single Indian stalked boldly up to them, unembarrassed, 
 unhesitatingly. We may imagine how each man's heart, brave 
 though it might be, throbbed at the thought that perhaps the 
 hour had come for the destruction of the colony. Despite their 
 many endeavors to prepare for an attack, the paucity of their 
 numbers would not tend to reassure the bravest. But the first 
 words of the Indian gave them hope ; advancing into their 
 midst, he said, in broken English : "Welcome, Englishmen." 
 
 They found that he was a chief of his tribe, living on the island 
 of Monhegan, between the Kennebec and Penobscot rivers, about 
 twelve miles from shore. This island was often visited by fisher- 
 men, from whom he had learned to speak a little broken Eng- 
 lish, and he had come to the settlement because he supposed the 
 Mayflower to be a fishing-vessel. lie explained the hostility of 
 the tribes around them by saying that since Captain Hunt had 
 kidnapped so many of the Indians and sold them into slavery, 
 those who remained were determined to avenge the injuries of 
 their kindred, and did not distinguish between innocent and 
 guilty white men. 
 
 From this visitor, whose name was Samos^t, they also learned 
 that a short time after the Hunt outrage, a French ship had been 
 wrecked off Cape Cod, and the savages had massacred all on 
 board except three or four whom they reserved as prisoners. 
 One of these had threatened them with the punishment of an 
 angry God, and although they at first disbelieved him, a terrible 
 plague, that broke out among them soon afterward, seemed to 
 confirm his prediction ; and they looked in dread at the coming 
 of the Englishmen, since he had also prophesied that their land 
 would be given to another people. What wonder that, outraged 
 by the white man, and fearing that they would be finall}^ dispos- 
 sessed by him of their homes, they should have done their utmost 
 to drive him from their country? 
 
 His account of the plague explained the desertion of cornfields 
 and wigwams, and greatly reassured the Pilgrims by informing 
 them of the comparatively small numbers of the natives. The 
 white men listened earnestly to him during the whole afternoon, 
 and the vanity of the savage was so gratified by their interest 
 and attention that he had no notion of leaving them at night. 
 
CAPTAIN iMILES STANDISH. 
 
 121 
 
 Captain Standish by this time \vas quite anxious to get rid of liis 
 guest, whom he by no means trusted entirely; but he would not 
 go. He was therefore lodged with Mr. Hopkins for the night, 
 and carefull}^ watched. 
 
 Before his departure in the morning, Samoset was presented 
 with a knife, a bracelet and a ring. He left, promising to return 
 in a few days with some people of Massasoit, the great sachem to 
 whom all the neighboring tribes were tributary. 
 
 •! rr 
 
 "N 
 
 
 '-_ i' 
 
 
 SAMOSET S VISIT. 
 
 The next day was the Sabbath. As the pioneers were assem- 
 bling for worship, Samoset again entered the village, this time 
 with five tall Indians at his heels, carrying furs to sell to the 
 colonists. Captain Standish had already stipulated with Samo- 
 set that whatever Indians came into the town should leave their 
 bows and arrows at a certain place, about a quarter of a mile 
 distant ; and this arrangement was faithfully observed. Samo- 
 set, to further prove his friendly intentions, had also brought 
 back some of the tools which had been stolen some time before. 
 The English received these guests with every token of friendly 
 welcome, but positively refused to trade with them on the Sab- 
 bath ; each Indian was enriched by a trifling present, and all 
 retired but Samoset, who, pretending sickness, remained until 
 "Wednesday, 
 
122 CAPTAIN MILES STANDISH. 
 
 The cottages were now so far finished as to aflPord protection 
 from the weather, and the Monday and Tuesday of this "Vs^eek 
 was spent in gardening, Samoset, who on Wednesday was sent 
 into the forest to see why the Indians did not return, according 
 to agreement, had just disappeared in the woods, when two sav- 
 ages were seen upon the hill before mentioned, assuming many 
 hostile attitudes. CajDtain Standish with one companion advanced 
 toward them, but they tui-ned and fled. The Pilgrims had 
 learned from Samoset that his countrymen relied much upon 
 magic and incantation, and rightly sujiposed that these Indians 
 were endeavoring to put them under a spell. 
 
 It was not until noon of the following day that Samoset 
 returned, accompanied by three other Indians. One of these 
 was Squantum, who had been kidnapjied by Captain Hunt, but 
 purchased and sent back to America by an* Englishman, a cer- . 
 tain Mr. John Slaney. With a generosity rare in the red man, 
 he had forgotten the injuries and remembered the benefits 
 received ; for the sake of his liberator, he was ready to befriend 
 all Englishmen. These visitors brought the startling news that 
 their great sachem, Massasoit, with a train of sixty warriors, 
 was on his way to visit them. Such guests in such numbers 
 were by no means desirable, nor did Massasoit wish to trust him- 
 self too far to Cajotain Hunt's countrymen. Several messages 
 passed between these mutually distrustful parties, and at last, 
 on Massasoit's proposal that the colonists should send one of 
 their number to explain their reasons for settling uj^on the lands 
 of his vassal, Mr. Edward Winslow volunteered to go, accom- 
 panied by -Squantum, who had been acting as interpreter. The 
 sachem gave pleased attention to this gentleman's conciliator}^ 
 speech, as it was translated to him, and graciously received the 
 presents that had been brought to him. Mr. Winslow's long and 
 shining sword took his eye, but the owner refused to sell it. 
 
 Leaving this embassador as a hostage in his camp, Massasoit, 
 with a retinue of twenty unarmed men, went towards the village, 
 sending six into the town as surety for his good faith. Captain 
 Standish advanced to meet him, followed by six of his men. The 
 Indians did not guess how large a part of the white men's force 
 this guard of honor constituted. Massasoit and his attendants 
 were conducted into the presence of Grov. Carver; the l^ipe of peace 
 W£is. smoked ; and they entered into a treaty ; one article being 
 that neither party should go armed to visit the other. 
 
124 CAPTAIN MILES STANDISH. 
 
 Massasoit and his attendants withdrew at night, and on the next 
 day were visited in their own camp by Captain Standish and a com- 
 panion. The treaty thus made and cemented by friendly inter- 
 course greatly encouraged the Pilgrims, whom a hostile recej)- 
 tion had prej)arcd for continual contests. This peace was neces- 
 sary in the extreme, as the last tie that bound them to their old 
 home had been broken by the return of the Mayflower to England 
 shortly after Massasoit's visit; remain in the wilderness they 
 must, since there was no way to cross the ocean : even though, 
 as the ship faded from sight, a new trouble came upon them in 
 the death of their governor. 
 
 Unmolested by the Indians, and with no hope of returning to 
 England, they devoted themselves to the work of spring time ; 
 spading up the earth, since thev had no horses or oxen for the 
 plow ; planting peas and barley, also corn according to the in- 
 structions of Squantum. In the woods was an abundant supply 
 of berries, in' the streams were fish, and eels in such quantities 
 that their Indian companion could tread out with his feet and 
 catch in his hands, during the , day, as many as he could carry 
 home at night. But while the men, hoe or spade in hand, work- 
 ed around the little group of log houses, with constant visits from 
 Indians, wom.en and children clamoring for food and devouring 
 with wolfish voracity, there frowned above them from the rude 
 fort on the hill, the three cannon that were for their defense 
 when these very Indians should prove treacherous. 
 
 A visit to Massasoit by two of the Englishmen revealed to them 
 at once the strength and the weakness of Indian tribes ; they 
 also learned that he was at war with the Narragansetts, a power- 
 ful tribe living to the south of his territories. Nor were all of 
 the friendly sagamore's tributaries as peacefully disposed as him- 
 self. Corbitant, a chief of one of the minor tribes, having re- 
 ceived the news of Massasoit's defeat by the Narragansetts, with 
 whom he was about to ally himself, endeavored to excite a revolt 
 against the sagamore, and resolved to makewar upon the settlers 
 at Plymouth. Squantum, accompanied by Hobbomak, a chief 
 who had strongly allied himself to the whites, set out from the 
 village to visit Massasoit, with inquiries and encouragement for 
 him from the Englishmen. Corbitant captured them, and, brand- 
 ishing a knife, approached Squantum with the words : 
 
 " When Squantum is dead, the Englishmen will have lost their 
 tongue." 
 
CAPTAIN MILES STANDISH. 125 
 
 Intent upon the destruction of the interpreter, the captorgpaid 
 little attention to Hobbomak, who, being a very powerful man, 
 broke away while their leader was threatening his companion. 
 Breathless and terrified, he reached Plymouth the next day, una- 
 ble to tell if Squantum were dead or alive. 
 
 " If we allow the hostile Indians to thus assail our allies," ex- 
 claimed the Pilgrims, " none of the natives, however kindly dis- 
 posed, will dare to befriend us. We must show them that we will 
 protect our friends." 
 
 According]}^, on the fourteenth of August, Cajitain Standish set 
 out to avenge the murder of the faithful Squantum. By the nar- 
 row paths that generations of Indians had trodden as they went 
 on hunting or war parties, they journeyed through the forest 
 where every branch showered afresh uj^on them the rain that 
 fell in torrents. Four miles from Namasket, where Corbitant 
 had taken his prisoners, they halted, late in the afternoon. ISTight 
 came on, dark with clouds and driving rain, and they again went 
 on their way. In the darkness they missed the trail, and it was 
 only after groping a long time through the tangled thickets that 
 they again found it. But the storm, which had hitherto been 
 their greatest drawback, now befriended them ; the wailings of 
 the wind, the patter of the rain-drops, hid from the keen ears of 
 .their enemies their approach. Before them, at. last, glimmered 
 the camp-fire, and creeping closer, they saw that the Indians were 
 sleeping. The slumbering savages were rudely awakened by a 
 report from two of their muskets, fired for that purpose, and Cap- 
 tain Standish with two or three others, rushed into the hut where 
 Corbitant and several of his warriors were suj)posed to be sleep- 
 ing. 
 
 " Stay in the wigwam," shouted Hobbomak, interj)reting the 
 leader's words; " stay in the wigwam; the English have come 
 only for Corbitant, the murderer of Squantum ; if he is not here, 
 they will hurt no one." 
 
 But the report of the muskets had half-crazed the savages with 
 fear, and in their wild endeavors to escaj^e many were severelj-^ 
 wounded. The scene may be imagined better then described, lit 
 up by the flames of the fire, newly kindled, that the steel-clad 
 soldiers might search the better among the half-naked, painted 
 savages for the offending chief But there was no need for venge- 
 ance ; Hobbomak, climbing to the top of the wigwam, called 
 aloud for Squantum, who answered in person. Much rejoiced 
 
126 CAPTAIN MILES STANDISH. 
 
 that their faithful friend was still alive, the white men disarmed 
 the Indians, and setting a guard, slept quietly until morning. 
 
 The Indians of Corbitant's party liad, during the night, fled to 
 their chief, so that, in the morning, only the friendly natives re- 
 mained. As they gathered around Captain Standish with assur- 
 ances of good will, he told them that Corhitant would not escape 
 so easily the next time; that if the JSTarragansetts continued hos- 
 tile, they would be punished by the total overthrow of their tribe ; 
 that he regretted that any one had been wounded, but that it was 
 in consequence of disobeying his orders. Two of these accepted 
 his invitation to come to Plymouth to be tended by the surgeon, 
 and accompanied by many others, the little party returned, reach- 
 ing the settlement that same evening. 
 
 The consequences of this expedition were of great importance. 
 Many sachems expressed their desire to ally themselves with 
 the settlers ; Corbitant himself made peace with them through 
 the good oflices of Massasoit ; and even the Narragansetts made 
 friendly overtures. 
 
 But while a due sense of their power was thus impressed upon 
 the south, the settlers were threatened with danger from the 
 tribe about forty miles to the north. They decided to send an 
 expedition to that region, to establish friendly relations with 
 the natives and to examine the country. In the latter part of* 
 September, Captain Standish, with nine soldiers and Squantum 
 and two other Indians as interpreters, set sail at midnight for 
 their destination. Sailing a distance, supposed to be about sixty 
 miles from Pljnnouth, they passed the first night in the boat, in 
 a sheltered bay, supposed to have been Boston harbor. 
 
 Landing the next morning, three men were left to guard the 
 shallop, two stationed as sentinels at a short distance, and the 
 others were led by their brave captain into the forest. On land- 
 ing, they had found a number of lobsters lying upon the beach, 
 and made use of them. Meeting with a woman who Avas ^oing 
 to the shore to get them, they paid her for the food, and obtained 
 information as to the residence of the chief, Obbatinewat. As 
 this was a little farther along the coast, the party returned to 
 the shallop, arriving at the village after a short sail. Here they 
 met w^ith a cordial welcome, and w^ere enabled to act as peace- 
 makers between this tribe and that governed by the squaw 
 sachem, the widow of the late chief. Squantum, with true Indian 
 spirit, counselled Captain Standish to take by force all the skins 
 
CAPTAIN MILES STANDISH, 127 
 
 in posse.=ision of this latter tribe, because they were bad people 
 and had often threatened the settlements. 
 
 ''Were they iiever so bad," answered the Pnritan captain 
 gravely, " we would not wrong them, or give them just reason 
 to complain of us. For we little weighed their words that threat- 
 ened us, and if they once attempted to act against us, we would 
 deal far worse *with them than you desire." 
 
 After trading for the fui'S which Squantum wished them to 
 seize, they returned, having been absent four days. Peaceful rela- 
 tions were now established with all the surrounding Indians, a 
 bountiful harvest of corn was gathered, the fur-trade with the 
 natives was profitable, fishing was rewarded with abundance, 
 the forests were filled with deer and wild turkeys, and the streams 
 abounded -with water-fowl. Their houses were made tighter and 
 more comfortable, ample supplies of fuel gathered, and everj^- 
 thing thus prejiared for the advent of winter. The arrival of a 
 vessel with thirty-five colonists who had left England with bare- 
 ly enough j)rovisions for the voyage, put an end to their rejoic- 
 ings, and obliged them to put the whole colony upon half-rations. 
 
 The colony now had about fifty mfen capable of bearing arms, 
 although but a small supply of ammunition. Eumors reached 
 them, in midwinter, that the I^arragan setts were assuming a hos- 
 tile attitude. As this tribe numbered about thirty thousand, five 
 thousand of whom were warriors, the threatening character of 
 this intelligence will be readily seen. While they were still 
 alarmed about the rumor, a strange Indian one day entered the 
 town and asked for Sfjuantum, The answer that he was not there 
 seemed to relieve him of some fear, and he was about to depart, 
 after having left for him a bundle of arrows tied with a rattle- 
 snake's skin, when Captain Standish, at the governor's request, 
 detained him. He was evidently a ISTarragansett, but was so ter- 
 rified that it was only with diflftculty that they could make him 
 speak. Clvadually gaining confidence, he told them that Canon- 
 icus, enraged at their having made peace with his enemies, the 
 tribes to the north, despising the meanness of their presents to 
 him, and well aware of their weakness, had determined to make 
 Avar upon them, and that this was his challenge. 
 
 The messenger was, by the rules of war, entitled to safe con- 
 duct ; nor had they any desire to detain him. 
 
 " Say to Canonicus that we wish to live at peace with all men. 
 Tell him that we have done him no harm, and would not have 
 
"''''•'/ I'/Z/^^r.^/'^' 
 
CAPTAIN MILES STANDISH. 129 
 
 injured him; but we are not afraid of his power, and will soon 
 make him regret that he threatened us." 
 
 Such was the message with which he was entrusted. Eefusing 
 all offers of food, or of shelter, he left the village as soon as he 
 could do so, and disappeared in the forest. In the council that was 
 held immediately afterwards, tradition has it that it was Captain 
 tStandish that jerked the arrows from the rattlesnake's skin, and 
 filling it to the very jaws with powder and shot, sent it to Canon- 
 icus as his answer. Certain it is that such a reply was despatched 
 to the chief's declaration of war, and who so likely to send it as 
 the hot-blooded descendant of the old crusader ? Canonicus re- 
 ceived it, and was struck with terror. Squantum had told him 
 that the Englishmen kept the plague shut up in a box and could 
 let it loose upon those that offended them ; this might be, for 
 aught he knew, a symbol of destruction as sure as the pestilence; 
 he dare not destroy it, he dare not keep it, and it was passed from 
 hand to hand until it came back to Plymouth. 
 
 The story runs (and Longfellow has made the tradition immor- 
 tal) that the day this declaration was received, John Alden had 
 been sent upon his memorable errand. We have already noted 
 the brave captain's grief for his wife j he had found, he thought, a 
 flower as fair and sweet as his lost Eose. In direct defiance of the 
 one guiding principle of his life : 
 
 "If you waut a thing well done, you must do it yourself; 
 You must not leave it to others," 
 
 he sent John Alden, the young scribe whom he had chosen as his 
 friend, to woo sweet Priscilla MuUins for him. Alden had just 
 returned to the humble cottage which the two strangely different 
 friends shared with each other, with the maiden's reply : '' Why 
 don't you speak for yourself, John ?" Standish had listened in 
 anger, and was in the midst of his bitterest reproaches when the 
 summons came to the council. Thither he went, with what re- 
 sult we have seen. 
 
 Every precaution was now taken against a surprise by the In- 
 dians. A palisade of strong posts ten or twelve feet high, in 
 contact with each other, was put around the whole village. The 
 three gates of entrance were locked by night, and guarded by 
 day. Every man knew his post and his duty in time of danger. 
 
 Secure in these preparations, and believing that a bold and 
 fearless bearing would be the best to discourage the Indians, 
 Ca^itain Standish, with ten men, set out in the shallop, early in 
 9 
 
130 CAPTAIN MILES STANDISH. 
 
 April, to recommence trading with the natives. Just as the lit- 
 tle vessel was doubling a promontory in the bay, one of the fam- 
 ily of Squantum, his face covered with blood, came rushing to 
 some men at work in the woods to bid them hasten to the pro- 
 tection of the palisades. Within fifteen miles of Plymouth, he 
 said, the treacherous chief Massasoit had assembled a large war 
 party and was marching to the attack of the settlement. He had 
 narrowly escaped their vengeance for speaking favorably of the 
 English. At this startling news, the shallop was recalled by a 
 gun, and Captain Standish, returning, adopted vigorous measures 
 for defense. 
 
 Hobbomak, who had been of Captain Standish's party, declared 
 the report false ; saying that Massasoit could not undertake such a 
 thing Avithout the aid of his tributaries, of whom he himself was 
 not the least. His wife was sent to Pokanoket, as a.secret agent, 
 to ascertain the facts. Finding Massasoit quietly living there, 
 she told him of the report. Indignant at the slander, he sever- 
 ely blamed Squantum, and sent many messages of friendship to 
 the Pilgrims. 
 
 Squantum's truthfulness had been doubted before ; they believ- 
 ed him, and truly, to be a friend to them, but felt that he was 
 playing a double part with his countrymen. His situation was 
 peculiar: kidnapped by Captain Hunt, when he was returned to 
 America he found his whole tribe had been swept away by the 
 plague ; without hopes of advancement by means of his kinsmen, 
 and being ambitious, he endeavored to govern the Indians of 
 other tribes by means of his standing with the white men. His 
 invention regarding the plague has already been related ; and he 
 tried to make the Indians believe that he could lead the settlers 
 to declare peace or war at his pleasure ; threatening them with 
 war, and when he had been propitiated by gifts, announcing that 
 he had secured peace. His slander of Massasoit was intended to 
 provoke such enmity between the whites and Indians that he, 
 the only means of communication between them, would obtain 
 added honor and influence. Massasoit demanded that Squantum 
 be sent to him to be put to death, and persisted in this, not- 
 withstanding Grovernor Bradford's plea that since he alone under- 
 stood both languages, he could not be spared. This refusal in 
 the teeth of the treaty by which criminals were to be delivered 
 to the proper party, enraged Massasoit, and for some time there 
 was no friendly communication between them. This was the 
 
CAPTAIN MI]>ES STANDISH. ^ 131 
 
 more dangeroits, as the Indians were liable to be stirred up hy 
 the news of the reeent massacre of the Virginia settlers, to simi- 
 lar outrages. 
 
 Their difficulties were increased by the arrival of new colon- 
 ists who jiroved very undesirable ; and when these were settled 
 at Weymouth, their prodigality of food threw them often upon 
 the charity of the people at Plymouth ; while their treatment of 
 the Indians made enemies of the red men. Coming to want so 
 often, and robbing the Pilgrims of their treasured food, necessi- 
 tated frequent trips to buy corn of the Indians. On one of these 
 expeditions, Squantum died, praying that he might be taken to 
 the white man's heaven. This was an irreparable loss, since it 
 deprived them of their best, almost their only interpreter. 
 
 Captain Standish having been laid up with a fever, Grovernor 
 Bradford had led most of these expeditions ; but upon the 
 recovery of the former, he took the shallop and went to a point 
 where the governor had stored some corn. It was the midst of 
 winter, and bitterly cold weather; they succeeded in reaching 
 the harbor near where the corn was stored : the weather beinff 
 too cold to sleep in the shallop, they had to accept the hospital- 
 ity of the Indians, whose sincerity they doubted. Received 
 apparently with the utmost cordiality, Captain Standish had no 
 reason to give for suspicious actions, but quietly gave orders 
 that a part of the company should always watch at night. No 
 hostile act justified his suspicions, and they returned home in 
 safety. A second trip soon became necessary, since a part of 
 every supply of food must go to Weymouth, and early in March 
 Captain Standish went back to Manomet. 
 
 His reception was a colder one than ever before, and he was 
 now certain that the Indians were plotting against the whites. 
 Into the wigwam of Canacum came two savages from the vicin- 
 ity of Weymouth, one of whom, Wattawamat, in a speech unin- 
 telligible in language, but plain in tone and gesture to Standish, 
 addressed Canacum. After stating his plan to destroy the col- 
 ony at Weymouth, he went on to say that to prevent the Ply- 
 mouth settlers from avenging their countrymen, they too must be 
 massacred ; that this task would be made easy by killing the 
 captain and his six men, now in their midst. 
 
 Canacum seemed much impressed by this speech, and showed 
 a marked difference in his treatment of his guests. A plot was 
 actually formed to massacre the seven men, but was frustrated by 
 
132 CAPTAIN MILES STANDISH. 
 
 the prudence of the captain, who I'efused to sleep anywhere but 
 in the shallop ; whither the Indians, having a wholesome terror 
 of muskets, were afraid to venture. 
 
 News had reached Plymouth, during Captain Standish's ab- 
 sence, that Massasoit was dangerously ill — dying. Messrs. Win- 
 slow and Hampden immediately set out upon a visit to the sick 
 chief, and had the good fortune to cure him. Hobbomak was in- 
 terpreter, and to him the grateful Massasoit revealed the plot of 
 the Massachusetts Indians to destroy the Weymouth, and then 
 the Plymouth colony. Seven tribes were in the conspiracy, some 
 of whom were loud in their assurances of friendship. Hobbomak 
 was instructed to tell this to the two white men as they returned 
 to the town; and Massasoit added a piece of advice, founded on 
 his knowledge of his race : 
 
 '' Say to them that they often say they will never strike the 
 first blow. But if they wait until their countrymen at Weymouth 
 are killed, who are entirely unable to defend themselves, it will 
 then be too late for them to protect their own lives. I therefore 
 advise them, without delay, to put the leaders of this plot to death." 
 The conduct of the Weymouth colonists was leading the Indians 
 to despise the white men, and the Pilgrims saw that trouble was 
 not far off. It was necessary to regain the natives' resjiect for 
 the superior race, but some time had elapsed before they could 
 decide what course to pursue. At last, at the suggestion of the 
 governor. Captain Standish went to visit the Indians, to careful- 
 ly scrutinize their conduct, and adopt such measures as he 
 might think best. He was further instructed to bring back with 
 him the head of the braggart Wattawamat. 
 
 Proceeding to AVeymouth, Captain Standish gave the poor 
 wretches there the invitation of the governor and people of Ply- 
 mouth to their home. While the Puritan soldiers were in this 
 settlement, the Indians sent thither a spy, ostensibly to sell furs. 
 Eeturning with the report that, although treated with the usual 
 kindness, he saw, by his eyes, that the captain was angry in his 
 heart, the savages were only excited to insolence. Pecksnot and 
 Wattawamat came swaggering into th^ village, with a mob of 
 Indians at their heels. 
 
 "Tell your captain," said Pecksnot, "that we know he has 
 
 come to kill us, but we do not fear him. Let him try it as soon 
 
 as he dares ; we are ready for him as soon as he is ready for us." 
 
 Pecksnot, Wattawamat and his brother, and another Indian, 
 
^^♦t'HWvVhw^i.^!.' 
 
134 ^ CAPTAIN MILES STANDIS:!. 
 
 came to where Caj^tain Standish and four of his soldiers were. 
 Pretending at first to wish to trade furs for blankets and mus- 
 kets, they threw off this mask when they saw that it did not de- 
 ceive the captain, and began to use the most insulting language. 
 
 '^ He eat," said Pecksnot, brandishing his weapon ; " he no 
 talk, but ho eat little man all up. Little man better go live with 
 squaws. Pecksnot big man." 
 
 The chief was gigantic in size, while the captain of Plymouth's 
 stature was as short as his patience with the Indians. Around 
 them were seen the savages, stealing from bush to bush. The 
 captain never once lost his calmness or self-possession, but at a 
 signal that his men well understood, he leaped upon the dusky 
 giant, wrenched the weapon from his hand, and laid open his 
 skull. Wattawamat and the other Indian were killed, and the 
 brother of the former was afterward hanged. Dismayed at the 
 result of this fierce struggle, the Indians around the house fled 
 from the terrible "little man," whose iron muscle could subdue 
 Pecksnot, once the strength of the tribe, and Standish and his 
 men spread their sails for home. The head of Wattawamat was 
 taken back to Plymouth, and there set uj^on the fort — a ghastly 
 sight, but not as strange in those days as it would be now. The 
 decisive action of Standish in this case has been often censured, 
 but we must remember the character of the enemy with which he 
 had to deal — bold, cunning and treacherous, believing no man's 
 word, because his own was so untrustworthy. 
 
 Terrible tidings reached Plymouth : the gallant soldier upon 
 
 whose generalship they relied for safety from the Indians, had 
 
 been slain by a poisoned arrow. "VYe may. imagine the dismay 
 
 which spread among the Pilgrims at this intelligence. Only one 
 
 man saw any good in this misfortune, and although he bitterl}^ 
 
 reproached himself for rejoicing at the death of his friend, he 
 
 hastened to avail himself of the advantages which it brought him. 
 
 So long as Miles Standish lived, John Alden would not " speak 
 
 for himself" to Priscilla ; but when the news of his friend's death 
 
 came, he was free from the obligation. Long engagements were 
 
 not the fashion in those days, and the wedding took place soon 
 
 after the wooing. As the solemn jiledge was given, there came 
 
 to the door the figure of a man — 
 
 " Short of stature he was, but strongly built and athletic, 
 Broad in the shoulders, deep-chested, with muscles and sinews of ii'on ; 
 Brown as a nut was his face, but his russet beard was already 
 Flaked with patches of snow, as hedges sometimes in November." 
 
CAPTAIN MILES STANDISH, 135 
 
 To the startled men and women there assembled it seemed an 
 illusion of the senses — a specter, — but the mail-clad figure ad- 
 vanced into the room, and they saw that it was, in very truth, the 
 Captain of Plymouth ; Init the heat of his anger had passed, 
 and he was ready to mingle his congratulations with those of 
 other friends. 
 
 Not long after this, Captain Standish went to England to ne- 
 gotiate a loan for the colony, their stock of trinkets for trading 
 with the Indians being exhausted, and Barbara, the sister of the 
 long-remembered Rose, became his wife. This time he held to 
 his favorite motto, and did not delegate the asking to any one 
 else. 
 
 An expedition undertaken in the spring of 1632 shows clearly 
 what a tower of strength the settlers thought their military lead- 
 er. Into the settlement came an Indian, breathless with haste 
 and terror, bearing a message from Massasoit. The Narragan- 
 setts were marching upon his seat at Mount Hope, and he asked 
 aid from the white men, who would be attacked as soon as he 
 should be defeated. Four men were considered a sufficient force, 
 when Captain Standish was one of them. It was true that the 
 Narragansetts were advancing upon the faithful ally of the Pil- 
 grims, but most fortunately their plans were changed by an in- 
 road of the Pequods into their own territory. 
 
 The difficulties of Plymouth were no longer confined to trou- 
 bles with the Indians; other settlements had been made along 
 the coast, and with these and with trading vessels there were oc- 
 casional disputes. At one time, an Englishman having begun 
 to trade with the Indians in territory claimed by Plymouth, the 
 agent stationed there by the settlers requested him to desist; he 
 refused, coupling his refusal with the most insulting expressions, 
 and finally fired upon the boat which contained the agent and his 
 companions, one of whom was John Alden. The shot was re- 
 turned, with fatal effect. No one knows who fired this shot, but 
 certainly it was not John Alden. Nevertheless, while in Boston 
 a short time afterward, he was arrested and held for trial. Of 
 course the Massachusetts colonists had no right to do this, and the 
 Plymouth people were justly indignant at the invasion of their 
 prerogative. Miles Standish was the man selected to represent 
 the facts in their true light to them, and so well did he j^erform 
 the task that Alden was released, and love and concord renewed 
 between the two colonies. 
 
136 CAPTAIN MILES STANDISII. 
 
 The French, too, gave them some trouble, as this whole coast 
 was claimed by them. The chief difficulty arising from their 
 presence was that they sold muskets and ammunition to the In- 
 dians, thus enabling them to do more harm to the white men. 
 Had not the tribes been again visited by such a plague as swept 
 away so many thousands just before the landing of the Plymouth 
 settlers, this injudicious proceeding of the French might have 
 resulted in the destruction of all the colonies. 
 
 In 1633, Captain Standish removed his residence to a beautiful 
 point on the northern coast of Plymouth bay, choosing an eleva- 
 tion still called Caj^tain's Hill. His dwelling was soon surround- 
 ed by others who appreciated the advantages of the location, 
 and the little settlement was named Duxbury, from that Lanca- 
 shire Hall which should have been his inheritance. He, how- 
 ever, continued to act as their chief defender against all their 
 enemies. 
 
 Early in 1637, the Pequod Indians began hostilities, endeavor- 
 ing to draw the Narragansetts into a league against the whites. 
 These efforts were, however, made of no avail by the heroism of 
 Eoger Williams in visiting Canonicus, to persuade him not to 
 listen to the Pequods. The combined force of the colonies, the 
 fifty men from Plymouth being commanded by Captain Standish, 
 was successful in routing the Indians. Such, for many j^ears, was 
 the end of most expeditions of the white men against the Indians. 
 New colonies had arisen all along the coast of New England, and 
 the brunt of the work of defense no longer fell upon a single set- 
 tlement. 
 
 Captain Standish passed the evening of his days on his farm 
 at Duxbury, three miles by water from Plymouth. Here he 
 stood beside the grave of Elder Brewster, that man of God who 
 had been the friend of the sturdy soldier. After the death of 
 his friend, he must often have thought of the strangeness cf that 
 friendship, symbolized to his eye by his three muskets, lying by 
 his three Bibles. In quiet and peace he passed away, October 3, 
 1656, and was buried on Captain's Hill. 
 
 On the summit of this eminence, a stately monument has been 
 erected to his memory by his numerous descendants ; the shaft, 
 towering a hundred feet and more into the air, crowned by a 
 colossal statue of the Captain of Plymouth; where his grave is, 
 no one knows; the exact spot has long been forgotten; but the 
 shadow falls sometime upon it. as the sun looks down on Cap- 
 
CAPTAIN MILES STANDISH. l37 
 
 tain's Hill, and the air blows fresh from Plymouth over his last 
 resting-place, as when it bore to his listening ear the sound of 
 the gun that called him from his well-earned repose to repel the 
 savage's attack • sleeping there, to 
 
 "Dream of battle-fields no more, 
 Days of danger, nights of waking." 
 
 Not many years after the death of Miles Standish, died Massa- 
 soit, the firm friend of the Puritans. In general, his friendly 
 attitude was fully recognized, and the settlers at Plymouth, in 
 particular, scrujiulously kept the peace with this ally. To his 
 eldest sons, Wamsutta and Pometacom, had been given English 
 names, Alexander and Philip. The former was his father's suc- 
 cessor, and for a while continued to keep his people in the same 
 friendly relations which they had known for forty years. But 
 whether his powers or his intentions were at fault, frequent dep- 
 redations were traced to the "Wampanoags. 
 
 Wamsutta died in a few months after his father, and was suc- 
 ceeded by his brother Pometacom, or Philip. For several years 
 the same state of things continued, but Philiji always protested 
 his people were not to blame, and that he was as sincere a friend 
 to the colonists as ever his father had been. Secretly, however, 
 he brooded over his wrongs. Large tracts of land had been sold 
 to the white men by Massasoit and his two sons, for what the 
 Indians thought invaluable treasures at the time ; but the trinkets 
 were lost, the blankets worn to rags, and the land remained in the 
 possession of the purchasers. Like children, the Indians had 
 sold their valuable possessions for trifles, and saw too late the er- 
 ror into which they had fallen. 
 
 Nor was the loss of the land itself all of the wrong that they 
 had sufl'ered ; the vicinity of the white men had destroyed the 
 charm of the wilderness ; cattle v/ere feeding where the deer used 
 to roam, and trespassed even ujion their cornfields. The sugges- 
 tion that fences be built around the fields was received with scorn. 
 They had made war with the ISTarragansetts, with but short inter- 
 vals of peace, ever since the white men had been in the country ; 
 now, perhaps, they had better ally themselves with that power- 
 ful tribe. The anger of the Indians was further excited by the 
 attempt of the settlers to make them conform to law ; if one In- 
 dian killed another, was it any business of the colonists ? Had 
 they any right to hang the murderer — as they did whenever they 
 could catch him ? 
 
138 CAPTAIN MILES STANDISH. 
 
 About 1670 Philip's intentions began to be suspected, and a 
 year later the whites attempted to disarm the Indians, who had 
 obtained fire-arms from various sources. The savages, however, 
 knew too well what would be the result if they were again de- 
 prived of all weapons but the bow and arrows and the war-club, 
 and resisted so heartily that the idea was, for a time at least, giv- 
 en up. Proud and haughty as he was, Philij^ was not cruel, nor 
 was he as bloodthirsty as many have represented him. But the 
 pressure brought to bear upon him was too great for him to re- 
 sist, and although he did not, perhaps, intend to make war unless 
 further provocation were given, he sent messengers to the various 
 neighboring tribes to know their opinion as to the stand the whites 
 had taken. Thus were welded the links of the chain which bound 
 Philip to war : his warriors would despise and refuse to recognize 
 a chief who remained quietly at home while the white men overran 
 the country; he sent to know if other chiefs intended to act; his 
 influence was such that they, supposing he wished them to do so, 
 prepared for war ; and Sassamon informed the white men that 
 Philip and his men had conspired against them. 
 
 Provoked at this betrayal of their chief, three of Philip's war- 
 riors killed Sassamon, and were, in turn, captured and hanged by 
 the authorities at Boston. Angered at this invasion of the rights 
 of their chief, many of the Indians watched their opportunity, 
 and stole the provisions and shot the cattle of the white people. 
 Superstition, however, prevented, for the present, the loss of hu- 
 man life, for the "medicine men" had warned them that the 
 party that drew the first blood would be beaten. The white men 
 were not disposed to submit tamely to the depredations of the 
 Indians, and were always prepared to punish the offenders. 
 Lurking around the white settlements on the nineteenth of June, 
 1675, an Indian thought he saw his opportunity to inflict injiiry 
 upon one of the enemies of his race. His gun was leveled, not 
 at a man, but at some oxen quietly feeding. One fell, but he 
 had not time to reload when he was forced to beat a hasty re- 
 treat before the owner of the animal. As he fled, a ball struck 
 him; but staunching the blood, he kept on his way ; to the desire 
 of escape was now added the desire of telling his people that the . 
 whites had shed the first blood. 
 
 Quickl}^ the Indians prepared for war. A little bag of pounded 
 maize — that was enough to sustain a warrior's strength for days 
 — and all the muskets and ammunition they could get together. 
 
CAPTAIN MILES STANDISH. 
 
 139 
 
 SS^ii 
 
140 CAPTAIN MILES STANDISH, 
 
 The twent3^-foiirtli of June was a day of fasting and prayer, 
 solemnl}' agreed npon b}' the people as they recognized their 
 danger. This was more immediate than they had feared. As 
 they issued from the meeting-house, a sharj) crack of many 
 guns ran through the little settlement of Hwanzey, and one man 
 fell dead. Several men were wounded, and two, who had been 
 hastily despatched for a surgeon, were killed by a second vol- 
 ley; later, three more fell. 
 
 The war had begun in good earnest and there was no time to 
 be lost. Messengers were sent flj'ing over the country to bid 
 the neighboring settlements prepare to defend themselves. The 
 Indians, in accordance with their customs, did not venture to 
 meet the colonists in battle, but burned settlements, laid am- 
 biiscades for the settlers, and killed the stragglers. All the 
 horrors of Indian warfare had burst upon New England. The 
 savages lurked in every forest, in every thicket ; they watched 
 for the lonely settler as he opened his door in the morning, as 
 he busied himself with his work in the field, or as he walked along 
 the forest path to meeting. The blood-curdling war-whoop, the 
 gleam of the scalping knife, the deadly thud of the tomahawk, 
 were familiar to their dreams and waking thoughts alike. 
 
 The whites marched directly upon Mount Hope, Philip's seat; 
 proceeding with such secrecy as to surprise the wary savages 
 so completely that the savage king barely escaped being made 
 prisoner. Before his wigwam stood eight poles, each surmounted 
 by the head of a white man. Incited to vengeance by this 
 ghastly spectacle, the whites killed fifteen Indians, laid waste 
 the surrounding fields and drove off all Phili])'s cattle and hogs. 
 At Pocasset, a party of about three hundred Indians came sud- 
 denly upon Captain Church's little force of thirty-six men. The 
 soldiers fought bravely, until Captain G-olding brought a sloop 
 to their relief. A new difficulty arose, for the water near the 
 shore was too shallow to allow the sloop to approach, and a 
 canoe could only carry two. But while the bullets whistled 
 around them, riddling the sail, grazing the cheek of the captain, 
 and passing through the canoe, the little force gained the vessel 
 without the loss of a man. 
 
 Philip had been driven from his home, and would not cease 
 hostilities until his tribe should conquer, or be like the Pequods, 
 exterminated. All the 'New England tribes but one, the Mohi- 
 cans, joined the league. Their chief, Uncas, had long been the 
 
CAPTAIN MILKS STANDISH. 141 
 
 rival of Philip, and a faithful ally throughout the Peqiiod war, 
 and determined to assist his white friends now; his men proved 
 of great service as guides through the forest. 
 
 The attack upon Brookfield, Massachusetts, was prosecuted 
 with the most determined fury by the Indians. Their sudden 
 appearance near the town sent the eighty settlers flying into the 
 block-house for protection. The other houses were burned by 
 the savages, and the howling, swarthy throng, numbering six or 
 seven hundred, sheltering themselves behind trees and fences, 
 creeping along the ground through the high grass, seemed like 
 so many birds of prey watching the little flock within the shelter 
 of that rude log building. A flash at a loop-hole of the block- 
 house, and an Indian falls; then flash after flash, each one fatal. 
 Despairing of success, they piled bundles of flax upon a cart 
 which had been left near b}'' in a field, and setting the flax on 
 fire, moved the burning pile toward the block-house. But long 
 before they had gotten this rude engine of destruction under 
 the overhanging second floor of the fort, their design was per- 
 ceived. In spite of the flames which they had hoped would con- 
 ceal the dusky figures beneath the cart, the deadly fire again 
 issues from the loop-holes, and at last there is no one to guide 
 the load of burning flax. Then, while the balls fall like hail 
 around him, a settler runs from the fort and extinguishes the 
 flames, which the wind drives dangerously toward the block-house. 
 Eeinforcements arrive soon afterward, and the Indians hastily 
 retreat, leaving eighty of their number dead upon the field. 
 
 The ISTarragansetts finally joined Philij), and fortified them- 
 selves in a swamp. Around them stretched the imjieneti'able 
 morass, only one path leading to the spot of dry land where 
 clustered their five hundred wigwams. This path had been beat- 
 en by the feet of the Indian, and admitted only a single file ; it 
 ended at a brook, where a log formed a rude bridge leading di- 
 rectly to the island. Prom the high palisade, around which, for 
 greater protection, trees and brush had been piled, a deadly fire 
 could sweep this single path. But the eleven hundred men, who 
 have gathered to inflict a decisive blow upon the hostile Indians, 
 know no fear. Death is certain to those who lead the attack, 
 but they recall the saddened homes, perhaps a father, a brother, 
 a wife, or a child slain by the hand of the savage, and not a man 
 flinches. The deadly fire opens from the fort, but the determin- 
 ed men rush forward so quickly that when the Indian has shot 
 
142 
 
 CAPTAIN MIL&S STANDISH. 
 
 one man, before he can reload, two more have pressed forward 
 to fill their dead comrade's place. 
 
 ISTow they gain the barricade, now they have forced their 
 way into it. Hand to hand, sword to tomahawk, the battle now 
 rages in the fort. Step by step the Indians are pressed back, 
 nntil at last they txirn and fly. Climbing over the high palisade, 
 their light footsteps carry them through the marsh in which the 
 heavily armed white man would sink waist-deejo, and they es- 
 cape in the woods. The Indian women and children are in the 
 fort, dumb with terror and grief. Now, high into the winter sky 
 rise the flames, consuming the wigwams, and even the corn prov- 
 ided for the winter. Four hundred white men have been killed; 
 
 A NARROW BRIDGE TO VICTOKY. 
 
 of the three thousand Narragansetts, a miserable remnant has 
 escaped; according to the account of one of their number, who 
 was among those saved, seven hundred were killed, and three 
 hundred mortally wounded. By some authorities the loss of the 
 whites is put at a much lower figure than that given, but the 
 number of those that died from their wounds would probably re- 
 move the discrepancy. Certain it is that this blow practically 
 annihilated the treacherous Narragansett tribe^ the chief of which 
 had made a treaty with the whites not three months before the 
 storming of the fort. 
 
 Without food or shelter, exposed to all the fury of a December 
 snow-storm, they took their way back to the settlements, bearing 
 
CAPTAIN MILES STANDISII. 143 
 
 their wounded with them. Canonchet, the treiicheroiis chief, was 
 captured, and urged to procure a treaty of peace with the other 
 Indians. 
 
 " The Indians will never stop fighting/' he answered, doggedly. 
 
 "You are condemned to death ; this is your only chance of life." 
 
 "I shall die before I speak anything unworthy of myself." 
 
 All through the summer of 1676 the war goes on — steadily the 
 star of the savage chief declines. His bravest warriors are dead; 
 he is losing his hold over the tribes around him; in a council one 
 of his men speaks of peace to him. He knows that it means dis- 
 grace, and the rash counselor dies by his master's own hand. 
 His wife and child are captured. 
 
 "!N"ow my heart breaks, now I am ready to die!" exclaimed 
 he whose name had so long been the terror of New England's 
 stern j)eople. 
 
 From that same council went forth a warrior of the Wampan- 
 oags vowing never again to recognize the authority of the chief, 
 never to stay his footsteps until the white man should be on that 
 chiefs track; it was the brother of the murdered man. Straight 
 to the English camp he stole, to guide the soldiers in the pursuit 
 ofPhilii). 
 
 Dark days had come upon Pometacom, the son of Massasoit, 
 the last chief of the Wampanoags. Few followers remain to him 
 — they should be men, but they have the hands of squaws and the 
 hearts of serpents j they will not fight, they plot against him. 
 His wife and child — who can tell how the savage loved them? — 
 have been sold into slavery in the islands far out in the ocean. 
 There is no hojie left for him. Yet still he is King Phili]? of 
 Pokanoket, sachem of the AVampanoags ; and with a strange dig- 
 nity of feeling, the hopelessly lost man goes back to his desola- 
 ted home, once the seat of his power. 
 
 On the night of August 11, 1676, a body of men under Captain 
 Church reached Bristol Neck, which connects Mount Hope with 
 the mainland, and concealed themselves in the bushes. Day broke, 
 and the Indians seeing themselves closely beset, rushed from 
 their hiding places in great disorder, under a heavy fire. Every 
 point of egress from the marsh where they had lain was guard- 
 ed. Past one point, where a white man and the Indian guide 
 stood, a warrior would have run ; the white man's gun missed 
 its mark, but a deadlier hatred aimed the traitor's, for the fugi- 
 tive was Philip. A ball pierced his heart, and he fell forward. 
 
tiAPTAIN MILES STANDISH. 145 
 
 King Philip^s war was over. Still there was not yet an end to 
 the fighting. The flames still smouldered, and often broke out, 
 until the few Indians who survived were subdued in spirit, and 
 had forgotten the traditions of their race. 
 
 For twenty 3'ears the head of Pometaeom, the last chief of the 
 Wampanoags, looked from the gibbet at Plymouth upon the land 
 of his fathers, that he had sold for trifles and would have re- 
 deemed with blood ; a ghastly symbol of safety to those who suc- 
 ceeded him in the sovereign tj' of his native land. 
 
 10 
 
1 
 
 k 
 
CHAPTER T. 
 
 GENEEAL ISEAEL PUTNAM. 
 
 ON the road between Newburyport and Boston, just half-way 
 betAveen the two places, stands an *old farm-house of the 
 better class. Fifty j^ears is the age assigned to the newest part, 
 and the history of the logs which form a part of it dates back to 
 1648. When first built, it stood in the wilderness, and the sounds 
 most frequently heard were the sharp and ringing blows of the 
 axe and the heavy thud of the falling trees; while the war-whoop 
 of the Indian frightened into silence the birds' songs. Here, in 
 the year 1718, was born Israel Putnam. Of his early years, wo 
 have only the record of the Town Meeting, showing the school 
 accommodations then existing — few and slight. The roads were 
 so dangerous, and the clearings so far apart, that even as late as 
 1725 it was unsafe for little children to go alone to school. As he 
 grew older, his father's estate would have enabled him to attend 
 one of the academics in the neighboring towns, but he loved the 
 tangled and howling forest better than the closely trimmed hedges 
 of the towns. He left school when he had learned to write a 
 large, round, school-boy hand, and before he had become thor- 
 oughly acquainted with the mysteries of the spelling-book, or 
 whatever may have served as its substitute. 
 
 Whatever was his lack of school -training (and in after years 
 he was much ashamed of his ignorance), he received a liberal ed- 
 ucation in the arts of the forest; and his courage was early made 
 manifest. Yisiting Boston in his boyhood with some relative, a 
 larger boy chaffed him for some time upon his personal appear- 
 ance. He bore it patiently as long as he could, but, as forbear- 
 ance ceased to be a virtue, turned suddenly upon his persecutor 
 and administered a sound thrashing, to the great delight of all 
 the spectators. We may believe that that Boston boy was in the 
 future less disposed to make fun of rustics. 
 
 On one occasion, the cool daring so noticeable in his after life 
 
148 
 
 GENERAL ISRAEL PUTNAM. 
 
 was made manifest. He had climbed a tree to possess himself 
 of a bird's-nest upon a limb many feet above the ground, but his 
 clothes caught on the limb, he lost his balance, and hung suj^ported 
 only by the band of his breeches. There was a boy named Eandall 
 in the group, who was noted for being a crack marksman, and who 
 afterwards fought bravely at Putnam's side. Fortunately, he had 
 his loaded rifle with him on this occasion, as on most others. 
 
 "Jim Eandall, is there a 
 ball in your rifle?" 
 '' Yes." 
 
 " Do you see the limb that 
 holds me here?" 
 "I do." 
 " Fire at it." 
 
 " What, to cut 3"ou down ?" 
 " Of course. For what else 
 could I ask it?" 
 
 "But I might 
 head." 
 
 " Shoot J better 
 my brains at once, than see 
 me die here by hanging, as I 
 shall in fifteen minutes. Shoot, 
 I tell 3'ou." 
 
 " But you will fall." 
 " Will you tire ?" 
 Randall brought his rifle to 
 his shoulder ; the sharjT crack 
 was echoed by the woods; 
 the splinters flew j Putnam 
 dropped to the ground, se- 
 verely bruised by the fall. 
 Making light of his hurts, 
 however, ho continued to join 
 Unwilling to give up anything 
 
 hit your 
 blow out 
 
 "SHOOT, I TELL YOU !'' 
 
 in the sports of his companions. 
 
 once undertaken, he returned alone a few days afterward, and 
 secured the coveted prize. While we cannot but blame his rob- 
 bery of the bird, we must see in this a prophecy of the days to 
 come and the daring deeds for which he would be famous. 
 
 Married at the age of twenty or twenty-one, in 1740 he removed 
 to Pomfret, Connecticut, a tract thirty-six miles from Hartford, 
 
GENERAL ISRAEL PUTNAM. 149 
 
 and on the Mohegfin river. His father had followed that wise 
 custom of the early New England farmers, of dividing a large 
 part of his estate among his children as they grew xi]) ; thus se- 
 curing to each one a means of earning his living and securing a 
 competency, and preventing quarrels over his property after his 
 death. After the lapse of a very few years, Ave find him in the 
 enjoyment of a comfortable and substantial home, his clearings 
 well fenced and cultivated, his j)asturcs well stocked, and his 
 sheep-fold the i:)ride of his heart. 
 
 "With numerous flocks, well cared for, he carried on quite an 
 extensive business in wool. But his folds, like those of his 
 neighbors, suffered heavily from the dejDredations of a wolf, 
 that for many years annoyed the sheep-raisers. Many of her 
 cubs had been killed, but the old wolf had grown wary, and 
 though once she had set her foot in a trap and lost her toes 
 in getting loose, she had succeeded for a long time in eluding 
 her pursuers. At length, finding the nuisance intolerable, he 
 entered into a combination with five of his neighbors, to watch 
 and hunt alternately, two at a time, and never to abandon the 
 pursuit until she was destroyed. Commencing the hunt imme- 
 diately after a light fall of snow, they were soon on a trail that 
 could not be mistaken. Pursued over hill and valley, through 
 forest and brake and swamj), at the Connecticut the wolf turned 
 back in a direct course to Pomfret, still closely pursued by the 
 vigilant hunters. Early the next morning, they had driven her 
 into a den, about three miles from the house of Mr. Putnam; and 
 here she was carefully guarded until a large number of men and 
 boys had assembled, with dogs, guns, straw and sulphur, pre- 
 pared for the destruction of the common enemy. 
 
 It was a scene of general and great excitement, but their ex- 
 pectations of sport bade fair to be disappointed. The instinct of 
 self-preservation had led the thief to a retreat where she could 
 stand an obstinate siege and defend herself with a bravery and 
 fierceness quite appalling. Some of the hounds, excited by the 
 chase, and eager to be at their prey, rushed headlong into the 
 cavern, but returned, yelping bitterly and covered with wounds; 
 and nothing could induce them to return to the charge. The at- 
 tempt was now made to drive her out by another means, and great 
 volumes of smoke rolled into the cave from the straw set on fire 
 at its mouth. Palling in this, they tried the fumes of sulphur, 
 but with no better resxilt. Either the wolf, knowing that certain 
 
150 GENERAL ISRAEL PUTNAM. 
 
 death at the hands of her enemies awaited her, chose to die in the 
 cave, or the smoke escaping through a fissure in the walls, she 
 suffered less than they thought. At any rate, their efforts proved 
 fruitless for many hours. It was now near midnight, and unless 
 they soon arrived at some result, their efforts would prove fruit- 
 less; for most of the men there assembled had been on the alert 
 nearly twenty hours. Another effort was made to induce the 
 dogs to go in, but without success. 
 
 " Take a torch and gun, and go into the cavern and shoot the 
 wolf,"suggestcd Mr. Putnam to a servant. But the man's service 
 did not require him to undertake such dangerous enterprises, and 
 he declined the honor to be won at such hazard. Finding no one 
 who was willing to go, and declaring he was ashamed to have 
 such a coward in his family, Mr. Putnam at once resolved to enter 
 himself. His neighbors remonstrated, but in vain ; he was bent 
 on accomplishing the death of the victim that very night, lest she 
 should escape by some unknow^n passage, and achieve her safety 
 by one sudden, desperate rush past the sentinels. 
 
 Knowing the instinctive dread of fire which all wild animals 
 have, he provided himself with strips of birch-bark as a substi- 
 tute for torches, and without any weapon, went to reconnoiter. 
 Through a passage that was at no point high enough for a man 
 to stand U2)right, or more than three feet wide, he crawled on 
 hands and knees. Smooth and solid rocks lined the cavity, the 
 mouth of which is about two feet square j and a distance of more 
 than forty feet must be traversed before he could reach his goal. 
 From time to time his torch must be rekindled, or he would be 
 left in utter darkness, and at the mercy of the wild beast he was 
 seeking. Part of the surface Avas a descent, about one-fourth was 
 level, and the remaining sixteen feet a gradual ascent. As he 
 reached the farther end of the horizontal jiassage, he could see 
 nothing but the darkness around him, made visible by the little 
 circle of light surrounding his torch. Creeping cautiously on- 
 ward, he saw the eyes of the wolf gleaming like fire through the 
 darkness, and heard her gnash her teeth and growl as the light 
 of the torch was seen. Giving the signal agreed upon, a kick at 
 the rope fastened to his foot, he was hastily drawn back to his 
 anxious friends. The return was not without its disadvantages, 
 for his clothes were torn and his flesh badly lacerated. 
 
 Loading his gun, and taking another handful of his impro- 
 vised torches, he again descended into the narrow cave. Encum- 
 
GENERAL ISRAEL PUTNAM, 
 
 151 
 
 bered with his muslvct, his progress was of course much slower 
 than before, but his knowledge of the way, and being armed, 
 made it safer. Howling, rolling her eyes, snapj)ing her teeth, 
 and dropping her head between her legs, the wolf was evidently 
 ou the point of springing at her assailant. At this critical mo- 
 ment he levelled his piece, aiming directly at her head, and 
 fired. Stunned with the shock, and almost suffocated by the 
 smoke of the powder, he found himself, in a few moments, again 
 drawn out of the cave, though more gently than before. 
 
 1 I 1 N \\1 IN niK WuLl b t V\ I . 
 
 Being refreshed by the cold, pure air outside of the cavern, he 
 went down for the third time, in order to bring away his prize. 
 There, in the innermost recess of the long cavern, lay the 
 dreaded animal in a pool of her own blood, perfectly insensible 
 to the flame of his torch. Seizing her by the ears and giving 
 the usual signal to his friends, he was again drawn out, dragging 
 the carcass with him. 
 
 As he emerged into tlio air with the body of that fearful crea- 
 ture which had so long been the terror and scourge of their fields, 
 
152 GENERAL ISRAEL PUTNAM. 
 
 ho was greeted with a shout which reassured the waiting, tremb- 
 ling wives and mothers at home. It echoed through the woods, 
 and was heard far and near. The brave victor was escorted in 
 triumph to his home, with the trophy of his valor borne before 
 him on a litter, and the troop of volunteers was provided with 
 as generous a smoking hot supper as time would allow. 
 
 Putnam's agreeable manner, generous spirit and uniform good 
 humor had already secured him the affection of his neighbors, 
 while his integrity, good sense and enterprise had obtained their 
 esteem. It does not take a very remarkable deed to make such 
 a man a popular hero ; his exploit in the wolf's den was more 
 than sufficient, and the story spread far and near, gaining as it 
 went. It was said that the den was full of wolves 5 that it con- 
 tained a bear and her two cubs 3 the difficulty of access, great as 
 it was, was exaggerated ; and the newspapers of England and 
 Franco copied the story as thus told. 
 
 This adventure, and others in his military experience, gave 
 him the reputation of thoughtless daring. The truth was, that 
 his mind was quickly made up as to the possibility and necessity 
 of acting in a certain way, and having by quick and accurate 
 percej)tions arrived at conclusions which other men reached by 
 slow and painful reasoning, he lost no time in carrying the 
 quickly formed resolution into effect. Quick as a woman in see- 
 ing what ought to be done, he was bravo and strong as a man 
 in doing it. 
 
 His reputation grew as the years passed on, and his courage 
 was shown by acts only less adventurous and daring than the 
 killing of the wolf. When the French and Indian War broke 
 out in 1755, he was commissioned captain of volunteers, though 
 he had never seen a day's service as a soldier. Nor did he have 
 any difficulty in obtaining recruits; around the standard of 
 "the old wolf," as he was often called, flocked his personal friends 
 and admirers ; not the outcasts, the vagabonds or the floating 
 population, but hardy, industrious, respectable young men, the 
 very flower of the Connecticut farmers. None of them had been 
 educated as soldiers, or had had such experience, but bold hearts, 
 strong arms and trust in their captain made the work far easier 
 than to the mere soldier of fortune. 
 
 Although this company was not specially designated as ran- 
 gers, but attached to the regular army, its duty was of the hardy, 
 bold and adventurous character usually performed by such a corps. 
 
GENERAL ISRAEL PUTNAM. 153 
 
 This work was peculiar!}' suited, not only to the men, but to their 
 commander. In the active and perilous duty of reconnoitering 
 the enemy's posts, surprising their pickets, cutting off or captur- 
 ing detached 2)arties, waylaying convoys of provisions,' he found 
 ample employment for his spirit of restless enterprise, as well 
 as room for the exercise of those powers of invention and strat- 
 agem for which he was distinguished. 
 
 The French and Indian war was peculiar in its requirements 
 of soldiers. Nearly all the Indians were enlisted on the French 
 side, and the mountains, the forests, the river banks, the shores 
 and inlets of the lakes were all infested with straggling parties 
 of these ruthless marauders, whose stealthy movements render- 
 ed them peculiarly formidable to the soldiery. Nor were they 
 less dreadful to the settlers, who were frequently surprised in 
 their homes by prowling savages ; and many are the tales that 
 might be told of children carried away into captivity, of others 
 slain before their homes. Skulking in every thicket, in the out- 
 skirts of every wood, tliey were always ready to spring upon the 
 foe. Often the English soldiers fell by an unseen hand, often they 
 were slain before they could defend themselves. This was the 
 lesson which the leaders of the army had to learn, a lesson writ- 
 ten in blood in the very beginning of the war. 
 
 General Braddock had set out to the west to establish a chain 
 of communication from Quebec to New Orleans ; sending from 
 time to time despatches to the authorities that after such an un- 
 dertaking, which would require so many days, he would proceed 
 to the next point. "After taking Fort Duquesne, I am to proceed 
 to Niagara, and having taken that, to Frontenae. Duquesne can 
 hardly detain me more than three or four days." In reply to 
 cautions regarding ambuscades, he replied contemptuously that 
 though the savages might be formidable to the raw American 
 militia, they would make no impression on the king's regiilars. 
 Approaching Fort Duquesne, the scouts brought information of 
 an ambuscade of Indians and French in the forest. The j^oung 
 aid. Colonel G-eorge Washington, advised a course which his 
 experience in dealing with the Indians suggested. 
 
 "High times," said Braddock, with an oath, "when a young 
 buckskin is to teach a British general how to fight." 
 
 The armv advanced into the forest with all the pomp and cir- 
 cumstance of war, only to hear the sharp crack of rifles echoed 
 and re-echoed from every side. Not a foe was in sight. The ar- 
 
GENERAL ISRAEL PUTNAM. 155 
 
 tillery was directed hither, thither; the soldiers fired at random • 
 while into their own compact ranks poured a deadly fire. Tlie 
 wild yell of the invisible enemy struck terror to tlie hearts of the 
 king's regulars; and while the officers used every effort to en- 
 courage the men to move forward and dislodge the enemy from 
 his shelter, their endeavors were in vain. Sullenly the troojDs 
 refused to obey, here and there a yet more rebellious spirit in 
 the rear fired upon the officers who urged them forward. Brad- 
 dock was fatally wounded, his two English aids killed, while the 
 young American was singled out as a mark by more than one rifle- 
 man. ^' Some powerful Manitou guarded his life," said a Shawnee 
 chief, who averred that he had fired seventeen shots at him; two 
 horses were killed under him, and four balls penetrated his coat; 
 yet he escaped unhurt. The regulars, what there was left of them, 
 broke and ran like sheep. The forest field of battle was left thick- 
 ly strewn with the dead and dying; never had there been such 
 a harvest of scalps and spoils ; and as evening approached, the 
 forest rang with the exultant shouts and yells of the victors. 
 
 It was just after Braddock's defeat had created consternation 
 throughoiit the colonies that Sir William Johnson undertook an 
 expedition against Crown Point and other French strongholds 
 in the region of Lake Chaniplain. Here it was that Captain 
 Putnam entered upon that great theater of honorable strife and 
 hazardous adventure, where he won those enduring laurels that 
 crown his memory. Fort Edward, built and held by the English, 
 was unsuccessfullj' attacked by the French with their Indian allies; 
 and the remainder of the season was passed by Johnson's forces 
 in completing the intrenchments around the camp, only occasional 
 skirmishes between foraging and scouting parties taking place. 
 Here, sometimes in company with Captain, afterward Major 
 Eogers, sometimes alone, Putnam was employed in reconnoiter- 
 ing the enemj^'s lines, gaining intelligence of his movements, 
 taking straggling prisoners, and surprising the advance pickets 
 of their arm3^ The first time the two captains went out together, 
 it was the fortune of Putnam to save the life of Rogers, a service 
 afterward requited with the utmost ingratitude. 
 
 They had been sent out to obtain an accurate knowledge of 
 the position of the enemy, and the strength of his fortifications 
 at Crown Point; but the situation of the fort made it impossible 
 to approach it Avith their whole party. The two leaders, how- 
 ever, determined not to return without an attemj^tto effect their 
 
156 GENERAL ISRAEL PUTNAM. 
 
 purpose, and concealed their men, with strict orders to remain in 
 hiding until their return. Creeping stealthily forward, under cover 
 of the darkness, they reached the vicinity of the fortress, and 
 lay hidden there until morning. Early the following day they 
 came nearer, and having completed their observations, were 
 about to return to their men, when Rogers, who was a short dis- 
 tance from Putnam, suddenly encountered a Frenchman. Instant- 
 ly giving the alarm to the nearest guard, the Frenchman seized 
 Rogers' fusee with one hand, and with the other made an effort 
 to stab him. A desperate struggle followed. The guard an- 
 swered the call, and the whole garrison would soon be down up- 
 on them. No time was to be lost, yet a shot would only increase 
 their danger. "With the rapidity of action for which he was fa- 
 mous, Putnam sprang at the Frenchman, and with one blow 
 of the butt-end of his musket, laid him dead at his feet. With the 
 utmost speed they fled to the mountains, rejoined their J)arty, 
 and returned to the camp without further incident. 
 
 The fortress of Crown Point being too strong to be attacked, 
 and the season being now far advanced, the colonial troops, who 
 had only enlisted for the campaign, were disbanded, and Captain 
 Putnam returned to the quiet scenes of domestic life upon his 
 thrifty farm, where his fifteen-year-old son had been left in charge. 
 Reappointed to his old command in the following year, when it 
 was again resolved to reduce Fort Duquesne and Crown Point, he 
 was given much the same kind of duties to perform. It was in 
 this latter enterprise that Captain Putnam was engaged ; and 
 although it was a season of inactivity for the main body, he had 
 plenty of stirring incidents in this part of his experience. 
 
 Appointed to reconnoiter the enemy's camp near Ticonderoga, 
 ho took Lieutenant Durkee with him as a companion. Ignorance 
 of thedifference between the English and French methods of ar- 
 ranging their camps had nearly proved fatal to them. The Eng- 
 lish were accustomed to kindle their camp-fires along the outer 
 lines of their encamj^ment, thus laying open the whole extent of 
 the camp to the view of the enemy's scouts and patrols, and fre- 
 quently exposing the sentinels to be picked off by expert marks- 
 men. The French and Indians, on the other hand, kindled their 
 fires in the center, lodged their men at a distance, and posted 
 their circle of sentinels in the surrounding darkness. Supposing 
 that the French sentries were within the circle of the fires, the 
 bold scouts crept to the camp, using the utmost caution, and sud- 
 
GENERAL ISRAEL PUTNAM. 157 
 
 dcnly, to their great surprise, found themselves in the very midst 
 of the enemy. The sentinels, almost at the same moment that 
 the scouts perceived their predicament, saw by the light of the 
 fire that some one had passed unchallenged, and one of them 
 fired, slighll}^ w^ounding Durkee in the thigh. 
 
 Instant flight was the only alternative. Putnam, turning away 
 from the glare of the fire, could hardly see his hand before him 
 in the blackness of the night, and soon plunged into a clay-pit. 
 Beside him, as he was groping his way to the farther side, fell 
 another man, whom he was about to strike down, wlicn he 
 recognized Durkee's voice, asking him if he had escaped unhurt. 
 Eejoicing at their safety, they gained the farther side, and spring- 
 ing from the pit, made good their retreat through a leaden hail 
 that the Prench sentinels i:)Oured at random into the forest. Under 
 the lee of a large log, they found shelter for the night. 
 
 "I've a little rum in my canteen," said Putnam to his compan- 
 ion, " let us drink to the confusion of those French sentinels." 
 
 The canteen was produced, but alas for his generous intention ! 
 A bullet had pierced the tin, and there was not a drop of liquor 
 there. Xor was this the only evidence of his narrow escape, for 
 on examining his blanket, the next day, fourteen bullet-holes 
 were* found. 
 
 While encamped at this point, the sentinel at a certain post 
 had been picked off night after night; the best and bravest 
 soldiei\s had volunteered to stand guard at this post of honor, 
 because of danger, and had shared the same fate ; in the morn- 
 ing, it was always found deserted. At last it came to be looked 
 upon as suicidal to venture on duty at that place, and men hesi- 
 tated, and refused to go. The commander was about to fill the place 
 by lot, when Captain Putnam, whose position as a commissioned 
 ofiicer excused him from all such duties, solicited the honor of 
 standing guard there for the night. His offer was promptly 
 accepted. 
 
 " If you hear any noise from without the lines," the command- 
 ing officer instructed him, as all other sentinels had previously 
 been, you will call ' TT7(0 goes there?' three times, and then, if 
 no answer be given, fire. 
 
 Captain Putnam listened with the respect due to his superior 
 ofiicer, and set out to his post. Every tree and shrub and rock 
 m the neighborhood was carefully examined, and an exact photo- 
 graph of the whole scene fixed in his mind, before he settled down 
 
158 GENERAL ISRAEL PUTNAM. 
 
 to the tramp, ti'amp, backward and forward, through the live-long 
 night, or until he should meet the fate of his predecessors. It was 
 midnight, and only the sound of his own footsteps or the rust- 
 ling of trees in the wind had as yet broken the silence. Listen ! 
 In the grass a slight rustling, as if some animal drew near j then 
 a crackling sound, as if it had found food and were munching 
 it. Eaising his musket to his shoulder, and aiming at the spot 
 where the noise was heard, he called out: 
 
 *' Who goes there three times ?" and instantly fired. The sound 
 of his shot had not died away before he heard a deep groan — the 
 last breath of the burly Indian who had made this post fiital to 
 less wary sentinels. From that time forward, the guards at that 
 point were free from molestation. 
 
 At some time during the summer, Captains Putnam and Rogers 
 were ordered to embark with a force of one hundred volunteers 
 and a suitable supply of arms, and proceed down Lake George 
 to intercept a large party of the enemy that had attacked and 
 jDlundcred an American detachment in charge of a provision train. 
 The force of the enemy amounted to about six hundred men. 
 Nothing daunted, however, by their inferiority of numbers, the 
 two leaders executed their orders with so much spirit as to arrive 
 at the designated point before the hostile boats came in view. 
 Concealed in the woods, they waited until the enemy entered the 
 narrows, and then opened upon his boats a murderous fire. Volley 
 after volley was poured upon them, many of the oarsmen being 
 killed, many of the boats sunk. A strong wind swept some of 
 the vessels through the narrows and thus enabled them to escape 
 from the guns of their assailants, reporting the disaster at Ticon- 
 doroga, and giving information that Putnam and Rogers were at 
 the narrows with a large force of colonial troops. 
 
 Three hundred fresh troops, whites and Indians, w^ere thereuj^on 
 despatched to cut oif this party before it should reach Fort Ed- 
 ward, a measure anticipated by the American leaders. Although 
 the latter were fully twenty miles from their boats, they suc- 
 ceeded in reaching them before night, and were soon moving, 
 briskl}^ down the lake. On the following day, however, they were 
 sighted by the French, who, flushed with the hope of certain vic- 
 tory, advanced boldly and confidently to the attack. They were 
 permitted to come within pistol shot before a gun was fired 5 then, 
 with deadly aim, a broadside was poured upon them. The volley 
 from the larger pieces was followed by the discharge of the mus- 
 
GENERAL ISRAEL PUTNAM. 
 
 159 
 
 kets, and this alternation was continued, making such dreadful 
 havoc that the French, having never recovered from the first dis- 
 mayed surprise, did not make even an effort to rall3\ Every 
 volley carried death into their ranks, and the boats, crippled and 
 shattered, laden with tlie wounded and the dying, were urged 
 through the bloody waters back to Ticonderoga. In the two en- 
 gagements, fully five hundred of the French and Indians were kill- 
 ed, while the Americans lost only one man, two being wounded. 
 
 The services upon which 
 Captain Putnam was gen- 
 erally employed were not 
 usually, however, those of 
 such note as this described. 
 Planned and executed in 
 secret, their success de- 
 pended largely upon the 
 maintenance of this se- 
 crecy. The movements of 
 an army, the fate of a bat- 
 tle, may often depend upon 
 the information given by 
 a scout whose name re- 
 mains unknown, whose 
 services are never record- 
 ed, unless by himself, 
 
 Putnam kept no journal, (.lm.hvl j^kakl m i.nam. 
 
 so that the few accounts of his work preserved in the orderly 
 books, some stories that found their way into the newspapers, 
 or were told by friend to fi'iend and thus preserved for years, 
 are all that remain as a clue to his popularity with the soldiers, 
 the respect with which his superior officers regarded him, and 
 the general and strong opinion that he was destined to become 
 distinguished in a broader field of action. 
 
 One incident of this campaign will show the danger and value 
 of his duties. Sent out with five men, to take a prisoner from 
 whom information of the strength and designs of the enemy 
 might be obtained, he found, on approaching the camp, a suit- 
 able place of concealment in a thicket near the road. His men 
 were very unwilling to hide themselves here, ascribing their 
 leader's caution to cowardice, and -it was only with difficulty that 
 he prevented them from exposing themselves in such a way as 
 
160 GEiSTERAL ISRAEL PUTNAM. 
 
 would have entirely defeated the object of the expedition, and 
 added very much to its danger. He succeeded, however, in en- 
 forcing his commands, and the party had not been long in the 
 covert before an opportunity j^resented itself. An Indian, follow- 
 ed at a short distance by a Frenchman, passed them. Waiting 
 until the former was far enough from his comrade to render as- 
 sistance improbable, Putnam sprang from the thicket, ordering 
 his men to follow. A run of thirty yards brought him to the 
 Frenchman, Avhom he seized by the shoulder and called upon to 
 surrender. The Frenchman looked around, and seeing but one 
 assailant, and knowing that the Indian could return in a few mo- 
 ments, resisted. Putnam's men, so brave when no danger threat- 
 ened, had failed to obey his call. Thus betrayed into a most per- 
 ilous situation, he stepped backward a few paces, and levelled 
 his musket at the Frenchman.- It missed fire. The Frenchman 
 saw his advantage, and giving the alarm to his Indian comrade, 
 sjirang furiously upon Putnam, who judged it prudent to retreat. 
 Drawing his enemy off toward the point where his men were 
 posted, he still hoped to make the desired capture, and the 
 Frenchman would have fallen into their hands if they had not 
 shown themselves too soon. The alarm had been given, and it 
 was now a dangerous place for the scouts, so they retreated in 
 all haste to the camp. There Captain Putnam dismissed his men 
 in disgrace, and selecting a party upon which he could place 
 more reliance, set forth again on the same hazardous errand; 
 this time with more success. 
 
 We need not follow the elaborate preparations made in the suc- 
 ceeding year by the commander-in-chief. Lord Loudon, for an 
 expedition against Louisburg. The idea was abandoned when a 
 French fleet arrived with large reinforcements for the garrison, 
 and the general returned to ISTew York. The French general, 
 Montcalm, determined to make a bold push to secure the entire 
 possession of Lake George, defended by the garrisons of Forts 
 William Henry and Edward. Having acted as escort to General 
 Webb from Fort Edward to William Henry, Putnam, now commis- 
 sioned Major by the Connecticut Legislature, proposed to go 
 down the lake andreconnoiter the enemy's position. After some 
 delay, permission was granted, but a force of eighteen was given 
 him, instead of the five that he had desired. Embarking in 
 three whale-boats, and intending to land in iN'orthwest Bay, they 
 discovered, before arriving there, a large body of the enemy upon 
 
GENERAL ISRAEL PUTNAM. 161 
 
 an island. Leaving two boats with directions to lie to, as if for 
 the purj^ose of fishing, Putnam returned in the other to inform 
 the general of the danger which threatened the garrison. Gen. 
 Webb did not wish Major Putnam to return for the rest of his 
 party, but his urgency overcame the general's fear, and he was 
 reluctantly accorded permission. On the return of his escort, 
 the valiant commander left Port William Ilonrj^, sending the 
 next day a reinforcement to sustain the attack of the seven 
 thousand French and Canadian soldiers, and the two thousand 
 Indians, that ari-ived the day after the reinforcement invested 
 the fortress. Eecalling a further force of volunteers even after 
 their departure, a detachment which would have defeated the 
 French, since the information that it was on the way made them 
 prepare to raise the siege, it seemed that Gen. Webb deliberately 
 left Fort William Henry to its terrible fate. Fortunately for the 
 safety of our northeim border, he was soon superseded by an 
 officer who wished to defend Fort Edward, which Webb would 
 have surrendered without a shot fired in defense. 
 
 A party of one hundred and fifty men were sent into the neigh- 
 boring forest to cut timber for the fort, since Gen. Lyman had re- 
 solved to strengthen its defenses ; a force of fifty British regulars 
 being posted about one hundred rods east of the fort to protect 
 them. A narrow causeway from their station to the fort had on 
 one side a morass, on the other a small creek. A large body of 
 Indians concealed themselves, under cover of night, in the swamp; 
 arrow after arrow was aimed at the sentinel, that, with the guard 
 killed b}' a noiseless weaj)on, a surprise might be possible ; one 
 quivers in the tree just over his head, and he gives the alarm; a 
 sudden rush from the covert, the Indians doubly enraged by the 
 failure of their plans; the unarmed laborers nearest to them are 
 shot or tomahawked, and the survivors fly in dismay towards 
 the fort. A well-timed and spirited fire from the soldiers checks 
 the pursuit, but the little party of defenders is almost overpow- 
 ered, and the captain sends to the fort for a reinforcement. It is 
 a cruel thing to do, but the commander feels it must be done; a 
 general attack will doubtless follow this; outposts are called in, 
 gates are shut, and the little band, fighting in the forest, is left to 
 its fate. 
 
 Major Putnam, with his corps of rangers, was stationed at one 
 of the outposts, and as soon as he heard from his runners of the 
 dangerous situation of Captain Little, hastened to his assistance. 
 U 
 
162 GENERAL ISRAEL PUTNAM. 
 
 Passing near the fort on his way, he was ordered by Gren. Lyman 
 to proceed no farther. Willing to risk not only his life, but his 
 standing, to rescue his comrade, he made a brief aj)ology, and 
 hurried on to the scene of action without waiting for an answer. 
 They make their way to where the little force of regulars main- 
 tains its ground with desperate courage; td the music of their 
 own shouts they charge impetuously into the swamp ; the Indians, 
 surprised, confused, terrified, fly in every direction, and are pur- 
 sued with dreadful slaughter ; only one white man falls during 
 the chase, and his slayer sleeps not ten feet from where he fired 
 the fatal shot. 
 
 According to the usages of war, Putnam should have been 
 court-martialed for disobedience of orders ; a fault in a soldier 
 which no brave achievement or brilliant success can palliate; but 
 for some reason, Gen. Lyman chose to consider that he had given 
 a piece of advice, and not a command; and commending the good 
 conduct of the men, welcomed them, with hearty good will, to 
 their quarters. 
 
 Putnam's heroism was destined, in the course of the winter, to 
 save the garrison from a danger as fatal as delivery into the hands 
 of the Indians. A fire broke out in the barracks, twelve feet from 
 which stood a magazine containing fifteen tons of powder; and 
 had so far advanced before it was discovered as to almost bid de- 
 fiance to every efi'ort to extinguish it. An endeavor to level the 
 barracks by bringing heavy artillery to bear upon them, in the 
 hope that the supports would he cut, was in vain ; the flames 
 continued to spread with great rapidity. Major Putnam saw the 
 smoke and heard the alarm at the out])Ost where he was stationed, 
 and hastened to the assistance of the garrison. At his suggestion, 
 a line of soldiers was posted to pass water to him, as, enveloped 
 by the smoke, and close to the flames, he distributed it ui:)on the 
 burning rafters with a perseverance that had well-nigh cost him 
 his life. Notwithstanding his efforts, the fire raged with a violence 
 that threatened to be uncontrollable, and began to shoot out fear- 
 fully toward the magazine. But the efforts of the garrison were at 
 last successful, and although Putnam was surrounded by a cloud 
 of smoke, in a shower of cinders, singed and scorched on every 
 side, he maintained his position near the magazine, pouring water 
 upon the frail wooden partition, charred and smoking, that sepa- 
 rated the flames from the powder. 
 
 For an hour and a half Major Putnam had contended with the 
 
GENERAL ISRAEL PUTNAM. 163 
 
 destroying element, standing so close to the flames that thick 
 blanket mittens were burned from his hands. Several weeks . 
 passed before he recovered from the effects of this terrible ex- 
 posure ; but his intense sufferings lightened by the grateful atten- 
 tions of the officers and soldiers whose lives he had saved. 
 
 Passing lightly over the events of the early part of the next 
 campaign, where there are but few personal adventures record- 
 ed of our hero, except the courage displayed at the disastrous 
 siege of Ticonderoga, we find several stories of little importance, 
 but still interesting. One day, as he chanced to be in a boat with a 
 few men on the eastern side of the Hudson, he was suddenly warned 
 by signals from the opposite shore that a large number of Indians 
 was in his rear and would be upon him almost immediately. 
 Before him lay the raj)ids ; to remain where he was, or to cross 
 the river exposed to the deadly aim of the Indian rifles, — such 
 were the dangers between which he had to choose. Deciding 
 quickh^ upon trying the rapids, the Indians came up before the 
 boat was well under way, and one man was killed as they fired a 
 number of balls. The swiftness of the current soon carried them 
 out of musket-shot, but onlj^, as they thought, to devote them to 
 death among the sharp rocks and abrupt descents among which 
 their boat flew. "While his companions looked in terror at the 
 dangers by which they were surrounded, Putnam calmly took 
 the helm, and guided the frail vessel among the foaming, whirl- 
 ing eddies of the stream. JSTowthe sides are exposed to the fury 
 of the waves, now the stern, next the bow glances obliquely on- 
 ward with inconceivable rapidity; now it mounts the billows, 
 now it sinks abruptly down ; noAV it is dexterously turned from 
 the rocks, and plunges down the narrow jjassage to the smooth, 
 safe waters below; while the wondering Indians, descrying his 
 success from afar, and fully appreciating the dangers that he 
 braves, declare that it would be a sin. against the Great Sj)irit 
 that has charmed his life to aim a rifle at him, if they should ever 
 meet him at any future time. 
 
 A short time after this, Putnam and Rogers were again de- 
 spatched to cut off" a party of the enemy that had plundered a 
 train of baggage teams, but were less successful than before, as 
 the French had gained their canoes and embarked before being 
 overtaken. Disappointed in the object of their expedition, they 
 hoped to surprise some straggling party of the enemy, and thus 
 make reprisals for the loss which they had been sent out to 
 
1G4 GENERAL ISRAEL PUTNAM. 
 
 avenge. Discovered by the enemy's scouts, they were obliged 
 to give up this plan and return without delay to Fort Edward. 
 Through thick woods made almost impassable by fallen trees and 
 by underbrush, they were obliged to advance in Indian file. Maj- 
 or Putnam in the van, Captain Daly ell in the center, and Major 
 Eogers in the rear. Before resuming their march, however, 
 Major Eogers, singularly forgetful of the caution habitual to a 
 ranger, since his success so largely depends upon it, amused him- 
 self with a trial of skill with a British officer, by firing at a mark. 
 One of the most necessary and every day cautions to be observed 
 by the scout is that of preserving as complete silence as possible 
 on the expedition, never firing a gun unless at the enemy. As 
 soon as the French scouts had brought information of this party's 
 presence, a force under Molang was sent to intercept it. In- 
 formed by the firing of the exact position of the Colonial force, 
 an ambuscade in the woods was formed, and here, about a mile 
 from the encampment, the horrid and discordant yells gave no- 
 tice of the attack upon the van. Dalyell moved rapidly up to 
 the support of Putnam, and the action grew general and warm j 
 but Rogers, probably instigated by that jealousy of Putnam 
 which appears in his published journal, contented himself with 
 forming a circular file between the other two divisions and the 
 creek, to prevent an attack in the rear. 
 
 Inspired by the heroic example of Putnam, the officers and 
 men alike fought with great spii'it, sometimes in masses in open 
 view, sometimes after the Indian fashion. Putnam had discharged 
 his piece several times, and had pointed it at a large and power- 
 ful Indian, when it missed fire. This warrior, availing himself 
 of the unprotected state of his enemy, sprang forward, uttering 
 his war-cry, and with lifted tomahawk compelled him to surren- 
 der. He was immediately disarmed and bound to a tree, while 
 his captor returned to the fight. 
 
 The colonial troops were forced to give ground for a few mo- 
 ments, and the savages, thinking this the commencement of a re- 
 treat, made a new and more furious onset, certain of victory. 
 But the provincials had rallied, and drove back the enemy be- 
 yond the point where the battle had been raging. This success 
 of his party put our hero in all the greater danger, as the tree to 
 which he was bound was now in the thick of the fight. Around 
 him whistled the random shots from either side, bur^'ing them- 
 selves in the tree, and riddling his clothes, but with strange good 
 
GENERAL ISRAEL PUTNAM. 
 
 165 
 
 fortune leaving him unhurt. The malice of his enemies was less 
 luckih' escaped. A young Indian, seeing him confined thus, 
 amused himself by hurling a tomahawk at him, apparently try- 
 ing to see how close he could come to the mark without killing 
 the prisoner. The weapon several times grazed his skin, and 
 stuck in the tree beside his head, and the savage, satisfied at his 
 skill, departed to try it on an unbound victim. 
 
 One of the inferior French officers came up, and levelling his 
 musket at the prisoner's breast, attempted to discharge it, but it 
 missed fire. Putnam's declaration that he was a prisoner of war, 
 and ought to be treated as such, only enraged the degenerate 
 Frenchman, who re- 
 peatedly pushed the 
 muzzle of his gun vio- 
 lently against the pris- 
 oner's ribs, and finally, 
 giving him a cruel 
 blow on the jaw with 
 the butt end, left him. 
 
 The Americans at 
 length drove the ene- 
 my from the field, but 
 did not recapture their 
 leader. As they were 
 reti ring, th e India n 
 who had taken Putnam 
 unbound him and gave 
 him into the charge 
 of some others of his own race. Stripped of his coat, vest, stock- 
 ings and shoes, loaded with as many packs of the wounded as 
 could be piled upon him, his wrists held together as closely as 
 could be by a cord, he journeyed, in this painfnl manner, for many 
 tedious miles. With hands swelled from the tightness of the cord, 
 with feet torn and bleeding, exhausted by a burden beyond his 
 strength, and frantic with torments, he implored instant death as 
 an end to his torture. A French officer, interposing, ordered his 
 hands to be unbound and some of the packs to be taken off; and 
 his captor, who had hitherto been employed aboiit the wounded, 
 gave him a pair of moccasins, expressing great indignation at the 
 treatment he had received. 
 
 But his torments had only begun. The chief was obliged to 
 
 PUTNAM TORMENTIlD. 
 
1G6 GENERAL ISRAEL PUTNAM. 
 
 return to the care of the wounded, and the Indians, taking with 
 them their prisoner, went on before the rest of the party to a 
 place selected for that night's encampment. He was treated with 
 the utmost barbaritj^, carrying to his grave the scar of a toma- 
 hawk wound inflicted then upon his cheek. Led into a dark part 
 of the forest, stripped to the skin, bound to a tree, surrounded 
 with dry brush, death in its most horrible form seemed inevita- 
 ble. With yells and cries that were a fitting prelude to human 
 sacrifice, the savages gathered around him, and set fire to the 
 brush. A sudden shower quenched the flames, but nothing could 
 divert them from their purpose, and at last the blaze ran fiercely 
 around the circle. The inhuman joy of his tormentors manifest- 
 ed itself by yelling, dancing, gesticulating, as he shifted his body 
 from side to side as the fire approached. Hope was long since 
 fled, and he had resigned himself to his dreadful fate, fixing his 
 mind on that happier state of existence to which his soul would 
 soon pass, when the orgy suddenly ended. A French officer — Mo- 
 lang himself, the leader of the expedition, — rushed through the 
 crowd, scattered the brands and unbound the victim. Severely 
 reprimanding the savages, he remained with the prisoner until 
 he could deliver him in safety into the hands of his first captor. 
 
 The savage approached his prisoner kindly, and seemed to 
 treat him with aff'eetion, adapting the hard biscuit,' which was all 
 the food he could ofl'er, to the wounded man's condition, by soak- 
 ing it in water. But he had no idea of allowing him to escape, and 
 at night he was secured in this way: his moccasins were drawn 
 over his arms, and each arm, stretched at full length, bound fast 
 to a young tree ; each leg secured in the same manner; his body 
 was covered with bushes ; around him lay a large guard of In- 
 dians. His march the next day was less exhausting than it had 
 been as he was permitted to have moccasins and a blanket, was 
 not obliged to carry any pack, and was protected from injury. 
 
 Arriving at Ticonderoga at night, he was placed under a 
 French guard, and treated with the humanity that civilized na- 
 tions accord to their prisoners of war. Being soon afterward 
 sent to Montreal, where there were several other prisoners, he 
 had the good fortune to meet with Col. Schiiyler, whose influence 
 secured him the treatment due to his rank, and whose liberality 
 supplied him with necessities and comforts. The capture of Fort 
 Frontenac by the English gave occasion for an exchange of pris- 
 oners, and Col. Schuyler, concealing the fact that Major Putnam 
 
OENERAL ISRAEL PUTNAM, 167 
 
 was a valuable and distinguished partisan officer, and represent- 
 ing him as anxious to he at home with his family, secured the ex- 
 change of the man he had already befriended. 
 
 Many months now pass before we find our hero again in the 
 van of the fight, though, perhaps, the forests and the lake shores, 
 if they could but speak, would tell ns of brave deeds and daring 
 adventures. We find him, in 1760, a lieutenant-colonel in the 
 army about to attack Montreal, the dislodgment of the garrison 
 on Isle Royale being a necessary preliminary to their undertak- 
 ing. But the island was guarded by two armed vessels of twelve 
 guns each, a broadside from one of which would demolish the 
 whole fleet of British boats. Approaching General Amherst, 
 Lieut. Col. Putnam said : 
 
 " G-eneral, that ship must be taken." 
 
 " Yes," answered the commander, " I would give anything if 
 she tcere taken." 
 
 " I'll take her, sir." 
 
 "How?" asked Amherst, with a smile of incredulity, perhaps 
 of pity for the subordinate officer's folly. 
 
 " Give me some wedges, a mallet, and a few men of my own 
 choosing, and I will soon put her out of your way." 
 
 Puzzled to think how such a vessel could be taken by such 
 means, he had yet sufficient trust in the ability, ingenuity and 
 daring of the provincial to give him what he requested, and await 
 the result with impatience. Rowing a light boat with muffled 
 oars, and hardly daring to breathe, Putnam and his chosen few, 
 in the darkness of the night, approached the vessel, stole unper- 
 ceived under her stern, and noiselessly drove the wedges home 
 between the rudder and the stern-post, so as to render the former 
 quite immovable. Deprived of her helm, the vessel was left to 
 the mercy of the elements, and sbon drifted helplessly ashore, 
 where she struck her colors at the first summons. Her compan- 
 ion also soon surrendered, so that this victory was won without 
 the loss of a man or the firing of a gun on either side. 
 
 The singular and simple machines used in the attack of the 
 fortress Avere also the product of Putnam's Yankee ingenuity. 
 The sides of the boat being covered with musket-proof fascines, 
 a wide plank, twenty feet in length, was fastened to the boat in 
 such a way that it could be raised or lowered at pleasure. The 
 fortress was defended hj an abatis projecting over the water, the 
 sharpened branches rendering storming an almost impossible feat. 
 
168 GENERAL ISRAEL PUTNAM. 
 
 Protected by this plank in an upright position, the men in the 
 boat forced the bows against the abatis, and then lowering it, 
 used it as a bridge over the upright branches to the more solid 
 walls. The garrison did not offer any resistance, but capitulated 
 on seeing these strange engines. 
 
 Montreal capitulated uj)on the arrival of the English forces, 
 and the conquest of Canada was thus bloodlessly effected. A 
 short distance from this city, Putnam saw the Indian who had 
 made him prisoner in the previous campaign, and was enter- 
 tained by him with every mark of friendship and honor ; while 
 the American was no less pleased to proffer the brave savage 
 protection in this reverse of his military fortunes. 
 
 Putnam's services in the West Indies, whither an expedition 
 was sent in 1762, were of more importance than interest. The 
 shipwreck of the vessel containing his command did not long 
 delay him, as he immediately put his men to work building rafts, 
 with which to reach the shore, whence in a few days he joined 
 the troops before Havana. He was now in commq^nd of a regi- 
 ment of regular troops, with no opportunity for the adventurous 
 life of a ranger, for which he was so well suited. 
 
 It was hoped that, since the English had finally driven the 
 French from North America, that the savages would desist from 
 their depredations, and leave the colonies to pursue the advan- 
 tages that had been gained in this long and sanguinary conflict. 
 But it was a vain hope. Some of the Indians, indeed, laid down 
 their arms, biit many of the tribes on the western frontiers still 
 continued hostilities — not, as before, to sustain or restore the 
 French dominion, but apparently with a view to regaining, for 
 themselves, some part of the immense territory which had been 
 wrested from them. Even at that early day, the sagacity of 
 Pontiac foresaw the extermination of his people — a work not 
 yet, indeed, completed, but which the second centennial may re- 
 gard as a thing accomplished. He foresaw what a hundred and 
 twenty years have taught his race — that the intrusion of the 
 whites to the west meant perpetual encroachment, treacherous, 
 over-reaching negotiations and diplomacy, and ultimately, the 
 complete annihilation of the tribes that once possessed America. 
 He saw that the nations, divided, could not stand against the 
 united English, and secured the co-operation of the Shawnees, 
 the Delawares, and all the tribes along the Ohio, and east of the 
 Mississippi, his own people, the Ottawas, of course taking j)art. 
 
GENERAL ISRAEL PUTNAM. 
 
 109 
 
 In jiursuance of this j^lot, Pontiac sent woi'd to Maj. Gladwin, 
 the English commandant of the fort at Detroit, that he was com- 
 ing on a certain da}', with his warriors, to talk with him. His 
 secret intention was to seize the fort, and massacre the garrison. 
 The warriors were to cnt down their rifles to such a length that 
 they could conceal them under their blankets. 
 
 The conspiracy was well planned, and so quietly arranged that 
 no suspicion was excited, until a young squaw betrayed him in 
 June, 1763; so that when the treacherous visit was paid. Major 
 Gladwin was well prepared, and unmasked him, but unwisely 
 
 IXDIAN" SQtTAW BETRAYING POXTIAC's COXSPIRAPY. 
 
 let him go. Within two weeks all the English garrisons and trad- 
 ing posts west of Oswego, except Niagara, Fort Pitt and Detroit, 
 had fallen into his hands; so well did he maintain his position 
 that it was only with difficulty that the English could hold these 
 three points. In 1764, Col. Bradstreet was sent with a force to 
 reduce the Indians, Col. Putnam being in command of the troops 
 from Connecticut. Among the allies of the English on this ex- 
 I^edition were the old Indian chief who had cajitured Putnam, and 
 Joseph Brant, the famoi;s Mohawk chief, who was afterward to 
 become odious to Americans durino; the Revolution, and then. 
 
170 
 
 GENERAL ISRAEL PUTNAM. 
 
 acting as peace-maker, disseminate Christian knowledge among 
 his people. 
 
 Putnam's services on this expedition were better suited to his 
 ■present rank than if they had been such as he was accustomed to 
 perform, but they are scarcely of as much interest as when ho led 
 a few men into danger, and safely accomj^lished the task set. The 
 j^art that he had acted in this war, from its beginning in 175.5 to 
 the defeat of Pontiac's conspiracy in 1764, had been one of pecu- 
 liar hardship and peril. Always in the van when charging the 
 enemy, in the rear when a retreat was ordered,, stationed among 
 
 POXTIAC'S VISIT TO MAJOR GL\T)AVIN. 
 
 the outposts when the army was in camp, hidden in the woods or 
 ranging along the shores of the lake, his was never the safe and 
 easy part that such officers as Gen. Webb chose. His courage, 
 his complete indifference to danger, his fruitfulness of resources, 
 commanded the admiration of all. 
 
 He laid aside his uniform, and returned to his farm. Ten years 
 of military life, crowned by the recognition of the integrity, 
 courage and patriotism whicli his jiromotions showed, had not 
 impaired the kindliness of his nature, nor inflated him with pride. 
 But noAv that military honors were laid aside, the civic crown 
 
GENERAL ISRAEL PUTNAM. 171 
 
 nwaitod him, and to post after post of honor and trust the united 
 voice of his fellow-citizens called him, until he again unsheathed 
 his sword for his native land — not for its safety, hut for its liberty. 
 
 In the meantime, Gren. Lyman had secured from the English 
 government a grant of land in the far west, as it was then, and a 
 colony Avas organized to go to the mouth of the Mississippi. Of 
 these Military Adventurers, as the company was called. Col. Put- 
 nam was one, and in 1774 accomj^anied several other gentlemen 
 similarly'- interested, on a trip then a'fe dangerous and difficult as 
 one to Siberia would be now. The steamboat was not known, 
 the railroad had not been dreamed of, and the voyage was a long 
 and tedious one. The passage up the river, too, was laborious, 
 since even the snag-boats were not in existence. A settlement 
 was really formed at Natchez, but Putnam's thoiights were di- 
 verted from enterprises of pi'ivate gain to devising and executing 
 measures for the public weal. He had already taken active part 
 in that resistance which led to the repeal of the Stamp Act and 
 similar obnoxious laws, and he returned homenowto make prep- 
 arations for the war which was seen to be inevitable. 
 
 Tlie time of waiting passed away — the waiting for the storm 
 to break. The dull mutterings had been heard by the prophetic 
 ears of statesmen and soldiers, and the roar of thunder from the 
 guns of Lexington aroused the eountr3^ The militia seized the 
 arms which had been kept in constant readiness, and hastened to 
 the scene of action. A mounted drummer spread the alarm. 
 Putnam unj'oked his team of oxen from the plough, and bidding 
 his son go home and tell his mother where he was gone, mounted 
 his horse and dashed off towards Boston. In twenty-four hours 
 he had ridden the hundred miles. 
 
 Pcturning almost immediately to Connecticut to raise troops, 
 he was, by the legislature of that state, commissioned as briga- 
 dier-general ; and on his return to Cambridge was assigned an 
 important post. Putnam's experience in the French and Indian 
 war served him in good stead, and like many others, his reputa- 
 tion served to attract the attention of the British commanders. 
 One of their favorite measures, to weaken the force of their ad- 
 versaries, was the attempt to win over to the king, by bribes of 
 gold and offers of distinction, some of the ablest and bravest of 
 our generals. With some they were successful, but although 
 Putnam was offered a commission as major-general, a large pe- 
 cuniary compensation for his services and liberal provision for 
 
172 GENERAL ISRAEL PUTNAM. 
 
 his sons, he rejected the proposition with a contempt and dig- 
 nity befitting his true-hearted patriotism and manhood. 
 
 Gen. Putnam's position at Bunker Hill has been the subject of 
 considerable controversy, but it is now generally conceded that 
 his conduct was distinguished by the utmost intrepidity. His 
 previous experience had, as before stated, gained him the respect 
 of the British officers with whom he had served. '^ If you take 
 G-eneral Putnam alive," said General Abercrombie, who had re- 
 ceived his death-wound in •front of the redoubt, ''do not hang 
 him, for he is a brave fellow." But though he was, throughout 
 the engagement, in the thick of the fight, urging his men onward, 
 counselling anything but retreat, entreating all to maintain their 
 ground, he escaped wounds and captivity. But retreat was inevi- 
 table, since the ammunition of the Americans was exhausted. 
 Putnam, though the balls fell like hail around him, was, as usual, 
 wholly insensible to danger, and dismounting, took his stand by 
 one of the deserted field-pieces, seeming resolved to brave the 
 enemy alone. Dressed in a light blue and scarlet uniform, with 
 his head uncovered and his sword waving toward the enemy, as 
 if to arrest their impetuous pursuit or defy their advance, painter 
 and poet have combined to make him no less conspicuous than 
 he deserves to be. 
 
 The Continental Congress was even then in session, and soon 
 commissioned officers to lead the colonial armies from those who 
 had been provincial leaders, Putnam being one of the four major- 
 generals. In the work of fortification, he proved invaluable. 
 " You seem to have the facult}', sir, of infusing 3'our own indus- 
 trious spirit into all the workmen you employ," said Washing- 
 ton, who had not known him before his arrival at Cambridge. 
 The importance and difficulty of the task so well performed can 
 hardly be over-rated ; to put men who had taken up arms for the 
 defense of their country, and who were burning with zeal to dare 
 all dangers in that noble cause, to cutting down trees and 
 digging ditches, was to give orders which none wished to obey. 
 Many of the subordinate officers, too full of the dignity of their 
 position, did not enter heartily into the spirit of the commander. 
 On one occasion, when a breast-work was being thrown up on 
 Ploughed Hill, half a mile from the enemy's intrenchments on 
 Bunker Hill, Putnam, superintending the work with his usual 
 vigilance, came to where a quantity of sods had just been 
 brought up. Addressing a man standing near, he said : 
 
GENERAL ISRAEL PUTNAM. 
 
 173 
 
 ^' You are a soldier, I suppose. Place these sods on the wall." 
 
 Seeing that the man proceeded very slowly to execute the 
 order, Putnam added, in a mock-apologetic tone :. 
 
 "Oh ! I see you are an officer," and setting to work he placed 
 the sods in jjosition himself. 
 
 Important as his services were, and recognized as such by his 
 contemporaries and b}^ historians of later date, we must pass 
 them lightly over, for to follow Putnam through the war would 
 require a complete history of the contest in the northern half of 
 the countiy. Not even when he plunges down the precipitous 
 declivity at Horseneck, to the amazement of the British huzzars 
 hesitating on the brink of the hill, may we follow him, though 
 the same spirit animated him in this daring and successful effort 
 to escape, that led him into the wolf's den, or down the rapids 
 of the Hudson. 
 
 putjstam's flight down the rocks at horseneck. 
 
 Brave even to rashness when anything was to be accomplish- 
 ed by sheer courage, he held in utter detestation and contempt 
 the so-called code of honor. Nevertheless, the records of two 
 duels remain to us, in both of which he came off victor. 
 
 It once happened that he, unintentionally, grossly offended a 
 brother officer, who demanded reparation. Heated by wine and 
 excitement, Putnam professed his readiness to accommodate the 
 gentleman with a fight ; and it was agreed that they should meet 
 
174 
 
 GENERAL ISRAEL PUTNAM. 
 
 the next morning, without seconds. His opponent, armed with 
 sword and pistols, entered the field at the time set 3 Putnam had 
 taken his stand at the opposite extremity, thirty rods away, and 
 immediately levelling his musket, fired ; proceeding deliberately 
 to reload his gun as soon as it was discharged. 
 
 " What are you about to do ?" was the angry question ; " Is 
 this the conduct of an American officer, and a man of honor ?" 
 
 " What am I about to 
 do? A jjretty question 
 to put to the man whom 
 jou intend to murder ! 
 I'm about to kill you; 
 and if you don't beat a 
 retreat in less time than 
 it would take to hang a 
 Tory, you're a gone 
 dog." 
 
 The ramrod was re- 
 placed, the gun levelled 
 again, but the bejliger- 
 ent officer had no de- 
 sire for that kind of a 
 duel, and turning, fled 
 for dear life. 
 
 The second duel was 
 equally characteristic. 
 An English officer, a 
 prisoner on parole, 
 taking offence at Gen. 
 poNTiAc. Putnam's reflections 
 
 upon the character of the British, demanded satisfaction as for 
 a jDcrsonal insult. Putnam readily accepted the challenge, and 
 having, of course, the choice of weapons, agreed to be at a cer- 
 tain place next morning with arms for both parties. Arrived 
 at the aj^pointed spot, the Englishman found his opponent, un- 
 armed but for his sword, sitting calmly smoking by the side of 
 a powder-barrel, into a small opening in the top of which a 
 common match was inserted. Eequesting the Englishman to sit 
 down on the other side of the cask, he lit the match with his 
 pipe, and went on smoking unconcernedly, remarking that their 
 chances Avere equal. For a moment the Englishman watched 
 
 \^,^^^^(l^^^. 
 
 M-l^- 
 
 '"^^ 
 
GENERAL ISRAEL PUTNxVBI. 
 
 175 
 
 the match, hut as the fire crept slowly down towards the powder, 
 he started up and beat a hasty retreat. 
 
 " Yon are just as brave as I took yon to be," said Pntnam, 
 strolling leisurely toward where the Englishman had halted. 
 ''That is nothing but a barrel of onions, with a few grains of 
 powder scattered over the top, to try you. But you don't like 
 the smell." 
 
 Early in December, 1779, Gen. Putnam obtained leave of ab- 
 sence and went to visit his family in Connecticut. Before the 
 end of that month, he set 
 out on his return to camp, 
 but had proceeded only a 
 few miles when a numbness 
 seized upon him, and he 
 found himself unable to 
 move the limbs on one side 
 of his body. Peaching, with 
 some difficulty, the house 
 of a friend, he endeavored 
 to shake the disease off by 
 active exertion, but an at- 
 tack of paralysis Avas not 
 to be cured by such a sim- 
 l^le remedy. He indeed re- 
 covered so far that moder- 
 ate exercise in walking or 
 riding was not impossible, 
 but he must henceforth live 
 a comparatively retired killing of tontiac. 
 
 and inactive life. His mental faculties, his relish for social en- 
 joj'ments, his love of pleasantry, he retained undiminished for 
 more than ten years. 
 
 After a life spent on the farm and in the army, respected alike 
 as a bold and valuable partisan, a brave and good general, an un- 
 shaken patriot, an industrious, sensible man, a good husband, a 
 provident father, and, in the later years at least, a sincere Chris- 
 tian, he passed quietly away on the nineteenth of May, 1790, and 
 Avas buried with all the honors that can be accorded to a dead 
 soldier. He had seen the French disi^ossessed of their vast em- 
 pire in the new world ; he had witnessed the efforts of the Indians 
 to regain the heritage of their fathers, and probably heard in 1769, 
 
176 GENERAL ISRAEL PUTNAM. 
 
 with a feeling of relief, that Pontiae, the head of that conspiracy, 
 had been treacherously slain by one of his OAvn race in the flourish- 
 ing frontier settlement of Cahokia, the site of which is now the 
 bed of the Mississippi near St. Louis ; he had seen the English, 
 in their turn, dispossessed of the greater part of their empire 
 here, retaining, not what they had settled, but what they had 
 conquered; he had seen the united colonies erected into the 
 "free and independent states" which of right they had long been, 
 and prospering under the rule of the first president; in all these 
 dangers and conflicts, he had borne a leading i:)art; he "dared to 
 lead where any dared to follow." 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 CAPTAm SAMUEL BEADY. 
 
 BRADY'S Lake, Brady's Run, Brady's Hill — those and more 
 places in the region of Western Pennsylvania and Ohio, 
 attest that a hero of the people lived there and fought for them j 
 for in the days "when these names were given, such respect was 
 shown only to the brave men who defended the helpless from 
 savage foemen. The evidence of a name may sometimes be false, 
 or at least convey an erroneous imjDression, bub in this case his- 
 tory teaches the truth of the inference we natui'ally draw. 
 
 Born in Delaware in 1756 or 1758, Samuel Brady was but a 
 child when he Avas taken by his parents to their new home in the 
 western part of Pennsylvania. Here he grew to boyhood, his 
 appetite for adventure being ampl37" fed by the contests of the 
 settlers with the savages j but of his own special exploits we learn 
 nothing until the beginning of the Revolution. Enlisting in. 
 Capt. Lowden's company of volunteer riflemen in 1775, a com- 
 mission was offered him, but his father caused him to decline the 
 glittering title.- 
 
 " Let him first learn to obey," said sturdy John Brady, " and 
 when he has learned that lesson, he will know all the better how 
 to act as an officer." 
 
