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Eng by J. J. Cade, NY. from a Photograph taken expressly for this Work
Your very sincerely
How & Body
AD WORTHINGTON & CO HARTFORD, CONN.
!
!
OUR WILD INDIANS:
34415-
THIRTY-THREE YEARS' PERSONAL EXPERIENCE
AMONG THE
RED MEN OF THE GREAT WEST.
A POPULAR ACCOUNT OF
THEIR SOCIAL LIFE, RELIGION, HABITS, TRAITS, CUSTOMS, EXPLOITS, ETC.
WITH
Thrilling Adventures and Experiences
ON THE GREAT PLAINS AND IN THE MOUNTAINS
OF OUR WIDE FRONTIER.
BY
COLONEL RICHARD IRVING DODGE,
UNITED STATES ARMY.
AID-DE-CAMP TO GENERAL SHERMAN.
WITH AN INTRODUCTION
BY GENERAL SHERMAN.
Fully Illustrated with Portraits on Steel, full-page Engrabings on Wood,
and Fine Chromo-Lithograph Plates.
HARTFORD, CONN:
A. D. WORTHINGTON AND COMPANY.
A. G. NETTLETON & CO., CHICAGO, ILL. N. D. THOMPSON & CO., ST. LOUIS, MO.
C. C. WICK & CO., CLEVELAND, O.
1883.
E
77
.D64
1883
Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1882,
BY A. D. WORTHINGTON AND COMPANY,
In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington, D. C.
DEDICATED
(BY PERMISSION)
TO
WILLIAM TECUMSEH SHERMAN,
General
OF
THE ARMY OF THE UNITED STATES.
AUTHOR'S PREFACE.

HE greater part of the past thirty-four years
of my life has been spent on the frontier
in more or less direct contact with Indians.
It was not, however, until 1872 that I was
induced to attempt to excite for them the
interest of others. From and after that year
I occasionally wrote short articles on Indians and
the Indian question, some of which were contributed
anonymously to the press.
In 1877 I published a book entitled "The Plains
of the Great West," a work mainly descriptive of
the topography, climate, game, etc., of that portion
of our country known as the "Plains," to which
I added some sketches of Indian life. Determined
to be entirely unbiassed in my opinions, and with, I
hope, a not unpardonable vanity to be original, I
carefully abstained from consulting contemporaneous
authorities, either books or men.
The extremely flattering reception which that book
met at the hands of the critics, and, more especially
the unexpected encomiums bestowed upon the brief
and imperfect Indian sketches (which I had added
to the volume more as a finale than with any hope
of attracting particular attention to the subject) en-
couraged me to continue my studies of Indian life,
but in a wider field. In those sketches I had briefly
given my opinions; I now determined to know the
facts; and this could only be done by comparison
of my opinions with those of other men who had
V
vi
PREFACE.
written on the Indian. I therefore procured the
works of Catlin, Schoolcraft, and many other "lesser
lights," and studied them assiduously, comparing their
ideas with my own. For many years past I have
been most fortunately situated for such study, hav-
ing been stationed directly among the wild tribes,
whose characteristics have always been of most in-
terest to me. Whenever I have found that my ideas
differed from those of " an authority," I have taken the
case directly to the Indians themselves. My position
as commanding officer-"Big Chief" - enabled me
always to get a hearing and an answer on any sub-
ject; and my well-known friendship for the race
caused the Indians to give me more frank confidence
than a white man usually obtains. I have thus been
enabled to get at facts; to correct the errors of my
previous desultory writings, as well as errors of
accepted Indian "authorities."
For two years past I have been importuned by
friends whose opinions I value most highly, to give
to the world the result of my observations and labors.
I have consented to do so, not without hesitation,
because having previously written on the same sub-
ject, I must occasionally repeat myself, or commit the
affectation of clothing the same ideas in different
words. My friends have overruled this objection,
and I present in this volume a detailed account of
the characteristics, habits, and,-what I particularly
desire to invite attention to, a minute and careful
study of the social or inner life of the wild Indian of
the present day.
Press & Dodge

ན
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
ON
STEEL AND WOOD.
ENGRAVINGS ON STEEL.
1. PORTRAIT OF THE AUTHOR
•
Frontispiece.
From a photograph taken expressly for this work, by Brady, Washington, D. C.,
and Engraved on Steel by J. J. Cade, New York.
2. GENERAL GEORGE CROOK
3. GENERAL NELSON A. MILES
4. GENERAL GEORGE A. CUSTER.
5. GENERAL RANALD S. MACKENZIE,
FAMOUS INDIAN FIGHTERS.
To face p. 492
•
Taken from photographs, and Engraved on Steel by J. A. J. Wilcox, Boston, Mass.
ENGRAVINGS ON WOOD.
ARTIST.
1. PEACE OR WAR?-AN INDIAN COUNCIL-
SPOTTED TAIL'S SPEECH
Ernest Griset.
ENGRAVER.
Pannemaker. To face 70
PAGE
2. SPOTTED TAIL ASSASSINATING BIG MOUTH,
A RIVAL CHIEF
3. HÔCH-É-A-YUM-THE GREAT MEDICINE
DANCE.
4. INDIAN SELF-TORTURE
DEFIANCE OF PAIN
•
James E. Taylor. John Karst
86
}
James E. Taylor. Charles Speigle
•
138
ENDURANCE AND
James E. Taylor. John Karst
· 150
5. THE LAST RESTING-PLACE OF THE IN-
DIANS-A CEMETERY AMONG THE TREES
ON MEDICINE LODGE CREEK, INDIAN
TERRITORY.
Ernest Griset.
A. Bellinger.
. 164
6. OUR STEALTHY FÒES THE ATTACK ON
THE WAGON TRAIN
Ernest Griset.
A. Bellinger.
182
vil
viii
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
7. FATE OF LIEUT. KIDDER AND HIS ENTIRE
COMMAND-DISCOVERY OF THEIR BODIES
8. GEN. CUSTER'S SURPRISE OF AN INDIAN
CAMP OF OVER TWO THOUSAND WAR-
RIORS
9. A SUCCESSFUL WAR PARTY CELEBRATING
VICTORY - THE SCALP DANCE
10. A
CHRONOLOGICAL
AND HISTORICAL
CHART OF A BAND OF SIOUX
•
•
11. SURROUNDED — DESPERATE CHARGE OF
GEN. CROOK'S CAVALRY AT THE BAT-
TLE OF THE ROSEBUD
12. HEROISM AND DEATH OF SERGEANT-MA-
JOR KENNEDY
•
13. WINTER ON THE PLAINS - A TERRIBLE
EXPERIENCE IN THE TEETH OF A
"NORTHER
14. SAM CHERRY'S LAST SHOT
15. AT THE MERCY OF SAVAGE CAPTORS
TORTURE BY SLOW FIRES
ARTIST.
ENGRAVER.
James E. Taylor. John Karst
PAGE
220
James E. Taylor. John Karst
242
}
Ernest Griset.
Pannemaker.
360
the}
403
Reproduced in Fac-simile from the
Original Chart
James E. Taylor. John Karst
•
446
James E. Taylor. John Karst
472
James E. Taylor. Charles Speigle.
. 504
James E. Taylor. Charles Speigle. . 518
}
James E. Taylor. Charles Speigle.
526
J. Lange.
C. Laplante
560
17. RESCUING A WOUNDED COMRADE-HE-
ROIC EXPLOIT OF AMOS CHAPMAN
James E. Taylor. Charles Speigle.
632
•
•
16. A SUDDEN SURPRISE -THE ATTACK ON
THE UNITED STATES MAIL COACH
LIST
OF
CHROMO - LITHOGRAPH PLATES,
WITH
Descriptions and Explanations.
NOTE BY THE PUBLISHERS. These chromo-lithograph plates are extremely accu-
rate in drawing and coloring, no expense or pains having been spared to distinguish
them in these respects for their fidelity to the objects they represent. Each group was
first photographed to the proper size, thus insuring fulness of detail and perfect accuracy,
and at the same time preserving the relative size of one object to another. The original
objects and the photographs were then placed in the hands of a skilful artist, who
exercised the most painstaking care in painting the photograph of each article directly
from the object itself. These painted photographs were then transferred to stone, from
which the plates herewith presented were printed. Each plate requires no less than
fifteen printings to produce the various colors and tints absolutely necessary to a faith-
ful representation of the objects shown, thus requiring ninety engraved stones to
produce these six plates. The engraving and printing were done by Messrs. Bingham,
Dodd & Co., Hartford, Conn.
PLATE I.
PAGE 128.
RED CLOUD'S WAR BONNET-DOUGLAS'S TOBACCO
POUCH-FAMOUS PIPES, &C.
1. WAR BONNET OF RED CLOUD, PRINCIPAL CHIEF OF THE SIOUX.
2. UTE BEADED TOBACCO POUCH.
3. SIOUX WAR CLUB.
4. WATER JAR, MADE OF GRASS AND LINED WITH PITCH.
Once belonging to Chipeta, wife of Ouray, head chief of the Utes.
5. SIOUX GOURD RATTLE.
6. BEADED TOBACCO POUCH.
Formerly owned by Douglass, the chief of Utes who murdered the Meeker family.
7. TOBACCO PIPE OF THE SHOSHONES, OR SNAKES.
8. TALL BULL'S TOBACCO PIPE, ORNAMENTED WITH FEATHERS AND SCALP-LOCKS.
Tall Bull was chief of a band of outlaw Cheyennes and Sioux. He was killed at
the battle of Summit Springs, Colorado. His wife, who was captured at the
time, said the scalps attached to the pipe were those of white settlers on the
Salina River, Kansas, taken only two weeks previously. Seventy-two savages
were killed at the battle of Summit Springs.
10: SIOUX TOBACCO Pipes.
11. A FAMOUS PEACE PIPE.
This pipe was used at the grand council held at Red Cloud Agency when the
question of the surrender of the Black Hills to the United States was discussed.
ix
X
LIST OF CHROMO-LITHOGRAPH PLATES.
PLATE II.
PAGE 256.
SIOUX WAR SHIRT-APACHE CAPS-MOCCASINS
FROM THE BATTLE-FIELD OF GEN. CUSTER'S
1. APACHE CAP.
DEATH-TOTEMS, &C.
Made of red flannel, and ornamented with feathers and buttons.
2. APACHE Cap.
Ornamented with turkey-feathers and buttons.
3. A PAIR OF SIOUX MOCCASINS.
Found on the battle-field of Gen. Custer's death.
4. A SIOUX WAR SHIRT.
This elaborate war shirt is made of fine-dressed buckskin. It is ornamented with
beads and skins, and fringed with many scalp-locks.
5. TOTEM, Made of a TuRTLE-SHELL.
Worn suspended from the neck.
6 TOBACCO POUCH, ELABORATELY BEADED.
7. TOTEM, MADE OF A BEAVER-SKIN.
8. TOBACCO POUCH, BEAUTIFULLY BEADED.
9. MEDICINE BAG, MADE OF THE SKIN OF A BEAR'S FOOT.
PLATE III.
PAGE 306.
SQUAW'S DRESS, BOW-CASE AND QUIVER-MUSI-
CAL INSTRUMENTS-CRADLE-RATTLES, &C.
1}UTE BOW AND ARROWS.
2.
3. SIOUX FLAGEOLET, OR FLUTE.
4. CHEYENNE FLUTE.
5. SIOUX RATTLE.
Made of the ends of buffalo-toes.
6. A PAIR OF CHEYENNE MOCCASINS.
Beautifully embroidered with beads.
7. BOW-CASE AND QUIVER, MADE OF A PANTHER-SKIN.
This once belonged to the wife of Yellow Bear, a prominent chief of the
Cheyennes.
8. A CHEYENNE TOBACCO POUCH.
9. A CHEYENNE SQUAW DRESS.
This elaborate and valuable dress is ornamented with the eye-teeth of Elk. Each
pair of teeth represents one Elk. The Indians valued the dress at eight ponies,
or about two hundred dollars.
10. A CHEYENNE RATTLE.
Made of the ends of Buffalo-toes.
11. A CHEYENNE BEADED CRADLE.
This once belonged to the wife of a prominent chief. It is most elaborately
embroidered with beads, and had cradled an Indian baby a year, before coming
into possession of the author.
LIST OF CHROMO-LITHOGRAPH PLATES.
xi
PLATE IV.
FAC-SIMILES OF INDIAN DRAWINGS.
(Drawn with colored pencils, by Big Bark, a Cheyenne Indian.)
(A) INDIAN COURTING SCENES.
(1) The Approach.
(2) The Couple wrapped in one Blanket.
PAGE 412.
(B) GENERAL MACKENZIE'S FIGHT WITH THE CHEYENNES, AND DEATH OF LIEUT.
MCKINNEY.
Only prominent chiefs who were killed at this fight are represented on the Indian
side, and the fatal wound of each is indicated by blood flowing from it, or-in
some cases-from the mouth. The names of the chiefs thus shown in this
picture are: (1) High Bull; (2) Walking Calf; (3) Whirlwind; (4) White Face
Bull; (5) Bull Hump; (6) Old Bull. Short lines with a dot at one end repre-
sent flying bullets. The bullet passing through Lieut. McKinney's body (7)
indicates the manner of his death.
PLATE V.
PAGE 422.
INDIAN WEAPONS - TOMAHAWKS, WAR SHIELD,
CLUBS, BOWS, ARROWS, &C.
1. COMANCHE TOMAHAWK.
Ornamented with red flannel, scalp-locks, and feathers.
2. UTE TOMAHAWK PIPE.
3.} SIOUX WAR CLUBS.
5.
6. SIOUX BOWS AND ARROWS.
7.
8. COMANCHE WAR SHIELD.
Ornamented with feathers, and the tail of a horse. This shield is proof against
rifle bullets.
9. BOW-CASE AND QUIVER OF THE BANNOCK INDIANS.
Made of very fine buckskin, and elaborately embroidered with beads.
11. SIOUX WAR CLUbs.
12. TOMAHAWK PIPE.
Once belonging to Little Bear, a prominent chief of the Northern Apaches.
13. KIOWA WAR CLUB.
14. COMANCHE TOMAHAWK PIPE.
xii LIST OF CHROMO-LITHOGRAPH PLATES.
PLATE VI.
PAGE 514.
OBJECTS OF INTEREST AND CURIOSITY: SCALPS OF
INDIANS AND WHITE PEOPLE-ORNAMENTS
MADE OF HUMAN SKIN AND BONES, &C.
1. KIOWA MEDICINE RATTLE.
2. SHEATH OF SCALPING KNIFE (SIOUX),
3. SHEATH OF SCALPING KNIFE (CHEYENNE).
4. SCALPING KNIVES.
5. SCALPS OF TWO WHITE MEN, ARRANGED ON A WAND FOR THE SCALP DANCE.
6. SCALP OF A SIOUX INDIAN.
Elaborately ornamented with feathers and beads.
7. SCALP OF A SIOUX INDIAN, TAKEN ENTIRE.
8. SCALP OF A LITTLE WHITE GIRL.
This scalp was taken from the Comanches. The little girl was about nine years
old.
9. UTE MATCH SAFE, BEADED.
10. UTE NEEDLE CASE, BEADED.
11. UTE NECKLACE, WITH "MEDICINE.
""
Made of shells from the Gulf of California, passed in barter from tribe to tribe.
12. CHEYENNE SQUAW's GAMBLING IMPLEMENT.
Made of the bones of a bear's foot.
13. NORTHERN CHEYENNE NECKLACE.
Made of the first joints of human fingers.
14. GAMBLING BONES, AND BEADED CASE.
15. BELT MADE OF HUMAN SKIN.
This was taken from a Tonkaway Indian, who had made it from the skin of a
Comanche.
CONTENTS.
INTRODUCTION, BY GEN. WILLIAM T. SHERMAN.
CHAPTER I.
Page xxxv
MY EARLY LIFE-FIRST EXPERIENCES WITH INDIANS-ADVEN-
TURES AMONG THE COMANCHES.
My Early Home - First Sight of Warriors — A Thrill of Horror Re-
called - Sudden Transformation of My Views - A Beardless Lieu-
Their
tenant - The Texan Frontier - Nights with the Comanches
Cunning and Treachery - The Sleepless Foe - A Fatal Stumble—
On a Cavalry Scout - Adventurous Pursuit
Adventurous Pursuit — Surprising an Indian
Camp-Invited to be the Guest of an Indian Chief- Warned of
Danger Outbreak of Hostilities Young Warriors with "Bad
Hearts" The Bandera Pass- An Exciting Adventure Separated
from My Command Making the Best of It-Ruined Ammuni-
tion On the Edge of Peril — Reconnoitring the Indian Camp
My Flight and Pursuit - The Race for Life My Escape-Rejoin-
ing My Command - Thirty Years of Indian Warfare,
-
CHAPTER II.
Page 29
–
BEYOND THE MISSISSIPPI - THE LANGUAGE, NUMBERS, HABITS,
ETC., OF THE INDIANS OF THE GREAT WEST.
Origin of the American Indians The Defect of Writers on the Indians
Wonderful Diversity of the Indian Language Curious Facts and
Tendencies - The Effect of War - Stupendous Vanity - Invention
of Dialects The Passion for War-The Crafty and Bloodthirsty
Apaches The Cheyennes and Arrapahoes - A Marvellous Alliance
-The Sign Language - Estimates of Population - Superstitious
Dread of being Counted - Indian Extermination Nomadic Pro-
clivities — The Winter Encampment — Home Attachments - Love
for an Old Encampment - Cherished Memories "Home Sickness"
- Mental Peculiarities — Acute Perceptions - Ill-Directed Efforts
Indian Schools - Indian Orators - How they Rehearse their Speeches
-Swaying a Savage Audience,
42
xiv
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER III.
WILD LIFE ON THE PLAINS - INDIAN CHARACTER, TRAITS, AND
PECULIARITIES.
The Country of the "Plains Indians" — The Dream of an Enthusiast
The Indian as he is - His Conduct in the Presence of Strangers
Clothes Only for Show - His Conduct in his Own Camp — A Rollick-
ing Miscreant — Night Scenes in an Indian Camp — The Disgrace of
being Surprised - A Pair of Climbing Boots - The Hero of the Tele-
graph Pole - How a Lady Excited Surprise and Admiration A
Comical Incident The Story of a Wooden Leg — Carrying a Joke
too Far A Summary Ejectment - Endurance of Pain - Patience,
an Indian Virtue — Blowing his Own Trumpet — Extravagant Self-
Praise An Indian's Idea of Modesty - Honor among Thieves ·
Kicked Out of Camp - Early Lessons in Stealing — Apt Pupils — A
Flagrant Case - A Fair Field and No Favor Differences of
Opinion,
52
CHAPTER IV.
INDIAN CHIEFS AND RULERS-TRIBAL GOVERNMENT - HOW PLACE
AND POWER ARE WON.
Powers of the Head Chief The Avengers of Blood - The Death Penalty
Deadly Hostility-Sitting Bull's Indomitable Band - Ouray's Lost
Prestige- Little Robe and Little Raven -Two Tribes that are Firm
Friends Disobeying Spotted Tail's Orders - Fate of Deserting
Warriors Severe Punishment -A Secret Society - The "Picked
Corps" of Warriors - The Chief's Body Guard - Expiating a Sin
A Noted Comanche Chief: His Courage and Daring - Death from a
Broken Heart Red Cloud's Career War to the Knife A Thrill-
ing Episode Rival Suitors-Spotted Tail's Duel-
Spotted Tail's Duel - Locked in
Death's Embrace - Big Mouth's Assassination, .
68
-
CHAPTER V.
SWINDLING AND ROBBING THE INDIANS - MY OWN OBSERVA-
TIONS.
66
The Treaty System
""
Its Absurdity-Stipulations that cannot be
Wards of the
Kept - How Indians are Swindled and Robbed-
Nation "— Modoc Jack - General Canby's Murderers - Expiation
-
CONTENTS.
XV
on the Gallows-The "Indian Agent” — His Absolute Power - How
Massacres are Invited - Poor old Mr. Meeker—Our “Indian Policy"
- Forcible Contrasts - My Own Observations - What I Have Seen
- Unexampled Scoundrelism - Stone Calf's Daughter
Stone Calf's Daughter — The Flower
of the Wigwam An Ill-fated Journey - Concealed in a Thicket
Threatened with Instant Death Escape to a Friendly Teepe - The
Old Chief's Agony - A Heart-broken Warrior -— My Inability to Help
Him Praying for the "White Man's Road,"
87
·
CHAPTER VI.
RELIGION OF THE INDIAN-A STRANGE FAITH-THE GREAT
MYSTERY OF INDIAN "MEDICINE."
The Indian Idea of God—The Good God - The Bad God― The Per-
66
a
petual Struggle between Them The Happy Hunting Grounds "
How the Indian Soul is Excluded from Paradise — Horror of Being
Scalped Desperate Efforts to Save a Friend's Soul - How the Soul
Escapes from the Body - The Indian Idea of Hell Good Med-
icine "
66
versus Bad Medicine " Ridiculous Superstition How
'Medicine" is Made-Its Great Mystery
- Its Great Mystery — A Sacred Secret — De-
ciding on the Ingredients — Appeasing the Wrath of the Bad God
Sacred Ponies Driving a Sharp Bargain with the Devil — Stick-
ing to the Faith of their Fathers Spotted Tail's Argument with
Captain Randall Black Beard"- My Talk with an Aged Chief-
Who Made the World?— Fetichism — Digger Indians,
96
CHAPTER VII.
THE MEDICINE CHIEF - HIS GREAT POWER AND INFLUENCE-
AN OFFICE WON BY RECKLESS DARING.
—
The Medicine Chief - His Power and Standing in the Tribe How the
Office is Won-Proving His Own Medicine A First-Class Aristo-
crat — The Idol of the Squaws - An Indian Physician - His knowl-
edge of Herbs - No Cure no Pay - A Pandemonium of Howls -
Incantations Over the Sick—A Remedy Worse than the Disease
Heroic Treatment - My Reception in an Indian Camp — Black,
Beady Eyes- An Aspirant for Fame Sitting Bull Medicine
Arrow A Favorite of Fortune - The Most Remarkable Chief of His
-
Time - His Famous Arrows Arrows for Ponies and Ponies for
Rum - End of a Strange Career - Splendid Types of Courage
The Charge on Forsythe's Rifle Pits Indian Quacks, .
114
xvi
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER VIII.
SECRET RITES AND RELIGIOUS CEREMONIES - AN INDIAN MYS-
TERY-THE
THE SACRED "SOMETHING.”
The Sacred Conclave How One of My Officers Gained Admittance
What He Saw There Curious Solemnities — Sacred Mysteries
The Medicine Pipe - How an Indian Smokes a Cigar A Blazing
""
Stub How the Pipe is Used for Casting Lots How the Fatal
Signal is Determined - Secret Societies, Pass Words, and Grips
Medicine Arrow's Great Influence - The Sacred "Something
What is it? - An Object of Awe and Veneration - Capture of the
Sacred Symbol by the Pawnees - A Pious Fraud The Utes and the
Squat Stone-Its Capture by a Hostile Tribe - Their Flight with It-
Consternation at its Loss Wild Pursuit and Vengeance — Burial of
the Sacred Insignia The Lost Treasure Sitting Bull's "Med-
icine,"
124
CHAPTER IX.
HÔCH-É-A-YUM-THE GREAT MEDICINE DANCE-SUFFERING AND
ENDURANCE OF THE DANCERS.
The Cotton Wood Lodge The Medicine Dance- Preparations for the
Ceremony - Extent of the Suffering Involved - In the Circle - The
Spectators — Selection of Warriors for the Dance — Death the Penalty
of Failure — Stripped for the Struggle — Eyes Fixed — The Sus-
pended Image - Wild Enthusiasm
Wild Enthusiasm - The Dance of Endurance
The Weary Round Shouts of Encouragement Wail of the Squaws
An Exhausted Dancer - Dragged from the Fatal Arena - The
Victim Death of the Dancer - The Furies of Hell Let Loose -
Fleeing From Wrath - Rallying the Bands Four Days' of Suffer-
ing - Sticking it Out to the Bitter End - Recognition and Reward –
Rushing in at the Eleventh Hour Carrying off the Prize, 134
—
CHAPTER X.
·
•
INDIAN METHODS OF SELF-TORTURE-ENDURANCE AND
DEFIANCE OF PAIN.
The Warrior's Ordeal — Panting for the Knife — How Suffering is Courted
Ordeal-Panting
Stalwart Endurance of Pain - The Greatest of Indian Virtues ——
Remarkable Religious Fervor Indian Pride in Self-Torture - Prep-
arations for the Trying Ordeal - Fasting, Silence, and Meditation –
CONTENTS.
xvii
The Candidates Brought before the Medicine Chief - Deciding on
the Kind and Amount of Torture - The Merciless Thrust of the Knife
Muscles
Inserting Horsehair Ropes The Wounded Devotee
Torn from the Breast Incredible Suffering — The Victim's Tragic
Efforts to Break Loose Suspended in Mid-air - Indescribable
Agonies - Lips that Never Murmur — Dressing the Wounds — The
Consequences of Flinching under the Knife- The "Sun Dance ”
of the Sioux - Expiation of Crime
Expiation of Crime — Exasperating Forms of Tor-
146
ture,.
CHAPTER XI.
THE INDIAN'S LAST RESTING-PLACE-BURIAL OF THE DEAD.
The Excitement Caused by a Death in Camp - An Indian Cemetery
Depositing the Body in a Tree - The Burial Case - How the Body
is Dressed My Horrible Discovery - Following the Trail— Another
Discovery - The Dead Body of the Comanche War Chief - How He
Died Treating His Body with Indignity Comical Epitaph
Stealing a Body for Dissection - The Body-Snatchers at Work
The Midnight Foray - Unexpected Arrival of Squaws - Consterna-
tion of the Thieves Terror and Flight of the Women What
I saw in a Deserted Ute Camp Graves Safe from Mortal Eyes -
Secrets Betrayed by Human Bones - Ouray's Death- His Secret
Burial — Discovery of His Grave,
153
•
CHAPTER XII.
MOURNING FOR THE DEAD-HOW INDIANS FEEL AND SHOW
THEIR GRIEF.
66
In "Sackcloth and Ashes " The Mark of God's Displeasure - Parental
Anguish - The Death of a Son - A Warrior's Tearless Eyes — Real
Grief Mourning for a Dead Wife — What Happens at the Death of
a Chief — How the Squaws Mourn A Chorus of Howls from the
"Blessed Sex" Self-Mutilation - Inflicting Horrible Wounds
A "Good Cry" versus a Good Howl" - Inconsolable Widows
Midnight Wails - Letting off Superfluous Unhappiness Joining
in the Howl The "Luxury of Grief" Vigorous Lamentation
How an Indian Makes his Will Scene at Ouray's Death Bed
— His Will — Clamoring for the Destruction of his Property — A
Narrow Escape · The Sacrifice of Seventeen Horses - Firing the
Pyre,
—
167
2
xviii
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER XIII.
THE FUTURE LIFE-THE INDIAN'S IDEA OF HEAVEN THE
HAPPY HUNTING GROUNDS.
Conceptions of the Hereafter Indian Horror of Being Strangled
or Scalped Explained - An Eternity of Green Fields and Pastures
Equipped for the Long Journey - Death Overcome Touching
Traits of Character Complete Outfit for the Dead - The War-
rior's Grave- Starvation and Death Preferred to Robbing the Dead
- How Physical Defects are Carried into the Next World - Fate
of an Emaciated Form Mutilations of the Body - Transfixed
with Arrows - A Dismal Superstition
A Dismal Superstition - Why Indians Rarely Make
Night Attacks The Effect of Being Killed in the Dark - Crawling
into Camp-Stealth and Cunning — Avenging the Slain — Incident
of the Campaign of 1873 - Fate of a Band of Surveyors,
•
175
CHAPTER XIV.
CHILDHOOD AND YOUTH-LIFE AND TRAINING OF INDIAN BOYS
AND GIRLS.
-
–
The Redskin Baby - An Original Outfit - Feathers and Fur
Fur-A Real
"Nest of Comfort" - Tossed into a Corner "In the Tree Top
Learning to Ride Stopping the Baby's Cry - A Novel Method
Rough Schooling — Adoption of Captive Children — The Comanche
Women - A Coveted Baby - Ready to Swap or Buy - An Inter-
esting Experience - The Warrior's Pride A Touching Story
Bound to the Stake The Old Chief's Sacrifice Childhood Sports -
Freedom of the Lodge Trained for the Chase - Roaming at Large
Cold-Blooded Atrocities - Daring Attacks
Daring Attacks - In Pursuit of Fame
A Momentous Hour - What I saw at an Indian Dance Matri-
monial Hankerings - Married at Sixteen - Old Age at Thirty-
five, .
181
•
CHAPTER XV.
LOVE-MAKING IN AN INDIAN CAMP-COURTSHIP AND MARRIAGE.
Indian Lovers -Suitors for a Maiden's Hand - Going to "See His
Girl"
At His Inamorata's Lodge - "The Old Folks at Home "
Indian Match-Makers - The First Real Meeting - Picturesque Re-
luctance and a Pretty Surrender — Tête-à-Tête — Engaged at Last
CONTENTS.
xix
Appearance of Rivals — An Indian Flirt — A Dozen Lovers at Her
Feet - Competition the Life of Trade - Plans for the Wedding -
How Paternal Consent is Obtained - Indian Elopements - Love De-
fiant of Locks and Bars - Escape from the Lodge - Flight and
Pursuit Assessing the Damages - The Girl's Market Value - A
White Admirer's Perfidy — Gushing Frankness - An Unfortunate
Dilemma “So Glad You Asked Me" — A Widow's Pathetic Ap-
peal,
190
-
CHAPTER XVI.
INDIAN WOMEN — THEIR VIRTUES AND VICES-LIFE IN AN
INDIAN LODGE.
-
The Life of an Indian Woman Where the Bead and Feather Work
Comes From A "Model" Wife
—
A Squaw's Right — Seeking a
New Husband — How the Custom Originated - The Go-Between
Secret Conferences — Winning the Affections of Another Man's Wife
- Scandal in the Camp - The Old Warrior's Darling - Flight with a
Youthful Admirer - The Honey-Moon-Housekeeping in a Friendly
Teepe-A Dark Day-A Terrible Punishment Tickling a Girl's
Vanity Liaisons Among the Arrapahoes - Curious Safeguards —
The Story of Powder Face - A Notable Couple — A Precocious Young
Rascal-First-Class Sensation- Madmen and Idiots- A Professional
Tramp - His Capture by Hostile Sioux,
200
CHAPTER XVII.
INDIAN NAMES, TITLES, AND EPITHETS-THEIR MEANING AND
SIGNIFICANCE. — THE TOTEM.
Indian Idea of their Origin Traditions - The Family Coat of Arms
The Totem, and What It Is Surnames - Pet Names - Titles
Nicknames - Palpable Hits - The Original
The Original “Punch" Odd Traits
and Fancies Indicated by Names Why Indians Name Themselves
Curious Titles - White Eagle "
"Lone Wolf” Yellow
Bear"
"Powder Face" Man-Afraid-of-His-Horses "— Loafing
“Jims” and Indolent "Tonys" — Unblushing Beggary — Effect of
Incident and Adventure — An Ill-Fated Expedition - An Unsolved
Mystery - The Place of Lost Souls - The " Great American Bull-
Whacker" -The "Picketwire "— Indian Nicknames of Army Offi-
Ridiculous Appellations Gray Beard General Crook's
Indian Name - Why they Call Him
Why they Call Him "The Gray Fox,” € 216
cers
XX
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER XVIII.
EVERYDAY INDIAN LIFE-SIGHTS AND SCENES IN INDIAN
HOMES, TEEPES, AND WINTER CAMPS.
An Indian Teepe-How it is Made - The "Wicky-Up"-Its Con-
struction — Teepe Furnishings — Beds that are Never "Made Up ".
Meal Hours The Luxury of Baker's Bread - Indian Hospitality -
The First Chance at the Pot — Scenting a Dinner from Afar — Enter-
taining You To-day and Taking Your Scalp To-morrow - How
Indians Select a Camping-Place - Looking Out for Danger — The
"Public Square" and Crier - Selecting a Site for the Winter Camp
An Indian Village - General Custer's Exploit
General Custer's Exploit - His Fortunate
Escape A Cold-Blooded Ruffian - Paid "by the Scalp" -Two
Hundred and Fifty Scalps at One Fight Days and Nights of
Feasting and Revelry —“Love Rules the Camp"
Camp"-Sketches from
Life,
224
CHAPTER XIX.
INDIAN SKILL AND HANDIWORK— OCCUPATIONS OF CAMP AND
LODGE.
In Winter Quarters — Preparations for War and the Chase - How
Indian Saddles and Bridles are made - The Mexican Device —
Fancy Reins The Art of Plaiting Horsehair The Lariat and the
Lasso - How They are Made A Winter's Task - The Great Fall
Hunt - Scenes of Joy and Excitement Preserved Buffalo - Real
Indian Bread — Skill in Dressing Skins — Family Heirlooms — The
Elkhorn Handle - A Priceless Treasure- A Suit of Deer-skin —
Original Needlework - Spending a Year on a Single Garment
Bead Work - Beautiful Ornamentation - Behind the Plough — The
Indian Maiden of Fiction - Wrestling with the Sportive Hoe — A
Square Day's Work — The Chopping Match - Startling Facts, 250
CHAPTER XX.
TRADE AND BARTER-THE VICTIMS AND PREY OF INDIAN
"TRADERS."
Systems of Barter "Sold Out" - Fleeced and Victimized by the
“Trader” — Indian Wants and Necessities-The Charm of Nov-
elty - An Incident at Fort Sedgwick - The Ornamented Buffalo
CONTENTS.
xxi
Robe-A Warrior with a Sweet Tooth-The First Lot of Matches -
An Astonished Indian — Curiosity Aroused-A Wonderful Box
Testing the Matches One by One- Scorched Fingers - My Treasures
from the Ute Campaign — Blanket of Rare Beauty and Design — A
Dishonored Statute The Trapper Thirty Years Ago-Domiciled
with Savages — A Wild Free Life - Admitted to the Indian Brother-
The
hood - Sharing Hairbreadth Escapes-The Gaming Table
Trader's Grip on the Red Man's Throat-Barefaced Swindling — An
Open and Shut Game - Hobson's Choice - The Traders' Prey, 261
CHAPTER XXI.
INDIAN COOKS AND COOKING-FAVORITE FOOD AND ODD
DISHES AMUSING EXPERIENCES.
66
Indian Cooks-Teepe Manners Fingers before Forks " - The
"Tonish" Thing in Serving - How Indians Cook for Themselves
An Off-Hand Roast - The Marrow-Bones -The Choicest Bonne
Bouche Enormous Feeders - Eating Twenty Pounds at One Meal
Gluttony of the Red Skins-The Call for More Cunning and
Strategy - Accumulated Breakfasts An Astonishing Appetite —
Job's Turkey-A Tough One - An Abandoned Fowl - An Odd
Superstition — Unblushing Cheek-Eating Ten Feet of Marrow
Guts The Use of Salt-Red Pepper and Black
Red Pepper and Black-Selection of the
Entrails - The Indian's Most Delicious Morsel - My Invitation to
Dine with the Pawnee Chief-A Disgusting Repast-Dog Flesh
Fat Puppy - Skunk - My Interview with Stone Calf,
271
CHAPTER XXII.
THE BUFFALO AND ITS DESTRUCTION-THE INDIAN'S GREAT
FALL HUNT-EXCITING ADVENTURES.
66
The Indian and the Buffalo - The Old Days of Plenty-Habits and
Instincts - Immense Herds A Column Fifty Miles Wide, and
of Unknown Depth - A Thrilling Adventure at Pawnee Rock-
Danger from a Stampeded Herd - Splitting "the Column Safe
at Last Scenes of Wild Animation - Mistaken Ideas of Old Plains-
men - How the Indians Hunt Buffalo - The " Surround" Closing
In for the Attack — The Signal --Wild Onset of Warriors - Desperate
Resistance The Slaughter The Sioux Plan - My Camp on Big
Coon Creek - My Adventure with a Panic-stricken Herd - — A Camp
Aroused at Midnight — Hairbreadth Escape - The Extinction of the
Buffalo Wanton Slaughter - Barbarous Practices,
-
. 282
xxii
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER XXIII.
CLOTHING, FINERY, AND PERSONAL ADORNMENT OF INDIANS.
The Breech-cloth — Donning a "Biled"
Shirt- How Little Raven
"Received" Fixed up" for White Company - Ludicrous Com-
binations Remarkable Appearance of Turkey Leg in Council
The Green Veil and Stove-Pipe Hat -Bugbears of Indian Life
A Disgusted Warrior Ceremonial Costumes Fringe Made of
Scalp Locks Dressing the Hair-The "Pig-tail" Style - The
Receptacle for Odds and Ends Female Attire - The Buckskin Skirt
and Jacket· -The Kirtle of Fringe - How Indians Paint their Bodies
- Bracelets and Beadwork - A Good Story - The Captain's False
Teeth A Cheyenne Chief's Glass Eye-Terror Caused by its
Removal — Kicked out of Camp as Doubtful “Medicine,” . 297
P
CHAPTER XXIV.
DISEASE AND DEATH-THE STRUGGLE FOR EXISTENCE.
-
Homesickness-Driven from Pillar to Post Fate of the Pawnees-
Frightful Mortality — The “Policy" that Drives Indians to Despera-
tion - The Only Misfortune Over which an Indian Broods - Rude
Remedies The Sweat House-A Cold Plunge - Disease among
Indian Children - A Shocking Suspicion - Wild Flight — Super-
stitious Terror — Abject Prostration and Alarm - The Wail of De-
spair - Dead and Dying Left by the Wayside — Scenes of Indescribable
Horror Hydrophobia Curious Facts Concerning the Bite of a
Skunk - Awaiting the Worst of Fates Suicide Defiance of Tor-
ture - Preparing for a Desperate Raid — Shot Dead in his Saddle
Deathbed Scenes Chanting the Death Song - The Final Fare-
well, .
311
CHAPTER XXV.
INDIAN GAMBLERS-THEIR GAMES OF SKILL AND CHANCE-
DRUNKENNESS-SCENES FROM LIFE.
Indian Gamblers
A Favorite Pastime — Preparations for the Game
The Stakes-The Whirlpool of Fortune - An Exciting Contest-
Dexterous Manipulation Counting the Points Sweeping the
Stakes - Experts with Cards - The Mysteries of "Monte" Ways
that are Dark Cheating a Fine Art - The Loaded Hand
""
CONTENTS.
Bad Luck
xxiii
Heavy Stakes
manche Gambler The Fatal Throw Gambling Customs
Passing the Bone" - In a Whirl of Excitement Aboriginal
Dice - Lucky Numbers Favorite Game with the Cheyenne Wo-
men Born and Bred Swindlers Anything for
for Whiskey
Enjoying his Whiskey Alone Sneaking off for a Debauch
A Sound Thrashing — A Blubbering Warrior,
Wives and Children Lost The Co-
325
CHAPTER XXVI.
INDIAN AMUSEMENTS AND SPORTS-WONDERFUL FEATS AND
MARVELLOUS EXPLOITS.
The Sign
An Indian Story Teller The Favorite of the Women
Language Outdoor Sports Life in the Saddle Wonderful
Feats of Horsemanship Marvellous Exploits at Full Gallop
Novel Races — An Arrant Jockey — Tricks of the Trade - An Adroit
Comanche - Mu-La-Que-Top's Scheme
of a Pony against a Kentucky Mare
Sharp Practice
Sharp Practice — A Sheep
Fastest Race on Record
A Put-up Job - Disgusted Army Officers - Bow and Arrow Games
Scandal Mongers - Indian Rumors - The Outbreak at Fort Reno-
Beating the Telegraph - Incredible Despatch Scouts and Run-
ners Something New about Wives - Squaw Fights — Off with
the Wrong Man
An Unequal Con-
Facing the Consequences
test,
—
336
CHAPTER XXVII.
INDIAN MUSIC AND MUSICIANS - CURIOUS MUSICAL INSTRU-
MENTS - POETRY AND SONGS.
Indian Musical Instruments
-
The Cheyenne Tom-tom- A Curious
Work Constructive Skill My Wonderful Present The Sioux
Rattle "Flutes and Soft Recorders "-Weird but Winsome Notes -
An Indian Serenade The War Song-The Indian "German"
Thrilled with Military Frenzy - Transported with Adoration
Songs Without Words" Permanence of Indian Music The
Celebration of Valor Selection of the Tune - Fitting the Words
Practising in Chorus Night After Night at Work The Song
Completed - Odd Indian Melodies - Every One His Own Poet
The Cheyenne Courting Song - Winning a Married Woman's
Love - The Conditional Elopement - The Round Dance — Music
of the Kiss Dance - Wild Notes Recovered An Interesting Re-
sult,
348
xxiv
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER XXVIII.
INDIAN DANCES-SCENES OF WILD EXCITEMENT AND FRENZY —
LUDICROUS EXPERIENCES.
-
Indian Dancing Customs - Preparations for the Scalp Dance — A Hid-
eous Picture The Circle of Wands On the Border of Frenzy –
Bringing Out Old Scalps-Enlisting for the War"Striking the
Post"- My First Sight of a Scalp Dance - Prisoners Gracing the
Ceremony - A Boy's Pluck Exasperated by Ridicule Begging
Dance Reconciling Old Foes Interesting Incident of Crook's
Campaign Indian Diplomacy Disastrous Blow to New-made
Friends Impoverished by Hugs- The Lost Chance An Every-
day Scene
Virtue and Vice Side by Side Stolen Bodily from the
Indians The Sign Dance The "Kissing Dance” - Mischiev-
ous Couples-Practical Jokes - The Indian Love of Humor
Ludicrous Experiences - A Delicious Bit of Masquerading,
CHAPTER XXIX.
356
THE SIGN LANGUAGE-WONDERFUL EXPERTNESS OF INDIAN
SIGN-TALKERS.
The Need of a Common Language — The Great Battle Ground of the
Plains The Struggle for Existence Imperilled Interests — A
Question of Fate Desperate Encounters Common Methods of
Communication Signs and Gestures Origin and Extent of the
System The Cheyennes and Arrapahoes - Enforced Companion-
ship - Fighting, Racing and Gambling Together Ignorance of
Signs Among the Utes - Ouray's Explanation Sign Pictures -
—
Rank of the Kiowas as Founders of the System - Oral Language
Skeleton Forms of Speech Individual Styles First Lessons in
Signs Curious and Interesting Illustrations — A Powerful Sys-
tem - Its Effect upon Indian Life The Expert Sign-talker
Conversation under Difficulties - Talking under a Blanket, . 379
CHAPTER XXX.
INDIAN CHRONOLOGY-DEVICES FOR RECKONING TIME-KEEPING
TRACK OF THE YEARS.
Keeping Track of the Years - Counting by "Days," "Sleeps,"
Moons," and "Winters," - My Personal Observations - The Fruits
of Research- The Moon when Corn is Planted-New Year's
CONTENTS.
XXV
Day-The First Snow-fall — A Puzzling Interview — An Old Chey-
enne's Opinion -
"Some Years Have More Moons than Others "
The Sioux Calendar-A Wonderful Chronological Chart - In the
Hands of Curiosity-hunters Excited Hopes Provoking Revela-
tions - Fac Simile of the Calendar -Seventy Years in a Nutshell
—
Tell-tale Hieroglyphics Solution of the Mystery Applying the
Key - Finding an Old Woman in a Buffalo - Old Folk Lore- A
395
Legend of the Pacific Coast — A “Boston Man,”
CHAPTER XXXI.
INDIAN ART AND ARTISTS-SIGNIFICATION OF THEIR PICTURES
Progress in the Arts
AND INSCRIPTIONS.
Semi-Civilized Indians
Obtaining an Educa-
tion Their Knowledge of the Industrial and Mechanic Arts - The
How
Pueblos —Spinning, Weaving and Tailoring — The Navahoes
their Dwellings are Constructed - Beauty and Excellence of their
Blankets - The Apaches Canoes of Bark- Adepts at Carving -
The Making and Ornamentation of Pipes - Bead-work, Paint,
Feathers, and Fringes - Indian Artists - Their Delight at Pictures
Portraying their Remarkable Exploits-My Exploring Expedition to
the Black Hills - What I Found Ander a Cairn of Stones - Indian
Hieroglyphics—Inscriptions on Rocks and Trees - Indian Signa-
How Warriors Keep a Record of their Lives - Indian
tures
Pictures,
406
CHAPTER XXXII.
INDIAN WEAPONS-HOW THEY ARE MADE-SKILL AND EXPERT-
NESS IN THEIR USE.
Bows and Arrows-How Indian Boys Learn to Use them-Forays for
Scalps and Plunder — The First Gun — An Incident of My first Fight
with Indians - Why They Still Cling to the Bow-How the Bow is
Made Its Strength and Elasticity - Arrows and How they
are Made Their Penetrating Power - War Arrows · Indian
Marksman Beaten by a White Man The War Club The
Tomahawk - The Scalping Knife- Keen as a Razor"- The
Lance A Formidable Weapon - The Shield - Patience, Care, and
Thought Bestowed upon its Manufacture - How the Indians Obtain
their Firearms— A Party of Sioux Visit my Camp — A Well-Armed
Warrior-Fate of a Wealthy Sportsman,
415
xxvi
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER XXXIII.
INDIAN DRILL SIGNAL FIRES AND SMOKES
METHODS OF COMMUNICATION.
WONDERFUL
How Indian Boys Learn to Ride - Testing the Speed of Every Horse-
The Most Skilful Riders in the World Indian Boys' Fun - In for a
Good Time - Making Bets - In Search of Adventure
- — How Indians
Drill-Show Drills - Secret Signals Sacredness of an Indian Oath
“I have Sworn ” — A Well-guarded Mystery How Warriors are
Drilled with a Piece of Looking-glass - The Best Cavalry in the
World - Indian Methods of Communication at Long Distances - How
it is Done - Signal Smokes
Signal Smokes - Their Variety and What they Mean-
Night Signals Signal Fires- Indian Scouts - Wonderful System
of Telegraphing - Marvellous Feats of Horsemanship - Practising
at Carrying off the Dead and Wounded, .
425
CHAPTER XXXIV.
INDIAN FIGHTING THEIR MODE OF WARFARE-THRILLING AD
VENTURES AND EXPERIENCES.
Cunning- The Effect of Surprise
Danger from a Wounded Indian
Indian Courage, Craft, Patience and
Their Fights with Each Other
– Tenacity of Life — My Command Ordered to Protect a Railroad —-
The "Talking Wire" Discovering the Position of the Enemy-
66
- — A
Indian Strategy — The Battle of the Rosebud under Gen. Crook
Terrible Conflict - The "Valley of the Shadow of Death "— Personal
Experiences Jumped" by Indians — A Thrilling Adventure
Surrounded by Sixty Hostile Sioux - An Exciting Experience
Charge of the Yelling Savages — We are Again Surrounded A
Narrow Escape - My Adventure near Fort Dodge — Preparations
for the Fight-Stowing away Julia" - A Ludicrous Experience
– Diplomacy Saves our Lives—A Disgusted Indian,
435
CHAPTER XXXV.
ARMY LIFE ON THE PLAINS — THRILLING ADVENTURES ·AMONG
THE INDIANS.
The Real Pioneer
General Custer's Attack on Black Kettle — A Des-
perate Conflict - Undaunted Savages- The Story of the Massacre
of Major Elliott and His Nineteen Men Three Thousand Warriors
CONTENTS.
xxvii
Rush to the Assistance of Black Kettle-Wild Alarm - The Indians
surround Major Elliott's Command-Hasty Preparations for the Worst
Attacked on all Sides-The Fight for Life-The Death of Twenty
Brave Men - The Last One to Die - Courage and Heroism of
Sergeant-Major Kennedy-Alone, Sabre in Hand - Exulting Savages
-Inviting Instant Death-Kennedy Suddenly Kills a Chief — An
Instant of Terrified Surprise - Death of Kennedy, Pierced by Twenty
Bullets The Battle of White Stone Hill-Every Man for Hin-
self,
468
CHAPTER XXXVI.
ARMY EXPERIENCES ON THE FRONTIER-POWELL'S FIGHT - THE
HEROISM OF THIRTY-TWO MEN.
Prepara-
The Phil Kearney Massacre Annihilation of the Whites
tions to Strike Back—Red Cloud's Resentment-War to the Knife
The Situation at Fort Phil Kearney — Major Powell Ordered to Piney
Island — —
Surrounded by Indians - Improvised Defences - Iron Walls
and Breech-loaders The Heroism of Thirty-two Men Cool
Heads, Brave Hearts, and Steady Nerves — The Carnival of Death -
Repulse with Desperate Loss Red Cloud's Consternation The
Bloodthirsty Advance Awaiting the Deadly Onset Heroic De-
fence of the Corral Routed and Driven Back-Recovering the
Wounded Dragging off the Dead The Gallant Band Relieved -
· An Old Trapper's Story of the Fight,
478
CHAPTER XXXVII.
GENERAL MACKENZIE'S FIGHT WITH THE CHEYENNES — A DES-
PERATE HAND TO HAND COMBAT.
Indian Tactics
J
Surprises and Ambuscades-Attacking Detachments
in Detail — Appalling Massacres - Courage and Craft - The Night
March General Crook's Indian Allies Pursuit of Crazy Horse-
His Escape — Discovery of the Cheyenne Encampment — A Night of
Horror - The Surprise at Daybreak - Desperate Attack and Re-
Horror―The
sistance Hand to Hand Combat Death of Dull Knife's Favorite
Son-Holding the Victors at Bay - Lieutenant McKinney's Splendid
Dash The Dead Hero Reinforcements Summoned My Com-
mand Ordered Forward—Our Forced March in the Dead of Winter -
We Lose the Trail - Sleeping on the Snow- Flight of the Indians
Untold Hardships Endured — The Fatal Route,
490
xxviii
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER XXXVIII.
WINTER ON THE PLAINS-ITS DANGERS AND HARDSHIPS-INCI-
DENTS AND PERSONAL EXPERIENCES.
Difficulty of Surprising Indians — Starvation and Cold their Worst
Enemies The Remarkable Winters of the Plains - Piercing Winds
-Excessive Cold-Certain Death to Every Exposed Living Thing
- Flying to Shelter - A "Norther"-Terrible Hardships and Suffer-
ings of Fifteen Men - Braving the Dangers of the Elements
The Pluck of Captain Mix - Threats of Instant Death — An In-
-
cident in My Own Experience Horses Frozen to Death — A Stir-
ring Incident - Captain Henry's Experience-In the Teeth of a
Furious "Norther"-Wandering Blindly through the Snow-Horses
Frantic with Cold-Hands and Faces Frozen
Hands and Faces Frozen - Utter Helplessness
of the Party- Looking Death in the Face - The Race for Life, 501
CHAPTER XXXIX.
TAKING THE SCALP-HOW AND WHY IT IS DONE-THRILLING
INCIDENTS.
The Indian Custom of Taking the Scalp-Origin of the Practice-
What Becomes of the Scalps - Strange Superstition attached to them
The Head Chief of the Pawnees Pays me a Visit He Discloses
a Freshly Taken Scalp — A strange Performance — How the Paw-
nees Wear their Hair - Custom of the Cheyennes, Arrapahoes,
Kiowas and Comanches How the Scalp is Taken-Different ways
of Doing it — Taking the Ears with it- What I saw in an Indian
Camp - Why Colored Soldiers are never Scalped - Mutilation of the
Body - Why General Custer's Body was not Scalped - Sam Cherry
the Guide A Thrilling Incident - Fears for his Safety - Working
Out the Story of the Tragedy - His Last Shot,
512
CHAPTER. XL.
PRISONERS AMONG INDIANS VICTIMS FOR THE TORTURE-
CAPTIVE WOMEN AND CHILDREN.
—
Certain Fate of Captives-Held only for Torture-Savage Instincts-
Delight in the Agonies of his Enemy - Torture by Fire - Terrible
Fate of a Little Drummer Boy - Human Fiends - Tied to a Tree
Setting Fire to Pine Knots Stuck in His Body - Sufferings of the
CONTENTS.
"Staked Out ”
Death's Relief-
xxix
Poor Boy
Devilish Ingenuity -
Horrible Brutality — Building a Fire on the Breast of Living Victims
Female Captives - A Fate worse than Death Unhappy Slaves
A Favorite Stake at the Gambling-Board-Passing from Hand to
Hand · A dozen Owners in a Single Day — A Terrible Situation
Giving up Prisoners - Experiences of Three White Women Captives
- A Story of Horrors — Captive Children Their Fate,
523
CHAPTER XLI.
THE CAPTIVE'S FATE-INDIAN CRUELTY AND HORRIBLE DE-
VICES OF TORTURE TRAGEDIES.
The Indian's Chief Pleasure in Life - Relishing the Agony of a Vic-
tim-Cruelty to Animals-Indian Women in the Rôle of Torturers -
Hellish Ingenuity Exultation over a Captive Cruelty of the
Apaches - The Fate of Chihuahua A Band of Fiends - Bound
Naked to the Cactus - Left to Die - The Fate of Captive Women
Bondage Worse than Death An Exciting Scene- Horrible Cruel-
ties-New Devices of Torture Experimenting with Prisoners
Dissecting Living Human Beings — Torture of a Mexican Captive—
Digging His Own Grave Buried Alive with the Head Out of
Ground - Partial Flaying-Dislocations - Scalped and Abandoned -
A Ghastly Tragedy — The Story of an Apache Girl - Yellow
Legs,
533
CHAPTER XLII.
A RACE OF THIEVES AND PLUNDERERS—THEIR DARING AND
SKILL-ADVENTURES.
The Successful Thief- His Standing in the Tribe-The Gravest of
Crimes - Horse Stealing - Doom of the Captured Thief— Reckless
Warriors - Disguised as Whites - The False Trail-Accomplished
Sneak-Thieves Comanche Experts - Crawling into a Bivouac
Indian Wiles - Old Texans Caught Napping — My Night Adventure
at Fort Lincoln — The Blacksmith's Death — Shot Dead in his Tracks
-The Prince of Trailers-A Thrilling Incident - My Experience
with a Comanche The Fiend's Bravado - A Wild Leap - A Race
of Thieves A Wagon Train Stampeded — The Night Attack — The
Old Rifle Regiment - A Remarkable Ruse — Horses Frantic with Fear
- Unearthly Yells-The Mystery Explained,
542
XXX
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER XLIII.
HOW INDIANS TRAVEL-THEIR MARVELLOUS JOURNEYS AND
EXPLOITS-PLAINSCRAFT.
Unerring Instinct - Straight as a Bee Line-Over Trackless Wastes -
Without Star or Compass The Only Instance of an Indian being
"Lost"
Memory of Landmarks Acute Observers Born Ex-
plorers - Penetrating Unknown Lands The Old Guide Espinosa's
Story — A Batch of Young Raiders — The Solitary Wanderer — Ex-
emption from Danger — On the Alert for Enemies The Love of Ad-
Meandering Delawares - A Notable Tribe -- An Indian
Explorer — A Wonderful Story-Teller — A Strange Ambition Gratified
-Across the Rocky Mountains - Life in Mexico Black Beaver's
Career General Marcy's Guide Female Instinct In the
Thicket — Breaking Camp - The Advance Guard The Mound ·
Builders, .
venture
C
M
550
CHAPTER XLIV.
TRAILING-INDIAN EXPERTNESS IN READING "SIGN" THE
WONDERFUL CAREER OF PEDRO ESPINOSA.
A Savage Art Expert Trailers
Frontiersmen and Indians - An
Inimitable Faculty Mexican Competitors
The Best Trailer I
ever Saw - Pedro Espinosa - A Wonderful Career
A Wonderful Career-Captured in
Childhood Made a Warrior at Thirteen - Suspected by his Cap-
tors Leading a Savage Life - Nineteen Years of Captivity — A
Fortunate Bear Hunt - The Midnight Flight
The Midnight Flight - Entrusted with Union
Despatches-Arrested and Shot by the Enemy-Thrilling Reminis-
cences Pursuit of Comanches Six Days on the Trail— An Excit-
ing Manœuvre Indian Tactics - Cunning and Skill-The Wrong
Scent - Scouting for Apaches — The Fresh Track
Ruse-Every Man for Himself— An Extraordinary Feat
ennes at Bay - Major Munck's Victory -The Pawnee Guide,
The Fresh Track- A Successful
CHAPTER XLV.
Chey-
559
INDIAN HUNTERS — ADVENTURES ON THE PLAINS — EXCITING
SCENES-THE HAUNTS OF GAME.
66
The Best Hunters in the World - Their Stealth, Cunning, and Endur-
ance Getting Position Many a Slip" - The Lost Chance - An
Astonished Indian - My Successful Shot-The Indian's Disgust-
CONTENTS.
xxxi
The Pot-Shot" Exciting Scenes - The Buffalo Surround - The
Square Chase - Hunting the Elk Cutting the Hamstring - Butch-
ered at Leisure The "Good Old Times" - Terrified Animals
Fun in Mid-Winter - Traps and Snares - Luckless Anglers — Abhor-
rence of Fish - The Staked Plains - Origin of the Buffalo - A Curious
Superstition — Stone Calf and the Legend — Lieutenant Ogle and the
Sioux - Preparing for the Surround - The Onslaught
The Onslaught - Discovery of a
Fresh Herd-The Indians Dissatisfied - Threatened Attack,
574
CHAPTER XLVI.
DOMESTIC ANIMALS-SPEED AND ENDURANCE OF INDIAN PONIES
- ANECDOTES AND INCIDENTS.
Indian Stockbreeders — Chief Ouray's Ambition
"
Animal-Stealing"
Tribes - The Cherokee Ponies - An Inseparable Companion - Ponies
a Necessity, Wives a Luxury — Where Blood" Doesn't Count
The Express Rider and his Wonderful Pony - The Daring Mail
Carrier — Riding by Night and Hiding by Day - A Marvellous
Roadster The Indian's Treatment of his Horse An Animated
Skeleton - Browzing on Cottonwood — The Diet of Bark — Thrilling
Chapter in Indian History - Escape from the Agency-Marching
like Victors — Encounters with Troops An Ambuscade Turning
the Tables on the Redmen Col. Lewis Shot Flight of the Indians
- Horrors of the Kansas Raid - Munck's Cavalry Pursuit - Speed
and Endurance Race and Trick Animals - The War Pony, 584
CHAPTER XLVII.
ON THE FRONTIER-TRAPPERS AND SQUAW MEN- TRADING
POSTS AND INDIAN AGENTS.
On the Frontier — The Border Line - The Early Trappers — Playing
the Wild Rover - Romantic Adventures Adoption by the Tribe
The Old Trading Posts A Winter's Work for Whiskey - The
Indian Trader Perambulating Groggeries - Indian Wives and
Half-breed Children - Growing Rich-Influence with Washington
Magnates - The Squaw Men - Adventurers and Outcasts - The Asy-
lum of Thieves and Murderers Pliant Tools of Corrupt Agents
- Treachery and Debauchery - Leading a Band of Sioux Horse-
thieves - Inciting the Indians to Deeds of Atrocity - A Thousand
of such "Missionaries" Indian Marriages — Social Degradation
The Black Hills War-A Costly Sacrifice Dishonest Interpreters
-How the Indians are Misled - Escape from a Disastrous Con-
test, .
-
G
596
xxxii
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER XLVIII.
FRONTIERSMEN TEXAS COW-BOYS AND BORDER DESPERADOES
-A STRANGE AND THRILLING STORY.
Frontiersmen Who They Are
C
The Miners and Gold Hunters - Un-
savory Buffalo Hunters - Texas Cow-Boys-A Life of Privation,
Hardship and Danger - A Plains "Norther" The Most Reckless
of all Desperadoes Utter Disregard of Life - Spoiling for a Fight
The Terror of the Frontier - Cattle Thieves-A Strange and
Thrilling Story-History of a Bloodthirsty Combat-A Remarkable
Incident of Border Life A Noted Desperado - His Gorgeous Ap-
pearance Stealing a Herd of Cattle Tracking the Thieves - Their
Discovery Watching for a Favorable Opportunity - Killing his
Victims One by One A Merciless Foe Death of the Sixth
Ruffian-He
He Proves to be the Leader of the Band - A Question
of Time,
607
CHAPTER XLIX.
BORDER RUFFIANS-A LIFE OF PRIVATION AND DANGER -
THRILLING PERSONAL EXPERIENCES.
Fugitives from Justice - Escaped Criminals - Beyond the Settlements
Commencing Life Anew - An Exploring Expedition in Northern
Texas — Thrilling Incident in My Early Military Life — My Camp
near the Squatter's Cabin Alone with a Frontier Ruffian — A Dan-
gerous Companion — He Threatens my Life - Strange Hospitality
A Reckless Frontiersman The Monomania of Assassination - A
Wonderful Two-handed Shot - Desperate Combat of Two Border
Ruffians — Dying Happy — Slade, the Notorious Desperado — An Ar-
rant Coward - The Influence of Drink Strange Freak of a Man of
Wealth A Tender Heart Beneath a Rough Exterior - Burying
Himself in the Wilderness-A Lawless Life,
619
•
CHAPTER L.
FRONTIER SCOUTS AND GUIDES - HEROIC ACHIEVEMENT OF
AMOS CHAPMAN-FACING DEATH.
Plainscraft - Importance of Guides The Old Trappers - Lessons from
the Indians - How an Experienced Guide was Lost-Old Bridger
Kit Carson - The Requisites of a Good Scout — Boots Hill — California
Joe - Wild Bill - Buffalo Bill - Amos Chapman His Wonderful
CONTENTS.
xxxiii
Achievement-What Gen. Miles Said of Him - Heroic Conduct of
Chapman Surrounded by Indians - A Thrilling Deed -
Deed-"Amos!
Amos! We have got you now" —Remarkable Pluck - Facing Death
to Rescue a Wounded Comrade - Major Forsyth's Fight - The Alarm,
“Indians!” — Gallant Defence — The Charge of Roman Nose and
His Band-Terrific Volley from the Whites Secret Departure of
the Scouts for Help - Threatend Starvation-Living on Decaying
Mule Flesh-Succor at Last,
624
CHAPTER LI.
THE PRESENT AND FUTURE OF THE INDIANS-MY IDEA OF
WHAT SHOULD BE DONE.
"Wards of the Nation"
Charity Begins at Home-Official Tyranny
-Hidden Crimes Against the Indians Their Need of Help and
Sympathy - Their Future Contrasts Between Their Condition a
Why They
Few Years Ago and Now On the Verge of Starvation
Do Not Progress The Indian Ring-A Powerful Organization
How the Indian is Robbed, Swindled and Imposed Upon-The Source
of all Indian Ills — Neglect by the Government— Criminal Responsi-
bility - My Idea of What Should Be Done - The Tide of Immigra
tion — Only a Question of Time,
639
INTRODUCTION,
BY
GENERAL WILLIAM T. SHERMAN.
COL. RICHARD I. DODGE,
23rd U. S. Infantry, Aide de Camp, &c.
DEAR COLONEL,- I have now completed the first
reading of the proof-sheets of your forthcoming book
on "Our Wild Indians," and congratulate you upon
having accomplished a work of such general interest
so well and so handsomely.
the
The Indian of America has been for centuries the
subject of study and of romance; alternately treated
as an unmitigated savage, or as the dashing, bold
hero fighting for his native land and his inherited
privileges. Yours is the first attempt of which I have
knowledge, to treat him as he exists in fact,
creature of ancient habits, of manners and customs
imposed on him by former ages, modified by recent
and modern changes, and I am sure that your work
will be of inestimable value to the army, and to mem-
bers of Congress, who alone can legislate so as to save
what is valuable in his character, and provide against
the everlasting conflict necessarily incident to his
clinging to old prejudices and habits in the midst of
a race so dissimilar as ours.
You have had the experience of a third of a century
I
XXXV
xxxvi
GEN. SHERMAN'S INTRODUCTION.
in absolute contact with the various tribes of the
Indians from the British line to Texas, New Mexico
and Arizona, living with them, hunting with them, in
peace and in war; and therefore your book is the
record of your own personal observations, with dates,
facts and figures, which constitute the very best testi-
mony possible on the subject-matter treated of. I
and nearly every army officer, with less personal
experience, can verify much that you describe, and in
reading your chapters I have been struck by the
skill with which you have grouped the various
branches of the subject discussed, making plain
and logical deductions from the scattered obser-
vations of many army officers, who have had simi-
lar experience; I notice with great satisfaction that
unlike most authors who have preceded you, you
draw the broad distinction between the tribes like the
Chippewas of the Lakes; the Seminoles of Florida;
the Kiowas, Comanches, etc., of Texas; the Chey-
ennes, Arapahoes and Sioux of the Plains; the Utes
and Apaches of the Mountains; the Navajoes and
Pueblos of New Mexico; the Diggers and the fish-
eating tribes of the Pacific Coast. There is as wide a
difference in these types of the same race as between
the Swedes, French, Spanish, and Italian peoples. The
character of each tribe or nation has been formed by
long antecedent events, by the nature of the country
in which they have resided, and the means necessary
to obtain a livelihood.
I do not agree with you and the world generally
in accusing our ancestors and the General Govern-
ment with a deliberate purpose to be unjust to, and to
defraud these people. I think a perusal of the statutes
and of the many treaties exhibit a purpose to deal
GEN. SHERMAN'S INTRODUCTION.
xxxvii
with them liberally; but so rapid has been our develop-
ment that violence was sure to happen. Our wisest
and best statesmen did not and could not foresee the
future. Mr. Van Buren, in 1838, in urging the
Cherokees, Creeks and Choctaws to exchange their
possessions in Georgia, Alabama, and Mississippi for
lands west of Arkansas, announced, as he believed
truthfully, that there they could never again be dis-
turbed by white neighbors, because the land was not
suitable for white men, but admirably adapted to
Indian life. So in 1868, the Indian Peace Com-
mission, composed of four most humane and honorable
citizens, and three army officers (Generals Harney,
Terry, and Sherman), had no conception that in ten
years the region north of Laramie and east of the
Rocky Mountains could become habitable to the
white race. Nor do I think it just to accuse
all Indian agents of being incompetent, if not dis-
honest. I have personally met a great number of
these, who are generally kind, honest, and well-mean-
ing people, badly paid, and deprived of all the comforts
which civilized men desire to enjoy. Some motive
higher than a desire to plunder must actuate men who
risk so much, and endure such hardships and priva-
tions. If our Indian policy has failed, we should seek
for the cause elsewhere, in the nature of things, rather
than in a systematic desire to do wrong.
In the treatment by the National Government of
the Indian, the military and civil officers of Govern-
ment have generally been diametrically opposed, the
former believing the Indians to be as children, needing
counsel, advice, and example, coupled with a force
which commands respect and obedience from a sense
of fear, the latter trusting mostly to moral suasion and
xxxviii GEN. SHERMAN'S INTRODUCTION.
religious instruction. The absolute proof produced
by you that the Indian has a strong religious bias but
is absolutely devoid of a moral sense as connected
with religion, more than ever convinces me that the
military authorities of the United States are better
qualified to guide the steps of the Indian towards
that conclusion which we all desire, self-support and
peaceful relations with his neighbors, than the civilian
agents, most of whom are members of some one of
our Christian churches. Congress, however, alone
has jurisdiction of the whole matter, and I am sure
your volume will be received by its members with
great satisfaction, as it will enable them better to
understand a subject which has always been involved
in honest doubt.
As you are perfectly aware the treaty system began
at an early period of our history when the white settlers
and Indian tribes were more nearly equal than now, and
my recollection is that this system was first discounte-
nanced on motion of General A. H. Terry, by the Indian
Peace Commission of 1868-9. Still, as long as distinct
tribes like the Sioux, Cheyennes, Kiowas, Arrapahoes,
Utes and Apaches are assigned to specific reserva-
tions, there must always exist something like a treaty
or bargain, so that both Indians and whites may
understand their true relations.
My recollection also is that the same Peace Com-
mission recommended to Congress to provide for
each group of Indian reservations something like a
territorial government, with a code of laws applicable
to each member of the tribe; with a governor, courts,
and executive officers to enforce the law as against
individual criminals, instead of as now, resorting to
war to punish a whole tribe for the individual acts of
GEN. SHERMAN'S INTRODUCTION.
xxxix
a few. The time is now opportune to perfect that
system, and your volume will greatly aid Congress
in the accomplishment of that end.
The subject-matter of your volume has dramatic
interest to a large class of the American people, is
fair and just in its reasoning, and liberal in its tone;
and I therefore take great pleasure in recommend-
ing it to the military student and to the general
reading public, as by far the best description extant
of the habits, manners, customs, usages, ceremonies,
etc., of the American Indian as he now is.
You are hereby authorized to use my name as
authority for its publication and circulation; and I
invite all persons interested in the subject of the
North American Indian to read this book carefully,
to the end that public opinion may aid the national
authorities to deal justly and liberally with the rem-
nants of that race which preceded us on this continent.

he
General
WASHINGTON, D. C., January 1, 1882.
OUR WILD INDIANS.
CHAPTER I.
MY EARLY LIFE FIRST EXPERIENCES WITH IN-
DIANS ADVENTURES AMONG THE COMANCHES.
My Early Home -- First Sight of Warriors — A Thrill of Horror Re
called - Sudden Transformation of My Views - A Beardless Lieu-
tenant - The Texan Frontier Nights with the Comanches-Their
Cunning and Treachery - The Sleepless Foe - A Fatal Stumble –
On a Cavalry Scout — Adventurous Pursuit Surprising an Indian
Camp - Invited to be the Guest of an Indian Chief- Warned of
Danger · Outbreak of Hostilities Young Warriors with Bad
Hearts"
The Bandera Pass - An Exciting Adventure - Separated
from My Command - Making the Best of It-Ruined Ammuni-
tion - On the Edge of Peril — Reconnoitring the Indian Camp-
My Flight and Pursuit- The Race for Life - My Escape - Rejoin-
ing My Command Thirty Years of Indian Warfare.
–

WAS born in western North Carolina.
My earliest recollections are tinged
with stories of Indian atrocities; for
the Cherokees yet occupied "the land
of their Fathers," and were only a short
distance from us. It is true the Chero-
kees had committed no outrages, but
their white neighbors, being in constant
dread of what three or four thousand
warriors might do, were vociferous in demands for
their removal beyond the limits of the State.
This "hue and cry" was led by some men of
intelligence and position (who may have had solid
29
30
FIRST SIGHT OF INDIANS.
pecuniary reasons for wishing to get rid of the
Indians), and these so worked upon the fears of the
masses of uneducated whites, that there was constant
danger of rupture of peaceable relations.
The negroes were especially terror-stricken, and,
forgetting for the time, their usual stories of witches
and ghosts, often caused my "hairs to stand on end"
with their thrilling narratives of the cunning, fero-
city, and immunity from danger, of Indians. Accord-
ing to them an Indian could make himself invisible
as air, and was much harder to kill than even a
witch.
Several times in each year, small parties of Indians
would suddenly make their appearance in the little
village in which my parents resided; and I can yet
feel the thrill of horror and dismay which quivered
through my frame when, a small delicate lad of six
years, I one day found myself in the midst of a band
of thirty or forty stalwart, painted, feather-crowned
warriors, bows in hand, and some in the very act of
discharging arrows which, my negro nurse had often-
times assured me, were a thousand times more
dangerous than bullets. Instinctively seizing the
hand of a venerable friend of my father, who was in
the crowd about the Indians, I gazed with wonder
and dread; which was hardly dispelled when I com-
prehended that the Indians were shooting at six-
pences held in cleft sticks, stuck in the ground at
thirty or forty yards distance.
In spite of the assurances and protective kindness
of my old friend, it was some time before I could
regain my equanimity, and I had hardly begun to be
interested in, and enjoy the sport, when at a loud call
from one of the number, the whole party started with
COMANCHE THIEVES.
31
rapid strides towards my father's house, which was
near by. Again I was tormented with doubt, suspi-
cion and fear, and I could scarcely be made to com-
prehend that the Indians had gone to our house to
ask my mother to play for them on the only piano
that our small village then boasted. Here, their
grave and quiet demeanor, their appreciative notice
of myself and sisters, and their unalloyed delight at
the music, allayed all my fears, and I began to believe
the Indians a greatly slandered race.
Next day they were gone, and the favorable im-
pression made was soon almost entirely effaced by
continual repetition of stories of their horrible cru-
elties.
Each succeeding visit of Indians left me with more
favorable impressions of them, but each such visit
seemed more and more to exasperate the white men.
Before I was ten years of age, I had heard all the
changes rung on the terrible possibilities of Indian
character, and though my personal experience made
me something of a doubter, I could not gainsay the
evidence of the people about me, backed as it was
by the history of the colonies, of which, about this
time, I began the study.
My next experience dissipated all my doubts.
A beardless second lieutenant of the army, I was
stationed in Texas at a little two-company frontier
post, exposed to the wiles and machinations of the
most cunning, the most mischievously artful, of all
the United States Indians, the Comanches. While
not so coldly bloodthirsty as some other tribes,— prid-
ing themselves upon their silent stealth and cunning,
and ranking the expert horse-thief above the dashing
warrior, the Comanches are at night the most
32
UNCOMFORTABLE HUNTING.
dangerous of all Indians. Crawling into camp and
bivouac, he will, in his efforts at theft, harmlessly pass
close by sleeping men, whom one blow of his knife
might silence forever. But woe betide the unfortunate
who discovers him, or attempts to interfere with his
favorite pastime. His weapons are ever ready. A
shot, or quick plunge of his knife, and, in the confusion
and darkness, he vanishes like a ghost, leaving death
and terror behind him.
For months after the establishment of this little
post, there was scarce a night when an attempt was
not made on our picket line. The sentinels soon
learned their lesson, and hiding themselves, watched
the ground and fired at every unusual object. On
each such occasion the commanding officer required
the officer of the day to turn out the whole guard,
deploy it as skirmishers, and scour the chapparal
around and in the vicinity of the corral. How often,
when engaged in such duty, thrusting my sword into
every clump and cover, have I inwardly thanked the
Indian for his disposition to put as great a distance
as possible between himself and danger. Though I
hunted faithfully many nights, I never found an
Indian. If I had, these papers would probably never
have been written.
Exasperated by the constant failure of their efforts
to steal, and possibly emboldened by the lack of
casualties, resulting from the fire of our poorly armed
and badly drilled soldiers, the Indians became more
enterprising, no part of the post being safe at night.
Finally, the blacksmith,—an excellent man,- hap-
pening to stumble one night over a crawling Indian,
was shot dead within a few feet of his tent.
Up to this time, our annoyance had come from
MY FIRST FIGHT.
33
little marauding parties of from two to six Indians on
foot, who, separating on occasions of alarm, left no
trail which could be followed with any hope of over-
taking them. Now, however, they began to come in
larger parties, and on horseback. Our cavalry was
therefore ordered out, and at least twenty men kept
continually on the move; watching passes through
the mountains, following trails, and making the
Indians understand that they could not visit our
section of country without danger.
This led to my third scene of Indian experience.
A party of Comanches passed near the town of
Castroville, Texas, committing various thefts and
depredations, finally murdering a whole family of
Germans. I was ordered with twenty-five soldiers to
pursue and punish them. For more than four weeks
I followed the devious windings of the trail, and
finally overtook and surprised them in their camp,
killing some, dispersing the others, and capturing all
their horses, saddles and equipments.
This was so severe a blow that the Comanches
almost entirely ceased to frequent that portion of
country, and in a very few years after, that military
post was abandoned, as no longer necessary.
Before this occurred, however, I had been trans-
ferred with my company to another post, near which
were located several tribes and bands of Indians,
all apparently peacefully disposed, and here I gained
another experience of Indian life.
I had been at the post but a few weeks when it
was visited by a party of Lipans, who were excep-
tionally demonstrative in their evidences of friendly
feeling. They encamped near the post for some
days.
34
CAMPED WITH INDIANS.
One day I was out with dog and gun after quail,
and finding a large covey near the Lipan camp, had
got it nicely scattered in good cover and was
thoroughly enjoying the sport, when I found that I
had a following of at least a dozen Indians. Having
no knowledge of the shot-gun, their hunting was
confined to large game, and they were filled with
astonishment, not only at my hitting so small an
object, but that I killed it flying. At each successful
shot, they gave vent to their admiration in loud
applause. When my dog could no longer find any
birds, I stopped hunting, and with some vanity (for I
had shot unusually well) showed the Indians my gun
and equipments. They were so delighted, especially
with the minute No. 9 shot (which they had never
before seen), that the chief invited me to visit his main
camp on the head waters of the Perdinales, promising
me not only an abundance of those "little birds" (quail,
for which they had no special name) but also of
Guacalotes (turkeys). The offer was too tempting
to be refused. Returning to the post, I stated the
case to the commanding officer, and obtained his
permission to be absent.
Two days after, mounted on a good horse, accom-
panied by one soldier, who led a pack-mule, laden
with our tents and supplies, I started with the In-
dians for their main camp. Arriving there, I pitched
my tent in a pretty clump of trees near the village,
and for nearly a week had a most delightful time,
bagging great quantities of small game. The In-
dians, as a rule, kept aloof from me, which I attrib-
uted to the difficulties of intercourse; our only
means of communication being a mere smattering of
very bad Spanish on both sides. One day the chief
DECOY DUCKS.
35
came to me and told me I had better go home, as
some of his young men had "bad hearts" towards
white men. Thanking him for his hospitality and
warning, I was soon packed, and returned without
molestation to my post.
Within two weeks after my return, information
was brought that these very Indians had broken out,
and were murdering settlers, right and left. It after-
wards transpired that the outbreak had been deter-
mined upon some time before; that the visit of the
chief to the post was for the purpose of obtaining
information as to the numbers and character of
troops that could be put into the field; and that my
invitation to visit his camp was to ward off any sus-
picion of their intent until all their arrangements
had been completed.
Not very long after this I had yet another experi-
ence, differing from all the others. I was returning
with my command from a long scout; our route led
through the Guadalope mountains, by the Bandera
pass. These mountains were at that time infested
by hostile Indians, who, secure in their fastnesses,
watched the plains below, pouncing upon settle-
ments or unwary travellers, and hurrying with their
plunder through the Bandera pass to their secure
retreats.
Coming upon a pretty stream, we startled a flock
of ducks, which, flying a short distance, settled upon
the limpid water. Hurrying off alone, I followed
eagerly; for our larder had run to its very dregs.
For an hour or more, I was tantalized with "the
delusions of hope," the provoking birds flying but a
little way, but always flying before I could get within
shot. At last they went far away, and I started to
36
DISARMED.
rejoin my command; but, though I took the proper
direction, and watched most carefully for the trail,
night overtook me in the wilderness.
To go twenty-four hours without food, and be
thrown entirely on his own resources for shelter, was
not, in those days, so uncommon as to be regarded
as a special hardship by any soldier or sportsman.
So, finding a deep ravine, with plenty of water,
wood, and grass, I dismounted, unsaddled, picketed
my mule, and went into camp. My tent was modelled
after the Indian teepe; straight sticks, stuck in the
ground in a circle, and crossing each other four feet
above, formed the frame. Over these was fastened
my wide india-rubber poncho, and over the slit in
the top was secured my hat. My bed was the saddle-
blanket, my pillow the saddle. I had hardly com-
pleted my arrangements, when a rain-storm, such
only as Texas can get up, burst upon me.
In spite
of it I slept comfortably and dry from above, but the
rain soaked in underneath, and I was thoroughly
annoyed and not a little alarmed to find, next morn-
ing, that my gun, in spite of all precautions, was so
wet, that I could not discharge it. I had a revolver,
but having no cartridges to reload, did not attempt
to fire it off. From appearance, I judged it to be in
the same condition as the gun. I was practically
disarmed, in a most dangerous country.
Deciding not to waste time nor incur dangerous
chances in looking for my command, I determined to
make the best possible speed for my station, then not
less than seventy-five miles off. I was mounted on
a powerful mule, a most excellent riding and hunting
animal, and I did not doubt her ability to make the
distance in a day; but in order to do so, I must go
A TELL-TALE BRAY.
37
through the Bandera pass, at that time the most
dangerous locality in Texas. Needs must, and I
started at daylight for the pass.
Soon after sunrise, I reached the Guadalope River;
and was travelling rapidly, but comfortably, along
the broad Indian trail which led up that stream. I
was on a small open prairie, surrounded by thickets,
when my attention was attracted by a thin, scarcely-
defined column of smoke rising apparently from the
very bed of the river. Naturally thinking of Indians,
I turned my mule, darted at once into the thicket,
and, keeping out of sight, skirted around until I got
above the smoke.
My first impulse was now to put as much distance
between myself and it, and in as short a time as
possible; but the idea suddenly occurred to me that
it might be the camp of my command, and that I
never could overcome or outlive the ridicule that
would attach to me, were it known that I had run
away from my own comrades. Acting on this, I
turned my mule and cautiously made my way back
towards the smoke. The thicket was very dense;
pushing slowly and carefully through it, I suddenly
emerged to find myself in a herd of about twenty
horses and mules, which were picketed in a small
open space, scarcely thirty yards wide, and just on
the bluff back of the river.
To make matters worse, my mule no sooner saw
the animals, than she lifted up her voice in a bray
that woke the echoes for many miles around. There
were mules in the herd, or this bray would have sealed
my fate; but not thinking of this most fortunate inci-
dent, I tumbled off her back, thrust my hand into her
mouth, stopped the tell-tale bray, and backed her out
4
38
A PEEP AT THE SAVAGES.
of sight in the thicket in much less time than it takes
to tell it.
After fastening her, I, from the thicket, carefully
reconnoitred the open space.
The animals were
Indian ponies and stolen stock.
I knew too much not to be obliged to know more.
The camp was evidently just under the bluff. Crawl-
ing most cautiously to the edge, I peeped over the
bank, and my heart felt dead within me, as I saw, not
forty yards away, seven Indians squatted around a
pot, eating their breakfast. I got back to the thicket
as quickly and cautiously as possible. What to do
was the question. My mule, though strong and
enduring, was slow in a race. I had two alternatives,
either to make off at once on the mule, trusting that
the Indians might not discover my trail until I had a
good start; or to steal a horse and get away on that.
Under the circumstances I had no conscientious
qualms on the matter of theft, but I doubted my
ability to select the best horse; and the selection, and
the necessary change of saddle, would take precious
moments. Besides, the loss of a horse would be dis-
covered at once; my trail might not be noticed for
some time.
I mounted the mule, and proceeded cautiously until
sure of being beyond hearing of the Indians, when
whip and spur were vigorously applied. The mule
responded nobly, and, as if comprehending the neces-
sity for extra effort, fairly flew over the ground for
the next five or six miles. The Guadalope was crossed,
then the Verde, and yet no sign or sound of pursuit.
The race so far had been on a broad Indian trail,
through woods and thickets, but from the timbered
fringe along the Verde to the summit of the pass,
THE RACE IS WON.
39
was a three-mile slope of bare prairie. Until I could
get through the pass I was obliged to keep the trail,
the mountains being elsewhere almost impassable;
but once through it I was safe, for then, leaving the
trail, and plunging into the ravines and thickets of
the Medina River, I could elude pursuit until night
should give me the opportunity to reach my post.
When about half way over this bare ground, to my
inexpressible delight, I ran into the trail of my com-
mand, but had hardly time to congratulate myself
when several Indians emerged, in full pursuit, from
the thickets of the Verde. Under whip and spur,
my good mule soon brought me to the summit of the
pass, and looking back I found the Indians had
stopped, on striking the trail of the troops, and were
carefully examining it. Feeling very easy, I also
stopped to watch them, and to give my mule time to
recover her wind. After some consultation, the
Indians turned about, and went off as fast as their
horses could carry them, evidently expecting that the
pursuers might in turn become the pursued. In an
hour or two I overtook my command, none the worse
for my adventure.
These experiences, with numbers of others of
similar character, though less marked, had come to
me by the time I was twenty-three years of age, and
had been scarcely two years an officer of the army.
For more than thirty years (with the interlude of
the war of the rebellion), I have been more or less
among Indians, having in that time had intercourse
with thirty-four tribes, speaking different languages,
having somewhat different manners and customs, and
occupying various and widely sundered portions of
country—from the coasts of Texas to the waters of
40
STUDY OF INDIAN CHARACTER.
the Yellowstone; from the banks of the Mississippi to
the Pacific Ocean. At one time hunting Indians, at
another time being hunted by them; now, associated
together, but at daggers' points, holding them in
check only by the fear engendered by military power,
and the stern enforcement of military rule; again
living together in free and unrestrained friendly in-
tercourse, hunting, fishing, chatting, dancing, visiting,
I have had exceptional opportunities for a compre-
hensive knowledge of Indian character.
In 1872 I attended a grand Medicine-Dance of the
Cheyennes and Arrapahoes (corresponding to the
Sun-Dance of the Sioux), which lasted for several
days. I was greatly impressed with the earnestness
of their religious beliefs, and the spirit of martyrdom
which this earnestness develops. I determined to
make a close study of this (to me) unexpected phase
of savage life. My first writings on Indians was on
the subject of their religion, and made from notes and
sketches taken during this great meeting. These
were necessarily unsatisfactory.
One peculiarity
of a people grows out of, or is involved in, other
peculiarities, and I soon found that I could give no
explanation of the Indian religion which would be
satisfactory even to myself, without a thorough
knowledge of all his other characteristics and pecu-
liarities. From the study of his religion I began to
study the man. In this I have been greatly favored,
much of the last nine years of my life having been
passed directly among the wild Indians, and with
peculiarly exceptional advantages of association and
friendly intercourse.
The result of my studies under these favorable cir-
cumstances will be found in the following pages.
MY DESIRE.
41
My desire is to delineate the Indian exactly as he is
(judging him, however, necessarily from the civilized
stand-point), to note his peculiarities of thought and
action, and to give a minutely correct picture of his
daily life, as connected with his government, his reli-
gion, his social and family relations. I bring to this
task a mind which I believe to be unbiassed by enthu-
siastic admiration for the "noble Red Man,” or pre-
judice against the ignoble savage. My desire is to
state "the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the
truth." If I err, the fault is in my perceptive facul-
ties, not in the intention of the expression of them.
CHAPTER II.
BEYOND THE MISSISSIPPI THE LANGUAGE, NUM-
BERS, HABITS, ETC., OF THE INDIANS OF THE
GREAT WEST.
Origin of the American Indians The Defect of Writers on the Indians
Wonderful Diversity of the Indian Language Curious Facts and
Tendencies - The Effect of War Stupendous Vanity - Invention
of Dialects The Passion for War-The Crafty and Bloodthirsty
Apaches — The Cheyennes and Arrapahoes — A Marvellous Alliance
-The Sign Language Estimates of Population - Superstitious
Dread of being Counted-Indian Extermination - Nomadic Pro-
clivities The Winter Encampment - Home Attachments - Love
for an Old Encampment Cherished Memories "Home Sickness"
Mental Peculiarities - Acute Perceptions-Ill-Directed Efforts
Indian Schools - Indian Orators - How they Rehearse their Speeches
-Swaying a Savage Audience.

NY discussion of the origin of the
American Indians is out of place
and unnecessary, until scientific men
have finally agreed as to the origin
of the human race. Suffice to say
here that the Indian is, to my mind,
an evidence of the unity of races.
Wherever we find them, savages have
something in common each with the .
other, and the most civilized races have not so far
outgrown their ancestry as to have entirely gotten
rid of every savage trait.
Supposing the Western continent to have been
originally uninhabited by man, there is no physical or
42
CATLIN.
43
geographical reason why it should not have been
peopled from Asia or elsewhere. Even before the
days of David, people "went down to the sea in
ships; " the winds blew then as now, and a succession
of adverse storms might have peopled America, from
any one of the earlier maritime nations of the Eastern
world.
Whether the very many customs which the Indians
have in common with the ancient Jews are evidences
that the "Lost Tribes" have been found, or whether
the fair complexion, blue eyes, similarity of language
and "coracle" of the Mandans, prove that the Welsh
expedition under Madoc really settled on the banks
of the Ohio, it is not my purpose to inquire.
My object is to give a minute and accurate account
of the manners, customs, habits, social life, and modes
of thought of the wild Indians of the present day.
Many admirable writers have preceded me on this
subject. Chief of all, and, illustrating and ennobling
his theme with both pen and brush, is Catlin. But
the supreme defect of Catlin, and, indeed, of almost
all writers on the Indian, is, that they have contented
themselves with externals; giving page after page,
illustration after illustration, to portraiture of dress,
dances, ceremonies; but scarcely a word to govern-
ment, religion, character, social life, etc.
Catlin, who, of all other writers, has had the most
perfect opportunities, is, of all others, most remiss in
this particular, and, however much the reader may
enjoy his vivid descriptions and graphic illustrations
of scenes and incidents, it is impossible to finish his
book without a feeling of dissatisfaction.
We see the Indian in a thousand curious and
picturesque scenes, but we see him as we see the
1
44
DIVERSITY OF LANGUAGE.
actor on the stage. However beautiful the dress
and faultless the delineation, we do not know him.
Our natural curiosity is not gratified by even a
glimpse of his every-day character, or peep into the
scenes of his every-day life.
In my own reading I have found this to be the one
great lack of all writers on the Indian, and to supply
this lack, to the extent of my ability, is the purpose
and intent of these pages.
Whether the Indian languages have been derived
from one, or from several roots, must, and probably
will, be determined by the eminent philologists who
are now making this subject their special study.
Their great number and infinite dissimilarity have
always excited the marvel of all who have had cause
to look into the matter, either by contact with In-
dians, or through books.
At the present moment, there is, for about every
thousand of the North American Indians, a language,
more or less imperfect, but amply sufficient for all
the needs of an illiterate people, and differing in
every essential particular from every other language.
This wonderful diversity can only be accounted for
by a knowledge of the Indian character and habits.
War is, and so far as we can know from history
and tradition, has always been, the pleasure and pas-
sion of the Indian. With or without cause, tribes
occupying lands adjacent to each other were almost
constantly on the war-path.
Each tribe, with vanity not entirely aboriginal,
believed in its own infinite superiority, and disdained
to learn even a few words of its enemy's language,
though this might easily have been done through
prisoners. This warlike disposition and the necessity
DISINTEGRATION OF LANGUAGE.
45
for widely extended domains (entailed on all people
who live solely by the chase) kept the tribes far apart.
There were no intermarriages, no social intercourse,
no intermingling of any kind, except that of mortal
strife. There was no disposition and little oppor-
tunity to learn anything of the language of their
neighbors, and thus to adopt words and phrases not
properly belonging to their own language.
So long as a tribe was surrounded closely by
powerful and warlike neighbors, it remained intact,
keeping in large villages and under control of one
chief. When those neighbors were driven off, or,
through their own successes elsewhere, moved away,
and the tribal territory became greatly extended, the
tribe broke up into bands for the more easy and con-
venient supply of food. This was the opportunity of
the ambitious sub-chiefs, leaders of bands, who,
preferring to be chiefs of small bands rather than
sub-chiefs of large ones, took every care to prevent
any subsequent concentration except when forced to
it by war, or by the imperative demand of the
"Medicine Chief," the supreme expounder of relig-
ious doctrine and dogma.
At this moment, there are no less than sixty-six
bands of Utes, separated widely in localities, and
speaking languages undoubtedly referable to one
root, but so various as to dialect, that any but the
closest observer might with reason insist that they
are different languages.
So, also, there are thirty-four different bands of
Sioux, which were rapidly undergoing the same
process of disintegration of language, until the gov-
ernment unwittingly stopped it, by concentrating
these Indians on reservations.
46
CONFUSION OF TONGUES..
There are nineteen bands of Shoshones or Snakes,
two bands of which, wandering eastward over the
Rocky Mountains, became entirely estranged from
the parent tribe, and are now known as Bannocks,
having lost even their tribal name. They cannot
speak or understand a word of their mother tongue.
There are twenty-eight bands of Apaches, speaking
dialects of the same language, and undoubtedly off-
shoots from the same parent stock; yet, before they
were conquered and placed on reservations, they
waged incessant war with each other, and no tribes
on this continent were more bitterly and uncom-
promisingly hostile, than were these bands of the
same tribe, one to the other.
The Apaches were strong in numbers, warlike in
spirit, crafty and energetic in action, and occupied a
country almost inaccessible to whites. But for this
internecine strife, it would have cost the United States
Government many years of bloody and expensive war
to have subdued them.
It will thus be seen that his own warlike tempera-
ment and disposition to roam have been to the Indian
the cause-fruitful as Babel- of the confusion of
tongues. There are other causes which may not have
been without effect, to add to this confusion. The
indisposition or inability of the Plains Indians to learn
a spoken language other than their own, undoubtedly
led to the adoption of the sign-language as a medium
of communication, and the knowledge of this, reacting,
forever precluded the necessity of learning any oral
language.
For sixty years the Cheyennes and Arrapahoes
have been the firmest friends, occupying the same
country, living in the same camps, making peace or
TRADER'S WORDS.
47
war with the same enemies at the same time, and
conducting themselves in everything (except inter-
marriages) as if they were one and the same tribe.
The children play, fight, hunt, and constantly asso-
ciate together, yet not one in ten of the men, women,
or children of either tribe can hold even the most
ordinary conversation in the language of the other.
What makes this fact yet more remarkable is, that
while one language is comparatively easy, the other
is so exceedingly difficult, that even the best inter-
preters are forced to resort to sign-language.
Under these most exceptional circumstances, it
would seem inevitable that the easy language would
in time become the common means of communication
of the two tribes. Such, however, is not the case;
each tribe uses its own language to communicate
with its own people, and the sign-language to com-
municate with the people of the other tribe.
When the white trader invaded the solitudes of
the Indian, he took with him, or soon picked up, a
small stock of words which, by his constant use
among the tribes, have become, as it were, common
property; thus "squaw," the Narragansett name for
woman, the Algonquin "papoose " for child, "chuck,
food, and many other words, have become universal
among all the North American Indians east of the
Rocky Mountains, when speaking to a white man, or
Indian not of their own tribe.
"
The multitude of languages is a peculiarity of
savage life. Let the student remember the condition,
in this respect, of Northern and Western Europe,
even as late as the time of Julius Cæsar; of Africa
and South America at the present day, and (without
intending to be facetious, and with the desire simply
48
NUMBERS.
to call attention to the tenacity with which barbarous
peculiarities of language hold their grip on human
nature,) of England, Scotland, and Wales, through
which, even in this enlightened age, an American
can scarcely travel, satisfactorily to himself, without
an interpreter.
As in all other matters where mere guess-work forms
the basis of argument, authorities differ extremely as
to the probable Indian population of the country now
known as the United States at the time of its first
settlement by whites, these estimates varying from
three hundred thousand to three millions. Basing
my guess on my knowledge of the warlike dispo-
sition of the Indians; of their natural tendency
constantly to split into bands, which possibly soon
became fiercely hostile to each other; of the wide
extent of territory required by each tribe, not only
for its food-supply, but for its safety; and of the
almost universal lack of fecundity of their women, I
am of opinion that the number of the aboriginal in-
habitants of the territory mentioned has never at any
one time much exceeded half a million of souls.
The number of Indians has always been, and is
now, very greatly overrated. This comes from the
vanity of the individual Indian, who, if asked about
his tribe, will tell you that they are as "the leaves on
the trees" for numbers; and from the interested
reports of agents, who dearly like to feed, on paper,
a tribe of a thousand Indians, but which has actually
only five hundred (or less) mouths.
Catlin, on the authority of Major Pilcher, an Indian
Agent, estimates the Blackfeet at sixty thousand
(about 1835). There were really, probably, not
more than a fourth of that number.
INDIAN EXTERMINATORS.
49
All Indians have a strong superstitious repugnance
to being counted, and this of late years, (that is since
the government has been issuing rations to Indians),
is liable to a suspicion of self-interest, the Indians
themselves entirely appreciating the advantage of
getting from the agent five hundred rations for three
hundred or less mouths.
The number of Indians in the United States (ex-
clusive of Alaska), as stated in the last official report
of the Commissioner of Indian Affairs, is, in round
numbers, two hundred and fifty-three thousand. This
is probably at least one-fifth too great, but it will be
impossible to arrive at the exact population so long
as the government makes it to the interest both of the
agent and of the Indian to exaggerate their numbers.
The Indians have, undoubtedly, greatly diminished
in numbers within the last fifty years. This is not
due to unusual wars, nor even to the white man's fire-
water (as is commonly believed), but principally to
those great Indian exterminators, small pox, measles,
and cholera, and to that "humane" policy of the
government, which takes Indians from salubrious
mountainous regions, and settles them on reserva-
tions in malarious districts, where they are soon deci-
mated by fever and nostalgia.
Probably because they live in tents, which are
easily and frequently removed, we generally think
and speak of Indians as "nomads." They are no-
madic, but this peculiar life does not prevent their
having the strongest possible "home" attachment,
and the most ardent love of country. I have already
spoken of the wide extent of territory necessary to
the comfortable existence of even a small tribe. Dur-
ing the spring, summer, and autumn, the tribe roams
50
LOVERS OF COUNTRY.
at will throughout the whole length and breadth of
this territory, wherever it is led by abundance of
grass for their ponies, or food for themselves, the
camp being changed as frequently as necessity or
caprice indicates. Within the limits of their territory,
and during the seasons mentioned, Indians are veri-
table "nomads."
The winter encampment is regarded by them as
permanent, its location not being changed during the
whole three, four, or five months of cold and bad
weather. The spot selected for the winter encamp-
ment one year may be many miles away from that
selected the year before or the year after; but the
memory of each is affectionately cherished; a specially
good and happy encampment not unfrequently giving
the name to the year.
Outside the limits of their territory Indians never
go, except on war or hunting parties; on rare occa-
sions to pay a visit of ceremony to a neighboring
friendly tribe; or on long solitary journeys, as will be
described.
ee no-
Within the limits of their territory they are
mads,” but the territory itself is their home. Their
attachment to it is one of the strongest traits of
their character. No people are more truly "lovers of
their country," no people suffer more from "home-
sickness," when forced to leave it.
The mental capacity of the Indian is of superior
order. His perceptive faculties are remarkably de-
veloped, and his reasoning powers are not to be
despised, however crude. He is thoroughly master
of all branches of education necessary to the comfort
and safety of his savage life, thus giving evidence of
capacity for a higher order of education.
PUBLIC SPEAKING.
51
That he has shown little aptitude for, or devotion
to, the rudiments of our civilized education, is due
partly to his excitability of temperament and impa-
tience of restraint, and partly to the simple fact that
those who had charge of his education cared more for
their compensation than for the progress of their
pupils, or were impressed with the idea that the
necessities of his soul were paramount to those of his
intellect. Until very recently the efforts at Indian
education were so ill-directed, so entirely unadapted
to the real necessities of the problem, as to be absurd.
No important question can be decided among
Indians without a vast amount of verbiage; and the
faculty of speech-making seems to be even more
universal among Red, than White Americans.
Every male Indian is his own reporter, his own
newspaper. He is expected and required to sound
his own praises, and to be modest about it would
only redound to his discredit.
Knowing that he is obliged to speak in public, he
spends no little time, not only in the preparation and
elaboration of the matter of his speech, but by fre-
quent rehearsal satisfies himself in the manner.
Almost every warrior speaks well, some few of them
eloquently; but his best efforts are those addressed
to his own people, when seeking to establish his
reputation as a warrior and orator, or when endeavor-
ing to sway his audience to his own views on some
contested point of Indian policy. As a rule, his
speeches to white people are trite and commonplace,
a parade of the Indian poverty, as compared to the
white man's wealth; and his peroration is almost in-
variably a whining and abject appeal to the charity
of his hearers.
CHAPTER III.
WILD LIFE ON THE PLAINS - INDIAN CHARACTER,
TRAITS, AND PECULIARITIES.
The Country of the "Plains Indians"
The Dream of an Enthusiast
Ma
The Indian as he is- His Conduct in the Presence of Strangers
Clothes Only for Show - His Conduct in his Own Camp - A Rollick-
ing Miscreant Night Scenes in an Indian Camp — The Disgrace of
being Surprised — A Pair of Climbing Boots - The Hero of the Tele
graph Pole - How a Lady Excited Surprise and Admiration A
Comical Incident - The Story of a Wooden Leg - Carrying a Joke
too Far — A Summary Ejectment Endurance of Pain - Patience,
an Indian Virtue - Blowing his Own Trumpet - Extravagant Self-
Praise An Indian's Idea of Modesty - Honor among Thieves
Kicked Out of Camp - Early Lessons in Stealing — Apt Pupils — A
Flagrant Case A Fair Field and No Favor - Differences of Opinion.

ق ہو
HE term "Indian" is applied to all the
aboriginal inhabitants of the Western
Hemisphere; comprising hundreds,
possibly thousands of tribes, occupy-
ing every diversity of climate from
Arctic snows
snows to Equatorial heats.
As climate exerts a marked influence
not only on the habits, but on the char-
acter of a people, it is not possible, nor to
be expected, that these tribes can be grouped in any
truthful common description.
Ulloa has said: "See one Indian and you have seen
all,” a remark neither witty nor wise. With equal
truth he might have said: "See one savage and you
have seen all," or "See one European and you have
seen all."
52
!
THE PLAINS.
1
53
Even within the comparatively narrow limits of the
United States, the Indian tribes, though presenting a
general similarity of character, vary in habits, man-
ners, customs and beliefs, in so remarkable a degree,
that no general description is applicable to all, except,
that all are savage, all are swindled, starved, and
imposed upon.
Though I have served in almost every portion of
our wide frontier, my largest experience has been
with the "Plains Indians," those inhabiting the coun-
try between the Mississippi River and the Rocky
Mountains. Among these Indians I have spent
many years, much of the time in peaceful, every day
intercourse.
Within the limits specified, reside at the present
time not less than sixty distinct tribes, cut up into
bands innumerable, comprising more than half of
the whole Indian population of the United States.
Extending from the British line almost to the
Gulf of Mexico, they would appear to be subjected
to such climatic variation as might greatly influence
their character. That this is not the case is due to
the peculiarity of those great elevated plains, or
steppes, high, dry, and generally destitute of trees,
except along the margin of streams. All these tribes
are mounted, and all, until recently, depended upon
the buffalo for all the necessaries and comforts of life.
Though distinct in language, differing somewhat
in character, and each tribe, as a rule, hostile to all
others, their common necessities have so assimilated
their habits and modes of thought as to enable the
student to group them, for description, into one gen-
eral class.
These Indians I know best, and from them I have
5
i
54
THE IDEAL INDIAN.
drawn most of my illustrations. In the following
pages, when I speak of Indians, I mean the "Plains
Indians," except when the context shows that I mean
the whole race. When I wish to draw attention to
the peculiarities of other Indians, as Utes, Apaches,
etc., I will speak of them by name.
The ideal Indian of Cooper is a creation of his
own prolific brain. No such savage as Uncas ever
existed, or could exist, and no one knew this better
than Cooper himself. All hostile Indians - Mingoes,
Iroquois, etc. are painted as fiends, in whom the
furies themselves would have delighted.
His stories are striking and artistic, but they will
not bear the test of consistent criticism. He assumed
his ideal, clothed him in moral and Christian virtues,
and placed him prominently in contrast with his sur-
roundings. How he could possibly have arrived at
those good qualities, when born and reared among
savages without a moral code, is a question that ad-
mits of but one answer,-"no such individual could
possibly have existed."
The wild Indian of to-day is the Mingo painted by
Cooper, modified somewhat by time and his sur-
roundings; a human being, in the earliest stage of
development; a natural man.
Of all writers on the North American Indians,
Catlin deservedly
deservedly stands first. In an intercourse
with Indians extending over half an ordinary life-
time, I have frequently been struck by his quickness
of apprehension, and the vividness of his colorings
of Indian life. But Catlin, as he himself admits,
was an enthusiast. Though a poor painter, he was
wrapped up in his art of painting. Give him a model
suited to his taste, a wild, free savage, adorned
AN ENTHUSIAST.
55
and
with all the tinsel-trappings of barbarous life,
he immediately clothed him with all Christian virtues
and knightly honors.
His pen-portraits of Indians are admirable in one
sense, in another faulty beyond measure. Indians of
whom he wrote are still living, their tribes maintain-
ing to this day the same manners and customs which
he so vividly describes. To see them now is to have
seen them then, yet how different the pictures from
those he drew. He could see only the natural noble
qualities. To the natural ignoble qualities (insepa-
rable from the savage state) he evinced a blindness
inexplicable in a man of such perceptive faculties,
except on the hypothesis of excessive enthusiasm.
Of the miserably low condition of the Crows and
Blackfeet, he has not a word to say, but gives pages
of eloquent writing to the beauties of their dresses
and the magnificent length of their hair.
He descants on the modesty of some tribes, but
tells us, in almost the same breath, that several fami-
lies, consisting of men with two, three, or more
wives, and children of all ages and sexes, occupy, for
all purposes, one single lodge of twelve or fifteen
feet in diameter.
His whole attention is occupied with externals,
dress, dances, religious and other ceremonies. No-
where does he give us a close insight into their inner
life, their religion, social and domestic habits and
customs. Had he written of these things, his char-
acters must have assumed other shadings than those
his "fancy painted."
Here and there throughout his works are evidences
that he does see these things, but is determined to
say nothing about them. He evidently regarded the
56
THE RACE OF PROGRESS.
Indian as doomed to speedy extinction, and in so far,
already dead. He constitutes himself his biographer,
and closely adheres to the charitable Roman maxim,
"nil de mortuis nisi bonum," (say nothing but good
of the dead).
Writing of the Indian of forty years ago, Catlin
says, "In his native state, he is an honest, hospitable,
brave, warlike, cruel, revengeful, relentless, yet honor-
able, contemplative, and religious being." To these
epithets, which are yet true in a certain sense, as I
shall show hereafter, I add, that he is vain, crafty,
deceitful, ungrateful, treacherous, grasping, and ut-
terly selfish. He is lecherous, without honor or
mercy; filthy in his ideas and speech, and inconceiv-
ably dirty in person and manners. He is affection-
ate, patient, self-reliant, and enduring. He has a
marvellous instinct in travelling, and a memory of
apparently unimportant landmarks simply wonderful.
In short, he has the ordinary good and bad qualities
of the mere animal, modified to some extent by
reason.
Primitive man is an animal differing from other
animals in but one single quality, the greater develop-
ment of the reasoning faculties. The condition of
the races of mankind is simply the greater or less
progression of each from that starting-point. The
Indian, though so far behind in this race of progress
as to be still a savage, is yet far ahead of many tribes
and people. The grand difference between the North
American Indian and the civilized people of the same
continent comes not from degrees of intelligence, or
forms of religion, but from what we call morality.
The intellect of an Indian may be as acute as that of
a congressman, and his religion as austere as that of
t
RELIGION AND MORALITY.
57
a bishop, yet he remains a savage simply from lack
of a code of morals.
People of enlightened countries, particularly moral
and Christian people of our own land, will have
difficulty in understanding this lack.
Religion is the disposition of man to recognize
some power superior to, and hidden from, himself.
It is innate, a part of the constitution of man, common
alike to "savage and to sage." It is doubtful if there
be a race of mankind, so low as to be without a
religion.
Morality recognizes and inculcates the rights and
duties of individuals in their relation to their social
life. It is above religion, and its possession by a
people is indicative of great strides in advance of the
primitive condition.
The Jewish code, the ten commandments, mingled
the two in one common law, and the embodiment of
these into two simple commandments by Christ (him-
self a Jew) nearly nineteen hundred years ago, have
forever, to all Christian people, so welded together
religion and morality that the one cannot exist with-
out the other.
We are taught in childhood, at our mother's knee,
that certain things are right, others wrong. The
morality is inculcated with the religion, and we with
difficulty separate the one from the other.
As will be seen further on, the Indian has a re-
ligion, as firmly seated in his belief as Christianity in
the faith of the Christian; but that religion has no
added moral code. It teaches no duty or obligation
either to God or man.
Right and wrong, as abstract terms, have no mean-
ing whatever to the Indian. All is right that he
58
NOT A STOIC.
wishes to do, all is wrong that opposes him. It is
simply impossible for him to grasp the abstract idea
that anything is wrong in itself. He has no word, or
set of words, by which the ideas of moral right and
wrong can be conveyed to him; his nearest synonyms
are the words good and bad.
He will tell you that it is wrong (bad) to steal
from a man of his own band, not that theft is wrong,
but because he will be beaten and kicked out of the
band if detected. There is no abstract wrong in the
murder of a white man, or Indian of another tribe;
it is wrong (bad) simply because punishment may
follow.
The Indian is absolutely without what we call
conscience, that inward monitor which comes of
education, but which our religious teachers would
persuade us is the voice of God.
He is already as religious as the most devout
Christian, and if our good missionaries would let him
alone in his religion, cease their efforts to proselyte
him to their particular sect, and simply strive to
supply him with a code of morals, his subsequent
conversion might be easy and his future improvement
assured.
In his manner and bearing, the Indian is habitually
grave and dignified, and in the presence of strangers
he is reserved and silent. These peculiarities have
been ascribed by writers on Indian character to
stoicism, and the general impression seems to be that
the Indian, wrapped in his blanket and impenetrable
mystery, and with a face of gloom, stalks through
life unmindful of pleasure or pain. Nothing can be
farther from the truth. The dignity, the reserve, the
silence, are put on just as a New York swell puts on
EXCESSIVE CURIOSITY.
59
his swallow-tailed coat and white choker for a dinner-
party, because it is his custom. In his own camp,
away from strangers, the Indian is a noisy, jolly,
rollicking, mischief-loving braggadocio, brimful of
practical jokes and rough fun of any kind, making
the welkin ring with his laughter, and rousing the
midnight echoes by song and dance, whoops and
yells.
He is really as excitable as a Frenchman, and as
fond of pleasure as a Sybarite. He will talk himself
wild with excitement, vaunting his exploits in love,
war, or the chase, and will commit all sorts of extrav-
agances while telling or listening to an exciting
story. In their every-day life Indians are vivacious,
chatty, fond of telling and hearing stories. Their
nights are spent in song and dance, and for the
number of persons engaged, a permanent Indian
camp (safe from all danger of enemies) is at night
the noisiest place that can be found.
One of the strongest traits of Indian character is
curiosity, a positive craving to know all that is going
on about him. He must know the meaning of every
mark on the ground; he must know all the camp
tattle. A stranger arrives in the village and goes
into a lodge. In a few moments half the inhabitants
of the village are in or about that lodge standing on
tiptoe, straining eyes and ears, and crowding each
other and the stranger, with as little compunction as
if the whole thing were a ward primary meeting.
Whether or not he evinces surprise at anything
depends on his surroundings, and somewhat on the
nature of the thing itself. In a formal assemblage,
or when in the presence of strangers, it would be the
height of bad manners to show surprise, however
60
SURPRISE.
much might be felt. Uneducated people of our own
race feel no surprise at the rising and setting of the
sun, the changes of season, the flash of lightning or
the roll of thunder. They accept them as facts
without explanation, and though beyond their com-
prehension, without surprise. One shows surprise
at something out of the ordinary range of his
experience. It is an act of comparison.
The Indian has actual and common experience of
many articles of civilized manufacture, the simplest
of which is as entirely beyond his comprehension as
the most complicated. He would be a simple excla-
mation point, did he show surprise at everything new
to him, or which he does not understand. He goes
to the other extreme, and rarely shows, because he
does not feel, surprise at anything.
He visits the States, looks unmoved at the steam-
boat and locomotive. People call it stoicism. They
forget that to his ignorance the production of the
commonest glass bottle is as inscrutable as the sound
of the thunder. The whirl and clatter of innumerable
spindles are as far beyond his power of compre-
hension as that the summer's heat should be succeeded
by the winter's snows; and a common mirror is as
perfect a miracle as the birth of a child in his lodge.
He knows nothing of the comparative difficulties
of invention and manufacture, and to him, the
mechanism of a locomotive is not in any way more
a cause for surprise than that of a wheel-barrow.
When things, in their own daily experience, are
performed in what to them is a remarkable way, they
feel and express the most profound astonishment. I
have seen several hundred Indians - men, women,
and children - eager and excited, following from one
{
THE WOODEN LEG.
61
telegraph pole to another, a repairer whose legs were
encased in climbing-boots. When he walked easily,
foot over foot, up the pole, their surprise and delight
found vent in the most vociferous expression of
applause and admiration.
I once rode into a large Indian village, accom-
panied by a beautiful lady, an accomplished horse-
woman. The horse, not liking his surroundings,
brought out, by his plunges and curvetings, all her
grace and skill. Had she been astride, as is customary
with Indian women, no notice whatever would have
been taken of her, but, being perched on a side-saddle,
in what to the Indian was an almost impossible
position, she was soon surrounded by a crowd of all
ages and sexes, evincing in every possible way their
extremity of surprise and delight.
Surprise in an Indian sometimes takes very comical
forms. An officer, now on the retired list, who hav-
ing lost a leg in service, had had it skilfully replaced
by one of light hollow wood, with open slits, was one
day visiting the lodge of a distinguished Sioux chief
(now dead). After some rather abortive attempts at
conversation, the officer took a knitting-needle from
the hand of the old wife of the chief, and passed it
through his leg. This at once attracted the notice of
all. The chief made signs asking to see the leg.
Stripping up his pantaloons the officer managed to
show the artificial limb, but concealing its connection
with the leg proper. After a long and minute exami-
nation the chief asked if the other leg was the same.
The amused officer could not resist a little lie, and
nodded yes, whereupon the chief took him by the
shoulders and thrust him out of the lodge as "bad
medicine."
62
MANLY VIRTUES.
The excitability of the Indian results in another
peculiarity, generally overlooked by his historians.
Though undoubtedly brave, and performing feats and
taking chances almost incredible, he is, when sur-
prised, more easily and thoroughly stampeded than
any other race of people of which I have any knowl-
edge.
The Indian's endurance of pain and suffering of
any and every kind, is his "patent of manhood."
Custom and Indian public opinion have made endur-
ance the exponent of every manly virtue; and he
who can subject himself, without a look or expression
of pain, to the greatest amount of excruciating tor-
ture, is the best man, whatever may be his other
qualities.
Another most admirable quality he possesses in an
eminent degree. This is patience. Endurance and
patience would seem to be naturally allied, and to a
close observer they appear to be the warp and woof
of Indian character. Every manly quality possessed
by the Indian is the outgrowth of one or the other of
these traits. His skill and success as warrior, or thief,
or hunter; his avoidance of quarrels or conflicts with
his associates; his submission to wrongs, outrages
and starvation, all come from his endurance and his
patience. Even his disposition to torture his enemies
is, to some extent, but the reflex of the conscious
pride which would enable him to bear those tortures
without flinching.
Modesty, as we understand the term, is totally
lacking in the Indian character. The chief or warrior
who put a low estimate on his qualities or achieve-
ments would be taken at his word and nothing thought
of. There are no reporters, no newspapers, to herald
63
MODESTY.
the praises of a skilful warrior. He must blow his
own trumpet, and he does it with magnificent
success. Self-praise is no disgrace to him, and
half the talk of warriors to each other is made up
of exaggerated boasts of what they have done, and
most extraordinary assertions as to what they intend
to do.
The ordinary conversations, at home or in company,
are broad even to indecency. In some of the tribes
the women are retiring and modest in manners, be-
cause custom requires it, but they listen with delight
to the story-teller's most filthy recitals, and receive
with great applause indecent jests and proposals in
the sign-dance.
Clothing is for ornament, not for decency. Ordi-
narily, even among the wildest tribes, men and women
wear some covering (very frequently the men only
the breech-clout), but I have seen entirely naked men
stalking about a village, or joining in a dance, with-
out exciting surprise, comment, or objection from
others. Although most gayly bedecked on occasions
of ceremony, the ordinary covering of the male Indian
is not what would be regarded as decent among civil-
ized people. The women are more decently clothed
habitually, but men and women, even young girls,
think nothing of bathing together in "puris naturali-
bus," and it is not at all unusual to see boys and girls,
even up to ten years of age, running around the camp
in the same condition.
There is a curious difference of opinion among
writers as to the honesty of the Indian, some assert-
ing that he is an arrant thief, others insisting that he
is exceptionally honest. Catlin says that the Indian
is "honest and honorable," and that he "never stole
64
THE UNPARDONABLE CRIME.
a shilling's worthy of property" from him. The fact
is, that all these authors are both right and wrong.
In their own bands, Indians are perfectly honest.
In all my intercourse with them, I have heard of not
over half a dozen cases of such theft. It is the sole
unpardonable crime among Indians. There being no
bolts nor bars, no locks nor safes, and each Indian
having by common custom the right to enter into any
lodge of the band, at any and at all hours, the prop-
erty of no one would be safe for a moment but for
the most rigid infliction of the severest punishments
on the perpetrator of this solitary Indian crime.
The value of the article stolen is not considered.
The crime is the theft. A man found guilty of steal-
ing even the most trifling article from a member
of his own band, is whipped almost to death (every
individual of the band having the disposition, as well
as the right, to take part in the amusement, and there
being no limit, except his own will, to the amount of
punishment inflicted by each), his horses are confis-
cated, his lodge, robes, blankets, and other property
destroyed or divided among the band, and, naked and
disgraced, he is, with his wives and children, uncere-
moniously kicked out of the band, to starve, or live
as best they can. A woman caught stealing is beaten
and kicked out of the band, but her husband and
children are not included in the punishment.
Children detected in thefts are thrashed most un-
mercifully, not only by the person from whom they
stole, but by the father, who is also obliged to pay
damages.
But this wonderfully exceptional honesty extends
no further than to the members of his immediate
band. To all outside of it, the Indian is not only one
DISLOYAL GUESTS.
65
of the most arrant thieves in the world, but this
quality or faculty is held in the highest estimation,
the expert thief standing in honor, and in the esti-
mation of the tribe almost, if not quite, on the same
plane as the brave and skilful warrior.
The earliest lessons of the youthful brave are in
stealing. The love-sick youngster can only be sure
of winning his mistress by stealing enough horses to
pay for her. Indians are not very successful breeders
of horses, and every man of the tribe expects to keep
himself in stock by stealing.
Even different bands of the same tribe (when not
in one general encampment) do not hesitate to steal
from each other. A most flagrant case came under
my personal observation. In the winter of 1867-8,
I was stationed at North Platte, Nebraska, in charge
of Spotted Tail's band of Brulé Sioux. A party of
six Minneconjou Sioux came into Spotted Tail's camp
on a visit. They were stalwart, good-looking young-
sters, beautifully dressed, well armed and mounted,
and claimed to have been in the Phil. Kearny mas-
sacre of the year before. They were received as
most distinguished guests, with all hospitality and
honor. Feasted and honored by day, danced with,
ogled and made love to at night, the happy visit-
ors, fascinated with their surroundings, apparently
thought only of pleasure; but early on the morning
of the fourth or fifth day after their arrival, I was
waked up by an Indian who informed me that the
Minneconjous had gotten away in the night with
over one hundred of their entertainers' ponies. A
war party was promptly organized for pursuit, but
returned unsuccessful, after running the fugitives for
over a hundred miles.
1
66
WILD INDIANS.
The Indian, as a rule, is honorable after a fashion
of his own. Hide anything from him and he will
find and steal it. Place it formally in his possession,
or under his charge for safe keeping, and it will in
all probability be returned intact, with, however, a
demand for a present as reward for his honesty.
I apply the term "wild" to a class of Indians to
distinguish it from another class inhabiting the In-
dian Territory, or living within the boundaries of
some of the States, and which has made some prog-
ress in civilization and moral knowledge. With
these exceptions, the vast numbers of Indians in the
territory of the United States are "wild." Sioux,
Cheyennes, Arrapahoes, Comanches, Apaches, Utes,
Shoshones, Chippewas, and the almost numberless
small tribes and fragments scattered through the
vast region west of the Mississippi, or collected at
agencies, or on reservations, all furnish material and
shading for the picture I give of them. Here and
there a small tribe- as the Nez Percés-show a
slight advance in morality, due to the efforts of Ro-
man Catholic priests so many years ago that their
traditions but vaguely fix the time. Here and there,
also, even among the wild tribes, are found men who
give some evidence of moral perception, probably
due to the influence of missionaries and teachers.
These cases are, however, individual. The mass of
the wild tribes are as depicted.
A large class of most excellent people conscien-
tiously believe that the Indian is a supernatural hero,
with a thousand excellent qualities, so admirably
woven and dove-tailed into his nature that even civ-
ilization and Christianity could not improve him. To
such persons I have nothing to say. Their opinions
CAPACITY FOR IMPROVEMENT.
67
are simply sentimental prejudice, without foundation
in knowledge or reason, and could not be changed,
though one rose from the dead."
ee
There is another class of excellent people who
firmly believe that it is impossible to civilize the
Indian, and who argue that humanity and policy
alike point to his extermination as the most prompt
and effectual way of solving our Indian problem.
These are also wrong. The Indian has never had a
fair chance, and he is entitled to a full and fair trial.
That, with his miserable opportunities, he has been
at least partially civilized, as shown by the exceptions
before noted, and by the condition of the more
advanced of the Cherokees, is ample evidence of
capacity for a further improvement.
CHAPTER IV.
INDIAN CHIEFS AND RULERS TRIBAL GOVERNMENT
HOW PLACE AND POWER ARE WON.
Powers of the Head Chief- The Avengers of Blood The Death Penalty
Deadly Hostility — Sitting Bull's Indomitable Band —Ouray's Lost
Prestige Little Robe and Little Raven — Two Tribes that are Firm
Friends Disobeying Spotted Tail's Orders Fate of Deserting
Warriors - Severe Punishment - A Secret Society — The
-A Society-The "Picked
Corps" of Warriors - The Chief's Body Guard — Expiating a Sin-
A Noted Comanche Chief: His Courage and Daring-Death from a
Broken Heart - Red Cloud's Career-War to the Knife A Thril
Rival Suitors Spotted Tail's Duel Locked in
ling Episode
Death's Embrace
ro
Big Mouth's Assasination.

HE government of the Indian tribes in
their natural condition was a com-
pound of absolutism, oligarchy, and
democracy.
The absolutism natural and usual
among them may be designated a
patriarchal despotism.
Fifty years ago, the head chief of
each tribe was a despot, with absolute and
unquestioned power over the life and property of
each and every individual of his tribe. Each petty
chief was in like manner the despot of his band, and
each head of a family of the members of that
family.
This absolutism was subject to some curious modi-
fications, all growing out of the universal recognition
of the law of retaliation, and of the right of property
68
LEX TALIONIS.
69
in women. Any man, chief or commoner, of the
tribe might kill his own wife with impunity; she
belonged to him. He might kill the wife of another
man, and get off by paying her value in ponies. If
he killed the man himself, he was subject to no pun-
ishment, or danger of it from his superiors in author-
ity, but he at once incurred the penalty of death by
the hands of the relatives of the dead man, any one
of whom was justified in waylaying and shooting
him like a dog. In the same band this blood-feud
might or might not end with the death of the first
slayer, but in different tribes, and frequently in dif-
ferent bands of the same tribe, each death involved
the necessity of another. This accounts, in a great
measure, for the deadly hostility of Indian tribes to
each other.
A chief, or sub-chief, might with impunity beat or
destroy the property of any one under his authority,
but if he killed him with his own hand he incurred
the inevitable lex talionis, which, however, he might
evade by paying a number of ponies to the relatives
of the dead man.
This is the almost universal custom even at the
present day, and though the last few years have wit-
nessed extraordinary changes in the character of the
internal government of the tribes, these have been
principally in the influence and control of the chiefs,
and in the power of the "dog-soldiers."
Fifty years ago the office of chief was hereditary,
a son, though not necessarily the eldest, succeeding.
Indian tradition says that, as the father grew old, he
took more and more into his councils and plans that
son who, in intellect and manly qualities, was best
fitted to succeed him; gradually yielding, until the
6
70
THE DIVINE RIGHT.
active exercise of power was almost entirely in the
hands of the son, but liable to be withdrawn at any
moment. This, in most of the tribes, has been
changed entirely.
It was fitting that the United States government,
which had freed itself from hereditary monarchy,
should strike the first blow to free the Indian from
hereditary despotism. In many instances unruly
chiefs have been deposed by the United States
authorities, and others exalted to their places; the
subjects themselves having no voice in the matter.
This could only have been done, at first, by taking
advantage of the ambition of the sub-chiefs, each
probably an aspiring man, envious of his superior,
and jealous of his equals.
It must have been a great shock to the Indian
nature, for the despotic idea runs through all their
tribal and family relations; but they very soon caught
at the advantages suggested by this new and im-
proved process of making a ruler.
Each chief of a band, or subdivision of the tribe,
no longer overawed by the "Divine Right" of a
hereditary ruler, immediately set up for himself.
Previous to this the head chief was always the first
man of the tribe; after this it was a mere matter of
accident, or good management, whether he was so
or not.
The preference of the Indians for a dynastic ruler
led to the necessity for a war chief, a rank common
to all tribes.
The hereditary chief was always recognized, rever-
enced, and obeyed, as sovereign ruler (even though
his age or temperament unfitted him for duties in
the field.) If the acknowledged first warrior of the

Toman GT-iset
PEACE OR WAR?- AN INDIAN COUNCIL-SPOTTED TAIL'S SPEECH.
An actual scene at an Indian Council held at North Platte, Nebraska, between Generals Sherman, Harney, Terry and Augur, with distinguished
Sioux, Arrapahoe and Cheyenne Chiefs. (Drawn and engraved from a photograph.)
GRADATIONS OF RANK.
73
tribe, the hereditary chief was also the war chief, but
if not, a war chief was elected by the council. As his
function was only to lead in war, the man of the tribe
(chief or warrior) most renowned for his skill and
ferocity was generally selected.
In times of peace he might be little thought of;
indeed was oftentimes only hated and feared, and his
influence in the council might be of the smallest; but
in times of war he became a power, and his word was
law, to which even the hereditary chief might have
to submit. In some of the tribes the war chief and
the medicine chief are one and the same person.
There are no gradations of rank among the sub-
chiefs who have charge of bands. All are equal as
chiefs, and the greater or less power of each comes
from his own standing in the tribe, the amount of
influence he can bring to bear, either through his
eloquence or his reputation as a warrior.
The sons of chiefs and sub-chiefs have a certain
subordinate rank, and are regarded as chiefs, even
though they have no following.
For some years there has been a struggle between
the head chief, on one hand, and the insubordinate
sub-chiefs on the other, resulting in many dramatic
situations.
The actual condition, at the present moment, of
each tribe, with respect to its rulers, is a pretty fair
criterion, not indeed of advance towards civilization,
but of departure from customary and long-estab-
lished ideas. It is more difficult to unlearn than to
learn, and for this reason, if for no other, this depart-
ure is something gained for the Indian.
Sitting Bull and the indomitable bands which, with
him, preferred to exile themselves to an inhospitable
74
CHANGE OF ALLEGIANCE.
and starving land, rather than tamely submit to be
starved on a reservation, yet enjoy to the full all the
unmixed blessings of despotism; and there may be
a few small bands, or fragments of tribes, in the
United States, who are similarly situated.
Next come a class of tribes as the Utes, who, while
yet acknowledging a head chief, are not disposed
to yield obedience to his every command.
This, as Ouray found, is not a pleasant condition
of affairs, for while the government demands of him
as head chief, certain things, he finds his prestige as
head chief so far gone that he has little power, even
had he the will, to comply with the demands.
In the very large majority of tribes, at the present
time, the head chief is but a name, the tribes being
broken into small bands, each owing allegiance only
to the chief it follows.
Little Robe, head chief of the Cheyennes, and
Little Raven, head chief of the Arrapahoes, were a
few years ago all powerful, each in his own tribe.
Now, each is leader and chief of a small band, and
neither has much standing or influence.
The destruction of the power of the head chiefs
has resulted wonderfully well for the private subjects
of the tribes. Formerly each sub-chief kept his
band as much as possible away from others, and ruled
with absolute sway. A change of allegiance from
one sub-chief to another was always attended with
great danger of loss of property or life, possibly of
both. The rule was that if detected in an attempt to
change his allegiance, he might be stripped of his
property, whipped, or even put to death; but if he
succeeded in making the change he was thereafter
absolved from blame and secure from punishment.
TERRIBLE PUNISHMENT.
75
In 1867, the Cheyennes were waging bitter war
against the United States. This tribe and the Sioux
are very warm friends, and a portion of the Brulé
band of Sioux were anxious to join them. Spotted
Tail, at that time, head chief of the Brulés, did all in
his power to prevent this. In spite, however, of his
influence, his power, and his most peremptory orders,
it was one morning discovered that twenty or more
lodges of the malcontents had decamped during the
night. Assembling his "dog-soldiers," Spotted Tail
pursued the fugitives, overtook and captured them.
Every deserting warrior and many of the women
were terribly whipped, their horses were killed, their
arms broken or confiscated, all the lodges, robes,
clothing and property of every kind ruthlessly
destroyed, and the miserable band driven back to
camp, naked beggars, powerless for evil.
While, under Indian ruling, this was a perfectly
just and proper thing to do, the deserters would have
been free from blame, and in no present or future
danger from Spotted Tail, had they succeeded in
reaching the Cheyenne camp.
This is an exceptional instance, and the severity of
the punishment was justified by the magnitude of the
interests involved. The attempted desertion was to
a different tribe, and with the intention of taking
part in a war against the United States. Such action
was likely to compromise the whole Brulé band, and
possibly involve it in the war.
The collection of Indians on reservations and in the
vicinity of agencies, so very greatly facilitated the op-
portunities for change of allegiance, that the chiefs
soon found they must depend on some persuasive other
than force, if they wished to retain their power.
76
THE COUNCIL.
Thereupon resulted an "era of good feeling." The
chief, heretofore so stern and relentless, became as
suave as a cross-roads politician, and sought to keep
up his power and strength by very similar means.
The result is, that individual Indians and families do
just as they please. If they dislike one chief they
go to another. Indians are born lovers of aristocracy
and stick to their chiefs as long as possible, but a
specially shrewd and popular man, or brave and
successful warrior, may now secure to himself a
following even though he were born "one of the
common herd.”
The Council was and is a prominent feature, the
oligarchical element in tribal government.
The chief has control in matters of discipline, or
what might be regarded as the details of administra-
tion, but everything of importance, every proposition
or measure bearing on the general good or ill, must
be discussed in council.
Spouting must be a purely American characteristic.
As among our highly civilized American citizens
nothing, however trivial, can be done without a pre-
liminary letting off a vast amount of verbiage; so
the Indian can never do anything without speech-
making.
When a camp is to be moved, a hunt made, a
medicine-dance proposed; when youths are to be
initiated as warriors, or peace or war discussed;
whether in the spring, laying their plans for summer
before leaving the agency, or in the fall, returning to
it to loaf, dance and gamble the winter away, there
must always first be a council more dignified, and
almost as loquacious as our supreme council in the
year of a presidential election.
THE DOG-SOLDIERS.
77
A council lodge is provided for every band, and the
council is summoned to meet on any and every occa-
sion. All warriors are ex officio members of the
council. Each may speak, but, as in civilized councils,
a comparatively few individuals do most of the talk-
ing. The conclusion is arrived at by acclamation.
The old men are swayed by reason and eloquence,
the younger by passion and the personal popularity
of the speaker or his subject, but though these latter
are usually in the numerical ascendancy and might
have their own way, they generally acquiesce in the
decision of the chiefs, sages, and medicine men.
Besides the chiefs and council there is in the
government of each Indian band a "third estate," to
which in all matters pertaining to its rights and duties
all have to submit. This power consists of the men
of the band who have passed the ordeal as war-
riors, and are yet not old enough to be exempt from
active service. It is the mobilized militia of the band.
It is a sort of "guild," has its secret meetings, its
councils, and decides many questions without consult-
ing chiefs or council. They are the soldiers of the
band, and are generally called "dog-soldiers," from
the fact, I presume, that among the Cheyennes or Dog
Indians, they are at their greatest perfection. All
chiefs in their youth are obliged to serve in the ranks
of the dog-soldiers, not necessarily in command, for
these redoubtable warriors will not permit even the
chief to name their leader. They elect him themselves
from among the most sagacious and popular hunters.
In "old times" the powers and duties of the dog-
soldiers were far greater than now. Then the women
and children, horses, lodges, and property of every
kind were under their protection. They regulated
78
FIRST STEP TOWARD CIVILIZATION.
the marches in all movements of the village, selected
the camping-places, furnished guards for the camp
and animals. They planned all hunts, directed all sur-
rounds, and distributed the game. The widows and
orphans of the tribe were under their special charge,
and were by them provided with food and other
necessaries of life. They were at once the police
force and commissariat of the tribe. Then they were
constantly occupied, now they have little to do.
Singular as it may seem, the diminution of the
power of the chiefs, instead of increasing, as might
naturally have been expected, the power of the dog-
soldiers, has very greatly diminished it. This I attrib-
ute to the greatly reduced number of lodges in the
bands. Formerly a sub-chief of influence controlled
fifty to one hundred lodges; now it is difficult to find
a chief who can control more than ten or twenty,
sometimes only half a dozen.
Instead of a hundred or more young and energetic
dog-soldiers, a band will have sometimes but six or
eight. Their loss in numbers has resulted in more
than proportionate loss of power, and instead of elect-
ing a leader, they are now, in what I regard as the
most advanced tribes, directly under the control of
the chief, to whom they are a body-guard and little
standing army.
The present tendency is towards a complete break-
ing down of the central despotic power in each tribe,
under which large bands were kept together, and the
result is to the advantage of the individual Indian as
well as to the United States Government. It is the
very first step towards civilization.
Tribal government, heretofore a sort of democratic
despotism, is daily becoming more and more simple
EXPIATION.
79
and patriarchal. A very small expenditure of wisdom
on the part of the United States authorities and law-
makers, would soon settle quietly and happily the
whole question; but unfortunately it is not to the
interests of many influential people that it should
be settled.
•
Of course, having no writing, there is no written
law among Indians, nor indeed is there anything like
an oral code. There is no crime worthy, in their
opinion, of very severe punishment. In the "olden
days," change of allegiance was regarded as the
gravest of crimes, and punished as treason. Now
there is no crime against the "body politic." Viola-
tions of the orders of the chief are punished severely,
by whipping and destruction of property. Crimes
against individuals, as assaults, or stealing his neigh-
bor's wife, are compounded by the payment of dam-
ages, the amount of which is assessed by the chief,
assisted by two or more prominent men. A theft
from an individual of another band is no crime.
theft from one of the same band is the greatest
of all crimes. Assaults and injuries to one member
of a family by another are religious wrongs to be
repented of.
A
Not long ago a Cheyenne woman in a fit of passion
stabbed her grown daughter. No notice whatever
was taken of the act by chief or council, but the
mother immediately retired to the top of a hill some
distance off, and remained there for four or five days,
without shelter, bedding, food or drink, when the
other members of the family, thinking she had suf-
ficiently atoned, brought her back to the lodge and
to life.
In 1879, when seeking for building material, I
80
INTERRUPTED ATONEMENT.
went to examine a high, rocky hill. On reaching
the summit, I saw a short distance from me, a small
mound or cairn of stones. At its foot was spread a
blanket on which was lying, face downward, an
Indian, entirely naked. He did not move or notice.
me until I had almost made the circuit of the flat top
of the hill, when he arose and rushed towards my
party, with extravagant gestures and vociferous
exclamation, ordering us off. We of course paid no
attention to him. When we had completed the
circuit of the hill, he wrapped himself in his blanket
and sat down on a rock, looking moody and dis-
consolate enough. When we had finished our
examination we returned to our wagon at the bottom
of the hill, spread our lunch on the rocks and prepared
to enjoy ourselves. The sight was too much for the
Indian, who slowly came down and sat near us. He
was evidently very unhappy. Two or three pounds
of corned beef, half a loaf of bread, and a canteen of
cold coffee quickly disappeared, and under its influence
he thawed out sufficiently to inform us that he was
expiating a sin, that at sundown on that afternoon he
would have completed his third day without food or
drink, and his penance would have been over; that, in
going around him, we had destroyed the whole effect
of his medicine, rendered all his sufferings nugatory,
and all would have to be gone through with again.
He would not tell me what crime he had committed,
but from subsequent inquiry, I suspect it was striking
his father.
About three years ago a Cheyenne woman, having
become for some reason greatly exasperated with her
husband, murdered him with an axe while asleep.
About a month after she gave birth to a child, which,
SAN-TA-NA.
81
as soon as it was born, she threw as far as possible
into a thicket, saying she would "have nothing to do
with anything belonging to that dead man." No
notice whatever was taken of either of these crimes,
and the woman is still a member in "good standing"
of the band.
Her acts did not, to her, seem to require even a
religious penance, and her only punishment has been
her inability to get another husband, the bucks wisely
steering clear of a woman of such vigorous action.
The child was picked up by one of the old women,
and being nursed in turn by the mothers of the band,
is now a healthy, sprightly, good-looking little lassie,
petted and spoiled by all the band except the mother,
who cannot be induced to notice it.
Had the Indians of years ago had a written lan-
guage, their literature would probably have abounded
with personal histories as interesting and dramatic as
those of Greece and Rome.
They seem, however, to be lacking both in memory
and in inventive faculty, and, though great story-
tellers, to be unable to weave fact and fancy into
tradition.
A warrior of the present day is scarcely able to
recount the deeds of prowess of his own father,
though of his own remarkable achievements he is
never weary of talking. I have, therefore, no choice,
but am forced to select from among the living or
recently dead, for personal histories illustrative of the
past and present power of chiefs, and of the changes
taking place in tribal government.
When Texas was annexed to the United States, the
Comanches, by far the most powerful Texan tribe of
Indians, were governed by San-ta-na, a chief distin-
82
WONDERFUL JOURNEY.
guished above all others by his eloquence and wisdom
in council, and his daring, skill, and success in the field.
His word was law, and such his popularity with his
tribe, that sub-chiefs and warriors vied with each other
in anticipating his wishes. When the United States
troops were sent to occupy and defend Texas, it was
found that scarcely a place in all the length and
breadth of this immense new state was safe from the
incursions of this tribe of daring warriors. Whites
were killed and scalped on the very outskirts of San
Antonio, then the most populous town in the state;
and a very considerable village, New Braunfels, was
sacked, the men massacred, and the women and chil-
dren carried into captivity.
The scanty force of regular troops, though well-
nigh ubiquitous (as it is always expected to be),
failed necessarily to protect so immense an extent of
territory from the inroads of the most dashing and
venturesome of all Indian raiders.
At this juncture a successful effort was made to
bring San-ta-na into council with the whites. He
was loaded with presents, and induced to make a visit
to Washington city.
The effect of such a journey on this utterly "untu-
tored savage" may be imagined. The immense dis-
tances traversed, through a country entirely occupied
by white men, the number of people, the great cities,
the quantities of arms and warlike appliances of all
kinds, convinced him of the utter futility and cer-
tainly disastrous consequences of further warfare with
the whites.
On his return to his tribe he explained, as far as he
was able, what he had seen, and attempted to impress
on his people the necessity of keeping the peace.
RED CLOUD.
83
They at once attributed his change of mind to bribery,
and his account of his journeyings and the wonders
of the white man's country were set down as fabu-
lous talesgot up" for a purpose. He was looked
upon with suspicion, as a traitor to the interests of
his people, and regarded as a remorseless and crimi-
nal liar. His influence declined, his people fell away
from him, and ambitious sub-chiefs seized the oppor-
tunity of increasing their own power and influence.
A few years, and this once-powerful leader, heart-
broken, deserted by all except two faithful wives,
paid the last debt to nature. In a little cañon, near
the Bandera Pass, was, twenty years ago, a small
mound of stones. It marked the final resting-place
of the greatest Indian warrior of his time. Such was
the fate of an hereditary chief who dared to go against
the prejudices of his tribe.
The history of Red Cloud, the head chief of the
Ogallalla Sioux, now living, almost reverses the pic-
ture. Not an hereditary chief, he owes his promi-
nence to his persistent hostility to the whites.
The United States government determined to open
a road to Montana by way of Powder River. It must
necessarily pass through a favorite hunting-ground
of the Sioux. Treaties were made with prominent
hereditary chiefs of the Sioux bands, by whom the right
of way was granted. So great was the dissatisfaction
among the Indians that Red Cloud saw his opportu-
nity, and, denouncing the treaties and their makers,
he declared war to the knife against every white man
who came over that road, or ventured into that coun-
try. Clouds of warriors, the ambitious and the dis-
affected of all the tribes and bands of that country,
flocked to his standard. The hereditary chiefs found
84
SPOTTED TAIL.
themselves deserted and powerless, and in some in-
stances were only too glad to preserve their control
over their bands by acknowledging Red Cloud as
master. A long and tedious war ensued, in which
Red Cloud made a great reputation, and constantly.
received accessions to his power, at the expense of
the hereditary chiefs.
Avoiding any general or even serious engagement,
he so harassed all trains and expeditions that the few
troops then in his country could scarcely be said to
hold even the ground they actually stood upon.
Several forts were established, but they protected
only what was inside the palisades. A load of wood
for fuel could not be cut outside without a conflict.
This at last culminated in the terrible massacre of
Fort Phil Kearney, in which half the garrison (gal-
lantly, though unwisely, meeting the enemy outside)
perished to a man.
Instead of sending more troops, and promptly and
terribly punishing the Indians, a "humane" commis-
sion was appointed to treat with them. The garri-
sons were withdrawn, the road abandoned, and in
their own opinions the Indians were unconquerable,
and Red Cloud the greatest warrior in the world.
Spotted Tail, another Sioux chief (already men-
tioned), also rose from the ranks. When a boy of
nineteen or twenty years, he incurred the implacable
enmity of a sub-chief, already noted for his daring
and ferocity, by aspiring to a girl on whom the chief
had set his eye. One day, meeting accidentally a
short distance from the camp, the chief peremptorily
demanded of Spotted Tail a renunciation of the girl
under penalty of instant death. Drawing his knife,
Spotted Tail defied him to do his worst. A long and
85
KING OF THE SIOUX.
bloody conflict ensued. Some hours after, a straggler
from camp found the two bodies locked in a death
grip, and each gaping with innumerable wounds.
The chief was dead. Spotted Tail recovered to step
at once into prominence; custom, among all the
Plains tribes, investing the victor in such a duel with
all the honors previously borne or won by the van-
quished. When, a few years after, the hereditary
chief died, he was almost unanimously selected as
principal chief, in spite of the most determined oppo-
sition of the sub-chief, who by regular succession
should have obtained the position.
Spotted Tail proved an able and judicious ruler,
and well justified the choice of his tribe.
In 1876, General Crook, the commander of the
Military Department of the Platte, wearied with the
constant dissensions of the Sioux, each band of which
was ruled by a selfish, ambitious and independent
chief, determined to settle the difficulty by a coup
d'état, which would bring all the bands under one
controlling influence.
Spotted Tail, who had proved himself not only a
man of intelligence and ability, but a firm friend of
both Indian and white, was selected to be the supreme
ruler, and, with much ceremony, was crowned "King
of the Sioux.”
One instance of what may be termed a political
execution, and I have done with the subject of Indian
government.
Big Mouth, another chief of the Brulé Sioux, was
the peer of Spotted Tail in most manly and warlike
qualities. In the constant complications arising of
late years from the more direct contact of Indian and
white, Big Mouth steadily gained in power and
1
86
ASSASSINATION OF BIG MOUTH.
•
influence. A few years ago Spotted Tail made a
visit to Washington, New York, and other eastern
cities, and was much fêted. On his return, with
changed views and "new-fangled" notions as to the
policy of the Indians, Big Mouth eagerly seized the
opportunity of increasing his power by disparaging
the honesty and good sense of his superior in posi-
tion. Finding matters inclined to go against him,
Spotted Tail one day called at the door of Big
Mouth's lodge and asked to speak with him. On
Big Mouth's appearance, he was seized by two war-
riors, who held him fast, while Spotted Tail drew a
pistol, placed it against his body, and shot him dead.
The death of Spotted Tail was a curious and
tragic coincidence. A feud existed between him
and a chief named Crow Dog. On the 6th August,
1881, these enemies met near the Rosebud Agency.
Their quarrel was terminated by Crow Dog, who,
suddenly drawing a pistol, shot Spotted Tail dead.
In addition to its duties as supreme arbiter of all
important internal affairs of the tribe, the council is
vested with the right and power to regulate its inter-
course with other tribes and with whites.
What may be termed international questions are
carefully and gravely discussed in a tribal council.
The line of policy or action being agreed upon, the
most prominent and sagacious chiefs and warriors are
selected to present and argue it in the international
council. Such a council of eminent United States
officials and prominent chiefs of Sioux, Cheyennes,
and Arrapahoes is represented on page seventy-one,
from a photograph.

JETAY
SPOTTED TAIL ASSASSINATING BIG MOUTH, A RIVAL CHIEF.
KARST
CHAPTER V.
SWINDLING AND KOBBING THE INDIANS.
OWN OBSERVATIONS.
-
MY
The "Treaty System - Its Absurdity-Stipulations that cannot be
Kept - How Indians are Swindled and Robbed "Wards of the
Nation" - Modoc Jack General Canby's Murderers - Expiation
on the Gallows-The "Indian Agent" His Absolute Power- How
Massacres are Invited-Poor old Mr. Meeker-Our "Indian Policy"
- Forcible Contrasts - My Own Observations - What I Have Seen
Unexampled Scoundrelism - Stone Calf's Daughter The Flower
of the Wigwam - An Ill-fated Journey
An Ill-fated Journey - Concealed in a Thicket -
Threatened with Instant Death — Escape to a Friendly Teepe — The
-
Old Chief's Agony - A Heart-broken Warrior My Inability to Help
Him - Praying for the "White Man's Road."
-
—

T would be out of place here to enter
into an analysis of the steps by and
through which the absurd "treaty sys-
tem" was foisted upon, and, until very
recently, acted upon as the basis of all
governmental intercourse with the hun-
dreds of petty Indian tribes which in-
habit our wide country. I say absurd,
for if we admit that they are so far in-
dependent states that their relations towards us must
be regulated by treaty, we necessarily concede their
sovereign right to make treaties with other nations.
The mere statement of the case is sufficient demon-
stration of its absurdity, but the iniquities of the
system" warrant a much stronger adjective.
7
89
90
TRADE AND INTERCOURSE LAWS.
Solemnly to "covenant and agree" to do that which
we have no intention of doing, or which, with the best
intent, we know is impossible to do, is criminal. In
consideration of certain concessions of land, we
"covenant and agree" to pay certain fixed annuities
to the Indians, yet by negligence we connive at the
sequestration of a large percentage of the money or
goods. We "covenant and agree
covenant and agree" to keep white
men out of the limits of the new reservation, though
we well know that a government constituted as ours,
resting on a popular basis, and with a tide of immi-
gration unparalleled in modern times, can by no pos-
sibility keep the faith of any such treaty.
From the earliest years of our independence as a
nation, and before any effort had been made to con-
fine the western tribes within restricted areas, each
tribe or tribes has had with or near it an agent ap-
pointed by the government. What were his func-
tions in those earlier days it is almost impossible to
determine, but after the passage of the "trade and
intercourse" laws in 1834, he represented the ma-
chinery by which those laws were supposed to be
carried out. Those laws were enacted for the con-
trol of white men, and had no binding force on the
Indians. The agent had no power or control over
the tribes, which were left free and independent sov-
ereign peoples, untrammelled by any obligation of
law, either of God or man.
Loaded with this incubus, "the treaty system,” the
United States Government, in all its hundred years
of "control and management" of the Indians, has
never awakened to the facts that these wild and
savage natures might be improved by the discipline
of law, and that no steps in civilization are possible,
{
MODOC JACK.
91
until the savage has some fixed principle of action
by which to guide himself.
It is common to talk of the crimes of the Indians.
However horrible the atrocities committed by them,
and recorded in almost every page of our history
since the landing of the Pilgrims, there are no crimes.
A crime is a wilful violation of law or moral obliga-
tion. The Indian knows no law either human or
divine, nor does he understand any moral obligation.
His deeds of rapine and cruelty are simply his mode
of making war, and are a part of his savage condition.
The grandest of exploits, the noblest of virtues to
him, are comprehended in the English words theft,
pillage, arson, rapine, murder. He is a savage,
noxious animal, and his actions are those of a ferocious
beast of prey, unsoftened by any touch of pity or
mercy. For them he is to be blamed exactly as the
wolf and tiger are blamed.
୧୯
Leaving out of consideration the half-civilized
tribes of the Indian territory, there are yet within the
limits of the United States near two hundred thousand
savages wards of the nation," for whom the gov-
ernment in its wisdom thinks no law is necessary.
Indians may murder Indians; Indians may ravage the
settlements, committing all the acts known in our
statutes as capital crimes, and there is no court of
justice, either civil or military, which can legally
punish them. Such atrocities have been punished.
Modoc Jack and his associates, for the murder of
General Canby and the commissioners; the ring-
leaders of the Sioux massacres in Iowa, and many
others have expiated their deeds on the gallows, but
the punishment was not by virtue of any law of the
land. They suffered under the operation of the old,
92
NO ADVANCE POSSIBLE.
old law, the foundation of all law, "the law of
retaliation."
One of the first and most necessary steps towards
the civilization of any savage people, is to establish
and enforce a code of laws, but to do this we must
necessarily give up the pet idea of many human-
itarians. We cannot make laws for other "indepen-
dent nations," and we must elect either to let the
"independent nations" die out in ignorance and
squalor, or to throw overboard the whole system,
treaties and all.
Since the confinement of the Indians to compara-
tively restricted areas (reservations) the government
has found it absolutely necessary to exercise more
control of them than is consistent with their inde-
pendence as nations, or warranted by treaty stipula-
tions. As in many other cases, it carries water on
both shoulders, appeasing the humanitarians by a
pretence of conformity to treaties, while actually by
means of the agent and the army, controlling the
Indians almost as effectually as if they were recognized
prisoners of war. This control is, however, restricted
to the confinement of the Indians to the reservation,
no interference with their social or moral habits
being permitted. The consequence is that the Indians
have not and cannot advance beyond their original
barbarism.
For all purposes of restraint the power of the chiefs
has greatly diminished, and tribal government is
practically extinct. While destroying the slight safe-
guard with which Indian custom had surrounded
individual rights, the government has furnished no
substitute. There is absolutely no protection for
life, property, or individual rights, except that which
THE INDIAN AGENT.
93
each head of a family can give to his belongings, and
the condition of affairs is becoming worse every year.
The only punishment ever inflicted by the agent is a
short confinement in the guard-house, and even this
is illegal and purely arbitrary. This punishment has
little terror for the vicious, and every day outrages
are committed with impunity.
The class of men selected as agents, and the mode
of their selection, have always been one of the scan-
dals of the government, but the last device, the leav-
ing of that selection to the Christian churches of the
country, is a fitting climax to the preposterous acts
which for a century have stultified the governmental
"control and management" of Indians. The Indian
agent is actually the governor of one or more tribes
of wild men. He is the representative of the power
and will of the United States. His duties are the
"control and management" of the whole political and
financial affairs of the tribes, as connected with the
government. These tribes are a warlike race, whose
pastime is pillage and bloodshed, whose idea of right
is simply might, whose respect for, and appreciation
of their ruler, is exactly in proportion to his character
as a soldier, and the power of will which enables him.
to control masses of men. To place a poor old man
like Mr. Meeker, however faithful, honest, and ear-
nest he may be, in charge of a set of wild brigands like
the Utes, is simply to invite massacre.
There are very few voters in this country, even
Christians, who would be willing to submit to a law
requiring that every governor of a state or territory
must be a member of some one of the numerous
Christian denominations. Ignoring religious qualifi-
cations, they require for their own governor a man of
94
CONTRASTS.
standing and well-tried administrative ability. Yet
the governor of a state composed of intelligent and
law-abiding citizens, is a very easy matter compared
to the government of a tribe of savages.
While requiring high character and marked ca-
pacity for the easy office, we are inconsistent enough
to give the difficult and dangerous offices to men
whose only merit consists in supposed earnestness of
Christian feeling and sentiment. I doubt if there be
among civilized nations any but our own which could
so completely have submerged itself in the slough of
ridiculous and criminal absurdity.*
The condition of Indians and Indian affairs on the
different sides of the British line has been the subject
of contrasts by many eloquent speakers and writers.
That difference is due, in my opinion, almost wholly
to the iniquitous "treaty system," and the innumerable
ills growing out of it.
We have spent one hundred millions of money in
Indian wars, the British nothing. We have lost
thousands of soldiers in battle with Indians, the
British few.
We have lost tens of thousands of settlers and emi-
grants ruthlessly slain, the women carried into revolt-
ing captivity, their homes and property destroyed;
the British have lost almost none.
. We call the Indians dependent nations, the Brit-
ish call them the Indian subjects of her Majesty.
We make solemn treaties with them, the British
make laws for them.
* It is suggested, whether such regulation of appointment is not in
violation of the Constitution of the United States, in that it unites Church
and State, and discriminates against, as ineligible, every man who is not
a member of a Christian Church.
STONE CALF.
95
We attempt to control them by an almost irrespon-
sible agent, backed by bayonets; the British control
them as they do their other citizens, by magistrates
and police.
It is true that the problems are not the same on the
two sides of the line. The pressure of our resistless
tide of immigration has a constantly exasperating
effect on the Indians, but that very pressure should
warn the government that its treaties cannot be car-
ried out, and for that reason, if for no other, should
be abrogated.
In a previous chapter I have given some illustra-
tions of the moral condition of the Indians. Inade-
quate as were their own rules for the punishment of
social wrongs, there was yet that natural law
of retaliation, which, under the tribal government,
somewhat deterred even the most reckless from
the grossest acts of selfishness and passion. Now
that the agent has some control, even these poor
safeguards are torn away, and license stalks ram-
pant.
A case occurred in November, 1880, under my own
observation, near the cantonment in the Indian Ter-
ritory, which for cold-blooded scoundrelism and utter
disregard of social rights and duties, surpassed any-
thing in even my widely extended experience of
Indian atrocity.
Stone Calf is a prominent chief of the Southern
Cheyennes. He is about sixty years of age, and
though in his earlier days was a ruthless and most
uncompromising enemy to the white race, has within
the last few years accepted the inevitable, and is one
of the foremost of the Cheyennes in his eagerness for
instruction and enlightenment, and in his desire to
96
OUTRAGE OF STONE CALF'S DAUGHTER.
"travel the white man's road."* He is brave, truth-
ful, and manly, an exceptionally good specimen of
barbaric life. The child of his old age, his pet and
jewel, was a pretty little maiden of thirteen years.
One day he wished to communicate with a sub-chief
whose camp was some seven miles from his down the
river. Without a thought or suspicion of danger to
her, he directed his daughter to go to the camp of the
sub-chief and convey his message. Starting out,
accompanied (as is imperatively demanded by Indian
custom) by another girl, she executed the commission
and started on her return to her father's camp.
About half way between the two camps was located
the teepe of a member of Stone Calf's band, a stal-
wart, reckless ruffian, impatient of restraint and
generally living away from other people of his tribe.
He noted the southward journey of the two girls, and
laid his plans. Hiding in a small ravine which it was
necessary for them to cross on their return, he
suddenly sprung from his covert, seized the bridle of
the horse ridden by Stone Calf's daughter, and pre-
senting a pistol at the head of her companion ordered
her to leave on pain of death; a hint which was
immediately acted upon.
Leading the horse of the unhappy girl he conducted
her to his lodge, and there in the presence of his two
or three wives, brutally outraged her, keeping her a
prisoner all that night and the following day until
afternoon, when, fearing some action of Stone Calf,
he carried her off into a thicket where both remained
hid until dark. Anxious to discover what Stone Calf
was doing or intended to do, and yet afraid to leave
* The Indian idiomatic mode of expressing "the adoption of all the
manners, customs, habits, and laws of the whites."
PRAYER FOR THE WHITE MAN'S ROAD. 97
the girl, he forced her to accompany him to the
military post. Threatening her with sure death if
she moved, he left her behind a dark corner of the
trader's store, while he cautiously peered into the
uncurtained windows in search of Stone Calf. The
poor girl, watching her opportunity, disappeared in the
darkness, and made her way to the teepe of one of
the Indians employed at the post as scouts. Here
she was recognized, and on telling her story, was
protected until morning, and then delivered to her
father. That day Stone Calf came to me almost
heart-broken, related all the horrible details, and
begged for vengeance.
"Have you among yourselves no remedy for such
outrages?" I asked.
"Yes," he replied, "I can kill him, and I ought to
kill him, but the agent is not my friend, and if I do
kill this scoundrel, the agent will put me in the guard-
house, and when I get out not only my daughter, but
my wives and family will all be gone or outraged."
"I am truly sorry for you, my friend," I said,
"but I can do absolutely nothing. If this were a
white villain I would put him in my guard-house,
and turn him over to the civil authorities for trial, but
he is an Indian, and there is no law to punish such
acts when committed by Indians."
Covering his face with his hands, the old man was
bent and racked with emotion. Recovering himself
he placed his hand on my arm, and in a quivering
voice, said:
"I am sick of the Indian road, it is not good;" then
raising his eyes to Heaven, he added:
"I hope the Good God will give us the white man's
road before we are all destroyed."
CHAPTER VI.
RELIGION OF THE INDIAN
A STRANGE FAITH
ce
THE GREAT MYSTERY OF INDIAN MEDICINE.'
""
The Indian Idea of God - The Good God - The Bad God― The Per-
petual Struggle between Them The Happy Hunting Grounds "
- How the Indian Soul is Excluded from Paradise Horror of Being
Scalped - Desperate Efforts to Save a Friend's Soul - How the Soul
Escapes From the Body - The Indian Idea of Hell Good Med-
icine "
versus Bad Medicine Ridiculous Superstition - How
"Medicine" is Made Its Great Mystery — A Sacred Secret De-
ciding on the Ingredients — Appeasing the Wrath of the Bad God
Sacred Ponies Driving a Sharp Bargain with the Devil — Stick-
ing to the Faith of their Fathers Spotted Tail's Argument with
Captain Randall "Black Beard"- My Talk with an Aged Chief-
Who Made the World? - Fetichism - Digger Indians.
-
—

HAVE elsewhere remarked that it is
difficult for a Christian to draw the line
between religion and morality, but un-
less he can do so, it will be impossible
for him to understand the Indian. He
must even go further; he must tone his
mind to the consideration of a people
not only without a code of morals, but
without a God in our sense of the term.
Religion is by us understood to be the love and
reverence borne towards the Supreme Creator of all
things, and a performance of all those duties which
are presumed to be in accordance with his will. In
this sense the Indian has no religion.
98
SHADES OF RELIGIOUS BELIEF.
99
Abstractly, religion is the disposition implanted in
the inner constitution of man to bow down before the
"Unknowable." In this sense, man is so universally a
religious being, that travellers' tales of finding a peo-
ple in Africa, so low in the scale of humanity as to
have no religious belief or superstition of any kind,
have met with doubt, if not absolute discredit.
Polytheism would seem to be the first and most
natural form in which religious belief would manifest
itself, and this first idea would naturally, after a time,
be modified according to circumstances of locality, or
the peculiar idiosyncrasies of the people.
This is eminently the case among the Indian tribes.
Some believe in a great many gods, some in but few.
There is not to my knowledge a single Indian tribe
that believes in but one.* Some believe in gods of
mountains, of rivers, of plains, etc., others believe that
these are not gods but subordinate spirits. It would
be a life-time labor for many men to collect all the
shades and gradations of belief among Indians. I
will give here the religion of the Southern Chey-
ennes, premising that, for every individual Indian of
this, or any other wild tribes, who has mounted above
the plane of religious belief here set forth, a hundred
are still below it.
* In a letter to Schoolcraft, Major Neighbors asserts that the Co-
manches believe in "one Supreme Being, the author of both good and
bad, who lives beyond the sun, and rules the world.”
I knew Major Neighbors well, while he was agent of the Comanches,
and had frequent conversations with him as to the habits and beliefs of
those Indians. The ideas expressed to Schoolcraft were those enter-
tained by both of us while we were comparatively unacquainted with
the Indians.
Subsequent study and better opportunities for forming a correct opin-
ion, convinced me that the Comanches believe, as do most of other Flains
tribes, in two gods, but are more than ordinarily indisposed to speak of
the Bad God.
UorM
100
THE GOOD AND THE BAD GODS.
The Indian is as religious as the most devout
Christian, and lays as much stress on form as a Ritual-
ist. He believes in two gods, equals in wisdom and
power.
One is the Good God. His function is to aid the
Indian in all his undertakings, to heap benefits upon
him, to deliver his enemy into his hand, to protect him
from danger, pain, and privation. He directs the suc-
cessful bullet, whether against an enemy, or against
the "beasts of the field." He provides all the good
and pleasurable things of life. Warmth, food, joy,
success in love, distinction in war, all come from him.
The other is the Bad God. He is always the enemy
of each individual red man, and exerts to the utmost
all his powers of harm against him. From him pro-
ceed all the disasters, misfortunes, privations, and dis-
comforts of life. He causes all the pain and suffering,
he brings the cold, he drives away the game, he
deflects the otherwise unerring bullet; from him come
defeat and wounds and death.
The action of these two gods is not in any way
influenced by questions of abstract right or morality,
as we understand them.
The Good God is always the Indian's friend and
assistant in everything that he wishes or proposes to
do. If the Indian desires to steal a horse, or the wife
of a friend, to kill another Indian, or to raid a settle-
ment of whites, it is the Good God to whom he turns
for countenance, and it is by his assistance that he
hopes to accomplish his purpose.
The Bad God always thwarts; and from the lame-
ness of a horse to final death, every annoyance, morti-
fication, or disaster is attributed to the direct influence
of the Bad God.
•
NO FUTURE PUNISHMENT.
101
Having no sense of right or wrong (as we under-
stand those terms), no innate consciousness, no idea
of moral accountability, either present or future, the
Indian ascribes to the direct action of one power all
the good, and to that of the other power all the bad,
that may happen to him.
Why, or wherefore, the Indian knows not, but he is
firmly convinced that not an hour, not a moment
passes, without a struggle between the two gods, of
which he is the immediate cause and subject.
The Good God is not an exacting or jealous god.
For his unremitting labors, his devoted services, his
constant watchfulness in behalf of the Indian, he
demands nothing in return. No prayers are neces-
sary, for he does the very best he can without being
asked. No thanks are necessary, for he does these
things because he chooses to do them. He is the
Indian's friend as the Bad God is his enemy, for some
reason of his own, impenetrable, inscrutable.
These two gods are the gods and rulers of the life
only in this world, for while the Indian firmly believes
in the immortality of the soul, and life after death,
the power of these gods does not extend to it. Their
function is restricted entirely to benefits or injuries
in this life, and the Indian's condition after death
does not in any way depend either on his own con-
duct while living, or on the will of either of the gods.
All peccadilloes and crimes bring, or do not bring,
their punishment in this world, and whatever their
character in life, whatever the actual "deeds done in
the flesh," the souls of all Indians reach, after some
days' journey, a paradise called by them "The Happy
Hunting Grounds," unless debarred by accident.
There are two ways in which the Indian soul can
102
TO SAVE A SOUL.
be prevented from reaching this paradise. The first
is by scalping the head of the dead body. Scalping
is annihilation; the soul ceases to exist.
*
This
accounts for the eagerness of Indians to scalp all
their enemies, and the care they take to avoid being
themselves scalped. Not unfrequently Indians do not
scalp slain enemies. This comes from their belief
that each person killed by them (and not annihilated
by scalping) will be their servant in the next world.
It will be found invariably that the slain enemies were
either very pusillanimous or remarkably brave. The
Indian reserves the first to be his servant, because he
expects to have no trouble in managing him, and the
last, to gratify his vanity in the future state by having
a servant so well known as a stalwart and renowned
warrior in this world.
This superstition is the occasion for the display of
the most heroic traits of Indian character. Reckless
charges are made and desperate chances taken to
carry off unscalped the body of a chief or friend.
Numerous instances have occurred when many were
killed in vain efforts to recover and carry off unscalped
the bodies of slain warriors. A Homer might find
many an Indian hero as worthy of immortal fame as
Achilles for his efforts to save the body of his friend,
and no Christian missionary ever evinced a more
noble indifference to danger, than the savage Indian
displays in his efforts to save (as he thinks) his
friend's soul. Let the scalp be torn off, and the body
becomes mere carrion, not even worthy of burial.
The other method by which an Indian can be cut
* This was, only a few years ago, almost the universal orthodox be-
lief of the Plains Indians. It will be seen in a subsequent chapter on
scalping, that this belief is rapidly losing ground.
THE INDIAN HELL.
103
off from the Happy Hunting Grounds is by strangu-
lation.
The Indian believes that the soul escapes from the
body by the mouth, which opens of itself at the
moment of dissolution to allow a free passage. Should
death ensue by strangulation, the soul can
soul can never
escape, but must always remain with, or hovering
near the remains, even after complete decompo-
sition.
·
As the soul is always conscious of its isolation, and
its exclusion from participation in the joys of paradise,
this death has peculiar terrors for the Indian, who
would infinitely prefer to suffer at the stake, with all
the tortures that ingenuity can devise, than die by
hanging.
This is the only hell that Indian religion or philoso-
phy has arrived at, and it will be noticed that this
terrible and endless disaster may be a mere matter of
accident. The unfortunate sufferer might be a man
of probity and wisdom (from the Indian standpoint),
a woman of virtue, or an innocent child, but should
one or the other chance to become entangled in the
lariat of a grazing horse and strangled, the soul
would surely suffer the Indian hell.
Believing that no line of conduct of his own can
avail him for good or evil; feeling his helplessness and
entire dependence on the relative powers of the two
Great Beings who fight continually for or against
him; the Indian's first and most important concern is
to find some sure means by which he can discover
which of the gods has the ascendancy for him at any
particular time. For this he resorts to divination.
Every Indian language has a word expressive of
the attitude of the gods towards the Indian. For
104
MEDICINE.
lack of a better term, this is translated into the Eng-
lish word "medicine."
Catlin, writing from among the Crows and Black-
feet, says, "Medicine' is a great word in this coun-
try. . . . In its common acceptation here it means
mystery and nothing else. The fur traders in
this country are nearly all French, and in their lan-
guage a doctor or physician is called 'médecin.' The
Indian country is full of doctors, and as they are all
magicians, and skilled, or profess to be skilled, in
many mysteries, the word 'medicine' has become
habitually applied to everything mysterious or unac-
countable."
There is probably no room to doubt this to be the
true origin of the term, but Catlin's explanation of
its meaning is not correct, or rather not complete.
The Indian thinks that he perfectly understands his
religion, and believes himself to be as intimately ac-
quainted with his gods as many of our ministers
assume to be with theirs.
"Medicine" not only means "mystery," but religious
mystery. The word differing in each Indian lan-
guage, but universally mistranslated "medicine" ex-
presses the relation of the gods to each other, with
reference to a tribe or particular individual.
The gods are always hostile to each other. One is
always the Indian's friend, the other always his enemy.
This much is known with absolute certainty.
Certain things in nature are pleasing and helpful
to the Good God; other things to the Bad God. Com-
mon use and habit have decided the religious status
of all things to which the Indians are accustomed,
but of anything new and therefore mysterious they
are always in doubt. It may be "good medicine,"
AUGURY.
105
that is, pleasing to the Good God, but it may be the
reverse. As the Indian stands in no fear of the Good
God, but in most abject and dreadful awe of the Bad
God, it is but natural in him to receive all innovations
with the utmost caution and dread.
The term "medicine" is applied to every condition
of the Indian life, to almost every object of its sur-
roundings. A man gets up all right in the morning,
feels splendidly, everything goes well with him. His
"medicine" is good, that is, the Good God is in the
ascendant for him that day. Another man don't feel
very well, things go wrong, he misses a good shot at
a deer, or his sweetheart shows him the cold shoulder.
His "medicine" is bad, that is, the Bad God has him
in his power for the time.
Everything supposed lucky or healthful, or indica-
tive in any way of the presence and supremacy of
the Good God is "good medicine," everything the
reverse is "bad medicine."
Being, like all primitive people, extremely super-
stitious, there is scarcely anything that does not indi-
cate the presence and pleasure of one or the other of
the gods. The flight of a bird through the air, the
course of a snake in the grass, the yelping of a fox,
or the manner in which his pony carries his tail or
cocks his ears, each and all have to the Indian a
spiritual significance and meaning. Differing in this
from the early Romans and some other primitive
nations, he requires no augur, but can himself inter-
pret all signs, at least to his own satisfaction. A
party starting out on a dangerous foray will watch
carefully every sign, and should something occur
unusually ominous, it will return to camp to repeat
the attempt under more favorable auspices.
8
106
MAKING MEDICINE.
For a more intimate knowledge of the immediate
future, the Indian depends upon a process of making
"medicine," general in its entirety, but varying in its
details, according to the peculiar ideas and supersti-
tion of each individual.
Earth or sands of different colors, ashes of certain
plants, or of particular bones or portions of birds,
animals, or reptiles, and other ingredients, varying
with the special superstition of each individual In-
dian, are mixed together in a shallow dish or pan
kept for that sole purpose, and gently stirred with a
stick. From the combination of colors, or some
other peculiarity developed by the process, the In-
dian believes he can infallibly divine which god is to
him in the ascendant at the time.
Should the "medicine" be good, a small quantity
is put up in tiny bags of dressed deer-skin and tied
in the hair of the warrior, in the tail of his war-horse,
and on the necks of his women and children. Should
any be left over it is carefully burned in the lodge
fire. Should the process develope "bad medicine,"
the mixture is carried outside the camp and carefully
buried in the ground, no one touching it.
There is no necessary similarity either in the results
attained by different individuals, or in the conclusions
deduced from them. Each Indian has been taught by
his father, or nearest old warrior relative, the general
principles involved in making "medicine," and the gen-
eral rules for determining its good and bad qualities.
At least one ingredient in the "medicine" of each
Indian must be special to himself and a secret from
all the world beside. On his initiation as warrior
he has gone off alone to some solitary mountain or
secluded thicket, spending many long and anxious
୯
THE MOMENTOUS QUESTION.
107
hours in deep religious meditation of the question,
the most momentous of his life, "What shall that
ingredient be?" When hunger and thirst have ex-
hausted his vital powers, he falls into a trance, dur-
ing which the important secret is revealed to him.
Thenceforward he is not only man and warrior, but
priest for himself and family (if he has one), makes
his own "medicine," and by oft-repeated experiment
becomes as expert in reading the secret involved in
the combination as were the augurs of Rome.
According to the best authorities and to tradition, it
was the custom thirty or forty years ago for an In-
dian to select the special ingredient of his "medicine"
but once in his life, sticking to and believing in it
through all subsequent years of good or ill fortune.
This is changed at the present time, and an Indian
who has an unusually long or severe turn of bad luck,
attributes his misfortune to the failure of his "medi-
cine," and going off alone will starve himself into a
trance in the hope of having a new and more effica-
cious ingredient revealed to him.
The special and secret ingredient used by each
Indian in his "medicine" is kept in a little pouch
always on his person, and always carefully concealed
even from his wives or most intimate friends.
୧୧
This secret ingredient of each warrior's "medicine"
must not be confounded with his "totem." The
medicine " is a purely religious matter, a secret be-
tween himself and his gods. The totem is not in any
sense religious. It is the "coat-of-arms" of the indi-
vidual, carried about with him on all occasions of
ceremony or display, to be shown, examined, admired,
handled. The two are frequently confounded even
by persons who ought to know better.
108
THE GREAT SPIRIT.
No Indian will commence anything, or undertake a
hunt or trivial journey of a few days, without first
making "medicine." If "good," he goes away happy
and sure of success, unless bad omens should subse-
quently disconcert and turn him back. If "bad," he
remains at home. In spring, summer, and autumn,
when the Indian life is active, every head of a lodge
will make "medicine" probably at least once a week.
The power of earnestness is well exemplified in the
influence that the Indian religion obtains over the
white trappers and "squaw-men" who live with
them. Nine-tenths are sooner or later converted to
the Indian idea, and many of them have firm faith in
their power of making "medicine."
The Indians believe in the existence of spirits, invisi-
ble beings, in no way connected with either of the
gods. These spirits are neither good nor bad, and
can do no serious injury to man, but delight in mis-
chief. They live in rocks, mountains, woods, and
deserts. It is the elf of our forefathers.
Whatever of love or reverence may be in the In-
dian nature is bestowed on the Good God; and in
speaking of the Great Spirit, it is to this god that
they allude. Of his friendship and assistance to the
extent of his ability they are always assured.
Of the Bad God they stand in most abject fear,
and are constantly devising expedients by which they
hope to evade or turn aside some portion of his
wrathful power. They rarely speak of him; never, if
it be possible to avoid it, mention his name.
Those most pious, or timid, put severe and oft-
times ridiculous penances on themselves. One man
will never allow some certain meat or game to be
cooked for food, another will allow no loaded gun in
CONSECRATED PONIES.
109
his lodge, nor permit any man to enter it with a pistol
on his person. One will always sit down in a certain
way, or facing in a certain direction; another will
always spit over his left shoulder, or take things
given to him with his left hand. There is scarcely a
warrior above the middle age who has not some pecu-
liarity special and self-imposed by way of propitiation
of the Evil One.
They believe that the Bad God may be some-
times bribed into an act of favor; and in the extrem-
ity of danger will vow, if permitted to escape, to
consecrate a pony to his service.
These vows are faithfully and publicly carried out,
and the pony consecrated becomes thenceforward a
sacred animal, no extremity of need ever inducing
any Indian of the band either to mount or strike him
with a whip. I have seen several of these sacred
ponies, and can aver that the Indian drives a shrewd
bargain with the devil, the pony consecrated being
invariably the most worthless old bag of bones in the
whole herd.*
Voudouism and Fetichism, being simply forms of
belief in magic or idolatry, are discarded as forms of
religion; and accepting Polytheism as the starting
point of religious belief, the Indians, for so utterly
savage a race, have made very remarkable progress
in their religious tenets.
I do not think that they are dependent on contact
with Christianity for any portion of their belief. They
have worked out for themselves a theology, which, if
* I am informed by officers who have served in Oregon and Wash-
ington that the Pacific Indians are more honorable in carrying out their
vows to the Evil One, the consecrated pony being always a first-class
animal.
1
110
PROFESSIONAL CHRISTIANS.
supplemented by a code of morals, might have pro-
duced good results.
There is a curious point of resemblance between
the beliefs of the wild Indian and the Christian.
Both believe in two great beings. The former be-
lieves in a God and a Devil, equals in power and wis-
dom. Christians believe in an Omnipotent and All-
merciful God, but are so inconsistent as to believe in
a Devil, who, over human conduct and human souls,
has ten times as much power as the Good God.
It is this one point of similarity that makes the
conversion of the Indian to Christianity so extremely
difficult. He cannot possibly be made to understand
how the All-good God, if also all-powerful, can per-
mit the All-bad God to do so much evil, and win so
many souls. Might being always right with the In-
dian, he takes immediate issue on this paradox, and
cannot be made to believe what is so entirely incon-
sistent with his established ideas.
Indians are great sticklers for form and lovers of
ceremony, consequently the only Christian denomi-
nation that has made any perceptible progress in their
nominal conversion is the Roman Catholic. I say
nominal advisedly; for while I have known many
Indians who professed Christianity, I have never
yet met one who in his conversion had really quitted
his ancient faith. He is a Christian just so far as
it is expedient or useful to him.
Three years ago, when Spotted Tail was using all
his fine intellect, his tact, his social and official influ-
ence, to prevent his people from joining Sitting Bull,
a conference was one day held, at which were assem-
bled a few whites and a large number of Indians -
Sioux.
SPOTTED TAIL'S RELIGION.
111
The principal white man present was an officer of
the army, only a captain (for higher rank presumes
either special good fortune or a life-time of service),
but who, in knowledge of Indians and success in
their management, is second to no man on the fron-
tier. His Indian name is Black Beard.
After satisfactorily settling the questions of policy
which had arisen, the conference closed, and its mem-
bers engaged in familiar conversation.
Spotted Tail turned to the captain and said:
"Black Beard, I have a serious question to ask you
about religion. Can you answer it?"
"I am not very good authority on religious mat-
ters,” replied Black Beard," and I don't know whether
I can answer it or not. But put your question, and
I will give you my honest opinion."
"Well," said Spotted Tail, "I am bothered what to
believe. Some years ago a good man, as I think,
came to us. He talked me out of all my old faith;
and after a while, thinking that he must know more
of these matters than an ignorant Indian, I joined his
church, and became a Methodist. After a while he
went away; another man came and talked, and I be-
came a Baptist; then another came and talked, and I
became a Presbyterian. Now another one has come,
and wants me to be an Episcopalian. What do you
think of it?"
"I was brought up an Episcopalian," said Black
Beard, "but I can't give you any advice in the mat-
ter. I think that religion must be a matter of con-
science, and that sect has little to do with it.”
"That," said Spotted Tail, "is just what I am be-
ginning to think. All these people tell different
* Captain G. M. Randall, 23d United States Infantry.
112
ORIGIN OF CREATION.
stories, and each wants me to believe that his special
way is the only way to be good and save my soul.
I have about made up my mind that either they all
lie, or that they don't know any more about it than I
did at first. I have always believed in the Great
Spirit, and worshipped him in my own way. These
people don't seem to want to change my belief in the
Great Spirit, but to change my way of talking to him.
White men have education and books, and ought to
know exactly what to do, but hardly any two of them
agree on what should be done.”
The Plains tribes are extremely poor in tradition
of any kind, and have no general belief as to the
origin of Creation. To the inquiry, "Who made the
world?" the reply is usually a fixed stare and a
doubtful shake of the head, as if the question were a
new one.
Occasionally I have been answered: "The white
man says his God made it, and I guess it is so. I
don't know who else could have done it."
I once talked with a grave and dignified Indian of
such great age that he was no longer able to num-
ber his years. My questions were answered in a way
which quite delighted me, and I began to believe I
had found a treasure of Indian theological erudition.
I finally asked him, —
"Who made the world?'
""
"The Great Spirit," answered he, promptly.
"Which Great Spirit," I continued, "the Good
God or the Bad God?"
"Oh, neither of them," answered he; "the Great
Spirit that made the world is dead long ago. He
could not possibly have lived as long as this."
The Indian loves and venerates the Good God, not
GOOD LORD DELIVER ME.
113
only as the direct author of all the good that comes
to his life, but as his sole refuge and defence against
the malevolent power of the Bad God. He speaks
of him reverently as the Great Spirit, and feels and
acts towards him as an affectionate son towards a
tender father, whose devotion and loving kindness
are assured, and who requires neither prayers nor
thanks.
His feelings and actions towards the Bad God are
just the reverse. Him, he hates and fears, bribes and
coaxes, prays and entreats. He subjects himself to
horrible tortures, and imposes on himself the most
rigid and unheard of penances, all for the placation
of the Bad God, whose name he never voluntarily
mentions.
The Christian prayer, "Good Lord, deliver me,” is
paraphrased by the Indian- "Please, Bad God, let
me escape." He knows that the Good God would
"deliver" him if he could, without the asking; he
knows that the Bad God is in the ascendancy, or he
would not be in extremity; so his appeal and prayer
is to that power in whose hands he finds himself,
and whose intent must be quickly changed, or he is
surely lost.
However crude, the Indian religion is not illogical.
As, in making medicine, each man follows a gen-
eral rule, with variations and modifications supposed
to be suited to his particular case, so the ideas of
religion herein expressed must be regarded as those
general to all persons of the tribes.
Each individual Indian (priest and interpreter be-
tween himself and his God), while believing the
general principles, adds his own peculiar shades and
modifications, so that no two Indians, even of the
114
WOMAN'S PART IN RELIGION.
same tribe, can be found whose religious beliefs are
exactly the same. To get at these modulated shades
of belief would require the personal interviewing of
each individual warrior, and even that process would
be attended with little success, as they are chary of
conversation on the subject, except among intimate
friends or familiar acquaintances in whom they have
confidence.
Unlike their civilized sisters, the women have little
to do with religious matters. They believe in the
Good and Bad Gods, and have firm faith in the med-
icine men, but all minor details are left to the warrior-
head of the lodge. What he tells them to believe,
they believe; what he directs them to do, is done.
The beliefs set forth in this chapter constitute the
highest form of religion worked out for themselves
by the aboriginal inhabitants of America.
Through the influence of missionaries a few indi-
viduals may have come to believe in a God ruling
both this and the future life, and occasionally a man
may be found who claims to have so far overcome the
great stumbling-block to Indian proselytism, as to
believe that the Good God is more powerful than
the Bad.
These cases are, however, not only exceedingly
rare, but a few pertinent questions will show that the
"faith in them" is assumed, and without any founda-
tion in conviction. I have never yet seen a so-called
Christian Indian who did not, in times of real trouble
or affliction, go back to his ancient faith.
From this spiritual and comparatively exalted form
of religious belief there are infinite shades of down-
ward gradation through all the forms of necromancy,
divination, conjuration, - through the man-tearing
THE DIGGER.
115
wretches of the Pacific coast, down to the hazy,
undefined superstition of the lowest Digger.*
It is a curious fact, difficult to account for, that no
tribe of North American Indians is addicted to "Feti-
chism" in any of its forms. Though each tribe of
Plains Indians has its "tribal medicine," and each
individual Indian his special and secret medicine,
these material objects are not worshipped. They are
merely the "outward and visible signs," embodying
a spiritual or superstitious significance, or symbol-
izing, in some mysterious way, the objects of their
reverence and fear.
* The term "Digger" was applied by the early settlers of California
to a miserable class of Indians of the lowest type, who subsist on snakes,
lizards, grasshoppers, and such edible roots as they can "dig" from the
ground with short pointed sticks, always carried in the hand ready for
use. They are of several different tribes, Utes, Shoshones, etc.
CHAPTER VII.
THE MEDICINE CHIEF HIS GREAT POWER AND IN-
AN OFFICE WON BY RECKLESS DARING.
FLUENCE
The Medicine Chief - His Power and Standing in the Tribe - How the
Office is Won - Proving His Own Medicine — A First-Class Aristo-
crat The Idol of the Squaws - An Indian Physician - His know-
ledge of Herbs - No Cure no Pay - A Pandemonium of Howls –
Incantations Over the Sick—A Remedy Worse than the Disease
Heroic Treatment - My Reception in an Indian Camp - Black,
Beady Eyes - An Aspirant for Fame Sitting Bull Medicine
Arrow A Favorite of Fortune - The Most Remarkable Chief of His
Time - His Famous Arrows - Arrows for Ponies and Ponies for
Rum - End of a Strange Career Splendid Types of Courage -
The Charge on Forsythe's Rifle Pits - Indian Quacks.