 But his cool courage soon raised him to the place of a com- 
 missioned officer, in spite of his father's refusal. Once in the 
 army, the judgment of his superiors must be his only guide, and 
 they soon decided that the young volunteer was not to remain a 
 private. The promotion, however, did not take place until after 
 they had reached Boston. In that city lay the British force, 
 and surrounding it were the soldiers of the colonics. Lowden 
 being directed to select a body of men to wade to a certain island 
 at low tide and drive away some cattle belonging to the British, 
 did not include Brady in the party. Brady was not the man, 
 however, to wait for an invitation to join such an excursion, and 
 12 
 
178 CAPTAIN SAMUEL BRADY. 
 
 in defiance of militaiy rules, made one of tlie number 'witliout 
 tlie captain's knowledge. Somewhat to the leader's surprise, 
 then, the second man on the island proved to he the one not cho- 
 sen becanse he was too young. Nor was this the only evidence 
 that Lowden received of his youthful 'subordinate's courage. 
 Sitting together on a fence one day, viewing the British fortifi- 
 cations, they were thrown to the ground by a cannon ball which 
 shattered their support. Jumping up first, Brady raised Lowden 
 in his arms, with the re-assuring, "We are not hurt, Captain." 
 
 Appointed first lieutenant of another company in 1776, he was 
 in all the prinei})al battles of the two succeeding years, being 
 made captain for gallant conduct on the field of Monmouth (June 
 28, 1778). The murder of his brother in August of that year, and 
 of his father ten months later, by the merciless hand of the red 
 man, gave his feelings another direction. Heretofore he had 
 indeed looked upon the Indians as unfriendly to the whites, but 
 it was a hostility of far less importance than that which threat- 
 ened to keep the entire country under the iron heel of its foreign 
 master. Now, his whole soul was filled with liatred against the 
 murderer of his father and brother, and the feeling was never 
 softened by years. 
 
 At Princeton and Paoli the young lieutenant had been present 
 as well as at Monmouth; but the latter was the last notable bat- 
 tle of the Kevolution in which he fought. Henceforth, his con- 
 tests were to be in the lonely wilds of the western forests, with 
 a foe who knew nothing but woodcraft and cruelty. For seven 
 years of his boyhood and youth lie had been a dweller in Western 
 Pennsylvania, then a sparsely settled wilderness j and if in that 
 time he had learned the Indian lore, eye and ear were sharj)eued 
 now hy the desire of revenge. 
 
 We hear no more of him for nearly two years after this last 
 named battle. In 1780, Washington sent to Gen. Broadhead, in 
 command of a small fort within the present limits of Pittsburgh, 
 directing him to despatch a suitable afiicer to Sandusky to exam- 
 ine the place and ascei'tainthe numbers of the British and Indians 
 stationed there. It was the sagacity of the commander-in-chief 
 providing in every quarter against danger, as this section was 
 harassed by continual depredations, and in daily expectation of 
 a more systematic attack. A good leader finds good followers, 
 and Gen. Broadhead did not disaj^point the hopes of the com- 
 mander-in-chief by selecting any but the best man for the 
 
CAPTAIN SAMUEL BRADY. 179 
 
 work — Captain Samuel Brady. Selecting him without hesitation 
 as best fitted for the perilous mission, the officer provided him 
 with a rough map of the country that he must traverse, and gave 
 him command of a suitable party. 
 
 Brady Icnew too well the perils of the wilderness to under- 
 rate the dangers of his present errand ; but he fully understood 
 the iniportance of the mission, and any danger or hardship which 
 he might undergo was nothing when the welfare of his country 
 was to be advanced. The ajipointmentwas accepted, and accom- 
 panied by a few soldiers and four Chickasaw Indians as guides, 
 he set out in the direction indicated. It was early in May, and 
 the season unusually wet. Every stream on their way they found 
 swollen to a torrent. The map which guided them, though 
 probably as good as could be made of that section at that time, 
 was so faulty as to mislead them seriously ; the distances measured 
 on that appeared much less than they really were ; indeed so great 
 was the ditference that the food with which they were provided, 
 and which had been calculated as sufficient for the journey, gave 
 out before they reached home. Creeping stealthily through the 
 woods by night, and concealing themselves in the trees by day, 
 they managed to escape observation where the print of a white 
 man's foot on the yielding soil of the prairie or the dry sand of 
 the river bank might have meant death to all. This security 
 was doubtless partly due to their costume, which was that of 
 the Indians, and to their leader's acquaintance with the Indian 
 languages. 
 
 Hardly had they come in the neighborhood of Sandusky, when 
 the four Chickasaws deserted. This defection was alarming, 
 from the weakness of their party, which would, of course, be ac- 
 curately described to the enemy. Nothing daunted, however, he 
 pushed on, and came in sight of the Sandusky towns. Conceal- 
 ing all of his men but one, these two waded ont to an island op- 
 posite the town and hid themselves in the driftwood Avith which 
 it was partially covered. Here they remained diwing the night. 
 Awakening early in the morning, they found everything hidden 
 by a dense fog which covered river and shore, leaving visible 
 only the logs and brush near enough for them to touch. This fog 
 lifted about eleven o'clock, showing them about three thousand 
 Indians amusing themselves with races. 
 
 So fully occupied were the Indians with their pleasure, that 
 Brady's party escaped notice. Leaving the island at night, the 
 
180 CAPTAIN SAMUEL BRADY. 
 
 two soldiers rejoined their companions, and returning to a camp 
 which they had seen on the night before, captured some squaws 
 who were there alone. Satisfied with the information which 
 they had obtained, they began the march homeward j but so great 
 was the difference between the real and estimated distances that 
 both provisions and ammunition failed them by the time that they 
 had reached the Big Beaver. With his last load in his rifle, 
 Brady left tlio party to follow a deer track which he discovered. 
 Groing but a few rods, he saw the deer standing broadside to him, 
 and taking aim, fired; or rather attem2:)ted to fire, for the gun 
 flashed in the ])an, and he had not a priming of powder left. Sitting 
 down a moment, he picked the touch hole, and then started on. 
 Following the turnings of the path, he saw a party of Indian 
 warriors, the chief in front, mounted, having a child before him 
 and its mother behind him. Brady raised his rifle and stepped 
 behind a tree to wait until he could fire at the Indian without en- 
 dangering the sleeping child or its mother. An opportunity soon 
 occurred, and as the sharp crack of the rifle broke the stillness, 
 the chief fell from his horse. Calling to his men with a voice 
 that rang like the blare of a trumpet, he sprang to the chiefs 
 side, not for his scalp, but for the greater prize of his powder- 
 horn. Bewildered by his action, the woman asked of the seeming- 
 Indian : 
 
 "Why did you shoot your brother ?" 
 
 Catching up the child, and recognizing the woman, he said to 
 her: 
 
 "Jenny-Stupes, I am Captain Brady; follow me and I will 
 save you and your child." 
 
 Into the brush ho dashed with his helpless burden, followed 
 by the jnother, untouched by the balls from the rifles of tlie 
 other Indians, who had fallen a short distance behind their chief. 
 Dreading an amlniscade of a hostile j^arty of their own race, as 
 they supposed, these were glad enough to make ofl' without fol- 
 lowing up their late prisoners. Arriving the next day at Fort 
 Mcintosh with his proteges, ho found his men awaiting h'un. 
 They had heard and recognized his call, but having no ammuni- 
 tion, had beaten a successful retreat, leaving the squaws that they 
 had taken prisoners at Sandusky to return to their dusky lords 
 at their pleasure. 
 
 So thoroughly had the cruel practices of the Indians been adopt- 
 ed by the white men that Brady was not contented until he had 
 
CAPTAIN SAMUEL BRADY. l8l 
 
 song'lit out tho body of the IiKliaii lie had slain.. The command- 
 er gave liim several soldiers, in addition to his own party, and 
 the scene of the rencontre was found without any difficulty ; but 
 the body of the savage had been removed by his followers. A 
 careful examination of the trail failed to disclose any appearance 
 of such a burden having been carried away. For some time 
 they hunted for a grave in vain. So great had been the care ex- 
 ercised in replacing the earth and the sod that they might have 
 walked over the spot, had not the branches, stuck in the ground 
 to still further conceal the place of interment, been withered, thus 
 defeating the very end they w^ere to serve. About two feet be- 
 low the surface they found the body of the warrior, adorned and 
 armed as though for the combat, and, barbarous as it may now 
 seem, his scalp was promptly taken. 
 
 While the story of his life abounds with stirring adventures, 
 the very fact that his hatred to the savages was always the same, 
 renders it impossible to ascertain, accurately, at this late daj', the 
 precise or even the relative time of each one. The reader must 
 then understand that while various authorities have endeavored 
 to place in their exact order tlie stories which shall bo told, they 
 differ among themselves to such an extent that, while the fact 
 remains, we can only guess when it occurred. 
 
 It was probably during his return from the Sandusky expedi- 
 tion that he felt satisfied that he had been tracked. He knew 
 that with the precautions he had taken, in the way of keeping to 
 the dry ridges, walking on ftxllen logs as much as possible, and 
 similar devices, even the children of the forest could not follow 
 him without a dog. Walking along the trunk of a fallen chest- 
 nut tree, he concealed himself in the i:)it made by the tearing uj) 
 of the roots. He had not waited long before a little dog came 
 snuffing along the trunk of the tree, closely followed by an In- 
 dian. There were probably more Indians on the trail, but only 
 the one dog; one, therefore, would be instantl}^ replaced, the 
 other would be an irreparable loss. Such was the reasoning 
 which determined Brady to fire upon the dog. As the little ani- 
 mal rolled dead from the log, the Indian turned and fled back 
 into the forest with a wild whoop. Brady was not followed again 
 on that expedition. 
 
 So annoying had been the depredations of the Indians that on 
 one occasion Gen. Broadhead resolved upon a retaliatory expe- 
 dition, to be commanded in person, Brady being at the head of 
 
182 CAPTAIN SAMUEL BRADY. 
 
 the advance guard. Near the creek emptying into the Alleghany 
 Eiver, known now as Brady's Bend, the rangers, who were some 
 distance in front of the main body, discovered a war-party of 
 Indians approaching. Knowing that the main body of soldiers 
 would easily defeat the savages, Brady and his men left the trail 
 they were pursuing, and turned aside to seize a pass farther up 
 the river. Everything turned out as they had supposed it would, 
 and the Indians were defeated in both fights, with the loss of 
 their famous chief, Bald Eagle, and many of their warriors. The 
 little army of white men proceeded on the path they had marked 
 out for themselves, and having destroyed the corn of the Indians 
 and indulged in various methods of retaliation, returned home. 
 
 It was probably but a short time after his return from the San- 
 dusky expedition that the smouldering envy of his brother offi- 
 cers was fanned into flames by his frequent successful expedi- 
 tions. To such an extent did the feeling grow that they openly 
 requested Gen. Broadhead to permit them to share in the dan- 
 gers and honors monopolized by Captain Brady. The command- 
 ing officer informed Brady of this, and he readily consented to 
 give the others a chance. 
 
 An opportunity^ soon occurred for his envious comrades to dis- 
 tinguish themselves in his chosen field, for news having been 
 brought to Pittsburgh of a murderous attack upon the settlement 
 at Scwickly, thev were despatched with a large party to avenge 
 the massacre. Miich against his will, Brady remained in Pitts- 
 burgh. On the day after that on which the emulous officers had 
 set out, Brady requested that he might be allowed to "go catch 
 the Indians." The desired permission was at first refused, but 
 by dint of long pleading, he succeeded in obtaining a party 
 of five Avhite men and a "pet" Indian. The larger force 
 had moved directly upon Sewickly, intending to follow up the 
 trail from that point. Brady calculated what their course 
 would most probably be, and with silent speed moved forward 
 to intercept them, instead of pursuing them. This plan proved 
 successful, and they hid themselves near the Indian camp. A 
 horse that the Indians had carried ofF from Sewickly came very 
 near betraying their hiding place, seeming determined to keep 
 near them, and it was with difficulty that Brady could refrain 
 from tomahawking the Indian who came to look after the stolen 
 property; but he hoped to secure much greater results by wait- 
 ing a little longer. 
 
CAPTAIN .SAMUEL BRADY. 183 
 
 Gatlicriiii;- all the plundci- that they could find in the camp, and 
 taking the stolen horse with them, the p^ii'ty now returned to 
 Pittsburgh, descending the river in the canoes of the Indians. 
 
 Posting themselves near one camp as soon as the Indians ap- 
 peared to be asleep, they awaited, in dead silence, the approach 
 of light. At daybreak the Indians awoke, and standing about the 
 fire, recalled the triumphs of the previous days ; the scalps taken, 
 the booty carried oif, the injury inflicted on their enemies. But 
 their exultation was short-lived — the avenger was near. Seven 
 rifles united in a deadly chorus — one sharp note, — and five of the 
 savages fell without knowing what had killed them. The wild 
 cry of their most dreaded enemy w^as heard in their midst, his 
 men were among them, he himself was there j and the Indians 
 who had not fiillen instantly fled. One who was mortally wound- 
 ed was pursued by the trace of blood ; having staunched its floAV, 
 he endeavored to escape; the ''pot" Indian gave the cry of a 
 young wolf; the wounded man paused and answered, then con- 
 tinued his flight; the second time the call was given, and an- 
 swered, but he soon esj)ied his pursuers, and divining the source 
 of the cry, answered it no more. Three WQcks after, Brady was 
 again in this locality, and cbserving that the ravens were gath- 
 ered in one particular spot, found there the body of this Indian. 
 
 Three days after their return the large piirty sent out first 
 came into the fort, reporting that they had foIloAved the Indians 
 closely, but that it had been of no use ; the savages having es- 
 caped by means of their canoes. 
 
 A short time after this adventure, an honest-hearted Dutchman 
 named Phouts, seeing Brady apparently absorbed in thought, ap- 
 proached him and asked, in his most sympathetic tone: 
 
 " Vas ist der madder, Grabtain ? " 
 
 Brady looked at him a moment without sj^eaking ; then having 
 made up his mind as to the qualifications of the man before him, 
 replied : 
 
 " I have been thinking of the red-skins, and it is my opinion 
 that there are some of them al)Ovo us on the river. I have a mind 
 to pay them a visit. Now if I get permission from the General 
 to do so, will you go along '/ " 
 
 Phouts' eyes flashed with delight. Paising himself on tiptoe 
 and bringing his heels suddenly to the ground, he answered: 
 
 " Py dunder, Gabtain, I rader go mit you dan to the vinest 
 veddin' in der gountry.'' 
 
184 CAPTAIN SAMUETi BRADY. 
 
 Cautioning Phouts that all must be done in secrecy, Brady 
 went to General Broadhead to obtain permission. This was read- 
 ily given, but with such affectionate cautions and admonitions on 
 the part of the superior officer as to affect both, and Brady left 
 the general ''with tears in his eyes." 
 
 He lost no time, however, in making the necessary prepara- 
 tions, so that, about two hours before daybreak, after having ob- 
 tained a little sleep, the men left the fort, and marched that day 
 through woods that neither of them had ever traversed before. 
 Encamping the first night near a small creek, they found near 
 their resting place a lick apparently much frequented by the deer, 
 and killed one of these animals. A portion of the flesh served 
 for their su^Dpcr, and a part was "jerked," to form j^rovision for 
 them when other could not be conveniently gotten. 
 
 Late in the second day, they saw a number of crows hovering 
 over the trees at a certain point near the bank of the river. Feel- 
 ing sure that there must be an encampment there, but not know- 
 ing whether it was of white or red men, Brady decided to use 
 caution in ajoproaching it, much to the disgust of Phouts, who 
 wanted to go and see. 
 
 " We must secrete ourselves until after night," said the captain, 
 " and then we can see by the light of the fires that they will kin- 
 dle, whether they are white or red." 
 
 Waiting until about ten o'clock at night,, they cautiously ap- 
 proached the spot, and found the camp to be that of a party of 
 Indians far too numerous for them to attack, although Phouts 
 rather insisted upon shooting an old Indian who was sitting by 
 the fire making a moccasin. 
 
 Trusting in the judgment of his leader, however, as a child 
 trusts in the wisdom of its mother, he allowed the old Indian to 
 stitch away at his moccasin in safety, while, before daybreak, 
 the two white men retired a little distance into the woods. They 
 had seen but the one savage, although it was a large encampment, 
 and finding the trail of a considerable party in the woods, Brady 
 concluded that there were no more there ; that the others had 
 gone off on some expedition ujo the Alleghany. Determining to 
 take the old Indian prisoner, he communicated his plaiis to 
 Phouts, and the two crept cautiously to the camp again. As they 
 could not tell certainly whether there were Indians within hear- 
 ing or not, he dared not use his rifle, lest the report should call 
 them down upon him. They found the Indian lying upon the 
 
CAPTAIN SAMUEL BRADY. 185 
 
 ground, his head towards them, and Brady succeeded in getting 
 very near him without even alarming the dog lying beside him 
 asleejD. Springing suddenly up, he caught the Indian by the 
 throat, and liftiuo; his tomhaM'k, bade him surrender. The old 
 warrior quailed before the glance of the white man's eye, and 
 yielded to his iron grip. Being told that they were going to take 
 him to Pittsburgh, the Indian joointcd out to them the place 
 where the canoes had been hidden, and supplied with means of 
 transportation, they started towards their first encampment, in 
 order to secure the jerked venison which they had left there. 
 Landing a short distance below, a fire was kindled, and Phouts 
 left as a guard upon the old Indian, while Brady ascended the 
 creek to secure the meat. During his absence, the wily savage 
 complained to Phoiits that the cords which bound his wrists hurt 
 him, and the good-hearted, unsuspecting man removed them. The 
 Indian professed great gratitude, but, the instant that Phouts 
 looked away from him, possessed himself of his gun, and pointed 
 it at the Dutchman's breast as he turned. Bewildered by this rap- 
 idity of action, which he had not time to comprehend, Phouts 
 jumped aside with a tremendous roar just as the Indian pulled 
 the trigger ; and knowing by instinct that Indians were made to 
 be killed, in another instant his tomahawk had cleft the skull of 
 the savage. Brady heard the report of the rifle and his compan- 
 ion's outcry, and returned in haste. He found Phouts sitting 
 astride the body of the Indian, examining his shot-pouch, which 
 had been pierced by the ball. 
 
 " See here, Caj^tain," he said, holding it up, "vas dat tamned 
 red rascal has tone." 
 
 Taking the scalp of the Indian, they continued their march, 
 and arrived at the fort on the fourth day from their dej)arture. 
 Brady described to Gen. Broadhead what he had observed ; adding 
 that he thought the Indians Avhose trail he had seen were on their 
 way to attack the settlements on the Susquehanna. This alarm- 
 ed the commander, as he had recently made a requisition of men, 
 and he feared their being drawn into an ambuscade. 
 
 But the Indians, having discovered by various indications tha 
 the whites were aware of their movements, postponed the con- 
 templated attack for an indefinite time. In the interval of quiet, 
 they met with an unexpected triumph; a large party of warriors, 
 one day, captured a single white hunter, and brought him alive 
 into the Indian camp. Small cause for rejoicing, it seems at first 
 
18(5 OAPTAIN SAMUEL URADY. 
 
 glance ; but that one man was, in their eyes at least, the greatest 
 of their enemies ; a man whose hatred of the savages was equal- 
 led only by his daring courage and his skill in detecting all their 
 artifices, in tracking them, in crushing theni to the earth. No 
 wonder that there'were high festivities in the camj? to which the 
 warriors took their captive, iSamuel Brady. His scalp would 
 have been worth much to them, but alive, with full capacity for 
 suffering any tortures, he was worth much more. It was this 
 feeling that nerved the arm of every warrior to give a sharper 
 blow, as the feared and hated enemy ran the gauntlet; it was 
 this that inspired the squaws and boys to utter more fiendish 
 yells as they danced around him, when, stripped and unbound, he 
 awaited the completion of their preparations. Yells, threats, 
 abuses, curses, saluted his ears as ho stood by the fire kindled 
 for the torture. Once, his name had been their terror ; the squaw 
 of the Long-knife had hushed her frightened children to rest by 
 the assurance that Captain Bra<ly and his rangers were on the 
 alert, and no danger could befall tlicni; the squaw of the Seneca 
 warrior had told her children that Captain Brady would hear 
 their voices, and, terrified, they were quieted. But he was in their 
 power, now j he could not harm even that young squaw, who car- 
 ried in her arms her pappoose, the child of a great chief. JSTearer 
 and nearer came the throng circling around him, as their sense 
 of his helplessness increased; nearer and nearer, with the rest, 
 came that squaw of the chief, bearing her child in her arms. 
 Quick as thought, he snatched the infant from her, and threw it 
 towards the fire. Horrified at this action, the Indians, with one 
 accord, rushed to rescue the child, and Brady, springing past 
 them, gained the adjacent thicket. Eecalled in an instant to the 
 necessity of securing him, they pursued him in hot haste. Scores 
 of bullets whistled about his ears, but untouched he made his way 
 to the deep ravines and laurel thickets where a regiment might 
 be concealed. Guided by the unerring instinct of the woodsman, 
 and thoroughly acquainted with the country, he reached Fort 
 Mcintosh in safety. 
 
 Bradj-'s daring could give place, when necessary, to caution; 
 a combination of qualities especially valuable, and indeed essen- 
 tial, to an Indian fighter. At one time, as he was returning, with 
 a considerable body of rangers, from a scouting expedition, a 
 solitary Indian stepped out of the thicket, fired upon them, and 
 instantly retreated to -a deep ravine. Suspecting that he could 
 
CAPTAIN SAMUEL BRADY 
 
 187 
 
 not be alone in a place so well fitted for an ambxxseade, Brady 
 ordered his men to tree. Hardly was this accomplished when 
 the enemy, despairing of the success of their original plan, is- 
 sued from their place of concealment, and opened fire upon them. 
 This was returned with fatal efi'ect upon the Indians, but so great 
 was the number of the savages that Brady ordered a retreat 
 to the tojJ of the hill. From this point it was continued until 
 the Indians, having lost about twenty men, ceased to pursue. 
 One of Brady's men was killed, and two woundod. 
 
 
 
 ''i' '<Ai 'h 
 
 
 *l 
 
 
 
 
 MM:^. 
 
 
 THE COUNCIL ON A TREE. 
 
 ''Brady's Hill " is the name applied to a small eminence near 
 Beavei*, Pennsylvania, to commemorate an incident in our hero's 
 life. From the town mentioned, more familiar to these pages as 
 Fort Mcintosh, the gallant scout set forth, with a few men, 
 toward the Sandusky villages. Returning, they were pursued, 
 and all killed but the leader, who was forced to beat a flying 
 retreat. Reaching the hill now called by his name, the sight of 
 a large tree, recently prostrated by a storm, suggested a jilan to 
 him. Once before such a tree had given him shelter in the pit 
 left by the roots, but in this case the position of the tree was re- 
 versed. So lately had it been torn up, however, that its leafy 
 crown was still intact. Walking uj) to the tree, he walked back- 
 
188 CAPTAIN SAMUEL BRADY. 
 
 ward in his own footprints for a space of a few hundred yards, 
 then forward again to the trunk in the same tracks. This was to 
 make the trail unmistakable. Hiding himself in the thick, leafy 
 branches, he awaited the result ; three Indians soon api:»eared, 
 carefully following the trail ; coming to the tree, it suddenly 
 failed ; they were at a loss to think what this could mean, and 
 sat down on the trunk of the fallen monarch of the forest to hold 
 a hasty consultation. It was indeed a short one, for hardly had 
 they settled into place when out of the green leaves flashed fire, 
 and at the sharp crack of Brady's rifle they all fell forward, one 
 dead and two wounded. Clubbing his gun, he leaped toward the 
 Indians, and soon, with the three scalps at his belt, he Avas again 
 in the fort. 
 
 If Brady's Hill be the scene of a memorable encounter, Bra- 
 dy's Eun has also a history j the purjiort may be guessed from 
 the fact that it issues from Bloody Spring. At the head of this 
 stream a war-party of Indians had encamped. They had taken 
 no scalps, but more than one house had been laid in ruins, and 
 the presence of two helpless white women and a number of little 
 children at their camp-fire attested the prowess of these so-called 
 braves. By the dying fire the captors and captives lie asleep j 
 all is still. Suddenly a branch snaps, and awakened by the slight 
 noise, one dusky warrior rouses himself, and looks around in the 
 direction whence it came. Only the faint chirp of a distant wood- 
 cricket is heard, and he sinks again into slumber. But first he 
 has stirred the dying embers of the fire, and the flames, leaping 
 up to embrace the log thrown upon them, light up the shadowy 
 camp. The shadows appear and disappear, as the flames rise and 
 sink ; but four dark forms are there always, creeping silently 
 towards the unconscious Indians, Now the gleam of the fire- 
 light falls upon the polished surface of four scalping knives, each 
 held between the teeth of a shadow, while his I'ight hand clutches 
 a tomahawk. A low cluck as they reach their victims, and as 
 one the four tomahawks descend crushing through the skulls 
 of four sleeping Indians. In an instant the camp is in the wildest 
 confusion. The savages awake from their slumbers only to find 
 that Brady is among them; Brady, whose whole life is devoted 
 to the extermination of their race. But they have hardly real- 
 ized their danger before danger is forever past for them. One 
 after the other every Indian falls, and their captives are led 
 back in safety to their friends. The waters of the spring have 
 
CAPTAIN SAMUEL BRADY. 189 
 
 long since regained their usual purity, but still it bears the name 
 of such ill omen to the children of the forest. 
 
 Such were the deeds that made the name of Captain Brady a 
 terror to the Indians of that section, inspiring them with a whole- 
 some awe. Their respect for his name was shown by the result 
 of one of his solitary expeditions, undertaken solely to bring in 
 prisoners. Secreting himself near one of the Indian towns, he 
 marked out for his j)^ii*pose a certain cabin, containing, as he 
 knew, a warrior, a squaw, a boy and girl and a pappoose. Break- 
 ing open the door at night, he told them who ho was, and that 
 they must go with him j assuring them of life if they went peace- 
 ably, of death if the}'- made any outcry. So great was their fear 
 of his name that they obeyed his commands unhesitatingly as he 
 drove them before him like a herd of cattle. lie had exjsected 
 to be hotly j^ursucd, and was not disappointed; but selecting his 
 resting places so that they could be reached only by wading up or 
 down stream, and traveling only by night, he reached his desti- 
 nation in safety with his whole party of prisoners. 
 
 In the region where so many places commemorate, by their 
 names, his daring deeds, tradition preserves his fame, and from 
 father to son the stories are handed down. But many such ac- 
 counts have slept in the memories of men, and have perhaps 
 passed away with that elder generation to which the name of 
 Brady was a household word. Upon some, or at least one, of the 
 more marvelous tales, our modern wiseacres, finding no record 
 save the uncertain one of man's memory, have sought to throw 
 discredit. The fact that the point where the Cuyahoga rushes 
 through a narrow fissure in the rocks, its current contracted to a 
 width of less than thirty feet, still bears the name of Brady's 
 Leai>, is to them worth nothing. But Brady's own lips had told 
 the tale, and those who had heard it from him were not inclined 
 to disbelieve it. 
 
 With a p)arty of twenty followers, he had set out on a scouting 
 expedition to the neighborhood of Sandusky, but was waylaid 
 by a lai'ge force of Indians at a small lake, now called by his 
 name, in what is now Portage County, Ohio. From the sharp 
 engagement that followed, only two white men escaped with 
 their lives, Brady being one. Such was his first acquaintance 
 with this lake, the story being proven by the excavations made 
 on the southern shore by his friends, who found there a number 
 of skulls and a sword — the relics of the fight. 
 
190 
 
 CAPTAIN SAMUEL BRADY. 
 
 His famous leap across the Cuyahoga was made, according to 
 some axithorities, a short time after this; according to others, 
 when he escai:>ed from the Indians by throwing the chikl toward 
 the fire. It was probably after the date of most of his adven- 
 tures, as will be evident when we come to consider the result. 
 
 Hotly pursued from Sandusky, a distance of about a hundred 
 miles, he found on reaching the Cuyahoga, that his enemies hem- 
 med him in. To go backward was impossible — and how could 
 
 Brady's leap. 
 one man bridge that chasm, more than twenty-five feet wide? But 
 there is no other way of escape from the yelling fiends, and sum- 
 moning all his courage, with one mighty leap he bounds over the 
 yawning gulf. Convulsively his hands clutch at the bushes 
 growing on the bluff he had gained ; but they give way j down, 
 down, he slij^s almost his own height; Imtthe iron neiwes do not 
 fail him, the sinewy hands grasp still other supports, and he con- 
 tinues his flight. The savages stand on the other bank, for a 
 a moment, motionless Avith astonishment; quickly recovering 
 themselves, three or four fire at him, hitting him in the leg. 
 
 Notwithstanding his wound, Brady continued to run. The 
 Indians left the steep cliif, and crossed the river at the Standing 
 Stone, where the more gently sloping banks enabled them to ap- 
 
CAPTAIN SAMUEL BRADY. 191 
 
 proach the water. Findiiifij them still in hot pnrsiiit, Brady bent 
 his way towards the lake now bearing his name, and plunged 
 into its waters. The savages were gaining rapidly on him, and 
 his wound so im])eded his flight that he knew concealment was 
 necessar}'. Striking out, then, towards a jjart of the lake that was 
 covered with the broad leaves and white blossoms of the water- 
 lily, the hollow, flexible stems of these attracted his attention, 
 and he found, by experimenting, that he could breathe through 
 one of'these, and thus keep his head under water. 
 
 The Indians followed his bloody trail to the water's edge, and 
 finding it end there, were at a loss. Examining carefully the 
 shores of the lake, they concluded that he had not emerged ; that, 
 exhausted by his wound, he had been accidentally drowned, or 
 had preferred that death to a bloodier one at the hands of his 
 enemies. All the remainder of the day, and part of the night 
 they spent in searching for him, dead or alive, but finally gave 
 it up, and returned to make a more careful survey of the spot 
 where he had cleared the river at a bound. As soon as he felt it 
 safe to do so, Brady left the water, and succeeded in making his 
 escape to the settlement. 
 
 Returning to the river, the Indians carefully inspected the 
 spot, measuring by their eye the distance as accurately as they 
 could; and arrived at a very singular conviction: none of them, 
 they felt assured, could leap it ; since it was impossible to them, 
 it would be ridiculous to suppose a white man could do it; the 
 evidence of their eyes, of course, could not be disregarded, but 
 they reconciled the fact and its impossibility by the sage conclu- 
 sion : " He no man, he no jump across the river ; he wild-turkey, 
 he fly." 
 
 And so convinced were they of this, that they carved itpon the 
 rock to which he had leaped, the rude representation of a wild- 
 turkey's foot. This token of an exhibition of phj^sical jiower 
 beyond the belief of even eye-witnesses remained there until the 
 summer of 1856, when, as the rock was to be quarried. Judge 
 Moses Hampton, of Pittsburgh, obtained permission to cut it out. 
 The distance has been several times measured, the measurements 
 varying from twenty-five to twenty-seven and a half feet, the 
 steep clifts on either side rising to a height of some thirty feet 
 above the surface of the water. 
 
 The events of Brady's 2>rivate life are almost unknown to 
 us. He was married, probably in 1786, to Miss Drusilla Van 
 
192 CAPTAIN SAMUEL BRADY. 
 
 Swearingen, the daughter of an officer in Gen. Morgan's Rifle 
 Corps. Whether this marriage was the result of the similar opin- 
 ions on the Indian question which were entertained by Captains 
 Van Swearingen and Brady, we cannot tell ; certainly the elder 
 officer was nicknamed "Indian Van." Mrs. Brady had been edu- 
 cated in the east, and was noted for her beauty, accomplishments, 
 and amiable disposition. SJie had need of much fortitude to en- 
 dure the anxiety which her husband's frequent absence, among 
 dangers which could not be exaggerated, must have caused her. 
 
 Brady was at one time brought to trial for killing, in time of 
 peace, a party of Indians, bitt succeeded in proving that this was 
 but 2:»unishment duo them, as they had made a raid uj)on the set- 
 tlements on the frontier. So quickly had the punishment come, 
 that the offence had hardly been heard of before Brady was tri- 
 umphantly acquitted, not only by the jury, but by public opinion. 
 One witness for the defense was Guyasutha, the Mingo chief, who 
 swore to everything that ho thought would be in Brady's favor, 
 whether it were true or not ; and defended himself afterwards by 
 urging his friendship for the captain. 
 
 The wound received after leaping the river rendered Brady 
 lame for life ; and he attributed to his lying so long under water 
 in the lake, the deafness which afterward afflicted him. Although 
 comparatively a young man when he died, he had the appearance 
 of being much older than he really was. The date of his death 
 is uncertain, being probably about the year 1800. The last years 
 of his life were spent in West Liberty, West Virginia, and here 
 he died, his wife and two sons surviving him. Knowing not the 
 date of his birth or of his death, we have only the memory of the 
 " deeds of derring do," left to us. 
 
CHAPTER VJT. 
 
 COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 
 
 A COMPETENT authority says that at least thirty places in 
 the United States bear the name of Daniel Boone, the best 
 known pioneer, perhaps, of the country ; certain it is that eight 
 states contain counties thus designated — monuments of love and 
 admiration for a man upon whose like we shall not look again. 
 
 Born in Western Virginia or Pennsylvania, in 1735, his earliest 
 years were spent in the unsettled forests. His father removed to 
 the banks of the Eadkin Eiver, in North Carolina, when he was 
 but a boy. He had already acquired something of that skill with 
 the rifle, so necessary to the frontiersman, and for which he be- 
 came so eminent. When a very young man, he saw a pair of large, 
 soft eyes gleaming in a thicket; the ready gun was leveled and 
 fired, but the deer bounded aside; with quick foot the young 
 hunter followed his game through the wood, and at last came to 
 a clearing, in the midst of which stood a settler's cabin; in this 
 he sought shelter for the night, and it was not refused him; to 
 do the honors to the young stranger, the members of the family 
 hushed the excitement which had prevailed among them ; but 
 they had not acquired the power of entirely concealing their feel- 
 ings, and he soon learned that, as the daughter of the house and 
 her little brother were returning through the woods from a neigh- 
 bor's, some one, Indian or white man they could not tell, had fired 
 at them, and chased them almost to the very door. 
 
 Boone listened. to the recital, and for once was glad that he had 
 missed his aim. But though unsuccessful as a hunter in bringing 
 down his game, better luck attended his efforts as a lover, and a 
 long and happy life followed the marriage which took j^lace soon 
 afterward, between him and the owner of the soft eyes that had 
 deceived him. 
 
 But sparsely settled as it was, the state, in a few years, became 
 too populous for the exercise of a hunter's vocation, and Boone 
 13 
 
194 
 
 COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 
 
 determined to remove to a wilder country. In the early part of 
 May, 1769, he, in company with John Stewart arid four other 
 men, left his home in North Carolina and journeyed towards the 
 " Dark and Bloody Ground," west of Yirginia, and lying between 
 th% homes of the northwestern and the southern tribes of Indians. 
 
 This country, long before 
 known to the savages as 
 Kantiickee, was regarded 
 by them as neutral ground, 
 not to be used as a habita- 
 tion by those of either 
 section. As a natural con- 
 sequence of this, it became 
 the wandering place of 
 vast herds of buffalo and 
 deer, the wild duck linger- 
 ed in its streams, the wild 
 turkeys dwelt on its hills, 
 and the forests were full 
 of life. A paradise for the 
 sportsman, truly j and the 
 wild hunters of the sur- 
 rounding tribes had long 
 ago discovered this. This 
 was the destination of 
 many of their great hunt- 
 ing parties, and here, 
 when North and South 
 met ujjon this common ter- 
 ritory, many a bloody 
 conflict justified the name 
 - they had given to it. To 
 DAxiKL BooxE. tho wlld mcn of the woods 
 
 the possession of a hunting ground meant subsistence; the pres- 
 ence of the white man, destruction. Their fathers had been driv- 
 en toward the sunset far enough ; here they would stay; and arm- 
 ing themselves with all the grim determination that an Indian 
 could summon, they fought the white men who invaded their 
 land. 
 
 The six men who left the banks of the Eadkin Eiver in the 
 Spring of 1769, were determined to establish themselves in the 
 
COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 
 
 195 
 
 western paradise ; and although not forgetful of the danger that 
 awaited them, they pushed defiantly forward. Early in June 
 they reached the Eed Eiver, and there encamped, living on the 
 game which they killed, and the fruits which abounded in the un- 
 cultivated regions, better fare than French cook ever prepared, 
 for hungry borderers. Of the adventures of nearly seven months 
 we know nothing ; the triumphs of the hunter, and the pioneer's 
 escape from danger are forgotten ; absolutely no chronicle of this 
 
 CAPTURE OF BOONE AND STEWART. 
 
 time remains to us. Dee. 22nd of the same year is a more mem- 
 orable date, for then, to use the old hunter's own words: "John 
 Stewart and I had a pleasing ramble, but fortune changed the 
 scene." 
 
196 COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 
 
 It was nearly the evening of the short December day, when, as 
 the two hunters ascended a slight emirifence overlooking the Ken- 
 tucky river, a party of Indians rushed from a neighboring cane- 
 brake, surrounded and captured them. For seven days they were 
 prisoners, uncertain what fate awaited them. Had there been 
 nothing else, the natural enmity of the two races might have 
 decided the fate of the captives adversely; but the cool and 
 manly bearing of Boone doubtless impressed the savage who so 
 much desired those qualities for himself. At any rate, the entire 
 absence of resistance lulled the captors into a false security, and 
 they slept, leaving the jsrisoners unbound. Eising from his place 
 so lightly as not to disturb the Indians about him, Boone sought 
 out his companion, silently aroused him, and together they fled.. 
 Imagine, if you can, the dismay which was in that circle of war- 
 riors the next morning ! Whether the captives' fate was to have 
 been torture or adoption (the usual alternatives) the disappoint- 
 ment was equally great; they had been robbed of efijoyment, or 
 their friendship had been rejected. 
 
 Arriving at the camp where, a week before, they had left their 
 four companions, thej^ found it despoiled of all the implements of 
 pioneer life, and no trace of their friends. These, probably ter- 
 rified by the mishap of Boone and Stewart, had departed from 
 the dangers of that country forever. The others, however, were 
 of sterner stuff; if danger dwelt in the wilderness, there was hap- 
 piness, too, and they had no notion of missing the one by shun- 
 ning the other. 
 
 Before long, however, there came new companions. Wander- 
 ing throagh the forest, in. search of Boone, came his brother 
 Squire and another adventurer. The veriest stranger would have 
 been welcomed by xhe lonely hunters, and we may conjecture the 
 reception that awaited Squire Boone. But the little band of 
 hunters were soon to be reduced to the same number as before, 
 for Stewart was killed by the Indians late in the winter or early 
 in the spring, and the man who had accompanied Squire Boone 
 returned home. * 
 
 The tM^o brothers were now left alone in ^he wilderness. What- 
 ever dangers may have beset them, they escaped ; and building 
 a cottage to defend themselves from the storms of winter, for sev- 
 eral months they lived sufficient for each other. Whether the 
 modesty which characterizes true courage prevents Boone from 
 telling us the perils of this year, or whether his self-reliance, iii^ 
 
COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 197 
 
 coolness, his forethought, united to his bravery and his excel- 
 lence in woodcraft inspired the savages with such respect that 
 they let the brothers live in peace, we cannot tell; but he speaks 
 of their enjojnnent of this life. 
 
 The first of May, 1770, Squire Boone set off to the settlements, 
 in order to obtain horses and ammunition, Daniel being left at 
 the camp, without bread, salt or sugar. More than the lack of 
 these articles of food was the entire absence of companionshij) ; 
 not a horse or a dog cheered his solitude, and yet the unlettered 
 woodsman found pleasure in the vast wilderness. Roaming away 
 from the lonely cabin, he spent days and nights in the trackless 
 forest, returning to find that the foe had come in his absence. 
 Often he lay throughout the night in thick canebrakes, in order 
 that he might not be present to receive such visits ; and here the 
 prowling wolves made night hideous, so that he dared not sleep 
 too soundly. But though he so fully appreciated the dangers by 
 which he was surrounded, and so carefully guarded himself from 
 them, it ended there ; fear had no part in his nature, and he was 
 fully able to ai:»preciate the " beauty in the pathless woods," for 
 no abject terror of the denizens of the forest disturbed the calm 
 balance of his mind. 
 
 Towards the end of July his brother returned, and not think- 
 ing it safe to remain in that place any longer, they shifted their 
 quarters to the banks of the Cumberland River, Avhence in March, 
 1771, he returned home in order to bring his family to the wild 
 home he had chosen. 
 
 Much time, however, was consumed in the necessary prepara- 
 tions ; but at last the farm was sold, horses and supplies pur- 
 chased, and in September, 1773, they left the old home for the 
 new. At Powell's Valley, they were joined by five other families, 
 and a company of forty able-bodied men, the whole party being 
 well equipped with provisions and ammunition. In high spirits 
 they journeyed onward, meeting with no accident or alarm until 
 October 6, nearly two weeks from the time that the Boone family 
 left home. On this day, as they were approaching Cumberland 
 Gap, a pass in the mountains, the young men who were driving the 
 cattle, and who had fallen five or six miles in the rear of the main 
 bodj^, were suddenly attacked by the Indians. Six of their num- 
 ber were slain, one being the eldest son of Daniel Boone ; a seventh 
 escaped with a wound ; the cattle were all dispersed in the woods. 
 The reports of the rifles recalled the main body of pioneers, but 
 
198 COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 
 
 it was too late; the savages had vanished before they could come 
 up; there was nothing to do but bury the dead. 
 
 Disheartened by this sad experience, many of the men, in the 
 council held immediately after, urged a return to the settlements. 
 Despite his own sad loss, however, Boone strenuously opposed 
 this, and was earnestly supported by his brother ; but even their 
 united persuasions were of no avail; and yielding to the argu- 
 ments of the majority, they returned with the whole pai'ty to the 
 settlement on the Clinch Eiver, in the southwestern part of Yir- 
 ginia, and forty miles from the scene of the disaster. 
 
 Boone always regarded himself as an instrument in the hands 
 of Providence to effect the settlement of Kentucky; but the tim- 
 idity of his companions at this point in his life averted a great 
 danger. If the advice of the two brothers had prevailed, there 
 would have been left not one to tell the story of an Indian mas- 
 sacre. It was in consequence of the murder of the family of 
 Logan, the eloquent Indian chief whose own words tell his mis- 
 fortunes better than any others could, that the terrible Dunmore 
 War broke out early in the year 1774. 
 
 It was after the beginning of this war, but before it had attain- 
 ed its height, that Gov. Dunmore of Virginia solicited Boone and 
 a companion woodsman to go to the falls of the Ohio and con- 
 duct thence a party of engineers, whom he had sent there some 
 months before. This task was performed with safety and des- 
 patch, a round trip of eight hundred miles being accomplished 
 in sixty-two days. 
 
 After his return, the war being now at its height, Boone was 
 giyen the command of three contiguous garrisons on the frontier. 
 After this fight, in which about fifteen hundred warriors of the 
 Shawnees, Delawares, Mingos, Wyandots and Cayugas were de- 
 feated by the whites, these tribes sued for peace, relinquishing 
 all title to Kentucky. The Six Nations, by treaty, and the Cher- 
 okees, by sale, had dispossessed themselves previously to this 
 time ; so that when Boone took his family and household gods 
 into Kentucky, it was into a region abandoned by its native lords 
 to the white men. 
 
 Boone had been present at the making of the treaty by which 
 the Chcrokees sold their lands, being sent to represent the pur- 
 chasers, a company of adventurous speculators of which a per- 
 sonal friend. Col. Eichard Henderson, was the moving spirit. In- 
 deed, it was in consequence of the hardy pioneer's glowing ac- 
 
COLONEL DANIEL BOONE, 199 
 
 count of Kentucky, its rich plains and game-abounding forests, 
 that many such companies had been formed in Virginia and 
 North Carolina, for the purpose of colonization. 
 
 A small company of brave and hardy men was soon collected, 
 and sent, under the leadership of Boone, to open a road from the 
 Holston to the Kentucky River, and to build a fort where Otter 
 Creek empties itself into the latter. The Indian has not the pa- 
 tient, far-seeing courage which a siege demands ; his victory must 
 be won by a single wild onslaught from his ambush in the forest, 
 upon those who have no defense biit their right hands, weaken- 
 ed by the surprise of unex]3ected attack. Hewn logs are bullet 
 proof, and hence a sufficient defense. As the fort built at Boones- 
 borough was similar to those soon scattered all over the coun- 
 try, a description of that will bo sufficient for all. 
 
 Oblong in shape, the sides were composed of cabins, separated 
 by stockades ; the walls of these buildings were about ten or 
 twelve feet high on the outer side, sloping downward as they 
 neared the inner opening. At each of the four corners was a 
 building two stories in height, and projecting some two feet each 
 way farther than the cabins described ; the second story extend- 
 ing a foot and half or two feet beyond the walls of the ground 
 floor. These corner buildings, larger and stronger than the others, 
 and called block-houses, were by their construction enabled to 
 command the whole outer wall of the fort, and even if the sav- 
 ages had forced their way into the enclosure, the garrison could 
 for some time defend themselves in one of the block-houses. Two 
 large folding gates, on opposite sides of the fort, and made of 
 thick wooden slabs, provided means of entering and leaving the 
 fort. Of course the enclosures varied in size, and in some cases, 
 only one or two block-houses were built; the fort at Boones- 
 borough has been estimated to have covered a space of one hun- 
 dred and fifty by two hundred and sixty feet. Rude as they were, 
 these log cabins, with puncheon, or perhaps earthen floors, built 
 without nails, or any iron whatever, they nuist yet have seemed 
 heaven to the terrified settler who, hearing the dread tidings of 
 massacre so common then, fled from his little clearing in the 
 woods, Avhere a cabin of the same kind, but solitary and insecure, 
 was his home. And on the 14th of June, 1774, after a journey 
 during which five of their number had been killed by the Indians, 
 and after laboring more, than two months, they saw the fort at 
 Boonesborough completed. 
 
200 COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 
 
 In September or October of the same year, the last tie which 
 bound Daniel Boone to any other than his chosen dwelling place 
 in the wilderness was broken; for then he led his family and a 
 few followers once more towards that which his daring and skill 
 had made a home. Joined in Powell's Yalley by new recruits, 
 the little company consisted of twenty-six men, four women, and 
 four. or five boys and girls. At the head of Dick's Eiver, some 
 few of these had separated themselves from the rest in order to 
 join the settlers at Harrodsburg, in the interior of the state; so 
 that it was less than thirty, perhaps barely twenty persons, who 
 pushed on towards Boonesborough ; " my wife and daughter," as 
 the old man afterwards recorded with some pride, '' being the 
 first white women that ever stood on the banks of the Kentucky 
 Eiver." 
 
 In spite of the fact that the British officers endeavored in every 
 way to excite the animosity of the Indians towards all settlers 
 in this region, and even furnished the savages with arms and am- 
 munition, the little colony at Boonesborough remained for some 
 time undisturbed. This was doubtless due in part to Gen. George 
 Rogers Clarke, whom the Virginia Legislature sent with a force 
 to protect the western settlements, and who, rejecting the belt 
 which the treacherous savages offered as a token of peace, did 
 good service in the defense of the colonists ; but much of the se- 
 curity must be explained by the character of the pioneers them- 
 selves. The winter and spring of 1776 were passed by the set- 
 tlers in hunting, fishing, clearing and planting. Suddenly, one 
 day in the winter, as they were engaged in their usual work, a 
 small hand of marauding Indians appeared, and in the skirmish 
 that ensued, one of the whites was killed. Then the red men de- 
 parted as suddenly as they had come, and the settlers were un- 
 molested during the next half year. 
 
 It was on the fourteenth of July of the same year, that three 
 young girls, Miss Betsey Callaway, her sister Frances,^ and Dan- 
 iel Boone's daughter -Jemima, were in a canoe on the Kentucky 
 River, within sight of Boonesborough. Raised in the frontier 
 district of North Carolina and Virginia, and accustomed for near- 
 ly two years to the pioneer life of the Kentucky fort, they had 
 no fear of the boundless forest or the rushing river. The pre- 
 sence of danger was a thing unheeded, because so intimately 
 known. But even a braver heart, if such ever beat in a woman's 
 breast, would have quailed at the sight of a swarthy form mov- 
 
 i 
 
202 COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 
 
 ing through the water, the slight boat in which they were follow- 
 ing, as surely as though drawn by some demoniac enchantment. 
 The terrified girls clung to each other, not knowing what was to 
 befall them. Steadily the canoe moved to the other side of the 
 river, and now, in the stream and the forest, appeared other dark 
 faces, gleaming with triumph. "Within the fort, all seemed for a 
 moment confusion, but a calm intelligence brought order out of 
 chaos, and despite the fact that their canoe had been left on the 
 other side of the river, a party under the leadership of Captain 
 Boone was soon on the track of the savages. 
 
 Care, as well as swiftness, was necessary ; excite his wrath by 
 too merciless a pursuit, and the tomahawk, raised against those 
 three defenceless heads, would make a failure of success. More 
 than thirty miles the track was followed, through the densest 
 cane bi-akes and on the path of the buffalo; nearly fifty miles 
 from the fort, the pursuers overtook them just as they were kin- 
 dling a fire to cook. The watchfulness of the Indians was not 
 less than the carefulness of the pioneers, for each saw the other 
 at about the same time. A short, sharp report, of four rifles at 
 once; the red men fly; two more rifle shots, and two of the In- 
 dians fall, one slain by Boone, and one by Col. Floyd ; the others 
 escape, but without a moccasin, knife or tomahawk, with only 
 one shot-gun, and no ammunition, losing of course their cst]:)tives. 
 
 This was the only exciting event of the year to the colony. 
 From time to time a new member was added to their society, and 
 everything progressed quietly. Heart-rending as the anxiety of 
 the parents must have been when the three girls Avere captured, 
 the alarm thus given prevented, perhaps, a greater disaster. 
 
 Even on the day of the capture, some other parties had at- 
 tacked several stations; and the settlers living out of the forts 
 were harassed ; many men were killed, and most of the cattle 
 were destroyed. So general and great was the alarm, that about 
 three hundred speculators and adventurers returned to their old 
 homes east of the mountains. 
 
 By April of the succeeding year, however, Boonesborough 
 could no longer claim to be exempt from the sieges that other 
 forts had suffered. A hundred Indians gathered about the fort, 
 and advanced to attack it with all the horrid din which incites 
 them to conflict. But the same cool intelligence which had de- 
 feated them before, was against them now. The sharp crack of 
 the rifle, aimed by the unerring marksmen within, was but little 
 
COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 
 
 203 
 
 to their taste, brave warriors as they were, and they soon with- 
 drew, carrying with them their dead and wounded. The settlers 
 suffered slightly, one man being killed and four wounded. 
 
 But though the Indians iiad raised the siege so soon at this 
 April attack, they were not to remain away long. On the 4th of 
 July, their number being doubled, they returned. Detachments 
 were sent to alarm and annoy the neighboring settlements, and 
 thus prevent reinforcements being sent to Boonesborough. For 
 two days the attack 
 was vigorous. The -== ^'— ^nl 
 
 twenty-two men 
 within the fort saw 
 with anxious hearts 
 the two hundred "red 
 devils " surrounding 
 them. With patient fi 
 courage they await 
 ed the result ; drop- T| 
 ped a soldier's tear ^M 
 over the one man ^^'R.^ 
 that was killed dur- •^ 
 
 ing this time; tended 
 their two wounded 
 comrades; told each *^ \,A 
 other with grim ^ ""^ ^ 
 pleasure that an- ^' 
 other Indian had 
 fallen, until the num- 
 ber seven had been 
 reached ; then, sud- 
 denly, with great 
 clamor, the Indians 
 raised the siege, and 
 departed. 
 
 The neighboring settlements, Logan's Fort and Harrodsburg, 
 suffered more severely than Boonesborough ; but considerable 
 reinforcements strengthened the several garrisons, forty-five men 
 reaching Boonesborough in the latter part of July, and a hun- 
 dred more about a month later. This increased strength resulted 
 in greater boldness on the part of the settlers, so that for about six 
 weeks there were almost daily skirmishes with the Indians. 
 
 *^*i«s^ -^^"-^ 
 
 INDIANS ATTACKING BOONESBOROUGH. 
 
204 COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 
 
 Notwithstanding this warlike state of affairs, the men pursued 
 their work of tilling the land as usual ; some, of course, acting 
 as sentinels. At hunting, a still more dangerous occupation, but 
 equally necessary, as supplying them with meat, they took turns. 
 
 The procuring a subsistence was thus at all times a dangerous 
 work. Such was the case in January, 1778, when a party of 
 thirty, headed by Boone, went to the Blue Licks to make salt for 
 the different stations. On the seventh of February, while out 
 hunting in order to i^rocure meat for this party, he fell in with a 
 party of a hundred and two Indian warriors, on the march toward 
 Boonesborough. More than fifty years old, he could not outstrip 
 the fleet-footed young pursuers, and for the second time was 
 captured. What at first sight appears a totally unnecessary step 
 was now taken ; Boone surrendered his entire party, numbering 
 twenty-seven men ; the Indians promising safety and good treat- 
 ment. He foresaw the result from the first, however ; the In- 
 dians were diverted from their purpose by the unexpected good 
 fortune, and returned home with their prisoners and booty. For 
 this surrender Boone has been much censured, and at a later 
 period was court-martialed ; but was honorably acquitted, the 
 judges deciding that his course had undoubtedly saved Boones- 
 borough from attack. 
 
 The Shawnees returned to their principal town, Old Chillicothe, 
 on the Little Miami j the prisoners sharing the few comforts and 
 the many privations of their captors, during a three days' march 
 in wet, cold weather. After a stay of nearly a month, the leader 
 and ten of his men were taken to Detroit, then held by the Brit- 
 ish, who, as before stated, were the chief agents in exciting the 
 Indians against the Americans. The ten subalterns w^ere present- 
 ed to the commandant, who was very anxious to get possession 
 of Boone, in order to liberate him on parole; but persuasions 
 were of no avail. Even a ransom of a hundred pounds did not 
 tempt them; they had formed a particular attachment, and were 
 by no m^eans disposed to part with the object of it. This affection, 
 perhaps, was not returned by the man whom it kept from home 
 and family, but resistance would only infuriate the savages, whose 
 suspicions he must allay if he hoped ever to escape from them. 
 
 Go back to Chillicothe he must, and the fifteen da3^s' march 
 was accomplished with submissive cheerfulness. 
 
 An Indian family now adopted Boone, with the usual formal- 
 ities, which, to quote one of his biographers, " were often severe 
 
COLONKL DANIKL BOONE. 
 
 205 
 
 and ludicrous. The hair of the head is plucked oiit by a painful 
 and tedious operation, leaving a tuft, three or foiir inches in di- 
 ameter, on the crown, for the scalp-lock, which is cut and dressed 
 up with ribbons and feathers." After copious ablutions in the 
 river, " to wash the white blood out of him," he listens in the 
 council house to a speech from the chief who expatiates upon the 
 
 BOONE b rNDIAISr TOILET. 
 
 honors conferred on him. His head and face having been paint- 
 ed in accordance with the latest and most popular style, a grand 
 feast concluded the ceremony. 
 
 The prisoner bent every endeavor to pleasing his captors : often 
 accompanying them on hunting parties, they could not sufficient- 
 ly admire his skill ; this was less admirable, however, than in 
 the frequent shooting matches ; in these, they could not conceal 
 their joy when they excelled him, or their envy when his success 
 
206 COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 
 
 was better than theirs. Of course he was not slow to learn this, 
 and to act on the knowledge, so that they were seldom displeased 
 at their adopted son's excellence with the rifle. His physical 
 comfort was carefully attended to, but his mental state must have 
 been far from enviable, for added to the anxiety about his wife 
 and children was the fear that the station would be less safe 
 and prosperous than if it had his personal care. So closely was 
 he watched, however, that escape seemed impossible. 
 
 Having accompanied a party to the Scioto Licks to make salt, 
 upon his return he found a war party of four hundred and fifty 
 warriors at Chillicothe, preparing for a descent upon Boones- 
 borough. Everything must be risked now that he might escape. 
 Rising at the usual hunting hour the next morning, and provid- 
 ing himself with one meal's victuals, he started out upon a hunt- 
 ing expedition for the day. So completely had he disarmed sus- 
 picion that no objection was raised, or even thought of. Pro- 
 ceeding in the usual direction until far out of sight, he suddenly 
 turned towards Boonesborough, a hundred and sixty miles away. 
 Thither he went at his utmost speed, stopping for nothing during 
 the five days required for the journey. The little food taken 
 from the Indian camp was all the material sustenance he had until 
 he reached the fort. 
 
 As he feared, he found the garrison careless, the defenses poor- 
 ly kep't up. By precept and example he encouraged his men, 
 and things were soon in good condition to receive the enemy. 
 But while they were hourly expecting the Indians, one of Boone's 
 companions in captivity, having gotten away, reached the fort 
 with the intelligence that the escape of the pioneer leader had so 
 powerfully affected his captors that they had postponed their 
 meditated attack for three weeks. Indian spies filled the coun- 
 try, and the whole atmosphere seemed to be full of alarm. The 
 red men evidently saw that unless the whites were utterly exter- 
 minated, they themselves were doomed. It was in self-defense 
 that the blow was to be struck, and to make it of any use it must 
 be deadly. 
 
 This was the Indian reasoning, and with it the whites were 
 perfectly familiar. Every mind was strung to the highest pitch 
 for the approaching contest, every eye and ear was on the alert. 
 Such a state of things cannot long continue; the tense bow-string 
 must relax; after a little while the settlers were less vigilant. 
 Observing this, and wishing to prevent its spread, Boone organ- 
 
COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 207 
 
 ized a party of nineteen of his brave companions, intending to 
 attack one of the Indian towns on the Scioto. Cautiously ad- 
 vancing to within four or five miles of the town which he wished 
 to surprise, he mot its thirty warriors, on their way to join the 
 main Indian force, then marching toward Boonesborough. In the 
 "smart fight" which followed, the whites lost no men; the In- 
 dians a few, retreating very soon, and leaving their horses and 
 baggage to the victors. Spies despatched to their town returned 
 with the information that it was evacuated. The storm was gath- 
 ering thick and fast about the settlements, and there Avas no time 
 to be lost. Back to Boonesborough the little party went with all 
 speed, passing the forces of the enemy the sixth day, and arriv- 
 ing there the seventh day after the skirmish above described. 
 On the succeeding day the enemy appeared in even more terri- 
 ble guise than they had anticipated. Nearly five hundred war- 
 riors, horrid in war paint, and decked with the ghastly trophies 
 of their past victories, advanced towards the fort, like vultures 
 ai:)proaching the doomed and innocent flock. But the wild war- 
 riors of the woods had before this besieged Boonesborough in 
 equal multitude, and had retreated from their undertaking be- 
 fore the sharp crack of those unerring rifles. Yonder painted 
 host, moving through the forest shadows as if in some demoniac 
 dance, led by the most distinguished chiefs of their own race, was 
 most formidable because of the Canadian Frenchmen by whom it 
 was commanded. It was the voice of Captain Duquesne that sum- 
 moned the garrison to " surrender in the name of his Britannic 
 Majesty," and to him and eleven of his countrymen must the 
 answer be made. 
 
 "Within the fort, a council of all the fighting men was hastily 
 summoned — fifty in all ! More than one knew what were the hor- 
 rors of captivity among the savages — hard work and ill usage, 
 entire subjection to the whims of a hundred masters. Such would 
 be the result of sui'render. On the other hand, there were nearly 
 ten besiegers to every one of their own number, and if the fort 
 were taken by storm, death by the most fearful tortures would 
 be certain to follow. This was the alternative. With grave faces 
 and anxious hearts they weighed the question, and every man 
 returned the answer that they " would defend the fort as long as 
 a man of them lived." 
 
 Although they thus decided, they did not yet make known 
 their resolution. A delay of two days was granted them for con- 
 
208 COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 
 
 sideratioii, but was used for |)reparation. Horses and cattle were 
 collected in the fort from the surrounding fields, and everything 
 made ready for a determined resistance. On the evening of the 
 ninth of August (1778) Boone announced to Captain Duquesne 
 the determination to defend the fort. "'Now," he said, "we 
 laugh at your formidable preparations ; but thank you for giv- 
 ing us notice and time to prepare for our defense. Your efforts 
 will not prevail ; for our gates shall forever deny you admit- 
 tance." Such a reply was wholly unexpected, and considerably 
 disappointed the enemy. Their leader, however, quickly recov- 
 ered himself, and offering new terms, requested that nine of the 
 principal men should leave the fort, to treat with them. Al- 
 though they could talk perfectly well in their positions at that 
 time, the wary pioneers allowed themselves to trust an enemy 
 whose wiliness they knew. Boone and eight of his companions 
 left the fort to treat with the foe, and so earnest were the asser- 
 tions of Duquesrre, that they had orders to take the Kentuckians 
 prisoners, and not to kill them, that the settlers almost believed 
 them. A treaty was made, and signed j what were the contents 
 cannot now be ascertained, nor need it cause us any regret ; no 
 wisdom has been lost to us. Determined as the Indians were to 
 drive the whites from their favorite hunting grounds, they would 
 not propose, in earnest, anything to which the settlers would 
 agree. But promises are easily made by those who have no in- 
 tenfion of keeping them, and who cannot be compelled to do so. 
 
 " It is a singular custom among the Indians, of whom I am the 
 leader," said Captain Duquesne, when the articles had been signed, 
 " for each white man with whom they have made a treaty to give 
 each hand to be clasped by an Indian, in token of good faith." 
 
 It was a singular custom, Boone thought, and one of which he 
 had never heard, experienced frontiersman though he was. But 
 any refusal to comply with the demands of the enemy would on- 
 ly enrage them. The white men extended their hands; the In- 
 dians selected for the occasion advanced, each constraining his 
 features to express a smile (but which was by no means enchant- 
 ing) and uttering the word ''Brother!" in his softest tones. 
 Trained as he was to conceal his feelings under an appearance of 
 apathy, it was beyond his skill to hide the snake-like glitter of the 
 eye, which betrayed his intentions to his destined victim. They 
 grappled with the settlers, but were thrown off by the strength 
 of despair^ as the white men wrenched themselves free. Back 
 
COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 209 
 
 to the fort tliey fled, amid a shower of bullets and arrows, and 
 tomahawks wielded by angry hands. 
 
 The conference had taken jjlace at a distance of only sixty 
 yards from the fort; had it been greater they would have suffer- 
 ed more in their flight ; as it was, but one man was wounded. The 
 firing continued after the party had reached the fort, but was re- 
 turned by the besieged with such fatal eff'ect that the assailants 
 were soon obliged to fall back from their exposed position, and 
 taking advantage of all the shelter afl'orded, to continue the at- 
 tack with more caution. 
 
 Despairing of success in a siege where all the loss seemed to be 
 on his own side, Duquesne now determined upon an expedient 
 which he hoped would be more successful. The fort was situated 
 sixty yards from the Kentucky River, and beginning at the water 
 mark, he directed the course of a mine toward the fort, in order 
 to blow wp the garrison. The fact that the usually clear river 
 was muddy below a certain point awakened suspicion in the 
 fort. Boone immediately divined the true state of affairs, per- 
 ceiving that they must have thrown the earth into the river in 
 order to prevent its being seen by him. The ^^oint of division 
 between the clear and the turbid water indicated the direction of 
 the mine, and he gave orders to dig a deep trench inside of the 
 fort, in such a way as to cross the enemy's mine. The clay dug 
 from this trench was thrown over the walls of the fort, and Du- 
 quesne, reading Avithout difficulty a message so plainly expressed, 
 desisted from the undertaking. 
 
 Having thus learned from experience the watchfulness of the 
 men with whom he had to cope, he determined to renew the at- 
 tack in the manner of a regular Indian siege, trusting that the 
 numbers of the garrison would soon be so diminished that they 
 would be forced to surrender. In this, however, he was disap- 
 pointed. Man after man of his own force fell ; his provisions 
 were nearly exhausted, and after nine days' trial of jiower and 
 policj', he raised the siege, and led off* his savage host. Thirty- 
 seven of the Indians had been killed, and many wounded ; these 
 being, according to the usage of all the tribes, immediately taken 
 from the scene of action. Boone lost two men, four others being 
 wounded. 
 
 Boonesborough was never again disturbed by any large body 
 of Indians. This was in consequence of the establishment of 
 many new stations between it and the Ohio Eiver. Not only 
 14 
 
210 COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 
 
 could the Indians not reach this station without leaving enemies 
 in the rear, but the others being weaker were more tempting prey. 
 
 Early in the autumn, Boone left the garrison in care of the fort, 
 judging that no emergency would arise in Avhich his leadershij) 
 and counsel would be required ; and set off to North Carolina 
 for his family. His wife supposed that he had been killed at the 
 time w^hen he was captured by the Shawnees, and had returned to 
 her old home. Early in the following summer they again reached 
 Boonesborough, and Boone industriously cultivated his farm, 
 volunteering his assistance whenever occasion required to the 
 neighboring immigrants. 
 
 In October, 1780, it once more became necessary to obtain a sup- 
 ply of salt, and for this purpose Boone started in company with 
 his brother Squire, to Blue Licks. The spot seemed to be fatal 
 to the pioneer; here, less than two years before, he had been 
 taken prisoner by the Indians, remaining in captivity for several 
 months ; here again he was destined to meet with loss, for on this 
 occasion, after a hot chase"by the Indians, he had the unhappiness 
 of seeing his brother, the sharer of his boyish sports as well as 
 the dangers and hardships encountered in manhood, shot and 
 scalped by the savages. ISTor could the poor satisfaction of re- 
 venge be his. One against many, he must fly for his life. Track- 
 ed by a dog, his hiding place was constantly betrayed b}^ its bark- 
 ing, until, after a long flight, he turned and shot the dog. He con- 
 cealed himself behind a tree, but held his hat out on a stick ; when 
 his pursuers had thus wasted their shots, he aimed at them, and 
 succeeded in killing both. 
 
 Another misfortune had overtaken Boone a short time before. 
 In 1779, a commission had been appointed by the Virginia Legis- 
 lature to settle Kentucky land claims, there being considerable 
 trouble about the conflicting interests of different settlers. The 
 Henderson or "■ Transylvania Company," as it was called, under 
 the auspices of which Boonesborough had been .settled, claimed 
 entire independence of Virginia and every other state. Kentucky, 
 however, had been constituted a county of the Old Dominion, 
 and various tracts of lands had been entered by later settlers 
 under the laws of that commonwealth. Other states had sent 
 pioneers to this region, and matters seemed to be in inextricable 
 confusion. Major Boone, in company with many others, turned 
 all his available property into ready money, intending to invest 
 in land warrants. Having raised about $20,000 in paper money, 
 
r inf -^ 
 
 
212 COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 
 
 and being entrusted with large sums by his neighbors, he set out 
 on his journey to Biclimond. On the way he was attacked and 
 robbed of the Avhole amount. One of the victims of this misfor- 
 tune writes thus to his brother, who had also suffered by the 
 robbery : 
 
 " I feel for the poor people who, perhaps, are to lose even their 
 pre-emptions J but I must say, I feel more for Boone, whose char- 
 acter, I am4>old, suffers by it. Much degenerated must the people 
 of this age be, w^hen amongst them are to be found men to cen- 
 sure and blast the reputation of a person so just and upright, and 
 in whose breast is a seat of virtue too pure to admit of a thought 
 so base and dishonorable." 
 
 Yet, in his autobiography, there is no word of this. The lands 
 he had wrested from the savages were taken from him by legal 
 quibbles ; having money to Iniy the title to them, he was robbed 
 of it; undertaking to perform a service for his neighbors, their 
 money Avas taken along with his own; and at last he was ac- 
 cused of appropriating it to his own use ; yet he complained not, 
 and we know how hard it is to bear such suspicions. 
 
 Although Boonesborough was not again attacked, Kentucky 
 was by no means in a state of tranquility. Pioneers and Indians 
 both recognized the fact that Kentucky was not large enough for 
 both races, and each fought, not for supremacy,but for existence. 
 The year 1779 is distinguished in the annals of the state as hav- 
 ing seen one of the bloodiest battles ever fought between the 
 two contending races within her borders. With the single ex- 
 ception of the subsequent fight at Blue Licks, no more san- 
 guinary conflict ever stained the Dark and Bloody Ground, from 
 the time that the white man first trod her fertile soil until the 
 days of Albert Sydney Johnston. Although Boone was not in 
 this battle, so important was its bearing upon the history of the 
 state that it must be briefly described. 
 
 Colonel Rogers, returning from New Orleans with supplies for 
 the stations on the Upper Mississippi and Ohio Eivers, ascended 
 these streams until he reached Cincinnati. (" Upper Mississippi" 
 then meant that part of the river between New Orleans and the 
 little French trading post called St. Louis.) Coming by chance 
 upon a party of Indians crossing to the Kentucky side of the 
 river, he determined to surprise them as they landed. Owing to 
 low water, a large sand-bar on the south side of the river was laid 
 bare, and here Bogers' men disembarked. Before they could 
 
COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 213 
 
 reach the SY>ot where he proposed to attack the enemy, they were 
 set upon by a force so far superior to their own that from the first 
 they fought without hope. Eogers was instantly killed, as were 
 many of his men. The miserable remnant fled to the boats, only 
 to find that of the two, hue Avas in the possession of the Indians. 
 Losing all sense of everything but their own danger, the few men 
 in the other pushed off" from shore without waiting for their com- 
 rades. Turning upon their pursuers, and charging furiously, a 
 small number broke through their ranks and made the best of 
 their way to Harrodsburg. Sixty men fell by the hands of the 
 Indians. 
 
 Of less imj)ortance was an expedition headed by Col, Bowman, 
 and starting from Harrodsburg, against the Shawnee'town of 
 Chillicothe. Beginning with every conceivable promise of suc- 
 cess, a most remarkable lack of action on the part of the comman- 
 der nullified all the advantages. This was in July, 1779. In June, 
 1780, Eiddle's and Martin's Stations, situated at the forks of Lick- 
 ing Elver, were attacked by a large party of*Indians and Cana- 
 dians, headed by Col. Bird. All the inhabitants were made cap- 
 tives, and treated most cruelly ; those unable to endure were 
 tomahawked. 
 
 The succeeding winter was one of the severest ever known in 
 Kentucky. In addition to the inclemency of the weather (which 
 was not unbearable, since it kept the Indians close in their wig- 
 wams), most of the corn had been destroyed bj^ tlie savages dur- 
 ing the summer, and the settlers were obliged to live chiefly on 
 buffalo flesh. "A hardy race, accustomed to difliculties and ne- 
 cessities, they were wonderfully supjDorted through all their suf- 
 ferings." 
 
 Throughout the summer hostilities were continued. Two boys 
 were carried off" from one station, and in many places horses 
 were stolen and men killed, whenever such an opportunity pre- 
 sented itself. 'Nor was it savage ferocity only which was to be 
 encountered ; they were led by some renegade white men, among 
 whom the notorious vSimon Grirty was the most conspicuous. A 
 league was formed, the parties to it being the Shawnees, Chero- 
 kees, Wyandots, Tawas, Delawares and some other less important 
 tribes. The warriors of these nations, numbering nearly six hun- 
 dred, appeared before Bryant's station on the night of the 14th 
 of August, 1782. Had they arrived a few hours later, they would 
 have found the fort wholly unprepared for any sort of defense, 
 
214 COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 
 
 for the entire garrison was about to march to the relief of Hoy's 
 station. Preparations for departure, however, did not differ ma- 
 terially from preparations for defence, and the Indians were 
 somewhat dismaj^ed by the activity of the garrison, attributed 
 by them to a different cause. • 
 
 The spring which supplied the fort with water was at some dis- 
 tance from it, as was not uncommonly the case ; the settlers seem- 
 ed to feel perfectly secure until actually attacked. Taking ad- 
 vantage of what would be the necessity of the garrison, the main 
 body of Indians placed themselves in ambush near the spring, 
 while a detachment of a hujidred warriors was sent to the other 
 side of the fort. This smaller j^arty was intended jjs a decoy, to 
 draw the' garrison out, when the larger body, rushing upon the 
 opposite gate and hewing it down with their tomahawks, would 
 gain possession of the stronghold. 
 
 At dawn, the garrison assembled under arms, and were about 
 to open the gates and march out, when they were startled by a 
 furious volley of ffre-arms, echoed, in a lower key, by the wild 
 yells of the savages. From the picketing could be seen a small 
 party of Indians, making the most furious gestures. The more 
 experienced and wary of the settlers detected the trick, and re- 
 strained the ardent courage of those who would have sallied forth 
 to the attack. They saw that there was to be a determined siege, 
 and they were without water. There was but one thing to be 
 done : the women must go to the sj)ring, as usual, and bring a 
 supply into the fort. 
 
 '^ Why must we go ?" was the question. " Why cannot armed 
 men take the risk, sinoe they, at least, can defend themselves ? 
 We are not bulletproof, and the Indians take scalps froin women 
 as well as from men." 
 
 ''You bring the water every day," was the reply, "and by 
 doing so now you will avert suspicion. If you do as usual, they 
 will not think their ambuscade is discovered, and wishing to re- 
 main concealed for a longer time, they will not fire upon you. 
 If we go, they will know that we suspect them, and will either 
 shoot us down at the spring, or follow us into the fort." 
 
 There was a momentary hesitation; then some of the braver 
 women declared their readiness to go, and the less courageous 
 followed their example. Betraying no sign of fear, they set out, 
 marching in a body to the spring. Their behavior completely 
 
COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 
 
 215 
 
 
 \Y-iftl 
 
 blinded the Indians, five hundred of whom lay within pistol-shot, 
 and some even nearer. 
 
216 COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 
 
 As they returned, they began to give way to fear, and — let me 
 not say they ran ; perhaps they feared the garrison were thirsty. 
 
 Thirteen young men were now despatched to attack the decoy 
 party, with orders to make the fight appear of as great extent as 
 possible, by firing as fast as they could load and reload, and 
 making a great deal of noise. Then the rest of the garrison silently 
 placed themselves at the other side of the fort, ready to receive 
 the expected attack. 
 
 The Indians concealed west of the fort heard the firing, and 
 thought that their stratagem had proved snccessfal. The pre- 
 concerted signal was given, and the five hundred rushed upon 
 the fort that they thought defenseless. The first dreadful volley 
 awakened them rudely from their dream of success ; followed as 
 it was by a second and a third in close succession, it was not long 
 before they were sufiiciently recalled to their senses to fly to the 
 woods. Hardly had they disappeared when the party sent out to 
 attack the decoy came in, highly delighted at the repulse of the 
 enemy. 
 
 Having recovered from the surprise of their warm reception, 
 the Indians issued from the woods and attacked the station in 
 the regular manner, the fight lasting four or five hours. About 
 two o'clock in the afternoon reinforcements were received from 
 Lexington, couriers having been sent thither as soon as the pres- 
 ence of the Indians had been discovered. Those who were 
 mounted succeeded in getting into the fort without being hurt, 
 but those on foot were cut off by the Indians, a running fight be- 
 ing kept up for oyer an hour. Girty determined, however, to 
 try to pursuade, since he could not force them to surrender; as- 
 suring them that his'present force of six hundred warriors was 
 not all that he could bring to bear upon them ; that reinfoi'ce- 
 ments would soon arrive with several pieces of artillery, when 
 they could not hope to resist ; that if they would surrender, not 
 a hair of their heads should be injured. In spite of the threats of 
 the artillery, however (which really was alarming, as the Indians 
 had destroyed two stations with cannon), the garrison held out, 
 and in the morning the Indians had disappeared. 
 
 All the morning reinforcements arrived, until by midday one 
 hundred and seventy-six men were assembled at Bryant's station. 
 About fifty or sixty of these men were commissioned officers, who 
 resigned the privileges of their position to fight in the ranks for 
 the common weal. Colonels Trigg and Todd, and Majors Boone 
 
COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 
 
 217 
 
 and Harland, were the loaders. Subordinate to these were Maj- 
 ors McBride, McGrarj, Levi Todd, and Captains Bulger and Gror- 
 don. 
 
 General Logan was expected to join them, in twenty -four hours 
 
 C" 
 
 VRRH VL or REINTORfEMENTS. 
 
 at the farthest, with a large force. Although the number of men 
 collected in the fort was unusually large, it was but a fraction of 
 the opposing army. The Indians themselves were perfectly 
 aware of this, and took no trouble to conceal their route; adver- 
 tising it, rather, by the breadth of the.ir trail and by marking 
 
218 COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 
 
 the trees. This self-confidence of the savages somewhat alarmed 
 Boone, whose courage never degenerated into a fool-hardy con- 
 tempt for danger- but a retreat would now be construed by the 
 Indians as evidence of weakness. 
 
 Encamping that night in the woods, on the succeeding day they 
 reached the Lower Blue Licks, and for the first time came within 
 view of the Indians. To Boone, the very sight of the place where 
 he had suffered so much before, must have seemed a foreboding 
 of evil. 
 
 The white men halted, a hurried consultation being held by a 
 dozen or twenty officers. AH eyes were turned on Boone, the 
 veteran woodsman whose soldierly qualities they respected no 
 less than they did his courage and integrity of heart. Cautious 
 were his words; the leisurely retreat of the Indians showed 
 them to have a large force ready for battle. About a mile from 
 where they now were, there were two ravines, one on each side 
 of the ridge, and here he feared they might form an ambuscade. 
 The place was excellently fitted for that purpose, as by making 
 use of both ravines the Indians could attack them at once in front 
 and flank before they could anticipate such a danger. There 
 were two courses to be pursued : either to await the arrival of 
 Logan, who would soon join them; or to divide their force, one 
 half to march up the river and cross at the rapids, falling upon 
 the rear of the enemy, while the remaining half crossed at that 
 point, attacking the enemy in front. 
 
 Opinions were divided as to the better course. If they re- 
 mained where they were, they might be surprised under cover 
 of darkness, and massacred ; if the force was divided, they might 
 be beaten in detail. The discussion was suddenly cut short by 
 the passionately rash courage of McClary, who, with a war cry 
 like an Indian's, sj)urred his horse into the stream, shouting, 
 " Let all who are not cowards follow me !" 
 
 His ardor communicated itself to the others ; no order was pos- 
 sible. In the stream together were officers and men, mounted 
 and unmounted. He was leader who was foremost in the wild, 
 irregular mass, and toward this post of honor every man strug- 
 gled. As they ascended the ridge on the opposite side of the 
 stream, McGar}', Boone, Ilarland and McBride were in the van. 
 On they went with the same wild courage. No scouts were sent 
 in advance, not even ordinary precautions were taken ; the only 
 aim seemed to be to reach the field of blood as quickly as possible. 
 
COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 219 
 
 Boone's fears Avere realized. Hardly had they reached the spot 
 described, when the Indians, concealed in one of the bushy ra- 
 vines, fired upon the van. The centre and rear hurried to the 
 assistance of their companions, but were stopj^ed b}^ a terrible 
 fire from the ravine on the other side. Unprotected, on the bare 
 and open ridge, the whites still stood their ground before the 
 devastating volleys from the enemy sheltered b}' the nature of 
 of its position. Gradually the combatants closed with each 
 other, the Indians emerging from tlie ravine. This enabled the 
 whites to return their fire M^ith greater efi'ect than before. Many 
 of the whites had already been killed, among them Todd, Trigg, 
 McBride, Harland and yonng Boone, while the Indians were 
 gradually extending their line, so as to cut off the retreat of the 
 Kentuckians. Perceiving this, the rear endeavored to break 
 through, and this movement being communicated to the whole 
 body, a general retreat ended in the wildest disorder. The clear 
 mountain stream ran blood, and the grass on its banks, trampled 
 and uprooted in the deadly struggle, was stained with the same 
 horrid dye. Those who were mounted escaped, but those who 
 must trust to their own swiftness perished. 
 
 At the commencement of the retreat, when the dreadful carn- 
 age was at its height, Boone, who had seen his son and so many 
 of his friends slain, found himself with a few companions, almost 
 totally surrounded. But the attention of the Indians was chiefly 
 drawn to the ford where most of the fugitives were endeavoring 
 to cross. His acquaintance with the locality here served him in 
 good stead. Dashing into the ravine in which the Indians had 
 lain, they crossed the river below the ford, after having sustained 
 more than one heavy fire, and baffling several small parties that 
 pursued them. 
 
 Having crossed, they entered the woods at a point where there 
 was no pursuit, and made their way back to Bryant's Station. 
 
 Horse and foot thi'onged the river, struggling at once with the 
 current and with the Indians, who were mingled with them in a 
 confused mass. Nor was it altogether a strife for self-preserva- 
 tion; the blood-stained record of the day is bright with stories 
 of generosity. 
 
 In the wild panic, some dozen or twenty horsemen, having 
 gained the farther side of the river, spurred their horses onward, 
 though many were still struggling in the stream. One of their 
 number, Netherland, who had been strongly suspected of coward- 
 
220 COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 
 
 ice, observing this, reined in his horse, and called upon them to 
 fire on the enemy, thus affording relief to those less fortunate than 
 themselves.- This was only temporary, however, for the num- 
 ber of the Indians was so great that the places of those killed 
 were quickly supplied. 
 
 From the battle-ground to the ford was one dreadful scene of 
 carnage, and for nearly twenty miles the pursuit was kept up. 
 Beyond the ford, there was but slight loss to the whites. Among 
 the prisoners was a young man named Reynolds, whose captivity 
 was the direct result of his own generosity. Between the battle 
 ground and the river, in the course of the retreat, he came up 
 with an older man who was much exhausted with the rapidity of 
 the flight, being infirm by reason of wounds received in former 
 battles. Dismounting, Eeynolds helped this officer upon his 
 horse, and continued his way on foot. Swimming the river, his 
 buckskin breeches became heavy with the water, and he was soon 
 overtaken by a pai'ty of Indians, and comi^elled to accomj)any 
 his captors. A j)risoner's fate is never decided by the Indians 
 until the close of the campaign, when they return to their village. 
 Young Reynolds, then, was kindly treated by his captors, of 
 whom there was a considerable party. A small group of Ken- 
 tuckians seeming to them to be easy pre}^, he was left in charge 
 of three of their number. These, eager to join their companions, 
 delegated the care of the prisoner to a single Indian, and guard 
 and captive jogged along quietly enough, the latter being unarm- 
 ed. The Indian, at last, stooped to tie his moccasin, when Rey- 
 nolds knocked him down with his fist and disappeared in the 
 thicket, A gift of two hundred acres of first class land was the 
 acknowledgment which he afterward received from the man 
 whose life he had saved. 
 
 Before reaching Bryant's station, the fugitives met Logan, at 
 the head of his detachment. When all who had escaped arrived at 
 that place, Logan found himself at the head of four hundred and 
 fifty men. With Boone as second in command, he set out toward 
 the battle field, hoping that the enemy, encouraged by success, 
 would encamp there. But while defeat only enraged the red men 
 further, victory sent them home to their own country, exulting 
 in their scalps and prisoners. The battle field was covered 
 with the bodies of the white men, frightfully mangled. After 
 burying these, Logan and Boone retiirned to Bryant's station 
 and disbanded the troops. 
 
COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 
 
 221 
 
 vSuch was the bloodiest battle ever fought between white and 
 red, for the soil of Kentucky. About seventy of the Kentuckiaus, 
 or nearly one-half of the whole number engaged, were killed, 
 and the 19th of August, 1782, was long celebrated in the local 
 traditions. 
 
 A few prowling bands of Indians infested the less thickly set- 
 tled part of the country, but for some time there were no im- 
 portant sieges or fights. Colonel Boone was enabled by the com- 
 pensation which the State of Virginia gave him for his military 
 
 TIIK TOUACfd STRATAOEM. 
 
 services to purchase several tracts of land, which he cultivated 
 with his usual industry, varying his agricultural pursuits with 
 hunting expeditions. On one of these tracts he erected a com- 
 fortable log house, near which he planted a small patch of tobac- 
 co to supply his neighbors ( for he never used the " filthy Aveed " 
 himself). 
 
 He had built a " tol)aeeo house," for curing it, of rails ten or 
 twelve feet in height, and roofed with cane and grass. The stalks 
 were split and strung on sticks about four feet long, the ends of 
 these being laid on poles placed in tiers across the building. 
 
222 , COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 
 
 The lower tier being dry, Boone was busily removing it to the 
 upper part of the building, supporting himself on the lower 
 poles, when, looking down, he saw that four Indians, armed with 
 guns, had entered the low door. One of them said to him : 
 
 " 'Now, Boone, we got you. You no get away more. We carry 
 off to Chillicothe this time. Yoxi no cheat us an}^ more." 
 
 Looking down from his perch, Boone recognized the intruders 
 as some of the Shawnees who had captured him in 1778, and an- 
 swered, pleasantly : 
 
 "Ah, old friends, glad to see you. Wait a little, till I have 
 finished putting up this tobacco, will you ? You can stand there 
 and watch me." 
 
 The loaded guns, which had been pointed at" his breast, were 
 lowered, and the Indians stood watching his every movement. 
 At last, so interested did they become in answering his questions 
 about old acquaintances, and in his promises to give them his to- 
 bacco, that they became less attentive, and did not see that he 
 had gathered the dry tobacco into such a position that a touch 
 would send it into their upturned faces. At the same instant that 
 he touched this, he jumped upon them with as much of the dried 
 tobacco as he could gather in his arms, filling their eyes and nos- 
 trils with its dust. Blinded and strangling, they could not follow 
 him as he rushed towards the cabin, where he could defend him- 
 self. Looking around, when he was about fifteen or twenty yards 
 from the tobacco house, he saw them groping in all directions ; 
 and heard them cursing him as a rogue, and themselves as fools. 
 
 Quietly tilling his beautiful farm near Boonesborough, several 
 years were passed in peace and tranquility. Here he dictated to 
 one John Filson the autobiography before mentioned, and after 
 its publication in 1784, it was one of his greatest pleasures to lis- 
 ten to it when any one would read it to him. In his opinion, it 
 was one of the finest specimens of literature in existence. One 
 charm, at least, that it had for him, it has for all ; it is " every 
 word true — not a lie in it." 
 
 But the storms were not yet at an end ; the earliest settler in 
 the community, he had been obliged to buy his farm ; expending 
 for this purpose money earned as a defender of Kentucky, his 
 aversion to legal technicalities and ignorance of legal forms pre- 
 vented his taking care to secure a perfect title. Such defects were 
 eagerly hunted up, about this period, by speculators, and many 
 better informed and more careful men lost their lands by litigation. 
 
COLONEL DANTEL BOONE. 
 
 223 
 
224 COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 
 
 As a result of the arts and rogueries of these speculators, not a foot 
 of land remained to Boone. Sadly, but not bitterly, he resolved 
 to leave Kentucky, and about 1790 he and his faithful and be- 
 loved wife removed to a place near Point Pleasant, on the Kana- 
 wha River in Yirginia. Here he lived about five years, cultivat- 
 ing a farm, raising stock, and whenever possible, hunting. 
 
 But to the woodsman, life in this '^ highly civilized " region, as 
 it seemed to him, was unendurable. Hero there were bxit traces 
 of game, which must be carefully followed j sometimes (and these 
 occasions were fast growing more and more frequent) even the 
 most skillful hunter failed to meet with success. "With eager in- 
 terest he listened to the adventurers returned from the far prai- 
 ries west of the Mississippi, when they told how, over the flat, 
 grass-clad plains and the low hills, roamed vast herds of buffalo ; 
 how the wild duck haunted the borders of the swift Father of 
 Waters and the turbid flood of its chief tributaiy; how often the 
 cry of the wild turkey was heard through the forests that bor- 
 dered the life-giving streams. He who had found happiness in the 
 Kentucky wilderness longed for a land where he might make his 
 home secure from the grasp of those who wished to .defraud ; 
 whence he could go to the hunting ground, and not find it trans- 
 formed to farms. 
 
 In this region so favored by nature, the wandering hunters told 
 him, the people were simple and straightforward, honest and hon- 
 orable, needing not the laws made for those disposed to evil, nor 
 seeking to avoid, through the subtilty of lawyers, the conse- 
 quences of their own actions. To a man of Boone's tastes and 
 experience, a land where lawsuits and lawyers were unknown 
 must have seemed the very ideal of a dwelling-place. 
 
 Hither, then, in 1795 or 1797, he took up his journey. The 
 country west of the Mississippi then belonged to the Crown of 
 Spain, and from the representative of that royal owner, the Lieu- 
 tenant-Governor' resident at St. Louis, he received ''assurance 
 that ample portions of land should be given to him and his fam- 
 ily." The Fcmme Osage settlement, the home of his son Daniel 
 M. Boone, was his residence until 1804, and it was of this district 
 that in ISOO he was appointed Commandant. This office com- 
 bined civil and military duties, and was held by him until the 
 transfer of the territorj^ of Louisiana to the United States Govern- 
 ment in 1803. Removing to the residence of his youngest son, 
 Maj.^Nathan Boone, he remained there until 1810, when he went to 
 
COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 225 
 
 live with his son-in-law, Flanders Callaway, in Callaway county. 
 
 In consideration of his official services as Syndic, ten thousand 
 arpents of excellent land (about eight thousand five hundred 
 acres) were given to Colonel Boone by the Government. In ac- 
 cordance with the special law, he should have obtained a con- 
 firmation of the grant from the royal Grovernor at 'New Orleans, 
 and have taken up his residence on the land. The Lieutenant- 
 Grovernor at St. Louis undertook to dispense with the latter con- 
 dition, and Boone "reckoned all would be right" without any 
 further attention to formalities than was implied in the original 
 grant. He probably trusted that justice would be done by the 
 United States Government; but the Commissioners appointed to 
 decide on claims rejected Boone's for want of legal formalities. 
 
 This, however, did not occur for some time after his removal to 
 the state, so that the first few years sj^ent within its bounds were 
 marked by no ill luck. The office which he held under the S];)anish 
 Government was similar to thej^resent one of justice of the peace, 
 with the addition of military duties, but its exercise did not re- 
 quire all his time. Plenty of leisure remained for hunting, and 
 obtaining, after two or three seasons, valuable furs in sufficient 
 quantity to enable him to pay some debts outstanding in Ken- 
 tucky, he went thither, and asking each creditor the amount due 
 him, paid it without any other guarantee than their assertion. 
 Returning to Missouri, though he had but half a dollar remain- 
 ing, he said to his family : 
 
 "Now I am ready and willing to die; I. am relieved from a 
 burden that has long oppressed me ; I have paid all my debts, 
 and no one will say, when I am gone, 'Boone was a dishonest 
 man;' I am perfectly willing to die." 
 
 In 1812, Colonel Boone sent a petition to Congress, praying 
 that his original claim be confirmed. At his request, the Ken- 
 tucky Legislature, by a series of resolutions, directed the Sena- 
 tors of that state to exert themselves to further this petition. 
 His appeal was neglected for some time; but Congress, in Feb- 
 ruary, 1814, granted him one thousand ariDcnts — a tract of land 
 to A^^hich any settler would be entitled. 
 
 During the period of anxiety about his land, a worse trouble 
 came, in the death of the wife who had shared his dangers and 
 toils for so many years. For seven years he was to live alone. 
 
 Before this he had given up his favorite pursuit of hunting, 
 even in his last expeditions being attended by some friend or ser- 
 15 
 
226 
 
 COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 
 
 vant. His time was divided among his children, the house of 
 Mrs. Callaway, his eldest daughter, being headquarters, and the 
 home of Major Is'athan Boone seeing him oftenest. He employed 
 his time in making powder horns for his grandchildren, repairing 
 rifles, and such other work as had been familiar to him in past 
 years and was not now beyond his failing strength. One occu- 
 pation which seems to us rather singular, was the daily rubbing 
 and polishing of a coffin which he had had made for himself, and 
 which, at his death, was found in a state of excellent finish. This 
 was the second coffin made for him ; the first did not fit to his 
 satisfaction, so he gave it to his son-in-law, Flanders Callaway. 
 An attack of fever prostrated him in September, 1820, and on 
 the twenty-sixth of that month, at the residence of his youngest 
 son, he died, in the eighty-sixth year of his age, and was buried 
 beside his wife. The Legislature of Missouri passed resolutions 
 of respect, adopted a badge of mourning for thirty days, and ad- 
 journed for one day. In 1845, the people of Frankfort, Ky., ob- 
 tained the consent of the family to inter the bones of the great 
 pioneer and his wife in the rural cemetery they had prepared; 
 and the burial took place on the 20th of August of that year. 
 
 
 THE GKAVK dl'' iiuu.NE, 
 
CHAPTER Till. 
 
 SIMON KEI^TON. 
 
 I IT the year 1771, there lived in Fauquier County, Virginia, a 
 rustic belle, who found it impossible to decide between two 
 of her many lovers. One of these two was a young farmer, nam- 
 ed William Leitchman ; the other was Simon Kenton, a boy of 
 but sixteen, but tall and well-formed. In accordance with the 
 custom of the country, the matter was taken up by the friends of 
 Leitchman and they administered a severe beating to his young 
 rival. Smarting under this rough treatment, and feeling no less 
 the coquette's admiration of the prowess of his assailants, Ken- 
 ton determined upon revenge. He accordingly challenged Leitch- 
 man to single combat. It was a regular stand-up fight, in which 
 fists were the only weapons. Such was its character at first, but 
 the more matured strength of Leitchman transformed it in both 
 particulars, as Kenton was soon brought to the ground, and kicks 
 as well as cuffs bestowed upon him. At last, however, he gained 
 the master}^, winding his rival's long hair about a bush that was 
 near, and returning with good interest, not only the blows, but 
 "the pangs of misprized love" as well. His passion led him 
 farther than he wished, for in a little time his antagonist lay ap- 
 parently lifeless upon the ground. 
 
 Frightened at the unexpected termination, he resolved upon 
 immediate flight. Through the wilderness, then, he went at full 
 speed, the dark shadow of the gallows clouding his way, and 
 urging him onward. For better concealment, he resolved to drop 
 the name of Kenton, which might betray him, if a reward were 
 offered for his apprehension, and assume that of Butler. It is as 
 Simon Butler, then, that for many years he is known in the his- 
 tory of Kentucky. 
 
 Not yet, however, was he destined to reach the fertile land 
 with whose welfare his own was to be so closely connected in the 
 future. Falling in with various parties of adventurers and ex- 
 
228 SIMON KENTON. 
 
 plorers, he at last became acquainted with two companions, Ya- 
 ger and Strader, the former having been captured by the Indians 
 when a child, and kept by them for many years. He described 
 to Kenton an earthly paradise, which was familiar to him in his 
 childhood by the name of Kan-tuck-ee, saying that it was to be 
 reached by descending the Ohio. So confident was he in his own 
 jjowers as a guide that Strader and Kenton procured a canoe, 
 and the th^ee young men set out. After rowing for several days 
 they became rather incredulous, telling Yager that he must have 
 confused different localities, and in spite of his protestations to 
 the contrary, they insisted upon returning to Virginia. They 
 then went to the neighborhood of the Great Kanawha, and spent 
 nearly two years in that locality, engaged in the congenial and 
 profitable labors of hunting and trapping. 
 
 Attacked by a party of Indians in March, 1773, they were driven 
 from their tent. As they fled, Strader fell by a shot from the as- 
 sailants, but Kenton and Yager were more successful in their re- 
 treat. But so hurried had been their flight, that they had neither 
 guns, blankets nor provisions — neither food nor shelter, nor the 
 means of procuring it. For five days they journeyed through 
 the trackless forests, with no guide towards the Ohio, their pro- 
 posed destination, except the moss on the northward side of the 
 trees, and no food but the roots which they found on the way. 
 Comj)letely exhausted by their rapid flight and by hunger, they 
 reached the banks of the Ohio at sunset on the fifth day, and ob- 
 tained a supply of provisions from a party of traders that they 
 found there. Meeting soon after with another party of explor- 
 ers, Kenton obtained a gun and some ammunition, and, plunging 
 alone into the forest, lived a hunter's life there until late in the 
 summer. 
 
 Joining somewhat later another party of adventurers, he left 
 them in 1774, when Dunmore's war broke out. During the whole 
 of this contest between the two races, the names of Simon Butler 
 and Simon Girty were well known as among the most efficient 
 spies employed by Lord Dunmore. In their later years, the one 
 was honored as a brave man and a faithful champion of the white 
 man, the other reviled as a traitor and a renegade. 
 
 Kenton had not yet given up the idea of finding the place de- 
 scribed by Yager, and when the troops were disbanded at the 
 close of the war, he, together with two others, set out in the di- 
 rection indicated. After considerable wandering, they built a 
 
SIMON KENTON. 229 
 
 cabin where Washington, Ivy., now stands, and planted a small 
 clearing with corn. In the forest, one day, he met with two men, 
 Fitzpatrick and Hendricks, whom Kenton invited to remain at 
 his cabin. In descending the Ohio, their canoe had been over- 
 turned, and snch had been their experience in their endeavors to 
 find the settlements, that Fitzpatrick was thoroughly disgusted, 
 and refused to stay. Hendricks accepted tlie invitation, and re- 
 mained at the cabin while the others escorted his late companion 
 to " The Point," the site of the modern Maj'sville. Having seen 
 him safely across the river, and provided him with a gun and 
 some ammunition, they returned to the camp, where they had left 
 Hendricks without a gun, but with a bountiful supply of food. 
 They arrived at the cabin only to find it deserted, pierced here 
 and there by bullets, and the various articles in much confusion. 
 From a low, bushy ravine not far from the clearing rose the thick 
 smoke that comes from a newly kindled fire ; strong must the In- 
 dians be, when they so boldly encamped near the dwelling of 
 their victim's companions, and Kenton and his two friends, judg- 
 ing that it would be too unequal a contest, beat a hasty retreat 
 into the woods. The evening of the next day they returned 
 cautiously to the neighborhood of the camp, to find the fire 
 smouldering, the Indians gone, and the ground strewn with the 
 bones of their luckless companion. At the time of their return, 
 Hendricks had probably been alive; perhaps the Indians were 
 not so numerous as they had feared, and a sudden, sharp attack 
 might have saved him from that most horrible of deaths. 
 
 Slowly they retraced their steps to the cabin at Washington, 
 pondering on the uncertainty of their lives, and filled with use- 
 less regrets for their comrade. la the following September, a 
 wandering hunter told them of the settlements in the interior of 
 the state, and especially of the fort at Boonesborough. That this 
 was pleasant news to them, is shown by their leaving the camp 
 at Washington, and setting out, through the forest, to visit the dif- 
 ferent stations established in various parts of the state. 
 
 What became of his two companions is not recorded, but Ken- 
 ton went to Boonesborough, where he participated in two sieges, 
 and served as a spy with most excellent success. It was during the 
 year 1777, while Kenton was in Boonesborough, that several men 
 in the fields near by were attacked by Indians, and ran to the 
 fort. One of the savages overtook and tomahawked a white man, 
 but while stooping to scalp him, was covered by Kenton's uner- 
 
230 
 
 SIMON KENTON. 
 
 ^^r^y^ .^i^y 
 
 ring rifle. A sharp crack, and the Indian fell prostrate over his 
 victim. Boone, with thirteen men, of whom Kenton was one, 
 Mallied to the relief of the others ; half of the number, including 
 
SIMON KENTO:. 231 
 
 the lender, were wounded at tlie first fire, and an Indian had al- 
 ready stooped, tomahawk in hand, over the white chief whose 
 cool courage they so much feared, when Kenton, with the spring 
 of the panther, slew the Indian, and catching up into his arms 
 the body of the leader, bore it safely into the fort. When the 
 gates were securely closed, Boone sent for Kenton, his sense of 
 gratitude having overcome his usual taciturnity. Yet so unused 
 was he to courtly phrase that all he could say was, " Well, Simon, 
 you have behaved yourself like a man to-day. Indeed, you are 
 a fine fellow." 
 
 Perhaps the young giant of twenty-two, standing there before 
 the already famous pioneer, appreciated the praise more than any 
 one else could ; for he knew how much meaning there was in 
 these few words from that man of action. 
 
 In the expedition that Boone led against the Indian towns in 
 the summer of 1778, Kenton did good service as a spy, although 
 not without danger to himself. After having crossed the Ohio, 
 being on one occasion considerably in advance of the rest, the 
 sound of a voice from an adjoining thicket caused him to halt and 
 take his post behind a tree. Soon there emerged from the thicket 
 two Indians, both mounted on one pony, and in the highest good 
 humor. Totally unsuspicious of danger as they were, one fell 
 dead and the other wounded, by Kenton's fire. But this seeming 
 success was an unlucky thing for him, for just as he was about to 
 scalp his victims, he was almost surrounded by a party of about 
 forty Indians. By dint of hard running, and dodging from the 
 shelter of one tree to that of another, he managed to elude them 
 until the main party came up, and in a furious attack, defeated 
 the savages. Boone returned to the fort with all of his party ex- 
 cept Kenton and a young man named Montgomery, of whom w^e 
 shall hear again. These kept on to the Indian village, to " get a 
 shot," and supply themselves with horses. For two days and a 
 night they lay within rifle range of the town, but met with no 
 success in their first amicable purpose. In the second, however, 
 they were more fortunate, for it was on good horses that once 
 belonged to Indians, that they rode into the fort after the siege 
 was raised. 
 
 About the first of September of this same year Kenton and Mont- 
 gomery, with a companion named Clark, set out to the Indian 
 town of Chillicothe with the avowed purpose of stealing horses, 
 and there seems to have been no opposition to the expedition 
 
232 SIMON KENTON. 
 
 from those older and presumably wiser settlers who remained in 
 the fort. Probably Boone was not there, having returned to 
 North Carolina for his family ; for Kenton, as we shall see, dis- 
 claimed being directed by him. 
 
 They arrived in the neighborhood of the town without meet- 
 ing with any adventures, and soon discovered a drove of horses 
 feeding quietly upon the rich blue-grass of the prairie. Being 
 well provided with salt and halters, they succeeded in capturing 
 seven, and much elated with their good luck, made off with their 
 prizes. Towards the Ohio they went with all speed, expecting to 
 reach the settlement some time in the night; but such a storm 
 arose that they found it impossible to cross. The wind blew 
 almost a hurricane, lashing the swift current of the river into 
 waves like those of the sea, and through which the terrified horses 
 had no mind to go. Nothing was left for them to do but to ride 
 back a little distance into the hills and turn the horses loose to 
 graze. In the morning the wind had fallen, but the horses re- 
 fused to enter the water, remembering, doubtless, the storm of 
 the previous day. Knowing the Indians would probably be in 
 pursuit of them, they determined to select the three best of the 
 seven, and make their way to the falls of the Ohio, where some 
 men had been stationed by General Clark. Acting on this plan, 
 four of the horses were turned loose. Hardly had they set out, 
 however, when they regretted what they had done, and returned 
 to recapture the animals which by this time had strayed out of 
 sight. 
 
 The little party separated, and the three men went in different 
 directions, Kenton bending his steps toward the point where they 
 had tried to cross the river on the preceding day. Before long 
 he heard a wild whoop from the direction in which he was going. 
 Dismounting and tying his horse, he crept stealthily towards the 
 sound, to make observations. Reaching the high bank of the 
 river, he saw the Indians very near him, but was himself unper- 
 ceived. So close to him was the partj^ that, seeing he could not 
 retreat unseen, he adopted the boldest, because the safest plan, 
 and aimed at the foremost Indian. His gun flashed in the pan. 
 With the speed of the startled deer he ran through the forest, 
 where the storm had torn up tree after tree by the roots, and laid 
 them prostrate on the earth. After him came the force of mounted 
 Indians, but so much did the fallen timber retard them that they 
 divided into two parties, and rode around the obstructions. Just 
 
SIMON KENTON. 
 
 233 
 
 as Kenton emerged from the timber, he was met by one of the 
 Indians, who rode up, jumped from his horse and rushed at him 
 with uplifted weapon. Drawing baclv, in order to strike the In- 
 dian with his gun before the tomahawk could be used, Kenton 
 found himself in the embrace of an Indian who had slipped up 
 behind. The main body having come up, resistance was useless, 
 and Kenton surrendered. While the Indians were binding Ken- 
 ton with tugs, Montgomery fired at them, but missing his aim, 
 fled and was pursued by those not guarding Kenton. Soon the 
 
 KENTON'S MAZEPPA RIDE. 
 
 party returned, displaying before the eyes of the miserable cap- 
 tive the bloody scalp of his companion. Clark had escaped their 
 clutches, and soon afterward arrived safely at Logan's Port. 
 
 According to their usual custom, the Indians took their prison- 
 er with them to their own town of Chillicothe, thereto determine 
 his fate in solemn council. When they were ready to set out 
 towards that place, they proceeded to secure their prisoner in 
 such a way as to prevent his escape, and at the same time provide 
 them with as much amusement as possible. Catching the wild- 
 est horse in their company, they lashed their prisoner on it, ty- 
 ing his feet together under the horse, fastening his arms with a 
 I'ope and then covering them with a pair of moccasins ; then ty- 
 
234 SIMON KENTON. 
 
 ing a rope arouud his neck, and securing one end to the horse's 
 neclc, they tied the other end to his tail to answer for a crupper. 
 Of course only a limited number could assist in the preparations; 
 so the majority amused themselves by dancing around him and 
 inquiring, tauntingly: 
 
 " You steal Injun boss again ? Injun got heap good boss — you 
 steal some? Long-knife like Injun boss — steal whole drove. 
 Long-knife on lujun boss now, but he no steal it." 
 