ROM the lowest form of Fetichism to the
Church of Christ, there has been no
religion without its priests.
The faint glimmer of a spark of relig-
ious sentiment is no sooner awakened
in the breast of the savage, than there
immediately appears one clothed with
authority" to tell him all about it.
Ce
Priestcraft has been in all ages the
strongest of earthly powers, and man is so constituted
that it will probably remain so until "time shall be
no more."
In the preceding chapter I have described the
religious belief of the Indian, and gone with him
through the ordinary routine of his private devotions.
But though each warrior head of a lodge is the
116
THE MEDICINE CHIEF.
117
priest for himself and family, there is in each tribe a
"Medicine Chief," whose word, in spiritual affairs, is
all-powerful. He is necessarily a man of strongly
marked character, with brains, dignity, and knowl-
edge of men. He is not necessarily a chief by birth,
nor even the head of a band, though his position as
Medicine Chief always gives him a following.
His sacerdotal dignity brings no immunity from the
dangers of war. On the contrary, the fighting force
of the tribe never takes the field without his presence.
In battle, his are the most reckless dashes on the
enemy, for, to prove to his flock the efficacy of his
medicine, he must show the perfect safety it affords
him even in the midst of the greatest dangers. He
claims to have power to overcome the devices of the
Bad God, and his standing amongst his people
depends on the ease and certainty with which he
makes his claim good.
The reduction of the power of the head chief and
the subsequent breaking up of the tribe into small
bands has reduced the temporal standing of the
medicine chief, and may have had some little effect
towards diminishing his priestly authority; but the
religious sentiment is so strongly implanted in the
Indian nature, that he must always be the man of his
tribe most worthy of consideration.
Formerly he relied upon his influence with the head
chief for prompt punishment of any contempt or vio-
lation of his orders. Now their respect and obedience
depend on the estimation in which he is held by his
people, and on their religious training and enthusiasm.
The Indian has no Sabbath or Sunday; no regular
time is set apart for the ordinary duties of religion.
The Nez Percés, and one or two other small frag-
118
PRIEST AND PHYSICIAN.
ments of tribes, observe Sunday as a church day, and
have a form of worship, corrupted from that taught
them by Roman Catholic priests long years ago; but
among the Plains Indians the priest is not expected
at ordinary times to hold any meeting for worship, or
to perform any ceremonies.
ness.
He has one or more wives, a fine herd of ponies,
for he is always rich, and lives as do the other Indians.
He has no social intercourse with the commons of the
tribe, never entering (unless in sickness) any lodge
except that of the chief or head men, and permitting
no inferior warrior to enter his lodge, except on busi-
He maintains a grave and dignified demeanor,
suited to his sacerdotal office and functions. He is a
great favorite with the women of the tribe, all of
whom have free access to his lodge, and to them he
owes something of his power over the husbands. He
is the recipient of constant offerings, nothing specially
nice being cooked in any lodge that the women do not
bring him a share of it.
Besides being the chief priest, he is also the physi-
cian of the tribe. This requires no special knowledge
of the healing art, for as all disease is only a manifes-
tation of the presence of the Bad God, if "He" can
be exorcised by the spiritual power of the priest, the
patient will get well at once.
Almost all Indians have some rude knowledge of
herbs and simples in the treatment of wounds, so
that the medicine chief is only called in sickness, and
in extreme cases. He is paid only in case the patient
recovers, a rule which it might be well to adopt in
civilized life.
The exorcism of the evil one is accomplished by
incantation.
EXORCISM OF SPIRITS.
119
In each tribe and band there are more or less old
women who do the howling in all cases of sickness,
and who stand only a little lower than the priest in
power over the Bad God. These are immediately sent
for in any alarming illness, and whether the patient is
dying of consumption, or suffering from an acute
attack of cholera morbus, the treatment is the same.
Howls, only howls, most doleful and lugubrious. As
the patient gets worse, the women of the lodge "lift
up
their voices" and howl in chorus; then the women
of other lodges come around and join the howl, until
the whole camp is a pandemonium of howls. If all
this does no good, the medicine chief is sent for. He
mutters incantations, performs some mysterious cere-
monies, and finally putting a tom-tom into the hands I
of a lusty young acolyte, has it beaten with all force
immediately over the head of the patient. This treat-
ment generally very promptly finishes the matter one
way or the other.
The Indians have an idea that strangers, particular-
ly white strangers, are ofttimes accompanied by evil
spirits. Of these they have great dread, as creating
and delighting in mischief. One of the duties of the
medicine chief is to exorcise these spirits. I have
sometimes ridden into or through a camp where I was
unknown or unexpected, to be confronted by a tall,
half-naked savage, standing in the middle of the cir-
cle of lodges, and yelling in a sing-song, nasal tone,
a string of unintelligible words.
At the first sound of his cry, the women and chil-
dren huddle into their lodges, and in a moment no
evidence of life can be seen, except the lank figure of
the priest, the black, beady eyes of the occupants of
the lodges, as they watch the new-comers through the
120
MEDICINE ARROW.
partially closed doors, and the half-famished curs that
sniff and yelp around.
The position or office of medicine chief is not
hereditary (though there are a few instances where a
father and son have held it), and is not conferred by
chief or council. A man gains it by general, and not
unfrequently, tacit consent of the people of the tribe.
The constant thought of every Indian man or
woman is, "How shall I evade or counteract the
power of the Bad God?"
The medicine chief is dead; the tribe in mourn-
ing. A warrior comes forward who says, "I have
found the proper medicine.' I set at naught the
power of the Bad God."
In time of war every opportunity is given him to
prove his assertion. Every risk that a man can run
he has to take. Time and again he must put himself
in the "imminent deadly breach," and his "hair-
breadth 'scapes" must be so numerous and so mar-
vellous as to be accounted for in no other way than
that his medicine is perfect. That point once con-
ceded beyond doubt or cavil, and his character and
standing being satisfactory, he glides into the coveted
position by general acquiescence.
When the native honors and dignity of hereditary
chief are united with the acquired honor, military
renown and spiritual power of the medicine chief, the
result is an individual most dangerous, most potent
for good or bad. Such an one was Black Hawk, and
such an one is Sitting Bull. Other than the last
named (of whose personal history little is known)
the medicine chief most renowned of late years for his
power over the Bad God was the Cheyenne, Medicine
Arrow (Min-vitz-in-nan-epivomanist).
A FAMOUS DRUNKARD.
121
Early
His father was medicine chief before him.
in life the young man had gained such renown for his
wonderful daring and marvellous escapes from appar-
ently certain death, that when the father died he had
no competitor for the vacant place.
He ascribed his wonderful immunity from wounds
and sickness to his discovery of the secret of making
an arrow so potent in its charm against the "evil one,"
that no warrior who carried one could ever be hurt in
any way.
+
Fortune favored him, and in the later years of his
life, he found a ready sale in the spring, at a pony
each, for all the arrows he could make during the
winter. The fame of his arrows extended to all the
tribes of the Plains; Sioux, Northern Cheyennes,
Pawnees, all became his customers, and contended
for the privilege of buying one of the life-preserving
arrows.
More than any Indian on this continent since Black
Hawk, he had the power to have united tribes, hostile
to each other, in one grand crusade against the whites.
Fortunately for them, and for the Indians, he was a
confirmed drunkard. The ponies gained so easily in
spring and summer, were drunk up in autumn and
winter. He would give a pony for a gallon, or if
specially thirsty, even for a bottle of whiskey.
those terms he, of course, always got what he wanted.
On
He died on Tongue River in 1874, retaining to the
end (in spite of his drunkenness) more repute for
spiritual power, and more influence over the Plains
tribes, than any Indian before or since.
A vacancy in the office of medicine chief is not
necessarily or even usually filled at once.
The Indian sets much store by his life, and a posi-
9
122
FAITH TO THE DEATH.
tion reached and retained only by most reckless
exposure to an endless series of dangers, has attrac-
tions for few except the most ambitious, or those who
really believe in themselves or their powers.
I have already spoken of the earnest effort made by
each individual warrior to discover the proper secret
ingredient of his medicine. Should the Indian have
a "run of bad luck," he accounts for it at once;
his special ingredient is not good. He therefore tries
some other, and keeps trying until his luck changes,
when he has, of course, found the proper thing at last.
The Indian is in solid earnest, and childish as all this
appears to us, he has firm faith in himself and his
medicine. The medicine that has enabled a warrior
to pass unscathed through all the dangers of the road
to the position of medicine chief, must be perfect, and
the faith in it of its fortunate possessor is supreme.
The medicine chief is not an impostor or hypo-
crite. In 1868 when Forsyth's little band, buried
in their rifle pits, were holding at bay an overwhelm-
ing force of red-skins, a Cheyenne medicinė man,
ambitious to be medicine chief, and firmly believing
in the efficacy of his medicine, dashed alone almost
into the lines of the whites. His medicine failed him
at the critical moment, for he was shot and killed.
Any specially remarkable and long continued run
of good luck is attributed at once to the medicine of
the fortunate warrior. Others begin to look upon
him as a medicine man, and not to be outdone in
faith, he firmly believes it himself. These men drop
into the practice of medicine, and become healers
of the sick by the same gradual process, already
described, and under the influence of the same belief
in the efficiency of their medicine.
HUMBUGGERY.
123
Recollect, "good medicine" does not argue any
special preference of the Good God (who is already
as good and kind to all Indians as he can be); it
shows power over the Bad God — or devil.
All disease is simply the manifestation of the
presence and power of the devil.
An unfortunate Indian is stretched upon a bed of
sickness, tortured with fever, or racked with rheuma-
tism. The devil has him in his power. What more
natural than to send for the warrior of the tribe, whose
medicine is known to be the most efficacious charm
against the power of the evil one?
And just here is where the hypocrisy and deceit
come in. While he may really believe in the power
of his medicine, he has sufficient knowledge of human
nature to be aware that its effect on the patient
depends somewhat on the mental condition of the
latter. Like the civilized doctor who gives a bread
pill when medicine is not really necessary, or like the
French surgeon, who cut off the leg of a dying man
"to amuse him," the ordinary Indian doctor resorts
to every humbuggery that he can invent.
Socially and pecuniarily the office of medicine man
is a good one, and when from lack of success with
his patients, he has lost faith in the power of his own
medicine, he carefully hides the knowledge in his own
heart, and keeps up appearances by increase of noise
and mystery, and redoubled activity in "blowing'
about his powers, advertising himself.
""
The power of faith can be no more strongly exem-
plified in any race or sect than is manifested among
these ignorant people.
The Nez Percés are a superior race of Indians, and
their Chief, Joseph, a man of courage, intelligence,
124
JOSEPH'S BABY.
quick perception, and other qualities sufficient to make
him much above the average man, either white or red.
When Joseph and his band were held as prisoners
of war at Fort Leavenworth, his favorite child, about
a year old, was seriously ill. Though he and his
band claimed to be Roman Catholics, and though
they had the attendance of white physicians, as able
as the country affords, when the latter pronounced
the case critical, their services were dispensed with,
and the medicine chief (who is also priest of the
tribe) was called in. All night long a tom-tom was
beaten immediately over the head of the poor baby;
this music accompanied by the sing-song incantations
of the priest and the mournful howls of half a dozen
old women. Joseph's good judgment was demon-
strated, whatever we may think of his humanity. The
child got well.
The medicine chief of the Plains tribes is an
essentially different person from the medicine men of
the Pacific coast, or those most commonly described
by writers on the North American Indian. He does
not descend to the tearing and eating of human flesh,
or other horrible practices designed to strike terror
into the beholders. He ignores posturing dances, or
conjuring tricks, and rarely has recourse even to
excess of absurdity in dress. His influence is a moral
one, founded on belief in himself and knowledge of
human nature, and his means are (with a difference)
very similar to those practised by civilized doctors and
ministers. He gives no drugs, but he beats his tom-
tom; he makes no prayers, but sings his incantation.
He is the outgrowth, the expounder and interpreter
of that higher order of religion of which I have given
account.
CONJURORS.
125
But by far the largest portion of the Indians are not
on that higher plane of religious belief. Just as our
ignorant communities select or accept the spiritual
ministrations of some self-sufficient donkey, as ignor-
ant, but more brazen than themselves, so most of the
Indians put their faith in some one of the number of
pretenders who eagerly thrust themselves forward.
From the highest to the lowest, human nature is the
Be he civilized or be he savage, man delights
in being humbugged, and any pretender to mysteries,
either medical or spiritual, is sure to find some one
to believe him.
same.
In the Indian tribes can be found all grades of
medicine men, from the chief, with the firmest faith in
himself and his medicine, to the lowest conjuror, with-
out character or standing as a warrior, and who relies,
like the fortune-teller of civilized life, on hocus-pocus,
and his skilful execution of a few stale tricks of leger-
demain. All these quacks, both white and red, make
a living, or they would not follow the trade.
CHAPTER VIII.
SECRET RITES AND
INDIAN MYSTERY
The Sacred Conclave
RELIGIOUS CEREMONIES
ce
AN
THE SACRED SOMETHING."
How One of My Officers Gained Admittance
What He Saw There Curious Solemnities Sacred Mysteries
The Medicine Pipe - How an Indian Smokes a Cigar - A Blazing
Stub How the Pipe is Used for Casting Lots How the Fatal
Signal is Determined Secret Societies, Pass Words, and Grips
Medicine Arrow's Great Influence - The Sacred
The Sacred "Something'
What is it? An Object of Awe and Veneration Capture of the
Sacred Symbol by the Pawnees — A Pious Fraud
A Pious Fraud - The Utes and the
Squat Stone - Its Capture by a Hostile Tribe - Their Flight With It
Consternation at its Loss Wild Pursuit and Vengeance - Burial of
the Sacred Insignia - The Lost Treasure Sitting Bull's "Medicine."

१६
HOUGH, with all his love and reverence
for the Good God, the Indian gives
Him no prayers, praise or thanks, he
yet worships Him after a manner of
his own.
There are no days or stated times
set apart for this duty as with us. It
is a purely voluntary act, and so far as I
can understand, very much like the witty
definition of gratitude, "a lively sense of favors to
come;" and a sort of cozenage to procure information.
At intervals more or less prolonged, once a month,
or once in six months, the chief will call such a meet-
ing. It is a conclave, no person being permitted to
126
SACRED MYSTERIES.
127
be present except the chief, the medicine man, and
the old or most trusted warriors of the band.
A short time ago a young officer of my post went
to call on a chief of the Cheyennes, encamped near
us, and, as is customary and proper, entered the teepe
without knock or signal. To his astonishment he
found a ceremony in progress. Somewhat discon-
certed he asked the chief if he must withdraw, and
received permission to "stay a little while." In that
"little while" he made the best possible use of his
eyes, and reports as follows:
Everything of furniture, bedding, cooking-utensils,
&c., had been removed from the lodge, which had evi-
dently also undergone a thorough cleaning. Around
the circumference of the lodge, in a solemn circle, sat
the old men and warriors. In the centre two forked
sticks had been planted in the ground, about six feet
apart, and from a pole, laid across, was suspended an
iron pot, filled with meat, rice, &c., &c. Under the
pot was a fire, and at the base of each of the forks was
another smaller fire. From one fork to the other, on
the side furthest from the door of the lodge, was a
wide semi-circle of buffalo chips, which had been
plentifully sprinkled with powdered charcoal. Inside
this semi-circle was a rectangle of about twenty by
thirty inches of fine white sand, divided into two equal
rectangles by a strip of black charcoal, two inches
wide. In one of these rectangles was the figure of a
horse in black, in the other a similar figure in red.
Between the outer side of the rectangles and the
inner side of the semi-circle of buffalo chips, was
another small fire.
The ceremonies, which had been suspended on the
entrance of the lieutenant, were now continued. The
128
THE MEDICINE PIPE.
medicine man took from a pouch a small quantity of
dried leaves and sprinkled a pinch on each fire, causing
a pungent, aromatic odor, stronger than incense.
The medicine pipe was then filled and lighted by
the medicine man, who, holding it in both hands, and
pointing it now up, now down, ejected puff after puff
upward, downward, laterally, over the fires, over the
pot, over the images of horses, and in every direction,
as if to envelop everything within its potent influence.
The chief then took the pipe and went through a
similar performance. He then informed the lieuten-
ant that they were worshipping the Good God, and
trying to find out from him whether they were going
to have plenty of ponies this year - and so dismissed
him. This is the only instance within my knowledge
of a white man's being permitted to have even a peep
at these sacred mysteries.
The interpreter of this post (Cantonment, Indian
Territory), a white man married to a Cheyenne
woman, tells me that they hold these meetings at
irregular intervals. He has never attended one, only
a special few even of the Indians themselves being
permitted to be present.
The points of resemblance between this and some
ceremonies of the Jews, Greeks, Romans, indeed, of
almost all comparatively primitive nations, are worthy
of note. The burnt-offering in the cooked food, the
fires, the images of the things wished for, the incense,
all indicate a common and curious instinct of man.
How the divine intention is expressed to the Indian
I am unable to ascertain. In my description of indi-
vidual medicine-making I have indicated the mode of
divination, and the method in this case is presumably
much the same.
A SOCIAL SMOKE.
Smoking is always a ceremony.
129
The pipe among the Indians seems to be a some-
what universal symbol, nothing of importance being
done without it. Every council, conference, religious
ceremony, gambling bout, dance, or ordinary talk, is
opened with a smoke, but though excessively, even
passionately, fond of smoking, I have never yet seen
an Indian smoke a pipe alone, as a white man does.
If presented with a cigar, he will, if possible, hide
it away until he retires to his own teepe, when it will
be crumbled up, and mixed with the tobacco in his
pouch. When forced by etiquette to smoke it at once,
his efforts in that direction must remind every smoker
of his own first boyish attempts. The strong and
rapid pulls customary to the Indian when smoking a
pipe, soon gets the cigar almost ablaze, and then
ensues a conflict, satiety and nausea on the one side,
avarice on the other. Avarice always wins, the Indian,
though it may be with tears in his eyes, smoking as
long as possible, then hiding the short stump for
future use.
Possibly habituated to it by the circular form of the
lodge, or more probably for greater convenience for
general conversation, Indians, even out of doors,
habitually arrange themselves in a circle when dis-
posed to have a talk. One will then take out a pipe,
fill and light it, take a few strong puffs, pass it to the
man on his left, who, after his few puffs, passes it to
the man on his left, and so around the whole circle.
When the last man has had his smoke the pipe is
returned to the starter, not as is natural, by handing
it direct to him (for the last man and the first are,
probably, sitting side by side), but it must be passed
from hand to hand from the left to the right, around
130
CASTING LOTS.
the whole circle, before it can again be started on its
course of usefulness. No Indian would think of put-
ting his mouth to a pipe that came to him from the
left.
Nor does the Indian smoke like an American.
After a few strong pulls, to get the pipe well started,
and of which the smoke is naturally ejected, he takes
several long sucks, carrying the smoke into his lungs.
When his whole system seems saturated with smoke,
he passes the pipe, and for a minute or more lets the
smoke issue lazily from his mouth and nose.
This form is always observed, and when hunting,
or even on the war-path, when one wants to smoke,
all will dismount, seat themselves in a circle, and go
through the regular form.
For different occasions or ceremonies they have
different pipes. Thus they have a peace pipe, a coun-
cil pipe, a medicine pipe, and a pipe for common use.
Each is sacred to its own purpose, and while no Indian
would regale himself with an ordinary smoke out of a
peace or council pipe, no power on earth would force
him to such sacrilege with the medicine pipe.
In former times it was regarded as a great breach
of decorum, so near an insult as to require explana-
tion, for any man in the circle to fail to take his turn
at the pipe. Within the last few years, however, they
have met so many white men who either did not
smoke, or who declined to put his mouth to a stem
common to so many and such filthy mouths, that they
now take no notice of it, though they do not like it.
Some of these tribes use the pipe for the selection of
a man for a special or dangerous service, "casting
lots." The pipe is filled, lighted, and passed from
hand to hand with a certain regularity. The man in
131
THE SACRED THING.
whose hands it goes out is the person indicated by
the medicine for the service.
In all my large experience with numbers of tribes
of Indians I have never yet seen a squaw smoke. She
is never permitted to take active part in any religious
ceremony, and the most ordinary smoke is so inti-
mately connected with the mysteries of medicine that
she cannot indulge in it.
It is asserted by squaw men, and others in position
to know, that almost every tribe of Indians has its
secret societies, which have pass-words, grips, and
signs as the Masons, Odd-Fellows, etc. I have never
been able positively to ascertain the truth or falsity
of this statement. Most of the Indians deny it, but
from the grim silence that falls upon an occasional
old head-man, when asked about it, I suspect it may
be true.
Several of the wild tribes have a mysterious
material something, which they regard as the Jews
did the "Ark of the Covenant."
The Plains Indians are in no sense idol worshippers,
and this "something," is not worshipped, but loved,
venerated, and held in sacred awe.
The "thing" is not God, but it is the means by
which God manifests himself to his people. It is the
seat and abiding-place of the Good God. It is the
centre around which all important religious ceremonies
are enacted. Over it or through it, the Bad God
have no power. From it radiate streams of
beneficent influence. In camp it is always held in
the careful charge of the head chief. It is carried
in war, on all important expeditions, by the medicine
chief.
can
In camp on good days, it is suspended, wrapped in
132
TRIBAL MEDICINE.
its covering of par-flêche, and carefully concealed
from inquisitive eyes, before the door of the chief,
where all devout Indians can see the complicated
wrappings, and adore the mystery it represents.
The "thing" itself varies in each tribe, and there
is no general or comprehensive term by which it is
known to all. I have heretofore stated that each
individual warrior has for use in his private devotions,
or in making his medicine, one or more ingredients
unknown to any but himself. The efficacy of his
medicine depends on his keeping inviolate his own
secret. These unknown ingredients, the special
and particular medicine of the individual, are always
carried in a little bag on his person, and are buried
with him.
The "tribal medicine" is only an extension of the
idea. As far as possible each tribe does all in its
power to keep to itself the secret of its medicine.
With some of the tribes, as the Arrapahoes, the
"thing" itself is a secret, and as the obligation of
an oath (administered according to their forms) is
absolutely sacred with Indians, it is likely to remain a
secret until accident or its capture in war shall dis-
close it. With other tribes, as the Cheyennes, the
"thing" is known. The secret in this case is in the
forms and ceremonies with which the "thing" is
constructed. The secret is still a secret for all pur-
poses of efficacious medicine.
What the tribal medicine of the Cheyennes was
fifty years ago, I have no positive knowledge, though
I have reason to believe that it was a simple bundle
of sage-brush; but after "Medicine Arrow" had.
electrified the tribe by his wonderful daring and im-
munity from danger, the "thing" was changed, and
MAKING THE MEDICINE ARROWS.
133
thenceforward was, and is at the present time, a bun-
dle of “medicine arrows," made after a style invented,
and with ceremonies inaugurated by that great chief.
A few of the old men most noted for wisdom and
piety were initiated by "Medicine Arrow" into a
secret society of which he was founder and chief.
This society met in a lodge erected outside of the
camp. It was surrounded at a considerable distance
by a chain of trusty sentinels. During these meet-
ings the women and children of the camp were
required to keep within their lodges, and maintain the
most profound silence. The horses were sent far out
of hearing, even the dogs were tied up and kept quiet.
Not a sound must disturb the awful solemnities.
With ceremonies which all were solemnly sworn never
to divulge, the arrows were made. They were then
tied tightly in a bundle, wrapped in skins, and depos-
ited in a "par-fleche," - a small trunk made of stiff
raw-hide.
Every one knows what is in the "par-fleche," but
no man, other than those present at their making,
must ever look upon them.
This bundle of arrows is the medicine of the
tribe. It is the visible manifestation of the invis-
ible God. Through and by means of it the favors
and protection of God are bestowed upon the peo-
ple. After some great disaster of war or sickness,
another meeting is called, and the arrows renewed
with the same ceremonies, but no amount of suffering
or terrible disaster could convince a Cheyenne that
that bundle is not the source from which emanates to
him all Divine beneficence.
Some years ago a band of Pawnees pounced upon
a camp of Cheyennes, in which was the precious bun-
}
134
A PIOUS FRAUD.
dle. In the "sauve qui peut" which followed, the
"medicine arrows" were abandoned and captured.
The tribe was in consternation and mourning. "Medi-
cine Arrow" was then alive and at the summit of his
power and influence. He could easily have made
another bundle, but he persuaded his people that
unless that special bundle was recovered, all the favor
of God would thenceforward be transferred to their
enemies. Runners were dispatched to the Pawnees,
and, after long haggling, the Holy Bundle was re-
deemed, at the price of three hundred ponies. These
were furnished by voluntary contribution, some fami-
lies almost impoverishing themselves, again to secure
to their tribe the favor of God.
The arrows sold by "Medicine Arrow" in the latter
years of his life, to secure the means for a continual
drunk, were not, of course, those made and conse-
crated with the ceremonies spoken of. They were
made by himself in his half sober moments, and his
sale of them as "medicine arrows
medicine arrows" was a pious
fraud.
What constitutes the medicine of the Arrapahoes
is known to no man except the initiated few. The
"par-fleche" in which it is kept is paraded on all
occasions of ceremony. It is hung up, where all may
see the elaborately painted outside, but to touch or
look into it would be a sacrilege worthy of immediate
death.
The medicine of the Utes was a little squat stone
figure, of Aztec or Toltec origin, and, which the Utes
probably obtained from the Navahoes or Apaches.
There is a story among the Arrapahoes that a few
years ago a small war party of that tribe penetrated
some distance into the Ute country, and surprised
THE LOST TREASURE.
135
and plundered a camp, capturing this stone figure.
They retreated with all possible expedition, but were
so closely pursued by an overwhelming force of Utes,
that they had to disperse to hide their trail. Most of
them escaped, but some were killed, among them the
warrior who had the medicine, but the Utes did not
recover it. The presumption is that when so closely
pressed in the mountains that he had to abandon his
horse, he hid or buried his treasure, for no one has
ever heard of it since. The Utes are said to attribute
all their troubles of late years to the loss of their
medicine, and the finder of it now would be quite
as fortunate as the average finder of a gold mine, for
the Utes would impoverish themselves to get it back.
The Osage medicine is said to be a similar stone
figure, smaller than that of the Utes, and showing no
marks of chisel. Indian rumor says that Sitting
Bull has recently given a new medicine to the Sioux,
but no one knows what it is.
}
CHAPTER IX.
HOCH-E-A-YUM
THE GREAT MEDICINE DANCE
SUFFERING AND ENDURANCE OF THE DANCERS.
The Cotton Wood Lodge The Medicine Dance - Preparations for the
Ceremony - Extent of the Suffering Involved In the Circle - The
Spectators — Selection of Warriors for the Dance - Death the Penalty
of Failure Stripped for the Struggle Eyes Fixed-The Sus-
pended Image - Wild Enthusiasm The Dance of Endurance –
The Weary Round Shouts of Encouragement Wail of the Squaws
An Exhausted Dancer Dragged from the Fatal Arena - The
Victim - Death of the Dancer - The Furies of Hell Let Loose
Fleeing From Wrath- Rallying the Bands - Four Days' of Suffer-
ing - Sticking it Out to the Bitter End - Recognition and Reward
Rushing in at the Eleventh Hour - Carrying off the Prize.

१छ
HE Cheyenne word, Hôch-é-a-yum, is
a generic term, applying exactly as
the word church in English. It means,
not only the structure itself, but the
ceremonies performed in it, and the
meeting of the bands or people. The
literal meaning of the word, in the
Cheyenne language, is the "lodge made
of cotton-wood poles." This distinguishes
it from the ordinary habitation of the Indian, made
of skins or cloth. Every Indian of a tribe may attend
the "Hôch-é-a-yum," but the special actors who take
that
part in the ceremonies are "Hôch-é-a-tan,"
is, "the people who make the medicine in the lodge
of cotton-wood poles."
1
136
PRELIMINARIES TO THE DANCE.
137
The lodge itself is a large structure, constructed, as
the name indicates, of cotton-wood forks and poles,
and capable of holding several hundred people. The
sides are more or less open, and the top is covered
with skins, or boughs of trees, sufficient to keep out
the rays of the sun, but scarcely affording any pro-
tection against rain. The meeting itself is exactly
analogous to the great camp-meetings, so common in
various parts of our country.
Of late years, many and remarkable changes have
taken place in the Hôch-é-a-yum; in the power which
calls it together; in the character of the actors; in
the nature of the ceremonies; in the amount of suf-
fering involved and in the results expected to be
attained.
As the simplest method of explaining these changes,
I give a description of the medicine dance, as prac-
tised to within a very few years, by all the Plains
tribes, but now carried out, strictly and in its entirety,
by only a very few of those wilder tribes, scarcely yet
brought fully under the power of the United States.
A circular space of some twenty feet in diameter is
roped off for the dancers. A concentric space of a
few feet is for the guard; all the outer portion of the
lodge is for the spectators.
In accordance with his right and duty, the medicine
chief now announces his selection of the warriors who
are to make the dance. The number varies, but is, on
an average, one for every hundred persons in the
bands represented.
The head chief also announces his selection of the
guard, whose duty is to see that the dancers are in no
way interfered with, and that they perform their duty
in accordance with the instructions of the medicine
10
І
138
COMMENCEMENT OF THE DANCE.
chief. The number of guards is about equal to that
of the dancers. The announcement of the names of
dancers and guards, and of the hour when the dance
is to commence, is made in a loud voice from the door
of the medicine lodge. Each and all named are
warned that disgrace and death will be the portion of
any warrior who fails to appear at the time appointed.
A few moments before the specified time, the guard,
fully armed and under its appointed captain, files into
the lodge and takes its place just outside the ropes
of the inner circle. At the appointed instant, the
dancers are escorted by the medicine chief to the
inner circle. Each is stripped to the breech clout
(sometimes entirely naked), and holds in his mouth
a small whistle of wood or bone, in the lower end of
which is fastened a single tail feather of the med-
icine bird.*
The medicine chief arranges the dancers in a circle
facing to the centre, whilst he himself, having got out
of the way, gives the signal to commence.
At once
every dancer fixes his eye on the suspended image,
blows shrilly and continuously on his whistle, and be-
gins the monotonous and graceless Indian dance, the
whole line of dancers moving slowly round the circle.
Some of the young ones, carried away by religious
enthusiasm, bound vigorously into the air; but the
older and more experienced expend only a bare suffi-
ciency of force, for this is a dance of endurance. The
will of the gods is to be known by the effect of the
* The Road Runner, or Chapparal Cock. This bird is believed by all
the Plains Indians to be wonderfully "good medicine." The skin, or
even some feathers, are as efficacious in keeping evil from the lodge as
was the horse-shoe to our ancestors. The poor bird pays dearly for this
favorable opinion. It is incessantly hunted by the Indians, and is now
exceedingly rare on the plains north of Texas.

J.E. TAYLOR
HOCH-E-A-YUM-THE GREAT MEDICINE DANCE.
This is a dance of endurance. Each dancer fixes his eye on the suspended image and blows continuously on his whistle. Each must keep up
incessant whistling and unremitting motion, and continue the dance without sleep, food, or drink, until the Medicine Chief orders the suspension
of the ceremony. The dance lasts from three to four days, and death frequently overcomes the dancers.
142
FLEEING FROM WRATH.
of the dancer), the priest generally accedes to the
request, and the overcome dancer is carried off to his
lodge by his women, to be petted and condoled with
until fully recovered.
In the mean time the dance goes on. One by one,
the dancers fall, to be revived by the same process,
and excused by the same persuasion, or sternly
ordered back to their work. As the death of a dan-
cer is indicative of "bad medicine," this forcing one
back, after falling, is only done in rare and important
cases, or when the priest has an object to gain.
If the dance progresses to the end of the appointed
time without a resulting death, the priest proclaims
good medicine." The dance ceases, the dancers are
fêted and caressed, and the medicine lodge is taken
down. Happiness and congratulation are expressed
in every face. The chiefs and warriors, assured of
the power and protection of the Good God, meet in
council to decide upon the programme for the year,
which after "good medicine," is generally war.
But it may happen that one or more bodies are
brought from the dance which neither paint nor water
will revive. There is no need to announce "bad med-
icine," for no sooner is death assured than the whole
camp becomes a pandemonium. The howls of the
men mingle with the shrieks and wails of the women.
The dance is broken up. Horses are killed for the use
of the dead in the Happy Hunting Grounds. Their
widows inflict ghastly wounds on their arms and
breasts. The whole camp is a turmoil of consterna-
tion and mourning. As soon as the last rites for the
dead are completed, the bands separate, and each in
its own way seeks to escape or avert the wrath of the
Bad God.
HOG'S VOW.
143
Such was the medicine dance in its rigor. The
peculiarities of the dance itself are yet the same, but
the power has departed from the medicine chief, until
he is scarcely more than master of ceremonies. He can
still call the people together, but he has no longer the
selection of the dancers. No more can he kill off one
or more men when he wants "bad medicine," nor
secure ponies and peltries for being lenient when he
wants "good medicine."
Vow.
Any warrior can now hold a "medicine lodge,"
either as an extra effort of piety, or in fulfilment of a
The last held by the Cheyennes was given by
one of the warriors, Hog, who was so long confined
in jail at Dodge City, under charges of murder and
rapine committed on citizens of Kansas in 1878, and
who, while in prison, made a vow to give a Hôch-é-a-
yum, if aided to extricate himself from his then
impending danger.
This grand ceremony involves considerable expense,
and is therefore not often given by a private individ-
ual. It is generally the result of a call of the medi-
cine chief, or of a combination of warriors who wish
to signalize their endurance and piety, to expiate an
offence, or perform an act of propitiation. It is
sometimes gotten up by the young bucks (both mar-
ried and single) as a means of bringing the bands
together, and thus increasing and widening their
opportunities for love-making.
We will suppose the call determined upon. Run-
ners are sent to the bands and families scattered far
and wide. As there is now no compulsion of dancers,
the summons is a welcome one to all, a frolic on
which all expect amusement, excitement, and religious
enthusiasm.
144
VOLUNTEERS FOR THE DANCE.
A good spot has been selected, with plenty of
wood, water and grass," and at the appointed time
crowds pour in from every direction. All is bustle
and excitement, camps are pitched, friends long sepa-
rated met and rejoiced over. The women go to work
on the medicine lodge.
When it is completed, a solemn council of all the
elders is called to deliberate on the forms to be
observed. This is a most serious question, and gener-
ally occupies about three days. No women or unini-
tiated warriors are permitted to enter the lodge during
the council. When all has been decided upon, the time
of the opening of the dance is officially announced by
criers, and all warriors invited to enlist as dancers.
It will be noticed that what but a few years ago
was compulsory, and performed under the supervision
of the medicine chief and a regularly detailed guard,
is now a purely voluntary act. The dancers are
actuated to volunteer by every conceivable human
motive; some by vanity, to display their vigor and
endurance; some by religious enthusiasm; some by
love, hoping to render themselves more pleasing in
the eyes of their loved ones; some in despair, clinging
to this as the last sole chance of melting some obdu-
rate female heart. One dances because he has sick-
ness in his family, which he hopes to eradicate by an
act pleasing to God; another because his wife has no
children; another as a propitiation or an atonement
for some crime. The large majority of the young
men enter the dance because it is the "thing to do,"
in other words, fashionable. If they did not, they
would be regarded as lacking either in the manly
qualities necessary in a warrior, or in piety, possibly
in both. The consequence is that nearly all the
[
POWER OF ENDURANCE.
145
unmarried men of the tribe, and numbers of the
younger married men, say at least half of the fighting
force there present, will go into the dance.
At the appointed hour the dancers appear. Each
has his whistle ornamented with the tail-feather of
the "medicine bird," for which, as the bird is now
rare, extravagant prices are sometimes paid. The
dress of the dancers varies with the tribe. The
Arrapahoes and Sioux have only the breech-clout,
and are sometimes absolutely "in puris naturalibus."
The Cheyennes, more modest, wear during the day
time a shawl or kirtle, extending from the waist to
below the knee, at night the breech-clout alone.
Under the supervision of the medicine chief the
dance commences. Religious observances fix its
duration at four days, but general custom warrants a
suspension at any hour of the fourth day. Even with
this indulgence the wonderful powers of endurance
of the Indians are fully displayed. Think of even
seventy-five hours without sleep, food, drink, or obe-
dience to any demand of nature; of seventy-five hours
of unremitting motion; of seventy-five hours' expen-
diture of breath in a constant, monotonous whistle.
I have already stated that in this present age of
Indian enlightenment the dance is purely a voluntary
act. There is, therefore, no absolute obligation for
any warrior to "stick it out" to the bitter end. This
is fully realized by the dancers, and after about
twenty-four hours they begin to fall out.
As, however, the estimation in which a man is held
in his tribe depends to some extent on the endurance
and pluck displayed by him, each is stimulated to do
his best, and those that hold out longest are the best
men.
146
ELEVENTH HOUR DANCERS.
This, however, depends somewhat on the motive
of the man in making the dance. If that motive is
personal to himself, he can cease dancing whenever
he thinks he has done enough, either as propitiation
or atonement. If he goes into the dance from purely
religious impulses, he is expected to stick to the end.
Of a hundred men who start together in the dance,
fifty will have given up on the expiration of the first
thirty hours, another twenty or twenty-five will col-
lapse before forty-eight hours have expired, and thus
they gradually fall out, until the expiration of the
dance will find present and at work but ten or fifteen
of the original starters.
Usually, however, there are many more at the out-
come. There is a spiritual recognition and reward to
those who are on duty at the moment when the medi-
cine chief declares the dance at an end, even though
they began at the "eleventh hour." Some of the
shrewder and more calculating manage to come in
for these special benefits, by being "moved by the
Spirit" to join the dance, on the second, or even the
third day.
In the old times, when the dancers were selected
by the medicine chief, and the dance conducted "en
rigueur," to the limit of life, no warrior was required
to make the dance a second time. Now the same
men make it year after year, and though all may
come out of the trial more or less exhausted, it is
extremely rare that any fatal result attends these
marvellous exertions.
The whole character of the medicine dance has
changed. "Good medicine," the indication of the
ascendancy of the Good God, or "bad medicine," of
the Bad God, does not now depend on the accident
GOOD OR BAD MEDICINE.
147
of life or death to one or more of the dancers, but
is indicated by the general condition of the dan-
cers when the ceremony is over, by the greater or
less harmony of the bands or cliques, by the amount
of religious fervor and enthusiasm displayed, and
even by the state of the weather. If everything
works smoothly and well, and it be fair and calm, the
Good God is present and pleased. If there be jars
and dissensions, if the rain deluges the dancers, or
the wind knocks the "Hôch-é-a-yum" about their
ears, the Bad God is around, and not in a good
humor.
NOTE. - The medicine dance is not a worship or devotion; it is an
act of divination; a means of ascertaining the relative position of the
two Gods towards the tribe. An image representing both Gods (one
side being painted white, the other black), is hung up in the centre of
the lodge above the dancers.
CHAPTER X.
INDIAN METHODS OF SELF-TORTURE
AND DEFIANCE OF PAIN.
ENDURANCE
The Warrior's Ordeal — Panting for the Knife - How Suffering is Courted
- Stalwart Endurance of Pain - The Greatest of Indian Virtues-
Remarkable Religious Fervor — Indian Pride in Self-Torture — Prep-
arations for the Trying Ordeal — Fasting, Silence, and Meditation
The Candidates Brought before the Medicine Chief — Deciding on
the Kind and Amount of Torture - The Merciless Thrust of the Knife
- Inserting Horsehair Ropes The Wounded Devotee Muscles
Torn from the Breast Incredible Suffering - The Victim's Tragic
Suspended in Mid-air — Indescribable Ago-
nies — Lips that Never Murmur — Dressing the Wounds The Con-
sequences of Flinching under the Knife- The Sun Dance" of the
Sioux — Expiation of Crime – Exasperating Forms of Torture.
Efforts to Break Loose
66

FTER the dance has ended, and many
times when it is yet in progress, the
tortures take place.
A few years ago, every aspirant
for the position and honor of warrior
in the Plains tribes, was obliged to
go through an ordeal as brutal and
bloody as can well be imagined. That
too has gone in the rapid progress of
change. The boy of sixteen to twenty years, pant-
ing for his promotion to the position of warrior, is no
longer obliged to bare his breast to the knife, to be
tied up by broad bands of his own flesh, and to fight
out alone his battle of pain and suffering. In not
one single Plains tribe is the ordeal at present a con-
148
VOLUNTEERS FOR TORTURE.
149
dition of manhood, or entrance to the brotherhood of
warriors.
But though no longer necessary, it by no means
follows that the torture is discontinued. The history
of mankind shows that the "spirit that makes mar-
tyrs" is in inverse proportion to the civilization of a
people. Religious faith (or what we call superstition
when applied to any religion but the one we happen
to believe in) is strongest in the uneducated. The
faith of the savage is perfect, for it is unbiassed
and untrammelled by any doubt that reason might
interpose.
The very loftiest virtue of the American Indian is
endurance. When religious superstition and the
highest social virtue of a people combine in a given
direction, or towards any one action, it may be
regarded as sure that that act will be performed.
The Indian believes, with many Christians, that
self-torture is an act most acceptable to God, and the
extent of pleasure that he can give his God is exactly
measured by the amount of suffering that he can
bear without flinching. There are, therefore, always
some warriors who are actuated to the self-torture of
the "Hôch-é-a-yum," by motives as pure and senti-
ments as holy as ever led a Christian martyr to the
stake. Others are actuated by pride or ambition;
they wish to signalize to the whole tribe their pos-
session in an eminent degree of the chief of manly
virtues, or to lay a foundation for future preferment
by an act at once holy and popular.
At every medicine dance there are more or less
volunteers for the torture. Occasionally there is a
man of middle age, but they are generally from the
younger men of the tribe, youth being the season
150
TRAGIC STRUGGLES.
when passion of every kind has most energy. These
men do not as a rule join the dance, but spend a few
days immediately preceding the ordeal in fasting and
silent meditation.
When the medicine chief and old men decide
that the time has come for this part of the ceremony,
the volunteers are sent for one by one. Each comes
into the lodge in breech-clout alone. His
His person and
condition are examined by the managers, who coolly
discuss in his presence the particular kind and
amount of torture he can bear without fatal conse-
quences.
After some religious ceremonies, the medicine
chief passes a broad-bladed knife through the pec-
toral muscles so as to make two vertical incisions
about two inches from each other, and from three to
four inches long, in each breast. The portion of the
flesh between the incisions is then lifted from the
bone, and the ends of horsehair ropes of some three-
fourths of an inch in diameter passed through the
opening, and tied to wooden toggles. The free ends
of the ropes are then fastened to the top of one of
the supports of the lodge, so as to give the sufferer
some ten feet play. Here he remains without food or
water, until his own vigorous efforts, or the soften-
ing of the tissues, enable him to tear out the incised
muscles and escape from his bondage.
Sometimes the incisions are made in the muscles of
the shoulder-blade or of the back, and to the ropes
are attached movable objects, preferably the skulls
of buffaloes. Sometimes the devotee is dragged up
by the ropes until six or eight feet from the ground,
and left suspended until his weight and struggles
tear out the flesh.

KIRST
J.E. TAYLOR
INDIAN SELF-TORTURE-ENDURANCE AND DEFIANCE OF PAIN.
A broad-bladed knife is passed through the muscles of the breast and the flesh is lifted from the bone. Horsehair ropes are then passed through
the openings and tied to the lodge-pole. Here the candidates remain without food or water, until by their own efforts they free themselves by
tearing out the flesh. It is "good medicine" to tear loose at once: "bad medicine" to be several days about it.
CONSEQUENCE OF FLINCHING.
153
Each devotee makes the most strenuous efforts to
free himself. He understands that it is best to tear
loose as soon as possible, not only physically as a
quicker ending of his torture, but also from a relig-
ious point of view. It is "good medicine" to tear
loose at once, "bad medicine" to be several days
about it.
As soon as freed, he is examined by the medicine
chief and old men. If all is right, he is congratu-
lated, other religious ceremonies gone through with;
his wounds are washed and dressed with herbs, rudely,
but with such skill that in a few weeks they are
entirely healed. Singular as it may appear, an
instance of fatal result, even in the hottest weather,
has never come to my knowledge.* Should the
devotee flinch under the knife or cry out, or show
other evidence of weakness during his subsequent
sufferings, he is released at once, and sent off a dis-
graced man. Formerly he was contemned as a
woman, and made to do women's work. He could
neither marry nor hold property. These conse-
quences are no longer entailed, his only punishment
now being the contempt of the warriors of the tribe.
In former times no white man, except those allied
to the tribe by marriage with squaws, was permitted
to be present at this ceremony. Now, all is open.
Every one is welcome, and a white man of rank or
distinction is received among the managers and given
the best place to see everything.
* From mortification, as would seem to be the natural, almost inevi-
table result of such laceration of the tissues. Immediately on being
released from the tortures, the devotees, hot and exhausted as they are,
frequently plunge into the river. The shock is often fatal. In March,
of 1879, two Cheyenne warriors, who had just undergone the torture,
died from this cause.
154
EXPIATORY TORTURE.
The ceremonies here described are common, under
different names, to most of the Plains tribes. Among
the Sioux it is called "the Sun Dance," and celebrated
with exceptional pomp and circumstance.
But it is not alone at the Hôch-é-a-yum that these
terrible self-tortures are inflicted. Sometimes a war-
rior who has committed some deed which he thinks
requires expiation, will give notice that on such a day,
at such a place, he will go through the torture. A
stout but pliant pole is planted in the ground. The
incisions are made, the ropes inserted, and the toggles
secured. The top of the pole is then bent and the
rope fastened to it. This is probably the most
exasperating form of the torture. In the Hôch-é-a-
yum, the rope being fastened to rigid uprights, the
victim can exert all his force to tear loose. In this
case, the pole, yielding to his every effort, still retains
its ghastly hold, and it sometimes happens that the
victim is several days freeing himself.
CHAPTER XI.
THE INDIAN'S LAST RESTING-PLACE
THE DEAD.
}
BURIAL OF
- Another
How He
The Excitement Caused by a Death in Camp - An Indian Cemetery
Depositing the Body in a Tree The Burial Case - How the Body
is Dressed - My Horrible Discovery — Following the Trail
Discovery - The Dead Body of the Comanche War Chief
Died Treating His Body with Indignity Comical Epitaph
Stealing a Body for Dissection The Body-Snatchers at Work
The Midnight Foray Unexpected Arrival of Squaws-Consterna-
tion of the Thieves Terror and Flight of the Women What
I saw in a Deserted Ute Camp - Graves Safe from Mortal Eyes
Secrets Betrayed by Human Bones Ouray's Death His Secret
Burial - Discovery of His Grave.

Mo.
HERE is nothing in which the Plains
Indian varies so much as in the respect
paid to the dead, in the care and man-
agement of the body, and in the greater
or less elaboration of the funeral ser-
vices. This variation is not in the
customs of the different tribes, but is
due almost entirely to circumstances.
During the long enforced inaction of the
winter camp, which the Indian must get through,
as best he can, in gambling and sleep, the death of
some prominent person is almost a matter of rejoicing.
It breaks in upon the monotony of the daily routine
of life in a delightful way, bringing both excitement
155
156
VILLAGE CEMETERIES.
and occupation, which from the commencement of
the elaborate preparations to the final ceremony,
may last for quite a month. All may indulge in the
luxury of grief. All may assist in preparing the
corpse, and in arranging its last resting-place. The
cold weather preserves the body from decomposition,
thus enabling relatives and friends to devote what
time they wish to celebrate the character and exploits
of the warrior while living, and to mourn for his
departure.
The death of the same person in summer would
cause some general excitement, and possibly a few
days might be given to the obsequies; but should
he unfortunately die during the fall hunt, or while
on some important expedition, the body would most
likely be thrust into the first convenient hole in rock
or prairie, not only without ceremony, but without
feeling or mourning except from his immediate rela-
tives.
Those of the northern Plains tribes, who live in
somewhat permanent villages, usually place their
dead on scaffolds. A site for a cemetery is selected
convenient to the village, yet sufficiently removed to
escape the effluvia constantly arising from the dead
bodies. Some of these sites are very picturesque.
While the women of all the Plains tribes are
specially given to excessive demonstrations of grief
in mourning, and frequently visit the graves to give
free vent to their sorrow, these tribes yet differ in
their beliefs as to the length of the journey to the
Happy Hunting Grounds, and as to what is proper
and necessary to the dead during its performance.
Some believe that the soul is fully two months on
the road, through a space devoid of every necessity
TREE BURIAL.
157
to its comfort or even to its existence. Every day,
therefore, during all that time, food and water are
brought and placed upon, or hung around, the scaf
fold. Other tribes believe that the final journey is
made in one, two, or more days, and the necessary pro-
vision is deposited with the body at the time of burial.
It is curious to note the influence of the habits of
a tribe on these beliefs, the dead of the more per-
manent tribes making a much longer journey than
those of the more nomadic.
The favorite burial-place of the more wandering
of the Plains Indians is a tree. From the care taken
in its selection, and the more or less elaborate con-
struction of what may be termed the burial case, a
very fair estimate may be formed of the rank and
standing of the dead.
We will suppose the Indians in their winter en-
campment. A chief, or promising son of a chief, is
to be buried. The country for miles around the
camp will be scouted over, and several eligible burial
sites selected, the relative merits of which form a
subject of discussion, worthy the consideration and
determination of the general council. The position
is finally determined upon. It must be a sound,
strong tree, well sheltered, and apparently safe from
any chance of being uprooted by the terrific wind-
storms of the Plains. The branches must be so
situated that the final resting-place will be nearly
horizontal. It must not be so near any favorite
Indian camping-place that the inhabitants might be
annoyed by disagreeable effluvia from the decompos-
ing remains. It must not be near any military post,
or any road or line of travel of white men. This
last is an important condition, for of late years the
11
158
DRESSING THE BODY.
Indians have had ample cause to complain of the
desecration of the last homes of their dead, by the
bone-picking proclivities of white doctors, or the
more ruthless and less excusable plunder by white
hunters, travellers, or cattle men.
Poles are cut for the construction of a platform,
and the whole is firmly bound together and to the
branches by thongs of raw hide. It is from six to
ten feet long, and from three to five feet wide. Upon
it are spread rushes, grass, or the leaves and small
boughs of trees, and over these is laid one or more
buffalo robes. On this bed the corpse is disposed,
sometimes in a sitting posture, but generally lying
on the back in a natural position.
The body is dressed in the most gorgeous apparel
obtainable; for the spirit will appear so dressed in
the Happy Hunting Grounds, and as good a first
impression as possible is greatly desirable.
Such articles of civilized manufacture owned by
the dead in life, or furnished by the generosity or
piety of friends, as are considered necessary to his
comfort or his appearance in the future world, are
buried with him.
Around his neck is suspended the medicine bag,
containing the bones, ashes, earths, etc., used in his
private devotions, and by his side, or fastened to his
lance or rifle, is his "totem" skin. At his girdle
(or on his lance, or shield among the more southern
Plains Indians), are hung all the scalps he has taken
in life. His face is painted in the most splendid style
of Indian art.
All being completed, light but strong branches are
attached to the sides of the platform, and bent over
the body like the bows of a wagon. The enclosure
CAVE BURIAL.
159
for a body buried in a horizontal position is not over
two feet high. Over these are stretched buffalo hides
(green if they can be obtained), with the hair out,
and securely fastened to the platform and to the
boughs with thongs of raw hide. Every aperture is
closed as tightly as possible. Such necessary articles
as pots, kettles, etc., as might be in the way inside,
are securely fastened to the platform or the neigh-
boring branches; and over all are hung streamers of
red and white cloth to frighten away any animals or
birds which might venture to disturb the remains.
Such a tomb in the dry climate of the Plains will last
for several years.
The bodies of common warriors, or sons of war-
riors and occasionally of the favorite wife of a
chief - who die while the tribe is in its winter
encampment are deposited in trees, but with less
elaborate care and ceremony.
Ten years ago, I saw on the Purgatory River in
Southeastern Colorado, seven graves in one tree.
Every vestige has long since disappeared, and the
tree now shades a comfortable farmhouse.
The body of a chief who dies in other than the
winter season is generally deposited in a cave; that
of a common warrior in any convenient hole or
ravine, a few handfuls of earth, or sometimes only
grass or leaves, being thrown over them. Women
and female children of the common people are thrust
out of sight in the most convenient way, without
ceremony or special manifestation of grief. Scalped
warriors are never buried.
The country in the vicinity of the Cimarron River,
south of Fort Dodge, is almost exclusively a gypsum
formation. Instead of wearing channels on the sur
160
IGNOMINIOUSLY BURIED.
face of the ground and forming ravines, the rains
have penetrated the soil, dissolved the gypsum and
formed for watercourses long, intricate tunnels and
caverns innumerable. These are favorite burying-
places. During a visit to this locality with a party
of soldiers, a cave, elaborately walled up, was dis-
covered and broken into by some of the men of my
command, and a great quantity of useful and curious
articles, trinkets, and Indian finery taken from it. I
was little disposed to scold them for the desecration
when they brought me a string of at least a dozen
white scalps, some of infants, and one of long, fair,
and most beautiful silky hair, which had undoubtedly
adorned the head of some woman sufficiently cultured
to appreciate and take excellent care of the lovely
ornament.
Even chiefs are not always buried with religious
care and attention. Once, on a scout, I came upon
an Indian encampment very recently abandoned, and
which, from the dead horses, broken arms, cut-up
lodges and signs of blood, I at first supposed had
been harried by a hostile band. A more critical
examination soon convinced me that these were only
evidences of the death of some prominent man. I
found where a heavy body had been dragged over the
ground. Following this trail for about two hundred
yards, I came to a small mound of dry leaves. Push-
ing them aside, I was astonished to recognize the
body of the war chief of the Comanches, a man
He was
greatly loved and feared by his tribe.
dressed in a uniform coat, his head was adorned
with a hat and feather, his face was painted; his
gun and equipment, complete, were beside him, and
in his hand he held a box of matches. A closer
.
AN ELABORATE EPITAPH.
161
examination disclosed the fact that one end of a rope
had been tied around his ankles, the other evidently
attached to the pommel of a saddle, and the body,
thus dragged naked from camp, was afterwards
dressed for the grave. All the skin was torn from
the back, sides and loins, and the body otherwise
greatly mutilated by this rough treatment. It was
not until some months after that I learned that this
chief had died of delirium tremens. The tribe had
gone into all the usual mourning ecstasies and had
given him a good outfit for the Happy Hunting
Grounds, but had shown its appreciation of the
mode of his death by treating his body with indig-
nity.
In many portions of the Plains-even where suffi-
cient wood may be found to tempt the Indian to make
his winter encampment-the trees are too small to
serve the purpose of a burying-place. Four light
poles are set in the ground and the platform con-
structed on their tops, sometimes but six or eight
feet from the ground, scarcely beyond the reach of
the hungry wolves which soon collect about it. The
Indians near the agencies now frequently use the
boxes in which stores are sent to them, and the
inscription, which at a little distance looks like an
elaborate epitaph, may turn out, on closer inspection,
to be "Best Soap" or "Star Crackers."
The platform on poles, though frequently used, has
never been a favorite way of burying with the south-
ern Plains Indians. It is too easily overthrown. The
buffalo in the old, and the cattle in the present time,
equally disregarding the feelings of the surviving
friends, make short work of such a grave by rubbing
against it.
162
BODY SNATCHERS.
Since the collection on reservations and near agen-
cies of large bodies of Indians of different tribes,
burial in trees is becoming less common. His relig-
ious superstition will prevent an Indian from desecrat-
ing the grave of one of his own tribe, but he has no
such scruple in regard to the graves of another tribe.
The exposed grave of a chief, or warrior of means,
presumably containing many valuable articles, is so
great a temptation to Indians of other tribes, and to
the worthless whites who surround the agencies, that
almost all tribes have recently taken to regular burial
in the ground.
Apropos to this, a story is told (for which I do not
vouch) of a recent occurrence at the Cheyenne and
Arrapahoe Agency. An Indian died of some disease,
or in some way, professionally interesting to the
doctors. An autopsy was determined upon. As in
their belief, the cut and mutilated body would trans-
mit to the Happy Hunting Grounds a spectre cut and
mutilated in the same way, it would have been the
height of absurdity to ask the friends of the body for
permission to open it. It was determined to steal it
from the grave at night. Unfortunately for the
"body-snatchers," they had forgotten that the female
mourners have a habit of going to the grave at any
hour of the day or night, for a consolatory howl. The
body had been uncovered, and two persons were in
the grave in the act of lifting it out, when they were
astounded by the wail of half a dozen women who had
silently surrounded them. Dropping the body, they
leaped from the grave, and scurried away in the dark-
ness. The women, terrified at this supernatural
apparition, set up a truly feminine scream, and dart-
ing back to camp, soon brought the whole body of
FUNERAL COLOR.
163
Indians to the scene of action, when the mystery was
explained. The "snatchers" were never discovered,
and as the Indians are said now to keep watch over
their new-made graves, no further attempts in that
direction are reported.
The Sioux seem to attach some special importance
to green as a funeral color. I have never seen a
Sioux Indian use in life a green blanket, but in all
the Sioux graves examined by me, the remains were
found wrapped in blankets of that color. The
Cheyennes and Arrapahoes seem to have no special
color.
Among the Ute Indians, the death-bed scenes, the
preparatory and funeral services, and the place and
mode of burial, are even to this day profound secrets
to all but themselves. It would be extremely dan-
gerous for a white man to be in a Ute camp when
any resident of it died, for the death would at once
be attributed to the malign influence of the white,
and his life would probably be the penalty.
Within two miles of my camp, on the Uncompagre
River, in June, 1880, I discovered a Ute camp in
which a death had undoubtedly occurred.
The lodge covering was cut to useless shreds, the
poles broken, the bedding (buffalo robes, now exceed-
ingly valuable to the Indian) cut up and thrown away,
and the ground all round littered with clothing, bridles,
blankets, cooking utensils, tin-ware, every article so
torn to pieces, or cut with knife or hatchet as to be
entirely worthless. They had even cut down trees
across the ground, to prevent its again being used for
a camp, and from these trees, which were bare of
leaves but with the buds considerably swollen, I
judged the death to have occurred in April.
164
UTE BURIAL.
Mr. Berry, the Indian Agent at Los Pinos, informs
me that he has never himself witnessed, nor has he
ever seen a white man who had witnessed, the funeral
ceremonies of the Utes, nor has he ever seen a Ute
grave, or any white man who had seen one.
A very acute and observing officer of the army
tells me that he has seen a Ute grave which was dis-
covered by accident. When on a scout, some one of
the command noticed human bones, scattered at the
foot and along the face of a declivity so abrupt as to
be almost inaccessible. Following upwards with great
difficulty, they came to where a small excavation had
been made horizontally into the almost perpendicular
face of the hill. This excavation had been carefully
lined with a wall of stones cemented together with
adobe mud, and the whole inside had been thickly
plastered with the same material. The body had
been placed within, the opening walled up, plastered
thickly on the outside with mud, and dry earth thrown
over the whole so as completely to conceal it. It was
only when the face of the hill was washed away by
heavy rains that the burial-place was disclosed.
The Utes will not talk about their dead or their
graves, differing in this from all other Indians of
whom I know anything. The whites in the best
position to learn of these things tell me that, after
the body is dressed for burial, it is taken away from
camp by a party, and buried in such a place and mode
as I have described. After the burial is completed
the footprints of the party are carefully erased, the
place and everything connected with the burial re-
maining a profound secret from all but the immedi-
ate actors in the scene. There are said to be two
graves of Ute Indians in the cemetery at the Los
}

THE LAST RESTING-PLACE OF THE INDIANS-A CEMETERY AMONG THE TREES ON MEDICINE LODGE CREEK,
INDIAN TERRITORY.
1
DEATH OF OURAY.
167
Pinos Agency, but they are of Indians connected with
the agency, and were buried under white auspices.
I have in my possession the skull of a young Ute
Indian which was found at the base of a steep, sharp
hill. I doubt not that the grave is somewhere in the
face of that hill, but it is safe from mortal eyes, the
hill being now utterly inaccessible on that side.
A few days after the above was written, Ouray,
the head chief of the Utes, started from his house,
near which I was encamped, across the country, to
meet the Indian Commissioners at the Southern Ute
Agency. Soon after a runner came for the agency
doctor; Ouray was very sick. In a week we heard
he was dead. He was chief of the ten or twelve
bands of Colorado Utes, commonly known as the
confederated Utes; a man of great strength of char-
acter, power, and influence.
Having been several times to Washington, he had
adopted, as far as was possible with his surroundings,
the habits of white men. He lived in a house com-
fortably furnished, used a large easy-chair, took his
meals at a table supplied with proper table furniture,
and when visited by a guest whom he wished to
honor, he brought out wine and cigars.
For some years he had been in receipt of a salary
of one thousand dollars a year from the United States
Government, and he died probably the richest Indian
in America. He died away from home at the agency
of the Southern Utes, and they took charge of the
body, and buried it after the Ute custom.
An officer who was present writes me the follow-
ing account: "The Indians took sole charge of him
during his sickness, not permitting the whites to
have anything to do with him. There were three
168
OURAY'S GRAVE.
any
When
white doctors present, but the Indian medicine man
held his pow-wows so continuously that his white
rivals could only occasionally get into the tent. All
they were able to do was to diagnose the case (it was
Bright's disease), and satisfy themselves that they
could have done no good even had they been permit-
ted to act. The funeral was conducted as that of
other (Ute) Indian, no ceremony, no pomp.
life was extinct, they wrapped the body in a blanket,
threw it across a horse, and accompanied by a few
Uncompagre Utes, it was in that way conveyed to
the place of burial. The agent, some of the commis-
sioners, officers, other whites, and Mariano, a Mexi-
can, who for four years past has lived in the most
intimate relationship to Ouray (his private secretary),
wanted to show their respect by going to the funeral,
but they were ordered back by the Indians. No one
whatever was permitted to accompany the burial
party, and no one knew, nor could find out, the place
of burial, until the question of the removal of the
remains to the Uncompagre was agitated. The Un-
compagre Indians were very anxious that this should
be done, and the Southern Utes making no objection,
some of the burial party, two weeks after the burial,
took some of the commissioners and officers to the
spot. They found the body deposited in a natural
cave, the entrance to which had been walled up with
rocks. The body was found to be in such a state
that the effort at removal was abandoned. There
was no stone or mark to indicate the grave, nothing,
except at a little distance the putrefying carcasses of
five horses, that had been killed near the grave, for
his service in the Happy Hunting Grounds.
CHAPTER XII.
MOURNING FOR THE DEAD HOW INDIANS FEEL
AND SHOW THEIR GRIEF.
46
Good Howl "
In "Sackcloth and Ashes " The Mark of God's Displeasure — Parental
Anguish The Death of a Son - A Warrior's Tearless Eyes — Real
Grief — Mourning for a Dead Wife What Happens at the Death of
a Chief - How the Squaws Mourn - A Chorus of Howls from the
"Blessed Sex" Self-Mutilation Inflicting Horrible Wounds
A "Good Cry" versus a
Inconsolable Widows
Midnight Wails-Letting off Superfluous Unhappiness - Joining in
the Howl — The "Luxury of Grief” — Vigorous Lamentation — How
an Indian Makes his Will Scene at Ouray's Death Bed - His
Will - Clamoring for the Destruction of his Property - A Narrow
Escape The Sacrifice of Seventeen Horses -- Firing the Pyre.

HE mourning of the Indian is an active
passion. It is not displayed in-
"inky cloaks,
Nor customary suits of solemn black,
Nor windy suspiration of forced breath,
No, nor the fruitful river in the eye."
"These indeed, seem;" but the mourn-
ing of the Indian "is."
The mourning of a chief over a beloved
son is sublime in its severe simplicity. Literally in
"sackcloth and ashes" he prostrates himself before
his gods. He has not the verbosity of Job, nor the
sounding phrases of the Jews in their lamentations.
It is not "Rachel weeping for her children," but a
man on whom God has set a mark of heavy displeas-
He mourns not only the taking off the being
ure.
169
170
THE DISPLEASURE OF GOD.
dearest to his heart, and more to him than life itself,
but that in some way he has fallen under the direct
displeasure of God.
If the son was killed in battle and not scalped,
there is nothing to mourn for on his account. He
has gone direct, in all his youth and vigor, to enjoy
an eternity of youthful pleasure. The blow of the
All-Powerful which killed the son was really aimed
at the father.
To his parental and personal anguish is added the
haunting superstitious dread of still further persecu-
tion by the Bad God, and laxity of intervention on
the part of the Good God.
His medicine is wrong!
The tortures that rack his heart and torment his
brain are not displayed in words. Stripped of all
clothing save his breech-clout, he lies for days prone
on the dirt of his lodge floor, or squatted alone in a
corner. His hair, of which ordinarily he is so care-
ful and proud, has been hacked off with a knife, and
stands about his head, neglected, disordered, and
filled with earth. His eyes are tearless, his visage
firm and solemn, as if about to be led to the tortures
of the stake. His person is neglected. He is a mass
of filth and dirt.
After from three weeks to three months, according
to the character of the mourner, he is induced by the
importunities of his friends to wash and dress him-
self, after which he approaches gradually to his nor-
mal condition.
His mourning for a favorite daughter may be
attended with similar self-abnegation and personal
neglect, but its duration is more limited.
His mourning for his wife, the mother of the son
MOURNING OF WOMEN.
171
or daughter so bewailed, is entirely a different mat-
ter. It is weakness to display anything like senti-
ment in the marital relation.
Passion is manly, sentiment is puerile. The dead
wife may receive the honor and distinction of a tree-
burial, but the bereaved husband recognizes in his
loss no special displeasure of God, and, therefore,
mourns with a "mitigated grief."
Even though very savage the Indian is very human.
He may deeply feel his loss, but fashion debars him
from evincing that feeling. Besides this there are
other wives in the lodge, and too excessive mourning
for the dead might foster unpleasant jealousies among
the living.
Mourning is regulated somewhat with reference to
rank. The common warrior may have as ardent
sympathies and as devoted affection as the chief, but
it would be an unwarranted assumption, almost an
impertinence, to permit his grief to manifest itself to
the same extent. Consequently his mourning, though
of the same kind and quality, is less abject, and much
more limited in duration.
The mourning of the women is something fearful.
In all ages and climes the blessed sex have arrogated
to themselves the right of exaggeration in all matters
of sentiment or affection. In savage life the woman's
opportunities for display in all these feelings of which
she claims to be the richest possessor and best judge,
are very greatly restricted. She makes up for it, to
the best of her ability, by a supernatural extravagance
on every occasion when custom gives her the right
of action.
A chief has three, four, or more wives. They are
really only slaves. He treats them in public as
172
TERRIBLE SELF-MUTILATION.
servants, and gives his orders with a considerate
deference, such as any civilized gentleman might
bestow on a favorite servant, to whom forgetfulness
and disobedience are impossible. Whatever may be
their private feelings, whatever of sentiment or dal-
liance may exist in their personal relations, their
external bearing and conduct are such as only evi-
dence the relation of master and maid.
The chief dies. The quiet rivalry of attention to
his wants heretofore only displayed by them, gives
place to a furious rivalry in demonstrations of grief.
All howl continuously and in unison; but lest the
more strongly-lunged should obtain advantage in this
exercise, they continue the rivalry in such acts of
self-abasement and self-torture as are almost incred-
ible. The hair is hacked off; the clothing torn from
the person; ghastly, horrible, and even dangerous
wounds are inflicted; their breasts are slashed open;
their arms and legs slit and cut with knives; their
faces and persons disfigured; and covered with blood,
and dirt, and filth, they croon, and wail, and howl
until nature is exhausted. It is only wonderful that
death does not more frequently ensue from these self-
inflicted tortures, for the women appear to be perfect
maniacs for the time, and cut and slash themselves
without regard to consequences.
The mutilations and disfigurements are performed
over and in presence of the dead body. Its burial
puts an end to these, but the mourning continues for
any unlimited time thereafter. When the civilized
woman would relieve her feelings by a "good cry,'
her savage sister enjoys a good howl. At any time
of the day or night some of the bereaved widows may
feel in the humor for a special wail. Its first sound
""
THE PREROGATIVE OF GRIEF.
173
calls up the others, who are not to be outdone, and
all proceeding to the grave howl in chorus until tired
of the recreation. Women are sympathetic. The
friends of the widows show their sympathy, by joining
in the howl. All are supposed to mourn the demise
of a chief, and any woman of the band or tribe who
may feel somewhat lugubrious, or disposed to have a
little private enjoyment, may proceed to the grave
and let off her superfluous unhappiness in any amount
of howling.
I have elsewhere spoken of the "luxury of grief."
The term is strictly correct when applied to the grief
of an Indian woman. She has always in store a large
amount of lamentation; and, however long the person
lamented may have been dead, whether a relative,
or only a friend, she rarely comes within reach of a
grave without raising a howl, which is sure to start
the howl of others equally sympathetic.
The death of a son is mourned by the mother with
similar, but less extensive, manifestations of grief.
She may cut her breasts or arms, but they are far
from being the reckless, half-crazy slashes of the
bereaved widow. Once in a while, one or more of
the other wives may feel a grief sufficiently poignant
to require a little personal blood-letting. This, how-
ever, is only in the case of a son of a chief, which may
be regarded as a national calamity. The right of
every woman to bewail the death of any member of
the tribe is conceded, but the prerogatives of relation-
ship are held very sacred. Cutting one's self is a
manifestation of grief only permitted to the closest
relationship, or where the calamity is tribal.
The death of a daughter is the hardest blow to an
Indian woman. As will be seen further on, the
174
MOURNING ECSTASIES.
daughter is the only person in the tribe to whom she
can look for full sympathy and companionship, yet
she cannot signalize her sorrow in accordance with
her savage ideas of fitness. Though her mother-
heart may be broken with the loss, she cannot man-
ifest her grief by personal injury and disfigurement.
She can only mourn.
Whatever may be the private feelings of the par-
ents, there is no special manifestation of grief for the
death of a very young child; indeed it is generally
believed that the father sometimes kills those that are
sickly or idiotic. I have known but few deformed or
idiotic Indians, and they are almost invariably the
children of widows.
Some writers have stated that warriors mourning
for sons or for a chief frequently mutilate themselves
by cutting off one or more fingers. The number of
men who have lost fingers is extremely small for a
people so prone to war. In every case where I have
noticed such loss and asked the cause, I have found
that it was either a bullet, or some accident common
to those who manage wild and vicious horses.
The Cheyennes and Arrapahoes laugh at the idea
of self-inflicted mutilation by a warrior.
He may
cut his hair, or kill a horse, but cutting their own
flesh is the prerogative of women. Whatever it may
have been in the past, no such custom exists among
the Plains tribes at present.
The Utes carry their mourning ecstasies to great
length. Not content with killing one or more horses
to bear the shade on its journey to the Happy Hunt-
ing Grounds, they destroy everything of which the
dead dies possessed. When, therefore, a Ute feels
that he is about to die, the relatives and friends are
THE OLD AGAINST THE NEW.
175
sent for and formal distribution made of all his prop-
erty. The teepe is given to one wife, bedding to
another, horses to wives, children, or friends, in short
a formal will is made, and the property handed over
then and there. Women also make their wills, divid-
ing out their dresses, trinkets, etc. Everything, no
no matter how valuable or how worthless, not given
away before death, is ruthlessly destroyed.
Ouray died away from home and without making a
will. Ouray was "wise in his generation," and very
rich. When it was positively known in the tribe that
Ouray was dead, nearly every Indian of the Uncom-
pagre band collected at his house and made prepara-
tions for the destruction of all his property. In great
alarm Chipita, his widow, sent for Mr. Berry, the
Indian Agent. He arrived just in time. Using all
his influence and eloquence, and working with them
all day, he succeeded in obtaining a promise from a
large majority that no harm should be done to Chipita
or the property. Leaving some seventy Indians on
guard about the premises he returned to the agency.
But the malcontents had very strong grounds to
work on, and when Mr. Berry had gone they renewed
their arguments, protesting against this violation of
their ancient and honored customs, and predicting
the dire punishment of God. Custom and supersti-
tion so far prevailed that after wrangling half the
night, the followers of the "white man's road" were
glad to effect a compromise, turning over to the oth-
ers seventeen horses for sacrifice.
Ouray's house is built on a bluff bank, some thirty
feet high, overlooking the bed of the Uncompagre
River. Directly under a perpendicular part of this
bank the Indians piled an immense quantity of dry
12
176
FIRING THE PYRE.
driftwood. The seventeen horses were led one by
one to the edge of this bank, killed, and their bodies
tumbled on to the pile of wood. When all had been
killed the pyre was fired, and the spirits of the horses
sent to join their master. These, with the five killed
at the grave, will give him a comfortable start in his
new life.
CHAPTER XIII.
THE FUTURE LIFE—THE INDIAN'S IDEA OF HEAVEN—
THE HAPPY HUNTING GROUNDS.
Conceptions of the Hereafter-Indian Horror of Being Strangled
or Scalped Explained - An Eternity of Green Fields and Pastures
-Equipped for the Long Journey - Death Overcome Touching
Traits of Character — Complete Outfit for the Dead The War-
rior's Grave — Starvation and Death Preferred to Robbing the Dead
-How Physical Defects are Carried into the Next World — Fate
of an Emaciated Form - Mutilations. of the Body - Transfixed
with Arrows A Dismal Superstition — Why Indians Rarely Make
Night Attacks - The Effect of Being Killed in the Dark-Crawling
into Camp-Stealth and Cunning - Avenging the Slain - Incident
of the Campaign of 1873 - Fate of a Band of Surveyors.
—

O religion has been able to give a satis-
factory idea of heaven. It is not,
therefore, a matter of wonder that the
Indian's idea of the future life in the
Happy Hunting Grounds is as vague,
confused, indefinite, and inconsistent as
is possible to conceive. He believes he
will be happy, perfectly happy, but of
the how, why or wherefore, he not only
knows nothing, but evidently doubts his belief to such
extent that a few pertinent questions will throw him
off his balance, and send him all agog.
He accepts what the medicine chief and old men
tell him as a faith, something to be taken without
inquiry or discussion; pin him down to his belief and
his reasons for it, and he becomes "dumb as an
oyster.'
177
178
A WIDE CREED.
The medicine chief flouts discussion. The thing is
so because he says it is so. To doubt is sacrilege, and
the doubter" little better than one of the wicked." If
beaten out of his reasons for belief, he takes refuge in
the belief itself. Faith is the foundation of every
Believe open-eyed or blindly, with
religious edifice.
reason or without reason, but believe.
The Indian creed is a wide one, for all persons, of
all ages, sexes, colors, or beliefs, who die unscalped
or unstrangled, will meet in that final "haven of
bliss." He goes there just as he was here, with the
same passions, feelings, wishes and needs. His favor-
ite pony is killed at his burying-place, to enjoy an
eternity of beautiful pasture and to bear his master
in war or in the chase.
He will need arms to defend himself against ene-
mies (man or beast); his rifle, pistol, bow and quiver
are buried with him. He will need fire; so flint and
steel, or a box of matches, go towards the outfit for his
final journey.
There is no death in that life; but wounds and pain,
hunger and thirst, love, revenge, ambition, all the pas-
sions, or incentives to action, are there. The Indian
knows no happiness in this life, except in the gratifi-
cation of his natural appetites. His future life will
develop greater capacity and wider opportunity for
the enjoyment of those appetites.
How an unhappy disposition here can be happy
there, he does not try to explain. He has no con-
ception of, or belief in, any special divinity presiding
over the future state; consequently he cannot con-
ceive of a special miracle in each case fitted to the
necessity of the beneficiary.
He will meet enemies, whom, however, he strives
CARRYING HIS WEALTH WITH HIM.
179
to make few in that world, by scalping as many as
possible in this. He will encounter dangerous beasts;
for the spirits or phantoms of all animals, reptiles,
birds, insects, and fishes, go also to the Happy Hunt-
ing Grounds. In short, the next world is to be an
intensified continuation of this, death alone overcome.
The conception of the abolition of death in the
future state seems to be attended with a doubt or
modification. He expects to kill and eat all the game
he wishes; to clothe himself with the skins of animals;
to fight with, and even take the scalps of, his enemies;
but what becomes of the phantoms of animals, or the
spirits of scalped ghosts of men, is a problem which
he wisely leaves for future solution.
From what has been said it will be truly inferred
that not only animals, but inanimate nature is repre-
sented in the future state. All things which the
Indian can make for himself in this life he can make
in the next; consequently there is no need to take
that class of things along with him. He can there
procure skins for his clothing and for his lodge, robes
for his bed, etc. But articles beyond his skill in man-
ufacture, gun, powder, lead, caps, knife, blankets, and
an iron pot for cooking, must all be carried into the
next world by the dead man, who is, moreover, buried
in shirt, pants, and coat of civilized manufacture, or
as many of these articles as the owner possessed dur-
ing life.
The Indian understands perfectly well that the dead
does not actually take with him into the next world
the material articles buried with him in this, for some
of them are hung around the burial place exposed to
view. He believes, however, that if the articles are
allowed to remain with or near the body until the soul
180
MISFORTUNE BEYOND THE GRAVE.
reaches its paradise, the spirit of the dead man will
have in the next world the use of the phantasms of
those articles.
The most touching trait of Indian character is the
universal desire that the dead shall enter the Happy
Hunting Grounds with as complete an outfit as pos-
sible. Any article supposed necessary in the future
state, which the dead man did not possess in life, is
at once supplied by relatives or friends, often at con-
siderable sacrifice.
Whatever the absolute needs of an Indian life,
there is no known instance of his despoiling, to
satisfy them, the grave or burial-place of another
Indian of his own tribe. He will go hungry from
lack of means to kill game, though he knows a
dozen trees containing graves, in each of which are
gun, powder and lead.
The personal misfortunes and peculiarities which
an Indian has in life stick to him beyond the grave.
A one-legged man in life is one-legged to all eter-
nity. One who loses his sight here gropes blind
through the Happy Hunting Grounds. Time is no
more. There is no growing older there, conse-
quently every one remains forever at exactly the
age at which he entered the new life. The puling
infant, the decrepit hag, the young virgin, the stal-
wart warrior, as each dies, so shall he or she remain
to all eternity. Those who are so fortunate as to die
by quick disease take with them to the Happy Hunt-
ing Grounds no reminders of pain; but a body emaci-
ated and distorted by chronic disease sends on the
long journey a soul which must suffer always in the
same way.
A warrior killed in battle and not mutilated, shows,
HAPPINESS OF PARADISE.
181
in the future life, no sign of wound; but if the soul
be not annihilated by scalping, every mutilation in-
flicted on the body after death also mutilates the
soul. If the head, or hands, or feet are cut off, or
the body ripped open after death, the soul will so
appear and exist in the Happy Hunting Grounds.
Some believe that if the dead body is transfixed with
arrows and left to decay, the soul must always wear
and suffer from the phantasms of those arrows. This
accounts for this habit, quite common, especially with
the Sioux, and for the great apparent waste of arrows.
If a body so found, pierced with many arrows, is un-
scalped, it was the vindictive purpose of the mur-
derers forever to torment the soul. If the head was
scalped, the shooting was in mere bravado and cruel
wantonness.
I have taken great interest in patiently studying
out the varied and ingenious developments of thought
by which the Indian seeks to reconcile these beliefs
with the idea of happiness in the future state. He
does this to his own entire satisfaction by his abun-
dance of faith. His belief as to the effect on the
soul of certain previous conditions of life and death
are, according to his ideas, solidly founded on reason.
His belief in the perfect happiness of his Paradise is
purely a matter of faith.
Another well-known superstition of the Plains
Indians is, that a man killed in the dark will dwell
in darkness throughout eternity. This, for the white
man, is a most fortunate belief, and materially lessens
the dangers and labors of the troops. With their
stealth, craft, patience and knowledge of the coun-
try, the Indians would be truly terrible in night
attacks. As it is, such an attack is very rare, and,
182
APPEASING THE SHADES.
when decided upon, is invariably made by moonlight.
They will crawl into a camp and steal horses, and
may sometimes fire a few shots into it from a dis-
tance; but on a dark night there is little danger,
even though surrounded by the most hostile Indians.
In common with the ancients of our history, the
Indians believe that the manes or shades of the de-
parted slain in battle require to be appeased by the
death of the slayer, if possible; or, failing his, by
that of some one of the slayer's nation or tribe.
In the spring of 1873 a band of Cheyennes on a
marauding expedition to New Mexico were surprised
by troops, and some six or eight killed. When the
survivors reached home with the news, the most fear-
ful excitement prevailed throughout the Indian camp,
and a party was at once made up to go to the
settlements to obtain white victims in retaliation.
Fortunately for the unprepared settlers, but most
unfortunately for themselves, a small party of sur-
veyors were at work on the route of the Indian
march. They were set upon by the Indians, who,
when they had killed a number sufficient to appease
the shades of their slain friends, returned satisfied to
their encampment without molesting the settlers.
Two or more warriors of contiguous tribes have a
collision in which one is killed. His relations and
friends seek every opportunity to retaliate by killing
one or more of the relatives of the slayer. Their
shades appeal in turn to their friends for appease-
ment, and in course of time what may have arisen
in a mere broil between two half-drunken bucks, has
widened and deepened until almost every family of
each tribe has a blood feud with one or more families
of the other.

OUR STEALTHY FOES-THE ATTACK ON THE WAGON TRAIN.
CHAPTER XIV.
CHILDHOOD AND YOUTH LIFE AND TRAINING OF
INDIAN BOYS AND GIRLS.
- -
The Redskin Baby - An Original Outfit — Feathers and Fur — A Real
"Nest of Comfort"- Tossed into a Corner "In the Tree Top "
Learning to Ride-Stopping the Baby's Cry-A Novel Method
Rough Schooling-Adoption of Captive Children - The Comanche
Women - A Coveted Baby-Ready to Swap or Buy-An Inter-
esting Experience The Warrior's Pride A Touching Story
Bound to the Stake - The Old Chief's Sacrifice Childhood Sports
Freedom of the Lodge - Trained for the Chase - Roaming at Large
Cold-Blooded Atrocities-Daring Attacks-In Pursuit of Fame
- A Momentous Hour-What I saw at an Indian Dance Matri-
monial Hankerings - Married at Sixteen-Old Age at Thirty-five.
-

S soon as the Indian baby is born it is
placed in a coffin-shaped receptacle,
where it passes nearly the whole of
the first year of its existence, being
taken out only once or twice a day
for washing or change of clothing.
This clothing is of the most primitive
character, the baby being simply swad-
dled in a dressed deer-skin or piece of
thick cotton cloth, which envelopes the whole body
below the neck. The outside of the cradle varies
with the wealth or taste of the mother, scarcely two
being exactly alike. Some are elaborately orna-
mented with furs, feathers, and bead work, others are
perfectly plain. Whatever the outside, the cases
themselves are nearly the same.
185
186
IN THE TREE-TOP.
A piece of dried buffalo hide is cut into proper
shape, then turned on itself and the front fastened
with strings. The face is always exposed. The
whole is then tightly fastened to a board, or in the
most approved cradles, to two narrow pieces of board
joined together in the form of an X. It forms a real
ce nest of comfort," and as the Indian is not a stickler
on the score of cleanliness, it is the very best cradle.
that they could adopt. To the board or boards is
attached a strap, which, passed over the head, rests
on the mother's chest and shoulders, leaving the arms
free. When about the lodge the mother stands the
cradle in some out of the way corner, or in fine
weather against a tree; or if the wind is blowing
fresh it is hung to a branch, where it fulfils all the
promise of the nursery rhyme.
When the baby is ten months to a year old it is
released from its confinement, and for a year or two
more of its life takes its short journeys on its mother's
back in a simple way. It is placed well up on her
back between the shoulders; the blanket is then
thrown over botn, and being drawn tightly at the
front of her neck by the mother, leaves a fold behind,
in which the little one rides securely, and apparently
without the slightest inconvenience to either rider or
ridden. I have seen a Nez Percé woman play a
vigorous game of ball with a baby on her back.
On long journeys, or when changing camp, the
children too heavy to carry on the mother's backs,
but too young to ride on horseback, are confined in
a wicker cage, which is fastened on the lodge-poles
which trail alongside of some reliable, steady-going
old horse, an arrangement called a "travois" by the
French trappers.
SMOTHERING THE CRY.
187
For a little while thereafter they may be mounted
before or behind the mother, but by the time they are
four years old they are considered quite large enough
to ride by themselves.
At first, to prevent any possibility of their falling
off, they are tied by a complicated set of straps to the
saddle of a steady horse, which is then turned loose,
and in the movement of a camp the little urchins of
that unpleasant age will be seen seated on the tops
of packs, in apparently the most uncomfortable posi-
tions, but happy, or at least resigned. This rough
schooling soon tells, and at an incredibly early age,
the children of both sexes are worthy scions of the
parent stock of riders, unsurpassed by any in the
world.
Children are highly prized by every Indian man.
The wife who brings him most sons is the most
honored, though not always most favored.
While the child, either boy or girl, is very young,
the mother has entire charge, control, and manage-
ment of it. It is soon taught not to cry by a very
summary process. When it attempts to "set up a
yell," the mother covers its mouth with the palm of
her hand, grasps its nose between her thumb and
forefinger, and holds on until the little one is nearly
suffocated. It is then let go, to be seized and.
smothered again at the first attempt to cry. The
baby very soon comprehends that silence is the best
policy.
Almost as soon as the male child is weaned, its
control is taken from the mother, and it becomes
practically its own master. The mother is never per-
mitted to strike a boy, no matter what his fault.
may, however, punish him by refusing food or pulling
She
188
SWAPPING BABIES.
his hair. Among those Indians who live habitually
about the agencies, this exemption from whipping,
though still the rule, has frequent exceptions, and a
mother, worried out of all patience by a troublesome
urchin, will give him a vigorous box on the ear and
send him sprawling to the ground. The discretion
of the father generally blinds him to such little ex-
hibitions of feminine temper.
The mother retains her control over her girls until
they are young women, and whatever comfort she
derives from her children is from them.
Though almost all Indian women are anxious to
have children, and evince great fondness for them,
the maternal instinct does not appear to be very
strongly developed. All are what we call "motherly,"
having the disposition to love children, whether their
own, or those of other people. An infant which has
lost its mother is assiduously and tenderly cared for
by the nursing mothers of the band, and a very young
captive child is sure to be adopted, and not unfre-
quently in a family where there are other children.
The affection seems to be a general one, and some-
what dependent on the beauty and sprightliness of
the child. I was stationed at a post in Texas much
visited by the Comanches. A brother officer had a
beautiful healthy boy baby. When it was eight or
ten months old, yet unable to walk, it was habitually,
during the day, placed in a baby-jumper on the back
piazza of his house. It was soon discovered by the
squaws, who, crowding around, spent hours each day
in admiration of its beauty, and its (to them) wonder-
ful jumps and capers. Scarce one of them but made
propositions, either to swap their own babies for, or
to buy it, and the officer's young wife was kept in a
DEVOTION OF BI-ANS-WAH.
189
constant state of watchfulness and anxiety lest they
should steal it.
Though the mother has all the trouble and worry of
the children, the father seems to have the strongest
love for them, and this is especially the case with
sons. His pride in and affection for them knows no
bounds. They keep alive his ambition, and in their
brave deeds he renews his youthful fire and vigor. I
have heard many instances of the strength of this
affection, but that most touching is the one given by
Schoolcraft.
In a war between the Chippewas and allied Foxes
and Sioux, the Foxes captured the son of an old and
celebrated chief, Bi-ans-wah. The old man hearing
the terrible news, and knowing the sure destiny of
his son, followed alone the trail of the enemy, and
"reached the Fox village while they were in the act
of kindling the fire to roast him alive. He stepped
boldly into the arena and offered to take his son's
place.
"My son,' said he, has seen but a few winters,
his feet have never trod the war-path, but the hairs of
my head are white, I have hung many scalps over the
graves of my relatives, which I have taken from the
heads of your warriors; kindle the fire about me and
send my son home to my lodge.' The offer was
accepted, and the old man, without deigning to utter
a groan, was burnt at the stake."
The Indian father's affection for his daughters is
open to the suspicion of interest. They are, if toler-
ably good-looking, a sure source of revenue when
marriageable, and his affection for them does not blind
him to the superior argument of the highest bidder.
The little children are much petted and spoiled;
190
LITTLE PITCHERS.
tumbling and climbing, unreproved, over the father
and his visitors in the lodge, and never seem to be an
annoyance or in the way.
The boys grow up as it happens, without moral
restraint of any kind, and subjected only to the mild,
paternal control of the father, in such duties as are
necessary to supply the family with food, and to
watch and care for its stock.
The girls are early taught the lessons of subordi-
nation, and begin to labor almost as soon as they can
walk.
It is very rare to see Indian boys and girls of over
five or six years playing together; all the boys of and
above that age have bows and arrows, and, collected
in squads, they roam about the country in the vicinity
of their camp, shooting at every animal or bird that
shows itself, and thus early beginning the lessons of
their life. The little girls are very fond of dolls,
which their mothers make and dress with consider-
able skill and taste. Their baby houses are miniature
teepes, and they spend as much time and take as much
pleasure in such play as white girls.
After they get out of their cradles, Indian children
are never "put to bed” until they go to sleep of their
own accord, but are "au courant" of everything that
goes on in the lodge, or in all out-door amusements
and ceremonies. They are debarred only from the
council lodge. As "little pitchers have big ears"
they are very precocious, and an Indian boy or girl of
six years knows more of the possibilities of the future
than an American child of fifteen or sixteen.
He is a natural animal. He knows nothing of
right and wrong, as we understand those terms. No
dread of punishment restrains him from any act that
CANDIDATE FOR WARRIOR.
191
boyish fun or fury may prompt. No softening stories
of good little boys are poured into his attentive ears
at a mother's knee. No lessons inculcating the beauty
and sure reward of goodness, or the hideousness and
certain punishment of vice, are ever wasted on him;
wasted, for virtue and vice are abstract terms, utterly
incomprehensible to him.
The men by whom he is surrounded, and to whom
he looks as models, are great and renowned just
in proportion to their ferocity, to the scalps they
have taken or the horses they have stolen. His ear-
liest boyish memory is probably a dance of rejoicing
over the scalps of strangers, all of whom he is taught
to regard as enemies.
enemies. The acclamations which
rewarded each warrior as he bounded into the circle,
and in glowing words described the conflict and the
death of the enemy, have influenced his imagination,
and he yearns for the time when he can take his part
in fight and foray, and for opportunity to signalize his
craft and courage.
At twelve or thirteen these yearnings can no longer
be repressed; and banded together, the youths of from
twelve to sixteen years roam over the country; and
some of the most cold-blooded atrocities, daring
attacks, and desperate combats, have been made by
these children in pursuit of fame.
From each of these excursions return, with crest
erect and backbone stiffened, one or more youngsters,
whose airs and style proclaim that each has made his
coup, and is henceforth candidate for the distinction
of warrior.
The chiefs and warriors assemble in general coun-
cil and with the utmost gravity listen to the claims of
the candidates. Each in turn, frenzied with excite-
192
A DOG-SOLDIER.
ment, with bounds and yells and frantic gestures,
pours forth, in almost incoherent language, a recital
of the special deeds on which he bases his claim.
When conflicting claims are made by the candidates,
as is almost sure to be the case, their companions
on the excursion are called on for their statements;
and when all the testimony is in, the candidates, their
friends, comrades, and spectators, are turned out of
the council, which then proceeds to deliberate.
After some time, the names of the happy few are
proclaimed formally and loudly from the door of the
council lodge.
Until within a very few years, the initiation was a
religious as well as a military ceremony, and varied
with each tribe. The process in the most warlike
tribes was identical with that described as the torture
of the "Hôch-é-a-yum." At the present time I know
of no tribe that demands the ordeal, as the process of
initiation as a warrior.
The simple announcement by the council is all now
necessary to the military standing of the candidate,
and the religious rites are consummated by his going
off alone to some high hill, or other secluded place,
and there starving himself into a condition of trance,
during which he decides upon his medicine. When
he returns to his camp, it is to step into his position
as warrior. He becomes at once a "dog-soldier," is
no longer under the control of his father (unless he
still chooses to live in the paternal lodge), and what-
ever his age, may marry and hold property.
into
The girls are very precocious and begin to " go
society," to attend dances and social gatherings, when
but eight or ten years of age.
At the very last Indian dance I witnessed, the
EARLY MARRIAGE.
193
belles of the evening, and the most forward in "keep-
ing up the hilarity," were two little girls of about ten
years old.
At this age they are frequently pretty, and show by
their actions not only that they are as well aware of
that fact, as are their white sisters under similar cir-
cumstances, but that they already begin to feel matri-
monial hankerings, and are determined to make the
most of their chances in their season of freshest
bloom.
Their hard life and constant work tell upon them
very soon, and by the time they are sixteen, very little
of their early freshness is left. Indeed, it is almost
impossible, after that age, to make from appearances
even an approximate guess at the age of any Indian
woman. I know a married woman of eighteen who
looks as old as her mother, who must be thirty-five,
and this is not at all unusual.
13
:
CHAPTER XV.
LOVE-MAKING IN AN INDIAN CAMP -
MARRIAGE.
COURTSHIP AND
Indian Lovers -Suitors for a Maiden's Hand Going to "See His
Girl"
- At His Inamorata's Lodge The Old Folks at Home "
Indian Match-Makers - The First Real Meeting - Picturesque Re-
luctance and a Pretty Surrender — Tête-à-Tête — Engaged at Last
Appearance of Rivals An Indian Flirt A Dozen Lovers at Her
Feet - Competition the Life of Trade - Plans for the Wedding -
How Paternal Consent is Obtained - Indian Elopements - Love De-
fiant of Locks and Bars Escape from the Lodge - Flight and
Pursuit― Assessing the Damages - The Girl's Market Value — A
White Admirer's Perfidy- Gushing Frankness - An Unfortunate
Dilemma So Glad You Asked Me " A Widow's Pathetic Appeal.

१९.
HERE is a vast amount of love-making
in an Indian camp, for aside from that
common and natural to unmarried
youth of both sexes, the custom of
most Plains tribes makes every man a
possible suitor for the hand of every
woman, though either or both may be
already married.
No sooner has the boy been proclaimed
a warrior than he begins to look for a wife. Although
the only real essential in the affair is that he have
୧୯
ponies," or other property, to pay for her, yet, for
reasons which will hereafter appear, it is always bet-
ter to win, if possible, the love of the girl.
So far as my observation and experience go, Indians
of neither sex are afflicted with bashfulness, but while
194
COURTSHIP.
195
the male Indian prides himself on the violence of his
passions, custom has denounced sentiment as un-
manly, and love a weakness.
The first approaches of the lover are therefore shy
and constrained. Wrapped in his buffalo robe, or in
summer in his wide cotton mantle, with his face
painted in the highest style of Indian art, his locks
combed, greased and adorned with silver or plaited
buckles, he frequents the lodge of his inamorata,
standing for hours without a word, showing only by
looks the feelings that agitate his bosom.
After such number of visits as make his inten-
tions entirely plain, the old folks send for their rela-
tives and intimates, and hold a family council, at
which the eligibility of the "parti" is discussed; his
standing in the tribe, his wealth, present and prospect-
ive, and the number of ponies and other things he is
likely to give for the girl. After all these matters
have been satisfactorily settled, the girl gives her
lover such looks of encouragement as induce him to
hope.
Up to this time the two persons most interested
may have never exchanged a word in private. Now,
however, as soon as it is dark he lies in wait near the
door of her lodge, watching for the appearance of his
beloved, but carefully concealing himself from the
observation of any other person. Every member of
the lodge, indeed, possibly, every individual of the
band, knows he is there, but it is one of the strongest
social fictions of Indian life that the lover is supposed,
to be entirely unseen by any but his mistress.
After keeping the impatient lover waiting as long
as her feminine nature thinks proper, the girl having
properly "roped" herself, slips out of the lodge, and
1
196
AN INDIAN COQUETTE.
is immediately pounced upon by her lover. If she
resists or cries out, he is obliged immediately to quit
her. If she yields without noise, he carries her to a
little distance, just out of hearing of the lodge.
During the earlier interviews they stand facing each
other, each wrapped in his or her own garment. If
the affair progresses favorably, they still remain
standing, but find one blanket or robe sufficient for
both. When they may be considered as engaged,
they seat themselves on the ground, and throwing a
blanket over the heads or around the forms of both,
make love to their hearts' content. Couples so en-
gaged are never disturbed. Though dozens may be.
watching with true Indian curiosity, etiquette requires
that they not only keep aloof, but act as if they had
seen nothing.
:
It not unfrequently happens that two or more
lovers are paying their addresses to the same girl at
the same time. All are lying flat on the ground, each
possibly in plain view of the others, but each pre-
sumed, by the fiction of custom, to be entirely con-
cealed from all the world.
The girl appears. A rush is made. A lover seizes
her; if the one she wishes to flirt with on that occa-
sion, she yields passively, and is borne off, the others
disappearing at once. If a wrong one, a slight resist-
ance or exclamation, and she is at once released, to
be seized again by another, and to repeat the process
until satisfied with her captor.
Where there are several lovers the opportunity and
incentives to coquetry are immense.
I once met a beautiful half-breed Sioux girl, who
was said to have kept at least a dozen lovers lying
about her lodge door for a year or more, flirting with
ACCEPTED OR REJECTED.
197
each in turn, and managing so adroitly that each felt
he would be the happy man in the end.
In each tribe there are more or less desperate flirts,
and their conduct is not specially objected to by the
fathers, who, realizing that "competition is the life of
trade," mentally raise their price on the accession of
each new lover.
When the parties come to an understanding the
lover lays the case before his mother, or if she be
dead, some old female relative or friend is selected.
Dressed in her best she proceeds to the lodge of the
mistress, and interviews the old people.
The question of price is discussed in all its bear-
ings, and the old lady finally returns with the ulti-
matum of the other side. This forms a subject of dis-
cussion among the relatives and friends of the family.
Sometimes more is asked than the lover can give,
or his father is willing to give for him. In that case
the suit may either be abandoned at once, or an effort
made to effect a compromise.
In the afternoon all the ponies, buffalo robes, sad-
dles, etc., etc., the lover can afford, are taken over to
the lodge of his mistress, the ponies tied near the
door, the other things distributed around. When
morning comes, if the ponies and other things are
where they were left, the suit has been rejected. If the
ponies have been sent to the herd and the other things
taken into the lodge, the lover's offer is accepted.
In former times among all, but at present only
among the poorer Indians, the young husband con-
ducts his new purchase to the lodge of his father,
there to remain until the increase in his family, or
his wealth and consequence in the tribe, force or
enable him to set up a lodge for himself.
198
AN ELOPEMENT.
In later years, and among the better class of
Indians, the mother and female friends of the bride
set up a teepe a little way from the parental lodge
and furnish it for the use of the new-married couple,
who immediately take possession.
There is no marriage ceremony or formality of
any kind. The price being paid and accepted, the
man becomes the absolute owner of the woman. He
may make her his wife, or his slave; he may sell her or
kill her, with no one to gainsay or "make him afraid."
The daughter being led by her heart or her fancy,
and the father by careful consideration of what he
can get for her from some other man, it not unfre-
quently happens that they differ as to which lover
should be accepted.
All fiction teaches that among whites the poor
lover is almost invariably more handsome and fasci-
nating than the rich one, and the rule holds good
among red men. But the white sister can get up on
her dignity and say "I won't," words which would
bring to the red sister a sound thrashing, if not
worse.
There is but one possible method of escape from
the will of the terrible red father, and that is by an
elopement.
Custom makes it not only improper, but very dan-
gerous, for an Indian woman to be found alone away
from her lodge; and as the family live all together
in one room, the elopement of an Indian girl is a
most difficult undertaking, especially when, having
cause to suspect such intention, the father and all
his family are on constant watch. She never goes
out at night to meet her lovers but many eyes are
upon her, and escape then would be impossible.
AN ELOPEMENT.
199
As among whites, "love laughs at locksmiths," so
among reds, love laughs at watchful eyes; and creep-
ing out of the lodge when the family are buried in
sleep, the girl joins her lover, and, mounted on one
horse (if they are unable to steal another), they, by
morning, have put many miles between themselves
and the wrathful pursuers. Should they be over-
taken the lover would probably pay the penalty of
his love-venture with his life, while the girl would
come in for a terrible beating; but it is Indian
against Indian now, and the fugitives move so rap-
idly and constantly, that the pursuing party, having
to follow the trail, concealed by every device, gen-
erally after one or two days abandon the pursuit
and return to camp to demand damages of the
father of the successful lover.
These are awarded by the chief and old men, not
in accordance with the demand of the father of the
girl, but with reference to her actual market value
and the wealth of the father of the lover.
After a few weeks the fugitive lovers, knowing
that all has by that time been settled, return to the
camp and set up housekeeping as if nothing had
happened.
Being by their confinement on reservations de-
barred from the exercise of their favorite accom-
plishment, horse-stealing, the tribes are now com-
paratively poor, and it is by no means easy for the
ardent swain to procure enough ponies to satisfy
the avarice of the obdurate father, consequently
elopements are becoming more and more frequent,
and property in marriageable daughters exceedingly
precarious.
In November, 1880, a citizen employed at the mil-
200
A GUSHING MAIDEN.
itary post of Fort Reno, being on a journey on horse-
back, overtook a family of Cheyenne Indians moving
their camp. The bucks were in front, some distance
ahead of the squaws, who had charge of the pack
animals and loose stock. Among the women was
one of about twenty years of age, a very handsome
girl, for an Indian. Riding alongside of her, the
American, who was a perfect master of the Chey-
enne language, opened a conversation.
To pass
away the time and have some "fun" he soon com-
menced to make furious love to her, a proceeding
so common as almost to be etiquette among Indians.
This was received so pleasantly that after a while
he proposed an elopement. Greatly to his conster-
nation the proposition was not only accepted, but the
lady at once elaborated a plan for the accomplish-
ment of their purpose, fixing time, place and all
details with the utmost minuteness.
"Now don't make any mistake," said she, "for my
father watches me very closely, and you will have
to be careful.
"I am so glad you asked me," continued she gush-
ingly. "My father asks five ponies for me, though he
knows I am not worth them. Nobody will pay that
price, and here I am almost an old woman, without a
husband, while all the girls of my age have husbands
and babies. When we come back from our run-
away' the chief will not make you pay more than one
pony for me."
The luckless love-maker, utterly overwhelmed by
his own success, soon made excuse to leave, and to
the discredit of my sex, I am obliged to admit, wil-
fully failed to make his appearance at the rendezvous.
Polygamy seems to be the natural condition of
CURIOUS CUSTOM.
201
mankind, at least, it is a custom among almost all
primitive or natural people. Each red man has as
many wives as his inclination prompts, or his wealth
allows.
Of the lovers which any Indian maiden may have,
it is safe to say that at least half have already one,
two, or more wives.
These are generally the men of means, consequently
the favorites of her father.
These may be, and ofttimes are, successful in their
suit with her, but they are not the men to elope.
They leave too much at stake behind them.
Jealousy would seem to have no place in the com-
position of an Indian woman, and many prefer to be,
even for a time, the favorite of a man who already
has a wife or wives, and who is known to be a good
husband and provider, rather than tempt the precari-
ous chances of an untried man.
Until, therefore, he is so old as to care no longer
for the gentle sex, every man of the tribe, whether
married or single, is a possible suitor for the hand of
any unmarried girl in it. I have known several
Indians of middle age with already numerous wives
and children, who were such favorites with the sex
that they might have increased their number of wives
to an unlimited extent, had they been so disposed,
and this too, from among the very nicest girls of the
tribe.
Among the Cheyennes, Arrapahoes, and other
southern tribes, there is a very curious custom. I
have heard that it extends to the Sioux and other
northern Indians, but have no positive warrant of
the fact.
The man who marries the oldest daughter of a
躞
​202
PATHETIC APPEAL.
family, by fair and open purchase from her father, has
a lien upon, and is entitled to the refusal of all the
other daughters, full sisters to his wife.
As they arrive at marriageable age, he has a right
to take them as wives if he sees fit, without paying
anything for them. If he declines them their owner-
ship reverts to the father again, who can sell them to
whom he pleases.
If a man married to the oldest daughter signifies
his intention of taking her sister to wife when she is
old enough, and she should in the mean-time elope
with another man, the damages would be paid to the
brother-in-law, and not to the father.
An Arrapahoe chief, Yellow Bear, is married to
three sisters. Having married the oldest, the others
fell to him naturally by custom, as they became of
marriageable age, and without further payment.
In March, 1880, a Cheyenne woman appealed to
me against this custom. She was a widow with four
daughters. Eight years before a Cheyenne Indian
had married her oldest daughter. A few years after
he took the second, the third was taken when mar-
riageable, and now he demanded the fourth, a girl of
fourteen years.
The widow's appeal was pathetic.
"I have no son. This man has had three of my
daughters to wife. He has no children by any of
them. Now he wants my last daughter. He will
have no children by her, and I will go to my grave
knowing that I leave no posterity behind me."
I could do nothing, of course, army officers not be-
ing permitted to have any say in Indian affairs, but I
suggested flight. This was shown to be impracti-
cable, and I gave up the case when I found that the
PROTECTION OF THE ROPE.
203
man intended to take the girl by force, and that the
girl herself, having no other lover, was ready and
willing to be taken.
The concentration of large numbers of Indians of
different bands and tribes on comparatively restricted
areas (reservations), while greatly increasing the
opportunities for love-making, has made no material
change in any of these customs. But the diminution
of the power of the chiefs, and the failure of the
United States Government to furnish any adequate
substitute, work greatly to the injury and demoraliza-
tion of the women. Under the tribal government a
man who outraged a girl was obliged to pay for and
take her to wife, under penalty of death. Now there
is no punishment. The only protection that any
woman has, is that derived from the custom of "rop-
ing" herself, and the fear lest the father or husband
might execute his right of revenge on the perpetrator
of an outrage on the woman so "roped."
CHAPTER XVI.
INDIAN WOMEN
THEIR VIRTUES AND VICES
LIFE IN AN INDIAN LODGE.
The Life of an Indian Woman Where the Bead and Feather Work
Comes From A "Model" Wife
—
Wife A Squaw's Right — Seeking a
New Husband-How the Custom Originated - The Go-Between
Secret Conferences Winning the Affections of Another Man's Wife
- Scandal in the Camp - The Old Warrior's Darling-Flight with a
Youthful Admirer - The Honey-Moon - Housekeeping in a Friendly
Teepo - A Dark Day-A Terrible Punishment - Tickling a Girl's
Vanity Liaisons Among the Arrapahoes - Curious Safeguards—
The Story of Powder Face — A Notable Couple — A Precocious Young
Rascal- First-Class Sensation- Madmen and Idiots- A Professional
Tramp - His Capture by Hostile Sioux.

для
HE life of an Indian woman is a round
of wearisome labor. Her marriage is
only an exchange of masters, and an
exchange for the worse, for the duties
devolved upon a girl in the parental
lodge are generally of the lightest
kind. She may be required to assist
in the cooking, in making or repairing
the lodge, to make and mend clothing, and
most of the elaborate ornamental bead and feather
work comes from her hand. All her labors, however,
are in or near the family lodge, and where she is
immediately under the eyes of her parents. For an
unmarried girl to be found away from her lodge alone,
is to invite outrage, consequently she is never sent out
to cut and bring wood, nor to take care of the stock.
204
A GOOD WIFE.
205
She may sometimes be required to go with her mother
on these errands and duties, or to work with her in
the fields, but as a rule all the hard out-door work
devolves on the married women.
The pride of the good wife is in permitting her hus-
band to do nothing for himself. She cooks his food,
makes and mends his lodge and his clothing, dresses
skins, butchers the game, dries the meat, goes after
and saddles his horse.
When making a journey she strikes the lodge,
packs the animals, cares for all the babies, and super-
intends the march, her lord and master, who left camp
long before her, being far off in front or flank looking
after game.
On arriving at the camping-place, she unpacks the
animals, pitches the lodge, makes the beds, brings
wood and water, and does everything that is to be
done, and when her husband returns from his hunt, is
ready to take and unsaddle his horse.
What she gets in exchange for all this devotion it
is impossible to say, but whether from ignorance of
any better fate, or from constant occupation, it is
absolutely certain that a happier, more light-hearted,
more contented woman cannot be found.
The husband owns his wife entirely. He may
abuse her, beat her, even kill her without question.
She is more absolutely a slave than any negro before
the war of the rebellion, for not only may herself, but
her person be sold or given away by her husband
at his pleasure and without her consent.
In spite of all this the women are not without their
weight and influence, not only in their own house-
hold, but in all the affairs of the tribe, and though not
permitted even to enter the council lodge, they are
206
CURIOUS RIGHT OF MARRIED WOMEN.
very frequently "the power behind the throne," direct-
ing and guiding almost without knowing it them-
selves.
The custom in the Plains tribes which makes every
man in the tribe a possible suitor for the hand of
every woman, though either or both may be already
married, is so at variance with all established ideas of
what savages regard as "the rights of woman;" is so
entirely unparalleled among other savage races of
mankind, that I have devoted unusual time and care to
its study, more especially from the fact that the custom
is not mentioned, so far as I know, by any writer on
the North American Indians.
This custom gives to every married woman of the
tribes the absolute right to leave her husband and
become the wife of any other man, the sole condition.
being that the new husband must have the means to
pay for her.
How the savage Indian with his utter lack of any
sense of justice to woman, his mere slave, could
have permitted such an act to grow into a custom, is
one of the curiosities of mental progression.
We may naturally suppose that it arose at first
from the tendency of the chiefs to take to their
bosoms the handsome wives of the commoners of the
tribes. They probably paid for them liberally, and
the bereaved husband was obliged to be satisfied.
The new wives did not lose, but gained standing and
position.
The example of chiefs was followed, and thus, what
at first were mere acts of rapine, became firmly
engrafted on the tribes by custom.
However it may have originated, it is certain that
this custom exerts a most beneficial influence in ameli-
CHANGE OF HUSBAND.
207
orating the condition of the women. Abject slave as
the wife is, she has, if moderately good-looking or
having a fair reputation as a worker, a sure remedy
against all conjugal ills, in being able to leave her
husband for any other man who will take her and pay
for her.
The transfer of devotion and allegiance of women
to other men than their rightful owners, is not an
unusual occurrence among the Plains Indians. It
may come from ill treatment on the part of the hus-
band, or from what our civilization would term "an
affinity," an ordinary love affair.
A woman is ill treated by, or lives unhappily with
her husband. She secures the services of some
friendly and cautious old woman of the tribe, secrecy
being most essential, the husband having a perfect
right to kill the wife should he suspect what is going
on. The old woman sounds the warriors, and finding
one willing to take and pay for the woman, the affair
is accomplished.
Or a man has taken a fancy to another man's wife.
He makes his advances, is met by encouragement,
and, after a siege more or less protracted, wins her.
In either case, the husband wakes up some morn-
ing to find his wife gone. He searches for her
through the encampment and finds her in another
man's lodge, doing the ordinary work as if she
belonged there, and he is informed that she has
become the wife of that man.
Etiquette and custom prevent his saying a word to
the new husband, or to upbraid or injure the woman.
He has but one recourse. He immediately proceeds
to the chief and states his grievance. One or two
prominent old warriors are summoned. They and
}
208
THE CHIEF'S WIFE.
the chief examine into the case and assess the dam-
ages,
somewhat in accordance with the actual market
value of the woman, but more usually by simply con-
sidering the relative wealth of the two men.
If a
rich man takes a poor man's wife he would probably
be heavily assessed; while the poor man who took
the rich man's wife would get off with a compar-
atively small bill of costs.
There is no appeal from the decision, and whatever
forfeit is declared must be paid at once. This done,
the affair is over. There is no wrangling or fighting,
and in every case, forfeit or none, the woman has the
right to remain with the man of her choice.
Should the wife of a chief change her allegiance,
nothing, as a rule, is said or done about it. The
chief is too great a man, too high and mighty, too
far removed from the common feelings of humanity,
to waste a moment's time or thought on so insignifi-
cant a thing as a woman.
His runaway wife may be in the same camp, in the
very next lodge; he may pass her every day, or even
chat with her when she comes to his lodge to see her
children, but no look or word from him will ever show
that he is aware that she has changed her allegiance.
With a custom giving her the absolute right to
change her husband at will, and with the temptation
arising from the constant approaches of all other
Indian men,
who, animal like, approach a female
only to make love to her, it is very remarkable
that so many are chaste, and that these exchanges
of husbands are the exception and not the rule.
The concession of the right to change takes from
most of them the temptation to avail themselves
of it.
:
A GRIM PRESENT.
209
The new husband must be prepared to pay at once
for the runaway woman whatever price is assessed
by the chief and old men. This rule is imperative,
and a failure to comply with this sole condition may
lead to most disastrous consequences, the abandoned
husband having the right to inflict death on the
absconding wife.
A young girl had become the third or fourth wife
of a man at least fifty years old. As was perhaps
natural, she became enamoured of a young warrior
who, not having the means to pay for her, persuaded
her to run away with him.
The elopement was successfully accomplished and
the young couple arrived at the encampment of
another band of the same tribe, where they set up
housekeeping as man and wife.
Some five or six months after the whole tribe was
called together for the "Medicine Dance." The old
man found his runaway wife and demanded either
that he be paid for her or that she be turned over
to him for punishment. The young man could pay
nothing and the girl was, by order of the chief,
delivered to her first husband. Seating her on the
ground he crossed her feet so that the instep of one
was directly over that of the other, and deliberately
fired a rifle ball through the two. He then formally
presented her to the young man, grimly remark-
ing,
"You need not fear that she will run away with
any other man."
Custom has given to the unmarried girls of the
tribes a somewhat similar right of self-protection
against arbitrary sale by their fathers. The girl is
sold. If, after two or three days, the husband's
14
210 MAKING LOVE TO A FRIEND'S WIFE.
entreaties have failed to make her his, she may
return to her father's lodge, who in this case, how-
is obliged to return to the purchaser the price
he paid for her.
ever,
I have known but few such cases, the reward
given the girl by her father in the shape of a most
outrageous whipping having the effect to discourage
such perverseness. Besides this, she knows that
after marriage she can leave her husband almost at
will, and it ministers to her vanity to know that her
father got an exceptionally good price for her.
I have been at pains to show that the Indian has
not only no moral code, but that he has not the faint-
est conception of an idea of moral obligation. This
is exemplified not only in their general customs, but
in their individual every-day life.
For the man there is no such word, no such idea, as
continence. He has as little control over his passions
as any wild beast, and is held to as little account-
ability for their indiscriminate gratification. Of all
the tribes that I know of, Indian men are the same.
No tribe visits any punishment on the lover. Every
man's right is to importune, to win, if possible; and
the attempt of one on the virtue of another's wife is
not at all incompatible with the closest and most inti-
mate friendship between the men. And what is more
singular, the friend may make the most violent love
to the wife, with every protestation of passion, and
every promise of love, devotion, constancy, and kind
treatment, in the immediate presence and hearing of
the husband, who, whatever he may feel, is debarred
by custom from noticing it in any way.
There is no single point in which tribes differ so
greatly as in the average chastity of their women.
RESULTS OF POVERTY.
211
The Cheyenne and Arrapahoe tribes occupy the
same territory, live together in the same camps, and
are constantly and intimately associated. The men
of the two tribes are identical in their habits of per-
sonal incontinence, but differ entirely in their ideas
of family government, and in the management of
their women.
Among the Arrapahoes infidelities are not specially
reprobated, even by the husband. Among the Chey-
ennes a discovery of such conduct would entail most
serious consequences, possibly death to the woman.
The result is remarkable. The Cheyenne women
are retiring and modest, and for chastity will com-
pare favorably with the women of any nation or peo-
ple. The Arrapahoe women, on the contrary, are
loose almost without exception.
Under tribal government the Plains tribes differed
very greatly in the punishment meted out to unfaith-
ful wives, that is those who entered into a "liaison"
while yet living with the husband, or those who by
neglect of some rule become culpable. In all tribes
the husband absolutely owns the wife, and may put
her to death, which, as before stated, was sometimes,
though rarely, done by the Cheyennes. The Co-
manches split their noses, while the Apaches and
Navahoes frequently cut that organ off entirely.
Since the almost utter impoverishment of the tribes
by the benignant action of the government, punish-
ment of the woman for infidelity is extremely rare.
The bereaved husband, whatever may be his feelings,
cannot afford the loss of so much valuable property.
He, therefore, sends the wife back to her father, and
gathers in from the lover whatever spoil he can lay
his hands on, the interference of the chief to assess
212
INDIAN LIAISONS.
damages not in this case being necessary. The
woman, though living in her father's lodge, is now
the property of the lover, and though he may not
take her to wife, she is obliged by custom to remain
faithful to him. He, therefore, keeps a close watch
on her, and should he discover her in a liaison with
another man, he proceeds to levy damages from that
man equal to those taken from himself by the rightful
husband. The ownership of the woman and duty of
watching her now devolve on the latest lover. I
have known several instances where a loose but
good-looking woman has thus passed through half a
dozen different ownerships, though all the time living
in the lodge of her father.
It must be understood that the women here spoken
of are those who enter into liaisons while yet living
with and presumably faithful to their husbands. It
is rare that the successful lover takes such an one to
wife, he naturally fearing that one lapse from fidelity
may be followed by another.
The exchange of husbands, as heretofore described,
is in no sense a violation of the rules of the strictest
chastity. It is customary, legitimate, and proper. It
is the woman's protection against tyranny. The
Cheyenne woman, being of a spirited, high-strung
race, is quick to resent the ill treatment or neglect of
one husband by taking another.
The Cheyennes and Arrapahoes have a curious
custom which also obtains, though to a limited extent,
among other of the Plains tribes. No unmarried
woman considers herself dressed to meet her beau at
night, to go to a dance, or other gathering, unless
she has tied her lower limbs with a rope, in such a
way, however, as not to interfere with her powers of
ROPING.
213
locomotion; and every married woman does the same
before going to bed when her husband is absent.
Custom has made this an almost perfect protection
against the brutality of the men. Without it, she
would not be safe an instant, and even with it, an
unmarried girl is not safe if found alone, away from
the immediate protection of her lodge.
A Cheyenne woman, either married or single, is
never seen alone. Though any man has the right to
assault her, she is required to protect herself, and this
can only be done by always having some one with
her.
The sale of a wife is not unusual, though becoming
less so every year. The Indians are very fond of
children, and anxious to have as many as possible.
Should the wife not bear a child in a reasonable time,
she is liable to be sold, and very likely with her own
full consent.
Should a husband sell a wife, by whom he has
children, which is now extremely rare, he generally
keeps the children, though I have heard of cases
where wife and children were sold together. The
possibility of separation from her children helps to
keep the wife in proper subjection, though neither
her sale, nor her voluntary abandonment of her hus-
band for another, as already described, prevents her
visiting or receiving visits from her children at
pleasure.
It is regarded as effeminate in a man to show any
special affection for his wife in public. A very nota-
ble exception to their habit in this particular is
"Powder Face," a prominent chief of the Arrapahoes,
a desperate and dangerous man, covered with scars,
and celebrated for the number of scalps he has taken,
214
POWDER FACE.
and the risks he has run. His wife is a woman of
average good looks, and of some thirty years of age.
They have been married about fifteen years, and have
no children. In spite of this, no two people could be
more devoted and apparently happy. Contrary to
custom he has but one wife, and she goes with him
everywhere, his most devoted and willing slave. He
will sit for hours before his lodge door combing her
hair, painting her face, petting and fondling her; con-
duct which would disgrace a less determined or well-
known warrior.
"Powder Face" has some other peculiarities some-
what inconsistent with Indian custom. When talking
to him one day about the Indian habit of making love
to each other's wives, I asked, "What would you do
if another Indian made love to your wife?" He
made no answer in words, but putting his hands to
his belt he seized the sheath of his knife, and turned
the handle towards me, putting on at the same time a
scowl of malignant determination that completed the
pantomime, and assured me that it would be very
unhealthy for any Indian to devote himself to that
woman.
Indians are gregarious, even the chief preferring
to have one or more families, besides his own, in his
lodge. These are generally relatives, or poor depend-
ants.
The ordinary estimate of the inhabitants of an
Indian village is three fighting men, or from twelve
to fifteen individuals to the lodge. When it is recol-
lected that even the very largest lodge is scarcely
over more than eighteen feet in diameter, and con-
tains but one room, some idea may be formed, not
only of its crowded condition, but of the utter lack of
A SHARP YOUTH.
215
privacy of the inmates, and consequently their entire
lack of modesty and delicacy, either in word or act.
The husband of one wife brings home another and
another. Each wife has a bed, in which she sleeps
with her smaller children, the husband generally
keeping the latest favorite to himself. I have never
heard of any serious difficulty or trouble between the
wives on that account, and the sentiment of jealousy
seems to be nearly wanting in the woman. The
devotion of a man to a new wife, or his infidelity to
them all, seems not to awaken the slightest feeling or
idea of resistance to so universal a custom. In their
sexual and marital relations, the Indians are scarcely
above the beasts of the field. They marry very young;
the youth as soon as he is fortunate enough to steal
horses enough to pay for a wife, or can persuade his
father to buy one for him.
About a year previous to this writing, the seven-
teen year old son of a prominent and wealthy chief
having been initiated as warrior, informed his father
that he wished to marry.
The fond and proud father immediately presented
him with quite a number of ponies, and told him to
look around and choose his wife. He went directly
to the father of a pretty girl, to whom he had already
been paying his addresses, after Indian fashion.
After some haggling, the price of the girl was
agreed upon, the youngster, however, making the un-
usual condition that the affair must be kept a profound
secret until a certain day, when he would bring the
ponies, and take away the girl. He then went to the
father of another girl and closed a bargain with him.
A third bargain was also consummated, all on the
same terms.
216
MARRIAGE OF YOUNG GIRLS.
The parents of the youth were informed that he
would be married on a certain day, but were kept in
profound ignorance as to the intended wife. How-
ever, a new and large teepe was provided by his
loving mother, and all arrangements made for a grand
marriage feast.
The day arrived. The precocious young rascal
drove up his herd of ponies, and proceeding to the
teepe of one of the fathers with whom he had bar-
gained, paid over a number of them and carried off
the girl. Then going to the teepe of the second and
the third he paid their prices, and returned to his
bridal teepe, minus ponies, but bringing with him the
three prettiest girls in the village.
The affair caused the greatest sensation, all ap-
plauding his ingenuity and cunning. He became the
hero of the hour, and the old father was so tickled
that he gave him another supply of ponies, to enable
him to begin his married life in style suitable to his
birth and talents.
Girls generally marry very soon after the age of
puberty, the father as a rule being anxious to realize
her value, and the girl, with true feminine instinct in
these matters, wishing to be a woman and have a
husband as soon as possible.
Sometimes a father gets "hard up" and has to sell
his girls while they are yet mere children. These
are bought up cheap by well-to-do bucks, who give
them, even while mere children, all the rights and
privileges as wives.
San-a-co, a Comanche chief, and the best Indian
from our standpoint I have ever known, had as wife
a pretty little maid of ten years, of whom he was
very fond.
WIDOWS AND ORPHANS.
217
In March, 1880, "Red Pipe," a Cheyenne, sold his
little unformed daughter of eleven years, to be the
wife of a man old enough to be her grandfather;
and I have known several other warriors who have
mere children as their third or fourth wives.
Either from lack of suitable food, or the constant
drudgery of her hard life, the Indian woman, though
perfectly healthy, is not prolific. The mother of even
four children is very rare, and many women are bar-
ren. The average in most bands is scarcely more
than two children to each woman; while some lodges,
even where there are several wives, are childless.
The widows and orphans.of a tribe are cared for
after a fashion by the "dog-soldiers," who, in the
general division of meat and skins, set aside a por-
tion for their maintenance. This, when buffalo were
plenty, was sufficient for their wants; but the present
scarcity of game and scanty issues of the Indian
Department cause no little suffering among this
class.
Among the Plains tribes a woman, on the death of
her husband, becomes not only herself free, but the
owner of her female children as property, provided
that no man has gained a lien on them by marrying
the oldest daughter. The sons are independent, but
are obliged to support the mother and sisters, if old
enough, or if they have no families of their own.
The widows are like their white sisters in their
aversion to the sweets of single blessedness, and, if
at all young and good-looking, are soon married
again. The old and ugly, who have no sons to sup-
port them, not unfrequently purchase for themselves
a husband by giving over to him the ownership of
their daughters, not as wives, but as so much sale-
218
A CHIEF'S PLEA.
able property. The life of an Indian woman, who
has a husband to provide for and take care of her,
is so much more secure from insult and outrage, so
much freer from the chance of hunger and want,
that every woman greatly prefers even the annoy-
ance of a bad husband to the precarious hazards of
widowhood.
A grave trouble to the Indians, and one of which
I have heard many complaints, is the number of
widows and orphans left on their hands by white
men. The Indians have this whole matter in their
own hands, having but to prohibit their women from
marrying white men. But this is not at all to their
taste. A father can get for his daughter possibly
twice as much from a white man as an Indian would
pay, and he sells at the highest price. To prohibit
his selling his own property would be regarded as an
invasion of his most sacred and vested rights. Having
sold and got his price, he feels himself relieved of all
responsibility regarding her. She should henceforth
be supported by the husband; and the father regards
it as a hardship, an outrage, a real cause of complaint,
to be obliged, even partially, to assist in the support
of a woman, his own daughter, sacrificed by his
cupidity to a man whom he knew would abandon her
sooner or later.
At the very important council at North Platte in
1867, one of the chiefs spoke feelingly on this subject.
He said that his tribe was poor and could not support
the widows and orphans left on their hands by white
men, and begged that special provision might be
made by the Government for them.
One old childless widow was earnestly recom-
mended to particular consideration. Subsequent
MASSACRE OF LIEUT. KIDDER'S COMMAND. 219
examination of her claims disclosed the following
facts, remarkable even among the many curious and
wonderful Plains histories.
The spring and summer of 1867 had seen a suc-
cession of raids, plunderings and murders. All the
Plains tribes were "on the war path,” making a last
desperate effort for the preservation of their favorite
hunting grounds, the country between the South
Platte and Arkansas Rivers, commonly known as the
Republican Country. Custer with a considerable
force was operating between the Kansas Pacific Rail-
road and the Platte River. It was necessary to
communicate with him. Lieutenant Kidder and thir-
teen men of the 2nd Cavalry, with "Red Bead," a
friendly Sioux chief, as guide, were sent from Fort
Sedgwick to intercept him. The Lieutenant was
very wary and used every precaution against sur-
prise, making no camps, but halting at uncertain
intervals to rest and refresh his men and animals. He
had, however, to deal with "Pawnee Killer," the most
redoubtable of all the hostile chiefs, and from whom
this account comes.
One night Lieutenant Kidder marched until nearly
morning, then halted, and, without making fires or
unsaddling, allowed his exhausted men to lie down
and sleep. Pawnee Killer, who was attending him
like a fate, crawled with a large force on to the sleep-
ing men, and just at dawn, one volley sent every
sleeper, save two, to his long account. These two
men were a corporal and "Red Bead." The corporal
sprung to his feet, pistol in hand, and as the enemy
rushed upon him, fired two shots, killing the two
Indians in advance.
riddled with bullets.
Before he could do more he was
"Red Bead" ran, was pursued,
*
220
MARRIAGE OF RELATIONS.
and, in spite of his Indian cunning and endurance,
was overtaken and killed.*
The two men killed by the corporal in his last gal-
lant effort, were the half-breed sons of the old widow
by a trapper who had abandoned her twenty years
before. By their courage, ferocity and cunning, these
two half-breeds had gained great influence among the
tribe, and their companions vented their rage on the
lifeless bodies of their white victims, by unusual muti-
lation and barbarity; and hoping forever to torment
their souls, left the head unscalped, but transfixed the
bodies with arrows innumerable.
Some time afterwards the remains were found by
troops, and properly buried.
In looking for a wife the man is careful to select
one who has no blood relationship to himself. A man
who would marry a whole lodge full of sisters will
not think for an instant of marrying his own cousin,
even though twice removed. The relationship of first
cousin is regarded as almost the same as brother and
sister, and the affection of these close relationships is
very warm and tender.
It is a very remarkable fact, as showing the
utter want of chivalrous feeling among Indians,
that though the brother may love his sister most
tenderly, he never, under any circumstances, inter-
feres to protect her from insult, or to avenge her
outrage by other bucks.
There are very few madmen or idiots among the
Indians. They are never confined or maltreated,
but, being looked upon as directly under the malevo-
lent influence of the Bad God, are rather avoided.
Some years ago a gentleman, now a prominent
scientist, was in pursuit of knowledge on the Upper
* Sec note on page 223.

J.ETAL
THE FATE OF LIEUT. KIDDER AND HIS ENTIRE COMMAND-DISCOVERY OF THEIR BODIES.
A SCIENTIFIC LUNATIC.
223
Missouri. In spite of the remonstrances of his friends
and the captain, he insisted on being put off the
steamboat, that he might walk across a great bend
which it would take the boat some days to go
around.
In a country full of hostile Sioux, without a
blanket or mouthful to eat, he started alone, armed
only with his butterfly net and loaded only with
his pack for carrying specimens. One day, when
busily occupied, he suddenly found himself sur-
rounded by Indians. He showed no fear, and was
carried to the village. His pack was found loaded
with insects, bugs, and loathsome reptiles.
Indians decided that a white man who would come
alone into that country unarmed, without food or
bedding, for the accumulation of such things, must
be crazy; so, the pack having been destroyed as
"bad medicine," the doctor was carefully led out
of camp and turned loose.
The
NOTE. The story of the "Kidder Massacre," as given on page 219,
was told me by the Cheyenne Chief Turkey Leg in the fall of 1867. It
is now known that the details are utterly untrue. I give this version as
an evidence how cunningly the Indian can lie, when he has a purpose to
serve, and because the truth can now do no good, and would needlessly
harrow the feelings of the friends of the victims. The facts in the case
are detailed in Custer's "Life on the Plains."
CHAPTER XVII.
INDIAN NAMES, TITLES, AND EPITHETS THEIR
MEANING AND SIGNIFICANCE.
Bear"
66
— J
THE TOTEM.
Indian Idea of their Origin — Traditions — The Family Coat of Arms
The Totem, and What It Is Surnames Pet Names - Titles -
Nicknames — Palpable Hits - The Original "Punch”-Odd Traits
and Fancies Indicated by Names - Why Indians Name Themselves
Curious Titles White Eagle” -"Lone Wolf" "Yellow
"Powder Face" “Man-Afraid-of-His-Horses " Loafing
“Jims" and Indolent "Tonys - Unblushing Beggary — Effect of
Incident and Adventure An Ill-Fated Expedition- An Unsolved
Mystery - The Place of Lost Souls — The Great American Bull-
Whacker" The " Picketwire ""
-Indian Nicknames of Army Offi-
Ridiculous Appellations Gray Beard General Crook's
Indian Name - Why they Call Him "The Gray Fox."
cers
oro
""
66

HE recognition of relationships may be
regarded as the first broad step be-
tween the lower reason of the animal
and the higher reason of the man. An
animal brings its offspring into exist-
ence, cares for it until maturity, then
dismisses it, to become in time the pos-
sible mate of parents, brothers or sisters.
Man alone recognizes relationships, and this
distinctive feature is discovered even among the most
debased of the race.
Very few tribes of North American Indians have
any tradition as to the origin of creation; almost all
have traditions as to the origin of families. Some of
224
THE TOTEM.
225
the tribes on our extreme northern frontier are said
to believe that the whole tribe is the miraculous result
of the intercourse of some god or spirit with some
animal, bird, fish, or reptile, but this belief is not at
all general. As a rule, they recognize the fact that
the tribe is a mere aggregation of families, each one
of which, however, firmly believes that it thus de-
scended from some one of the lower order of creation.
Even in the most barbarous of these tribes each family
has such a tradition of origin, and evinces more or
less pride of blood.
The representation of that animal, bird, or reptile
becomes the "coat of arms" of the whole family. Its
skin, carefully stuffed, bedecked with ornaments and
feathers, is tied to a staff and carried about in the
hand on grand full-dress occasions. In good weather
it is frequently stuck up in front of the door of the
lodge, and when the head of the family dies it is
suspended to the top of a strong, high pole, which
is firmly planted beside his grave. It is the family
crest, the title of honor, the symbol of its ancestry
and descent, and whatever may be the name of the in-
dividual of that family, his signature is a rude repre-
sentation of the creature to which he believes he owes
his origin.
This is the Totem. It is not a mystery, and has no
religious meaning or significance. It must not be
confounded with the "Medicine-bag," which is purely
religious, and the contents of which are a secret be-
tween the Indian and his gods.
Like the Jews of the Old Testament, Indians have
no surnames. Among the Jews, individuals were
identified by being members of one or other of twelve
tribes; among Indians, they are identified as belong-
226
NICKNAMES.
ing to one or other of the comparatively few families
into which the tribes are divided. Were it not for
this arrangement it would be, in the absence of sur-
names, an almost impossibility for them to keep track
of their relationships. The splitting of tribes into
two or more bands, as described in Chapter II., re-
sults also in splits in families; and at the present
time, in tribes which have no tradition of former rela-
tionships, there will be found families having the same
totem, indicating a common descent, and these recog-
nize relationships to each other.
In the matter of names, Indians are a very peculiar
people. A man may have a dozen names, or no name
at all. He may name himself, or be named by his
companions.
The male child is called by some diminutive or pet
name, sometimes expressive of the pride and affection
of the father, but more commonly something equiva-
lent to the "Toodelums" and "Tweetlebugs" of fond
white fathers and mothers. This is his name in his
own family. By others he is spoken of as "the son
of so-and-so,” or he may be given a name by his boy
companions, either in admiration or derision.
All the world knows the fondness of boys for be-
stowing nicknames, and the Indian boy is no excep‐
tion. But, a nickname, to stick, must be palpably
applicable or appropriate to the character or some
peculiarity of the person named.
At a school or
college a fourth or possibly half of each class will have
nicknames, the others not.
So the nicknames given by Indian boys do not al-
ways stick, and I have met several full-grown war-
riors who have no names, and are known only as their
father's sons.
HOW NAMES ARE ADOPTED.
227
On his initiation as warrior, which to him is a cere-
mony equivalent to baptism among Christians, he
has the right to name himself, and from this time
he has the right, and it is his custom, to change his
name after every successful raid or expedition, each
change of name being expressive of the fullest appre-
ciation of his own importance and exploits.
These names are intended to be expressive of some
particular action or situation, and are generally adapt-
ed to a real or fancied resemblance of the actor to the
known habits of animals or birds with which they are
familiar. Thus a warrior who, brought to bay, has
beaten off his enemies, names himself the "Standing
Bull;" another who makes a dash on a camp or vil-
lage, and carries off a woman or child, calls himself
the "Eagle;" yet another, who goes off alone, and
prowling about the enemy's camp, returns with stories
or evidence of successful rapine, names himself
"Lone Wolf." The paint used on all these expedi-
tions has more or less potent influence on the "medi-
cine," and he does not forget its efficacy, conse-
quently many names indicate not only the action, but
the color of his paint. The most common names,
therefore, among Indians, are those indicating some
animals or material object as a sort of surname, while
the color with which he has bedecked himself furnishes
the first, or what we would call the Christian name;
as "Yellow Bear,”
""White Eagle," "Black Beaver,"
୧୯ Red Dog," etc., etc.
But these changes of name, though gratifying to
his own vanity, are not always accepted by his com-
panions or the tribe generally. Even the most re-
nowned warriors cannot always control the disposition
to ridicule or nickname, which the Indians possess in
15
228
GIRLS' NAMES.
a remarkable degree, and however he may name him-
self, he is likely to be addressed, known, and spoken
of by the people of the tribe by an entirely different
name.
Any personal defect, deformity of character, or
casual incident furnishing ground for a good story, is
eagerly seized upon as a fit name. "Powder Face,"
the war chief of the Arrapahoes, has won, in well fought
combats and desperate ventures, the right to adopt a
dozen names, yet he is known to all Plains tribes, and
to the whites, by the title which was given him from
having his face badly burned by an explosion of
powder when he was a young man.
"Man-afraid-of-
his-horses," received, it is said, his name from hav-
ing, on the occasion of an attack on his camp by
hostile Indians, saved his horses but left his family in
the hands of the enemy.
Some of these names are expressive of early indis-
cretions, as "Pa-ha-yu-ka;" others of utter contempt,
as "Mu-la-que-top;" but it is a curious fact that, how-
ever unworthy, vulgar, or opprobrious the title by
which a warrior is commonly known in his tribe, he is
sure in his maturer years to acquiesce in and ac-
cept it.
Girls are named by their mothers, and frequently
have fanciful titles indicating something that the
mother may think worthy of commemoration, as the
Hebrew women of the Old Testament named their
children. This name in the family is liable to be
lengthened by affectionate diminutives, or contracted
into a nickname, but it is not changed as the names
of boys.
Married women do not take the names of their hus-
bands, or change their names in any way. There are
BEAUTIFUL INDIAN NAMES.
229
no equivalents for Mr. or Mrs., and in her name, title
or designation, there is nothing to show whether a
woman is single or married.
When on reservations, or thrown into close contact
with whites, the Indian is prone to adopt some "white"
name, and at every military post near a reservation
there is always a lazy lot of "Jims," "Bills," "Franks "
or "Tonys" loafing as an occupation, and living by
the most unblushing beggary.
Almost every river, creek, spring, permanent water-
hole, mountain or prominent landmark, has a name
given to it, not only by the tribe in whose country it
is, but by those who raid into that country.
In most
cases, they are named from some peculiarity, incident,
or adventure. These names in the soft language of
the Dacotas are oftentimes very beautiful. "Minni”
in this language means water; "Minni-ha-ha" is
"laughing or frolicsome water," given to all falls and
cascades; "Minni-cot-ta" is "warm water," and one
of the bands takes its name from the fact that it was
once nearly destroyed by a waterspout, "Minni-con-
jou," "drowned with water."
In some cases, the striking and beautiful Indian
names are retained, but in the large majority of in-
stances the names on the map, and by which they are
known to the whites, are either crude translations of
the Indian names or such others as happen to suggest
themselves to the army officer who first makes the
survey of the country. The consequence is, that the
maps are crowded with "Sand Creeks," "Deer
Creeks," "Walnut Creeks," etc., etc.
A curious and interesting story was told me by an
old Mexican, apropos to the name of what is known
on our map as the "Purgatory River."
230
THE PICKETWIRE.
When Spain owned all Mexico and Florida, the
Commanding Officer at Santa Fé received an order to
open communication with Florida. An Infantry Regi-
ment was selected for this duty. It started rather late
in the season, and wintered at a place which has been
a town ever since, and is now known as Trinidad. In
the spring, the colonel, leaving behind all camp fol-
lowers both men and women marched down the
stream which flows for many miles through a magnifi-
cent cañon. Not one of the regiment returned or
was ever heard of after, their fate being shrouded in
mystery.
When all hope had departed from the wives, children
and friends, left behind in Trinidad, information was
sent to Santa Fé, and a wail went up through the land.
The priests and people called this stream, "El rio de
las animas perdidas," "The River of the lost Souls."
Years after, when the Spanish power was weakened
and Canadian French trappers permeated the coun-
try, they adopted a more concise name. The place of
lost souls being purgatory, they called the river "Le
Purgatoire." Then came the "Great American Bull-
whacker," he whose persistent efforts opened and
maintained the enormous trade between Santa Fé and
St. Louis. Utterly unable to twist his tongue into
any such Frenchified expression, he called the river
the "Picketwire,” and by this name it is known to all
frontiersmen and to the settlers on its banks.
As a rule each tribe has its own name for the
larger rivers of the plains, though some are said to
have names common to all those tribes who live near
or occasionally visit them.
The following are the Cheyenne names of some of
the larger Plains streams:-
1
English Name.
Kansas.
Arkansas.
Mi-on-i-on.
NAMING WHITES.
Cheyenne Name.
Translation.
Bluff.
Mit-sun.
Big.
Cimarron.
Ho-to-oa-oa.
Buffalo.
North Fork.
Hon-ne-o.
Wolf.
Canadian.
Mai-om.
Washita.
O-ke-a-a.
Red.
Ma-ka-mis-sa-va.
Red.
Lodge-pole.
Big-sand.
Rio Grande.
Missouri.
Wo-po-mots.
Tsis-ta-to-e-c.
Salt.
Steamboat.
231
Every white man of consequence, with whom the
Indian comes in contact, secures a name suggested by
his occupation or some personal peculiarity. The
commanding officer of a post is always "the big
chief," the Quartermaster the "mule chief," and the
Commissary "the chuck-chief," but the other officers
come in for a full share of ridiculous names, as "long
beard,” “gray beard," " bald head," "crooked leg,” etc.
On his campaigns with, and against Indians,
General Crook always wears a full suit of gray.
This taken in connection with his wiliness, has sug-
gested his name, and he is known to all Indians as
the "Gray Fox."
CHAPTER XVIII.
EVERYDAY INDIAN LIFE SIGHTS AND SCENES IN
INDIAN HOMES, TEEPES, AND WINTER CAMPS.
66
How
An Indian Teepe How it is Made The "Wicky-Up" — Its Con-
struction — Teepe Furnishings — Beds that are Never Made Up"
Meal Hours - The Luxury of Baker's Bread — Indian Hospitality —
The First Chance at the Pot - Scenting a Dinner from Afar-Enter-
taining You To-day and Taking Your Scalp To-morrow
Indians Select a Camping-Place-Looking Out for Danger-The
“Public Square" and Crier - Selecting a Site for the Winter Camp
An Indian Village — General Custer's Exploit - His Fortunate
Escape A Cold-Blooded Ruffian Paid by the Scalp" -Two
Hundred and Fifty Scalps at One Fight - Days and Nights of Feast-
ing and Revelry - Love Rules the Camp"-Sketches from Life.
64
66

HE habitations of the Indians are con-
structed in many different ways, vary-
ing with the necessities or the state of
advancement of the tribe. Each par-
ticular style of structure has a name of
its own, in Indian language, but all
are comprehended in the English word
"lodge."
The ordinary home of most of the Plains
Indians is called by them a "teepe." It is a
conical tent, made of dressed buffalo skins, or of
late years of cotton cloth, supported on a framework
of light peeled poles, spread out at the bottom
in a circle, and crossed near the top. It is from
twelve to eighteen feet in diameter, and from twelve
to fifteen feet high. The covering, of whatever ma-
+
1
232
PITCHING A TEEPE.
233
terial, is cut into the form of a cone, and sewed
tightly, except one straight seam from top to bottom,
which is fastened by a lacing from the top to within
four or five feet of the ground. The opening thus left
is the doorway, the door itself being a buffalo robe or
piece of cloth, fastened above, and left to hang loose,
except in bad weather, when it can be tightly stretched
by thongs attached to the lower corners.
From its size and weight the teepe would seem to
be an unwieldy arrangement, little adapted to con-
venience of moving; but it is really remarkable how
easily and quickly it is put up or taken down by those
accustomed to its use. The ground being selected,
the teepe is spread out upon it. Three poles are
loosely tied together near the smaller ends, and thrust
under the covering, passed through the orifice in the
top, raised upright, and the lower ends spread out as
far as possible. A rope or thong attached to the
top of the covering is then thrown over the place of
crossing of the poles. One woman pulls on the end
of this rope (exactly as a sailor in setting a sail),
while another widens the tripod of poles until the
covering is stretched vertically and laterally. The
other poles are then carried in one by one, the small
end thrust through the top opening, is laid against
the point of crossing of the first three, the large end
being carried out as far as possible. When all the
poles are in, they are arranged equidistant, in a sym-
metrical circle, stretching the covering as tightly as
possible. A few wooden pins driven into the ground
through slits in the bottom of the covering, on the
outside, and the teepe is pitched.
When it is to be taken down all the loose poles are
carried out, the rope holding the covering in place is
234
TEEPE ORNAMENTATION.
loosened, the lower ends of the poles forming the tri-
pod are brought near to each other, and the covering
comes down of its own weight. Two quick-working
women can put up a teepe in five minutes, and take it
down in three.
All well-constructed teepes have an arrangement to
prevent the wind from blowing directly down through
the opening in the top. This varies with the tribe or
inventive genius of the particular Indian. Sometimes
it is a sort of winged cap, managed from below by a
complicated system of strings. Ordinarily, it is simply
a deer skin or piece of cloth fastened to, and between,
two poles, which are laid against the teepe in such a
way that the screen is partially above and on the
windward side of the lodge. It is easily managed,
and readily shifted with the wind.
The teepes of buffalo hide, now rare except among
the northern Plains Indians, were frequently elabo-
rately ornamented with paintings representing the re-
markable achievements of the head of the lodge, or
sometimes with representations of various kinds, sup-
posed to be efficacious in keeping away evil spirits.
The fire is built in the centre, and the smoke is
supposed to escape through an aperture in the top.
The draught is, however, very defective, and the
teepe is usually, whenever a fire is built, too full of
smoke to be bearable to any but an Indian.
The teepe is most admirably adapted to the wants
and necessities of the Indians. Its shape secures it
from being overturned by wind and storms, and it can
be kept warm and comfortable, even in the coldest
weather, by very little fuel, a most important desid-
eratum on the treeless Plains.
The other kind of lodge is called a "wicky-up." It
THE WICKY-UP.
235
Is a temporary hut, constructed of small, fresh-cut
poles or wands, the large ends stuck in the ground,
the small ends bent over and fastened together. This
framework is scarcely ever more than three or four
feet high, and it is covered with skins, blankets, or
cloths. The teepe is the permanent residence of the
Indian, the wicky-up the make-shift sleeping-place on
hunts and marches. No matter how tired after the
day's march; no matter what may be the pressing ne-
cessities of advance or retreat; no matter if intending
to remain in camp but a few hours, the Plains Indian
never, under any circumstances, sleeps in the open
air. He must be protected from above, and if pos-
sessing but one blanket, he will make his framework,
spread the blanket over it, and sleep on the bare
ground, even in the coldest weather. Whether this
is superstition or a habit derived from long experi-
ence I am unable to say, though I think it originated
in a fear of evil spirits. When asked about it, they
curtly reply that it is "not good to sleep out."
An Indian out alone will build for himself such a
lodge, not larger than a dog-kennel, so small, in-
deed, that it seems impossible for a man to get into it.
In cold weather he will build a true Indian fire in the
centre of the small space, and curl himself contentedly
around it. I have examined hundreds of these little
wicky-ups, and always with increased wonder as to
how the Indian managed to get into and sleep in it
without knocking down the whole affair. Larger
parties are equally economical of space, or labor,
and I have often had my credulity tested by being
assured by my Indian guide that ten, twelve, or
more Indians slept in a wicky-up, which I could have
declared would not hold scarcely half the number.
236
AN INDIAN BEDSTEAD.
The Omaha Indians make a lodge by planting
forked poles in the ground in a square or rectangle.
Other poles are laid on these forks, and on these light
wands, on which are fastened skins, cloths, blankets —
anything that will keep out rain, (no easy matter, as they
are too ignorant to give sufficient pitch to these roofs).
The sides or walls are formed of mats made of peeled
willow wands woven together with strings. When
camp is moved, these mats are taken down, rolled into
small compass, and packed on ponies.
The lodge of the Osages is almost exactly the
shape of a wagon with its bows. Slender poles are
set in the ground parallel to each other, at proper in-
tervals, then bent over and tied together. Cross
pieces sufficient to make the structure firm are then
tied on. This frame, which is from twelve to twenty
feet long by six to eight wide, is entirely covered with
a cloth in one piece, like a wagon-cover, a flap being
left for a door. When moving camp, they take only
the cloth.
From the brush shelter of the Digger, the log and
mud huts of the Navahoes, to the elaborate and com-
plicated piles of the Pueblos, almost every kind of
lodge common to savage life can be found among the
North American Indians.
The beds of the Plains Indians are piles of buffalo
robes and blankets spread on the ground as close as
possible to the outer circumference of the teepe. Of
late years, the more wealthy make a bedstead by driv-
ing forks into the ground, and constructing on them
a platform of poles a few inches high. This, however,
takes up precious room, and is only found in teepes
occupied by a few persons.
Nearly all the Plains Indians use pillows when at
INDIAN FURNITURE.
237
home in their teepes. They were formerly made al-
most universally of a rolled buffalo robe. Now they
are made of skins of some of the smaller animals
a fox or badger stuffed with grass, and some few
have seen enough of the comforts of civilized life to
cover them with cotton cloth. They use no sheets,
saying they are cold and unhealthy. The beds, how-
ever arranged, serve the double purpose of sleeping-
places by night and seats and lounges by day. They
are not "made-up," though on fine days the bedding
may be taken out, shaken, and spread in the sun.
The one room, serving for cooking, eating, living and
sleeping, for the reception of company and the loung-
ing place for dogs, soon becomes inconceivably filthy.
Except the bedding, the "par-fleche" trunks con-
taining the dried meat, extra clothing, finery, and
valuables, an iron pot or two, a kettle, a water-pail,
and a few tin cups, there is no furniture; nor is there
any attempt at order in thé arrangement of even these
few articles.
There are no regular hours for meals, nor is there,
as a rule, more than one meal a day. A pot or kettle
full of meat is put on the fire. When sufficiently
boiled it is placed in the centre of the floor, and the
inmates of the teepe, crowding around, help them-
selves with knives or fingers. Some few of the more
advanced now use tin or delf plates.
Until within a few years dried buffalo meat was
used almost universally in lieu of bread, but the issues
of flour, meal, and baking-powder by the Indian De-
partment have civilized them so far that bread is al-
most an absolute necessity, and many of the squaws
have learned to make quite good biscuits. They have
not yet learned the art of making baker's bread, but
238
HOSPITALITY.
they are very fond of it, begging or buying it when-
ever they come into a military post.
When the meal is finished, the pot is set aside, and
when any one gets hungry more than once a day, he
goes without ceremony or formal preparation and
helps himself.
They are hospitable to each other, always, if they
have it, offering something to eat to visitors. If it is
known that there is anything specially good to eat in
any lodge, a lot of loafers will be sure to drop in,
whenever more than ordinary smoke indicates that
cooking is going on. These spongers always have
the first chance at the pot, the occupants of the teepe
contenting themselves with what is left.
Tea, coffee, and sugar are exceptions. These are
carefully hoarded for the use of the family, and given
only to distinguished visitors on grand occasions.
Strangers are always looked upon with suspicion.
Except when the tribe is actually at war, a stranger,
either white or Indian, may, by asking to see the chief,
gain access to any Indian village. Once inside its
limits, he is treated hospitably, and is safe; but there
is nothing of the Arab about the "Noble Red Man,"
and his giving you a good meal to-day will not pre-
vent his taking your scalp after you have left his
camp to-morrow.
The wealth of the Indian is in his horses and mules.
He has no taste or desire for the accumulation of
more or other things than are necessary for the wants
of his family for the time being.
Except in winter, the bands lead a nomadic life.
Every few days everything has to be packed and un-
packed, put on horses and taken off again, and the
women who have to do all this work, are very sure
SELECTION OF CAMP GROUNDS.
239
gradually to abandon all those things which can well
be spared.
All the clothing, finery, and smaller valuables, are
packed in the "par-fleches," which are easily handled,
but everything bulky and cumbersome, and not of ab-
solute necessity, is thrown away.
Another cause of their poverty is the necessity of
properly fitting out the dead for the journey to the
Happy Hunting Grounds. They must have cer-
tain articles, even if the living go without, and this
religious necessity keeps many families nearly impov-
erished in most articles of civilized manufacture.
Every tribe of Indians with which I am acquainted,
understands perfectly the art of selecting a camping-
place suited to its special necessities. To a novice
this may seem easy, but it is really so difficult that I
regard it as the final test of a Plainsman. To select
the best camp-ground, even for a night on the Plains,
requires a judgment, a "coup d'œil," a knowledge of
facts, and a consideration of possibilities possessed by
comparatively few men. A thousand questions involv-
ing the comfort and safety of the party must be
decided in a few moments, and as it were by instinct;
and that the Indians so invariably select the camp
best adapted to their wants, on that particular occa-
sion, evidences a superior order of intellect, or instinct.
Every party must not only take into consideration
its own comfort, and that of its stock, but all the dan-
gers to which they may be exposed, either from human
enemies or from the elements. A hunting-party
chooses other ground than would a war party, and
each in making its selection, must combine its objects
and intentions with all the surrounding possibilities.
The Apache, fearing man only, sacrifices every-
240
ARRANGEMENT OF CAMPS.
thing to that fear, and locates his rancheria on the
apparently inaccessible summit of some tall cliff,
to which his women must bring the scant supply of
water, by paths unknown to any but themselves.
I once followed a predatory party of Comanches
for more than thirty days, and the camp in which I
finally surprised them was the only camp made by
them in all that time that could have been approached
without discovery.
Except in winter, the situation of a camp indicates
something in reference to its occupants. Thus a camp
near water, but away from all timber, will probably
contain Sioux, who have a mortal dread of ambus-
cade; a camp on open prairie, but near timber, would be
of Cheyennes or Arapahoes; a camp prettily situated
among open timber, Kiowas or Comanches; while a
smoke issuing from the cover of a dense thicket, would
indicate the camp of Osages, Omahas, or Shawnees.
In the "good old times," when the dog-soldiers
ruled, the camps were arranged, not indeed with order,
but with some regard to convenience and the proper-
ties. The council-lodge, the teepes of the chiefs and
principal men, were pitched in a circle, enclosing a
space greater or less, according to the number of
lodges. This circle was the public square, from which
were made by crier all announcements of orders and
decisions of chiefs and council, notices of movements,
everything of public interest or necessary to be known
by all. This was the loafing and lounging place, the
place for strutting and bragging, for gambling or
trading horses, for war and ceremonial dances.
Irregularly straggling away from this general cen-
tre, and behind the teepe of each chief, were the lodges
of his followers, some good, some bad, some mere
CROWDED AND FILTHY.
241
wicky ups" of brush. They were pitched with refer-
ence to the ground, without streets or order, some
almost or quite touching, others some distance apart
The women of each lodge selected the ground on which
it was to stand, and not unfrequently the ownership of
a specially good place was decided by a bout at hair-
pulling. The men never interfered with any of these
feminine amusements, but sat apart, gravely discussing
the affairs of the tribe, or the possibility of stealing
some horses, or may be talking over the last camp
scandal, until their wives had gotten through their
quarrels, worry and turmoil, and had their lodges
ready for them.
At the present time, each petty chief or head of a
few lodges, selects his ground and has his teepe
pitched, his followers pitching around him without
order, and seemingly only bent on crowding him and
each other. With unlimited expanse of beautiful
ground on which to "locate," they almost invariably
place their lodges so close together, that nothing can
be said or done in one that is not known to all the oc-
cupants of the others.
We have a proverb that "no house is large enough
for two families." The Indians have not only two or
more families in the one room, but they so jam their
lodges together, that all may be said to occupy one
house. That all are not in one general and continu-
ous row argues a condition of feminine temper much
higher, or lower, than that accorded to civilization.
As there are no yards, fences, or outhouses of any
kind, an idea may be formed as to the privacy, de-
cency, and cleanliness of Indian life.
The winter camp is regarded by the Indian himself
as his true home. The excitement of war, of hunting,
242
SELECTION OF WINTER CAMP.
The reports of the scouts
closely questioned as to
of constant movement, is over, and he is now to settle
down to a period of almost complete inaction.
Experienced warriors have been sent to all the streams,
most loved by the tribe, and to make a thorough
examination of all the country.
When all have
returned a council is held.
are heard, and they are
shelter, wood, water, and grass or cotton-wood for
the ponies. As each locality has its champions, the
council sometimes debates the momentous question
for days, once in a while, even sending other warriors
to examine a favorite stream, about which, however,
there is now a difference of opinion.
•
It is not now a question of room for a compact camp,
but of the shelter furnished by the bluffs on each side
of the stream, of the amount of timber and wooded
thickets along its valley, of the sufficiency of grass
or cotton-wood to keep the ponies alive.
When the stream has finally been selected, all go
together. There is now no sort of attempt at order.
The lodges of the followers of a chief may be scattered
for miles, each taking advantage of the sheltered
nooks, formed by thickets or bluffs. Here a single
teepe is stuck away in a little corner, so hidden that
one might pass within a few yards without seeing it;
there two or three find room and shelter, there again
bluffs, and thickets, and bend of stream all favoring,
a dozen find comfortable lodgment.
The great
questions with each Indian are, shelter, convenience,
and feed for the ponies, and these questions are para-
mount, though the desire to keep as near to each
other as possible is apparent through all.
According therefore to the nature of the stream,
its bluffs and thickets, and level valley, will a winter

J.E.JAYLOR
GEN. CUSTER'S SURPRISE OF AN INDIAN CAMP OF OVER TWO THOUSAND WARRIORS.
This camp extended for more than twenty miles along the Washita River, and consisted of Cheyenne, Arrapahoe, Kiowa and Comanche Indians.
A COMPANY OF RUFFIANS.
245
camp be compact or scattered. One winter a camp
of one hundred and fifty lodges will occupy scarce a
mile, another winter it may be extended four, five, or
even six miles along the stream. Sometimes several
friendly tribes occupy the same stream, making an
immense camp.
On December 23, 1868, Custer attacked one end of
a camp of Cheyennes, Arrapahoes, Kiowas, and
Comanches, which extended for more than twenty
miles along the Washita River. It contained not less
than two thousand warriors, and he was exceedingly
fortunate in not then meeting the fate which after-
wards overtook him on the Little Big Horn.
Some years after the Mexican war, about fifty
American desperadoes, went to Chihuahua, and hired
themselves to the governor of that Mexican state, to
clear the country of the Apaches, who were devastat-
ing it. They organized themselves into a company
under the leadership of John Glanton, one of the most
notoriously cold-blooded ruffians that ever lived, and
in a very short time became such a terror to the
Indians, that they left the state entirely. As the
company was paid "by the scalp," this state of things
was not at all to its taste, and inquiries for Indians
were pushed in all directions.
The captain finally discovered that an immense
Apache winter camp was stretched along on the
American side of the Grand Cañon of the Rio Grande.
He attacked one end of this camp at daylight one morn-
ing, and so scattered were the Indians and so difficult
the ground, that his command took (it was said) over
two hundred and fifty scalps, of men, women, and
children, before the Indians could concentrate in
sufficient force to make it prudent for him to retire.
16
246
A HAPPY TIME.
To Indians at peace, and with food in plenty, the
winter camp is the scene of constant enjoyment.
After the varying excitements, the successes, and
vicissitudes, the constant labors of many months, the
prospect of the winter's peace and rest, with its home.
life and home pleasures, comes like a soothing balm
to all.
To those of the warriors who have passed the age of
passionate excitements, (who have reached the "whist-
age" of their English speaking contemporaries),
this season brings the full enjoyment of those
pleasures and excitements yet left to thein in life.
Their days are spent in gambling, their long winter
evenings in endless repetitions of stories of their
wonderful performances in days gone by, and their
nights in the sound sweet sleep vouchsafed only to
easy consciences.
The old women also have a good time. No more
taking down and putting up the teepe, no more
packing and unpacking the ponies. To bring the
wood and water, do the little cooking, to attend to the
ponies, and possibly to dress a few skins, is all the
labor devolved on them.
To the young of both sexes, whether married or
single, this season brings unending excitement and
pleasure. Now is the time for dances and feasts, for
visits and frolics, and merry-makings of all kinds, and
for this time, the "story-teller" has prepared and
rehearsed his most marvellous recitals. Above all, it is
the season for love-making. "Love rules the camp,"
and now is woman's opportunity.
Without literature, without music or painting as
arts, without further study of nature than is necessary
for the safety or the needs of their daily life, with no
READY FOR FUN.
247
knowledge or care for politics or finance, or the
thousand questions of social or other science, that
disturb and perplex the minds of civilized people, and
with reasoning faculties little superior to instinct,
there is among Indians no such thing as conversation
as we understand it. There is plenty of talk but no
interchange of ideas, no expression and comparison
of views and beliefs, except on the most commonplace
topics. Half a dozen old sages will be sitting around,
quietly and gravely passing the pipe, and apparently
engaged in important discussion. Nine times out of
ten, their talk is the merest camp tattle, or about a
stray horse, or sick colt, or where one killed a deer,
or another saw a buffalo track. All serious questions
are reserved for discussion in the council lodge, and
the ordinary mental activity of the Indian may be
estimated at zero.
During the pleasant months, he has constantly the
healthy stimulus of active life; during the winter he is
either in a state of lethargy, or of undue excitement.
During the day, in the winter season, the men gamble
or sleep, the women work or idle as suits each, but
the moment it gets dark, everybody is on the "qui-
vive," ready for any fun that presents itself. A few
beats on a tom-tom bring all the inmates of the
neighboring lodges, a dance or gambling bout is soon
inaugurated, and oftentimes kept up until nearly
morning.
The insufficiency and uncertainty of human happi-
ness has been the theme of eloquent writers of all
ages. I have a theory that every man's happiness is
lodged in his own nature, and is, to a certain extent
at least, independent of his external circumstances and
surroundings. These primitive people demonstrate
248
DOMESTIC FELICITY.
the general correctness of this theory, for they are
habitually and universally the happiest people I ever
saw. They thoroughly enjoy the present, make no
worry over the possibilities of the future, and "never
cry over spilt milk." It may be argued that their
apparent happiness is only insensibility, the happiness
of the mere animal, whose animal desires are satisfied.
It may be so. I simply state facts, others may
draw conclusions. The Indian is proud, sensitive,
quick-tempered, easily wounded, easily excited, but
though utterly unforgiving, he never broods. This
in my opinion, is the whole secret of his happiness.
In spite of that "dreadful institution" polygamy,
and the fact that the wives are mere property, the do-
mestic life of the Indian will bear comparison with
that of average civilized communities. The husband
as a rule, is kind; ruling, but with no harshness. The
wives are generally faithful, obedient, and industrious.
The children are spoiled, and a nuisance to all red
visitors. Fortunately, the white man, the "bug-a-
boo" of their baby days, is yet such an object of
terror as to keep them at a respectful distance. Among
themselves, the members of the family are perfectly
easy and unrestrained. It is extremely rare that there
is any quarrelling among the wives.
There is no such thing as nervousness in either sex.
Living in but the one room, they are from babyhood
accustomed to what would be unbearable annoyance
to whites. The head of the lodge comes back tired
from a hunt, throws himself down on a bed, and goes
fast to sleep, though his two or three wives chatter
around and his children tumble all over him. Every-
body in the lodge seems to do just as he or she pleases,
and this seems no annoyance to anybody else.
A BIRTH IN THE FAMILY.
249
Unlike her civilized sister, the Indian woman, "in
her hour of greatest need," does not need any one.
She would be shocked at the idea of having a man
doctor. Parturition is a matter of no concern or
trouble with her. In pleasant weather, the expectant
mother betakes herself to the seclusion of some
thicket; in winter she goes to a teepe provided in
each band for the women. In a few hours she returns
with the baby in its cradle on her back, and goes about
her usual duties as if nothing had happened.
They never wean their children, but continue to
nurse as long as the child wishes, or until another
comes.
CHAPTER XIX.
INDIAN SKILL AND HANDIWORK · OCCUPATIONS OF
CAMP AND LODGE.
—
In Winter Quarters — Preparations for War and the Chase — How
Indian Saddles and Bridles are made- The Mexican Device-
Fancy Reins The Art of Plaiting Horsehair-The Lariat and the
Lasso - How They are Made A Winter's Task - The Great Fall
Hunt-Scenes of Joy and Excitement - Preserved Buffalo - Real
Indian Bread -Skill in Dressing Skins-Family Heirlooms — The
Elkhorn Handle - A Priceless Treasure- A Suit of Deer-skin
Original Needlework - Spending a Year on a Single Garment
Bead Work - Beautiful Ornamentation - Behind the Plough - The
Indian Maiden of Fiction - Wrestling with the Sportive Hoe-A
Square Day's Work - The Chopping Match
The Chopping Match - Startling Facts.