 The wild young horse was set free from their restraint, and 
 ran, rearing and plunging, into the woods. The moccasins on 
 bis hands prevented Kenton from defending himself from the 
 overhanging branches, and he was so securely tied tbat there was 
 no possibility of escape. 
 
 The horse, finding that be could not rid himself of his burden, 
 returned to the company of his fellows, and jogged along with 
 them quietly enough. At night the prisoner was as securely bound 
 as by day. Laid on bis back, each foot was tied to a stake driven 
 into the ground for that purpose. His extended arms were lashed 
 to a i:»ole laid across his breast, and a rope tied around his neck, 
 almost tight enough to choke him, was fastened to a neighboring 
 tree. In this uncomfortable position, at the mercy of the numer- 
 ous swarms of gnats and mosquitoes, he passed three nights. The 
 last of these was at the encampment about a mile fromCbillicothe, 
 where all the inhabitants of the town came to welcome the war- 
 riors and their prisoner. For about three hours this party of 
 one hundred and fifty tormented the luckless captive, dancing 
 and yelling around him, stopping occasionally to beat and kick 
 him. Returning to town after this diversion, they left him for 
 the rest of the night to the tender mercies of the gnats and mos- 
 quitoes. 
 
 As soon as it was light in the morning, they returned to the 
 camp to make preparations for more amusement. Kenton was 
 doomed to run the gauntlet. The warriors formed in two lines, 
 about six feet apart, each armed with a stout hickory, so that 
 they could beat him as much as they pleased. Nor was this 
 all. Kenton, bis sharp eyes made sharper by the danger, saw 
 more than one knife drawn to plunge into him. Familiar with 
 the custom of the savages, he broke through the line before reach- 
 ing the first Indian so armed, trusting to reach the council house 
 before they could overtake him; if he should succeed in doing so, 
 be would not be again compelled to run the gauntlet. With all 
 
SIMON KENTON. 
 
 235 
 
 his speed he ran, pursued by two or three hmulred Indians, yell- 
 ing like as many devils let loose. He might have been able to 
 reach the goal if he had not met an Indian, walking leisurely 
 from the town: with this unexpected foe to contend with, besides 
 
 DESPERATK EFFORT TO ESCAPE. 
 
 the yelling horde behind, and exhausted by all that he had under- 
 gone during the past three days, he was soon caught and thrown 
 down. The others came up, and there was a repetition of the 
 night's performances; they danced and shouted, beating and 
 kicking him to their heart's content. Then, fearful that his 
 
236 SIMON KENTON. 
 
 strength might give way before they were sufficiently amused, 
 they brought him food and water. 
 
 As soon as he was thus refreshed, they took him to the council 
 house, where his fate was to be decided. The warriors placed 
 themselves in a circle, an old chief standing in their midst, with 
 a knife and a stick. Although Kenton did not understand their 
 language, the glance of the eye and the movements of the hands 
 told him plainly that many urged his death. 
 
 The speeches were at an end, and the old chief handed a war- 
 club to the warrior who sat near the door. By means of this the 
 vote was to be taken, a blow upon the ground meaning death, 
 while simply passing it to the next meant life. Here, again, 
 Kenton could discern their meaning by their gestures, and the 
 votes for his death were by far the more numerous. The old chief 
 tallied all on his stick, first on one side, then on the other, and 
 soon declared the result, when sentence of death was passed up- 
 on the prisoner. 
 
 There was another question to be decided which demanded 
 hardly less careful consideration; this was the time and place of 
 execution. Whether he should be put to death immediately, or 
 reserved for solemn sacrifice in the presence of the whole tribe, 
 was debated with considerable warmth. The latter opinion pre- 
 vailed, and they set out with him toward Wapatomika. Passing 
 through two other Indian towns on the way, Kenton was com- 
 pelled to run the gauntlet at both, being severely beaten. All 
 this time there had been not a single opportunity to escape, but 
 being carelessly guarded at the latter town they passed through, 
 he made a break and ran. However hopeless his escape from this 
 large body might seem, nothing but death could follow failure, 
 and he had for daj^s past fendured a living death. In spite of all 
 the exhausting tortures which he had undergone since his capture, 
 he distanced his pursuers, and his hopes rose high; only to be 
 dashed down, however, for when he reached a point about two 
 miles from the town, he met a large party of Indians, on their 
 way to join his tormentors. These, recapturing him, took him 
 back to the town, and gave him again into the hands of his orig- 
 inal captors. 
 
 The last ray of hope had gone out in the night of despair. 
 There seemed no chance of life, and Kenton sullenly gave him- 
 self up to his fate. Of the horror of his doom he had already 
 had a foretaste, made doubly dreadful as it was by the love of 
 
SIMON KENTON. 237 
 
 life so strong at three-and-twenty. With the calmness of despair 
 he looked upon the yelling horde around him, conveying him to 
 Wapatomika and the stake. Already had his skin been stained 
 with the black dye which showed him condemned to death, when 
 the renegade white man, Simon Girty, approached him. Com- 
 rades-in-arms had they been, while serving together in Dunmore's 
 war; thence one had joined the Kentucky settlers, and the other, 
 after serving a short time in the American army against the 
 British, had deserted to the Indians, the allies of the latter. 
 Like all apostates, he became worse than those who were "to the 
 manor born," and for twenty years his name was the terror of 
 the border; could anything be hoped from the man who was 
 more savage than his terrible allies, who spared not man, woman 
 or child ? At his belt hung the scalps, still reeking with blood, 
 with which he had just returned ; near by were his prisoners, a 
 woman and seven children. 
 
 When Kenton had entered the council-house at Wapatomika, 
 he had been greeted with such a scowl from all assembled there 
 as would have made his heart sink if he had still entertained any 
 hope. Now, however, he felt it was welcomed, as showing that 
 the inevitable end was near. 
 
 Throwing a blanket on the floor, Girty, in his harshest tones, 
 ordered him to take a seat upon it. Angered by a momentary 
 delay, the "white savage " caught the prisoner's arm, and jerking 
 him roughly upon the blanket, pulled him down upon it. In the 
 same forbidding tone Girty asked him how many men there were 
 in Kentucky. Kenton, true to the last, answered that he did not 
 know, but that he could name the officers and state the rank, and 
 the questioner could judge for himself. Thereupon he proceeded 
 to name every man to whose name a military " handle" was at- 
 tached, whether he had a command or not, and succeeded in giving 
 an impression that the whites were much stronger than they were 
 in re/ility. In response to an inquiry about William Stewart, 
 Kenton said that he was an old and intimate acquaintance. 
 
 " What is your own name ? " was the next question. 
 
 " Simon Butler," answered the prisoner. The efl'ect was elec- 
 trical. Springing from his seat, Girty embraced his old compan- 
 ion with all the ardor of a more emotional nature. Turning to 
 the assembled warriors, he spoke in defense of his friend. They 
 had trodden the war-path side by side, and had slept under the 
 same blanket. His emotion made him eloquent: 
 
238 SIMON KENTON. 
 
 " Shall I be denied this one thing? Warriors of the Shawnees, 
 when has the hand of Katepacomen been clean, when that of his 
 Indian brother was bathed in blood ? Has Katepacomen ever 
 spared the white man's scalp? Has he not brought to Wapato- 
 mika eight prisoners ? Do not seven fresh scalps hang at his belt? 
 Now the white brother of Katepacomen has fallen into the hands 
 of his Indian brothers and they wish to torture him. Shall 
 Katepacomen stand by and see his brother eaten by the flames? 
 To those who are born warriors of the Shawnees, the life of a 
 white prisoner is given for the asking • will my brothers deny so 
 little a thing to the brother born among the white men, who has 
 chosen to live among the Indians?" 
 
 No voice but his own broke the stillness; when he finished, the 
 deep, guttural tones of the chiefs s2:)oke both ap^^roval and disap- 
 proval. Some of them urged that the prisoner had already been 
 condemned to death, and that they would be acting like squaws 
 to be changing their minds every hour. Besides this, the pris- 
 oner richly deserved his doom; not only had he stolen their 
 horses, but he had flashed his gun at one of their young men, and 
 had tried his best to escaj^e. So bad a man could never be a bro- 
 ther to them, as was Girty ; he could never be an Indian in his 
 heart, like Katepacomen. More than this, many of their people 
 had come a great distance to witness the execution, and after 
 coming so far, it would be cruel to disappoint them. 
 
 Grirty listened impatiently to this pathetic pleading for the en- 
 joyment of the jseople. No sooner had the young warriors con- 
 cluded their speeches than he sjDrang to his feet, and spoke again 
 in favor of his friend : 
 
 "Has Katepacomen ever spared the white man's scalp? Has 
 he ever before pleaded for the life of a captive? Never before 
 has he asked a boon of his Indian brothers, and now this, which 
 they would grant without hesitation to one of their own race, 
 they would refuse to him. If the warriors of the Shawnees trust 
 in the good faith and love of Katepacomen, let them give him the 
 life of his white brother." 
 
 Not a word did Kenton understand of these speeches, since all 
 used the Shawnee tongue. At length the discussion came to an 
 end, and the war-club was passed around the assembly, that the 
 vote might be taken. This time the decision was for life. Hav- 
 ing thus succeeded in his endeavors, Girty conducted his friend 
 to his own wigwam and fitted him out from his own wardrobe, 
 
SIMON KENTON. 
 
 239 
 
 Kenton's clothes having been torn from him by the infuriated 
 savages. For three weelcs they lived a perfectly quiet life, Ken- 
 ton meeting with the most friendly and cordial treatment from the 
 
 SIMON GIRTY, THE REXEGADE. 
 
 very chiefs who had most violently opposed Girty's pleadings. 
 
 About twenty days after his deliverance, as Girty, Kenton and 
 an Indian named Eedpole were walking together, they were met 
 
240 SIMON KENTON. 
 
 by another Indian, who repeatedly uttered a peculiar whoop. 
 This, Girty informed him, was the distress halloo, and summoned 
 them to the council-house. Kenton had no particular love for 
 any council-house whatever ; he would have much preferred to 
 give them all a wide berth, and not hold any very intimate com- 
 munication with those who were assembled there ; but there was 
 no choice. 
 
 The Indian who had hallooed, saluted them, and readily gave 
 his hand to Girty and Eedpole, but refused Kenton's. This was 
 ominous. It was but the beginning of what was to come ; on 
 reaching the council-house, no one of the warriors there assem- 
 bled would give his hand to Kenton. Many of the chiefs were 
 strangers from distant towns, and the assembly was larger than 
 in either of the other councils. Once again the impassioned de- 
 bate was held — Girty pleading for his friend, the savages thirst- 
 ing for his blood. But the eloquence which had before proven 
 so effective was lost upon the stranger warriors, and turning to 
 Kenton, the " white savage" said, with a suspicious brightness in 
 his eyes : 
 
 " Well, my friend, you must die." 
 
 A strange chief seized the captive by the collar, and he was 
 quickly bound and committed to a guard. With him they instant- 
 ly setoff, the Indians being on horseback, and Kenton on foot, 
 a rope tied around his neck, one end being held by one of the 
 guard. About two and a half miles from Wapatomika, Girty 
 overtook them and told Kenton that he was on his way to the 
 next village^ in order to secure the influence of some friends he 
 had there. But there, as in Wapatomika, the eloquence of Kate- 
 pacomen was in vain, and the white savage, theterror of the bor- 
 der, the most ruthless of the children of the wilderness, returned 
 by another route to his home. He could not again see the friend 
 he could not save. 
 
 When they had gone two or three miles beyond the first vil- 
 lage they saw, a few yards from the trail, a squaw chopping wood, 
 while her lord the warrior sat by smoking, to see that she 
 worked industriously. The very sight of Kenton set on fire the 
 hot blood in his veins, and snatching the axe from the hand of 
 the patient toiler, he rushed upon the captive, and before any 
 defense could be made, dealt a blow which crushed through his 
 shoulder, shattering the bone, and almost severing the arm from 
 the body. Raising the axe for a second time, his arm was 
 
SIMON KENTON. 241 
 
 stopped by Kenton's guard, who reproached him with wishing to 
 rob them of pleasure by the premature murder of the victim. 
 
 Arriving at a large village on the head waters of the Scioto, 
 they halted for the night. Here, a chief of striking and manly 
 appearance, of calm and noble front, si:)eaking English fluently 
 and well, his utterance such as persuades men to do his will, 
 came up to Kenton. It was Logan, the eloquent chief of the Min- 
 goes, so highly praised by the author of the Declaration of Inde- 
 pendence. Struck by the manly beauty and soldierly bearing of 
 the young cai)tive, or perhaps moved only by his misfortunes, 
 Logan, after exchanging a few words with Kenton, said to him : 
 
 ^'Well, don't be disheartened; I am a great chief; j^ou are to 
 go to Sandusky — they speak of burning you there, — but I will 
 send two runners to-morrow to speak good for you." 
 
 Cheered by this promise, Kenton remained qliietly at Logan's 
 lodge all night and the next day, being permitted to spend much 
 of the time with the benevolent chief. Logan kept his promise, 
 and the runners were despatched to Sandusky early in the morn- 
 ing, returning in the evening. After their return, Logan avoided 
 seeing Kenton until the succeeding morning, when, walking up 
 to him, accompanied by the guards, he said : 
 
 " Yon are to be taken to Sanduskj^" 
 
 Griving him a piece of bread, the chief, without uttering another 
 word, turned and walked away. 
 
 Kenton had been consumed by the most intense anxiety since 
 the return of the messengers, and the conduct of the friendly chief 
 did not tend to reassure him. There was nothing to conjecture 
 but that Logan had overrated his influence, that his intercession 
 had been as useless as Girty's, and that Kenton must meet the 
 dreadful fate decreed by the council. To Sandusky, then, they 
 marched, his hope at the lowest ebb. It seemed that every friendly 
 power failed when exerted in his behalf, no matter how strong 
 it might be in other directions. ■ Despite the exertions of these 
 two friends, he was to be burnt at Sandusky the morning after 
 his arrival. 
 
 But even then, when only a few hours of life seemed to remain 
 to him, an apparent enemy was transformed into a powerful 
 friend. 
 
 This was Captain Drewyer, a Froncli Canadian in the employ 
 of the British government as Indian agent. lie represented to 
 the Indians the value, to the commandant at Detroit, of a prisoner 
 16 
 
242 SIMON KENTON. 
 
 intimately acquainted with the settlements in Kentucky, and by 
 appealing first to their cupidity, and then to their fears, his bribes 
 and threats secured the loan of Kenton, it being expressly stip- 
 ulated, however, that when all possible information had been ex- 
 tracted from him, he should be ret^!rned to them for their own 
 purposes. 
 
 Drewyer immediately set out for Detroit with his prisoner. 
 While they were on their journey, he told Kenton on what terms 
 he was released from immediate danger, adding that he ( Drew- 
 yer) had no intention of keeping his promise by delivering up to 
 such inhuman wretches the life in his power. Continuing in this 
 strain, lauding his own generosity, he began to question Kenton 
 as to the number of men in Kentucky, and the state of defense. 
 Kenton replied that he was only a private, obeying orders given 
 by those who had the direction of affairs ; that being in so low a 
 rank, his range of vision was but narrow, not enabling him to 
 judge of the general condition of things ; that he had no taste for 
 meddling with others, for he had found it quite enough to take 
 care of himself — sometimes more than he could do. After this 
 reply, he was troubled with no more questions. 
 
 Arriving in Detroit early in October, he remained there in a 
 state of easy restraint, for eight months. Restricted to certain 
 rather wide boundaries during the day, and obliged to report 
 every morning to a British officer, there was no other condition 
 attached to his comings and goings. Some time was required for 
 his recovery from the effects of the Indians' brutality, but, once 
 strong and well, the young freeman longed for his wnld home 
 again. To escape from Detroit was easy enough, but it would 
 be more difficult to journey safely through the wilderness, alone 
 and unarmed, a distance of two hundred miles, among Indians 
 who were eager for his death. Even setting aside the latter con- 
 sideration, there would be, in those trackless forests, no food but 
 the wild game, which could not be killed without a gun. 
 
 Carefully and secretly he laid and worked out his plans. Two 
 young Kentuckians, taken with Boone at the Blue Licks and pur- 
 chased by the British, shared his thirst for liberty, and the three 
 patiently awaited their opportunity. The most difficult thing 
 was to obtain guns and ammunition without the knowledge of 
 the commandant, but even this was overcome; Kenton bought of 
 two Indians, plied with rum for the purpose, their guns, and hid 
 the precious purchase in the woods. Managing to get another 
 
SIMON KENTON. 24H 
 
 rifle, and a supply of ammunition, thi'oiigh a citizen of the town, 
 they set out on tlieir lonely and perilous journey. Traveling 
 onl}" at night, they reached Louisville after a march of just one 
 month. Ten months before, Kenton had started out, in company 
 with Montgomery and Clark, to the town of Chillicothe. In the 
 space of a month, he had been exposed to the ordeal called run- 
 ning 'the gauntlet no less than eight times ; three times had he 
 been tied to the stake to suffer the most horrible death known 
 to fiendish ingenuity ; and the intervals had been times of the 
 greatest possible mental anguish. 
 
 Arrived in Kentucky, ho was by no means disposed to rest up- 
 on his laurels, and to live upon the memory of what he had suf- 
 fered. Had he been made of such stuff, he would not have had 
 the intercession of either Girty or Logan ; the one knew by ex- 
 perience, the other by instinct, what manner of man he was, and 
 it was the manhood within him that they would have rescued. 
 From his arrival in Kentucky, then, until 1782, he was constant- 
 ly in active service, as guide, scout and officer. In the latter year, 
 a piece of unexpected good news reached him. Hearing, for the 
 first time in eleven years, from his old home in Virginia, he learn- 
 ed that Leitchman, the rival of whose death he thought himself 
 guilty, was yet alive, having soon recovered from the consequences 
 of the fight. Dropping the name of Butler, and assuming his own 
 again, he returned to visit his parents, and succeeded in persuad- 
 ing them to remove to Kentucky. Friendly relations were also 
 established with Leitchman and his wife. Simon Kenton's father 
 died on the journey, but the others reached Maysville ( or the 
 site of the present town ) and founded there a settlement on the 
 very spot where he had pitched his first camp on Kentucky soil. 
 Being so near the Indians, however, did not contribute to the 
 peace of the town, and incui-sion and raid were frequent. Kenton 
 never let such inroads pass without severe retaliation, and in 
 1793 he drove back the last of the dusky invaders into the Ohio 
 country. In the succeeding year he served as major in " Mad 
 Anthony Wayne's " campaign, but was not present at the victory 
 which closed'it. 
 
 But with peace to the borders came trouble to Kenton. The 
 same difficulties which beset Boone in regard to the title to his 
 land, came to Kenton, and even his body was seized for debt. 
 To escape the persecutions of the speculators, he moved over to 
 the Ohio wilderness in 1797, or, according to another authority, 
 
244 SIMON KENTON. 
 
 in 1802. Living there quietly enough, the restful monotony of 
 the farmer's life was broken in the year 1813, when, joining the 
 Kentucky troops under Grovernor Shelby, he was present at the 
 battle of the Thames. Returning to his cabin, he continued to live 
 near Urbana until 1820, when he removed to a spot within sight 
 of what had been the Indian town of Wapatomika, the scene of 
 so many adventures forty-two years before. 
 
 But misfortunes continued to follow him, and the very land 
 which he tilled had to be entered in the name of his wife. He 
 had owned large tracts of land in Kentucky, but they had become 
 forfeited to the state for taxes. In 1824 ho undertook to go to 
 Frankfort, to ask of the Kentucky Legislature a release of the 
 forfeiture. Saddling his sorry old horse, he set out on his jour- 
 ney, stopping the first night at the house of Major Galloway, in 
 Xenia, Ohio. This friend, seeing the shabby outfit of the old 
 pioneer, gave vent to his honest indignation against a country 
 that could leave the old age of so faithful a servant to penury. 
 
 '' Don't say that, Galloway, " said the old man, drawing his tall 
 figure to its full height, his gray eyes flashing fire as they did but 
 rarely ; "■ Don't say that, or I'll leave your house forever, and 
 never call you my friend again." 
 
 Arrived at Frankfort, the old man cut but a shabby figure in the 
 now busy streets, that he had known as glades in the forest and 
 buffalo-palhs through the cane-brakes. His tattered garments, 
 his dilapidated saddle and bridle, and his old, almost broken 
 down horse, excited universal derision from the thoughtless mul- 
 titude. But no one dreamed that this was Simon Kenton. Truly, 
 a prophet is not without honor, save in his own country, and 
 among his own people. 
 
 But a rescuer came, in the person of General Fletcher, an old 
 companion-in-arms. Hearing the story of the pioneer, this friend 
 in need took him to a store and fitted him out with a good suit of 
 clothes and a hat, and then escorted him to the State Capitol. 
 Here, seated in the Speaker's chair, the most prominent men 
 present in the city were introduced to him, and he was made to 
 feel that the place given to him, in their minds, was second only 
 to Boone's. "With this, he was more than content, and for years 
 afterward did he speak of this as "the proudest day in his life." 
 General Fletcher's kindness was highly appreciated, as he prob- 
 ably kept that suit of clothes and the hat until his death : certain 
 it is that ten years after this they were still in active service. 
 
SIMON KENTON. 245 
 
 His mission was crowned with entire success. Not only were 
 his lands gladlj^ released by the Legislature, but the exertions 
 of some friends secured from Congress a pension of $250, thus se- 
 curing his old age from absolute want. Eeturning to his cabin 
 on the banks of Mad Eiver, he spent his few remaining years in 
 culm and quiet, passing peacefully away at the ripe age of eighty- 
 one in the year 1836. He was buried near the home of his declin- 
 ing years, within sight of the spot where, nearly half a century 
 before, the Indians had bound him to the stake ; and thus passed 
 away the second pioneer of Kentucky — of the great region, in- 
 deed, west of the Alleffhanies. 
 
(CHAPTER IX. 
 
 O 
 
 OTHEE HEEOES OF THE DAYS OF BOOI^E. 
 
 THE WETZELS. 
 
 F all the heroes of the border, who lived in the latter years 
 of the last and the earlier part of the present century, there 
 are none whose names are dearer to those who love tales of ad- 
 venture, than the Wetzels. Western Virginia was a wilderness 
 when, in the year 1772, old John Wetzel, a rough biit brave and 
 honest German, settled there with his family of five sons and 
 two daughters. Nor was such a course any less dangerous than 
 it ajipears. The boys were but children, the youngest, Lewis, 
 being eight or nine years old, and could not afford any assistance 
 in defending the home, if it should be attacked by the treacher- 
 ous denizens of the woods. But in the rough school of the fron- 
 tier, boys quickly learned to be men. and John Wetzel probably 
 soon had help from his sons in his occujDation of hunting and 
 fishing, and in locating lands. Their home was at some distance 
 from the fort, a position of no small danger in those times, when 
 the Indians were so troublesome. Many adventures are recorded 
 of his five sons, and none without interest. Handed down from 
 father to son, published in the newspapers of later date without 
 any reference to other parts of the heroes' lives, isolated in the 
 same way in books of adventure, it is only with great difficulty 
 that they can be arranged in order; and even when the utmost 
 care is used in sifting the early adventures from those of a later 
 time, the position of some must be guess-work. The j^oungest of 
 these brothers, Lewis, is the one around whose name the deeds 
 of daring cluster most thickly. Let us, then, follow the course of 
 his life, turning aside occasionally to notice 3Iartin or George. 
 John or Jacob, as the case may be. 
 
 The heat of the contests with the Indians seemed to have pass- 
 ed away in 177S, and no fear was felt of sudden incursions from 
 them. Lewis and Jacob, both mere boys, were playing near the 
 
THE WETZELS. 247 
 
 house, when Lewis, turning around suddenly, saw the barrel of a 
 gun protruding from behind a corn crib. Quick as thought he 
 jumped backward, but too late, for a ball wounded him severely 
 in the chest. Hardly had the shot been fired, when two dusky 
 giants leaped from their shelter upon the boys and carried them 
 oif. On toward their village across the Ohio they went, passing 
 that river on the second day. The bullet had ploughed its way 
 over almost the whole width of Lewis' chest, and the wound was 
 excessively painful ; nor did the rapid pace at which they went 
 tend to subdue the fever in his hot young blood ; but he knew 
 too well the fate of an Indian's prisoner, if he were too weak to 
 keep pace with his captor, and to avoid the tomahawk, bore 
 his pain with composure. 
 
 The Ohio between the young captives and their homes, the Li- 
 dians relaxed their vigilance, and did not tie the boys the next 
 night. The camp-fire died down, the night wore on, and the two 
 warriors were fast asleep. With the light, quick step which he 
 had learned from the Indian fighters who frequented his father's 
 house, and indeed, from his father and elder brothers, Lewis rose 
 and went to Jacol/s side. A touch aAvakened the sleeping boy, 
 and signs told him his brother's plan. Noiselessly they stole 
 away and pushed into the woods. They had gone about a hun- 
 dred yards, and their feet were torn and bleeding j many weary 
 miles had yet to be traveled. 
 
 " We cannot go barefooted," said Lewis; " I will go back and 
 get moccasins." 
 
 Back to the camp he stole with noiseless tread, and soon re- 
 turned with the desired protection. Going a little farther, an- 
 other want Avas discovered — they were unarmed. Back again to 
 the camp went Lewis, and with a gun, escaped for the third time 
 in safety. At their utmost speed they went, but not fast enough 
 to wholly distance the Indians. The warriors had soon discovered 
 the absence of the captives, and knowing well the point at which 
 the boys would aim, followed in haste, but fortunately not noise- 
 lessly. The boys heard their pursuers, and slipped aside from 
 the trail that they had been following; the Indians j)assed on- 
 ward, but soon returned ; the Wetzcls had eluded them, however, 
 and reached the Ohio in safety. Lashing two logs together, they 
 crossed the stream, and soon reached home. 
 
 It was about four years after this, when Lewis was near eigh- 
 teen, that he had what is perhaps the most famous fight of his 
 
248 THE "VVETZELS. 
 
 life. An expedition into the Indian country, under the leader- 
 ship of Col. Crawford, had resulted most disastrously; the com- 
 mander and many of his subordinates were taken prisoners, and 
 put to the torture; many were killed; a few escaj)ed, and ar- 
 rived, breathless with their speed and terror, at the nearest set- 
 tlements. One of these fugitives had left his horse at Indian 
 Spring, and pushed on to Wheeling on foot. Arrived there, he 
 persuaded Lewis Wetzel to go back with him to the sj^ring for his 
 horse, Wetzel knew the danger, and sj^oke of it, but Mills was 
 determined to regain possession of the animal, and they went 
 together. Reaching the neighborhood of the spring, they spied 
 the horse tied to a tree near the water. This was an unmistaka- 
 ble sign, and Wetzel warned Mills of the danger; the latter, how- 
 ever, was deaf to all his companion could say, and started toward 
 the spring to unfasten the aniinal. A sharp crack — another — and 
 he fell mortally wounded. 
 
 Wetzel knew that his only safety was in flight, and ran at his 
 utmost speed. Four Indians bounded from the shelter of the 
 trees whence they .had fired upon Mills, and followed him with 
 fleet footsteps. The fugitive would soon be theirs, and in glad 
 anticipation of a prisoner to be tortured, or of a scalp to be 
 added to the string of ghastly trophies, they aroused the echoes 
 with their fiendish yells. Half a mile they ran, and one of the 
 savages was so close U2:»on his heels that Lewis, dreading the 
 tomahawk, turned and shot him dead. Any pause would be fatal, 
 for even if he reloaded and shot another, there would still be 
 two more pursuers to whom such a delay would be an incalcula- 
 ble advantage. There was no need to stop, however, for he had 
 acquired the ability to load his gun while at a full run, and this 
 invaluable art was now called into use. Another half mile, and 
 he was still in advance, though but slightly; as he turned to 
 fire, the foremost Indian caught the muzzle of his gun, and the 
 struggle was, for a moment, of doubtful issue. The savage had 
 nearly wrested the weapon from the hands of his antagonist, 
 when, gathering all his strength for one last efl'ort, Lewis re- 
 gained possession of his gun, and, with its muzzle touching the 
 Indian's neck, fired, killing him instantly. 
 
 The end of the contest had not come a moment too soon, for 
 the others had nearly overtaken him. Springing forward, he elud- 
 ed their grasp, until, having had time to reload, he slackened his 
 pace slightly, in order to put an end to the sport. A glance 
 
THE WETZKLS. 
 
 249 
 
 around, however, would send his i)nrsuers behind trees to shelter 
 themselves from that terrible gun, never unloaded. Another 
 mile was passed in this manner, and at last a comparatively open 
 spot was reached. Turning here, he pointed his piece at the 
 foremost Indian; the tree did not shelter him altogether, and he 
 fell, dangerously wounded. The fourth Indian retreated in hot 
 haste, to tell his brethren of the magic power he had escaped; 
 and doubtless many a camp-fire heard the story of the long-haired 
 youth Avhose gun was always loaded. 
 
 It was probably about this time that Jacob Wetzel and Simon 
 
 LEWIS WETZEL LOADING WHILE KUKNING "HIM GUN ALWAYS LOADED." 
 
 Kenton decided to go on a fall hunt together into the hilly coun- 
 try near the mouth of the Kentucky Eiver. Arriving at the se- 
 lected ground, they found unmistakable '^ Indian sign." They 
 had no notion of retreating without finding how many warriors 
 there were near, and moving cautiously aboitt, and following 
 the firing which they heard from time to time, they discovered 
 the camp about evening on the second day. Keeping themselves 
 concealed until night, they saw, by the light of the fire that was 
 kindled, five well-armed warriors. In defiance of that law which 
 enjoins a night attack for an inferior force, that its numbers may 
 be magnified by fear and uncertainty, they decided to defer the 
 
250 THE WKTZFJ.S. 
 
 fijrht until dawn J perhai:)S because the flickering liglit of the fire 
 might malve one miss his aim. Lying behind a log which would 
 serve for concealment and a rampart, they awaited the coming 
 of light. At the first dawn of day, their guns were cocked, the 
 triggers drawn, and two Indians fell. Wetzel's rifle was double- 
 barreled, and the third man was killed almost as soon as the first. 
 Having now to contend with equal numbers, they bounded over 
 the log and were in the camp almost before the remaining Indians 
 had recovered from their first surprise. Eesistance was useless, 
 for they thought that there must be many " Long-knives" near, 
 and the terrified Indians sought safety in flight. The fleet-footed 
 hunters followed with even greater speed, and soon returned to 
 the camp, each with a bloody scalp at his belt. 
 
 Hitherto, the Wetzels had acted in self-defense, or, as all the 
 settlers did, had attacked the Indians to prevent the savages from 
 attacking them; but after 1787, a now element, the desire of re- 
 venge, was added to their motives. Old Wetzel was returning 
 home in a canoe with a single companion, when they were hailed 
 by a party of Indians on shore and ordered to land ; they of 
 course refused, and were rowing for their lives when they were 
 fired upon and Wetzel shot through the body — mortally wounded. 
 
 "Lie down in the canoe," he said to his companion, "and I 
 will paddle as long as my strength lasts — maybe then we'll be 
 out of range." 
 
 The dying man rowed on, and as they approached the settlement 
 the Indians ceased to pursue them; his heroism saved the life of 
 his friend, and made his sons relentless enemies of the savages. 
 
 It was probably but a short time after his father's death that Mar- 
 tin Wetzel, the eldest of the brothers, was surprised and cajitured 
 by the Indians. For a long time escape was impossible, for he 
 was carefully and closely watched; but after months had passed, 
 and he seemed perfectly satisfied to remain where he was, he 
 was accorded greater liberty; and finally, he acquired their 
 confidence to such an extent that he was adopted into one of their 
 families. With three young Avarriors he started on a fall hunt, 
 and the party encam2:)ed near the head of the Sandusky Eiver. 
 Here Martin was very careful to return to camp first in the eve- 
 ning, prepare wood for the night and perform all the other ofli- 
 ces which a waiu'ior finds so distasteful ; in this way he made 
 still greater progress in their confidence. But all the while he 
 was planning to escape; not merely that, but to take a signal 
 
THE WETZELS. 25] 
 
 vengeance for liis fatlier's deatli and hi.s own long cai)tivity. ( )iic 
 afternoon, as ho was hunting at some distance from the camp, he 
 came u2:)on one of his Indian companions. The unsuspecting sav- 
 age parted from him after a momentary greeting, and a few sec- 
 onds afterward fell, pierced to the heart by a hall from Wetzel's 
 rifle. Concealing the body in the hollow made by the torn-up 
 roots of a tree, and covering it with brush and dead leaves, he 
 returned to camp. 
 
 Wood was gathered for the night, and supper prepared. When 
 the two Indians returned, Martin innocently inquired about the 
 third; neither had seen him. As time went on, and still the mur- 
 dered savage did not come, Wetzel expressed great concern about 
 his absence. 
 
 ''Maybe he find new hunting-ground far otf," suggested one, 
 with an indiff'erent air. Later on, Martin again gave vent to his 
 anxiety in words, and another explanation was proftered : 
 
 " Maybe he follow turkey too far to come back. He camp in 
 woods." 
 
 The Indians, he saw, were completely off their guard, and it 
 only remained for him to decide whether he would attack them 
 separately or both at once. Concluding the former to be the 
 better plan, when they set out in the morning he followed one at 
 a safe distance. Cautiously pursuing him until near evening, he 
 pretended to meet him unexpectedly, and began to talk about the 
 day's hunt. Chatting gaily for a while, Martin's lynx eye watch- 
 ed the Indian's every motion ; the savage turned aside for a mo- 
 ment, Avhen crash ! went the white man's tomahawk, cleaving his 
 skull. A hollow near by concealed the bo-dy, and Wetzel went 
 back to camj). 
 
 The third destined victim a})proached, bending under the load 
 of game which he had shot. Eunning forward to disencumber 
 him of his burden, as the Indian supposed, his relentless toma- 
 kawk descended, and crushed out the life of the last barrier be- 
 tween him and freedom. There was now no danger of pursuit, 
 and Wetzel leisurely gathered up what he chose to take with him, 
 not forgetting the scalps of his three victims, and reached home 
 in safety after an absence of nearly a year. 
 
 An adventure of Lewis Wetzel's, which some authorities place in 
 1786, will not be out of place here. By frequent incursions upon 
 the settlements, the Indians had so aroused the whites that a re- 
 taliatory expedition was organized, Lewis Wetzel being one of 
 
252 THE WETZELS. 
 
 the party. Scouts brought in the news that the marauders were 
 too many to be attacked by them, and a council of war being 
 held it was decided to return home. The party quickly prepared 
 to retrace their steps, and many had already departed, when the 
 commander, seeing Wetzel seated carelessly on a log, with his 
 gun lying across his knees, asked him if he were not going. 
 
 " No," answered Lewis, with a glance of contempt at his flying 
 comrades ; " I came out to hunt Indians, and now that they are 
 found, I am not going home until I take a scaljj, unless I lose my 
 own." 
 
 Persuasions were of no use. Sullenly he sat in the same posi- 
 tion on the log, waiting until the last white man was out of sight; 
 then, shouldering his rifle, and assuring himself that scalping- 
 knife and tomahawk were ready for use, moved off in an oj)po- 
 site direction, hoping to meet with a small party of Indians. Ev- 
 ery precaution was taken to prevent being surprised, and every 
 eff'ort made to find any Indians that might be lurking in his 
 neighborhood, but night fell, and he had not seen any. A fire 
 was necessary, but he dared not let its light be seen; so he con- 
 structed a small coal-pit out of bark and leaves, covered with 
 loose earth, and by covering his fire and hiinself with his blanket, 
 succeeded in keeping warm without endangering himself by 
 showing a light. 
 
 The next day better success attended him, for he found, to- 
 wards evening, a tenantless camp, which two blankets and a ket- 
 tle showed was not deserted. The owners of these articles, he 
 supposed, were out hunting. Hiding himself in the thick under- 
 growth, he patiently awaited their return. They came in about 
 sunset, and about nine or ten o'clock, one of them, shouldering 
 his rifle, started out to attend to a deer trap that he had set. 
 Impatiently Lewis awaited his return, but dawn drew near, and 
 he was unfortunately obliged to leave the camp with only one 
 scalp. This was taken without difficulty, as he crept to the side 
 of the sleeper and with one blow sent his scalping knife through 
 the heart of the savage. Eeturning, he reached the settlement 
 one day after his companions had arrived there. 
 
 On one occasion he determined to go on a fall hunt into the 
 Indian country. Penetrating as far as the Muskingum, he came 
 upon a camj) containing four Indians. Only a moment's hesita- 
 tion as to whether he should attack such a party, and he deter- 
 mined to take the risk. Creeping cautiously to a covert near the 
 
THE WETZELS. 253 
 
 camp, whence he could see every movement of his enemies as 
 they moved about the fire, he waited until all were asleep. Si- 
 lently leaving his hiding place, he stood in the midst of the un- 
 conscious Indians. Crash! went the tomahawk, and the skull of 
 one, and almost in the same instant, of a second, he had laid open. 
 The noise of the blows, slight though it was, had awakened a 
 third, who had scarcely struggled to his feet before he shared the 
 fate of his comrades. The fourth was more fortunate, for he es- 
 caped by flight. 
 
 " Did you have any luck ? " inquired a friend, on his return 
 from this " hunt." 
 
 "Not much," replied Lewis, "I tree'd four Indians, but one 
 got away." 
 
 In 1789, a fort had been erected where Marietta now stands, 
 and. its commander, G-en. Harmar, was very anxious to make a 
 treaty with the Indians. For this purpose he sent messengers 
 with a white flag to the nearest Indian tribes, to invite them to 
 the fort, that he might treat with them. With great difficulty 
 were they finally persuaded to lay aside their distrust of the 
 "Long-knives," and accept the invitation. 
 
 In order to slightly understand what followed, we must remem- 
 ber the spirit which then animated the whitesin the wars against 
 the Indians. Such were the treachery and the cruelty of the sav- 
 ages that the white men felt it must be a war of extermination. 
 Of course the soldiers sent here, who had been used to dealing 
 with a diff'erent foe, did not appreciate this feeling of the men 
 born in forts and grown up through a series of sieges, but en- 
 deavored to deal with the Indians as they were accustomed to 
 treat more open and honorable enemies. The frontiersmen 
 would not put any faith in an Indian's word, and not believing 
 that the savages would keep treaties, were themselves by no 
 no means backward in violating such engagements. When, 
 therefore. Gen. Harmar succeeded in persuading the Indians to 
 come to the fort, Lewis Wetzel recognized it as an excellent op- 
 portunity for fresh triumphs over his enemies. 
 
 With a companion nearly as daring as himself, he, according 
 to the plan which they agreed upon, found a spot which would 
 answer for their purpose, and lying here in ambush, they shot at 
 an Indian who rode by at full speed. He did not fall, and they 
 thought that the shot had missed him. It was known among 
 their neighbors on what errand Wetzel and his companion had 
 
254 THE \VET2ELS. 
 
 gone, and on their return they were questioned as to their suc- 
 cess. They did not dream that the Indian had been seriously 
 hurt, but he was mortally wounded, and, riding into the fort, died 
 that night. Eumor soon informed Gen. Harmar who had killed 
 him, and he despatched a party of men to take Wetzel, dead or 
 alive. Such was the anger of his neighbors, however, that they 
 resolved to form an ambuscade and kill the soldiers who should 
 attempt to take Lewis. Happily the commander of the force was 
 persuaded to return without making the desperate attempt, and 
 Lewis considered the whole thing disposed of to the satisfaction 
 of all concerned. 
 
 Shortly afterward, however, he found that Gen. Harmar was by 
 no means of the same opinion, for while at the house of a friend 
 he was surprised, captured and taken to the fort, where he was 
 loaded with irons. To the liberty-loving woodsman, this confine- 
 ment was as intolerable as the disgrace of being treated like a 
 criminal. Chafing under the restraint, he sent for Gen. Harmar, 
 who speedily came. 
 
 "Don't hang me up like a dog," he said; "if you don't want 
 to let me go, put me in the middle of a party of Indians armed 
 with scalping knives and tomahawks ; give me a tomahawk and 
 let me fight it out with them." 
 
 Gen. Harmar, with lofty dignity, replied that he must act in 
 conformity with the law of which he was an officer, and which 
 did not allow him to make such a compromise, and the poor pris- 
 oned woodsman was once more left to himself. Not many days 
 had passed before he again sent for the^ommander. 
 
 " I've never been used to keeping so close in the house, and I 
 cannot live much longer shut xip here without exercise," he com- 
 plained. 
 
 Accordingly, the guard was ordered to knock the fetters off, 
 leaving only the handcuffs, and to permit him to walk about on 
 the point at the mouth of the Muskingum. Loosed from the fet- 
 ters, that had weighed on his heart no less heavily than on his 
 limbs, and breathing the free air of heaven once more, he frol- 
 icked about like a young deer released from a trap. Starting 
 suddenly away from them, as if to escape, he would run a few 
 yards and then return to the guards that accompanied him out- 
 side the fort. This was repeated several times, the distance on 
 each run being a little greater, until, his guards having become 
 used to it, ho ran nearly a hundred yards before they discovered 
 
THE WETZELS. 255 
 
 that he was really attempting to escape. They fired, but missed 
 their aim, and he soon outran those pursuing him. 
 
 He knew the country well, and could thus readily elude the 
 less skilled woodsmen. Making for a dense thicket two or three 
 miles from the fort, he squeezed under a log, and lay there cov- 
 ered by the thick brush, safe from discovery, even when two 
 keen-eyed Indians stood upon the log under which he lay. G-radu- 
 ally the footsteps of his pursuers died away, their cries were lost 
 in the distance, and as night came on, he found himself alone' in 
 the thicket. But on this side of the Ohio, he had no friend on 
 whom he could rely, and, handcuffed as he was, he could not 
 swim across it. Creeping cautiously doM^n to the river, he saw, 
 at the opposite side, an acquaintance in a canoe, fishing. Gently 
 splashing in the water, he succeeded in gaining this man's atten- 
 tion, and was by him ferried ever the river. Once on the Yir- 
 ginia side, he was in the midst of devoted admirers and friends, 
 who would die for him before they would allow him to be retaken. 
 
 Gen. Harmar, however, was not so easily discouraged, but years 
 afterward offered a reward for Lewis Wetzel, dead or alive. 
 Zeal for the execution of the law, however, was confined to his 
 breast, for no one claimed the reward, although many could 
 have captured him. 
 
 Not long after his return he was invited to accompany a rela- 
 tive to his home on Dunkard Creek. Accepting the invitation, 
 they reached their destination qnly to find the house a heap of 
 smoking ruins, Wetzel declared the trail to indicate that the 
 marauders were three Indians and a white man, and that they had 
 carried off one captive. This was the betrothed of the host, and 
 he insisted upon following them immediately. Wetzel, nothing- 
 loath, assented, and they pushed on, hoping to overtake the ma- 
 rauders before they reached the Ohio. Despite the pains which 
 had been taken to hide the trail and deceive the pursuers, Wet- 
 zel, guessing what course they had taken, took a bee-line for the 
 point at which he thought they would aim. Night came on, but 
 still they continued their journey, guided by the light of the 
 moon, until midnight; then this hel^D failed them, and they rested 
 for the few remaining hours of the night. At dawn they were 
 again u^ion their way, and late in the afternoon saw, among other 
 fresh footsteps in the sand, the print of a little shoe, evidently of 
 a white woman. Just at dark, they discovered the encampment 
 upon the opposite side of the river. Swimming the stream, they 
 
256 THE P0E!3. 
 
 made sure of the j^osition of the captive, and several other points 
 about the camp ; but although the frantic lover urged an immedi- 
 ate attack, Wetzel insisted upon postponing it until morning. 
 
 At dawn the savages were preparing to continue their journey, 
 when two rifles were fired from the thicket, at the same instant, 
 with fatal effect; one shot killing an Indian, one the renegade 
 white man. The lover sprang forward into the camp as soon as 
 he had fired, to release the captive, and Wetzel pursued the two 
 Indians into the woods. Firing his rifle at random, they rushed 
 toward him before he could reload, as they thought, but the gun 
 was already prepared for execution, and its contents sent into 
 the body of the nearest pursuer. Loading as he ran, he again 
 wheeled and fired, and the last of the party lay dead before him. 
 
 Lewis Wetzel has been called the Boone of West Yirginia, but 
 the title can hardly be allowed. Boone is the tj^pe of the fron- 
 tiersman whose name is known to history as the father of a set- 
 tlement; Lewis Wetzel is famous in tradition as a wild borderer. 
 Both classes of characters were necessary to the establishment 
 and preservation of settlements ; the wilder, more unsettled In- 
 dian-fighter roaming the country, and giving information of dan- 
 ger to the men in the forts. It is true that Boone did not have 
 much of this assistance ; Boonesborough was too far in the van 
 of the army of pioneers. Still the diff'erence in the stability of 
 character remains ; but however unknown to graver history may 
 be the names of the Wetzels, the traditions respecting them will 
 long linger around the places that they have defended from the 
 incursions of the Indians. 
 
 THE POES. 
 
 Whether it is due to the character of the settlers, whether we 
 possess larger stores of information regarding them, or whether 
 the Indians made a more determined stand there than any- 
 where else, the State of Kentucky and its near neighbors seem to 
 possess more traditions of border adventure than any others. 
 Perhaps that sectional pride which in New England has pre- 
 served, and it is hinted, multiplied the relics of the Mayflower, 
 and which in Virginia delights in the magic letters " F. F. V.," 
 here preserves the stories of adventure — we cannot tell. The fact 
 remains, be the explanation what it may. 
 
 Among the heroes of the border whose names are associated 
 with the same time and place that knew the Wetzels, were two 
 
THE POES. 257 
 
 brothers, Adam and Andrew Poe. The adventure of the hxtter 
 with two Indians is a story often tokl, biit which will bear one 
 more repetition. In the spring of 1781, the Indians had made 
 several raids upon the white settlements in what is now AYash- 
 ington County,. Pennsylvania, but was then a part of Virginia. 
 This was the home of both the Poes, and of many a brave bor- 
 derer besides, and none were inclined to tolerate these inroads. 
 A woman and a child had been murdered, an old man carried 
 off as a prisoner, and excited by such outrages, it was not many 
 hours before the whole settlement was ready to pursue the sav- 
 ages. Twelve men on horseback set out to follow the trail, but 
 were soon compelled to dismount. Andj^'s experienced eye de- 
 tected that the Indians were not far off, and begged his compan- 
 ions to be quiet, so that the savages would not be provoked into 
 killing their prisoner. His request was disregarded, and he left 
 the coinpany, going directly to the bank of the river. He had 
 not gone far before he saw the Indian canoes at the water's edge, 
 and not seeing any Indians, went cautiously down the bank, with 
 his rifle cocked. When about half-way down, he saw two Wyan- 
 dots, standing below within a few feet, looking in the direction 
 of the party that he had left. One was gigantic in size ; far larger 
 than Poe, who was remarkable for his stature and strength; the 
 other was small; both were fully armed, and had their guns 
 cocked. Retreat was impossible, and, hastily deciding that he 
 Avould kill the big Indian and take the little one a prisoner, Poe 
 took aim. His gun missed fire. Thus betrayed to the savages, 
 he concealed his exact position by hiding in the thick bushes for 
 a moment, until the larger party overtook five other Indians, 
 who, with the prisoner, were farther down the stream. Creeping 
 to the very edge of the bank, he again pointed his rifle at the big 
 Indian, but for a second time it failed him. Dropping the rifle, 
 he sprang upon them. They had wheeled around when his gun 
 snapped, but had not had time even to raise their rifles before 
 the struggle commenced. Catching each around the neck, and 
 throwing his weight suddenly upon the larger of the two, Big- 
 foot, he drew both to the ground with him. 
 
 As they fell, in their surprise both Indians dropped their guns, 
 and their other arms, fortunately for Poe, were all on the canoes. 
 Andrew had only his scalping-knife, but it was hard to reach in 
 his present position. Bigfoot lay flat on his back upon the ground ; 
 Poe had fallen with his left side upon him ; while slightly be- 
 17 
 
THE POES. 259 
 
 hind the white man, to his right, was the little Indian ; each of 
 the three struggling for dear life. Poe made several efforts to 
 get at his knife, in order to despatch the warrior under him, 
 but Bigfoot, catching his hand, held it in an iron grasp, talking 
 all the while, in his own language, to his comrade. Suddenly 
 his grasj) was relaxed, and the knife, coming out of the scab- 
 bard with unexpected ease, flew out of Andrew's hand. At the 
 same time, the little Indian jerked his head from under his cap- 
 tor's arm, and sprang to the canoes. Bigfoot, thus left alone 
 with his enemy, threw his long arms about him and held him 
 tight until the return of the little Indian with a tomahawk. The 
 savage took aim, but just as the tomahawk was about to leave his 
 hand, a well directed kick from Poe upon his wrist sent the mis- 
 sile flying into the river. A furious yell expressed Bigfoot's an- 
 ger at the little Indian, who had thus allowed himself to be de- 
 feated, and who now returned to the canoes for another weapon. 
 The second effort bade fair to be more successful. Approach- 
 ing the prostrate, struggling men, the little Indian engaged in a 
 series of feints, intended to divert Poe's attention from his real 
 object. Poe was on the alert, however, and saw through his 
 maneuvers. At last the real. blow was struck, aimed at his head; 
 but throwing up his arm, he received the blow iipon his right 
 wrist j the tomahawk, glancing off, flew over his head. The little 
 Indian regained his weapon, and was advancing the third time to 
 the attack, when Poe, wrenching himself from Bigfoot's grasp by 
 a powerful effort, caught hold of a gun and shot him. The more 
 powerful antagonist now remained to be disposed of, nor was this 
 an easy task to the wounded white man. Bigfoot had regained 
 his feet as soon as Poe, and the little Indian's body had not fallen 
 before he caught Andrew by a shoulder and a leg to throw him 
 into the river. Poe was on his guard against such an attempt, 
 and grasped the Indian's neck so tightly, just as he was in the 
 act of throwing, that both went together into the water. Here, 
 each had the same object in view — to drown the other; and the 
 struggle was long and fierce. Carried out farther and farther 
 into the stream, now one, now the other had been uppermost, 
 holding his antagonist under the water, until they were full thirty 
 yards from the shore. At last Poe seized the tuft of hair on the 
 crown of the Indian's head, and kept him under water until he 
 thought he was dead. Exhausted with the loss of blood from 
 his wound, and with the long struggle, he released his hold and 
 
260 THE POES. 
 
 swam with his left arm toward shore. But Bigfoot had been 
 " playing possum," and now, escaped from Andrew's grasp, made 
 for dry land. It was a race to see which should first gain posses- 
 sion of the one loaded rifle which lay upon the bank. Poe, dis- 
 abled by his wound, could swim but slowly, and Bigfoot gained 
 the coveted prize. But the gun was uncocked, and in attempt- 
 ing to cock it in haste, he injured the lock. The other was un- 
 loaded, as its contents had killed the little Indian. 
 
 Adam Poe, having heard the discharge of the rifle which An- 
 drew had fired, now came to the assistance of his brother; his gun, 
 however, was unloaded, as he had fired at one of the other party 
 of Indians. The victory now belonged to the one who could first 
 load. Luckily for the brothers, the Indian drew the ramrod too 
 hastily from the thimbles of the stock, and it fell a shortdistance 
 from him. He quickly regained it, but too late ; the momentary 
 delay was fatal to him, in giving his enemy the slight advantage 
 he desired. Adam took deadly aim and shot him dead. 
 
 Immediately Adam jumped into the river to help his brother, 
 who was almost fainting, to' shore. But if the flesh was weak, 
 the spirit was still strong. 
 
 "Let me alone," cried Andrew; "I'll get out. Get his scalp 
 before he rolls into the river." 
 
 But his brother's life was an object of more interest to Adam 
 than any scalp he could take, and despite Andrew's protests, the 
 dying Indian, jealous of his honor even in the agonies of death, 
 was allowed to reach the river and get into the current. His 
 body was carried off", and his scalp, that pride and ornament of 
 the warrior, never fell into the hands of his enemies. 
 
 While this desperate contest was going on, the main body of 
 the whites had overtaken the Indian party, recaptured the pris- 
 oner, and with the loss of one of their number, slain all but one 
 of their enemies. Attracted by the sounds of the Poes' fight, 
 they came to the tardy relief of the brothers; but, mistaking 
 Andrew, who was still in the water, for a wounded Indian, one 
 of them fired and hurt him severely in the shoulder. He re- 
 covered from his injuries, however, and lived for many years ; 
 telling over and over, in his old age, the story of this desj^erate 
 encounter. 
 
 Bigfoot and his four brothers, all killed in this fight, were war- 
 riors of high repute among the Wyandots, and their death was a 
 severe loss to the tribe. Despite their avcII known lenity to the 
 
i 
 
 Major sam M(;culloch. 261 
 
 whites, they M'ere b}' no means disposed to forgive this injury. 
 A warrior was despatched to avenge his kinsmen, hut returned 
 without executing his purpose. 
 
 MAJOR SAM MCCULLOCH. 
 
 But these were not tlie only heroes of the time, nor tlie onl}' 
 exploits. Selecting from a mass of interesting traditions those 
 most striking, we find the scene is laid at a rude frontier fort 
 near Wheeling. The capital of West Virginia was then a little 
 village, containing not more than twenty-five rude log huts, and 
 Fort Henry, a quarter of a mile away, was its defense. In its 
 early days it was invested by a force of Indians, four hundred 
 strong. The terrified settlers fled to the fort, there to defend 
 themselves and their fainilies. Of the forty -two men, twenty-six 
 had fallen before the siege was well begun, and help was neces- 
 sary. Messengers had safely reached the neighboring settlements, 
 and one little party of fifteen fought its way into the fort with- 
 out the loss of a man. But now they descry a throng of horse- 
 men approaching, numbering more than their whole force — it is 
 Major McCulloch, the famous ranger, with forty followers. The 
 Indians are thick around the band, but before them are the gates 
 of the fort, opened to receive them, and they fight desperately. 
 More than one Indian warrior bites the dust before them, and at 
 last they dash triumphantly into the fort. 
 
 But one, the commander himself, has been cut oft'; a hundred 
 Indians are between McCulloch and the station ; a host who know 
 so well the injuries which his daring courage has before inflicted 
 upon their race, that they are determined to take him alive, and 
 inflict the most exquisite tortures they can devise upon their en- 
 emy. He finds it useless to try to gain the walls of the fort, and 
 knowing that his life depends upon the speed of his horse, rides 
 awa}^ pursued in hot haste. Before him, beside him, behind him, 
 throng an innumerable host of red-skins; on one side only there 
 are none — it is the brink of a precipice, one hundred and fifty feet 
 above the river. A moment he halts ; the Indians have not fired 
 a shot, and he knows, only too well, what that means ; choosing 
 to be dashed to pieces on the rocky banks of Wheeling Creek, 
 rather than to undergo the tortures w^hich aAvait him, he drives 
 his spurs into his horse, and the noble animal, as though appre- 
 ciating the alternative, leaps into the j^awninggulf. Down, down, 
 one-half the distance, before the echoes of the triumphant shouts 
 
262 
 
 MAJOR SAM MCCULLOCH. 
 
 of the Indians died away j and tlio horse's hoofs at last strike the 
 smooth face of the rock, and sliding and scrambling, steed and 
 rider roll into the stream below. Only his own shout of triumph 
 now breaks the stillness as he recovers himself and reaches the 
 farther shore, for the savages stand awe-struck at the heroic dar- 
 
 ing of the man who has escaped them. Eeturning to the siege, 
 they found that Major McCulloch was not the only brave white 
 man alive, for the fort was so obstinately defended that they were 
 soon forced to retreat from a bootless attack. 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE LEWIS AND CLAEKE EXPEDITION. 
 
 AS we glance hurriedly over the last census returns, to ascer- 
 tain the rank of a favorite city, or some other point of equal 
 importance, we must often pause to think that it was not so form- 
 erly ; such a state was placed above such another in the list, such 
 a city was but a small town, ten years ago. But go back for 
 eighty years, and note the differences. Of the ten cities highest 
 on the last list only one-half figured prominently in the returns 
 of 1800. Cincinnati, a little town on the Ohio, had been settled 
 but twelve years before, and boasted less than eight hundred in- 
 habitants. True, beyond the Mississippi were larger towns, but 
 they were not in the limits of the United States ; that whole coun- 
 try then belonged to France. In the Southwest, the most import- 
 ant was New Orleans, which contained eight thousand people, or 
 more than twice as many as Brooklyn then. Cahokia, a town on 
 the east bank of the Mississippi, was the most considerable Am- 
 erican settlement in the region above. Seven miles above it was a 
 French trading post and village, which boasted not a single house 
 built of any other material than logs, and from which, for j'cars 
 afterward, the inhabitants used to come, to buy goods, to the 
 town whose site is now in the midst of the Mississippi. This un- 
 important village, the sixth city on our latest list, has since at- 
 tained considerable notoriety, her hopeful citizens styling her, 
 affectionately^, the " Future Great City of the "World," or with true 
 American brevity, the " Future Great." Three years later, the 
 unsettled wilderness to the south of Lake Michigan saw the erec- 
 tion of a rude stockade fort, named Dearborn, where in 1831 the 
 village of Chicago was built. Awav on the Pacific coast, the 
 Spanish missionaries had already been at work, and the harbor 
 entered by the Golden Gate was the approach to one of their 
 posts, where, in 1835, a village of adobe huts was begun; called, 
 from the mission, San Francisco. 
 
26-4 LEWIS AND CLARKE EXPEDITION. 
 
 Such, at the beginning of the century, were the great cities of 
 the West, and we may imagine tlie state of the surrounding coun- 
 try when such was the character of the centers of population. 
 Not yet had the idea of an overland passage to the Pacific been 
 abandoned, though the dangers of the way and the length of the 
 journey were better appreciated than they had been nearly two 
 hundred years before, when the French settlers in Canada ex- 
 l^ected to find the w^estern ocean a few days' easy journey from 
 Lake Sujaerior. Even before the Eevolution the project had been 
 tried by Jonathan Carver, but want of means obliged him to 
 abandon it. The war occupied the attention of all, exclusively, 
 and there was no time or money for such expeditions. In the 
 meantime, however, the Hudson Bay Company had sent its trad- 
 ers into the western wilderness, and after peace was concluded, 
 John Jacob Astor transacted much business with them. 
 
 It was not until after the purchase of Louisiana by the United 
 States in 1803 that the government first took an interest in such 
 explorations. This purchase was made by the influence of Pres- 
 ident Jeiferson, whose keen eye saw the advantages which would 
 attend such extension of territory. Highly delighted at his suc- 
 cess, he recommended to Congress, in a confidential message, that 
 a party should be despatched to trace the Missouri to its source, 
 cross the Eocky Mountains, and proceed to the Pacific. The plan 
 was approved by Congress, Captain Meriwether Lewis, the Pres- 
 ident's private secretary, being appointed to lead the expedition. 
 William Clarke, the brother of Gen. G-eorge Rogers Clarke, was 
 afterward associated with him, and the success with which they 
 met was largely due to his knowledge of the habits and character 
 of the Indians. 
 
 The preparations for the expedition were completed and the 
 party selected before the close of 1803. ]^ine young men from 
 Kentucky, fourteen United States soldiers, two French watermen 
 to serve as interpreter and hunter, and a black servant of Capt. 
 Clarke, composed the party, enlisted to serve as privates during 
 the expedition. Several others were to accompany them a part 
 of the way. it was the twenty-first of May, 1804, however, when 
 they left St. Charles, near the mouth of the Missouri, for the un- 
 trodden western wilds. On the first day of June they were at the 
 mouth of the Osage, where they listened to the story that their 
 French guides gravely told them of the origin of the tribe from 
 whom the river was named. This was the story : 
 
LFAVTS AND CLARKK EXPEDITION. 265 
 
 A snail had passed its whole existence in quiet on the margin 
 of this stream, when a high flood swept it down to the Missouri, 
 and left it exposed upon the bank. Here the heat of the sun soon 
 ripened the snail into a man, but the change in his nature had 
 not caused him to forget his native river, and thither he bent 
 his steps. Soon overtaken by hunger and fatigue, he was neai-l}' 
 fainting with exhaustion, when the Great Spirit, appearing to 
 him, gave him a bow and arrow and showed him how to kill and 
 cook deer, and cover himself with its skin. As he approached 
 the river, ho met a beaver. 
 
 " Who are 3"ou ?" asked the beaver, haughtily, " and why do 
 you come to disturb me in my possessions ?" 
 
 The Osage ( for such was the snail-man) haughtily ansAvered 
 that the river was his own, for he had once lived on its borders. 
 
 THE OSAGE'S father-in-law. 
 
 The dispute threatened to grow into a fight. The daughter of the 
 beaver, however, reconciled them, and was finally married to 
 the Osage ; the whole tribe being their descendants. 
 
 Many friendly visits were received from parties of Indians from 
 the various tribes along the banks, and they distributed laced 
 coats, hats, medals and trinkets among them, carefully suiting 
 the gift to the rank of their recipient. Passing the quarry where 
 the red stone used for calumets is fonnd, a place sacred to peace, 
 where even warring tribes meet without hostile demonstrations, 
 they reached, on the twenty-eighth of August, a bluff, surrounded 
 by a beautiful plain. Fine prairies were on either side of the 
 river, and timber was more plentiful. Here they encamped, de- 
 siring to repair a boat which had been injured, and do some 
 other necessary work. Here they were visited by a number of 
 Sioux chiefs and warriors on the thirtieth, to whom Capt. Lewis 
 delivered a speech, with the usual advice regarding their future 
 conduct. The council held the next day is remarkable for the 
 
266 LEWIS AND CLARKE EXPEDITION. 
 
 similarity of the speeches, each speaker laying great stress upon 
 his love for the white sons of his great father, and his poverty, 
 which could be relieved by gifts from them. This place they 
 called Council Bluffs, because it was the scene of the first formal 
 council held wnth the Indians. 
 
 As yet they had been received with great professions of friend- 
 ship by the Indians, who, although generally tall, well formed 
 and active, excelling in personal beauty and dignit}^ the tribes 
 farther east, were poorly armed, generally w^ith bows and ar- 
 rows. Their first alarm came from another source. 
 
 The Missouri is a peculiarly changing river, washing away one 
 shore and adding to the other continually. In a few years whole 
 farms, of many acres each, have been thus carried away from 
 their owners by the treacherous stream. Such was the danger 
 which now beset them. About midnight on the twentieth of 
 September the sleepers were startled by the cry that the sand- 
 bar was sinking. Hastily embarking, they made for the other 
 shore, reaching it barely in time to see the bank which they had 
 just left fall into the water. 
 
 At an island a few miles above this 2:)oint they were joined by 
 one of their hunters, whose horse had been stolen by the Indians. 
 Leaving the island, they soon overtook five Indians on the shore ; 
 having anchored, they spoke to them from the boat : 
 
 " We are friends, and wish to remain such, but we are not afraid 
 of any Indians. Some of your young men have stolen the horse 
 which your great father in Washington sent for your great chief, 
 and we cannot treat with you until it is brought back to us," 
 
 The Indians replied that they had not seen the horse, but that 
 if it had been taken, it should be given up ; and continued along 
 the shore, following the boats until they dropped anchor for the 
 night. The next day they were visited by a party of fifty or six- 
 ty chiefs and warriors, to whom they made the usual speeches 
 and gave the usual presents. Inviting the chiefs on board the 
 boat (for the reception had taken place on land), they showed 
 them an air-gun, the boat itself, and all that they thought would 
 furnish amusement to the visitors. In this purpose they suc- 
 ceeded only too well, for they found it difficult to get rid of them. 
 A quarter-glass of whiskey given to each one did not mend mat- 
 ters any, but sucking the bottle and finding there was no more, 
 the chief finally consented to accompany Captain Clarke and five 
 men on shore. But they had formed a plan to stop the party. 
 
LEWIS AND CLARKE EXPEDITION. 267 
 
 Two of the Indians prevented the boat from moving from the 
 landing-jjlace after this jiarty had disembarked, and the second 
 chief, aftecting intoxication, said : 
 
 " You no go on ; Indian keep you here. You give Indian heap 
 more t'ings — not 'nough yet. Indian want heap more t'ings." 
 
 "^Ye will not be kept here," answered Captain Clarke, indig- 
 nantly ; " we are not squaws, but warriors ; our great father has 
 sent us here, and he can send his soldiers and kill all the Indians 
 in an hour if they do us any harm." 
 
 " Indian have warriors too," answered the chief, gruffly, as he 
 signalled to his men. 
 
 Captain Clarke drew his sword instantly, and motioned to the 
 men in the boat to prepare for action. The Indians surrounding 
 him drew their arrows from their quivers and were bending their 
 bows, when the swivel in the boat w^as instantly pointed towards 
 them, and twelve of the most determined of the white men jump- 
 ed into a pirogue and joined Cajotain Clarke. This promj^t act- 
 ion alarmed the Indians, who drew off to a little distance to hold 
 a council. Unwilling to leave an enemy in his rear. Captain 
 Clarke resolved to conciliate them by a show of friendliness, and 
 advanced toward them with extended hand. The principal and 
 the second chief refused to take it, and he turned from them to- 
 wards the river ; but before he had put thirty yards between the 
 l^irogue and the shore, the tw^o chiefs and two warriors waded in 
 after him, asking to be taken on board. 
 
 Frightened into submission by this evidence that the white men 
 were not to be trifled with, the Indians now sjiared no pains in 
 their efforts to entertain the strangers suitably ; the calumet was 
 smoked, many dances, by both men and women, were performed 
 for their amusement, and a bountiful feast of boiled dog, the fa- 
 vorite delicacy of the Sioux, was provided for their refreshment. 
 It seems, however, that these Indians either could not or would 
 not produce the horse-thief. 
 
 For a long time they continued their journey in this way, stop- 
 ping to receive visits from bands of the Sioux, who were uni- 
 formly well disposed. To follow them throughout tbe journey, 
 day by day, would require more space than can here be allotted; 
 the reader desirous of doing so will find McYickar's edition of 
 Allen's '' History of the Expedition" a book as full of interest 
 as any novel or newspaper. 
 
 Early in November they decided to encamp for the winter, and 
 
268 LEWIS AND CLARKE EXPEDITION. 
 
 commenced the huts which were to shelter them at a point which 
 they called Fort Mandan, from the name of the tribe living around 
 it, sixteen hundred miles from the mouth of the Missouri. Here, 
 although suffering greatly from the severity of the season, they 
 passe'd the winter; visited constantly by bands of Sioux, Mandan 
 and Minnetaree Indians, among whom they often acted as peace- 
 makers. They were bountifully supplied with vegetable food by 
 these visitors from their stores of dried corn and squash, and the 
 hunters found an abundance of game. 
 
 In February, four men were despatched with sleds and three 
 horses to bring up meat which had been collected by the hunters. 
 About twenty-one miles below the fort, as they were jogging quiet- 
 ly along, with no thoughtof any danger, a party of a hundred In- 
 dians rushed upon them. To what tribe they belonged the men 
 could not distinguish, so cunningly was the war paint disposed ; 
 but thought they were Sioux. Eesistance was useless and the 
 marauders, cutting the traces, carried off two of the horses; the 
 chief insisting that the third should be returned to the owners. 
 Two knives were also taken. The men were permitted to return 
 to the fort, no other injury having been done them. Captain 
 Lewis immediately sent to the Mandans to inform them of the 
 outrage, and to invite them to join a retaliatory party. Two of 
 their chiefs came to the fort and said that most of their young 
 men had gone hunting, and that there were but few guns in the 
 village; but several Indians, armed with spears, battle-axes, 
 bows and arrows, accompanied the expedition under Capt. Lewis 
 the next 'morning. 
 
 On reaching the place where the men had been attacked, the}' 
 found one sled, and several pairs of moccasins, evidently belong- 
 ing to the Sioux. Following the trail, they came on the next day 
 to an old lodge belonging to the tribe which had committed the 
 depredation; but the marauders, thebetter to conceal themselves, 
 had burned it. The trail here left the river, and crossed the 
 plains ; so that it was useless to think of overtaking the thieves. 
 Information was received, a few days later, that a party of Sioux 
 had attacked a small body of friendly Indians, and killed fifty 
 of them ; but Captain Lewis decided not to take active part in a 
 war between the tribes unless in self-defense. 
 
 Leaving the camp about the first of Ajiril, they were alarmed, 
 on the eleventh of 3Iay, by a member of the party who had been 
 on shore, w^ho now came running toward the boat with every 
 
LEWIS AND CLARKE EXPEDITION. 
 
 269 
 
 symptom of fear and distress. A mile and a half below he had 
 shot a large brown bear j wounded and maddened by the pain, 
 the huge animal had turned and pursued himj but from w^eak- 
 ness, by the loss of blood, could not overtake him. Captain 
 Lewis and seven men immediately set out to find the bear ; and 
 tracking him by the blood to a thick brushwood, where he had 
 dug with his paws a bed two feet, deep, despatched him. This 
 was their first conflict with the terrible animal, so dreaded that 
 
 
 
 
 ^>'f 
 
 A CLOSE SHAVE. 
 
 " we had rather encounter two Indians than meet a single brown 
 bear." The oil obtained from this one amounted to eight gallons. 
 It was not to be the last bear encounter, however. Three days 
 later, six experienced hunters, having discovered a large brown 
 bear lying in the open grounds, about three hundred paces from 
 the river, came unperceived within forty paces of him. Four of 
 them fired at the same instant, two balls passing through his lungs, 
 two lodging in other parts of his body. Furiously the animal 
 rushed towards them, his open mouth displaying the strong, cruel 
 white teeth. A blow from a hunting knife partially disabled him, 
 and the two who had reserved their fire now took aim, one ball 
 breaking his shoulder. They had no time to reload • on the mad 
 
270 LEWIS AND CLARKE EXPEDITION. 
 
 brute came with fearful rapidity; two jumped into the canoes ; the 
 other four, separating, and concealing themselves in the willows, 
 fired as fast as they could reload. Bruin seemed to bear a charmed 
 life, for though every shot entered his hide, none seemed to affect 
 him ; as each man fired, he would • rush furiously towards the 
 direction from which the shot came. At last he pursued two so 
 closely that they threw aside their guns and pouches, and jump- 
 ed down a perpendicular bank into the river that ran twenty feet 
 below. The bear followed, and was within a few feet of the 
 hindmost when a well-aimed shot from one of the two left on the 
 shore finished him. Dragging him to the bank, they took his 
 skin, this trophy being pierced by eight balls. 
 
 About a month later, when Captain Lewis had one day gone 
 forward on foot, he met an immense herd of buffaloes. Level- 
 ling his rifle, he shot one; it began to bleed, and without reload- 
 ing he stood waiting for it to fall ; not noticing a large brown 
 bear which stole up to him until it was within twenty steps. It 
 was the open, level plain ; not a bush or tree near ; the bank of 
 the river a gradual slope ; no chance for concealment ; his only 
 hope lay in flight. As he turned, the bear rushed open-mouthed 
 upon him. He ran about eighty yards, when, finding that the 
 bear was gaining fast, it flashed upon his mind that by getting 
 into the water to such a depth that the bear would have to at- 
 tack him swimming, he might still have a chance for his life. 
 Turning short, he plunged waist deep into the water, and facing 
 about, presented the point of his knife to the advancing bear. On 
 seeing his antagonist in this posture of defence, bruin retreated 
 as precipitately as he had advanced. Eesolving never again to 
 suffer his rifle to remain unloaded, Captain Lewis resumed his 
 path along the Medicine River. Reaching the camp, he found 
 his men much alarmed as to his safety, having already decided 
 upon the route each should take in the morning to look for him. 
 Much fatigued, he slept well, not aware of the fact that a huge 
 rattlesnake was coiled upon the trunk of the tree which shelter- 
 ed his slumbers. The reptile was discovered and killed the next 
 morning. 
 
 Some time before this, the party had divided, there being con- 
 siderable doubt as to which was the true Missouri ; one party 
 ascending the stream now known as the Yellowstone; the other, 
 under Captain Clarke, going up the Missouri and discovering the 
 falls. Capt. Lewis' party had now reached the Missouri, having 
 
LEWIS AND CLARKE EXPEDITION. 271 
 
 seen their mistake, and they were here joined by Capt. Clarke 
 and his men. 
 
 Much of the time was spent in the construction of a portable 
 boat, the iron frame of which they had brought with them, and 
 which was to be covered with skins. After much hard work in 
 preparing the skins, fastening them securely together, and calk- 
 ing the seams, they launched her, greatly elated at their success ; 
 but the water, dissolved the composition which they had used in 
 place of pitch, which was unobtainable, and she leaked so badly 
 that they had to give u]) the idea. 
 
 They had learned that the country which they were now ap- 
 proaching was inhabited by a powerful, and perhaps a hostile 
 tribe, the Shoshonees ; and anxious to make peace with these, they 
 proceeded with the greatest caution. A warlike reception from so 
 large a tribe might result in the destruction of their small party. 
 Having ascended the Missouri to those three forks which they 
 named, respectively, for President Jefferson, Secretary of State 
 Madison, and Secretary of the Treasury Gallatin, they came to a 
 point five miles above where the first of these three divide into 
 two branches. Here they encamped for the night and remained 
 while Captain Lewis, accompanied by two men, set out to follow a 
 trail which they hoped would lead to the Shoshonee camp, near 
 the source of the Missouri. Their fears as to their reception by this 
 tribe, however, were unfounded, as they were well received after 
 they had succeeded in showing the Indians that there was no 
 cause for alarm. Still the Shoshonees were jealous and suspi- 
 cious, and it required all the address of which our travelers were 
 masters to allay their disquietude. 
 
 It was the eighteenth of August, 1805, when they reached the 
 extreme navigable point of the Missouri. Here it was decided 
 that Captain Clarke, with eleven men, furnished with the neces- 
 sarj^ arms and with tools for making canoes, should make the 
 overland journey to the Columbia, and ascertain if the report 
 which the Indians gave of that stream were true. Having come 
 through such difficulties, it was not to be readily believed that 
 they could not descend the Columbia when they had ascended 
 the Missouri. An escort of Indians was obtained without much 
 difficulty, and the party again separated for a time. 
 
 Proceeding through a wide and level valley, which the Indians 
 pointed out as the scene of a battle, about a year before, in which 
 many of their bravest warrjois had fallen, Captain Clarke soon 
 
lil LEWIS AND CLARKE EXPEDITION. 
 
 found that his escort must be fed from his stores. The hunters 
 were not able to kill anything, and this added materially to his 
 anxiety. Various bands of Indians gave the same account of 
 the country through which they must pass, whether they kept 
 directly towards the west, or turned towards the southwest. It 
 was a tale to appal a brave man ; a fierce and warlike people 
 dwelling in caves, and living principally ujDon horses stolen from 
 those who passed the mountains; ajjassage so rough that horses, 
 lame and wounded, would be unable to go on ; a parched and 
 sandy desert, ten days' journey in width, where no animals fit 
 for food were found, and where they and the few horses that re- 
 mained would perish of thirst. The northern passage was then 
 selected, the explorers reasoning that they could cross where the 
 Indians, with their women and children, were in the habit of 
 passing from one point to the other. 
 
 They soon discovered the object of the Shoshonees in telling 
 them of such dangers ; the wish to keep them through the winter 
 for protection, and to secure as many gifts as possible ; but after 
 almost incredible difficulty in obtaining enough horses for the 
 journey and a supply of food, they reached a river to which they 
 gave the name of Captain Lewis ; a few days later, they came to 
 Clarke Eiver ; and on the thirteenth of September the party was 
 again united. 
 
 Journeying through a country where the strong and barbed 
 thorns of the prickly pear lacerated the feet of men and horses, 
 where the middle of September saw a fall of snow six or eight 
 inches in depth, w^here no living creature could be seen, except a 
 few small pheasants and graj^ squirrels that could not be obtained 
 for food, with their stock of provisions reduced to a few cans of 
 portable soup, they grew weak and sick from fatigue and insuffi- 
 cent food. At last they came to an Indian village, where they 
 were kindly received and bountifully fed. These were of the 
 tribe known to us as the Ncz Perces; their chief was absent at 
 the time with a war party, but the explorers managed to secure 
 a good supply of food in return for small presents. ■ 
 
 They had now traveled over the mountainous region between 
 the southern and northern forks of the Lewis, at a point where 
 the distance in a straight line is about one hundred miles. Weak- 
 ened by want, fatigue and disease, they determined to descend 
 the river by canoes, five of which were accordingly constructed 
 at their camp on the Kooskooskee, a branch of North Fork. The 
 
LEWIS AND CLARKE EXPEDITION. 27o 
 
 plain into which they had now descended had a milder climate 
 than they had lately experienced, and had they found the Nez 
 Perces as obliging as the Shoshonees, their journey might have 
 been expedited; but this tribe, working hard all summer for the 
 winter supply of dried salmon and roots, hunting deer through 
 the wnnter, and crossing the mountains in the spring to trade, 
 was but little disposed to return any of the favors shown them, 
 and developed a talent for bargaining which seems to have been 
 quite distasteful to the party accustomed to get a large amount 
 of provisions for a few trinkets. These Indians looked on with 
 contemptuous surprise, as the white men, unable to obtain other 
 food, killed and cooked a number of dogs. This dish, of which 
 they had eaten but sparingly when the tribes east of the moun- 
 tains had oifered it to them, they found not unpalatable after a 
 long course of horse-flesh. 
 
 As they floated from the Lewis into the Columbia, and down 
 the latter river, they were constantly visited by large bands of 
 Indians. As they approached the coast, some ISTez Perces, who 
 had accompanied them, grew uneasy at the idea of entering a 
 country inhabited by a hostile tribe, and desired to return. Their 
 keen eyes saw that the unusual reserve and caution of the visit- 
 ors betokened an attack. Our travelers, however, succeeded iii 
 persuading them to remain until after the passage of the falls 
 they were approaching. 
 
 They reached the mouth of the Columbia early in l^ovember, 
 and encamped for the winter of 1805-6 ; constantly visited by 
 the Indians, who had been accustomed to trading with the w^hites, 
 and were never satisfied with any price given them. They dared 
 not show hostility in any other mode, however, than by ill-hu- 
 mor and petty thefts. 
 
 After the cessation of a ten days' rain in November, they occu- 
 pied their time in exploring the neighboring coast, in curing the 
 meat with which the hunters provided them, and in dressing- 
 skins for clothing. Leaving in charge of the Indians, and posted 
 up in their houseg, papers bearing a brief description of their 
 journey, they set out towards the east on March twenty-third. 
 
 We need not follow their course closely. The Indians were 
 still ill-humored, and disinclined to trade; but as they again ap- 
 proached the Kooskooskee, a new means of obtaining supplies 
 presented itself, and they turned physicians. The journal of the 
 party does not speak in enthusiastic terms of either skill or suc- 
 18 
 
274 LEAVIS AND CLARKE EXPEDITION. 
 
 cess, though perhaps the certainty that their simjale prescriptions 
 could at least do no harm would not be shared by every better- 
 trained physician ; the patients, however, had no fault to find, 
 one exchanging a fine mare for a vial of eye-water. Their fame 
 preceded them, and at the next village, where their whole stock 
 of merchandise could not purchase food, fifty patients awaited 
 them. The fee for each cure ranged from a lean and hungry dog 
 to a fat horse; but it must be observed that payment rewarded 
 cure, not treatment. 
 
 As they approached the mountains, they found the tribes more 
 hospitable, one chief professing himself greatly insulted when 
 asked to exchange a fat horse for one unfit for food, and present- 
 ing them with several animals in excellent condition. These In- 
 dians were but poorly fed, since the character of their arms pre- 
 vented much success in hunting; and the occasional gift of the 
 flesh of animals which the white hunters killed was accepted with 
 demonstrative gratitiide. This tribe is described as the most 
 amiable they had yet found, yet a favorite Chopunnish ornament 
 was a tippet of human scalps, fringed with the thumbs and fin- 
 gers of enemies slain in battle. 
 
 It was not until June that they were enabled to cross the moun- 
 tains, where, even then, they suffered much from the cold in jour- 
 neying over the snow-clad ridges. Their stock of merchandise 
 gave out, and they could only replenish it by cutting the but- 
 tons off their clothes, and by spending some time in the manu- 
 facture of eye-water. They also suffered much from unsuitable 
 and insufficient food, as their hunters were able to kill but litjile 
 game, but at last reached the banks of Maria's River, where they 
 decided to remain for two days to take some observations and 
 rest their horses. 
 
 As they proceeded along this river, they met with more decided 
 hostility than the Indians had as yet dared to show. Ascending 
 the hills close to the river, one of their number, a Canadian half- 
 breed named Drewj^er, proceeded along the valley on the other 
 side. Prom their elevated j)ath, they soon saw a party of In- 
 dians looking intently at Drewyer. They had already learned 
 that the Blackfeet were not disposed to be friendly, so that this 
 was by no means a welcome sight. Supposing a large number to 
 be near at hand, they were unwilling to risk a fight, and retreat 
 would only invite a pursuit which, since their horses were so 
 bad, would be only too successful. They determined, therefore. 
 
LEWIS AND CLAKKK EXPEDITION. 
 
 275 
 
 to make the best of it, and flag in hand, advanced slowly tow- 
 ards the Indians. The attention of the Blackfeet was so en- 
 tirely directed to Brewyer, that they did not for some time dis- 
 cover this advance, which evidently threw them into the greatest 
 confusion. The wdiole party of eight warriors, being reassured 
 by the friendly signs and movements of Captain Lewis, finally 
 came toward thorn, dismounted and smoked with them, while a 
 
 laLLINO THE THIEF. 
 
 messenger was sent for Drewyer. ' Captain Lewis learned that 
 his suspicions were, unfortunately, not without foundation; these 
 were indeed Blackfeet, whose thievishness was well known ; but 
 feeling themselves quite able to coj^e with eight Indians, poorly 
 armed, they encamped together. 
 
 Finding them very fond of the pipe, Captain Lewis, who wish- 
 ed to keep a close watch during the night, smoked with them un- 
 til a late hour. As soon as they were asleep, he awoke one of 
 the Fields brothers, ordering him to arouse all in case anj^ of the 
 Indians left the camp, as they would jirobably attempt to steal 
 horses ; and lay down in the tent with all the Indians, the two 
 
276 LEWIS AND CLARKE EXPEDITION. 
 
 brothers lying near the fire at the entrance. Awaking at sunrise, 
 one of the Indians seized, unperceived, the rifles of the two men 
 in the tent. The sentinel, turning, saw the state of affairs, and pur- 
 sued him for fifty or sixty j'ards. As he came up with him, a 
 scuffle ensued, the rifle was recovered and the Indian killed. 
 
 Drewyer and Captain Lewis lay side by side in the tent, their 
 rifles near them ready for use at a moment's notice. Silently two 
 Indians stole towards them, as their comrade seized the two other 
 weapons, and laid hold of these. The moment the savage touched 
 his gun, Drewj-er, who was awake, jumped up and wrested it from 
 him. The noise awoke Captain Lewis, who instantly started 
 fi'om the ground and reached to get his gun ; but, finding it gone, 
 he drew a pistol from his belt, and turning about, saw an Indian 
 making off with the rifle. Following him at full speed, he order- 
 ed him to lay it down. As the Indian stooped to obey this order, 
 the two Fields, who had just come up, took aim at him. 
 
 " Don't fire," shouted Captain Lewis, ''he doesn't seem to in- 
 tend any mischief." 
 
 Drewyer begged permission to shoot him, but Captain Lewis, 
 wishing to preserve peaceful relations if possible, forbade it. But 
 finding that the Indians were now endeavoring to drive off all 
 the horses, he ordered the men to follow up the main party, who 
 were chasing the horses up the river, and to fire instantly upon 
 the thieves ; while he, without taking time to run for his shot- 
 pouch, pursued the fellow who had stolen his gun and another 
 Indian, who w^ere driving away the horses on the left of the camp. 
 Pressed so closely that they were obliged to leave twelve of the 
 horses behind them, they entered a steep niche in the river blufts. 
 Too much out of breath to pursue them any farther. Captain Lew- 
 is called out that unless they gave up the one horse they retained, 
 he would fire. As he raised his gun one of them jumped behind 
 a rock, and spoke to the other. The second made no attempt to 
 conceal himself, and fell as Captain LeAvis shot. Having no oth- 
 er load for his gun, and but one in his pistol, he thought best to 
 retreat. 
 
 Although the death of this Indian had probably much to do 
 with the treachery and hostility which the Blackfeet afterward 
 always showed to the whites, our explorers did not come off 
 badly in this engagement. The savages had made off with one 
 horse, but four of their own animals, four shields, two bows with 
 quivers and one of their guns were left in the camp. Little 
 
LEWIS AND C1>ARKE EXPEDITION. 277 
 
 doubting that they -woiild he immediately pursued by a larger 
 party, the whites pushed on as fast as they possibly could, travel- 
 ing about a hundred miles before, almost exhausted with fatigue, 
 they halted at two o'clock in the morning; setting off again, sore 
 and scarcely able to stand, at daylight. 
 
 Happily, they were not pursued, and escaped in safety. The 
 theft of many of their horses by Indians tliat they could not 
 overtake compelled them to make skin canoes in which to de- 
 scend the river. Captain Lewis received a flesh-wound from the 
 discharge of a gun that he thought belonged to one of his own 
 men, who had mistaken him, in his dress of skins, for an elk; it 
 proved, however, to have been a lurking Indian. This gave him 
 considerable trouble, and it was not until late in August that he 
 recovered. 
 
 As they descended the river, there were frequent alarms as to 
 the movements of Indian war-parties, but hapj)ily they were not 
 again to suffer from their depredations. Only a few councils 
 with the tribes that had been friendly on their route toward the 
 west varied the monotony of the journey ; and the}^ reached St. 
 Louis in safety on the twenty-third of September, 1806, "where," 
 says the journal, "we received a most hearty and hospitable wel- 
 come from the whole village." 
 
 The total length of their route from St. Louis to the mouth of 
 the Columbia was more than four thousand miles; the return 
 being shortened by nearly six hundred miles. They treated with 
 all the principal tribes along their route, and besides furnishing 
 a map, tolerably accurate even for the present day, described with 
 considerable fullness the plants and animals of that section. As 
 the immediate results of this expedition, many traders ventured 
 into the newly explored country, and established posts, which, 
 like the small settlements of the Spanish missionaries, were the 
 first foundations of the present constantly growing population of 
 the Great West. It must be remembered, however, that neither 
 of these elements advanced the settlement of the country as the 
 building of frontier forts contributed to the growth of Kentucky. 
 The traders endeavored to keep all others out of the country, 
 that their business mig-ht not suffer ; and the rule of the Spaniards 
 has never been beneficial to any part of America. The hardy 
 pioneers of our own race, accustomed to govern and defend them- 
 selves, as well as to live by their labor, are the settlers that ad- 
 vance the prosperity of a new country. 
 
CHAPTER XI. 
 
 GEN. WILLIAM HENEY IIAEEISON. 
 
 \ 1 r ILLIAM Henry Harrison, the only son of that Benjamin 
 VV Harrison who introduced into the Continental Congress 
 the resolution declaring the independence of the colonies, and 
 who, a few weeks later, affixed his signature to the more formal 
 Declaration, was born in Virginia in the early part of the year 
 1773. Graduating at Hampden Sidney College, he studied med- 
 icine, but before he had gr/iduated the barbarities of the Indians 
 uj)on the western frontier so excited his feelings that he resolved 
 to give up his first choice of a profession for that of arms. His 
 guardian vainly endeavored to dissuade him from the project j 
 General "Washington cordially approved of his determination, 
 and gave him a commission as ensign of artillery. 
 
 Though but nineteen years old when he joined his corps at 
 Fort Washington on the Ohio, he soon found an opportunity to 
 distinguish himself. A reinforcement being ordered by Gen. St. 
 Clair to proceed to Fort Hamilton, the young ensign was ap- 
 pointed to the command of the party. The country swarmed 
 with Indians, and all the skill and vigilance which the young of- 
 ficer could command were necessary to success ; but the expedi- 
 tion was accomplished in safety, and the leader rewarded in the 
 following year (1792) with a lieutenancy. Yictory favored first 
 one side, then the other, in this contest between the United States 
 and the Indians, but the army under General Wayne, which Har- 
 rison joined in 1793, was destined to close the war. 
 
 When, in October of that year. Gen. Wayne marched forward 
 to the country of the Miami tribe of Indians, he sent a detach- 
 ment to take possession of the ground where Gen. St. Clair, his 
 predecessor in command, had a disastrous defeat. Lieutenant 
 Harrison volunteered for the service, and was accepted by the 
 commander. Arrived at the fatal field, he took possession of it, 
 interred with military honors the bones that for two years had 
 
GENERAL WILLIAM HENRY HARRISON. 279 
 
 whitened the ground, and erected Fort Eecovery. Agiiin, in the 
 famous battle of the Fallen Timbcrs,did the wild courage of Mad 
 Anthony Wajnie animate his troops, and the Indians were com- 
 pletely defeated, "With the true generosity of a hero, the gen- 
 eral, in his official account of the battle, compliments his young, 
 faithful and gallant aide-de-camp, Lieutenant Harrison, as having 
 rendered him the most essential service in communicating his 
 orders in every direction, and for his conduct and bravery. The 
 consequence of this display of courage and generous recognition 
 of it was a promotion, soon after the close of the campaign, to 
 the rank of captain, the command of Fort Washington being given 
 him. 
 
 Here he remained in comparative quiet until 1798, when the 
 civil appointment of Secretary of the Northwestern Territory 
 was given him j and a year later, on the organization of a terri- 
 torial government, he was elected as the delegate to Congress. 
 Although holding the office but one year, he performed a most 
 important service for the new territory, and one which contrib- 
 uted greatly to the speedy settlement of the west. This was in se- 
 curing the passage of a bill permitting the sale of small tracts of 
 land, in place of parcels of four thousand acres, which had been 
 the least quantity obtainable from any but speculators. During his 
 term of office, the territory was divided, and at the expiration 
 of the year for which he had been elected. President Adams ap- 
 pointed him governor of that part called Indiana. 
 
 Fitly was the new territory named the Country of the Indians, 
 for in all that vast expanse, stretching w^estward to the Missis- 
 sippi, there were but three settlements : Clark's Grant, a hun- 
 dred and fifty thousand acres in extent, at the falls of the Ohio j 
 the old French settlement at and around Yincennes ; and a tract 
 of about sixty miles in length bordering on the Mississippi, from 
 Kaskaskia to Cahokia, nearly ojDposite the thriving little town 
 of St. Louis. About five thousand souls, all told, comprised the 
 population of this territory, which now supports some seven mil- 
 lions. The Indians were naturally hostile, and the incessant in- 
 trigues of the British agents were only too often successful in in- 
 citing them to depredations. Wishing to prevent the extensive 
 settlement of the frontier provinces, and to secure a monopoly 
 of the fur trade, the British government kept in its employ agents 
 who industriously set afloat among the Indians reports calculated 
 to excite a jealous hostility to the Americans. The United States 
 
280 GENERAL WILLIAM HENRY HARRISON. 
 
 government aimed to purchase of the Indians the land needed for 
 settlements, to introduce among the savages the arts of civilized 
 life ; but the English represented this as a plan intended only to 
 enervate the natives, and leave them unfit for war. The refusal 
 to allow liquor to be sold to them was especially enlarged upon. 
 
 '' See how good our great father, King George, is to j'ou. He 
 loves his red children so much that he wishes them to have plenty 
 of all good things, everything they wish for. He tells us to give 
 you plenty of rum." 
 
 Shortly after his appointment. Gov. Harrison was visited by 
 the chiefs of most of the nations inhabiting the territory under 
 his rule. Doleful was the story that they told of their people 
 killed, their lands seized by the settlers, their game wantonly 
 destroyed, their young men made drunk and cheated of the skins 
 which were to buy necessary stores of clothing, arms, and am- 
 munition for hunting. The governor could not doubt the truth 
 of these complaints, supported as they were by unquestionable 
 evidence, but the uncertain limits of his jurisdiction rendered it 
 difficult to give the Indians satisfaction. While many of the tribes 
 were not disposed then to make war u2:)on the settlers, yet he saw 
 that the provocations of which they spoke would powerfully 
 operate in favor of any European nation that might declare 
 war, and the Indians would be ready, with such protection and 
 assistance, for incursions upon the settlements. 
 
 But the town of Vincennes was daily visited by the Indians in 
 considerable numbers, who, becoming intoxicated, committed 
 many crimes. Murders of their own race occurred in the streets, 
 the houses of the citizens were forced open, stock killed, and 
 fences broken down. The unprovoked murder of two citizens 
 awoke revenge ; the murderer was pursued and shot. Indig- 
 nant at this, the tribe assembled, waiting for a favorable oppor- 
 tunity to retaliate, but quickly dis2:)ersed when the militia was 
 ordered out. 
 
 Harrison spared no effort to conciliate the Indians, and at the 
 same time to enforce justice in the whole territory under his 
 government. In the period from 1800 to 1804, treaties were con- 
 cluded by which nearly sixty million acres were sold to the Uni- 
 ted States by the Indians. But these vast i:)urchases had aroused 
 the suspicions of some of the Indians. Two chiefs of the Shaw- 
 nees saw, like Pontiac, to what the Indian race was tending, and 
 were willing to try much the same plan in resisting this fate that 
 
GENERAL WILLIAM HENRY HARRISON. 
 
 281 
 
 he had tried. The "Wild Cat springing on its prey" and tlie 
 "Loud Voice" are the meanings assigned to the Indian names 
 Tecumseh and Elskwatawa, tlie chief and the prophet, who now 
 sought to combine all the western tril)es in an alliance against 
 the whites. 
 
 Doubt existed for some time as to the intentions of the Indian 
 brothers, Gov. Harrison being at a loss to decide for or against 
 their friendliness for many years after the germ of the union had 
 been formed. Whatever may have been his desires later, the 
 earlier efforts of Te- 
 cumseh were directed 
 to the reformation of 
 his people, naturally 
 unfitted for continuous 
 effort of any kind and 
 enervated by the ex- 
 cesses into which thej^ 
 had fallen during their 
 contact with the whites. 
 So far had they degen- 
 erated from the an- 
 cient standard, that 
 Harrison asserts in his 
 official letters to Wash- 
 ington, til at he could 
 tell at a glance an In- 
 dian living in the vi- 
 cinity of the town from 
 one living at a consid- 
 erable distance. The 
 effort to reform his 
 people led the savage statesman, Tecumseh, to desire such a union 
 as Pontiac had wished — one which would enable the Indians to 
 successfully resist the encroachments of the whites. 
 
 Nor was Tecumseh the only one of his nation who held exalted 
 views of the destiny of the Shawnees. At a conference held by 
 the chiefs of the various tribes and Gov. Harrison, in the year 
 1803, one of them gave vent to this wonderful story : 
 
 " The Master of Life was himself an Indian. He made the 
 Shawnees before any others of the human race. They sprang 
 from his brain, and he gave them all the knowledge he pos- 
 
 /c^ j^^a^^z^ut^vTu^ 
 
282 GENERAL WILLIAM HENRY HARRISON. 
 
 sessed. After he had made the Shawnees, he made the French 
 and English out of his breast, the Dutch out of his feet, and the 
 Long-knives (Americans) out of his hands." 
 
 An Indian orator's history of the creation is usually invented 
 for the occasion, and this one proceeded to apply the facts he had 
 gravely stated by saying that since all the knowledge that the 
 whites possessed was really the property of the Shawnees, from 
 whom the Master of Life had borrowed it for the whites for 
 a little Avhile, the white jieople had really no right to the articles 
 which this knowledge enabled them to make — all their blankets, 
 beads, guns, etc., rightfully belonged to the Shawnees. 
 
 Tecumseh, the son of a Shawnee warrior and a Creek squaw, 
 was born about the year 1770, some authorities placing the date 
 as early as 1768, others as late as 1771. The prophet, sometimes 
 called his twin brother, was probably younger. From his boy- 
 hood the elder had a j^assion for war; the sham battle-field being 
 the scene of his usual pastimes, and activity, strength and skill 
 distinguished him in the miinic fights in which he was always 
 a leader. When the day closed, and such amusements were no 
 longer possible, the boys would gather back of the warriors who 
 were clustered around the camp-fire, telling stories of the occur- 
 rences of the day. The Bevolutionary War formed the main 
 subject until his manhood had nearly arrived ; and after that 
 war closed, the fierce border warfare furnished accounts of j^er- 
 petual skirmishing and scalping. He eagerly drank in the words 
 of the old chiefs regarding the times before the advent of the 
 whites, and about their broken treaties and promises. 
 
 In his first battle, which occurred when he was sixteen or eigh- 
 teen years old, Tecumseh is said to have fled in fright from the 
 field of battle; but in the second he fought like a young lion, 
 comj^letely wiping out the stain of cowardice. This was an attack 
 upon some flat-boats descending the Ohio, and all the boatmen 
 were killed but one, who was reserved for the torture. Strangely 
 enough, since it could not have been an unusual occurrence, the 
 young warrior had never before Avitnessed such a scene. .Filled 
 with horror, he remonstrated against the practice with such elo- 
 quence that his hearers agreed that they would never burn an- 
 other prisoner. Such was the power that his great mind had al- 
 ready gained over his people. 
 
 One great influence that Tecumseh used over the tribe was a 
 superstitious one. The prophet is not an uncommon character 
 
GENERAL WILLIAM HENRY HARRISON, 283 
 
 among the Indians, who are exceedingly superstitious; and they 
 believe most firmly in his poAvcr to foretell events and to avert 
 threatened misfortunes. Elskwatawa shared, to some extent, in 
 the great talents of his brother, hut, to reverse the expression 
 of an old author: "His virtues another's, his faults were his 
 own." He Avas neither courageous nor truthful, but cunning, 
 sharp and boastful. Even more eloquent than the chief, his man- 
 ner was said to be more graceful than that of any other Indian ; 
 the less said about his personal beauty, the better. There can be 
 no doubt, however, that, like Tecumseh, he really sought the 
 good of his people. With all his vanity, deception, superstition 
 and craft, he doubtless believed that he was advocating measures 
 for their good. 
 
 In November, 1805, Elskwatawa first formally declared him- 
 self a jDrophet in a speech made to an assembly consisting of 
 many of his own nation and of the kindred tribes, Wyandots, 
 Ottawas and Senecas, in northern Ohio. Professing to have been 
 to heaven, he denounced two practices common among the In- 
 dians, witch-craft and drunkenness, and so great was the ascen- 
 dancy which his eloquence obtained over them that he prevailed 
 upon many of them to abstain from strong drink. In this, Te- 
 cumseh's influence is seen, but the persecutions for witchcraft 
 were all the Prophet's work, resulting in many executions, even 
 of chiefs. 
 
 So far did he go in this matter, supported by the superstitious 
 terrors of his tribe, that Gov. Harrison was obliged to send a let- 
 ter of remonstrance to the Delawares, urging them, in the name 
 of the Seventeen Fires (States), to require of this prophet some 
 proof that his pretensions were true. But this did not accomplish 
 the end that he desired; for a time, indeed, the persecutions 
 ceased, but the influence of Elskwatawa was increased by his ac- 
 cepting Gov. Harrison's challenge to work miracles. Hearing 
 by chance from a white man that an eclipse of the sun would oc- 
 cur on a certain day, he boldly announced that on such a day he 
 would prove his supernatural power by making darkness come 
 over the sun. At the appointed time, the Projihet, standing in 
 the midst of his assembled tribe at mid-day, cried out, when all 
 grew dark around them : 
 
 " Did I not prophesy truly? Behold ! • Darkness has come over 
 the sun, as I told you." 
 
 This established him more firmly in the esteem of the tribes. 
 
284 
 
 GENERAL WILLIAM HENRY HARRISON. 
 
 and his influence increased. About a year later, in April, 1807, 
 he had gathered around him nearly four hundred Indians, greatly 
 excited by religious fanaticism and ready to join in any enter- 
 prise into which the brothers should lead them. Great alarm 
 was felt all along the border when the strength of the Indians 
 became known, and their designs appeared to be suspicious. In 
 order to learn their object in gathering so many warriors around 
 them, the agent at Fort Wayne sent a half-breed Shawnee with 
 a request that Teeumseh and the Prophet, attended by tAvo other 
 chiefs, should visit him, that he might read to them a letter just 
 
 received from their great fa- 
 ther. The message was deliv- 
 ered in council, but the great 
 chief did not deign to ask 
 advice. 
 
 ''Go back to Fort "Wayne, 
 and tell Captain Wells that m}^ 
 council fire is kindled on the 
 spot appointed b}^ the Great 
 Spirit, and that here I will hear 
 any message that the great 
 father in Washington may send 
 me. If he has anything to say 
 to me from the great father, I 
 will expect him here in six 
 days." 
 
 Nor would he abate an inch 
 of his royal dignity, and Cap- 
 tain Wells' letter remained un- 
 read. The excitement among the Indians increased, and by the 
 first of May, it was estimated, fifteen hundred Indians had visit- 
 ed the Prophet, coming from all quarters. Many came from a 
 great distance, and the great assembling of councils, the mes- 
 sengers sent from tribe to tribe with belts of wamj^um and with 
 pipes, showed that some uncommon movement was on foot. It 
 was ascertained that English agents were busily at work, but 
 all plans were studiously concealed from the Americans. 
 
 Several councils were held during this year between the two 
 races, the Indians insisting that the treaty made at Greenville 
 about twelve years before did not prescribe the boundaries which 
 the white men claimed. Tccumseh's fiery eloquence, defying the 
 
 lOLSKWATAWA, "THE PROPHET." 
 
GENERAL WILLIAM HENRY HARRISON. 28-'^ 
 
 skill of the interpreter, traced the history of the white man's 
 dealings with the Indians, and in its object and effect only stop- 
 ped short of breaking up the council ; his speeches were, as he 
 had intended, repeated at every camp-fire. 
 
 In 1808, great numbers of Indians came flocking from the neigh- 
 borhood of the Groat Lakes to visit the Prophet, and prolonged 
 their visit until their provisions w^ere entirely exhausted. Gov- 
 ernor Harrison thought it prudent, as well as benevolent, to sup- 
 ply them with food from the public stores at Fort Wayne. To 
 the Indian agent who carried out this order, it did not appear 
 that the followers of the Prophet had any hostile intentions re- 
 garding the Americans ; it was simplj^ a religious reformation 
 that he was preaching. But succeeding this reformation, in the 
 following year, came the political movement, when Tecumseh's 
 importance became greater than his brother's. 
 
 In the spring of 1808, the Pottawatomies and the Kickapoos 
 granted Tecumseh and Elskwatawa a tract of land on the Tip- 
 pecanoe, one of the tributaries of the Wabash. Here, with about 
 forty Shawnees, and something less than a hundred Indians from 
 other tribes, they established themselves in spite of the remon- 
 strances of the Delawares and the Miamis, and the village known 
 as Prophet's Town was built. In June, having determined to 
 pay a visit to Gov. Harrison, the Prophet sent a messenger to 
 say that he and Tecumseh wished to live in peace with the 
 whites. Having thus j^aved the wa}^ for a reception, he proceeded 
 to Yincenncs in August. 
 
 Governor Harrison had noticed the evil effect of liquor ujDon 
 the red man, and in his communications to the Department at 
 Washington we find frequent remonstrances against allowing it 
 be sold to him. But the love of gain was uncontrollable, and the 
 traders continued to sell the liquid fire, which soon kindled a 
 flame that threatened to consume the border settlements. When, 
 therefore, he saw that Elskwatawa really desired that whisky 
 should be kept from the Indians, and that he had succeeded in 
 reforming many of them in this particular, the governor was dis- 
 posed to form a very favorable opinion of the Prophet. 
 
 In a long speech to Gov. Harrison he detailed the system of 
 religion of which he professed to be the exponent, and narrated 
 his experience during the three years that he had endeavored to 
 benefit his people ; closing wath the Indian's usual conclusion to 
 a speech made to the white man, a request for gifts. Beneath all 
 
286 GENERAL WILLIAM HENRY HARRISON. 
 
 his ignorance, persecuting fanaticism, and imposture, Gov. Har- 
 rison thought he saw a real ambition to be a benefactor to the 
 Indians, and respected him for it. With a suppl}' of provisions 
 the Proj^het returned to the Tippecanoe, having completely out- 
 witted the governor. 
 
 But while Elskwatawa thus appeared to be the mainspring of 
 this movement, there was a yet greater man in the background. 
 A thousand years ago, the aged seer said to the prince whose 
 throne had been usurped by a warrior of renown : 
 
 ''Know how to wait, and the kingdom will come to thee." 
 
 This was Tecumseh's great power — the ability to wait the 
 proper place for the execution of his plans. "When this time 
 came, he calmly set aside the prophet, and asserted his own supe- 
 rior qualities as a leader. Even his brother's fame and power 
 were made to serve his own purpose, to further his plans for form- 
 ing avast confederacy of the Indian tribes, which should restrain 
 the whites from farther encroachment, perhaps even to drive 
 them to the country east of the Alleghanies. For three or four 
 years he traveled all over the country, visiting the various tribes, ' 
 and exerting all the magic of his eloquence to induce them to 
 join the league. 
 