ROM the account I have given of their
home life, some idea may be formed of
the ordinary occupations of Indians in
their natural condition.
Preparations for war or the chase oc-
cupy such hours of the winter encamp-
ment as the noble red man can spare from
gambling, love-making and personal adorn-
ment.
Each Indian must make for himself everything
which he cannot procure by barter, and the oppor-
tunities for barter of the more common necessities are
very few, the Indians not having even yet conceived
the idea of making any articles for sale among them-
selves.
250
251
•
ARTISTIC WORK.
The saddle requires much time and care in its con-
struction. Some Indians can never learn to make
one, consequently this is more an article of barter
than anything commonly made by Indians.
No single article varies so much in make and value
as the bridle. The bit is always purchased, and is of
every pattern, from the plain snaffle to the compli-
cated and cruel contrivance of the Mexicans. The
bridle of one Indian may be a mere head-stall of raw-
hide attached to the bit, but without frontlet or
throat-latch, and with reins of the same material, the
whole not worth a dollar; that of another may be so
elaborated by patient labor, and so garnished with
silver, as to be worth a hundred dollars.
The Southern Indians have learned from the Mexi-
cans the art of plaiting horsehair, and much of their
work is very artistic and beautiful, besides being won-
derfully serviceable. A small smooth stick of one-
fourth of an inch in diameter is the mould over which
the hair is plaited. When finished, the stick is with-
drawn. The hair used is previously dyed of different
colors, and it is so woven as to present pretty patterns.
This hair, not being very strong, is used for the head-
stall; the reins, which require strength, are plaited
solid, but in the same pattern, showing both skill,
taste and fitness.
The name "lariat" (Spanish, riata,) is applied by
all frontiersmen and Indians to the rope or cord used
for picketing or fastening their horses while grazing,
and also to the thong used for catching wild animals
-the lasso. They are the same, with a very great
difference. The lasso may be used for picketing a
horse, but the rope with which a horse is ordinarily
picketed would never be of use as a lasso.
252
THE NATURAL CLUB MAN.
A good riata ("lasso") requires a great deal of
labor and patient care. It is sometimes made of
plaited hair from the manes and tails of horses, but
these are not common, except where wild horses are
plenty, one such riata requiring the hair of not less
than twenty horses. It is generally made of the raw
hide of buffalo or domestic cattle, freed from hair, cut
into narrow strips, and plaited with infinite patience
and care, so as to be perfectly round and smooth.
Such a "riata," though costing less money than that
of hair, is infinitely superior. It is smooth, round,
heavy, runs easily and quickly to noose, and is as
strong as a cable. Those tribes, as the Utes, who
are unable to procure beef or buffalo skins, make
beautiful lariats of thin strips of buckskin plaited to-
gether; but as these are used only for securing their
horses they are usually plaited flat.
To make these articles is all that the male Indian
"finds to do" in his ordinary winter life. Without
occupation, without literature, without thought, how
he can persuade himself to continue to exist can be
explained only on the hypothesis that he is a natural
'club man," or a mere animal.
ee
"From rosy morn to dewy eve" there is always
work for the Indian woman. Fortunately for her,
the "aboriginal inhabitants" have as yet discovered
no means of making a light sufficient to work by at
night. It is true, they beg or buy a few candles from
military posts, or traders, but these are sacredly
preserved for dances and grand occasions.
But slave as she is, I doubt if she could be forced
to work after dark, even if she had light. Custom,
which holds her in so many inexorable bonds, comes
to her aid in this case. In every tribe, night is the
WOMAN'S WORK.
253
woman's right, and no matter how urgent the work
which occupies her during daylight, the moment that
dark comes, she bedecks herself in her best finery,
and stands at the door of the lodge, her ear strained
for the first beat of the tom-tom, which summons her
to where she is for the nonce queen and ruler.
There was formerly one exception to this immunity
from night work, but it has gone with the buffalo.
At the time of the "great fall hunt," there was no
rest nor excuse for her. She must work at
She must work at any and
all hours. If the herds were moving, the success of
the hunt might depend on the rapidity with which the
women performed their work on a batch of dead
buffalo. These animals spoil very quickly if not
disembowelled, and though the hunters tried to
regulate the daily kill by the ability of the squaws to
"clean up" after them, they could not, in the nature of
things, always do so.
When the buffalo was dead the man's work was
done. It was woman's work to skin and cut up the
dead animal; and oftentimes when the men were
exceptionally fortunate, the women were obliged to
work hard and fast, all night long before their task
was finished.
The meat, cut as closely as possible from the bones,
is tied up in the skin, and packed to camp on the
ponies. The entrails, emptied of their contents, form
the principal food of all during the hunt, not only
being the most delicious morsel, but not requiring a
waste of time in cooking.
The skins are spread, flesh-side upward, on a level
piece of ground, small slits are cut in the edges of
each skin, and it is tightly stretched and fastened
down by wooden pegs driven through the slits into
254
PARFLECHE.
the ground. The meat is cut into thin flakes and
placed on poles or scaffolds to dry in the sun.
All this work must be done, as it were, instantly,
for if the skin is allowed to dry unstretched, it can
never be made of use as a robe, and the meat spoils if
not "jerked" within a few hours.
This lively work lasts but a few weeks, and is
looked upon by the workers themselves pretty much
in the same way as notable civilized housewives look
upon the yearly housecleaning, very disagreeable, but
very enjoyable. The real work begins when, the
hunt being over, the band has gone into its winter
quarters, for then must the women prepare and utilize
"the crop."
Some of the thickest bull's hides are placed to soak
in water, in which is mixed wood ashes, or some
natural alkali. This takes the hair off. The skin is
then cut into the required shape, and stretched on a
form, on which it is allowed to dry, when it not only
retains its shape, but becomes almost as hard as iron.
These boxes are of various shapes and sizes, some
made like huge packet-books, others like trunks. All
are called "parfleche," though why, I have never been
able to get a satisfactory explanation.
As soon as these parfleches or trunks are ready
for use, the now thoroughly dry meat is pounded to
powder between two stones. About two inches of
this powdered meat is placed in the bottom of a par-
fleche, and melted tallow is poured over it. Then
another layer of meat is served in the same way, and
so until the trunk is full. It is kept hot until the
*
Among almost all the Plains tribes, the common name for a skin so
prepared is "parfleche," and almost everything made of it is also
"parfleche."
INDIAN BREAD.
255
whole mass is thoroughly saturated. When cold, the
parfleches are closed and tightly tied up. The con-
tents, so prepared, will keep in good condition for
several years. Probably the best feature of the pro-
cess is that nothing is lost, the flesh of old and tough
animals being, after this treatment, so nearly as good
as that of young that few persons can tell the differ-
ence. I might reverse the statement and say that all
meat is so utterly spoiled by the process that there is
no longer room for comparatives, good or bad. This
is the true Indian bread, and is used as bread when
they have fresh meat. Boiled, it makes a soup not
very palatable but nutritious. So long as the Indian
has this dried meat he is entirely independent of all
other food. Of late years, all the beef issued to the
Indians on reservations, and not needed for immedi-
ate consumption, is treated in this way.
The dressing of skins is the next work. The
thickest hides are put in soak of alkali, for materials
for making shields, saddles, riatas, etc. Hides for
making or repairing lodges are treated in the same
way, but, after the hair has been removed, they are
reduced in thickness, made pliable, and most fre-
quently smoked.
Deer, antelope, and other thin skins are beautifully
prepared for clothing, the hair being always removed.
Some of these skins are so worked down that they
are almost as thin and white as cotton cloth.
But the crowning process is the preparation of a
buffalo robe. The skin of even the youngest and fat-
test cow is in its natural condition much too thick for
use, being unwieldy and lacking pliability. This
thickness must be reduced at least one-half, and the
skin at the same time made soft and pliable. When
256
MAKING A ROBE.
the stretched skin has become dry and hard from the
action of the sun, the woman goes to work upon it
with a small implement, shaped somewhat like a car-
penter's adze. It has a short handle of wood or elk-
horn, tied on with rawhide, and is used with one hand.
These tools are heirlooms in families, and greatly
prized. It is exceedingly difficult to obtain one, es-
pecially one with an elk-horn handle, the Indians
valuing them above price. With this tool the woman
chips at the hardened skin, cutting off a thin shaving
at every blow. The skill in the whole process con-
sists in so directing and tempering the blows as to cut
the skin, yet not cut too deep, and in finally obtaining
a uniform thickness and perfectly smooth and even
inner surface. To render the skin soft and pliable,
the chipping is stopped every little while, and the
chipped surface smeared with brains of buffalo, which
are thoroughly rubbed in with a smooth stone.
When very great care and delicacy are required,
the skin is stretched vertically on a frame of poles.
It is claimed that the chipping process can be much
more perfectly performed on a skin stretched in this
way than on one stretched on the uneven and unyield-
ing ground, but the latter is used for all common
robes, because it is the easiest.
When the thinning and softening process is com-
pleted, the robe is taken out of its frame, trimmed,
and sometimes smoked. It is now ready for use. It
is a long and tedious process, and no one but an In-
dian would go through it.
But all this, though harder work, is the mere com-
mencement of the long and patient labor which the
loving wife bestows on the robe which the husband is
to use on dress occasions. The whole inner surface
ORNAMENTATION.
257
is frequently covered with designs beautifully worked
with porcupine quills, or grasses dyed in various
colors. Sometimes the embellishments are paintings.
I have seen many elegant robes that must have taken
a year to finish.
Every animal brought into the camp brings work
for the squaw. The buck comes in with a deer and
drops it at the door. The squaw skins it, cuts up
and preserves the meat, dresses the skin and fashions
it into garments for some member of the family. Un-
til within a very few years the needle was a piece of
sharpened bone, the thread a fibre of sinew. These
are yet used in the ornamentation of robes, but
almost all the ordinary sewing is done with civilized
appliances.
All Indians are excessively fond of bead-work, and
not only the clothing, moccasins, gun-covers, quivers,
knife-sheaths and tobacco pouches, but every little
bag or ornament is covered with this work. Many
of the designs are pretty and artistic. In stringing
the beads for this work an ordinary needle is used,
but in every case, except for articles made for sale, the
thread used is sinew.*
Only a few years ago the foregoing description of
the ordinary employments of Indians was true to the
letter, for almost every tribe west of the Missouri and
east of the Rocky Mountains. It is yet true for most
of them, but some few have taken, within these few
years, long steps on the "white man's road," and the
* A few years ago the Indian Bureau, with its usual sagacity, pro-
hibited the sale of beads to the Indians by the traders at one or more of
the agencies. The Indians were furious, claiming the right to spend
their own money in bedecking themselves in their own way.
This apparently little point might have cost much money and many
lives if the Bureau had not prudently "backed down.”
258
WARRIOR AND MAIDEN.
occupations of both men and women of those tribes
will not conform to my description.
The life in the winter encampment has scarcely
been changed in any particular, but with the earliest
spring come evidences of activity, a desire to get
away, not attributable, as in the "good old time," to
plans of forays for scalps and plunder, but to the
desire of each head of a lodge or band to reach before
any one else does, the particular spot on which he has
fixed for his location for the summer. No sooner has
he reached it than all hands, men, women and
children, fall to work as if the whole thing were a
delightful frolic. Fences are made, ground broken
up and seed planted; and all summer long many of the
noble Red Men, with wives and children, may be
found working in the fields nearly naked, sweaty,
dirty, and unromantic.
୧୯
"
The peerless warrior with "eye like the eagle,'
whose name a few short years ago was a terror, and
whose swoop destruction, may be found patiently
plodding between the handles of a plough. The tender
maiden,― wont in fiction to sacrifice herself to save her
lover, or, reduced to despair, to fling herself from
tallest cliff into the raging flood beneath,”—may now
be seen following the plough of the father, nimbly
plying the sportive hoe, intent only on getting through
with a square day's work, and thinking fondly of the
square meal that is to follow it; or when the crop
is
laid by, challenging that father to a friendly contest
in a wood-chopping match, in which, nine times out
of ten, she beats him shamefully.
I consider myself a friend of the Indian, and as
such, have some natural hesitation in divulging the
secret of his present pursuits. Most of his civilized
ROMANCE AND REALITY.
259
friends love him for his high crimes, his magnificent
misdemeanors, his brilliant felonies. When they
contrast the pictures drawn by Catlin, Cooper and
others, of the daring and chivalrous warriors, beau-
teous and loving maidens-peers and counterparts of
knights and mistresses whose deeds and loves gloss
with romance all mediæval literature-with these here
presented; what he is, in their minds, with what he is
in reality, I fear they will turn from him with loathing
and disgust. With sentimentalists, brilliant crime
always commands admiration, squalid labor deserves
only contempt.
The last five years, more than any twenty preceding
them, have convinced the wild Indians of the utter
futility of their warfare against the United States
Government. One and all, they are thoroughly
whipped; and their contests in the future will be the
acts of predatory parties (for which the Indians at
large are no more responsible than is the Government
of the United States for the acts of highwaymen in
the Black Hills, or train-robbers in Missouri), or a
deliberate determination of the bands and tribes to
die fighting rather than by the slow torture of starva-
tion to which the government condemns them.
The buffalo is gone, so also nearly all the other
large game on which the Indians depended for food.
They are confined to comparatively restricted reserva-
tions, and completely surrounded by whites. They
are more perfectly aware of the stringency of their
situation than any white man can possibly be, for
they daily feel its pressure.
With no chance of success in war, with no possi-
bility of providing food for themselves, with no
adequate assistance from government, they thoroughly
260
THE CURSE ON ADAM.
comprehend that their only hope for the future is in
work, or as they express it, "in the white man's road."
They do not like it of course; it would be unnatural
if they did. They accept it as the dire alternative
against starvation.
Does any one labor for the sake of labor? A man
who spaded up a field simply to give himself labor
would be considered a fit subject for the lunatic
asylum.
Labor is the curse on Adam, and, however necessary
and ennobling, is not an end but a means. We
labor for money, for ambition, for health, for anything
except for labor itself.
Basing arguments on the Indian contempt for
work, many men in and out of Congress talk eloquent
'nonsense of the impossibility of ever bringing him to
agricultural pursuits. The average Indian has no
more hatred of labor, as such, than the average white
man. Neither will labor unless an object is to be
attained. Both will labor rather than starve. Here-
tofore the Indian could comfortably support, himself
in his usual and preferred life, without labor; and
there being no other incentive, he would, in my
opinion, have only proved himself an idiot. had he
worked without an object.
CHAPTER XX.
TRADE AND BARTER THE VICTIMS AND PREY OF
INDIAN TRADERS.
66
29
Systems of Barter "Sold Out" - Fleeced and Victimized by the
Trader" Indian Wants and Necessities-The Charm of Nov-
elty-An Incident at Fort Sedgwick - The Ornamented Buffalo
Robe A Warrior with a Sweet Tooth-The First Lot of Matches
An Astonished Indian - Curiosity Aroused -
Curiosity Aroused - A Wonderful Box
Testing the Matches One by One Scorched Fingers - My Treasures
from the Ute Campaign — Blanket of Rare Beauty and Design — A
Dishonored Statute - The Trapper Thirty Years Ago - Domiciled
with Savages - A Wild Free Life - Admitted to the Indian Brother-
hood — Sharing Hairbreadth Escapes - The Gaming Table - The
Trader's Grip on the Red Man's Throat-Barefaced Swindling — An
Open and Shut Game - Hobson's Choice - The Traders' Prey.

ROM the days when the Dutch ancestors
of the nobility of Manhattan Island sim-
plified their trade with the Indians by
making the hand of each trader weigh
one pound and his foot two pounds, to
the present time, every scheme that inge-
nuity could devise has been used to pre-
vent the Indians from gaining any definite
idea of values.
Though every particle of the trade is really nothing
but barter (the exchange of one commodity for
another), the care of the trader is always to refer to
money prices, and thus prevent the Indian from gain-
ing an idea of the value of one article of barter as
compared with the value of some other article of bar-
ter. All must be referred to money, and as, until
17
261
}
262
NEEDS VS. PRICES.
quite recently, the Indian could not grasp the idea of
a "circulating medium," he was always in a mystified
condition—that is, in exactly the proper condition for
the purpose of the trader. Thus the trader will say,
"I will give you five, or ten, cents a pound for your
dressed deer-skins; " "I will give you so much a piece
for your wolf-skins," etc., etc. The Indian accepts,
sells out, and then asks the trader how much it all
comes to. Immediately after the Indian commences
to buy. The trader says: "I will sell you this calico
for twenty-five cents a yard." The offer is accepted,
and purchases continued until the credit is exhausted.
To us the logical sequence that one yard of calico is
worth two and one-half or five pounds of dressed deer-
skins is perfectly clear, but no such high order of
ratiocination ever culminated in the brain of a wild
Indian.
But before utterly condemning the Indian for his
lack of perspicacity we must reflect that all values to
him are mere accidents of his surroundings. Aside
from his intentional mystification, and the absence of
any competing trader or other means of arriving at
relative values, nothing can have a fixed price to the
Indian, his estimate of the value of any article being
exactly in proportion to his need of it.
Our boyhood's hero, Robinson Crusoe, would have
given half his island for the few seeds of corn which
he fortunately discovered; and the Count de Moncerf,
immured in the prison of the bandits, paid, with how-
ever many protests, his hundred thousand francs for
a breakfast.
These tales of fiction are true to nature.
Who can estimate the value of a match to the freez-
ing wanderer on the wintry Plains? or of a cup of
A GOOD BARGAIN.
263
water to the shipwrecked mariner alone on the wide.
expanse of ocean?
There can be no fixed prices when things are
weighed against necessities. The white man has the
things, the Indian the necessities.
It would scarcely be fair to attribute the Indian
ignorance or carelessness of values entirely to the
causes above enumerated. By nature he is a per-
fect child, and when he wants anything he wants it
with all his heart and mind and soul, immediately,
and without reference to anything else. Like the
child, who would gladly exchange the ten-dollar bill
given him as a Christmas present for a red apple
or a toy drum, the Indian will give anything he pos-
sesses for the merest bauble to which he takes a
fancy. A novelty has the greatest charm, and he will
pay a hundred times its value for an article new to
him.
In 1867 a Sioux Indian came to Fort Sedgwick,
while I commanded it, having in his possession a very
fine and elaborately painted buffalo robe. Many ef-
forts were made by the officers to purchase it; money,
sugar, coffee, flour, etc., to the amount of twenty dol-
lars, were offered and refused.
Some time after a sergeant passed, who had in his
hand a paper containing two or three pounds of loaf
sugar, cut into cubic blocks (cut-loaf, then new to
frontier people and to Indians). He gave the Indian
a few lumps and passed on. In a few moments the
Indian came running after him, took the robe from
his shoulders, and offered it for the paper of sugar.
The exchange being made, he sat down on the ground
and deliberately ate up every lump.
Years ago, when matches were not so universally
264
NAVAHO BLANKETS.
used as now, a Lipan Indian was visiting Fort Mar-
tin Scott in Texas. One day an officer to whom he
was talking took from his pocket a box of what, to
the Indian, were merely little sticks, and, scratching
one on a stone, lit his pipe. The Lipan eagerly in-
quired into this mystery, and looked on with astonish-
ment while several matches were lighted for his grati-
fication. Going to his camp near by, he soon came
back, bringing half a dozen beautifully dressed wild-
cat skins, which he offered for the wonderful box.
The exchange was accepted, and he went off greatly
pleased. Some time after he was found sitting by a
large stone, on which he was gravely striking match
after match, holding each in his fingers until forced
to drop it, and then carefully inspecting the scorched
finger, as if to assure himself that it was real fire.
This he continued until every match was burned.
During the Ute campaign of this summer, 1880, I
purchased from those Indians several Navaho blank-
ets. They are not only admirable as blankets, but
fanciful in design, and very bright in colors. On my
return to the Indian Territory the Cheyennes soon
found out that I had them. Almost every man,
woman, and child, of all the camps about me has been
at my house to see them, all expressing the most un-
bounded admiration. Every persuasion has been
used and inducement held out to me to "swap," and
were I of a "speculative turn of mind " I could easily
get two ponies (fifty to sixty dollars) for each of
them.
Up to within a very few years the trade of Indians
in furs and skins (peltries) was estimated at not less
than twelve millions of dollars yearly, and the trade
in other products of various kinds added not a
TRAPPERS.
265
little to the amount. Since the destruction of the
buffalo the former trade has greatly fallen off, but
there has been some gain in the other products.
There is a law on our statute book (section 2137)
prohibiting persons other than Indians from killing
game except for subsistence, and from hunting and
trapping in the Indian country. This law is and has
always been a dead letter, the whole of that country
having been constantly overrun by white men, who
made their living by killing game and trapping the fur-
bearing animals. These men, aided by Indians, built
up the great fur trade of North America, founding
some of the most colossal fortunes in the world.
When I first came to the "Far West," thirty-two
years ago, trapping was still an institution. Generally
alone, sometimes in couples, rarely in more numer-
ous companies, trappers ranged the whole country
wherever peltries were to be had, taking each year
sufficient to make a trade so immense that great cities
like St. Louis may be said to have been built upon it.
It is a common matter of wonder among persons
ignorant of the ways of the Plains, how these men
could have voluntarily adopted a means of livelihood
apparently so full of danger; and how it was possible
for so many of them to escape from their "environment
of perils" and live to enjoy a "green old age." The
explanation is simple. The trappers generally started
in a company from St. Louis, St. Jo., or some one of
the outfitting towns. They were well provided not
only with arms, traps, and other necessities to their
business, but with a goodly assortment of so-called
"Indian goods," articles likely to be most acceptable
to the tribes among which they expected to domicile
themselves.
266
TRAPPERS AND TRADERS.
Taking advantage of the intervals of peace between
the tribes, and steering clear of those tribes supposed
to be specially hostile to whites, they arrived in the
country they proposed to trap over and immediately
separated into small parties, many going off entirely
alone. Each making his way to the village of Indians
most convenient to the territory in which he wished
to trap, proceeded to interview the chief whose friend-
ship and protection were gained by generous presents.
After a short sojourn, other presents purchased one
or more squaws and a teepe. He thus became a
member of the tribe, went where he pleased within the
limits of its territory, and set his traps as suited his
pleasure. His squaws did all the work, made and
mended his clothing, cooked his food, skinned the
animals caught, and properly cared for the pelts.
Within the limits of the territory of the tribe with
which he was affiliated, he was as safe from harm as
any other member of it, and the "hair-breadth 'scapes"
of which we have read so much were those which he
had in common with the Indians with whom he lived.
Besides the pelts taken by his own hand, he added
to his store by purchases from the Indians, thus
encouraging and stimulating them to extra activity in
the pursuit of game, and greatly adding to his own
profits. Each year his pelts were taken to the nearest
trading-post of the Hudson Bay, or American Fur
Company, where, after purchasing the supplies neces-
sary for the ensuing year, he squandered the remainder
at the gaming-table or in a furious orgie.
These were the "traders" with whom the majority
of Indians first came in contact.
The profits of this business were so enormous that
the government attempted to take control of it, and
NO COMPETITION.
267
un 1834 passed a law (Sec. 2129, Revised Statutes)
prohibiting any person from trading with Indians,
except such as should have permits from certain
United States officials. The only effect of this law
was to divert these profits into certain channels. The
condition of the Indian was in no way improved; he
was still at the mercy of plunderers.
In 1866 a really good law was enacted (Sec. 2128,
Rev. Stat.), evidently with the design of giving the
Indian some of the advantages of competition, but
this law has been utterly disregarded by the authorities,
and the Indian ring still holds its felonious grip on
the Indian throat.
Within a comparatively few years, almost all the
wild Indian tribes have been subjugated and placed
on reservations; an effort, ludicrous, were it not so
sad, being still made to reconcile the absurdity of
treating as sovereign nations people whom we actually
hold as prisoners of war.
So long as the Indian had the buffalo he was
enabled to subsist in comfort, even on these com-
paratively restricted areas, and his trade was of suf-
ficient importance to excite competition between those
authorized by the Indian Bureau to trade with him.
At the present time Indian trade with whites is very
simple. An individual is given the sole right to trade
on a reservation, or with a certain tribe or tribes. He
is the only person from whom the Indians can buy such
articles as they need. He is the only person to whom
they can sell such articles as they have to dispose of.
The monopoly is complete, and under the illegal
ruling of the Indian department there can be no
competition.
The barefaced swindling of the unfortunate Indian
268
A BUSINESS TRANSACTION.
that goes on under this condition of affairs can
scarcely be conceived. Articles of civilized manu-
facture, now daily becoming more and more necessary
to the Indian, are sold to him at hundreds per cent.
profit.
Of course he need not buy if he does not wish to do
so; but he wants the article, and is prevented from
buying from any one else; so he must either be
swindled or go without it.
It
So also with his sales. He brings the trader a lot
of peltries, and is offered in trade, five or ten per
cent. of their value. He need not sell, of course.
is all a square and open business transaction with the
trader. There is no force, nor even persuasion about
it.
If the Indian does not choose to accept the
trader's price, he can take his peltries back with him
to his camp.
The poor devil, hemmed in on all sides, accepts
the situation exactly as he would an unavoidable
death at the stake, and whatever he may think on the
subject, makes no protest, but accepts any price
offered, or gives any asked, without murmur or
question.
The destruction of the buffalo has forced the
Indians to adopt a great many expedients for raising
money to buy those articles of civilized manufacture
that have now become common necessaries among
them. Of these expedients the most remarkable and
unlooked for is work. Formerly only women worked.
In Indian estimation, a man degraded himself by
doing anything that had the appearance of labor.
Now it is not unusual to see gangs of men and
women cutting and piling cordwood, or raking and
loading hay, as busy and noisy as civilized laborers.
TRADERS' PROFITS.
269
Many of the contracts for the supply of fuel and hay
to military posts are filled, partially at least, by the
labor of Indian men and women.
In many instances the contractors are Indian
traders, for their personal acquaintance with and
influence among the Indians, and their ability to pay
for work done in goods, give them a signal advantage
over other bidders. In other cases, the contractor
makes some agreement with the trader and pays his
Indian laborers with orders on the latter. In either
case, the result is the same swindling of the Indian.
A short time ago I was told by an Indian that he
had cut twenty cords of wood for a contractor, for
which he was to receive one dollar and twenty-five
cents per cord. The wood was delivered, and he re-
ceived an order on an Indian trader some sixty miles
away for payment of the amount. In due time he
presented the order, and was paid one pint cup of
brown sugar for each cord of wood cut.
Paul's Valley, in the Chickasaw Nation, is one of
the garden spots of earth. Thousands of bushels of
corn are raised by the Indians in and near this valley.
They can sell only to the Indian trader. I have been
informed that the average price paid the Indians is
fifteen cents per bushel in goods (three to five cents
cash). This corn is really worth there over one dol-
lar a bushel in cash.
From every article sold to and everything bought
of an Indian the trader receives his hundreds of per
cent. of profit. He has thorough control of the finan-
cial affairs of the tribe; not a transaction can be
effected without paying him his enormous toll.
At present the trade is very much like that of the
country merchant at the East, except that the trader
!
270
CAN I MAKE IT MYSELF?-
fixes the price for both buying and selling. An In-
dian comes to the store when he has anything to sell,
and taking out the entire proceeds in trade, returns to
his home exactly like a farmer in the East.
The Indian barter among themselves is conducted
as might be expected from what has been said. He is
sharp in a horse trade, and generally correct in his es-
timate of the value of one article of daily use as com-
pared to another. In these estimates, however, time
is not considered. He has not yet arrived at that
stage of progress when a "day's work" has a definite
value. When considering the value of any article his
first thought is, "Can I make it myself?" and if so, the
number of days it will take him to do it is a matter of
no consequence. A man will work a month to com-
plete a bow and quiver of arrows and then sell them
for five dollars. A woman will spend five dollars on
beads, and work faithfully for three months making
and ornamenting with them a cradle or some other
article, and then sell it for ten dollars.
The inter-tribal trade varies very greatly in impor-
tance. Among the Plains tribes it is extremely lim-
ited. A trade is, however, springing up.
The Utes have a very considerable trade with the
Navahoes, and these again with the Arizona tribes,
even to the Gulf of California. I bought from a Ute
Indian a beautiful necklace of sea-shells, which had
been passed from hand to hand in trade all the way
from the Pacific coast.
INDIAN
CHAPTER XXI.
COOKS AND COOKING FAVORITE FOOD
AND ODD DISHES AMUSING EXPERIENCES.
-
66
The
Indian Cooks-Teepe Manners Fingers before Forks"
“Tonish " Thing in Serving — How Indians Cook for Themselves
An Off-Hand Roast - The Marrow-Bones The Choicest Bonne
Bouche - Enormous Feeders - Eating Twenty Pounds at One Meal
Gluttony of the Red Skins-The Call for More Cunning and
Strategy Accumulated Breakfasts — An Astonishing Appetite —
Job's Turkey - A Tough One An Abandoned Fowl- An Odd
Superstition - Unblushing Check - Eating Ten Feet of Marrow
Guts- The Use of Salt - Red Pepper and Black Selection of the
Entrails- The Indian's Most Delicious Morsel- My Invitation to
Dine with the Pawnce Chief— A Disgusting Repast - Dog Flesh –
Fat Puppy-Skunk - My Interview with Stone Calf.

NLESS able_to_rival the fasting
powers of Dr. Tanner, a vegetarian
would have little chance of survival'
among Indians. In their natural con-
dition the sole diet of the Plains In-
dians for at least nine months in the
year is the flesh of animals, and
though they prefer it cooked, they are
by no means averse to it raw.
In camp the duty of cooking is usually devolved
on the oldest or least favorite squaw. There is no
variety of style, no French methods, no necessity for
titillating appetites already over-keen. A pot full
of meat and water is put on the fire and boiled, but
there is no definite point in the cooking process when
271
272
SQUAW COOKING.
the food is "done." If an Indian is especially hun-
gry, he may commence on the contents of the pot by
the time they are fairly warm. Generally, however,
it is allowed to boil until the head of the lodge inti-
mates that he is hungry, when the pot is set off the
fire; and each, crowding around, helps him or herself
with knives or fingers, sometimes with a huge stick,
cut in the shape of a ladle. Among the more ad-
vanced tribes tin plates are now frequently used, and,
sitting around on the beds or ground, the diners are
helped successively by the old squaw who does the
cooking. This is considered the civilized, the "ton-
ish" way, but is not much liked, the helping squaw
being always suspected of favoritism. There is no
fault-finding about the cooking, and whether "half
raw," or "done to rags," no objection is made, pro-
vided the meat be of good quality, and sufficient in
quantity.
This is the habitual and formal style of cooking
and eating in the permanent camp, and also on hunt-
ing and pleasure parties, when squaws are taken to
cook for them; but on warlike or thieving expedi-
tions, when no women are along, each buck cooks for
himself, broiling his meat on the coals, or roasting it
on a stick over the fire.
There is no doubt that good meat cooked in this
way is far more palatable than that boiled, nor that
the Indian greatly prefers his out-door style of cook-
ing; but boiling is less trouble, and, therefore, pre-
ferred by the women. That he at home puts up with
boiled meat every day of his life, when he prefers
it broiled or roasted, is pretty good evidence that,
however complete and vigorous his sway, however
absolute his power over his family under certain cir-
MARROW-BONES.
273
cumstances, he is yet subject in his domestic circle to
the same control, or influence, that falls to the lot of
civilized man.
The Indian is a great epicure; knows the choicest
titbits of every animal, and just how to cook it to
suit his taste. The great fall hunt yields him the
fullest enjoyment of his appetite, for then he not only
has choice of the more savory parts, but, the women
being employed in other work, it is not derogatory to
his dignity to cook for himself.
His days are spent in all the delights and excite-
ments of the chase, and almost the whole of his nights
in feasting and revelry. This is the time for "mar-
row guts," for "hump ribs," and for "marrow bones."
The first can, to the Indian, scarcely be improved by
cooking, but the greatest epicures will wrap eight or
ten feet around a stick, sprinkle it plentifully with
salt, and hold it in a bright blaze until the melted fat
streams down. The whole mass is swallowed almost
red-hot, and is the choicest bonne bouche with which
an Indian palate can be tickled.
In butchering, the women cut the meat as closely as
possible from the bones, but leaving on and between
the ribs many a glorious mouthful. Broad slabs of
these ribs are placed before a fire of hot coals, turned,
basted, and roasted secundem artem. The large
bones of the hind legs are thrown upon the glow-
ing coals, or hidden under the hot embers, then
*The fore-legs of the buffalo are scarcely larger than those of domes-
tic cattle, but they are enormously stronger. The bone is so thick that
the internal cavity is a mere pith. I have often been greatly amused at
the utter disappointment of green hunters, who, having heard of
"marrow bones," and determined on the treat, had brought into camp
and roasted the fore-legs of the buffalo, to find, when they had with diffi-
culty cracked the bones-nothing.
274
A FEAST.
cracked between two stones, and the rich, delicious
marrow sucked in quantities sufficient to ruin a white
stomach forever.
Marrow-fat is believed by the Indians to be espe-
cially good for the hair, and during the feast the
greasy hands are constantly wiped upon and passed
through his long tails.
The Indian is an enormous feeder. But that corrob-
orative evidence is so easily obtained, I should hesitate
to give details of his wonderful capacity of stomach.
In the course of a night of feasting, dancing, and
story-telling, an average Indian will consume from ten
to fifteen pounds of meat; and if he has abundance of
food, and can make selection of the parts to be eaten,
he will swallow, without indigestion or other incon-
venience, not less than twenty pounds.
I was once on a hunt with an escort-the Sioux
being very bad- of twenty infantry soldiers and
seven Pawnee Indians. On the second day we killed
a magnificent buck elk, one of the finest I ever saw,
and weighing gross not less than seven hundred
pounds. Cutting the carcass in two, behind the ribs,
I reserved the hind-quarters to take back to camp,
and taking a few pounds for the use of our mess, I
gave the soldiers one fore-quarter, and the Indians
the other. To these latter I also gave the entrails,
which were eaten on the spot, raw.
The Indians danced and feasted all night, and came
to me next morning for more meat. Seven Indians
had had fifteen or twenty pounds more meat than
twenty soldiers; yet next morning the soldiers had
enough to last two whole days, the Indians had noth-
ing. With fullest allowance for bone, they had aver-
aged in the night's feast at least fifteen pounds apiece,
A TOUGH GOBBLER.
275
but in the morning, like "Oliver Twist," they wanted
more."
An old Indian employed as guide at a military post
was much liked and petted by the officers of the gar-
rison, and was always invited to sit down to table if
he happened in an officer's quarters at meal time. He
soon found out that they breakfasted at different
hours, and before a great while it was discovered that
about twice a week the old fellow commenced with
the earliest and wound up with the latest, so well
timing himself as to secure four hearty breakfasts on
one and the same morning. By a little management
he might have secured a breakfast from some one of
the officers every day in the week, but he preferred to
have a good square meal, a regular surfeit, twice a
week, and took this method of getting it, being
ashamed to eat so much as he wanted at any one
house.
Some years ago an exploring party found itself in a
country so barren of game that the efforts of its best
hunters had been able to secure only one huge turkey
gobbler, so old and tough that though parboiled, and
boiled, and roasted, no one had been able to masticate
him. Unwilling to lose so much meat, he was then
cut up, put in a camp-kettle, and stewed for near
twenty-four hours. Even this failing to soften him, he
was about to be thrown out for the wolves, when a
party of Indians made its appearance, with the inevi-
table demand for "chuck." The officer in command,
having little else, bethought him of the turkey, and
ordered it to be set before the Indians. The old
chief carefully examined the contents of the kettle,
then gravely informed his followers that it was “guaca-
lote" (turkey), that to eat it would make them cow-
276
A SQUARE MEAL.
ardly, that he was old, had not long to live, was not
ambitious of further distinction, and would therefore
risk it. After this exhortation he deliberately turned
to the kettle, and in less than an hour emptied it com-
pletely, storing away, the officer declares, not less
than two gallons, or sixteen pounds of solid and liquid
food.
Even in their wildest state, all the Indians I have
ever known use salt with their food when they can
get it. This mineral is so generally distributed
throughout the western country that it is easily
obtained, though I have known it purchased at high
prices.
The advanced tribes take greatly to condiments,
using considerable quantities of both red and black
pepper. Curious as it may appear, this last article is
used frequently in tea and coffee. This is done by
old men, who believe it invigorates them.
Among white hunters, the rule of parties hunting
together is, that while the meat must be divided
equally among all, the hide and horns belong to the
man who shot the animal. Among Indians, the gen-
eral rule is the same, but the special perquisite of the
successful shot, and that on which he sets most store,
is the entrails. As soon as the game is killed it is
opened, and the lucky hunter seating himself beside
the carcass, betakes himself to what is to him a
most perfect repast. The smaller entrails go first,
but he is not satisfied until bowels, stomach, liver,
and not unfrequently, heart and lungs have all dis-
appeared before his astounding appetite.
The liver of a very fat buffalo or elk will not
unfrequently become granulated and broken up by
overheating in a long chase. This, with the contents
VARIED TASTES.
277
of the gall-bladder sprinkled over it, is one of the
most delicious of all morsels that can titillate an
Indian palate. A Pawnee chief, a great friend of
mine, once brought and presented me with several
pounds of this stuff tied up in a handkerchief. He
was greatly astonished when I told him I could not
eat it, but his mortification did not prevent his bury-
ing his face in the handkerchief, from which he
scarcely lifted it until every particle of the horrid
mess had disappeared.
The smaller entrails of even the largest animals are
eaten raw.
Dog-flesh is regarded by the Sioux as almost a
sacred dish, being reserved only for feasts on occa-
sions of ceremony, or when desiring to do special
honor to a distinguished guest. When very fat,
wolf is considered nearly, if not quite, as good
as dog.
The Cheyennes and Arrapahoes are very fond of
fat puppy, but only eat dog when forced to it by
hunger.
The Comanches are extremely fond of horse-flesh,
preferring it to beef or even buffalo. The most deli-
cate and delicious dish that a Comanche can set
before his most distinguished guest is the foetus of
a mare boiled in its own liquid.
Even when buffalo and other large game was most
plentiful, skunk was most highly esteemed as an
article of diet, and was considered specially beneficial
to women in an interesting condition. The odor of
the animal is no protection against the Indian, who
seizes it by the tail and beats it against the ground
until dead, regardless alike of the fetid discharge
which would sicken a white man, or of the danger of
18
278
TURKEY NO GOOD.
its bite, which in some portions of the country is
almost certainly followed by that most horrible of all
maladies, hydrophobia.
In their rambles about camp, heretofore spoken of,
the boys kill with their arrows a good many birds,
rabbits, and other small game.
The larger portion
of these is eaten by the boys themselves, but many
are taken to camp, where they are eagerly pounced
upon by the mothers, whose special prerogative they
seem to be. A hole is raked in the ashes, the bird
or animal is placed in it and covered over with ashes
and coals. After half an hour, or less, it is taken
out, beaten a few times against the ground to get
rid of the ashes, the feathers pulled off (bringing
the skin with them), and devoured, entrails and all.
This process of cooking is by no means appetizing
to witness, but I can aver, from personal experience,
that it is really the very best way to cook a small
and delicately flavored bird, all its juices being
retained.
Some few animals and birds were protected by
superstition though this was not strong enough to
amount to absolute prohibition. They could not be
eaten by the Indian under ordinary circumstances,
but this did not prevent his eating them when the
circumstances were extraordinary. Our favorite
Christmas bird, the turkey, was tabooed to the
Indian, who would not eat it, except when on the
verge of starvation. He believed it would make
him cowardly, and run from his enemies, as the tur-
key runs from his pursuers.
But all this is gone. Religion, superstition, public
opinion, even self-respect, all give way before the
cravings of an empty stomach.
DISGUSTING FOOD.
279
Except in the item of a general uncleanliness,
which was common then as now, the whole matter of
the Indian food supply has undergone, within a few
years, a complete change in most of the Indian tribes.
Even as late as 1872, the food question was the least
concern of Indian life; now it is the paramount, and
with many of the tribes, I may say, the only question.
Government has made prisoners of the Indians, con-
fining them on reservations, has allowed white men
to kill off the game supposed to be protected to them
by laws, and now starves them with insufficient
appropriations.
What was mere uncleanliness in the Indian's day
of plenty, has degenerated into squalor. The Indian
who only ten years ago contented himself with noth-
ing but the very choicest portions of animal food,
now, pinched by hunger, eats any and everything.
Dogs, wolves, reptiles, half-decomposed horse-flesh,
even carrion birds, all go to appease the gnawings
of his famished stomach.
Last summer an Indian pony mired down in the
quicksands of the river, a few miles below my post,
and was drowned. The carcass was not discovered
for some days. The Indians eagerly flocked around,
and speedily stripped the putrid flesh from the bones,
carrying it in triumph to their lodges.
Early in the fall of 1879, Stone Calf, a Cheyenne
chief of standing, and a man of ability and character,
came to my office and asked me to furnish rations to
himself and his people. I explained to him that it
was impossible, the orders of the War Department
prohibiting Post Commanders from issuing rations to
Indians, except by special direction of the Secretary
of War.
280
A MANLY CHIEF.
He thought for some moments in silence, then
said,
ee
Colonel, I want permission to go with my people
to the Staked Plains,' to hunt."
୧
I had no authority to give him such permission, but
I might have been able to obtain it for him had I con-
sidered it safe and proper. To arrive at the "Staked
Plains" he would be obliged to cross the "Pan-
handle” of Texas. That country is full of cattle, the
Indians were nearly starving. If they crossed they
were almost sure to kill some cattle, which would
bring on a collision between them and the Texans. I
therefore said,
"No, I cannot give you the permission."
At this his face fell, and he looked very grave.
Straightening himself up in his chair to the full
height of his rather small figure, and looking squarely
at me, "more in sorrow than in anger," he said,
"The agent will give me nothing to eat. You will
give me nothing, and you will not let me go where I
can get something for myself. I cannot stand it
much longer. I tell you, Colonel, I had rather die
fighting than die of starvation.'
99
For the first time in my life I felt like taking an
Indian to my heart. He was right, he was manly,
and had justice on his side.
My official position required me to conceal my own
sentiments, and try to soften the temper of his mind,
but I have a great respect and admiration for Stone
Calf. Were I an Indian, I fear that, with their pro-
vocations, I should be a bad Indian.
Every military post in the Indian country is
besieged by these starving people. The slop-barrels
and dump-piles are carefully scrutinized, and stuff
HORRORS OF FAMINE.
281
that a cur would disdain is carried off in triumph.
The offal about the butcher shop is quarrelled over,
and devoured raw and on the spot. The warm blood
of the slaughtered beeves is sucked up by numerous
mouths before it has time to sink into the ground.
Every horse that dies of disease or by accident, is at
once converted into meat, and at Fort Reno, under
the ægis of the Interior Department, and where hun-
ger is supposed by people generally to be impossible,
a dead horse or mule is no sooner dragged away from
the vicinity of the post, than it is pounced upon, cut
up, and carried off by the starved Indians. They ask
no questions, and meat is meat, even though it was
killed for farcy or glanders. Nothing is too disgust-
ingly filthy to come amiss to the starving Indian.
Some tribes cultivate small patches of corn, vege-
tables, pumpkins, melons, etc. They are, however,
generally eaten before they are ripe.
Some of the so-called wild tribes of the Indian
Territory, as the Cheyennes and Arrapahoes, raise
fairly good crops of corn, but it is generally hypothe-
cated to, or soon finds its way for a mere song into
the hands of the monster devised by the government
to keep the Indian in abject penury, the Indian trader.
CHAPTER XXII.
THE BUFFALO AND ITS DESTRUCTION-
THE INDIAN'S
GREAT FALL HUNT — EXCITING ADVENTURES.
men
The Indian and the Buffalo - The Old Days of Plenty- Habits and
Instincts-Immense Herds
Immense Herds- A Column Fifty Miles Wide, and
of Unknown Depth - A Thrilling Adventure at Pawnee Rock-
Danger from a Stampeded Herd-"Splitting" the Column Safe
at Last-Scenes of Wild Animation - Mistaken Ideas of Old Plains-
How the Indians Hunt Buffalo - The Surround"- Closing
In for the Attack - The Signal-Wild Onset of Warriors - Desperate
Resistance - The Slaughter-The Sioux Plan - My Camp on Big
Coon Creek - My Adventure with a Panic-stricken Herd - A Camp
Aroused at Midnight — Hairbreadth Escape - The Extinction of the
Buffalo - Wanton Slaughter - Barbarous Practices.

газ
T is almost impossible for a civilized
being to realize the value to the Plains
Indian of the buffalo. It furnished him
with home, food, clothing, bedding, horse
equipment, almost everything. With it
he was rich and happy, without it he is
poor as poverty itself, and constantly on
the verge of starvation.
Fifty years ago the buffalo ranged
from the Plains of Texas to far north beyond the
British line; from the Missouri and Upper Missis-
sippi to the eastern slope of the Rocky Mountains.
Every portion of this immense area, called the Plains,
was either the permanent home of this animal, or
might be expected to have each year one or more
visits from migratory thousands.
282
IMMENSE HERDS.
283
These migrations were exceedingly erratic, depend-
ing somewhat on climate, but principally on the sup-
ply of grass.
From 1869 to 1873 I was stationed at various posts
along the Arkansas River. Early in spring, as soon
as the dry and apparently desert prairie had begun
to change its coat of dingy brown to one of palest
green, the horizon would begin to be dotted with
buffalo, single, or in groups of two or three, forerun-
ners of the coming herd. Thicker and thicker, and
in larger groups they come, until by the time the
grass is well up, the whole vast landscape appears a
mass of buffalo, some individuals feeding, others
standing, others lying down, but the herd moving
slowly, moving constantly to the northward. Of
their number it was impossible to form even a con-
jecture.
At this season they are thin in flesh, and not at all
wild, and a man on foot or horseback may approach
quite close, or even ride into the herds, without caus-
ing more than a slight deviation from their course.
Determined as they are to pursue their journey
northward, they are yet exceedingly cautious and
timid about it, and on any alarm rush to the south-
ward with all speed, until that alarm is dissipated.
Especially is this the case when any unusual object
appears in their rear, and so utterly regardless are
they of consequences, that an old Plainsman will not
risk a wagon train in such a herd, where a rising
ground will permit those in front to get a good view
of their rear.
In May, 1871, I drove in a buggy from old Fort
Zara to Fort Larned, on the Arkansas River. The
distance is thirty-four miles. At least twenty-five
t
284
SPLITTING A HERD.
miles of that distance was through an immense herd.
The whole country appeared one mass of buffalo,
moving slowly to the northward, and it was only
when actually among them that it could be ascer-
tained that the apparently solid mass was an agglom-
cration of countless small herds of from fifty to two
hundred animals, separated from the surrounding
herds by greater or less space, but still separated.
The road ran along the broad valley of the Arkan-
sas. Some miles from Zara a low line of hills rises
from the plain on the right, gradually increasing in
height, and approaching road and river, until they
culminate in Pawnee Rock, when they again recede.
So long as I was in the broad level valley, the
herds sullenly got out of my way, and turning, stared
stupidly at me, some within thirty or forty yards.
When, however, I had reached a point where the hills
were no more than a mile from the road, the buffalo
on the crests seeing an unusual object in their rear,
turned, stared an instant, then started at full speed
towards me (South), stampeding and bringing with
them the numberless herds through which they passed,
and pouring down upon me, no longer separated, but
compacted into one immense mass of plunging ani-
mals, mad with fright, irresistible as an avalanche.
The situation was by no means pleasant. There
was but one hope of escape. My horse was fortu-
nately a quiet old beast, that had rushed with me into
inany a herd, and been in at the death of many a buf-
falo. Reining him up, I waited until the front of
this mass was within fifty yards, then, with a few
well-directed shots, dropped some of the leaders, split
the herd and sent it off in two streams to my right
and left. When all had passed me they stopped,
2
THE SUMMER FEEDING-GROUND.
285
apparently perfectly satisfied, though thousands were
yet within reach of my rifle, and many within less
than a hundred yards. After my servant had cut out
the tongues of the fallen, I proceeded on my journey,
only to have a similar experience within a mile or
two, and this occurred so often that I reached Fort
Larned with twenty-six tongues in my wagon, repre-
senting the greatest number of buffalo that I can
blame myself with having murdered in any one day.
Some years, as in 1871, the buffalo appeared to
move northward in one immense column, oftentimes
from twenty to fifty miles in width, and of unknown
depth from front to rear. Other years the northward
journey was made in several parallel columns, moving
at the same rate and with their numerous flankers
covering a width of a hundred or more miles.
The line of march of this great spring migration
was not always the same, though it was confined
within certain limits. I am informed by old fron-
tiersmen, that it has not, within twenty-five years,
crossed the Arkansas River, east of Great Bend, nor
west of Big Sand Creek. The most favored routes
crossed the Arkansas at the mouth of Walnut Creek,
Pawnee Fork, Mulberry Creek, the Cimarron Cross-
ing, and Big Sand Creek.
As the great herd proceeds northward it is con-
stantly depleted, numbers wandering off to the right
and left, until finally it is scattered in small herds far
and wide over the vast feeding-grounds, where they
pass the summer.
When the food in one locality fails, they go to
another, and towards fall, when the grass of the high
prairie becomes parched up by heat and drought, they
gradually work their way back to the South, concen
286
ORIGIN OF THE BUFFALO.
trating on the rich pastures of Texas and the Indian
Territory, whence, the same instinct acting on all,
they are ready to start together on the northward
march, as soon as spring starts the grass.
All
It is but fair to say that this view is in direct con-
flict with the ideas of most "old Plainsmen," and
of the Indians, who positively aver that the buffalo
never returned south, and that each year's herd was
composed of animals which had never made the jour-
ney before, and would never make it again.
admit the northern migration, that being too pro-
nounced for any doubt or dispute, but refuse to admit
the southern or return migration. Thousands of
young calves were caught or killed every spring,
proving that they were produced during this migra-
tion, and accompanied the herd northward, but because
the buffalo did not return south in one vast body, as
they went north, it was stoutly maintained that they
did not go south at all. The white frontier advocates
of the "no return" theory were easily confounded in
argument, as they could give no reasonable hypothe-
sis on which to account for the origin of the vast
herd which yearly made its march northward. The
Indian, however, was equal to the occasion. Every
Plains Indian firmly believed that the buffalo were
produced in countless numbers in a country under
the ground; that every spring the surplus swarmed,
like bees from a hive, out of great cave-like openings
to this country, which were situated somewhere in
the great "Llano Estacado," or Staked Plain of
Texas. One Indian has gravely and solemnly assured
me that he has been at those caverns, and with his
own eyes saw the buffalo coming out in countless
throngs. Others have told me that their fathers or
THE GREAT FALL HUNT.
287
uncles, or some other of the old men have been there.
In 1879 Stone Calf assured me that he knew exactly
where these caves were, though he had never seen
them, that the Good God had provided this means
for the constant supply of food for the Indian, and
that however recklessly the white men might slaugh-
ter, they never could exterminate them. When last
I saw him, the old man was beginning to waver in
this belief, and feared that the Bad God had shut up
the openings and that his people must starve.
During the spring and summer months the buffalo
were but little disturbed by the Indians. Enough
were killed to enable all to gorge themselves at will,
but this was done quietly, by crawling or stalking.
The greatest care was taken not to alarm and drive
the herds away from the vicinity of the camp and
villages.
Early in October, when the buffalo is at his fattest,
preparations begin for the "great fall hunt,” which
was made for the purpose of killing sufficient animals,
not only to furnish dried meat for the next winter's
supply, but heavy skins for teepes, parfleches, sad-
dles, etc., and lighter ones for clothing, bedding, and
for trade. Runners were sent out to scour the coun-
try for long distances, and seek out the most eligible
situation for the hunting-camp. It must be near
water, of course; there must be plenty of timber,
wherefrom to cut poles for the erection of the drying
scaffolds; there must be level ground for stretching
and drying the skin; and, above all, it must be in a
region abounding in game.
The spot being selected, the whole band moved to
it, lodges were pitched, scaffolds erected, and every-
thing put in order for work. The dog-soldiers are
288
PREPARATIONS.
masters now, and woe be to him who disobeys even
the slightest of their democratic regulations. If the
game was not abundant, a few of the most sagacious
hunters were sent out, who, taking advantage of
winds or streams, set fire to the grass in such way as
to denude the prairies, except within an area of fifteen
or twenty miles contiguous to the camp. A prairie
fire on the middle or northern Plains is not, as a rule,
violent enough to be dangerous to animal life. The
game does not stampede before it, as would appear
from the pictures in the geographies, but gets out of
the way, and collects on the unburned ground for the
food supply, thus greatly diminishing the labor of the
hunt. Other conditions being favorable, the camp is,
whenever possible, pitched in a broken country, for
the favorite and most successful mode of killing large
numbers is by "the surround," and this is only prac-
ticable when hills and hollows, breaks and ravines
render the approach to the herd easy, and prevent
other herds from seeing or hearing the commotion
and noise attendant upon its destruction.
All being ready the best hunters are out long
before the dawn of day. If several herds of buffalo
are discovered, that one is selected for slaughter
whose position is such that the preliminary manœu-
vres of the surround and the shouts and shots of the
conflict are least likely to disturb the others. A
narrow valley, with many lateral ravines, is very
favorable. If the herd is on a hill, or otherwise
unfavorably situated, the hunters may wait for it to
go to water, or by discreet appearances at intervals,
drive it to the best spot. During all this time the
whole masculine portion of the band capable of doing
execution in the coming slaughter is congregated on
THE SURROUND.
289
horseback, in some adjacent ravine, out of sight of
the buffalo, silent and trembling with suppressed
excitement. The herd being in proper position, the
leading hunters tell off the men, and send them under
temporary captains to designated positions. Keep
ing carefully concealed, these parties pour down the
valley to leeward, and spread gradually on each flank
of the wind, until the herd is surrounded, except on
the windward side. Seeing that every man is in his
proper place, and all ready, the head hunter rapidly
swings in a party to close the gap, gives the signal,
and, with a yell that would almost wake the dead,
the whole line dashes and closes on the game. The
buffalo make desperate rushes, which are met in every
direction by shouts and shots and circling horsemen,
until, utterly bewildered, they almost stand still to
await their fate. In a few moments the slaughter is
complete. A few may have broken through the cor-
don and escaped. These are not pursued if other
herds are in the vicinity.*
The slaughter completed, the "soldiers" return to
camp to swell and strut, and vaunt each his own indi-
vidual exploits, while the women skin, cut up, and
carry to camp almost every portion of the dead
*I have never personally witnessed a surround. The above descrip-
tion is given on the authority of white men and Indians who have
assisted in many. The dog-soldiers are exceedingly tenacious of their
rights, and object strenuously to the presence of any one who may not be
punished for violation of their rules. The chief dare not, without their
counsel, give permission for any outsider to accompany the band in a
surround. Those who belong to the band by marriage, and a few others
specially favored, are the only white men who have ever been eye-
witnesses to this most exciting of Indian scenes. A white hunter,
considered very reliable, told me that he had once seen nearly three
hundred buffalo killed in one surround, that the whole affair occupied
less than ten minutes after the signal was given, and that not a single
buffalo escaped.
290
INDIAN COMMUNISM.
animals. As soon as those skins are stretched, that
meat cut up in flakes and put to dry, or in other
words, when the women's work is done, another sur-
round is made with the like result, and this is contin-
ued until enough meat and skins are obtained, or
until cold weather drives the Indians to their winter
camp.
:
The weapon principally used in the surround was
the revolving pistol, though some men used carbines,
and others bows. When bows and arrows alone were
used, each warrior, knowing his own arrows, had no
difficulty in positively identifying the buffalo killed by
him. These were his individual property entirely,
except that he was assessed a certain proportion for
the benefit of the widows or families which had no
warrior to provide for them. If arrows of different
men were found in the same dead buffalo, the owner-
ship was decided by their position. If each warrior
inflicted a mortal wound, the buffalo was divided, or
not unfrequently given to some widow with a family.
The head hunter decided all these questions, but an
appeal could be taken from his decision to the gen-
eral judgment of the dog-soldiers. Since the general
use of firearms has rendered impossible the identifi-
cation of the dead buffalo, the Indians have become
more communistic in their ideas, and the whole of the
meat and skins is divided after some rule of appor-
tionment of their own invention. None but the lazy
and the poor shots are satisfied with this arrange-
ment, but it is the only solution of the problem left to
them.
In those portions of the Plains where the depres-
sions are too slight to favor "the surround," the
arrangements are totally different. On discovering a
A GOOD BAG.
291
herd the dog-soldiers were deployed in a wide semi-
circle, and approached the unsuspecting animals at a
slow walk. When the near approach of this line
alarmed the herd sufficiently to start it on the gallop,
a signal was given and the whole line dashed in at
once, pursuing and killing the frightened animals until
every pony was completely pumped. In such case the
camp was a migratory one, and pitched as near as
possible to the scene of slaughter until the squaws
"cleaned up," and the meat was cured; then broken
up, and all proceeded in search of another herd.
In favorable localities the Sioux used to kill great
numbers by first decoying a herd to the desired posi-
tion, then suddenly appearing and driving the fright-
ened animals over a precipice. The southern Plains
Indians pursued the herds on horseback, killing with
lances, which were the more effective from being
noiseless.
The buffalo is the most stupid of any of the animal
creation of which I have knowledge. If it sees or
smells no enemy a herd will stand still until every
individual is shot down. They will do this some-
times when the enemy is in plain view. Once needing
fresh meat for my post I sat down on the ground on
the level prairie, in plain view and within less than
one hundred yards of a herd and shot down two cows
and thirteen calves, the others not attempting to
leave. We had actually to drive off the survivors
by shouts and waving our hats, before we could
butcher our game.
Probably from this very stupidity, it is at some
times the most easily stampeded or panic-stricken of
any of the Plains animals. A herd which during one
hour may stand and be shot at, may the next hour
292
ADVENTURE ON BIG COON.
rush headlong over the prairie in the wildest, blindest
paroxysm of fear, oftentimes without any assignable
cause. This peculiarity was the cause of an adven-
ture which came near being my last.
I was changing posts in March, 1871, and had
three or four wagons and a small escort.
One night
I camped on Big Coon Creek. It was too early for
rain, and the weather was cold and blustering. My
camp was, therefore, nearly in the bed of the creek,
close under the shelter of the steep, almost bluff,
banks, which border the stream. The nook in which
I camped was small, and tents and wagons were
unusually crowded together.
The camp,
A
It was late at night and I was in bed.
except one sentinel, was buried in sleep; the fires
were out, darkness and silence reigned supreme.
faint and very distant roaring sound struck my ear.
Thinking of water, I rushed out at once, and, run-
ning up the side of the bank, peered up the stream
into the darkness to discover an approaching line of
foam, precursor of the flood.
Just then the wind brought the sound more dis-
tinctly. It came from the prairie, not from the
stream, and was approaching. I sent the sentinel to
wake up the corporal and other two men of the guard,
who soon made their appearance with their arms.
Explaining to the men in a few words the nature
of the danger, I warned them to keep perfectly cool
and to obey orders. By this time the black line of
the moving mass of buffalo was distinctly visible. It
was bearing directly down upon us with tremendous
speed and irresistible force. We were in an excellent
position for the protection of the camp, being directly
between it and the buffalo, and about fifty yards from
WASTEFUL SLAUGHTER.
293
it. My only chance was to split the herd. If this
could be done, we and the camp would be saved; if
not, all would go to destruction together. Waiting
until the advance line of buffalo was within thirty
yards, the muskets were fired in rapid and continuous
succession, and we in unison let out one of the most
unearthly yells that ever split the throats of five
badly-frightened men. A few of the leading animals
fell dead, the others swerved from the fire and noise;
the herd was split, and, tumbling in fright and con-
fusion down the bank on each side of the camp, went
thundering and roaring into the darkness.
The danger from Indians and the great distance
from market had heretofore protected the buffalo from
wholesale slaughter by whites, but by 1872 the buf-
falo region had been penetrated by no less than three
great railroads, and the Indians had been forced from
their vicinity. About this time too it was discovered
that the tough, thick hide of the buffalo made admira-
ble belting for machinery, and the dried skins readily
commanded sale at three to four dollars each. The
news spread like wild-fire, and soon the Union Pa-
cific, Kansas Pacific, and Atchison Topeka and Santa
Fé railroads, swarmed with hunters from all parts of
the country, all excited with the prospect of having a
buffalo hunt that would pay. By wagon, on horse-
back, and a-foot, the pot-hunters poured in, and soon
the unfortunate buffalo was without a moment's peace
or rest. Though hundreds of thousands of skins
were sent to market, they scarcely indicated the
slaughter. From want of skill in shooting, and want
of knowledge in preserving the hides of those slain,
one hide sent to market represented three, four, or
even five dead buffalo.
19
294
GATHERING THE SPOIL.
The merchants of the small towns along the rail-
roads were not slow to take advantage of this new
opening. They furnished outfits, arms, ammunition,
etc., to needy parties, and established great trades, by
which many now ride in their carriages.
The buffalo melted away like snow before a sum-
mer's sun. Congress talked of interfering, but only
talked. Winter and summer, in season and out of
season, the slaughter went on.
The fall of 1873 saw an immense accession of hunt-
ers, but by this time the local merchants, recognizing
its importance, had got the trade pretty well into
their own hands. Most of the hunting-parties were
sent out by them, and were organized for even a
greater destruction of buffalo, and with more care for
the proper preservation of the hides and meat. Cen-
tral dépôts were established in localities where buffalo
were plentiful. Parties were sent out from these
which every few days brought back their spoil.
Houses were built for smoking and corning the meat,
and, though the waste was still incalculable, the
results would be incredible but that the figures are
taken from official statistics.
In 1871-2 there was apparently no limit to the
numbers of buffalo.
In 1872 I was stationed at Fort Dodge, on the
Arkansas, and was out on many hunting excursions.
Except that one or two would be shot, as occasion
required, for beef, no attention whatever was paid to
buffalo (though our march lay through countless
throngs), unless there were strangers with us.
the fall of that year three English gentlemen went
out with me for a short hunt, and in their excitement
bagged more buffalo than would have supplied a
In
BARBAROUS HUNTING.
295
brigade. From within a few miles of the post our
pleasure was actually marred by their numbers, as
they interfered with our pursuit of other game.
In the fall of 1873 I went with some of the same
gentlemen over the same ground. Where there were
myriads of buffalo the year before, there were now
myriads of carcasses. The air was foul with sicken-
ing stench, and the vast plain, which only a short
twelvemonth before teemed with animal life, was a
dead, solitary, putrid desert. We were obliged to
travel southeast to the Cimarron, a distance of nearly
ninety miles, before we found a respectable herd.
Even there we found the inevitable hunter.
In October, 1874, I was on a short trip to the
buffalo region south of Sidney barracks. A few
buffalo were encountered, but there seemed to be
more hunters than buffalo. The country south of the
South Platte is without water for many miles, and the
buffalo must satisfy their thirst at the river. Every
approach of the herd to water was met by rifle bullets,
and one or more buffalo bit the dust. Care was taken
not to permit the others to drink, for then they would
not return. Tortured with thirst the poor brutes
approached again and again, always to be met by bul-
lets, always to lose some of their number.
In places favorable to such action, as the south
bank of the Platte, a herd of buffalo has, by shooting
at it by day, and by lighting fires and firing guns at
night, been kept from water for four days, or until it
has been entirely destroyed. In many places the val-
ley was offensive from the stench of putrefying car-
casses.
During the three years 1872-73-74, at least five
millions of buffalo were slaughtered for their hides.
296
SLAUGHTERED FOR THEIR HIDES.
This slaughter was all in violation of law, and in
contravention of solemn treaties made with the In-
dians, but it was the duty of no special person to put
a stop to it. The Indian Bureau made a feeble effort
to keep the white hunters out of the Indian Territory,
but soon gave it up, and these parties spread all over
the country, slaughtering the buffalo under the very
noses of the Indians.
Ten years ago the Plains Indians had an ample
supply of food, and could support life comfortably
without the assistance of the government. Now
everything is gone, and they are reduced to the con-
dition of paupers, without food, shelter, clothing, or
any of those necessaries of life which came from the
buffalo; and without friends, except the harpies, who,
under the guise of friendship, feed upon them.
1
CHAPTER XXIII.
CLOTHING, FINERY AND PERSONAL ADORNMENT OF
INDIANS.
The Breech-cloth - Donning a "Biled" Shirt-How Little Raven
"Received" 66
Fixed up" for White Company - Ludicrous Com-
binations Remarkable Appearance of Turkey Leg in Council
The Green Veil and Stove-Pipe Hat - Bugbears of Indian Life
A Disgusted Warrior — Ceremonial Costumes Fringe Made of
Scalp Locks Dressing the Hair - The Pig-tail" Style — The
Receptacle for Odds and Ends - Female Attire - The Buckskin Skirt
and Jacket - The Kirtle of Fringe - How Indians Paint their Bodies
Bracelets and Beadwork — A Good Story —The Captain's False
Teeth - A Cheyenne Chief's Glass Eye-Terror Caused by its
Removal Kicked out of Camp as Doubtful "Medicine.”

HEN at home, or alone with his
own people, the ordinary summer
dress of the male Indian is the
breech-cloth, leggings and moc-
casins.
The breech-cloth is the simplest
of all garments. A string is tied
around the waist, one end of a
piece of cloth, five to eight feet long by
four inches wide, is drawn under the string in front,
passed between the legs, and under the string behind.
One loose end forms a flap in front reaching nearly
to the knees, the other hangs behind like a tail,
sometimes dragging the ground. This is all that the
Indian thinks necessary for modesty or decency.
"
297
298
HOW LITTLE RAVEN RECEIVED.
Dress is for display, not for use. I have already
spoken of the “imitative faculty" of the Indian. It
secures him frequent trouble. The very commonplace
dress of the civilized whites is not at all to his taste.
It gives no opportunity for display and is most con-
fining and uncomfortable. Yet, with a heroism
worthy the martyrs of old, he incases himself in this
Pandora's box or ills, whenever he expects to come in
contact with a white man of any position.
I one day drove up to a field where some Indians
were at work ploughing, etc. They were dressed in
breech-cloth and moccasins. As I came near, an
Indian ran off from the party towards a wagon on
the other side of the field. When I had talked a
little while with the workmen, I drove off, and it was
only afterwards that I discovered that I had given
almost mortal offence to the chief man. Recognizing
me, he ran off to his wagon, encased himself in what
Josh Billings would call a "biled" shirt, pants, coat,
hat, and even boots, only to find me gone on his
return.
This sensitiveness is not common. I one day went
on business to the camp of Little Raven, Oh-nas-tie,
the head chief of the Arrapahoes; in his youth a
skilful and renowned warrior, in his old age a natural
gentleman. He was at work in the field, but being
sent for, soon made his appearance. His dress con-
sisted only of a shirt and a pair of moccasins. He
was streaming with perspiration and covered with
dirt, but he met me with his usual courtesy, and
without the slightest apology for his dress or
condition.
The male Indian has now three styles of dress.
In his own home, or among themselves, it is simply
TURKEY LEG IN COUNCIL.
299
breech-cloth and moccasins, except that when visiting
he now wears a wide cotton mantle, not unlike a sheet,
enveloping his whole person, frequently even his
head, leaving only the face exposed. It is only among
the extremely poor that we may look for the primi-
tive fashions en rigueur, and even in his most natural
and poverty-stricken condition he is so excessively
fond of finery, that he always has something extra for
grand occasions; a few feathers tied in the hair, a
ring or two of brass wire for the ears, or wrists and
ankles, anything to make a show.
The second style is that which he adopts when
visiting or receiving visits from white men, and some
article of white men's clothing is indispensable.
There is no idea of incongruity or unfitness. What-
ever the white man wears, the Indian will wear if he
can get it. He sees the letters on the cap of a soldier,
and being ignorant of their meaning, assumes that
they are worn for ornament. He picks up a dilapi-
dated old hat from the dump pile of a military post,
covers it all over with broken crossed sabres, bent
bugles, fragments of letters; and putting it on his
head, struts around with quiet complaisance, per-
fectly assured that he is making a great sensation,
and gratified at every notice taken of him.
I was present at probably the most important
council of late years, between whites and Indians.
Turkey Leg, a Cheyenne chief of considerable prom-
inence, came into the council lodge, a buffalo robe
tightly folded around him, though it was warm
weather. Over his head and face he wore an
ordinary green veil. Over that, perched on the very
top of his head, and at least two sizes too small for
him, was a tall straight-bodied stove-pipe hat. When
(
300 INDIAN LOVE OF WHITE MAN'S DRESS.
he rose to speak, he retained the hat and veil,
but dropped his buffalo robe, disclosing his other
apparel, which consisted of a calico shirt and pair of
moccasins.
It is scarcely possible to conceive of any absurdity
or ridiculousness that is not constantly perpetrated
by Indians in their desire to show themselves off in
white men's clothing. I have never yet seen an Indian
of what I call the wild tribes with a complete dress;
even when they have the means and opportunity,
they seem to prefer to take this innovation by instal-
ments.
Last year I met Little Chief, and the other Northern
Cheyennes, on their return from Washington. They
were riding through southern Kansas, en route to
their agency, and everywhere they created a sensation.
A brawny buck with white shirt, elaborate necktie
and felt hat, had buckskin leggings, and moccasins,
and held over his head a lady's parasol. Another,
buttoned to the chin in a thick coat, had his nether
extremities covered in the same way, was without a
hat, but fanned himself incessantly with a huge
gaudily painted Chinese fan. Not one had a full suit
of civilized clothing, and if each had studied his "get .
up," for a month, he could not have fitted himself
out more ridiculously.
It is the same with all wild Indians. Though each
thinks some article of civilized attire indispensable to
his proper appearance before white men, he is per-
fectly content with one. One will surmount his
Indian dress by a hat ornamented with feathers.
Another will have a gaudy necktie, but no shirt,
another a vest buttoned to the chin, supplemented by
breech-cloth and moccasins. No more motley, ridic-
BUGBEARS OF INDIAN LIFE.
301
ulous, overdressed, half-dressed, and undressed crowd
can be found in the world, than a party of Indians
"fixed up" to receive white company.
Boots and pantaloons are the bugbears of Indian
life, and it is extremely rare even at the present day,
that an Indian can be induced to wear either. When
a man receives a pair of trowsers as his share of
the issues of clothing by the Indian Bureau, he turns
them over to a wife, who cuts out the whole seat
and front, leaving the legs from half-way above the
knee attached to the waistband by a piece of cloth
two inches wide passing up the other side of the thigh
and hip, thus making for her lord a serviceable pair
of leggings, and having enough cloth left over for a
pair for herself.
If the Indian is so unlucky as to draw a pair of
boots or shoes, he as a rule immediately sells them for
whatever he can get.
In the fall of 1879, I was near an Agency at the
time of issue of the merchandise by the Agent. I
was not present at the issue, but some hours after it
was over, I was asked by my servant to come out and
see an Indian who wanted to sell a coat. I complied
and found an Indian on horseback, with a thick
warm coat across the pommel of his saddle, which he
had that morning received as his share of the mer-
chandise. He held it up at once and proposed
swap."
Willing to ascertain the value from the Indian
standpoint of this justice or benevolence of the Indian
Department, I asked "how much?"
"Fifty cents" he replied.
"What will you do with the fifty cents?" I
asked.
302
CEREMONIAL COSTUMES.
"Get chuck,* heap hungry," he answered, lay-
ing his hands on his stomach and making a frightful
grimace.
The coat was worth at least six dollars. I tried to
impress upon him its value as an article of wearing
apparel, and to explain that he would need it in
winter. His only answer was a look of infinite dis-
gust. While we were talking another Indian rode
up. After a few moments' conversation in their own
language, the new-comer pulled out half-a-dollar, the
coat was handed over, and each rode off apparently
satisfied.
The Indian's third dress is that reserved for grand
occasions of ceremony among themselves. On it he
has expended a lifetime of thought, and all his inge-
nuity, and to its elaboration have been brought all
the skill and patience of his wives. Considering the
materials with which the Indians have to work, many
of these dresses are very beautiful. Buckskin is the
groundwork of all, but the garments themselves vary
infinitely, according to the taste and means of the
owner. Some are made of skin so fine, thin, and
white, as almost to look like satin; others orna-
mented with equal elaboration, are of smoked skins,
thick and dark-colored.
The upper garment of this gala dress generally
takes the form of a tunic, but varies in cut and make
from the wide pajama of the Orient, to the close-
It is
fitting hunting-shirt of our white borderers.
painted, beaded, worked with porcupine quills and
colored grasses; the seams marked with delicate
fringes of deer or antelope skin, not unfrequently
* Chuck is a word in almost universal use among the Plains Indians
of all tribes and languages. It means food.
INDIAN DRESS-COMBINATIONS.
303
over a foot in length. Occasionally some successful
warrior, who has a plethora of scalps, cuts one or
more into narrow strips, and fringes his coat with the
hair of his enemies. The leggings are generally of
much the same shape and cut, but vary in their orna-
mentation quite as much as the tunic. The moc-
casins of each tribe differ in shape. Those for show
are often so overloaded with ornamentation and bead-
work, as to be utterly useless for service. The
buffalo-robe cloak is a marvel of elaborate and pains-
taking labor. Porcupine quills, dyed, of various
colors, are stitched to the flesh side by sinews, in
patterns of different designs, often quite striking if not
artistic in effect. Sometimes the inside of the robe
will be covered with elaborate paintings, illustrative
of the combats and memorable actions of the owner.
At other times, the illustrations are mythological or
purely fanciful, other times again they are of such a
nature as cannot be described or depicted. The
Indian idea, whether of man or woman, is essentially
obscene, and it is to be regretted that many of their
most successful artistic efforts have been on such
subjects as will not bear repetition. The needlework
ornamentation is always done by the women, the
paintings, sometimes by the women, but generally by
the man himself, especially when picturing his own
exploits.
It is extremely rare to see an Indian, even though
following the plough in his breech-cloth and mocca-
sins, who has not bestowed some thought and pains on
the dressing of his hair. Indian men of all the wild
tribes allow their hair to grow, and as almost all
Indian hair is exactly alike in color and texture, their
special pride is in its length. The central and north-
304
DRESSING THE HAIR.
ern Plains tribes part their hair in the middle, and
confine it in two long tails, one over, or just behind,
each ear. These, pieced out with buffalo or horse-
hair to make them longer, are wrapped with a long
and narrow piece of cloth, or beaver skin, cut in
strips, the folds of which furnish receptacles of which
the Indian makes great use. I have often been sur-
prised to see an Indian pull out from his hair a letter,
or a bundle of matches, or a stick for cleaning his
pipe; anything that can be carried in a narrow com-
pass is sure to go in his tails.
The Comanches and Kiowas comb the hair back
from the face and plait it, with additions, in a single
long tail, ornamented with silver or plated buckles,
and often reaching nearly to the ground. These
tails are untied scarce oftener than once a year, the
combing and brushing being habitually confined to
that portion of hair immediately on the head. This,
however, receives great attention, and the warrior's
hair is usually quite sleek and shiny from grease and
frequent brushing.
They make a brush for themselves from the leaves
of the soap-weed, or, far south, of the Spanish
bayonet.
There is no article of dress or adornment so
highly prized as the eagles' quills, and the kill-
ing of an eagle by an Indian is an event for as
much congratulation and rejoicing among his family
and friends, as an inheritance of a fortune by a
white man. Every feather is utilized. The wing-
quills go to the Indian's personal adornment, or
are sold, bringing sometimes as much as two dol-
lars each. The tail is cut off, pressed into fan
shape, worth at least a pony, being a favorite orna-
!
IMPORTANCE OF EAGLES' QUILLS.
305
ment for the totem, and of use as a fan at the same
time.*
The head is cut off, skinned and stuffed, and is so
much prized as an ornament by warriors, that a
shrewd white man, who some years ago conceived the
idea of sending to the states for some glass eagles'-
eyes, reaped ample reward for his wit, getting a pony
for each pair of eyes. They are more common now,
and the price reasonable.
No warrior, who aspires to distinction, ever thinks
himself fitted out until he has some article of head-
gear ornamented with eagles' quills. A poor fellow
may have but one, but it is his warrant of respect-
ability. The happy few of each tribe who have war-
bonnet, shield, lance and gun-cover, all ornamented
with these quills, value them as a millionaire his
estate, and they serve exactly the same purpose, often
pushing forward a man who has no other claim to
distinction.
None of the finery of the Indian can be washed,
or otherwise cleaned, and as one suit frequently has
to last a lifetime, its condition, in the later years of its
usefulness, may be imagined.
Catlin describes among the Indians with whom he
came in contact, a character which it has never been
my lot to encounter, an Indian dandy, vain, effemi-
nate, and devoting his life and energy solely to the
adornment of his person.
All Indians are given to great elaboration of dress
* The Golden Eagle is very plenty on the Plains in November. Num-
bers are killed by the Indians, and in some seasons the market is so glut-
ted that a whole stuffed skin may be purchased for two or three dollars.
Unfortunately, they are always shot with rifle bullets, and the skins so
badly handled in removing and stuffing, that they are worthless as speci-
mens.
306
CATLIN'S DANDY.
on occasions of display, and this is regulated solely
by the taste and wealth of the wearer. Some dress
much more than others, but I have doubts if
any such
character as Catlin's dandy could have place or
standing among the Plains tribes, where manhood is
the first requisite to a man.
At the age when every man, civilized or savage, is
naturally something of a dandy, the Indian is poor,
waiting, watching, and hoping for an opportunity to
increase his store, by stealing the horses of somebody
else. Whatever his disposition, he has not the means
to be Catlin's dandy.
Among the Plains tribes there is a species of
dandy, but he is entirely different from the idle, effem-
inate animal described by Catlin. He is generally the
son of a rich and indulgent father, lives with the "old
man," and is talked of as one having great expecta-
tions. He is a great catch, therefore unmarried; he
dresses a great deal, is consequently a "lady-killer,"
but he must back up all this effeminacy by a first-
class reputation for courage and endurance, and be as
ready to fight as to flirt. Nothing less than an Indian
"Claude Melnotte" can be a dandy on the Plains.
In the wilder tribes, the ordinary dress of the
women of the present day is a skirt of buckskin,
more or less ornamented, reaching from the waist to
half way below the knee. The upper dress is a short
jacket of the same material, but this is being rapidly
replaced by more civilized covering, the women of
those tribes in contact with Mexicans, soon learning
to cover the head and body with a scarf or reboza,
and those who sometimes see a white woman, taking
naturally to the shawl. The women of nearly all the
Plains tribes, now wear a calico dress (made by them-
1
FEMALE ATTIRE.
307
selves, and not cut by a fashionable dressmaker),
reaching from the neck to the ankles, and very like
the camisal of the New Orleans French women.
They wear leggings and moccasins, but no stockings.
The shawl is worn universally over the head, after the
style of the reboza, and the greatest effort at display
made by the women is in this article, each trying to
outdo her friend in variety and brilliancy of its color-
ing. When not actually at household work, the
shawl is always worn. The woman, even in her own
lodge, never stops to talk to a visitor, until she has
first put on her brightest shawl. It is worn every-
where outside the lodge, riding, walking, visiting each
other, or going to the Agency or a military post;
even in the dance it is indispensable, and never
removed. The natural inference to be drawn from
this close and constant envelopment by the shawl is
that the other clothing will not bear inspection. It
is, however, only a fashion or custom handed down
from the days when clothing was scanty. When out
visiting, the women of the Cheyennes and Arapa-
hoes dress quite as well as the poorer class of whites.
Under the shawl is a nice calico dress, a cape of the
same material falling over the shoulders. Around
the waist is a broad leather girdle, very similar to
that so fashionable among white ladies a year or two
ago, but ornamented with a close continuation of
round pieces of silver or tin. From one side depends
a long strap of leather, similarly ornamented, like the
fan-holder of our ladies. Their ears are pierced with
one, two, three or more holes, in the outer cartilage,
in each of which is an ear-ring, generally of twenty-
five-cent jewelry, but for which the trader may have
received a horse. Around the neck is an elaborate,
308
KIRTLE OF FRINGE.
and sometimes handsome, necklace of beads. They
are dressed well, though unlike civilized ladies, they
hide it all.
In some of the far western tribes, especially those
along the Colorado River, the only dress of the
women consists of a short kirtle of fringe. Innu-
merable fringes of bark are attached to a band twenty
or thirty feet long. This is wound around and around
the waist, the loose fringes making a thick mat reach-
ing nearly to the knees.
I was told by an old settler of Yuma that when he
went there years before, though the men wore the
breech-cloth and moccasins, the women were in "puris
naturalibus," their unadorned beauty being "set off"
only by some patches of paint, and a few rings of
brass wire on fingers, arms and legs. He stated fur-
ther that a party of Mormons had been attacked by
the Indians, and all killed except one woman. She
was kept in captivity, and every article of her cloth-
ing taken to adorn the persons of her male captors.
Her feminine instincts revolting against this, she made
such kirtles as I have described, but was obliged to
teach the Indian women to wear them before being
herself permitted to benefit by her own modest in-
genuity.
Until within about ten years the women of the
Wichita Indians wore in summer no covering what-
ever on the body above the waist. Even on the most
full-dress occasion a string of beads or wampum was
all that fashion or modesty required.
At home the clothing of the children is "nothing
to speak of," but all have a gala-dress, for visiting
and grand occasions, on which the mothers have
expended all their taste and skill. Some are elabo-
BODY-PAINTING AND JEWELRY.
309
rately ornamented, and quite valuable. One of the
most so is a scarf of ordinary Indian cloth, orna-
mented with elk's-teeth. As these animals are now
extremely rare on the Southern Plains, this scarf
could scarcely be bought for less than two ponies
(fifty to sixty dollars).
Among the wild tribes every man, woman and
child is more or less painted. From the miserable
Digger, who thinks himself perfectly dressed when
his naked body is smeared with colored earth, to the
wealthy chief, whose contact with whites enables him
to give himself all the colors of the rainbow, no Indian,
whatever may be his actual apparel, considers him-
self in full dress, unless he is painted. This rule has
some exceptions among the better class of the Indians
of the Territory, and some of the prominent chiefs of
the wild tribes, as "Spotted Tail," "Ouray," and
others, who follow the "white man's road," and have
ceased entirely to wear paint.
All Indians are very fond of jewelry, and wear it
in great profusion. All wear finger-rings of brass or
silver, sometimes, on occasions of ceremony, in such
profusion as seriously to interfere with the use of the
hands. Both sexes wear bracelets, or hoops of brass
on their arms, sometimes eight or ten on one arm,
and generally above the elbow. Ear-rings are worn
almost universally. The holes for insertion are made
with a knife, and usually in the upper cartilage, and
it is not at all unusual to see two, three, or more holes
in each ear. I have seen an Indian with several huge
brass rings in each ear, each supporting by connec-
tions of bead-work, shells, stones, pieces of bone, etc.,
until each pendant was a foot long, the whole weigh-
ing not less than half a pound. Of course the ears
20
310
FALSE TEETH AND GLASS EYE.
are dragged out of all shape, enlarged to twice their
natural size, and much torn, occasionally almost en-
tirely torn off.
Indians have remarkably good teeth, and rarely
lose one except by accident. From army surgeons I
have heard of a case or two of toothache, but I have
never known an Indian to have a tooth extracted.
Not very long ago an officer of the army (who,
having lost his upper teeth, wore a false set) was
engaged in serious conversation with some Indians.
His plate troubling him, he took it out and wiped it
with his handkerchief. The Indians watched the
process with unfeigned astonishment, and when the
captain, putting the plate in his mouth, went on with
the conversation, they sprung to their feet, and left
the room and post in all haste, and with every symp-
tom of extreme terror.
Buffalo, a bright, intelligent Cheyenne, now em-
ployed under my command as a scout, has but one
eye. A few years ago an army surgeon, who took a
fancy to him, inserted a glass eye in the vacant orbit.
For a long time it was a constant amusement to him,
and a dread to his companions, he insisting that he
could see as well with that eye as with the other, and
they putting him to all sorts of tests, which he was
quick enough to foil. It was a long time before the
Cheyennes got used to Buffalo's eye, and even now
they regard it with suspicion as doubtful medicine.
CHAPTER XXIV.
DISEASE AND DEATH- THE STRUGGLE FOR
Jak
EXISTENCE.
Homesickness Driven from Pillar to Post- Fate of the Pawnees
Frightful Mortality-The "Policy" that Drives Indians to Despera
tion - The Only Misfortune Over which an Indian Broods - Rude
Remedies The Sweat House - A Cold Plunge
A Cold Plunge - Disease among
Indian Children - A Shocking Suspicion - Wild Flight-Super-
stitious Terror Abject Prostration and Alarm — The Wail of De-
spair - Dead and Dying Left by the Wayside-Scenes of Indescribable
Horror — Hydrophobia — Curious Facts Concerning the Bite of a
Skunk — Awaiting the Worst of Fates
ture - Preparing for a Desperate Raid
Deathbed Scenes — Chanting the Death Song — The Final Farewell.
сче
Suicide- Defiance of Tor-
Shot Dead in his Saddle -
-

IKE most people who live much in the
fresh air, the Indians are a healthy
race, but their condition of health
seems to be in a great degree depend-
ent on their remaining in the country
to which they are accustomed. The
ill effect of change does not appear to
be due to climatic influences, for those
removed from malarial and unhealthy re-
gions to more salubrious districts suffer more or less,
though not of course so much as when the conditions
are reversed. I believe that homesickness is the
foundation of this ill effect, and that the extraor-
dinary and unnatural diminution in the numbers of
certain tribes is due to nostalgia more than any
other cause.
311
312
NOSTALGIA.
Almost every year witnesses the enforced change
of locations of some of the Indians. A tribe is
ousted from the country in which were born all its
living, and which contains the graves of all its dead.
Those old enough to appreciate the misfortune, dis-
heartened, despairing, in no mood to maintain the
struggle for existence, are ready to fall, almost
willing victims, to the first malady that assails them.
The young grow up, and learn to love the country of
their adoption, only in time to be themselves removed,
and go through with the wretched experience of their
fathers.
I have not the data for a careful comparison of the
vital statistics of tribes, but my personal observation
convinces me that those tribes which have been most
frequently forced to move have suffered the greatest
diminution in numbers, and this, too, without regard
to the healthfulness or insalubrity of the country to
which the move was made.
Witness the Pawnees, who, scarce fifty years ago,
were numerically one of the most powerful tribes in
the territory of the United States, but who, by the
aggressions of equally warlike tribes, or by the power
of the government, have been repeatedly forced to
change their country, until now the bare remnant, a
population of scarce a thousand souls, occupies a
little corner of the Indian Territory twenty miles
square. It is true that the Pawnees are an exceed-
ingly warlike race, but their losses at the hands of
their human enemies are entirely disproportioned to
their loss by various maladies, whose foundation in
my belief is simply nostalgia.
Of the removal of the Cherokees from North
Carolina, the "Missionary Herald" said: "From the
TERRIBLE MORTALITY.
313
time they were gathered into camps by the United
States troops, in May and June, 1838, till the time the
last detachment reached the Arkansas country, which
was about ten months, a careful estimate shows that.
not less than four thousand, or forty-five hundred
were removed by death, being on an average from
thirteen to fifteen deaths a day for the whole period,
out of a population of sixteen thousand, or one fourth
of the whole number. It does not appear that this
mortality was owing to neglect or bad treatment
while on the journey."
In ten months, more than one-fourth of a whole
population is carried off by death, in a healthy
country, without epidemic, without "war, pestilence
or famine," and it never seems to have occurred to
any one to look for, much less assign a reason for it.
The Indian is naturally light-hearted and thought-
less, disposed to take the world as it comes and make
the best of it. This is the philosophy he derives from
his patience and endurance.
The possibility of starvation to which he is con-
stantly exposed by the "policy" now in vogue,
engenders a feeling of aggressive desperation rather
than of hopeless despair. He becomes excessively
indignant and dangerous, but, the crisis past, returns.
at once to his normal temper "laissez-faire."
His removal from his accustomed haunts is the only
single misfortune over which I have ever known an
Indian to brood.
The laws of the United States do not recognize
banishment as penalty for any crime, yet the govern-
ment habitually exercises the right to exile from their
native homes a people with whom it holds treaty
relations, and who, in the absence of any penal code,
314
PLUCK.
can commit no crime against the laws or people of
the United States. This unjust and arbitrary exercise
of power is a special and refined cruelty to the Indian,
for white men are so constituted, and have so many
resources, that not one in a hundred would feel such a
misfortune as keenly as does the Indian.
Aside from its inhumanity, the policy of removal is
more than questionable. A tribe, as the Modocs, or
Nez Percés, which for generations has lived in the
most amicable relations with white men, is, for a single
outbreak, forced on it by injustice, greed and aggres-
sion, exiled to a strange land. Despairing and des-
perate, men who have been our life-long friends are
converted into unforgiving enemies. Hoping, almost
praying, for an excuse for outbreak, willing to risk
death for even the slightest chance of regaining
their loved homes, these fragments of bands are a
constant source of anxiety to States containing over
two millions of inhabitants, and require a force of
troops to watch and control them, at an expense ten
times greater than would feed, clothe, house, and
make them valuable citizens in the countries for
which they yearn.
It is time that the government began to under-
stand that homesickness with Indians is a disease,
a most dangerous malady, resulting in death to them,
in loss of life and money to us.
Indians have plenty of courage and extraordinary
endurance, but little of that rather indefinable quality
called "pluck." The man who cheerfully and volun-
tarily submits himself to all the tortures of the Hôch-
e-a-yum, will, on a bed of sickness, be as impatient and
as fretful as a child. Hurts and wounds are matters
of ocular demonstration casily understood; sickness
THE SWEAT HOUSE.
315
is different. To be burning with fever, shaken with
chills, or racked with rheumatism, is so foreign to
their experience of what is common and natural to
animal life, that it can be attributed only to the
malevolent influence' of the Bad God. No idea of
a diagnosis has occurred to them, nor have they even
advanced sufficiently to comprehend that there are
different kinds of ordinary disease. Sickness is sick-
ness, a direct manifestation of the evil power and will
of the Bad God; that is all they know or think about it.
In a previous chapter I have given a detailed
description of the exorcisms, chantings, and other
religious ceremonies used by the medicine men in
their conflicts with the Evil One. These are used in
sickness only. The cure of a wound would never be
attempted by such means, though the medicine men
make pow-wows over the wounded man to prevent
the Evil One from taking advantage of his situation.
A wound is tangible, and though it results from the
power of the Bad God, this does not prevent its
being treated directly and oftentimes very success-
fully.
Other than by the power of religion, there is but
one single mode by which the alleviation and cure of
diseases is attempted. This is the "sweat house,"
which, though differing somewhat with different tribes,
is sufficiently the same for a general description. A
small structure, six feet long by four or five feet broad,
with a low arched roof, like a bake-oven, is built of
rough stones and mud, close on the bank of a stream,
the one opening on the side overlooking as nearly as
possible a deep pool. A fire is built within, and when
a proper degree of heat has been attained, the fire
and ashes are raked out, the patient, stripped naked,
2
316
DISEASES OF CHILDHOOD.
crawls in, and the opening is closed with a blanket.
When almost baked, and the perspiration streaming
from every pore, he is taken out and plunged into the
pool below. In most instances, and with the diseases
most common to Indians-intermittent fever and
rheumatism — this treatment is wonderfully effica-
cious. In other cases, and especially with small-pox,
the Indian enters the water and the "happy hunting
grounds” at the same instant. This result, however,
will not prevent a repetition of the treatment with the
next patient, and to this persistence is due much of
the mortality incident to Indian disease.
From the day of his entrance into this world until
maturity, the life of an Indian is truly a "struggle
for existence.” The women are generally healthy,
and produce healthy children. The life of the
weakly child is a short span, not necessarily because
the parents kill it, as is generally believed, but
because of the poor fare, hard life, and constant
drudgery of the mother, and the exposure to which
the child is subjected. Among civilized people, the
sickly child has the best medical attendance, the most
careful nursing; every assistance known to art is
given to nature. Among Indians, nature has no
assistance, and unless naturally strong enough to
withstand the strain, the child dies. The greatest
mortality is confined to very young children, and
after passing its third or fourth year, the chance of
the Indian child's death by disease is very much less
than that of the white child. But through all the
clambering" age, and until entirely able to take
care of itself, the Indian child's life is not only beset
by the innumerable accidents and chances incident
to its mode of living, but many, such as the breaking
୧୧
SMALL-POX.
317
of limbs, bites from snakes, which would be but
temporary pain and inconvenience to the white, result
in death to the Indian, from lack of proper treatment.
Contact with civilization, which presumably might
have increased, has really lessened the chances of
life of the young Indian, bringing measles, mumps,
whooping-cough, and scarlet fever, maladies so com-
mon to civilization, that they are looked upon as a
necessary experience in the life of every white child,
but which are entirely unknown to the Indian in his
natural state.
I shall never be able to believe that the actual
Indian population of the United States fifty years
ago, was more than a mere fraction of that given on
paper by writers, who were either agents, interested
in having as many on their papers as possible, or
enthusiasts like Catlin, who evidently believed any
boast the Indians chose to make as to their numbers.
It is, however, a fact established beyond all possibility
of doubt, that the actual diminution has been enor-
mously great.
The principal cause of this diminution was small-
pox, which fifty years ago, was probably the greatest
scourge of all nations and people. Some few small
tribes, living closely together for protection against
powerful neighbors, as the Mandans, were almost
completely annihilated, and some bands of the larger
tribes lost half their numbers. The control of this
terrible disease now possessed by science has led to
its almost entire disappearance among whites, and as
Indians get it only by contact with whites, or from
infected clothing (said to have been sometimes pur-
posely sent to them), it has now almost entirely dis-
appeared from among them.
318
CHOLERA.
Another dreadful scourge, cholera, has periodically
attacked them, and though not nearly so fatal to
Indian life as small-pox, it has well done its work in
the diminution of their numbers. I have heard of no
case of small-pox among Indians for twenty years
(except the very recent outbreak among the Utes,
which, under the circumstances, appears very like
design on the part of somebody), but whenever this
country has been afflicted by cholera, the Indians
have suffered more in proportion to numbers than
whites.
They soon learn from the squaw men when the
cholera has visited our shores, and take every pre-
caution against it, breaking into small bands, and
removing into the most secluded wilds, far from rail-
roads, steamboats, or settlements.
In spite of this, and the most rigid quarantine, a
band is occasionally attacked. How it reaches them
is a mystery, no more to be accounted for than the
spread of the horse disease of a few years ago, com-
monly called the epizootic, and which passed at a
regular rate of speed, without contact or apparent
cause, from the Atlantic to the Pacific, sparing no
herd of horses, however isolated, either of Indian or
white man.
The Indians regard all these diseases as simply the
manifestation of the diabolic power and disposition
of the Bad God, who, having in their encounter
so worsted the Good God, as to render him tem-
porarily powerless, seizes the opportunity to wreak
his rage upon the defenceless people.
To describe the superstitious terror, the abject fear
of these unfortunate savages, at such times, is beyond
the power of words. When the epidemic is suffi-
THE RACE FOR LIFE.
319
ciently pronounced for sure recognition, a wail of
utter despair ascends to heaven. Camps and lodges
are abandoned, the dead and dying left unburied and
uncared for, and those yet unafflicted, breaking up
into families, fly in every direction from the scene of
suffering. They hope by the secrecy and celerity of
their movements to baffle the pursuit of the Bad
God. An unfortunate seized with the disease en
route is forced to leave the party, to live or die soli-
tary and alone in the wilderness. Husbands abandon
their wives, children their aged parents, mothers their
nursing infants, and this terrible race for life con-
tinues until the disease has worn itself out, either
from want of contact, or lack of victims.
The places at which these terrible visitations have
overtaken the Indians are forever regarded with
superstitious terror, and no persuasion or bribe could
induce an Indian, knowingly, to visit them.
Many years ago, with a small force, I was scouting
in the Guadalupe Mountains in Texas, then a favor-
ite hunting ground of the Indians. In going from
one mountain pass to another, an old Indian trail was
discovered. It was deep and wide, showed plain evi-
dence of much and frequent usage, but no sign of
recent travel. It evidently led to some spot which
had been a favorite place of resort, but which, for
some reason, had for several years been abandoned.
Curious to know more I followed the trail. After
winding along ridges for three or four miles, it led by
a long and steep descent to a most charming valley,
nestled and hidden in the very bosom of the moun-
tains. This valley was about twelve miles long by
an average of three-fourths of a mile in width. A
beautiful stream wound in graceful curves from moun-
320
THE VISITATION OF GOD.
tain to mountain as if seeking to leave no spot of the
valley untouched by its invigorating influence. Tall,
shapely trees clustered along the margins of the
stream; smooth lawns of the greenest grass, dotted
with clumps of shrubbery, and covered with lovely
flowers of every hue, made a picture as fair as the
eye of man could wish it.
Descending the stream for some two miles, we
came, in one of the loveliest of the many lovely nooks,
upon the remains of an Indian camp. Many of the
old lodge poles were still standing, though the lodges
themselves had long since gone to decay. Scattered
about, rusted and rotten, were cooking utensils, arms,
saddles, all the paraphernalia that go to make Indian
wealth and Indian comfort. In the midst of these,
and in every direction in and around the camp, were
innumerable bones- the dislocated skeletons of the
Indian inhabitants; some, almost entire, lying where
the breath had left the bodies; others scattered and
broken as they had been dragged, and gnawed, and
left by the wolves. To all appearance not a thing
had been touched by man; not a living soul had en-
tered that camp since the day of its awful visitation
by the Bad God.
Mental and nervous diseases are rare, though a
"Crazy Woman" has given name to several streams
in widely separated portions of the Plains. Idiotic
children are occasionally found, and I have heard of
one case of paralysis.
Rabies is not a Plains malady, and personally I
have never known a single case on the Plains except
in white men bitten by the skunk.
The Indians, however, say they are not unfre-
quently troubled with mad wolves. On the middle
SUICIDE.
321
Plains they make their appearance in February and
March. Having entered an Indian village the wolf
will make no attempt to leave it, but rushing furi-
ously from lodge to lodge, attacks everything that
comes in its way, until killed or disabled. In every
instance, death by hydrophobia is to the Indian the
sure result of even the slightest scratch from the
teeth of the rabid animal. They make no attempt at
treatment, but philosophically commence preparations
for the death sure to come in a few days.
After giving away all his property he quietly awaits
the first paroxysms, then goes off alone, far away
from camp, meets his fate calmly, or anticipates it by
suicide.
The bite of a skunk, so extremely fatal to white
men within certain limits of the Plains, seems to have
no injurious effect whatever on the Indian, beyond
the mere pain of the wound.
Suicide, generally, among whites, the result of
over-sensitiveness or morbid selfishness, is to the
Indian a religious dernier ressort, a mode, when all
hope is gone, of escaping the persecution of the Bad
God. In all my experience among Indians I have
known but one single case of suicide for a frivolous
cause. A Sioux boy of seventeen or eighteen years
of age, who had all his life been greatly indulged and
spoiled by his father, fell desperately in love with a
young girl of the same tribe. The youth had no
property, and the girl's parents demanded more for
her than his father was disposed to pay. For several
days he persistently, but vainly, pleaded with his
father to pay the price demanded; and one morning,
after a more than usually peremptory refusal, he
walked in a fret out of the lodge, drew his pistol,
322
DESPERATION OF DESPAIR.
placed it against his stomach, and fired, inflicting a
mortal wound. He was carried into the lodge, and
after lingering a day or two in great agony, died
extremely penitent (when too late). The father was
thoroughly angry and disgusted, and after the act of
self-destruction never spoke to the son, except to load
him with reproaches, and abuse him as an utter fool,
and after his death buried him without ceremony or
honor.
Though Indians not unfrequently commit suicide
to escape the power of the Bad God, as manifested
in hydrophobia, paralysis, or similar terrible and
hopeless afflictions, I have never heard of one com-
mitting the act to escape torture. In conflict with
Indians, a white man will habitually save his last shot
for himself, for he knows the terrible result of cap-
ture. An Indian sends his last shot at his enemy,
and when captured takes pride in showing how
bravely he can bear the worst that his enemy can do.
A few years ago, a citizen, living on the Chugwater
Creek in Nebraska, told me a singular and dramatic
story. In 1867-8, a small band of some half-dozen
lodges, encamped near his house, was attacked with
cholera. A young buck, being seized with the pre-
monitory symptoms, saddled his horse, loaded himself
with arms, saying, "The white men have brought this
bad medicine into our country; I am going to die,
but not by cholera. I mean to ride up the creek
through the white settlements, and kill every white I
meet until I am killed." The other men of the band,
being peaceably disposed, and just then greatly need-
ing the assistance of the whites, did all in their power
to dissuade him from his purpose. Finding their
entreaties of no avail, they waited until he had
DEATH-BED SCENES.
323
mounted his horse, and turned to start on his despe-
rate raid, then shot him dead.
Catlin gives a most pitiable description of an old
Ponca chief, who had been "exposed," that is, aban-
doned by his people, to die alone on the prairie. It
is the only well-authenticated case I have ever heard
of, and is so foreign to the ordinary conduct of
Indians, that I think it must have been done on the
order of the man left; possibly some sickly, religious
idea of his old and feeble brain. All Indians, with
whose customs I am at all conversant, take their old
and sick with them in all removals of camp. They
are carried on travois, or if very old or childish, in the
wickerwork baskets commonly used for children.
The death-bed scene is as various as the character
and condition of the person dying. Unlike civilized
doctors, the medicine-men never "give up" a patient,
but will continue to howl, chant, and beat the tom-
tom, until life is extinct. When, however, a chief
or man of dignity and importance has made up his
mind that his end is near, he sends off the howling
women and ceremonious medicine-men, and calls in
all his family and friends. Having made his verbal
will, distributed his property, and made his last
speeches to each, his final effort seems to be to make
his exit with as good grace as possible. Sometimes
he has himself dressed in his best clothing (that
in which he will be buried), and seated in the
centre of a silent group of relatives and friends, will
breathe his last calmly and quietly. Sometimes lying
flat on his back he will chant his death-song, eren
with his last breath. Sometimes, after making his
will, he will go off alone to some thicket, from which
his lifeless body is presently brought by his friends.
324
DESTRUCTION OF LODGE.
Death has no terrors to the Indian, nor has he any
disquiet as to his future, consequently there are no
horrible death-bed scenes.
Women and children die naturally, without fear,
and without ostentation. Slaves, or persons of little
moment, or those supposed to be affected with infec-
tious or loathsome diseases, are frequently taken out-
side the lodge to die, not from inhumanity, but
because, when a death occurs in a lodge, it must be
taken down and its position changed.
Some years ago the lodge in which a death
occurred was utterly destroyed, but the Indians are
now too poor to give such vent to their affection or
superstition.
CHAPTER XXV.
INDIAN GAMBLERS
THEIR GAMES OF SKILL AND
SCENES FROM LIFE.
CHANCE DRUNKENNESS
Indian Gamblers — A Favorite Pastime Preparations for the Game
The Stakes-The Whirlpool of Fortune - An Exciting Contest
Dexterous Manipulation - Counting the Points Sweeping the
Stakes Experts with Cards - The Mysteries of "Monte" Ways
that are Dark" Cheating a Fine Art The Loaded Hand
Heavy Stakes Bad Luck Wives and Children Lost The Co-
manche Gambler The Fatal Throw Gambling Customs
"Passing the Bone" - In a Whirl of Excitement Aboriginal
Dice - Lucky Numbers Favorite Game with the Cheyenne Wo-
men - Born and Bred Swindlers Anything for Whiskey
Enjoying his Whiskey Alone - Sneaking off for a Debauch
A Sound Thrashing — A Blubbering Warrior.

१९छ
HE summer life of the Indian is active.
He seems to care nothing for heat, and
in his natural state, most of his wak-
ing hours in pleasant weather are
spent on horseback, hunting, or gad-
ding about from camp to camp, from
mere curiosity or love of company. He
cannot, however, stand cold. Winter
confines him to his lodge, and his life at
this season would be miserable enough but for the
excitement of gambling, dancing, and love-making.
Probably from having little else to do for a third,
or half the year, the passion of gambling is exces-
sively developed among all Indians. A blanket will
be spread upon the ground, around which the Indians
21
325
326
THE BONE GAME.
The most com-
Three or four of
will group until the lodge is packed.
mon games played are as follows.
the men best known as dexterous manipulators, will
be seated close on each side of the blanket facing
each other. The betting is not confined to the play-
ers, almost every looker-on, man or woman, choosing
sides, and backing his opinion with whatever he feels
like risking. All the articles wagered are laid out on
one side of the blanket, and a most heterogeneous
agglomeration is sometimes presented.
A fine silver-mounted Mexican saddle is wagered
against a war-bonnet of eagles' feathers, a shield
against a bow and quiver full of arrows, a pair of
moccasins against an old hat, or a dollar against a
white shirt. The women bet their necklaces, leg
ornaments, bead-work of every kind. Nothing is too
costly or too worthless to minister to this appetite.
All the bets being up, the game commences. One
of the players will hold up in his fingers a piece of
bone, well polished by frequent use, two to three
inches long, by one-quarter inch in diameter. It is
then enclosed between the two hands, and shifted
from one to the other, with inconceivable dexterity
and rapidity. His skill consists not only in com-
pletely mystifying his opponents, but by permitting
occasional glimpses of the bone when the hands are
together, to make it appear that it is in one hand
while it is really in the other.
The opponents watch carefully and patiently. At
last one feels sufficiently sure to warrant a selection,
and points quickly to one hand, which must instantly
be stretched out and opened. If the bone is in that
hand, the opponents of the manipulator count a point;
if it is not, then his side counts a point. A man on
POKER.
SEVEN-UP.
327
the other side then takes the bone, and the process is
exactly repeated.
Twenty-one points is game. When it is decided
each winner takes possession of his stake, and the
property staked against it, and another game is
started.
As every Indian wants to bet, and as each has a
shrewd eye to the main chance, and tries to match his
wager against something a little more valuable, it will
readily be perceived that "making the game," is by
far the most important part of it, taking much time
and a vast deal of noise, wrangling, bantering, chaff-
ing and blowing. I have never seen any quarrelling,
however, and they win or lose "like gentlemen" with
unvarying good humor.
The Utes use two bones as exactly alike as possible,
but around the middle of one is wound a small string.
After a certain amount of manipulation, one is re-
tained in each hand, and the hands then stretched out.
The opponent selects a hand, which is opened, and if
the wrapped bone is in it, he wins, if in the other
hand, he loses. It is a mere game of guess.
This and other old games, though holding a strong
place in the affections of the Indians, because they
permit an unlimited number of players, are generally
discarded by the more ardent gamblers, who, like the
whist-playing lady, regret the loss of time "taken in
dealing," or getting ready.
All the tribes are sufficiently civilized to possess
and understand cards. Those who come in contact
with Mexicans, are well versed in all the mysteries
of "monté," while the reservation Indians acquire a
knowledge of "poker," and "seven up," sufficient for
all purposes of gambling, in a quarter the time it
328
THE UNLUCKY GAMBLER.
would take them to learn the alphabet. The wilder
tribes invent games for themselves.
Cheating is a recognized part of all games among
all Indians. Luck in holding, and skill in playing
are both made subservient to skill in manipulation.
The man who can deal himself the best hand is
recognized as the best player, provided he is not
caught at it. If detected he loses, and this being
the only penalty, the game goes on.
In winter, the men play from morning till night, and
not unfrequently from night till morning again. The
stakes are high for a poor people. I have personally
looked on at a game between two Arrapahoe chiefs,
where one hundred and twenty dollars depended on a
single hand.
Indians are possessed of true gambling passion,
and will, if in bad luck, lose blankets, robes, lodge,
arms, ponies, wives, and even children (although this
is extremely rare). Twenty-five years ago I knew
of such a case among the Comanches. The unlucky
gambler having lost wives, children and property,
yielded all to the winner and started alone for
Mexico to recuperate his fallen fortunes by stealing.
This was not in those days so very unusual an occur-
rance.
An Indian does scarcely anything in secret. Hav-
ing no such idea as is embodied in our English word
"vice," he is entirely open and above-board, in every-
thing except those few things to which custom
attaches punishment. There is therefore no secrecy
about the gambling. Notice is sent out betimes, and
everybody invited. The sound of the "tom-tom "
notifies all that the game is about to begin. During
its progress the music is kept up. During the
AN EXCITING GAME.
329
manipulations or pauses of the game, all join in song.
Sometimes two noted players will get up a game
between themselves. Spectators crowd around, and if
a man is losing heavily, the whole camp soon knows
it. In such cases, the wives of the loser put in an
appearance before matters have proceeded to extrem-
ities, and break up the game.
The Comanches have a game somewhat like "hide
the slipper," in which an almost unlimited number
may take part. Two individuals will choose sides, by
alternate selection among those who wish to play, men
or women. All then seat themselves in the parallel
lines about eight feet apart, facing each other. The
articles wagered are piled between the lines. All
being ready, the leader of one side rising to his knees
holds up the gambling bone, so that all may see it.
He then closes it in the two hands, manipulating it so
dexterously that it is impossible to see in which hand
it is.
After a minute or more of rapid motion he suddenly
thrusts one or generally both hands, into the out-
stretched hands of the person on the right and left.
This marks the real commencement of the game, no
guess of the other watching-side being permitted
until after this movement. He may pass the bone to
one or the other, or he may retain it himself. In
either case, he continues his motions as if he had it,
and each of those two, closing the hands, go through
with the manipulations as if he had received it;
passing or pretending to pass it on and on to the
right and left, until every arm is waving, every hand
apparently passing the bone and every player in a
whirl of excitement. All this while, the other line is
watching with craned necks and strained eyes for the
330
THE PLUM-STONE GAME.
slightest bungle in the manipulation, which will
indicate where the bone is. Finally some one believes
he sees it and suddenly points to a hand, which must
be instantly thrust out and opened palm up. If the
bone is in it the watching party wins one point, if not
it loses. The other side then takes the bone and
goes through the same performance. If during
the manipulations the bone should be accidentally
dropped, the other side takes a point and the bone.
The game is usually twenty-one points, though the
players may determine on any number.
This is the most exciting game I have ever seen
played by Indians, and apparently the most fascinat-
ing to them.
Besides taking part in the round games of the men,
the women have games of their own which I have
never seen played by men. The most common is
called the "plum-stone game," and is played by the
women and children of nearly all the Plains tribes.
The stone of the wild plum is polished and the flatter
sides cut or scraped off, making them more flat. Some
of these faces are then marked with different hiero-
glyphics, varying with the tribe, and some left blank.
The game is played with eight such pieces, which
are shaken together in a little bowl, or tin cup, and
then thrown on a blanket. It is really nothing but
our game of dice, complicated, however, by a system
of counting so curious and arbitrary that it is almost
impossible for a white man to learn it. Every
possible combination of the hieroglyphics and blanks
on the eight stones give a different count. This
varies with the tribe. Among the Cheyennes the
highest possible throw is two hundred, the lowest
zero. The game is usually two thousand, though
WOMEN'S BONE GAME.
331
this greatly varies. Each player having the gambler's
superstition as to what is her lucky number, tries to
fix the game at that number. If the stakes are
valuable the number fixed for the game is generally
a compromise. In some tribes a certain combination
of the stones wins and another combination loses the
game, even though it be made on the first throw.
The Cheyenne women have another game of which
they are passionately fond.
Small white beads are strung on a sinew, twelve or
fourteen inches long; at one end, are fastened in a
bunch, six loops, about an inch in diameter, of smaller
beads similarly strung. Four polished bones of the
bear's foot are then strung on this beaded string, the
smaller ends toward the loops. Each of these bones
´s perforated with sixteen holes in rows of four, and
at each end are two or three very small loops of red
beads. The other end of the sinew is now fastened
to a sharpened piece of wire, six to seven inches long,
and the gambling instrument is complete.
The game is played by any number of players,
each in turn. The needle is held horizontally between
the thumb and fingers. The bones hanging down
are steadied for an instant, then thrown forward and
upward, and as they come opposite the point of the
needle a rapid thrust is made. If the player be skilful
the point of the needle will catch in some of the loops
or perforations of the bones. For each loop at the
lower extremity of the instrument caught by the
needle, the player counts one hundred. Being put
together in a bunch, it is rare that more than two or
three are caught, though all six may be. One of the
bones caught lengthwise on the needle counts twenty-
five; two, fifty. Each little loop and perforation pene.
332
WOMEN GAMBLERS.
trated by the needle counts five. Though the com-
plications are numerous, the count is simple. Thus
suppose the needle passed through a little loop on
third bone (five), then through the bone (twenty-
five), then through a little loop at the other end of
the bone (five), then through a loop on fourth bone
(five), and finally through three of the terminal loops
(three hundred), the count for the throw is the sum
of all (three hundred and forty). I have never seen
over five hundred made at a throw, though it is of
course possible to make over six hundred. If the
needle misses or fails to perforate loop or orifice,
there is no count. The game is usually two thou-
sand.
It will be noticed that in the women's games, the
element of chance greatly preponderates, the varia-
tion in the possibilities of a single throw, from noth-
ing to more than six hundred, being so great that
skill would seem to have nothing to do with success.
The Cheyenne woman is, however, hard to beat at
this her favorite game. I have a few times been vic-
torious by persistently aiming at the large lower
loops, which, though so difficult to hit that five out
of six throws were blanks, yet counted up handsomely
when the throw was successful.
These two games are the common amusement and
occupation of the Indian woman, when there is no
special work to do, and as they are invariably played
for stakes, she, on a small scale, is quite as much of
a gambler as her husband or father.
The boys bet on everything, horse-races, foot-races,
shooting at marks with arrows, etc., and are the most
rascally little scoundrels in the world. One of the
favorite games is for one to shoot an arrow into the
DRUNKENNESS.
333
ground at any distance he pleases. The others then
shoot at it. To each whose arrow strikes within a
certain distance of his he pays an arrow; each who
fails to come within that distance pays an arrow to
him. In these innocent pastimes the large boys
swindle the smaller most egregiously, and nothing so
delights them as to get hold of a little fellow whose
proud father has just given him a new set of arrows.
I have watched their performances with the greatest
amusement. They are very like civilized rascals,
and the victim soon learns to revenge himself on his
swindlers by swindling some boy smaller and more
ignorant than himself.
The vice of all others most unhappy in its conse-
quences to the Indian is his love of strong drink.
This passion for intoxication amounts almost to an
insanity. Those who inhabit that portion of the con-
tinent where grows the Maguay plant, make from it an
intoxicating beverage known as "mescal." Those
of Arizona and California make from fermented corn
a drink which they call "tizwin," as efficacious for a
first-class "drunk" as anything that can be produced.
The Plains Indian, behind all others in inventive
faculty, is fain to fall back upon the white man for
the means of indulging in his favorite passion.
To drink liquor as a beverage, for the gratification
of taste, or for the sake of pleasurable conviviality, is
something of which the Indian can form no concep-
tion. His idea of pleasure in the use of strong drink
is to get drunk, and the quicker and more complete
that effect, the better he likes it. He is very easily
affected, a few tablespoonfuls setting him roaring,
and half an ordinary tumbler putting him in his para-
dise for hours.
334
LEGAL WISDOM.
The Plains Indian will give anything in the way of
ponies or peltries for whiskey, and having had one
drink, will barter everything he possesses for another.
There is no dirty act, from bearing false witness to
prostituting his favorite wife, that an Indian will not
commit when whiskey is held out as the incentive.
The laws of the United States are very stringent
in their prohibition of the sale or gift of intoxicating
liquors to Indians, as well as its introduction into
the Indian Territory.
It is easy to make laws; it is not easy always to
enforce them. When the laws were made, "Indian
Territory" was the whole vast country west of the
Mississippi; almost every portion of which was then
occupied by Indians. Much of that territory is now
formed into states, and the laws of these states pro-
tect its citizens in the sale of liquor if they take out
a license..
Decision after decision has been made by learned
judges and wise Indian Commissioners, in their
efforts to reconcile the right to permit one man to
sell liquor with the right to prohibit another man
from getting drunk. The term "Indian Territory
has been gradually restricted in application, until at
the present time, it means only the ground inside the
limits of a declared Indian Reservation. A squatter
who goes over that line to sell liquor subjects him-
self to fine and imprisonment, but he can put his
cabin or wagon immediately on the state side of the
line, and sell with impunity to all the Indians who
come to him. Whether this is the intent of the law
may be questioned, but that it is the actual working
of the law is perfectly known to every frontiersman.
With the enormous profits derived from the business,
WHIPPING A HUSBAND.
335
it would take an army of constables and marshals
to keep the frontier dealers from selling liquor to
Indians, and it would go on all the same, even if the
states prohibited it. The Indian is as eager for
whiskey as the trader is for his profits, and the two
together will outwit all the "myrmidons of the law"
that can be sent after them.
The peculiarity of the Indian "drunk," is that if
there be only liquor enough, it is quick and com-
plete; consequently, he is not quarrelsome in his cups.
There is no idea of conviviality. The beverage is far
too precious to be shared, and the fortunate purchaser
of a pint of whiskey will sneak off alone into a thicket,
arrange a comfortable sleeping-place for himself, turn
off the whole quantity at a draught, then lie down and
get drunk and sober again without changing his po-
sition or disturbing any one. For the number of
drunkards, the very few murders or outrages com-
mitted while under the influence of drink is really
remarkable. I have never yet seen a drunken Indian
woman. They, however, look with amiable compla-
cency on the bestiality of their husbands, and seem
to regard it as a matter of course. On one occasion
I witnessed the reverse. A Ute squaw was trying
to take home her husband, who, not having quite
enough whiskey, was only "obstinate" drunk. She
was patient, he brutal. Finally he struck her. Seiz-
ing a good-sized rod, she fell upon and beat him
unmercifully. When I approached to interfere, she
threw down the stick and began to laugh, while the
warrior husband sat upon the ground, blubbering like
a whipped school-boy.
CHAPTER XXVI.
INDIAN AMUSEMENTS AND SPORTS
WONDERFUL
FEATS AND MARVELLOUS EXPLOITS.
An Indian Story Teller The Favorite of the Women The Sign
Language Outdoor Sports
M
Life in the Saddle Wonderful
M
An Adroit
A Sheep
Feats of Horsemanship — Marvellous Exploits at Full Gallop
Novel Races — An Arrant Jockey — Tricks of the Trade
Comanche — Mu-La-Que-Top's Scheme — Sharp Practice
-
of a Pony against a Kentucky Mare Fastest Race on Record
A Put-up Job - Disgusted Army Officers - Bow and Arrow Games -
Scandal Mongers - Indian Rumors - The Outbreak at Fort Reno-
Beating the Telegraph Incredible Despatch Scouts and Run-
Something New about Wives Squaw Fights — Off with
the Wrong Man - Facing the Consequences - An Unequal Contest.
ners

EXT to the dance, the most common
and popular indoor amusement of the
Indians, is story-telling, and a good
story-teller is a man of importance.
The bucks, squaws, and children, crowd
to his lodge, or to any other where he
may be, and spend the long winter even-
ings in listening to his recitals. These
stories are as marvellous as the imagi-
nation of the inventor can create, jumbling gods and
men, fabulous monsters and living animals, the pos-
sible and the impossible, in the most heterogeneous
confusion. There is little point or wit in them, and
scarcely any dramatic power, except the narrator be
telling of some personal event, when he also acts the
scene with all possible exaggeration.
336
STORY-TELLING.
337
The personal stories are generally very filthy, and
the language of the plainest. They have no evasive
ways of expressing things; a "spade is a spade," with
a vengeance. The presence of women and children
is not of the slightest consequence, and imposes no
restraint, either in words or action.
One of the most curious spectacles is a story-teller
and his audience, when the sign-language is used.
Sitting or squatting in every position whence a good
view can be had, silent and eager, all eyes are intently
fixed on the story-teller, who, without a word of
speech, is rapidly moving his hands, now one, now
the other, now both together. Occasionally a grunt
of satisfaction or approval runs around the circle.
More and more eagerness of attention, writhings and
twistings of body and limbs, show the increase of
interest, and finally a burst of uproarious laughter
and applause marks the point of the story.
The outdoor amusements of the Plains Indians are
riding, shooting, racing, both on foot and horseback,
wrestling, swimming, and, with the boys, a sort of
game of "tag." In good weather nearly half a buck's
waking hours are passed in the saddle. Riding is
second nature to him. Strapped astride of a horse
when scarcely able to walk, he does not, when a man,
remember a time when he could not ride.
Having never seen the riding of Arabs, Turcomans,
Cossacks, and other world-renowned riders, I cannot
say how the Indian compares with them, but I am
satisfied that he is too nearly a Centaur to be sur-
passed by any.
The bit most commonly used among the southern
Plains Indians is known as the "Mexican bit." It is
a most cruel affair.
338
HORSE EQUIPMENT.
The saddle is a light frame of wood, the side-pieces
shaped to fit a horse's back. The seat is not rounded,
but almost perfectly straight, and forms very nearly
right angles with the pommel and cantle. These are
about eight inches high above the seat. The pommel
ends with a rounded knob. The cantle, rather wide
at top and bottom, is cut away in the middle to make
a depression to fit the leg or heel of the rider, and
forms his support when he wishes to throw himself
on the side of his horse. The whole is covered with
green hide, which in drying binds all the parts to-
gether, tight and strong almost as iron.
The girth is a broad band of plaited hair, terminat-
ing in iron rings, or bent wood, covered with raw-
hide, if iron rings cannot be obtained. These rings
are attached to the saddle on the principle of the
"Mexican cinche," by which a man of ordinary
strength can almost crush in a horse's ribs.
Great liberties of position are taken by an Indian
on horseback, and it is of the utmost importance that
the saddle be strong, and the girth fail not.
The stirrup is of thin wood, strengthened with raw-
hide, by which material it is also fastened to the sad-
dle. Some slight padding is put between the horse
and a saddle, the skin of a wolf or buffalo calf, or in
these later days, a piece of old blanket or grain sack.
The stirrups are extremely short. They are of little
use, except in mounting, or as rests to the foot when
riding.
Civilized people mount on the left side of the horse,
because the knights of old, from whom we get our
ideas of horsemanship, wore their swords on that
side, and could not, therefore, mount on the right
without inconvenience from that weapon.
UNGRACEFUL RIDERS.
339
The Indian mounts always on the right side, and
this is undoubtedly natural and most convenient, as it
leaves the left hand free to hold the reins and manage
the horse, while the right grasps the mane or pommel
of the saddle.
In travelling, necessary stores are carried en croupe,
or slung to the saddle on each side. One blanket or
robe is around the rider's person, and he sits on
another one if he has it. His gun is carried across
his thighs, resting against the pommel, his bow and
quiver are slung on the back by a strap passing from
right to left, but which brings the quiver almost
perpendicular with its opening over the right shoulder.
When travelling from place to place, under ordinary
circumstances, a more unromantic or less dangerous-
looking specimen could not be found than an Indian
warrior. His seat and carriage are particularly
ungraceful. The short stirrups force him to sit
almost on the small of his back, and the back itself is
rounded into an unseemly curve. His head is carried
forward as far as the length of his neck will allow.
His left hand holds the reins; his right is armed
with a short stick, to which is attached a thong
of the inevitable rawhide, and with a light blow of
this he marks every step of his horse. He uses no
spurs, but his heels are constantly drumming on the
horse's ribs, with a nervous motion difficult to account
for. He scarcely ever turns his head or moves his
body, and, even when most watchful, appears to see
nothing. He looks stiff, constrained and uncomfort-
able on horseback, and yet this uncouth object will
perform feats of horsemanship actually incredible to
one who has seen only civilized riding.
With his horse at full speed, he will pick up from
340
TRAINED PONIES.
the ground a small piece of coin. He will throw
himself on the side of his horse, in such a position,
that only a small portion of an arm and leg can be
seen from the other side.
One method of racing is to start from a line, and
rush full speed at a tree, the one who first touches
it being winner. Another is to rush at a heavy pole
placed horizontally about six feet from the ground,
resting on forks firmly set. If the rider stops his
horse an instant too soon he fails of touching the pole,
if an instant too late, the horse passes under the pole,
leaving the rider dangling to it, or thrown to the
ground.
A third method is to fasten to the ground, two
strips of buffalo-hide from six to ten feet apart. The
starting-point is some two hundred yards from these
strips, and the game is to run at full speed, jump the
horse between the strips, turn him in his tracks, and
return to the starting-point. The horse which fails
to get beyond the first strip, with all four of his feet,
or which gets a single foot beyond the second strip,
is beaten, even though he makes the best time.
The training of the ponies has quite as much to do
with the success of an Indian race as his speed or the
address of the rider. Great pains are, therefore,
taken in training, and a pony thoroughly up in his
tricks is highly prized.
The Indian is an arrant jockey, and understands all
the tricks of professional horse-racing as well as any
veteran of Jerome Park. He rarely comes in
competition with whites, because his passion being
for trick races, as those described, he dislikes to
come down to a square and fair race over a straight
track. Besides this, it is really exceedingly difficult
AN INDIAN RACE-HORSE.
341
to hit on a fair distance between the Indian and
American horse. The start being always from a halt,
the small, quick pony is almost sure to win at from
one hundred to three hundred yards, while the long
stride of the American horse is equally sure of
carrying him in winner from six hundred yards to
two miles. A mile or two is then doubtful, after
which it is safe to back the endurance of the pony.
୧୧
A band of Comanches under Mu-la-que-top, once
camped near Fort Chadbourne in Texas, and were
frequent visitors and great nuisances as beggars at
that post.
Some of the officers were decidedly
horsey," several owning blooded horses, the relative
speed of each being known, by repeated trials, almost
to a foot. Mu-la-que-top was bantered for a race,
and, after several days of manoeuvring, a race was
made against the third best horse of the garrison,
distance four hundred yards.
The Indians betted robes and plunder of various
kinds, to the value of sixty or seventy dollars, against
At the
money, flour, sugar, &c., to a like amount.
appointed time all the Indians and most of the garrison
were assembled at the track. The Indians "showed"
a miserable sheep of a pony, with legs like churns; a
three-inch coat of rough hair stuck out all over the
body; and a general expression of neglect, helpless-
ness, and patient suffering struck pity into the hearts
of all beholders. The rider was a stalwart buck of
one hundred and seventy pounds, looking big and
strong enough to carry the poor beast on his
shoulders. He was armed with a huge club, with
which, after the word was given, he belabored the
miserable animal from start to finish. To the astonish-
ment of all the whites, the Indian won by a neck.
22
342
JOCKEYED.
Another race was proposed by the officers, and,
after much "dickering," accepted by the Indians,
against the next best horse of the garrison. The bets
were doubled; and in less than an hour the second
race was run by the same pony, with the same
apparent exertion and with exactly the same result.
The officers, thoroughly disgusted, proposed a third
race, and brought to the ground a magnificent Ken-
tucky mare, of the true Lexington blood, and known
to beat the best of the others at least forty yards in four
hundred. The Indians accepted the race, and not only
doubled bets as before, but piled up everything they
could raise, seemingly almost crazed with the excite-
ment of their previous success. The riders mounted;
the word was given. Throwing away his club, the
Indian rider gave a whoop, at which the sheep-like
pony pricked up his ears, and went away like the
wind, almost two feet to the mare's one. The last
fifty yards of the course was run by the pony with
the rider sitting face to his tail, making hideous
grimaces and beckoning to the rider of the mare to
come on.
It afterwards transpired that the old sheep was a
trick and straight race pony, celebrated among all
the tribes of the south, and that Mu-la-que-top had
only just returned from a visit to the Kickapoos, in
the Indian nation, whom he had easily cleaned out of
six hundred ponies.
In practising with bow and arrow, the Indian has
a short loop of rawhide attached to the pommel of
his saddle, which he passes over his head, and
under his arm when he wishes to throw himself on
the side of his horse. This, with the leg holding the
cantle, gives him firm support, and leaves both arms
GO-AS-YOU-PLEASE.
343
free. He can, however, use only the right side of the
horse. In pistol-practice, the loop is not necessary,
and needing only one hand with the weapon, he can
shelter himself on either side, holding on to the
pommel with the left hand.
With all his power of endurance, his life in the
open air, and his constant and violent exercise, the
Indian is not physically a powerful man. He has not
the slightest knowledge of the use of his fists, and the
poorest member of the prize ring could carry off the
belt from the whole red race. A short time ago a
squaw man and Indian near this post, got into an
altercation about the use of a horse. The white man
finally struck the Indian with his fist. The latter,
though apparently much the more powerful man,
made no effort to return the blow, but went at once
to the chief with a claim for damages. I have never
heard of a fist-fight between Indians.
The boys wrestle a good deal, but without rule or
science, a mere scuffle. An average white man will
get away " with the strongest and most active
Indian, either in a wrestling-match, or in a foot-race
for short distances. In a race for miles the Indian
endurance will win against any ordinary white man,
but no Indian, in his natural condition, could compete
with one of our trained "go-as-you-please" racers.
Having no idea of the effect of training on horses and
men, the Indians cannot be made to believe that a
man can get over five hundred and fifty miles in six
days.
All Indians swim, as it were by instinct, and evince
great courage and skill in the passage of the Plains
rivers, dangerous from their swift currents, and terri-
ble from their treacherous quicksands.
་
344
INDIAN RUMORS.
Among the middle Plains tribes there are no games
of ball, nor any approach to the games of white
children, except the game of "tag" mentioned; but
among the Nez Percés and other western tribes the
women are extremely fond of a game of ball similar to
our "shinny" or "hockey," and play with great spirit.
The women ride astride, mount on the right side,
use the same saddle, and are almost as much at home
on it as the men, though, not having the same constant
drill, they cannot perform the same marvellous feats.
Where no one can commit a moral wrong, there
would appear to be no opportunity for what we call
scandal, yet every act, incident, accident or condition
is common talk for the whole band, to be discussed
broadly, and without reservation, by old and young,
male and female. The broad caricatures of the tattle
of a New England village are merely faint concep-
tions of the capabilities in this direction of an Indian
encampment. Each band being scarcely more than
one large family, every individual in it is interested
in everything to such an extent, that it is scarcely too
much to say that there is absolutely nothing secret.·
All persons who have been much among Indians
are astounded at the wonderful speed and accuracy
of Indian rumors. Something occurs to-day; it is
known to-morrow at distances that appear incredible.
In September, 1880, an outbreak occurred at Fort
Reno, sixty miles from this post, (Cantonment, I. T.)
The Indian scouts here knew and informed me of it
before I heard of it by the telegraph line between the
two posts. So, also, when Ouray was sick; his con-
dition was known every day by us, though we were
quite a hundred miles away, and the country between
us exceedingly difficult.
AN ENERGETIC WIFE.
345
In civilized communities, whether rightfully or not,
old maids and widows have credit for the monopoly
of the gossip and tattle. Among Indians it belongs
to the old men; and from the appearance and qualities
of the youngest colt, to the number and color of the
stripes on every woman's shawl, these old fellows
know and talk of everything.
I have said that an unmarried woman must never
be found alone, and it would be the height of impro-
priety for her to go anywhere with any man except
her father. They are exceedingly fond of gadding
about, and easily overcome the difficulties thrown in
their way by custom. Half a dozen girls and young
married women will place themselves in charge of
some old lady friend, under whose chaperonage they
go when and where they please, and usually with
perfect safety.
Some writers claim for Indian women such an
excess of loyalty, as to assert that they hold in con-
tempt one of their number who fails to do everything
possible for her husband.
I have no experience of any such feeling. Each
of the several wives of a man has her own pecu-
liarities; one lazy, another active, one neat, another
slovenly; but as a rule all seem to get along perfectly
well together, and with the other women of the band.
One of the wives of my Cheyenne friend, Mr.
Running Buffalo, is an exception, being so emphatic
in her speech and action, that Buffalo is obliged to
let her have an establishment of her own.
This, looked at rightly, may be regarded as a first
step in civilization. No high order of civilization is
possible without the advancement and independence
of women; and in fact, the present progress of each
346
A COURAGEOUS MOTHER.
nation and people from the utmost degradation to the
highest enlightenment, can be fairly and accurately
measured by the condition of its women.
I have heard frequent descriptions of the squaw-
fights of the Indians on the Pacific coast, in which
every woman of the band is engaged, each appar-
ently on her own account, while the men stand around
laughing, applauding, and encouraging. No such
performances take place among the Plains Indians.
Men, women, and children, all are less disposed to
quarrel and wrangle than any people I have ever seen.
A rather amusing instance of personal collision
occurred near this post in the spring of 1880. The
Cheyenne wife of a Mexican half-breed, had, two
years ago, left her husband for another man, taking
with her, as is unusual, her child, a baby of a few
months old. The band to which the Mexican belongs
makes its summer camp near this post. Last April
the runaway wife and new husband came here. The
Mexican heard of it, went to them and demanded his
child. The Indian husband told him to take it, but
the wife would not give it up. He went off and
returned with the chief, who ordered the woman to
give up the child. She again refused, when the two
proceeded to take it by force. This was too much
for the mother, who, throwing the child to her Indian
husband, assaulted her two enemies so vigorously,
that in two minutes both were soundly beaten and
glad to escape. Before they could return with assist-
ance, the child and its courageous mother were out
of reach.
Ten years ago, that woman would have been
hunted down by dog-soldiers and killed without
remorse. Now the affair is only a matter of fun and
*
CHILD'S PLAY.
347
laughter to every Indian, except the half-breed and
the chief. The Indian progresses!
The little girls are very fond of dolls, and their
mothers take great pains and show considerable skill
in making them. Their dresses are frequently ac-
curately copied, even to the minutest particulars,
from the ceremonial dresses of the parents or friends.
The baby-houses are miniature teepes, and until
large enough to be put to work, most of the waking
hours of the girls are spent in this play.
[
CHAPTER XXVII.
INDIAN MUSIC AND MUSICIANS CURIOUS MUSICAL.
INSTRUMENTS POETRY AND SONGS.
Indian Musical Instruments
The Cheyenne Tom-tom A Curious
Work Constructive Skill My Wonderful Present The Sioux
Rattle-Flutes and Soft Recorders "--Weird but Winsome Notes
An Indian Serenade - The War Song-The Indian “ German "
Thrilled with Military Frenzy Transported with Adoration
'Songs Without Words " · Permanence of Indian Music - The
Celebration of Valor Selection of the Tune - Fitting the Words —
Practising in Chorus Night After Night at Work The Song
Melodies
Completed - Odd Indian
The Cheyenne Courting
M
Every One His Own Poet
Song - Winning a Married Woman's
Love The Conditional Elopement - The Round Dance - Music
of the Kiss Dance - Wild Notes Recovered — An Interesting Result.

HE drum, or "tom-tom," is the univer-
sal, I may almost say, the only musical
instrument of the Indians, for though
there are others, no use whatever is
made of them on public occasions by
the middle and southern Plains Indi-
ans. The drum is the accompaniment
to every religious ceremony, the necessity
to every social gathering. Its beat signals
the hour of rejoicing, the hour of mourning, and by
its potent influence the Bad God is not unfrequently
frustrated in his diabolic designs.
The primitive drum was a section cut from the
trunk of a hollow tree, over one end of which was
stretched and tightly fastened a thin raw skin. At
348
THE TOM-TOM.
349
present, an empty nail or pickle keg is often used,
but the fashionable and preferred "tom-tom" of the
Cheyenne Indians is made by stretching the raw skin
over a common cheese-box.
There is usually no arrangement of drum-cords for
tightening this head, and when it becomes loose and
flabby from continued beating, it is restored to its
original tone by holding it over a fire, sometimes a
little water being first sprinkled on it. In any length-
ened ceremony, or at the social dances, a fire is always
kept up for tightening the drum-head.
A
In the fall of 1880, I was so fortunate as to be pre-
sented by a Cheyenne with a wonderful drum, the
handiwork of some Indian of more than ordinary
constructive skill. The body is the rough keg, in
which was transported two large round cheeses.
raw skin is stretched over each end and connected
by thongs of rawhide, laced after the manner of an
ordinary kettle-drum. Another thong around the
keg is looped about each two lacings, and forms an
ingenious means of tightening the drum-heads.
This is the only Indian tom-tom I have ever seen
with two heads. Its constructor evidently modelled
it after the infantry drum.
The Sioux and some other of the northern Plains
Indians, have another (to them) musical instrument,-
a rattle formed of a dried gourd in which are placed
a number of small smooth stones.
Almost all the tribes have a reed instrument, a pipe
or flute, ingeniously constructed. Two pieces of
wood are fashioned and hollowed out, so that when
joined together they have much the appearance of a
Aute. In one of these are made six holes for the
fingers, and one nearer the mouth, after the manner
350
OTHER MUSICAL INSTRUMENTS.
of a whistle. After being smoothed and fitted with
great patience and care, the two pieces are glued
together with gum, and tightly bound with strings.
A small tube at the upper end is the mouth-piece.
They are very frequently elaborately ornamented.
The tone is quite soft and harmonious.
Though there are more or less of these instruments
in every band of Indians, they are never used on
ceremonious or festive occasions, nor have I ever
heard an Indian attempt to play what even he might
call a tune. The only music on them is the repetition
again and again of a few chords, low, slow, and some-
times very sweet and weird. It is scarcely ever heard
in the daytime, but after dark the love-sick youngster,
placing himself beside the lodge of his inamorata,
pours out the feelings of his heart in most doleful
strains.
The Pawnees, Cheyennes," and Arrapahoes have
yet another instrument. About an inch of the toe
of a buffalo's hoof is cut off and dried. A small
hole is made in the apex of this shell, through which
is passed a buckskin string. A knot in one end of
the string prevents the toe from slipping off. Twenty
or thirty of these toes are tied to a stick, with a few
inches' play to each, and the instrument is complete.
It is held in the hand of the dancer and makes a dry
rattling noise.
For music for all warlike and religious ceremonies,
for gambling bouts, for dances, for all social gather-
ings and merry-makings, the Indian relies on his
voice. Scarcely anything is done without this music,
and similar and monotonous as it all appears to be to
the uninstructed ear, each particular ceremony and
dance has its own invariable music.
SONGS.
351
୧୯
Probably from lack of education I can with diffi-
culty tell a war song from any song of the Indian
German," yet the music of the one will put the
Indian in a frenzy of military ardor, the music of the
other throw him only into transports of passionate
adoration of his partner in the dance.
Many of the songs have words, but by far the
greater number are "songs without words," but to
which words may be adapted on special occasions.
The words constantly vary, the music never.
The adaptation of words to a special song is fre-
quently a matter of grave importance. A party of
warriors returning from a successful foray, must
embalm their exploits in song. They have decided
on the music, but the work before them is to fit words
to it which will be expressive and most highly eulogis-
tic, not only of the performances of the party, but of
each individual who has distinguished himself. Night
after night is spent in this grand effort. One man
will propose a line; all try the effect by singing it in
chorus. If satisfactory, it is adopted; if not, rejected
or amended. The song must be, and is, ready by the
time they get home, and on the first occasion there-
after is sung to the pride and gratification of all.
So also in other songs. One man will adapt a set
of words, whose appropriateness to some situation or
personal peculiarity will make them popular for a
little while, or until another set of words displaces
them. Even the nursery songs of the mothers are a
mere jumble, no two mothers using the same words,
though singing the same song.
Occasionally a thought may be expressed with
somewhat poetic metaphor, but the Plains Indians
are utterly ignorant of rhyme, or metrical arrange-
352
A COURTING SONG.
ment of verse, and seem incapable of following a
thought beyond its first expression.
Indian songs are very curious, and though on all
subjects, what may be termed the mechanism is the
same in all. An isolated thought is expressed in a
few words, possibly in one compound word. This,
followed by a number of meaningless sounds suffi-
cient to fill out the music to the end of the beat,
constitutes the first line or verse. The other lines
are constructed in the same manner. Whatever is
intended to be said is generally expressed in four
lines or verses, though some of the songs have many
lines.
The constant use of sounds without meaning, to
fill up gaps in the lines, makes it easy for any Indian
to be his or her own poet. It accounts also for the
little weight that words give to Indian music, and the
slight hold they take on the memory.
As a fair example of the songs with words, I give
the love-song of a young Cheyenne warrior who
courted a married woman. Ha yah, ha a yah, are not
words, but represent sounds interjected to fill out the
lines,
O ta, ha ya, ha a yah, ha yah
Ne cam c, ha a yah, ha yah
Ne yuch te e how o to o, ha yah, ha
Nas o wi e, ha yah ha yah, ha."
"I am your lover, ha ya, ha a yahı, ha yah,
I am not afraid to court you, ha a yah, ha yah
Though you have a brave husband, ha yah, ha
Will you elope with me? ha yah, ha yah ha."
Her answer is,
"Hame e nooch e, hah ha ha ha yo o
IIo oche ish it tah, ha ha ha ha yo
Im e go o ha tom e to, ha ha yo e
Im e am ah to o she, ha yo ha o."
SONGS WITHOUT WORDS.
'I will leave my husband, hah ha ha ha ha yo o
But attend to what I say to you, ha ha ha ha yo
You must be good to me, ha ha, yo e
And not make love to other women, ha yo, ha o.”
353
Below is a specimen of a song without words, but
no spelling can do justice to the sounds produced: -
66
Ha a e ha e yo, ha a e yo, a ha e yo
Ha a ea e yah, ah ha e yah
Ha a ea e yah ha how e yah
How ow o how o how o o."
All Indians use the nose as a musical instrument,
especially in the high notes. The lower tones are
guttural, and the "ha yah," being as it were, beaten
out of their bodies by the coming down of the feet in
the dance, is more like a grunt than a musical sound.
The songs without words contain a great variety of
sounds, guttural, nasal, and natural, but generally all
within one octave, though the sound designated in
the music as "e" is habitually pitched far above.
says,
I procured the services of Mr. Aschmann, the leader
of the band of the 23d U. S. Infantry to reduce this
music to score. The general similarity is so great
that I give only a few illustrations. Mr. Aschmann
"The rhythm of Indian music is, as a whole, very
poor. Almost every song keeps within the limits of
one octave, without change or effort for harmonious.
melody. It is very seldom, however, that they bring
in notes from different keys, or make other innova-
tions sufficient to make the music discordant or un-
pleasant to listen to. Bagpipes or reed instruments
are best adapted to reproduce the Indian music."
I am indebted for the words of the songs to Mr.
Ben Clarke, the interpreter at Fort Reno, Indian
Territory.
林
​354
f:
INDIAN DANCE MUSIC.
V
Round Dance.

3
4
Ha ha yah ha ha
∞)
e yah ha ha yah ha ha

3
ha e
ha yah yah ha ha yah a
yo ha yah a
yo yah ha

·3
3
ha
e
yah ha
yo
EVO
a
ha
yah e
ha ha
3
3

yahı a
ha ha yah e
ha ha ah yahi ha a yah
e
yalı ha
Repeat ad libitum

3.
3--
-3·
yah
ha yah yah ha
a oo yo ha
a oo yo ow yo how o.
Kiss Dance.

3
·3·
3

3
3.
P
3
3
3
3
f
P
4
f
INDIAN DANCE MUSIC.
3-
Gambling Song.
3
3
P
Sign Dance.
f
War Dance.
4
A yah e ha
a yo a a yo
1246
355







e yo a yo e a yah e ha yah e

3-
yo
e yo e yo
ha
e ha e
yo
ha
o owow how.
CHAPTER XXVIII.
INDIAN DANCES
SCENES OF WILD EXCITEMENT
AND FRENZY
- LUDICROUS EXPERIENCES.
—
Indian Dancing Customs Preparations for the Scalp Dance — A Hid-
eous Picture
The Circle of Wands On the Border of Frenzy -
Bringing Out Old Scalps — Enlisting for the War — "Striking the
Post"- My First Sight of a Scalp Dance - Prisoners Gracing the
Ceremony A Boy's Pluck Exasperated by Ridicule - Begging
Dance Reconciling Old Foes - Interesting Incident of Crook's
Campaign Indian Diplomacy Disastrous Blow to New-made
Friends Impoverished by Hugs - The Lost Chance An Every.
day Scene-Virtue and Vice Side by Side-Stolen Bodily from the
Indians The Sign Dance The Kissing Dance ” Mischiev-
ous Couples -- Practical Jokes - The Indian Love of Humor
Ludicrous Experiences A Delicious Bit of Masquerading.

ROBABLY from the fact that the mu-
sic is always to the monotonous beat
of the "tom-tom," the "step" of the
Indian dance is always very nearly the
same, however varied the figures. The
feet are kept together, the whole weight
of the body resting on the balls, the heels
not touching the ground. The dancing
effort consists in a little spring on both feet
at the same time, so timed that the feet come down
exactly on the beat of the "tom-tom." The best and
most artistic dancers vary this by a little double
spring, such as is often used by little white girls in
"skipping the rope." The movement is accompanied
356
GRAND MEDICINE DANCE.
357
by a corresponding rising and falling of the shoulders,
and nervous jerking of the body, communicating a
motion to almost every muscle of the system. The
dancing is especially tiresome on the muscles in the
calves of the legs, so much so, that a dance of half
an hour would lay a white novice on his back for a
week; yet the Indian will dance all night, and feel
none the worse next day.
In exciting religious or other ceremonial dances,
the "step" may be varied by bounds and springs into
the air, but there is no effort at posturing.
In the ceremonial dances, in which warriors alone
participate, the dancers generally form themselves
into a circle facing inward, and sometimes join hands
for a few moments, but any position or contact which
tends to restraint is soon abandoned in the excite-
ment to which they work themselves.
How such singing and such dancing can give the
pleasure they undoubtedly do give is one of the
problems of humanity, but for all purposes of excite-
ment, indeed of frenzy, they are amply sufficient to
the Indian.
I have already described the ceremonial of the
"Hôch-e-a-yum," or "Medicine Dance" of the Chey-
ennes and Arrapahoes, which as nearly as possible
is identical with the "Sun Dance" of the Dakotas.
Almost all the wild tribes have a dance which is
intended to represent the same idea, but the hor-
rible tortures are omitted in all but the more warlike
tribes, those who ennoble endurance as the loftiest
of human virtues.
Indian dances are of three kinds; religious cer-
emonial, secular ceremonial, and social.
In some of the ceremonial dances, warriors only
23
358
RELIGIOUS DANCES.
are permitted; in others women take a prominent
part. All, men, women, and children, take part in
the social dances, the greatest happiness of Indian
life.
From the time when "David danced before the
Lord," to the present day, primitive people have
regarded some form of dance as a necessary adjunct
to religious ceremony. Indeed, the remark is appli-
cable to all peoples, whether primitive or enlightened,
for there is no doubt that the changes of posture—
sitting, standing, kneeling,-of our Christian forms
of worship, are merely a modification of the primi-
tive idea; a recognition of the necessity of motion.
Indians are not polytheists, nor students of history,
yet many of their religious dances and ceremonics
might have been adopted bodily from Grecian ideas
of three thousand years ago. Thus the great "med-
icine dance" of the Florida Seminoles was celebrated
at that season when the Indian corn was in its
roasting ear" state, and was therefore called by them
the "green-corn dance."
ee
The ceremonies commenced with processions and
dances, and a feast of rejoicing, somewhat similar to
the Cerelia of the ancient Romans, and wound up
with a furious orgie devoted to Venus.
The Sioux also celebrate the "green-corn dance"
at the proper season, but their final ceremonies,
exactly the reverse of the Seminoles, might be in
honor of Diana, being a religious and rigid test of
the chastity of their women.
As a rule, one tribe has at least one purely religious
dance each year. This much is insisted upon by the
medicine men. Tribes which can afford the expense
may have two or more.
THE SCALP DANCE.
359
All these religious dances embody the same idea,
and are conducted upon much the same general
principle as the great camp-meetings of some of our
Christian denominations. The time and place are
fixed by the medicine man, and ample notice given.
The "scalp dance," is next to the medicine dance
in importance, and is the most common of all the
ceremonial dances of the Indians.
The day after the return to the home encampment
of a successful war party, by which scalps have been
taken, a ceremony is performed by the warriors who
took them, no other person whatever being permitted
to be present.
I have been a spectator at a distance, but all to be
seen was a number of Indians, sitting on the ground
in a close circle. During this ceremony, the scalps
are trimmed, cleared of all fleshy matter, and the skin
cured by some process. Each scalp is then stretched
by thongs inside of a hoop of wood a little larger
than itself, and the hair carefully combed and greased.
Each warrior then attaches his scalp or scalps, in
their hoops, to a peeled willow wand, from eight to
ten feet long.
This ceremony is called "counting the coups," and
is "Big Medicine," that is, very important in a
religious point of view.
scalp dance.
It is preparatory to the
When it has been satisfactorily completed, all the
warriors march gravely one behind the other, back to
camp, each bearing his wand with its burden of
dangling scalps in his hand. The wands are planted
in a circle in the centre of the camp.
By this time, the whole population of the village is
crowded around this centre of interest. The warriors
360
BOASTFUL WARRIORS.
who took the scalps are now joined by those who
had taken part in the fight, or who belonged to the
party which did the fighting, and thus won for
themselves the right to participate in the dance.
All assemble in a circle around and facing the
circle of wands. At a signal, all the warriors join
hands, and commence the monotonous song and
dance, turning slowly about the scalps. As the
dance progresses, the warriors soon loose hands, and
varying the song by whoops and yells, and the dance
by bounds, gestures and brandishing of weapons,
work themselves up to a condition of excitement
bordering on frenzy.
The eyes of the spectators are strained upon scalps
and dancers as each slayer in turn springing from the
circle, and bounding to his wand, vaunts in extrav-
agant terms his own prowess, and acts over again the
taking of the scalps.
When the fortunate takers of scalps have all
exhausted themselves in self-laudation, others of
the dancers spring by turns into the circle, each
explains by what unfortunate interference of the
"Bad God," he was prevented on this occasion from
taking a scalp, and recounts in glowing language
his succcessful prowess on some previous occasion,
or what he proposes to do on the next opportunity.
This is continued until each dancer has had full
opportunity to show how brave and great a warrior
he is. Dancers and spectators grow wild with
excitement, and by the time the dance is over, the
whole population is little short of insane.
This nervous intoxication is a special delight of
the Indians, and when they feel like indulging in it,
and there are no fresh scalps, they bring out some

Pise
A SUCCESSFUL WAR PARTY CELEBRATING VICTORY-THE SCALP DANCE.
STRIKING THE POST.
363
old ones, and go through with the same performance,
the same scalps in "piping times of peace" being
made to do duty over and over again.
I have been told that, wild as the dancers appear to
be, each knows perfectly well what he is doing,
having previously in some solitude gone over his
speech and acted his part, time and again.
When a tribe has decided upon war, a ceremony
or scene almost identical with that described is
enacted. It is called "striking the post." The trunk
of a tree from six inches to a foot in diameter is
planted in the ground in the centre of the camp.
War parties are usually made up of volunteers.
The chief who is to command the expedition sends
criers through the camp, beating tom-toms and calling
on every warrior to come to the post. The whole
population of the village is soon assembled and the
ceremonies commence. The warriors who have
already decided to go form in a circle about the
post, and, when worked up by song and dance to a
proper state of excitement, each bounds in turn to
the post, and striking it with his "coup-stick" gives
a most glowing description of what he intends to do
when he meets the enemy. Other warriors, excited
by the recitals, join the dance and in turn strike the
post, until a sufficient number have thus signified
their intention of taking the field.
It is a ceremony of enlistment, and after "striking
the post" nothing but sickness or other imperative
cause will prevent an Indian from going with the
expedition, it has become a matter of honor.
These are the war dances, and as every little
predatory party must "strike the post," before it goes
out and have its scalp dance (whether successful or
364
AN UNWILLING PERFORMER.
not in taking them) when it gets back, the war spirit
is kept at a fever heat. It is not too much to say
that, in some of the wilder tribes and within a very
few years of this writing, one or other of these
frenzies was enacted at least once a week.
The Indians on reservations and in the vicinity of
troops, have now almost abandoned them, as advertis-
ing either their purpose or its fulfilment. When,
however, there is legitimate opportunity, these dances
are still celebrated; and in every case where the
United States has used Indian against Indian, those
employed by the government have celebrated their
going out and coming in, with all the old enthusiasm.
I was once spectator at a scalp dance which was a
special and exceptional occasion, for not only had a
goodly number of scalps been taken, but two prison-
ers- a woman of about forty, and boy of twelve years
of age were to grace the ceremony. The peeled
wands bearing the hoops and stretched scalps had
been planted in a circle in the ground. The prisoners
were brought by the warriors who had captured them,
from the lodge in which they were confined, and
forced to take their places in the circle, their hands
being held by the warriors on each side of them. The
woman-prisoner accepted the situation, and in looks
and actions appeared to take as enjoyable an interest
in the dance as any of the proper performers. Not
so the boy; with eyes downcast, without a voluntary
motion of foot or body, he was dragged around the
circle, taking only such walking-steps as were
necessary to avoid being pulled down. All the
turmoil and excitement failed to produce on him the
slightest effect. Not once in the dance of more than
an hour did he lift his eyes to the scalps, to which
DRESSING FOR THE DANCE.
365
were directed all the eyes and attention of his captors.
Not once did he evince the slightest interest in any
of the proceedings, or make the slightest movement
unless forced to it.
I could not but admire the proud determination of
one so young to resist all the efforts of a crowd of
enemies to force him into even a semblance of rejoic-
ing over the scalps of his people, possibly of his own
father.
Besides the above-described dances, which are
common to, and much the same among all Indians,
every tribe, almost every band, has one or more
ceremonial dances. These have a general sameness,
but differ according to the taste and inventive genius
of the band. They are not intended to intoxicate
with excitement, being purely spectacular, but are
gotten up by the warriors for the purpose of display,
and to render themselves pleasing in the eyes of their
sweethearts.
The Indian is vainer than a peacock, and is never
so happy as when tricked out in all the gaudy and
tawdry finery that he can possibly heap upon himself.
The dancers in the "Hôch-e-a-yum," the "scalp
dance," and "striking the post," generally go through
their performances in breech-cloth and moccasins
alone. Those in the spectacular dances are over-
loaded with all the finery they possess or can borrow.
These dances are, therefore, very grave and dignified,
the performers not having freedom of movement to
act out excitement, even did they feel it, and brusque
movement might injure some of the finery.
The dancers form in a line, all facing the same
way, but not joining hands, the "tom-tom" strikes
up in slow time, all join in a monotonous song with-
366
CANDID CRITICISM.
out words, and the movement commences. The
dancing step is modified almost to a walk, and the
figure is a lame attempt at imitating the evolutions of
a company of infantry soldiers at drill.
It not unfrequently happens, that some of the
warriors who have exceptionally beautiful ponies,
horse-equipments, shields, etc., join this dance on
horseback. They form on the flanks of the foot-
dancers, follow their movements, and often elicit
great admiration, not, as might be expected, for skilful
horsemanship, but for their general style and perfec-
tion of ornamentation.
All Indians, men and women, are so at home on
horseback, that gradations of horsemanship as recog-
nized among civilized people are unknown.
These dances are great favorites with the women,
who crowd around, applaud vociferously every change
in the movement, and comment loudly on the beauties
or faults of dress, and on the excellencies or deficien-
cies of the performers.
The women are allowed perfect freedom in these
criticisms, which are yelled at the individual by name,
who is required by Indian custom to keep a staid
gravity of countenance and perfect temper, whether
elevated to the seventh heaven of gratified vanity, by
the laudations of some woman for whom he has a
weakness, or exasperated almost beyond endurance
by the ridicule of one whom he dislikes. The red
coquettes take full advantage of their opportunity;
and not a few love affairs, courtships, or changes of
husband, date their commencement from the extrava-
gant praises bestowed by some red beauty on a
performer in this dance. The phenomenal peculiarity
of Indian custom is, that a husband must listen
MERCENARY CARESSES.
367
unmoved, and without after action, to his wife's
loudly expressed encomiums on another man.
is
One of the most curious of all Indian dances,
called the "begging dance." It is also least common,
for it requires the active or passive participation of
two tribes, which have become friendly after a period
of hostility.
It is somewhat on the idea of a surprise-party. All
the fighting men of one tribe, armed and dressed in
their ordinary clothing, will suddenly and without
previous notice rush upon the camp of the other,
firing guns, sounding the war-whoop, and making
every demonstration of a most furious attack.
The assaulted Indians pour out of their teepes, and
recognizing the nature of the onslaught, put away
their weapons, and form in a wide circle in the centre
of the camp. The attacking party rush in as if about
to destroy everything, but at a signal lay aside their
arms, form inside the circle of spectators, and com-
mence a ceremonial dance, a combination of dances,
a war dance without its excitement and boastings, a
spectacular dance without its dress and dignity.
It is emphatically a dance of reconciliation, and
during its progress, the dancers, springing from their
circle, and seizing each upon a warrior of the other
tribe, hugs him with every demonstration of the
warmest affection. But here ceases all resemblance
to a civilized surprise-party, where the self-invited
guests bring their own refreshments. Every unfor-
tunate Indian embraced by a dancer is required by
Indian custom to make him a present, and etiquette
requires that he shall not be niggardly.
A "begging dance" is almost as grave a calamity
to an Indian tribe as the raid of a hostile band. No
368
A RUINOUS RECONCILIATION.
one is killed or wounded, it is true, but the amount of
plunder carried off is such as to incommode, if not
impoverish, the unfortunates subject to it.
I have witnessed but one "begging dance." In
his winter campaign of 1876-"77, against the Sioux,
General Crook had about three hundred and fifty
Indian allies. They were from five different tribes,
almost all of which had until this time been bitterly
hostile to each other. With rare tact he united these
conflicting elements into one homogeneous and effect-
ive whole, effecting at least a nominal reconciliation
between the Sioux and Pawnees, which tribes had
been most bitter enemies for generations.
•
The aggressive campaign had terminated, and
rumors of speedy return were rife in the camp.
One day I was sitting in my tent when I heard the
terrible war-whoop, accompanied by a rattling succes-
sion of shots, and, rushing out, I saw a long line of
Indians in skirmishing order, advancing at a run over
a hill to the Pawnee camp. I could see that the
Pawnees, though in commotion, did not appear to be
alarmed, and as there was no excitement at head-
quarters, I presumed the demonstration to be a
ceremony of some kind.
Getting my hat and overcoat, I made for the scene
of action, but when I arrived the dance was already
under full headway.
The Sioux, the most cunning of all the Plains
tribes, taking advantage of the near approach of
separation, had determined to add another to the
terrible blows they had in late years dealt the Pawnees
by giving them a "begging dance."
The Sioux were almost as numerous as the Pawnees,
and the dance did not cease till every rascally dancer
THE BAFFLED PAWNEES.
369
nad hugged almost every individual Pawnee, and thus
secured from him a liberal present.
The head chief of the Pawnees, a great friend of
mine, known as Frank, but whose Indian name I
never could master, literally stripped himself, giving
to the Sioux chief a war-bonnet and dress, for which
to my knowledge, he had refused one hundred dol-
lars, and to other Indians, ponies, finery and cloth-
ing, to the value of over six hundred dollars. The
unfortunate Pawnees were left almost in "puris
naturalibus."
The next day I met Frank, and remonstrated with
him for his own and his people's foolishness in tamely
submitting to be so swindled.
He admitted everything, said he knew the Sioux
had done it purposely, and from hostile feeling, but
that it was the "Indian road," and that he and his
people would have been disgraced among all the
Indians, had they not given as they did.
His only hope was that General Crook would
delay his return march for a few days, in which case
it was the intention of the Pawnees to give a return
"begging dance" to the Sioux, in the hope of at
least getting some of their things back. He did
not expect to get all back, for he said, "The
Sioux always were mean, stingy, cunning, and un-
derhanded, while the Pawnees are well known for
their generosity and open-handedness."
Unfortunately for the good intentions of the
Pawnees, the order for the return march was issued
that very afternoon, and the poor Pawnees came
back from the campaign poorer than ever, and
without the hoped-for chance of getting even with
their life-long enemies.
370
SOCIAL DANCES.
It may not be out of place here to remark, that a
body of Indian warriors almost invariably uses the
"surprise-party" style of advance on a camp or vil-
lage. A war party returning from a successful foray,
will approach its own home-village with the greatest
care and secrecy, bursting suddenly upon it with
shots and whoops, and every appearance of a furious
hostile attack. Small camps and villages whose occu-
pants are unknown are approached in the same man-
ner,
and should the village be that of a hostile band,
the demonstration is at once converted into a real at-
tack. If the camp or village be large, the approach
is very different.
The dances heretofore described, ministering as
they do to the religious enthusiasm, the military
ambition, or the personal vanity of the individuals,
may be regarded as the pickles and sauces of Indian
life, excellent as condiments, but not appetizing or
healthy as constant diet.
>
Indians are very humån. No people are so easily
carried out of themselves by excitement, but fond as
they are of this species of intoxication, they prefer
for every-day life a milder pleasure. This they find
in their social dances, which of all others yield them
the most full, perfect, and unalloyed enjoyment.
I am safe in saying that when the weather permits,
and this, on the high, dry Plains, is for full eight
months of the year, every band of Indians secure
from enemies, and untroubled by sickness, has at
least five of these dances in every week.
Little preparation is necessary. Some frisky young-
ster will commence beating on his "tom-tom" at
early nightfall, and in a very little while enough
people of both sexes will have assembled for all
尊
​BALL-ROOM AND ORCHESTRA.
371
purposes of enjoyment. Often these dances are held
in the open air, but as light is necessary to their full
enjoyment (as will be seen), they usually take place
in a teepe, which is cleared of bedding and furniture
in an incredibly short time.
If the assembly is expected to be large, and there
be time enough beforehand, two teepes are pitched
near together, the poles crossed and flaps lifted, so as
to make one large room, which is scantily lighted by
candles. There is no furniture whatever, and the
guests sit on the ground.
Formal invitation is not considered necessary, the
call of the "tom-tom" being notice to all who may
wish to attend, Even when some warrior wishes to
give an especially grand affair, he simply makes
greater preparations. His proceedings are noted by
numerous eyes, and the indications of preparation for
supper will bring every man, woman, and child of
the village.
There is no society among Indians, no difference in
social grade, no social ostracism of women of any
kind or for any cause. All meet at these dances on
terms of the most absolute social equality.
The two teepes are pitched together, forming one
large room, somewhat like two parlors, with open
doors between. One of these rooms is occupied by
the "tom-tom" and the men, the other is for the
women and dancing.
In one, half a dozen Indian men are squatted
around the drum, each furnished with a stick three-
fourths of an inch in diameter, and two feet long, one
end of which is wound with a thick wad of cotton
rags. These are the drum-sticks, and this is the
whole orchestra. Each man has a place to beat on
372
THEORIES OF PROPRIETY.
the drum-head, and taking the time from one of their
number, all strike in unison. There is no attempt to
flourish or roll, or flam, or perform any of the civil-
ized tricks of drumming; it is simply the thump,
thump, thump, of half a dozen sticks striking at the
same time on one drum-head.
Soon after the first thump, the dancers begin to
appear. Even at the grandest of these dances there
is no ceremony. The host is probably at the drum,
or, if an old man, smoking a pipe with his chums in a
quiet corner. The hostess, and a few of their most
intimate friends, and all the children, are squatted
close under the wall of the teepe, so as to leave as
large as possible a space for dancing. The visitors
arrive, the men singly or together as it may happen;
the women always several together, or accompanied
by children.
Although there seems to be no particular sentiment
against it, a man very rarely accompanies his wife to
or from a dance. A married woman who would
accept such attention from any man other than her
husband, would commit the greatest breach of pro-
priety. An unmarried girl doing so heinous a thing
would become common property at once.
There are of course no dressing-rooms, nor are
visitors met at the door by handshakings, or other
evidences of welcome. The men find their way to the
drum-room, and the women with much chattering,
laughter, and frolic, squat around the dancing-room,
leaving always ample space in the centre, even if
they have to push up the wall of the teepe and sit
outside.
It is a curious scene to one accustomed to civilized
ideas and prejudices. A woman of standing and
୧୧
AN INDIAN GERMAN.”
373
virtue is squatted beside, and in sprightly conver-
sation with a female slave without virtue; the wife of
a chief is being pulled and mauled by the children
of the poorest and most worthless man of the band;
two women who quarrelled this morning are now
amicably discussing the dress of some mutual friend;
but all now is light-hearted jollity and gladsome
anticipation. Everybody is happy, even the woman
with the newest and reddest shawl, for though she
may be let severely alone, (the sex being the same
everywhere), yet she too is happy, her feminine in-
stinct assuring her that the others are only envious.
Enough dancers have assembled. The "tom-tom"
beaters, who for the last ten minutes have been regal-
ing themselves with a pipe, now (when it is duly
smoked out) give the signal to begin by vigorous
thumping on the drum. The women now rule, and
calling out to the drummers, tell them what they
wish to dance. The drummers commence their
monotonous beat, almost every person present, both
male and female, join in a song without words, in time
with the beats of the "tom-tom.”
After seeing and participating in both many times,
I am quite prepared to aver that the dance most dear
to the heart of American society-youth of both sexes,
"the German," is stolen bodily from the Indians,
except that our high civilization and sense of chival-
rous propriety have changed the sex of the leaders.
Among Indians the leader of every social dance is
always a woman. It is not to be understood that this
leader is selected beforehand, and for the whole dance,
as with us, but that after the music has fairly struck
up, the woman who first gets up and comes dancing
into the circle, is the leader for that figure. In some
374
WOMEN LEADERS.
of the figures, two women or even three, will come
out together.
In saying this much, I have already described the
dance to all society people, but for the sake of those
benighted whites who know not "the German," I
will proceed with my description.
The step is always the same; that already described.
When the vigorous beats of the "tom-tom" and
the sounding chorus of voices have so set her blood
tingling that she is no longer restrained by her sense
of modesty, a woman will get up, advance to the
centre, and dance alone around, or partly around, the
circle. She then advances to some man, (possibly one
of the drum-beaters), seizes and leads him triumph-
antly to the centre, where they together dance around,
sometimes arm in arm, but more frequently with their
arms around each other, as in our round dances.
After a circuit or two they separate, each taking up
another partner of the opposite sex, and this is con-
tinued until there are as many couples on the floor
as can dance comfortably. After from ten to twenty
minutes, the music ceases, and the dancers separating,
return alone each to his or her seat.
Sometimes, in violation of the well-known civilized
rule, that "two is company, three a crowd," the figure
will require two men to one woman, or the reverse,
when the three, locked in mutual embrace, dance
around together.
The "sign dance" is very pretty. A woman, after
dancing around alone, will take up a man, lead him
into the circle, place him opposite to her, both danc-
ing. She will then say to him in the "sign lan-
guage," "Here I am, ready to be made love to; what
do you think of me?" He answers in the same
THE KISSING DANCE.
375
This
language, as his wit or discretion prompts.
especial figure is one of the greatest favorites, the
conversations being a collision of wits, every sally of
which is received by the spectators with uproarious
laughter and unbounded applause.
As may readily be inferred from what I have
already said about Indians, these conversations are
not characterized by the most perfect propriety, or
even decency, but nothing that creates fun can be
amiss to the Indian, and all must be taken with the
most perfect good humor. It would be a monstrous
breach of good manners to get angry at anything
said or done in this figure.
Another figure creates great merriment. It is
called the "kissing dance." The leading woman
selects a partner as before. After dancing around
together, they separate, and each selects another of
opposite sex, and so on until the floor is filled. At a
signal all go to their proper partners, that is, the
leading woman goes back to the man she first selected,
the two selected by him and her go together, those
chosen by these go together, and so to the end. Then
all seat themselves on the ground, couples facing
each other, when the man deliberately kisses the
woman, the more modest couples drawing a shawl
over their heads during this act.
The fun of this dance is, that while the leader can
select the man she wishes to kiss, she and he can
select those least likely to wish to kiss each other;
she, taking up a young love-sick boy, and he a
woman old enough to be his grandmother, or vice
versa.
No end of fun is created by the complications that
a few bright and mischievous couples can make.
24
376
EATING DANCE.
In every case, the man is supposed to make some
little present to the woman he kisses. If a woman in
the dance offers to take out a man who does not wish
to go, he can get off by paying a nickel, when some-
body else is seized upon and taken out. This is a
saving clause for those white witnesses of this dance
whose taste rebels against the kisses of the red
beauties, for no man, white or red, mere spectator or
habitual dancer, can hope to escape without kissing,
or buying himself off; and in this latter case he must
have a pocket full of nickels, for every woman of the
dance will "go for him," on that account alone. They
like kisses, but they like nickels better.
The
One figure is called the "cating dance."
leader selects her partner and after a round or two,
they go to where the refreshments are, and after
helping themselves, bring something to eat, good or
bad, great or small, which they each offer to another
of the opposite sex, thus taking them out. These in
turn go out and get something which they offer to
others, and this is continued until the floor is full and
all the dancers have something to eat in hand, when
round and round they all go. No more ludicrous
sight can be imagined than twenty or thirty couples
hugging each other, dancing, singing, laughing,
talking, eating, screaming, all at one and the same
time.
The fun in this dance is in giving the person taken
up something to eat which will create merriment.
An old squaw, with her teeth worn to the gums, will
be brought into the circle of dancers by a huge bone
with no meat on it; a notoriously heavy feeder will
be brought out by the smallest possible piece of
cracker. Of course these all "get even," and a
MASQUERADING.
377
bountiful repast when they go out to get something
to "take up" the next couple with, but the fun is that
each has to keep in hand that which was given and
to appear to enjoy it.
At the very last Cheyenne dance that I attended, I
saw the only instance of anything like masquerade
that I have ever seen among Indians, though I have
heard it is not uncommon. One or other of three
very pretty and bright little girls, of ten to twelve
years old, had, with the forwardness of their age,
gained the leadership in almost every figure. Two
of them were well known, but the other was for a
long time supposed to be a stranger, creating no little
wonderment. Finally, a young buck with whom she
was dancing discovered that "she" was a boy dressed
in his sister's clothing. The little rascal had played
his part so well as to mystify the whole party for half
the night, and with so pretty, sprightly, and natural
an action, that half the bucks in the dance had made
love to him. It was considered a wonderful feat, and
made great sport.
I could enumerate many other figures, and there
are yet many which I have not seen. Enough to say,
that if not quite so infinite as the figures of "the
German,” it is only because the inventive faculty of
the Indian is not so well developed as that of the
white.
After a knowledge of the social dance, it is very
easy to understand the wonderful hold it has upon
the taste and affection of the Indian. Here are no
chiefs, no commons, no master, no slave.
All men
are on an equality, all women are equal each to the
other, and here, alone, in virtue of their leadership, a
little superior to the men. There is no scandal, no
378
JOLLY PEOPLE.
ill-nature, for Indian etiquette requires that no one
shall take offence. All is jollity and pleasure.
It is an informal social reunion, in which every one
may take part, where everybody is expected not only
to be themselves in the very best possible humor, but
to do everything in their power to promote the general
pleasure.
The fun is broad, coarse, as might be expected of a
'savage race; but jollier, more light-hearted, better
pleased people I have never seen at any social gather-
ing, and the temper of the whole affair is perfect.
CHAPTER XXIX.
THE SIGN LANGUAGE WONDERFUL EXPERTNESS
OF INDIAN SIGN-TALKERS.
—
The Need of a Common Language — The Great Battle Ground of the
Plains The Struggle for Existence Imperilled Interests - A
Question of Fate Desperate Encounters Common Methods of
Communication Signs and Gestures Origin and Extent of the
System The Cheyennes and Arrapahoes - Enforced Companion-
ship Fighting, Racing and Gambling Together Ignorance of.
Signs Among the Utes Ouray's Explanation - Sign Pictures —
Rank of the Kiowas as Founders of the System - Oral Language
Skeleton Forms of Speech Individual Styles First Lessons in
Signs Curious and Interesting Illustrations A Powerful Sys-
tem Its Effect upon Indian Life The Expert Sign-talker
Conversation under Difficulties - Talking under a Blanket.
-