 In April, 1809, the Indian agent stationed at Fort Wayne in- 
 formed Grov. Harrison that he had heard the Prophet had ordered 
 the Indians to take up arms to exterminate the white settlers at 
 Vincennes and along the banks of the Ohio; this being the order 
 of the Great Spirit, who would utterly destroy those who ven- 
 tured to disobey them. This was probably an ambitious scheme 
 of the Prophet's own, during Tecumseh's absence. Only a hun- 
 dred warriors were actually with him, but reliable information 
 came that four or five times that number were within fifty miles 
 of headquarters, awaiting only the signal to fall upon the whites. 
 He therefore immediately organized two companies of volunteer 
 militia, and garrisoned Fort Knox, two miles from Vincennes, 
 This, and similar energetic measures, appeared to frighten the 
 Prophet, who was never very courageous, and who, like all In- 
 dians, would not strike at an enemy who was on his guard ; so 
 the threatened attack was never made. 
 
 In July he visited the governor at Yincennes, with a train of 
 about forty warriors, and meekly but earnestly denied any part 
 in the plot; claiming to have actually dissuaded the tribes from 
 the hostilities the}^ had planned. But Gov. Harrison no longer 
 
GENERAL WILLIAM HENRY HARRISON. 2-^7 
 
 believed in the Prophet's sincerity. A few months before, he had 
 solemnly promised to make known to the Americans any plots 
 which might be formed against them, and he now admitted haA- 
 ing been pressed both by other tribes and by the British to join 
 in a league against the United States. 
 
 The cloud darkened over the scattered and exposed settlements 
 in Indiana. ISTews came that the followers of Tecumseh and the 
 Prophet numbered, now four hundred, now eight hundred, and 
 that as many more would respond to the Prophet's call. The 
 Indians refused to buy powder and shot from the American trad- 
 ers, hinting that they could get plenty from the British without 
 paying for it. The strength of the league continued to increase, 
 and the Wyandots, greatly esteemed among the other tribes for 
 their wisdom and valor, came into the union. The great belt, 
 the sj'mbol of union between the tribes in the previous war, was 
 given into the keeping of this latest accession, who also pos- 
 sessed the original copy of the treaty of Greenville. 
 
 In the meantime Tecumseh had been among the Shawnees on 
 the Auglaize, trj'ing to induce them to further his scheme; but 
 the old chief. Black Hoof, the head of the Shawnee nation, 
 resolutely opposed his etforts. Present at the defeat of Braddock, 
 fifty-five years before, he had seen too clearly, in the course of 
 his long life, how useless were all attempts of Indians to drive 
 back the whites; he had signed the treaty of G-reenville, and 
 from that time actively opposed all war with the settlers. Such 
 was the ascendency w^hich his office and his personal character 
 gave him over his people that all Tecumseh's eloquence was in 
 vain, and the greater part of the tribe remained faithful to the 
 treaty. 
 
 In June, a deputation of the friendly Pottawatomies visited 
 Gov. Harrison, and gave him information regarding the Prophet's 
 2:)lans. Every exertion was to be made by him to gain the sup- 
 j)ort of the tribes west of the Mississippi ; and that secured, De- 
 troit, Fort Wayne, Chicago, St. Louis and Vincennes were all to 
 be surprised. He had failed in his attempt to influence some of 
 the nearer tribes, by reason of the arguments which the Dela- 
 warcs, friendly to the Americans, used to these whose decision 
 still hung in the balance. Every eff'ort was made by the Prophet 
 to secure the assistance of the tribes, more than one execution 
 for witchcraft being referred to his desire to frighten the chiefs 
 into joining him. 
 
288 GENERAL WILLIAM HENRY HARRISON. 
 
 Immediately upon the receipt of this information, Gov. Har- 
 rison sent two confidential agents to Tippecanoe to discover the 
 designs of the Prophet. Kindly received by Elskwatawa, the 
 following conversation ensued : 
 
 " The governor," said the agent, Mr. Dubois, " has seen that 
 the Indians are unfriendlj' to the Americans, and that they are 
 combining for a purpose that he does not know. Why does Elsk- 
 watawa hate the United States, the peojile of his great father at 
 Washington ? Why has he gathered so many warriors together, 
 and armed them with new rifles? The Long-Knives are not in 
 the dark j they can see what he has been doing, and their war- 
 riors are arming themselves and getting ready to fight, both here 
 and in Kentucky. But they do not wish to fight, unless the In- 
 dians compel them to do so ; all this is for defense, and ElskAva- 
 tawa and his peo^ile will live in peace as long as they do not plot 
 mischief to the white man." 
 
 " The Great Spirit has fixed the spot for the Indian to kindle 
 his camp-fire, and he dare not go to any other. Elskwatawa's 
 and his brother Tecumseh's must be on the banks of the Tippe- 
 canoe, or the Great Spirit would be angry with them. Evil birds 
 have carried false news to my father, the governor. Let him 
 not believe that Elskwatawa the Prophet wishes to make war up- 
 on him and his people; let him not listen to the evil birds that 
 cany false news." 
 
 " How has the great father at Washington injured your peo- 
 ple ? Say how it has been done, and you will be righted." 
 
 " The Indians have been cheated out of their lands ; the white 
 men have bought from the chiefs of the towns, who had no right 
 to sell. Only the whole tribe can sell lands." 
 
 Mr. Dubois told him that he ought to go to Vincennes and j^re- 
 sent his complaints to the governor, but this he refused to do, al- 
 leging that he had been badly treated on the former visit. The 
 agent, after a little more talk, of small interest, went back to re- 
 port to the governor. Soon after this visit, four canoes, filled 
 with the Prophet's followers, descended the Wabash ; these In- 
 dians, stopping at a settlement a little above Vincennes, attend- 
 ed a Shaker meeting on Sunday, behaving with great propriety 
 while there, but winding up their Sabbath by stealing five horses. 
 
 A second messenger to the Prophet was less kindly received 
 than Mr. Dubois had been. Conducted into the presence of Elsk- 
 watawa and his princij^al men, he was left standing at a distance 
 
GENERAL WILLIAM HENRY HARRISON, 289 
 
 of about ten feet ■ii.'om where they were sitting. The Proi^het 
 looked at him for a few moments without speaking, and apjiar- 
 ently without recognizing him. At last, in a tone expressive of 
 anger and scorn, he said : 
 
 "Why do you come here? Brouilette was here; he was a spy. 
 Dubois was here; he was a spy. Kow you have come; you are a 
 spy. There is your grave." 
 
 From a lodge near by issued the majestic form of Tecurnseh, 
 who said, in a cold and haughty tone : 
 
 "Your life is in no danger. Say why you have come among us." 
 
 The messenger, in rejily, read a letter from Gov. Harrison, urg- 
 ing upon them the necessity of submitting to the government. 
 
 "I know your warriors are brave," ho said, "but ours are not 
 less so. What can a few brave wai'riors do against the innumer- 
 able warriors of the Seventeen Fires? Our blue-coats are more 
 numerous than you can count; our hunters are like the leaves 
 of the forest, or the grains of sand on the Wabash. Do not think 
 that the red-coats can protect you; they are not able to protect 
 themselves. They do not think of going to war with us. If they 
 did, you would in a few moons see our flag wave over all the forts 
 of Canada. What reason have you to comjilam of the Seventeen 
 Fires? Have they taken anj^thing from you? Have they ever 
 violated the treaties made with the red men? You say they have 
 purchased lands from those who had no right to sell them. Show 
 that this is so and the land will be instantly restored. Show us 
 the rightful owners. I have full power to arrange this business; 
 but if you would rather carry your complaints before your great 
 father at Washington, you shall be indulged." 
 
 Pleased with the governor's speech, Tecumseh said that he 
 would now go to Yincennes and show the governor that he had 
 been listening to bad men when he was told that the Indians 
 wished to make war. He had never been to see the governor, 
 but remembered him as a very young man riding beside Gen. 
 Wayne. Thirty of his principal men, ho said, would attend him, 
 but the party would probably be larger, as many of the young 
 men would wish to go. J^otwithstanding the request which the 
 governor made, on hearing this, that but a few should come, four 
 hundred descended the Wabash on the twelfth of August. Paint- 
 ed in the most terrific manner, they were well prepared for war 
 in case of an attack. 
 
 Governor Harrison had made arrangements for holding the 
 19 
 
290 
 
 GENKRAK AV U.I.I AM HENRY HARRISON. 
 
 council on the portico of his own house, and here, attended by 
 civil and military officers, a small guard of soldiers, and many 
 of the citizens of Yincennes, he awaited the arrival of Tecumseh. 
 It was the fifteenth of August, 1810. At the hour appointed for 
 the council, Tecumseh, attended by about forty of his warriors, 
 made his appearance. The main body of the Indians was en- 
 camped in and around the village. Advancing within thirty or 
 forty yards of the house, the chief suddenly halted, as if awaiting 
 some movement on the part of the governor. An interpreter was 
 
 
 "the earth is our mother" — GEN. HARRISON'S COUNCIL WITH TECUMSEH. 
 
 sent to invite him and his followers to the portico, but Tecumseh 
 declined this invitation, saying that he thought a grove near by, 
 to which he pointed as he spoke, was a more suitable place. The 
 governor objected that there were no seats there. Tecumseh 
 replied that the Indians, children of the earth, loved to repose 
 upon the bosom of their mother, and the governor yielding the 
 point, seats were placed for the white men and the Indians lay 
 upon the grass. 
 
 Tecumseh opened the council by saying that he was determin- 
 ed to resist everj^ cession of land unless made b}' all the tribes 
 acting in concert; that Avhile he had no intention of making war 
 upon the United States, it was his unalterable resolution to take 
 
 !» 
 
General wiluam hknry Harrison. 291 
 
 a stand, and resolutely oppose the further intrusion of the whites 
 uj)on the Indian lands. He concluded with a brief but passionate 
 recital of the wrongs that his people had suffered at the hands of 
 the white men for the last fifty years ; a story that powerfully 
 appealed to the passions of his followers. The governor replied 
 in jDacific terms to this address, and sat down while his speech, in 
 turn, was being translated to the Indians. But the interpreter 
 had not proceeded far when Tecumsch sprang to his feet, and 
 Avith a fiery eloquence that made itself manifest in look and ges- 
 ture, as well as in words, addressed the council. Ignorant of the 
 Shawnee tongue. Gov. Harrison supposed that he was making 
 some explanation, or advancing some argument in support of 
 what had been said ; but others warned him. Winnemac, a friend- 
 1}^ Indian, who lay on the grass beside him, busied himself in re- 
 newing the priming of his pistol, concealing both weapon and 
 action from the Indians, but evidently desirous of the governor's 
 notice. G-en. Gibson, who understood the Shawnee language, 
 said to Lieutenant Jennings : 
 
 " Those fellows intend mischief; you had better bring up the 
 guard." 
 
 At that moment, the followers of Tecumseh sprang from the 
 grass, seizing their tomahawks and war-clubs, and turning their 
 eyes upon the governor. Hastily drawing his sword, Harrison 
 stood on the defensive, his attendant citizens arming themselves 
 with clubs and brickbats, the few soldiers being of course better 
 prepared. Not a word Avas spoken on either side, until, as the 
 guard came up, ready to fire, the governor ordered them not to 
 do so. Turning to the interpreter for information, he was told 
 that Tecumseh had interrupted him, declaring that all that the 
 governor had said was false, and that he and the Seventeen Fires 
 had cheated and imi^osed upon the Indians. Gov. Harrison se- 
 verely reproved Tecumseh, saying that he would hold no further 
 communication with him ; that he must immediately leave Vin- 
 cennes; he had come under the j)rotection of a council fire, and 
 therefore might return in safety. 
 
 There being noW no doubt of the purposes of the two brothers, 
 Gov. Harrison proceeded to prepare for the contest by calling 
 out the militia and making a judicious disposition of the regular 
 troops. But it was more than a year after before hostilities actu- 
 ally began. Tecumseh was still engaged in the effort to strength- 
 en his cause by adding other tribes to the league, and in the sum- 
 
202 GENERAL WlLLIAxM HENRY HARRISON. 
 
 mcr of 1811 proceeded to the south, in order, as was believed, 
 to secure the assistance of the Creeks. Gov. Harrison was 
 awaiting reinforcements ; these having arrived, he set out towards 
 Tippecanoe, to break up, if necessary, the rendezvous of the 
 Prophet. On the Wabash, sixty or sixty-five miles above Vin- 
 eennes, he erected a fort, which, by the request of the soldiers, 
 !ie called Fort Harrison. Friendly Indians brought accounts which 
 left no doubt that ho had acted wisely in leading this expedition 
 into the enemy's country, and one of his sentinels was severely 
 wounded by a straggling party of Indians, 
 
 Advancing still farther, at the mouth of the Vermillion Eiver 
 he built a block-house to protect his boats and heavy baggage, 
 and proceeded thence to the immediate vicinity of the Prophet's 
 town. He was desiroiis of attacking this as soon as possible, be- 
 cause he knew that Tecumseh might return any day, although but 
 one-fourth of the year had exj^ired that he had fixed as the pe- 
 riod of his absence. At this point he was met by ambassadors, 
 who, at his request, on his assurance that he had no hostile in- 
 tentions, if the Indians would keep to the treaties, showed him a 
 suitable place for a camj). He found the place admirably adajjt- 
 ed for regular troops who were to be opposed to enemies fight- 
 ing in the same way, but aff'ording great facilities for the guarded 
 approach of savages. A truce had been agreed on, to last until 
 the next morning, and trusting partly to this, partly to vigilance, 
 he made his preparations for the night. 
 
 It was a piece of dry oak land, rising about ten feet above the 
 level of a marshy prairie that stretched towards the Indian 
 town, and nearly twice that height above a similar prairie on 
 the other side, across which sluggishly flowed a small stream, 
 its course marked by willows and brush-wood. Towards the left, 
 this peninsula of high land widened considerably, but narrowed 
 rapidly to the right, where, about one hundred and fifty yards 
 from the right flank of the little army, it came to an abrupt 
 termination. Here about seven hundred men were disposed on 
 the night of Nov. 6, 1811 ; the order of encampment was the or- 
 der of battle, each man sleeping opposite his post in the line. 
 Notwithstanding the truce, an attack was fully expected, nor 
 was the commander disappointed. 
 
 Tecumseh had left absolute orders that war was to be avoided 
 during his absence, but the Prophet was not disposed to obey 
 such directions under the present circumstances. He had jealous- 
 
GENERAL WILLIAM HENRY HARRISON. 293 
 
 ly watched the decline of his own power and the rise of his bro- 
 ther's, and perhaps wished to re-establish himself, by a victory 
 over the common enemy, in the esteem of his people. Perhaps 
 he was urged too strongly by the chiefs around him. We cannot 
 now tell what motives actuated him. Surrounded by impetuous 
 warriors, the flower of the Winnebago braves, w^orked up to 
 the highest pitch of fanatical zeal, more fierce and cruel than ever 
 Indians had been before, and in no way inferior to Gov. Harri- 
 son's force, is it any wonder that Tecumseh was disobeyed ? 
 
 Early in the evening the Indians held a council and settled up- 
 on a plan. The chiefs were to meet the whites in council the 
 next day, and agree to all of Harrison's jDroposals ; retiring then 
 to where their warriors were stationed. Two Indians were to 
 remain behind and assassinate the governor. After that, the 
 general battle would begin, as the attack upon the governor 
 would be the signal for his troops to fight. At the very summit 
 of his importance, Elskwatawa boasted loudly of his power over 
 life and death ; concocting some strange preparation and saying 
 outlandish incantations over it, he poured it in equal quantities 
 uj)on two small boughs from a neighboring tree, and then inform- 
 ed the warriors that one half of Harrison's army was dead, and 
 the other half crazy, so that it -would be a small matter for the In- 
 dians to finish the work of destruction with their tomahawks. 
 
 The night was dark and cloudy, a drizzling rain setting in 
 about midnight. Perhaps it was the weather that made them 
 change their plan, since such a nightwas admirably suited to the 
 second which they adopted ; certain it is that before four o'clock 
 on the morning of the seventh, the Prophet's whole force was 
 creeping silently through the long, wet grass, upon the sentinels 
 of the American camp. 
 
 It was Gov. Harrison's custom to awake the troops an hour be- 
 fore daybreak, the whole force remaining under arms until the 
 sun rose. A little after four he rose, and was pulling on his boots 
 before the fire, conversing with some of his ofiicers — in two min- 
 utes the signal for calling out the men would have been given, — 
 when suddenly a single shot was fired, followed by that wild 
 yell which was the night-mare of all who slejit in the Indian 
 country. The shot had been fired by a sentinel as he discovered 
 an Indian creeping up to the camp ■ the yell was but the prelude 
 to a thousand others. 
 
 The guard gave way at the point of attack, but the men who 
 
294 GENERAL WILLIAM HENRY HARRISON. 
 
 had been sleeping on their arms were immediately prepared to 
 receive the Indians bravely ; though the suddenness of the attack 
 might have created a panic among veterans, and only one man 
 in twenty there had ever been under fire before. The camp-fires 
 were put out, that their light might not assist the Indians, and in 
 the terrible darkness the battle raged on all sides. Elskwatawa 
 had prophesied that the American bullets would rebound from 
 the bodies of the Indians, and that while all would be thick dark- 
 ness to their enemies, they would be enabled to see clearly. For 
 some reason, however, he did not personally try the truth of 
 his prophecies by engaging in the fight j unwilling " to attest at 
 once the rival powers of a sham prophecy and a real American 
 bullet ;" stationing himself on a small hill near at hand, he chant- 
 ed a war-song, presiding, like the evil genius of the Indians, over 
 the battle in the darkness. To the messengers that came to tell 
 him that, despite his assurances, his followers were falling, he 
 said : 
 
 " Tell them to keep on fighting, and it will be as the Prophet 
 has said." 
 
 "With a determined courage that was rare with them, the In- 
 dians fought openly, charging bravely upon the bayonets, and 
 ■ quite abandoning their usual practice. The battle lasted until a 
 litUe after daylight, one last furious charge of the soldiery put- 
 ting the Indians to flight. Less than a month after this great bat- 
 tle, Harrison wrote that the frontiers had never enjoyed more 
 pei'fect repose. Tippecanoe was the name which, in commemora- 
 tion of this victory, was long bestowed upon the successful lead- 
 er, whose great military talents were soon after officially recog- 
 nized by his appointment to the position of commander-in-chief 
 over all the forces in the west and northwest. 
 
 Nor was the victory due mainly to the subordinate ofiicers and 
 the soldiers. It was the example and precepts of their general 
 that urged them onward to victory. From side to side of the 
 camp he rode, here leading a charge in person, here directing an 
 officer how to give support to the side attacked, here stopping 
 to reprove the cowardice of a French ensign who sheltered him- 
 self behind a tree, and who complained bitterly of the injury 
 done him in supposing he was cowardly in getting there. 
 
 " 1 vas not behind de tree, de tree vas before me. Dere vas de 
 tree, here vas my position j how can I help? I cannot move de 
 tree, I cannot leaf my position." 
 
GENERAL AVILLIAM HENRY HARRISON. 295 
 
 Grov. Harrison was in no slight danger, as llie Indians had de- 
 termined to kill him, if possible. Intending to ride a white mare, 
 his usual steed, an accident compelled him to use another ; a most 
 fortunate circumstance for him, for the Indians made a special 
 mark of an aid mounted upon a white horse, and he was killed 
 very early in the engagement. But although the brim of his hat 
 was perforated, and his hair grazed hy a ball, the governor es- 
 caped unhurt. 
 
 The whole day was spent in fortifying the angles of the camp 
 and caring for the wounded. The next morning a strong party 
 was sent out to reconnoiter the Prophet's town, "which was found 
 deserted by all but a chief with a broken leg. There was a great 
 quantity of corn, which proved very acceptable, since on the pre- 
 ceding day they had had no food but horse-flesh. The town had 
 been abandoned in the utmost haste. Having dressed the wound 
 of the chief and provided sufficient food to last him for several 
 days, the}^ told him to say to the Indians that those who should 
 leave the Prophet and return to their own tribes should be forgiv- 
 en ; then destroyed the brass kettles, took with them the corn, the 
 fowls and the hogs, and burned the town. 
 
 The Prophet's influence was gone forever, and in Tecumseh's 
 absence there was no one to rally the scattered savages. The 
 chief returned in a few days, to find the confederacy seemingl}^ 
 crushed at the first blow ; his town destroyed, his followers scat- 
 tered, the Prophet in disgrace. Not all the cunning of Elskwat- 
 awa could shield him from the just anger of his great brother. Se- 
 vere were the reproaches, utterly disregarded the trivial excuses 
 for having disobeyed the positive command to keep the peace; 
 Tecumseh, doubly exasperated by the disobedience and by the 
 attemj^t to excuse it, seized the Prophet by the hair and gave 
 him a good shaking. When we think how he had used his influ- 
 ence over the Indians for their destruction, we cannot help re- 
 gretting that Tecumseh administered no greater punishment. The 
 Prophet's power w^as indeed gone forever. 
 
 " You are a liar," said a Winnebago warrior to him whom they 
 had but lately revered as a messenger from the Cireat Spirit; "for 
 yoii told lis that the white j^eople 'were dead or crazy, when they 
 were all in their senses and fought like the devil." 
 
 The Prophet replied, in a tone strangely different from that 
 which he was accustomed to use, that there had been some mis- 
 take in the compounding of his decoction. The enraged Indians 
 
296 GENERAL WILLIAM HENRY HARRISON. 
 
 bound him, and threatened him with the death to which he had 
 condemned so many on the charge of w^itchcraft, but finally re- 
 leased him without inflicting any punishment. To prove their 
 good intentions towards the whites, however, they told many 
 long stories of what they were going to do to him ; there being 
 as much truth in their threats as in his pretensions to superna- 
 tural power. 
 
 But Tecumseh did not despair. His own immediate adherents 
 were dispersed among the various tribes, his headquarters had 
 been destroyed, and that sjiiritual influence which his brother 
 possessed was entirelj^gone ; but the tribes far and near acknowl- 
 edged his fitness to be a leader, and many of them were still wil- 
 ling to listen to his plans. He continued his work then, still hop- 
 ing to be chief of a confederacy great as that of the Seventeen 
 Fires. 
 
 The Indian depredations continuing to alarm the frontiers 
 through the spring of 1812, Gov. Harrison endeavored to induce 
 the friendly tribes to drive off the Prophet and other disaffected 
 Indians, but was for a while only partially successful. In June, 
 Tecumseh, angered by being refused ammunition at Fort Wavne, 
 went to Maiden, allying himself with the English who were then 
 in possession there, and who had, just before his arrival, heard of 
 the declaration of war between the two countries. Engaging 
 actively in the cause of the British, he sent the Projihct, who had 
 regained something of his brother's confidence, to Fort Wayne 
 to assure the agent that he was friendly to the Americans ; but 
 his hostility soon became well known by the part that he took in 
 more than one engagement, and about August of the same year 
 he was made a brigadier-general in the British army. 
 
 When, in September, 1812, Gov. Harrison received the military 
 appointment already mentioned, his main object was to recap- 
 ture the Michigan territory and its dependencies, which Gen. 
 Hull had allowed to fall into the hands of the British. In order 
 to do this, and secure communication with the United States, it 
 would be necessary for him first to take Maiden, and then to 
 driVe the Indians from the west bank of the Detroit. Having 
 done this, he would march upon Upper Canada and conquerthat. 
 But delays of reinforcements prevented his moving as rapidly as 
 possible, and he passed the winter in Fort Meigs, built for the 
 purpose. 
 
 Late in April of the following year (1813), a largo force of Brit- 
 
GENERAL WILLIAiM HENRY HARRISON. 297 
 
 ish and Indians, under the command of Gen. Proctor and Tecum- 
 seh, apj^cared before the fort and began to erect their batteries. 
 By order of Gen. Harrison, the American troops threw up a re- 
 doubt twelve feet high, behind which they retired, and against 
 which the ammunition of his majesty was wasted. The siege 
 continued eleven days, during which the Americans met with se- 
 vere loss on the part of a scouting troop ; but this was thought in- 
 sufficient success by the British commander, and he returned to 
 Maiden. The same officers returned to the siege two months 
 later, but again gave up the work. 
 
 Perry's victory on Lake Erie made the British general less ag- 
 gressive, and in Se^^tember he abandoned Maiden, intending to 
 make his way to the heart of Canada by the valley of the Thames. 
 Harrison having received all his expected reinforcements, fol- 
 lowed in hot pursuit, overtaking him on the fifth of October. At 
 every defeat that the English had suifered, the Indians had be- 
 come more and more dissatisfied, and at length began to hold 
 secret councils, of the proceedings in which they would tell Gen. 
 Proctor nothing. Tecumseh, especially, was jealous in the ex- 
 treme of his dignity, both as an Indian chief and as a British 
 general ; rarely speaking to English officers or agents in any but 
 the Shawnee tongue, although he knew English enough to carry 
 on any ordinary conversation. Nor would he brook what he con- 
 sidered an insult. At one time, while they were still at Maiden, 
 provisions became scarce, and while the English were supplied 
 with salt beef, the Indians were given horse-flesh. Tecumseh com- 
 plained to Gen. Proctor, who seemed indifterent to the remon- 
 strance. Touching first the hilt of the general's sword, then his 
 own tomahawk, he indicated a way of settling the difficulty, with 
 the words : " You are Proctor ; I am Tecumseh." 
 
 General Proctor gave orders that English and Indians should 
 have the same food. 
 
 As may be guessed, Tecumseh was a very difficult ally to man- 
 age. Constantly suspicious of the English, Gen. Proctor found 
 it necessary to deceive him as to the result of the naval battle, 
 and also as to the retreat from Maiden. Fearing his outspoken 
 disapproval, and dealing with him by a cringing and maneuver- 
 ing policy which the Indian readily saw for what it was, the Eng- 
 lishman only encouraged his ally to the greater insolence. "When 
 the general first made known to the chief his determination to 
 proceed up the Thames, Tecumseh retorted in a speech of which 
 
298 GENERAL WILLIAM HENRY HARRISON. 
 
 Proctor kept a copy, that others might realize the insults which 
 he was obliged to swallow. After telling how the .Indians had 
 waited for the English to give the signal for war, he spoke of the 
 uncertain information that had been given them in regard to the 
 naval battle. 
 
 ''You always told us," said he, with fierce emphasis, "that 
 you would never draw your foot off British ground j but now, 
 father, we see you are drawing back, and we are sorry that our 
 father does so without seeing the enemy. We must compare our 
 father's condiict to that of a fat dog that carries its tail upon its 
 back, but when affrighted it drops it between its legs and runs 
 off. Father, listen ! The Americans have not yet defeated us by 
 land ; neither are we sure that they have done so by water ; we 
 therefore wish to remain here and fight our enemy, should they 
 make their appearance. If they defeat us, we will then retreat 
 with our father." 
 
 The advice of Tecumseh was not regarded, and the haughty 
 chief, curling his lip with scorn, threatened to leave the English 
 service. Only the protests of the Sioux and Chippewas kept him 
 faithful to his allies. Sadly he said to a young Indian compan- 
 ion, as they began the retreat: 
 
 "We are now going to follow the British, and I feel well as- 
 sured that we shall never return. " 
 
 On his retreat up the Thames, Gen. Proctor promised Tecum- 
 seh to give battle, first at this place, then at that ; evading alwaj's 
 thie fulfillment of his promise until it was no longer possible. It 
 was only when arrived near the Moravian town, a village of con- 
 verted Delawares, that Tecumseh absolutely refused to retreat 
 any farther, and Gen. Proctor found he must j^repare for battle. 
 
 Here, protected on the one hand by the river, on the other by 
 a marsh, the English and Indians arranged themselves in order 
 of battle, awaiting the American forces. After his warriors were 
 posted, Tecumseh said to the chiefs who surrounded him : 
 
 " Brother warriors, we are now about to enter an engagement 
 from which I shall never come out — my body will remain on the 
 field of battle." 
 
 Unbuckling his sword, and handing it to one of them, he 
 charged him : 
 
 "AVhen my son becomes a noted warrior and able to wield a 
 sword, give this to him." 
 
 The American infantry charged and broke through the English 
 
GENERAL WILLIAM HENRY HARRISON. 
 
 290 
 
 line, throwing it into complete disordei', and working such des- 
 truction that the battle at this point was soon over. Col. John- 
 son's mounted battalion rode bravely upon the other wing, where 
 there were more than a thousand warriors under Tecumseh's com- 
 mand ; but the Indians remained motionless until they could see 
 the flints in the Americans' guns. Then Tecumseh sprang for- 
 ward, with the Shawnee war-whoop, and fired — the signal for the 
 fight. The advance guard of the American force was nearly all 
 cut down by the first fire, and Col. Johnson himself severely 
 wounded. For seven or eight minutes the battle raged fiercely, 
 
 
 ^v 
 
 ^'^''.- 
 
 7cy^ 
 
 K '' 
 
 
 lib- 
 
 >j;\M 'cAwi' 
 
 
 
 
 riF VTH OF TECUMbl-H 
 
 Tecumseh cheering his men onward. Over the prostrate body 
 of the American leader bent an Indian chief, ready with his 
 scalping-knife ; a pistol-shot and the savage fell dead. The Ameri- 
 cans did not recognize the tall form, clad simply in a buck-skin 
 suit, without any ornament but a medal, as that of their most 
 formidable Indian foe since the days of Pontiac; his warriors 
 knew only that he had fallen, by whose hand it little mattered, 
 and turning, fled to the surrounding marsh. 
 
 Greneral Harrison could not be praised enough for this victory, 
 won, as was Tippecanoe, by his skill as a general and courage as 
 a leader. Congress gave to him and to his assistant, the aged 
 
300 GENERAL WILLIAM HENRY HARRISON. 
 
 ex-Grov. Shelby of Kentucky, a vote of thanks; accompanying it 
 by a gold medal presented to each. The General's success and 
 popularity, however, aroused the jealousy of the Secretary of 
 War, who gave instructions to inferior officers without having 
 consulted the commander-in-chief, and by similar means showed 
 his prejudice against the hero of the west. General Harrison 
 would have been lacking in due self-respect had he been content 
 to retain his position under the circumstances, and he promptly 
 resigned. His resignation was tendered and accepted during 
 President Madison's absence from the Capital ; and the Chief 
 Executive, who greatly regretted that he had not known of the 
 difficulty, gave him a fresh token of his confidence by appointing 
 him, in the summer of 1814, one of the commissioners to treat 
 with the Indians at Greenville. Two years later, he was chosen 
 to represent Ohio in the national Congress, but had hardly taken 
 his seat when his conduct while in command of the northwestern 
 army was impugned. A committee of investigation was, by his 
 own request, appointed. Col. Johnson being the chairman. It is 
 hai'dly necessary to say that the result was a triumphant vindi- 
 cation of the patriotism and ability of the slandered soldier, who 
 had so illy deserved the aspersions. 
 
 It is not our purpose to follow every step of his future life ; 
 here his military career ends, and the remainder need be only 
 briefly outlined. A state senator of Ohio in 1819, five years later 
 he was chosen a presidential elector, casting his vote for Clay; 
 elected to the United States Senate in the following year, in 1828 
 he was appointed minister plenipotentiary to the United States 
 of Columbia, then in the confusion so common to the Spanish- 
 American countries. One of the first acts of Gen. Jackson's ad- 
 ministration was to recall him, and with a sturdy independence 
 he descended from the high offices that he had held, to accept the 
 position of clerk of the Hamilton county court. Brought forward 
 in 1836 as a candidate for the presidency, the opposition to Van 
 Buren was not united in support of any one candidate, and the 
 devoted follower of Jackson was elected. Four years later, the 
 Whigs had learned better, and the convention held at Harris- 
 burg, after three days' balloting, chose William Henry Harrison, 
 of Ohio, and John Tyler, of Virginia, as their candidates. 
 
 " Give Harrison a log-cabin and a barrel of hard cider, and he 
 will never leave Ohio to be President of the United States," said 
 one of his political enemies. 
 
GENERAL WILLIAM tIENRY HARRISON, 30l 
 
 The saying spread like wild-fire, and the log-cabin became the 
 insignia of the Whigs, as their war cry was : 
 
 " Tippecanoe and Tyler, too, 
 And with them we'll beat little Van." 
 
 Thus the memory of a victory achieved nearly thirty years be- 
 fore served to show the esteem in which he was still held b}' 
 the people; and the name of the Prophet's town was coupled 
 with the cry of " Victory !" in the fall. 
 
 The story draws rapidly to a close. For the first time in its 
 history, the country was called upon to mourn the loss of its 
 Chief Magistrate, a month after his inauguration. Grief was gen- 
 eral and wide-spread. " Never since the time of Washington," 
 said the National Intelligencer, " has one man so concentrated 
 upon himself the love and the confidence of the American peo- 
 ple." Unfortunately, even the child can remember the grief of 
 the nation on such an occasion j there is no need to expatiate up- 
 on it, nor is there need to say more of the character or services 
 of him, whom the people that he defended appropriately and 
 affectionately styled "Old Tippecanoe." 
 
CHAPTER XII. 
 
 COLONEL DAVID CEOCKETT. 
 
 EVEEY newspaper issued to-day chronicles the life of the na- 
 tion, as made up of innumerable individual lives ; but fifty 
 years ago each journal told of a few prominent individuals, leav- 
 ing to the reader the task of constructing a whole from these parts. 
 Hero v^^orship is dying out of the newspapers and the political 
 party ; it is no longer enthusiasm for a soldier or a statesman, 
 but the policy of the party, or, perhaps, the " machine," Avhich 
 controls elections. Such w^as not the case a half century ago ; 
 then it was personal prejudice that defeated a candidate, or per- 
 sonal preference that elected him. Such were the days of Col. 
 David Crockett, the earliest of American humorists, whose quaint 
 sayings were household words — or equally venerable newspaper 
 paragraphs — before Mark Twain was born. 
 
 John Crockett, the father of David, was born in Ireland or on 
 the passage to this country. He was a soldier in the American 
 army during the whole period of the Revolution. Either he was 
 married before the war began, or an opportune furlough enabled 
 him to woo and win Rebecca Hawkins, a native of Maryland; 
 for their fifth son, David, was born August 17, 1786. The fam- 
 ily had lived for a time in North Carolina, but had, at some 
 time before this date, moved to Greene County, as it is now 
 called, in East Tennessee. This was then a wild and partly set- 
 tled country, where the Indians gave considerable trouble. Short- 
 ly after the removal of the Crockett family, the Creeks murder- 
 ed John Crockett's parents, wounded one son, and carried into 
 captivity another. This captive uncle of our hero remained 
 among the Indians for nearly eighteen years ; the fact that he 
 was a deaf mute rendering it difficult for him to escaj)e. He was 
 finally recognized and purchased by two of his brothers. 
 
 Such was their poverty, and so far in the wilderness was their 
 home, that .John Crockett and his wife could not give their chil- 
 
COLONEL BAVIU CUOCKETT. 303 
 
 dreu any tuition iit school for a long-time ; to this lack of school- 
 ing is probably due that dislike and contempt of the most famous 
 of them for " this way of spelling contrary to nature." Each of 
 them probably acquired a goodly share of shrewd common sense 
 by the part which he was obliged to take in active life. 
 
 John Crockett seems to have been one of those unfortunate 
 men whose business ventures always fail. ''A rolling stone gath- 
 ers no moss," and in seven or eight years from the time of his 
 son David's birth, he had moved, changing his business with each 
 removal, no less than three times. The last time, he settled in 
 Jefferson County, and oj^ened a small tavern on the road between 
 Abingdon and Knoxville. The accommodations were of the 
 kind best appreciated by the wagoners who were continually go- 
 ing to and fro between these places. The tavern was on such a 
 small scale that David had almost entire charge of the horses 
 belonging to the guests; a task that at times was arduous, but 
 to which he soon looked back longingl}-. 
 
 There came to the little tavern one evening a Di<itchman, nam- 
 ed Jacob Siler, who said that he was moving from Knoxville to 
 Rockbridge, Virginia, about four hundred miles off. He wanted 
 some one to help him with the cattle that he had with him, and 
 John Crockett hired his twelve year old son to go with this stran- 
 ger that long distance on foot. David was very kindly treated 
 by his master, who professed himself very much pleased with the 
 services of his young assistant; but so strong was the boy's at- 
 tachment to his home that he never once lost sight of the idea of 
 returning. In order, however, that this hope might ever be re- 
 alized, he was obliged to conceal it. 
 
 After what seemed an age to the impatience of youth, but which 
 was really four or five weeks, he espied, while playing with some 
 companions near the road, three wagoners who had often stop- 
 ped at his father's tavern. He told them his pitiful tale of home- 
 sickness, and they said that they would stop at a tavern seven 
 miles from there that night, and leave at dawn the next morn- 
 ing ; that if he would be at that place before day, they would 
 take him along with them, and defend him if his master pur- 
 sued. Between his anxiety to be at home, and his dread of 
 pursuit, the boy slept but little, and arose three hours before day- 
 break. When he started, the snow was about eight inches deep, 
 and still falling ; no moon shone, and an opening through the 
 timber was the only road. Cheered by the thought that it was 
 
304 COLONEL DAVID CROCKETT. 
 
 the way home, and anxious lest he should hctoo late to overtake 
 the wagoners, the little hero j)lodded on, the snow, in the latter 
 part of his journey, being up to his knees; and arrived about an 
 hour before day-light. He was at first fearful of pursuit, but 
 the drifting snow had obliterated all truce of his foot-prints. 
 
 He journeyed on in company with the wagoners, until they 
 reached a house on Eoanoke, where he left them, intending to 
 pursue the rest of the way on foot, as he would thus arrive at 
 home much sooner. Meeting with a strange gentleman who in- 
 vited him to ride upon a led horse, he accejited the offer, and they 
 continued together until they reached a point fifteen miles 
 from the little tavern, where the road diverged. Although the 
 name of this stranger did not linger long in the boy's memory, 
 the kindness was never forgotten, but was mentioned nearly fifty 
 years after with gratitude. 
 
 He lived at home until the next fall, when his father sent the 
 boys to a school recently opened in the neighborhood by a cer- 
 tain Benjamin Kitchen. But his attendance here was not of long 
 duration. Having had, on the fourth day, a falling out with one 
 of the larger boys, David, who was just getting a good grip on 
 the alphabet, slipped out while the more advanced pupils were 
 spelling, and hid himself in the bushes by the roadside. As soon 
 as school was over, and the other boy came along the road, young 
 Crockett sprang upon him like a wild-cat, and soon made him cry 
 for quarter. But the victor felt himself not invincible bj^ the super- 
 ior strength of the schoolmaster, and decided to forego learning 
 for a time. This was a resolution not to be announced at home, 
 however; so, having persuaded his brothers to keep his secret, 
 they, as usual, left the house together the next morning, as if all 
 were going to school ; but David left them as soon as they were 
 out of sight of the house, and spending the day in the woods, re- 
 turned with them in the afternoon. 
 
 For a few days the plan worked admirably, but soon the school- 
 master sent a note of inquiry to David's parents. The father had 
 been drinking just enough to make him cross. In answer to his 
 questions the boy told the whole story, saying that he knew that 
 "Kitchen would cook him up to a cracklin' in no time." He was 
 soon aware, however, that he would not meet with any support 
 at home, for his father said : 
 
 "I'll whip 5'ou a 'tarnal sight worse'n the master if you don't 
 start off to school right now." 
 
COLONEL DAVID CROCKETT. 305 
 
 The boy tried hard to beg off, but vainly. Seeing his father 
 cut a stout hickory, he judged it was about time to put a little 
 greater distance between them; off he ran, not towards the school- 
 house, chased hotly by the irate old man; but he succeeded in 
 giving the slip to the hickory rod, and did not return home for 
 nearly three j'ears. Often, he says, did he wish to be at home 
 again, but the dread of Schoolmaster Kitchen and his father's big 
 hickory kept him away. Going back, he was not recognized for 
 some time, nor did he make himself known. Tliey had given him 
 up as dead, and when his sister, startled by some familiar gesture 
 or smile, proclaimed that the lost was found, such was the joy of 
 all that he would rather have submitted to a hundred whippings 
 than have remained away longer. 
 
 The whole of the ensuing year was spent in working out two 
 debts of his father's, the entire sum being seventy-six dollars. 
 The second term of this service was with an honest old Quaker, 
 John Kennedy, for whom he continued to work after the expira- 
 tion of the fixed time, in order to provide himself with clothes. 
 During this service, a pretty niece of the old Quaker's came to 
 visit him, and young Crockett fell violently in love. The warmth 
 of his affection was equalled only by his bashfulness, but at last 
 he "screwed his courage to the stlcking-place," and, with the 
 usual threats of dying of grief if his love were not returned, he 
 laid bare his heart to the lady. It w-as in vain, however, for she 
 told him that she was engaged to her cousin, young Kennedy, 
 and Davy reconsidered the idea of going into a decline, deciding 
 that, as his troubles probably came from the lack of learning, he 
 had better go to school. 
 
 For six months, then, he attended a school kept by John Ken- 
 nedy's married son, working two days in the w^eek to jiay for his 
 tuition the other four, and for his board. Having learned to read 
 a little in the primer, to write his own name, and gotten as far as 
 the multiplication table, he decided that he could not possibly do 
 without a wife any longer, and quitting school, immediately set 
 about providing himself. An old playmate was his choice, and 
 after some evasion and delay, she accepted his offer, and a day 
 was set for the wedding, the bridegroom-elect being about eigh- 
 teen. 
 
 He had purchased a rifle, and was frequently a competitor in 
 the shooting-matches for beef. One Saturday he set out to one of 
 these gatherings, intending to go on towards the lady's home af- 
 20 
 
306 
 
 COLONEL DAVID CROCKETT. 
 
 terwards. In fact, he had some important business there, as they 
 were to be married the next Saturday, and he had not yet aslced 
 the consent of her parents. Of his success in this direction, how- 
 ever, he had not the slightest doubt, and his good opinion of him- 
 self was not lessened by the fact that he won nearly the whole 
 beef by liis skill with the rifle. Disposing of his prize for five 
 dollars, he walked onward, stopping on the way at the house of 
 his sweetheart's uncle. Here he found her sister, who, with con- 
 siderable regret, told him that he was being deceived ; that his 
 
 promised bride would niarrj- 
 some one else the next day; 
 but that, although the success- 
 ful rival had asked for the lady 
 and had secured the license, 
 her parents, she knew, would 
 much prefer David, and if he 
 would only go onward to her 
 father's house, he might yet 
 break off the match. David de- 
 clined to do so, however, not 
 wishing, perhaps, to force him- 
 self upon her. 
 
 Once again he was disconso- 
 late, and might have remained 
 so a longer time, if a girl whom 
 he describes as so ugly that 
 it hurt one's eyes to look at 
 her had not taken pity on him, 
 and introduced him at a reap- 
 ing to a pretty little Irish girl, with whom, of course, he was 
 soon in love as deeply as ever. 'To make a long story short, 
 they were married, in sjjite of the opposition of her mother. 
 Finding that no one else objected, the mother-in-law at last re- 
 lented, and gave them two cows and calves towards settling in 
 life J they rented a cabin and a little ground; John Kennedy 
 gave them an order on a store for fifteen dollars' worth of 
 household goods j "Adam delved and Eve spun," and by dint of 
 hard work they made a living for themselves and the two sons 
 born to them soon. But renting ground was poor policy 3 so in 
 1809 they removed across the mountains to Lincoln county, 
 where game was still plontifnl, and where he laid the foundation 
 
 L»V\ID CROCKETT 
 
COLONEL DAVID CROCKETT. 307 
 
 of his fame as a hunter. After a two years' residence here, they 
 moved again, this time to Franklin County. 
 
 In 1813, the Creek Indians, living in Alabama and Georgia, 
 being incited to hostilities by the British and Spanish, surprised 
 Port Mimms, forty miles north of Mobile, and massacred the 
 garrison, numbering about three hundred persons. There was 
 no mistaking the meaning of this ; the Creeks felt themselves 
 strong enough to drive the whites out of the country. A call for 
 volunteers speedily followed, and the hunter felt the wild passion 
 that leads a man to the field of battle raging in his breast. His 
 wife would have persuaded him to remain with her and their 
 boys, but he answered : 
 
 " If every man waits until his wife tells him to go to war, we 
 will all stay here and be murdered in our own homes." 
 
 To this argument she had no reply, and when the muster was 
 held at Winchester a few days later, her husband was the second 
 or third man who stepped forward to enlist. Thirteen hundred 
 mounted volunteers joined Gen. Jackson's command, being en- 
 rolled for sixty days. At the end of two months, however, the 
 war was by no means over, and many of them re-enlisted. Crock- 
 ett distinguished himself, not only as a scout and a spy, but as a 
 brave man in open battle. His skill in hunting proved of mat- 
 erial assistance to his comrades, for open-hearted as he was, when 
 he had anything to share, no one around him lacked. 
 
 Shortly after, he met with the misfortune of the death of his 
 wife. Left with three children, the youngest a mere baby, he at 
 first committed them to the care of his brother's wife; but how- 
 ever good, it was not a mother's, and he undertook to supply the 
 deficiency in another way. A widow of one of his comrades 
 lived near b}', and to her he suggested a union of their two fami- 
 lies. Her two children were as small as his, and each seems to 
 have adopted the other's quite cheerfully. 
 
 The succeeding years were filled with events of comparatively 
 slight importance. Crockett continued to increase in popularity, 
 the elements of which lay in his readiness to share with all com- 
 ers, his perpetual good humor, his fund of anecdote, and, when 
 this failed him, his capacity for ready invention ; above all, by 
 his instant recognition of the merest chance acquaintance. There 
 is nothing which gives a man so favorable an impression of an- 
 other as that ability of the other to call him by name without 
 hesitation. We are well-disposed towards those whom we imj)ress. 
 
308 COLONEL DAVID CROCKETT. 
 
 Removing to Laurens county, he found there a most primitive 
 state of society. Thinking that some sort of restraint would be 
 necessary, the men of the community met to elect magistrates 
 and constables. The election took place in due form, Crockett 
 being made magistrate; but they omitted the making of laws, 
 leaving that entirely to the discretion of their chosen officials. 
 The law as thus administered was somewhat informal, as may be 
 imagined. Justice Crockett's warrants were in what he called 
 "verbal writing j" that is, he would say to his constable, when any 
 one was noted as an offender: 
 
 " Catch that fellow and bring him here." 
 
 Justice and constable considered this sufficient; and it is to be 
 supposed that the criminal did, too, for he usually allowed him- 
 self to be brought. The Assembly added their settlement to those 
 in Giles county, and decreed thatthe justices must make outtheir 
 warrants in " real writing," and keep written records. These 
 were hard lines to one who could hardly write his OAvn name, but 
 by dint of perseverance he succeeded in learning to write 
 more easily, and to keep his records without much difficulty. 
 Then, too, he was ably seconded by his consta"ble, whom he em- 
 powered to fill out warrants when he thought it necessary, with- 
 out reference to his chief. But the judgments he delivered were 
 never appealed from, for all the irregularity that there may have 
 been in getting at them ; since they were formed on common- 
 sense, justice and honesty. 
 
 One honor led to another, for so did his office of magistrate 
 raise him in his own opinion, that he was a willing candidate for 
 their positions. A short time before a certain military election, 
 he was urged by a Capt. Matthews to run for major of a regiment ; 
 he at first refused, saying that he had had enough of military 
 life; but so strong became the persuasions of Matthews, who said 
 that he intended to offer for colonel, and would do everything in 
 his power to advance his friend, that Crockett yielded. Finding, 
 however, that in spite of these protestations of friendship and of- 
 fers of assistance, Matthews' son intended to run for the j^ost of 
 major, our hero's usual good nature failed him, and thinking that, 
 if he had to contend with the family, it might as well be with the 
 head of it, he concluded that he would prefer to be colonel. "When 
 the election was over, he had the satisfaction of finding that both 
 of the Matthews were badly beaten, and he was Colonel Crockett. 
 
 At the next election he became a candidate for the State Leg- 
 
COLONEL DAVID CROCKETT. 
 
 309 
 
 islature. Electioneering w.is a new business to him, and he felt 
 somewhat doubtful as to his success, knowing but little, if any- 
 thing, about "government." Like many another man, though, 
 while not claiming to know more than ho did, he did not tell ex- 
 actly how much ho did not know; the result was that nobody 
 thought anything about it, being satisfied that a man who could 
 
 CROCKETT ON THE STUMP. 
 
 make such entertaining speeches, tell such capital stories, and 
 then lead the way to a neighboring bar, was the man to represent 
 them. But Col. Crockett was not satisfied with himself j he was 
 anxious to know as much about government as any other repre- 
 sentative of the people. Arrived at the capital and duly recog- 
 nized, he found his brother legislators continually introducing 
 bills, and became possessed with the idea that he must do the 
 same. A friend drafted one for him, and he arose and confidently 
 
310 COLONEL DAVID CROCKETT. 
 
 presented it to the consideration of the house. A member who 
 opposed it alluded to Col. Crockett in a disparaging way ; but if 
 ever a man regretted lack of courtesy towards an opponent, this 
 one did ; for thus called upon to answer, the mighty hunter pour- 
 ed forth such a flood of backwoods eloquence that the whole as- 
 sembly roared with laughter; he ended by comparing this op- 
 ponent to " an old coon dog barking up the wrong tree." 
 
 Before his election, he had built a large grist-mill, with pow- 
 der-mill and distillery near by; the buildings for these three 
 purposes costing about three thousand dollars. This was more 
 than he had, but he trusted to the profits of his business to ena- 
 ble him to pay off the debt thus contracted. During his absence 
 at the capital, however, a freshet swept away the buildings, and 
 he was ruined. On his return, his wife, much to his pleasure, said 
 to him : 
 
 ''Just pay up, as long as you have a bit's worth in the world; 
 then everybody will be satisfied and we will scuflie for more." 
 
 Taking this advice, he disposed of the negroes that he owned, 
 and everything else available for the purj^ose, and prepared to 
 go still farther west. His new location was near or in that part 
 of the country known as the " Shakes," from the frequent, though 
 light shocks felt there after the New Madrid earthquake of 1812. 
 He was accompanied only by his eldest son, still a boy, and a 
 young man. Building a cabin and clearing a small space, he put 
 in a crop of corn, and while it was growing indulged in his fav- 
 orite sport of hunting. ''Betsy," as he called his old, roughly- 
 fashioned rifle, was the companion of many a long da}^ spent in 
 the woods; Betsy never told him a lie, but always sent a ball 
 just where he told her ; Betsy killed six deer in one daj^n that 
 game abounding country; and during that spring as many as ten 
 bears fell before her. A called session of the Legislature sum- 
 moned him soon after he got in his crop, and on his return he 
 brought his family to his new home. The latter part of October, 
 1822, saw the little family, with two heavily laden j)ack-horses, 
 traveling yet farther into the " far West;" in front of this little 
 party, humming a song, walked a cheerful, light-hearted woods- 
 man, carrying a child on one arm and a rifle with the other, and 
 followed by half a dozen dogs. 
 
 For two months things went on well at that little cabin in the 
 woods, seven miles from the nearest house, and fifteen miles from 
 the next nearest neighbor. "Betsy" kept them supplied with an 
 
COLONEL DAVID CROCK KTT. 311 
 
 abundance of meat; but at last, near Christmas, there was dan- 
 ger of starvation, for the stock of powder gave out. ISTot only 
 did it mean no more game, but no Christmas guns could be fired. 
 Col. Crockett knew that a keg of powder had been left at his 
 brother-in-law's house for him, on the opposite side of a str^iam 
 called Eutherford's Fork, and determined to get it. Unusually 
 heavy rains had swollen the little river so that it was about a 
 mile wide, stretching from hill to hill. There were no bridges, 
 and either he had no boat, or it could not be used in the long 
 stretch of shallow water. He " learned then," to use his own 
 words, " how mtich anybody could sufl'or and not die." Walking 
 for about a quarter of a mile through snow four inches deep, he 
 came to that vast expanse of water. Through this he waded and 
 swam, holding aloft on his gun the bundle of dry clothes. So 
 cold was he when he emerged, that, trying to run, in order to get 
 warm, he found it impossible to move his foot its own length. 
 But, as he records, ho got the powder, though he was obliged to 
 stay three or four days on the other side of the river, and cross- 
 ing on the ice, broke through more than once. Undaunted by 
 what he had undergone, as he neared the home side of the stream 
 he saw what he thought was a bear's trail, and determined to 
 follow u]) his favorite game. The animal had evidently broken 
 through the ice, and, disgusted with the cold bath, returned to 
 land. Following the trail, it led him to his own door, and 2:)roved 
 to be that of a young man sent by his wife to search for him ; her 
 intense anxiety telling her that he must have been drowned or 
 frozen. 
 
 A heavy rain that night, turning to sleet, was followed in the 
 morning by the " southerly wind and a cloudy sky" so favorable 
 for hunting, and Crockett, his brother-in-law, and the young man 
 living with him, started out. Before long they separated, he pre- 
 ferring to look for larger game than they. Two wild turkeys 
 were killed early in the day by ''Betsy," and with these on his 
 shoulder the hunter continued his search for bears. The dogs 
 soon gave the alarm, but on looking up the tree where they were 
 barking he came to the conclusion that it was a turkey which had 
 flown away. The false alarm was given several times, and he 
 had about made up his mind to shoot the hound that was fore- 
 most, when he saw a bear of extraordinary size. So large was 
 he that the dogs w^ere afraid to attack him, and when they had 
 seemed to be barking up the wrong tree, had only been enticing 
 
312 
 
 COLONEL DAVID CROCKETT. 
 
 their master onwards. So dark had it grown, that he was hard- 
 ly able to see the animal, or there would have been less difficul- 
 ty in despatching it; but after a severe encounter, in which he 
 stabbed the bear again and again, and his own clothes were torn 
 and' covered with blood, the huge, clumsy animal lay dead. 
 
 Having on hand a number of skins, he set out, in company with 
 his eldest son, who seems to have been a favorite companion, to- 
 wards a town forty miles away, to trade for groceries. Here he 
 met with some of his old acquaintances of political life, who urged 
 
 CROCKETTS FIGHT WITH A liKAR. 
 
 him to become again a candidate for his old office from this new 
 district; but he refused positively to do so. 
 
 "I live down in the cane," he said, "forty miles from town, 
 and nobody knows me in this district as they did in the other." 
 
 He thought this was decisive, but it seems that his old comrades 
 thought otherwise. About a week afterwards, a passing traveler 
 stopped at the cabin in the cane, and showed the family there a 
 newspaper in which Col. David Crockett was announced as a can- 
 didate for the Legislature. It was a clear case of the office seek- 
 ing the man, but the man was at first disposed to regard it as a 
 joke that was being played on him. Our hero was never loath 
 
COLONEL DAVID CROCKETT. 813 
 
 to enter into any fun, and soon determined to have the best of it. 
 Hiring a young man to work on his farm, he started out elec- 
 tioneering, and the district soon rang with the praises of the 
 great bear-hunter, the man from the cane. There had been three 
 candidates in the field, but Crockett made things so hot that in 
 March they held a caucus to decide which should remain in the 
 lists. The strength of the three was concentrated on Dr. Butler, 
 a nephew by marriage of the great Tennesseean, G-en. Jackson. 
 Meeting this gentleman at one of the large gatherings, Crockett 
 hailed him with : 
 
 ''Well, doctor, I suppose the}' have weighed you out to me ; but 
 I should like to know why they fixed your election for March in- 
 stead of August. This is a branfire new way of doing business, if 
 a caucus is to make a representative for the people." 
 
 Thinking to poke fun at Crockett, he answered : "Where did 
 you spring from, Colonel ?" 
 
 " O, I've just crept out from the cane, to see what discoveries I 
 could make among the white people. You think you have greatly 
 the advantage of me ; it's true I live forty miles from any settle- 
 ment; I am very poor, and you are very rich ; you see, it takes 
 two coon-skins here to buy a quart, but I've good dogs, and my 
 little boys at home will go their death to support my election; 
 they are mighty industrious ; they hunt every night until twelve 
 o'clock, but it keeps the little fellows mighty busy to keep me in 
 whiskey. When they get tired, I takes my rifle and goes out 
 and kills a wolf, and the state pays me three dollars for the scalp ; 
 so one way or another I keep knocking along." 
 
 "Well, Colonel," rejoined Dr. Butler, "T see you can beat me 
 electioneering." 
 
 "You don't call this electioneering, do you? When you see 
 me electioneering I go fixed for it: I've got a hunting shirt with 
 two pockets in it that will hold half a peck apiece; and I puts 
 a bottle in one, and a big plug in the other, for I never like to 
 leave a man worse off 'n I found him. When I meets a friend, I 
 gives him a pull at the bottle; he'll be mighty apt, before he 
 drinks, to throw away his tobacco; so when he's done, I pulls 
 out my big twist and gives him a chaw. Then he ain't likely to 
 find fault, as he would if he'd a lost his tobacco; and I'll be 
 might}^ apt to get his vote, I reckon." 
 
 But this entire absence of pretense, this blunt acknowledgment 
 of bluntness, was the most successful kind of electioneering. The 
 
314 COLONEL DAVID CROCKETT. 
 
 crowd was in a roar of laughter at the discomfiture of the elo- 
 quent gentleman, and the rough humor of the backwoodsman. 
 Nor did their admiration at all diminish ; it carried him safely- 
 through the election, his majority over all three candidates (two 
 others had come out between March and August) being nearly 
 two hundred and fifty. 
 
 He served this time in the Legislature for two years, 1823 and 
 1824. In the earlier part of his term, his independence of party 
 trammels and soldiers' prejudices was manifested by his vote for 
 U. S. Senator, when the candidates were Senator Miller and Gen. 
 Jackson. Mr. Miller had served the state well, and even the en- 
 thusiasm of a soldier for his old commander, of a Tennessoean 
 for Andrew Jackson, could not make David Crockett vote against 
 one whom he knew to be well qualified. But while this course 
 preserved his self-respect, it lost him many friends, and may have 
 assisted, two years later, to cause his political defeat. But ten 
 years afterwards he would not acknowledge himself in the wrong. 
 
 The defeat mentioned was in this way : urged to run for Cong- 
 ress, he at first refused, but was afterwards induced to consent. 
 The representative at that time was the opposing candidate, and 
 by reason of a factitious popularity.arising from the increase 
 in the price of cotton and his vote on the tariff question, succeed- 
 ed in beating the " gentlemen from the cane" by two votes. Many 
 persons believed that the election had not been fairly conducted; 
 the action of one officer, at least, in charge of a ballot-box, giving 
 room for suspicion; but so far was Col. Crockett fi*om wishing to 
 contest the election, that he said to some friends who represent- 
 ed that he would probably secure the seat in that way : *'If it is 
 not the wish of the people, clearly expressed, I don't want to serve 
 them." 
 
 Back to his farm, then, he went, and occupied his time in work- 
 ing there, and in. his favorite pursuit of bear hunting. In the fall 
 of 1825, he concluded to build two large boats and load them with 
 pipe-staves for market, but met with characteristic interruptions. 
 Working steadily on until the bears got fat, he started out on a 
 hunting tour, in order to supply his family with meat for the 
 winter. Hardly has this been salted down, and the hunter set- 
 tled to boat-building again, when a neighbor, living some twenty- 
 five miles away, came to ask him to go bear-hunting in that part 
 of the country. As may be imagined, Crockett readily consent- 
 ed, and they set out together. During an absence of two weeks. 
 
COLONEL DAVID CROCKETT. 315 
 
 « 
 
 they killed fifteen bears, thus supplying the neighbor's family 
 with their winter meat. Nor was this the only hunt undertaken 
 for others. Eetui-ning home, he worked for a while on the boats, 
 and in getting staves, but before many days longed for the com- 
 panionship of Betsy. Starting out with his little son, the first 
 day they disposed of eight bears. While the two were looking 
 for water and a good place to camp, they came upon a poor fel- 
 low who was grubbing, as it turned out, for another man, in or- 
 der to earn meat for his family. Crockett, knowing what hard 
 and poorly paid work this was, induced the man to accompany 
 him on his hunt, and assist in salting down the flesh of the ani- 
 mals that they should kill. During the week they killed seven- 
 teen bears, the grubber being enriched with over a thousand 
 pounds of excellent meat. Hardly had Crockett returned home, 
 when he started out again to hunt with a neighbor. Such an invi- 
 tation was never refused, whatever reasons there may have been 
 for remaining at home; his love of the sport and his obliging 
 good nature rendered it impossible to say no, when any man said : 
 " Come and hunt bears for me." 
 
 But hunting was over for the season, and Crockett was free to 
 attend to his business. Having about thirty thousand staves and 
 two good boats, he engaged a crew, and set off to New Orleans. 
 When they got upon the Mississippi, and found that the pilot was 
 wholly ignorant of the treacherous stream, all were considerably 
 alarmed ; the brave hunter, according to his own candid confes- 
 sion, believing himself a little worse scared than anybody else. 
 Lashiiig the boats together for greater safet}^, they only made 
 matters worse by rendering them uiimanageable, and were oblig- 
 ed to let the current carry them whither it would. Then it was 
 that the superior safety and pleasure of bear-hunting became more 
 apparent to him who had never doubted. Sitting in the little 
 cabin of the hinder boat ( for since they were lashed together 
 they went broad-side down the stream) he heard great confusion 
 among the crew. The current had carried the two boats against 
 an island, Avhere great quantities of driftwood had lodged, and the 
 next thing would be the submergence of* the upper boat. This 
 was already turned so that it was impossible to get out at the 
 hatchway, and the only other means of exit, a hole at the side, 
 was very small. The efforts of the crew to rescue their com- 
 mander were successful, however, and he was pulled through this 
 hole; although his shirt was torn from him, and his body very 
 
816 
 
 COLONEL DAVID CROCKETT. 
 
 much abraded. Hardly had he touched the other boat when that 
 from which he had just escaped was drawn under the seething 
 mass of yellow water. All night they were on that raft of drift- 
 wood, four of them bare-headed, three of them bare-footed, our 
 hero being one of these last. So great was Ms sense of gratitude 
 
 '^'^^^^^^^%^^ V 
 
 SHIPWRKCKEIi ON THE KIVKK. 
 
 for life, however, his relief at the escape from the immediate dan- 
 ger, that he almost forgot the discomforts of his position, and 
 " felt prime." 
 
 Early in the morning they hailed a passing boat, which sent a 
 skiff to their relief. On this boat they returned to Memphis, 
 where a friend in need provided them with clothes and money 
 for the rest of their journey. Having lost his boats and their 
 lading, all his clothes but those that he wore, and nearly lost his 
 life, Crockett arrived at home, thoroughly disgusted with boat- 
 ing, and gave himself up to electioneering, as another represen- 
 tative in the national councils was to be chosen the next August. 
 
 There were three principal candidates in the district where 
 our interest centers ; one being Col. Alexander, and another, Gen- 
 eral Arnold. These two gentlemen seemed to regard themselves 
 
COLONEL DAVID CROCKETT. 317 
 
 as the only imj^ortant candidates, replying to each other's cam- 
 paign speeclies at considerable length, and thinking beneath 
 their notice the third man, the bear-hunter. But the people knew 
 that as surely as the muddy Mississippi's alluvial deposits enrich- 
 ed their land, this untaught son of the backwoods was the best 
 man to protect their interests, and by an overwhelming majority 
 at the polls rebuked the conceit of his more polished competitors. 
 
 His fame as a humorist had jDreceded him, and if an anonymous 
 biographer, writing about 1832, is to be believed, hotel-keepers 
 and transportation companies considered him such an attraction 
 that each was anxious to secure his patronage. But although his 
 ready hiimor was the foundation of his fame, his time at the na- 
 tional capitol was not spent idly. Faithful, hard work for his 
 constituents was his idea of his duty, and he endeavored to carry 
 it out. The details would be of interest only to the historian of 
 that section of Tennessee at that particular period ; but the gene- 
 ral fact is of importance to his biographer. His efforts were 
 chiefly directed to those internal improvements which he knew 
 were so much needed in his district, and it was a great disap- 
 l^ointment to find that Gen. Jackson was not in sympathy with 
 him. Coming from his backwoods cabin in Tennessee to be a 
 courted guest in Washington society, where the originality of his 
 character was fully api^reciated, received at the White House by 
 the Chief Executive, the su.dden change did not dazzle him. Close 
 observation of others taught him the manners of those in his new 
 position, and the graces of the society gentleman sat easily upon 
 the bear hunter. Still, through all, the fact was apparent that 
 this polish intensified the luster of atrue jewel, instead of giving 
 false value to a pebble. '' A man's a inan for a' that," and 
 he defended the manhood in him by opposing his old commander 
 whom he thought in the wrong. This was highly resented by 
 his constituents, and many politicians and newspapers devoted to 
 Jackson so exaggerated his defection that at the next election he 
 was defeated by a small majority. 
 
 He had served two consecutive terms in Congress, returning 
 to the plow after each session as calmly as ever did Cincinnatus 
 or our own Washington j and when the verdict of the people was 
 made known to him after his election in 1830, he coolly accepted 
 the situation, and went on with his work. Every effort had been 
 made by Jackson's worshipers to secure his defeat at this time, 
 but success did not satisfy them. Gerrymandering secured such 
 
318 COLONEL DAVID CROCKETT. 
 
 a division of his old district at the next session of the Legislature 
 that it seemed to them that the next election would give them an 
 easy victory ; but they reckoned without their host. Their pre- 
 vious success had been partly due to their practice of making ap- 
 pointments for Crockett to speak, and carefully keeping it from 
 him; at the time set, his opponents would rise and say to the 
 crowd that had assembled, that he had refused to speak, being 
 afraid of the result. He only heard of their pursuing this course 
 when it was too late to counteract it, and the result was his de- 
 feat. Before the next election, however, the minds of men were 
 calmer, and ready to listen to both sides of the question ; and 
 the result was an easy victory for Crockett, 
 
 He had not been long in Washington after the beginning of his 
 third term when his physician advised him to take a pleasure- 
 trip for the benefit of his health. So well had he been pleased 
 with his brother members from the northern part of the country 
 that he determined to see them in their homes. Baltimore was 
 visited on his journey northward, the strange sight of a railway 
 train here meeting his eyes for the first time. Approaching Phil- 
 adelphia by water, he was on deck when three flags were run up. 
 He enquired the meaning. 
 
 " O," said the captain, " I'd jiromised some friends to let them 
 know if you were on board." 
 
 To the man who, on reaching Baltimore, had recognized a 
 great city as a place where any one would be made to feel his 
 own unimportance, this was a revelation. The idea that any one 
 should care about his coming to this strange place was astonish- 
 ing. As the boat neared the shore, he saw one vast " sea of up- 
 turned faces /' a gesture from the captain pointed out to them the 
 lion of the day and a rousing cheer for Davy Crockett saluted 
 his ears. 
 
 "Give us the hand of an honest man," cried the people, crowd- 
 ing around him as he stepped on shore. But this recognition was 
 not all that awaited him. The most cordial hosjiitality of the 
 Quaker City was extended to him by her most honored sons. The 
 anti-Jackson man from Tennessee was hailed with delight by the 
 Whigs of the North, who greeted his defection from his party as 
 an evidence of that party's weakness. Sj)eech after speech from 
 him was demanded by the crowd wherever he went, and although 
 he often tried to escape their importunity, his good-nature al- 
 ways yielded. Some gentlemen presented him with a seal val- 
 
COLONEL DAVID CROCKETT. 319 
 
 lied at forty dollars; the device being two race-horses, evidently 
 at the top of their speed, and the motto that to which our hero 
 had clung, whether bear-hunting or law-making, whether cling- 
 ing, half-naked, through the winter night, to a raft of driftwood 
 in the Mississippi, or sitting, an honored guest, at the President's 
 table : " Go ahead." Tradition has it, that w^hen a suitor of his 
 daughter approached him by letter, about this time, he replied : 
 
 " Dear. Sir : I have received your letter. Go ahead. 
 
 David Crockett." 
 
 Whether this were known at the time or not, the motto was 
 generally recognized as suited to the man, and the seal was cop- 
 ied by many of his fellow Congressmen. A club of young Whigs, 
 desiring to present him with a handsome rifle, secured from him 
 directions as to the size and kind that he preferred, and the or- 
 der was given to the manufacturer. Dinners were tendered him 
 in abundance, and everywhere the greatest eagerness to entertain 
 him prevailed. In New York the same flattering reception 
 awaited him, and Boston did not lag behind her sister cities. An 
 invitation to visit Harvard, however, he flatly refused to accept. 
 The authorities of that institution had recently conferred upon 
 President Jackson the title of doctor of laws ; Crockett claimed 
 to i^ossess no degree and to wish for none "■ but a slight degree of 
 common-sense;" one such doctor was enough for the state; the 
 people of his district interpreted LL. D. as "lazy, lounging 
 dunce;" and he had no mind to run the risk of going to Cambridge, 
 although he would spell with any of them as far as " crucifix," 
 where he had left off" at school. 
 
 Eeturning to Washington, he served the remainder of his term, 
 and started home in good spirits with the handsome rifle which 
 had been presented to him. His course was rather a round-about 
 one, as he took Philadelphia, Pittsburgh and Louisville on the 
 way, but he was none the less glad to get home to his little cab- 
 in in the cane — his own home, his own land, his own beloved 
 ones. Here he lived, until the congressional campaign of 1835 
 opened, when he again took the field against a Jackson man. 
 This was Adam Huntsman, a crippled soldier, whose services were 
 made much of to the voters of the district. This nomination was 
 secured by a practical joke, which illustrates the ready wit of 
 the great hunter. 
 
 Strolling up to a political meeting one day, with his rifle on 
 his shoulder, Crockett was soon addressing the crowd. The free 
 
320 COLONEL DAVID CROCKETT. 
 
 and independent voters lost no time in informing him that lis- 
 tening to speeches was dry work, and that there was plenty of 
 liquor in a shanty near by. This had been built by a Yankee, 
 and stocked for that special occasion. So experienced a canvass- 
 er as Crockett took the hint immediately, and leading the wa}^ 
 to Job Snelling's bar, called for a quart; that worthy called his 
 attention to a sign : " Pay to-day, trust to-morrow," and refused 
 to fill the order without the money. This Crockett did not have, 
 and the crowd that had gathered around him rapidly dispersed 
 to seek his better provided rival. But although he was without 
 money, he had no difficulty in finding a ready substitute. Plung- 
 ing into the woods, he had the good fortune to see, in a very 
 short time, a fine fat coon. A Avell-aimed shot secured the prize, 
 and back to the crowd he went. A coon-skin is not money, but 
 was then and there recognized as the equivalent of a quart of 
 rtim, so that when Crockett threw it ujion the rough counter, 
 Snclling, without any hesitation, set out a bottle. This was soon 
 disposed of, and the crowd listened to the speaker. They soon 
 became clamorous for more liquor, however, and Davy, reflect- 
 ing how long his speech must last if he had to go and kill a coon 
 so often, led the way to the bar. His quick eye and ready wit 
 found him a way out of the difficulty; Snelling had thrown the 
 coon skin under the counter, and Crockett, drawing it thence by 
 the tail, which protruded beyond the logs, gravely presented it 
 in payment for a second quart. Job was not at all popular in that 
 country, as he was always on the alert to make money off the peo- 
 ple, and this they did not relish ; so, though the trick was seen by 
 many, no one betrayed the joker. The story circulated through 
 the assembly, and made the liquor all the better. Again and 
 again did they drink, the same coon-skin serving for payment, 
 until, at the close of the day, ten quarts of rum had been con- 
 sumed. The story went the rounds of the district, and the people 
 concluded that a man sharp enough to trick Job Snelling was a 
 better man to look after their interests than any war-worn vet- 
 eran that over lost a leg. After the election, Crockett went pri- 
 vately to Snelling and offered him the price of the rum. 
 
 ''"Wal, neow, Colonel," responded that honest individual, "I 
 guess I won't take your money. You see, I like to be tricked 
 once in a while; it keeps me from gittin' to think I'm tew all-fir- 
 ed smart." 
 
 He had charged the nine quarts to the other candidate, who 
 
COLONEL PAVID CROCKETT. 321 
 
 paid the bill, not knowing exactly how much might have been 
 drunk at his expense. 
 
 Contrary to all expectation, however, Crockett was beaten by 
 over two hundred votes. This was attributed by him to unfair- 
 ness of the judges, and to bribery by certain enthusiastic Jackson 
 men. Even at that early day, the charge of corruption was not 
 unheard or unfounded j and even the President could stoop to 
 electioneer for a dependent. Nor was the unsuccessful candi- 
 date at all backward at expressing his opinions to his late consti- 
 tuents ; he told them what he thought about the fairness of the 
 election, and warned them of the ruin towards which the country 
 was going, as directed by Jackson and the " Little Flying Dutch- 
 man," Van Buren; concluding by telling them to go to — Hades 
 ( only he didn't use the Greek) and he would go to Texas. 
 
 Settling up his affairs as well as he could, and leaving his fam- 
 ily well provided with food, he started out with his trusty rifle, 
 to join in the struggle of the Texan patriots for freedom. Cor- 
 dially received and well entertained at Little Rock, where he 
 stopped for a few days, he proceeded on his journey. Embark- 
 ing on a steamboat upon the Red River, he watched a game of 
 thimble-rig, and finally made a bet with the trickster. Winning 
 this, he refused to play any more, but by degrees acquired con- 
 siderable influence over the man. Crockett learned that he had 
 been educated " as a gentleman," and suddenly thrown on his 
 own resources. One disreputable way of earning a livelihood 
 had succeeded another, until now, when he earned a scanty living 
 by this mode of cheating. Crockett took him to task in a friend- 
 ly manner, and tried to shame him out of his evil pi\nctices, but 
 he answered that it it was of no use to try; he could not live like 
 an honest man. 
 
 "Then die like a brave one," exclaimed his enthusiastic men- 
 tor. "Most men are remembered as they died, and not as they 
 lived. Come with me to Texas; cut aloof from j'our degrading 
 habits and associates here, and in fighting with the Texans for 
 their freedom, regain your own." 
 
 Starting up, and striding two or three times across the room, 
 the outcast stopped before his friend, and answered, with an 
 oath : 
 
 "I'll be a man again — live honestl}^, or die bravely. I'll go 
 with you to Texas." 
 
 He held to this resolution^ and Crockett being determined, as 
 21 
 
322 
 
 COLONEL DAVID CROCKETT. 
 
 usual, to " go ahofid," they set out in company early in the morn- 
 ing after their landing. Stopping at night at a small tavern, 
 they noticed, leaning against a tree, what might be called a back- 
 woods dandy. This was the " Bee-hunter," introduced to them 
 more favorably by the little incident that occurred early in the 
 
 morning. A blustering, swaggering fellow, who imagined that 
 the young man had, on some previous occasion, insulted him, ap- 
 proached him with the most offensive expressions. The Bee- 
 hunter gave him no satisfhction for a long time, but at last, 
 springing upon him, carried him to tlic pump, and there washed 
 
COLONEL DAVID CROCKETT. 
 
 323 
 
 all the fight out of him by a stream of water. With this hero 
 Crockett and Thimblerig concluded to travel, especially when 
 they found that he was an excellent guide across the prairies. 
 
 The trio was soon separated, however; the Bee-hunter rode off 
 suddenly, and apparently without cause; Crockett, soon after- 
 ward, saw a herd of hnftalocs, and gave chase, and poor Thim- 
 
 DEf>PERATE FIGHT WITH A COUGAR. 
 
 blerig was left alone on the prairie. The buffaloes proved too 
 swift for Crockett's mustang, and although he might have easily 
 retraced his steps, it was always his principle to go ahead, and 
 he would not turn back. Concluding that it would be impos- 
 sible for him to return that night, he looked about him for a 
 lodging j^lace, and had selected the leafy branches of a tree, pros- 
 trated by a recent storm, when a low growl warned him that it 
 
324 
 
 COLONEL DAVID CROCKETT. 
 
 was already occupied. In a moment more an immense Mexican 
 cougar showed itself. Finding a ball from his rifle produced 
 but little effect, Crockett clubbed his gun, but all his strength 
 was not sufficient for the destruction of the animal. Seizing his 
 hunting-knife, "he slashed away at the creature, that, mad with 
 the wound, fought as only a cougar could j but at last it was 
 stretched dead at his feet. Hardly had this enemy been despatched 
 than he was alarmed by the approach of a large party of Indians ; 
 but they proved friendly, and guided him back to the route. As 
 they api^roached a camp, they saw, seated by the fire, a solitary 
 man busily engaged in some absorbing pastime. Drawing nearer, 
 
 Crockett recognized Thimble- 
 rig at his old occupation. The 
 chief sounded the war-whoop, 
 the warriors echoed it, and 
 poor Thimblerig sprang to his 
 feet in terror. Crockett reassur- 
 ed him, and the Indians rode 
 off, the chief hapjjy in the gift 
 of a bowie-knife from a white 
 man whom he knew by the ad- 
 venture with the cougar to be 
 a brave and skillful hunter. 
 The Bee-hunter, Thimblerig 
 GENERAL uus. said, had returned laden with 
 
 honey j his aj^parently inexplicable conduct being explained by his 
 having seen a single bee winging its way to the hive; he was now 
 hunting, in order to obtain meat for their supper, and soon re- 
 turned to the camp with a wild turkey. Having cooked this, they 
 were at supper with two others who had joined their party, when 
 a company of fifteen or twenty horsemen appeared at a distance. 
 The announcement from one of the strangers that these were 
 Mexicans was followed by his descrijDtion of them as ruffianly 
 cowards. This was borne out by their conduct when the Ameri- 
 cans returned their first fire. Flying like a cloud before the wind, 
 they were pursued in hot haste, but succeeded in eluding the 
 chase. Being now in sight of the independent flag flying over the 
 fortress of the Alamo, our three heroes bent their way thither, 
 and were welcomed by»the shouts of the patriots. 
 
 The garrison of only about one hundred and fifty men was 
 commanded by Col, Travis, the famous Col. Bowie being also 
 
COLONEL DAVID CROCKETT. 
 
 325 
 
 present. The JVIexican general, Santa Anna, was extremely anx- 
 ious to obtain possession of the fortress again, as he considered, 
 its surrender to the Texans early in December, 1835, extremely 
 disgraceful, although General Cos had been allowed to state his 
 own tei'ms of capitulation. The Americans even then were ex- 
 j)ecting an attack, an anticipation only too well realized. Wan- 
 dering hunters brought information of the movements of an at- 
 tacking force. February 22, 1836, about sixteen hundred Mexi- 
 cans, headed by Santa Anna himself, approached within two 
 
 JSTORMINa OF THE ALAMO. 
 
 miles of the Alamo. The scouts reported that the assailants had 
 endeavored to excite the Indians to hostilities against the Amer- 
 icans, but that the Comanches held the Mexicans in such con- 
 tempt that these efforts were of no avail. Early on the morning 
 of the twenty-third, the enemy came in sight, marching in reg- 
 ular order, and trying to disjjlay their force to the greatest j)os- 
 sible advantage, to terrify the garrison. But men who take up 
 arms to fight for liberty are not easily frightened, and the gar- 
 rison withdrew in good order from the town to the citadel, re- 
 solving to defend it to the last. All their stores had been taken 
 there on the first alarm. The Texan flag was raised — thirteen 
 stripes of red and white alternating on a blue ground, with a 
 large white star and the word Texas in the center. 
 
326 
 
 COLONEL DAVID CROCKETT. 
 
 The enemy marched into the town under a tlag whose bloody 
 hue proclaimed the merciless treatment that would be the lot of 
 the patriots, if they surrendered. A messenger came in the af- 
 ternoon to demand an tinconditional and immediate surrender, 
 but was answered by a cannon-shot. The Mexicans replied to 
 this by a heavy fire, which was continued for many days. The 
 Texan sharp-shooters made considerable havoc among the Mex- 
 
 IK Tlil': ALAMO. 
 
 icans, and were unhurt by their cannonading. Daily reinforce- 
 ments came to the enemy, but the garrison, hoping for aid from 
 two places, Goliad and Eefugio, to which messengers had been 
 sent, kept up hoj)e. On the third of March, however, they de- 
 spaired of assistance from without, and Col. Travis exhorted 
 them, in case the enemy should carry the foi't,"to fight to the last 
 gasp, and render the victory as serious to the victors as to the 
 vanquished. Three hearty cheers approved this course. 
 
 On the following day the messenger who had been despatched 
 to Goliad and Refugio Avas seen running toward 'the fort hard 
 pressed by half a do7A>n of the Mexican cavalry. Crockett, the 
 Bee-hunter and two others, sallied out to his relief, and after a 
 slight skirmish with the pursuers, chased them so f:ir, in the ar- 
 
COLONEL DAVID CROCKETT. 327 
 
 dor of the moment, that their retreat was cut off by another body 
 of cavalry, which got between them and the fort. There was no 
 course open to the Americans but to fight their way through. 
 "Go ahead !" shouted Col. Crockett. There were about twenty 
 of the Mexicans, and they fought savagely until a larger detach- 
 ment issued from the fort, when they retreated, leaving eight 
 dead upon the field. The messenger and the Bee-hunter were 
 mortally wounded, the former dying before they entered the 
 fort. The latter, whose songs and jests had so often raised the 
 spirits of the garrison, as his manly, unassuming piety had ex- 
 cited their admiration, died about midnight, a sigh for his be- 
 trothed escaping him as he sang: 
 
 " But toom cam' the sadtllc, all bludy to see, 
 And hame cam' the steed, but hame never cam' he" 
 
 It was the last song she had sung to him, before he left her for 
 the Alamo. 
 
 The autobiography of David Crockett is the principal source 
 of information in regard to these last days in the fortress. Un- 
 der the date of March 5, 1S36, we find this entry : 
 
 "Poj:), pop, pop! Boom, boom, boom! throughout the day. 
 No time for memorandums now. Go ahead ! Liberty and inde- 
 pendence forever ! " 
 
 That is the last. Before daybreak, on the sixth, the whole 
 Mexican force assaulted the fortress, Santa Anna commanding. 
 The battle raged fiercely until daylight, when only six men, of 
 whom Col. Crockett was one, were left alive in the fort. These 
 were surrounded, and, knowing resistance was useless, were 
 compelled to yield. Gen. Castrillon, to whom they surren- 
 dered, was brave but not cruel, and wishing to save the prison- 
 ers, went to Santa Anna to ask for orders. "No quarter," had 
 been the command, but Castrillon hoped that these few might be 
 spared. With steady and firm step Col. Crockett followed the 
 humaner Mexican to his superior's presence, looking full and 
 fearlesslj'' into the cruel commander's eye. 
 
 "Your excellency," said Castrillon, "here are six prisoners I 
 have taken alive; how shall I dispose of them?" 
 
 Looking at the general fiercely, Santa Anna answered, in a 
 violent rage: 
 
 " Have I not told you how to disi:)Ose of them? Why do you 
 bring them to me?" 
 
 The murderous crew around him wanted no other orders to 
 
OOLdNKl, DAVID ('RO('KKTT. 
 
 829 
 
 fall upon the defenseless prisoners. Col. Crockett sprang for- 
 ward like a tiger at the ruffian, l)ut a dozen swords were sheath- 
 ed in his heart. Without a groan, with a frown upon his brow, 
 but a smile on his Vij)^, he died. 
 
 This is, for us, the end of the story. With that battle, when 
 the Texans, crying "Remember the Alamo," swept down like a 
 hurricane upon the Mexicans, with their final triumph in the 
 struggle for independence, and subsequent annexation to the 
 United States, wo have nothing to do. The sixth of March, 1836, 
 ends the life of an honest man, who served his country as best 
 he could, who never refused to serve a fellow-creature, and who 
 died fighting for another people, 
 
 " Each of tlie heroei! aronnrl thco hud foiiolit for liis land and his line. 
 But thou hi^J^t fouo-lit for a ptraiii^^ci-, in hate of a ^\To^li; not tliiiic" 
 
 MONUMENT TO TUK UKFENDKRS OF THE ALAMO. 
 
CHAPTER Xni. 
 
 GENEEAL SAM HOUSTON. 
 
 THE AUSTINS. 
 
 THE first white men who descended the Mississippi doubtless 
 looked with surprise upon the stream, when, for the first time, 
 they saw a turbid flood mingling with its crystal waters. Side by 
 side the golden river of the western mountains and the blue wa- 
 ters from the north flow for miles, blending at last into one 
 stream, truly the Father of "Waters. The swift current carried 
 them on, and the meeting of the two rivers was well-nigh forgot- 
 ten. The m^'stery was not to be solved by men who had never 
 ascended the Missouri to its native mountains, and in ignorance 
 of its nature they passed on. 
 
 When a man in the prime of life unites his fortunes to those of 
 a state struggling for independence, and becomes a lead.er in 
 peace and war, the earlier fortunes of each must be followed, in 
 order that their union and its results may be iinderstood. As the 
 color of the Missouri is given to the lower Mississippi, so the hero 
 affects the time in which he lives; and the history of the state 
 gives him another dignity than he would have had alone, as sure- 
 ly as the northern stream contributes to increase the volume of 
 the mightier flood. If we would form a clear mental picture, 
 then, of the life of Sam Houston, let us first turn to the early 
 history of Texas. 
 
 At the cession of the territory of Louisiana to the United 
 States in 1803, Texas became debatable ground : claimed by our 
 government as a part of the purchase; claimed by the Spanish 
 authorities as never having been ceded to France, and hence not 
 to be sold by the rulers of that country. The United States did 
 not give up claim to it until 1819, when a treaty was made by 
 which Texas was relinquished to Sj^ain, and Florida sold to the 
 United States. The foundations of the indej)endence of Texas 
 were laid before Mexico, of which it formed a part, had thrown 
 
THE AUSTINS. 331 
 
 off the Spanish 3^oke, and it was only as a Spanish subject that 
 the first settler of En^-lish descent conld go there. 
 
 Moses Austin, a native of Connecticut, had settled west of the 
 Mississippi in 1798, owning allegiance to the government then ex- 
 isting there. Procuring froin the Spanish officials a grant of 
 the lead mines of Potosi, sixty-five miles south of Saint Louis 
 and forty miles west of Ste. G-enevieve, he remained there con- 
 tentedly for twenty years. Eeduced to comparative poverty by 
 the failure of the bank of Missouri, he projected apian for colon- 
 izing parts of Texas with emigrants from the United States. 
 G-oing to San Antonio, the capital of the province, in the fall of 
 
 1820, to further his plans, the governor ordered him to leave the 
 country, or suffer imprisonment. As he left the office, naturally 
 discouraged by this unfriendly recei^tion, he met Baron de Bas- 
 troj), an alcalde of the city who had come to Mexico on a special 
 mission from the King of Spain, and choosing to make it his 
 home, had acquired considerable influence. He had known Aus- 
 tin before, and readily lent his voice to the scheme, obtaining a 
 more favoralde hearing from Gov. Martinez. A petition was 
 drawn \ij) and signed hy the local authorities, praying the gov- 
 ernment to allow Austin to bring three hundred families into 
 Texas ; but " the law's delay" was such that no immediate action 
 was taken upon it, and Austin returned to his Missouri home. So 
 well was he assured of success, however, that he immediately 
 commenced preparations for removal. In the succeeding spring 
 (1821) he received information that the desired permission had 
 been granted, bxit his enei'gy was subdued as never before : a 
 cold had settled upon his lungs, and a few days after he died. 
 
 The scheme of planting a colony in Texas was left as a legacy 
 to his son, Stephen Puller Austin, who at the age of twenty- 
 eight had already been a member of the territorial Legislature 
 of Missouri, and a circuit judge in Arkansas. To this latter ter- 
 ritory he had removed to promote his father's plans by raising 
 corn and other provisions to supply the train of emigrants on 
 their way. To him, therefore, the bequest was not unexpected 
 or unwelcome, and his best energies were bent to accomplish the 
 task. Towards Texas he bent his steps, meeting upon the way 
 the commissioners sent to conduct his father to the land grant- 
 ed. Austin, the commissioners and fourteen colonists made uj) 
 the party that arrived in San Antonio on the twelfth of August, 
 
 1821, and immediately proceeded to select the lands. The fertile 
 
332 THE AUSTINS. 
 
 region watered by the Brazos, Colorado and Guadalupe Rivers 
 was chosen, and Col. Austin returned to New Orleans to ad- 
 vertise for colonists. Such were not difficult to find, but on his 
 return a new trouble arose. The change in the government of 
 Mexico necessitated a journey to the capital, to secure a confirm- 
 ation of his grant. Tlie new government was anxious to encour- 
 age immigration, and made even better terms than Spain ; and 
 Feb. 18, 1823, this grant Avas confirmed. 
 
 Mexico was just beginning to establish her reputation as a 
 mother of revolutionists j and independence having been secured 
 by the first rebellion, a second speedily followed. This detained 
 Austin for a long time at the capital, and when he reached the 
 colony he had been absent a year. Of' course this did not tend 
 to reassure the immigrants, some of whom had returned home. 
 Encouraged by the presence of the leader, and of De Bastrop, 
 who had been appointed their Land Commissioner, the town of 
 San Felipe de Austin was laid out, and land having been assigned 
 to each settler in proportion to his needs, all set to work. This 
 was a time to severely test the leader's ability, but, weighed in 
 the balance, he was not found wanting. Everywhere his help 
 was given; from the ''raising" of a house or the cleai-ingofa 
 corn-field, to the framing of a code of laws, the task received his 
 assistance. At once civil governor, military commander and 
 judge of their only court, he was the father of the colony, and 
 looked well to his offspring. 
 
 Nor was this the only settlement made under his direction. 
 At different periods between this first immigration and the 
 year 1835, more than fifteen hundred persons had come to Texas 
 under his direction. The colony had its own difficulties, how- 
 ever, with which to contend. One of these was the rapidly in- 
 creasing number of immigrants; it became impossible for the 
 settlers already there to raise enough grain for all until the la- 
 test comers should have time to plant and gather a cro^, and 
 often they must clothe themselves in skins, and live upon game. 
 
 But their chief trouble was with the Indians. Their hunting 
 parties must be large, to guard against sudden attack from the 
 savages ; while a sufficient number must be left at home to pro- 
 tect the settlement. The savages had been exasperated against 
 the whites by the conduct of Lafitte. This notorious pirate had 
 for many years been master of the Mexican and Texas coast, 
 when, in 1817, he made Galveston Island his headquarters, and 
 
THE AUSTINS. 
 
 333 
 
 gathered around him a thousand followers. Preying ujjon the 
 Spanish and American commerce alike, they paid no heed to the 
 rights of any man. The savages, exasperated by their kidnap- 
 
 LAFITTK, THE PIKATK. 
 
 ping of squaws, assaulted their encampment many times, but were 
 as often driven back with terrible slaughter. Becoming at last 
 insupportable, the United States sent out an expedition to break 
 up the nest, and the pirates were driven to Yucatan. Having 
 
334 THE AUSTINS. 
 
 cursed Texas with their j^resence for so many years, they left 
 her a legacy of hatred hy the Indian for the white man. 
 
 For two or three years the Indians continued to annoy the col- 
 onists, not by attacks upon the town, but by robberies and mur- 
 ders committed whenever the weakness of a traveling party 
 tempted them. Stories are tiresome when all have the same in- 
 cidents and the same results, so we need not touch upon the con- 
 flicts between the settlers and the savages, ending by the latter's 
 pledge not to come east of San Antonio. So well had the lesson 
 of submission been taught that this treaty was never violated. 
 
 In 1823-4, the surrounding country was much infested "with 
 robbers, who often concealed that crime by murder; but a sever- 
 ity only justified by the circumstances, struck a wholesome terror 
 into the hearts of the higliwaymen. 
 
 Austin's was not the only colony brought into Texas from the 
 United States, but the others had not the same advantages. San 
 Felipe was surrounded by a vast tract of unclaimed lands, and 
 when these were granted to Austin, there was no man to dispute 
 his right; but the rest were located by the government upon 
 lands claimed b}^ others, and those fomented the jiojmlar feeling 
 of the Mexicans against the Americans. 
 
 The colony most unfortunate in this respect was that of which 
 Hadjden Edwards was empresario, or leader. After land had 
 been granted to the settlers and improved by them, old Mexican 
 claims were revived, and the officials, jealous of the rapidly in- 
 creasing element, decided invariably against the Americans. 
 The difficulty soon culminated in war, and the Fredonians al- 
 lied themselves with the Indians, through the agency of John 
 Dunn Hunter. This was a white man who had been captured by 
 the Cherokees when a child, and who had obtained almost para- 
 mount influence in the tribe. These allies were secured by a prom- 
 ise that when success had been obtained, Texas should be divid- 
 ed equallj^ between the Indians and Americans ; for the Fredo- 
 nians aimed at no less a prize than the political independence of 
 Mexico. But Texas was not yet ready for self-government; the 
 Mexican forces, under Col. Bean, attacked and routed the Fredon- 
 ians ; the Indians were bought off" from their alliance by gifts of 
 land; to show their attachment to the established authority, the 
 savages murdered Hunter, who would have kept them to their 
 first promise ; Edwards was disj^ossessed of his grant, and he and 
 his colonists returned to the United States. 
 
THE AUSTINS. 
 
 335 
 
 During this war in Fredonia, the other colonies progressed 
 finely. But all were regarded with a jealous eye by the Mexi- 
 cans, because they so faitlifully preserved their own institutions. 
 
 At the timci when Mexico was a dependency of Spain, Texas 
 had been a separate province; but when the independent consti- 
 tution was adopted, Coahuila and Texas were made one state. 
 
 THE MURDER OF HUNTER. 
 
 This large extent of territory being comprised under one govern- 
 ment, and that inefficient, crying evils naturally arose. The con- 
 stitution of this double state was adopted in 1827, being ostensibly 
 modeled on that of the United States, but with fatal differences. 
 One law passed in 1880, prohibited further immigration from the 
 United States. This, however, was disregarded by those who wish- 
 ed to come, and in 1831 the Americans there numbered about 
 twenty thousand. 
 
336 GENERAL SAM HOUSTON. 
 
 The Mexican revolution of 1832 showed clearly the strength of 
 Texas, and hence increased the jealous hatred of the Mexicans 
 towards her. The anxiety of the United States government to 
 extend its limits to the southwest also contributed to strengthen 
 their suspicions of the colonists. The Americans were accused 
 of trying to carry their new home over to their native country, 
 and for this purpose, it was thought, they fought so steadily for 
 what they had learned to consider their rights. 
 
 Every man of discernment saw that the day was not far distant 
 when Texas would be no longer a part of Mexico; but Austin tried 
 to keep his colony peaceful and prosperous, that, when the time 
 came for the struggle, their efforts might be crowned by success. 
 lie had refused to aid the Fredonians, for their revolt was pre- 
 mature; his duty to his adopted country forbade his encour- 
 aging resistance to its legally constituted authorities, Avhen, al- 
 though there were evils, they were hardly such as could or should 
 be redressed by fighting. He knew that his colonists, free-born 
 Anglo-Americans as they were, would not always submit to the 
 government of men accustomed to tyranny, and modelling their 
 state after those of the Dark Ages of Europe. 
 
 GENERAL SAM HOUSTON. 
 
 Whatever laws might be made, there was no such thing possi- 
 ble as keei:)ing the adventurous and daring spirits of the United 
 States out of any place whither they wished to go, and the dis- 
 turbances of 1832 attracted many such to Texas. JSTot the least 
 among these, if we consider either his previous position or his 
 later services, was Sam Houston, whose voluntary exile from Ten- 
 nessee, for the past three years, had been explained in many ways. 
 
 Born in Eockbridge County, Virginia, in 1793, his father died 
 in 1807, leaving a widow and nine children in destitute circum- 
 stances. Removal to Blount County, Tennessee, immediately 
 followed, and here the youth of our hero was spent in alternately 
 attending school, working on his mother's farm, and clerking in 
 a store; until suddenly he left home and joined the Cherokee 
 Indians. This wild life does not appear to have lasted very long, 
 for we find him, while still a mere boy, teaching school in order 
 to pay oif some debts. At the age of twenty, he enlisted in the 
 army for the Creek war, then raging in Florida, and by his gal- 
 lantry in action M^on the approval of G-en. Jackson. His daring 
 on the field at the battle of the Horseshoe resulted in several 
 
GENERAL SAM HOUSTON. 
 
 337 
 
 severe "woTinds, from which he did not recover for over a j^ear; 
 and in tlio promotion to the rank of second lieutenant. 
 
 Being apjiointed sub-agent for the Cherokee Indians in 1817, 
 he Avas soon accused of abusing his authority ; but investigation 
 proved that the charges were made by contractors whom he had 
 displeased b}' his integrity. Receiving in the succeeding year a 
 commission as first lieutenant, dated back a year, he resigned his 
 
 :/i)a//ac.^^y 
 
 HOrS'lON WOUNDKI> JN THE CREEK WAR. 
 
 military and civil honors in 1819, to devote himself to the study 
 of the law. In this profession he speedily attained emineiice, 
 being in 1819 elected District Attorney ; at the same time the ti- 
 tle of Major-G-eneral of militia was accorded to him. Political 
 honors, also, awaited him. Elected and re-elected to Congress 
 in 1823 and '25, he left his seat there at the close of his second 
 
 22 
 
338 GENERAL SAM HOUSTON. 
 
 term only to ascend the steps of the gubernatorial mansion as its 
 master. In 1829 he was happily married, and to all appearance 
 there was no cloud in the sky. His m?ijority had been over- 
 ,whelming, his popularity was unbounded, his administration met 
 with no opposition. Such was the brilliancy of his prospects 
 when, without any warning to those outside their mansion, Mrs. 
 Houston returned to her father's house, and the governor resigned 
 his office and fled from the city in disguise. The news fell like 
 a thunderbolt upon his friends. Neither of the two who alone 
 could satisfy curiosity ever told the story, and the secret has 
 gone down with them into the grave. 
 
 Houston, on leaving the city, went to the Cherokees, who were 
 now settled on the Arkansas River in the Indian Territory, and 
 was by them formally admitted to all the rights of citizenship in 
 the tribe. But his absence was a puzzling thing to those interest- 
 ed in him, and it was accounted for in various ways. There are al- 
 ways those who are ready to impute evil, and perhaps the memory 
 of Burr's treason, Avhich men still in the prime of life had known 
 at the time, predisposed them to suspect Houston. It was rum- 
 ored that he was to invade and detach Texas from the Mexican 
 government; that he was to aid Mexico against the Spanish in- 
 vasion; that he was to collect a party of white adventurers and 
 join them to his Indian friends, no one knew for what purpose. 
 So well-defined were these reports that they reached the ears of 
 President Jackson, who immediately wrote to Houston to depre- 
 cate such a thing as the attack upon Texas. Similar information, 
 claiming to be obtained from Houston himself, reached the Pres- 
 ident again, and Jackson confidentially directed the Secretary of 
 state of Arkansas to keep him informed of any movements on 
 Houston's part which might seem to confirm this intelligence. 
 He soon received the welcome news that there were no such 
 movements on foot. 
 
 Appointed confidential Indian agent to the tribes of the south- 
 west in 1832, it was j^robably in the early part of the succeeding 
 year that he went to Texas. He had been solicited by friends 
 there, as early as 1829, to join them, but had preferred his life in 
 the Cherokee nation. "When he did cross the boundary it was 
 probably, at first, in prosecution of the work assigned him as 
 Indian agent. The Mexicans complained a great deal of the in- 
 roads of Indians from the United States, and Houston had orders . 
 from our government to induce them to leave Texas and return 
 
COLONEL JAMES BOWIE, 339 
 
 to their reservations. While engaged in this work, which the 
 jealousy of the Mexican authorities rendered unsuccessful, he 
 met with Col. James Bowie, around whose name clusters so many 
 border associations, and who lived and died so bravely for Texas, 
 that it will not be out of place to introduce him still more fully 
 to the reader. 
 
 COLONEL JAMES BOWIE. 
 
 A native of Georgia, his parents removed to Louisiana in 1802, 
 with their five sons, of whom the most famous in after years was 
 the second, James. Here he grew to manhood, tall and well- 
 proportioned, fair-haired and blue-eyed 3 erect in bearing, mild 
 and quiet in his manner; jovial and companionable, but not a 
 drunkard ; with a wonderful art of winning people to him, and 
 extremely prodigal of his money. Contrary to the impression 
 which generally prevails, he was not an habitual duelist. The 
 knife which bears his name, and which was first made by his bro- 
 ther, Rezin P. Bowie, was never but once used by him except as a 
 hunting knife. This single occasion was in 1827, when James 
 Bowie met, on a sand-bar in the Mississippi, an antagonist by 
 whom he had been, on a previous occasion, wa3-laid and shot. 
 James Bowie fell at the first fire, and his opponent, Wright, was 
 advancing to give him the coup de grare, when Bowie drew the 
 knife and killed him. Several others were killed in this fight, 
 for the quarrel had been well known, and both men had many 
 partisans. After a lucrative trade in the negroes captured by 
 Lafitte, bought by the Bowies and sold in Louisiana, James and 
 Rezin P. Bowie settled in Texas, in 1830, the former became a 
 naturalized citizen, and soon afterward married the daughter of 
 the Vice Governor of San Antonio. 
 
 Late in 1831, the two brothers, accompanied by seven of their 
 countrymen and two negro servants, set out in search of the de- 
 serted silver mines of San Saba. They had been on the road more 
 than two weeks when they were overtaken by two Comanehes 
 ai^ a Mexican captive. Early the next morning, before they 
 had left the camp, the Mexican of that party arrived in a state of 
 great exhaustion, with a warning message from the Comanche 
 chief. Over a hundred and fifty hostile Indians would soon at- 
 tack the little j^arty, in spite of the efforts of the Comanehes to 
 dissuade them. The chief offered what assistance he could give 
 them, but his party only numbered sixteen, badly armed and 
 without ammunition. Col. Bowie deemed it wisest to push on 
 
340 COLONEL JAMES BOWIE. 
 
 towards the old. fort on the San Saba, and the Mexican returned 
 to his party. 
 
 But with bad roads and worn-out horses, it was impossible for 
 them to travel thirty miles that day. It was at first difficult for 
 them to find any cam2:)ing-place where they would be at all secure 
 from the Indians, but finally they selected a cluster of live-oak 
 trees, near which was a thicket of bushes of similar growth, and, 
 thirty or forty yards in another direction, a stream of water. 
 They were not disturbed during the night, but in the morning, 
 just as they were about to leave the camp, discovered the Indians 
 about two hundred yards away. They numbered one hundred 
 and sixty-four, while there were eleven men, all told, in the camp. 
 The whites accordingly wished to avoid a fight, and sent out Ee- 
 zin Bowie and David Buchanan to parley with them. Advanc- 
 ing to within forty yards of w^here they had halted, Bowie asked 
 them, in their own tongue, to send forward their chief to talk 
 with him. They replied in English with the salutation : "How d'ye 
 do ? How d'ye do ?" and with a volley from their rifles, breaking 
 Buchanan's leg. With his wounded comrade on his back, Bowie 
 started back to the encampment, followed by a heavy fire. Bu- 
 chanan was w^ounded twice again, but slightly, while Bowie es- 
 caped unhurt. A spirited contest now ensued, the rifles of the 
 whites doing deadly work among the Indians on the open jirai- 
 ric. Slowly and surely the savages closed around the little camp 
 in a complete circle, and the white men almost despaired of driv- 
 ing them off. But the Indians were b}" no means pleased at their 
 success; every volley from the camp brought down five or six 
 of their warriors, while they had no guide for their aim but the 
 smoke of the white men's guns. They now determined to resort 
 to stratagem, and set fire to the dry grass of the prairie with a 
 double object in view; it would at once drive the whites from 
 their shelter, and enable the Indians, under cover of the smoke, 
 to carry off their dead and wounded. A change in the wind ren- 
 dered the position of the white men doubly dangerous, driving 
 the fire directly upon them; if they remained where they were, 
 they would be burned alive; if they left it, it would be to fall 
 into the hands of the enemy. Only one fire remained in their 
 guns, and in the shower of sparks no man dared open his powder- 
 horn. The thicket which sheltered them w^as now burnt, and 
 they set about building a breastwork of loose stones and of earth 
 which they dug up with their knives and sticks. The fight had 
 
COLONEL JAMES BOWIE. 
 
 341 
 
 lasted since sunrise, and it was now nearly night. The Indians 
 withdrew to a distance of about three hundred j'ards, and en- 
 camped, while Bowie's party working hard at the earthwork, 
 succeeding in raising it breast-high by ten o'clock. As they 
 worked, they could hear the wild lament of the Indians over their 
 dead, and when they awoke at the change of guard, the sad 
 sounds still greeted their ears. They prepared for another at- 
 tack next day, although their originally small party had been 
 
 GENERAL SANTA ANNA. 
 
 much reduced, one man being killed and three wounded ; but the 
 Indians did not again attack them. Eight days were passed here, 
 Avhen they returned to San Antonio, a twelve days' journey. 
 
 Such was the famous Col. Bowie, of whose death by the hands 
 of the enemies of Texas we shall learn later on. His introduc- 
 tion of Houston to various Mexican authorities probably proved 
 of material advantage to our hero. Of course it was Houston's 
 character and reputation that drew Bowie to him, and that, only 
 two months after his first coming to Texas, led to his election as 
 
342 STEPHEN F. AUSTIN. 
 
 a delegate to the postponed constitutional convention. Houston 
 was the chairman of the committee that framed a constitution to 
 be submitted to the general government and to the people; a 
 brief, but model document, that would have insured to the Tex- 
 ans, had it ever gone into effect, all those rights and privileges 
 so dear to the people of the United States. Three delegates were 
 chosen, to present this constitution to the supreme government, 
 Stephen F. Austin being elected by the largest niajorit3\ For 
 some reason the others, Wharton and Miller, did not execute the 
 commission, and Austin went alone to the capital. 
 
 Santa Anna had been recently elected President, but had re- 
 tired to his estates, leaving Yice President Farias in charge of 
 the government. His design was to overturn the constitution 
 and establish a "strong" government, with himself as dictator; 
 hoping that his retirement would relieve him of responsibility. 
 Meanwhile, all political business was thrown into disorder, which 
 was further increased by a terrible epidemic prevailing in the city. 
 In a few weeks, cholera carried off ten thousand of the inhabit- 
 ants of the metropolis; it spread to the provinces; the meetings 
 of Congress, even, were deranged by it. 
 
 Austin despaired of the success of his mission. Ho had already 
 urged his suit with such importunity as to offend Farias ; there 
 was no jorospect that Congress would take any action upon it. 
 Full of disappointment, he wrote to a citizen of San Antonio, 
 recommending that all the municipalities of Texas unite in form- 
 ing a state, under the constitution of 1824, and thus prepare to 
 resist a refusal of their application. Some one in San Antonio 
 sent a copy of this letter to Farias, who received it after Austin 
 had left the capital. An express was immediately despatched, 
 and Austin arrested and carried back to a Mexican prison. For 
 four months he lay in close confinement from the light of day, 
 and for a time denied the use of writing materials. These were 
 furnished him, however, by a priest who had ministered to the 
 colony of San Felipe — a warm joersonal friend, — and the musings 
 written in pencil in a small memorandum book give a picture 
 of his mind. 
 
 In June his condition was improved. He was removed to 
 more comfortable quarters, and given to understand that he would 
 — sometime — be brought to trial. The charge was treason, and 
 the first court before which he was brought was a military one. 
 The judge decided it was a case over which he had no jurisdic- 
 
STEPHEN F. AUSTIN. 3-43 
 
 tion. A civil court was next tried, but the same decision was 
 given. The judges knew that there were no real charges, but 
 were equally afraid to acquit or convict. Austin ascribed his 
 persecution to a crew of land-sharks, who had fraudulently ob- 
 tained eight hundred leagues of land around Monclova. These 
 men knew that if he were at liberty, he would expose their claim. 
 
 During his imprisonment, he was re-elected to the Legislature, 
 but never occupied his seat. Eumors reached him, now accusing 
 him of being too Mexican, now of paying too much deference to 
 popular opinion in Texas. At last, after he had been in prison 
 for a year and a half, and absent ten months longer, he was al- 
 lowed to return to San Felipe in September, 1835. The greater 
 part of the time that he was a prisoner the confinement was mere- 
 ly nominal, and he was treated with flattering attentions by Santa 
 Anna, when that official resumed the reins of power. IS'early a 
 year before Austin was permitted to return, the President had 
 taken the petitions of the Texans under consideration, convoking 
 a sj)ecial council, in which Austin had a seat, for that purpose. 
 His decision was adverse to the erection of Texas into a separate 
 state, although he held out hopes that he would organize it as a 
 territory. 
 
 Texas had been the scene of confusion for two years. Early in 
 1835 the Federal Congress had reduced the number of the militia 
 to one soldier for each five hundred inhabitants, and decreed that 
 the others should be disarmed. This measure was intended to 
 prevent resistance to anything that Santa Anna might propose, 
 but failed signally. While the President was pretending to give 
 favorable attention to them, he was really planning a military 
 occuj)ation of the state, and only awaiting an excuse to punish 
 them for their boldness. 
 
 This excuse was soon made by oppression. The spirit of the 
 people had been aroused by various tyrannical actions, in the 
 assessment and collection of taxes, in quartering soldiers upon 
 the people, and in arresting several citizens upon slight pretence. 
 
 In pursuance of the decree directing the disarming of the citi- 
 zens, Cajitain Castinado was sent to seize a small cannon at Gon- 
 zales, that was used against the Indians. The citizens were pre- 
 pared to resist the demand by force, and the Mexicans were soon 
 compelled to withdraw. The warlike sjiirit spread like a prairie 
 fire in the fall ; and before a month had passed, two forts, Goliad 
 and Lipantitlan, garrisoned by Mexicans, had been caj)tured. 
 
344 
 
 STEPHEN r. AUSTIN. 
 
 This was done by volunteers who were without military organ- 
 ization, the leader being elected only for one attack. Some of the 
 more prominent men in camp wrote to San Felipe requesting 
 Austin to come to them, and he was elected their commander. 
 
 A TEXAK R.\JiGER. 
 
 At this stage there were two parties in Texas, one declaring 
 for war, the other for peace. Of this latter, the leading spirit 
 was Sam Houston, who, in August, 1835, introduced at a meeting 
 in San Augustine a series of resolutions which, although they 
 remonstrated against Santa Anna's tyrannj', professed loyalty to 
 the national constitution of 1824. But it soon became evident, 
 even to him, that it was impossible to prevent war, and in N^ov- 
 ember of the same j^ear he accepted the commission tendered 
 him — commander of the troops of Eastern Texas. 
 
TEXAS WAR FOR INDEPENDENCE. 345 
 
 Houston did not wish to interfere witli Gen. Austin, and, when 
 the latter urged him to take entire command, absolutely refused 
 to do so ; saying that Austin had been elected by the troops, and 
 the reinforcements had been enlisted under them ; that if he were 
 to resign it might afford ground for discontent. The same Gen- 
 eral Council, which elected Houston to his military position, es- 
 tablished a provisional government, and, after declaring the stand 
 which Texas had taken to be in accordance with the support of 
 the constitution of 1824, adjourned until March 1, 1836. At this 
 second session, Austin was sent as a commissioner to the United 
 States to secure loans to maintain the government; Henry Smith 
 was elected governor, and Houston commander-in-chief. 
 
 But the interval between these two sessions is not devoid of 
 interest. On the second of JSTovember, the Texan army, number- 
 ing at least a thousand men, left Concepcion, where, on the twen- 
 ty-eighth of October, they had defeated -the Mexicans under 
 Gen. Cos, losing but one man to the enemy's sixty, and marched to 
 San Antonio de Bexar, one and a half miles away. The town had 
 been put in good condition to maintain a siege, breastworks be- 
 ing thrown up at the entrance of every street into the square, a 
 redoubt erected in a vacant lot fronting the plaza, and artillery 
 mounted behind the j^arapet on the roof of the old church. The 
 Mexicans numbered about eight hundred, and were well supplied 
 with cannon, while the Texans had but five small pieces. It had 
 been decided that to storm the place would involve the loss of too 
 many men, and that, therefore, a regular siege should be ordered. 
 
 Every effort was made to draw the enemy out of his fortifica- 
 tions, but in vain. They soon gave evidence of weakness by send- 
 ii;g horses away to lessen the consumption of provisions; three 
 hundred animals, sent to Laredo, were captured by a detachment 
 under Col. Travis; their poor condition showed the scarcity of 
 provender in the town, and Austin thought that it could not long 
 hold out. But Cos was waiting for reinforcements, and would not 
 surrender. The Texans grew impatient with inaction, and the 
 besieging force gradually diminished, until, by the fourteenth, 
 there were less than six hundred. 
 
 The " Grass Fight," as it is called, occurring on the twenty- 
 sixth, was the first engagement of note during the siege. A for- 
 aging part}', sent out by Gen. Cos, was attacked by Col. Bowie and 
 a force of about one hxxndred men. A confused, running fight, the 
 Mexicans being reinforced, resulted favorably for the Texans. 
 
346 TEXAS WAE FOR INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 They had none killed, two wounded and one missing, while the 
 enemy had fifty killed and several wounded. 
 
 The Texans were reinforced before assistance reached the 
 Mexicans. Mexico complained bitterly of the assistance in men, 
 ammunition, and money that New Orleans was busily transmit- 
 ting to the rebel citizens of a friendly government. President 
 Jackson replied that there was no law in the United States to 
 prohibit the transmission of arms or funds or prevent persons 
 from leaving the country, if they did not organize forces within 
 its limits. So high ran the feeling that forces were organized 
 within the United States, but no one notified the authorities, and 
 more than one well equipped company was sent to aid the pa- 
 triots. JSTotable among these were the New Orleans Grays, two 
 companies of which were sent to San A.ntonio in less than a month 
 and a half after the news of the Texan revolution had reached 
 New Orleans. 
 
 G-en. Burleson was now in command of the army around Bexar, 
 which, although considerably reinforced, did not number more 
 than eight hundred men. An attack on the town was ordered, 
 but subsequently postjioned. The rage of the soldiers on learning 
 the latter decision was indescribable, and when, late in the even- 
 ing of the fourth of December, Col. Benjamin R. Milam cried : 
 " Who will go with old Ben Milam into San Antonio ?" he was 
 answered by a shout from every man in the army. The assault 
 took place on the morning of the fifth, and for four days the Tex- 
 ans pressed hard upon the enemy. At length, on the morning of 
 the ninth, Gen. Cos, who was now shut up in the Alamo, sent a 
 flag of truce, expressing a desire to capitulate. Easy terms were 
 given, the officers being required to pledge their word of honor 
 that they would not in any way oppose the re-establishment of 
 the constitution of 1824. 
 
 Col. Milam was killed earlv in the assault, and the honor of 
 the victory belonged to Col. Johnson, upon whom the command 
 devolved. To him, also, Gen. Burleson delegated the command 
 at the Alamo, leaving a force sufficient to garrison it; the re- 
 mainder of the army dispersed. The humanity with which the 
 wounded Mexicans were treated was remarkable in the annals of 
 war, but, as we shall see later, the lesson was lost upon the en- 
 emy. 
 
 But new difficulties were to beset the new republic, only to be 
 averted by a clear head and a strong hand. An eff'ort was made 
 
TEXAS WAR FOR INDEPENDENCK. 
 
 347 
 
 to depose the existing authorities on account of inefficiency; but 
 Houston replied to this speech, in a meeting at San Felipe, with 
 such eftect that the mover of the resolutions tore them up and 
 left the assembly. While these internal dissensions weakened 
 Texas, Mexico became the more united. The surrender of Cos 
 at San Antonio was by the Mexicans regarded as a disgrace, and 
 all concurred in an eager desire to avenge the dignity of the re- 
 public. Of this feeling the Texans were hardly aware ; they 
 still looked for co-operation from the other states in supporting 
 the constitution of 1824, yet, with a strange inconsistency, were 
 looking confidently forward to independence. It was in accord- 
 ance with this feeling of the Mexicans that Santa Anna deter- 
 mined to lead the Mexican army in person into Texas, and, col- 
 lecting a force and maintaining it by a tax of one per cent, every 
 twenty days, he entered the state a little after the middle of Feb- 
 ruary, 1836. At the beginning of the war in the previous year, 
 the Texans had united to repel 
 the invader; but now they show- 
 ed not one hundredth part of that 
 activity. They were exhausted 
 by privations and toils ; they did 
 not believe that Santa Anna 
 would enter the state again ; there 
 would be volunteers from the 
 United States to assist them, if 
 they w\aited J and the quarrels 
 of the civil authorities had a par- 
 alyzing effect uj)on the people. 
 The invasion wns. a thing not to 
 be denied by the civil or mili- 
 tary officers, how-ever, and Gov. Smith despatched Col. Travis, 
 Gen. Houston and Col. Bowie, each with a force of thirty men, 
 to the relief of Bexar. On the twenty-third of February, the 
 town was regularly invested by a force of five or six thousand, 
 the besieged numbering but one hundred and forty-five. These 
 are the numbers as stated by Col. Travis, in a letter written dur- 
 ing the siege. On the sixth of March, 1836, the Alamo fell. The 
 garrison had held out a long time, and had fought desperately; 
 the commander, Travis, fell, mortally wounded by a ball; a Mex- 
 ican officer rushed towards him with drawn sword; the hero of 
 the Alamo, rousing himself with the energy of despair, drew his 
 
 GENERAL SAM HOUSTON. 
 
348 TEXAS WAR FOR INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 own sword, and the two enemies closed in a fatal union, the 
 sword of each sheathed into the breast of the other. Such was the 
 spirit with which these men fought for their independence. Every 
 prisoner was slain. The corpse of Travis was hunted out from 
 the heaps of slain, that Santa Anna might run his sword through 
 it. Two officers were detailed to pile up the bodies of the defend- 
 ers and burn them. In the search they found a man still alive, 
 lying sick on a stretcher. 
 
 "■ Do you know him?" asked one. 
 
 " I think," replied the other, "it is the infamous Col. Bowie." 
 
 They berated him for fighting against the Mexican government ; 
 he replied by denouncing them for fighting under such a tyrant 
 as Santa Anna; they commanded silence; he answered : 
 
 " N^ot when ordered by such as you." 
 
 "Then we will relieve you of your tongue," rejoined one of 
 the officers. 
 
 The brutal order was given to the soldiers near by, and speed- 
 ily obeyed. The bleeding and mutilated body of the gallant Tex- 
 an was thrown upon the heap of the slain, the funeral pile of the 
 patriots saturated with camphene, and the tall pillar of flame 
 that shot upward bore the soul of Bowie up to God. 
 
 A woman and a negro servant were the only persons in the 
 fort whose lives were spared. These were sent to G-en. Houston, 
 accompanied by a Mexican, who was commanded to offer peace 
 and general amnesty to the Texans, if they would lay down their 
 arms and submit to the government of Santa Anna. Gen. Hous- 
 ton's answer was : 
 
 " True, sir, you have succeeded in killing some of our bravest 
 men, but the Texans are not yet conquered." 
 
 These words were accompanied by a copy of the Declaration 
 of Independence, which had been adopted at Washington on the 
 second of the month. 
 
 Having taken San Antonio, Santa Anna diverted the attention 
 of the patriots by feints upon Gonzales and Bastrop, and then 
 marched ujion Goliad, where Col. Fannin, the hero of Concep- 
 cion, was stationed with a small force of volunteers, variously 
 estimated. In obedience to an order from Gen. Houston, Fannin, 
 who had greatly diminished his force by sending out parties to 
 the assistance of neighboring settlements, set out towards Victo- 
 ria. After a march of six or eight miles towards the Coleta, he 
 ordered a halt, to graze and rest the oxen and refresh the troops. 
 
TEXAS WAR FOR. INDEPENDENCE. 349 
 
 The march had hardly been resumed, when they were attacked 
 by the Mexicans. All day long they fought, and when night 
 came, as neither side had gained a decisive victory, the Texan 
 officers decided that that they could not save their wounded with- 
 out capitulating. A w^hite flag sent out by them was i^romptly 
 answered by the enemy; the Mexican Greneral Urrea would treat 
 only with the commanding officer. Col. Fannin, though crippled 
 by a wound, went out and made excellent terms. The Texans 
 were to be received and treated as prisoners of war, and were 
 accordingly marched back to Goliad, where they arrived March 
 22d. On the evening of the twenty-sixth, the prisoners were dis- 
 cussing their departure to the United States, -whither they were 
 to be sent, and some were playing <' Home, Sweet Home," upon 
 the flute, when a courier arrived from Santa Anna. At dawn the 
 next day (Palm Sunday), the Texans were formed in several di- 
 visions and marched ofl:' in different directions. Four Texan 
 physicians, who had been employed in caring for the Mexican 
 wounded, were taken to the tent of Col. Guerrier, a Mexican 
 officer. A volley was heard from the east; another from the 
 south ; more than one voice cried " Hurrah for Texas ! " before 
 it was stilled forever; many fled for their lives, but were fol- 
 lowed and cut down by the cavalry. 
 
 '' Can it be possible," asked Dr. Shackelford of Col. Guerrier, as 
 that officer entered his tent, that they are murdering our men?" 
 
 "■ Tt is true," answered the Mexican, " but I have not given the 
 order or executed it." 
 
 Three hundred and thirty Texans suffered death by that order 
 of Santa Anna's, about twenty-seven escaping to their friends. 
 
 Santa Anna was now fully convinced that Texas was almost 
 completely subdued, and proposed to return, leaving a subordi- 
 nate officer to finish the work; but the representations of his 
 generals prevented him from carrying out this plan. The Texan 
 army retreated towards the west, Houston having decided to 
 make the Colorado the line of defence; but the panic, which 
 spread through the country, kej)t men at home to defend their 
 families, and thus no reinforcements came. This panic was main- 
 ly produced by the deserters from Houston's army. The com- 
 mander-in-chief earnestly begged the chairman of the military 
 committee to re-assure the people. "We can raise three thou- 
 sand men in Texas," he wrote, "and fifteen hundred can defeat 
 all that Santa Anna can send to the Colorado." Every effort was 
 
350 TEXAS WAR FOR INDEPENDENCE, 
 
 made to raise more troops, but no reinforcements had arrived 
 when the news of Fannin's surrender came. The army was about 
 to attack the Mexicans, but on hearing this intelligence, Houston 
 decided not to risk a battle — these fewmen around him were the 
 only hope of Texas — and ordered a retreat. " I held no councils 
 of wai'," he said, in announcing this movement to the govern- 
 ment. " If I err, the blame is mine." The retreat was commen- 
 ced on the evening of the twenty-sixth of March ; being rein- 
 forced by one hundred and thirty men. Encamping west of the 
 Brazos, the enemy gradually advanced upon them. The Texans 
 had received some reinforcements, and had also succeeded in 
 bringing up two six-pounders, the famous pieces of artillery pre- 
 sented by citizens of Cincinnati, and named the Twin Sisters. 
 They crossed the Brazos, and here Houston told them that he had 
 been blamed by some because the Texans were not permitted to 
 meet the enemy; but that, as soon as circumstances would per- 
 mit, they should have fighting to their satisfaction. Texas could 
 not survive two battles ; they could not merely check the enemy ; 
 he must be whipped, and the work done in one fight. 
 
 On the seventh of April Houston notified the army to be ready 
 for action at any moment. The spies kept them informed of the 
 movements of the enemy, and on the nineteenth they learned 
 that Santa Anna was there in person. The Texans continued 
 their march, closely followed by the Mexicans, until on the 
 twenty-first both were encamped near the San Jacinto river. 
 Here at noon of that day a council of war was held under a 
 tree, the officers discussing whether they should attack the enemy 
 or await an attack from him. Some of them urged that the 
 strength of Santa Anna's position and the coolness of his veterans 
 would be disastrous to the raw militia of their army, but others 
 favored the attack. A bridge, which was the only passage to the 
 Brazos, was hewn down by the Texans to cut off" the retreat 
 of the Mexicans. About three in the afternoon, the Texan army 
 formed in line of battle. The twin sisters opened a destructive 
 fire upon the Mexicans when within about two hundred yards of 
 their breastworks ; and the whole line, advancing in double-quick 
 time, crying " Eemember the Alamo ! Eemember Goliad !" pour- 
 ed a murderous fire into their ranks. The Texans never halted, 
 but on the left pressed on to the woodland, driving the Mexicans 
 before them, the cavalry on the right meeting with the same suc- 
 cess. In the center the enemy's artillery had been taken, and 
 
TEXAS WAR FOR INDEPENDENCE, 
 
 851 
 
 ^K 
 
 HOUSTON DICTATLNG ORDEKS. 
 
 turned against his own flying forces. The Texan commander was 
 everywhere along the line of attack, encouraging and directing 
 his men ; often getting in front of his own gunners. 
 
352 
 
 TEXAS WAR FOR INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 In fifteen minutes from the time of the first assault the Mexi- 
 cans were flying in all directions. With terrible slaughter among 
 the fugitives the flight continued, men and horses, dead and dy- 
 ing, forming a bridge through the morass for the pursuers. Not 
 many of the Texans were wounded; the commander-in-chief had 
 his horse shot two or three times, and received a severe wound 
 in the ankle. Still the chase continued, Houston still at the head 
 of his men. The Texans, having no time to load, clubbed their 
 guns; then they used their pistols, and their bowie-knives next 
 came into requisition. Night fell, and the pursuit was given over 
 
 HOUSTON AT SAN JACINTO. 
 
 for that day. The victors secured seven hundred and thirty prison- 
 ers, and provided for the wounded of both armies as well as they 
 could. Two hundred and eight of these were Mexicans, twent}^- 
 five were Texans; six hundred and thirty of Santa Anna's men, 
 and eight of Houston's had been killed. The Texans had taken, 
 besides, a large quantity of arms, great numbers of horses and 
 mules, the camp equipage and the military chest of the enemy, 
 the latter containing about twelve thousand dollars. The impor- 
 tance of this acquisition will be apparent when it is stated that 
 
TEXAS WAR FOR INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 353 
 
 there "vvas no such thing belonging to the Texan army. Houston 
 had started out, on this campaign, with a private fund of two 
 hundred dollars ; one-fourth of this sum had been given to a 
 woman who had been widowed by the Alamo massacre, as he 
 had not the heart to refuse her request for aid. 
 
 The excitement of the battle had hitherto made him forget his 
 wound, but now, in the comparative quiet, Houston found his 
 foot intolerably painful; the boot was cut from the swollen limb, 
 and everything done to alleviate the pain. 
 
 Detachments were sent out, the next morning, to scour the 
 
 THE FINDING OF "THE MIGHTY AND GLORIOUS." 
 
 country for the purpose of making prisoners. One of a party of 
 five, while in the act of shooting a deer, discovered a Mexican 
 fugitive. All rode after him, but he fell into a morass. They 
 had some difficulty in getting him out. In answer to their ques- 
 tions, he said he was a private soldier; they pointed to the fine 
 studs in his shirt, when, bursting into tears, he admitted himself 
 an aide-de-cami) of the general. J^ot being able to walk, he was 
 placed on one of the horses and taken to the Texan camp. 
 
 As the party passed the prisoners, a murmur of surprise was 
 heard, increasing until the eqiuxlly surprised captors distinguish- 
 ed the words, "El Presidente." It was, indeed, the Mexican 
 23 
 
354 
 
 TEXAS WAR FOR INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 dictator who had caused the massacre of the Alamo and Goliad 
 — Santa Anna, himself, " The Mighty and Glorious." 
 
 Being conducted into the presence of Gen. Houston, he imme- 
 diately proposed to negotiate for his release. Gen. Houston told 
 him that tlio civil government of Texas would take cognizance 
 of that; that he had no authority to treat. Houston rebuked 
 Santa Anna for his cruelties, and received the excuse that the 
 rules of war had devoted Travis and his men to death, since they 
 had refused to surrender, although unequal to defense; that if 
 
 SANTA ANNA BEFORE HOUSTON. 
 
 Fannin had ever capitulated, he was not aware of it; Urrea had 
 deceived him, and informed him that they were vanquished ; and 
 he had orders from his government to execute all that were taken 
 with arms in their hands. Eaising himself painfully, Houston 
 said : 
 
 " General Santa Anna, you are the government — a dictator 
 has no superior." 
 
 It was at this interview that Houston, excited by a remark de- 
 rogatory to the bravery of the Texans, by one of Santa Anna's 
 subordinates, took from his pocket an ear of dry corn, and, hold- 
 ing it out, said, " Sir, do you ever expect to conquer men who 
 fight for freedom, when their general can march four days with 
 ov<^ ear of corn for his rations?" 
 
TEXAS WAR FOR INDEPENDENCE. 355 
 
 The prisoner was assigned quarters near Gen. Houston's tent, 
 and was treated with great magnanimity. An armistice was 
 agreed upon, Santa Anna sending orders to Gen, Filisola, his 
 second in command, to retire to Victoria and Bexar, to set free 
 all prisoners, and not to ravage the country. Different opinions 
 prevailed in the Texan cabinet as to what course should be pui^- 
 sued ; a small minority favored the immediate execution of the 
 monster, but the majority judged that such a course would enrage 
 Mexico still more, and lose them the sympathy so active in their 
 favor in the United States. It was finally decided to treat with 
 him, and on the fourteenth of May, 1836, a public and a secret 
 treaty were signed, by which Santa Anna acknowledged the in- 
 dependence of Texas, and engaged to remove his troops from the 
 state. 
 
 Gen. Houston's wound had proved so troublesome that he was 
 obliged to ask for leave of absence, and go to New Orleans for 
 surgical aid ; leaving Texas May 5, he was absent j ust two months. 
 Returning, he found the independence of Texas fully establish- 
 ed, although the treaty had not j^ct been entirely fulfilled, Santa 
 Anna being still a prisoner. His detention rendered Texas all 
 the safer, as the Mexicans found it impossible to raise another 
 invading army without the presence of their dictator. 
 
 A genei^al election was ordered by the President to take place 
 in September; for the highest ofifice, the supreme executive, there 
 were two candidates, Stephen F. Austin and Henry Smith. About 
 two weeks before the election, an assembly of more than six 
 hundred persons at Columbia nominated Houston. On his ar- 
 rival in New Orleans he had been solicited by a number of Tex- 
 ans there, to become a candidate for the presidency, but had 
 positively refused. At this time, each of the two candidates re- 
 presented a political party, the j^ower of each party being about 
 equal. Houston knew that he would be obliged to fill all appoint- 
 ive offices with his political friends, and his administration would 
 meet with severe criticism and stern opposition from the other 
 party. Houston himself was free from the trammels which 
 bound the others, and believing that he could effect a consolid- 
 ation of both, ho accepted the nomination, and was elected by a 
 large majority. The constitution adopted at this election gave 
 him the a2:»pointment of his cabinet, and Gen. Austin was made 
 Secretary of State, and Ex-Gov. Smith Secretary of the Treasury. 
 
 Besides the questions already mentioned as submitted to the 
 
356 TEXAS AVAR FOR INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 people in this election, there "was another of considerable impor- 
 tance, both now and later. Should Texas apply for admission 
 into the Eepublic of the United States ? This was decided in the af- 
 firmative by a nearly unanimous vote, and Austin immediately 
 went to work to prepare instructions for the diplomatic agents 
 that were to be sent to our capital. For three days he worked, 
 and late into the night, in a room that, in spite of the extremely 
 cold weather, was without fire. The exposure brought on a cold 
 which terminated fatally on the twenty-seventh of December. 
 Thus early in the history of the infant republic died "the father 
 of Texas, the first pioneer of the wilderness." His untiring ser- 
 vices were fitly styled invaluable by the order issued from the 
 "War Department. His mission to the United States was a deli- 
 cate and difficult one, but executed with fidelity and crowned 
 with success. 
 
 It is unnecessary to detail the events of this administration. 
 A threatened invasion from Mexico was repelled; the United 
 States acknowledged the independence of Texas, but refused to 
 listen to her reqiiest for annexation ; the Indians were made to 
 keep at a respectful distance ; economy of the strictest kind was 
 practiced even to the disbanding of the army. The constitution 
 made the first presidential term only two yeai's in length, the 
 incumbent being ineligible for re-election ; so that in 1838 he left 
 the office, that for the next three years was to be filled by the 
 late Yice-President, Gen. Lamar. When Houston was elected 
 for the second time he found the public debt enormously increas- 
 ed ; government securities worth but fifteen or twenty cents on 
 the dollar J the Indians hostile j the Mexicans threatening anoth- 
 er invasion. The Congress, then in session, was busily con- 
 sidering questions of retrenchment and reform, and to them the 
 new President lent his most earnest endeavors. Various recom- 
 mendations of his were acted upon, and a rigid economy prac- 
 tised in all departments of the government. 
 
 About this time, the question of annexation to the United 
 States was revived. Mexico had not, for six years, made anj' 
 serious attempt to re-conquer her revolted province, and the Tex- 
 ans judged that this would be a point in their favor. But the 
 Mexicans heard of the movement, and to keep up their claim, 
 sent a number of small marauding parties into Texas. In view 
 of these inroads. President Houston recommended to Congress 
 that the archives of the government be removed from Austin to 
 
TEXAS "WAR FOR IXDEPENDEXCE. 357 
 
 some more secure point. Thereupon ensued the -Archive War." 
 a bloodless combat, in ^vhich the pride of the city of Austin was 
 laid \ovr. 
 
 The Mexican raids continued, and in March, 1842, San Antonio 
 and Goliad "were taken. Many prisoners were taken by the en- 
 emy in the succeeding year, and were badly treated. The re- 
 lease of one hundred and four in the year 1844 has been thought 
 to be in accordance with the dying request of Santa Anna's wife. 
 
 Early in the year 184-3, it was expected that a large party of 
 Mexican merchants, \vith valuable stocks of goods, would pass 
 along that large strip of uninhabited country belonging to Tex- 
 as. They ^vere looked upon as legitimate prey, since the war 
 had recommenced, and the War Department, instructed by Pres- 
 ident Houston, authorized the organization of a party for its cap- 
 ture. Col. Snively, the commander of the expedition, was in- 
 structed to keep on Texas soil, make captures only in honorable 
 warfare, and pay one-half of the spoils into the public treasury. 
 This last was regarded as an unreasonable condition, and was 
 rejected. The party of one hundred and eighty men set out about 
 the middle of April, and, two months later, fell in with a party 
 of Mexican soldiers sent to guard the train. Of these seventeen 
 were killed and eighty taken prisoners. Elated with their suc- 
 cess ( for they had taken a good supply of provisions and horses ), 
 the party separated, preferring to return by two diflerent routes. 
 The news that such an expedition was contemplated had reach- 
 ed St. Louis, and two hundred 17. S. dragoons had been sent out 
 to protect the caravan. These discovered Snively's party, sur- 
 rounded it, and under pretense that it was on the soil of the 17n- 
 ited States, compelled the men to surrender and give up their 
 arms. It was afterwards proven that they were on Texan soil, 
 and the I'nited States paid for the guns that had been seized. 
 
 The miserable tailure of this expedition caused it to be after- 
 ward disclaimed by the President as unauthorized, but this was 
 not sufficient to prevent his being blamed severely for it at the 
 time. Ifit had been successful, that would have been another 
 thing entirely. But Houston was becoming unpopular, because 
 of his attitude regarding the question of the day — annexation. 
 Desiring it as earnestly as any of his constituents, he dissembled 
 his "wishes, thinking an indifferent attitude on the part of Texas 
 would sooner secure it ; this was not generally understood, and he 
 was accused of thwarting the wishes of the people in that direction. 
 
358 TEXAS WAR FOR INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 A more honorable measure than the Snively expedition, was 
 the assertion of the strength of the government during the dis- 
 turbances which occurred in the eastern part of the country. Two 
 factions, the Regulators and the Moderators, defying the law, 
 engaged in a vendetta ; many men on both sides were killed and 
 many unlawful acts committed ; the militia was called out and the 
 disturbance quelled, but it was several years before peace was 
 established between the more bitter members of the two parties. 
 
 But the securing of an armistice with Mexico was one of the 
 greatest events, if not the greatest of Houston's second administra- 
 tion. There was every reason to believe that this would result in a 
 treaty between the two republics, by which the elder would rec- 
 ognize the independence of the younger. England and France 
 united to insure the independence of Texas, on condition that 
 she should not be annexed to the "United States. The application 
 to be admitted into the Union had been renewed, and rejected 
 again. The influence of the two great European powers that had 
 interested themselves, finally secured Mexico's recognition of 
 Texas as a sovereign power. 
 
 On the election of Mr. Polk to the presidency of the United 
 States, the question which had been twice brought before them, 
 and twice been disapproved, was reconsidered again, and the Con- 
 gress of the United States invited the Republic of Texas to enter 
 the Union. A convention was called for the consideration of this 
 offer, and by a vote of fifty-five to one, it was accepted. October 
 10th, the people ratified the action of the convention, and De- 
 cember 2d, President Polk signed the bill extending the laws of 
 the United States over Texas. February 19, 1846, the republic 
 was finally merged in the state. 
 
 At the first session of the State Legislature, Gen. Houston was 
 elected U. S. Senator, and was re-elected in 1847 and 1851. This 
 prevented his taking part in the war between Mexico and the 
 United States, which followed the annexation of Texas. An old 
 Jackson Democrat, he was early suspected of a leaning towards 
 the North, and this was confirmed by his vote upon the question 
 of extending the Missouri Compromise line across the continent. 
 His leaving the Democratic for the Know-lSTothing party, about 
 1854, made him so unpopular, that he saw he would not be re- 
 elected in 1857; so he announced himself as an indej^endent can- 
 didate for governor. For the first and last time in his life, he was 
 beaten in a popular election. Two years later, he was an inde- 
 
TEXAS WAR FOR INDEPENDENCE. 359 
 
 pendent Democratic candidate for the same office, and was elect- 
 ed by a handsome majority. In a circular, addressed to his con- 
 stituents before the election, he said: ''Iw^ould lay down my 
 life to defend any one of the states from aggression ■which en- 
 dangered its peace, or threatened its institutions. I could do no 
 more for the Union. I could wish to do more; for the destruc- 
 tion of the Union would bo the ruin of all the states." 
 
 The Legislature convened in extra session January' 21, 1861, 
 and on the first of the succeeding month, the convention called 
 for the purpose of considering the question of secession, passed 
 an ordinance taking Texas out of the Union. It was too late to 
 prevent secession, but Houston warmly advocated the plan of 
 Texas resuming her former position as an independent rej)ublic, 
 and not attaching herself to the Confederacy. Failing in this, he 
 refused to take the oath to supj^ort the new government, and was 
 promptly displaced. 
 
 He made no effort to assert his authority as governor, knowing 
 that it could result in no good to Texas. From his retirement, 
 he protested against the proclaiming of martial law as anti-re- 
 publican, and watched, " more in sorrow than in anger," the war 
 measures adopted by both armies. Secession he thought would 
 be successful, and he feared that both northern and southern gov- 
 ernments would lose the spirit of democracy. ''The welfare 
 and glory of Texas will be the uppermost thought, Avhile the 
 spark of life lingers in this breast:" so he said in a public 
 speech in the city of Houston, Mar. 18, 1863, and, while few be- 
 lieved in the principles that had led him to resign his office, no 
 one doubted his sincerity. 
 
 This was his last appearance before a public audience. A lit- 
 tle more than four months afterward (July 26, 1863), the spark 
 was extinguished forever — Houston thought no more of the wel- 
 fare and glory of Texas. Even in the whirl and turmoil of civil 
 war, the people turned aside for a moment to show respect for 
 the memory of the man whom they had delighted to honor. The 
 hero of San Jacinto, the only man who Avas twice president of 
 Texas, he had seen the statesmen and patriots of his 5'outh gath- 
 ered one by one to their fathers ; and the only monument erect- 
 ed to his memory is that imperishable one in human hearts. 
 
 Has the life of Houston, as here told, been a history of Texas, 
 rather than a biography of the man ? Let it be so, to fitly rep- 
 resent the truth. The history of the general cannot be told un- 
 
360 TEXAS WAR rOR INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 less his battles are recorded; of the statesman, unless the victor- 
 ies of peace be recounted ; of the patriot, unless the land that 
 he loved be prominent on the stage. His was the strong and 
 steady hand that held the helm; the sail filled, the oars were 
 plied, but the steersman directed the course. 
 
 One word of explanation remains to be added, and that in re- 
 gard to his name. His signature, on all the state papers and 
 other documents existing, stands '' Sam Houston." There is never 
 any use made of the full name of Avhich this is probably the ab- 
 breviation. Like all heroes of the people, his name is preserved 
 as he wrote it. 
 
CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 KIT GAESON. 
 
 SHOET of stature, slender of limb, a fair, clean shaven face 
 with a mild and quiet expression — such was the personal 
 appearance of a man whose name is known far and wide as that 
 of as skillful a himter, as intrepid an Indian fighter, as ever 
 was celebrated in our legends of the border; such was Kit 
 Carson. 
 
 Authorities differ as to both time and place, but those whom 
 w^e may assume to have gathered their information from his own 
 lips, say that Christoj)her Carson was born in Kentucky in 1809. 
 The removal of his parents, in the succeeding year, to the neigh- 
 borhood of Boonslick (Boonsboro), Howard County, Missouri, 
 had led some to suppose that this was his birthplace, wdiile still 
 others make him a native of Illinois. His father was a skillful 
 hunter and trapper, and the boy was early trained to take part 
 in the sport. By the time he had reached the age of fifteen he 
 was known as a good shot in the country where all could shoot 
 well, and had had more than one perilous adventure with the 
 wolves that infested the neighborhood. Of these trials of his 
 courage no particulars have come down to us ; but the bare fact 
 that there were such stories told of him, shows that the exploits 
 of his manhood were foreshadowed by those of his youth. 
 
 In 1824, his faflier apprenticed him to a saddler, but the con- 
 fined life was extremely distasteful to him, and after enduring it 
 for two years he joined a party of traders who were going to 
 Santa Fe. This expedition was by no means without danger, for 
 the route was infested with hostile Indians, who were always 
 ready to commit depredations upon the caravans. The armed par- 
 ty, however, reached the jDroposed point, the capital of a Mexican 
 province, without encountering any such interruption. The only 
 accident of the journey was a wound in the arm of a man whose 
 gun accidentally went off" as he was taking it from the wagon. The 
 
362 
 
 KIT CARSON. 
 
 injured member grew rapidly worse, and amputation being nec- 
 essary, three of their number, Carson and two others, were ap- 
 pointed to perform the operation ; the instruments were a razor 
 and an old saw, while a bolt from one of the wagons was heated 
 
 and used to cauterize the wound. The patient recovered, much 
 to the surprise and joy of the surgeons. Carson spent some time 
 in Taos, learning the Spanish language. Returning with anoth- 
 er J)art3^ of traders to Missouri, in the spring of 1827, he enga- 
 
KIT CARSON. 363 
 
 ged himself as teamster to a company of merchants bound for EI 
 Paso. Hei*e he remained. This was a complete change from his 
 old Missouri home; the adobe huts, built to surround a square 
 court, in the old Moorish fashion, each separate house forming a 
 fort that could be defended by its master ; the vinej'ards, whence 
 came the light wine and brandy for which the place was well- 
 known ; the population, half Indian, half Spanish : all these had 
 been known to him in Taos, and he only renewed his familiarity 
 with them in El Paso. 
 
 The winter of 1827-8 was passed in Taos, in the employ of Mr. 
 Ewing Young; thence, in the spring, he went as interpreter with 
 an expedition commanded by Col. Tramell, bound for Chihua- 
 hua. "While this position was held in higher estimation than any 
 he had yet occupied, he did not find its safe monotony pleasant, 
 and left it to engage in the more humble work of a teamster, re- 
 turning with his new employer to Taos. Here he found an op- 
 portunity to engage in the pursuit for which he was so eminent- 
 ly well qualified, and in which he delighted — hunting and trap- 
 ping, A party of trappers, sent out by his old employer, Mr. 
 Young, came in with but few peltries, having been driven away 
 from the chosen grounds by the Indians, and a larger company 
 was organized for the double purpose of chastising the savages 
 and trapping beavers. The commander of such an expedition 
 of course desired to take with him onl}^ experienced men, as raw 
 recruits were aj)t to create confusion. It was then a high com- 
 pliment to Kit's courage and ability that he, a boy of nineteen, 
 should be allowed to join them in this party. 
 
 They failed to find the savages who had committed the offense, 
 following a trail which afterwards proved to be that of another 
 band of marauders. Acting, probably, upon the principle that 
 if these Indians had not deserved punishment already, they might 
 do so in the future, a sharp skirmish ensued upon their meeting, 
 and fifteen warriors were killed. Proceeding along the Salt 
 river, a tributary of the Gila, they successfully prosecuted the 
 work for some time, but finally decided to go to the Sacramento 
 valley. Their route lay through a desert, where they suffered 
 dreadfully for want of water and food ; with this, however, they 
 were amj^ly sujojilicd by a part}^ of Mohave Indians, whom they 
 met in the canon of the Colorado. The Mission of San Gabriel 
 extended its hosi")itality to them. We can hardly realize what 
 thej^ endured, or of how much value to the young trapper was 
 
364 
 
 KIT CARSON. 
 
 such a journey. Accustomed, even in the most sparsely settled 
 districts, to roads more or less plainly marked, it is hard for us 
 to appreciate the situation of those who first marked out these 
 roads. The difficulties of the route were still farther enhanced 
 by the presence of the Indians, against whom they must be al- 
 ways on their guard. This journey is far inferior in interest to 
 subsequent adventures, if each be considered singly; but taken 
 as an indication of what he could do, and as training for his future 
 life in that thinly settled country, it is of very great importance. 
 The party spent some time in trapping uj^on the Sacramento 
 river, the richness of the soil about them supplying them with 
 abundance of food. The country around them was filled with 
 vast hordes of the Klamath or Digger Indians, not, however, re- 
 duced to the miser- 
 able wretches that 
 they are to-day. 
 Then, they were the 
 lords of the land, 
 subsisting upon the 
 pi enti ful gifts of 
 mother earth, strong 
 and brave. The vices 
 of the white man, 
 which his superior 
 strength defies, are 
 the destruction of 
 that lower race, and 
 like those of so many 
 other tribes, the mod- 
 ern Digger does not 
 fitly rej)resent his 
 cHRisTOPHiSB CARSON. fathcrs ; though even 
 
 then this tribe was inferior to the Apaches and Comanches. The 
 curious in such matters may refer this to the difi"erence in their 
 food ; would it not be better to conclude that the higher courage 
 attacked the larger game, while the Klamaths were content to 
 war upon and live upon grasshoppers ? For so did the Diggers 
 anticipate the experiments of our later entomologists. 
 
 Long before the days of which we write, the Spaniards had 
 established missionary stations along the coast of California, 
 about thirty or forty miles apart, for the purpose of Christianiz- 
 
KIT CARSON. 
 
 365 
 
 ing the Indians. Each little community was under the govern- 
 ment of a prefect, always a priest, whose temporal authority was 
 equalled only by his spiritual. He was appointed by the Crown 
 of Sj)ain, and that government contributed a considerable sum 
 for the maintainance of these missions. Attached to each of 
 these stations was a bandof Indians, for whose labors the worthy 
 fathers conceived that the religious instruction given them made 
 a full return. When, therefore, the Indians became restive under 
 their burden of forced labor, and forty of them deserted, the 
 missionaries lost little time in appealing to Capt. Young and his 
 trappers, for assistance in compelling the neighboring tribes not 
 
 INDIAN CAPTL'RINa HORSES. 
 
 to harbor the fugitives. Carson, at the head of a party of eleven, 
 set out towards an Indian town near San Gabriel, and an attack 
 upon it resulted in the destruction of one third of the inhabitants, 
 and the complete submission of the others. Peace having been 
 thus restored, Capt. Young sold a number of furs to a trader, 
 Avho was then at San Gabriel, and received in payment a large 
 drove of horses. But the Indians, apparently conquered, were 
 only awaiting an opportunity to avenge themselves upon the 
 trappers, and one night stole sixty of these horses while the sen- 
 tinel slept. Carson, with a party of twelve, was sent in pursuit 
 of the thieves. It was not difficult to follow the trail of so large 
 a drove, but so rapidly did the Indians retreat with their booty, 
 
366 KIT CARSON. 
 
 that the white men traveled about a hundred miles before com- 
 ing up with them. Carson arrived near the Indian camp, placed 
 his men carefully and silently, and at a given signal they rushed 
 upon the warriors as they sat eating. The savages, having no 
 fear of jiursuit, were feasting on the flesh of some of the stolen 
 horses. The attack of the white men came upon them like a 
 thunderbolt. Eight were killed, and the remainder scat:teredin 
 all directions, leaving the victors to return with the horses not 
 consumed, and with three Indian children that were left in the 
 camp. 
 
 Early in the fall of 1829, Ca|5t. Young decided to go southward 
 to the valley of the Colorado. Stopping at Los Angelos, many of 
 the trappers became involved in a drunken fray with the citizens, 
 and he left sooner than he had intended. On the Colorado they 
 encamped, and were very successful in adding to their stock of 
 furs. On one occasion they would have lost all if it had not been 
 for the courage and address of Carson. Left in the camj) with 
 only a few men, he was one day confronted by a large part}^ of 
 Indians, numbering two or three hundred. These did not mani- 
 fest any enmity to the trappers, and they were apparently un- 
 armed ; but Carson discovered that each one had formidable weap- 
 ons concealed under his upper garment. He ordered them to leave 
 the camp, but the Indians, seeing how far superior were their own 
 numbers, paid no attention to the command, acting as if they did 
 not comprehend the language. Carson quietly drew up his men, 
 armed with their rifles. The old chief had betrayed a knowledge 
 of Spanish, and to him Carson said in that language : 
 
 ''You see that there are very few of us, but we are all well- 
 armed, and determined to sell our lives dearly. Go." 
 
 Awed by the tone of his voice and the glance of his eye, as much 
 as by his words, the Indians, who never voluntarily face open 
 danger, sullenly withdrew. Their plan had most probably been 
 to produce a stampede of the horses, and thus secure them, after 
 they had robbed the camp of the valuable furs in it. Although 
 the trappers were not again disturbed by the Indians, this was 
 not the only meeting ; for, a little later, they turned aggressors, 
 and robbed the Indians of a large drove of cattle and of several 
 good horses. 
 
 Eeturning to Santa Fe, the furs were disposed offer such a sum 
 that each man's share seemed to him a fortune, and each one im- 
 mediately proceeded to get rid of it as soon as possible. Carson 
 
KIT CARSON. 
 
 367 
 
 was not behind his companions in their indulgence in the dissipa- 
 tions of a Mexican town. Having sown the wind by killing his 
 opponent in a street brawl, the resulting whirlwind blew him far 
 back towards his old home in Missouri. Meeting with a party of 
 trappers on their way to Utah, he joined them, remaining with 
 them some time. They suffered, occasionally, from the depreda- 
 
 '^:^=^ 
 
 % , 1/ ^Mi ' 
 
 A NARKfJW ESCMPE. 
 
 tions of the Crows and the Blackfeet, but so slightly that Fitz- 
 patrick, who was in command, would not permit Carson to go in 
 pursuit of them. Reinforced by another party, however, a theft 
 of sixty horses while they were in their winter camp he was 
 permitted to avenge. Selecting twelve volunteers, he took 
 up the trail, and coming upon the Indians in one of their strong- 
 
368 KIT CARSON. 
 
 holds, cut loose the horses, attacked their rude fort, killed five 
 warriors, and made good their retreat with the animals that they 
 had recovered. This was the most considerable fight during the 
 winter. It was during this winter that Carson had a very narrow 
 escape. Out looking for " beaver sign," with a few men, he 
 came suddenly upon a party of sixty well-armed and mounted 
 warriors. Resistance was useless, and the trappers beat a hasty 
 retreat, while the bullets whistled alarmingly thick about them. 
 He was accustomed to say, long afterwards, that this was one of 
 the narrowest escapes that he had ever had. 
 
 In the spring of 1832, the party being upon a stream where he 
 was convinced there was no beaver, Carson, with two others, left 
 them and proceeded to another stream. Here, high up in the 
 mountains, and hence not disturbed by the Indians, they pursued 
 their work successfully for the whole season. Taking the furs 
 to Taos, they disposed of them for a good price, and Carson, 
 taught by his past experience, resisted all temptations to squan- 
 der his money. This was a hard task for one so fond of the so- 
 ciety of his companions. 
 
 During his stay at Taos, he was invited by Capt. Lee to join an 
 expedition that he was organizing, and in October of the same 
 year set out with about twenty traders and trappers, going north- 
 ward and entering winter quarters on a branch of the Green river. 
 While in the camp, a neighboring settler was robbed of six valu- 
 able horses by an Indian whom he had had in his employ, and in 
 whom he had hitherto reposed great confidence. To Carson he 
 applied, asking him to pursue the Indian and retake the horses. 
 Having obtained permission of his employer. Kit went to a neigh- 
 boring Utah village, where he was well-known, and procured the 
 assistance of a brave and hardy young warrior, whom he knew to 
 be reliable. So slight were the indications of the trail that they 
 could only follow with extreme difficulty and slowness at first ; 
 but once convinced of its direction, they proceeded more swiftly. 
 They had traveled about one hundred miles when the Indian's 
 horse fell sick; in vain did Curson urge him to continue the 
 pursuit on foot ; the warrior bent his steps homeward, and Kit, 
 putting sjjurs to his horse, followed the trail for thirty miles 
 farther. The fugitive spied him at the same moment that Kit 
 saw the object of his search, and with true savage caution turn- 
 ed to seek a shelter from which he might fire at his assailant. 
 Cralloping towards him, Carson raised his rifle, took aim and fired 
 
KIT CARSON. 
 
 369 
 
 just as the Indian reached what he thought "wotild be safety. With 
 one bound the savage fell beside his horse, and the report of his 
 own gun was his only requiem. 
 
 THE rURM IT 01 IHE HORbE THIEF. 
 
 Soon after his return witli the horses, Carson joined a party 
 of three others, with whom he trapped all summer on the Lara- 
 mie, with unusually good results. While hunting on foot for 
 game for this camp he met with the most perilous of his adven- 
 tures. He had just shot an elk, and was preparing to take pos- 
 session of his game, when two grizzly bears rushed upon it. Ho 
 24 
 
370 
 
 KIT CARSON. 
 
 had not yet reloaded, and besides, his rifle could defend him on- 
 ly against one; there was nothing to be done but to make for 
 the nearest tree. The bears were close behind him when he 
 reached a sapling, up which he climbed as fast as he could. Fierce 
 with hunger, his pursuers would put their huge paws around the 
 
 A FIGHT WITH GRIZZLIES. 
 
 slender trunk, and endeavor to reach him. Cutting a branch from 
 the tree, he would rap sharply each black nose that came near 
 enough, and bruin would go away growling, only to return when 
 the pain ceased. Nearly the whole night was passed in this way, 
 
KIT CARSON. 371 
 
 but towards morning the bears dcjoarted. Waiting until they 
 were at a safe distance, Carson scrambled down from bis perilous 
 perch, and made his way to the camp. The elk he bad killed 
 bad been devoured by the wolves, but he was only too glad to 
 have escaped with his life ; and his safety consoled his compan- 
 ions for supping and breakfasting on beaver. 
 
 For the fall hunt, Carson joined a eomjiany of fifty, locating in 
 the country of the Blackfeet, around the head waters of the 
 Missouri-; but the Indians were so numerous and hostile that they 
 removed to the Big Snake Eiver. During the winter, the Black- 
 feet stole in one night eighteen of their horses, for the recovery of 
 which Carson was sent with eleven men. Riding fifty miles 
 through the snow, they came to where the Indians had encamped. 
 Tlje savages, wearing snow-shoes, had the advantage, and the par- 
 ley which they demanded was readily granted. The Indians said 
 that they thought the horses belonged to the Snake tribe; that 
 they did not intend to steal from the white men. In reply, 
 Carson asked them why they did not lay down their arms and 
 smoke. To this question they had no answer, but both parties 
 laid aside their weapons and prepared for the smoke. The war- 
 riors made long-winded, non-committal speeches ; the whites 
 refused to hear anything of conciliation from them until the 
 horses were restored. Thereupon the Indians brought out five 
 of the poorest horses. The whites started for their rifles, and 
 the fight commenced. 
 
 Carson and a companion named Markland got hold of their 
 rifles fii'st, and were in the lead. Selecting for their mark two 
 Indians near to each other, both took aim, and were about to fire, 
 when Carson saw that Markland's antagonist was aiming with 
 deadly precision at his friend, who had not noticed him. Chang- 
 ing his aim, he sent his ball through the heart of the Indian, and 
 tried to dodge the shot of his own adversary. He was a moment 
 too late, and the ball struck the side of his neck, passing through 
 his shoulder and shattering the bone. The fight continued until 
 night, but Carson was, of course, only a spectator. His wound 
 bled profusely, and gave him considerable pain, but not a word 
 of complaint escaped his lips. Nightfall ended the fight in favor 
 of the whites, but their situation was extremely precarious. Not 
 knowing how soon the Indians might return with reinforcements, 
 they dared not light a fire, lest it should betray their where- 
 abouts. In the darkness and cold they held a hurried council, 
 
372 
 
 KIT CARSON. 
 
KIT CARSON 373 
 
 and decided to return to the camp. Loss of blood had rendered 
 their leader so weak that he was unable to sit on his horse ; so, 
 contriving a rude litter, they carried him. Three others were 
 wounded, but so slightly that they were able to ride back. 
 Arrived at the camp, a party of thirty was despatched to pursue 
 the Indians ; but it returned in a few days, having failed to over- 
 take the marauders. 
 
 Carson had fully recovered from his wound before the follow- 
 ing summer, when, for the second time, he attended the grand 
 rendezvous of trappers. This meeting was held annually in the. 
 midst of the great western wilderness, and attended by traders, 
 trappers and hunters who were anxious to exchange the products 
 of their labor for goods and money. Parties came in about the 
 time agreed u]3on, and encamped around the given spot. Those 
 who came earliest waited until others had arrived, before they 
 began to trade, thus fulfilling the unwritten law of honor which 
 prevailed among them. It was a motley crowd that was there 
 assembled, the traders dilating upon the difficulty and danger of 
 transporting their goods from St. Louis, a thousand miles away. 
 Indians and white men met there on neutral ground, and the 
 hardy hunter of the States consorted with the no less hardy 
 French Canadians. Nominally a peaceful meeting, it was no 
 small task to keep from open fights, and it sometimes severely 
 tasked those better disposed to restrain their comrades. Among 
 the more orderly was Carson, who did his best to bury the hatch- 
 et, even though a large party of Blackfeet, including the Indians 
 who had stolen the horses, was present, protected by a white flag. 
 His influence over the Indians, however, was considerable ; they 
 respected his courage too highly for him to be unpopular among 
 them. 
 
 There was a greater danger to be encountered among the white 
 men. A French Canadian, John Shuman, was notorious as a 
 bully and a braggart. So often had his acquaintances been intim- 
 idated by him, that none of them dared resentthe insults which he 
 took pleasure in heaping upon them. Encouraged by their sub- 
 mission, and greatly under the influence of liquor, he began to 
 try the same treatment with the Americans. Eiding about the 
 encampment, he denounced them as lily-livered cowards, weaker 
 than women, fit for no manly sport or occupation, and deserving 
 liberal applications of hickory, outwardly. Human nature can- 
 not stand everything • Carson threw aside his role of peace-mak- 
 
374 
 
 KIT CARSON. 
 
 er, and stepping out from the crowd, said, in his softest and qui- 
 etest tones : 
 
 ''I am an American, and one of the least of them. If you 
 want to fight any of us, you can begin with me." 
 
 Carson's duel with the braggart. 
 
 The gigantic Shuman looked contemptuously down from his 
 seat in the saddle ujion the slender, smooth-faced young man who 
 stood before him ; then, putting spurs to his horse, and riding off 
 to a little distance, then back again, raised his rifle and took aim. 
 Kit had sprung upon a horse and was ready with his pistol. Both 
 
KIT CARSON. 375 
 
 fired at the same instant, Shuman's hall grazing Carson's cheek 
 and cutting off a lock of his hair. Kit had not aimed at a vital 
 part, wishing to teach the bully a lesson, not to kill him ; his ball 
 entered Schuman's hand, came out at the wrist, and passed 
 through his arm above the elbow. He begged abjectly for his 
 life, and never insulted Americans again. 
 
 Arrangements were made at the rendezvous for the fall hunt, 
 and CarsoTa started thence with a party to the Yellowstone. 
 Meeting with little success, they removed two or three times and 
 finally determined upon a wandering hunt. Through the glit- 
 tering white expanse of the so-called mud-lakes, the vast i^rafries 
 covered with the worthless artemisia and heavy sand, the weary 
 horses plodded forty or fifty miles without food or water. Winter 
 set in with the severity common in this latitude, at this elevation, 
 and they were on the brink of despair. It had been resolved to 
 kill one of the horses and drink his blood, when they came in 
 sight of a party of Snake Indians. From these they bought a 
 fat pony, and the rank flesh was the sweetest they had ever tasted, 
 seasoned, as it was, by hunger, the best of sauces. Invigorated 
 by this food, they proceeded on foot to Fort Hall, thus allowing 
 their worn-out horses as much rest as they could give them. Ar- 
 rived at the fort, and having recruited their strength, they start- 
 ed out on a buffalo hunt, and brought in as much meat as their 
 horses could carry ; but on the third morning after their return, 
 the Indians drove oft' all their horses from the corral in which 
 the animals were confined; the sentinel mistaking the savages 
 for the friendly red men employed about the fort. Pursuit was 
 out of the question, as the same trick had been played a short time 
 ago on the people of the fort, and they could only await the ar- 
 rival of a detachment of their party Avhich they exiDCCted from 
 Walla Walla. 
 
 The men expected, came in about four weeks, with a plentiful 
 supply of horses; with fresh steeds, and men well fed and rested, 
 they started towards Green river, where, at a rendezvous, a party 
 of a hundred was organized to trap upon the Yellowstone and 
 the head waters of the Missouri. This was the country of the 
 Blackfeet, and as they expected to meet these Indians, it was ar- 
 ranged that while fifty were trapping and hunting for food, the 
 others should guard the camp, and cook. Their precautions were 
 useless, for the small pox had raged so fiercely in this hostile 
 tribe that their numbers were much diminished, and the survivors 
 
376 
 
 KIT CARSON. 
 
 too depressed in spirit to attack the whites. A camp of the 
 friendly Crows, near by the place where they wintered, gave them 
 companionship and assistance. 
 
 DEFENDING A FALLEN COMRADE. 
 
 Hardly had they begun trapping again when they learned that 
 the Blackfeet had recovered from the effects of the pestilence, 
 which had been less severe than had been represented. Learn- 
 
KIT CARSON. 377 
 
 ing that they were encamped not far from the trapping ground, 
 the whites determined to take the initiative. Carson and five 
 companions went forward to reconnoiter. Returning, a party of 
 fortjT'-three was organized, Carson unanimously chosen as leader, 
 and the others left to move on with the baggage. It was not long 
 before the Indians were overtaken, and ten were killed at the 
 first fire. Carson and his men were in high spirits, and followed 
 i;p the attack for three hours, meeting with but little resistance. 
 Their ammunition began to run low, and the firing was less 
 brisk, when the Indians, suspecting this to be the state of affairs, 
 turned and charged upon them, uttering their terrible war-cry. 
 Enabled to use their small-arms, Carson's men drove back the 
 savages with considerable slaughter, but rallying yet again, they 
 charged so fiercely that the trappers were forced to retreat. In 
 cited by the brave generosity of Carson, who placed himself be- 
 fore a companion disabled by his horse falling uj^on him, and 
 shot the foremost of the six warriors who rushed to get the fallen 
 trapper's scalp, his men rallied around him, and fired again upon 
 the Indians. Again the trappers retreated a short distance, and 
 made a stand ; both parties seemed to be exhausted, each appar- 
 ently waiting for the other to renew the attack. While they thus 
 remained j^assive, the reserve force of the white men came up, 
 and being thus freshly supplied with ammunition, they renewed 
 the attack with the old vigor. The desperate fight which ensued 
 ended in the defeat of the Indians. The Blackfeet lost many 
 men in this encounter, and did not again venture near the trap- 
 pers. 
 
 After leaving the summer rendezvous of trappers, and engag- 
 ing in several profitable trades, Carson settled himself for the 
 winter to hunt for the garrison at a fort on the Colorado, and in 
 the spring engaged in the old business with only a single com- 
 panion. This, he thought, would enable him to work more qui- 
 etly 3 as, personally, he was popular with the Indians, especially 
 with the Utahs, among whom he was going; but all the tribes 
 resented the presence of any considerable body of white men in 
 their territories. It was while on this expedition that he had a 
 hand-to-hand encounter with a large and fierce mountain lion, 
 being armed only with a hunting knife; the long fangs of the 
 savage creature tore his flesh drcadfullj', and faint with loss of 
 blood, he was on the point of yielding to it, when the love of 
 life, strong even when we are in despair, incited him to one more 
 
378 
 
 KIT CARSON. 
 
 eifort, and the keen edge of his knife nearly severed the head 
 from the body. 
 
 Encamping with a large party on the old trapping ground on 
 the Yellowstone, about midwinter they discovered that a large 
 
 detachment of the Blackfeet was alarmingly near. Forty men, 
 headed by Cai'son, were sent to sustain their attack. Both sides 
 fought bravely until darkness put an end to the contest, and dur- 
 ing the night the Indians retired, taking their dead with them. 
 The whites knew that this was but a small portion of that pow- 
 
KIT CARSON. 379 
 
 erful tribe, which numbered about thirty thousand, and that 
 they would probably be attacked very soon by a larger force. 
 Carson directed that a breastwork be thrown up. Hardly had 
 this been comj^leted, when the Indians began to assemble around 
 the impromptu fort. In three days about a thousand warriors 
 were gathered around the fort. The war-dance took place in sight 
 and hearing of the trappers, and at the first appearance of day- 
 light the Indians advanced ; only to retire, however, when they 
 saw the strength of their position. They had recognized, in the 
 preparations for defense, the hand of Kit Carson, and the}^ dar- 
 ed not again contend against the "■ Monarch of the Prairies." 
 
 Several seasons were passed in trapping, but no extraordinary 
 adventures characterized them. The price of furs decreased so 
 much that it was no longer a profitable business; and after eight 
 years spent in it, Carson, now twenty-five, decided to engage 
 himself as hunter to Fort Bent. It is much to be regretted that, 
 while he knew thoroughly '' the lay of the land," and all the 
 minor points of use to him in guiding a hunting expedition, his 
 lack of education prevented his recording this knowledge in such 
 a way as to confer a lasting benefit upon others. 
 
 At Bent's Fort he found his position extremely pleasant. Not 
 only did he like the work in which he was engaged, but he form- 
 ed a sincere and lasting friendship with his employers, Messrs. 
 Bent and St. Vrain. Here he found no difticulty in feeding the 
 forty men in the fort, killing thousands of elk, deer and antelope, 
 as well as smaller game; while a buifalo hunt aft'ordcd him the 
 keenest pleasure. His accurate knowledge served him well in this 
 pursuit, as did also the respect and esteem of the Indians for him. 
 It was while ho was acting as hunter to Bent's fort that some of 
 these well-disposed Indians, having suffered considerably from 
 the incursions of the powerful Sioux, sent to him for assistance. 
 Such had been his success in hunting that he accepted this invi- 
 tation, and accompanied the Indians to their camp. Here he 
 found, besides the painted Comanches, to which tribe the mes- 
 sengers had belonged, a considerable band of Arapahoes. In the 
 council which followed, they told him that the Sioux had a thou- 
 sand warriors and many rifles; but expressed the utmost confi- 
 dence in the Monarch of the Prairies' power to defeat these 
 dreaded enemies. Carson listened to the representations of the 
 tribes that had sought his aid, and urged upon them the superior 
 advantages of a peaceful settlement of the difficulty. So great 
 
380 KIT CARSON. 
 
 was his influence over them that they consented to send him as 
 mediator, and he succeeded in persuading the Sioux to return to 
 their own hunting grounds at the end of the season. 
 
 It was while he was acting as hunter to Bent's Fort that he 
 married an Indian wife, by whom he had a daughter still living. 
 In less than a year after her marriage, the mother fell a victim 
 to her devotion to her husband. Learning, when her little daugh- 
 ter was but a week old, that her husband was lying ill a hun- 
 dred miles away, she mounted a horse and rode to where he was. 
 A fever, thus contracted, put an end to her life. When this 
 daughter was about five years old, Carson brought her to St. 
 Louis, to put her under such care as would be better calculated 
 for her improvement than the rude teachings of her mother's 
 people, or the little training she could receive from her father's 
 rough companions. Hither his fame had preceded him, and he 
 was amazed to find himself a lion. But pleasant as such recog- 
 nition might be, it could not compensate him for the life that he 
 loved; and he longed to return to his old hunting-ground. 
 
 His journey to St. Louis proved to bo a turning-point in his 
 life, for it was here that he fell in with Lieut. John C. Fremont, 
 then under orders from the United States government to explore 
 and rej)ort upon the country Ij'ing on the line of the Kansas and 
 Great Platte Eivers, between the western boundary of Missouri 
 and South Pass. Bigelow, in his life of this gallant officer, pub- 
 lished during the presidential campaign of 1856, makes the state- 
 ment that the meeting between Fremont and Carson was j)urely 
 accidental ; but most of Carson's biographers represent that Fre- 
 mont was familiar with the name and fame of the daring plains- 
 man. This latter seems much the more j)robable ; it i& hardly to 
 be believed that the active young officer, from whose brain had 
 emanated the idea of this expedition, should never have heard of 
 the most famous of the hunters — the " Thief-Taker," as the whites 
 had named him; the "Monarch of the Prairies," as the Indians 
 called him. 
 
 Carson was engaged as guide, and proved an invaluable acqui- 
 sition even to a party composed, as this was in great measure, 
 of voyageurs familiar with prairie life by reason of their services 
 to the fur companies. Twenty-one men, jDrincipally Creoles and 
 Canadians, composed the party at first; to it being added Mr. 
 Preuss, as assistant topographer, a hunter, and the guide. In 
 May, 1842, they left St. Louis, proceeding by boat to Chouteau's 
 
KIT CARSON. 881 
 
 Landing, near the mouth of the Kansas, whence, after a few days' 
 delay, they started on the overland journey. For a distance of 
 nearly a hundred miles the road was excellent; 
 
 " The prairie stretched as smootli as a floor, 
 As far as the eye could see," 
 
 and the path was so well-defined that they experienced no diffi- 
 culty in pursuing it. Arrived at the ford of the Kansas, they met 
 with their first delay since leaving Chouteau's Landing. The 
 horses were driven in and reached the opposite bank in safety, 
 and although the oxen occasioned some anxiety by swimming 
 down the river, they were recovered the next morning. An in- 
 dia-rubber boat, twenty feet long and five feet wide, was launch- 
 ed, and on it were placed the body and wheels of a cart, the 
 load belonging to it, and three men with paddles. Such was the 
 velocity of the current, joined to the unwieldy nature of the 
 freight, that the boat could only be successfully steered to the 
 opposite side by means of a line held in the teeth of one of the 
 best swimmers, who assisted in drawing the vessel over. Six 
 passages had been made in this way, the swimmer being Basil 
 Lajeunessc ; night was rapidly a2:)proaching, and it was necessary 
 that the work of transportation should be completed. Disre- 
 garding the advice of Carson, Lajeunesse started out the last 
 time with a double load ; the boat capsized, and it was only with 
 considerable trouble that the cargo was recovered. Carson and 
 the hunter. Maxwell, were in the water the greater part of the 
 next day searching for the lost articles, and were so affected by 
 the exposure that the party had to remain encamped there an- 
 other day. Two days more were passed at a camp seven miles 
 further up the river. Provisions were dried and repacked, cart 
 covers painted, and marksmanship perfected. 
 
 Leaving this camp, they marched onward through a country, 
 where for several days their only difficulty was the scarcity of 
 water. Reaching the country occupied by the Pawnees, they 
 found it would be necessary to keep guard at night, since these 
 thieving hordes openly attacked the weaker parties, and endeav- 
 ored to carry off the horses of even the stronger. It may be 
 readily believed that any report of the Indians being in the 
 neighborhood was carefully investigated. Such an alarm was 
 given by a man who had fallen some distance in the rear, and 
 who came spurring up, shouting ''Indians, Indians!" Being 
 questioned, he said that he had been near enough to see and count 
 
382 KIT r ARSON. 
 
 a war-party of Indians following them, stating the number as 
 twenty-seven. A halt was called, arms examined, and while they 
 were preparing for the attack which they exj^ected, Carson gal- 
 loped off alone in the direction that the Indians were said to be 
 advancing. Eeturning, he said that the twenty-seven Pawnees 
 had changed to six elk, that had scampered off when they had 
 passed. A more serious alarm resulted from their first buffalo 
 hunt, some days later, in Carson's being thrown from his horse 
 by its fall among the herd. This, although really a serious ac- 
 cident, did not not prevent his engaging in the hunt the next 
 day. A threatened attack of the Sioux produced great confu- 
 sion in the camp, as they were not accustomed to the perils of 
 the life upon the plains. Carson, knowing that these men were 
 not to be depended upon in an encounter with the savages, as 
 were those experienced trappers who had been his companions 
 in the previous years, made his will, and the knowledge of this 
 increased the fears of the men ; but this, like the other dangers 
 they had encountered, passed off without an}^ serious result. The 
 grasshopi)er, that scourge of the West, whose ravages have of 
 late years been more familiar than ever to us, had destroyed 
 nearly all the vegetation in the country through which they were 
 shortly to pass, and famine had so weakened the Indians that 
 they w^ere unable to attack Fremont's party. 
 
 Carson's position in this expedition was honorable, as testify- 
 ing to his reputation as a guide and hunter; but it has by no 
 means been accorded the consideration which it deserved. The 
 party, as before stated, consisted almost entirely of French voy- 
 ageurs, who had spent their lives in hunting in the less dangerous 
 regions farther east; there was, besides, a hunter of experience in 
 the country through which they were passing ; all were alike in 
 their jealousy of Kit Carson, and their anxiety to supplant hiin 
 wherever possible in the favor of the commander. So well did 
 the Creoles succeed in causing his claims to be overlooked, that 
 he was not included in the party which, on the fifteenth of Aug- 
 ust, ascended the highest peak of the Eocky Mountains and 
 planted the American flag on the summit of the height hitherto 
 untrodden by the foot of man. 
 
 The return trip was accomplished without accident, the party 
 arriving in St. Louis Oct. 17th, less than five months from the date 
 of departure, Carson leaving them at Fort Laramie. From this 
 point he proceeded to New Mexico, where he settled near his old 
 
KIT CARSON. 
 
 888 
 
 headquarters, Taos; married a Spanish lady, and went to farm- 
 ing ; being occasionally employed as a hunter by his old friends, 
 Messrs. Bent and St. Vrain, of Bent's Fort. In June, 1843, he 
 heard that Capt. Fremont had organized a second expedition, 
 starting from Kansas City May 29th, and resolved to see his old 
 
 
 (_ VKVIN s HOUSE AT TAOS. 
 
 commander. His was too noble a heart to think that he had 
 been slighted before : if he had noticed the enmity of his compan- 
 ions at all, he had by this time forgotten it. Setting out from 
 Taos, he journeyed seventy miles before he fell in with the party ; 
 Fremont, conscious of the value of his services, immediately ex- 
 
384 KIT CARSON. 
 
 tended him a cordial invitation to join, which was accepted with- 
 out the least hesitation. On leaving Taos, Carson had expected 
 only to meet Fremont, and immediately return, but the allure- 
 ments of the journey were such as he could not resist. 
 
 The destination proposed for the first part of their journey was 
 the Great Salt Lake, which a division of the j^arty, including 
 Fremont, Carson, and five others, reached by descending Great 
 Bear Eiver. Embarking in the india-rubber boat, they found 
 themselves in the midst of this great inland sea in a craft which 
 hasty construction had made unseaworthy, while the waves in 
 the distance were lashed by the rising wind into foamy white- 
 ness. The transparency of the water enabled them to see the 
 bottom of the lake through its emerald depths ; yet deceived 
 them somewhat as to the real distance between them and the 
 yellow sand beneath. They directed their course towards one 
 of the loAver islands, reaching it about noon. The spray, which 
 had covered them with a crust of salt, clothed the low cliffs of 
 this island with a glittering mantle of whiteness, and the hollows 
 in the ro<^ks were lined with the same substance to the depth of 
 one-eighth of an inch. One thing from which they suffered on 
 the journey had been the lack of salt; a want which they were 
 now fortunately able to siipply, as the water proved to be a 
 saturated solution of common salt, without those other substances 
 which render the water of the ocean bitter. Encamping for the 
 night upon the island (which they named "Disappointment," be- 
 cause, afar off, they had thought its barren shores looked fertile), 
 they were lulled by the murmur of the waves beating upon the 
 cliffs. Returning in the morning to the camp where they had 
 left two of their companions, they remained upon the shores of 
 the lake for some time, subsisting upon what game they could 
 kill. This was but a poor resource, and they were glad to wel- 
 come the other division of the party that came with supplies. 
 
 .The severe and early winter of this high latitude was now ap- 
 proaching, and Fremont, knowing that some of his party would 
 not be able to endure its hardships, called them together and 
 told them of what was yet to be undergone. Eleven of the party 
 consented to return to the settlements, twenty-five pushing on- 
 ward to the limit of their journey. Difficulties* thickened around 
 them. Although it was only the latter part of September, the 
 weather was very cold, and the wintiy rain was blown directly 
 in their faces. It was no longer j)0ssible to journey regularly 
 
KIT CARSON. 385 
 
 every day, and be certain of finding a suitable place for their 
 camp at night. The many short and steep ascents in the road 
 consumed the strength of both men and horses; and each cart 
 had to be pushed up each steep inclination by the men. Two 
 buffaloes Avere killed by Carson, and an ox that they had brought 
 with them was slaughtered. The only Indians with whom they 
 met were those tribes whose whole life was spent in the search 
 for food; Diggers and the kindred fish-eating Indians. Both 
 live during the summer upon the most loathsome animals ; with 
 long hooked sticks they draw the lizards from their holes, and 
 by circles over the wide plains they drive into pits, prepared for 
 the purpose, the abundant grasshoppers. In winter time they re- 
 tire to those homes which a beneficent nature has fashioned for 
 them — the caves in the rocks. 
 
 By the presence of such inhabitants was the sterility of the 
 country made manifest, but Fremont pushed bravely on until he 
 had fulfilled the orders under which he was acting. The arrival 
 at a point on the Columbia river, one hundred and fifty miles in 
 a bee-line from its mouth, connected his surveys and observations 
 with those of Commander Wilkes, and fulfilled his instructions. 
 He was not satisfied wnth the execution of his orders. Although 
 it came in the form of an order from the "War Department, per- 
 mission to undertake this second expedition hau been obtained 
 with difiiculty, and even rescinded after it was given ; and he 
 was so enthusiastic over his w^ork that he detern.hied to take 
 another route on his return, three principal j^oints being the spec- 
 ial objects of interest. These were Klamath Lake, a lake called 
 Marj^'s, and a large river known by report as Bonaventura, flow- 
 ing from its headwaters in the Eockies to the Pacific. The difii- 
 culty of their undertaking was enhanced by the season, and by 
 the youth of some members of the party, several of whom were 
 not twenty-one. The journey is one full of interest to the scien- 
 tist ; as the only white men by whom that country had been tra- 
 versed were the hunters, who lacked skill and will to transfer 
 their knowledge to the printed page; but as far as reaching the 
 three bodies of water above mentioned is concerned, it was a 
 failure, simply because two of them have no existence, and the 
 third, Klamath, is a lake when the snows from the neighboring 
 mountains are melting, and a green plain during the remainder 
 of the season. 
 
 Day after day they journeyed painfully on in the hope of find- 
 25 
 
386 KIT CARSON. 
 
 ing the fertile valley and wooded shores of the river of Good 
 Luck ; but at last the hope was recognized as a vain one, and they 
 determined to cross the mountains. For a few days they had fol- 
 lowed a broad trail, and thus were relieved from anxiety regard- 
 ing suitable places for encampment. Carson had described to 
 them in glowing language the valley of the Sacramento, where, 
 it will bo remembered, he had been some fifteen years before. 
 Towards this Land of Promise they bent their steps, undismayed 
 by the fact that it was the middle of January, and that there 
 were mountains to be crossed. To the camp established on the 
 head waters of the Salmon-trout River, came scores of Indians to 
 warm their nearly naked bodies at the white men's fire, and to 
 secure anything which could be gotten by fair means or foul. 
 These were by no means disposed to underrate the difficulties of 
 crossing the mountains ; one old man, who seemed particularly 
 intelligent, communicated to them by signs the information that 
 in the proper season for making the journey across the moun- 
 tains it was six sleeps to the place where the white men lived; 
 but that now the journey could not be made ; that the snow would 
 be over their heads. Fremont replied that the men and horses 
 were strong and would beat down a road through the snow; and 
 a judicious display of the bales of scarlet cloth and the various 
 trinkets they had brought with them, so wrought upon the old 
 man that he began to describe the country beyond the mountains : 
 if they were able to pass through the snow, he gave them to un- 
 derstand they would find abundance of grass six inches high and 
 no snow. This far he had been on elk hunts, and he brought into 
 the camp a young man who had been to the settlements. Cap- 
 tain Sutter's lordly domain was only about seventy miles from 
 them, they knew, and persuading the young Indian to act as 
 guide, they provided him with stouter moccasins than he was 
 wearing, and comfortably warm clothing. Arraying himself in 
 the blue and scarlet cloth, and the green blanket which they gave 
 him, he strutted about the camp certainly the most gorgeously 
 attired of all in it. Him, with two others, Fremont kept in his 
 own lodge that night; Carson, who had previously shown them 
 the use of his fire-arms, lying across the entrance. 
 
 The commander addressed his men upon the undertaking the 
 next day, not disguising the probable hardships, and telling them 
 the distances as he had calculated them. They cheerfully assen- 
 ted to his decision, and preparations for departure were immedi- 
 
KIT CARSON. 387 
 
 ately begun. Provisions were very low. A dog which had been 
 found near Salt Lake and shared their life, had now become fat, 
 and being killed made a strengthening meal for the party. There 
 was no one who did not realize the difficulty and danger of the 
 undertaking, and with a silence unusual to the light-hearted, 
 talkative Creoles, they set out. 
 
 The sun deepened as they advanced. One man with his horse 
 led the way, beating down a path for the others until both were 
 tired ; falling back to the rear, the next man took his place. The 
 road which they had made was at sunset strewn with the camp 
 equipage, the horses floundering in the snow, being unable to 
 carry anything. Eeaching a level spot protected on one side by 
 the mountain, and on the other by a ridge of rock, they encamped 
 for the night. A strong wind commenced at sunset, and the night 
 was bitterly cold — one of the most severe they had yet exper- 
 ienced. Here two Indians joined them, one an old man haran- 
 guing them at considerable length regarding the difficulties of 
 the particular pass they had chosen, and professing his ability 
 to show them a better way. The Indian guide was much affect- 
 ed by his repetitions of " Eock upon rock, snow upon snow, rock 
 upon rock," and began to lament having left his own people, to 
 die before he reached the whites. 
 
 Awaking early in the morning, Fremont saw this temporary 
 guide standing shivering before the fire, and threw another blan- 
 ket over the Indian's shoulders. A few moments afterwards 
 they missed him ; he had deserted, and they never saw him again. 
 
 A part of the day was spent in the construction of snow-shoes 
 and sledges, that the journey might be completed with more 
 ease. Fremont and Carson left the men to this work, and climb- 
 ed up the mountain to see what lay before them ; arrived at such 
 a point in the pass as commanded a view beyond the range, Kit 
 recognized with delight the lower peaks near the coast with 
 which he had been familiar fifteen years before; pointing out to 
 the leader the various points of interest as marking certain ad- 
 ventures. With almost incredible difficulty the. body of men ad- 
 vanced through the snow, which was from five to twenty feet 
 deep. The first day after the encampment noted, a distance of 
 only four miles was traversed ; many being unused to snow-shoes, 
 and all of them nearly blinded by the glaring whiteness. Days 
 were spent in beating down the snow with mauls, so that the 
 animals might be led along that road ; and fifteen days after the 
 
388 
 
 KIT CARSON. 
 
 desertion of their Indian guide, they encamped upon the summit 
 of the pass, a thousand miles from the Columbia Eiver. The val- 
 ley lay before them, and they thought the worst was over; but 
 the descent was less easy than might have been thought. Deep 
 fields of snow lay beneath them, and there were other, though 
 
 FREMONT RESCUED BY CAK.SON. 
 
 lower mountains to be crossed ; but before them lay the goal, and 
 far off there glittered in the evening sun a silver line and a 
 broad expanse of azure — the Sacramento River and San Francisco 
 Bay. Yet so often had they been deceived, that the question 
 arose in each one's mind: "Is it not another salt inland lake? 
 
KIT CARSON. 389 
 
 Here again the snow must be beaten down to make a roadway 
 for the beasts of burden, and while the others of the party were 
 engaged in this, the leader and the guide went on ahead to re- 
 connoiter and select the best possible directions for the path. 
 
 Coming to a small stream bordered on either side by rocks, 
 Carson bounded across, landing in safety upon the opposite side, 
 but Fremont's moccasin glanced from the icy rock and he fell in- 
 to the little river. It was a few moments before he could recover 
 himself, and Carson, thinking only of the danger to his leader, 
 sprang into the midst of the floating ice to rescue him. Happily, no 
 evil results ensued. Slowly the work of making a road went on, 
 and at a snail's pace the party advanced towards the valley. Such 
 were the hardships which they underwent, that more than one 
 strong man was deranged by them. At last, one month after, the 
 first encampment upon the mountain-side, they reached Mr. Sut- 
 ter's ranch, and received a most cordial welcome. 
 
 Carson left the party as soon as his services were no longer 
 necessary, and went back to Taos. Here he bought a farm, built 
 a house, and settled down to the quiet, uneventful life of a hard- 
 working agriculturist. Before they se2:)aratcd, however, he had 
 promised Fremont to act as guide again, if another expedition 
 should be organized ; and when that officer, in the spring of 1845, 
 sent to claim the fulfillment of that promise. Kit sold at a great 
 sacrifice the property that he had accumulated, and placing his 
 family under the protection of Messrs. Bent and St. Vrain, went 
 to the aj^pointed rendezvous. The story of the early part of this 
 expedition possesses little interest to us; it is only when the 
 party have reached California that the plot thickens. It will be 
 remembered that Texas, which nine years before had won its in- 
 dependence from Mexico by a sanguinary contest, had this 3'ear 
 made a successful application for admission into the Union; and 
 that this was the very year in which the Mexican "War commen- 
 ced. The threats of the Mexican officers in California somewhat 
 alarmed Fremont, as he did not wish to begin hostilities, but he 
 was permitted, when they found he. did not mean to withdraw, 
 to remain and finish his work. But although openly they Avere 
 friendly, or at least neutral, the Indians were instigated by them 
 to attack the Americans, as the people of the United States are 
 called by both Mexicans and Indians. It was rumored that a 
 thousand warriors were on their way there, where they were at 
 the 'time intending to destroy that and any other American jiost. 
 
390 KIT CARSON. 
 
 Captain Fremont had now been ten days at Lawson's Post, 
 awaiting opportunity for continuing his journey. Finding, how- 
 ever, that such there was not likely to be, a jiarty was organized 
 to march against the savages, and thus aid the more defenseless 
 points. With five men from the post, besides his own command, 
 they set out. Carson having been elected Lieutenant of the com- 
 pany, the choice of the leader was thus confirmed by his men. 
 They soon found the trail of a large party of Indians, and follow- 
 ing it closely, came up with them. The savages repelled the 
 attack with vigor and courage, but were defeated with terrible 
 slaughter, and retreated in dismay to their fastnesses in the 
 mountains. The newly-chosen lieutenant was in the thickest of 
 the fight, as always, and did noble execution upon the enemies. 
 
 Eeturning to Lawson's Post, they completed their prepara- 
 tions, and recommenced their perilous journey. Fr'emont had 
 determined to return byway of Oregon, and open up a new road 
 between the northern and southern settlements. Proceeding 
 northward, the}^ passed several daj'S in tranquil journeyings; 
 when one evening, just as they had finished preparations for the 
 night, they were surprised by the sudden appearance of two 
 white men in their midst. They were only too well aware of 
 the hardships and dangers which these two men must have en- 
 countered, and accorded them a hearty welcome. Warmed and 
 fed, they were permitted to tell their story. They were part of 
 a detachment of six men, escorting a United States officer across 
 the plains with despatches for various points in California; he 
 being instructed, after these despatches should have been deliv- 
 ered, to find Capt. Fremont wherever he might be. They had 
 left the main party two days before, and had only escaped from 
 the Indians, that jDursued them more than once, by the swiftness 
 of their horses. 
 
 Fremont and Carson, with a picked body of ten men, immedi- 
 ately set out in the direction indicated by the messengers. In the 
 trackless wilderness, it is no easy matter to find a wandering 
 party, but Carson advised a halt at a certain pass, and here the 
 other party joined them. The officer jjroved to be Lieut. Gilles- 
 j)ie, with letters for Fremont from his family — the first news he 
 had received of them since the beginning of the journe3\ He 
 sat up until midnight, keeping up a good fire, but as the men 
 had marched sixty miles without a halt, he did not require a 
 guard to be kept for the remainder of the night. 
 
KIT CARSON. 391 
 
 At last the fire died down; the commander slept as soundlj^ as 
 his men — more soundly than one of them. An unusual sound, a 
 dull thud as of a heavy blow, — was that a groan ? — and Carson's 
 light sleep was broken. 
 
 "What's the matter there ?" he called to Basil Lajeunesse, who 
 lay beside him. 
 
 No ansAver came. Springing up, he saw in far less time than 
 it takes to tell it, that the blow of an axe had crushed in the heads 
 of Basil and his next neighbor — one had never known what kill- 
 ed him, the other had groaned as he died. Aroused by Kit's 
 voice, the four friendly Delawarcs, and, a moment later, the 
 whites, sprang up. Each man fought for his life, and the Indian 
 chief having been killed, theKlamaths fled. Three of the whites 
 had been killed and one of the Delawares wounded. These very 
 Indians had been to the camp a few days before, and although 
 there was little meat on hand, Capt. Fremont had divided with 
 them, and had even unpacked a mule to give them knives and 
 tobacco. 
 
 Sadly they left the encampment, bearing with them the bodies 
 of their fallen comrades as long as they could carry them; then, 
 because a grave could not be dug in that hard soil without im- 
 plements, they buried them under the fallen timber. They did 
 not again omit the precaution of placing a guard at night — espe- 
 cially necessary, since the Indians throughout the whole region 
 were in arms. Lieutenant Gillespie had brought the information 
 that war with Mexico had been declared, and Fremont deter- 
 mined to go back to California. Making the circuit of Klamath 
 Lake, he encamped at a spot nearly opposite that where his three 
 men had been killed, and sent Carson, with ten men, forward to 
 see if there were an Indian town in the neighborhood, leaving an 
 attack to his discretion. The little party soon came upon an In- 
 dian village containing about fifty lodges. By the commotion 
 in the town they knew that their vicinity had been discovered, 
 and lost no time in attacking the Klamaths. The Indians fought 
 as all men do in defending their homes, but were at length com- 
 pelled to retreat, and Carson and his party took possession of 
 the village. This was the most highly adorned of any that they 
 had yet seen, and the lodges were provided with unusually con- 
 venient appliances and utensils for cooking; but Carson felt that 
 its destruction was necessary, and gave orders accordingly. The 
 ascending smoke gave Fremont notice that an encounter had 
 
392 
 
 KIT CARSON. 
 
 taken place, and not knowing its issue, he hurried forward with 
 the main body* but he arrived only in time to hear the pleasant 
 news of victory. 
 
 They moved away from this spot, but soon Premont deter- 
 
 C ARSON SAYKl) I'.V Ti; K,\U iXT, 
 
 mined to punish the Indians still more, if possible. So he sent 
 back a party of twenty to the ruins of the village to lay in wait 
 for the return of the Indians, who would naturally soon revisit 
 it and look after their dead. Soon about fifty savages appeared, 
 
KIT CARSON. 893 
 
 and word was sent to the main body, as by previous arrangement. 
 Fremont, Carson and six men hastened to reinforce the party. 
 On approaching the ruins, Carson saw only one Indian wander- 
 ing about, and dashed at him, raising his rifle to fire; but the gun 
 only snapped, and he was apparently at the mercy of the savage, 
 who instantly drew an arrow to the head and would have shot 
 Carson dead; but Fremont had seen his friend's danger, and, 
 plunging the rowels into the side of his horse, he reached, knock- 
 ed down and rode over the Indian before the arrow could leave 
 the bow, thus saving Kit's life by prompt and brave action. 
 
 Inspired by their successes, they continued on their journey to 
 the valley of the Sacramento. Four days after the attack upon 
 the Indian village they came to a jjoint where the easiest road 
 led through a deej) canon, but Carson, scenting danger ahead, 
 advised another, although a more difficult route. It was well that 
 they acted upon this counsel, for a large party of the Klamaths 
 lay m ambush in the narrow passage. Disappointed at this fail- 
 ure of their plans, they rushed out aijd attacked the whites, but 
 were repulsed without much trouble. One old warrior stood his 
 ground, advancing from tree to tree cautiously, and shooting rap- 
 idly at Carson and another man who were edging their way to- 
 wards him. At last, an unlucky exposure of his jDcrson brought 
 Kit's rifle into position, and in another moment the ball from it 
 had reached the savage's heart. 
 
 Reaching the valley of the Sacramento, they had not been long 
 in camp before the men began to grow restless from inactivity, 
 and Fremont decided not to wait for positive orders. Sonoma 
 was taken, and Monterey would have yielded to them if Commo- 
 dore Sloat had not anticipated them. The Americans in Cali- 
 fornia rallied in great numbers around Fremont's part}^, inde- 
 pendence of Mexican rule was declared by them, and the Bear 
 Flag and the Stars and Stri2:)es floated side by side over the camp. 
 
 San Diego was taken after Los Angelos had been occuijied and 
 abandoned, and here Commodore Stockton established himself, 
 appointing Col. Fremont Governor of California, and Carson, 
 with a force of fifteen men, was sent with despatches to Wash- 
 ington. He was instructed to make the journey in sixty days if 
 possible; this he felt confident he could do. Coming upon a par- 
 ty of Apache Indians, his boldness disconcerted them, and they 
 provided him with fresh horses for the continuance of his jour- 
 ney. His friendly relations, personally, with the Mexicans, en. 
 
•394 KIT CARSON. 
 
 abled him to obtain from them a fresh supply of food. He was 
 not far from Taos when he descried a speck moving across the 
 prairies, which he knew could not be any natural object. As it 
 drew nearer, he found it was an expedition sent out by the Uni- 
 ted States Government, under the command of General Kearney, 
 for the relief of the few men in California. He lost, no time in 
 presenting himself to this officer, describing the state of affairs 
 there and the nature of his errand. Gen. Kearney proposed that 
 Carson should turn over the despatches to another messenger, 
 and return with him and his command to California. Kit knew 
 that the successful bearer of despatches would be recognized by 
 the Government as a valuable servant; he was within a short 
 journey of his family, whom he had not seen for many weary 
 months j but he knew, also, what his services would be worth to 
 Kearney, and with a cheerful '^ As the General pleases," gave up 
 the papers to the messenger selected, and took up the march back 
 to California. 
 
 From the eighteenth of October until the third of December, 
 they were on the road ; camping on the evening of the latter date 
 within the limits of California, and advancing the next morning 
 toward San Diego. A scouting party under Carson's command 
 captured and brought into camp some sjiies that had been sent out 
 by Gen. Castro, then in Los Angeles. These being forced to give 
 information, told them that the Mexicans were planning to at- 
 tack them before they could join their allies in San Diego. Car- 
 son, thoroughly familiar with both parties, advised Kearney to 
 evade this attack, while his men and horses were exhausted by 
 reason of the long journey, and to take another route. Kearney, 
 acquainted only with the Mexicans in the eastern part of their 
 country, where he was accustomed to take towns by simply sum- 
 moning the alcalde to surrender, and not knowing that those in 
 California had acquired the energy and courage of his own coun- 
 trymen, persisted in keeping the same route. Approaching with- 
 in fifteen miles of the enemy's forces, a reconnoitering party re- 
 ported that they were encamped and strongly fortified in an In- 
 dian village. The scout was discovered and pursued, but suc- 
 ceeded in reaching the camj) in safety. 
 
 Gen. Kearney determined to attack them withoiit delay, and 
 for that purpose ordered an advance at one o'clock in the morn- 
 ing. Tired and hungry, the troops came ujDon the Mexican 
 advance guard before day. These men, stationed here to i)revent 
 
MEXICAN TOWXS 6URR?:XI)EKIXQ TO GEN. KKARNEX. 
 
396 KIT CARSON. 
 
 a surprise, slejDt fully dressed, with their saddles as pillows, and 
 their horses picketed near by, so that each man could be ready 
 to repulse an attack as soon as awakened by the neighborhood 
 of an enemy. The attacking force consisted of fifteen Ameri- 
 cans, under the command of Capt. Johnson, with Carson as 
 second officer. The guard drew back into camp, and the -party 
 under Johnson and Carson was reinforced by Capt. Moore, with 
 twenty-five men. Moore ordered an attack upon the enemy's 
 center, hoping to effect a division and create confusion in the 
 camp. Onward they rode " into the jaws of death." Carson's 
 horse stumbled and fell, carrying the rider to the ground. There 
 he lay, unable to rise until the whole body of horsemen should 
 have galloped past. Eising as soon as they passed him, he 
 caught up a gun from the hand of a dead comrade (for his own 
 had been shivered to pieces by the fall), mounted and rode on- 
 ward. Many of the men were mounted on mules which proved 
 unmanageable, and although the Mexicans were forced to retreat 
 a short distance, they soon discovered the condition of the 
 Americans, and turning back, transformed what would have been 
 a nearly bloodless victory into a terrible slaughter. Thirty of 
 the forty mounted on horses were either killed or severely 
 wounded, and although the main party of the Americans came 
 up to reinforce their comrades, the Mexicans fought with such 
 fierce courage that it seemed a hopeless case. Gen. Kearney, 
 although wounded, remained at the head of his troops, hoping 
 that two mountain howitzers, which were to be brought up, 
 would materially assist his eftorts to force the Mexicans to re- 
 treat. But they had not been made ready for use before the 
 gunners were shot down, and the lasso captured the horses at- 
 tached to one. Some fortunate accident or ignorance rendered 
 the Mexicans unable to use the gun, or still greater slaughter 
 might have ensued. 
 
 Eetreating to the rocky shelter near by, the Americans, who 
 had only three officers, including Carson, remaining, waited for 
 pursuit from the enemy. Both sides Avere exhausted by the long 
 day's fighting, and neither cheered by the consciousness of a de- 
 cided victory. The winter night was spent in burying the dead 
 and tending the wounded; while the enemy was receiving rein- 
 forcements of both Mexicans and Indians. 
 
 The next morning they took up the line of march towards San 
 Diego, as had been decided in the council of war held durimc the 
 
KIT CARSON. 397 
 
 night ; Carson, with a body of twenty -five able-bodied men lead- 
 ing the way, followed by the wounded and those employed in 
 tending and transporting them. They were about to encamp by 
 a stream of water for the night, when the Mexicans made a vig- 
 orous charge upon them. Unable in their weakened condition 
 to support an attack from such superior numbers, they were obli- 
 ged to give way, and retired to a hill a short distance off. The 
 Mexicans drew off to a neighboring height, and commenced a 
 deadly cannonade; but were dislodged by a party of Americans, 
 and the eminence was soon occupied by the main body of Kearney's 
 men. They were without food, and there was only water enough 
 for the men. Their condition was desperate, and only desperate 
 measures could be proposed in the council of war which was 
 held. Carson listened to what the others had to say, and then 
 rose in the council and said : 
 
 " Our case is a desperate one, but there is yet hope. If we stay 
 here, we are all dead men ; our animals cannot last long, and the 
 soldiers and marines at San Diego do not know that we are com- 
 ing. But if they receive information of our position, they will 
 hasten to the rescue. There is no use thinking how or why we 
 are here, but only when and how we are going to get away. I 
 will attemjot to go through the Mexican lines to San Diego, and 
 get relief from Commodore Stockton." 
 
 Lieutenant Beale, of the United States Navy, since widely and 
 favorably known as an explorer, volunteered to accompany him, 
 and the proposition being accepted by Gen. Kearney, they left 
 the camp as soon as it was sufficiently dark. They had learned 
 from their Indian allies the habit of putting the ear to the ground 
 to hear any suspected noise, and were thus able to inform them- 
 selves of the movements of their enemies, sometimes when those 
 enemies were most confident of a secret advance or retreat. The 
 two messengers accordingly took off their shoes in order to insure 
 silence. They found that the Mexicans had placed three lines 
 of sentinels around the hill on which the Americans were en- 
 camped, thus making it extremely difficult to evade their watch. 
 Several times, as they crept cautiously along the earth, the sen- 
 tinel might easily have touched them with the long barrel of his 
 gun. Slowly they advanced, and at last got clear of the Mex- 
 ican lines, though not of all difficulties. For the distance of two 
 miles they had crawled upon the ground, sometimes each hear- 
 ing the other's heart beat in the deathly stillness. At last 
 
398 KIT CARSON. 
 
 they could spring to their feet, and speak to each other their joy 
 at escaping thus far. But they must avoid the beaten road, lest 
 they be pursued and captured ; and through the bushes they trod 
 with shoeless feet, the earth covered with the thorns of the prick- 
 ly pear. All that night, all the next day, far into the next night 
 they continued their journey. At last the challenge of the sen- 
 tinel at San Diego was heard ; they answered, " Friends," and were 
 taken into the presence of Commodore Stockton. Their story 
 was told, and a force of two hundred men ordered to proceed 
 by forced marches to the relief of their suffering countrymen. 
 
 Carson was detained in San Diego, as without proper care there 
 was danger of his losing both his feet, so much had they been lac- 
 erated on this literally "thorny path of duty." Lieutenant Beale 
 was partially deranged by the hardships of the journey, and did 
 not fully recover his physical health for two years. 
 
 Gen. Kearney's troops and the escort sent, reached San Diego 
 without being molested again by the Mexicans, whose numbers 
 were not suflScient to justify them in attacking so large and strong 
 a force. The Ainericans remained for several weeks in garrison, 
 recruiting their strength. A force of six hundred a-t last took the 
 field under Gen. Kearney and Com. Stockton, to march against 
 Los Angelos, where there were about seven hundred of the 
 enemy. The Mexicans were soon forced to break up the camp 
 which they had established just outside the town, and the Amer- 
 icans took possession of Los Angelos. Their success was an 
 empty one, however, for the Mexicans evaded their pursuit, sur- 
 rendering to Col. Fremont, who, with a force of four hundred 
 men, was marching from Monterey to Los Angelos. Acting on 
 Carson's advice, Fremont had used every effort, during his en- 
 tire stay in California, to propitiate the Mexicans j but Kearney, 
 judging them by the natives of what is now eastern Mexico, was 
 at no pains to conceal his contemj)t and aversion. This attitude 
 was an unfortunate one, as, if Fremont had been in command, 
 the struggle upon the Pacific coast would have been much less 
 sanguinary ; his policy of conciliation would have won over many 
 of the Mexicans who admired their American friends and^wished 
 to imitate them. 
 
 During the few succeeding months of the war there was a lull 
 in the hostilities in this portion of the country. Stockton was 
 made civil governor, Fremont general-in-chief of the California 
 forces, with Carson for his first lieutenant. An Englishman, who 
 
KIT CARSON. 
 
 891) 
 
 landed in July, 1846, at Monterey, from a British man-of-war 
 which had been sent there, thus describes Fremont and his men : 
 " Fremont rode ahead, a spare, active looking man, with such 
 an ej^e. He was dressed in a blouse and leggings, and wore a 
 felt hat. After him came five Delaware Indians, who were his 
 body-guard, and have been with him through all his wanderings. 
 The rest, many of them blacker than the Indians, rode two and 
 two, the rifle held by one hand across the pommel of the saddle, 
 . . . . He has one or two with him who enjoy a high repu- 
 tation in the prairies. 
 Kit Carson is as well 
 known there as the 
 Duke of Wellington 
 is in Europe. The 
 dress of these men 
 was principally a 
 long, loose coat of 
 deer-skin, tied with 
 thongs in front; 
 trowsers of the same, 
 of their own manu- 
 facture." 
 
 . Carson had joined 
 Col, Fremont as soon 
 as it was possible for 
 him to leave Kear- 
 ney, and was gladly 
 welcomed. In March, 
 1847, he was again 
 entrusted with de- «^-^- •'^"^ ^- fRemont. 
 
 spatches for Washington, Lieutenant Bcale being detailed to 
 accompany him with reports for the Secretary of the Navy. The 
 companion of his perilous journey from Kearney's camp to San 
 Diego was still so weak that Carson, for the first twenty daj^s 
 of the journey, had to lift him off and on his horse ; but the 
 pure air, healthful exercise and genial companionship soon 
 strengthened him. 
 
 The long journey was accomplished withoutharm to any of the 
 party. The incidents of the journey were such as in these days 
 of rapid and safe transportation would be alarming, but then 
 were regarded as everj^-day affairs. Arrived in St. Louis, Col. 
 
400 KIT CARSON. 
 
 Benton received him cordiall3\ In Washington Mrs. Fremont 
 met him at the depot, and declaring that her husband's descrip- 
 tion had made an introduction xmnecessar}^, conducted him to her 
 own and her father's house. He was lionized to an extent quite 
 puzzling to himself — he had only done what he ought, — the 
 Government's recognition of his services being a lieutenant's 
 commission in Col. Fremont's regiment. In command of fifty 
 men, he started on the return trij), which was made in complete 
 safety until the " Point of Eocks '' was reached. Here, a spur 
 of rocky hills gives shelter to an ambush, while the grass and 
 water at their base invite the caravan to encam]^. The horses and 
 cattle of a volunteer company camping here were stolen by the 
 Indians, but such was the confusion that followed, that Cai'son, 
 who was resting near by for the night, proved that his right to 
 the title of the "Thief-Taker" had not diminished, and the ani- 
 mals were all restored to their owners by him. 
 
 The succeeding spring (1848) he was again sent to Washington 
 as the bearer of despatches. At Santa Fe he learned that his 
 ai)pointment, made by the President, had not been confirmed by 
 the Senate, and was urged to leave the dangers to be encounter- 
 ed by those who reaped the rewards due him. But although he 
 had seen evidences of unworthy favoritism and gratification of 
 political rivalries, he had no notion of letting such things influ- 
 ence his own conduct. The mission was successfully accomplish- 
 ed, and, avoiding all difficulties with the Apaches, he returned 
 in safety to his home at Taos, and settled to his old, j^eaceful oc- 
 cupation. Here he entertained his old commander and the par- 
 ty engaged in making a winter survey of a pass for a road to 
 California. An old trapper of twenty-five years'experience had 
 been employed as guide, but so incompetent was he forthework, 
 that they blundered for half a month through the deep snow. 
 Fully one-third of the party died from starvation and freezing. 
 
 Life at Taos was interrupted by occasional expeditions as 
 guide. On the banks of the broad mountain stream that flows 
 through the valley, stood the comfortable houses of Carson and 
 his friend Maxwell. To both, but especially to the former, came 
 the small, lithe Apaches, and the Comanches, nearly half Mexi- 
 can in blood; they feared not to come to the home of ''Father 
 Kit," as they have called him. But like a judicious parent, he 
 never hesitated to chastise his self-styled children, as more than 
 one incident bears witness. 
 
KIT CARSON. 401 
 
 In the winter of 1849-50, the Indians were more than usually 
 troublesome. On one occasion, a party of them had stolen all 
 the horses belonging to a detachment often dragoons, encamped 
 in the vicinity of Taos. An expedition was immediately organ- 
 ized, consisting of three settlers, and the soldiers who had been 
 robbed, under the command of Carson, by whom it had been 
 planned. Four of the party, being but poorly mounted, fell be- 
 hind, and the remaining ten came up with the thieves. There 
 were twenty warriors, all well-armed and well-mounted ; and 
 they had no notion of giving up their booty. Had they been 
 content to abandon the animals to their rightful owners, they 
 would have escaped, but as it was, the sharp conflict which fol- 
 lowed resulted in the loss of five warriors. Perceiving that the 
 leader of their enemies was the one who had never yet been de- 
 feated by them, they rode off, leaving all the stolen horses but 
 four to the attacking party. 
 
 But it was only occasionally that the peacefulness of his life 
 was thus interrupted. Learning at some time during the next 
 summer, that a number of desperadoes had volunteered to ac- 
 company two wealthy men to the settlements in the states, in- 
 tending to rob them by the way, Carson collected a party, and in 
 one hour from the time of receiving the information, was follow- 
 ing them. The first party had been gone some time when he learn- 
 ed of the plot, and it was not easy to overtake them. At a distance 
 from Taos representing two days' march a recruiting officer join- 
 ed Kit with twenty men, and by forced marches soon overtook 
 the caravans, and arrested the ring-leader. Messrs. Brevoort 
 and Weatherhead, when informed of the danger, quickly recov- 
 ered from their first surprise, and offered a reward proportion- 
 ate to the service done. This, however, Carson was resolute in 
 refusing, until, when the traders returned from St. Louis, they 
 presented him with a handsome pair of silver-mounted pistols, 
 suitably inscribed. 
 