OR as far back in the uncertain past as
we can reasonably hope, through tra-
dition and story, to reach any barely solid
foundation of fact, the Indians of the
Plains that vast plateau between the
Mississippi River and the Rocky Moun-
tains have been, of all Indians, the least
disposed to content themselves within the
boundaries of their own territories. This
may have resulted from the peculiarly warlike char-
acter of these Indians, but most probably was the
result of accident, or, more strictly speaking, was:
forced upon them by the all-important question of
food.
All the Plains tribes depended almost entirely on
the buffalo for everything. That animal, though
370
380
ORIGIN OF SIGN LANGUAGE.
regular in his migrations (going north in spring, and
south in fall and winter), was exceedingly erratic, his
visits to any particular section of country depending
on his own food supply, the condition of the grass.
One year, the country of a tribe of Indians might be
overrun by herds whose numbers were simply incal-
culable; the next year, the same territory might be
visited by scarcely a single animal.
If the buffalo did not come to the Indian, the
Indian must go to the buffalo, at whatever hazard.
Runners were sent out, the location of the buffalo
discovered, and long journeys were made by tribes
and bands into countries to which they had no claim.
The same necessity possibly actuating many bands.
and tribes, the country in the vicinity of the buffalo
became dangerous ground. The tribe or band in
whose territory they were, regarded the buffalo as
their own property, an evidence of the favor of God.
They resented the intrusion of other bands and hunt-
ing parties, not only as killing and driving off their
property, but as interfering with their "medicine,"
the medicine chief taking care that all shall under-
stand that his influence with God brought the buf-
falo. Each year, the country occupied by the buffalo
became a vast battle-ground, the proper owners at-
tacking the interlopers at every favorable opportunity.
But hunting parties met other hunting parties of
tribes not hostile. To distinguish between the hostile
and the friendly, and to communicate with, and pos-
sibly make common cause with the latter, some means
of intercourse must be had. Not being able to speak
or understand each other's language, communication
was had by signs.
We may suppose that at first only signs most nat-
A UNIVERSAL LANGUAGE.
381
ural and expressive were used. By-and-by other
signs were introduced, always conventional, but be-
coming more and more arbitrary, until there resulted
a means of communication almost as perfect as if
each understood and spoke the oral language of the
other. This means of communication is used in its
completeness only by the Plains Indians, and is called
by them the "sign language."
The use of signs to communicate ideas is common
to all the world, not only to man, but to the brute
creation, and from the simple pleasure evidenced by
the wagging of a dog's tail, to abstruse problems in
astronomy and metaphysics, every idea may be com-
municated by means of signs.
This method of intercourse was, like oral speech,
natural and instinctive, and is in constant use to this
day. It is an adjunct to oral speech, and must ever
be one of the means by which humanity expresses or
modifies its ideas. Not one of us, however civilized,
or facile in the use of oral language, but every day
of his life makes use of signs to express some wish
or thought. What school-boy would dare to pretend
to misunderstand the beckon of his teacher, or what
urchin but has had his soul thrilled with inexpressible
emotions at the simple pointing by his mother at the
hole torn in his new trousers?
All people use more or less gestures or signs, but
among the highly cultivated they are used only as
adjectives, adverbs, interjections, to give emphasis
and point to oral speech.
Speech is entirely arbitrary and conventional, but
signs have their origin in feelings and emotions which
are common to all mankind. Every spoken language
requires another language to interpret it. The rudi-
1
382
DIVERSITY OF TONGUES.
ments of the language of signs require on the one
hand only so clear a conception of the idea or emo-
tion as to make a sign expressive of its posture or
effect, and on the other an equally clear conception,
and a sufficient perceptive faculty.
Signs may be divided into two classes. First,
those imitative or descriptive of some action, or ex-
pressive of some emotion or situation. These may
be called natural signs, and are, with some modifica-
tions, common to all mankind, -to the deaf and
dumb pupil of civilization, and to the untamed savage
of the Plains. Thus, pointing to the sun and indi-
cating its course from east to west, is the natural and
obvious sign expression for a day, and such is its
meaning to all people who, use sign language. .
Second, those indicating names of tribes, persons,
or things, or abstract ideas not sufficiently pro-
nounced to admit of a natural sign picture. These
signs are arbitrary, and vary in a very remarkable
degree.
In a previous chapter I have spoken of the pride,
self-conceit, or other cause which prevents an In-
dian of one tribe from speaking the language of an-
other tribe.
Dr. Matthews, speaking of the Arickaree, Hidatsa,
and Mandan Indians, says: "To the philologist it is
an interesting fact, that this trio of savage clans, al-
though now living in the same village, and having
been next door neighbors to each other for more than
a hundred years on terms of peace and intimacy, and
to a great extent intermarried, speak, nevertheless, to-
tally distinct languages which show no perceptible
inclination to coalesce."
The same general statement is true of the Chey-
DIVERSITY OF SIGNS.
383
ennes and Arrapahoes. The parents reside year
after year side by side in the same camps, the chil-
dren play, fight, horse-race, gamble, and grow up
together, yet one will never speak in the language of
the other. The fact is a curious, almost incredible
one, especially as the Indians themselves can or will
give no explanation of it.
This peculiarity renders the use of a common
language a matter of paramount importance to the
Plains Indians.
When two people, whether civilized or savage,
neither speaking nor understanding the oral language
of the other, meet and wish to communicate, the first
and most natural impulse is to attempt to gain or
convey information by means of signs. Even at the
very first attempt, some ideas will be interchanged,
and after repeated efforts, they will have so far pro-
gressed as to be able to exchange ideas, with some
certainty and satisfaction. The sign language un-
doubtedly sprung from this natural tendency, and
has its foundation in those natural signs and gestures
which are common to the races of mankind.
But while all Indians, as all white people, use
signs, it by no means follows that they use the same
signs or make or read them with the same facility and
perfection. Oral speech is natural, and all men
use the language to which they were brought up
with a certain degree of ease and force. Beyond
its simple forms, and outside a lodge of Plains In-
dians, the sign language is acquired, and different
men use it skilfully or not, in accordance with the
quickness of apprehension or skill as pantomimist of
each.
Many of the Indian tribes are almost as little versed
}
384
DOUBLE LANGUAGE.
in the use of signs as ordinary white people. This is
especially observable among the Utes, so much so
that I one day asked Ouray to explain it. He told
me that his people never used the sign language
among themselves. Most of the warriors had picked
up a little smattering of this language, and used it in
their intercourse with the Plains Indians, or with the
whites, just as most of them had acquired a slight
knowledge of Spanish, by and for use in their trade
with Mexicans and Apaches.
It is among the Plains Indians alone that gesture-
speech has arrived at such perfection, that it may prop-
erly be called a language, and this, for the very suf-
ficient reason that these tribes use it not only in
intercourse with people whose oral language they
neither speak or understand, but for every day inter-
course among themselves. In their own camps and
families, this language is used so constantly that it
becomes a natural and instinctive habit; almost every
man, even when using oral language, accompanying
his words by sign-pictures conveying the same mean-
ing. In this way wonderful facility and accuracy of
expression by signs is attained.
That this excellence is acquired can readily be in-
ferred from the marked difference in the ability to use
it, not only in the tribes, but in the individuals of the
same tribe. Almost all Plains Indians use it, some so
exceptionally well, making their sign-pictures so clear,
that they can readily be understood by any one who
has even a rudimentary knowledge of the art; yet I
have met a few Plains Indians, who, though brought
up with it, have never arrived at sufficient knowledge
of the language to hold a conversation in it. Within
a few days previous to this writing, an Arrapahoe
INVENTORS OF SIGN LANGUAGE.
385
came to this post on business with a Cheyenne, and
was obliged to obtain the services of the interpreter,
being unable to use or understand signs.
Within comparatively a few years, the attention
of philologists has been particularly directed to the
sign language. Some authorities assert that "all the
tribes of North American Indians, have had and still
use a common and identical sign language of ancient
origin," "which serves as a medium of converse from
Hudson Bay to the Gulf of Mexico." Others deny
this.
Like most other broad statements, this, in my ex-
perience, is partly true and partly false. It is not
"common" to all North American Indians. The
Utes, the Pacific tribes who use "Chinook," the In-
dians of the Colorado River, the Apaches, Mohaves,
Moquis, Pueblos, Navahoes and others, use signs, as
do all men, but they do not use or understand the
sign language of the Plains. It is "common" to all
Indians between the Mississippi River and the Rocky
Mountains, and from the British line to the Gulf of
Mexico; that is, to all the Plains Indians.
The Plains Indians themselves believe that the sign
language was invented by the Kiowas, who, holding an
intermediate position between the Comanches, Tonka-
ways, Lipans, and other inhabitants of the vast plains
of Texas, and the Pawnees, Sioux, Blackfeet, and
other Northern tribes, were the general go-betweens;
trading with all, or making peace or war, with, or for,
any or all. It is certain that the Kiowas are at pres-
ent more universally proficient in this language than
any other Plains tribe. It is also certain that the
tribes furthest away from them, and with whom they
have least intercourse, use it with least facility.
386
IDENTITY OF SIGNS.
The sign language is a true language, and like all
other languages used by great numbers of, or widely
scattered, people, it has its dialects and its provincial-
isms. It is not, strictly speaking, a "common or
identical" language, but in all the vast area I have
indicated, it varies less than the English language in
its two small home islands, or the French language in
the territory of France.
If the English language is "common and identical"
in England, Ireland, Scotland, and Wales, then the
sign language is "common and identical" to the
Plains.
An American travelling in Scotland, Wales, Corn-
wall, or Yorkshire, is in endless trouble to understand
the English spoken to him. An Englishman of no
more intelligence or no better education will travel
without this difficulty, for by contact and habit, he
has gained some knowledge of the dialects and pro-
vincialisms. The Englishman will assert that the in-
habitants of the British Islands speak a" common and
identical" language; the American with equal positive-
ness will assert that the languages are different. This
is all there is to the controversy on the sign language.
Taking into consideration the vastness of territory
and the sparseness of population, the sign language is
remarkably "identical." Considering further, the fact
that the language is made up of signs representing not
only all animated nature, but relationships, time, place,
circumstances, thoughts, feelings, and abstract ideas
of every kind, the uniformity is indeed marvellous.
Put a pantomimist on the stage, and set a dozen ex-
pert scientists to record his action. It is certain that
no two of them would use the same language, doubt-
ful if any two of them would express the same idea.
·
IMITATIVE FACULTY.
387
So of the Indian tribes. One represents the deer by
his horns, another by his fleetness, yet another by his
broad white tail; but so apt are they at illustration
and so quick of comprehension, that these dialects or
provincialisms are mere momentary hindrances.
Many of them can express the same thing by seve-
ral signs, and if the person with whom he is convers-
ing fails to understand one, he will try another and
another.
A curious peculiarity, illustrative of the imitative
faculty of the Indian, is that he will catch and use the
signs of the person with whom he is talking, though
he may never have seen them before. An Indian is
talking to a white man, slightly versed in the lan-
guage, or other Indian with whose provincialisms he
is not familiar. A sign is used which he does not
understand. By close and careful watching, he will
soon discover what the user means to represent by it,
and if he then wishes to speak of that thing, he will
use the sign of the other person, even though he
knows it to be a wrong one.
In oral language, an idea may be expressed in an
almost infinite variety of ways; the sign language,
though not so flexible, yet gives ample facilities for
varying the expression.
The oral languages of the Indian tribes with which
I am acquainted, are crude and imperfect, consisting
of nouns, verbs, adjectives, adverbs, lacking in case,
number, tense, or mood, and run together in intermi-
nable strings, each of which presents, as it were, a
word-picture, the whole giving a very definite idea of
the facts sought to be communicated. This idiom-
atic mode of thought and expression offers peculiar
facilities for the use of the sign language.
388
DIFFERENCES IN STYLE.
In translating into that language the thought or
speech of a white man, the first necessity is to get rid
of the particles, articles, conjunctions, prepositions,
then to transpose and group the remainder, and to
present each subordinate idea in such succession as
finally to represent clearly and fully the whole idea.
This is really the most difficult portion of the work of
an interpreter, and requires a special faculty.
Besides the "dialects and provincialisms," there is
another natural, but most serious difficulty in attempt-
ing to learn or to describe the sign language: so seri-
ous indeed that I doubt if any man ever arrived at.
even average excellence in the art unless habituated
to its use from earliest childhood.
This difficulty results from the personality of each
Indian, every man having his own style of expression,
just as every white man has his own style of penman-
ship. This individuality of style may very properly
be called the handwriting of the Indian; each, though
making the same signs, makes them differently from
all others, as the handwriting of each white man dif-
fers from that of all others.
Ask an Indian to give you the sign of anything, and
he proceeds to make it formally, giving what may be
regarded the sign in capital letters, differing from the
sign he would make in rapid conversation, possibly
quite as widely as the printed capital "B," differs
from the small "b" of a rapidly written manuscript.
In addition to the difficulties already enumerated,
there are yet others, in an almost infinite number and
variety of abbreviations. For instance, to tell a man
"e
'to talk," the most common formal sign is made thus:
hold the right hand in front of, the back near the
mouth, ends of thumb and index finger joined into
ABBREVIATION OF SIGNS.
389
an O, the other fingers closed on the palm; throw the
hand forward sharply by a quick motion of the wrist,
and at the same time flip forward the index finger.
This may be done once or several times.
The formal sign to "cease," or stop doing" any-
thing, is made by bringing the two hands, open and
held vertically, in front of the body, one behind the
other; then quickly pass one upward, the other
downward, simulating somewhat the motion of the
limbs of a pair of scissors, meaning "cut it off."
This latter sign is made in conversation, in a variety
of ways, but habitually with one hand only.
The formal sign for "stop talking," is first to make
the formal sign for "talk," then the formal sign for
"cut;" but this is commonly abbreviated by first
making the formal sign "talk," with the right hand,
and then immediately passing the same hand, open,
fingers extended, downward, across and in front of
the mouth, "talk cut."
But though the Plains Indian, if asked for the sign
to "stop talking," will properly give the sign either
in its extended or abbreviated form, as above, he in
conversation abbreviates it so much further, that the
sign loses almost all resemblance to its formal self.
Whatever the position of the hand, a turn of the
wrist, a flip of the forefinger, and a turn of the wrist
back to its original position, is fully equivalent to the
elaborate signs.
This, by the by, is one of the most significant and
comprehensive of Indian signs. It may mean simple
acquiescence, as we express by "very well," "all
right;" or comprehension, "I understand;" impa-
tience, "you have talked enough;" or downright
anger, "shut up."
390
DIFFICULTY IN LEARNING.
Examples of similar abbreviations could be given
almost ad libitum.
That such liberties can be taken with it, and it yet
so far preserve its original purity and completeness
as to furnish a means of communication so perfect
that individuals of tribes living a thousand miles
apart, and who have never met before, can converse
with ease and certainty, is the best evidence that it is
a true language, founded on a solid basis of correct
principles. To learn it sufficiently well for ordinary
intercourse is no more difficult than to learn any for-
eign language; to master it, one must have been
born in a lodge of Plains Indians, and have been
accustomed to its daily and hourly use from his ear-
liest to mature years.
Even among the Plains tribes, only the old, or at
least middle-aged men, use it perfectly. I have never
yet seen a woman, child, or young man, who was at
all reliable in signs.
Every tribe of the Plains has not only its distinc-
tive name, but also its sign, by which it is known and
designated by all other Indians. In some cases,
these signs indicate the character of the tribe; in
others they appear to be purely arbitrary, - at least,
no Indian appears to be able to give any satisfactory
explanation of their origin or meaning.
I give a few of these, to illustrate their pecu-
liarities:
INDIAN-GENERIC. Left hand open, fingers extended and joined, palm
down, is held in front of centre of body. The back of the hand is then
gently rubbed with the fingers of the right hand.
SIOUX. Pass the right hand open, palm down and horizontal, fingers
extended from left to right across the throat, Cut throat; " indicat-
ing their character and habit.
CHEYENNE. The index finger of the left hand (or the whole hand) is
SIGNS.
391
held horizontally in front of the body. The index finger of the right
hand is then passed across it several times, as if cutting, "Cut finger."
Origin or reason for sign unknown. The Sioux indicate the Northern
Cheyennes by making the cuts on the forearm, a little above the wrist.
ARRAPAHOE. With index finger of right hand extended, rub right
side of nose. Origin and meaning unknown.
NORTHERN ARRAPAHOE. Join fingers and thumb of right hand, and
strike the points on left breast several times.
PAWNEES. Right hand, first two fingers extended and separated, is
held behind the right ear, and then thrown forward; action repeated,
“Wolf; ” indicating character.
COMANCHE. Right hand extended to left and front of body, index
finger extended, others closed. Draw the hand backward with a wrig-
gling motion across the body, "Snake;" indicating character.
KIOWA. The open palm, held bowl-shaped, to right of and beside the
face, is passed round and round in a circle. Supposed to indicate the
peculiarity of these Indians in cutting the hair of the right side of the head.
UTE. Left hand held horizontally in front of the body, fingers ex-
tended, thumb closed on palm, edge of hand down. Then with extended
fingers of right hand, rub gently towards the wrist, along the extended
index finger of left hand; or make the sign for black and the generic
sign for Indians. The Utes are very dark, and are called by the Plains
tribes, "the black Indians.'
""
APACHE. Hold the left hand exactly as in sign for Ute. Then with
extended fingers of right hand flip back and forth on the index of left
hand, as a barber strops a razor. Origin and meaning unknown.
WHITE MAN. Right hand open, fingers extended and horizontal, car-
ried to the left side of the head, then passed from left to right across the
forehead, indicating the brim of a hat; "Hat wearers."
MEXICAN. The open palm, held bowl-shaped beneath the chin, is
passed round and round in a circle; “Beard wearers.”
NEGRO. Rub the extended fingers of the right hand on some dark
object, and then make the sign for white man; "Black white man."
Able men are now engaged in classifying and
arranging these signs into a vocabulary, with hope of
such ultimate success as will place this among the lan-
guages open to the mastery of the student of books.
I can, in these pages, give only the most superficial
idea of the power and scope of this language, and to
this end I add a few descriptions of signs.
MAN. Index finger of right hand held erect before the face, back to
front; push slightly outwards and upwards.
25
392
SIGNS.
WOMAN. Right hand, fingers open but joined, back to front, is passed
with a circular, sweeping motion to the right side of face and head,
indicating flowing hair.
MARRIAGE. Indices of right and left hands joined side by side, backs
up, in front of body, thumbs and other fingers closed.
HUSBAND. Sign for man, and marriage.
WIFE. Sign for woman, and marriage.
PARENTAGE. Right hand, bowl-shaped, turned towards right breast,
as if grasping a pap.
FATHER. Sign for parentage, and man.
MOTHER. Sign for parentage, and woman.
OFFSPRING. Right hand passed downwards in front of crotch, index
extended, other fingers closed; sex indicated as before.
BROTHER. Index and middle finger of right hand placed in mouth,
back of hand up, and sign for man.
SISTER. Same, with sign for woman.
COUSIN. Sign for brother and sister, as above; but if pressed for
closer explanation, make sign for father (or mother), brother, and off-
spring, with additional sign for sex.
BROTHER-IN-LAW. Hold left hand obliquely to the front, towards
centre of body, forearm nearly horizontal, palm to the right, then pass
the open right hand from the left shoulder downwards, with a circular
sweep, around and outside the left hand.
DAY. Hands open, fingers extended, palms upward, are carried from
front and centre of body to each side, and held horizontal and motion-
less, backs down; indicating “all open.”
NIGHT. Hands open, fingers extended and joined, palms down, are
carried to centre of body, and crossed, right hand above, but not touch-
ing, and held motionless; indicating “all closed.”
SUN. Right hand and arm extended upwards, thumb and forefinger
formed into a crescent, other fingers closed.
MOON. Sign for sun, and night.
SPRING. Place right hand near the ground, back downward, the
thumb and fingers extended upward (this is the sign for grass); then
raise the hand a few inches once or twice, to represent the grass
growing.
SUMMER. Both hands held high above and in front of the head, on
each side, fingers extended and pointing obliquely downward; indicating
the sun's rays.
AUTUMN, Left hand held well up in front and left of body, back to
front, fingers and thumb extended upward to represent the branches
(this is the sign for tree); with right index touch a finger of left hand,
and then carry right hand downward, as something falling slowly. Do
this several times.
WINTER. Both hands in front of body, fingers and thumbs closed
SIGNS.
393
right hand above, are shaken backward and forward, with a shivering
motion. This is also the sign for year and cold.
TIME. Hands partially opened, backs to right and left, thumbs and
indices closed, as if holding a string between them, are held a few inches
apart, in front of the body. This is the general sign, to ask the ques-
tion.
IS IT A LONG OR SHORT TIME? The hands, held as above, are sepa-
rated some inches, and then brought near each other.
LONG TIME. The hands, held as above, are drawn apart by a series
of jerking motions, the distance finally separated indicating the length
of time.
INFINITELY LONG TIME.
ETERNITY.
Make sign for "long time," for “not,” and
for "cut off."
SHORT TIME. Hold the hands as above, some little distance apart, and
then approach them to each other.
COUNTING.
QUESTION, HOW MANY?
Hold the left hand in front of centre of
body, palm up, fingers partially opened,
but not joined; then with right index
finger flip (towards body) rapidly and
successively, two or three fingers of the
left hand, commencing with the little
finger.
ONE. Right hand closed, except index, back of hand to front, held in
front of body; (almost identical with sign for man, that being distin-
guished by its upward motion).
Two. Same motion with index and little finger.
THREE. Same with index, middle, and third fingers.
FOUR. Same with four fingers.
FIVE. All the fingers and thumb open, palm upright and to the front,
with forward motion.
SIX. Thumb of left hand held upright, fingers closed, is held in front
of face, and in close juxtaposition to right hand, with all the digits ex-
tended. All are then advanced with a slight motion.
SEVEN.
Same, with thumb and index of left hand.
EIGHT. Same, with thumb, index, and middle finger of left.
NINE. Same, with four fingers of left hand.
TEN. Both hands open, palms upright, fingers extended, with same
forward motion.
ELEVEN. Make sign for ten, then bring the hands down and close
them; then raise the right hand palm to front, all fingers closed except
little finger, which is held upright.
TWELVE. Same, little and third fingers held upright.
THIRTEEN. Same, little, third, and middle fingers held up.
FOURTEEN. Same, four fingers held up.
FIFTEEN. Right hand held up, all digits extended.
394
EXPERTNESS IN SIGN LANGUAGE.
SIXTEEN. Same, right hand, and thumb of left, and so to nineteen.
TWENTY. Sign made to a white man would be the repeated sign for
ten, but in the “language,” it is made by holding the right hand, all the
fingers closed except the little and third fingers, to the right, but in front
of the face, and then describe a circle to the left, in front of face. This
motion multiplies by ten the number of fingers held up.
ONE HUNDRED. With both hands held upright before the face, fingers
extended, palms to front, describe the semicircle to left.
ONE THOUSAND. Make sign for ten, and then the sign for hundred.
These may be all regarded as natural signs. I
will give one example of what may be called a com-
plex sign. To express liquid coffee, ready for the
table, the Indian represents,—
THE BEAN. Thumb pressed against forefinger of right hand, a short
distance from the tip, other fingers closed; (a natural sign for any small
object).
A Por. Thumb and forefingers of both hands, open and crescent-
shaped, other fingers closed, palms inward, are held about a foot apart.
TO PUT ON. Hands so held are moved downward towards ground, as
if putting on a fire.
TO BOIL. Both hands held low in front of body, backs down, fingers
partially closed; then flip out thumbs and fingers, at same time making
a slight upward motion of wrists.
TO DRINK. Right hand, held as if grasping a cup, is carried to the
mouth, and turned up as in the act of drinking.
COFFEE. The bean, that you put in a pot, and put on the fire, and boil,
and then drink.
An expert sign-talker will make the five signs
necessary to express coffee almost as quickly as that
word can be uttered.
Seemingly impossible as it would appear from the
foregoing description, two expert sign-talkers en-
gaged in conversation will make every sign with one
hand so distinctly as to be understood. Two Indians,
each wrapped in a blanket tightly held with the left
hand, will thrust the right from under its folds and
engage in animated conversation. So also when on
horseback, though the left hand is holding the reins,
the conversation will not flag, nor be misunderstood.
CHAPTER XXX.
INDIAN CHRONOLOGY DEVICES FOR RECKONING
TIME KEEPING TRACK OF THE YEARS.
66
-
Keeping Track of the Years - Counting by "Days," "Sleeps,"
'Moons," and "Winters,” — My Personal Observations - The Fruits
of Research The Moon when Corn is Planted-New Year's
Day-The First Snow-fall A Puzzling Interview - An Old Chey-
enne's Opinion Some Years Have More Moons than Others"
The Sioux Calendar-A Wonderful Chronological Chart — In the
Hands of Curiosity-hunters Excited Hopes Provoking Revela-
tions- Fac Simile of the Calendar - Seventy Years in a Nutshell
Tell-tale Hieroglyphics Solution of the Mystery - Applying the
Key — Finding an Old Woman in a Buffalo -Old Folk Lore — A
Legend of the Pacific Coast — A “Boston Man.”

HE appliances of civilization, the com-
forts conferred on us by science, have
become so much a matter of habit,
that we fail to realize them. When
we wake up in the night, and strike a
light on the instant, do we ever think
how our grandfathers arrived at the
same result by laborious effort with flint
and steel, and vast expenditure of breath
to fan the tiny spark into flame sufficient to light the
attenuated tallow dip? So in everything we do and
use.
But, had some evil genius the power and will to
deprive us of one of the blessings conferred by sci-
ence, he could strike a no more effective blow than to
take away our system of computing time. Accus-
395
396
NO STANDARD OF TIME.
tomed to the regularity, the simple perfection of the
civilized method, we scarcely realize its value or the
absolute chaos that would be the result of its loss.
In our calendar, every minute, every hour, day,
month, and year, is absolutely fixed for us by stable
points of reference. The whole life of a civilized
being is regulated by time. He rises at a certain
time in the morning; his meals, his business, his
meeting with friends, his attendance at church or
elsewhere, all are regulated by fixed times. He starts
on a journey at a certain hour, and terminates it with
equal regularity. Every duty, every pleasure, every
movement of his life is regulated by time, and the
watches of busy men are in demand for consultation
at any and all times.
But it is not only in our daily duties and avocations
that we realize the value of our system. Our years
commencing on a certain day, and each having a
number, we have a constant point of reference by
which we are enabled to locate the occurrences of our
past lives, or fix with some certainty our plans for the
future.
These apparently trite remarks are intended to
cause the reader to look into his own life, his memo-
ries of the past, movements of the present, and plans
for the future, and see what would be the result to
him could this element of certainty in time be elimi-
nated. He will then be in a frame of mind better
adapted to the contemplation of the condition of a
people who have no time.
The Indians measure time solely by days, by sleeps,
by moons, and by winters. There is no name for any
subdivision of time less than a day. When it is de-
sired to indicate any shorter period, he points to the
1
COMPUTING BY MOONS.
397
heavens, and measuring off a space, says "it was as
long as it would take the sun to go from there to
there." "Day” is from daylight to darkness; "sleep,"
or night, from dark until daylight. There is no name
for any day among the wild Indians, though those about
agencies call Sunday "the day the white man does
not work." There is no subdivision of time corre-
sponding to our week.
A moon commences when the first faint streak of
its crescent can be discovered in the west, and lasts
until the next one appears, but the days of the moon
are neither numbered nor named.
There is a difference among authorities as to whether
or not the moons themselves are named. Brown gives
names for nine moons corresponding to months.
Maximillian gives the names of twelve moons; and
Belden,* who lived many years among the Sioux,
asserts that" the Indians compute their time very much
as white men do, only they use moons instead of
months to designate the seasons, each answering to
some month in our calendar." Then follows a list of
twelve moons with Indian and English names. While
I cannot contradict so positive and minute a state-
ment of one so thoroughly in a position to know, I
must assert with equal positiveness that I have never
met any wild Indians, of the Sioux or other Plains.
tribes, who had a permanent, common, conventional
name for any moon. The looseness of Belden's gen-
eral statement, that "Indians compute time like white
people," when his only particularization of similarity
is between the months and moons, is in itself sufficient
to render the whole statement questionable.
My experience is that the Indian, in attempting to
* The "White Chief," page 289.
398
MOONS AND SNOWS.
fix on a particular moon, will designate it by some
natural and well-known phenomenon which culmi-
nates during that moon. But two Indians of the
same tribe may fix on different designations; and even
the same Indian, on different occasions, may give
different names to the same moon. Thus, an Indian
of the middle Plains will to-day designate a spring
moon as "the moon when corn is planted;" to-mor-
row, speaking of the same moon, he may call it "the
moon when the buffalo comes." Moreover, though
there are thirteen moons in our year, no observer has
ever given an Indian name to the thirteenth. My
opinion is, that if any of the wild tribes have given
conventional names to twelve moons, it is not an
indigenous idea, but borrowed from the whites.
There is no Indian word synonymous with our word
year. "From winter to winter," is the nearest ap-
proach to it.* The year commences at the first fall
of snow. A man will tell you that he is so many
winters old, which in the aggregate represents his
years; but having no months or days, he never has a
birthday. I have questioned many Indians of differ-
ent tribes, and have never yet found one who could tell
how many lunations (or moons) there are in a year;
and this is unavoidable, for as the new year dates from
the first snow, its commencement is uncertain, and its
duration extremely indefinite.
"Stone," a very intelligent old Cheyenne, has been
sitting with me in my quarters for the two hours im-
mediately preceeding the writing of this paragraph.
* The Cheyenne word "I-néve" means winter, and is always used to
designate year. Snow in the same language is "His-tas," and is not used
to designate year. They use the two words very much as we do. Thus,
speaking of an old man, a common expression is, "the histas (snows) of
many I-néve (winters or years) have whitened his head.”
DESIGNATING YEARS.
399
We talked of "snows" and "moons," until I fea.
the old man went off in a state of semi-idiocy. He
is a Northern Cheyenne, and for the first twenty-five
years of his life, his tribe occupied country contiguous
to the Sioux. The tribes were friendly, and he learned
a good deal about them and their customs. He has
never heard a fixed name given to a moon by any
Indians. At the question, "How many moons are
there in a year?" he looked greatly puzzled, evidently
never having thought of it before. Finally, however,
brightening up, he answered,—
"Some years have more moons than others. One
year may have only ten moons, but the next year may
have fifteen."
The Indians who formerly inhabited the southern
portion of Texas, where there is no snow fall, are said
to have fixed the commencement of the year at the
first "Norther," a furious and chilling wind that
sweeps from the North, and of frequent occurrence
during the winter months.
No year has any name or number, fixing a sequence
or point of reference, but each band will designate a
year by its most prominent occurrence; as a fight
with hostiles, death of a chief, prevalence of disease,
abundance or scarcity of food, or failing anything
marvellous or striking, by the name of the stream on
which was located the winter camp. But these are
mere remembrances, and excellent as is the savage
memory, they, after a few years fade into a jumble of
disconnected facts without sequence or usefulness.
In 1874, a brother officer presented me with what
purported to be a fac-simile of a calendar of Sioux,
together with its interpretation. The original was
painted in colors, in Indian hieroglyphics on an elk-
400
A SIOUX CALENDAR.
skin, which was religiously preserved by the chief of
the band, no addition being made without the grave
consideration and sanction of the Council. Com-
mencing with 1800, it gave the sign, or hieroglyph,
designating the tribal name of each year in regular
succession to 1870.
This was a wonderful step in advance of anything
I had before known of Indian chronology, and I stud-
ied it with considerable assiduity.
In 1877, I heard that a pamphlet had been issued
under the auspices of the Smithsonian, containing a
Sioux calendar, and interpretations. I procured a
copy for comparison with my calendar. To my annoy-
ance, I found it the same thing. Some time after I
learned that an acting assistant surgeon, U. S. A.,
had been permitted by a chief, as a personal favor, to
make a copy of a calendar in his possession. I wrote
to the doctor, and he was kind enough to send me a
copy. This time, I must admit, I was thoroughly
disgusted to find only a second copy of my old chart.
Several times since, I have heard of discoveries in this
direction, but when I have run them,to earth, it is only
to find the same old thing.
I have, therefore, come to the conclusion that it is
unique, that there is no other such calendar among
Indians. It is possibly just as well that this is so, for
I have never yet met an Indian of any tribe (and I
have shown it to numbers) who could interpret any
single one of the hieroglyphs; who had ever seen or
heard of anything like it, or who could form any clear
conception of its meaning and object, even when care-
fully explained to him.
To the few people who made this calendar and held
it in charge, these pictures possibly have a definite
1
A REMARKABLE DOCUMENT.
401
meaning; to all others, they are merely senseless
marks.
I obtained this calendar for publication, as a speci-
men of what I then thought a possibly not uncommon
custom of the Indians. I now present it as a curiosity,
the solitary effort to form a calendar ever made by the
Plains Indians.
Commencing in the centre, the hieroglyphics are
presented in order, from right to left in a spiral.
The Indian year commencing with the first snow,
this chart purports to designate the years from the
first snow that fell in the autumn or winter of 1799
to 1870.
The periods not corresponding to our years, I des-
ignate them by numbers.
1. Thirty Sioux killed by Crow Indians.
2. Sioux afflicted with small-pox.
3. The Sioux stole a lot of horses that had shoes on, - the first they
had ever seen.
4. The Sioux stole some "woolly horses " from the Crows.
5.
6.
Sioux had a grand "calumet dance," and then went to war.
Eight Sioux killed by Crows.
7. A Sioux killed an Arickaree as the latter was in the act of shoot-
ing an eagle.
8. Sioux chief, “Red Coat," killed.
9. The Sioux who killed the Arickaree (7) was himself killed by the
Arickarees.
10. Sioux chief, "Little Beaver," set fire to a trading-store, and was
killed.
11. The "Black Stone" band of Sioux made medicine with a white
buffalo cow.
12. Sioux fought a battle with the "Gros Ventres," and killed a great
many.
13. Sioux first captured wild horses.
14. Sioux afflicted with whooping-cough; many died.
15. An Arickaree Indian killed in his lodge by a Sioux.
16. Sans-arcs built their first earth lodge for their chief,
Feather."
“Crow
17. Buffalo very plenty.
18. A French Canadian built a trading-store of dry timber.
402
SIOUX CALENDAR.
19.
Sioux afflicted with measles; many died.
20.
Another trading-store built by another French Canadian.
21. Sioux, "Two Arrows," receives a war-dress for his bravery.
22. The comet appeared.
23. Another trading-store built by an American at the mouth of the
Little Missouri.
24. White soldiers make their first appearance in the country.
25. "Swan," chief of "Two Kettle" tribe of Sioux, had all his
horses killed.
26. High water in the Missouri River. Many Sioux drowned, many
horses lost.
27. A Sioux died of dropsy.
28. Sioux "Dead Arm" stabbed by a Mandan.
29. A white man living with the Sioux built a dirt lodge.
30. Sioux "Bad Spike" killed another Indian.
31. Sioux fight a battle with Crows, and kill twenty-three.
32. One white killed another.
33. Sioux chief, "Lone Horn," had his leg broken.
34. The stars fell.
35. Sioux chief, "Medicine Hide" killed.
36.
Sioux, “Lame Deer," shot a Crow Indian. Drew the arrow
from the wound, and shot him with it again.
37.
38.
"Two Kettle's" father, a Sioux chief, died.
Sioux killed one hundred elk on one hunt.
39. A dirt lodge was built for "Iron Horn," a Sioux.
40. Sioux killed an entire village of Snake Indians.
41. Sioux and Cheyennes make peace.
42. Sioux, “Feather in the Ear," stole thirty spotted ponies.
43. Sioux chief, "One Feather," raised a large war party to fight
with the Crows.
44. The "Sans Arcs" make medicine to bring the buffalo.
45. The Minne-conjous built a pine fort.
46. Great abundance of buffalo meat.
47. Sioux, “Broken Leg,” died.
48. Sioux, "Two Man," was killed.
49. Sioux, "Hump Back," was killed.
50. Crow Indians stole eight hundred horses from the Brulé Sioux.
51. Sioux killed a buffalo cow, and found an old woman in her belly.
52. Sioux and Crows make peace.
53.
Nez Percés" visit "Lone Horn" at night.
54. Spanish blankets first brought into the Sioux country.
55. Sioux, "Brave Bear," was killed.
56. General Harney made peace with the Sioux.
57. Sioux, "Four Horns," is made medicine chief.
58. Sioux killed a Crow woman.
AARAS
09
20
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49
ممممم
26
28
27
BAR
24
AN INDIAN CURIOSITY.
403

45
69
20
12
/
銎
​المة
A CHRONOLOGICAL AND HISTORICAL CHART OF A BAND
OF SIOUX,
SHOWING, BY SYMBOLS, THE PRINCIPAL EVENT OF EACH YEAR
FROM 1799 TO 1870 INCLUSIVE.
64
62
404
59.
60.
BELIEF IN THE CALENDAR.
"Lone Horn" made medicine to bring the buffalo.
Sioux chief, "Big Crow," killed by Crows.
61. Sioux," Elk," made a speech while walking.
62. Buffalo very plenty.
63. Sioux. “Red Feather," was killed.
64. Eight Sioux were killed.
65. Sioux killed four Crows.
66. Many horses died from starvation.
67. Sioux chief, "Swan," died.
68. Many flags were given the Sioux.
69. Texas cattle first brought into the Sioux country.
70. An eclipse of the sun.
71. Sioux had a fight with Crows, and killed twenty-nine.
A careful examination of these hieroglyphs, even in
the light of their interpretation, will demonstrate that
it is scarcely a matter of surprise that they are un-
derstood by no Indians except those who invented
them. I went over the whole series carefully with
"Stone," who, though a Cheyenne, lived for many
years near the Sioux. He recollects most of the prin-
cipal events, though he did not understand, nor could
he interpret, the symbols.
He
I asked him if an old woman had been found inside
a buffalo cow. He assured me that it was true.
had heard of it at the time. The fact was authenti-
cated by statements of the finders, sworn to in their
most solemn and binding manner. It was believed
by all the Sioux and Cheyennes, and he believed it.
Professor Brown gives a tradition of the Kootanie
(Pacific coast) Indians, which is somewhat similar,
but in this case involving a consequence most serious
to the Indians, the origin of the Americans.
Pe 'Once on a time the Indians and the Pesioux
(French Canadian voyageurs) lived together in such
happiness that the Great Spirit above envied the
happy condition of the Indian. So he came to the
earth, and as he was riding on the prairies on the
އ
1
ORIGIN OF THE WHITE RACE.
405
other side of the Rocky Mountains, he killed a buf-
falo, and out of the buffalo crawled a lank, lean figure,
called a 'Boston man' (American), and from that
day, to this, their troubles commenced, and there has
never been peace for the Indian, and there never will
be until they again go where their fathers are."
i
CHAPTER XXXI.
INDIAN ART AND ARTISTS
SIGNIFICATION OF THEIR
PICTURES AND INSCRIPTIONS.
-
Progress in the Arts Semi-Civilized Indians — Obtaining an Educa-
tion — Their Knowledge of the Industrial and Mechanic Arts - The
Pueblos -Spinning, Weaving and Tailoring - The Navahoes — How
eir Dwellings are Constructed - Beauty and Excellence of their
Blankets — The Apaches - Canoes of Bark Adepts at Carving
The Making and Ornamentation of Pipes Bead-work, Paint,
Feathers, and Fringes - Indian Artists- Their Delight at Pictures
Portraying their Remarkable Exploits - My Exploring Expedition to
the Black Hills - What I Found under a Cairn of Stones - Indian
Hieroglyphics - Inscriptions on Rocks and Trees - Indian Signatures
- How Warriors Keep a Record of their Lives - Indian Pictures.

१छ
HERE is probably no single thing in
which the tribes of United States In-
dians vary so widely as in their pro-
gress in the arts.
Although the Cherokees, Chicka-
saws, Choctaws, and other tribes or
remnants, now occupying the Indian
Territory, must be classed as in advance
of all other Indians in their progress, it is
simply because they can no longer properly be
classed as Indians, except by race. For nearly fifty
years they have been peculiarly the care of the
government. They received large subsidies for the
lands in the states formerly occupied by them, which,
being invested for them in United States securities,
have yielded sufficient income to place these tribes
406
SEMI-CIVILIZED INDIANS.
407
above actual want. Except during the rebellion
(and then from no fault of theirs) there has been in
all those years no outbreak or outrage by these Indians,
proving that it is easy to manage Indians who are
properly fed. Surrounded on almost all sides by
whites, they have, in most things, become assimilated
to whites. Schools have been established among them,
and many of the more wealthy parents have sent their
children of both sexes to the colleges and seminaries
of the states, where they have received excellent
education. In education, general intelligence and
mode of life, the mass of these Indians are quite
equal to the lower class of population of the south,
either black or white.
Their civilization is not a natural growth, but is the
result of their circumstances and surroundings. They
are fully fitted to be, and should be citizens of the
United States; that they are not so, is simply because
it is to the pecuniary interest of some persons of in-
fluence to keep them as they are. Of their progress
in the arts it is not necessary here to speak further
than to say that it is nearly or quite on a par with that
of the whites who surround them.
Of all those tribes whose progress may be said to
be indigenous, the Pueblos, inheriting the semi-civili-
zation of their reputed ancestors, the Aztecs, are far
in advance. They have some knowledge of the rudi-
ments of almost all the industrial and mechanic arts;
building for themselves comfortable houses, con-
structing cisterns, tanks and dams for the storage
of the spring rainfall of water; digging long irrigat-
ing ditches; ploughing and hoeing the lands; plant-
ing trees; raising crops of grain, vegetables and fruits;
breeding horses, sheep and goats; making pottery;
26
408
LINE OF DEMARCATION.
spinning, weaving and tailoring, and providing them-
selves with ample means for a comfortable and happy
existence. They have even some crude knowledge of
working iron, though, so far as I have been able to dis-
cover, they have no idea where the metal comes from.
The labor is fairly divided among the sexes, the
men caring for the stock, ploughing and planting the
fields, gathering the crops, etc., the women, though
also working in the fields during busy seasons, vary-
ing their labors with household duties, spinning, weav-
ing, making clothing, blankets, baskets, and cooking
for the family. Every able-bodied man or woman
must work; and all seem to perform their parts care-
fully, diligently and cheerfully.
In the absence of any other well defined line of
demarcation between semi-civilized and savage races,
it would seem judicious to fix this line between those
tribes where the men labor, and those where they do
not. To have overcome the repugnance to work,
natural to all savage people, is a long stride in
advance. Accepting this as the line, the Pueblos
are the only naturally semi-civilized race of United
States Indians.*
Next to these, but still savage, come the Navahoes,
who, though not descendants either of Aztecs or
Toltecs, yet occupied an immense section of country
adjoining the latter, and thus derived some benefit
from their civilization. They live in rude huts of
* Some of the Alaska tribes are semi-civilized by this rule, the men
performing most of the heavy work. They are also well advanced in
the arts. Their houses are built of enormous slabs hewed from logs,
their canoes are models of lightness and elegance, and they carve beauti-
fully in wood, bone and horn. They are, however, so entirely different
from any of the Indian tribes with which I am acquainted, that I leave
the task of their description to other hands.
>
f
DOMESTIC ARTS.
409
stone or logs, cemented with a stiff clay, commonly
called adobe mud, from the fact that excellent sun-
dried bricks, called "adobes" are made of it. They
possess a few horses, large herds of sheep and goats;
and their women till small patches of ground, raising
corn, vegetables and melons. They spin and weave,
and are justly celebrated for the beauty and excellence
of their blankets. The men care for the flocks and
herds, but perform no manual labor whatever.
It is difficult to decide which of the savage tribes
comes next to the Navahoes in its progress in the
arts, and this for the reason that in each of the more
advanced, art seems to take a direction special to that
tribe. Thus, the Apaches, learning from their neigh-
bors, the Navahoes, make beautiful baskets, jars, and
pots, of grass, so closely woven as to hold water, and
which also serve as cooking utensils; a thick coat of
mud being smeared over the outside to prevent burn-
ing. But their inventive or ingenious faculty stops
short at this. Their houses or rancherias are mere
piles of branches and brush, scarcely more comfortable
than the lair of a wild animal.
The Chippewas and other tribes of northern Indians.
build cabins of logs or poles and earth, which, covered
with mats, skins or bark, are sufficient protection even
in that rigorous climate. They also make excellent
canoes of bark, and are great adepts at carving;
their efforts in this direction being, however, confined
almost exclusively to the ornamentation of pipes,
totems, and war implements.
The Plains tribes proper have made little progress
in any art not absolutely necessary to their mode of
life, being dependent in their natural state almost
entirely on the buffalo, the limit of their knowledge
410
DECORATIVE ARTS.
of the mechanic and industrial arts was the prepara-
tion and preservation of meat and skins, as explained
in a previous chapter, and the fabrication of the arms
and equipments necessary for war or the chase.
Carving may be regarded as the oldest of the orna-
mental arts, for to it we owe what very slight knowl-
edge we have of pre-historic man. It is universal
among North American Indians, the different tribes,
however, varying in the degree of skill to which they
have attained, from the rude efforts made by the
Digger to carve his totem on the stick with which he
digs his roots and kills his snakes and lizards, to the
grotesque but well-executed designs of the tribes of
Alaska. The Plains tribes have made little progress
in this art, confining it almost exclusively to pipe
manufacture. Like all other Indians they are ex-
tremely fond of ornament, but they express this
fondness in bead-work, paint, feathers and fringes.
At a certain stage of its upward progress, every
primitive people has sought to embalm its ideas,
either by carvings or paintings. These representa-
tions are first purely idiomatic, or expressive of ideas,
gradually become phonetic, or expressive of sounds,
and thus lay the foundation for the alphabet.
The tribes of United States Indians have of them-
selves reached only the first stage, their representa-
tion expressing ideas only.* Even in this they are
* Much has been written of the wonderful genius of the Cherokee
Indian, Sequoia or Guess, who, alone of all the American Aborigines,
has made an alphabet suited to his language. While not disposed to
detract from the merits of this remarkable achievement, I must never-
theless call attention to the fact that the conception was not original.
For some years Guess had had the advantage of the instruction of an
excellent and learned missionary, Dr. Butrick, and in his alphabet, uses
every one of our letters except X, though not in the same order, or with
the same sound.
PICTORIAL HISTORY.
411
so far from having any general and fixed system in
such representation, that, beyond the most common
symbols, the hieroglyphics of one Indian cannot be
read or understood by another, even of the same
tribe.
I have already given a description of the totem.
Every Indian understands its significance, but, as in
the case of the Sioux chronological chart, the effort
of one to express abstract ideas by such symbols is
so completely an individual act, as to be a sealed
book" to all others.
ce
The Plains Indian delights in pictures, and you
cannot please or entertain him better than by giving
him a
picture book" to look at. He also delights
in making pictures, especially of his own remarkable
exploits and achievements, but I have never been able
to discover that they use their slight knowledge of
drawing to convey any but the most commonplace
information.
In 1875, the Sioux Indians had, by force of arms
and diplomacy, been separated into two classes, hos-
tile and reservation Indians; the former in the field
defiant; the latter supposed to be living quietly and
peaceably at the expense of the United States. I
was on an exploring expedition to the Black Hills;
One day I crossed a fresh trail of Indians. On a hill
a little distance off was planted a slight pole, ten or
twelve feet high, to the top of which was fastened a
streamer of white cotton cloth. Under a small cairn
of stones at the foot of the pole was discovered a
piece of skin carefully rolled and tied with a thong.
On opening it I found a bundle of thirty-seven sticks
tied together; a piece of cotton cloth on which were
painted in colors some ten or twelve hieroglyphics; a
412
SYMBOLISM.
small pouch containing tobacco, and another of corn.
My interpreter, an old Mexican who had married and
lived almost all his life among the Sioux, explained.
The party which made the trail consisted of thirty-
seven warriors; the hieroglyphics were the totems
or signatures of the chiefs and most prominent men
(all reservation Indians), and the totem of the band of
hostile Sioux to which they were going; the tobacco
indicated that they were going to "smoke," that is,
join their fortunes with the hostiles; corn indicated
that they had, or expected to have plenty to eat, (an
unusual thing with reservation Indians); the white
streamer invited their friends to follow them; while
the pole marked the place of deposit of their com-
munication.
If, as is generally believed, these Indians could
have expressed all these ideas by painting, there
would have been no need for so many other symbols.
A vast deal of research and wisdom have been
devoted to the elucidation of Indian hieroglyphics.
Inscriptions on rocks and trees have been photo-
graphed, or carefully and minutely copied, and sent
to various learned bodies for interpretation. The
lucubrations of these sages, are, as a rule, exactly on
a par with those of the Pickwick club, over the stone
sent by its learned founder from Cobham.
In common with all "the rest of mankind," the
Indian dearly loves to see his name in a conspicuous
place. Wherever, near a camping-place of favorite
resort, is found a large stone, or mass of rock, favor-
ably situated, it will, almost invariably, be covered
with drawings. In nearly every case, these are
merely the signatures, the almost universal expres-
sion of vanity, of the warriors; or are designs and

PLATE
5
2
(A)
6
3
MAMMA
15111111111711117
1711
7
1979
IV
LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL
I
(B)
FAC-SIMILES OF INDIAN DRAWINGS.
(Drawn with Colored Pencils, by Big Back, a Cheyenne Indian)
(A) INDIAN COURTING SCENES (B) GEN. MACKENZIE'S FIGHT WITH THE CHEYENNES, AND DEATH OF LIEUT. Mc KINNEY.
For Description see page XI.
REPRODUCED IN EXACT FAC-SIMILE FROM THE ORIGINAL DRAWINGS, EXPRESSLY FOR THIS WORK.
A.D. WORTHINGTON & CO., PUBLISHERS, HARTFORD, CONN.
USE OF PICTURES AND SYMBOLS.
413
sketches made by the young men and boys in wan-
tonness, and with no more hidden significance than
those which the white schoolboy in his moments of
laziness or mischief draws on his slate, or on the
newly whitewashed fence of his neighbor.
While this is literally true of most of the isolated
figures drawn on rocks and trees by different hands,
generally believed to be, and spoken of by learned
writers as symbolic, it must yet be understood that
the Plains Indians, more than most others, use pic-
tures to express action and situation. There is a
broad line of demarcation between symbolism and
pictography. The Plains Indian uses the former
but little, and then only as an adjunct to the latter,
enabling him to show in his picture something which
is impossible to his limited knowledge of drawing and
perspective. Almost every warrior makes a picture
of each prominent event of his life, and many of them
keep a book in which their acts are thus recorded.
But his pictures are not symbolic. The fight or
other act is depicted as nearly as possible as the
Indian wishes it to be seen; himself the prominent
figure in the foreground, dealing death, or otherwise
performing the act. Their pictures of fights in
which numbers are engaged, are simply the repre-
sentation of individuals who were prominent either
for courage or from being killed or wounded. In
such pictures symbolism is used to make up the
deficiencies of the draughtsman; thus a great many
marks of horses' feet indicate that great numbers
were engaged; many arrows or bullets represented
in the air show that the fight was hotly contested.
There is nothing in which white men differ more
than in drawing. One draws exquisitely, another
414
TALENT FOR PAINTING.
with equal opportunities, and equally as well edu-
cated in other respects, cannot draw at all. Not so
with Indians; all draw, and though entirely without
knowledge of perspective, all draw quite as well as
the average of whites. If one wants Indian pictures,
there is no need to hunt a special artist. All he has
to do is to give some paper and a few colored pencils
to any middle-aged warrior. I have many such pic-
tures, drawn by men of different tribes, all so essen-
tially alike in character and execution, that they
might have been drawn by the same hand.
CHAPTER XXXII.
INDIAN WEAPONS – HOW THEY ARE MADE- SKILL
AND EXPERTNESS IN THEIR USE.
Bows and Arrows-How Indian Boys Learn to Use them-Forays for
Scalps and Plunder - The First Gun -- An Incident of My first Fight
with Indians Why They Still Cling to the Bow-How the Bow is
Made Its Strength and Elasticity — Arrows and How they
are Made Their Penetrating Power War Arrows Indian
Marksman Beaten by a White Man The War Club The
Tomahawk The Scalping Knife—“Keen as a Razor”. The
Lance - A Formidable Weapon - The Shield - Patience, Care, and
Thought Bestowed upon its Manufacture How the Indians Obtain
their Firearms- A Party of Sioux Visit my Camp- A Well-Armed
Warrior-Fate of a Wealthy Sportsman.

oro
HE bow is the natural weapon of the
North American Indian. The first
childish plaything of which he has
recollection is the miniature bow and
blunted arrows placed in his hands
by his proud father, when he is scarcely
four years old. Practising incessantly.
he is, when nine or ten years of age,
able to bring in from his daily rambles
quite a store of larks, doves, thrushes, sparrows, rab-
bits, gophers, ground-squirrels, and other "small
deer," for which he is greatly praised, particularly by
his mother, to whose especial delectation they are
presently devoted.
When sufficiently familiar and expert with his
weapon as to warrant the experiment, he is furnished
415
416
BOWS AND ARROWS.
with arrows with iron points, an epoch in his life
ranking with the day of possession by the white boy
of his first gun. He now quits the companionship of
the smaller boys, and in company with lads armed as
himself, makes wide excursions after larger game,
sometimes being gone from his lodge for several days.
In his earlier forays for scalps and plunder, he is
armed with this weapon, for unless his father be ex-
ceptionally rich and generous, he can never hope to
own a gun until he can procure the means to pay for
it, or is so fortunate as to kill a man who has one.
As a rule, therefore, the Indian warrior does not
arrive at firearms before about the average age of
twenty-five; and though he sometimes becomes very
expert with the new weapon, he is never as thor-
oughly at home with it as with his first love, the bow.
When I first came among Indians, only a very few
possessed firearms, and those were of the most infe-
rior kind. The bow was the universal weapon.
Even those who possessed guns carried them more, I
think, for the noise they made (what we would call
moral effect), or because it was "the thing," than
from any confidence in them; for though the gun was
ostentatiously carried across the saddle, the bow and
quiver of arrows was always slung on the back.
In my first fight with Indians I was greatly aston-
ished to notice that those who ran away invariably
took with them their bows and arrows, but abandoned
their guns. My guide subsequently informed me that
the Indians had little confidence in guns in a close
fight. A whole quiver of arrows could be expended
in the time it took to load and fire the gun once.
Almost all of the older warriors of tribes most
closely in contact with whites have now guns and
MANUFACTURE OF WEAPONS.
417
pistols, many of them the very best breech-loading
arms in the market. This has very greatly dimin-
ished the use of the bow; but ammunition may be
scarce, or the gun itself get out of order, and as no
Indians have the proper tools, and very few the me-
chanical knowledge for its repair, the owner must
take to his bow until he can get some white man to
mend the gun for him.
for him. The
The young
and the poor use
the bow exclusively; those who possess firearms
must use the bow occasionally; so that however rich
and well-armed a band may be, the bow is yet an
indispensable possession of every male Indian.
A good bow takes a long time and much care and
labor in its construction. Those most highly prized
among the Indians of central North America are in-
geniously fabricated by carefully fitting together pieces
of elk-horn, the whole glued together, and tightly
wrapped with strips of the smaller intestines of deer,
or slender threads of sinew, used wet, and which,
when dry, tighten and unite all the parts into one
compact and homogeneous whole, said to be stronger,
tougher, more elastic, and more durable than a bow
of any other materials. The great difficulty of its
construction, the fact that it is liable to become use-
less in wet, or even in damp weather, and the more
general use of firearms, have rendered obsolete this
particular make of the weapon, and it can now
scarcely be found, except in museums, or kept as
heirlooms, handed down from father to son in some
principal family.
The bow in common use among Indians is made
of wood. The best is Osage Orange (the "bois
d'arc" of the French trappers, now commonly
called "bow dark" by white frontiersmen).
This
418
POWER OF ARROWS.
wood is indigenous to a comparatively limited area
of country, and long journeys are sometimes made
to obtain it, the venturous traveller bringing back
whole pony-loads of the valuable commodity, and
making a "good thing" by trading off his surplus.
When this wood cannot be obtained, they use ash,
elm, iron-wood, cedar, indeed almost any wood; for
that most brittle, when cut into layers, fitted and
glued together, and wound with sinew, will make a
bow of requisite strength, though lacking in elasticity.
I have been told that the traders sometimes sell to
the Indians straight, well-grained pieces of oak, hick-
ory, and even yew, but I have never seen an Indian
bow of those woods.
Bows are short-distance weapons, for though a
skilful Indian may throw an arrow nearly two hun-
dred yards, it seems, after the first few yards, to lose
its penetrative power and destructive force. Many
stories are told of the ability of an Indian to throw
an arrow through a buffalo, and one author claims to
have himself sent an arrow completely through an
inch board. I can only say, that with considerable
knowledge of many tribes, I have never seen any
such feats. I have frequently seen an arrow im-
bedded in the body of the buffalo to the feather, but
this only happens when no bone is touched. In my
experience, the strongest Indian, with the best bow,
cannot, even at a few feet, drive an arrow through a
rib of the buffalo so as to inflict an immediately fatal
wound.
The Comanches place the blade of the hunting-
arrow in the same plane with the notch for the string,
so that it may more surely pass between the ribs of
the animal, which are up and down; for the same
TARGET ARCHERY.
419
reason, the blade of the war-arrow is perpendicular
to the notch, the ribs of the human enemy being hor-
izontal.
The arrows require in the aggregate much more
labor than the bow. Any hard, tough wood is used.
It is scraped to proper size and taper, and must be
perfectly round. The head is either of stone or
iron, of late years, exclusively of iron, stone of the
necessary hardness being difficult to work.
The shape of the iron arrow-head indicates the use
to which it is expected to be put. Hunting-arrows
have long, tapering blades, the rear shoulders sloping
backward. The blade is firmly fastened to the shaft,
and can easily be withdrawn from the wound. The
war-arrow has a short, sharp blade, like a lancet; the
rear shoulders slope forward, forming barbs; their
attachment to the shaft is very slight, as it is intended
that the head shall remain in the wound, and kill
eventually, if not immediately.
However dangerous he may be to human and ani-
mal life with these weapons, the Indian is not a good
shot with them at a target, especially if it be some-
what removed. Even at a little distance, he seems to
lose confidence in himself. Put a five-cent piece in a
split stick, at fifty or sixty yards, and by giving a
dexterous twist he will make the arrow fly sideways,
and knock down the money almost every time; but
put an inch-square piece of paper on a board or tree,
at the same distance, and he will hardly hit it once in
a day's practice.
A party of Comanches came into a military fort
where I was stationed, and after knocking down
sticks holding money, and performing various feats
with their bows, challenged any white man to shoot
420
TOMAHAWKS.
against them. The challenge was accepted by a
young officer, who, though he had had no experience
with bows and arrows since boyhood, easily beat
them out of all they cared to lose, and sent them off
thoroughly disgusted.
The wonderful thing about the Indian bow prac-
tice is the remarkable rapidity and force with which
he can send his arrows. He will grasp five to ten
arrows in his left hand, and discharge them so rapidly
that the last will be on its flight before the first has
touched the ground, and with such force that each
would mortally wound a man at twenty or thirty
yards. The blow of the string in this practice is so
very severe on the left forearm, that when expecting
to go into a fight this arm is always protected by a
shield or gauntlet of stiff deerskin.
However apparently alike, the bows and arrows of
each tribe differ so materially from those of other
tribes, that an Indian, and even some frontiersmen,
will, from a mere glance at either, say to what tribe it
belongs.
I know of no tribe of Indians that now uses the
war-club, so common and so elaborately ornamented
in the days of Catlin. The tomahawk is still in use,
but reduced from its former high estate as execu-
tioner of the direful will of its owner, to a mere
ornament, carried as a lady carries her fan, or, still
worse, devoted to the base purpose of chopping wood.
Though there are yet many very elaborately orna-
mented tomahawks, they are regarded rather as an
insignia of rank, to be carried on ceremonial occa-
sions, but are scarcely thought of as weapons. Even
as pipes, they are beginning to be voted a bore by the
average Indian.
out one.
KNIVES AND LANCES.
421
Knives are invaluable to all, not an Indian of any
age or sex, except very small children, being with-
The scalping-knife is generally an ordinary
butcher's knife, of English or American manufacture,
the handle gaudily ornamented with brass round-
headed trunk-tacks. In ordinary times of peace, it
is a "servant of all work," but when scalps are ex-
pected, it is ground to one edge, and kept keen as a
razor. It is carried in the belt, in a sheath, which,
like all other Indian trappings, is plain or claborately
ornamented, according to the wealth or taste of the
owner. The women's knives, used constantly for
skinning game, are all ground to one edge, and are
almost useless for other purposes.
Next to the bow, the great offensive weapon for
all the horseback or Plains Indians, was, a few years
ago, the lance. It consists of a shaft of from eight
to twelve feet long, terminated by a head of stone or
metal. Differing from the "knights of old," the
Indians wanted no tough, stiff, ash poles, but selected
light and rather pliable wands. The Comanches and
Apaches not unfrequently use the long, dry stalks of
the soap-plant (phalangium pomaridranum).
The favorite point was a long, straight sword
blade, which they procured in great number from the
Mexicans, and I have seen among them blades which,
in beauty and temper, were-to use the words attrib-
uted to a gallant and well-known officer-"worthy
of old Toledo himself.”
Prior to the general introduction of repeating and
breech-loading firearms, the lance was the most for-
midable weapon possessed by the Indians, and war-
fare with it was exceedingly destructive to life. To
do injury at all, the bearer of the lance must come in
422
VALUE OF SHIELD.
actual contact with the enemy, and a battle of any-
thing like equal numbers was a series of personal
combats, in which one or the other "bit the dust."
Almost every Indian, even at the present day, pos-
sesses a shield. It is his only "weapon of defence."
It is made of the hide of the neck of a buffalo or ox.
This hide, almost a quarter of an inch in thickness, is
deprived of hair, soaked, rubbed, pounded, cut into
shape, and then dried. It is almost as impenetrable
as iron, and when doubled, as is frequently the case,
is almost a perfect protection against the very best
rifle. No rifle-ball can penetrate unless it strikes
squarely, and the shield being attached to the left
arm by loops which allow it play, the impinging bul-
let is almost sure to be sent off in another direction.
As the eagle's-feather head-dress is the acme of all
personal adornment, so the shield is the head and
front, the topmost summit of warlike paraphernalia.
On it he bestows infinite patience, care, and thought.
Not only must it be perfect in shape, in fit, in make,
but also in its "medicine." He thinks over it, he
works over it, he prays over it; to its care and pro-
tection he commends his life; to its adornment he
elaborates thought, and devotes his time and means;
to it he appends his "medicine bag" and the scalps
of his enemies; on its front is painted his totem; it
occupies a conspicuous but safe place in his lodge,
and is hung out every fair day in front of his door;
it is his shield, his protector, his escutcheon, his med-
icine, almost his God.
Every male Indian who can buy, beg, borrow, or
steal them, has now firearms of some kind. They
are connoisseurs in these articles, and have the very
best that their means or opportunities permit. Every
GENERAL USE OF FIREARMS.
4.23
man having to procure his own arms when and how
he can, there is no uniformity of make or calibre, - a
fortunate circumstance for his enemies, but extremely
annoying to the Indian. The trade in arms is en-
tirely illicit. The trader slips into the Indian coun-
try, now here, now there, and not knowing before-
hand the calibre of the ammunition required, takes
that which is most commonly in use. Some guns of
a band were almost always out of use on this account,
but necessity, that great "mother of invention," has
so stimulated the ordinarily uninventive brain of the
Indian, that if he can only procure the moulds for a
bullet that will fit his rifle, he manages the rest by an
ingenious method of reloading his old shells peculiar
to himself. He buys from the trader a box of the
smallest percussion caps, and making an orifice in the
centre of the base of the shell, forces the cap in until
it is flush. Powder and lead can always be obtained
from the traders; or, in default of these, cartridges
of other calibre are broken up, and the materials
used in reloading his shells. Indians say that the
shells thus reloaded are nearly as good as the original
cartridges, and that the shells are frequently reloaded
forty or fifty times.
Many of the Indians possess revolving pistols of
the very best kind, and have much less trouble on
account of the ammunition, the calibre being more
uniform.
The gun is generally carried across the saddle, in
front of the rider. It is enveloped in a case of buck-
skin, sometimes elaborately fringed and beaded. The
pistol is carried in a buckskin holster attached to the
belt. This belt is of hide, or preferably of leather,
fastened in front with a buckle. On the outside, a
27
424
A FORTUNATE RUFFIAN.
strip of buckskin is stitched in loops, each of the
proper size to carry one cartridge. It is the ordinary
"service-belt" of the army, somewhat roughly made.
To this belt the Indian attaches almost all his "port-
able property." On the right side is the pistol, on
the left the knife, the pouch for his pipe and tobacco,
that for his tools and cleaning materials, his medicine
bag; anything and everything finds its appropriate
place on the belt.
A small party of Sioux once came into my camp,
returning from an unsuccessful foray against the
Pawnees. They were all well armed, but the leader
particularly attracted my attention. He was a stal-
wart, ruffianly-looking fellow of about twenty-five,
handsomely dressed in buckskin. Across his saddle
he carried a magnificent buffalo gun of the very best
patent; on each side of his belt was a holster con-
taining a beautiful, ivory-handled Colt's revolver, and
slung across his shoulder was a most excellent field-
glass. The rascal had been "in luck," killed some
rich man on a hunt for pleasure, and secured his
outfit.
INDIAN
CHAPTER XXXIII.
DRILL SIGNAL FIRES AND
SMOKES
WONDERFUL METHODS OF COMMUNICATION.
How Indian Boys Learn to Ride - Testing the Speed of Every Horse-
The Most Skilful Riders in the World - Indian Boys' Fun - In for a
Good Time - Making Bets-In Search of Adventure How Indians
Drill Show Drills
Secret Signals - Sacredness of an Indian Oath
"I have Sworn " A Well-guarded Mystery How Warriors are
Drilled with a Piece of Looking-glass — The Best Cavalry in the
World - Indian Methods of Communication at Long Distances - How
it is Done Signal Smokes - Their Variety and What they Mean-
Night Signals - Signal Fires- Indian Scouts - Wonderful System
of Telegraphing - Marvellous Feats of Horsemanship - Practising
at Carrying off the Dead and Wounded.

कुछ
HE elementary instruction of the youth-
ful Indian cannot be called "drill" in the
military, or indeed in any other sense
of that term. He is not taught to ride,
but being placed on a horse, at the most
tender age, he learns to ride as he does
to walk, by instinct and constant prac-
tice. Every Indian rides after a fashion
of his own, not derived from teachers, but
coming natural to him by constant practice, and his
observation of his associates and elders. A father or
old man may give a youngster a few words of advice
regarding the management of a specially vicious
horse, but as a rule each Indian, however young, is
supposed to be entirely capable of managing any
425
426
BOYISH FROLICS.
horse, and is therefore not overburdened with amiable
and officious advisers.
An Indian boy of twelve or fifteen years of age is
simply a miracle in his capacity for sticking to a horse.
The older and stronger men are of course much more
dexterous in the performance of all kinds of marvel-
lous feats of horsemanship, but my experience is that
the boy of fifteen is at his perfection, simply as a
rider.
At six, seven, or eight years old, the boys begin to
be made of use by the fathers, and in time of peace,
when there is no danger of loss, except by straying,
they are sent to herd the ponies; and it is not at all un-
usual for ten or fifteen of these little urchins to find
themselves out for the whole day, and in sole charge
of possibly several hundred ponies.
Each may start out in the morning and return in
the evening mounted on the same staid old quadruped,
but each has with him his "riata," and his bow and
arrows, and when all get together they would not be
human boys if they did not have a "good time."
Every devilment that boys in their position could
practise they are up to. The
The "riata" gives them the
means of catching any horse at pleasure, and the speed
of every horse of the entire herd is known to these
little fellows better than to their fathers, for every
horse is caught in turn, and every day witnesses a
succession of horse-races.
One day when I had tired myself out in a long
hunt, I sat down on a bluff overlooking a somewhat
extensive valley. Half a mile from me, up the stream,
I saw a herd of about twenty Indian ponies, which,
though in herd, appeared to be in great commotion.
Watching them intently through my glass, I found
A SCHOOL FOR RECRUITS.
427
that the herder, a boy of ten or twelve, was succes-
sively "roping" every horse. Catching one with his
lariat, he would mount him bareback, and take after
another, sometimes making three, four, or half a dozen
casts of his lasso before roping his victim. Mounting
this, he went after another, and another. I watched
him for more than half an hour, and when I finally
started for my camp, he was yet heartily engaged in
his fun. The boy was entirely alone, and unaware
of any witness to his performance. He was simply
amusing himself by this practice.
When the boys get tired of horse-racing, they take
to their bows and practise at marks, either on foot
or at speed on horseback. Every boy bets, of course,
(he would not be his father's son if he did not gam-
ble), arrows, knives, strings, nails, pieces of glass,
and every boyish trumpery, and as his gains and
losses are known, and commented upon by the family,
he soon becomes an adept not only in his riding and
shooting, but in the art of making bets.
A few years of such practice tells, and as I have
before said, I consider the Indian boy, of from twelve
to fifteen years old, the best rough rider and natural
horseman in the world.
At about this age he begins to think himself a man,
and to yearn for the position, fame, and honor of the
warrior. He is given more liberty, younger brothers
or sisters take his place on herd, while he, with others
of the same age and aspirations, wanders about the
country in search of the adventure which is to crown
his ambition by making him a warrior. No military
man can contemplate such a school for recruits without
admiration, and one can readily sympathize with the
enthusiastic cavalry officer who exclaimed, "Give me
Uor M
428
SHOW DRILLS.
the handling and discipline of such recruits as the
Indian boys, and I can whip an equal number of any
cavalry in the world."
Until he is a warrior the Indian has never had a
"drill," that is, he has had instruction in nothing. All
he knows is self-taught. It is now the province of the
chief so to instruct all this energy and capacity as to
render it available for concentrated action. The actual
force of a thousand men is exactly the same whether
the men be disciplined or not. The effect of discipline
and drill are simply to concentrate; to make the whole
mass a machine which at the will of one, may exert
this force in a certain direction or to a certain end. It
is the actualization of the old fable of the bundle of
sticks.
The Indian understands this perfectly, but the pe-
culiarity of the tribal relation prevents any very
decided enforcement of what we call discipline, and
the lack of knowledge precludes the idea of anything
like conventional drill.
The chief must do the best he can with the material
he has, taking advantage of its wonderful individual
skill, knowledge, and pliability, without trammelling
it by any attempted adherence to rigid rules of tactics.
There is, therefore, no fixed system of tactics, each
chief instructing according to his own capacity and
his idea of the capabilities of his matériel.
In time of peace there is very little drill or instruc-
tion of any kind by the chiefs or leading men, though
sometimes when there are a good many Indians to-
gether, a chief may have a "show-drill," or grand
parade of mounted men something in the nature of a
review. There is no compulsion in the attendance of
warriors. The claims of the stomach are always
THE LINE OF BATTLE.
429
paramount, and those warriors who need meat for
their families go to look for it, even on drill days.
In anticipation of war, the chief may call out his
warriors for instruction every day, or at least several
times each week.
There are no ranks, no organizations, no units of
command, each sub-chief being surrounded by his fol-
lowers in any order that they may happen to fall; but
there are words or signals of command by which the
same evolutions are repeatedly performed, more, it
would appear, by the wonderful intuition of the indi-
vidual Indian than by any instruction that could
possibly have been given to him by a lifetime of
drill.
Tactical manoeuvres of Indians always suppose an
enemy, and previous to the drill the chief indicates to
his command this supposed position, sometimes on
open ground, at other times in hills and ravines. The
chief now forms what may be designated his line of
battle. This line consists of masses of Indians, more
or less detached each from the other, each sub-chief
being surrounded by his following, but all together
forming a line of masses faced towards the supposed
position of the enemy. To produce a moral effect on
that enemy, the young and ardent, or those who
have exceptionally good horses, are tearing over the
ground, circling, at full speed, in front, rear, and
flanks of the masses to which they belong, making a
great show of force, and appearing to be numerically
at least five times greater than they really are.
At a signal, the whole line will charge en masse and
without order upon the supposed position of the enemy.
At a word or signal it breaks or scatters like leaves
before the storm. Another word or signal, a portion
430
SYSTEM OF SIGNALS.
wheels, masses, and dashes on a flank, to scatter again
at another signal. The plain is alive with flying,
circling horsemen, now single, each lying flat on his
horse, or hanging to his side to escape the shots of the
pursuing enemy; now, joined together, they rush upon
that enemy in a living mass of a charging, yelling
terror.
The commands of the chief are sometimes commu-
nicated by the voice, but more generally, especially
when there is any considerable force, by signals.
These are devised after a system of the Indians' own
invention, said to be a sort of offshoot of the sign
language. This system of signals is most strong and
sacred "medicine," the secret of which it would be
dishonor and destruction to divulge. I have else-
where spoken of the sacredness to an Indian of an
oath, administered after their forms and "medicines."
No earthly power could force him to disclose a secret
learned under such an oath; and in answer to an effort
at persuasion, he looks at you with wide-eyed aston-
ishment, and says simply, "I have sworn."
Even the whites, intermarried and living with the
Indians, are not admitted to this mystery. I have
questioned many of these, and of Plains hunters, who,
however, could only say that a system of signalling is
in common use among Indians.
To the Indians themselves I have used both per-
suasion and bribes, always reaching the general
admission of the use of such a system, but never
arriving at even the slightest hint on which might be
founded a practical system. I am inclined to believe
that effective as it is in action, the system is a very
crude and imperfect one, giving only the most general
directions, very much indeed such an one as the
SMOKE SIGNALS.
431
sportsman uses in the management of his dogs in the
field.
Wonderful as the statement may appear, the signal-
ling on a bright day, and when the sun is in the proper
direction, is done with a piece of looking-glass held
in the hollow of the hand. The reflection of the sun's
rays thrown on the command, communicates the orders
of the chief. How this is done is the mystery which
no one will divulge.
Once, standing on a little knoll overlooking the
valley of the South Platte, I witnessed, almost at my
feet, a drill of about a hundred warriors. Their com-
mander, a Sioux chief, sat on his horse on a knoll a
little way above me, and some two hundred yards
from his command in the plain below. For more than
half an hour he directed a drill which, for variety and
promptness of action, could not be excelled (I doubt
if equalled) by any cavalry in the world. There were
no verbal commands, and all I could see was an occa-
sional movement of the right arm. He afterwards
told me that he had used a looking-glass.
Every writer on Indians, either of fact or fiction,
has spoken of their use of smoke for communicating
at long distances. These smokes are made singly or
in groups, or to ascend into the air in different ways
to each of which is attached a conventional meaning.
Thus a single smoke ascending naturally means one
thing; two smokes, another thing. A small fire is
built on which is placed damp grass, creating a large
volume of smoke. As it begins to ascend a blanket
is held horizontally above it, and when the space be-
neath is quite full, the blanket is slipped off sideways
and then quickly brought back to its place. Smoke
managed in this way ascends in round puffs, miniature
432
TELEGRAPHY.
clouds, one meaning one thing, two another. When
the signal is complete, the fire is extinguished.
With almost all Indians, a single smoke, ascending
naturally, is a warning to all Indians within range of
vision that there are strangers in the country; and
such is their habitual caution that they make these
signals even when in a state of profound peace.
Every military command passing through an Indian
country, will be preceded and flanked by these signal-
smokes. To prevent its being mistaken for the
smoke of a camp-fire, it is made on the side or top of a
high hill, or on the plain, or a divide away from water.
At night, fires are used as signals somewhat in the
same way, not, however, so extensively, or with such
effect, as smoke.
Besides these signals, which are used to convey
information to persons beyond the sight of the maker,
the Indians have other means equally remarkable for
telegraphing to persons a long distance off, but who
can be seen. Indian scouts are employed by the
United States government at almost every post in
the Indian country. Their services are invaluable,
indeed indispensable to success against Indians. On
the march, the leader or interpreter is kept with the
commanding officer of the troops, while the scouts
are sent far in advance or on the flank. Occasionally
one shows himself, sometimes a mere speck on a distant
ridge, and the interpreter will say at once what that
scout desires to communicate. I learned some of
these signals, which are all simple and entirely con-
ventional. For instance, a scout rides to the top of a
ridge or hill, pulls up his horse, stands motionless for
two or three minutes, and then proceeds at a walk.
He means,
"All right, no signs of enemy or danger."
WONDERFUL HORSEMANSHIP.
433
Another will dash at full speed to the top of the hill
and ride rapidly round and round in a circle. He
means, "Danger; get together as quickly as possible."
These and similar, are ordinary signals used by all
Plains Indians. A party going off on a raid or thiev-
ing expedition, will often, before starting, settle on
meanings for the signals different from those in com-
mon use. By this means they are able to communicate
without disclosing their true meaning to any casual
observer. The only really wonderful thing about this
telegraphing is the very great distance it can be read
by the Indians. While with an excellent field glass I
could scarcely make out that the distant speck was a
horseman, the Indian at my side would tell me what
that speck wished to communicate.
Indian signalling and telegraphing are simply modi-
fications and extensions of the sign language. All
are offsprings of a necessity growing out of the
number and variety of the Indian languages, and the
constant wariness necessary and incidental to a life
of peculiar danger.
I have already spoken of the religious belief which
condemns every scalped warrior to annihilation, and of
the heroism often displayed by the Indian in risking
his own life to save unscalped the body of his chief or
friend. This superstition is the primary cause of a
drill peculiar to the Plains Indians. It is to stoop
from the horse, when at full speed, and pick up objects
from the ground. At first light objects are selected;
these are gradually exchanged for heavier ones, until
(it is said, for I have never seen it,) some few individ-
uals attain such wonderful proficiency as to be able,
alone and at full speed, to pick up from the ground and
swing across his horse the body of the heaviest man.
1
434
DISAPPOINTED AMBITION.
This, however, is generally done by two Indians.
Rushing neck and neck on either side of the prostrate
form, each rider stoops at the same instant, seizes the
part most convenient, and the combined strength and
address of the two swing the body in front of one
of the riders, who carries it away to a safe place.
In this drill the warriors take turns in picking and
being picked up; for at any time during a fight each
may have to act or be acted upon as foreshadowed in
the drill. When drilling as wounded, the prostrate
man will assist the others by extending arms and legs.
When drilling as dead, not only is no help afforded,
but the acting dead man assumes by turns every po-
sition, the most unnatural or even impossible that a
really dead body might be supposed to fall into. This
drill is practised in good weather most assiduously on
all kinds of ground, until riders, ponies, and supposed
dead and wounded are thoroughly proficient in their
several parts.
To this drill is owing the fact that nearly every
official report of a fight with Indians has a state-
ment in effect as follows: "Indian loss unknown;
several were seen to fall from their horses." On this
drill are bestowed the hearty anathemas of every as-
piring young officer, who, having marched, toiled,
watched, and suffered for days and nights on the trail,
and being finally rewarded by a good blow at the
marauders, is obliged to return to his post empty-
handed, with nothing to show, the Indians having
carried off all their dead and wounded.
CHAPTER XXXIV.
INDIAN FIGHTING THEIR MODE OF WARFARE
THRILLING ADVENTURES AND EXPERIENCES.
-
Indian Courage, Craft, Patience and Cunning-The Effect of Surprise
Their Fights with Each Other - Danger from a Wounded Indian
Tenacity of Life - My Command Ordered to Protect a Railroad
The "Talking Wire " Discovering the Position of the Enemy-
Indian Strategy — The Battle of the Rosebud under Gen. Crook — A
Terrible Conflict — The "Valley of the Shadow of Death” — Personal
Experiences Jumped" by Indians - A Thrilling Adventure
Surrounded by Sixty Hostile Sioux An Exciting Experience
Charge of the Yelling Savages- We are Again Surrounded A
Narrow Escape-My Adventure near Fort Dodge — Preparations
for the Fight-Stowing away
Julia" - A Ludicrous Experience
— Diplomacy Saves our Lives-A Disgusted Indian.
66
66