 The next summer, he started to St. Louis as a trader, intend- 
 ing also to visit his daughter, who was married and living there. 
 On his return, he met with what was perhaps the most perilous 
 adventure of his life after the close of the war with Mexico. The 
 officer of a party of United States troops bound to New Mexico 
 had affronted the Cheyenne Indians by whijiping one of their 
 chiefs. The Indians were unable to revenge this insult upon the 
 real offender, but, full of vindictive rage, were lying in wait for 
 26 
 
402 KIT CARSON. 
 
 other and weaker bodies of white men. Carson's chanced to be 
 the next party with which they met, and, in consequence, was 
 the one which must feel the weight of their anger. The fifteen 
 white men were taken prisoners, and were placed in the midst of 
 a circle of warriors. As the warriors arranged all the details to 
 their satisfaction, settling how they should dispose of the booty 
 and when the prisoners should be put to death. Kit revolved 
 their situation in his own mind. Well known and loved by this 
 very tribe while he was acting as hunter for Bent's Fort, so many 
 years had passed since then, so many insults and injuries had 
 been heaped upon them, so many incompetent men had been sent 
 to fight them, that they had lost their old reverence for his name, 
 as they lu;d forgotten his face. The Indians had spoken in their 
 •own tongue, thinking that it was not understood by the prison- 
 ers; judge of their surprise, then, when the captive leader step- 
 ped forward and addressed them in Cheyenne. He told them his 
 name, and reminded them of past friendship ; hinting at the pun- 
 ishment which would certainly follow if they put his party to 
 death. The Indians released them, but Carson proceeded cau- 
 tiously, knowing that he was by no means safe. After they had 
 encam2:)ed for the night, he despatched a Mexican boy, in whom he 
 had great confidence, to Eayedo, to ask for reinforcements; so 
 that when five warriors galloped towards him the next day, they 
 were somewhat astonished to see his force. The rapid march 
 of the troops, in accordance with the request, did the Indians 
 much good, as they thus learned the spirit animating the soldiers. 
 A long journey undertaken for the purpose of trapping on the 
 old familiar ground, a trip overland to California with large flocks 
 of sheep, for a trading venture ; a lionizing in the early days 
 of the city of San Francisco, strangely changed between 1848 
 and '53; faithful performance of his duties as Indian Agent for 
 New Mexico, to which post he was appointed late in the year 
 1853; promotion from rank to rank during the Civil War, until 
 he was brevetted Brigadier-General; important services to the 
 government in the task of subduing and conciliating the Indians; 
 all these fill up the measure of his days. Adventures, which to 
 us would seem hair-breadth escapes, were passed by as everyday 
 occurrences in his life, and rarely chronicled by any one. He 
 died at Fort Lyon, Col., in May, 1868. Nearly fifteen years have 
 passed since then, but the memory of the " Monarch of the Prai- 
 ries" js kept green by those who love tales of border adventure. 
 
CHAPTER XV. 
 
 GENEEAL WILLIAM S. HAENEY. 
 
 ALTHOUGH settled as early as 1756, at the close of the last 
 century, Tennessee, the late state admitted into the union, 
 was little more than a wilderness, except around those centers 
 of civilization where had been the first settlements. To its wilds 
 had already been attracted some of the most daring and patriotic 
 spirits of the time ; the Hermitage was not yet built, but already 
 the name of Jackson was prominent in its annals ; from this state 
 was Missouri to call that man, who sat longer than any other in 
 the highest council of the nation ; here were Crockett and Hous- 
 ton to become known thereafter; here had removed a gallant 
 officer of the Eevolutionary army, Major Thomas Harney, and 
 here, in August, 1800, was born the youngest of his six sons, 
 William Selby Harney. 
 
 Left a widow when her children were all young, Mrs. Harney 
 intended her youngest son for a sailor, but destiny overruled 
 her wishes. The youth of seventeen visited, during one of his 
 school vacations, an elder brotlier serving as army surgeon at 
 Baton Eouge. Attracting the attention and acquiring the friend- 
 ship of Gen. Jessuj), who was in command, he was asked by that 
 officer if he did not wish to enter the arm}-. He replied that 
 his mother intended him for the navy, but a few days afterwards 
 Gen. Jessu^J handed him a commission as second lieutenant. 
 This bore the date of Peb. 13, 1818, and in June of the same 
 year the young officer, not yet eighteen years old, joined his 
 regiment, then serving in Louisiana. 
 
 His first active service was against the pirates who then in- 
 fested the Gulf coast. There had never been a time, since the 
 sixteenth century, when piracy did not exist in the waters wash- 
 ing the shores of Louisiana, Florida and Cuba. For many years 
 the commander of these outlaws had been the elder of the two 
 brothers Lafitte, themselves French, and disposed to be friends 
 
404 
 
 GENERAL WILLIAM S. HARNEY. 
 
 with those of their own race in Louisiana. It was to secure the 
 aid of this lawless host that Gen. Jackson, in 1814, declared 
 martial law in Louisiana, and ordered off the bench the judge 
 who refused to release the Lafittes then awaiting trial. It is 
 doubtful if the famous battle could have been gained without them, 
 and Gen. Jackson secured the pardon of the brothers, on condition 
 that they abandon the life they had been leading. The condi- 
 tion was faithfully observed, and the pirates being left without 
 
 a leader, were scattered abroad 
 to commit lesser depredations. 
 It was to pursue and punish 
 some of these that Lieutenant 
 Harney's company was sent 
 soon after he joined. 
 
 On reaching the archipelago, 
 the company made their head- 
 quarters at Kew, near Navia 
 Bay, whence a detachment un- 
 der Lieut. Harney w^as sent to 
 ascend the bay to reconnoiter. 
 Here he discovered and took 
 possession of some vessels bal- 
 
 GEN. \V. S. HAK^'KV. 
 
 lasted with bar-iron. Examination showed that the bars were hol- 
 low, and filled with quicksilver. The detachment was delayed so 
 long that the main body supposed all the men in it had been kill- 
 ed, and were considerably surprised to learn of their safe return 
 with the prize they had captured. 
 
 Cruising with his detachment in a boat on the bay, Lieut. Har- 
 ney signaled a small sailing vessel. She hove to, and the detach- 
 ment boarded her. 
 
 '' Let me see your papers, sir," demanded their officer of the 
 captain. Descending into the cabin, the commander reappeared 
 with what he claimed was his ship's register. As the lieutenant 
 looked at them, a voice in his ear said : 
 
 " The captain has just given his men orders, in French, to get 
 ready to fight." 
 
 In a moment the crew had been secured, the captain having 
 been thrown down the hatchway, and the lieutenant and his men 
 returned in triumph with the smuggler. So closed his first cam- 
 paign. Soon after his return in January, 1819, he was ordered 
 to Boston on recruiting service, where he remained for more than 
 
GENERAL WILLIAM S. HARNEY. 405 
 
 a year. Ordered to report for active duty in June, 1820, he was 
 selected by Gen. Jackson, his father's friend and neighbor, to 
 serve as temporary aid during the absence of an officer on his 
 staff. Jackson was at this time acting as governor of Florida, 
 which had been but recently purchased of Spain, and honored 
 Lieut. Harney with the command of the guard attendant on the 
 transfer of the territory from one government to another. It is 
 not yet that we find him engaged in that active service which 
 has connected his name alike with the everglades of Florida and 
 the wilds of Oregon. 
 
 It was in 1824, after he had exchanged into the artillery, that 
 Lieut. Harney first saw St. Louis, to be in future the home to 
 which he should look with longing eyes. The peculiarly French 
 gaiety which then distinguished the society of this city, was 
 particularly to the taste of the young lieutenant, with animal 
 spirits, and possessed of physical advantages which secured him 
 the favor of the ladies. Ordered to proceed to Council Bluffs, 
 the orders were countermanded soon after they started, and the 
 four companies wintered at Bellefontaine, fifteen miles above the 
 city 5 whence in the spring they resumed the perilous journey 
 in keel-boats up the Missouri, on the banks of which, above 
 Boonville, were no white settlements. 
 
 Arriving safely at Two Thousand Mile Creek, a council was 
 held with the Crows, Mandans and Gros-Ventres, which, but 
 for Lieut. Harney, might have terminated most disastrously. 
 One of the conditions of the treaty was the restoration of a 
 family of British subjects that had been taken prisoners, and for 
 whose liberation the English minister had asked. The inter- 
 preter finished, stating all the details, and the chiefs sat motion- 
 less. After a moment's pause, one arose and said that they were 
 willing to liberate the captives, but a ransom must be paid. Ir- 
 ritable by reason of a recent illness, one of the commissioners. 
 Major O'Fallon, lost his temper at the cool audacity of the chief, 
 and advancing into the circle struck first the speaker and then 
 two other chiefs over the head and face with his horse-pistol. 
 Not a word was spoken by either the outraged chiefs or the start- 
 led Americans, as a comrade caught the offender before he could 
 strike another of the Indians; but the savage warriors seized 
 their arms and assumed a defensive or offensive attitude. It was 
 a moment of extreme peril, for the Indians far outnumbered the 
 whites. 
 
406 GENERAL WILLIAM S. HARNEY. 
 
 The disciplined troops were called to arms, and the commis- 
 sioners tried to explain to the Indians that Major O'Fallon's action 
 was the result of delirium. The explanation was received in grim 
 silence, and when Lieut. Harney, with outstretched hand, advan- 
 ced towards the Crow chief, the Indian, folding his arms, looked, 
 at him in sullen defiance. Cursing the chief, he looked him stead- 
 ily in the eye for a few moments; finally the chief took the ex- 
 tended hand. Order was restored and the negotiations contin- 
 ued ; the family was released on payment of the ransom demand- 
 ed, and a treaty of peace concluded. 
 
 Lieutenant Harney, a tall, spare man, possessed of powers of 
 endurance equal to his strength, had acquired a reputation as a 
 runner that had reached the ears of the trihes dwelling on the 
 upper Missouri, and they were extremely anxious to test his 
 fleetness. He had a race with a Crow Indian, but encumbered 
 with his uniform, with his pockets full- of relics and curiosities 
 he had been buying from them, the Indian won. Harney grace- 
 fully acknowledged the defeat, and challenged his antagonist to 
 another race the next day. The Indians retired well pleased with 
 the success of their champion, and returned the next day at the 
 appointed time and place, laden with buffalo robes, tobacco, and 
 all the ornaments and treasures they could muster for a reward to 
 the winner. Over a level, grassy prairie they ran, and for some 
 distance the Indian was in the lead. 
 
 "A little faster, Harney, or he'll beat you," cried a brother 
 officer, jealous for his comrade's reputation. Eenewing his ef- 
 forts, he soon passed the Indian, and was the first to reach the 
 goal, a half-mile from the starting point. 
 
 "I wouldn't have had you lose that race for a thousand dol- 
 lars," said Gen. Atkinson. Both sides felt much interest in the 
 race, and his fleetness of foot raised him greatly in the consider- 
 ation of the Indians. 
 
 Eeturning to the east, at Council Blufi's he heard of his pro- 
 motion to the rank of captain, and at the same time received an 
 offer which was a sore temptation to the soldier with no fortune 
 but his good name and his sword. Struck with his manly cour- 
 age and energy, Gen. Ashley, an eminent pioneer citizen of St. 
 Louis, proposed to fit out a trading expedition to the Yellow- 
 stone, and place Harney in charge of it; but the soldier, born 
 for the battle-field, declined the generous proffer. 
 
 Arriving at St. Louis in October, 1825, he was ordered to re- 
 
GENERAL WILLIAM S. HARNEY. 
 
 40- 
 
 port to liib icgimciit foi duty in tlie Cieek Nation, where he re- 
 mained until the succeeding June. Ordered to New Orleans then, 
 he there made the acquaintance of the Duke of Saxe-Weimar; as 
 well as of an entirely different person, the ex-pirate Lafitte. A 
 
408 
 
 GENERAL WILLIAM S. HARNEY, 
 
 year later he proceeded to the north, where the long imprison- 
 ment of Black Hawk was whetting his apj^etite for war; that no- 
 ted chief having been captured while on a marauding expedition 
 with Red Bird, and held for trial. 
 
 His movements for the next two years are of but little inter- 
 est. True, it was at Fort Winnebago, on Green Bay, in 1828, that 
 he first met a certain second-lieutenant in the army, Jefferson 
 Davis, with whom he formed a friendship that lasted for fifty 
 years, unshaken by political differences. 
 
 A2fOTHEH RACE AXL> A COLD BATH. 
 
 Stationed at Portage-des-Sioux, between the Fox and the Wis- 
 consin, in the winter of 1829-30, he volunteered to take his com- 
 pany to the pineries, to cut timber for a fort. They had return- 
 ed to the camp, waiting for spring to open. The weather was bit- 
 ter cold, and the Fox River frozen over, when another exciting 
 foot race occurred. An Indian had broken one of the rules of the 
 garrison, and Caj^t. Harney, always a strict disciplinarian, resol- 
 ved to administer a flogging. Believing in a fair chance for 
 every one, he told the Indian that if he reached a certain point 
 without being overtaken, having a start of a hundred yards, he 
 should escape the flogging. The i-ace was on the ice, and both 
 
GENERAL WILLIAM S, HARNEY. 409 
 
 men, moccasined, belted and stripped for the run, set off at full 
 speed, the captain swinging a cow-hide. The red man ran for 
 his skin, the white man for his reputation, and despite his 
 greater motive, the Indian knew that the cow-hide was com- 
 ing nearer to him. Directing his course towards one of the nu- 
 merous air-holes, he sped safely over the thin crust of ice, through 
 which his heavier pursuer sank into the cold water. An expert 
 swimmer, Capt. Harney with a few strokes reached the thick 
 ice, but his cow-hide was lost, and he returned to camp. The 
 Winnebago bad sufficient consideration for himself to keep away 
 from the camp while Captain Harney remained there. 
 
 We again take leave of our hero until 1832, going back two years 
 from that date to explain the position of the Indians with regard 
 to the Government. In June, 1830, many of the Indians sold 
 their lands to the government and prepared to remove west of 
 the Mississippi, but the Sacs and Foxes, the Sioux, Omahas, lowas, 
 and Ottawas, refused to remove to the reservations provided for 
 them. Keokuk was the head chief of the first mentioned tribe, 
 and used his utmost efforts to persuade them to adopt the treaty, 
 but Black Hawk's influence outweighed his, and the latter's ar- 
 guments were backed by the memory of the unprovoked brutal- 
 ■ ity of the white settlers. Secret negotiations among the tribes 
 had almost consolidated the various nations, and Iveokuk, re- 
 penting of the sale of his country, endeavored, without success, 
 to secure different terms from the government. Thinking them- 
 selves safe, the warriors of the tribe set out on their fall hunt; re- 
 turning to find their women and children without a shelter, the 
 white people having taken possession of their villages. Encamp- 
 ing on the Mississippi, they at length resolved upon re-taking 
 their towns, but neither party could overcome the other, and 
 they decided to live together. This arrangement resulted badly 
 for the Indians, as they were exposed to every kind of fraud. 
 Black Hawk determined that his people should not be the aggres- 
 sors, and they careifully refrained from acts of violence and blood- 
 shed. 
 
 The governor of Illinois, frightened by the threatened war, 
 called out the militia to assist Gen. Gaines, but that officer succeed- 
 ed in effecting his pacific purpose for a time without bloodshed. 
 But this quiet did not last long. At a council early in June, 1831, 
 Black Hawk told Gen. Gaines that he would not leave his lands, 
 and was not afraid of the U. S. soldiers. He was deceived in 
 
410 GENERAL WILLIAM S. HARNEY. 
 
 supposing that his reinforcements from the other tribes would be 
 very large, whereas Gen. Gaines was more accurately informed. 
 The Illinois volunteers, seven hundred in number, arrived at 
 headquarters, the Indian allies of the chief retreated across the 
 river, and the general took possession of their villages. A treaty 
 followed, but it was broken in less than a year. 
 
 Black Hawk reai^peared upon the Eock River in the spring 
 of 1832 ; and Major Stillman was sent towards Sycamore Creek 
 with two hundred and seventy men. Black Hawk's flag of truce 
 was disregarded, its three bearers treated as prisoners, and the 
 party sent to inquire after them pursued, two being killed. 
 Major Stillman determined to lose no time, and moved forward 
 with more haste than order upon the Indian encampment. Here 
 there were but forty warriors, the others being on a hunting ex- 
 pedition, but Black Hawk had already heard of the fate of his five 
 messengers, and they were prepared for an attack. Towards the 
 encampment the troops marched, anticipating an easy victory ; 
 confusion and precij)itation marked their advance ; and as the 
 Indians rushed upon them before they had well crossed the creek, 
 they retreated as they had advanced. 
 
 Flushed with victory, the chief sent runners to the Sacs and 
 Missouris, who reached their destination twenty-four hours be- 
 fore despatches reached the whites; and the good news aroused 
 the Indians to new spirit. Their butcheries and dejDredations 
 spread terror and panic over all the border. They cannot be 
 blamed too severely for this, for until the courtesies of war were 
 so deliberately violated by the whites, they had displaj^ed a pa- 
 tience and forbearance seldom found on either side in the annals 
 of Indian warfare. 
 
 Soon after Capt. Harney reported to Fort Armstrong and was 
 ordered to an outpost near to the scene of Stillman's defeat. 
 At the fort he made the acquaintance of Col. Zachary Taylor, 
 and of a young militia captain, a country lawyer, who had en- 
 listed to gain the political capital which military service could 
 give him — Abraham Lincoln. To the tall and a^vkward joker, 
 and the equally tall, but lithe and graceful listener, who were so 
 often companions, the soldiers in good-natured irony gave the 
 nick-name of " the two ponies." Capt. Harney was here fre- 
 quently sent out to reconnoiter, as the volunteers, very much 
 afraid of Black Hawk since Stillman's defeat, could not be relied 
 upon for such dut}'. 
 
GENERAL WiLLIxVM S. HARNEY. 
 
 411 
 
 This regiment of militia was therefore mustered out, and a 
 new levy made ; but the delay proved well-nigh fatal to success. 
 The Indians had retreated, the trail was lost, and pursuit seem- 
 
 BLACK HAWK. 
 
 ed a hopeless undertaking. In a council of war that was held, 
 Captain Harney said : 
 
 " The Indians have but one hiding place in the whole country, 
 and it will not be very hard to find. If you will allow me. Gen- 
 eral, I will take fifty men and make a reconnoissance." 
 
412 GENERAL WILLIAM S. HARNEY. 
 
 " Such a force would be too small," replied General Atkinson, 
 shaking his head ; " the party would be in too great danger of 
 being cut oif. Take with you three hundred Pottawattomies." 
 
 But the chief of the Pottawattomies refused to go. 
 
 " Black Hawk got many warriors, he jump out from ambush 
 and kill such few Indians and white men. Captain Harney he 
 big fool to go without big army." 
 
 With only the fifty men, and a few friendly Menominies, he 
 started, only to be deserted, early on his journey, by all the In- 
 dians except one, with whom he had once had a desperate en- 
 counter, overcoming and disarming him. 
 
 "Me stay with Captain Harne}^," said this whilom antagonist, 
 with dignity ; " me stay and die with him." 
 
 But Captain Harney's detachment soon returned to the main 
 body with the intelligence that the Indians were retreating in a 
 certain direction. Gen. Atkinson at once ordered a forced march, 
 and it was not long before the Indians were found in a strong po- 
 sition near the Wisconsin. Thence they continued their retreat 
 towards the Mississippi, where they were again overtaken, not, 
 however, to again escape without giving battle. Impetuously 
 the American troops charged upon them, as the lofty courage of 
 their leader urged them to deeds of desperate valor by his words 
 and examj)le. 
 
 " For how can man die better 
 Than when facing fearful odds 
 For the ashes of his fathers, 
 And the temples of his gods ? " 
 
 So thought Black Hawk, as with total disregard of danger he 
 cheered the sinking hearts of his warriors, driven from hill to 
 hill, and making one last desperate stand on the river bank to 
 defend themselves or die. Here the troops made a furious onset, 
 and drove those who survived the attack into the river. Black 
 Hawk fled up the river and concealed himself in the woods, 
 where, two days later, he was captured by the Sioux and deliv- 
 ered to the whites. 
 
 For several years after this battle of Bad Ax, which was the 
 close of the Black Hawk war, we find no dangers overcome by 
 our hero. The succeeding year (1833) is a memorable one in his 
 life, marked, as it is, by his marriage to Miss Mullanphy, of St. 
 Louis ; and several promotions advance him to the rank of lieu- 
 tenant-colonel of the Second Dragoons, recently organized. 
 
GENERAL WILLIAM S. HARNEY. 413 
 
 The" long contest with the Florida Indians had begun. Here, 
 in the dense forests and impenetrable swamps, lurked the Semi- 
 nolcs, the *' runaways" from all tribes. Dwelling with these 
 were fugitive negro slaves, their usual good nature and servility 
 to the white man transformed, by the oppression of brutal mas- 
 ters, into the fiercest antipathy to the whole race. These were 
 the tribes with whom Jackson had fought in 1813; these were 
 the tribes that in 1835 had fallen upon Major Dade's detachment, 
 as with all the precautions which even Indian warfare required, 
 he marched to punish the savages who had committed such fre- 
 quent outrages; only two men survived to tell the tale of a dis- 
 aster unparalleled for forty years. 
 
 Here, in February, 1837, Col. Harney joined his regiment, 
 reporting to Camp Monroe, then under the command of Col. Fan- 
 ning. A comparison of commissions showed that Col. Harney 
 was the senior officer, and therefore entitled to the honor; but 
 in consideration of Col. Fanning's age, he waived his right. 
 Having already seen service in Indian warfare, Col. Harney 
 fully understood the value of constant vigilance. Unwilling to 
 trust entirely to his subordinates, he made a reconnoissance in 
 person, and discovered unmistakable signs that Indians were 
 lurking in the neighborhood. Returning to camp, he advised 
 Fanning that, as they would probably be attacked during the 
 night, it would be well to throw up breastworks, which would 
 give the raw recruits confidence, and prevent their becoming 
 panic-stricken at the first fire. His suggestions w^ero adopted, 
 hasty fortifications made, and pickets posted in the direction from 
 which the Indians would probably come, with strict orders to 
 give the alarm immediately. The troops lay ready during the 
 whole night, and early in the morning the alarm gun was heard 
 and the pickets ran in. The men, whom the Indians had ex- 
 pected to surprise, were in readiness, and sprang to the breast- 
 works. A sharp contest ensued. At first the recruits fired 
 almost aimlessly, but the boldness and vigor of Col. Harney soon 
 inspired his men with that confidence necessary to a steady and 
 effective fire, and after three hours' fighting, the Indians retreat- 
 ed. Here and there on the field about the camp they found belts 
 covered with blood, shot-i:)Ouches and scalping knives ; but the 
 savages had dragged away the bodies of their fallen comrades. 
 
 The name of the camp was now changed to Fort Mellon, in 
 memory of a gallant officer who had fallen in the fight, and Col. 
 
414 
 
 GENERAL WILLIAM S. HARNEY. 
 
 Harney was left in command. All his eflforts were directed to- 
 wards the successful prosecution of the war with as little loss as 
 possible. To secure this much-desired result, the troops were 
 kept in such constant action that hardly asino-le depredation was 
 
 OSCEOLA. 
 
 allowed to be committed on the inhabitants of the country, not a 
 stalk of corn was allowed to grow anywhere but on the farms of 
 the citizens. Unable to plant any corn in the swamps, whence 
 no enemy but famine could drive them, many of the chiefs voluii- 
 
GEKERAL WILLIAM S. HARNEY. 415 
 
 tarily surrendered themselves 3 among them was Osceola, the 
 moving spirit of the war. 
 
 The chief, like all the Indian Readers, had ample cause for in- 
 citing his people to war against the whites. The stern Puritans 
 of the north and the chivalry of the south united in a treatment of 
 the native lords of the soil that was only less bad than the brutal- 
 ities of the Spaniard. France was the only country whose set- 
 tlements in the New World were not founded on oppression and 
 injustice, and the French colonists were seldom, if ever, molest- 
 ed by the Indians. Osceola, the son of an English trader and 
 a Seminole chiefs daughter, had married the daughter of another 
 chief by an escaped slave-woman. The mother's owner claimed 
 and seized the daughter as his slave, and the outraged husband 
 threatened revenge. Imprisonment for his threats only added 
 fuel to the flames, and on his release the war was ojiened by the 
 murder of Grcn. Thompson and four others, and the massacre of 
 Major Dade and his party. 
 
 A treaty was made, and according to its terms, the Indians 
 prepared to remove to the reservation assigned to them. The 
 frightened citizens returned to their homes, the recaptured slaves 
 were restored to their owners, and it seemed that prosperity was 
 about to succeed to the horrors of war. But as the Indians gath- 
 ered at Fort Brooke, ready to embark, a spirit of home-sickness, 
 a wild and uncontrollable longing for the moss-covered oaks and 
 evergreens of the forest, seized upon them, and they fled away 
 from the fort of the white man. Preparations were immediately 
 made for recommencing the war; fortunately the time thus con- 
 sumed was the sickly summer season, when any campaign would 
 have resulted in a great deal of sickness among the men. 
 
 Osceola had not only broken the treaty himself, but had in- 
 duced other tribes to do so. At a council, Osceola drew his knife 
 and drove it into the table, saying, " The only treaty I will ex- 
 ecute is with this." Gen. Jessup considered himself authorized, 
 therefore, to seize as prisoners of war the chiefs who had met for 
 conference with him under a flag of truce; a violation of all the 
 established courtesies of war. There was but a handful of In- 
 dians remaining in Florida, their negro allies having been re- 
 claimed, and many of their bravest warriors killed in the previ- 
 ous campaign ; they were surrounded by a complete cordon of 
 military j^osts, and confronted by an enemy bent on their exter- 
 mination. 
 
416 
 
 GENERAL AVILLIA.M 
 
 HARNEY. 
 
 The aim of Gen. Jessnp was to completely surround the Indians, 
 and close the circle gradually. To the point of danger in this 
 line, because the one -svhere the Seminoles -were most likely to 
 attempt to break through. Col. Harney was assigned; and it was 
 only by the negligence of other officers that a few escaped at 
 other points. Active hostilities began early in January, 1838, 
 with a sharp and active engagement in which Gen. Xelson com- 
 manded the whites, 
 a naval officer 
 ^1 was so severely de- 
 feated, that it was all 
 lis men could do to 
 regain their boats. 
 Gen. Jessup with a 
 stronger force moved 
 upon them at the same 
 point, but Gen. Eustis, 
 who was in immediate 
 command, had so dis- 
 posed his forces that 
 the dragoons under 
 Col. Harney could ren- 
 der no effective service 
 to the others, and at 
 the first attack the 
 Americans were rejjul- 
 scd by a murderous 
 fire. Col. Harney had 
 in the meantime pene- 
 fc| trated to the -flank and 
 rear of the enemy. Gen. 
 Jessup took command and rallied his men, and the combined 
 attack proved more successful. Col. Harney's request that he 
 might be allowed to pursue them, was granted, but a severe 
 rainstorm caused the commander to withdraw the permission. 
 Sent the next day with two comjianies to follow the Indians, 
 Col. Harney found their camp abandoned; they had fled to the 
 everglades, inaccessible to the soldiery. Eeturning with this in- 
 formation, he urged upon the commander the desirability of send- 
 ing for the Indians, as they would probably desire to treat now, 
 after the punishment that had been inflicted. This advice, most 
 
 A TREATY OF WAR. 
 
GENERAL WILLIAM S. HARNEY. 417 
 
 worthy of consideration, was adopted by the general, who sent 
 a messenger to the Indians, offering terms of peace. Many 
 of the officers urged upon G-en. Jessup the necessity of termina- 
 ting the war by allowing the Seminoles to retain a part of the 
 country ; but he would only offer such terms on condition of the 
 approval of the government. Many of the Indian chiefs sur- 
 rendered, with followers to the number of two thousand, and 
 again the war seemed to be at an end. 
 
 The government refused to ratify this arrangement, and the 
 subsequent action of Gen. Jessup looked to the untutored savages 
 ver}" much like a breach of faith. He had violated the security 
 of a flag of truce, and Osceola had died in ])rison ; he had de- 
 coyed them from their fastnesses, only to hold them as captives. 
 Having thus lost all confidence in the w^hites, the Seminoles, 
 always reckless of danger for themselves when it was possible to 
 inflict injury upon their enemies, harried and burned and slew 
 whenever the presence of soldiery did not prevent. 
 
 Colonel Harney, with his dismounted dragoons, was sent after 
 Sam Jones, one of the principal chiefs, and pursued him into his 
 hunting grounds by forced marches mfide at night. He succeed- 
 ed in surprising the Indians, and put them to rout, but they fled 
 into the swamps, whither the troops could not follow them. As 
 the}' pursued the flying savages, one of the soldiers shot a squaw, 
 mistaking her, in the confusion, for a warrior. G-reatly distressed 
 at this injury inflicted upon a woman, they did everything in 
 their power to relieve her. At a loss what to do with her, Col. 
 Harney made the suggestion that, if they left her, her friends 
 would come after her in the night. It was proposed to lie in wait 
 near by, and capture those who should come, but Col. Harney 
 declared that those who came on such a mission of humanity 
 should have safe conduct. The chief and the woman's husband 
 came and visited her that night, taking her away the next, but 
 though Sam Jones was such a tempting prize. Col. Harney re- 
 strained his men from molesting them. The w^oman recovered, 
 and when several months afterward the tribe was met by Col. 
 Harney and his command on terms of peace, she displayed con- 
 siderable gratitude tow^ards those who had acted in a manner 
 better agreeing with their professed Christianitj^ than the whites 
 generally used towards the savages. 
 
 Gen. Jessup was soon after recalled from Florida and sent to 
 the Cherokee country j Gen. Macomb, the commander-in-chief, 
 27 
 
418 GENERAL WILLIAM S. HAENEY. 
 
 repairing in person to the seat of war. Arriving in Florida, and 
 establishing his headquarters on Black Creek, he iminediately 
 sent for Col. Harney. The plans which that officer had suggested, 
 and upon which Gen. Jessup had acted, were laid before him, 
 and Col. Harney marked out the reservation which would con- 
 tent the Indians, who were committing all sorts .of depredations 
 and murders. 
 
 " A settlement can be made with them, if I can only be assured 
 that the government will keep faith ; but they have been de- 
 ceived, and are suspicious of the promises of the War Depart- 
 ment. I cannot undertake to deceive them myself, and unless I 
 can be assured that the treaty, when made, will be observed by 
 our own people, I can do nothing." 
 
 Gren. Macomb had instructions to j)acify the Indians, and to 
 make arrangements for them to remain in the country. Satisfied 
 at this, Col. Harney's influence got a number of chiefs together, 
 who were induced by the respect in which they held him, to 
 make an amicable arrangement. But the depredations continued. 
 Some of the chiefs repudiated this treaty, some never assented 
 to it. The people of Florida were not satisfied with it, and while 
 the assurance of the Secretary of War was that it was only a tem- 
 porary measure, calculated to quiet their remonstrances, it only 
 inflamed the passions of the Seminoles. Col. Harney was thus 
 shown to be as unreliable as any of the others, and his reputa- 
 tion for truth and honor existed no more among the deceived 
 and betrayed Indians of Florida. 
 
 As soon as the treaity had been made, G-en. Macomb directed 
 Col. Harney to select a suitable site for a trading-house, to be 
 built in the reservation. Selecting a point on the Coloosahatchie 
 Eiver, fifteen miles above the mouth, he left there thirty dis- 
 mounted dragoons, while he went on to Gen. Taylor's headquar- 
 ters on Tampa Bay. Gen. Macomb had verbally authorized him 
 to call upon this officer for two companies to protect the house, 
 but Gen. Taylor refused to let him have any troops. Calling at 
 the site on the Coloosahatchie as he returned, he found every- 
 thing progressing admirably, the Indians appearing perfectly 
 contented. But while he was on the way from Tamjia, the Sec- 
 retary's letter had arrived, saying that the treaty was only tem- 
 porary. In some mysterious way, the Indians had heard of it, 
 and swift runners spread the news among all the tribes before it 
 had been sent to the whites. 
 
GENERAL WILLIAM S. HARNEY. 419 
 
 It was then, without arousing any suspicion in the mind of the 
 officer, that the afterwards famous chief Billy Bowlegs came 
 ahoard the boat, and told him that the chiefs wished to see him 
 before he left. Never guessing wdiat news had come from Wash- 
 ington, he concluded to land, and spend the night on shore in 
 his tent. The next day he went hunting, returning about nine 
 o'clock, tired out. Taking off his coat and boots, he lay down, 
 iiitending to rest a little and then get up to see how the sergeant 
 in command had posted his sentinels. But he fell asleep, to be 
 awakened at daylight by the firing of guns, the yelling of In- 
 dians, and shouts of, " Run to the water !" in the familiar voices 
 of his own men. 
 
 Seeing that his men, standing up to their necks in the water, 
 were wholly unarmed, he knew that he could not help them, and 
 determined to save himself. Running down the river about a 
 quarter of a mile, every thought bent to the planning of an escape, 
 he walked into the river a few paces, then backward up the 
 bank, so as to make the Indians think that two men had been 
 drowned at that point. 
 
 In the mean time the men in the river had been induced to sur- 
 render, and were massacred as soon as they left the water, only 
 a small party escaping in a trading boat. They then proceeded 
 to the colonel's tent, and their yell of disappointment rang in his 
 ears as he plunged into the brush. Following his trail, they 
 found the point where he had walked into the water, and con- 
 cluding that he and some companion had preferred drowning to 
 falling into their hands, gave up the search. He had not proceed- 
 ed far when a man was seen coming towards him, and, thinking 
 it was an Indian, he drew his pocket-knife, the only weapon he 
 had, and prepared for defense ; but the supposed Indian was one 
 of his own dragoons who had watched him from the river, and 
 had not surrendered with his comrades. 
 
 Over the mangrove roots and sour-grass that lacerated his im- 
 protectcd feet, until the dragoon, Britton, gave him his shoes, un- 
 der the burning, vertical rays of a July sun in Florida, blacking 
 their faces with the charred wood left by camp-fires which they 
 passed, so that they miglit be better disguised, they strained 
 every nerve to get to a certain point fifteen miles away. Now and 
 then their route led them to the river bank. The third time that 
 they approached it, Britton heard a voice on the river. Sending 
 the dragoon down the stream, Col. Harney ascended it, to look 
 
420 
 
 GENERAL WILLIAM S. HARNEY. 
 
 for the Indians. Britton soon reported that they were coming; 
 he had seen a canoe with some one in it — of course, Seminoles. 
 "Britton, can you fight?" 
 
 BILLY BOWLEGS. 
 
 "I will die with you, Colonel." 
 
 " There seem to be two Indians. Do not let one got behind 
 me while I am fie-htino; with the other. I can soon overcome 
 
GENERAL WILLIAM S. HARNEY. 421 
 
 and kill one, and then will be ready for the second. Where are 
 they ?" 
 
 " Under that wild fig-tree." 
 
 ''I will go now. Be sure and keep a sharp look-out." 
 
 Arriving at the point indicated, with so stealthy a step as not 
 to alarm the children of the forest, he planted one foot firmly 
 upon the ground, the other upon the shell bank, ready to leap 
 upon them. Kaising himself, he saw the canoe — his own, con- 
 taining only a harpoon and the paddles. Calling Britton to him 
 by a yell of triumph, and instructing him in paddling the canoe, 
 they soon overtook those of his men who had escaped in the boat. 
 To them he announced his intention of going back to the camp, 
 to see w^hat had become of his force, and they volunteered to ac- 
 company him. With seven men, he returned that night to as- 
 certain who had been the killed. Leaving two men in the 
 boat, with five men and two guns he proceeded to the camp, where 
 they looked into the faces of their comrades, ghastly with death 
 in the light of the moon. Counting the dead, they found all there 
 but five, and shouted to call these to them. They afterwards learn- 
 ed that two heard the shouts, but thought it merely an Indian ruse 
 to draw them from their hiding places. Col. Harney, knowing 
 that the Indians had taken two barrels of whiskey in the stores, 
 wished to avenge his murdered men, sure that a surprise would 
 result in victory ; but his men were unwilling to take a new risk, 
 and the little party returned to headquarters. 
 
 Colonel Harney was as yet ignorant of the reason for this at- 
 tack, only learning of the Secretary's letter when he arrived at 
 Florida Bay. The news of the attack and massacre spread rap- 
 idly over Florida, and produced the most profound sensation, 
 leading to hostilities of the bloodiest kind. Yet the Secretary, 
 whose faithlessness was the cause of this, was retained in the 
 cabinet, his conduct unquestioned. By his orders, blood-hounds 
 were imported to hunt down the Indians. Less cruel than the 
 men who set them on, "they were found to be perfectly useless." 
 
 With the campaign between November, 1839, and May, 1840, 
 we have nothing to do, as Col. Harney was on sick leave in Cuba, 
 being threatened with consumption. Little of importance oc- 
 curred between the time of the massacre of the Coloosahatchie 
 (July, 1839) and the last month of the succeeding year; a series 
 of scenes of petty bloodshed on both sides filled up the measure 
 of the days. 
 
422 
 
 GENERAL WILLIAM S. HARNEY. 
 
 In December, 1840, Col. Harney was ordered to proceed to the 
 everglades and attack the Spanish Indians, of whom Chaikika 
 was the chief. Here, in a vast expanse of water varying in depth 
 from one to five feet, and covered with an almost impenetrable 
 saw-grass, except for the channels which extended in every direc- 
 tion, dotted with innumerable islands, it was supposed that many 
 of the Indians had their headquarters. This suspicion had been 
 confirmed by the account of a negro man named John, who had 
 been captured by them in 1835, and had but recently escaped. 
 Col. Harney, with a force of ninety men in boats, and John as a 
 
 IN THE EVERGLADES. 
 
 guide, penetrated into the heart of this wilderness. John led 
 them directly to the island where the Indians were encamped — 
 the band of Chaikika, who had been the chief commanding the 
 party that massacred the dragoons at Coloosahatchie. 
 
 The chief was chopping wood at a short distance from his people 
 when the soldiers approached. Discovering the presence of the 
 enemy he dropped his axe and ran for the high grass. Two or 
 three soldiers started in pursuit, but only one proved able to keep 
 up with him. This was Hall, the same man who had shot the 
 squaw by mistake. Finding that escape was hopeless, and being 
 
GENERAL WILLIAM S. HARNEY, 423 
 
 unarmed, be turned, and threw up his arms in token of surren- 
 der. The mercy he had dealt to those who surrendered at Co- 
 loosahatchie was shown to him. Hall sent a bullet into bis brain, 
 and be fell lifeless into the water. Two thousand dollars' worth 
 of stolen goods were identified, and thirteen revolvers belonging 
 to Harney's massacred dragoons. Nine of the warriors were 
 hanged, the tenth reserved for use in the future as a guide. 
 
 This was virtually the end of the Seminole war, protracted 
 through eight years, at the cost of millions of dollars and many 
 lives. This contest baffled the military skill of the ablest gener- 
 als. Col. Harney's services were, beyond question, more efiicient 
 than those of any other ofiicer in the field. The Indians always 
 had most respect and esteem for the man who was most successful 
 in contending wnth them, and Col. Harney was the only man 
 upon whose word they would rely. 
 
 For a period of several years we take leave of him. During 
 this time Texas, an independent republic, had laid aside her sov- 
 ereign loneliness at the invitation of the Congress of the United 
 States, and become one of the many. Mexico had never admit- 
 ted the independence of Texas ; the action of the United States 
 was, therefore, regarded as a breach of the treaty between the 
 two nations, and the Mexican war ensued. 
 
 Col. Harney was stationed at San Antonio with six regiments 
 of dragoons, when, in the winter of 1845-6, he learned that the 
 Mexicans were assembling on the Eio Grande, west of San An- 
 tonio. He determined to push forward, to reconnoiter and to 
 protect the frontier, and collected a force of seven hundred men. 
 His officers suggested that they had no cannon, and proposed 
 sending to Victoria for two pieces ; but this would cause too 
 much loss of time. 
 
 "Have the Mexicans any artillery?" inquired Col. Harney. 
 
 "They have field-pieces and ordnance of excellent character, 
 sir," replied an officer readily, glad to break the argument by 
 such facts. 
 
 " Well, then, we will go and take them ; they will suit me ex- 
 actly." 
 
 Advancing to within fifteen miles of the Eio Grande, a recon- 
 noissance in person revealed that the Mexican troops had gone • 
 crossing the river, he occupied Presidio, and wished to move 
 upon Monterey, but the unanimous opposition of his officers 
 forced him to abandon this plan. On his way back to San An- 
 
424 GENERAL WILLIAM S. HARNEY. 
 
 tonio, he was met by two orders from Gen. Wool, then in com- 
 mand ; the first, desiring him to return to San Antonio immedi- 
 ately ; the second, placing him under arrest, and giving his com- 
 mand to another officer. Gen. Wool explained that the latter 
 order had been issued because the people of San Antonio had 
 assured him that Colonel Harney would not obey the first. 
 
 Promoted to the full rank of colonel the last of June, 1846, he 
 and Brig.-Gen. Shields, with a guard of only fifteen men, set out 
 to report to Gen. Taylor at Matamoras, where the Mexicans had 
 met with a signal defeat in May at the hands of that officer. The 
 perils and difficulties of the journey cannot be exaggerated: 
 through a country full of enemies, marching all one day without 
 water, the escort was so scanty that it was a most hazardous un- 
 dertaking. They reached Monterey only to find Col. Harney 
 placed under the command of Gen. Wool, who had exposed him 
 to the indignity of an arrest in San Antonio. 
 
 Sent with his dragoons to the front, Col. Harney made a re- 
 connoissance, and failing to find the enemy, returned to the post 
 assigned. Here, as he and his officers were indulging in festiv- 
 ities after their tiresome da}^ a courier arrived with a despatch 
 from Gen. Wool, ordering his immediate return, as the enemy 
 was advancing. Eeading the despatch to his officers, and know- 
 ing the general had received false information, he bivouacked for 
 the night, and on the following day, falling back upon the main 
 body, reported to Gen. Wool. In reply to that officer's reproach- 
 es for his tardiness in obeying orders, he said : 
 
 " I knew that you had received false information, sir. If j^ou 
 had inquired of me, I could have told J^ou, from my own know- 
 ledge, that there was no enemy." 
 
 He was soon afterward transferred to Gen. Taylor's command. 
 Gen. Scott's old jealousy of Gen. Jackson showed itself in an at- 
 tempt to deprive Col. Harney of his command, he having been 
 an especial protege of "Old Hickory;" but foiled in this, he 
 could not but admit that it was a gallant soldier and a good offi- 
 cer that he would have injured. His conduct at Madellin and the 
 more important Cerro Gordo won for him the commendation of 
 Scott, and the rank of Brevet Brigadier-General. Present at the 
 taking of Mexico, and performing valuable services during the 
 entire war, when peace was at last declared he was stationed with 
 his regiment at San Antonio. He remained in Texas, with occa- 
 sional short leaves of absence, until July, 1854, when a leave grant- 
 
GENERAL WILLIAM S. HARNEY. 
 
 425 
 
 ed for two years permitted him to visit his family, who had lived 
 for some years in Europe, while the husband and father had been 
 serving his country in its wars. 
 
 Although our right to annex Texas had been vindicated, the 
 country was not to be left in j^eace. The disturbing element was 
 the same that kept the earliest settlers on the Atlantic coast al- 
 ways prepared for a combat, that has made itself a name of ter- 
 ror to the far western prairies — the Indians. As usual, the cause 
 of this war was the injustice and oppression of the white man, 
 revenged by the cruelty of the red man. 
 
 A party of emigrants to California, passing the Big Platte, 
 about thirty miles below Fort Laramie, left a cow, that had giv- 
 en out, in charge of the Bois Brules. Buffaloes were not to be 
 found by the hunters, and the agents of the TJ. S. Government 
 had failed to furnish them with the usual supj)lies; but they had 
 no thought of violating that trust, even to prevent the starvation 
 of the tribe. Even wdien a visit 
 from a neighboring chief awak- 
 ened all their sense or hospital- 
 ity, they explained to him that 
 their own meager rations would 
 not permit a great feast of wel- 
 come. The Ogallala chief said 
 that he had seen a white buffalo 
 (a cow) on the prairies, but ap- 
 peared satisfied on learning the 
 facts of the case. He and his war- 
 riors would go out on a hunt, 
 said the visitor; and strangely 
 enough, the game that they brought in was the carcass of the 
 white butfalo. 
 
 The owner of the cow sent in a bill for it to Fort Laramie, and 
 received payment from the officer in command ; wlio immediate- 
 ly despatched a force of thirty men, under the command of a 
 lieutenant, to demand the warrior who had killed the cow. 
 Drunk when they arrived at the village, it is hardly probable 
 that this demand was made in a manner calculated to ensure its 
 admission by the Indians. 
 
 " The Ogallala chief is in the village of the Bois Brules, and 
 they cannot give him up to his enemies. But he has behaved 
 badly, and you can take hini ; that is his lodge." 
 
 :KX. WlNflKLD S. 8C0TT. 
 
426 GENERAL WILLIAM S. HARNEY. 
 
 "No, you must bring him here/' insisted the officer, with 
 drunken dignity. 
 
 " The Indian does not give up the friend who is in his lodge, 
 and Black Beaver's people would kill him if he did so." 
 
 But the hospitality of the desert met with no recognition here, 
 and the order was given to fire. Black Beaver was killed, but 
 his death was sjjeedily avenged by that of the lieutenant, his 
 interpreter, and all the detachment but one man 5 who, found 
 wounded, was taken into the lodge of a warrior and nursed back 
 to health. Such was the beginning of the war in which the whole 
 Sioux tribe took up the quarrel of their kinsmen, the Bois Brules. 
 
 In such a state of aftairs, the most distinguished Indian fighter 
 in the army could not well be spared, and Gen. Harney was re- 
 called before one quarter of the two years had passed. Leaving 
 Paris on Christmas Eve, 1854, he reported in Washington. 
 
 '■'■ G-en. Ilarncy," said President Pierce, " you have done so 
 much that I will not order you, but I do wish you would con- 
 sent to assume the command and whip the Indians for us." 
 
 Proceeding to the west, as soon as he reached the Indian coun- 
 try he received a message from the Sioux chief, Little Thunder, 
 saying that he would either shake hands with him or fight. But 
 Gen. Harney had already reached a position commanding the 
 Indian village, and even the personal pleading of the chief did 
 not secure peace without j^unishment for robbing the mails and 
 killing emigrants. 
 
 Seventy-two savages fell in the attack which followed, in 
 which only four white men were killed. Soon forced to retreat, 
 the Indians were allowed to make their escape, since they were 
 encumbered with their women and children. 
 
 One most important assistant in guarding the camp from attack 
 was Gen. Harney's veteran charger. Buncombe, who had seen 
 severe service in the Mexican war, and who now learned to detect 
 the presence of a wolf, abufi'alo or an Indian near the camj) ; giv- 
 ing an invariably correct alarm, and in many cases saving the 
 lives of the men. He could distinguish between the intruders, 
 and would stamp harder and oftener, and snort more loudly, if 
 it were an Indian, than if it were a bufl'alo or a wolf. 
 
 The decisive victory gained over Little Thunder awed the 
 Sioux into submission, and a five days' conference with the chiefs 
 of all but two bands resulted in a treaty. Chiefs and sub-chiefs 
 were recognized, and arrangements made for the government of 
 
GENERAL WILLIAM S. HARNEY. 427 
 
 f 
 
 the tribe, so as to secure the blessings of peace to both tlie Indians 
 and the whites. The Sioux stood to their promises, and held to 
 the obligations that the treaty imposed upon them, even after 
 the government showed that it had no intention of keeping 
 faith with them. 
 
 His instructions forbade him to do more, although the bands 
 not represented were somewhat turbulent, and challenged him to 
 meet them on the war-path ; and he returned to St. Louis. The 
 removal of the remnant of the Seminoles still lingering in the 
 swamps and everglades of Florida next occupied his time, and 
 in May, 1857, he was ordered to Kansas, where a delicate and im- 
 portant duty required all his firmness and sagacity. This was to 
 keep the peace which the politicians seemed determined to break 
 — a strange duty, it seems, for a soldier, occurring under a com- 
 bination of circumstances equally strange. But his services in 
 Kansas, and those immediately afterwards in Utah, do not pre- 
 sent points of special interest to any but the historians of those 
 states. 
 
 Ordered to Oregon early in tlie foil of 1858, he procured the 
 appointment of Father de Smet as chaplain to his force. This 
 eminent Jesuit had been a missionary among the Flat Heads and 
 kindred tribes around the Columbia and its branches, and not only 
 possessed considerable influence over them, but perhaps knew 
 the country and disposition of the tribes better than any one 
 else ; so that he was invaluable to this expedition. 
 
 The California Indians had been hostile for some time, and 
 there had been several skirmishes, when Gen. Clarke, then in 
 command, invited them to a council. Refusing to surrender their 
 privileges, they were thus addressed by Major Key: 
 
 " The great war-chief, General Harney, who is known among 
 all the tribes for his success among them, is on his way here j 
 and if j'ou do not accede to the terms which we propose, he 
 will make war upon you, so that you will be glad to accept even 
 harder conditions." 
 
 When Gen. Harney arrived at Fort Vancouver, he found that 
 many of the tribes had sued for peace, and treaties had been made 
 with them. The turbulent Indians had fled to the Flat Heads, 
 and Gen. Harney concluded to demand their surrender. In many 
 instances they were promptly given up, but in other cases there 
 was more delay. So completely had the Indians been pacified, 
 through the good offices of Father de Smet, and the active and 
 
428 GENERAL WILLIAM S. HARNEY. 
 
 efficient measures of Gren. Harney, that no disturbances followed. 
 His perfect knowledge of Indian character, and his wisdom in 
 adapting his plan of action to the enemy with whom he had to 
 deal, secured him a greater degree of success than any officer as- 
 signed to duty on the frontier. His one rule in intercourse with 
 them, never broken, was to keep faith; and the wisdom of this 
 was endorsed by the experience of Father de Smet. 
 
 He was recalled from Oregon in July, 1860, and ordered to St. 
 Louis, whence, in Ajiril, 1861, he proceeded to Washington. Made 
 the first prisoner of war, and strongly urged to join the Confed- 
 erate Army by many old acquaintances, his journey to Washing- 
 ton was a series of ovations to the great war-chief of the West. 
 
 On his return to St. Louis, again invested with the command 
 here, he bent every energy to the task of pacification; believing 
 that there was no necessity for a single gun to be fired in the 
 state, and resolved that none should be while he could prevent 
 it. But he had hardly arrived in the city before the order came 
 depriving him of his command, and giving him leave of absence 
 until further orders. The further orders never came, and his 
 name is still upon the retired list. The pretext for this action was 
 his connection with those who leaned towards the Confederate 
 States, but no evidence exists to show that, while he remained 
 in command, he was anything but a faithful servant of the coun- 
 try for which he had done so much. Forty-two years he hud 
 spent in active service, the greater part of the time being on the 
 frontier, among the Indians. 
 
 Appointed a member of the Indian Peace Commission in 1865, 
 he visited the savages, for the last time, on the waters of the Platte 
 and the Black Hills country. It is a touching tribute to his rep- 
 utation among the Indians, that while engaged in this work, an 
 elderly Indian woman came up to him, and shaking his hand earn- 
 estly, said : 
 
 "You were a friend of my father." 
 
 Who her father was, or where Gen. Harney had known him, 
 could not be ascertained; but that is unnecessary to the beautj^ 
 of the incident; it might have been a typical Indian, for to the 
 fathers of many of the present generation he had indeed been a 
 friend. 
 
CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 GENEEAL GEOECIE A. CUSTEE! 
 
 "VXyHEX a man has achieved success in any direction, we arc 
 VV always desirous of knowing how far his boyhood and 
 youth gave promise of the future. It is with a feeling of gratifica- 
 tion that we learn that such a novelist delighted his schoolmates 
 by the stories he related to thein; that such a historian almost de- 
 stroj'cd his sight by his close application ; that such a ruler of men 
 so governed circumstances, that from a canal-boy he became pres- 
 ident; that such a general gave promise of his future excellence 
 as a soldier by his rank at West Point. After a while, however, 
 the story becomes monotonous, and it is with equal gratification 
 that we turn to the eminent scholar who, in boyhood, was es- 
 teemed a dunce, to the successful general who was not in the first 
 rank at the Military Academy. 
 
 Born in Ohio, in the latter part of 1839, George Armstrong 
 Custer's early life was like that of many an American boj^ born 
 and raised in the country. At school in the winter, rarely fail- 
 ing to have his lessons creditably prepared in spite of the mili- 
 tary novel often opened under his geography; at work on his 
 father's farm in the summer; accompanying an elder sister, re- 
 cently married, to Michigan, then but sparsely settled; full of 
 life and fun, yet never quarrelsome; of the gentlest and most 
 lovable disposition : such is the record of his boyhood. Early 
 imbued with a passion for a soldier's life, he was not yet seven- 
 teen when he determined to go to West Point. No influence 
 aided him in his endeavors, and nothing came of them the first 
 time ; but a personal interview with the congressman, to whom 
 he had written, resulted in his appointment the following year. 
 
 The discipline at the Military Academy seems to outsiders un- 
 necessarily strict. A trifling dereliction from duty is an unpar- 
 donable oftense ; a failure to black one's boots at the proper 
 moment necessitates an afternoon's guard duty; while a neglect 
 
430 GENERAL GEORGE A. CUSTER. 
 
 of lessons for a visit to Benny Havens' cabin is no worse — it can 
 not be. Saturday afternoon is time for recreation, but the poor 
 delinquents must spend it " walking their extras." For offenses 
 not great, but making up in number what they lacked in enorm- 
 ity, sixty-six Saturdays were thus spent by Cadet Custer during 
 his four years' course ; and when every examination was passed 
 and only the order from Washington was needed to transform 
 the cadets into officers, the ranking of the class of thirty-four 
 showed thirty-three above him. " My career as a cadet," said 
 he, as a soldier, " had but little to commend it to the study of 
 those who came after me, unless as an example to b'e carefully 
 avoided." 
 
 A single instance will be enough to show the character of his 
 offenses against military law. It was in 1861, after the examin- 
 ations were passed, when they were only waiting to be assigned 
 each to the particular branch of the service for which he was best 
 fitted, that Cadet Custer was performing the duties of officer of the 
 the guard ; an honor bestowed only once on each one during his 
 four years' course. At dark he heard a commotion near the 
 guard tents, at some distance from the main camp, and hastened 
 towards the place indicated by the uproar. In the midst of a con- 
 siderable group were two cadets noisily disputing with each 
 other; hardly had he arrived when they began a pitched battle 
 with their fists. Prudent bystanders attempted to separate them, 
 and the officer of the guard ought to have assisted them, and sent 
 the two combatants to the guard tents for breaking the peace and 
 the rules at the same time. He did nothing of the kind : push- 
 ing his way into the centre of the group, he dashed back the 
 would-be peacemakers with the words : 
 
 " Stand back, boys ; let's have a fair fight." 
 
 Unfortunately, his enthusiasm for a *' fair fight " was witness- 
 ed by two officers of the army, one of whom was the officer of 
 the day ; they did not seem to appreciate his soldierly instinct as 
 the proper thing, and he was placed under arrest. 
 
 Only a few hours after this arrived the order from Washington, 
 directing the members of his class to report to the adjutant-general 
 for further o'rders; but he was detained. Arraigned before a 
 court-martial " with all the solemnity and gravity which might 
 be looked for in a trial for high treason," his comrades who had 
 preceded him to Washington set influential friends to work, and 
 secured an order for his release. 
 
GENERAL GEORGE A. CUSTER. 
 
 481 
 
 GENERAL GEORGE A. CUSTER. 
 
432 GENERAL GEORGE A. CUSTER. 
 
 Active service, awaited the recent graduates from the Acad- 
 emy; for not only had the army been enormously increased, but 
 many of the officers had resigned and joined the enemy. Rapid 
 promotion awaited merit, and Custer confided to some of his 
 comrades that he was determined to be a general before the war 
 was over. It was an incautious admission, received by many 
 with ill-natured sneers, and frequently made the occasion of se- 
 vere sarcasm ; but his desire was based on what he knew of his 
 own abilities. 
 
 Tkiwards the latter part of June, 1862, not many days after 
 the battle of Aldie, Captain Custer returned to camp after a long 
 day's ride. Entering the large tent where his brother staff- 
 officers were chatting and smoking, a repetition of the frequent 
 chaff on the subject of his ambition greeted him. 
 
 " Hallo, general ! " 
 
 *' Pretty tired, general ?" 
 
 ''Gentlemen, General Custer!" 
 
 " How are you, general ?" 
 
 "Allow me to congratulate you, general," with a low bow. 
 
 "You're looking well, general." 
 
 With his blue eyes flashing with anger, which he could hardly 
 control, he replied with some bitterness: 
 
 "Laugh as long as you please, but I will be a general yet, 
 for all your chaff. See if I'm not — that's all." Irritated by the 
 unusual malignancy of his persecutors, he looked about him as 
 if for some one on whom he could fix a quarrel, when Yates said 
 to him: "Look on the table, old fellow; they arc* not chaffing 
 this time. 
 
 In the midst of the papers on the table, lay a large official 
 envelope directed to " Brigadier General George A. Custer, U. S. 
 Vols." Gen. Pleasonton, on whose staff he had been for some 
 time, had sent in his naine and those of four others to the Pres- 
 ident, for promotion to a brigadier's rank; but never had Custer 
 suspected that his dash and daring had already won him the cov- 
 eted rank. 
 
 Through the war we need not follow " the boy-general," as he 
 was called. In many a fierce cavalry charge he led his men, 
 animated by the splendid courage of their leader. But we must 
 not fall into the error that is so common, the idea that he was 
 but a handsome figure-head, placed by "Custer's luck" at the 
 head of a brigade, and later of a division. If no other officer had 
 
GENERAL GEORGE A. CUSTER. 
 
 43^ 
 
 that good fortune, which, connected thus with his name, became 
 proverbial, it was because no one else could so quickly decide 
 what was to be done while the guns of the enemy were booming 
 in his ears. It may be readily believed that his rapid promotion 
 did not endear him to his brother officers, especially those vet- 
 erans over whoso heads he stepped; biit before he had led that 
 brigade twice into battle, his men were ready to die for him; 
 and to many an old soldier's eye the picture is still vivid: the 
 tall form of the young officer, clad in trousers and loose jacket of 
 velveteen, the sleeves of the latter garment nearly covered with 
 the gold lace and braid which he used to indicate his rank; the 
 broad falling collar of his blue shirt ornamented with the silver 
 star of a brigadier ; a low-crowned, broad-brimmed soft felt hat 
 sat upon the flowing golden curls; a flaming red neck-tie giving 
 whatever else of color was needed. 
 
 Four years of hard fighting, and the war was over, Gen. Custer 
 receiving the first flag of truce sent by Gen. Lee. The army 
 must be reduced to a peace footing. The volunteers were mus- 
 tered out, those officers who had been originally civilians return- 
 ed to their homes; the old army officers, stripped of the rank ac- 
 quired in connection with this corps, reduced to their former 
 station. Major-General Custer of the Volunteers became Captain 
 Custer of the Fifth Cavalry. The organization of the Seventh 
 Cavalry in July, 1866, gave him a commission as lieutenant-col- 
 onel, the three highest officers in the regiment being major-gen- 
 erals. He had wished to go to Mexico, where the unfortunate 
 emperor Maximilian was gradually losing his hold upon the peo- 
 ple, but could not obtain leave; and wai? ordered to accompany 
 President Johnson on his trip to SiDringfield, Illinois, for the 
 Lincoln monument celebration. 
 
 Soon came the welcome orders to report to Fort Eiley, then 
 the terminus of the Pacific railroad, and the young couple to 
 whom the attendance upon the President's much criticised pro- 
 gress had been a delightful pleasure tour, set off for the plains. 
 Here, in command of the regiment, since the colonel was depart- 
 ment chief, much hard work awaited him. Eecruits came from 
 the large towns, enlisting with the desire to shirk every duty 
 which they could, and Intending to desert when they got tired. 
 These must be transformed to veterans and heroes. 
 
 The Indians saw that before the iron horse the buftalo must 
 retreat, and exasperated by the prospect of being thus roduce'd 
 28 
 
434 
 
 GENERAL OEORGE A. CUSTER. 
 
GENERAL GEORGE A. CUSTER. 435 
 
 to ignoble work, perpetrated many outrages. During the sum- 
 mer and fall of 1866 numerous thefts and murders had been com- 
 mitted, the stations of the overland mail route had been attacked, 
 but the guilty Cheyeniies and Sioux had never been called to ac- 
 count. The agents of these tribes doubtless knew who had com- 
 mitted these offenses, but an attem])t to bring them to punish- 
 ment would have interfered w^ith the profits of trade; and what- 
 ever recent investigation may have failed to jirove of the Indian 
 agents, it certainly shows that they are not as honest and dis- 
 interested as our favorite political candidate. The leading 
 chiefs and warriors of the various tribes had threatened an out- 
 break along the whole frontier as soon as the grass was green in 
 the spring ; and to intimidate these, rather than to punish those 
 who had already committed crimes, Gen. Hancock set out with a 
 large force, comprising infantry, cavalry and artillery. At Fort 
 Riley, Gen. (/uster joined this force, with four companies of his 
 regiment. 
 
 Much time was consumed in trying to induce the Indians to 
 come into council. Runners had been sent out to the principal 
 chiefs, and all had agreed to assemble near Fort Larned on the 
 tenth of April ; but they encamped thirty miles away. It soon be- 
 came evident that they did not intend to allow this distance to 
 decrease ; the message to the effect that, discovering a large herd 
 of buffalo, they had stopped to procure meat, was not received 
 with much confidence. Gen. Hancock resolved to move nearer 
 to the Indian encampment, and althotigh Bull Bear, a Cheyenne 
 chief, reported that the chiefs of his own tribe and the Sioux were 
 on their way, the army resumed the march. They had gone onl}' 
 a few miles when they beheld an Indian line of battle drawn di- 
 rectly across their path. There were several hundred warriors, 
 most of them mounted, armed with bow and arrows, tomahawk 
 and scalping-knife, each one carrying, besides these traditional 
 arms of his race, either a revolver or a breech-loading rifle, some 
 being, by the kindness of the Indian Department, provided with 
 both. Scattered over the wnde extended plain were small parties, 
 evidently scouts and couriers. 
 
 For a- moment a fight seemed the inevitable result of this war- 
 like array. The infantry and artillery formed in line of battle, 
 and the cavalry marching"* on the flank came galloping up, their 
 drawn sabres flashing in tne morning sunligk.' Along the hos- 
 tile line rode the chiefs, evidently exhorting their warriors to 
 
436 GENERAL GEORGE A. CUSTER. 
 
 deeds of heroism, while each side seemed waiting for the other 
 to strilve the first blow. In the midst of the universal anxiety 
 and expectation, Gen. Hancock, accompanied by his staff, rode 
 forward and invited the chiefs to meet him midway between the 
 two opposing forces. About ten or a dozen of the principal Chey- 
 ennes and Sioux therefore rode to the point designated, and shook 
 hands with the officers, seemingly much gratified at this peace- 
 ful termination of the encounter. 
 
 The interview ended, and, in accordance with the plans then 
 proposed, the Indians went back to their village, the soldiers 
 following leisurely in the rear, and encamjjing near the savages' 
 lodges. Here they found that the women and children had fled 
 in dread anticipation of a massacre ; and two chiefs, who volun- 
 teered to follow and bring them back if Gren. Hancock would 
 provide them with horses, failed to return. One of the scouts, 
 later in the evening, reported that the rest of the chiefs were sad- 
 dling up to leave, and Custer was at once directed to surround 
 the village with his men in order to prevent their departure. 
 Complete quiet reigned, as if the inmates of the lodges were 
 asleep. Investigation showed that the camp was entirely empty ; 
 fearful of a massacre, the Indians had fled, leaving all their pro- 
 perty. It is probable that the scout who brought the inform- 
 ation, himself a half-breed Cheyenne, had played a double game, 
 the long operation of surrounding the village so quietly as not to 
 alarm the quick-eared Indians, causing a loss of much valuable 
 time. 
 
 The cavalry was ordered to follow the Indians. Before day- 
 light all their careful preparations for pursuit were completed • 
 and all chance of catching the fugitives was gone. Following 
 the trail carefully, preceded by their comjoany of plainsmen and 
 friendly Indians, their only success lay in compelling their ene- 
 my to disperse into small parties. Thus the trail was lost, and 
 the troops were obliged to give up the pursuit. 
 
 Satisfied that the Indians must be many miles in advance of 
 them, and that the country was full of game. Gen. Custer left 
 his men before, they found that the Indians had separated, and 
 galloped off after some anteloj)es that were descried in the dis- 
 tance. Always a lover of dogs, he was accompanied by several 
 fine English greyhounds, and was mounted on a thorough-bred 
 horse of remarkable size and speed. But though ho took advan- 
 tage of every turn, the fleet animals eluded his pursuit, and call- 
 
GENERAL GEORGE A. CUSTER. 437 
 
 ing off his dogs, he was trying- to determine how far he was from 
 the troops, when he saw, about a mile from him, a large, dark ani- 
 mal grazing. Though he had never seen one in its wild state, 
 he instantly recognized this as a buffalo, and of the largest size. 
 An ardent sjiortsman, this was an opjjortunity such as had never 
 yet befallen him. Calling his dogs to follow him, he slowly pur- 
 sued the course of a neighboring ravine imtil he had approached 
 nearly within j^istol-shot of the game; his leisurely advance be- 
 ing designed to give the horse opportunity to recover himself 
 for a second run. The buffalo discovered the presence of the 
 hunter, and set off at his utmost speed. 
 
 Fast and far sped the frightened buffalo ; the good greyhounds 
 were left behind ; only the horse and his riderfollowed the huge 
 animal, and at last commenced to gain upon him. Mile after mile 
 over the springy turf, and the mettle of the thoroughbred began to 
 show in the race for life and death. The protruding tongue and 
 labored breathing of the bison proved that he could not long 
 continue his flight, and the wild, delighted yells of the hunter 
 greeted these evidences of weakness. Placing the muzzle of 
 his revolver close to the shaggy hide of the buffalo, he had his 
 finger on the trigger, when the animal, exhausted by the long 
 chasCj and feeling himself unable to escajie by flight, wheeled 
 around and lowered his horns to gore the horse. Instinctively 
 the charger veered about to avoid the attack, and to retain con- 
 trol over him the rider brought his right hand to the assistance 
 of his left. In the excitement of the moment his finger pressed 
 the trigger, and the ball went straight through the brain of the 
 horse. He fell dead in the midst of his leap, and Custer, disen- 
 gaging himself from the stirrups as soon as he realized the situa- 
 tion, found himself whirling in the air beyond his horse's head, 
 his one thought being : 
 
 "What li-ill the buftalo do with me V 
 
 But Mr. Bison was too much astonished by the strange pro- 
 ceeding to make any attack upon his late pursuer, and he fled 
 over the prairies, this time unchased. Fortunately for Custer in 
 his buftalo hunt he had retraced the steps taken in pursuit of the 
 antelopes, and was now ahead of his own column. 
 
 Giving up the idea of catching the Indians, it was decided to 
 push on and warn the stations on the stage route that the G\\qj- 
 ennes and Sioux would soon be on the war-path ; but for many 
 the warning came too late. The golden opportunity had been 
 
438 GENERAL GEORGE A. CUSTER. 
 
 lost when Gen. Hancock allowed the Indian village to be desert- 
 ed. Of course, Custer, a young officer without experience in this 
 kind of fighting, could not pretend to advise a general of Han- 
 cock's long service on the plains. 
 
 The abandoned village was burned, and war formally opened. 
 Gen. Hancock called a council at Fort Dodge, where the Kiowas 
 and Arapahoes were the most prominent tribes rej)resented. Ex- 
 travagant promises of good conduct were made, especially by 
 Satanta, of the Kiowas, and his fervid friendship was soon re- 
 warded by the gift of the uniform coat, sash and hat of a major- 
 general. When he attacked Fort Dodge a few weeks later, he 
 was thus enabled to appear in full uniform. 
 
 With a force of three hundred and fifty men, Custer was or- 
 dered on his first Indian scout, with directions to proceed from 
 Fort Hays, in Kansas, to Fort McPherson, in Nebraska; thence 
 southward in a semi-circle, returning to Fort Hays by way of 
 Forts Sedgwick and Wallace, This would involve a ride of more 
 than a thousand miles. 
 
 Having seen but one war party of Indians since leaving the 
 main body, and unable to catch that, they arrived at Fort Mc- 
 Pherson, remaining there a few days, in accordance with the or- 
 ders of Gen. Sherman. Here Custer learned another important 
 lesson in Indian fighting. A council was held this time with 
 Pawnee Killer, one of the Sioux chiefs who had escaped from 
 Gen. Hancock. Promising to bring his band to encamp by the 
 fort, he received from Custer presents of such finery and dainties 
 as were best suited to his taste, and left for his village. 
 
 Gen. Sherman soon afterward arrived, and from him Custer 
 learned what was the value of Pawnee Killer's promises. A de- 
 tachment sent out immediately to find the chief and make him do 
 as he had promised, failed in its object, and Custer and his men 
 set out on their return expedition. No real fighting had yet oc- 
 curred ; but plenty of Indian warfare, attended by its utmost bar- 
 barities, w^as soon to be experienced. According to a modifica- 
 tion of the plan first proposed, a trusty officer w^as to be sent, 
 with a sufficient escort, to Fort Sedgwick with Custer's despatch, 
 and to receive any despatches there for him. The train of twenty 
 wagons was to go to Fort Wallace for supplies, the condition of 
 the roads preventing such a journey to McPherson. 
 
 Major Elliot was selected as the bearer of despatches, and set 
 out with an escort of ten men in one direction at the same time 
 
OENKRAL (JKOROE A. CUSTER. 
 
 439 
 
440 GENERAL GEORGE A. CUSTER. 
 
 that the train, guarded by a full squadron of cavalry, left the 
 camp in another. The rest of the force settled down to the ted- 
 ious task of waiting, .the monotony of which was only relieved 
 by the evening concert of the wolves around the camp, and by a 
 visit from Pawnee Killer and some of his braves. These, as be- 
 fore, j)rofessed great friendship for the whites, and especially for 
 the " Yellow Chief; " such was the Indian form of the newspaper 
 correspondent's " floating golden curls of the boy-general." Paw- 
 nee Killer had no great respect for the young officer whom he 
 had already fooled, and wound up the conference by a request for 
 coffee, sugar and ammunition ; but his contempt was unmerited. 
 Custer had learned the lesson, and was not to be again deceived 
 into trusting an Indian. The Sioux, despairing of being able to 
 massacre the soldiers, for such had been the object of their com- 
 ing, took to flight; the chief managing to secure a revolver that 
 had been left lying near him ; and the large and heavy horses of 
 the troops being unable to overtake the fleet and hardy ponies 
 of the Indians, the party, after a short j^ursuit, returned to camp. 
 
 The success of a troop sent out against a small body of the 
 savages that appeared soon afterwards, did not entirely reassitre 
 them ; much anxiety was felt regarding Major Elliot and his men, 
 and the wagon train. The former was thought to be in the most 
 danger, from the weakness of the party; but when, a few days 
 afterwards, the little detachment, safe and sound, rode into camp, 
 the general felt assured that the hostile Indians would attack 
 the train. He could not hope that they had remained in ignor- 
 ance of either expedition ; but, knowing of both, they probably 
 determined to wait until the wagons loaded with supplies should 
 return, and thus secure a victory that should be more than an 
 empt}^ honor. 
 
 Thinking this, and believing that his wife, whom he thought 
 at Fort Wallace, would put herself under protection of the train 
 to join him in camj), Custer determined to take every possible 
 measure for the protection of this party. He accordingly sent 
 out a full squadron, well mounted and armed, to meet the train, 
 which was defended by forty-eight men. Attack was not antici- 
 pated before the wagons reached Beaver Creek, fifty miles from 
 the camp, as they would have the advantage of a larger escort as 
 far as that point. 
 
 The way from the camp to Fort Wallace lay over the open 
 plain, where the deep ravines leading to the water courses would 
 
GENERAL GEORGE A. CUSTER. 441 
 
 afford shelter to unfriendly Indians. Yet so level was the plain, 
 so almost imperceptible was the course of the ravines, that an un- 
 practised eye would have seen no place of concealment. 
 
 " If the Injuns strike us at all," said the wary scout, Comstock, 
 with the train, as they approached a point of which we shall 
 hear again, "■ it will be just about the time that we're comin' 
 back along this very spot. Now mind what I tell you, all." 
 
 The suggestion of a young and inexperienced officer that the 
 Indians seemed to have departed from that region, brought the 
 rejily, full of wisdom : " Whar thar ain't no Injuns, thar you'll 
 find 'em thickest." 
 
 And as they approached this s])ot on the return, the keen eye of 
 the scout saw peering over the brow of the hill far away to the 
 right, strange figures. His field-glass revealed that they were In- 
 dians, and his judgment was soon confirmed by the officers. In a 
 little while the sharp-eyed savages saw that they were discovered 
 and rode boldly to the crest of the hill. Twenty, thirty, a hun- 
 dred warriors came in view, and still from beyond the hill new 
 hosts appeared. Between six and seven hundred Indians, array- 
 ed in full war costume, brilliantly hideous with paint and feath- 
 ers, armed with carbines and revolvers, sometimes with bows 
 and arrows, bore down upon them. 
 
 The white men could only resolve to sell their lives as dearly 
 as possible. The train was formed in two parallel columns, the 
 cavalry horses between them ; the dismounted men being formed 
 in a circle enclosing the wagons, then the march was resumed. As 
 they went onward in momentary expectation of an attack, the 
 Iiidians continued to approach until they came within easy range ; 
 the troops had orders, however, not to fire unless attacked. Sud- 
 denly, with a wild whoop, the savages rushed at them. To stam- 
 pede the horses, to massacre the escort, to carry oft" the supjilies 
 in the wagons — such was evidently their plan. Forward they 
 dashed, as if to tramj)le l)cneath the feet of their ponies the hand- 
 ful of men at that side of the wagons; the cavalrymen dropped 
 to their knees as the Indians came thundering upon them, and 
 taking deliberate aim at the moving mass, poured a deadly vol- 
 ley into the crowded ranks. As they wheeled off" to the rights 
 only pausing to gain possession of the bodies of those who had 
 fallen, the white men cheered loudly, and Comstock taunted them, 
 in their own tongue, with their lack of success. But his words 
 to his companions gave a less hojDeful view. Seeing that the sav- 
 
442 GENERAL GEORGE A. CUSTER. 
 
 tiges had withdrawn out of rifle range, where they were evident- 
 ly holding a consultation, he said : 
 
 "There's no sich good luck as that they're goin' to give it up 
 so. Six hundred red devils ain't agoin' to let fiftj^men keep 'em 
 from gettin' at the sugar and coffee that's in these wagons, and 
 they want our scalps besides, to paj^ for them we popped over a 
 few minutes ago." 
 
 As the officers passed along the line, cautioning the men not to 
 waste ammunition, as all of it on hand would probably be need- 
 ed, the Indians returned to the attack, but in a different manner. 
 They had hoped at first that their great superiority of numbers 
 would enable them to accomplish easily their purpose ; but this 
 style of attack, so foreign to the Indian's nature, had proven un- 
 fortunate, and they determined to act with greater caution. Led 
 by the chiefs, the whole army of redskins rode in single file, at a 
 safe distance from the carbines of the troops. Gradually the long 
 line turned, curving around the smaller circle of troops, until 
 the whites were completely surrounded. Still they rode around 
 and around, as the vulture circles about the dying prey. Each 
 warrior throws himself upon the side of his well-trained pony, 
 leaving only his head and one foot exposed, and thus protected 
 by a living barricade, aims either over or under the neck of his 
 steed. 
 
 Still the little force of white men marched steadily onward, de- 
 fending themselves with results fatal to many Indians. For three 
 hours the fight M\as kept up, and now every moment increased 
 the danger. Although the redskins had sufi'ered great loss in 
 men and ponies, the cavahy found their supply of ammunition 
 was running low, and would soon be exhausted. Night or a rein- 
 forcement was the only hope ; but it was still early in the day, 
 and their comrades in the camp could not know what had befall- 
 en them. 
 
 Meanwhile the keen-eyed Indian scouts, posted along the high 
 bluffs which bordered the plain, had seen a faint, dark line on the 
 horizon ; a line which might be a break in the ground, the shadow 
 of a cloud. But slowly it moved along, as if the cloud Avere 
 driven by the winds, and in a moment the savages saw that it was 
 a column of cavalry moving rapidly towards them. Three hours 
 hard riding had exhausted even the hardy Indian ponies, and 
 the chiefs and warriors decided to escape -wdiile it was still pos- 
 sible. The cavalry was at least two hours' journey from them. 
 
GENERAL GEORGE A. CUSTER. 
 
 443 
 
 m, ^n\ - , } 
 
 JiUPif i|ii ^ ' 1 T^nini I ii(M '[-[,, V 
 
 
 'gj^*«^j?,Notii'^;W>JH; 
 
 ,1 iiiiii'il! 
 
444 GENERAL GEORGE A. CUSTER. 
 
 but their horses might be in good condition for pursuit, and be 
 able to overtake them. Your true "■ noble red man " always wish- 
 es large odds against his enemy. 
 
 To the surprise of the troops, then, a furious hail of shot and 
 arrow^s was followed by their withdrawal ; busily engaged in at- 
 tending to the wounded, of whom, however, there were but few, 
 about an hour had j^assed when new cause for alarm appeared — 
 a body of horsemen approaching them. Another force of Indians, 
 they thought; but the field-glasses revealed to them the familiar 
 blue blouses of their comrades, and the hasty retreat of their as- 
 sailants was explained. 
 
 Great anxiety was felt in regard to a party of eleven men, that 
 had been sent to Fort Wallace on a tnission similar to Major El- 
 liot's, under the command of Lieutenant Kidder. Cojnstock's 
 opinion was far from encouraging : 
 
 " Ef I knowed what kind of a man the lootenant was, I could 
 tell you mighty nigh to a certainty what you want to know. But, 
 yer see, Injun huntin' and Injun fightin' is a trade of itself, and 
 it takes some time to larn the business. Ef a man don't know 
 what he's about, he can't make a livin' at it. I've lots of confi- 
 dence in the fightin' sense of Red Bead (the Sioux guide), and 
 ef he can have his wa}^ about it, thar's a purty fair show. But I 
 don't know how far the lootenant will take advice. I reckon 
 them young fellers that have jist come from West Pint know all 
 the book-larnin', but they ain't had a chance at anything else, and 
 ginerally, if one of 'em knowed half as much as bethinks he does, 
 you couldn't tell him nothing." 
 
 The command had in the meantime moved forward from the 
 forks of the Republican River to the Platte, audit was determined 
 to return to the point at which a large body had left the main 
 party, lest Lieutenant Kidder should miss the trail. At length they 
 found the trail of the detachment, leading to the old camp on the 
 Republican. Two days farther woxild take them to Fort Wallace, 
 hence they must soon know the fate of the party. At length the 
 body of a white horse was found, shot within the last few days, 
 and with the brand U. S. It was the color of those ridden by 
 the force, and there was but little room to doubt that it was one 
 of theirs. All the equipments had been carried away, and noth- 
 ing remained to indicate whether it had been taken ill, and shot 
 by the soldiers, or killed in a fight. Proceeding onward, they 
 found the trail regular and unhurried, as when at first discov- 
 
GENERAL GEORGE A. CUSTER. 445 
 
 ered ; after going a little distance they found another horse, 
 near which Comstock's eye saw pony tracks ; and the solution 
 was no longer doubtful. 
 
 Following the trail, they found evidence that Kidder and his 
 men must have trusted to the speed of their horses ; and for sev- 
 eral miles the pursuit had continued. Within a mile of Beaver 
 Creek, where a dense growth of tall wild grass was mingled with 
 clumps of osiers, they saw large buzzards floating in the air above 
 them, and the odor which pervaded the atmosjihere was unmis- 
 takable. Riding in all directions in search of them, one of the 
 Delawares accompanying them uttered a shout that attracted the 
 attention of the whole command. There, within the limits of a very 
 small circle, lay the mangled, mutilated bodies of the eleven 
 men. Every scalp but Red Bead's had been taken, and every 
 skull crushed by the blow of a tomahawk ; the features of each 
 face so disfigured that not one could be recognized, nor could 
 the officer be distinguished from the men; each body was brist- 
 ling with arrows. How long the fight continued could not be 
 told, but evidence of a desperate struggle was found about the 
 ground. Only the body of the Sioux chief was not mutilated, 
 conclusive proof that this was the work of his own tribe. The 
 fact that the throats of all were cut, was, to the experienced 
 plainsmen, another indication of the same, thing; since this was 
 the mark by which the Sioux designated their victims. The 
 bodies were buried in a large trench, and the march was con- 
 tinued. 
 
 But another danger beset the command, this time from within 
 itself. Allured by the large wages paid to miners, and fright- 
 ened by the fate of those who fell into the hands of the Indians, 
 many of the men deserted, some in broad daylight, riding off in 
 sight of their officers, and firing upon pursuers. Of the fifty- 
 three deserters, who escaped in this way or under cover of night, 
 six were recaptured ; and strict vigilance prevented any further 
 attempt. 
 
 Arriving at Fort Wallace, Custer found the supplies at that 
 point nearly exhausted, and no communication existing between 
 that and other stations. He accordingly selected a hundred of 
 his best mounted men to go to Fort Harker, a distance of two 
 hundred miles, and judging that Fort Wallace would be left in 
 peace, chose to accompany it himself. At every station they 
 heard of Indians having been in the vicinity within a few days 
 
446 
 
 GENERAL GEORGE A. OUSTER. 
 
 of their arrival, but for some time found no fresh signs of their 
 neighborhood. Eapid marching, however, was necessary, and 
 though two men were killed by the Indians while far in the rear, 
 they were left to be buried by the troops at the nearest station. 
 
 Leaving the C07jimand to rest one day at Fort Hays, General 
 Custer, accompanied b}^ Cols. Cook and Custer and two troop- 
 ers, rode on to Fort Harker. Here he sent telegrams announc- 
 ing the Kidder massacre, and there being no necessity for his 
 presence until the train should be ready to return, asked and re- 
 ceived of General Smith, his superior officer, authority to visit 
 his family at Fort Eiley, ninety miles by rail from Fort Harker. 
 The ingenuity of his enemies turned this expedition for sup- 
 plies into a journey on 
 private business ; and for 
 leaving Fort Wallace 
 without orders, marching 
 his men excessively, and 
 allowing two of them to 
 be killed, he was actually 
 brought before a court- 
 martial. Custer showed 
 that he had acted uj)on 
 the last orders that he 
 had received from Gen. 
 Sherman, who had told 
 him to proceed to Fort 
 Wallace, where Gen. Han- 
 cock would give him further directions ; that since the latter offi- 
 cer had left Fort Wallace before his arrival, he thought it his 
 duty to follow him j^ersonally, but necessity had compelled him 
 to obtain supplies for the station. But the Indian campaign of 
 1867 had been a failure, and it was necessary to find a scape-goat. 
 Custer was therefore selected to be held up as the cause of fail- 
 ure, and being found guilty, was sentenced to be suspended from 
 rank and pay for a year. The justice of this sentence is not 
 apparent; if he deserved any punishment at all, if the charges 
 were at all true, he should have been instantly disniissed ; if this 
 was too severe for the facts, he was not guilty of the offense with 
 which he was charged. 
 
 Gen. Sheridan was put in command of this Indian country, and 
 arrived at Leavenworth, where Custer was tried, just after sen- 
 
 GEN. PmLIP H. SHERIDAN. 
 
CALIFORNIA JOE. 447 
 
 tence was passed; not a word could he say of trial or sentence; 
 etiquette 2:»revented him; but he placed his suite of ajDartments, 
 reserved for him as department commander, at Custer's disposal. 
 But as spring* came on, and with it the Indian campaign, Custer 
 could not bear to see the regiment depart for active service while 
 he was left behind; so he returned to Monroe, Michigan, where 
 his boyhood had been passed at his sister's house, and where he 
 had met and married his wife. 
 
 While he tried to kill time here, and, being of a disposition in- 
 clined to make the best of things, doubtless succeeded, his com- 
 rades on the plains, trying to kill Indians, were less fortunate. 
 The campaign of the spring and summer of 1868 was as great a 
 failure as that of the previous year. Even in his short experi- 
 ence, Custer had shown himself good material for an Indian fight- 
 er, and early in the fall he received a telegram from Gen. Sheri- 
 dan, asking him to come at once to join his regiment, on the 
 strength of an application for him made by G-ens. Sherman and 
 Sheridan, and nearly all the officers of the Seventh Cavalry. 
 Leaving at once, he was overtaken by a despatch from the adju- 
 tant general, directing him to rej^ort to Gen. Sheridan ; the au- 
 thorities had yielded to tlie necessity of the case. 
 
 CALIFORNIA JOE. 
 
 After reporting as ordered, he proceeded to the camp of his 
 regiment, thirty miles southeast of Fort Dodge. Finding that 
 there were many scouts attached to the various bodies of cavalry 
 into which the main force had been divided, and that these acted 
 inde2:)endently of each other, he decided to organize them into 
 a special detachment, under the command of one of their own 
 number. The next thing was the selection of such a chief, a task 
 by no means easy to the officer unacquainted with the compara- 
 tive merits of the men. One attracted his attention: a man of 
 forty or more years, his well-projiortioned figure more than six 
 feet high ; a huge sombrero crowned the head, the natural cover- 
 ing of which floated in luxuriant dark curls to the shoulders ; 
 the pleasant, intelligent face was half hidden by a long brown 
 beard and moustache, but the kindly black eye was not obscured, 
 even by the clouds of smoke that issued from his constant com- 
 panion, a stubby briarwood pipe. '^ California Joe " was the 
 name by which he was known, and no effort has succeeded in as- 
 certaining any other. This was the man whom Custer now 
 
448 OALIFORNiA JOK. 
 
 appointed chief of the scouts, and a short account of the experi- 
 ence which fitted him for the position will not he out of place. 
 
 From Kentucky, in 1849, a party of sixty-five adventurers set 
 out towards the gold-fields of California. 'Not knowing the dan- 
 gers of the plains, they slept night after night without a guard. 
 The result need hardly he told. Two hundred Indians crept 
 stealthily into the silent camp, only announcing their presence 
 by the dull crash of the tomahawk, as it cleft the skull of a slum- 
 berer. A woman and two little boys were among the sixty-three 
 victims, while Joe, the husband and father, sorely wounded, es- 
 caped after enduring almost incredible hardships to Fort Lyon. 
 But he had started out to reach the state from which he took his 
 name, and in less than two months he was ready to continue his 
 jouimey. But in spite of the constant watch which was kept, 
 the little party was attacked; two men were killed, and the third 
 taken prisoner. The bravest may well tremble at the fate which 
 now awaited California Joe ; and he made strenuous efforts to 
 avoid it by compelling them to kill him at once. His struggles, 
 his writhings, his cries were alike unheeded, for they knew he 
 was too firmly bound to escape, and thought no help was near 
 him. 
 
 One of the chiefs cut off the outer rim of each of Joe's ears and 
 placed the pieces in his belt. The fire was kindled a short dis- 
 tance from his feet, being thus placed that the torture might be 
 prolonged; but as the flames arose, and were reflected from the 
 clouds, that which was meant to be torment became a means of 
 bringing help, for a party of fifty trai:)pers, encamped less than 
 half a mile away, saw the reflection in the sky, and guided to 
 the exact spot by Joe's lusty yells, put the Indians to flight and 
 rescued the prisoner. 
 
 A peaceful life followed this adventure, lasting for more than 
 a year; spent in trapping with his rescuers. More than one ro- 
 mantic story of the border is remembered in connection with his 
 name, of which the recovery of little Maggie Eeynolds is perhaps 
 the most charming. The eleven year old daughter of a hardy trap- 
 per, she left her home on the YelloAVstone one morning, as she had 
 often done before, for a hunt. Night came, but Maggie had not 
 returned. Day after day passed, and the search which they in- 
 stituted was fruitless. They could only guess what had befallen 
 her. 
 
 Months had passed away, and to the little cabin came Califor- 
 
CALIFORNIA JOE. 449 
 
 nia Joe, who was then trapjiing near by. To him the story was 
 told, but when they suggested that she had been devoured by 
 some wild beast, he shook his head : 
 
 " I'll bet a silver fox's skin that that ar gal is now with them 
 'tarnal Cheyennes. I beared thar was a white face with 'em." 
 
 The mother's heart stood still ; such a captivity was worse than 
 death for her child. 
 
 *' Ain't thar any way ter git her out of their clutches ?" 
 "Yer may just bet thar is, and I'll do it mj^self." 
 A judicious supply of fire-water furnished to four Indians, with 
 the promise of more, secured their services. A large village of 
 their tribe was sought and entered, their presence not exciting 
 any alarm. Were they not Cheyennes? To the little pale-face, 
 who served a squaw, cross and exacting, like all Indian women, 
 because so treated herself, they whispered of a canoe, where the 
 thick forest overhung the yellow Missouri; of the quiet of mid- 
 night ; of the hojie of reaching home. More noiselessly than the 
 antelope bounds over the thick grass of the prairies did the girl 
 leave the camp, escaj^ing unheard by the squaw at whose side she 
 slept. Now the image of the morn wavered upon the surface of 
 the water, rippled by the breeze, and slipping, sliding, clambering 
 down the bank where only the thick roots held the sandy soil 
 from the river, she leaped into the dusky arms outstretched to re- 
 ceive her, and was soon safe at home. As the story is sometimes 
 told, Maggie afterwards became the wife of the man who had 
 planned her rescue; but this is by no means certain. 
 
 He attained considerable reputation during the war, being es- 
 teemed the most skillful marksman in Berdan's sharpshooters. 
 For several years after the war he was attached to Gen. Curtis' 
 command, and finally, as we have seen, was appointed chief of 
 scouts by Custer. The close of the first interview after the ap- 
 pointment was announced, is characteristic of both, 
 
 " See hyar, Gineral, in order that we hev no misonderstandin', 
 I'd jest like to ask yer a few questions." 
 
 " Certainly, Joe," answered the oflicer, sniffing the fun from 
 afar. 
 
 " Air you an ambulance man, or a boss man?" 
 "What do you mean? I don't understand your question." 
 " I mean, do you b'lieve in ketchin' Injuns in ambulances or on 
 hoss-baek ?" 
 
 " Well, Joe, I believe in catching Indians wherever we can find 
 29 
 
450 
 
 CAMFORNIA JOE. 
 
 them, whether they are found in ambulances or on horse-back/' 
 
 " That ain't what I'm drivin' at. S'pose you're after Injuns and 
 
 really want to hev a tussle with 'em, would ye start after ^em on 
 
 CALIFOKNTA JOE. 
 
 hoss-back, or would ye climb into an ambulance and be hauled 
 after 'em? That's the p'int I'm headin' fur." 
 
 " Well, Joe, if I really desired to catch them, I would prefer 
 the horseback method; but if I wished them to catch me, I'd 
 adopt the ambulance system of attack." 
 
CALIFORNIA JOE. 451 
 
 Joe's rugged features beamed with satisfaction as he answered : 
 
 " You've hit the nail squar' on the head. I've been with 'em 
 on the plains whar' they started out after the Injuns on wheels, 
 jist as ef they was agoin' to a town funeral in the states, and they 
 stood about as many chances of ketehin' Injuns as a six-mule 
 team would uv ketehin' a pack of thievin' Kiotees, — jist as 
 much." 
 
 Probably from sheer pleasure at finding his new superior a 
 man so after his own heart, Joe improved his opportunities by 
 getting drunk that very night. This was a fault with which 
 Custer had no patience, and the offender was degraded the next 
 day from the rank of chief of scouts to that of simple scout; in 
 which capacity he remained with Custer for the rest of the cam- 
 paign, and did good service. 
 
 The terrible fight with a panther, which left scars upon him to 
 the day of his death; the timely bullet which saved his friend, 
 struggling unarmed with a burly Indian who had crept upon him 
 unawares ; many a bold scouting expedition ; must all remain un- 
 told. Volunteering his services to Gen. Crook in 1876, he be- 
 came disgusted with that officer. " He won't furnish pie to his 
 men," urged Joe, with offended dignity. But dignity, sense of 
 injury, desire of remonstrating, resolution to holci aloof, all van- 
 ished before the potent charm of a certain black bottle, that con- 
 tained something better than pie. At an}^ rate, such was Joe's 
 opinion of its contents. 
 
 But though the briarwood pii:)e seldom left his lips, it did not 
 make him a silent man. jSTotable even among scouts, who are 
 never taciturn when oft' duty, Joe's silence w^as a thing unknown. 
 His "partner," the friend whose- life he had saved, rarely ut- 
 tered a w^ord, and as Jack Sprat and his wife divided the meat, 
 Joe and his friend entertained each other. Joe was killed by an 
 unknown man early in December, 1876; the reason for the act 
 being still a mystery. 
 
 Little of interest was done for a month after Custer rejoined 
 his command. The regiment had lost many of its old men by 
 desertion since the commander's court-martial, and the green re- 
 cruits could not ride or shoot. Considerable time must be spent 
 in training the men for their work ; and it was not until the mid- 
 dle of November that the regiment was fit for service among the 
 Indians. According to the system that had been pursued, it was 
 now time for going into winter quarters, to remain completely 
 
452 GENERAL GEORGE A. CUSTER. 
 
 « 
 
 inactive until spring ; but that plan was now changed. Fighting 
 only in the summer, when the Indians had no difficulty in find- 
 ing forage and game, was practically giving them choice of time ; 
 but in winter, so scant were their supplies that many of their 
 ponies often died of actual starvation, and several weeks of good 
 grazing in the spring were required to restore them to a suitable 
 condition for battle, pursuit and flight. A maxim of the art of 
 war directs the soldier to do that which the enemy does not ex- 
 pect or desire ; this winter campaign would carry this out to the 
 letter, and so careful preparations were made for a descent upon 
 the Indians in the depth of the season. 
 
 Four hundred wagons, with a guard of infantry, and thirteen 
 friendly Osages as scouts, accompanied the Seventh Cavalry to 
 Camp Supply, as the new station was named; the expedition 
 being under the command of Gren. Sully. Custer chafed under 
 the restraint which the extreme caution of the aged officer im- 
 posed upon him, and the a2:)proach of Gen. Sheridan was hailed 
 with joy. They were to operate beyond the limit of Gen. Sully's 
 district, and he was therefore relieved from further command. 
 Prejjarations were immediately made for marching at a mo- 
 ment's notice into the Indian country, and after six days' wait- 
 ing came a brief letter of instructions, necessarily general in 
 terms. On the evening of the twenty-second of November, or- 
 ders were issued to be in readiness to move promptly at day- 
 break the next morning. While the snow fell fast without the 
 frail canvas shelters, each doubtless found time to pen a few lines 
 to friends, to tell them of the proposed expedition ; for besides 
 the ordinary uncertainties of war, they could not tell when they 
 would again be in communication with the civilized world. 
 
 All night long the snow-storm continued, so that when reveil- 
 le sounded at four o'clock the next morning, the ground was 
 covered with snow to a depth of over a foot, and the fall had not 
 abated. In the ver}'- teeth of the blinding storm they marched, 
 and before they had gone many miles even the Indian guides 
 owned that they had lost their way. Undeterred by such diffi- 
 culties, Custer shaped his course by a pocket compass, became 
 his own guide, and reached "Wolf Creek, where he had intended 
 to camp that afternoon. Next morning at dawn they started 
 again, this time with a clear sky overhead ; and a scouting party 
 under Major Elliot found a fresh trail of a war-party, one hun- 
 dred and fifty strong; the last of the season, jDrobably going 
 
GENERAL OEORGE A. CUSTER. 453 
 
 home disgusted with the weather. The Seventh was in the heart 
 of the Indian countiy, tinperceived. 
 
 Already in the valley of the Washita, they proceeded on this 
 trail by night. To guard against surprises, two Osages, on foot, 
 preceded them by three or four hundred yards; then the rest of 
 the Indians, the white scouts, including California Joe, and in 
 their midst, Custer himself; at a distance of a quainter or a half 
 mile followed the main bod3\ Perfect silence marked their 
 march ; and not a match was struck, even to light a pipe. The 
 Osages in front smelled fire, but it proved to be only the embers 
 of one kindled by Indian boys who had been herding ponies 
 during the day. 
 
 Custer now jDreceded the whole command, with the two Osages. 
 As they approached the crest of each hill, one of the guides would, 
 according to the invariable Indian custom, hasten forward and 
 peer cautiously over the hill. This happened several times, 
 when at last the Osage placed his hand above his eyes, as if look- 
 ing intently at some object, and then crept stealthily back to the 
 leader. 
 
 "What is it?" he asked, eagerly. 
 
 "■ Heaps Injuns down there," was the reply, as the guide point- 
 ed to the valley just beyond the hill. 
 
 Crouching low, so as not to be seen in the moonlight against 
 the horizon, Custer and the Indian crept to the crest of the hill, 
 whence the soldier could see a large body of some kind of ani- 
 mals at a distance which he estimated at half a mile ; but he 
 could not tell but that it was a herd of buffalo. Turning to the 
 guide, he asked : 
 
 "Why do you think they are Indians?" 
 
 " Me hear dog bark." 
 
 In a moment, as if to confirm his words, a dog was heard bark- 
 ing in the heavy timber to the right of the group, and the tinkle 
 of a bell showed that their ponies were near by. Another sound, 
 the cry of an infant, awakened the soldier's regret that he was 
 forced by the atrocity of his enemy's murders and depredations 
 to engage in a war in which the women and children could not 
 be protected. 
 
 " The bravest are the tenderest, 
 The loving are the daring." 
 
 Halting here, all necessary arrangements were made for the 
 attack. Pew attempted to sleep, so bitterly cold was the night, 
 
454 GENERAL GEORGE A. CUSTER. 
 
 SO comfortless their fireless, shelterless condition. From group 
 to groii}), crouching or lying upon the frozen snow, M^ent Custer. 
 
 "Fight!" said California Joe, as the leader approached the 
 scouts ; "■ I haven't nary doubt concernin' that part of the busi- 
 ness; what I've been tryin' to git through my top-knot all 
 night is whether we'll run against more'n we bargain for." 
 
 " Then you don't think that the Indians will run away, Joe? " 
 
 "Eun away ? How in creation kin Injuns or anybody else run 
 away when we'll have them clean surrounded by daylight?" 
 
 "Well, suppose then that we succeed in surrounding the vil- 
 lage, do you think we can hold our own against the Indians?" 
 
 "That's the very p'int that's been botherin' me ever sence we 
 planted ourselves down here, and the only conclusion I kin come 
 to is that it's purty apt to be one thing or t'other; if we jump 
 these Injuns at daylight, we're either goin' to make a spoon or 
 spile a horn, and that's my candid judgment, sure. One thing's 
 sartin; ef them Injuns don't hyar anything of us till we open on 
 'em at daylight, they'll be the most powerful 'stonished red-skins 
 that's been in these parts lately — they will, sure. An' ef we git 
 the bulge on 'em and keep a puttin' it to 'em pretty lively like, 
 we'll sweep the platter — thar won't be nar}^ a trick left for 'em. 
 As the deal stands now, we hold the keards and are holdin' over 
 'em; they've got to straddle our blind or throw up their hands. 
 Howsomever, there's a mighty sight in the draw." 
 
 The first faint streaks of light ajipeared in the east, and all was 
 in readiness for the advance. In spite of the freezing cold, over- 
 coats were removed, that the men might be free in their move- 
 ments. Two detachments were sent, one each way round, to attack 
 the village from the other side, the signal being the first notes 
 of " Garry Owen." Communication with the two divisions that 
 had gone to the other side of the village was impossible, and the 
 commander must guess at their readiness. So still was the vil- 
 lage as they approached, that he feared a repetition of Hancock's 
 experience; but a single rifle shot, that rang sharp and clear from 
 the further side of the town, and the rollicking notes of the air 
 selected as the signal, aroused the whole village in an instant. 
 From all sides the soldiers dashed, shouting, into the town ; the 
 Indians realized the situation at once, and arming in a moment's 
 time, sought the shelter of the nearest trees and the neighboring 
 stream, whence they poured shot upon the troops. In answer 
 to the exultant cheers of the soldiers came the wild war-whoop 
 
GENERAL GEORGE A. OUSTER. 
 
 455 
 
456 GENERAL GEORGE A. CUSTER. 
 
 of the savages ; but in a few moments the village was in the 
 hands of the troojis. 
 
 Before the victory could be called complete, however, the In- 
 dians must be driven off. This was a work of more difficulty, but 
 slowly and steadily they were driven from behind the trees. Post- 
 ing themselves in the ravines, they fired from an almost perfect 
 shelter, until the sharp-shooters that Custer had recently trained 
 picked them off as they exposed themselves to get a shot. In- 
 side the lodges were the Indian women, who now gave vent to 
 their despair by singing the death-song; and the wild, unmusical 
 lament added to the din. A Mexican interpreter, Romero, or 
 " Romeo." was sent to reassure them with the promise that they 
 would be unharmed and kindly treated ; but it was difficult to 
 obtain a hearing from the terrified creatures. 
 
 At ten o'clock the fight was still raging. California Joe con- 
 cluded to start out on his own account, and after moving about 
 for sometime in what Gi-en. Custer calls a promiscuous and in- 
 dependent manner, obtained permission to collect and drive in a 
 large herd of ponies that was seen near by. In the meantime a 
 number of Indians had been noticed, collected on a knoll about 
 a mile awa}', and as Joe came into camp with two squaw prison- 
 ers assisting him with his drove of three hundred ponies, Custer 
 saw that the number of the enemy outside the lines had grown 
 to nearly a hundred. All were mounted warriors, fully armed, 
 and their force was constantly increasing. At first, he had 
 thought that a few might have escaped from the village, but this 
 army could not have done so, nor would they have been so com- 
 pletely equipped. A squaw, being questioned, gave the aston- 
 ishing and by no means pleasing information that this was but 
 one of a group of villages ; that besides this of the Cheyennes, 
 there was another of the same tribe, and those of the Arapahoes, 
 Kiowas, Comanches and Apaches clustered in the timbered val- 
 ley, the farthest being less than ten miles off. 
 
 There was no doubt of an attack from a greatly superior force 
 upon the troops, exhausted by their long fight ; and no time was 
 lost in preparing to repel it. A fresh supply of ammunition was 
 issued, and the fight soon began at all points of the circle which 
 now formed the line of battle, and of which the village was the 
 center. The Indians fought with an excessive caution, rare, when 
 numerical superiority was so great as at this time, but the burn- 
 ing of the village seemed to arouse them to new fury. The tim- 
 
GENERAL GEORGE A. CUSTER. 
 
 457 
 
 ber and the conligurationof the ground, however, enabled Custer 
 to use his men to the better advantage, and he finally judged that 
 oflPensive measures might be adopted. Step by step the Indians 
 were driven from the field, every inch of ground contested ; and 
 it was not until three o'clock in the afternoon that they were 
 forced to yield. 
 
 It was difficult to know how to dispose of the spoils of war; 
 the village, with all that was in it, had been burned, but more 
 than sixt}^ squaws and children were their prisoners, and nearly 
 
 THE MESSENGER OF DEFEAT. 
 
 nine hundred ponies were in their possession. The latter were 
 too tempting to marauding parties, were needed by the Indians, 
 but useless to the troops ; to keep or abandon them was equally 
 dangerous, so all were shot, except those necessary for the pris- 
 oners. When Eomeo announced to the squaws that they would 
 be kindly treated during the march, they gathered around the 
 " big chief," as the Indians style a commanding officer, and 
 obliged him to go through much handshaking. One squaw told 
 him that her j^eople had returned the night before with white 
 scalps and plunder; and celebrated their success by getting 
 drunk. She also insisted upon his marrying a j^oung girl of the 
 
458 GENERAL GEORGE A. CUSTER. 
 
 tribe, and performed the whole Indian ceremony before the in- 
 terpreter conld explain to Custer what she was doing. 
 
 It was necessary to frighten the warriors in the other villages, 
 to deter them from making an attack ■ then, with band playing, 
 and colors flying, he marched straight down the river towards 
 the threatening parties assembled at various points. The move- 
 ment had the desired effect, for the Indians turned and fled in 
 confusion ; the lesson of the attack on the Cheyenne village need- 
 ed no immediate repetition. Messengers had carried the doleful 
 news in every direction. 
 
 California Joe and another scout were sent with a despatch to 
 Gen. Sheridan, giving report of the battle ; and returned safely to 
 the regiment before it reached Camp Supply. The return despatch 
 repaid the Seventh for the hardships of the march, and when the 
 same officer further honored them by a review, a great conde- 
 scension in militarj' etiquette, since Shgridan was a major-gen- 
 eral, and this but a single regiment, their proud j^leasure knew no 
 bounds. 
 
 One hundred and three warriors had been killed, and the 
 amount of plunder that fell into their hands seems almost incred- 
 ible, until we reflect that this was the preparation made for win- 
 ter. The loss of the regiment had not been small, two officers 
 and nineteen men being killed. Among the wounded was Col. 
 T. W. Custer, the general's brother, who had accompanied him 
 on his ride to Fort Harker, and of whom we shall hear again. 
 
 But this was only the beginning of the campaign, and five days 
 after the review mentioned, the regiment again set out for the 
 Washita, accojnpaniod by (xen. Sheridan and his staff, and the 
 Nineteenth Kansas Volunteer Cavalry, raised especially for In- 
 dian hostilities ; the entire force numbering about fifteen hun- 
 dred men. Thirty days' rations were provided, and the force 
 presented a formidable array. 
 
 "I'd just like to see the streaked count'nances of Satanta, Med- 
 icine Arrow, Lone Wolf, and a few others of 'em, when they 
 ketch the fust glimpse of the outfit. They'll think we're comin' 
 to spend an evenin' with 'em sure, and hev brought our knittin' 
 with us. One look'll satisfy 'em, andthar'll be some of the durnd- 
 est kickin' out over these plains that ever war heer'n tell of. One 
 good thing, it's goin' to come as nigh killin' of 'em to start 'em 
 out at this time of year as ef we hed an out and out scrummage 
 with 'em. The way I looks at it they hev just this ch'ice : them 
 
GENERAL GEORGE A. CUSTER. 459 
 
 as don't like bein' shot to death kin take ther chances at freez- 
 in.' " 
 
 The regiment reached the battle ground without adventure, and 
 found that they had plunged into a hornet's nest when they had 
 attacked the Cheyennes. The whole forest, for twelve miles, was 
 a line of Indian villages, six hundred lodges having been within 
 jfive miles of the battle ; now deserted, their inhabitants having 
 fled in the utmost confusion, leaving everything behind. 
 
 As they continued the march down the Washita to Foi't Cobb, 
 a despatch was brought by Kiowa Indians, under Satanta and 
 Lone Wolf, stating that all the tribes for twenty miles from the 
 station were friendly. Custer mistrusted the intentions of a 
 large party that came armed and painted for war, but was obli- 
 ged to follow orders. The chiefs agreed to ride with him to Fort 
 Cobb, assuring him that their villages would encamp near by, to 
 prove that they held no communication with the hostile tribes. 
 As chief after chief, on one pretext or another, left the column 
 the next day, Custer felt his suspicions confirmed. He was now 
 sure that the lodges were to be moved away from, instead of to- 
 ward Fort Cobb, and resolved to prevent it. When all the min- 
 or chiefs had gone, Satanta and Lone Wolf were seized as prison- 
 ers and hostages ; a little later, by Gen. Sheridan's orders, a mes- 
 sage was sent to the Kiowas that if their bands were not in camp 
 at sunset of the next da}^, the two chiefs would be hanged at that 
 hour. The tribe that had moved at such an imperceptible rate 
 became alarmed, and were under the guns of Fort Cobb long be- 
 fore the designated time. 
 
 The Arapahoes remained to be dealt with, but Custer, with 
 forty men, went to their village and induced them to settle peace- 
 fully upon their reservation. Such was the estimation in which 
 this journey was held than one of the officers of his command, in 
 bidding him good-bye, contrived to slip into his hand a small 
 jDOcket derringer, loaded; with the remark: 
 
 '■'■ You had better take it, General ; it may prove useful to you." 
 
 It was intended, in case of his being captured and deprived of 
 his more formidable weapons, to enable him to escape torture by 
 becoming his own executioner. He returned in safety, however, 
 having accomplished his purpose, and was ready, early in March, 
 1869, to go in search of the Cheyennes who had not been in the 
 village on the Washita. 
 
 ]^o difficulty was experienced in finding the trail of the band. 
 
460 ■ GENERAL GEORGE A. CUSTER. 
 
 and as the Indians, when not pursued, move with the laziest 
 sort of deliberation, the cavalry overtook them, although they 
 had had a start of a month. There were nearly three hundred 
 lodges in the village and near it, sheltering the whole Cheyenne 
 tribe ; but the safety of two white women, who were known to be 
 held caj^tives in their power, j^revented Custer from making an 
 attack. Four chiefs, Big-Head, Dull Knife, and two others were 
 captured and offered in exchange ; but the Indians would make 
 no definite answer. Finally Custer sent one as messenger to say 
 that if by sunset the next day the women were not delivered up 
 to him, he would hang his captives to a certain tree which he 
 designated. The ropes were ready, and the limb selected when 
 the Cheyennes brought in the women, whom they did not think 
 of equal importance with chiefs as hostages. 
 
 Custer had not offered an unconditional exchange of prisoners; 
 the Cheyennes must return to their reservation. Seeing that no 
 other terms could be obtained, and knowing too well what the 
 "Big Yellow Chief" could do, they promised to comply with his 
 demands as soon as their ponies were in condition for marching, 
 and never again to go upon the war-path. For years after Custer's 
 death this promise was still unbroken ; butuntil the United States 
 government keeps faith with the Indians we cannot expect peace. 
 The campaign in the Indian Territory was now at an end, and the 
 summer could be sj^ent in rest. Encamped in the neighborhood 
 of Fort Hay, Custer's life was now a perfect round of pleasur- 
 able excitement. Tourists from the east or from Europe often 
 came to see the successful Indian fighter, and hunting excursions 
 took place nearly every week. The Indians were really and 
 truly at peace, cowed by his successes ; the ca,mY>aign had made 
 them thoroughly respect him. 
 
 The succeeding winter was spent at Leavenworth, where he 
 began to write his "War Memoirs," and the spring and summer of 
 1870 were passed like the same seasons of the previous year. 
 The removal of his regiment that fall to the east of the Missis* 
 sip2:»i gave a quieter and less pleasant life, the monotony of which 
 was broken only once. 
 
 When, in 1872, the Grand Duke Alexis visited the United 
 States, it was desired to show him a buffalo hunt, and Custer was 
 chosen to escort him to the plains. The Russian was delighted 
 with his hunt and with Custer, whom he saw for the first time in 
 the picturesque buck-skin hunting-shirt which the general always 
 
GENERAL GEORGE A. CUSTER. 
 
 461 
 
 wore on the plains; and insisted that he must accomi^any the 
 party on the tour through the west. 
 
 But, however pleasant this might be, his next orders delighted 
 Custer still more. In March, 187.3, the Seventh Cavalry was or- 
 dered to Dakota, and all the officers, scattered about among dif- 
 
 ^ 
 
 A BUFFALO HtrNT. 
 
 ferent posts, rejoiced at the news. It meant business, calling 
 them out in a body, and when thej- met at Memphis, all were glad 
 to see each other and anxious for work. 
 
 The railroad is the great conqueror of the Indian. " No one 
 
462 GENERAL GEORGE A. CUSTER. 
 
 measure," says Custer himself, " so quickly and effectually frees 
 a country from the horrors and devastations of Indian wars and 
 Indian depredations as the building and successful operation of a 
 railroad through the region overrun. The Northern Pacific was 
 to be built, and the government had assigned troops to protect 
 it from the Sioux. On this expedition, known as the Yellowstone, 
 Custer's daily practice was to precede the main command escort- 
 ing the surveyors and engineers, and the heavily laden wagons, 
 and mark out the best road, thus avoiding the serious delays that 
 had occurred before the adoption of this plan. 
 
 On the morning of August 4th, the Arickaree scout and guide, 
 Bloody Knife, discovered fresh signs of Indians; ninetee-n had 
 been prowling around the camp on the previous night, and had 
 gone away, traveling in the same direction in which the whites 
 were marching. This, however, created no alarm, as the pioneer 
 party numbered ninety, and they felt sure that the Indians would 
 not attack so great a force. 
 
 Halting at ten o'clock on the high bluffs bordering the Yellow- 
 stone valley, the horses were watered, and then picketed out to 
 graze ; half a dozen pickets were posted on the open plain be- 
 yond, and the remainder of the party prepared for solid comfort. 
 On the grass beneath a wide-spreading Cottonwood lay Gren. Cus- 
 ter, with his saddle and buckskin coat for a pillow; boots off, 
 cravat untied, collar open, he was fully jjrepared to enjoy his 
 out-door nap. Beside him lay his brother. Col. Custer, and not 
 far off were the other three officers, Moylan, Calhoun and Yar- 
 num, similarl}^ prepared for the same pleasure. Around them lay 
 the men, and in a few moments the pickets were the only mem- 
 bers of the party not asleep. Suddenly came the cry of ''In- 
 dians!" and the sharp crack of the sentries' rifles followed the 
 cry. Officers and men sprang to their feet, catching up the rifles, 
 which, as a matter of habit, had been placed within easy reach. 
 
 "Run to your horses, men; run to your horses !" shouted the 
 general, as he saw that the Indians intended to stampede the an- 
 imals and then attack the soldiers. 
 
 Springing to their saddles, they rode headlong forward to 
 where half a dozen Sioux warriors were galloping up and down 
 before them, evidently to decoy them onward to a point where a 
 large body lay in ambush. Leaving Moylan Avith the main force 
 as a reserve. Gen. Custer, with his brother, Calhoun and twenty 
 troopers, rode forward after the retreating Sioux. There was 
 
GENERAL GEORGE A. OUSTER. 463 
 
 no hope of overtaking them, such was the fleetness of thoir po- 
 nies, but they did not choose to go at full speed. Custer rode 
 forward, accompanied onlj^ by an orderly, and made the sign for 
 a parley, but the Indians would not respond. His orderly was 
 then sent back to warn Col. Custer to keep a sharp lookout upon 
 the heavy bushes to the left; the message was delivered, and the 
 man on his way back to the general, when the savages in front 
 advanced as if to attack, and at the same moment Custer saw 
 three or four hundred Sioux warriors bursting from the susjDect- 
 ed bushes. Dashing from the timber at full speed, yelling and 
 whooping as only Indians can, they yet moved forward in as 2:)er- 
 fect order as the best drilled cavalry. 
 
 Wheeling his horse suddenly around, and driving his spurs in- 
 to its side, Custer rode for his life towards his brother's partj^ ; 
 shouting: " Dismount your men, dismount your men!" with al- 
 most every bound of his horse. It was a race on as it were two 
 sides of a triangle, to see which should reach the troops first, 
 — Custer or the mounted India7is. The order was unheard, but 
 fortunately Col. Custer had before this contended against a sud- 
 den and unforeseen onslaught of savages, and gave the order 
 which his brother would have given. ISTearer and nearer he drew 
 to the little group of dismounted cavalrymen, as, kneeling in the 
 grass, with finger on trigger, they awaited the enemy approach- 
 ing with equal rapidity. It seemed but a moment more, and the 
 Sioux, riding as if unconscious of their presence, would have 
 trampled the kneeling troopers down to the earth. 
 
 " Don't fire, men, until I give the word, and when you do fire, 
 aim low," was the direction which the young ofiicer gave, as he 
 sat on his horse, calmly awaiting the onset; then : 
 
 " Now, men, let them haA'e it." 
 
 And before the volley of well-aimed snots, followed quickly by 
 another, the warriors reeled in their saddles and their ponies fell 
 dead. They lost confidence in their j^oAver to trample down the 
 little body; they faltered; they fled in the wildest confusion. A 
 third shower of balls hastened their flight, and the cheer of the 
 cavahymen announced their victory and the arrival of Moylan 
 and the main force at the same time. 
 
 Of course, it was but a temporary retreat; the Indians would 
 soon return' to the attack, and preparations must be made to re- 
 pulse them the second time. A natural terrace was to be used as 
 a breastwork, and though the Indians made every attempt to dis- 
 
464 
 
 GENERAL GEORGE A. CUSTER. 
 
GENERAL GEORGE A. CUSTER. 465 
 
 lodge them jiud force them to the open plateau, the men kept 
 theii* position. Finding their plans foiled, they tried another, 
 which was detected by the quick eyes of Bloody Knife. Crawl- 
 ing through the grass, Custer thought they could hardly mean to 
 attack on foot, and was onlj' enlightened as to their intention 
 Avhen small columiis of smoke were seen shooting up all along 
 the front. 
 
 ''They are setting fire to the long grass, and intend to burn us 
 out," were the ominous words of Bloody Knife, his face clouded 
 with anxiety. Then, while his expression brightened, and a 
 scornful smile parted his lips : 
 
 '' The Great Spirit will not help our enemies. See, the grass 
 refuses to burn." 
 
 A month later the dry grass would have burned like tinder, 
 hut now it was too green, and the Indians were obliged to find 
 another mode of attack. A pathway in the rear of the troops 
 would have led the redskins along the water's edge, where the 
 high bank would screen them from observation j so that the 
 horses, concealed in the grove near the river, might have been 
 stampeded. The design was fortunately discovered, and the In- 
 dians soon afterward retreated. This occasioned considerable 
 surprise at first, but was explained when an immense cloud of 
 dust was seen at a distance, rapidly apjiroaching. Not waiting 
 to welcome their comrades, the cavalrymen, as soon as they were 
 certain that relief was at hand, were in their saddles in a moment 
 and dashing after the enemy. A hot pursuit failed in its object; 
 the fleet and hardy ponies outran the heavy cavalry horses, and 
 they returned to camp under the cottonwood trees where they 
 had rested in the morning. 
 
 This Avas the first intimation to the whites that the Sioux were 
 on the war path, and although none of the men in the fight were 
 killed, two unarmed old men, the veterinary surgeon and the sut- 
 ler of the Seventh, were found dead; they had strayed from the 
 main body in search of natural curiosities, as they were in the 
 habit of doing, and had been wantonly murdered by some wan- 
 dering Sioux. 
 
 Nothing more was seen of war parties during the remainder 
 of the time that they were on this expedition, although Indians 
 were seen hovering near for several days; until an attack by the 
 Sioux under Sitting Bull, at nearl}^ the end of their journey, 
 which was repulsed without loss. Ordered now to Fort Abraham 
 30 
 
466 GENERAL GEORGE A. CUSTER. 
 
 Lincoln, Custer passed some time in quiet, until the Black Hills 
 expedition in 1874 again called him into the field. 
 
 This unexplored region, that derived its name from the dark 
 pines that tossed on the hillsides in the wind like the plumes on 
 a hearse, had been ceded to the Sioux by solemn treaty in 1868 ; 
 but some Indians came to a trading post with gold dust and nug- 
 gets, which they admitted had been found there, and the accursed 
 thirst for gold drew the eyes of all men thither. The govern- 
 ment decided to send a strong detachment to explore the hills 
 and ascertain if gold were really to be found there, and Custer, 
 with a force of over twelve hundred men, was detailed for the 
 duty. 
 
 Two weeks after they set out, they entered the Sioux reserva- 
 tion, two hundred and twenty-seven miles from Port Lincoln. 
 Through a country more beautiful than any they had ever seen, 
 they marched, unmolested by the Indians, who, busily watching 
 Custer, had no time for the war which they had intended to carry 
 on in small parties. 
 
 Custer's report represents the country as a perfect garden, but 
 this was doubted by those who had seen it in a less favorable 
 season; the geologists, too, who had accompanied him, made un- 
 satisfactory reports. But the tide was not to be stayed. Adven- 
 turers by hundreds flocked into the country, regardless of pro- 
 hibition. The mischief had been done ; Custer's expedition had 
 shown the Sioux that the United States did not intend to keep 
 the treaty any longer than that treaty was to the Government's 
 advantage, and the clouds began to gather fast in the beautiful 
 country that had seemed to him an earthly paradise. 
 
 In the next year, while Custer and his command were resting 
 peacefully at Fort Lincoln, the identity of the Sioux who had 
 murdered the sutler and the veterinary surgeon on the Yellow- 
 stone expedition was proven in a singular manner. The mur- 
 derer boasted of his crime at the trading-post where he was 
 drawing rations and ammunition. The news quickly reached 
 Custer, who sent oiit a detachment of a hundred men to march to 
 the agency. Sealed orders, opened twenty miles beyond Fort 
 Eice, directed them to capture and bring in the murderer, Eain- 
 in-the-Face. 
 
 As the troops neared the agency it was found necessary to 
 observe the greatest care, to prevent the Indians, gathered to 
 draw rations, from finding out the object of their expedition, 
 
GENERAL GEORGE A. CUSTER. 
 
 467 
 
 Captain Yates, in command of the force, succeeded in blinding 
 the Sioux as to his real purpose, and Eain-in-the-Face was 
 thrown completely off his guard. On a certain day, Col. Custer 
 was sent, with five men, to go to the store and capture the mur- 
 derer, should he put in an appearance. It must be remembered 
 that, like many officers of the Seventh, Col. Custer's highest 
 rank was only a brevet, he being really junior to Yates. The 
 cold weather caused the Indians to keep their blankets drawn 
 over their heads, but at last one of them loosened his, thus throw- 
 ing off the disguise. It M-as Eain-in-the-Face. Col. Custer threw 
 
 CAPTURE OF RAIN-IN-THE-FAOE. 
 
 his arms around him and seized the rifle which the Indian attempt- 
 ed to grasp. Taken completely by surprise, he was quickly secu- 
 red ; his people were greatly excited, and numerous speeches 
 were made by the warriors in the high, monotonous voice they 
 use. Captain Yates immediately prepared to repel an attack, 
 and found that such care was not unnecessary, for five hundred 
 Indians gathered around him, demanding the release of the 
 prisoner. 
 
 Eain-in-the-Face was taken to Fort Lincoln, and kept in cap- 
 tivity several months, notwithstanding the efforts that his tribe 
 
468 GENERAL GEORGE A. CUSTER. 
 
 made to secure his freedom. He finally made his escape, and 
 went at once to the hostile camp. From that point he sent word 
 that he had joined Sitting Bull and was waiting to revenge him- 
 self on the Big Yellow Chief for his imprisonment. 
 
 Rain-in-the-Face was a warrior of whom his tribe were parti- 
 cularly proud, on account of his j^owers of endurance. At the 
 sun-dance, where a gash is cut under some of the sinews of the 
 back, immediately under the shoulder blades, and the Indian 
 suspended by a buftalo thong passed through this until his own 
 weight causes him to fall, this young man had stood the test 
 most successfully, hanging in this way, exposed to the burning 
 summer sun, for four hours. 
 
 Early in 1876 it was determined to make war upon the hostiles, 
 and, probably that the Indians might have a chance of life and 
 victory, amj^le supplies of arms and ammunition were distribu- 
 ted to them through the agencies. Early in March, a force was 
 sent under the command of Gen. Eeynolds, accompanied by Gen. 
 Crook, the department commander, in person, towards the Pow- 
 der Eiver. Here Crazy Horse's village was attacked, but the 
 victory was not as complete as it should have been made; and 
 Crazy Horse was only exasperated by the destruction of his pro- 
 perty, while all his men and weapons and nearly all his ponies 
 remained to him, leaving him as strong as ever for fighting op- 
 erations. 
 
 Gen. Terry was to send out, as soon as the late spring of the 
 far north would allow, a force to cooperate with Gen. Crook's. 
 Custer was to be assigned to the command of this column, ac- 
 cording to the plans of Gens. Sherman and Sheridan, the force 
 consisting mainly of his regiment, and being organized at his 
 post. The reason for this was obviously Custer's success as an 
 Indian fighter ; he had never yet met with disaster while in com- 
 mand of an important expedition. But while he was hard at 
 work preparing for this journey to the land of the Sioux, he was 
 summoned to Washington as a witness as to some alleged abuses 
 in the War Department. Notwithstanding the fact that he was 
 needed in Dakota, that he knew little, if anything, about the 
 matter that was being investigated, he was obliged to go to the 
 capital, where he was kept a month. Unwilling to go, since he 
 was needed at the west, unwilling to testify, since he could give 
 only hearsay evidence and opinion. Gen. Grant, then President, 
 persisted in believing that he was anxious to make such state- 
 
GENERAL GEORGE A. CUSTER. 469 
 
 meiits as he could, and took his presence in Washington as a per- 
 sonal injury and insult offered to himself, the commander-in- 
 chief of the army. 
 
 Custer heard that Grant was bitterly incensed against him, and 
 knowing it was without just cause, endeavored to see him, hop- 
 ing by a frank statement of the truth to disabuse his mind of 
 that impression. Three times he called at the White House, but 
 was compelled to wait in the ante-room for hours without gain- 
 ing admittance to the President. 'Nor did a letter to G-en. Grant 
 produce the desired effect. 
 
 Calling upon Gen. Sherman, Custer found that he was in New 
 York, and left Washington on the evening train. The next da}'. 
 Gen. Sheridan received a telegram from Gen. Sherman, direct- 
 ing him to intercept Custer at Chicago or St. Paul, and order him 
 to halt for further orders; that he was not justified in leaving 
 without seeing the President or the General of the Army; that 
 the expedition from Fort Lincoln should proceed without him. 
 
 Telegrams to Gen. Sherman from Custer failed to disclose the 
 reason for this ; could a soldier tell his subordinate that the Com- 
 mander-in-Chief of the army had a petty spite against him, and 
 was wreaking it in this way ? The poor favor of being at Fort 
 Lincoln instead of Chicago was granted, and at last, after an ear- 
 nest and touching appeal, Custer was allowed to accompany, as 
 a subordinate, the regiment of which he was senior officer on 
 duty. 
 
 The two colmnns marched towards each other, and Gen. Crook's 
 came within striking distance of Sitting Bull, but here again val- 
 uable time was lost. As they were in camp, they were attacked 
 by the Sioux, and Crook decidedly out-generaled b}^ Sitting Bull, 
 a born soldier. Driven back with serious loss. Crook returned 
 to his permanent camp, 
 
 Meantime Gens. Terry and Gibbon, one from Fort Lincoln, the 
 other from Fort Ellis, had effected a junction of their forces near 
 the mouth of the Tongue Eiver, and steps were immediately taken 
 to find out where the Indians were. Their position was supposed 
 to be, after the closest investigation, between the Rosebud or 
 the Little Big Horn, only fifteen miles separating the two streams. 
 It was announced by Gen. Terry that Gen. Custer's column would 
 strike the blow. Gibbon was to move upon them at the same 
 time, by a route of nearly equal length, but no orders were giv- 
 en as to the rate of marching, and Custer was left entirely to his 
 
470 GENERAL GEORGE A. CUSTER. 
 
 own direction as to what he should do if he struck the enemy 
 first. 
 
 Leaving the camp on the 22ud of June, the regiment marched 
 up the Eosebud, passing many deserted Indian camps, and follow- 
 ing an old trail. Learning from scouts that the village was in 
 the valley of the Little Big Horn, Custer resolved to continue 
 the march by night, that he might surprise the Indians. At eight 
 in the morning of the 25th the command was on one of the 
 branches of the Little Big Horn ; the Indians had been seen, a 
 surprise was no longer possible, and it was determined to attack 
 at once. 
 
 Custer, true to his usual custom of completely surrounding the 
 enemy before an attack, a policy which had proved so successful 
 at the Cheyenne village on the Washita, now divided his com- 
 mand, sending three companies under Major Eeno to the left, and 
 three under Captain Benteen farther in the same direction. He 
 retained command of five companies, one being left in charge of 
 the packs. 
 
 As they moved onward. Major Eeno received orders to move for- 
 ward at as rapid a rate as possible, since the village was running 
 away, and to charge upon it. Advancing at a fast trot, about two 
 miles farther on he came to a ford of the river, where he crossed. 
 Here he charged down the valley, driving the Indians with great 
 ease for two and one-half miles; then, thinking he was being drawn 
 into a trap, and not seeing Custer, or any support, concluded to dis- 
 mount his men and make it a purely defensive fight. Finally, 
 however, he again mounted his command, and charged once more 
 upon the Indians. His only hope had been to gain some high 
 ground, and this he succeeded in reaching. Shortly afterward, 
 he was joined by Capt. Benteen's force, which had been sent to 
 sweep everything from the left bank of the river. Leaving the 
 main body at half-past ten, an hour and a half was occupied by 
 this march. Not long after this, Benteen received this penciled 
 order from Lieutenant Cook, Custer's adjutant : 
 
 " Benteen, come on • be quick ; big village ; bring packs." 
 
 He reported to Eeno, in direct defiance of orders. 
 
 When the three battalions se2:)arated, Custer moved rapidly 
 down the river to the ford, which he attempted to cross. The 
 Indians had b}^ this time recovered from the eff'ect of Major Ee- 
 no's so-called charge, and crossed the creek to the east side, 
 where Custer was. Custer struck their village, three and one- 
 
GENERAL GEORGE A. CUSTER. 471 
 
 half miles long, about the middle, his attack being a complete 
 surprise to the Sioux, But Reno's hesitating assault had con- 
 vinced them that nothing was to be feared from him. 
 
 Step by step,' Custer's cominand was driven back from the 
 ford. Not a man was there that he could not trust — faithful and 
 good soldiers were those Avho remained with him. As they re- 
 treated, the company commanded by Lieutenant Calhoun, Cus- 
 ter's brother-in-law, was posted to cover the rear. Both knew 
 what the result would be. Bravely the men fought, the young 
 commander, the bravest and gentlest of men, encouraging them 
 to the last. Beside him was Second Lieutenant Crittenden, who 
 had onl}^ joined the previous fall, and whose first battle this was, 
 emulating the calm courage of his superior oflicer. Every man 
 in his place, no faltering, no going back, they fought on until 
 the last cartridge was gone, and one by one dropped dead in his 
 tracks under that terrible hail that yonder dark cloud of savages 
 poured upon them. To the last, the voice of their commander 
 encouraged them, or they would not have fallen in ranks, every 
 man in his place, to the very end. 
 
 Onward rushed the Indians, to repeat the slaughter upon Cap- 
 tain Keogh's company. Custer had retreated as far as he could, 
 and was now determined to hold the Indians in check until Ben- 
 teen could come up to attack them in the rear. He knew by this 
 time that Eeno had been beaten, or he would have been heard 
 from, but trusted to Benteen for the help he so sorely needed. 
 
 Keogh's men had been nerved by what they had seen to die as 
 bravely as Calhoun's comj:)any, and as man after man fell in his 
 place, the sur^-ivors closed up the ranks. 
 
 At last there was left but a little group of men on the hill. 
 Captains Custer's and Smith's men had tried to cut their way to 
 the river, but fell in the ravine. Captain Yates' company was with 
 the officers on the hill. Man after man went down; at last the 
 ammunition grew scant. The Indian bullets flew like swarms of 
 bees. One struck gallant Captain Tom Custer, who had taken 
 two flags from the enemy in battle, and yet escaped; he fell, and 
 another struck him, the last killing him. Beside him lay the 
 bodies of his younger brother, and of their nephew, only a boy, 
 just out of school. 
 
 The Crow scout. Curly, saw that there was no hope, and beg- 
 ged the general to let him show him a way to escape. It was a 
 momentary pause, while the Indians were gathering for a fresh 
 
472 
 
 GENERAL GEORGE A. CUSTER. 
 
 attack. A moment's thought, perhaps of the wife, and of mother 
 who were praying for him, and he waved away the faithful scout, 
 and went back to die. 
 
 Only a few officers were left, of all who had marched toward 
 the river that morning. Custer's last shot was gone, but he fought 
 like a tiger with his sabre, and before that terrible weapon, more 
 
 WE HAVE KILLED THEM ALL'" — THE MESSENGER OP VICTORY. 
 
 dreaded by the Indians than the pistol, three warriors went down. 
 As the last fell, the hero of the sun-dance, that Eain-in-the-Face 
 whom Custer would have hanged for the murder of two helpless 
 old men, kept his vow, gratified his revenge ; for Custer fell by 
 a ball from his pistol Last of all the officers, died Lieutenant 
 Cook, and the few remaining men fled, only to be cut down by 
 the enemy. 
 
 Then the wounded Indians came streaming back into camp, 
 with the words : 
 
 '' We have killed them all ; put up your lodges where they 
 are." 
 
 There was no danger now to the Sioux ; Custer was dead. 
 
 The story is told by the Crow scout who escaped, and by the 
 boasts of the victors ; and the position of the bodies, as they 
 
GENERAL GEORGE A. CUSTER. 473 
 
 were found on the battle-field, told more plainly than words how 
 every man had fought. Among the mutilated corpses lay that 
 of their leader, respected even in death by his enemy ; reverence 
 for his valor and for his swordsmanship induced them to spare 
 his body the indignities shown to others. 
 
 If Reno had supported him, if Benteen had followed orders, if 
 a higher authority had not displaced him from command so that 
 his subordinates could dream of disobedience — 
 
 " Of all fiiid words of tongue or pen. 
 The saddest are these — " It miirht have been. 
 
CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 WILD BILL. 
 
 SIX feet one in his moccasins, deep chested, compactly huilt, 
 with quiet gray eyes, clear and calm as a woman's, an al- 
 most womanish gentleness of expression, bright chestnut hair 
 floating over his shoulders — it does not seem a promising picture 
 to those who would hear of adventure. But that small, muscu- 
 lar hand had taken deadly aim at scores of men ; before the gaze 
 of that eye many a bold border spirit had quailed. "He shoots 
 to kill/' says the admiring playisman, with that cool disregard 
 of human life which is so common in any newly settled country; 
 and the name of Wild Bill was a terror to evil-doers. 
 
 Illinois was but a thinly populated state, containing fewer in- 
 habitants than does the city of Chicago at this moment, when, 
 in May, 18;>7, there was born, in La Salle County, James Butler 
 ITickok, better known to us as Wild Bill. The primitive state 
 of the country doubtless had much to do with the nature of his 
 tastes and favorite amusement — the practice of marksmanship, 
 then an indispensable accomplishment in the frontier state just 
 east of the Mississippi. All the treasures that he could command 
 were jealously hoarded, trades with his companions increased his 
 stock of trifles invaluable to a boy, and at last he had enough to 
 barter for a pistol. A little, single-barreled, flint-lock, old style 
 pistol was a priceless treasure to the eight-year-old boy, and he 
 only ceased to practice with it when ammunition gave out. Then 
 every effort was made to get powder; the place of lead could be 
 supplied by pebbles, but he must have powder, and all the lesser 
 valuables that he could accumulate were traded off for that neces- 
 sar}^ article. 
 
 The character of the services which he rendered to his family and 
 couiitry may readily be guessed. If a runaway hunting expedition 
 into the woods was too severely ])unished, his enthusiasm found 
 vent in shots at stray chickens or pigs. He was not appreciated. 
 
WILD BILL. 
 
 475 
 
 however, as he expected to be, imd he was actnally compelled 
 to go to school whenever an occasional session gave opportunity. 
 How far his education went, in the direction of books, is doubt- 
 ful ; certainl}' not very far 3 but at any rate he learned to read, and 
 eagerly devoured the few books of adventure that came in his "way. 
 Happier times came, however, when he was about fourteen, for 
 then he became the possessor of an excellent pistol and a rifle, 
 and thus armed, he spent most of his time in the woods. Such 
 were the ravages of the wolves at that period, that the state of- 
 
 ■\VII,D Hir.L STIOOTINO AVOLVKS. 
 
 fered premiums for their scaljis, and j'oung Hickok now found 
 his skill with the rifle and the pistol enabled him to earn no small 
 income. But the story of Kit Carson's adventures had inflained 
 him with a passion for the West, and declaring to his brothers 
 that he would one day beat anything that Carson had ever at- 
 tempted, he proceeded to the realization of his ambition. A short 
 experience as tow-path driver on the Illinois and ]\[icliigan canal, 
 was ended by a fight with another driver. Though fists were the 
 only weapons, and his antagonist was a powerful man, the boy's 
 activity and endurance gave him a decided victory. After this, 
 he returned home, and lived quietly for two years, or until he 
 was about eighteen }'ears old. 
 
476 WILD BILL. 
 
 The troubles in Kansas were then beginning, and thirsting for 
 excitement, our hero betook himself thither. Collecting as much 
 money as he could command, he set out on foot to St. Louis. 
 Great as have been the changes of nearlj- thirty years, even in 
 1855 this son of the prairie found much that was wonderful in 
 the great city, inferior only to New Orleans and Cincinnati 
 among those west of the Alleghanies. The railroads toward the 
 west were then unheard of, but along the levee, from Bremen to 
 Carondelet, stretched a line of magnificent steamers, that formed 
 a main element of the city's prosperit3^ In all directions they 
 went, from all directions they came; and after mature delibera- 
 tion, our young adventurer took passage on one bound for the 
 upper Missouri; his proposed destination being Leavenworth. 
 History says it was a tedious journey, and those who can recall 
 a steamboat trip on the Missouri will doubtless accept the state- 
 ment as true. 
 
 Arriving at Leavenworth, they found that the mob, unreason- 
 ably suspicious of their intentions, would not permit them to 
 land. Where there's a will there's a way, and young Hickok, 
 costuming himself as a roustabout, and engaging in their work, 
 managed, while carrying off freight, to slip through the crowd, 
 and gain the centre of the town. Once there, he soon joined the 
 anti-slavery forces, led by Jim Lane, a recent immigrant from 
 Indiana. Three hundred men, each armed with such weapons as 
 taste or means dictated, formed the regiment that was called out 
 for drill and rifle practice a few days after Hickok joined it. As 
 Lane was complimenting his young recruit on the excellence of 
 his marksmanship, in which he easily beat every man present, 
 the boy's quick eye saw a crow flying overhead. Drawing a pis- 
 tol from his pocket, he took aim, pulled the trigger, and the bird 
 fell dead. He returned the weapon to his pocket without a word ; 
 indeed, any comment would have been unheard in the wild cheer- 
 ing with which his comrades greeted the excellence of the shot. 
 Thenceforth he was the darling of the regiment, that marked its 
 favor by the bestowal of the nickname, Shanghai Bill. The rea- 
 son of the first part of the name may be readily guessed, when 
 we remember his stature, which was now joined to the slender 
 build of a boy ; but why "Bill" was jDreferred to his own name, 
 no one knows. It may have been a mistake; it may have had a 
 reason ; certain it is that the soubriquet clung to him through- 
 out his life. 
 
WILD BILL. 477 
 
 For two years he fought as a brave and excellent soldier to 
 keep slavery ont of Kansas, always recognized by Lane as the 
 most effective man in the command. Then, entering a claim of 
 a quarter section in Johnson County, he built a cabin, and settled 
 down to farming. Though not yet of age, such was his reputa- 
 tion that he was almost immediately elected constable. The 
 conscientious and efficient way in which he did the work of this 
 position did not endear him to those Missourians who made fre- 
 quent predatorj:^ incursions on Kansas soil, and twice they burned 
 his cabin during his absence from home. Giving up the idea of 
 living quietly here, he engaged himself as driver for the Over- 
 land Stage Company. In such a position it was not difficult to 
 make a reputation, honorable or not, according to one's personal 
 courage and prowess. Apparently a reckless driver, few acci- 
 dents happened to him, and as he drove the big Concord coach, 
 bounding along like a wounded buffalo, at headlong speed down 
 the hill into Santa Fe, the rough frequenters of the saloons, always 
 fighting drunk and armed to tlie teeth, looked on in admiration. 
 Victor in twenty fights or more, the best shot on the plains, and 
 never losing his presence of mind in an emergency requiring 
 action, he was the hero of all who knew him. 
 
 Such were the foundations of a reputation that before many 
 years was to extend to the seaboard on either side of the conti- 
 nent; a reputation even then shortly to be enhanced by success 
 as a soldier. It was in the fall of 1858 that the Indians, break- 
 ing out of the reservation on the Sweetwater, committed many 
 outrages. Settlers were massacred, cabins burned, express rid- 
 ers killed, and at last a large party attacked a stage-coach, kill- 
 ing four men, and seriously wounding others. Nor was this all. 
 The theft of horses was so frequent as to seriously crijiple the 
 service, and the danger was such that for more than two months 
 express and stage were suspended on that division. Summoned 
 to St. Joseph to attend a council that the officers held regarding 
 the best means of proceeding against the Indians, Bill offered for 
 consideration a plan which was immediately adoi:)ted. At the 
 head of fifty well-armed and mounted men, they set out, on the 
 29th of September, towards Powder Eiver, where they found an 
 indistinct trail. It grew fresher as they went on, and chock full 
 of dare-devil courage as each one was, they were not sorry to find 
 that they were close upon the marauders. Suddenlj^, as they fol- 
 lowed in the footsteps of the Indians, they found that the origin- 
 
478 
 
 WILD BILL. 
 
 al party had been joined by another of equal size, so that the 
 enemy now numbered about two hundred. Many were the ex- 
 pressions of opinion about the expediency of following a force 
 four times as great as their own, but Bill cut the discussion short 
 with : 
 
 "I'll shoot the first man that tries to go back," and none tried. 
 
 Perhaps the threat was not needed ; at any rate, his men were 
 filled with new enthusiasm, and went gaily onward to Clear 
 Creek. Here the trail was but two or three hours old, for the 
 Indians march but slowly when they do not fear pursuit; and 
 
 WILD BILL (j. B. HICKOK.) 
 
 nothing but the lateness of the day prevented an attack as soon 
 as they could be overtaken. A halt was ordered. 
 
 " Do you see that little blue smoke over the hill-tops?" asked 
 Bill, i)ointing due north. "Well, that means an Indian camp. 
 You boys just stop right here and I'll locate the game." 
 
 Leaving the trail and riding far to the windward, he reached 
 a high point from which he could reconnoiter the camp. Satisfy- 
 ing himself as to the exact force of the Indians, how their camp 
 was pitched, and that the stock was corraled, not tethered, he 
 returned to his men. 
 
 Eesting themselves and their horses, and getting everything in 
 readiness for a fight, it was ten o'clock when the signal was given 
 
WILD BILL. 479 
 
 to mount und ride onward. Proceeding toward tlie camp with 
 due caution, they found that the Indians, as usual, had set no 
 guard, trusting to tlicir quick ears and light slumber to inform 
 them of the apj^roach of an enemy. The awakening came too 
 late. Rousing themselves from the first sound sleep, they hardly 
 realized what the confusion meant; but as each came out of his 
 lodge, he went down before the pistols of the attacking party, 
 who were commanded to use no other weapons. The assault was 
 a complete success ; the fight quickly became a slaughter, the 
 horses and ponies were secured, so thatthe Indians had no means 
 of pursuit left to them. Returning to St. Joseph with their booty, 
 all of the stolen horses and more than a hundred Indian ponies, 
 a big spree celebrated their success. Of course a fight followed, 
 but only one man was killed. 
 
 Leaving the service of the Overland Stage Company, in 1859, 
 Bill engaged to drive freight teams from Independence, Mo., to 
 Santa Fe. It was while thus employed that he met with an ad- 
 venture that came near being a fatal one; nothing less than an 
 encounter with a huge cinnamon bear, strong and active as the 
 grizzly, and possessed of greater powers of endurance. 
 
 The teamster in charge of the companion wagon had fallen 
 some distance behind when Bill saw, directly in front, as if dis- 
 puting the right of way Avith him, a huge cinnamon bear and her 
 two cubs. Moved with fear for the safety of her young, the ani- 
 mal growled forbiddingly as the bold plainsman advanced towards 
 her. Armed with a pair of pistols and a large bowie-knife. Bill felt 
 no fear as to the result of the encounter, little knowing the strength 
 or endurance of the enemy with which he had to contend. As 
 the bear approached him, he took aim, and when she was within 
 about twenty feet of him, fired. The ball struck her squarely on the 
 forehead, but rebounded like a hailstone from the thick skull, 
 serving only to inflict a trifling cut that infuriated the animal, 
 already angry. No time remained for retreat to the safety of the 
 wagon-top, for in the next instant the bear sprang upon him, bury- 
 ing her long, sharp claws in his flesh. The second pistol disabled 
 one paw, but rearing uj^on her hind legs the bear grappled with 
 him almost like a human antagonist. Ilis left forearm was 
 crushed, his breast ploughed in bloody seams by the claws, his 
 shoulder torn, his cheek laid open, but time after time the long 
 knife was plunged into the huge brown carcass, until the blood 
 of both antagonists, brute and human^ flowing in rivulets from 
 
480 
 
 WILD BILL. 
 
 wounds, soaked the ground on which they fought. JSTow his foot 
 slips, and he falls to the earth, the bear over him, holding his 
 left arm in her mouth ; but with almost superhuman strength he 
 reverses their positions, and again and again buries his dripping 
 
 knife in her flesh. At last 
 a deadly gash across the 
 throat severs the wind- 
 pipe, and his terrible an- 
 tagonist is dead. Faint 
 with loss of blood and 
 severe exertion, he lies 
 beside her, only able, 
 when his companion at 
 last comes up, to point 
 feebly to the dead bear 
 and his own wounds. For 
 two months he lay help- 
 less, and several more had 
 passed before he was able 
 to go to work again. 
 
 He did not, on his re- 
 covery, again enter the 
 employment of the 
 freighters, but took a 
 situation, offered by the 
 Overland Stage Co., as 
 watchman and hostler at 
 Eock Creek Station, fifty 
 miles west of Topeka. 
 
 WILD BILL'S FIGHT WITH THt: BEAR. rpj^Jg ^.^g ^ relay pOSt 
 
 where generally about twenty-five horses were kept. Bill's duties 
 were more in the way of protecting the animals from the thieves 
 so plentiful in that part of the country, than in attending to the 
 horses, an assistant being provided for the latter purpose. They 
 were lodged in a <'dug-out," a thatched cabin built on the hillside, 
 so that the back and part of the side walls were formed of earth, 
 the remainder of the cabin being of lags. A horse-blanket formed 
 the only partition between kitchen and bed-room. More commo- 
 dious and pretentious were the buildings used as stables ; and 
 strong enough to defy, when locked, any ordinary assault. Here, 
 in this lonely cabin on the hill-side, the two men passed the fall 
 
WILD BILL. 
 
 48i 
 
 of 1861, the monotony of this life only broken by the daily ar- 
 rival of the stage with news from the outer world. Exciting- 
 news it was, for the papers told of the contest even then in pro- 
 gress. But those were the days when men enlisted "for the 
 war," rather than for two months, since no one wanted to be a 
 soldier longer than this trifling conflict should last. 
 
 About a dozen miles from this station was the rendezvous of a 
 gang of horse-thieves, who occasionally committed highway rob- 
 bery. Like many such bands, they tried to attach themselves to 
 the military service; during the whole war, the guerillas, or^ 
 bushwhackers, claiming to belong to one of the two armies, 
 made odious the name of that to which thev were attached. The 
 McCandlas gang, as this was called from its leaders, two brothers 
 of that name, was the most prominent in that portion of the state, 
 pretending that they were commissioned to collect horses and 
 enlist recruits for the Confederate army. The horses of the 
 Overland, atEock Creek, numerous and in good condition, were a 
 tempting prize, of which they were resolved to become possessed. 
 Bill, too, the best shot in the state, and utterly fearless, would be 
 ft most valuable addition to their numbers. But threats and per- 
 suasions proved useless. 
 
 " When you want these horses come and take them, and if you 
 want me, you'll find me here." 
 
 Such was the answer which he gave to a party of five, on the 
 morning of the 16th of December. The outlaws rode on — he was 
 too formidable to be attacked by such a force — and Bill prepared 
 for their return. His companion was out hunting, and could not 
 be expected to come back in time to render any assistance. The 
 stables were locked, the door and the one window of the dug- 
 out secured, his weapons — a large bore rifle, two revolvers and 
 two bowie-knives — carefully examined. 
 
 It was three o'clock in the afternoon of the short winter day 
 when the two McCandlas boj's, with eight of their most desider- 
 ate followers, rode up to the cabin. Finding the doors of the 
 stables locked, and the house prej)ared for defense, they 3'et 
 trusted that their numbers would inspire the watchman with 
 fear. 
 
 " Come out o' yer shell," yelled one of the leaders with an 
 oath. " Ef yer don't, thar'll be a sm,all-sized murder atEock 
 Creek, and the Company'll hev to hire another watchman." 
 
 " I'll shoot the first man that tries to open a stable door," an- 
 31 
 
482 
 
 WILD BILL. 
 
 swered Bill ;"and ef thar's any miirderin' done at Eock Creek 
 this arternoon thar'U be more'n one corpse to bury." 
 
 " Surround the house and give him no quarter !" 
 
 " Come and fight me, you cowardly dog!" 
 
 We omit the most emphatic words in the conversation ; such 
 words as cause the Indian to call our language " talk damn." It 
 must be understood that the whole proceedings were liberally 
 garnished with such expletives. Tying their horses to surround- 
 ing trees, they began to batter the door with a log which lay near 
 
 FIGHT WITH THE iMCCAXDLAS GAN(i. 
 
 by ; the defence soon gave way, and Jim McCandlas, armed with 
 revolver and bowie-knife, leaped into the room, his finger on the 
 trigger, ready to shoot. But Bill was too quick for himj a rifle- 
 ball through his heart, and drawing up his legs, as though to 
 make room for his companions, the desperado fell dead. In quick 
 siiccession three shots from Bill's pistol killed as many more of 
 his assailants, and the fight became more furious every moment. 
 The remainder of the gang had now surrounded Bill, who j)our- 
 ed shots I'ight and left, and thrust desperately with his knife ; 
 but the odds were great, and when one of them struck him over 
 
WILD BILL 48S 
 
 the head, and knocked him backward, Jack McCandhis jumped 
 upon him, with knife ready to plunge into his heart. Bill strug- 
 gled, freed his right arm, and placing the muzzle of his pistol 
 right against his enemy's breast, fired as the knife descended. 
 The hand of the dying man dropped helpless, he rolled to the 
 floor, and his almost victim I'egained his feet. The blood poured, 
 from his own wounds and mingled with that of his adversaries 
 as Bill fought on, like a tiger at bay. On the floor of the hut 
 lay six of the desperadoes, dead, and two desperately wounded. 
 These, with the two still uninjured, now beat a retreat, the latter 
 managing to regain their horses and ride away; one of the 
 wounded men likewise escaped, but afterward died of his injuries ; 
 but as the other ran, Bill snatched a gun from the hunter, who 
 just caTne up at this time, and fired at him; it is needless to say 
 he fell dead in his tracks. 
 
 "All of a sudden," said the hero of this fight, when telling of 
 it afterward, ^' it seemed as if my heart was on fire. I was bleed- 
 ing everywhere. I rushed out to the well and drank from the 
 bucket, and then tumbled down in a faint." 
 
 His companion carried him into the house, where he lay un- 
 conscious for nearly an hour. The arrival of the stage then 
 brought help, for one of the j^assengers possessed some surgical 
 skill, and he revived him and dressed his Avounds. 
 
 " I remember that one of them struck me with his gun, and 1 
 got hold of a knife; and then I got kind o' wild like, and it was 
 all cloudy, and I struck savage blows, following the devils up 
 from one side of the room to the other and into the corners, 
 striking and slashing until I knew every one was dead." 
 
 Such was all that he could then tell of the fight. As his strength 
 returned, so that he need no longer speak while gasj^ing for 
 breath, the earlier jiart of the conflict was detailed, and the two 
 who had escaped confirmed the story by their own independent 
 account. The listening bystanders caught at his expression, and 
 henceforth the name of Shanghai Bill ivas drop2:»ed in favor of 
 that which he bore until his death. But the victory was dearly 
 bought; for months he lay helpless, so severe were his wounds, 
 and nearly a year had elapsed before he was entirely well. 
 
 Going to Leavenworth on his recovery, he was api:)ointed Bri- 
 gade Wagon Master by Gen. Fremont, then in command there. 
 The war was noM^ at its height, and those states in which, like 
 Missouri and Kansas, both sides were represented in almost equal 
 
484 WILD BILL. 
 
 ■numbers, were the scenes of the fiercest .conflicts between small 
 parties. Bill's first trip with a train was toward Seclalia, a few 
 days after his appointment. The wagons, laden with provisions, 
 were a tempting prize to the Confederates, and on the third day 
 from their departure they were attacked by a company of Gen. 
 Price's command. The force was small, numbering only twelve 
 men, and judging the odds too great for successful resistance, 
 they yielded without firing a shot. The leader, however, was a 
 man of another mettle. Turning his horse towards Kansas City, 
 he spurred onward, followed by a least fifty of the attacking 
 party. Mile after mile they rode, and four of the i)ursuers fell 
 dead before the fugitive's pistol; bullets fell like hail around 
 him, but none touched him. At last he was safe within the lines, 
 and his assailants returned to their booty. 
 
 Bill reported the facts to the commander at this post, who de- 
 tailed two companies to assist him in recovering the property. 
 He felt himself disgraced by this loss of his first charge, and was 
 eager to avenge himself. The Confederates, elated at their suc- 
 cess, were taken by surprise; a short and decisive fight followed 
 the charge which Wild Bill led into their ranks as they were 
 marching towards headquarters, and Bill conducted the train in 
 triumph to Sedalia. 
 
 He had not enlisted in the army, but voluntarily took the place 
 of a sharp-shooter in the battle of Pea Eidge, in March, 1862; 
 lying behind a large log on a hill overlooking Cross-Timber 
 Hollow, for nearly four hours, picking off the Confederates. His 
 victims numbered thirty-five, and were of all ranks, from the 
 private soldier to Gen. McCulloch. The attention of a Confeder- 
 ate company was directed towards the source of this murderous 
 fire, and they charged upon him, riddling the log with bullet- 
 holes. But a company of his comrades saw his danger, and 
 charging down the hill, came to a hand-to-hand encounter with 
 the Eebs, which proved to be the hottest engagement of the bat- 
 tle, more than half on both sides being killed. 
 
 Soon after this battle. Gen. Curtis engaged Bill as a spy, with 
 orders to enter Gen. Price's lines and get all the information he 
 could about that officer's intentions. Every effort was being 
 made to carry Missouri into the Confederacy; her people were 
 in sympathy with the more southern states, and the Government 
 was seriously alarmed at the stand she had taken. Many Mis- 
 sourians had flocked to Price's army, and steps must be immedi- 
 
WILB BILL. 485 
 
 ately taken to drive him out of the borders of the state. Bill 
 was given a fine horse and instructed to make his way into the 
 Confederate lines as speedily as possible, by any means that he 
 chose. Assuming the name of Bill Barnes, and representing him- 
 self as the brother of a man recently killed in the Confederate 
 army in Texas, he made a wide circuit, entering the state of Ar- 
 kansas somewhat south of the center, and went to Little Rock. 
 There he enlisted in a company of mounted rangers organizing 
 to join Price. 
 
 The Missourian had fallen back to Elk Eiver, where he was 
 reinforced bj' Gen. Shelby, and the united forces awaited the 
 coming of Gen. Ciirtis, who, with a slightly inferior command, 
 was following swiftly from the north. Bill was apjiointed an 
 orderly within a week after his enlistment, a position enabling 
 him to execute his plans all the better. As the two armies lay 
 drawn up in order of battle, separated only by the narrow creek, 
 and waiting only for daylight to begin the battle. Gen. Price, 
 who occupied the right, sent Bill with despatches to Shelby, who 
 was on the left. Taking the papers from the hands of the gen- 
 eral. Bill saluted with all the respectful grace he could command, 
 and rode directly towards the left. Once out of sight, however, 
 he turned his course towards the company in which he had en- 
 listed, and, addressing a certain braggadocio sergeant, said : 
 
 "Jake Lawson, come out here; I want to see you a minute." 
 
 A tall, lank Arkansan, whose joints appeared to be on the 
 jumping-jack pattern, came lounging out of his tent. 
 
 "Whatcher want?" he enquired, rolling a huge quid into his 
 cheek, 
 
 "I want to have some fun, that's what. Let's astonish these 
 fellers that have never been under fire, and give 'em something 
 to fight uj:) to to-morrow." 
 
 " What shall it be — pistols at three paces, or hand to hand 
 with the bowie ? Jist what yer like." 
 
 "Xo," answered Bill, with some scorn; ''the general can't af- 
 ford to lose his men that way; but I'll bet my horse agin yourn 
 that I kin ride closer to the Feds' line than you kin." 
 
 " Humph !" answered Lawson, as he took a fresh ''chaw," and 
 turning on his heel strode back into his tent. 
 
 " What's the matter, Jake ? Are you afraid?" 
 
 "ISTo, I ain't afeared, but what's the sence or fun in such a 
 d — d trick as that 'ere?" 
 
486 
 
 WILD BILL. 
 
 "None at all for them as as don't see any. I just wanted to see 
 if you would go." 
 
 "Kinder looks as ef Jake wasn't the reel stuff, arter all," 
 remarked a bystander, and taunt and jeer soon drew Jake out 
 again, resolved to disprove their opinion of his courage. Anx- 
 iously were the two followed by the eyes of the whole company 
 as they rode forward on what seemed truly a fool's errand. As 
 they dashed onward, the Union pickets began to fire upon them. 
 
 TAKIXG TO THK WATJ^R. 
 
 "Hold your fire," shouted the foremost man, "I'm Wild Bill, 
 trying to get into the lines." 
 
 The Confederate, thus apprised of his companian's character, 
 drew his pistol and took aim, but before he could pull the trigger 
 a bullet went crashing through his brain, and he reeled and fell 
 from his horse. The riderless steed galloped onward, and stoop- 
 ing from his saddle. Wild Bill caught the bridle and led it beside 
 his own. The passage of the creek was fraught with the greatest 
 danger, as his progress was necessarily slow, and the Confeder- 
 ates had gathered in great force on the bank. Thick as hail the 
 bullets fell around him from at least fifty rifles, but he escaped 
 unhurt to the farther side. In consequence of this exposure of 
 
WILD BILL. 487 
 
 their designs, the Confederates broke camp that night, and re- 
 treated farther towards the Arkansas, swearing over the way 
 they had been deceived. 
 
 Gen. Curtis continued the pursuit, and before long desired Wild 
 Bill to again enter tlie Confederate line. A thorough disguise 
 was of course necessary. Of exquisite manly beauty efface and 
 form, and very neat about his person, he made himself into a first- 
 class specimen of the average Arkansan of the lowest class, 
 slouchy in build and bearing. Accompanied by Nat. Tuckett, an 
 old friend, he again made a wide circuit around the Confederate 
 army, and proceeding to Texas enlisted under Kirby Smith. 
 That general was about to move up into Arkansas, where Curtis 
 was still pressing Price and Shelby, and struck his tents a few 
 days after Bill and his companion joined. Smith crossed the 
 Arkansas near Lewisburg, and both armies halted in line of 
 battle about one thousand yards apart. General Curtis began a 
 brisk shelling, in order to dislodge the enemy from the protec- 
 tion of their breastworks, but the fire appeared to be wholly in- 
 effectual. 
 
 For more than an hour this state of things continued. Sudden- 
 ly, from the breastworks leaped two horsemen, who rode at full 
 speed towards the Union lines. For a moment the Federal 
 troops wondered what this meant, then their wild cheering 
 echoed the shots that the Rebels poured upon the riders; they 
 were trying to escape. Breathlessly they w^atched, as a dozen 
 cavalrymen dashed after the fugitives ; now two of the pursuers 
 distance the others; now the first riders reach a broad ditch ; the 
 horse of one clears it at a bo^ind, his companion falls, as a bullet 
 from the pistol of one of the nearest pursuers W'histlcs through 
 the air; the remaining man wheels his horse around and levels 
 his revolver; he is too far otf for them to hear the reports, but 
 they see two puffs of smoke, and see the two foremost graycoats 
 fall beside their horses; the others are too far behind him to 
 overtake him, and he rides into the lines waving his hat in tri- 
 umph; but yet he has a soldier's tear for his fallen comrade, 
 whom he returns to bury. 
 
 " Why did you run such a risk?" asked his comrades of Wild 
 Bill. " You could have stolen into our lines in the night." 
 
 " Oh," he answered, *' mate and I wanted to show them cussed 
 Hebs what a Union soldier could do. We've been wnth 'em now 
 for more'n a month, and heard nothing but brag, and we thought 
 
488 WILD BILL. 
 
 we'd take it out of 'em. But if they have killed my mate they 
 shall pay a big price for it." 
 
 Asking and obtaining leave of absence, Wild Bill went to 
 Leavenworth, where he met young William Cody, better known 
 in later days as Buffalo Bill. Their acquaintance was one of sev- 
 eral years' standing, and each had a high regard for the other. 
 Engaging to take a Government train to Eolla, Mo., Wild Bill 
 invited Billy to accompany him, and the offer was gladly ac- 
 cepted. The train reached its destination in safety, and the com- 
 panions, aged respectively twenty-five and seventeen, continued 
 their journey to Saint Louis, to have some fun. Wild Bill owned 
 a fine horse, that had done good service in scouting expeditions, 
 and finding, on their arrival in the city, that the September races 
 would take place in a few days, decided to enter ''Old Moun- 
 tain." 
 
 Under no other circumstances is a man so easily deceived as 
 when backing up a favorite horse, and all the funds of both were 
 put up. 
 
 " Old Mountain ain't a handsome horse," said Wild Bill, con- 
 fidentially, to Billy, " but I know it's in him, though the other 
 fellows don't suspect him, and are willing enough to bet against 
 him. "We'll make a clean sweep of all, I know." 
 
 Bill}^ listened reverentially j who should know anything about 
 horses if his " companion guide and friend" did not? All their 
 ready money was staked — no hedging, — and now they bet the 
 horse against $250 cash. All the proceeds were to be equally di- 
 vided. At last the eventful day came. Old Mountain did his best, 
 urged onward by Billy, who certainly could not be accused of 
 the tricks which some jockeys are said to joractise, to secure the 
 victory for another and greater favorite; but the endeavors of 
 both were useless, and the race was lost. Penniless and friend- 
 less, now, in the midst of the great city, our two friends found 
 themselves. There was only one thing thatpresented itself, and 
 upon the suggestion Wild Bill immediately acted. Going to mil- 
 itary headquarters and re-engaging himself as scout, he thus 
 secured twenty dollars ; this sum he turned over to the boy, for 
 whose pitiable plight he fell himself largely resi^onsible, and who 
 was thus enabled to return to Leavenworth. Bill proceeded to the 
 southwest, and learning at Springfield that Gen. Curtis was still 
 on the Arkansas Eiver, reported to that officer for duty. 
 
 Curtis was extremely anxious to find out what Price intended 
 
WILD BILL. 489 
 
 to do, suspecting that another invasion of Missouri was intended. 
 Wild Bill was therefore despatched, for the third time, to enter 
 the lines and oLtain as much information as possible. Making 
 the usual wide circuit, he passed through to Texarkana, where he 
 represented himself as a Texas cattle-drover. Thence he rode 
 onward to Ouachita County, where he traded his horse to an an- 
 cient darkey for a venerable jack and a dilapidated suit of 
 clothes, much to the old "uncle's" astonishment and delight. 
 Exchanging his gun for one which might almost serve Jeiferson 
 when Eip awakes from his long sleep, he arrayed himself in the 
 baggy butternut trousers, faded to a dingy yellow, but the orig- 
 inal color of which was attested by an immense old patch w^hich 
 "old auntie's" unskillful needle had sewn upon one knee; in the 
 blue vest, across which ran broad stripes of red ; in the coat, match- 
 ing the ground of the vest in hue, and ornamented with large 
 brass buttons, which might have satisfied the ladies' late passion 
 for variety in such articles, since no two were alike. The clean- 
 shaven face, where the silky moustache had drooped in solitary 
 glory, the shining locks of darker hair, were no longer to be seen. 
 A rough brown mop covered the well-set head, a ragged beard 
 concealed the thin and sensitive lips and the firm jaw. The sin- 
 gular grace and dignity of carriage which made his six feet one 
 appear the ideal stature for a hero, was discarded for the shuffling 
 gait and slouchy manner which he well knew how to assume. 
 Under such a disguise as this, who would recognize a man noted 
 for his great personal beauty ? 
 
 His appearance and manner, and his oflPerto fight as desperate- 
 ly as a certain apocryphal dog, of whose exploits he told long 
 yarns, if only they would furnish him ammunition, created consid- 
 erable amusement among Price's men, who promised themselves 
 rare fun with this green recruit. But great as w^as the change 
 in his appearance, it w^as not enough to conceal him from the 
 sharp eyes of a corporal, w^ho had known him in the days of 
 Jake Lawson. Whether he unconsciously resumed the easy, 
 graceful bearing which was his by nature, or some other circum- 
 stance betrayed that he was not what he pretended to be, cei'tain 
 it is that the corporal's suspicions were aroused, and then confirm- 
 ed ; and he was speedy in reporting at headquarters that Wild 
 Bill, the Union spy, was in camp. JSTo time was to be lost, lest 
 the fearless scout, so valuable to the enemy, escape; and mili- 
 tary law condemned him to be executed the next morning. 
 
490 
 
 WILD BILL. 
 
 Night came on ; in a small log hut lay the condemned man. his 
 arms securely pinioned, and his every movement watched by an 
 armed guard, lately his comrade. But Price had been making 
 forced marches, for Curtis was after him with twice as many men 
 as in his army; and, tired out with the long day's travel, the 
 guard fell asleep. The prisoner was bound securely, and the 
 slightest movement would awaken him from his doze, thought 
 the soldier. Without, the wind howled and shrieked, the rain 
 
 fell in torrents ; within, the pris- 
 oner ruefully thought over his 
 condition, saying to himself how 
 easy it would be to escape if 
 hishands were only free. But as 
 he pulled and tugged at the 
 cords which secured them, the 
 knots seemed only tightened ; 
 his wrists were cruelly abraded 
 by the rough rope. A sudden 
 gleam in a far corner, as a 
 flash of lightning shows him, for 
 a moment, the whole room with 
 all the distinctness of day-light, 
 and stealthily as a panther he 
 creeps towards it. The big bon- 
 KiTxiNo THE sLKKFixu SENTINEL. ^uza Is au old, rusty casc-knifc, 
 of which only a portion of the blade remains. The handle is stuck 
 in ihe auger-hole in which the blade had been partly hidden, and 
 he patiently saws at the rope about his wrists. Back and forth, 
 until the last fiber gives way ; then, his hands once more free, he 
 grasps the knife, useless for the purj^ose of thrusting, and with 
 noiseless step approaches the door, against which leans the sleep- 
 ing guard. The knife is drawn across the sentinel's throat, and 
 from vein and artery gushes the life-blood. Arraying himself 
 in the dead man's uniform, and arming himself with the musket 
 that has fallen from the lifeless grasp, he makes his way, through 
 the darkness and the storm, out of the Confederate lines to Cur- 
 tis' camp. 
 
 But Wild Bill felt that he was too well known in the Confed- 
 erate army west of the Mississippi to make another such attempt 
 anything but suicidal, and though he continued to scout, he pos- 
 itively refused to enter the enemy's lines again. We hear of no 
 
WILD BILL. 491 
 
 special adventure until 1864, when Price invaded Missouri the 
 second time. Wild Bill was then attached to the command of 
 Gen. Davis, who was only too glad to secure his services. 
 
 One day in the latter part of July, the scout, weary of long in- 
 action, started out on an independent expedition. Riding quietly 
 along, he came suddenly upon three men, well-mounted and 
 armed. 
 
 " Dismount and surrender," cried the three in a breath. Then, 
 seeing a momentary hesitation on his part, they put their hands 
 to their pistols, threatening to shoot if he delayed any farther. 
 Bill's right hand had hung down beside his horse, unseen by the 
 Eebels, who were on his left; it grasped his revolver. ■ Quick as 
 thought he raised it, and they had hardly divined his intentions 
 before two fell dead, the third wounded n'lortally. The dying 
 man, nerving himself to one last eft'ort, pulled the trigger of his 
 pistol, and the bullet whistled past the scout, but without injur- 
 ing him. Bill secured the three horses, and led them back to 
 camp, where he made report to his commander, and turned over 
 to him the spoils of Avar, Gen. Davis, suspecting that all was 
 not right about the horses, said to him, with a sternness to which 
 Bill was unaccustomed : 
 
 "You have been out of camp for four days without leave; 
 where have you been, and where did you get those horses V 
 
 " I'm not a 2:)rivate soldier, and as a scout I go where I please. 
 
 I've turned the horses over to you, and it's none of 3'our d d 
 
 business where I got 'em." 
 
 This answer only seemed to increase the officer's suspicions 
 that the horses had been stolen, and was, besides, a gross breach 
 of discipline in its disrespect to a superior. Bill was therefore 
 sent to the' guard-house, and ordered under arrest until further 
 notice. We may imagine the general's surprise when, on mak- 
 ing the rounds that night, to personally inspect the camp, he saw 
 Wild Bill salute him with the most respectful gravity that one 
 soldier could show another. Without a word to the scout he rode 
 directly to the guard-house, and demanded of the officer on duty 
 there why his men had let Wild Bill escape. 
 
 "I beg pardon, sir," was the answer, " but he has not escaped. 
 He is still under guard." 
 
 " Let me see him for myself." 
 
 But in Bill's place they found a man whose term of arrest had 
 expired that evening, and who, to give the popular scout his lib- 
 
492 WILD BILL. 
 
 erty, had exchanged clothes with him and allowed him thus to 
 escape when the twilight prevented the guards from detecting 
 the trick; all the more readily deceived, perhaps, because not 
 unwillingly. The soldier's devotion was not without its reward, 
 for, touched by the feeling displayed. Gen. Davis invited both 
 men to headquarters, and regaled them with his choicest Cognac, 
 kept for special occasions. Now more courteously asked, Bill 
 told all the circumstances of his trip, first begging pardon for 
 his disrespect; and at his request, he was permitted to retain, for 
 his own use, one of the animals. This steed, a beautiful black 
 mare, evidently of full-blooded stock, became famous for her in- 
 telligence and docility when her owner rode her, though she 
 would permit no one else to back her. To the training of Black 
 Nell Bill devoted all liis leisure time, and felt himself richly re- 
 paid by the result reached in a short time. The dropping of his 
 hand in her sight was sufficient to make her crouch on the 
 ground, and not stir until the signal was given to rise ; pursued 
 once by bushwhackers, this saved his life, as he disappeared from 
 sight in the long grass of the prairies, and the jDuzzled pursuers 
 passed him. So obedient was she, that he once induced her to 
 mount a billiard table in a saloon and drink a quart of whiskey. 
 This happened in Springfield, and even the admiring bystanders 
 could hardly regret that the good liquor should be bestowed on 
 such a horse. 
 
 The fact that many Indians were employed in the Confederate 
 service, created some alarm in Kansas, where it was re^iorted 
 that these savage enemies would soon attempt a massacre. A 
 Sioux chief. Conquering Bear, reported to Gen. Curtis, who was 
 now at Leavenworth, that the Choctaws were arming, and would 
 soon be upon the settlements. By Wild Bill's urgent request, he 
 was permitted to go, unaccompanied by any one but Conquering 
 Bear, to investigate the state of affairs. Proceeding, then, to the 
 Sioux camp near Lawrence, the chief protested his friendshij) in 
 the strongest terms. Leaving the lodges of his people, they had 
 not gone far when he uttered a peculiar whoop and disappeared 
 in the bushes. Bill immediately found himself surrounded by a 
 band of the hostile Choctaws, who rushed upon him from exery 
 side. Only the darkness and the wonderful sagacity of Black 
 Nell saved him, and by giving the Choctaw war-whoop occasion- 
 ally, and hiding in the long grass, he succeeded in so jjuzzling 
 them as to his location that he escaped without injury. 
 
WILD BILL. 493 
 
 Vowing vengeance upon Conquering Bear, he obtained, on re- 
 porting to Gren. Curtis, a week's leave of absence. His acquaint- 
 ance with the Sioux language and manners enabled him to find 
 an ally in a young warrior of that tribe whom he found on the 
 streets of Lawrence. Liberality with whisky and trinkets ce- 
 mented the young brave's alliance with the white man, and by 
 his agency Conquering Bear was allured to a lonely spot about 
 three miles from town, the promise of a rich reward attracting 
 the chief. Without any suspicion of a double meaning in this 
 expression, the Indian came, and as he and the young warrior 
 paced slowly along. Bill sprang from his hiding-place. A mo- 
 ment they eyed each othcr^ each seeming charmed by the other's 
 gaze, as if two rattlesnakes should yield one to the other; but 
 the dead silence was at length broken by Bill, as he drew his 
 pistols and threw one to the savage chief. 
 
 " Defend yourself, you treacherous, lying red-skin." 
 
 But Conquering Bear knew too well the deadly aim of his an- 
 tagonist, and refused to fight with pistols. An effort to parley 
 was unavailing. 
 
 " If you don't fight, I'll shoot you like the good-for nothing 
 dog that you are," Bill hissed out from between his teeth, and the 
 trembling Indian chose the bowie as the weapon to be used. A 
 level spot was selected, and the young Sioux instructed to pre- 
 pare it for the duel by clearing it of leaves and twigs inside a cir- 
 cle ten feet in diameter. The field of battle was prepared, but 
 Conquering Bear stood motionless. 
 
 " If 3-0U don't come and tight I'll shoot you dead in your 
 tracks." 
 
 Aroused to defense by the threat, he leaped into the ring,' knife 
 in hand, and the fight began. As the white man, stepping one 
 foot forward, made a pass with the long, keen-edged blade, the 
 Indian drew back as if to make a rush at him; now with a tiger- 
 ish thirst for blood each leaps upon the other, his left arm clasp- 
 ing his antagonist's body, his right hand holding his knife, the 
 two blades edge to edge. So they cling together, each striving 
 to secure some advantage, however trifling; but in vain; they are 
 too evenly matched for that, and as the tense muscles, that have 
 stood out in great ridges on the white and the dusky body, relax, 
 they rest a moment. The gray eyes gleam like steel as they 
 turn with every movement of the savage, and the dark orbs of 
 the Indian are no less watchful. Ten minutes pass, and Conquer- 
 
494 
 
 WILD BILL. 
 
 ing Bear again springs forward. Wild Bill is not unready for the at- 
 tack, and once more the two broad and shining blades clash and 
 flash in the sun-light. Both saw that the grasp with which they 
 had held each other would mean certain death to the weaker, and 
 each distrusted his own muscular power as contrasted with that 
 of his assailant, so that both avoided the method first adopted, 
 and by vigorous passes endeavored to surprise his antagonist. 
 
 Por some time each was 
 on his guard, so that the 
 passes of his enemy were 
 in vain; at last Bill sees 
 his opportunity, and 
 cuts at the Indian's heart; 
 but a medal on the broad, 
 tawny breast received the 
 blow, and the knife glanc- 
 ed aside, though not with- 
 out inflicting a gash sev- 
 eral inches long in the 
 chief's side. But the thrust, 
 so nearly successful, has 
 exposed his own body, 
 and the savage makes a 
 desperate lunge at his an- 
 tagonist's heart. The 
 scout's left arm, however, 
 coNQUEiuNG i3EAPv. has scrved as a shield for 
 
 the more vital j)art, and the flesh is stripped from the bone, from 
 the shoulder half-way to the elbow. Still they fought on, though 
 both grew weaker and weaker ever}^ moment, as the blood flowed 
 from these terrible wounds to the ground. Conquering Bear 
 saw that victory must come quickly if it precede death, and 
 once more made a pass at the scout's heart; but the blow was 
 skillfully parried, and in another instant the keen edge of the 
 white man's knife was drawn across the tawny throat; for a mom- 
 ent the swarthy form swayed in the air, the head thrown back- 
 ward, then fell to the earth, the blood gushing from the ghastly 
 wound. 
 
 The young Sioux bound up Wild Bill's arm, and they proceed- 
 ed to Lawrence, where more skillful surgical aid was obtained ; but 
 for many a year he felt the consequences of the terrible gash. 
 
WILD BILL, 495 
 
 Through the next year or two we need not follow him, since the 
 period was marked by no adventure of interest. Peacefully trap- 
 ping among the Sioux on the Niobrara, the young warrior who 
 had been with him when he foxight Conquering Bear was his con- 
 stant companion ; while this friend's sister, the ideal Indian mai- 
 den, pure and beautiful, was untiring in her devotion to the 
 handsome white stranger. Beturning to the states, Bill went 
 directly to Springfield, Mo., then (1866) noted for its gambling 
 dens and gamblers. Our hero was by no means averse to this 
 amusement or occupation, whichever it may be termed, and threw 
 himself, heart and soul, into the popular diversion. This town, 
 never noted as particularly quiet, was then the rendezvous for 
 the most desperate of those Missourians who had been in either 
 arm}'. Ultra-loyalt}^ was the guiding principle of the Regulators, 
 a band of men in the service of the state, but paid out of the 
 national treasury, who had adopted as their war-cry: "A swift 
 bullet and a short rope for returned Rebels I" This feeling was 
 doubtless in consequence of the severity which, in the early days 
 of the war, the " Southern sympathizers" had treated all who 
 seemed at all loyally disj^osed. It was the old story of every 
 war: the non-combatants " nursing their wrath to keep it warm;" 
 the real fighters brave and determined soldiers, but ready to ac- 
 cept peace as better than war. 
 
 *' When the war closed I buried the hatchet," said our hero, 
 "and I won't fight now unless I'm put upon." 
 
 It may be readily guessed from this that he was not a Regula- 
 tor, but one of the law and order party. 
 
 Among the denizens of Springfield was a certain Dave Tutt, 
 who had been a Rebel scout. Bill had killed Dave's mate, and 
 there was no love lost between them. Dave had tried for some 
 time to pick a quarrel with Bill, but with a laudable anxiety to 
 keep out of a fight, our hero had rather avoided him; es2:)ecially 
 by refusing to play cards with him, since he well knew how easily 
 a difficulty could be raised in such a case. One night, as Bill was 
 sitting in the saloon which both were accustomed to frequent, 
 playing poker with an acqiiaintance of both, he took out his 
 watch, and laying it on the table, said : 
 
 *' I'll play 3'ou a twenty-five dollar limit until one of us is broke, 
 or until twelve o'clock. I can't play any later than that." 
 
 His antagonist agreed to this, and according to one of the pro- 
 posed conditions, the game would have come to an end very soon, 
 
496 
 
 WIliD BILt. 
 
 as Bill, in a very short time, completely cleaned him out; but Tutt 
 stood behind the loser, and lent him money to continue the game. 
 More than two hundred dollars had changed hands in this way, 
 when Tutt, exasperated b}-^ the ill luck of the man he had been 
 backing, said : 
 
 " Bill, you've got plenty of money, — pay me that forty dollars 
 yer owe me in that horse trade." 
 
 Bill handed out the bills, and Tutt continued, in an insulting 
 manner : 
 
 SPOILING FOR A FIGHT. 
 
 "Yer owe me thirty-five dollars more; yer lost itplayin' with 
 me t'other night, don't yer remember?" 
 
 "I think yer wrong, Dave," answered Bill, quietly; "it's only 
 twenty-five dollars. Yer saw me set down how much I overbet, 
 and here's the figgers for it." 
 
 Dave answered not a word, until he had possessed himself of 
 Bill's watch ; then : 
 
WILD BILL. 497 
 
 "I'll keep this here watch until yer pay me that thirty-five 
 dollars." 
 
 "I don't want to make a row liere," said Bill, in a low, deter- 
 mined voice; "it's a decent house, and I don't want to injure the 
 keeper. You'd better put that watch back on the table." 
 
 With an ugly grin, Tutt put the watch in his pocket and walk- 
 ed off without a word. The scout's face was white with rage, but 
 by a strong effort he controlled himself, and not all the persua- 
 sions of the bystanders could induce him to fight. For two days 
 he kept close in his room, anxious to keep out of a fight if it were 
 at all possible ; but when one of thorn said to him : 
 
 "Dave Tutt says he's a goin' ter pack that watch across the 
 squar' at noon ter-morrer, and tell folks when its twelve o'clock." 
 
 Human nature could bear it no longer. 
 
 "Dave Tutt shan't j)ack that watch across the square unless 
 dead men kin walk." 
 
 A little before noon, the next day, having cleaned and loaded 
 his pistols, Bill made his way to the public square, where he 
 found a considerable crowd of Tutt's friends and relatives. Many 
 and loud were the jeers with which they saluted him, biit Bill 
 had not come to exchange words with them. As he came up 
 from the south, he saw Tutt standing on the west side, near the 
 courthouse. Unaccompanied, Dave started across the open space, 
 and Bill moved towards him. Tutt then showed his pistol, but 
 before he could j)oint it. Bill was equally well prepared. Dead 
 silence reigned, as the bystanders breathlessly waited to see 
 which would shoot first. Both were famous shots, and the two 
 reports were so close together that the spectators could not tell 
 Avhich fired first; but when they saw Tutt reel and fall, they 
 knew that he had, in dying, thrown up his arm so that his bullet 
 went over his antagonist's head, and that Bill had fired before 
 Dave had pulled the trigger. 
 
 But, confident of his marksmanshiji, Wild Bill did not wait to 
 see the effect of his shot. Wheeling around, with his revolver 
 still leveled, he said to Tutt's friends, who had already drawn 
 their w^eapons : 
 
 " Ain't you satisfied, gentlemen ? Put up yer shootin' irons, or 
 there'll be more dead men here." 
 
 " It war a fair fight," they said, as they obediently " put up 
 their shootin' irons." 
 
 With a most jiraiseworthy desire for justice, Bill delivered him^ 
 32 
 
498 
 
 WILD BILL. 
 
 self uj) to the law ; he was tried the next da}', and acquitted, 
 since he had acted in self-defense. The decision of the jury was 
 based rather upon the golden rule than upon any legal form or 
 precedent, but like many of the same kind, it gave entire satis- 
 faction to all concerned. 
 
 Leaving Springfield shortly after this, Wild Bill again went to 
 trapping in Nebraska, but only for a brief period. Having little 
 luck where he first tried for beaver, he determined to change his 
 
 "ain't you satisfied." 
 
 location, and on his way to the southeastern portion of the ter- 
 ritory, as it was then, hitched his horse before a country saloon, 
 went in and called for a drink. With an expression of curiosity 
 on his face, the saloon-keeper set out the black bottle and the 
 glass, which Bill proceeded to use. As he raised the glass to his 
 lips, a sudden push in the back si:)lashed the liquor into his face, 
 and sent him staggering against the counter. One of the half- 
 dozen herders, all half-drunk, had taken this means to express 
 their resentment at the stranger's lack of courtesy in drinking by 
 himself, when he might have company for the asking. A well- 
 directed blow, planted full between the eyes, sent the herder 
 reeling backward over the boxes on which he and his company 
 
WILD BILL 499 
 
 ions had been lounging. Turning to the other herders, Bill en- 
 deavored to convince them that this was a perfectly proper mode 
 of proceeding, but they would not listen to him. 
 
 " If 3'er don't believe me, then, I tell yer what I'll do. I'll 
 fight any four of yer with pistols at five or fifteen paces, just as 
 you like." 
 
 ^' All right," answered the men, sobering up at the prospect 
 of a fight. The bar-keeper was chosen umpire, the distance — fif- 
 teen paces — marked off, and the combatants posted. 
 
 " Air ye all ready ? One, two, three — fire !" 
 
 As the sound of the last word died away, one man fell dead, 
 but a ball had pierced Bill's right shoulder, so that that arm fell, 
 limp and useless, to his side; but using his left hand with as 
 much dexterity as his right, he fired three shots in rapid succes- 
 sion, each one taking effect. Only one of his antagonists surviv- 
 ed, and he was badly wounded. Bill set out on the same day 
 towards Kansas City, judging that that was not a wholesome 
 neighborhood for him ; and remained at that place until his 
 wound was so far healed that he was able to accompany an ex- 
 pedition against the Cheyennes under Black Kettle. Gens. Carr 
 and Primrose were the commanders of the two forces, Wild Bill 
 and Buffalo Bill being each chief of scouts in a division. Hotly 
 pursued for more than a month, the Indians were at last brought 
 to bay on the north side of the Washita, in Indian Territory, 
 where they had placed themselves in such a strong position that 
 the most desperate fighting was required to dislodge them. But 
 a charge from both front and rear at once drove them out of the 
 woods, and though the advantage had only been gained with 
 great loss to the troops, the yells of the soldiers seemed to say 
 that they did not intend to stop fighting until the Indians were 
 defeated. The two scouts, both famous for their marksmanship, 
 did good execution upon the Indians fleeing from covert to 
 covert. With reckless courage they charged into the midst of 
 the hostiles, firing with deadly effect as they rode. 
 
 The Cheyenne chief saw his warriors falling thick around him, 
 and knew there was no hope of victory. The Indian lacks the 
 stubborn courage of the white man; the savage seldom, if ever, 
 fights as Custer and his men fought on the Little Big Horn; and 
 now Black Kettle turned and fled for his life. After him, regard- 
 less alike of tomahawks, spears and rifles, rode Wild Bill. Black 
 Nell shows her mettle ; up to the chief's side rides the scout, and 
 
500 WILD BILL. 
 
 into the chief's heart is plunged . his knife. But a spear has 
 pierced his hi-p, and he is almost unhorsed j only the timely as- 
 sistance of his friend and brother scout, Buffalo Bill, saves him 
 from the certain death which stares him in the face. He had 
 hoj^ed to secure the chief 's scalp, but it is impossible; the poi- 
 soned spear has made so painful and dangerous a wound that he 
 must be taken back to Fort Hays in an ambulance. 
 
 Still suffering from the two old wounds that he had received in 
 his fight with Conquering Bear and in the Nebraska duel, Bill 
 concluded to return to his old home in Illinois for a visit. On 
 this scene Ave draw the curtain ; the mother's welcome of the son 
 whom she had not seen for fourteen years, who had in that time 
 encountered so many dangers — on this, strangers have no right 
 to look. His fight at Chicago with a band of seven roughs we 
 omit for a difl^erent reason ; it presents no j)oints of special inter- 
 est beyond the fact that while, before the fight, they were ex- 
 tremely curious to know the antecedents of" Leather-breeches," 
 when he had gotten hold of a billiard-cue they were perfectly 
 satisfied with what they had learned of the man himself; at least, 
 they did not ask him any more questions,, 
 
 The fact that he received and accepted an invitation to act as 
 guide to Vice-President Wilson and his party, in their trip to the 
 far west, shows conclusively how wide-spread was his ref)utation; 
 but what were adventures to the ladies and gentlemen of that 
 party, were incidents of every-day life to Wild Bill, and it is not 
 until his return to Hays City that we find characteristic events 
 recorded of him. Here, in this frontier town of nearly two thou- 
 sand inhabitants, where there were nearly a hundred gambling 
 dens, and the saloons were innumerable, fights, often terminating 
 fatally, were of such every-day occurrence that the people de- 
 cided that they must have a marshal to regulate affairs. It was 
 hardly necessary to determine that it must be a man with a rep- 
 utation to fill the position, and Wild Bill's qualifications being 
 esteen>ed the most satisfactory, he was elected to the oflice in 
 September, 1869. 
 
 "I kin clean out Hays City, and its marshal, too," boasted one 
 Jack Strawhan, whom Wild Bill had once assisted in arresting. 
 " I'll git even with that feller yit." 
 
 These threats w^ere duly reported to Bill, and he was not iin- 
 prej^ared, when, some six weeks after his election, he saw Straw- 
 han enter the saloon in which he was drinking with a party of 
 
WILD BILL. 501 
 
 friends. The desperado strolled up towards the bar with as much 
 indifterence as he could put into his manner, and was within ten 
 feet of Bill, when, thinking himself unnoticed, he drew a heavy 
 navy. But Bill's sharp eyes had not lost a single movement, and 
 almost before the revolver was cocked, a bullet went crashing 
 through his skull to his brain. 
 
 '' Come up, boys, let's all take a drink," said the marshal, turn- 
 ing coolly to the bar again, and the coroner's jury, that very day, 
 returned a verdict of " served him right." 
 
 Akin to this was the case of the bully who wanted to run Hays 
 City. One part of the town, dismayed at the spectacle of a half- 
 drunken man flourishing two pistols, had consented to be " run," 
 but one thoughtful individual went to find the marshal. That of- 
 ficial, in defiance of the laws w^hich appear to govern all conser- 
 vators of the peace, was easily found, and readily obeyed the 
 summons. As Mulvey, the desperado, went yelling through the 
 streets, pointing his pistols at all who w^ere not sufficiently re- 
 spectful, he was approached by Wild Bill, and heard his quiet 
 tones sa3nng : 
 
 " Stranger, I shall have to arrest you for disturbing the peace. 
 Come with me." 
 
 "Well, now, stranger, suppose _?/o?/. come with ?^(f. I reckon I've 
 got the wnnning hand." 
 
 "That's so," answered Bill, ruefully, as he looked into the 
 muzzles of the two pistols, " I can't beat that pair." 
 
 " Xo, I reckon you can't, and since you are so fresh it will be 
 a good thing for me to hang you up to dry. March !" 
 
 " Don't hit him, boj^s, he's only in fun," said Bill, as if to dep- 
 recate an attack on Mulvey from the rear. The desperado turn- 
 ed to see the " boys " who were not there, and fell dead as a bul- 
 let from Bill's pistol went home to his brain. So detestable had 
 Mulvey rendered himself that the citizens would hold no inquest 
 over his remains. No honor could be too great for the man who 
 had rid the town of two such characters as Strawhan and Mulvey, 
 and Bill met with thanks on every side for thus securing peace 
 to the town. His duties were easy for some months after this 
 occurrence. 
 
 The chief trouble came from the soldiers, who were stationed 
 about a mile from Hays City, and who did not regard themselves 
 as amenable to civil law. Wild Bill had arrested several of the 
 worst cases, at different times, and had thus aroused their bitter- 
 
502 
 
 WILD BILL. 
 
 est enmity. It was in Febrnary, 1870, that he said to a big ser- 
 geant, who was becoming uproarious, just what he had said to 
 the desperado Mulvey. 
 
 "How much do you weigh, Mr. Long-Hair ?" asked the sol- 
 dier, astonished at his " cheek." 
 
 *' A hundred and sixty-five when I'm in a good humor," re- 
 plied Bill, " but my fighting size is something more than a ton ; 
 you come along with me." 
 
 \viLi> bill's fight with fifteen soldiers. 
 
 " I won't go with you now," answered the sergeant, " but I'll 
 fight you in front of this saloon ; and if you whip me, I'll go with 
 you; and if I whip you, you'll come with me." 
 
 "Fight, fight, let 'em fight? A fair fight, now," broke in a 
 chorus of a dozen soldiers. There was no getting out of it; in 
 spite of his peaceful propensities "Wild Bill must yield to the ma- 
 jority. All weapons were left in charge of the saloon-keeper, 
 and the fistic encounter began. But while the soldiers had been 
 so anxious to have the fight begin, when they saw how it went 
 on, they were equally anxious to end it. Fourteen of them came 
 to the rescue of their officer, and it might have fared worse for 
 Bill had not the saloon-keeper, seeing the immense odds against 
 
WILD BILL. 503 
 
 his friend, gatliered up Bill's pistols and, at great risk to himself, 
 pushed through the crowd with them. One of the soldiers went 
 down at the first shot. 
 
 ''Look out!" cried the crowd around them, " he's gota pistol." 
 
 It was a totally unnecessary warning, for before the words 
 were well uttered, two more fell. The remaining soldiers drew 
 their pistols, and as Bill retreated, firing as he w^ent, seven balls 
 struck him. Smoky Eiver was the bar of safety which he had at 
 last placed between himself and his pursuers, and after swim- 
 ming this he dragged himself painfully onward. 
 
 Secreting himself in a buffalo wallow, he tore up part of his 
 clothes to bandage his wounds. Exposed to the bitter cold, he 
 lay here for two daj's, suft'ering the most intense agony from his 
 fevered wounds ; then, weak from loss of blood and fasting, he 
 tore loose the bandages, now frozen stiff", from the ground to 
 which they had stuck, and wrapping his feet, from which he had 
 been obliged to cut his boots, in his undershirt, with slow and 
 painful steps toiled onward to the ranche of a friend. Knocking 
 at the door of the cabin, it was with a troubled face that his host 
 received him, for but little could be done. Not knowing that he 
 had been wounded, Gen. Sheridan had issued an order to bring- 
 in the marshal, dead or alive ; it was supposed that a long chase 
 would be necessary, and they had not thought of searching for 
 him so near home. For three weeks he lay in the loft of the 
 little cabin, tenderly cared for, and entirely unsuspected of being 
 in the neighborhood. When he had sufficiently recovered to 
 travel, he went in a box-car to Junction City, and remained 
 there until he had completely recovered. 
 
 The western climate had proved unhealthful to him, and when 
 his wounds were healed, Bill determined to go east. Some occu- 
 pation was necessary, and he determined to take to Niagara 
 Tails a number of Buffalo, and some Comanche Indians, that the 
 .visitors there might be entertained, and he be enriched by a buf- 
 falo hunt such as, under ordinary circumstances, could be seen 
 only on the plains. The work of catching the huge wild animals 
 proved more difficult than he had expected, but at last six were 
 secured, and four Comanches employed ; one of them being the pos- 
 sessor of a tame cinnamon bear, and another of a monkey, which 
 were added to the menagerie. Trusting that the voluntary con- 
 tributions of the crowd would be amply sufficient, he built only 
 a slight fence around the ground where the mock hunt was to 
 
5"04 WILD BILL. 
 
 take place ; but the expense exceeded the receipts by more than 
 a thousand dollars, and after having spent all the money he had 
 in preparation, he was obliged to sell out to pay his hotel bill. 
 
 Returning to the West, and stopping at Abilene, Kansas, he was 
 agreeably surprised when the}^ proposed to appoint him marshal, 
 for some source of income was necessary; his buffalo venture 
 had left him dead broke. Abilene was, if anything, worse than 
 Hays City had been when Bill first entered upon the same office 
 there. Being the central point from which the cattle raised in the 
 Southwest were shijiped, the herders were about the worst class 
 of visitors that ever afflicted a town. Within two days, Bill had 
 signalized his appointment by killing a desperado who was mak- 
 ing things extremely lively; and a chance shot from Bill killed 
 his own deput}^ The companion of the first desperado also pro- 
 voked his own death by an endeavor to avenge his friend. Af- 
 ter this triple tragedy there was comparative quiet in Abilene for 
 several weeks. 
 
 [But peace was impossible in such a place, and late in Decem- 
 ber, 1870, there was an extensive riot, in which, as usual. Bill 
 came off victor. But so enraged was one man at the bodily in- 
 juries that had been inflicted uj^on him that he swore he would 
 have Wild Bill's heart. Eeturning to his Texas ranche, he called 
 a council of eight men whom he knew were well fitted for his 
 purpose, and giving each one fifty dollars to pay expenses to 
 Abilene, promised to divide five thousand dollars among them 
 when any of their number should have killed Wild Bill and 
 brought his heart to the Texan as proof. In high feather they 
 started out, but being in possession of so much more money than 
 any of them had ever had before, x>erhaps, they got gloriously 
 drunk before they had been two hours in Abilene. With all the 
 self-importance of a tipsy rough, one of them boasted that they 
 had come on important business. 
 
 "What is it?" asked a loafer. 
 
 But the rough only shook his head with drunken gravity. The 
 crowd caught up the question, and pressed him hard, until, un- 
 able to longer contain himself, he burst out with: 
 
 "We're a'goin' to shoot Wild Bill and take his heart to Texas, 
 for his d — d interference with folks he ought ter let alone." 
 
 Bill had no lack of friends in Abilene, one of whom lost no time 
 in telling him what the Texan had said. Bill's resolution was 
 immediately taken. 
 
WILD BILL. 505 
 
 " Go back to the crowd and tell them, quiet like, so's not to 
 make 'em suspect anything, that I'm a goin' down ter Topeka by 
 the nine o'clock express, to git some new jiistols, for mine ain't 
 any account; they're worn out, I reckon." 
 
 The information was conveyed to the party, and they took the 
 hint. Sobering up as rapidly as possible, they laid their plans. 
 Bill was fond of cards, and could be readily induced to pass from 
 one car to another in order to join in a game with one of them; 
 lurking enemies on the jilatform; a sudden stab in the darkness; 
 a body thrown from the train as it rushed by; eight men leaving 
 the car at the next station, and returning through the darkness 
 of the winter night to complete their hellish work, unwitnessed 
 by mortal eye. But Bill was on his guard. About ten or eleven 
 o'clock, he left the car in which he was sitting, and with a pistol 
 in each hand, went to that in which he knew he w^ould find his 
 would-be assassins. Satisfying himself of their exact position, 
 he threw open the door and w^alked up the aisle towards them. 
 Covering the gang with his pistols, ho said : 
 
 "'Now, you scoundrels, get out of this car, or I'll put a bullet 
 in each of you. Leave the train instantly." 
 
 His tone was so quiet that it would, of itself, have attracted no 
 attention from bystanders, but they saw shoot in his eyes, and 
 prudently retreated backward to the door of the car. 
 
 "Jump," he commanded, as they hesitated a moment on the 
 platform, and the muzzles gleamed ominously in the flickering 
 light from the next car. The train was rushing over the level 
 prairie at a fearful rate, but certain death awaited them here, 
 while that might give each a chance for life. Into the darkness, 
 then, each man leaped as the train sped onward; one was killed 
 outright, three badly hurt by the fall ; but if they had not jumped, 
 there would have been none that escaped. ) 
 
 But it is hardly necessary to follow him farther during the re- 
 mainder of the time that he was in Abilene, or when he became 
 United States marshal of Hays City. ■ His name was so well 
 known that in most cases the statement that Wild Bill was com- 
 ing, was enough to quiet a row at once. If the quarrel was not 
 stopped, he would say, on coming up : 
 
 " See here, boys, this has gone far enough now." 
 
 If an unusually desperate ruffian still manifested a desire for 
 more fight, the soft tones would again be heard : 
 
 "If you want any more, here I am. You can settle with me." 
 
506 WILD BILL. 
 
 But the invitation was seldom accepted. A man who shot so 
 quickly and well as Wild Bill was most thoroughly respected, 
 even in that wild western town. 
 
 Joining the Buffalo Bill combination in 1873-4, stage-fright, at 
 first, was a serious drawback to success, but in one of his earliest 
 performances he made a decided hit. Buffalo Bill, Texas Jack 
 and Wild Bill were, in one scene, represented as sitting around 
 a camp-fire, telling stories; at the end of each adventure related, 
 the bottle was duly passed, but Wild Bill failed to comprehend 
 the necessity for "property" whiskey. Taking a drink, he said, 
 with great indignation, in a voice that could be heard all over 
 the house: 
 
 "You must think that I am the worst fool east of the Rockies, 
 that I can't tell whiskey from cold tea. This donH count, and I 
 can't tell a story unless I get real whiskey." 
 
 The building shook with the plaudits of the audience, and when 
 Buffalo Bill had procured some "real whiskej'," the play went 
 on wnth a first-class story that Wild Bill related. This w^as only 
 one instance of his disregard of stage conventionalities ; another 
 was his mischievous practice of firing so close at the " Indians " 
 that the poor supes were nearly frightened to death. Reproved 
 by Buffalo Bill for this, he exchanged his stage suit of buckskin 
 for his ordinary street dress, and walked out of the theater, 
 leaving the stage carpenter to inform the principal actor that 
 "the long-haired gentleman that just went out told me to give 
 you his respects and tell you to go to thunder with your old 
 show." His second appearance on the stage was due to an un- 
 successful attemjit upon a faro bank in New York, but the " Wild 
 Bill Combination" was not of long life. 
 
 Returning to the West, he went to Kansas City, thence fco 
 Cheyenne, where he remained a short time, but soon decided to 
 go to mining in the Black Hills, where gold had been recently 
 discovered; a treasure soon to be bought with blood from the 
 Sioux and Blackfeet. Encamping with two companions in this 
 debatable land, he one day w^ent to the creek, about a hundred 
 yards away, for a supply of water. Stoojiing to dip the water 
 from a hole in the ice, he spied, trotting up the creek, a silver 
 fox, the skin of which was worth fifty or sixty dollars. This was 
 too valuable a chance to be lightly thrown away, and drawing 
 his pistol from his belt, he started in pursuit. But quick as he 
 was, the fox, darting from cover to cover, eluded him for many a 
 
WILD BILL. 507 
 
 weary mile, and at last escaped him in the darkness. Eetracing 
 his steps when he saw there was no hope of success, he heard, as 
 he ai:)proached the camp, a terrible sound — the war-cry of the 
 Sioux. Creeping cautiously nearer, he saw the whole scene by 
 the light of the flames that consumed the cabin j fifteen or twen- 
 ty Indians, reveling in the possession of the keg of whiskey 
 which formed an important part of the miners' outfit, while the 
 belts of two were decorated each with a fresh scalp, reeking 
 with blood ; the bodies of his companions were probably con- 
 sumed in the cabin. 
 
 Knowing that he would not be safe anywhere in the neighbor- 
 hood, he fled with all the speed he could command, not stopping 
 for rest until the next morning. JSTcarly worn out with fatigue, 
 he then lay down under a tree and immediately fell asleep. The 
 flight was continued when he awoke and had satisfied his hunger 
 on a sage-hen which he shot; and he thought he had a fair chance 
 of reaching Fort Fetterman, when, on the evening of the second 
 da}^, he discovered that the Indians were on his trail. They rap- 
 idly gained on him, and his chances began to look doubtful, as 
 he had only one revolver, and two chambers of that had been 
 emptied. Four shots, then, remained, and with these he must 
 defend himself against a force so far superior in number. As they 
 came up within range, he fired one shot after another, and four 
 Indians dropped from their ponies; then, retreating to the edge 
 of the precipitous bank, with his pistol still raised as if to fire 
 again, he leaped down to the creek below. A dizzy whirl through 
 the air, and he reached the creek beneath, falling into an air- 
 hole, and thus escaping all injury beyond a ducking in the icy 
 water of the creek. Keeping well under the ledge of rocks that 
 shielded him from view, he continued his journey along the 
 course of the stream, while above him the Indians searched for a 
 descent to the bed of the creek. All night long the chase con- 
 tinued, if such it could be called when the savages expected to 
 find only the mangled body of the white man on the ice; and in 
 the morning Bill, worn out by his long flight, reposed himself 
 behind the trunk of a large cedar. He awoke to find the day far 
 advanced, but cloudy and dark. Soon the thunder rolled heavily 
 in the distance, the earliest prophecy of approaching spring; 
 and the sound was echoed by another, the roar of the flood that 
 came rushing through the canons. 
 
 The danger was imminent. Clinging to the rugged bank, he 
 
508 WILD BILL. 
 
 clambered slowly upward, while each moment seemed an age, 
 A sound in a higher key than the rumbling of the thunder and 
 the roar of the waters, and for a moment he turned ; there were 
 the Indians, struggling, rider and horse, in the stream ; the wa- 
 ters swept impetuously onward, tossing the dark forms on its 
 seething mass of foam, and dashing them against the rocky sides 
 of the canon. At last the summit of the precipice was reached, 
 and the weary man, no longer flying from enemies, continued his 
 journey until he reached Fort Fetterman in safety, on the fourth 
 day after the attack on the camp. 
 
 Not contented with his experience there, Bill wished to organ- 
 ize an expedition to the Black Hills, of sufficient numbers to be 
 comparatively safe from the Indians; but was obliged to wait 
 until the following sjDring (1S76). Going to Chej^enne in Febru- 
 ary of that year, to perfect arrangements, he again met a lady 
 whom he had admired for many years, and who became his wife 
 early in March. A wedding-tour to Cincinnati followed, and it 
 was not until the twelfth of April that the party of about two 
 hundred started from Kansas City. 
 
 Having discharged his duties as guide, Bill settled down in 
 Deadwood to watch for an opportunity for a profitable strike. 
 Deadwood needs no description, admits of none — a mining town, 
 peopled by adventurous roughs, built up of drinking saloons and 
 gambling dens. Frequent prospecting tours along the gulches 
 among the hills alternated with rest in the town, the monotony 
 being diversified by many games of ]3oker. Much money, of 
 course, thus changed hands, and the last day of July Bill won 
 $500 from an adventurer named Jack McCall. The loser admit- 
 ted it was a fair game, and seemed as well satisfied as any man 
 could be under the adverse circumstances. As Bill was playing 
 with some others on the afternoon of the 2d of August, McCall 
 carelessly entered the saloon. No one suspected that he had any 
 particular purpose in view, until, Avhcn he had reached a position 
 only about a yard behind Wild Bill, he suddenly drew a pistol, 
 and uttered the words : " D n you, take that ! " 
 
 He fired at the head of his victim. The ball crashed through the 
 skull, passed through the brain, and came out through the right 
 cheek, imbedding itself in the arm of another player. Wild 
 Bill's head bent slowly forward, the cards fell from his relaxing 
 fingers, and he fell prone on the floor. 
 
 Words cannot describe the excitement which reigned in Dead- 
 
WILD BILL. 
 
 509 
 
 "wood. Wild threats of lynching the murderer were heard on 
 every hand, but the more orderly-minded prevailed upon these 
 hot-headed avengers to give McCall a fair trial, and the jury ac- 
 quitted him. But the court was improvised for the occasion, and 
 when the bully visited Yankton a few days later, boasting of his 
 deed, he was promptly arrested, brought before the legally es- 
 tablished tribunal, found guilty, sentenced, and hanged. 
 
 The murdered man's body was taken in charge by his comrade 
 and friend, Colorado Charley, and a grave dug on the mountain 
 
 THE MURDEK OF MILD BILL. 
 
 side, where the pine-trees shaded the flower-studded sod. With 
 his rifle by his side, he was laid to rest. Not forever, for as the 
 town grew, the beauty of the woodland grave on the hill-side 
 departed, and reverently his friends removed to another resting- 
 place all that was mortal of one of the bravest scouts that Amer- 
 ica has ever produced. 
 
 "He was a plainsman in every sense of the word," says Gen. 
 Custer, who knew him well as a scout; "yet unlike any other of 
 his class. . . . Whether on foot or on horseback, he was one of 
 the most perfect types of physical manhood I ever saw. . . . His 
 manner was entirely free from all bluster or bravado. He never 
 spoke of himself unless requested to do so. His influence among 
 the frontiersmen was unbounded, his word was law. Wild Bill 
 
510 WILD BILL. 
 
 is anything but a quarrelsome man, yet no one but himself can 
 enumerate the many conflicts in which he has been engaged." 
 
 One notable peculiarity was his sincere regret at the invariable 
 termination of such contests j and it was a notorious fact that 
 Wild Bill M^as always chief mourner at the funerals which he 
 made necessary, and frequently paid all expenses. In one in- 
 stance, at least, he went even farther, contributing to the support 
 of Mrs. McCandlas whom her husband left destitute, until her 
 death. 
 
CHAPTER XYIII. 
 
 BUFFALO BILL. 
 
 IiN" the early part of 1845 there was born in Scott County, Iowa, 
 a boy whoso name was destined to be known, witliin thirty 
 years, from California to Russia, — William Frederick Cody, bet- 
 ter recognized bj^his famous and well-earned title of Buffalo Bill. 
 But his fertile farm in Iowa seemed to his father, Isaac, less desi- 
 rable than a "claim" in the far western gold country, and in 
 1849, when the California fever raged so fiercely, he made an un- 
 successful effort to reach the distant mines. For three years 
 after this he remained with his young family in Iowa, during 
 which time little Billy was sent to school to get him out of the 
 way, while his leisure time was spent in trapping quails. Thus 
 early began his love for hunting. 
 
 But Mr. Cody had not yet given up the idea of moving to 
 some new country, although California had so rapidly tilled up 
 that golden opportunities no longer presented themselves in that 
 state. In March, 1852, then, he disposed of his farm, and, with his 
 famil}^, set out for Kansas. The journey gave no slight pleasure 
 to the seven-year-old boy, to whom the corn-bread and negroes, 
 then so plentiful in that part of Missouri, were objects of equal 
 interest. When the family stopped near Weston, there to remain 
 until Kansas was open to emigrants, and the father, after a short 
 absence spent in establishing a trading-post at Salt Creek Valley, 
 returned to take his son over to Kansas, the boy's delight knew 
 no bounds. Even the statement that two ponies, his own proper- 
 ty, there awaited him, could hardly add to his excitement. The 
 military parade at Fort Leavenworth, the fleets of prairie 
 schooners that dotted the green valleys, even the burial service 
 that the encamped Mormons held over one of their number, 
 preceded the arrival at the camp. There he found the frontiers- 
 men, w^ho, clad and armed in the manner peculiar to the border, 
 were equally wonderful. " They look like pirates," was his child- 
 ish opinion. Yonder small group of dark-skinned and curiously 
 
512 BUFFALO BILL. 
 
 attired persons next claimed his attention, and the very fact that 
 they were Indians made him doubly anxious to interview them. 
 
 But his ponies were a disappointment, being so wild that they 
 would not suffer him to touch them. One was caught, and he 
 enjoyed a ride upon it on the second day, but his father's hand 
 never left the bridle. They were again at the agency in the 
 evening, when there came towards them, from a camp farther 
 down the river, a magnificent specimen of western manhood; 
 more than six feet tall, and well built, his long, sinewy limbs and 
 broad chest were covered with a beautifully beaded suit of buck- 
 skin; a native of the prairies, his step was as light and elastic 
 as that of the Swiss mountaineer or the Scotch Highland lassie; 
 his brown face was shaded by a huge sombrero. Looking at the 
 boy, who was trying to win the love of one of the jjonies by 
 petting, he said: 
 
 "Little one, your ponies seem wild yet." 
 
 "Yes, and one of them has never been ridden." 
 
 "Well, I'll ride him for you." 
 
 It was no effort to " witch the world with noble horseman- 
 ship," but only a wish to please a child. It might well have been 
 the first, for never a knight or king rode such a steed over such 
 a course. Ecaring, plunging, using every endeavor to unseat 
 his rider, the pony at last concluded that it was a hopeless task, 
 and quietly submitted to the guidance of a master. 
 
 " O, that's nothing," answered the Californian to Mr. Cody's 
 praises; " I was raised on horseback. I ran away from home 
 when I was a boy, went to sea, and finally landed in the Sand- 
 wich Islands, where I fell in with a circus. I was with it two 
 years, and made a mark as a bare-back rider. But I heard of the 
 excitement over the discovery of gold in California, and went 
 there, but didn't go to mining. I went to work as a bocarro — 
 catching and breaking wild horses. Last summer we caught this 
 herd that we have brought across the plains, and want to sell 
 it in the states. I'm going over to Weston to-morrow to see if 
 my uncle is still living there, and when we've sold the horses 
 I'll go and see the rest of my folks in Ohio." 
 
 " I am acquainted in Weston, and perhaps can tell you about 
 your uncle. What is his name ? " 
 
 "Elijah Cody." 
 
 "Elijah Cody? Why, he is my brother." 
 
 Sure enough, the sti'anger, Horace Billings, was Mr. Cody's 
 
BUFFALO BILL. 5 13 
 
 nephew, who had never been heard from during all his long ab- 
 sence. Between the j^oung giant and his little cousin there soon 
 sprang up a strong friendship, the boy looking uj) to the man as 
 the greatest of living beings, while the man looked upon the boy 
 something as a huge Newfoundland looks at a diminutive black- 
 and-tan. Billings was soon afterward employed in catching gov- 
 ernment horses, a large herd of which had stampeded from Leav- 
 enworth some time before, and now roamed over the prairies. 
 During the time that he was thus employed, little Billy was his 
 constant companion, and received from him most excellent les- 
 sons in the management of a horse and the throwing of a lasso. 
 Many a wild chase there was across the |)rairies, when the ani- 
 mals, with every muscle strained to the utmost, with nostrils di- 
 lated and eyes glaring with terror, dashed madly onward, fol- 
 lowed closely by the reckless bocarros. The long lariat whirls 
 around and above the head of each man, as he gallops beside the 
 animal he has chosen; now he throws it, and the horse, half- 
 strangled, and unable by his brute instinct to account for the sud- 
 den compression about his neck, sinks struggling- to the ground. 
 Of such scenes as these was the boy a delighted spectator, al- 
 though, of course, he did not possess sufficient strength to be of 
 any very material assistance ; but there was soon developed an 
 intense longing to be like this wonderful cousin. 
 
 Through the next few years we need not follow him; only 
 pausing to note that his companions, boys from the neighboring 
 friendly Kickapoo tribe, taught him something of their language, 
 and from them he acquired considerable skill in the use of the 
 bow and arrow. Mr. Cody's avowal of his anti-slavery opinions 
 was rewarded by a murderous assault, from the effects of which 
 he had hardly recovered when his house was surrounded by a 
 pro-slavery mob, and he only escaped by disguising himself in 
 his wife's clothes; the ruse was not detected in the darkness. 
 Nor did a removal render him much safer. Learning of a plot to 
 kill her husband, Mrs. Cody sent her eldest son, now nine years 
 old, to warn him of his danger; as the boy rode on, he heard, 
 from a party of men encamped at the creek crossing, the words : 
 " That's the son of the old abolitionist we're after." 
 In a moment came the order to halt. But onward dashed the 
 plucky little animal at his master's bidding, and those who pur- 
 sued him were soon distanced ; the boy realized how much de- 
 pended upon his escape, and rode without caring to spare even 
 
BUFFALO BILL. 515 
 
 his beloved pony. For a long time Mr. Cody's life was not safe 
 in Kansas, especially in the neighborhood of his own house, and 
 it was only by stealth that he could visit his famil3^ 
 
 In the meantime, Bill}^ had been nearly heart-broken by the 
 theft of his ponj-. Meeting one day with Mr. Eussell, the great 
 freighter, whom he knew well, he poured all his troubles into 
 sympathizing ears. 
 
 " Billy, my boy, cheer up. Come to Leavenworth, and I'll em- 
 ploy you. I'll give you twenty-five dollars a month to herd cattle." 
 
 Consoled for the loss of his steed by the brilliancy of his future 
 prospects, Billy hurried home to inform his mother of this mun- 
 ificent off'er; but less dazzled by it than her son, she refused to 
 let him go. All his pleading was in vain, and he was reduced to 
 the alternatives of staying at homo, or running away. He chose 
 the latter, not returning for two months, when he brought a hun- 
 dred silver half-dollars to his mother, who had long before this 
 learned of his whereabouts, and consented to let him remain in 
 Mr. Eussell's employ. But she was not content that he should 
 long continue at this work, and j)ersuaded him to stay at home 
 and go to school. For some time, acceding to her wish, he de- 
 voted himself to his books, until an unlucky fight with his rival 
 for the fiivor of a small maiden, ended in the infliction of a slight 
 cut on the thigh of his antagonist. Believing that he had killed 
 him, Billy lost no time in getting away, and soon reached a hav- 
 en of safety. 
 
 This was a freight train sent out by his former employers, the 
 wagon-master of which, John Willis, was an old acquaintance, 
 and now proved himself to be a friend in need. Mrs. Cody had 
 heard of Billy's fight, and was in considerable anxiety about him 
 when, that night, after the men connected with the train had en- 
 camped, he and his friend rode to her house. After much solici- 
 tation, she gave her consent to the plan which they had formed, 
 although fearful lest her boy should fall into the hands of In- 
 dians. The event proved that her boy was quite able to take 
 care of himself. In accordance with the proposition that Willis 
 had made to him, then, Billy set out to Fort Kearney with the 
 train, and spent the summer in herding. The death of his fath- 
 er, in the spring of 1857, rendered it desirable for him to con- 
 tinue in this work, and in May of that year he was one of the 
 hands accompanying a herd of beef cattle to the army of Gen. 
 Albert Sidney Johnston, who was then fighting the Mormons. 
 
516 BUFFALO BILL. 
 
 Reaching a point on the South Platte some thirty-five miles 
 from Old Fort Kearney, they encamped for dinner. As a matter 
 of habit, three men were posted as guards; the cook was busily 
 getting dinner, and the wagon-masters and others taking a quiet 
 noonday nap.Notwithstandingthefactthntno one was ever entire- 
 ly safe from attack, they thought nothing of Indians, having no 
 idea that there were any near them. The guards themselves 
 doubtless were cursing the unnecessary precaution which kept 
 them from enjoying a nap beside their companions, when they 
 heard on every side the war-whoop of the red man, and saw In- 
 dians who seemed to have sprung from the earth, or dropped 
 from the sk}^. As the men jumped to their feet and seized their 
 guns, they saw the cattle rushing off in every direction; the first 
 effort of a war-party being to stampede all the animals belong- 
 ing to the camp which they attack. The three guards had been 
 killed at the first fire of the savages, who now charged down up- 
 on the camp. Received by a well-directed volley from the re- 
 volvers and yagers of the teamsters, the}^ drew off, but evidently 
 only to re-form for another attack. 
 
 "Make a break for the slough yonder," shouted Frank Mc- 
 Carthy, in charge of the herd ; " and then we can use the bank as 
 a breastwork." 
 
 Obejdng the order, and carrying with them the one man who 
 had been wounded, they for sometime successfully defended them- 
 selves. But something more than defense was necessary ; they 
 must reach the shelter of Fort Kearney again, for the Indians 
 largely outnumbered them, and seemed as fresh as ever, while 
 the teamsters had no hope of reinforcements. 
 
 " Well, boys, we'll try to make our way back to Fort Kearney 
 by wading in the river and keeping the bank for a breastwork." 
 
 Several miles were traversed in the manner indicated by their 
 leader; the Indians above them on the high, steep bank watch- 
 ing an opportunity to send a raking fire down upon them. A 
 raft of poles was constructed for the wounded man, and served 
 also, when they came to deep water, to keep their weapons dry 
 as they swam. Night came on, and still the relative position of 
 the two parties was unchanged. The strength of the boy began 
 to fail, and he lagged behind the others, now a few feet, now as 
 many yards, now still farther. Patiently he toiled on, summon- 
 ing all his powers of endurance. It was ten o'clock. Looking 
 up at the bright moonlit sky, he saw, darkly outlined against it, 
 
BUFFALO BILL. 
 
 517 
 
 the plumed head of a warrior looking over the brow of the bluff. 
 Sharp and clear rang out the report of Billy's gun, and with one 
 wild cry the Indian leaped up, and then fell forward into the 
 water — dead. 
 
 " Who fired that shot ?" shouted Frank McCarthy, as he and 
 the other men turned back upon hearing the report. 
 
 ''I did," answered the boy, j7 
 not a little proud of his first 
 effort. 
 
 "Yes, and little Billy has ^ 
 killed an Indian stone dead, too r^ 
 dead to skin," added one of the 
 men, as they came nearer, and 
 he caught sight of the dusky 
 form lying in the shallow water. 
 
 Above them, on the bank, the 
 Indians set up a terrible howl- 
 ing, and sent one or two vol- 
 lej's of shot downward, but 
 they were fortunately so well 
 j)rotected by the bank that no 
 harm was done. What would 
 the savages have said if they 
 had known that the warrior had 
 fallen at the hands of a boy 
 twelve years old ? The event cre- 
 ated quite a sensation at the time ; Billy, on his arrival at 
 Leavenworth, was interviewed by a reporter, and he was soon 
 widely known as the youngest Indian killer on the plains. 
 
 Billy was now wedded to a life on the plains, and in the sum- 
 mer of the same year was emjiloyed as extra hand on a train 
 bound for Utah. It was on this trip that he first met Wild Bill, 
 whose reputation and prowess made him as great a hero to the 
 boy as Kit Carson had been to himself. He had not yet earned 
 the title by which he became famous, but his powerful build, his 
 ability to " out-run, out-jump, and out-fight any man in the train," 
 the true manliness that never allowed his exertions of power to 
 become brutality, laid the foundations of the respect and love 
 which Buffalo Bill always felt for him, during a friendship that 
 lasted for nearly twenty years. But it was not his general char- 
 acter which first endeared him to our hero, but a special display 
 
 HILLY KILLS HIS FIKST INDIAN. 
 
518 BurrALO bill. 
 
 of his lovable qualities and his readiness to defend the helpless. 
 A surly, overbearing fellow, one of the teamsters, had for some 
 time taken particular delight in bullying and tyrannizing over 
 Billy, when one day, while they were at dinner, he ordered the 
 boy to perform some small service for him. Billy hesitated a 
 moment, and the teamster gave him a slap in the face, that sent 
 him from the ox-yoke on which he was sitting, sprawling on the 
 ground. Jumping up with a mad wish to revenge the insult, 
 Billy snatched up a kettle of boiling coffee and threw it at him. 
 Smarting at the boy's retaliation no less than at the scalding 
 received, the teamster sprang at the boy with all the ferocity of 
 a wild beast, only to be stopped midway in his course, felled by 
 a blow from Wild Bill. 
 
 " What's it yer business, anyhow ?" he demanded, as he rose 
 and drew his sleeve across his face to wipe away the blood ; 
 " What did yer hev to put in yer oar for, I'd like ter know V 
 : " It is my business to protect that boy, or anybody else, from 
 abuse or kicks," answered Wild Bill, his gray e^^es, glittering 
 like steel, fixed steadily upon the angry teamster; "and if you 
 ever lay a hand on little Billy again, I'll give you such a pound- 
 ing as you won't get over for a month of Sundays." 
 
 As in after years, the statement that " whoever wants any more 
 of a fight must settle it with me," was enough, and Billy was not 
 again molested either by that teamster, or by any who might, 
 otherwise, have been so disposed. 
 
 The same point at which, on the previous trip, they had been 
 attacked by the Indians, again proved to be the scene of misfor- 
 tune, for the Mormons, learning that the supplies in this train 
 were destined for Gen. Johnston's army, surprised and attacked 
 the teamsters, possessed themselves of such goods as they could 
 carry off, and burned the wagons and the bulk of their contents. 
 Eeturning to Fort Bridger, they spent the long and tedious win- 
 ter, suffering greatly from lack of food. Eeduced to one-quarter 
 rations, they were at last obliged to kill the cattle for beef. 
 Buffalo Bill, in his Autobiography, asserts that the animals were 
 so poor that they had to prop them up to shoot them down. But 
 better times came with the opening of spring, and two trains, 
 under the command of the brigade-master, set out by way of 
 Fort Leavenworth for Utah. 
 
 The two trains were about fifteen miles apart when Simpson, 
 the brigade-master, directed his assistant wagon-master, Woods, 
 
BUFFALO BILL. 519 
 
 and young Cody, to ride ahead with him to the forward train. 
 They had gone about seven miles, and were on a high, flat sur- 
 face of considerable extent, when, half a mile away, they saw a 
 body of Indians slowly emerging from a ravine ahead of them. 
 Down came the savages in a furious charge upon the little party. 
 But a warm reception awaited them. Jumping from his own 
 mul£, Simpson gave the order to dismount and shoot the animals. 
 Jerking the carcasses around the men to form a triangular breast- 
 work, he had hardly completed his arrangements for defense 
 when the Indians were so near that they were almost within range. 
 
 " Get ready for them with your guns, and when they come 
 within fifty yards, aim low, blaze away, and bring down your 
 man." 
 
 The order was faithfully obeyed, and three Indians fell at the 
 first fire. Only one or two of the savages, luckily, carried rifles, 
 most of them being armed only with bow and arrow. Around 
 and around the little fortification they rode, directing a flight of 
 arrows every now and then against the men crouching there, and 
 firing as fast as it was possible to reload. Withdrawing at last 
 to a considerable distance, they appeared to be holding a council. 
 This continued for about two hours, while the white men, in fev- 
 erish haste, dug up with their knives the earth inside the barri- 
 cade, throwing it around and over the mules to form abetter de- 
 fense. An effort on the part of the Indians to burn them out by 
 setting fire to the prairie failed, on account of the shortness of 
 the grass ; and, finally giving up the idea of succeeding by an at- 
 tack, the redskins began a siege. 
 
 Evidently the Indians knew of the first train, but not of the 
 second, in which lay the only hope of the besieged party. The 
 siege lasted all night, and far into the next morning. The sun 
 indicated about 10 A. M., when they heard in the distance the 
 report of the bull-whips, sharp and clear as that of a rifle. In a 
 few moments they saw the foremost wagon coming slowly over 
 the distant ridge, and soon the whole outfit came in sight. Once 
 more, for the last time, the Indians charged upon our little group, 
 and, repulsed as gallantly as before, dashed away over the prai- 
 ries. No other incident marked their progress over the plains. 
 
 Let us pass lightly over the next few years, spent partly in the 
 same work, partly in mining, partly as a pony express rider. 
 The latter part of 1859 found him trapping for beaver on the tri- 
 butaries of the Eepublican, where a serious accident befell him. 
 
520 BUFFALO BILL. 
 
 Spying a herd of elk, Billy and his companion started in pursuit 
 of them, but while turning a sharp bend in the creek the former 
 slipi)ed and broke his leg. One of their-yoke of oxen had fallen 
 a short time before, and it being impossible for them to cure the 
 poor thing's hurts, they had shot it. Billy now begged his friend 
 to put him out of his misery in the same way. But Harrington set 
 the broken bone as best he could, and making the wounded boy as 
 comfortable as possible, set oif to the nearest settlement, one hun- 
 dred and twenty-five miles away, to get a yoke of cattle with 
 which to remove Billy. At least twenty days would be needed 
 for the trip, and during this whole time the helpless boy must 
 be left alone. Twelve days passed, each one longer than the pre- 
 ceding one had been, and the boy wearily counted the time that 
 must go by before any one could come. In the midst of the cal- 
 culations which had been repeated so often, he fell asleep. A 
 touch on his shoulder awakened him, and he opened his eyes to 
 see an Indian warrior standing beside him, his face hideously 
 daubed with war-paint. In a mixture of Sioux and broken Eng- 
 lish, this grisly visitor asked him what he was doing there, and 
 how many companions he had. Hardly knowing if he were 
 awake or dreaming, Billy heard the voices as of a large party 
 outside, and saw the little dug-out filled with Indians, but had no 
 time to reply before the old chief, Eain-in-the-Pace, entered. 
 
 To him Billy appealed, and not in vain. His young men were 
 on the war-path, but this was a "pappoose," and they consented 
 to spare him. Billy had been a frequent visitor to the lodge of 
 Eain-in-the-Face, and the old chief pitied his condition; but took 
 all the arms in the dug-out to accoutre one of his warriors, who 
 had no gun. Helping themselves liberally to the provisions 
 which they found, the Indians spent the remainder of the day 
 and all night there. The sugar and coifee were all consumed, 
 these being luxuries for which the Indians eagerly seek. Taking 
 with them such cooking utensils as they fancied, they departed 
 next morning, leaving Billy too glad to escape with his life to 
 grumble at their helping themselves to his food. 
 
 The next day it began to snow, and for three days the storm 
 continued. Thick and fast fell the flakes, blocking the doorway 
 and covering the dug-out until it looked like a huge grave. The 
 wood was under the snow, and sooner than endure the pain which 
 attended the getting it, he lay without fire for some time, eating 
 I'aw frozen meat and snow. Harrington, he felt sure, hud been 
 
BUFFALO BILL. 521 
 
 lost in the snow, and he had nearly given up all hopes of leaving 
 the dug-out alive. The hoarse "whoa, haw!" that he heard on 
 the twentieth day was the sweetest music that had ever pleased 
 his ears. The two friends greeted each other with all the enthu- 
 siasm of two school-girls, each having supposed the other had per- 
 ished. They reached the settlements in safety, hut it was many 
 months before Billy could walk without crutches. Harrington 
 had braved many difficulties and hardships to succor his friend, 
 and Mrs. Cody could not do enough for him when he fell sick at 
 her house in the spring, she nursing him most tenderly until 
 his death. 
 
 While he lay in the dug-out, Billy had vowed that if he escap- 
 ed with his life he would leave the plains forever, but as the 
 summer came on, and he had completely recovered from the ef- 
 fects of his accident, he began to long for the old life. Offering 
 himself as a pony express rider, he was greeted with : 
 
 " My boy, you are too young for that work. It takes all of a 
 man's strength." 
 
 " I rode two months last year on Bill Trotter's division, and 
 filled the bill then, and I think I am better able to ride now." 
 
 " What ! are you the boy that was riding there, and was called 
 the youngest rider on the road ? " 
 
 "I am the same boy." 
 
 "I've heard of you before. You are a year older now, and I 
 reckon you can stand it. I'll give you a trial, anyway, and if 
 you weaken you can come back to Horseshoe station and tend 
 stock." 
 
 He was assigned to duty on the road between Eed Buttes, on 
 the North Platte, to the Three Crossings of the Sweetwater, a 
 distance of seventy-six miles. Eiding into the latter one day not 
 long after his appointment, he found that the rider who was ex- 
 pected to carry on the letters that he brouglrt had been killed in a 
 drunken row the night before, and there was no one to take his 
 place. Without a moment's hesitation, Cody changed horses, 
 and undertook the extra ride of eighty-five miles. Arriving at 
 the end of the route in good time, he turned and rode back to 
 the starting-point, accomplishing a distance of more than three 
 hundred miles on the round trip. 
 
 The Indians were becoming very troublesome along the stage 
 route, continually lying in wait for the express riders and the 
 coaches; and all, especially the lone riders, had to take many 
 
prmipn HI II Ini'FT ' I I iliirt||||||||r 
 
524 BUFFALO BILL. 
 
 desperate chances. The drivers and passengers of all stages de- 
 parting were armed to the teeth, and it was quite an interest- 
 ing sight to see the huge aftairs load uj) and start off from a sta- 
 tion. It was always realized what perils might beset them 
 on the way. About the middle of September the savages gath- 
 ered sufficient courage to openly attack a stage. As the heavy 
 vehicle lumbered on, five hundred Sioux appeared from the long 
 grass, where they had lain concealed, and, yelling like so many 
 devils let loose, rushed upon them. Passengers and employes 
 were well armed, but the odds were too great; the driver 
 and two passengers were killed, one man badly wounded, and 
 the stage plundered. Much stock was driven off from the dif- 
 ferent stations, and it was finally decided to stop the pony express 
 for at least six weeks, and run the stages only occasionally for 
 the same length of time. 
 
 It was while nearly all the employes of the road were thus ly- 
 ing idle that it was decided to send out a party of volunteers 
 against the Indians. Of this comj)any Billy was one, but as the 
 incidents and results have already been related in the sketch of 
 the captain. Wild Bill, it is unnecessary to repeat the story here. 
 
 Returning to headquarters, Cody, who had made himself quite 
 a favorite, was put on as an extra rider as soon as the pony ex- 
 jDress was again running ; having little to do excej^t on extraor- 
 dinary occasions. Having much leisure, he devoted considerable 
 time to hunting, a sport to which he had been attached ever since, 
 at the age of five or six years, he had trajjped quails in Iowa. 
 Starting out for a bear-hunt one day, he had gone some distance, 
 and killed only some sage-hens, which he was about to cook for 
 his supper, when he heard the whinny of a horse near by. Know- 
 ing of no white men in the neighborhood, and fearing that the 
 animal might belong to a roving band of Indians, he determined 
 to make a reconnoissance. Re-saddling his horse and tying him 
 securely, so as to prevent his straying with his fellows, he start- 
 ed up the stream, gun in hand. On the opposite side of the creek, 
 high up on the mountain, he soon saw a light shining through 
 the gathering darkness. Approaching cautiously, he found that 
 it came from a dug-out on the mountain-side, from which he heard 
 voices. At last he could distinguish the language in which they 
 spoke — it was English. Knowing that the occupants of the hut 
 were white men, and supposing them to be a party of trappers, 
 he walked boldly up to the door and knocked for admission j in 
 
feUFf ALO BILL. 525 
 
 answer to the inquiry from within, "\Vlio's there?" he replied : 
 
 " A friend and a white man." 
 
 "Come in," and a big, ugly-looking fellow opened the door. 
 It was too late to back out, though Billy would have readily done 
 so when he discovered into whose hands he had fallen. They 
 were eight as rough and villainous looking men as he had ever 
 seen in the whole course of his adventurous life. Two of them 
 he recognized as teamsters discharged some time before, and 
 now sought because they had robbed and murdered a ranchman. 
 Without showing any signs of recognition, however, he conceal- 
 ed his fear and distrust. 
 
 "Where are you going, young man, and who's with you?" 
 
 "I am entirely alone. I left Horseshoe kStation this morning 
 for a bear-hunt, and not finding any bears, I had determined to 
 camp out for the night and wait till morning; and just as I was 
 going into camp, a hundred yards down the creek, I heard one 
 of your horses whinnying, and then I came up to your camp." 
 
 " Where's your horse ?" 
 
 "I left him down the creek." 
 
 "We'd better some of us go down after it." 
 
 " Captain, I'll leave my gun here and go down to get him, and 
 then come back and stay all night here," said Billy, thinking 
 it would be better to escape without his gun than not at all. 
 
 "No you don't, my fine young fellow," thought the despera- 
 does, "we don't know but what you're a spy on us." 
 
 "Jim and I will go down with you after your horse," one of 
 them said, "and you can leave your gun here all the same, for 
 you won't need it." 
 
 "All right," answered Billy, who could raise no objection. 
 
 " Come along, then." 
 
 As they reached the little camp one of them unhitched the 
 horse and said, "I'll lead him. Come on." 
 
 "Very well ; I've got a couple of sage-hens here. Wait a min- 
 ute till I get them." 
 
 On they went, the man who led the horse in the van, Billy in 
 the middle, the other bringing up the rear. 
 
 Although he had left his gun at the dug-out, he fortunately 
 had both of his revolvers, and the first plan of escape having 
 failed, he quickly hit upon another. 
 
 "I've dropped one of the sage-hens," he said jjresently, with 
 vexation, to the man following him; "do you see it anywhere?" 
 
526 
 
 BUFFALO BILL. 
 
 The unsuspecting man stooped to look upon the ground, while 
 Billy, quickly drawing one of his revolvers, struck him a blow 
 on the head that knocked him senseless. Hearing the blow, the 
 man who was leading the horse turned, his hand on his revolver, 
 ready in true frontier fashion for the emergency, whatever it 
 might be. Peering through the darkness, he had not discovered 
 what was wrong, when Billy fired, shooting him dead in his 
 tracks. Hho time was to be lost, and jumping on his horse our 
 hero rode down the creek at full speed. 
 
 The shot was heard at the dug-out, and not very sure of their 
 
 
 !^s:.''^r^m-j^-^:^^'fmm^^^^=^mmM^^ 
 
 KSOAl'IXU FKUM TIIK UnRSK THIKVKS. 
 
 guest's intentions, the outlaws came rushing down to the stream. 
 They found the body of their comrade that had been killed, and 
 learned from the other, who had by this time recovered con- 
 sciousness, what had happened. On they came, then, in hot pur- 
 suit, and although unmounted, gained rapidly upon Cody, as 
 the ground was so rough that his horse could make but little 
 headway. At last they came so close that he saw he must re- 
 sort to strategy, and throwing himself from his horse, he gave 
 the animal a hard slap with the butt of one of his revolvers, and 
 scrambled up the mountain side. The horse started down the 
 
BUFFALO BILL. 527 
 
 valley, and the pursuers, led on by the sound of his hoofs clatter- 
 ing on the hard ground, passed at full speed by the pine-tree be- 
 hind which Cody was hidden. Soon he could hear them firing, 
 supposing that he was still on the horse, and cheered by this evi- 
 dence that he had given them the slip, he toiled on toward Horse- 
 shoe Station, twenty-five miles away. A party of twenty well- 
 armed men started the next morning to " clean out the ranch " of 
 horse-thieves, for such were hi-s hosts of the evening before, but 
 the birds had flown. A thorough search of the whole neighbor- 
 hood gave no other result; but for some time afterwards they 
 were not troubled by horse-thieves. 
 
 "When the war broke out in 1861, young Cody became a mem- 
 ber of Chandler's company, a body of men enlisted for the pur- 
 pose of revenging upon the Missourians the injuries inflicted 
 during the Kansas troubles. Missouri had not seceded, nor did 
 all of her peoi:)le sympathize with the South, but it was a slave 
 state, and, they thought, fair game. The services to the Union 
 consisted in collecting horses from the well-stocked farms in 
 Jackson, Lafayette, and the neighboring counties; the animals 
 not being turned over, however, to the authorities. The Missouri- 
 ans naturally resented this behavior — there is nothing they hate 
 as they do a horse-thief, — and in several running fights chased 
 the jayhawkers back to Kansas. The United States officials set 
 detectives on the track of Chandler and his men, and several 
 were arrested ; but not before Mrs. Cody had set the matter in 
 its true light before her son, and induced him to abandon an en- 
 terprise that was neither right nor honorable. 
 
 But Billy was destined for more legitimate work as a soldier. 
 Passing over the remainder of 1861 and the beginning of the next 
 year, during which time he was employed in buying horses for 
 the government, we find him, in the spring of 1862, accompany- 
 ing, as scout and guide, the volunteer regiment which Col. Clark 
 led against the Indians. It will be remembered that this was the 
 year that the Sioux, enraged by the violation of the treaty made 
 seven years before, committed so many robberies and massacred 
 so many settlers. The Ninth Kansas performed scouting service 
 along the Arkansas, among the Kiowas and Comanches, who 
 threatened coalition with the more northern tribe; but though 
 there were several skirmishes with the savages, there were none 
 of especial interest or importance. Leaving this service late in 
 the fall, he joined the Rcd-Legged Scouts, operating in the valley 
 
528 BUFFALO BILL. 
 
 of the Arkansas and in southwestern Missouri. Much of their 
 time was employed in hunting bushwhackers, among whom the 
 notorious Younger brothers were prominent, and many were the 
 lively skirmishes between them. Employed also in carrying de- 
 spatches, the short periods of time spent at the various military 
 posts were passed in all the festivity that each place allowed. 
 
 But darker days were coming. His mother died in Novem- 
 ber, 1863, and for a long time Billy mourned her with all the 
 ardor of his nature. Going to Leavenworth, he tried to drown 
 care in drink, and for two months gave fair promise of becom- 
 ing as disreputable as any of his new associates. Awaking one 
 morning, earl}^ in the new year, he found himself a soldier in the 
 Seventh Kansas. When or how he had enlisted he could not tell, 
 but knew that he must have been far gone on a spree, and con- 
 cluded to make the best of it. In the spring, the regiment was 
 ordered to Tennessee, where Cody soon became a non-commis- 
 sioned officer, and was put on detached service as a scout. The 
 Seventh was ordered back to Missouri and performed good work 
 inrepelling Price's last raid. "Wild Bill and Billy Cody were 
 frequently together during this campaign, after the escape of the 
 former from the Confederate lines. 
 
 Service in St. Louis in the winter of 1864-5 resulted in an ac- 
 quaintance with a young lady of this city whom he married in 
 the spring of the following year. The interval between the close 
 of the war and his marriage was spent in stage-driving, but hav- 
 ing promised his wife that he would leave the plains, he rented a 
 hotel in Salt Creek Valle}^, and for a few months settled down 
 to the business. Many qualities combined to make him a good 
 and popular landlord, but six months of it proved enough for 
 him. Longing for the old wild life again, and believing that he 
 could make more money on the frontier than where he was, he 
 started west. Meeting at Junction City with his old friend Wild 
 Bill, who was scouting for the government, and learning from 
 him that more scouts were needed, he had no difficulty in obtain- 
 ing employment. It was while he was scouting around Fort 
 Hays that he met with Gen. Custer, Avho had just come out with 
 Gen. Hancock's Indian expedition. Custer's favor was soon 
 gained, and when Cody had acted as guide for him in one in- 
 stance, he said : 
 
 "If you were not engaged as post scout at Fort Hays, I would 
 like to have you with me this summer. But if you ever haj)23en 
 
BUFFALO BILL. 529 
 
 to be out of employment, come to me and I'll find you something 
 to do." 
 
 It was shortly after this that an expedition was sent in pursuit 
 of some Indians who had made a raid on the K. P. li. R. Five 
 or six men had been killed, here and there a workman who was 
 at some distance from his fellows, and about a hundred horses 
 and mules had been run off. A company of the Tenth Cavalry — 
 a negro regiment — was sent against them, Cody being scout and 
 guide. A mountain howitzer was sent with the force, and the 
 darkeys, confiding in this' and in their own courage, boasted 
 loudly : 
 
 " Soon 's we kin see dem Injuns, we'll blow dem clar offer de 
 farm." 
 
 On the second day out, they suddenly discovered a large body 
 of Indians about a mile away, and charged down upon them. 
 Hastily placing his howitzer on a small knoll, the commander 
 detailed twenty men to guard it, and with his remaining force, 
 crossed the little stream to meet the Indians. Hardly had they 
 reached the other bank, when they heard a terrific yelling in 
 their rear, and looking back to the slight eminence where the 
 gun had been left, saw the guard flying towards them on the 
 wings of fear, pursued by a hundred red-skins. The captured 
 cannon was in the midst of another large party, who danced 
 around it as if they wished to invoke the great divinity of gun- 
 powder. Turning his command back, the leader soon regained 
 possession of the gun, which the savages did not know how to 
 use, and the troops, dismounting, and taking position there, 
 finally, after two hours' hard fighting, gave up the idea of 
 " bloAving de Injuns oft'er de farm." 
 
 "Heah dey come," the darkeys would yell, as the redskins 
 charged down upon them. 
 
 "■ Dere muss be ten tousand of dem." 
 
 '' Do whole country's alive wid dem." 
 
 " Massa Bill, does you t'ink we's eber gwino to e^it out ob 
 heah ? " 
 
 The commander was wounded, the gun was useless. 
 
 '' Do you think there's any show for us to get back to the 
 fort, Cody?" asked the officer, when Jie saw that the Indians 
 seemed to be constantly receiving reinforcements. 
 
 " Yes, I think there's a very good show for it," was the cheer- 
 ful answer; and through the gathering darkness they made their 
 34 
 
530 
 
 BUFFALO BILL. 
 
BUFFALO BILL. 531 
 
 escape and arrived in safety at Fort Hays, although several men 
 had been killed. 
 
 A business venture soon promised to make our hero a million- 
 aire. In company with a railroad contractor he formed a project 
 for building a town on the line of the new road. The site was 
 duly surveyed and staked off into lots, one of which was present- 
 ed to any one who wo.uld build on it, the corner lots and other 
 desirable situations being reserved for sale at fifty dollars each. 
 "Rome was not built in a day," but this modern place of the an- 
 cient name grew in a month's time to a town of two hundred 
 frame and log houses. One day a strange gentleman dropped 
 into the store that Cody and his partner had established, and af- 
 ter some conversation on general subjects, said to them : 
 
 "Grcntlcmcn, you've got a very flourishing little town here. 
 Wouldn't you like to have a partner in your enterprise ?" 
 
 " 'No, thank you. We've got too good a thing here to whack 
 up with anybod}^" 
 
 "Well, I'm the agent of the Kansas Pacific Railroad, and my 
 business is to locate towns for the company along the line." 
 
 " I reckon we've got the only good town site in the neighbor- 
 hood, and as a town is already started, we have saved the com- 
 pany considerable expense." 
 
 " You khow as well as I do that the company expects to make 
 money by selling lands and town lots ; and as you are not dispos- 
 ed to give us a show, or share with us, I guess I'll have to start 
 another town near you. Competition is the life of trade, 3'ou 
 know." 
 
 " Start your town, if you want to. We've got the bulge on you, 
 and can hold it," was the confident answer. 
 
 The very next day Hays City was begun, one mile east of 
 Rome. Here the railroad company would locate their round 
 houses and machine shops, Hays City was to be the business 
 center, and to Hays City went all Rome — literally, for the inhab- 
 itants took their houses. Three days after the interview related, 
 our speculators stood in front of their own store and watched 
 the removal of the last remaining building in Rome to the rival 
 town. The agent proved to be "a good fellow," however, and the 
 late proprietors of Rome spent many days in buff'alo-hunting on 
 the surrounding prairie. Knowing their down-heartedness over 
 the failure of their speculation, he presented each of them with 
 two first-class business lots in Hays City. 
 
532 BUFFALO BILL. 
 
 Having finally concluded that it was useless to think of reviv- 
 ing Eome, the two devoted all their time to fulfilling their rail- 
 road contract. 
 
 Being pushed for horses, Cody put his favorite saddle-horse, 
 Brigham, to work; but he had about given up the idea of using 
 him for this purpose when one of the men called out that there 
 were some buffaloes coming over the hill. 
 
 "I'll go after the herd," our hero answered; "hitch your 
 horses to a wagon and come after me, and we'll bring in some 
 fresh meat for supper." 
 
 His saddle had been left at the camp, a mile away; so taking 
 the harness from Brigham, and mounting him bareback, he start- 
 ed after the game. While he was on the way, he saw five ofiicers 
 ride from the fort, evidently bent on the same errand. As they 
 came nearer, he perceived that they were strangers, having but 
 lately arrived in that part of the countr}-. 
 
 "Hello, my friend," called out one, whose uniform showed he 
 ranked as captain, " I see you are after the same game that we 
 are." 
 
 " Yes, sir ; I saw those buffaloes coming over the hill, and as 
 we were about out of fresh meat I thought I would go and get 
 some." 
 
 Brigham had on a blind bridle, and looked like a common 
 work-horse. Accomplished buffalo-hunter as he was, he was not, 
 at the best, as stylish or handsome an animal as one would ex- 
 pect to see. 
 
 " Do you expect to catch those buffaloes on such a horse as 
 that?" asked the captain. 
 
 "I hope so, by pushing on the reins hard enough," replied 
 Cody, meekly. 
 
 "You'll never catch them in the world, my man," the captain 
 assured him; " it requires a fast horse to overtake the animals on 
 these prairies." 
 
 " Does it? " asked Cody, as if very much surprised at the in- 
 formation. 
 
 " Yes ; but come along with us. "We are going to kill them 
 more for pleasure than for anything else, and don't want any- 
 thing but the tongues and a piece of tenderloin ; so j^ou can have 
 all thut is left." 
 
 "I am much obliged to 3"ou, captain, and will follow you." 
 
 As the buffaloes came within about a mile of them, the officers 
 
BUFFALO BILL. 
 
 633 
 
 dashed ahead. Cody noticed that the herd was making towards 
 the creek for water, and knowing that it would be difficult to 
 turn them from their direct course, he started towards the creek 
 to head them off. On came the buffaloes, rushing past him. less 
 than a hundred yards away, with the officers at thrice that dis- 
 tance behind them. Pulling the blind-bridle off Brigham, who 
 started at the top of his speed the moment he knew his master 
 was ready, Cody rode in ahead of the others, and in a few mo- 
 ments was alongside the rear buffalo. Eaising his rifle, he fired 
 and killed the animal at the first shot, and Brigham, knowing 
 
 BUFFALO BILL (w. F. CODY). 
 
 perfectly well what he was expected to do, carried him to the 
 side of a second. It was but a few moments' work to des23atch 
 the whole herd of eleven, twelve shots being fired, and jumping 
 from his horse, he turned to the party of officers as they rode up, 
 and said: 
 
 "Now gentlemen, allow me to j^resent to you all the tongues 
 and tenderloins you may wish from these buffaloes." 
 
 "Well, I never saw the like before," gasped the astonished 
 captain; "who under the sun are you, anyhow?" 
 
 " My name is Codj'." 
 
 Cajatain Graham, the senior officer of the party, afterward en- 
 
534 BUFFALO BILL. 
 
 gaged Cody as scout and guide, and often hunted in company 
 with him. 
 
 That very night the Indians made a raid on the horses belong- 
 ing to the contractors, and ran off five or six of their best work- 
 teams. At daylight the next morning Cody mounted Brigham 
 and rode over to Fort Hays to procure assistance for the pursuit, 
 and Captain Graham was ordered out with his company. This 
 was a part of the Tenth Cavalry, and though they had never 
 been in an actual fight with the Indians, the soldiers were quite 
 as certain of their ability to catch the band they were after as 
 had been their brethren who were so badly defeated on a pre- 
 vious expedition. 
 
 " We's a gwine to sweep de red debils offer de face ob de earf, 
 sah," they boasted, as they marched onward, impatient for a 
 fight which was to end in victory. Capt. Graham was a brave 
 man, anxious to make a record for himself, and Cody could not 
 follow the trail quickly enough to satisfy his anxiety to overtake 
 the redskins. Controlling his impatience at the necessary delay 
 as well as he could, he rode onward, and was soon rewarded by 
 finding the trail so much fresher that it could be pursued with less 
 difficulty. The Indians had evidently thought that they would 
 not be pursued beyond a certain point, and had made no effort, 
 after joassing that, to conceal their route. The camp was discov- 
 ered from the brow of a hill a mile or so away from it, and the 
 greatest caution now became necessary. The plan was that they 
 should advance silently through the timber in the night, approach 
 the Indian camp as closely as they could without being discov- 
 ered, and then make a sudden dash upon the enemy. Everything 
 went well until they neared the point where they must leave the 
 woods ; when one of the "colored gentlemen" became so excited 
 that he fired off his gun. 
 
 " Charge !" came the order before the report had fairly died 
 away on the still night air. 
 
 Through the crackling timber they rushed as fast as their 
 horses could carry them, but the nature of the ground was but ill 
 adapted to a cavalry charge, and the Indians were far away on 
 the prairies when the soldiers reached the camp. The trail was 
 followed a short distance the next day, but there was no chance 
 of catching the Indians, and they returned to Fort Hays. The 
 disobedience of the darkey who had fired the gun was punished 
 by compelling him to walk back to the fort. 
 
BUFFALO BILL. 535 
 
 The terminus of the Kansas Pacific was now in the heart of the 
 buffalo country, but the Indians were so troublesome that it was 
 difficult to obtain meat for the twelve hundred workmen em- 
 ploj'ed. It was necessary to employ a special hunter, whose 
 knowledge of the country and the Indians would render him as 
 safe in this work as it was possible for a solitary white man to be. 
 Por this dangerous task Cody was emplo^^ed, and during the time 
 that he engaged in it, a period of something less than a year and 
 a half, he killed more than four thousand buffaloes. His success 
 as a hunter of the huge animals had already made him famous, 
 but he had never before devoted himself so steadily to it; so that 
 it was reserved for the army of railroad hands to give him that 
 title which has clung to him ever since, and by which he is more 
 widely known than by his own name — Buffalo Bill. 
 
 During this time he was not unmolested by the Indians. One 
 day in the spring of 1868, he had galloped about twenty miles, 
 and had reached the top of a small hill overlooking the valley 
 of the Smoky Hill River, when he suddenly saw a band of about 
 thirty Indians less than half a mile away. Knowing by the way 
 they jumped on their horses that the}^ had seen him as soon as 
 he came in sight, he wheeled around and started back to the 
 railroad. Brigham knew, as well as his master, that it was a 
 race for life, and made most excellent time. A few jumps took 
 them across a ravine, but looking back when a slight ridge be- 
 yond had been gained. Bill saw that his pursuers seemed to be 
 gaining on him. Three miles farther, and there were eight or 
 nine Indians not more than two hundred yards away. Brigham's 
 long gallop had evidently told upon his speed, but he now exert- 
 ed himself more than ever. But the Indians were well-mounted, 
 and one of them came dangerously near, occasionally sending a 
 rifle-ball whistling along. A shot that would disable Brigham 
 would be fatal to his rider, and realizing what danger to himself 
 lay in the Indian's slightest success, Bill suddenly stopped, turn- 
 ed in his saddle and fired. Down went both the Indian and his 
 horse, and not waiting to see if the warrior was dead, he rode on 
 at the utmost of poor tired Brigham's speed. The chase was 
 continued until they came within three miles of the railroad 
 track, where two companies of soldiers had been stationed to pro- 
 tect the workmen. One of the outposts saw the Indians pursu- 
 ing Bill across the prairie, and giving the alarm, cavalrymen 
 soon came galloping to the rescue.- 
 
536 
 
 BUFFALO BILL. 
 
 The Indians had no mind to attend such a reception, and soon 
 turned, and the running was now in the other direction. Brig- 
 ham was soon surrounded by admiring infantrymen and traclv- 
 men, discussing his exploits; and the way he was rubbed down 
 and walked around would remind one of the winner of the Derby. 
 
 Some of the Tenth Cavalry now came up, and forty of them, 
 with Bill on a fresh horse offered him by Capt. Nolan, put out 
 after the retreating redskins. The Indians' horses were badl/ 
 blown by the long gallop after Brigham's stride, and the troop- 
 ers' fresh animals steadily gained on them. Soon they were 
 
 "keep off!" — A CENTER SHOT. 
 
 overtaken and one by one eight Indians fell before the rifles of 
 the pursuers. This time the colored cavalry certainly did good 
 service, and Buffalo Bill had reason to be grateful. 
 
 "When he reached the place where his ball had struck the horse 
 of the foremost pursuing Indian, he found that the bullet had hit 
 the animal exactly in the center of the forehead, causing his in- 
 stant death. He was a beautiful animal — too good for a maraud- 
 ing redskin to ride on after white scalps. 
 
 If there was anything Buffalo Bill had a weakness for, it was 
 in the direction of fine horseflesh. Like all plainsmen, he loved 
 
BUFFALO BILL. 537 
 
 the animal to whose fleetness he so often had to trust his life. 
 When he returned to the camp, he spent some time in petting the 
 noble Brigham, who had borne him so finely that day, and the 
 bond of affection between them was still further strengthened. 
 Buffalo Bill declared that Brigham was the best horse he ever 
 saw or owned for buffalo chasing, and he certainly w^as good 
 enough to get away from or get after Indians, as many an occa- 
 sion had shown. 
 
 On another occasion Bill had gone hunting, and having killed 
 fifteen buffaloes, he and Scotty, the butcher who accompanied 
 him to cut up the meat and load it into a light wagon, had come 
 within about eight miles of their destination, when they suddenly 
 saw a party of about thirty Indians riding out of the head of a 
 ravine. Immediate action was necessary. The hunter could, 
 of course, have escaped by fast riding, but he could not leave his 
 companion, for whom there would be no chance of safety. Jump- 
 ing to the ground, they unhitched the pair of mules used in the 
 wagon, and tied them and the horse to the vehicle. Piling the 
 buffalo hams around the wheels in such a way as to form a breast- 
 work, and securing their extra box of ammunition and three or 
 four more revolvers which they always carried, they crept under 
 the wagon. On came the Indians, urging their swift and hardy 
 ponies to their greatest speed. When they were within a hun- 
 dred yards, the two white men opened a sudden and galling fire 
 upon them. Changing their course, which had been directly 
 down upon the wagon, the Indians rode around and around their 
 proposed victims, firing as they rode. Their shots killed the three 
 animals, but the two men were unhurt. Three of their number hav- 
 ing been killed, and others wounded, they w^ithdrew for a time. 
 
 Knowing that he would be attacked by the Indians sometime, 
 Buffalo Bill had made arrangements to obtain assistance when- 
 ever it should be needed. A smoke in the direction of the hunt- 
 ing-ground was the signal for the officers at the end of the track 
 to send reinforcements. Then, when the Indians gave them a 
 little leisure, he set fire to the grass on the windward side of the 
 wagon. The fire spread ra|)idly, and as the dense column of 
 smoke arose, tliey knew that help would soon come. The In- 
 dians, not understanding this movement, again opened the attack 
 upon them, but retreated as the cavalry advanced across the 
 prairie. Buffalo Bill and Scotty pointed out to the soldiers the 
 five ''good" Indians that lay on the field of battle. 
 
538 BUFFALO BILL. 
 
 Shortly after this occurred a somewhat unique match, being 
 nothing less than buffalo-killing for the championship and five 
 hundred dollars a side. The contestants were Buffalo Bill and 
 Billy Comstock, who had an excellent reputation as hunter, scout 
 and guide. It will be remembered that he scouted for Gen. Cus- 
 ter, and he had won that officer's hearty esteem. He was treach- 
 erously killed by the Indians not long after the match. 
 
 The hunt was to begin at eight in the morning, and last eight 
 hours. Great interest was felt in it, not only on the j)lains, but 
 as far east as the Mississippi, one excursion party of St. Louis- 
 ans numbering about a hundred. A referee was to follow each 
 man, and keep count of the buffaloes he killed. The first run 
 was decidedly in Cody's favor, owing to the method he adopted 
 no less than to the superior accomjDlishments of Brigham. Com- 
 stock chased his buffaloes, firing at them as they bounded along; 
 so that his game lay scattered over a line nine miles long. Buffalo 
 Bill rode towards the head of the herd, killing the leaders, when 
 the bewildered followers would circle around the hunter. Kot 
 only did he kill more buffaloes with less work for his horse, but 
 his game lay within a comparatively small circle. The result of 
 the first run — thirty-eight to twenty-three — was duly announced, 
 and the hunters and their friends refreshed with champagne. 
 
 They had not rested long, when they saw another herd com- 
 ing towards them, and charged into it. It consisted chiefly of 
 cows and calves, which are very much quicker in their move- 
 ments than the bulls, and only a small drove, so that the result 
 of this part of the slaughter was not large ; changing the score 
 from fifty-six to thirty-seven. When a third drove was found, 
 Buffalo Bill concluded that as he had now some odds to give his 
 opponent, he would ride without saddle or bridle. The killing 
 of thirteen buffaloes occupied the remainder of the eight hours, 
 and Cody was declared victor, the score being sixty-nine to forty- 
 six. 
 
 In May, 1868, the railroad was finished as far as Sheridan, and 
 as it was not proposed to extend it any farther just then, Buffalo 
 Bill's services as a hunter were no longer required. As scouts 
 were in great demand on account of the Indian war which was 
 then raging, he concluded to engage again in that work. Ko 
 difficulty, of course, was experienced in securing an appointment 
 as seout and guide, and he was ordered to report to Fort IJarned 
 for duty. 
 
BUFFALO BILL. 539 
 
 Soon after his appointment, he being special scout to Gen. Ha- 
 zen, that officer left Fort Larned with an escort of twenty sol- 
 diers, with, of course, Buffalo Bill, for Foi't Harker. The party ar- 
 rived at Fort Zarah at noon of the same day, where Gen. Hazen 
 left his guard, with instructions for them to return the next day; 
 and he proceeded alone to his destination. The scout did not 
 wish to wait, and telling the sergeant in command of the squad 
 Avhat he intended to do, saddled up his mule and started back 
 alone. He had gone about half the distance when he was sudden- 
 ly "jumped" by about forty Indians, who came dashing up to 
 him, extending their hands with the greeting: "How, how!" 
 Eecognizing them as some of the very redskins who had lately 
 been hanging around Fort Larned, he extended his hand ; think- 
 ing it best to respond thus to their overtures, although they had 
 on their war-paint and were evidently on the war-path. Stretch- 
 ing out his hand to one of them, it was grasped tighth^, and he 
 was pulled violently forward; at the same moment another seiz- 
 ed the bridle of his mule, and in less time than it takes to tell it 
 he was completely surrounded, his revolvers jerked from the 
 holsters, and he was rendered nearly senseless by a blow on the 
 head from a tomahawk. The warrior who had hold of the bridle 
 of his mule dashed off towards the Arkansas River, and after 
 them came the others, yelling with delight. 
 
 Looking towards the river, Buffalo Bill saw on the opposite 
 side an immense village moving down the bank, and was more 
 than ever convinced that the Indians were on the war-path. It 
 was a military council, then, into which his captors ushered him 
 a few moments later, and in which he recognized wily old Sa- 
 tanta and several others whom he knew. After a talk among 
 themselves, which lasted for some time, and which he could not 
 understand, Satanta asked him where he had been. A happy 
 thought struck him, and he answered : 
 
 " I've been after a herd of whoa-haws." 
 
 " The effect was electrical, for the Indians had been out of 
 meat for several weeks, and the large herd of cattle which had 
 been promised to them had not yet arrived. Eagerlj- Satanta 
 questioned him as to where the cattle were. 
 
 " A few miles back," was the reply ; " Gen. Hazen sent me to 
 tell you that the whoa-haws were coming, and were intended for 
 your people." 
 
 " Big chief says whoa-haws for Satanta and his warriors ?" 
 
540 
 
 BUFFALO BILL. 
 
 " Yes, I've been sent to bi'ing them to you." But the Kiowas 
 have treated me badly and the big chief will be very angry. Why 
 have your young men abused me so ?" 
 
 "My young men want to have heap fun, and want to see if 
 Long-Hair very brave." 
 
 Buffalo Bill knew that this contained no more truth than 
 his own statements, but did not let the Indians see that he 
 thought so. 
 
 " It's a rough way to treat friends." 
 
 "now, how!" 
 
 Turning to his young men, Satanta bade them restore the arms 
 which they had seized, and scolded them for what they had done. 
 Having learned from Buff'alo Bill that there were soldiers with 
 the herd, he thought it was best to get the cattle without fight- 
 ing for them. After a short council of the chiefs, he again went 
 to the prisoner and asked : 
 
 " You go 'cross the river and bring whoa-haws down to the 
 bank, so we get 'em ?" 
 
 "Of course, that is my orders from G-en. Hazen." 
 
 "Long-Hair mustn't be angry at my young men; they just 
 want some fun. You want warriors go with yon V 
 
BUFFALO BILL. 541 
 
 " iSTo, it will be better for me to go alone ; then the soldiers can 
 go straight on to Fort Larned, and I'll drive the herd down to 
 the river-bottom. 
 
 Wheeling his mule around, he departed for the cattle, which, 
 it is needless to say, existed only in his imagination. But the 
 Indians were loss unsuspicious than he had thought them, for 
 when he had reached the farther side of the river, he looked back 
 and saw ten or fifteen of them following him. When he turned 
 towards Fort Larned, they pursued him at full speed. He was 
 still four miles from the post, when he heard the evening gun. 
 Little did the soldiers of the garrison think that there was a man 
 flying for his life from the Indians, and trying to reach the post. 
 The pursuers were gaining on him, two or three being only a 
 quarter of a mile behind him when he crossed Pawnee Fork, two 
 miles from the fort. Just as he gained the opposite bank of the 
 stream, he saw some soldiers not far oif, in a government wagon. 
 Yelling at the top of his voice, he rode up to them, and told them 
 that the Indians were after him. 
 
 ''Let's drive the wagon into the trees," suggested Denver Jim, 
 "and we'll lay for them." 
 
 Hurriedly driving in among the trees and low bushes, they s*e- 
 creted themselves and waited for the Indians. Before many min- 
 utes they came. Two of them were allowed to pass, but two of 
 the next group fell at the first fire from the bushes. The others 
 discovered that they were riding upon deadly rifles, and wheel- 
 ing their ponies, retreated in hot haste, soon joined by the first 
 two. Scalping the two Indians that they had killed, securing 
 their arms and catching their horses, Bufl'alo Bill and his com- 
 panions made their way to the post. Here he learned that ear- 
 lier in the day Satanta and his men had surprised and killed a 
 party of woodchoppers and herders, seven or eight men in all. 
 The soldiers who had afforded him such timely assistance had 
 been sent out for the bodies of these men. The garrison, hearing 
 the guns in this last engagement, thought that the chief was about 
 to attack the fort with all his forces; all was excitement there, 
 and every prejiaration being made to withstand the attack. Cap- 
 tain Parker, who was in command, was endeavoring to get some 
 one to take important despatches to Gen. Sheridan at Fort Hays. 
 None of the scouts were willing to undertake the trip, as the 
 night was so dark and stormy that each distrusted his own ability 
 to find the way; besides this, there was the danger of Indians. 
 
642 BUFFALO BILL. 
 
 Buffalo Bill knew the country better than any of the others, 
 but he was tired with his long day's ride. When he saw that no 
 one else would go, he offered himself, provided he should be 
 furnished with a good horse. He was offered a choice of all the 
 horses in the garrison, and set out at ten o'clock for his sixty- 
 five miles' ride. The journey was accomplished without injury 
 to the scout. Despatches were to be taken to Fort Dodge, and 
 as no one else would volunteer, Cody started that afternoon. 
 Eeturning from Dodge to Lamed, thence to Hays, made a trip 
 of three hundred and fifty-five miles in fifty-eight riding hours 
 since he started with Gen. Hazen ; a journey mostly in the night, 
 over a wild country, where there were no roads to follow and 
 where he must be continually on the outlook for Indians. So 
 well did Gen. Sheridan appreciate his willingness to undertake 
 missions which meant long and dapgerous rides, that he appoint- 
 ed him chief of scouts and guide for the Indian expedition upon 
 which the Fifth Cavalry was soon to be sent. 
 
 As this regiment lay in camp on the South Fork of the Solo- 
 mon, Col. Royal, who was in command, requested Cody to go 
 out and kill some buffaloes for the boys. 
 
 "All right, Colonel, send along wagons to bring in the meat." 
 
 '' I am not in the habit of sending out my wagons until I know 
 there is something to be brought in," replied the colonel, with 
 dignity ; " kill your buffaloes first and then I'll send out the wa- 
 gons." 
 
 Cody said nothing, wejit out, killed a half-dozen buffaloes, and 
 returning, asked the colonel to send out his wagons for the meat. 
 The next afternoon Col. Roj^al again requested him to go out 
 and get some fresh buffalo meat. Nothing was said on either 
 side about wagons, and the officer expected to have to send them 
 out when the hunter returned. Eiding out some distance, Buffalo 
 Bill, coming up with a small herd, managed to get seven of them 
 headed straight for the camp. Instead of shooting them he ran 
 them at full speed right into the camp, and then killed them all 
 in rapid succession. Col. Royal came up to him, and angrily de- 
 manded an explanation. 
 
 " I can't allow any such business as this, Cody. What do you 
 mean by it ?" 
 
 " I didn't care about asking for wagons this time, colonel, so I 
 thought I would make the buff'alocs furnish their own transpor- 
 tation." 
 
BUFFALO BILL. 
 
 543 
 
 The colonel had no more to say; the answer was unanswerable. 
 
 Encamping on Saline Biver, Major Brown had his private am- 
 bulance brought out, and invited Cody to accompany him to the 
 railroad station to meet Lieut. Bache, who was expected to fill a 
 vacancy in his battalion. Arriving at the station just as the train 
 got in, they had no difficulty in finding the lieutenant, and giving 
 him the back seat in the ambulance, headed for camp. Major 
 Brown was inclined to be mischievous, and had said, as they set 
 out: 
 
 ^^^m^. 
 
 MAKIXd J'.LFFAI,OE.S FUKXlf>H THEIK OWX TKAiN'bi'UKTAJ'HjN. 
 
 "Now, Cody, when we come back, we'll give Bache a lively 
 ride and shake him up a little." 
 
 The road was rough, and the night was dark. Taking the 
 reins from his driver, Major Brown at once began whipping the 
 mules. To further encourage them, he pulled out his revolver 
 and fired several shots. Onward they jolted. 
 
 "Is this the way you break in all your lieutenants, major?" 
 inquired the new comer, good-humoredly. 
 
 ''Oh, no; I don't do this as a regular thing; but it's the way 
 we frequently ride in this country." 
 
 Rattling down a steep hill at full speed, just as they reached 
 the bottom, the front wheels struck a ditch over which the mules 
 
644 BUFFALO BILL. 
 
 had jumj)ed. The sudden stoppage nearly pitched Major Brown 
 and Cody oiit on the wheels. Lieutenant Bache came flying 
 headlong to the front of the vehicle. 
 
 " Take a hack seat, lieutenant." 
 
 ''Major, I have just left that seat." 
 
 The wagon was soon lifted out of the ditch and they drove in- 
 to camp in fine style ; but the account which Lieutenant Bache 
 gave of his ride caused it to be remembered for a long time by 
 the officers of the Fifth. 
 
 Our scout won the favor of G-en. Carr, who knew the habitual 
 exaggerations of the men belonging to this branch of the service, 
 and did not, until he had proved him, think much of one who said 
 nothing about himself. Finding, July 11, 1869, that they were 
 nearing the Indians with whom they had had several unimport- 
 ant skirmishes, and whom they had been trailing for some time, 
 he and his Pawnee companions advanced cautiously, and at last 
 discovered the village encamped in the sandhills south of the 
 South Platte, at Summit Springs. Leaving the Pawnees to 
 keep watch, Cody returned to the regiment about ten miles in 
 the rear, and reported to Gen. Carr. At the scout's suggestion 
 the troops were ordered to make a circuit to the north ; so that 
 if the Indians had detected their presence, they might attack the 
 village on a side where they Avere not expected. 
 
 Thus avoiding discovery by the Sioux scouts, and confident of 
 giving them a complete surprise, Gen. Carr kept the command 
 wholly out of sight, halting to give final orders when within a mile 
 of the village. Halting again on the top of the hill overlooking 
 the Indian camp, the signal was given to charge, and the cavalry 
 dashed down upon the village. The Sioux had driven itp their 
 horses and were just getting ready to make a move of the camp 
 when they saw the soldiers riding down upon them. Many of 
 them jumped upon their ponies, and leaving everything else 
 behind, advanced to meet the charge; but, when they saw the force 
 with which they would have to cope, rode rapidly away, while 
 those not fortunate enough to be mounted, fled for safety to the 
 neighboring hills. Through the village rode the soldiers, firing 
 right and left, and the scene quickly became one of the wildest 
 confusion. 
 
 " Keep a sharp lookout for white women," had been the order 
 given by Gen, Carr, who was confident that the Sioux had such 
 captives among them. The company which had been ordered to 
 
BUFFALO BILL. 545 
 
 take possession of the village after its capture soon found the 
 dead body of one white woman, the head cloven by a hatchet, 
 and near by lay another, wounded. The latter was a Swede, 
 and could not talk English, but through a soldier of her OAvn 
 nationality they learned that both wounds had been the work of 
 a squaw who wished to prevent their telling how cruelly they 
 had been treated. 
 
 The booty was extremely rich. Much of the property acquired 
 by recent raids upon white settlers, considerable stores of gold 
 and silver, besides eight hundred ponies and mules, fell into their 
 hands. A hundred and forty Indians had been killed, a hundred 
 and twenty squaws and pappooses were taken prisoners. The two 
 hundred lodges, with all the dried buffalo meat and other provi- 
 sions, were burned, and the body of the murdered white woman 
 buried. But the Sioux had not fled; they had only retreated, 
 to advance again upon the attacking party. Having recovered 
 from their surprise, they rode back towards the village, and the 
 whole prairie was soon covered with the combatants. 
 
 Along the Indian line of battle rode the chief. Tall Bull, 
 mounted on a spirited bay horse, encouraging, cheering, urging, 
 entreating his men to follow him and fight until they died. 
 Cod}^ on the skirmish line, could hear him telling them that 
 they had lost everything, that they were ruined, that the white 
 soldiers must be driven back. Treacherous and cunning as he 
 was, with, perhaps, an unquenchable thirst for liquor, and not 
 hesitating to beg anything whatever from the white man, we can 
 not but respect the courage of the man, the devotion of the leader 
 to the cause of his race, as he urged his warriors onward to vic- 
 tory or death. To Buffalo Bill, with the mad fire of battle cours- 
 ing in his veins, this was but a Sioux, one of the tribe that could 
 not be trusted, and he determined to deprive the Indians of their 
 leader. 
 
 Creeping to a ravine the head of which was often passed by 
 Tall Bull as he rode to and fro among his men, he waited his 
 opportunity. Not many minutes had passed before it came, and 
 raising his gun, he fired at the mark, scarcely thirty yards away. 
 The chief reeled and fell from his saddle, and the frightened 
 horse dashed into the ranks of the cavalry. The soldier who se- 
 cured him had seen his rider fiill, and readily relinquished him 
 to the scout. Mounting his prize, he rode down to where the 
 prisoners Avere, only to be greeted by the pitiful crying of a 
 33 
 
546 
 
 BUFFALO BILL. 
 
 squaw, the wife of Tall Bull, the same who had killed the one 
 white woman and wounded the other. 
 
 The animal, which his captor named Tall Bull, after its form- 
 er owner, was for four years afterwards the fastest runner in the 
 state of Nebraska. A pony obtained at this fight, and named 
 Powder Face, became as noted through the stories of Ned Bunt- 
 line as Tall Bull by his speed. Cody soon made Tall Bull pay. 
 At first no one would bet on the horse; but he proved more 
 
 successful on his native 
 prairies than had "Old 
 Mountain" some years 
 before in St. Louis. 
 Powder Face, too, 
 proved to be an excel- 
 lent racer, jumping 
 away so quickly on his 
 first trial that he left 
 his rider sitting on the 
 ground; but he dashed 
 ihead and won the race 
 w ithout him. Powder 
 Face was afterwards 
 stolen by the Indians, 
 and there was no horse 
 fleet enough to over- 
 take the thief. 
 
 We now pass over 
 nearly two years, spent 
 in scouting and hunt- 
 ing. He was guide to 
 several minor expedi- 
 tions against the In- 
 dians during this time, 
 but there is but little 
 interest attaching to the incidents of them. He also accompanied 
 several English gentlemen upon buflFalo hunts, but however exci- 
 ting to the hunters from over the sea the chase may have been, 
 it was not a circumstance to the match with Billy Comstock. 
 
 In the spring of 1871 we find him appointed justice of the peace, 
 at the desire of Gen. Emory, who was much annoyed by the pet- 
 ty offences which the civilians about the post committed. Just 
 
 THE .SIIOOTIXU OF TALL LiULL. 
 
BUFFALO BILL. 
 
 547 
 
 '^•"' "liiM' 
 
 Jil'iiiial''^'' 
 
 after he had received his commission, and before he was supplied 
 with blank forms or statute books, a man came rushing up to his 
 house, to get out a wi-it of replevin, to recover possession of a 
 horse which a stranger was taking out of the county. 
 
548 BUFFALO BILL. 
 
 "Where's the fellow that's got your horse?" asked Justice 
 Cody. 
 
 •' Going up the road, about two miles away," was the answer. 
 
 " All right; I'll get the writ ready in a minute or two," 
 
 Saddling up his horse, and taking his gun, he said to the man : 
 
 " That's the best writ of replevin I know of; come along, and 
 we'll get that horse, or know the reason why." 
 
 Overtaking the stranger, who was driving a herd of horses, 
 the following dialogue ensued : 
 
 " Hello, sir ! I am an officer, and have an attachment for that 
 horse." 
 
 " "Well, sir, what are you going to do about it ?" 
 
 " I propose to take you and the horse back to the post." 
 
 " You can take the horse, but I haven't time to go with you." 
 
 " You'll have to take time, or pay the' costs here and now." 
 
 " How much are the costs ?" 
 
 ."Twenty dollars." 
 
 " Here's your money." 
 
 The stranger went on his way, the complainant went home 
 with his horse, and the justice pocketed the costs. After a while 
 he learned more about the formalities of law, but he could not 
 have complied more faithfully with the spirit in which it is often 
 administered. 
 
 Early in the fall of 1871, Cody accompanied oh a hunting ex- 
 pedition a large party, which numbered, among others, Gen. 
 Sheridan, and many noted newspaper men and soldiers. Per- 
 haps the pleasure enjoyed at this time had something to do with 
 the order which, later in the winter, reached the commanding 
 officer of the Fifth Cavalry, as his regiment was leaving for Ari- 
 zona: "Don't take Cody with you." Certain it is that when 
 preparations were being made for a big buifalo hunt for the Eus- 
 sian Grand Duke Alexis, in January, 1872, he was selected to 
 show the foreign visitor how to kill buflFaloes. The friendly 
 Sioux chief, Spotted Tail, was induced to come, with a number 
 of his warriors, to show how the Indian looked and acted on his 
 native plains. 
 
 The Eussian prince arrived at the appointed time, Buffalo Bill 
 was introduced to him, and after the Indians had given their ex- 
 hibition of horsemanship and sham fights, and celebrated a grand 
 war-dance, they retired to dream of the buffalo hunt the next 
 dav. With a commendable desire to lose as little time as possi- 
 
BUFFALO BILL. 
 
 549 
 
 blc, the grand duke had asked many questions of his guide and 
 tutoi* : " How do you shoot buifaloes ? What kind of a weapon 
 do you use? Any particuLar style? Am I going to have a good 
 horse?" Cody assured him that he would have Buckskin Joe 
 to ride, a steed whose accomplishments in the matter of buffalo 
 hunting were equalled only by those of the late Brigham ; and 
 that all he would have to do, after getting into a herd, would be 
 to sit on the horse's back and fire away. 
 
 Much was said in the newsjDapers of the day about this hunt, 
 and the grand duke's success. With a truly republican desire to 
 
 SIIOWIKG THE GRAA'D DUKE HOW TO KILL BUFFALOES. 
 
 detract from a prince's merit and add to a citizen's, one asserted 
 that Buffalo Bill killed Alexis' first buflPalo for him ; another, 
 equally ill-natured, insisted that Cody held the animal while the 
 prince shot it. Having given these two versions, the veracious 
 historian proceeds to state the third and more credible, since 
 supported by the testimony of Buffalo Bill himself. They had 
 not gone far before they saw a buffalo herd, and were soon in the 
 midst of it. Preferring at first to use his pistol, Alexis emptied 
 the six chambers without producing the slightest effect. Eiding 
 up to his side, Cody exchanged revolvers with him, and the six 
 shots in the second went the way of those in the first. Seeing 
 
550 BUFFALO BILL. 
 
 that the animals would make their escape without his killing one 
 of them, Cody rode up to the prince again, gave him his gun, and 
 told him to urge on his horse close to the buffaloes, and he would 
 give him the word when to shoot. A blow from his master's 
 whip, and Buckskin Joe, in a few jumps, carried his rider within 
 ten feet of a huge bull. 
 
 ''N"ow is your time ! " cried the teacher; the pupil fired, and 
 down went the buffalo. Stopping his horse, the grand duke 
 dropped his gun and waved his hat, the suite came galloping up, 
 and soon the champagne corks began to fly in honor of his suc- 
 cess in killing the first buffalo in the hunt. A " scratch " shot on 
 the way home brought down another, and the hides and heads 
 of both animals were carefully preserved. The imperial pupil 
 seems to have improved rapidly under the tuition of the famous 
 plainsman, for within the two or three days which they spent in 
 camp, he killed eight. 
 
 Desiring to see an Indian buffalo-hunt, one was arranged in 
 which the Sioux used their more primitive weapons; the long 
 iron-tipped lance of tough wood, and the bow and arrow. One 
 chief drove an arrow entirely through a buffalo, to the grand 
 duke's astonishment. 
 
 Eeturning, Gen. Sheridan called out from the carriage: 
 
 " Cody, get in here and show the duke how you can drive. 
 Eeed will exchange places with you and ride yoiir horse." 
 
 Later, as they approached Medicine Creek : 
 
 '' Shake 'em up a little, Bill, and give us some old-time stage- 
 driving." 
 
 No more was needed. On the horses bounded, faster and fast- 
 er, until they came to a steep hill which led down into the valley 
 of the Medicine; straight down the hill they went, bounding 
 along over the ruts, while both general and prince were kejit 
 busy holding on to their seats. In fine old style they dashed into 
 the camp where they were to obtain a fresh relay, but the grand 
 duke begged to be excused from an}'' more of the same kind. 
 But although preferring to go a little slower than he had been 
 driven, he was not ungrateful for the attention 2:)aid him, and 
 made Cody several valuable presents. 
 
 We next find our hero in the eastern states, whither he had 
 been cordially invited by many of those whom he had accompa- 
 nied on hunts. Attending one evening, while in ISTew York, the 
 representation of "Buffalo Bill, the King of Border Men," he 
 
BUFFALO BILL. 
 
 551 
 
 was called upon the stage by the audience, as soon as his presence 
 in the theater was known. Of the speech with which he respond- 
 ed no record remains, for no one heard it; such was his embar- 
 rassment that he could not utter a word. Judge of his surprise 
 when the manager offered him a handsome salary to take the 
 part of Buffalo Bill himself! The offer was declined, and only 
 the indomitable perseverance of Ned Buntline induced him to go 
 upon the stage in the fall of the same year. 
 
 A\ AKKOAV THROIGH A hlii \LO. 
 
 In the meantime, he had been elected a member of the Neb- 
 raska Legislature, chiefly by the efforts of his friends, as he cared 
 very little about it and took no pains to secure an election. He 
 resigned his seat almost immediately, and with Texas Jack, went 
 to Chicago to meet Buntline. Disgusted by the facts that a per- 
 formance was to take place in four nights from that date, that 
 the drama was not written, the company formed, or the " stars " 
 trained, the manager of the theater where they were to play re- 
 fused to have anything to do with it ; but Buntline rented the 
 house, wrote his drama in four hours, set his stars to studying, 
 went out and engaged the minor actors, came back and trained 
 his stars, and actually had everything in readiness at the time 
 set. The hero forgot his part when he came before the audience, 
 
552 
 
 BUFFALO BILL. 
 
 but skillfully encoui-aged by Biintline, supplied its place by orig- 
 inal speeches, and brought down the house by describing a hunt 
 with a businessman of that city, whom everybody knew. 
 
 Wild Bill joined the company in the season of 1873-4, when 
 the original stars were already experienced actors. He urged 
 upon his friend that they were making fools of themselves, and 
 all the people were laughing at them ; Buffalo Bill replied that 
 he didn't care for that, as long as they came and bought tickets. 
 
 It is but right to 
 say here that Wild 
 Bill's message 
 when he finally left 
 the troupe did not 
 result in any per- 
 manent estrange- 
 ment between the 
 two plainsmen, and 
 although he re- 
 mained firm in the 
 determination not 
 to have anything 
 more to do with 
 the "old show," 
 they were always 
 the best of friends. 
 For some years 
 now, we find the 
 
 TEXAS JACK (J. 13. OMOHVNDRo). timopaSScd iu 
 
 much the same way ; traveling in the dramatic season from place 
 to place, hunting and scouting during the summer. In 1876, we 
 learn that the theatrical season closed somewhat earlier than usu- 
 al, for the Sioux war had begun, and our hero " snuffed, like a 
 charger, the wind of the powder." Proceeding to the west, he 
 expected to be in time to join the expedition under Gen. Crook, 
 who wished to engage him as scout; but learning that he was too 
 late to do this, and that Gen. Carr with the Fifth Cavalry was 
 on his way to join Gen. Crook, he accepted the position of guide 
 and chief of scouts under his old commander, with his old regi- 
 ment. 
 
 Operating on the South Fork of the Cheyenne and at the foot 
 of the Black Hills for about two weeks, they had several skir- 
 
BUrFALO BILL. 553 
 
 mishes with small bands of roving Indians, who were easily re- 
 pulsed; and coming to the conclusion that they had driven all 
 the redskins out of that section of the country, the regiment 
 started back to Fort Laramie. But they had not gone far, when 
 a scout arrived in camp with the terrible tidings of the massacre 
 on the Little Big Horn. There was no fear for themselves, yet 
 the news spread dismay through the camp, and many a soldier 
 vowed to avenge "the flower of our knighthood, the whole ar- 
 my's pride ; " — and the roughest man of the regiment 
 
 " Had no trouble to muster 
 A tear, or perhaps a hundred, 
 At the news of the death of Custer." 
 
 The Fifth was ordered to proceed at once to Fort Fetterman, 
 and thence join G-en. Crook. But the same evening that the scout 
 arrived with the news and the order, came another, with the in- 
 formation that eight hundred Chcycnncs were on their way to 
 join Sitting Bull. Deciding to take the responsibility of delay 
 in obeying orders, Gen. Merritt, who was now in command of 
 the Fifth, selected five hundred men to intercept the Cheyenncs. 
 Making a forced march back to Warbonnet Creek, they arrived 
 there before the Indians. That the enemy had not crossed, was 
 ascertained by Cody, who, on his way back to the command, dis- 
 covered a large body of Indians coming up from the south. They 
 proved to be the Cheyennes, and the cavalrymen immediately 
 withdrew out of sight until an attack should be ordered, while 
 Gen. Merritt, accompanied by Cody and two or three aides, went 
 on a reconnoissance to a neighboring hill. 
 
 From the summit of this they saw that the Indians were march- 
 ing almost directly towards them, while a body of fifteen or twen- 
 ty dashed off to the direction in which the troops had come the 
 night before. For a moment our party could not discover the 
 reason for this maneuver, but it was readily understood when 
 they descried that this detachment was chasing two soldiers, 
 who must be bringing despatches to Gen. Merritt. Fearing that 
 they would succeed in intercej^tingthe messengers, the command- 
 er yet did not wish to betray the presence of his troops by send- 
 ing soldiers to their rescue. Cody suggested that when the cour- 
 iers came closer to the command, and the Indians were about to 
 charge, he be allowed to take the scouts and cut them oft' from 
 the main body of the tribe. 
 
 "All right,'' said G-en. Merritt; "if you can do that, go ahead." 
 
654 BUrFALO BILL. 
 
 Eushing back to the command, and selecting fifteen men, he re- 
 turned to the point of observation. 
 
 " Go in now, Cody," ordered the general, " and be quick about 
 it. They are about to charge on the couriers." 
 
 Dashing down the hill, they charged upon the Indians. The 
 running fight lasted but a few moments, the Indians who were 
 not killed riding off" towards the main body; then they turned 
 upon the pursuers, and a young Indian, decked in all the paint 
 and ornaments of a war-chief, called out to the leader of the 
 scouts, in the Cheyenne tongue: 
 
 " I know you, Long-Hair ; if you want to fight, come and fight 
 me." 
 
 It was a challenge not to be disregarded. Galloping towards 
 each other, they diminished the distance between them to thirt}^ 
 yards before a shot was fired ; raising his rifle the scout took aim 
 and fired, and the Indian's horse fell to the ground. Almost at 
 the same moment his own horse stumbled and fell, but it was on- 
 ly a moment's work for each to free himself from his fallen 
 steed. They were now not more than twenty paces apart. Eais- 
 ing their rifles, both took aim at the same instant; one ball 
 whistled past the scout, without harming him ; the other struck 
 the Indian in the breast, and he fell. 
 
 Even as he struck the ground, his enemy was upon him, and 
 while, as he stood so far in advance of his little command, a body 
 of two hundred Indians charged down upon the scout, he stopped 
 over the prostrate savage, and having with one stroke of his 
 knife severed the scalp-lock from the head, swung the reeking 
 trophy and its gorgeous adornments in the air with the words : 
 
 " The first scalp for Custer ! " 
 
 A company of soldiers had been ordered to his rescue, and they 
 came not a moment too soon. Seeing that the Indians could not 
 be ambushed, Gen. Merritt ordered out the whole regiment. The 
 fight did not last long, and the Indians soon began a flying re- 
 treat. Pursued for thirty-five miles, they were forced to aban- 
 don everything that impeded their flight to the Eed Cloud 
 agency, while the troops followed them. Arrived there, Cody 
 learned that the Indian he had killed was Yellow Hand, the son 
 of a leading chief of the Cheyennes. The old chief offered four 
 mules for the adornments of his son, but they were not for sale. 
 
 Accompanying the Big Horn and Yellowstone expedition, after 
 the Fifth had joined Gen. Crook, it is too old a story to tell of his 
 
BUFFALO BILL. 
 
 555 
 
 gallant services in carrying despatches through a country infest- 
 ed by hostile Indians, besides presenting all the difficulties of a 
 
 ^i^'^^i^^.^.zmm 
 
 THE FIRST SCALP FOR CUSTER. 
 
 wild region to the night traveler. Where other scouts dared not 
 go, Buffalo Bill was always ready to volunteer. So we leave 
 him, remembering that if we omit mention of later incidents, it is 
 not because they are unworthy of him ; but it must be remember- 
 ed that what would to others be exciting adventures, are to him 
 but repetitions, shadows, of the events of his earlier life. 
 
556 
 
 TEN YEARS OF INDIAN WARFARE. 
 
CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 TEN YEAES OF INDIAN WARFAEE. 
 
 IN tracing the course of the contest between Indians and white 
 men, during late years, it is not our j^urjDose to go back as 
 far as the massacres by the Sioux of the Minnesota settlers in 
 1862, when the savages boldly invaded villages with all the hor- 
 rors of their warfare. These appealed but slightly to the popu- 
 lar interest while the great Civil War was absorbing every one; 
 nor even do we follow the story downward for the next few years. 
 Beginning with the early years of the last decade, we trace out, 
 from the daily and weekly papers, and from the few books into 
 which these late events have been crystallized, the history of 
 the recent Indian wars. 
 
 The causes of the conflicts, which are constantly alarming the 
 frontier, are not hard to discover. The very fact that there are 
 found men ready to fight in any given cause, jDroves that it is 
 not wholly bad. "It takes two to quarrel," says the old pro- 
 verb, and in every quarrel there must be wrong on both sides, 
 however unequally distributed. Endeavoring, then, to steer 
 clear equally of those who insist that " Indians are Indians" (as 
 they undoubtedly are), that there is no trust to be placed in any 
 of them, and that they ought to be exterminated whenever op- 
 portunity offers, and of the author of "A Century of Dishonor," 
 who regards all such wars as the outcome of the Grovernment's 
 bad faith, let us remember that the United States deliberately 
 breaks the most solemn treaties with the savage tribes of the 
 West, and that the Indians are not the noble red men who figure 
 in Cooper's novels. But of the difference between the ideal In- 
 dian, pausing from his hunt to quaff the pure water that gushes 
 from the rock in the plain, brave and honorable, and the dirty, 
 lying, thieving wretch who hangs around the saloons in the fron- 
 tier town until he can beg or steal enough whiskey to sink him 
 even lower than he is by nature, or who, failing that, resorts to 
 
558 
 
 THE MODOC WAR. 
 
 the haunts of some chief whose sole business it is to attack the 
 passing emigrant train or massacre the women and children in 
 an isolated cabin on the plains, — we shall learn most bj^ a study 
 of the plain, unvarnished facts, 
 
 " How many warriors has your tribe ?" asked an officer of a 
 Modoc. 
 
 " There is our country," replied the Indian; " once it was full 
 of people." 
 
 THE NOBLE RED MAN OF THE POETS. 
 
 Allowing for the habitual exaggeration of the red man, we 
 know, from the remains of their ancient villages, that this peo- 
 ple must once have numbered thousands, while at the date of 
 which we write, scarcely four hundred souls made up the once 
 powerful Modoc nation. Always unfriendly and opposed to the 
 whites, it was well for the settlers that their strength was broken 
 by a wasting famine very early in the history of the West ; a 
 famine so terrible that a squaw killed her husband, and with her 
 child, subsisted upon his body, until, when better times came, and 
 
THE MODOC WAR. 
 
 559 
 
 they offered her less dreadful food, she became insane, and con- 
 fessing her horrible deed, fled to the rugged cliffs on the western 
 shore of Lake Klamath. 
 
 Eemoved from their home near Lake Klamath to the south- 
 ern part of Oregon, Captain Jack's band for some time refused 
 to go, but was at last induced to follow the main body of the 
 tribe. The Klamaths, a notoriously quarrelsome people, had been 
 
 ||iiMiil,iiiiiii I i|ii|ii nn|iiii| 
 
 THE REAL ARTICLE. 
 
 placed on the same reservation, and trouble arose within three 
 months after Captain Jack had settled there. By the efforts of 
 the Indian agents, the disturbances were quelled, and the Klam- 
 aths removed to a more distant part of the reservation. But the 
 troubles were soon renewed, and the Modocs, terming this reser- 
 vation " only a trap for the benefit of the Klamaths, departed to 
 the high lands known as the lava beds, situated beyond the Cal- 
 ifornia border. 
 
 The Grovernment made several ineffectual efforts to compel 
 
560 
 
 THE MODOC WxiR. 
 
 these Indians to return to their reservation, but they persistent- 
 ly rejected all peaceful overtures. Commissioners had been ap- 
 pointed when they first left Oregon, but had resigned when they 
 found all efforts unavailing ; and in March, 1873, a new commis- 
 sion was formed, composed of Gen. E. E. S. Canby, Ecv. Dr. E. 
 Thomas, a leading Methodist divine of California, Messrs. Mea- 
 cham, Eosborough and Dyer. Trusting in a system of gentle 
 compulsion, with a proper display of the force that could be used 
 if necessary, the commissioners held several parleys with the In- 
 dians, who were insolent and 
 aggressive. At one of these 
 interviews Captain Jack and 
 his men appeared with fresh 
 white scalps at their belts, but 
 gradually becoming more shy 
 and cautious, refused to come 
 into camp at all. 
 
 It was the evening of the 
 tenth of April that Bogus 
 Charley came into camp with 
 several others, all of whom 
 were liberally treated, receiv- 
 ing presents of clothing and 
 provisions. By these Indians 
 the commissioners sent a message to the chief, inviting him 
 to a talk at a designated spot about half a mile outside of 
 the picket lines. Boston Charley came in the next morning, say- 
 ing that Captain Jack, with five of his followers, would meet 
 them there. Between ten and eleven o'clock the commissioners, 
 accompanied by the interpreter and his squaw, and Boston Char- 
 ley and Bogus Charley, went out to the spot designated, and 
 there met the six Modocs. Sitting down in a sort of a broken 
 circle, the commissioners explained what they wished the Mo- 
 docs to do, and what would be the advantages of such a course 
 of action. Captain Jack answered evasively in an apparently 
 serious strain that seems to have blinded the white men. When 
 he had finished, he stepped back, and Schonchin began to talk. 
 Imagine the scene: a wide valley, nearly level, a kind of con- 
 gealed sea, where the black and ragged crested waves were of 
 lava; here and there, in the small hollows a little ash-like soil 
 supported a tangled growth of sage-bush j bounded by dark and 
 
 GKJf. E. R. S. CANBY. 
 
36 
 
562 THE MODOC WAR. 
 
 frowning walls of lava-like rock, more than a thousand feet high 5 
 here was the little circle, nearly all seated, one only standing by 
 his horse ; such was the picture as Schonchin spoke. Suddenly, 
 in the i:»auses of his speech, Mr. Dyer, who stood by his horse, 
 heard a cap snap ; turning quickly around, he saw Captain Jack 
 with his pistol j^ointed at Gen. Canby. It was the signal for 
 the massacre. Aiming again at the same victim, the chief fired, 
 and the noble old man fell, while Dr. Thomas was killed at al- 
 most the same instant. Mr. Dyer turned as soon as he heard the 
 cap miss, and was pursued by Hooker Jim ; but the two shots 
 of the latter were without eflfect, and he retreated when the white 
 man drew his derringer. Mr. Meacham escaped, as well as the 
 interpreter and his squaw. 
 
 The bugle sounded to arms, and the troops hastily advanced. 
 On they dashed past the body of Dr. Thomas, and that of their 
 beloved and respected commander, eager to avenge his death ; 
 but the enemy had escaped into the almost impregnable fastness- 
 es that towered above them, and they had to return to the camp 
 without accomplishing their desires. 
 
 The Canby massacre was speedily known all over the country, 
 and created the most intense excitement and resentment against 
 its perpetrators. Gen. Schofield was sent against the Modoes 
 and they were attacked in the lava-beds by Gen. Gillem and Col. 
 Mason. This engagement took place on the 15th ; and all day 
 long both the troops and the Indians fought gallantly and des- 
 perately, for revenge or for life. The Modoes, driven to their 
 camp at nightfall, w^ere not unwilling to renew the conflict the 
 next day. Finally they were cut off from the water, their camp 
 was broken up by shelling, and it was only under cover of night 
 that they were able to escape. 
 
 At last the Modoes had been driven twenty miles from their 
 original stronghold ; and although they fought with desperate 
 courage, the contest was a hopeless one. Entrenched in one of 
 the caves which had probably once been a vent for the liquid mass 
 now forming a rocky sea over so great an extent of country. 
 Captain Jack, with less than fifty warriors, had held six hundred 
 soldiers at bay ; but he was powerless to cope wath his own fol- 
 lowers, when interest or fear bade them desert to the enemy. 
 Half of his warriors had surrendered themselves, and his spirit 
 was broken. At last a Modoc, with a white flag, met a scouting 
 partv with the intelligence that Captain Jack wanted to surren- 
 
ipi!ipiiiWWM^rJ^^ 
 
564 
 
 THE MODOC WAR. 
 
 der, and when it was seen that he was well received, the chief 
 himself came forward with extended h^nd. 
 
 It was the middle of the summer afternoon as the party ap- 
 proached camp with their prisoner, and all but the necessary 
 guards were enjoying a siesta. But as the soldiers on duty re- 
 
 CAPTAIN JACK. 
 
 cognized the Indian captive who was approaching, and passed the 
 information each to the other, the drowsy quiet vanished as if 
 by magic. Wild cheers from the troops greeted the murderer of 
 their beloved old commander, as he entered the camp and stood 
 before them, every inch a chief. Proud, disdainful, indifferent to 
 taunt and courtesy alike, he maintained a dogged silence, even 
 when ironed; only a subordinate j^rotested against this insult. 
 
THE MODOC WAR. 
 
 565 
 
 HOOKER JIM. 
 
 SCHONCHDr. 
 
 BOSTON CHARLET. 
 
 \\0 
 SHACK NASTY JIM. 
 
 MODOCS. 
 
566 GENERAL CROOK. 
 
 ♦ 
 
 But when it was once decided what should be done with the 
 Modocs, and a civil trial j)referred to a court-martial, or exter- 
 mination without trial, as some extremists urged. Captain 
 Jack's silence was broken. Condemned to death, he said that 
 he had not wanted to fight the whites, but had been driven to it 
 by his Warriors ; but the law takes cognizance of actions, not of 
 wishes, and he, with those of his followers who had ^participated 
 in the massacre, were sentenced and hanged. Probably he would 
 have remained silent had any other mode of death been chosen; 
 but this, to the Indian, is the most horrible of all. Believing 
 that the soul escaj^es through the open mouth at the moment of 
 death, strangulation, according to his idea, prevents this, and 
 the unhappy spirit, condemned to hover around the decaying 
 body, is kept forever from the happy hunting grounds. 
 
 So we take leave of the 3Iodocs, that once, according to the 
 boast of a chief, were as the sands of the sea in number and now 
 are a miserable remnant of little more than two hundred souls. 
 
 Comparative peace reigned for a space of about two years. 
 Although there was no lack of outrages committed during this 
 time, yet they did not result in war with any one tribe. But 
 when the discovery of gold in the Black Hills country drew ad- 
 venturers thither, the Sioux were ready to fight for the land 
 which had been so solemnly ceded to them. The information 
 that soldiers were marching against them from both north and 
 south only enraged them the more, and it is calculated that the 
 first half of the year 1876 saw the murder of a hundred miners. 
 Certain it is that the latter part of that half-year saw a massacre 
 unapproached since the days of Braddock ; but no Washington 
 rode unharmed among the showers of bullets, when Custer and 
 his command were slaughtered. We have already detailed the 
 earlier part of this double expedition, but the battle on the Eose- 
 bud is so characteristic of Indian warfare that it deserves fur- 
 ther description. 
 
 On the principle that " it takes a thief to catch a thief," many 
 of our best Indian fighters make it a rule to employ friendly red- 
 skins in every campaign ; especially is this true of the Gray Fox, 
 as the savages have dubbed Gen. Crook, naming him from the 
 color of his usual apparel and his success in foiling their most 
 cunningly laid plans. In this battle, his right wing consisted of 
 these dusky allies and two companies of infantry, while his left 
 was composed entirely of cavalry. Slowly advancing, the whole 
 
THE BATTLE ON THE ROSEBUD. 
 
 567 
 
 line was soon in the midst of furious fighting. Tlie cavalry 
 charged upon the dusky mass, with about the effect of a descent 
 upon so many flies; the army of Indians scattered, resolving 
 itself into a number of individual savages, but only to reu- 
 nite and prepare to receive, in an equally strong position, anoth- 
 
 GEN. C. H. CROOK. 
 
 er charge. So the cavalry was led onward, until the two wings 
 were completely disunited. The left was recalled to the origi- 
 nal position, but it was more difficult to retrace their steps than 
 it had been to advance. Charging onward, they had found the 
 enemy melt away before them; retreating, Indians jioured from 
 every ravine and hill. Contending with the dusky foe on flank 
 and rear as well as in front, there was a moment of desperate 
 hand-to-hand fighting — sabres and pistols, lances and knives, — 
 and they had hewn a path back to the standard of the commander. 
 
568 
 
 THE BATTLE ON THE ROSEBUD. 
 
GENERAL CROOK. 569 
 
 It "vvas an eventful year to the Indian fighters. All through the 
 summer and fall we hear of marches and fights; of the Indians 
 pursued so closely and so secretly that on one occasion at least 
 the soldiers found the live embers of a fire, a bloody hatchet, and 
 parts of a newly killed antelope carcass in a new brush tejiee, on 
 the line of march. As they advanced to the northward, their 
 course became plainer to the Indian, whose only learning is the 
 woodcraft w^hich enables him to baffle or pursue his enemies; and 
 the horizon, here and there, grew dark with the smoke of signal 
 fires. Gren. Crook expected to receive reinforcements of Crow 
 Indians early in June, but as they did not join him at the time 
 when they were ordered to do so, he sent two companies of in- 
 fantry forward to Powder River, a day in advance of the main 
 column, to meet them, in order to insure safety from the hostiles. 
 But telegraphic communication with the Crow agency had been 
 broken, and they had never received his orders. It was then 
 without the expected assistance that he must advance into a coun- 
 try where every foot of ground could have told a story of some 
 inhuman massacre or desperate defense. 
 
 The country through Avhich they were now marching had been 
 the scene, in 1866, of a massacre of ninety men, near Fort Phil 
 Kearney; in 1867, of a desperate fight of six Montanians near 
 by the same spot, an encounter which not one of the white men 
 survived ; Crazy "Woman's Fork had seen, in 1868, a furious at- 
 tack upon a party of twelve men, who heroically defended the 
 women and children, and at last drove off the assailants. Three 
 times had this been the objective point in a military invasion of 
 the Indian country ; in 1865, Gen. Connor had, by desperate 
 fighting, destroyed a village of hostile Cheyennes and Arapa- 
 hoes; in 1866, Gen. Carrington had left the Indians masters of 
 the situation; and early in 1876, Gen. Crook himself had fallen 
 back temporarily. 
 
 Many of the chiefs were quite willing to sell the Black Hills 
 on any terms that the government might ofter ; according to their 
 assertions, the truth of which was afterward confirmed by other 
 evidence, there were but few Sioux absent from the reservation, 
 the bulk of Sitting Bull's forces being Cheyennes, with a sprink- 
 ling of other tribes. But Sitting Bull swore that he would fight 
 for the Black Hills as long as the question was unsettled, or as 
 Ipng as he lived. 
 
 In July, Gen. Merrltt was ordered to join Crook, but was de- 
 
570 GENERAL CROOK. 
 
 layed somewhat by the band of eight hundred Cheyennes, whom 
 he drove back to their agency. Doubtless this had a most ex- 
 cellent effect upon all the Indians who learned of it, preventing 
 them from leaving the reservation. Another reinforcement of 
 six companies of the Fifth Infantry was ordered at the same 
 time, the commander being Gen. Miles. This officer, who had 
 served through the Civil War, and had then earned himself an 
 honorable name, had the reputation of being one of the best In- 
 dian fighters oa the border. Doubtless the news of this last 
 force was doubly welcome to Gen. Crook, who preferred infantry 
 to cavalry, since the latter are at home and ready to fight under 
 all circumstances; the cavalry, dismounted, being compelled to 
 fight under unusual conditions. 
 
 But even before the arrival of these reinforcements, while the 
 Indians were three to one. Gen. Crook had no doubt of his ability 
 to whip them. His delay came from his fear that the victory 
 would be barren of results if only a small force were engaged, 
 while the assistance of the promised troops would enable him to 
 end the campaign with one crushing blow. 
 
 The aim of both Terry and Crook had been to eftect a junction, 
 and on Aug. 8th, the former marched up the Rosebud for that 
 purpose. The heat was intense, and the lack of water, so com- 
 mon in that region, increased greatly the sufferings of men and 
 horses. There was but little grass, for ever since the battle on 
 the Little Big Horn the Indians had been burning the vegetation 
 which might afford sustenance to the eneiny's horses ; and an oc- 
 casional oasis in this desert, where the grass, protected by slight 
 shade, had been too green to burn, was hailed with joy. As they 
 journeyed on, a Sioux squaw brought intelligence of a terrible 
 fight between Crook and the Sioux, in which the latter had been 
 well-nigh annihilated. Scarcely daring to believe this welcome 
 news, they pushed onward, and found, on reaching his camp on 
 the 10th, that it was true. The combined force, according to Gen. 
 Sheridan's official despatches, amounted to less than two thou- 
 sand seven hundred men j the Indians could muster from eight 
 to ten thousand warriors. 
 
 Having retired to Fort Fetterman to wait for the expected re- 
 inforcements, it was about the middle of November when Gen. 
 Crook left that point at the head of the largest force that had 
 been sent against the Indians for many years. Eleven companies 
 of cavalry, the same number of infantry, four of artiller}', and a 
 
GENERAL CROOK. 
 
572 
 
 GENERAL CROOK. 
 
 body of three hundred and fifty Indians commanded by white of* 
 ficers, formed his army. Intending to march against Crazy 
 Horse, he learned that that wily Indian chief had so placed his 
 camp that a long and roundabout march would be required to 
 surprise it, and it was determined to attack the Cheyennes, who 
 were somewhere near, in the foot-hills. The Indian allies for 
 some time searched for the exact locality, and were at last re- 
 
 THE INDIAN CAMP. 
 
 warded by finding the village without being discovered. JSTov. 
 23rd, Gen. Mackenzie, with seven hundred picked cavalry and 
 the whole body of friendly Indians, marched toward the Chey- 
 enne camp, halting at striking distance the next day to wait for 
 darkness to conceal his farther advance. "When night fell, the 
 march was resumed, and before daylight he reached a point from 
 which the men could distinctly hear the clamor made by the 
 voices and tom-toms of the Indians, as they performed the scalp- 
 
GENERAL CROOK. 573 
 
 dance in honor of a recent successful attack upon a small party 
 of Crows. 
 
 The situation of the troops was pitiable in the extreme. In 
 the bottom of a dark and narrow gorge, around them rose the 
 rocky sides to a height of a thousand feet; the snow lay piled in 
 drifts from two to four feet deep, and the cold was intense, yet 
 no fire could be built, and perfect silence must be maintained. 
 The horses stood with heads bowed down, tired out with the 
 long march ; the men shuffled their feet quietly, and now and 
 then changed their positions, just moving enough to keep from 
 freezing. As the faint gray streaks in the east proclaimed the 
 approach of morning, the noises in the Indian camp died gradu- 
 ally away; and when all was still, the half-frozen troops climbed 
 with stiffened limbs into their saddles, and moved forward to the 
 attack. 
 
 Moving silently down the long canon towards the village, 
 which lay stretched out for three miles along the. banks of the 
 frozen stream, the Indian allies rode forward, and with all the 
 whoops and yells which characterize their conflicts, fell upon 
 one end of the village. Ma'ny of the Cheyennes, seizing their 
 arms, rushed to cover among the rocks inaccessible to the white 
 men; some were killed before they had gained this refuge, while 
 others stayed behind to defend their lodges. The cavalry were 
 soon in the midst of the fight. Dull Knife, the Cheyenne chief, 
 sprang to his arms, and called upon his warriors to repulse the 
 soldiers. But though the summons was echoed by a rapid and 
 galling fire from those savages still in the village, nothing could 
 withstand the onset of the heavy cavalry ; and having seen his 
 youngest and favorite son fall at his very feet. Dull Knife joined 
 his flying band, and in a short time the village, entirely deserted 
 by its inhabitants, was in the possession of the troops. 
 
 From their rocky refuge the Cheyennes poured an incessant 
 fire. ]S'o power from below could dislodge the determined fight- 
 ers from their position, and it soon became apparent that the at- 
 tacking force was powerless against less than half its numbers. 
 Burning the village, and disposing his men so as to secure as 
 much protection as possible from the fire of the enemy, Gen. 
 Mackenzie despatched an Indian to ask Gen. Crook for reinforce- 
 ments. Not until ten A. M. the next day did this runner reach 
 the main camp, when the infantry was immediately sent to the 
 relief of the cavalry. There was no delay; every man was anx- 
 
574 GENERAL MILES. 
 
 ious to get where he could heljD his comrades, and though swear- 
 ing like " our army in Flanders " as they floundered on through 
 the deep snow-drifts, they only halted for a few hours at three 
 A. M., when the guide lost the trail ; proceeding onward at dawn 
 and meeting some of Mackenzie's advance guards a little after 
 sunrise. 
 
 They found that their coming would afford no assistance, for 
 the enemy had been obliged by the cold to leave their lofty posts 
 and retreat to a position where they could build fires and pre- 
 pare food. The Indians, to whom clothes are an adornment 
 rather than a necessity, habitually sleep naked when in camp 
 and unsuspicious of danger ; those of the plains, whatever may be 
 said of their hardy vigor, are peculiarly susceptible to cold j so 
 that the Cheyennes, driven by an enemy with which human nature 
 could not contend, collected their herds of ponies during the 
 night and retreated. Even then Mackenzie's plans were frustrated, 
 for a strong and determined rear-guard drove back the pursuers 
 set upon their track as soon as their departure was discovered. 
 With no food but the flesh of their ponies, no clothing but the 
 green hides of the same faithful animals, they made their way 
 with almost incredible difficulty across the bleak snow-clad sum- 
 mits of the Big Horn Mountains to the camp of Crazy Horse. 
 From their old allies and friends, the Sioux, to whom they had 
 never yet refused assistance, from whom they had never yet fail- 
 ed to obtain it, the half-frozen and famishing Cheyennes might 
 well hope to receive food, shelter and protection. But self-pre- 
 servation is the first instinct ofour natures, and the Sioux chief 
 felt the support of fifteen hundred people too great a tax upon his 
 own band; and he received them so coldly, and supplied their 
 wants with such a niggardly hand, that they soon left the camp. 
 Unable to contend against such difficulties, no alternative Avas 
 left them, and early in 1877 they surrendered themselves. 
 
 Justice soon ovei'took the Sioux who had denied food and shel- 
 ter to their suffering allies, in the shape of an expedition against 
 them headed by Gen. Miles. Setting out Dec. 27th, with a force 
 of seven companies of infantry, numbering three hundred fight- 
 ing men, they experienced heavy snow, intense cold, and severe 
 windstorms. The influence of the latter upon the temperature 
 can hardly be estimated by those who know btit little of the 
 plains ; they cut through and through with the keenest and most 
 piercing cold. Slowly they proceeded, their progress retarded 
 
GENERAL MILES. 
 
 575 
 
 by hardships which cannot be exaggerated, towards the Wolf 
 Mountains, sixty miles away. At last they were rewarded by 
 finding Indian sign, and pushing on, struck a large force of In- 
 dians on the 7th. Defeating these, the}'- marched onward, en- 
 countering a body of a thousand warriors on the 8th. Fully 
 armed, and well supplied Avith ammunition, the redskins were 
 confident of victory. The ground was rough and broken, so that 
 no cavalry was needed ; indeed, if they had had such a force, it 
 would have been difficult to use. 
 
 GEN. K. A. Mn.ES. 
 
 Again and again they charged upon the troops, but were as often 
 repulsed. For five hours the fight continued, though during the 
 greater part of this time a blinding snowstorm almost hid them 
 from each other. The Indians at last retreated, fighting as they 
 went, and were closely pursued as far as supplies permitted. 
 The loss on the part of the troops was small; that of the Indians 
 could not be absolutely determined. Many squaws and children 
 were taken prisoners, to whom the kindness with which their 
 captors treated them seemed very extraordinary. Used to the 
 
576 
 
 CHIEF JOSEPH AND THE NEZ PERCES. 
 
 inhumanity of their own treatment of captives, it was quite puz- 
 zling to them. 
 
 The strength of the hostiles was practically broken; the Chey- 
 ennes had come in and surrendered themselves. Sitting Bull, 
 with his conglomerate force, had betaken himself into Canada 
 and Crazy Horse and his band of Sioux had been defeated hy 
 this last fight with Gen. Miles. A band of the Nez Perces Indians 
 are the dusky heroes of the next campaign, which was conducted 
 
 by Gen. Howard. The so-callec 
 Chief Joseph, of the Nez Perces 
 was really a scalawag with some 
 followers, the main body of tlu 
 tribe keeping firmly to the treatj= 
 made with the XTnited States 
 in 1855. 
 
 Leaving their reservation in 
 the summer of 1877, these non- 
 treaty Indians, as they were 
 called, refused to return, and i1 
 was necessary to employ force, 
 Gen, Gibbon accordingly march- 
 ed against them, and a severe en- 
 gagement ensued when the two 
 forces met, Aug. 9th, which resulted in a heavy loss to the troops. 
 Encouraged by this success, Chief Joseph and his band started 
 eastward to the buffalo country, but were met by Gen. Sturgis, 
 with the Seventh Cavalry. All day long they fought, and the 
 Indians, badly cut up, retreated, followed by Gen. Sturgis, who 
 had now been reinforced by Gen. Howard. The last day of 
 September Gen. Miles made a sudden attack upon the enemy, 
 whose camp was on the level ground of the river bottom. The 
 Indians fled to the crests of the surrounding hills, and thence re- 
 pulsed the charges of the Seventh Cavalry. A row of dead hor- 
 ses marked the line of attack, and nearly all the officers were 
 killed or disabled. Finally the Indians took to the pits and ra- 
 vines, whence it was almost impossible to dislodge them. 
 
 The arrival of Gen. Howard, Oct. 4th, was followed, the next 
 day, by the surrender of Joseph and his band. 
 
 "I am tired of fighting," said he ; "■ our chiefs are killed; the 
 old men are all dead; it is the young men who say yes or no. 
 He who led on the young men is dead. It is cold, and we have 
 
 O. O. HOWARD. 
 
THE UTES. 
 
 577 
 
 no blankets ; the little children are freezing to death. I am tired ; 
 my heart is sick and sad. Prom where the sun now stands I will 
 fight no more forever." 
 
 The outbreaks of the succeeding years are mainly due to the bad 
 faith of the Indian agents. The Utes, particularly, had always 
 been notably peaceable, submitting to many indignities rather 
 than go to war with the whites. The inveterate enemies of the 
 Sioux, it was their earnest desire to "travel the white man's 
 road," as the Indian expresses it. In July they set fire to the 
 
 CAPT. D. I,. PAYNE. 
 
 timber near their reservation in order to concentrate game. This 
 resulted in the destruction of considerable property, and the 
 guilty ones were ordered to bo arrested. Provoked by many 
 previous indignities, they were not disposed to submit to this 
 reasonable requirement, and it became necessaiy to send for 
 troops. 
 
 Major Thornburgh was accordingly despatched with one hun- 
 dred and sixty men, and followed the enemy into the sandhills. 
 Here the Utes, brought to bay, ambuscaded, but the ruse was 
 fortunately discovered by the troops, and they were obliged to 
 change their tactics. Dashing down upon the main force, they 
 37 
 
578 WAR CLOUDS. 
 
 reached the end of the train, and a moment hold their own, but 
 were more than once repulsed. The gallant commanding officer 
 led a counter charge against them, but fell at the head of his men. 
 Securing his body, they retreated and intrenched themselves be- 
 hind the wagons and dead horses. Again and again the Indians 
 charged upon them, only ceasing at night, and recommenced early 
 the next morning. The death of Major Thornburgh left Capt. 
 Payne in command, and encouraged by him the troops held out 
 bravely, until the sixth day came. Worn out by the constant 
 vigilance required as well as by the intense anxiety with which 
 their situation most naturally filled them, with what delight they 
 must have seen yonder dark spot on the horizon grow into aline, 
 the line into a moving mass, the indistinct outlines of which grad- 
 ually brighten into the semblance of a company of soldiers ! For 
 once, if never before or since, they felt the distinctions of race 
 even more completely blotted out than the advocates of the Fif- 
 teenth Amendment and the Civil Eights Bill could hope, and 
 they did not scruple to accjiSpt the assistance of these black sol- 
 diers. '* The colored troops fought nobly," and when Gen. Mer- 
 ritt arrived with the Fifth Cavalry, there was but little more to be 
 done. The Utes,howevcr,did not return to their reservation un- 
 til the burning of their agency, and the murder of many white 
 men had enraged the surrounding country. 
 
 Trouble with the Poncas was anticipated, when, early in 1881, 
 they were removed from their reservation, which was ceded to 
 the Sioux, who would not accept the gift. But before the In- 
 dians could take decisive action, the presence of Gens. Crook 
 and Miles, who had been sent with two columns to visit and re- 
 port upon the state of affairs, frightened them into submission. 
 
 However clear the day, a dark rim may mark the horizon, and 
 gradually overspread the sky; from the aspect of the frontier 
 that cloud is never absent ; when it may be borne onward by op- 
 pression or the desire for revenge, cannot be predicted. Even 
 as we write, from here and there come reports of fights and mas- 
 sacres; whether or not these, spreading over the West, shall 
 deepen into absolute war, cannot be predicted. The wisdom of 
 our present system of managing the Indians is questioned ever}^ 
 day; and perhaps, before long, our Government will adopt the 
 British policy, and treat them, not as dependent nations, but as 
 bodies of citizens subject to all the laws of the United States. 
 
 'CV, 
 
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 
 
 011 527 934 8 ^ 
 
 
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