HE description given of the early life
of the Indian boy, of the necessities
imposed on their mode of warfare
by their religious beliefs, and of their
instructions and training for "the
field," as warriors, foreshadow closely
the peculiar characteristics of their
fighting.
Courage is a quality common to both
brutes and men, but there are numerous shades and
kinds of this common quality, some only of which
characterize the mere animal, while these and others
are developed among men in different degrees, ac-
cording to their peculiarities as peoples. Estimates
of this quality in the Indian vary exceedingly even
among those whose capacity and position best qualify
435
436
INDIAN COURAGE.
them to judge; and the Indian is forced by his his-
torians to appear in turn in every character, from the
ferocious but cowardly beast, attacking only the
most helpless, and ready to run at the first appear-
ance of real danger, to the deadly fate, without fear
as without mercy, whose very name is a terror.
An analysis of Indian courage will show that in
this as in other things, he differs from other men only
as might be expected from his surroundings. No man
possesses more of that quality of brute courage which
impels the smallest and most insignificant animal
to fight to the death when cornered; and he possesses
also in an eminent degree the courage which comes
of confidence in his own arms and skill, and from
constant familiarity with danger. No man can more
gallantly dash into danger when his reward in honors,
scalps, or plunder, appears sure and immediate. No
man can take more chances when acting under the
influence of superstition, in risking his life to carry
off unscalped his dead and wounded comrades.
The Indian has no conception of the moral virtues,
and as might naturally be expected, is without the
moral or higher qualities of courage. He is es-
pecially lacking in intrepidity, that firmness of soul
which enables a man to take his chances of wounds
and death for the sake of principle, without expecta-
tion or even hope of reward, other than that which
comes from a sense of duty performed.
As with all other people, the courage of the Indian
is in keeping with his character and surroundings.
The population being small, the life of each skilled
warrior is of serious importance to the whole tribe.
"To avoid unnecessary risks" and that "craft is
superior to courage" are the grand fundamental
A FAIR FIGHT.
437
principles of Indian education, impressed on the
boys from their earliest years.
The Indian is patient and cunning; he relies on
these qualities for the surprise of his enemy. He is
excitable, nervous, easily stampeded, and, judging
others by himself, he relies on the demoralization
produced by a surprise "to deliver his enemy into
his hand," without danger to himself. In this mode
of warfare he has no superior, nor can he be excelled
in the spirit with which he follows up a first success-
ful effort, nor in the remorseless vigor and determina-
tion of his pursuit of a flying foe.
Their fights with each other are almost invariably
surprises, in which the surprised party, almost equally
invariably gets the worst of it, without reference to
numbers. Should two hostile bands of nearly equal
numbers meet on the Plains, a long contest is likely
to ensue, in which the fighting is done at extreme
long range, and consists principally in dashing about
at the full speed of their ponies, making short feints
of charges, yelling most vociferously, and once in a
while firing a shot. Occasionally a young buck,
anxious to signalize his bravery, will dash, well
covered by his position on the side of his horse, up
to within two or three hundred yards of the enemy,
fire off his gun in mid career, and circle back to his
own party. A youngster from the other side then
shows his courage in the same way and with the
same result. This goes on until one party shows
signs of weakness or timidity, which so emboldens
the other that it charges in real earnest, and the
whipped band gets away as best it can. This is not
usual, however. Generally the affair is kept up
until the ponies of both sides are completely fagged
438
STAMPEDED.
out, when each party draws off to try to achieve by
superior craft and cunning what it failed to do in
open fight.
I have been told of a desperate battle in which not
less than one hundred Indians were engaged four
days; the warriors on each side displaying prodigies
of valor, and in which one man was killed, by a
mere accident.
If one party is greatly superior in numbers to the
other, it dashes in at once, relying on the demoraliza-
tion of the weaker side to prevent its doing damage.
Then it is Indian against Indian, pony against pony,
and unless the ground be particularly unfavorable,
the beaten force breaking up, each man for himself,
will get away with much less loss than would natu-
rally be expected.
The first impulse of the Indian, on being surprised
in his camp, is that natural to most animals under the
impulse of fear, to scurry away as fast as his legs
will carry him. He does not, however, forget his
arms, nor lose his head to such an extent as to fail
to take the shortest route to the nearest and best
cover. While under this terror, or "stampede," as
it is called on "the frontier," he is by no means to be
feared, his shooting being wild in the extreme. Let
him but come to bay in his cover, or receive a
wound, and he at once recovers his presence of mind,
and becomes again the really dangerous animal.
When wounded he becomes especially dangerous;
for, so long as he is unhurt, he will always sacrifice a
chance to kill for a chance to escape. The moment
he receives a disabling wound, he becomes utterly
reckless, and seeming to devote his whole remaining
energies to the one object of revenge, he fights with
A WOUNDED INDIAN.
439
the fierceness of the wolf, but with coolness of aim
and fixedness of purpose as long as his eye can dis-
tinguish an enemy or his finger pull a trigger.
Many a white man has been sent to his long home
from carelessly going up to an Indian supposed to be
dead. An officer of high rank in our service has
suffered for many years from a wound inflicted under
such circumstances. Stampeded and demoralized,
an Indian was flying for his life without thought of
using his arms. He was pursued, shot and fell, the
horse of the pursuer literally jumping over him.
At a short distance the horse was stopped, and
the officer, in the act of turning about to go back to
his victim, was struck under the shoulder-blade by
an arrow sped with the last breath of the Indian.
A force of some twenty-five cavalry surprised a
small party of Indians in a thick chaparral, through
which, however, there were numerous glades and
openings. The Indians scattered at once, and the
soldiers scattered in pursuit. After some time, and
when the cessation of firing indicated that the affair
was over, the commander had the recall sounded.
Soon one and then another came in, until the whole
command was assembled, when, to the gratification
of the officer, almost every man claimed to have
killed an Indian. They went to collect the bodies.
On reaching the first, it was found that nearly every
soldier claimed to have killed him. A sergeant dis-
mounted, and approached the body only barely to
escape a vicious blow from a knife. When finally
killed, it was discovered that the Indian had not less
than twenty wounds. One, probably the first, had
broken his hip, and thrown him from his horse.
After that he had shot at every soldier that passed
28
440
INDIAN BARBARITIES.
near him, attracting attention and being "killed"
again and again, only to fight again when the next
soldier came along. Instead of twenty, the soldiers
got one Indian.
The tenacity of life of an Indian, the amount of
lead he will carry off, indicates a nervous system so
dull as to class him rather with brutes than with
men. The shock or blow of a bullet will ordinarily
paralyze so many nerves and muscles of a white man
as to knock him down, even though not striking a
vital part.
The Indian gives no heed to such
wounds, and to "drop him in his tracks," the bullet
must reach the brain, the heart, or the spine. I have
myself seen an Indian go off with two bullets through
his body, within an inch or two of the spine, the only
effect of which was to cause him to change his gait
from a run to a dignified walk.
The fighting of Indians with each other is like that
of wolves, cowardice until the enemy shows fear, or is
known to be weak, and then the utmost ferocity.
With their knowledge of the country, splendid horse-
manship, physical endurance, apparent indifference to
pain or privation, and wonderful tenacity of life, it is
not at all remarkable that the battles and combats
between warriors result in very little loss on either
side. But when, by accident or superior craft and
cunning, the warriors of one tribe succeed in surpris-
ing a camp of the other, of few warriors and many
women and children, the slaughter is terrible, and the
barbarities and atrocities worthy of fiends. Numerous
instances are on record, but these horrors are un-
pleasant either to relate or read.
Another reason for the small loss of life in Indian
contests with each other is, that they never fight to
UTES AND CHEYENNES.
441
the best advantage except in their own territories.
Unless in overwhelming force, a marauding party
advances into the country of its enemy with fear and
trembling, ready to fly to its own ground on the
slightest appearance of danger. This peculiarity is
the only serious difficulty in the way of the advan-
tageous employment by the government of Indians
against Indians. Unless under the command of a
white leader in whom they have perfect confidence,
and with "plenty of soldiers" to back them, these
auxiliaries are not to be relied on.
The Utes and Southern Cheyennes illustrate the
bitter hatred and mortal fear that many tribes have
for each other, and which sometimes lead to ludicrous
results. The Utes are a mountain tribe, the Southern
Cheyennes a Plains tribe. Any single Indian of
either tribe on his own ground counts himself equal
to at least three of the other. Brave as they
undoubtedly are, the Utes go upon the Plains with
fear and trembling, while the Cheyennes will scarcely
venture at all into any Ute country so broken as to
prevent their operating to advantage on horseback.
Though always at war with each other, it is rare that
anybody is hurt, each being too wary to venture far
into the territory of the other.
A mixed band of some fifteen hundred Sioux and
Cheyennes hunting in 1874, went well up on the head
waters of the Republican in search of buffalo. The
Utes found them out, and a few warriors slipping
into their camp during the night, stampeded their
ponies at daylight, and in spite of the hot pursuit of
the Sioux, reached the mountains with over two
hundred head; and though there were in that band near
four times as many warriors as are in the whole Ute
442
CAPTAIN MURIE.
tribe; and though they knew that the thieving party
consisted of less than ten men, they preferred to lose
their ponies to taking the risk of pursuit.
The Utes are the Switzers of America, and though
the whole force of the mountain bands numbers but
little over four hundred men, all the powerful Plains
tribes, though holding them in utter contempt on the
Plains, have absolute terror of them in the mountains.
An instance thoroughly illustrative of the Indian
mode of warfare and the effect of surprise, came
under my personal observation. In 1867, almost all
the Plains tribes were on the war-path, making a last
desperate effort to preserve to themselves the splendid
buffalo country between the Platte and the Arkansas.
A train of the Union Pacific Railroad had been
thrown from the track, robbed, and burned by the
Cheyennes. I was ordered to the protection of the
railroad with a force of four companies of infantry,
and a company, fifty strong, of Pawnee Indians
under a white leader, Captain Murie.
The troops
were scattered along at the most exposed points,
Captain Murie being stationed on the South Platte,
opposite Plum Creek Station, on the overland stage
road. At that time the Indians had a superstitious
dread of the telegraph line, which they call the
"talking wire." When passing under or near it on
marauding expeditions they always cut and pull down
a portion of it to prevent its telling on them. This
superstition was, of course, a great advantage to us.
One day I received telegrams from east and west
informing me that the line was down at Plum Creek
stage station. I at once telegraphed to Captain
Murie, ordering him to send a party of his Indians
across the river and find out what was the matter.
THE INDIAN STRATAGEM.
443
In an hour I received answer that there was a large
force of hostile Indians in possession of the station.
Ordering him to cross the river with his whole
company, engage the enemy, and occupy him until I
could reach him, I seized a locomotive and cars, put
on every man I had, and went with all the speed of
steam to the scene of action. Arriving at Plum
Creek railroad station, while the men were being
formed, I went on the top of the house, where there
was a lookout, and through my glass saw the winding-
up of one of the prettiest and most successful fights
that I have ever known among Indians.
As soon as he had crossed the river, Captain
Murie discovered the position of the enemy, which
was a most admirable one. Plum Creek is a deep
bed, generally dry, some sixty feet wide, with high,
almost perpendicular banks. The stage road crossed
by a bridge. The Cheyenne line was drawn up
about one hundred yards from the eastern end of this
bridge, directly facing it. The right flank, which
might be turned, was protected by eight or ten dis-
mounted Indians posted in the loop-holed stable of
the stage station. The Pawnees wore the uniform.
and used the tactics of the United States Army, and
the Cheyenne leader evidently believed that the
advancing force was United States cavalry. His plan
was to permit them to partially cross the bridge, and
then by a vigorous onslaught, accompanied by the
usual yells and shaking of buffalo robes to frighten
the restive and half-broken cavalry horses, render
them unmanageable, and thus throw the whole force
into confusion in a most difficult and dangerous
position.
Noting that the Indian pickets retired rapidly, and
1
444
THE BATTLE.
without hostile demonstration, Captain Murie sus-
pected some trap, and on closer examination of the
Cheyenne position divined the stratagem of his
enemy. Being greatly inferior in force (the Chey-
ennes numbering one hundred and fifty-four warriors),
he resorted to a counter-stratagem. Dismounting
his men under cover of the tall grass of the river
bottom, he caused them to strip to Indian fighting
costume (breech-cloth alone); then he made each put
on his uniform hat, throw over his shoulders his
uniform overcoat, buttoning only the top button.
Then mounted and formed, he moved slowly to the
attack, at the head of what to all appearance was a
company of United States cavalry, too much encum-
bered with clothing to make a good fight.
The Pawnees advanced by the flank left in front.
As soon as the leading files passed the bridge they
inclined rapidly to the left, to enable those in rear to
come up promptly into line. When nearly half the
company had passed, the Cheyennes charged with
furious yells. When they had arrived within probably
fifty yards, the Pawnees threw off hats and overcoats,
and with a true Indian yell dashed at their enemy.
The latter, entirely surprised and utterly stampeded,
wheeled their horses, and fled in confusion and
dismay. The Pawnees took sixteen scalps, two
prisoners, and a number of animals without a man or
horse being even scratched. So little danger is there
to fear from a "stampeded" Indian.
In fighting with white men a surprise is always
made when possible; when this cannot be done, the
Indians use other tactics modified to suit the circum-
stances of the case.
A pitched battle on anything like equal terms as
!
BEAUTIFUL FIGHTING.
445
regards numbers is almost impossible, first because
the army is so small and so widely scattered over
our vast territory, that it is everywhere greatly
outnumbered; and second, because the Indians not
being hampered with wagons, pack-mules, or other
impediments, can always avoid battle. They are
good soldiers and good generals, and voluntarily
fight only when overwhelming numbers or some other
marked advantage leads them to believe their success
to be assured.
-
When such a battle is decided upon, and a con-
siderable force is engaged, the different bands, each
under its chief, are drawn up into an array, — not a
line, for Indian tactics permit no such restraint as
lines necessitate. Those masses or groups are so
disposed, however, as to form a general line of battle.
They may charge simultaneously, or individually.
The Indians never receive a charge, and rarely meet
one. When charged, the portion of the array
immediately in front of the charging force breaks
and melts away into individual Indians, while the
bands on either side close in to attack and harass the
flanks and rear of the charge. The dispersed Indians,
wheeling in circles, form on the flanks to attack when
practicable, or to break again when charged. Should
the attacking force, carried away by excitement,
become scattered in pursuit of the flying foe, its
defeat and destruction is almost sure.
The mag-
nificent riding of the Indian, and his superb drill, in
this his favorite style of fighting, give him an
immense advantage. Avoiding by quick turns of the
small and active ponies, the direct onslaught of their
bulky foe, and circling like birds of prey, they collect
together, fall upon his flanks and rear, overwhelm
446
BATTLE OF THE ROSEBUD.
him, and disperse like magic, to repeat the process on
another.
The Battle of the Rosebud was a perfect illustration
of Indian tactics. General Crook's right wing con-
sisted of the allied Indians and two companies of
infantry, his left entirely of cavalry. Slowly advanc-
ing on the enemy's position, the whole line was soon
hotly engaged. The cavalry made a splendid charge
on a position strongly held by the enemy, to find
when it arrived on the spot, that enemy apparently
ready to receive it, in another strong position in the
rear. Another charge, and another with like result,
until General Crook finding his wings completely
disunited, the cavalry far in advance, and in danger
of being overwhelmed, sent an aide to recall it. The
cavalry had advanced almost without contest, but on
its attempt to fall back it found itself completely
surrounded. Indians poured from the hills and
swarmed from every thicket and ravine; front, flank
and rear, they were everywhere. Without a halt or
break the steady troops moved on. One moment of
fierce hand-to-hand conflict, the environing throngs
were rent asunder, and the brave band regained its
position in line of battle. Nothing but the courage
and discipline of the command and the galling fire of
the long-range rifles of the infantry saved it from
complete destruction; and by every man who that
day felt death's grip upon his throat, the little
depression in which that terrible conflict took place is
known as "The Valley of the Shadow of Death."
Indians thoroughly understand themselves and
their white enemies. They have ample experience
of the bulldog courage of our soldiers, and carefully
avoiding its direct effect, rely for their success on the

J.E. TAYLOR
SURROUNDED - DESPERATE CHARGE OF GEN. CROOK'S CAVALRY AT THE BATTLE OF THE ROSEBUD.
MILES AND CRAZY HORSE.
449
unruly, unbroken horses, and poor horsemanship of
our cavalry. They know that repeated charges
excite both horses and men, and expect to make their
effective blow during the confusion and disintegration
produced by that excitement.
In every plan of battle which they have had op-
portunity to arrange before hand, provision is made
for this hoped-for excitement. A huge trap had
been arranged for Crook, which he only escaped by
the recall of his cavalry.
So also in Miles' last fight with "Crazy Horse,”
Indians who were there with "Crazy Horse " say
that that chief had arranged an ambuscade on a
grand scale, hoping and expecting to entrap Miles'
whole force. He then sent a small body of about
seventy-five young men with instructions to attack
Miles, and after a sharp fight to retreat into the
ambuscade. They made so good a fight that Miles
did not feel disposed to follow up his victory, and
thus escaped what "might have been" the fate of
Custer.
Persons who remember the Indian fights of thirty
years ago, and the easy work which Harney, Sumner,
and other old officers of cavalry had in beating
Indians, without regard to the numerical strength of
the opposing forces, are very likely to draw infer-
ences disparaging to the cavalry of the present day.
This is unjust. Our cavalry is as good to-day as
it has ever been. The Indian has been metamorphosed.
Before the Plains Indians obtained firearms, they
were armed with bow and lance, and with these
weapons were truly formidable, the fighting neces-
sarily being almost hand-to-hand. But the Indian
likes this close contest as little as any one, and
}
450
METAMORPHOSED INDIANS.
whenever he could procure a gun his more dangerous
arms were discarded.
Thirty years ago, the rifle was little used by
mounted Indians, as it could not be reloaded on
horseback, but many of them were armed with guns
of the most nondescript character, old Tower muskets,
and smooth-bores of every antique pattern. Powder
and lead were easily obtained from the traders. The
former was carried in a horn, the latter was cut into
pieces, which were roughly hammered into spherical
form. These bullets were purposely made so much
smaller than the bore of the gun as to run down
when dropped into the muzzle. When going into a
fight, the Indian filled his mouth with bullets. After
firing he reloaded in full career, by turning up the
powder-horn, pouring into his gun an unknown
quantity of powder, and then spitting a bullet into
the muzzle. There was very little danger to be
apprehended from such weapons, so loaded, and the
troops did not hesitate, even with the sabre alone, to
rush on any odds of Indians.
Then came the revolver, which multiplied every
soldier by six, and produced such an inspiring moral
effect on the troops, and so entirely depressing an
effect on the Indians, that the fights became simply
chases, the soldiers attacking with perfect surety of
success ten or twenty times their numbers.
After some years, the Indians began to obtain and
use revolvers, and the fighting became more equal.
It remained, however, for the breech-loading rifle
and metallic cartridges to transform the Plains
Indian from an insignificant, scarcely dangerous
adversary into as magnificent a soldier as the world
can show. Already a perfect horseman, and accus-
THE CAVALRY SOLDIER.
451
tomed all his life to the use of arms on horseback, all
he needed was an accurate weapon, which could be
easily and rapidly loaded while at full speed.
The Indian is inured from his cradle in all that
In endurance of
goes to make a good soldier.
fatigue, hunger and pain, he has no superior; in
patience and resource in difficulty or in danger he
has scarcely an equal.
The United States cavalry soldier is enlisted for
the short time of five years, and any able-bodied man
is accepted, whether he has ever mounted a horse or
not. His summers are spent in campaigning; his
winters in getting his horse in condition for the next
campaign. He has scarcely any mounted drill, for
in summer he must save his horse for active work,
and in winter the horse is unfit for it. He is build-
ing posts, stables, cantonments, driving a team or
cutting fire-wood. He is "a hewer of wood and a
drawer of water." That he can still contend with
the Indian on anything like equal terms is his highest
commendation, for the Indian is his superior in every
soldierlike quality, except subordination to discipline,
and indomitable courage.
The Indian and the old hunter or trapper of the
Plains rarely came into collision. The latter was too
cool and dangerous a customer to be attacked with-
out due and careful preparation. Moreover, he was
too poor to warrant the almost certain loss that must
ensue to an attacking force. The Indians therefore
contented themselves with watching his camp and
stealing his hard-won peltries, his blankets and
kettles, the first time he left them undefended.
The Indian's great delight is the attack of a wagon
train.
There is comparatively little risk, and his
452
ATTACK OF A WAGON TRAIN.
reward in ponies and plunder most ample. For days
he will watch the slow-moving line, until he knows
exactly the number and character of armed men that
defend it. If their numbers or carelessness warrant
a direct attack, he selects some place where the
ground is unfavorable for corralling the wagons.
Here he lies in wait, and at the proper time rushes
out with terrifying yells, frightening the teams,
which run away, overturning wagons, and throwing
everything into confusion. Cool heads and steady
hands are required at such moments, and if the
whites fail in these their fate is soon decided.
If a direct attack involves too much risk, the In-
dian's next concern is to get possession of the horses
and mules. He will follow the train for days, or
even weeks, never seen, his presence never sus-
pected. Lulled into false security, the white guar-
dians become somewhat careless; the herd is per-
mitted to wander too far from camp, or with a too
slender guard. Like a thunderbolt from a clear sky
the Indians rush into the herd with whoops and yells,
scare it into stampede, and in a moment all disappear
together.
One unaccustomed to Indian warfare would nat-
urally suppose that cover, rocks, thickets, etc., would
be the safest place for a small party attacked by
an overwhelming force. Unless the thicket is large,
no more fatal mistake can be made. In stealth, cun-
ning and patience the Indian is the white man's
superior. However closely the fugitive may hide
himself, the Indians will find some means of getting
at him without exposing themselves. His only hope
is darkness, when the Indian's superstition renders
him timid, and under its favorable cover he must
A TERRIBLE EXPERIENCE.
453
put as many miles as possible between himself and
that party of Indians.
A party of railroad surveyors at work on Lodge
Pole Creek were suddenly attacked by a large
force of Indians. One or two were killed, and the
survivors took refuge in a dense thicket of sage brush,
three or four feet high, and about one hundred and
fifty yards in diameter. The thicket, though com-
manded by a bluff about two hundred yards off,
was otherwise very favorably situated, the ground
around it being smooth and bare, affording no
cover. The whites had run in on the side nearest
the bluff, and were congratulating themselves on
their good position, when a pony carrying two war-
riors came at full speed across the open towards the
farther side of the thicket. As he passed the edge
the rearmost rider threw himself to the ground and
crawled into the thicket. Another and another In-
dian was dropped in the same way, the whites firing
at the flying horseman, but failing to hit, either from
the speed, the distance, or from not daring to expose
themselves sufficiently for a good shot. Several In-
dians, having got on the bluff, were harassing them
with a hot fire, whilst these Indians who were
dropped from the horses crawled into the thicket,
and surrounded on three sides the wretched men.
Scarcely moving a twig themselves, any movement
of a bush by the whites was immediately followed by
a shot. The protruded barrel of a rifle, or the ex-
posure of the smallest portion of the person, was the
target for a volley. When night came, three men,
one wounded, stole out of the thicket and made their
way to the nearest post, the only survivors of a party
of eight or ten.
454
DANGER OF STAMPEDE.
Another fatal mistake is to run away. It is a
singular but well-established fact, that the mere act
of running from an enemy has the tendency to de-
moralize the person running, and that even the brav-
est man under such circumstances is liable to "stam-
pede" himself, or lose his head at the very time that
all his coolness and judgment are most necessary.
Riding furiously and without discretion, he will
either throw his horse down by riding him into some
ravine or hole, or tire him out so as to be easily over-
taken. Fright has rendered the rider helpless, and
he is killed without difficulty, or captured alive, to
delight the women with his torture. I have known
of one instance where a good plainsman, a citizen,
who had been in several fights, a splendid rider and
shot, became stampeded, and, when overtaken, stood
quiet, pistol in hand, and allowed himself to be shot
several times, and finally killed, without attempting
the slightest defence.
A citizen, employed at Fort Dodge as herder, was
one day out, fully armed, guarding the herd, when
a small party of Indians dashed upon it. One
attacked the herder, who turned his horse and rode
direct for the garrison, but was overtaken and killed
within two hundred yards of his quarters, without
firing a shot.
The safest position for a small party is on a per-
fectly level plain without timber, rocks, holes, or
other cover for an enemy, and large enough for the
party to be well beyond fair shot from any ravine.
If no such place can be got at, then take the nearest
approach to it.
A good plainsman, when travelling with a small
party on unknown ground, is always on the lookout
COURAGE VS. DISCIPLINE.
455
for such favorable positions, and if "jumped” by In-
dians in bad ground he gets back to the last good
place without loss of time, horse well in hand, going
at a good round rate, but not running. These tactics
are always adopted by the old trappers and hunters
of the Plains, and by all plainsmen, old or new, who
know Indians; and so well have the Indians come to
understand it, that when they see two or three men
take such a position, dismount, tie the legs of their
horses, and sit down on the ground rifle in hand,
they turn away and leave that party alone as "bad
medicine." Of course, there are exceptions, when
the Indians are very hostile, or the small party
owns many and good horses; but these are only
exceptions, and rare exceptions. The Indian does
not want to be killed or wounded any more than a
white man, and he thoroughly counts the cost of all
risks. He knows how he himself fights when cor-
nered; and his experience teaches him that the white
will fight just as desperately and even more danger-
ously, and that an attack on a party so situated
will probably cost more lives than the scalps and
horses of the party are worth. Besides, as I have
elsewhere said, he lacks discipline and the courage
that comes of discipline. He argues like a militia-
man in presence of the enemy, who, being in line
with a thousand other men, sees a hostile line a thou-
sand strong advancing to the attack. "Heavens,"
thinks he, "what can I do against such a force?"
and totally forgetting the thousand men in line with
him, he incontinently takes to his heels, not from
lack of courage but of discipline. The white soldier
going into battle knows that many will be killed and
wounded, but always expects that he himself will be
456
RIFLE PITS.
lucky and escape unhurt. The disposition of the In-
dian is just the reverse; each thinks he is the one
going to be hit, and every man of thirty or forty
charging Indians will throw himself on the side of
his horse on the presentation of a single rifle.
To the white defender such position is admirable,
not only in affording no cover to the attack, but in
bracing and steadying his own nerves. There is no
chance of his stampeding himself; and a man is
never so cool, nor fights so desperately, as when he
has made up his mind to live or die on one spot.
Many a life has been saved by this simple proceed-
ing, which would otherwise have been sacrificed.
Sometimes the defenders get into a buffalo wallow.
This is excellent, unless the ground be much broken
by these depressions, in which case they can also
be used, in the attack. If time be given the earth
should be dug up with knives, and a rifle-pit be
made. Even a very slight one is of immense advan-
tage. I know of one successful defence against re-
peated and desperate charges of an overwhelming
force, where the breastwork was the bodies of three
live horses, thrown to the ground in a sort of tri-
angle, and their legs firmly tied.
A frontier desperado, having committed a cold-
blooded murder at Hays City, was pursued by a party
of whites and nearly overtaken. Stopping on a level
prairie, he dismounted, drew his pistol, shot his horse
dead, and, taking position under cover of the body, he
killed and wounded three or four of his assailants,
defended himself successfully until nightfall, and then
escaped.
In 1867 I was with a party of officers elk-hunting
on the Loup River. We had an escort of twelve or
►
CORNERED.
457
fifteen infantry soldiers, and six Pawnee Indians.
We established our camp in a fine position, and each
officer, taking one or more Indians, went hunting as
it suited him. One day I was out with one Pawnee,
and, not finding game, had ridden some twelve or fif-
teen miles from camp, when we were discovered by a
band of between forty and fifty hostile Sioux, who im-
mediately set upon us.
About four miles back I had noticed a splendid
defensive position, one of the very best I have ever
seen. Putting our horses at half speed we plunged
into the barrancas of the "bad lands," and in half an
hour emerged on the spot sought for. Here we dis-
mounted and made our preparations for fight. The
Pawnee positively refused to fight on foot, and when
I was ready I found him ready also; not a rag of
clothing on his body, and nothing but a bridle on his
horse. From some receptacle he had fished out a lot
of narrow red, blue, and white ribbons, which he had
tied in his hair, and in the mane and tail of his horse,
and which, as he moved, streamed out for yards in
the rear. Sitting perfectly naked, with unwonted
ease and grace, on his barebacked horse, with fire in
his eye, determination in his face, a Spencer carbine
in one hand, the reins and a Colt's revolver in the
other, he looked no mean ally in a fight for life. I
had hardly time to admire his "get-up" when the
whole plain in front seemed alive with yelling
savages, charging directly down upon us. When
they got within about two hundred and fifty yards I
drew up my rifle; but before I could get an aim
the whole band threw themselves on the sides of
their horses and, swooping in circles like a flock
of blackbirds, rushed back to the limit of the plain,
29
458
A SPOILED HUNT.
about six hundred yards. Here they halted and
held a consultation, and some of them, going off
on the flanks, examined all the ground and ap-
proaches. Finding no line of attack except in
front, they again essayed the charge, again to be
sent to the rear by the mere raising of the rifle.
This was again and again repeated with like result.
Finally they withdrew beyond sight, and I wished
to start; but the Pawnee said, "No, they will come
again." They were absent for nearly an hour; I be-
lieve they were resting their horses. It was very
hot, the whole affair was becoming very monotonous,
and I was nodding, if not asleep, when the Pawnee
said, "Here they come." I started up to find them
within shot, and brought up my rifle; whereupon all
ducked, wheeled, and went away as before, entirely
out of sight. During all the charges the Pawnee
had evinced the greatest eagerness for fight, and I
had no little difficulty in keeping him by me when-
ever the enemy ran away after a charge. Answering
yell for yell, he heaped upon them all the opprobrious
epithets he could think of in English, Spanish, Sioux
and Pawnee. When they wheeled and went off the
last time, he turned to me with the most intense dis-
gust and contempt, and said, emphatically, "Dam
coward, Sioux! now go." So, after a four-hours'
siege, we saddled our horses and returned to camp
without molestation, but were followed the whole
way; and from that time we had no sport or comfort
in our hunt, the wretches preceding us by day, driv-
ing away the game, and trying to burn us out every
night; constantly making their unwelcome presence
felt, and yet never giving us a chance for even a
long shot at them.
A SUCCESSFUL STAND.
459
In 1868, when crossing country with one cavalry
orderly," I, on rising a little ridge, found myself
within less than one hundred yards of two Indians,
who, going up the ravine at my feet, had just passed
the position on which I was. Fortunately, it was a
drizzly, disagreeable day, and they, having their heads
covered up with their blankets, neither saw nor heard
us. Waiting until they had got out of sight, I passed
on a little distance, when I saw others and others, until
I found that I was actually surrounded on three sides
by parties of Indians, whose number I could not
estimate. Several stopped and looked at us, then went
on, evidently taking us for some of their own parties;
and it was not until we had obtained a fair start for a
high and level table-land which I knew of, about two
miles off, that they discovered that we were whites.
The alarm was given, and they came for us. My
orderly” being mounted on a mule, and the country
being very rough and difficult, they had a great
advantage in the race, and, on arriving at a good
position on the plain, I had only time to loosen the
girth, and tie my horse's head close down to his fore-
feet, when the whole yelling band appeared on the
edge of the table-land. As soon as they saw my
position they stopped, consulted, scattered, and,
keeping well out of certain rifle range, went all around
me looking for some ravine or other cover for a safe
approach. Finding none, they returned to their first
position, and had another consultation; after which
they rode off in the direction they had come, and I
saw no more of them. The whole affair, chase and
siege, did not last over half an hour.
ce
In 1871 I was changing stations from Fort Lyon
to Fort Larned on the Arkansas, taking, of course,
460
READY FOR THE FIGHT.
my servants and household property. I had several
wagons and an ample infantry escort. About thirty
miles west of Fort Dodge the wagon road crosses a
portion of the high prairie called the "nine mile ridge."
This high land is cut by several broad depressions,
and towards the river broken by numberless little ra-
vines, - very favorable ground for antelope-hunting,
and into these I, with my colored man-servant, was
soon poking after game. It was a raw, foggy morn-
ing, and I had been hunting probably for two hours,
when the fog lifted slightly, discovering two men on
horseback about two hundred yards off, whom, as
they had on overcoats, I took to be soldiers from Fort
Dodge. As soon as they saw me, however, one of
them rode the signal "danger," "collect together," and
I began to think of my escort. Looking round I was
greatly annoyed to find the spring wagon, in which
was my colored cook, about six hundred yards from
me, opposite the Indians, while the wagons and escort
could not be seen. Making the best of the situation
I galloped back to the spring wagon, had it driven
well out into the plain, and the mules unhitched and
well secured. The driver got out his rifle, and every-
thing was satisfactory, except the presence of the
cook. I not only feared she might be hit, but I knew
the Indians would be more dangerous if a woman
were likely to be a prize. Making her lie down in
the bottom of the wagon, I packed around her lunch
and other boxes, blankets, cushions, seats, everything
that might stop a bullet, and gave her positive orders
to remain perfectly quiet and concealed, no matter
what took place. I then took position with my two
men some paces on one side of the wagon, to spare it
from shots. During all this time the Indians had
DIPLOMACY.
461
The
been collecting, and, soon after I was ready, a line of
about thirty moved slowly towards me. At about
eight hundred yards they broke into a sharp canter.
Expecting the charge to come in a moment, I went
towards the wagon to be sure that the animals were
tied safely, when, to my great indignation, I found
Julia (the cook), revolver in hand, and her head thrust
out of the front of the wagon. "Get back there," I
angrily ordered; "do you want to be shot?" "Lord,
Colonel," she answered, "let me alone. I'll never
have another chance to see an Indian fight."
earnestness of this, under the circumstances, most
unexpected answer set all to laughing; and John,
the husband, who a moment before was almost white
with apprehension, regained, with good humor, his
natural black. Every moment of delay being most
important to us, I, when the Indians had got within
about four hundred yards, stepped forward, made the
Indian signal" Halt," and displayed a white handker-
chief. To my great gratification they halted; and in
a moment one came forward with what had once been
a white flannel shirt, fastened to the pole of a lance.
We met half way - I very friendly, he very gruff; I
disposed to talk, he to be saucy. I asked the name
of the tribe. He answered by demanding something
to eat. I asked where they came from. He answered,
"Powder, lead, sugar." We could not understand
each other well, which I was rather thankful for, as
it prolonged the talk. He wanted everything; and
asked, not as a beggar, but demanded, as one having
right. I am compelled to admit a certain amount of
duplicity on this occasion, having, to gain time,
promised things which I had no intention of per-
forming.
462
us,
DISGUSTED INDIANS.
The Indians had not seen the wagons, which were
crossing one of the long depressions below the level
of the Plain on which we were. They were sure of
but preferred getting what we had without a fight
if possible, especially as we had a good position.
While we continued to talk I heard most welcome
sounds, and, looking in that direction, saw the
wagons coming at the full speed of the mules, while
a line of " the boys in blue," rifle in hand, stretched at
a run towards the spring wagon. I pointed them
out to the Indian, and told him to go. He needed
no second bidding, but rushed back to his party,
which was in the greatest turmoil and confusion. I
went back to the wagons, hitched up and started, the
Indians holding a consultation.
As I regained the road the chief came to me with
the flannel shirt flag. He was very much grieved.
"I had deceived them. They could have killed us
and taken everything we had before the troops came
up. They did not kill us, because I promised to give
them what they wanted; therefore I must give them
all I promised. 'He wanted to go with his young
men and sleep in my camp that night, that I might
give them plenty to eat, and powder, lead, and other
things I promised." I told him that he and his party
were robbers and murderers; that he must go away;
and that if he or any of them came near my march or
my camp I would kill them. He left me and rode
slowly back to his men, the most disgusted-looking
Indian I ever saw. We went our way, leaving the
band sitting in a circle on the ground, evidently dis-
cussing in no amiable frame of mind the outrage that
had been perpetrated on them.
A very common mistake, and one especially easy
}
3
THE COUP.
463
to fall into when armed with a modern improved
breech-loading rifle, is in firing too soon. In the
"good old times" of muzzle-loading, the man who
fired a shot without sure death to his enemy was
very likely to "go under" himself. The Indian has
great respect for a loaded, but none for an empty,
rifle. He knows the value of nerve, and fully
appreciates the dangerous character of the man who
can refrain from firing until he has a sure shot. He
is particularly susceptible to what is called "moral
effect." Shots whistling harmlessly by his ears tend
to encourage him, while the fall of a single man or
horse will sometimes send a very determined band to
the right-about.
A very curious custom of war among some of the
Plains tribes is called "giving the coup." No satis-
factory explanation has been given as to how the
custom originated, but I think it was probably intro-
duced to prevent quarrels among warriors over the
scalps of their fallen enemies, to an Indian the most
valuable of all possessions. The name indicates
that the custom obtained in the days of the old
French trappers, predecessors of the Hudson Bay
Company.
When a foe has fallen in a fight, the scalp belongs
to that warrior who shall first strike the body with a
weapon. Formerly it was required that it should be
a deadly weapon, as a knife or tomahawk, but at the
present day the blow is struck with a stick. This
blow is the "coup," and the weapon is called the
"coup-stick," and is an indispensable article in the
outfit of a warrior going to battle.
These sticks are as varied as the taste and fancy
of the owners. Some are merely slender wands, six to
464
THE INSULTED PAWNEE.
ten feet long; others are short and club-like, or shaped
conveniently for throwing. All are ornamented with
paint, feathers, porcupine-quills, beadwork, or furs.
Even among members of the same tribe, a blow
with a "coup-stick" is an insult and disgrace only to
be wiped out with blood.
In his celebrated winter campaign against the Sioux,
General Crook had, as auxiliaries, about three hundred
and fifty Indians of various tribes and bands, among
them a considerable number of Sioux and four com-
panies of Pawnees, these latter drilled and disciplined
like soldiers. I have elsewhere spoken of the unre-
lenting hatred of these tribes each to the other. One
day when the Pawnees were quietly marching along
the road in formal ranks, and the Sioux were careering
in individual freedom over the prairie, a young Sioux
warrior rode up to the ranks, and to signalize at once
his hatred to the tribe, and his contempt for Indians
who would march in ranks, struck one of the Pawnees
with his "coup-stick." In an instant, half-a-dozen
revolvers were presented, and the Sioux would have
paid for his temerity then and there but that the
Pawnee discipline was so excellent that a word from
the officer restrained them. That night, the Pawnee
who had been struck went to Major North, the com-
mander of all the Pawnees, told him with sobs of the
disgrace that had been put upon him, and begged to
be permitted to kill his assailant. This was of course
refused, but Major North made such represention
of the matter to General Crook, that the Sioux were
thereafter effectually restrained from such little ec-
centricities.
The loss of his "coup-stick" in battle is to the
Indian warrior a misfortune second only to the loss
R
HONOR WON BY COUP-STICKS.
465
of his "medicine," and nothing short of a wound or
the loss of his horse will save the loser from a certain
amount of contempt.
In a fight, when an enemy falls, all those warriors
in the vicinity rush for the body, each exerting every
effort to be the first to strike it, those in rear hurling
their "coup-sticks" at long distances in the hope of a
fortunate strike. The instant a strike is made, the
other warriors pick up their "coup-sticks," and go on
with the fight, leaving the lucky striker to secure his
scalp at his leisure.
If in a mêlée or running fight, a warrior kills an
enemy, he must, to secure the proper recognition and
reward, rush at once on the prostrate body, and strike
his "coup" regardless of other enemies who may be
at hand. This of course renders the Indian less for-
midable.
The enemy being in full flight, a brave and skilful
warrior who would press on and on, adding victim
after victim to his list, would return at last to find
the scalps of all the enemies slain by his hands at the
girdles of laggards in the race, to each of whom would
be accorded all the honors due to one who had killed
his man. While he who took all risks and did all the
killing, and who in his eagerness to kill, may have
passed even the last of his victims, has nothing what-
ever to show for his skill and gallantry, and is conse-
quently without claim to honor or credit, the cowardly
shirks, far in the rear, collect his scalps, and gain all
the glory and applause. The consequence is, that
when a foe falls, the slayer, even in the hottest race,
and though other enemies are in his power, must, to
obtain the proper recognition of his act, at once give
up all thought of further killing, make his "coup,"
466
KILLING OF WOMEN AND CHILDREN.
and take the scalp. It can readily be seen that this
custom is entirely to the advantage of the fugitives,
and accounts, in some measure, for so few Indians
being killed in their fights among themselves.
A great deal of unnecessary sympathy has been
wasted by the philanthropic world on the killing of
squaws in battle. As a rule, no woman is hurt except
by accident, or when fighting like a man. In the
surprise and attack of an Indian village, when all is
excitement, and bullets are flying in pursuit of every
flying enemy, women and children are often killed
and wounded. Women and children were killed at
Gettysburg, and this is to be expected if combats take
place where women and children are.
ee
Even in the surprise of the most sudden attack, the
squaws who cannot get away are prompt to make
their sex known, holding up their hands and yelling
squaw," "squaw;" and even in the excitement and
thirst for blood engendered by battle, I have never
heard of a woman being killed by any soldier of the
regular army.
Many of the middle-aged and old women handle
arms with great facility and address, and it is not at
all uncommon for women to go on the "war-path" as
warriors, armed and dressed as men.
Even when not so acting, the dress and mode of
riding of men and women are so very similar, that in
conflicts and pursuits on horseback, squaws are not
unfrequently killed. This is and must remain un-
avoidable.
Among themselves Indians are not quarrelsome.
Fisticuffs are unknown, and fights with weapons
extremely rare. If an Indian has made up his mind
to kill an enemy, he generally resorts to treachery,
།
}
THE DUEL.
467
shoots him from an ambuscade, or assassinates him in
any most convenient and safe way.
Personal conflicts are therefore almost always en-
tirely unpremeditated. When a quarrel between two
Indians has become so bitter that physical force is
resorted to, each flies at the other, assailing him with
whatever weapon he can first procure.
The formal duel is a peculiarly Christian institution,
growing out of the supposed direct interference of
God in behalf of the right. It was introduced into
legal and religious trials, among Europeans, between
the sixth and eighth centuries.
I have never found any account of the duel as an
institution among any race or people except Christians.
I was therefore greatly surprised to find on apparently
excellent authority* an account of a formal duel be-
tween two Sioux. I have made inquiries of numerous
Indians of many tribes, especially Sioux, none of whom
had ever known or ever heard of any such custom,
nor even of a single case. I must therefore conclude
either that these Sioux were "following the white
man's road," that is, doing as they had seen white
men do, or that Mr. Belden was drawing on his imagi-
nation.
* The "White Chief," page 190.
:.
CHAPTER XXXV.
ARMY LIFE ON THE PLAINS
THRILLING ADVEN◄
TURES AMONG THE INDIANS.
The Real Pioneer - General Custer's Attack on Black Kettle — A Des-
perate Conflict Undaunted Savages - The Story of the Massacre
of Major Elliott and His Nineteen Men Three Thousand Warriors
Rush to the Assistance of Black Kettle-Wild Alarm - The Indians
surround Major Elliott's command Hasty Preparations for the Worst
Attacked on all Sides -The Fight for Life-The Death of Twenty
Brave Men The Last One to Die - Courage and Heroism of
Sergeant-Major Kennedy-Alone, Sabre in Hand-Exulting Savages
-Inviting Instant Death-Kennedy Suddenly Kills a Chief - An
Instant of Terrified Surprise - Death of Kennedy, Pierced by Twenty
Bullets — The Battle of White Stone Hill - Every Man for Himself.
१५छ
HE history of the Army of the United
States is a history of the territorial
expanse of our country.
Bold and determined as were the
bands of stalwart pioneers, who, reck-
less of personal danger, pushed far
beyond the extremest limits of the
so-called frontiers, they could have done
little towards the advancement of that
frontier, but for other bands, scarcely stronger
numerically, but bound together by a bond stronger
than iron, more impervious than the rock: discipline.
The history of the colonies is a record of conflict,
and while the Republic was yet in its swaddling-
clothes, those of its citizens most remote from the
centres of wealth and power have been constantly

468
ADVANCE GUARD OF CIVILIZATION.
469
confronted with a foe, acute, wily, and terrible, not
only in his destructive force, but in his vindictive
energy of action.
Wild and free, burning for an opportunity for per-
sonal distinction, the Indian of each tribe came to
look upon every man, not of that tribe, as his per-
sonal and tribal enemy. The settlement of strangers
either white or red, upon lands claimed by that tribe
was an invasion and an insult; and the interlopers
were at once enemies, unless they had properly pur-
chased the right to be there, either by presents, or
by marriage with its women.
Men who had once tasted the sweets of solitude,
freedom, or "elbow-room" as they called it, became
so infatuated with it as to be impatient of crowding
even by one of similar tastes and habits settled twenty
miles away. This appears an exaggeration, but hav-
ing witnessed its outcropping in most vindictive form
on many occasions, and even within a year of this
writing, I can personally vouch for the existence of
the feeling among a class of frontiersmen.
Naturally the Indians felt this crowding even more
than the pioneers, and they continually resented it.
Isolated as were the whites they could have effected
no permanent lodgment in the country of the sav-
ages, but for the small bodies of troops, which,
locating themselves in advance, held the Indians in
check, and became rallying-points in times of danger;
nuclei of towns when that danger passed.
Since the establishment of our government, the
army has been the bulwark of civilization; the rock
on which the forces of barbarism were shattered and
expended. Making amends for its deficiency in num-
bers by the most admirable discipline and indomi-
470
ATTACK ON BLACK KETTLE.
table courage, it has for a hundred years stood like a
wall of adamant between the weak and scattered
settlements and the savage foe; giving a continent to
civilization and rendering possible an immigration
unequalled in the history of the world.
Ever surrounded by overwhelming numbers of ac-
tive and treacherous enemies; ever keeping a watch-
ful eye on the safety of the settlements behind it;
the army has ever been the real pioneer. At one
time cheerfully undergoing hardships and privations;
at another, manfully baring its breast to the shock
of unequal battle; now by dint of pure manhood win-
ning victories from overwhelming hordes of savages;
now going down to deaths as heroic as those of the
three hundred at Thermopylæ.
About twelve P.M. of the night of the 26th No-
vember, 1868, Custer discovered on the banks of the
Washita River, the camp of hostile Cheyennes under
Black Kettle. Having no intention of attacking
before daylight he had ample time to arrange his
plan of action. He divided his command into four
nearly equal parts. Retaining one, he sent the
others to take positions on the other three sides of
the enemy. Relying on the intelligent obedience to
orders of the officers commanding the several col-
umns, he, just in the gray of the morning, gave the
concerted signal, and from four sides the troops
dashed upon the startled enemy, completely sur-
rounding the camp.
In a few moments the camp itself was in possession
of the troops, but the undaunted savages, taking
refuge behind trees and in ravines, maintained for
several hours a desperate conflict.
Taking advantage of the cover of thick brush,
MAJOR ELLIOTT.
471
some of the warriors mounted their ponies, and
bursting through a weak part of the line of environ-
ing troops, escaped to the prairie. Major Elliott,
who commanded one of the attacking columns, saw
the act, and calling to some of his men dashed off in
pursuit of the fugitives.
Neither he nor any one of the nineteen men who
accompanied him was ever again seen alive by any
white man. The story of their fate was told by the
position in which their bodies were found, and by the
Indians themselves when the war was over.
Black Kettle's camp was the upper one of a series
of camps of five different tribes of hostile savages,
which extended for many miles along the river, and
contained not less than three thousand fighting men.
The sounds of the attack on Black Kettle aroused
the nearest camp; the alarm spread down the river
with the speed of the swiftest ponies. While the old
men and the women gathered up the ponies and the
property, the fighting men poured out of the camps
fully armed and equipped, and rushed to the assistance
of Black Kettle.
Intent on his pursuit, and not suspecting the
vicinity of other camps or Indians, Major Elliott
suddenly found his little party entirely surrounded
by an overwhelming horde of enemies who attacked
him on all sides.
Dismounting, loosing their horses and forming in a
circle, the little band of twenty brave men prepared
to sell their lives as dearly as possible. Brave as
they were, the contest was too unequal to be pro-
longed. In less than twenty minutes every man but
one was dead.
Wounded in several places, his ammunition ex-
472
DEATH OF SERGEANT KENNEDY.
pended, Sergeant-Major Kennedy stood alone, sabre in
hand, surrounded by the crowd of exulting savages.
No shot was fired at him, no effort was made to kill
him, but several of the Indians approached him with
hands thrust out. "How?" "How ?"
Too well he knew the meaning of this kindly
demonstration! Merciful death had overtaken all his
gallant comrades. He was to be reserved for all the
horrors of the torture. In his prolonged agonies
were his enemies to find consolation for the injuries
the troops had inflicted upon them.
Realizing all, he saw that his only hope of escaping
torture was in so exasperating the Indians that they
would kill him at once. Seeming to surrender, he
advanced towards the chief. They approached each
other, hands extended. Quick as thought Kennedy's
sword passed through the chief's body. One instant.
of terrified surprise on the part of the Indians; the
next, twenty bullet-holes in Kennedy's body.
The merciful death had come to him.
The bodies of these brave men were subsequently
found just where they died, in a circle of not over
twenty yards in diameter.
I might multiply such instances of cool courage
and undaunted heroism, until they would make a
volume of themselves, but grateful as is the task of
recording such noble deeds, I will leave it to other
pens.
In a previous chapter I have noted the peculiari-
ties of Indian fighting at different epochs, resulting
from the difference in the weapons with which they
were armed.
These prove that Indian does not differ from civi-
lized warfare, in that, within certain limits, the

LE.Tay loR
HEROISM AND DEATH OF SERGEANT-MAJOR KENNEDY.
D'eee
AMIRST
Sergeant Kennedy was the last to die of Major Elliott's entire command of twenty men. A crowd of exultant savages quickly surrounded him, determined
to take him alive and reserve him for all the horrors of the torture. Realizing this, he saw that his only hope of escaping such a terrible fate was in
exasperating the Indians to kill him at once. Seeming to surrender, he advanced toward the Chief, who approached him with hands thrust out,
exclaiming, "How?" "How?" Quick as thought Kennedy ran his sword through the Chief's body. One instant of terrified surprise on the part of
the Indians, and then Kennedy fell, his body riddled by twenty bullets. The merciful death had come to him.
DESTRUCTION OF OFFICERS.
475
shorter the effectiveness of the weapon, the more
destructive it is to the life of the combatants. When
soldiers were armed only with sword or pike, the
shock of battle was a continuous succession of single
combats, in which one of the combatants must of
necessity be killed or disabled, or must run away.
This accounts for the terrible destruction of life as
set forth in the battles of the Bible, and in the pro-
fane histo 'ies of the earlier nations. When the In-
dian was armed with bow and lance, his fighting to
be effective must be almost hand to hand, and the
loss correspondingly great. Since they have pro-
cured arms effective at long distances, the destruc-
tion of life in battle is comparatively insignificant,
and a "dead" Indian, an object most rare to see.
When fighting Indians, the officers of the army
are exceptions to the comparative immunity from
danger, consequent in civilized warfare, on the use
of the long-range weapons. In "the good old times"
of impetuous charges on horseback, the officer took
his chance with the private soldier. Now, crouched
behind rocks in almost inaccessible positions, the
Indians (the very best skirmishers in the world)
coolly pick off the officers of the attacking force.
The reports of the battles and combats of the last ten
years will show a loss of officers, in comparison to
the loss of men, unprecedented in warfare.
As an example of the "old style" of Indian fight-
ing I give a short sketch of the battle of White Stone
Hill, between the United States forces, about one
thousand strong, under General Sully, and a combi-'
nation of Sioux and Blackfeet, numbering not less.
than twelve or fifteen hundred warriors.
In 1862-3, the Sioux Indians, taking advantage of
30
476
DISCOVERY OF THE CAMP.
the terrible intestine conflict in which the United
States were engaged, and the consequent withdrawal
of the troops from their country, had broken out
with great violence, committing on the exposed and
helpless settlers all the outrages and horrors known
to savage warfare. When this could no longer be
borne, two expeditions were sent against them, the
first of which encountering the Indians, was easily
beaten out of their country. The second, under
General Sully, moved northward between the Mis-
souri and James rivers, keeping strong detachments
scouting in front and flank in the hope of discover-
ing the main camp of Indians.
On the 3d of September, 1863, a battalion of the
Sixth Iowa Cavalry, three hundred strong, under
Major House, being some distance in advance, dis-
covered a large camp of not less than four hundred
lodges. A courier was sent in all haste to General
Sully, Major House and his command watching the
Indians.
General Sully reports, "Starting off with the Second
Nebraska on the right, the Sixth Iowa on the left, one
company of the Seventh Iowa and the battery in
the centre, at a full gallop, we made the distance of
over ten miles in much less than an hour."
On approaching the camp General Sully found
the Indians leaving with such things as they could
carry. The troops were sent to the right and left at
full speed with orders to charge, surround and drive
the Indians to their camp, in the hope of capturing
'all. In a few moments the whole force was furiously
engaged, every man fighting on his own hook."
In every direction and far into the night the bat-
tle raged.
ů
AN OLD-TIME FIGHT.
477
Fearing the most serious results from the scatter-
ing of his command, the general "ordered all the
buglers to sound the 'rally,' and building large
fires, remained under arms all night, collecting my
men." At daylight next morning it was discovered
that the Indians had decamped, leaving their dead
and wounded, their camps and property of all kinds.
The camps of the Indians together with the country
all around, was covered with their plunder."
"
of
This was the most severe blow that the Sioux had
ever received. They lost about one hundred killed
and wounded, one hundred and fifty-six prisoners,
thirty-two men, and one hundred and twenty-four
women and children, three hundred lodges, "four ot
five hundred thousand pounds of dried buffalo meat,'
not less than a thousand ponies, and "a very large
quantity of other property very valuable to the In-
dians." General Sully's loss was twenty killed and
thirty-eight wounded.
"
This battle is, on a grand scale, a most admirable
exemplification of the usual mode and general results
of Indian fights in "the good old days" when the
troops were armed with rifle and revolver, the In-
dians with bows or old smooth-bore muskets, down
the barrel of which the bullets or slugs were spit
from the mouth. Those days are over.
Those days are over. An officer
who would now attack even half his force of Indians
with troops broken or scattered, and horses pumped
by a ten-mile dash at full speed, would be very soon
sent to the "Happy Hunting-grounds," with all his
command.
CHAPTER XXXVI.
ARMY EXPERIENCES ON THE FRONTIER POWELL'S
FIGHT- THE HEROISM OF THIRTY-TWO MEN.
The Phil Kearney Massacre Annihilation of the Whites Prepara-
tions to Strike Back — Red Cloud's Resentment-War to the Knife
The Situation at Fort Phil Kearney — Major Powell Ordered to Piney
Island — Surrounded by Indians - Improvised Defences — Iron Walls
and Breech-loaders The Heroism of Thirty-two Men Cool
Heads, Brave Hearts, and Steady Nerves The Carnival of Death
Repulse with Desperate Loss Red Cloud's Consternation - The
Bloodthirsty Advance Awaiting the Deadly Onset Heroic De-
fence of the Corral Routed and Driven Back — Recovering the
Wounded Dragging off the Dead The Gallant Band Relieved
An Old Trapper's Story of the Fight.
—

N the 21st December, 1867, occurred
near Fort Phil. Kearney the terrible
battle commonly known as the "Phil.
Kearney massacre," no white man
being left to tell the tale of unsuccessful
heroism. The whites were annihilated,
but the Indian victory of overwhelming
numbers was dearly bought by a loss
in killed and wounded of more than
four times the number of their gallant adversaries.*
The news of this terrible disaster sent a thrill of
horror through the whole country. Active measures
were at once taken by the War Department to wipe
* In this battle the Indians had not only the advantage of overwhelming
numbers, but many of them were armed with Spencer and Winchester
carbines. Our cavalry were armed with the Spencer carbines and
revolvers, but the infantry had only the muzzle-loading rifled musket.
478
7
RED CLOUD.
479
out this blot on its escutcheon by summary punish-
ment of the enemy. Heavy reinforcements and
ample supplies were immediately ordered to the
beleaguered remnant of the garrison at Fort Phil.
Kearney.
But just here came in the hitch absolutely unavoid-
able in a dual government.
The War Department wants peace, and thoroughly
understanding the Indian character, knows that peace
is impossible unless compelled by fear. The Indian
Department wants peace, impelled thereto by a
humanitarianism that pays best in times of peace.
Having ready access to the ear and heart of every
true philanthropist and Christian, who, knowing
Indian wrongs, would gladly right them, it had power
sufficient to suspend the warlike preparations and
send out a commission to make peace with the enemy.
After great difficulty a treaty of peace was con-
cluded on the basis of the abandonment of the posts
on the Montana road, and great store of presents to
the Indians.
As might naturally have been anticipated, the
treaty thus concluded suspended hostilities only dur-
ing the time it was in progress. The chiefs who had
made the treaty were denounced by their followers
in unmeasured terms.
Red Cloud, until this time a sub-chief of no special
standing, seized the opportunity and declared war to
the knife against the white man. The disaffected of
all tribes and bands flocked to him; chiefs even of
prominence being, in order to retain control of their
bands, obliged to acknowledge his leadership.
Everywhere harassing trains and moving columns,
he so interrupted communication, and was so uniformly
$
480
MAJOR POWELL.
successful in his attacks, that, emboldened by success,
he determined on the utter destruction of the perma-
nent garrisons. Fort Phil. Kearney, having already
received so severe a blow, was selected for the first
effort. Over this post he exercised the most watch-
ful guardianship. Not a stick of wood or load of
hay could be cut for the use of the garrison without
the chance of a conflict.
T
By the end of July, 1867, he had collected a host
of not less than three thousand fighting men, and
with these advanced on the doomed Fort, so confi-
dent of victory that he was accompanied by great
numbers of women to assist in carrying off the
plunder.
But among the supplies which the post had re-
ceived during the temporary suspension of hostili-
ties, was a glorious weapon, never before in the
hands of our infantry soldiers, the breech-loading
rifle-musket, combining extreme long range and
accuracy, with hitherto unknown rapidity of fire.
On the 31st day of July, 1867, in obedience to an
order of the post commander, Captain and Brevet-
Major James Powell, Twenty-seventh Infantry, with
his company, consisting of himself, one lieutenant, and
fifty-one enlisted men, proceeded to a place called
Piney Island, about five miles from Fort Phil. Kear-
ney,* for the purpose of escorting and furnishing de-
tails to protect the laboring-parties engaged by Con-
tractor J. R. Porter, in hauling fuel to the post.
୧
Upon my arrival at the above-named place I found
the train divided; one part encamped on a plateau, and
with one exception, the position well selected for de-
*The words of this narrative, included in quotation marks, are from
official reports.
WAGON-BED FORTIFICATION.
481
fence, and the best security that the country afforded
for the stock; the other part was encamped about
one mile distant in a south-westerly direction, on a
commanding point across the Little Piney Creek, at
the foot of the mountains. My details consisted in
sending twelve men to protect the working parties of
both trains, and thirteen men as escort to the trains
when coming into the post.
""
The two encampments, while greatly facilitating
the labor of the contractor, seriously complicated the
problem of defence by so small a force. Major
Powell wisely concluded to attempt the defence of
but the one on the plateau.
Wagon-bodies of boiler-iron sufficiently thick to
withstand a rifle-bullet had been furnished by the
Quartermaster's Department to some of the most ex-
posed frontier posts. I cannot assert positively that
the sixteen wagon-bodies forming Major Powell's
defensive work were of iron, but the disposition made
of them by him, and the statement that they were
"loop-holed," is sufficient evidence that they were so.
Indeed, the few casualties can be accounted for under
no other hypothesis, the thin sides of an ordinary
wooden wagon-bed offering to a bullet scarcely more
resistance than paper.
Be that as it may, fourteen of these beds were
lifted from the wheels and arranged as compactly as
possible in a circle, the intervals between the ends of
each two being filled with ox-bows, chains, logs, grain-
sacks, clothing, anything that might stop a bullet.
That side of this fortified corral most exposed to the
assault of mounted men, was further strengthened
by two such beds on the wheels, placed a little dis-
tance in front, which, while permitting the defenders
482
THE ATTACK.
to fire under them at an advancing foe, prevented an
assailant from dashing in on horseback, and getting
a plunging fire into the wagon-beds on the ground.
Major Powell had arms and ammunition not only
for his company, but sufficient to supply all the
citizen-workmen of the contractor, and all were laid
out ready for instant use. This was the stronghold,
the citadel. Here the guards maintained unceas-
ing watch, and to this place of security every man,
soldier or workman was ordered to fly in case of
attack.
"About nine o'clock in the morning of August
2d, 1867, two hundred Indians attacked the herd-
ers in charge of the herd, driving them off; at the
same time five hundred attacked the train at the foot
of the mountain, driving off the men belonging there
and burning it."
This attack coming suddenly, and as it were from
between the two encampments, drove the guards and
workmen up the side of the mountain, effectively
separating them from Major Powell and the strong-
hold. These men and all the citizens working near
the corral, except four, unable to comply with the
orders to concentrate on Major Powell, took to their
heels and made their way back to the fort, losing in
this manoeuvre three soldiers and several citizens.
All the attention of the enemy was now concen-
trated upon the corral. -
-
In the mean time Major Powell had completed his
arrangements for the defence. The men were dis-
tributed all around the circle, lying down in the
wagon-beds, and to confuse and disconcert the
enemy, these beds were covered with blankets, thus
entirely concealing the defenders.
A DISCOMFITED HOST.
483
"Some fifteen minutes afterwards," says Major
Powell, "I was surrounded by about eight hun-
dred mounted Indians, but, owing to the very effect-
ive fire of my small party, they were driven back
with considerable loss."
But it is not in the words of a cold and almost
unnaturally modest official report that the heroism of
these thirty-two men can be described. Two offi-
cers, twenty-six private soldiers and four citizens,
lay quiet in their improvised defences, awaiting the
onslaught of unknown numbers of a brave and mer-
ciless foe, with perfect certainty that nothing but a
merciful bullet, or their own cool heads, brave hearts,
and steady nerves, stood between them and death by
the most exquisite torture.
Elsewhere, I have stated that a man never fights
so coolly and well as when he has made up his mind
to live or die on one spot. Major Powell and his
handful of noble men had made up their minds.
With a contempt of their adversaries begot of
many victories, eight hundred magnificently mounted
warriors dash fearlessly upon their apparently insig-
nificant foe. Everywhere they are met with bullets;
the leaders fall, others take their places, and though
they ride directly on to the defences, they can get
no sight of the defenders. Nothing is to be seen
but the blanket-covered wagon-beds, but from these
comes a blaze of accurate and continuous fire, before
which the bravest and best go down until, utterly
amazed and discomfited, the broken host whirls in
confusion to the hills.
From the plateau on which the corral was located,
the ground rises gradually in every direction, culmi-
nating, at from six hundred to a thousand yards, in
484
A CLOUD OF SKIRMISHERS.
low hills. During the conflict this magnificent am-
phitheatre was crowded with spectators, thousands
of Indians swarming into view, watching the combat
with the greatest interest.
Astounded and disconcerted by the unexpected
and incomprehensible defeat of the attack, and real-
izing the absolute necessity of present success to the
hoped-for final issue of the campaign, Red Cloud
and his principal chiefs had a hurried consultation,
and decided on an immediate attack with the whole
force of Indians on foot.*
Indian preparation for combat consisting in simply
stripping himself of everything except his arms and
ammunition, the arrangements were soon complete.
Many of the warriors who were armed with Spencer
or Winchester carbines, or muskets taken in the
Phil. Kearney massacre, were sent in advance as
skirmishers and sharpshooters. Crawling along
ravines or covering themselves with shields of buf-
falo hide and bunches of grass, these men approached
to within easy range and opened so terrible a con-
centric fire upon the corral, as must in a few moments
have destroyed the defenders, except on the hypoth-
esis that the wagon-beds were bullet proof.
But during this interval Major Powell had not
been idle. His Lieutenant, Jenness, gallantly, and
as he thought necessarily, exposing himself during
the first attack, had been killed; one or two men
had been killed or wounded, and the attack had
developed certain weak points of his defences, which
* All of this description which properly belongs to the Indian side, I
obtained from a Sioux chief, who was severely wounded in the fight,
and from other warriors, both Sioux and Cheyennes, who were in the
battle.
THE GRAND ASSAULT.
485
were promptly strengthened with whatever was at
hand. The firing was so rapid that the gun-barrels
became overheated; spare guns were placed in each
wagon-bed. Some of the men were poor shots and
fired wildly; they were ordered not to fire, but to
load and pass guns to the selected marksmen.
Before the crack of the first rifle of an Indian
sharpshooter had signalled the grand attack, Powell
was ready. From all sides these sharpshooters ap-
proached, slowly, covering themselves as best they
could, and delivering a terrible and continuous fire.
When they had arrived within easy range, the de-
fenders of the corral opened a fire so searching and
accurate that further advance was impossible.
But now from the hills swarmed a semicircle of
warriors at least two thousand strong, under the
leadership of the gallant young nephew of Red
Cloud, anxious to signalize his valor, and to win the
right to succeed his uncle as Head chief. When
within about five hundred yards, the order to charge
was given, and the whole line dashed on to the
corral, to be, when they had almost touched it,
hurled back in confusion and dismay. Again and
again did the gallant line rally and charge, only to
be again broken, discomfited and driven back; and
it was only after "three continuous hours" of almost
superhuman effort against this unseen, intangible
foe, that the line became utterly demoralized, and
fled in consternation to the hills.
Red Cloud and some of the older of his principal
chiefs had watched the whole action. For a long
time they thought the wonderfully continuous fire
was due to the fact that there were more men in
the corral than it would appear to hold; but on the
486 REMOVING THE DEAD AND WOUNDED.
final repulse of the long succession of desperate
charges, they concluded that the white man had
made some "medicine guns" which would "fire all
the time" without the aid of human hands, and that
their best plan was to stop the conflict.
When the demoralized host had reached the
safety of the hills, they were ordered not to fight
any more, but to recover the bodies of the killed
and wounded. A cloud of skirmishers were sent
out to cover this operation, with orders to keep up a
continuous fire. All the killed and wounded near-
est the hills were soon taken to the rear and cared
for, but to recover those nearer to the corral was
exceedingly difficult and dangerous. Taking one
end of a long rope, formed by tying together many
lariats, a warrior ran out into the open as far as he
dared, then throwing himself on the ground and
covering himself with a shield of thick buffalo hide,
he crawled to the nearest dead or wounded man
and fastened the rope around his ankles. The men
in the woods at the other end of the rope then
pulled on it, and dragged the man or body to a safe
place. The rescuing warrior then crawled back-
ward, protected by his shield.
While they were yet removing their dead and
wounded, Major Smith arrived on the battle-field
with reinforcements from the fort.
After the terrible reverses of the day, the Indians
had no stomach for more fighting.* They with-
In his report Major Powell says that the Indians would undoubt-
edly have carried his position and massacred his command but for the
timely arrival of Major Smith. The Indians say that they were
already thoroughly beaten, and had no thought of making another
attack on the corral. A fierce fire was still kept up, but it was only as
cover, under which they could carry off their killed and wounded.
THE MEDICINE FIGHT.
487
drew into the woods. Major Smith relieved the
gallant garrison of the corral and took it with him
back to the Fort. The Indians remained a day or
two on the ground, caring for their wounded and
burying their dead; then returned to their camp,
dazed and overwhelmed. Having no knowledge of
breech-loading muskets or iron wagon-beds, they
attributed their failure to the direct action of the
Bad God. To this day this is the "Medicine fight"
of the Sioux and Cheyennes. They refer to it in tones
of awe and with "bated breath," as they speak of
the occasional terrible visitations of cholera; a some-
thing incomprehensible; a horror without a name.
The loss of troops in the attack on the corral was
one officer and two private soldiers killed and two
private soldiers wounded. The Indian loss can
never be positively known. Major Smith's relieving
force numbered scarce a hundred men; and when he
saw the overwhelming force of Indians, he readily
comprehended, not only that it was suicidal to
attack them, but that discretion and good soldier-
ship required him to retire from so dangerous a
neighborhood as promptly as possible, and before
the Indians should recover from the first shock of
their disaster. Gathering up the dead and wounded,
the arms and ammunition, and taking the little band
of heroic defenders, he left for the Fort. No time
was taken to attempt to count the Indian dead.
Roughly estimating the number of dead bodies
lying immediately around the corral, Major Powell
officially reported that he thought "there were not
less than sixty killed and one hundred and twenty
wounded." This was an excess of modesty, every
other man in the fight estimating the number of
488
RELATIVE LOSSES.
Indians killed at between three and four hundred.
When it is remembered that from Major Powell's
own statement between two and three thousand
Indians charged, and continued "to charge us on
foot for three continuous hours," that in these
charges the Indians approached until they could
almost touch the defences; that during all that
time the loopholed wagon-beds were a blaze of con-
tinuous fire from breech-loading rifles, even the last
estimate seems too small.
The wounded Sioux chief who visited my post at
North Platte, late in the fall of 1867, told me that
the number of Indians in the fight was over three
thousand, and that a prominent "medicine man” of
the Sioux had told him that the total loss in killed
and wounded of Indians of all tribes and bands in
that fight was eleven hundred and thirty-seven. If
this be true, the combatants were as one white to
one hundred Indians; the losses, one white to two
hundred and sixty-eight Indians.
It is like a story of the time of Cortez.
One of the citizens who fought with Powell was a
grizzled old trapper, who had spent his life on the
frontier, and been in Indian fights without number.
Some months after the battle, the Department Com-
mander met and questioned him.
"How many Indians were in the attack," asked
the General.
ce
Wall, Gin'r'l, I can't say for sartin, but I think
thur wus nigh onto three thousand uv 'em."
"How many were killed and wounded ?”
Ce
Wall, Gin'r'l, I can't say for sartin, but I think
thur wur nigh onto a thousand ov 'em hit."
"How many did you kill?"
TRANSITION FIGHT.
489
"Wall, Gin'r'l, I can't say, but gi'-me a dead rest,
I kin hit a dollar at fifty yards every time, and I fired
with a dead rest at more'n fifty of them varmints in-
side of fifty yards."
"For Heaven's sake, how many times did you
fire?" exclaimed the astonished General.
"Wall, Gin'r'l, I can't say, but I kept eight guns
pretty well het up for mor'n three hours."
No such fight with Indians can ever again occur.
Even before this time the Indians had breech-loaders,
but they had had no experience of the terrible destruc-
tive power of these weapons, in the hands of cool and
determined men protected by breastworks. At the
present time nothing would induce even a hundred
Indians to charge three or four whites, though pro-
tected only by a slight rifle-pit.
This may be called a "transition" fight. The In-
dian was just emerging from his scarcely dangerous
days of bows and muzzle-loaders, and procuring an
arm suited to his mode of fighting, becoming what
he now is, the finest natural soldier in the world.
{
GENERAL
ENNES-
CHAPTER XXXVII.
MACKENZIE'S FIGHT WITH THE CHEY-
A DESPERATE HAND TO HAND COMBAT.
Indian Tactics Surprises and Ambuscades-Attacking Detachments
in Detail Appalling Massacres -- Courage and Craft - The Night
March General Crook's Indian Allies Pursuit of Crazy Horse-
His Escape - Discovery of the Cheyenne Encampment - A Night of
Horror-The Surprise at Daybreak Desperate Attack and Re.
sistance Hand to Hand Combat Death of Dull Knife's Favorite
Son — Holding the Victors at Bay — Lieutenant McKinney's Splendid
Dash The Dead Hero - Reinforcements Summoned My Com
mand Ordered Forward—Our Forced March in the Dead of Winter –
We Lose the Trail - Sleeping on the Snow - Flight of the Indians
Untold Hardships Endured — The Fatal Route.

SINCE this wonderful and most memo-
rable battle of "Piney Island," or, as
it is known to the army "Powell's
fight," the conflicts between Indians
and United States troops have pre-
sented a remarkable sameness. The
strength of the Indian is in surprises or
ambuscades, and I have heard of no
single instance of his acceptance of battle
in the open field, except as preliminary to some huge
trap, or when relying on overwhelming preponder-
ance of force. His tactics are always the same; never
to receive a charge, but by constantly breaking, to
separate the enemy into detached fragments; then
suddenly concentrating to overwhelm these in detail.
Having no trains or impediments of any kind, he is
490
SURPRISES.
491
always able to avoid battle if the ground or oppor-
tunity does not suit him. The heavier slowly-moving
troops, encumbered with trains of supplies, must
attack when they can, and therefore almost always at
disadvantage. Since the common use of breech-
loaders by both combatants, I know of no single
instance where troops have gained any signal advan-
tage over Indians in open fight, and this for the
reason that the moment they gain even a slight ad-
vantage, the Indians disappear with a celerity that
defies pursuit. On the other hand, if the Indians
gain the advantage, they press it with a most master-
ful vigor, and there results a massacre, which, like
that of Custer's command, for a moment appalls the
country.
Fighting under these terrible disadvantages, the
troops have learned to supplement courage with
craft. The only really telling blow that can now be
struck at Indians is a blow at their encampment; not
that many are killed, but that to save their lives they
are obliged to abandon their teepes and property.
At present, therefore, a campaign against hostile
Indians consists in warily marching into their terri-
tory and searching in every direction for their home
encampment. If this can be surprised and destroyed,
the Indians soon surrender, even though they may
have lost few warriors killed and wounded.
To effect this "check-mate" it is absolutely neces-
sary that the Indians should be entirely unaware of
the near vicinity of the troops, and that all movements
be made with the greatest care and circumspection;
for even with their women and children, teepes and
property, Indians can usually move faster than troops
can follow. This entails upon the troops hardships
31
492
MACKENZIE.
and privations harassing in the extreme. Marches
must be made at night; fires cannot be built in the
day time for fear of the tell-tale smoke, and in the
night only in the secluded depths of thickets and
ravines, and then but for time sufficient to cook the
scanty ration.
Since the inauguration, by General Crook, of the
use of Indian allies in Indian warfare, these privations
and hardships are materially lessened. Singly, or in
bands of two, three, or more, these sleuth-hounds
scatter far and wide, miles in advance and on the
flanks of the troops. If a trail or other indication of
hostiles is discovered, report is sent back to the com-
mander, and the troops halted until the scouts can
work up the position of the camp, when a night march
is made, and the telling blow struck.
In a work of this kind, I am not expected even to
give the names of the almost numberless, desperate
and well-fought battles of the last ten years. I select
for illustration, Mackenzie's battle with the Northern
Cheyennes, not only as typical of the present state of
Indian warfare, but because with little loss of life on
either side, it crushed the bravest tribe of Indians on
this continent.
When, in 1875, the Indian Bureau determined to
remove all the so-called Powder-River Indians to
Reservations, there was at once a furor of excitement
among all the tribes and bands interested. Runners
were sent from band to band, councils were held,
and it was determined to brave the whole power of
the United States rather than yield their independ-
ence or lose their beloved hunting-grounds.
In these councils the Cheyennes, though few in
numbers, were conspicuous for their bitter hostility,

GEN. NELSON A.MILES
GEN GEORGE CROOK
SEN RANALD S. MACKENZI
GEN, GEORGE A CUSTER
Engraved by 1AJWilcox Boston
Famous Indian Fighters.
Engraved from Photographs expressly for this Work
A.D.WORTHINGTON & CO HARTFORD CONN
FIGHT FIRE WITH FIRE.
493
and for their expressed determination to die on the
field of battle rather than surrender a single foot of
their lands. A coalition was formed between the
Cheyennes and many bands of the great Dakotah or
Sioux nation. Immense camps were formed for drill
and mutual protection.
The traders of the Northern frontier were over-run
with applications for the best arms and ammunition,
and so determined were the Indians on the possession
of these necessities to successful warfare, that in
many instances a first-class, well-tanned buffalo robe
was offered in barter for three metallic cartridges.
At such prices, they, of course, very soon obtained
a supply sufficiently ample to carry them through
several campaigns.
The result of the grand Indian combination is well
known. Battles were fought whenever the Indians
wished to fight. A few small bands were surprised
and defeated, marches and counter-marches were
made, great hardships endured by the ever patient
and obedient little army, but though two arduous
campaigns had been made, the balance of practical
advantage was rather with the Indians.
The combination failed, not from the valor and suf-
ferings of the troops, but through the genius, courage,
and persistency of one man, who, having learned his
lesson in the hard school of experience, dared, in
spite of the wails of humanitarians, to adopt the
Roman method, and fight fire with fire.
The Commander of the Department of the Platte
enlisted large numbers of friendly Indians, and placed
them under the command of white officers. These,
acting in conjunction with the troops, so beleaguered
the hostile savages, that their combination was soon
494
A NIGHT MARCH.
broken up. Sitting Buli retired to the British pos-
sessions, the Cheyennes to their fastnesses in the
foot-hills of the Elk Horn mountains. Crazy Horse
alone maintained his ground in the heart of the Pow-
der River country.
Late in the fall of 1876, General Crook marched
from Fort Fetterman at the head of the most formi-
dable force that has been sent against Indians for
many years: eleven companies of cavalry under
Mackenzie; four of artillery (armed and equipped as
infantry) and eleven of infantry, under my command;
and three hundred and fifty picked Indians, repre-
senting no less than five tribes, all under white
officers. His objective was Crazy Horse, but on
reaching the Crazy Woman's Fork of Powder River,
it was learned through spies, that that astute chief-
tain had, either through prudence or sheer good luck,
moved his camp to a position which might only be
surprised by a long retrograde and round-about
march.
The Cheyennes were known to be somewhere in
the foot-hills, not far from Crook's position, and that
General turned his attention to them. The Indian
allies searched assiduously for their camp, and finally
discovered it without being themselves discovered.
On the 23d November Mackenzie, with seven hun-
dred picked cavalry and the whole of the Indian
allies, marched for the Cheyenne camp. On the 24th,
being within striking distance, he halted to wait for
cover of night. Marching again after dark over a
country incredibly difficult and covered with snow,
he before daylight reached a point from which could
distinctly be heard the tom-toms and shouts of the
Indians, who were indulging in a grand war-dance
THE CHEYENNE CAMP.
495
in honor of a recent successful attack on a small party
of Crows. Here the command was halted to await
the dawn.
Imagine the scene!
In the bottom of a dark and narrow gorge, whose
rocky sides, scarcely distinguishable, rose sheer and
straight a thousand feet above; underfoot the snow
lay piled in rifts from two to four feet deep; the
cold was intense; no fire could be built, and per-
fect silence must be preserved; the worn-out horses
stood with heads bowed down, too tired to move; the
stealthy change of position or quiet shuffle of the feet
of the men, just enough to keep from freezing; and
from the distance the steady beat of the tom-tom, and
the shouts of triumph and yells of defiance of the un-
suspecting enemy.
Gradually the noises of the Indian camp died out,
and soon after faint gray streaks in the east heralded
the approach of dawn. Silently the half-frozen troops
lift their stiffened limbs into the saddle, and, obedient
to the sign of their leader, move forward to the attack.
The Cheyenne camp was pitched in one of the char-
acteristic cañons of the foot-hills of the Big Horn
Mountains. A narrow gorge, averaging not more
than seventy-five yards wide at bottom, cleft its tor-
tuous way through overhanging cliffs and precipitous
rocks, whose summits were more than a thousand feet
above. The narrow bottom was scored by a ditch,
which passed from side to side in endless convolu-
tions, with banks everywhere precipitous, and only
passable where the narrow Indian trail had worn a
difficult pathway. The immediate banks of the
stream supported a dense thicket of willows, but in
the bends were narrow open spaces in every way just
496
BRAVERY OF DULL KNIFE.
suited to Indian necessities. Into this principal cañ-
on opened innumerable lateral cañons, some longer,
some shorter, with precipitous sides of height equal
to that of the main gorge, but with bottoms bare of
timber or brush, and clothed with the richest grasses.
These served as great natural corrals for the herds of
Indian ponies. For three miles along this main
gorge, the narrow open spaces were occupied by the
teepes of the Cheyennes.
When it was yet barely light enough to see the situ-
ation, the Indian allies in advance, with true Indian
whoops and yells and rattling shots, fell upon one end
of this long village, the heavier cavalry following at
best speed to consummate the victory. At the first
alarm, most of the Cheyennes, springing from their
beds, and seizing their arms, had rushed to cover
amid the (to white man) inaccessible rocks near the
tops of the gorges. Some were killed as they ran,
others met their fate in attempting to defend their
lodges, in the sides of which they slashed great holes,
and poured forth an incessant fire. Dull Knife, the
principal chief, sprung to his arms, and calling to his
followers to fight out the battle then and there, opened
a rapid and effective fire. Nothing, however, could
withstand the onset of the United States forces.
When numbers of his men had fallen, and his
youngest and favorite son had died fighting by his
side, Dull Knife joined his flying band, and took ref-
uge in the rocky sides of the cañon. In an incred-
ibly short time the village from end to end was cleared
of its inhabitants, and the whole camp fully in posses-
sion of the troops.
But now came the tug of war. Recovered from
their first stampede, the Cheyennes occupied every
TO THE RESCUE.
497
vantage-ground. Every rock and overhanging height
was held by determined warriors who poured an in-
cessant fire upon the troops below. In vain were
brilliant charges made; in vain the gallant McKinney
dashed to his death; no power from below could dis-
lodge such determined fighters from such a position;
and it soon became apparent that the attacking force,
ten hundred and fifty strong, was powerless against
less than half its numbers of their gallant and well
posted enemies.
Strenuous efforts were made to induce the Chey-
ennes to surrender, but every proposition was met by
the most haughty and absolute defiance.
Recognizing the critical nature of the situation,
Mackenzie gave orders for the destruction of the
camp, and under a galling fire, teepes, bedding, cloth-
ing, buffalo robes, thousands of pounds of dried buf-
falo meat, cooking and other utensils, spare arms and
ammunition, every thing was given to the flames.
Disposition was then made to protect as far as possi-
ble the troops from the fire which incessantly an-
noyed them, and thus the day wore away.
An Indian was dispatched to General Crook with a
report and request for reinforcements. Having to
follow down the cañon for many miles, this runner
did not reach General Crook until about 10 A. M. the
next day.
My command was immediately ordered to the res-
cue, and in an hour we were on the march, the men
vying with each other in eagerness to succor their
comrades. Though the ground was covered with
snow, the foot-hills, twenty-six miles from our camp,
were reached just at dark. For the next twelve or
fifteen miles the scene was weird and wild in the
498
BEATEN BY COLD.
extreme. Guided by the Indian, the command, gener-
ally in single rank, and following an old Indian trail
almost obliterated by snow, wound its slow length up
and down the sides of almost impassable ravines.
The heavens were overclouded, the only light being
from the snow. Now, with all his care, a man would
slip and go plunging off into the darkness of a ravine,
now half a company would slide together and land in
one promiscuous mass in the snow-drifts below.
Though some of the tumbles were nearly a hundred
feet, no one was seriously hurt, and though the
Army in Flanders" was emulated, the command
never flagged.
୧୧
About 3 A. M. the guide lost the trail in the deep
snows of a creek bottom. A halt was ordered, and
in half an hour the whole command except the guard,
each man wrapped in his blanket, was soundly sleep-
ing on the snow. Just at dawn the trail was found,
and the command, springing to arms, resumed its
march. Soon after the sun had made its appearance
we met some of Mackenzie's advance guards, and
found that all our labor had been of no avail.
Unfortunately, the preceding night had been in-
tensely cold, not less than twenty degrees below zero.
Indians when in camp, and unsuspicious of danger,
habitually sleep naked. The Cheyennes were so, and
aroused as they were, had no time to clothe them-
selves; some few had seized a blanket or robe in their
flight, but the large majority had no covering what-
ever. Human nature could not stand it, and notwith-
standing their favorable tactical position, they were
compelled to get back into the main cañon, and re-
treat to a position where they could build fires and
procure food. Collecting their herds of ponies, they
TERRIBLE SUFFERING.
499
left during the night. Early next morning their de-
parture was discovered, but Mackenzie's attempt at
pursuit was frustrated in the first few miles, by a
strong and determined rear-guard posted as before in
the rocks and summits of almost inaccessible cliffs.
Our loss in this battle was one officer and five sol-
diers killed, twenty-five soldiers and one enlisted In-
dian wounded. The Cheyenne loss in killed and
wounded was probably about fifty.
Insignificant as it appears, this battle was a death-
blow to the independence of a tribe of men as brave
as ever trod the soil of Greece. The sufferings of
these Indians during the three months succeeding the
battle can never be known. Numbers perished, prin-
cipally women and children. With no food but the
flesh of their ponies, no covering but the green hides
of the same faithful animals, the survivors with in-
domitable determination made their way across the
bleak and snow-covered summits of the Big Horn
Mountains, and after a long and most terrible march
presented themselves to Crazy Horse, then encamped
on Mizpah Creek.
At no time previous had the Cheyennes been other-
wise than welcome visitors to the Sioux, but here was
a band of near fifteen hundred people, absolutely im-
poverished, in want of teepes, clothing, food, every-
thing. The warriors still possessed their gallant spirit,
and burned for an opportunity for revenge upon their
white enemies, but their arms were in poor condition,
their ammunition expended. It was too great a tax
on the Sioux chieftain, and he received the new comers
so coldly and with so scant a charity that they soon
left his inhospitable camp.
They had not been defeated, yet they had received
500
THE INEVITABLE.
a blow far worse than a bloody defeat, and from
which it would take years to recover. Their women
were suffering, their children dying, Crazy Horse,
their last hope, had failed them. Struggle as they
might their fate was too hard for them, and in 1877
they came in and surrendered.
One cannot but feel sympathy for any people, how-
ever savage, which, after displays of desperate cour-
age in battle, of fortitude under untold hardship and
misery, is forced at last to yield to the inevitable.
CHAPTER XXXVIII.
WINTER ON THE PLAINS – ITS DANGERS AND HARD-
SHIPS - INCIDENTS AND PERSONAL EXPERIENCES.
Difficulty of Surprising Indians Starvation and Cold their Worst
Enemies - The Remarkable Winters of the Plains - Piercing Winds
-Excessive Cold-Certain Death to Every Exposed Living Thing
— Flying to Shelter — A “Norther” —Terrible Hardships and Suffer-
ings of Fifteen Men - Braving the Dangers of the Elements
The Pluck of Captain Mix-Threats of Instant Death-— An In-
cident in My Own Experience - Horses Frozen to Death - A Stir-
ring Incident - Captain Henry's Experience - In the Teeth of a
Furious "Norther"-Wandering Blindly through the Snow-Horses
Frantic with Cold-Hands and Faces Frozen - Utter Helplessness
of the Party — Looking Death in the Face-The Race for Life.

SUCH are the only really hurtful blows
that the army can give to the Indian.
Surprise is absolutely indispensable.
During all the months of tolerable
weather the warriors in search of
game, or sent out as scouts, are
scouring all the country for many
miles about the camp; a force of troops
can come, without being discovered, to
within a night's forced march, only by the merest
accident of good luck. It is exceedingly rare, there-
fore, that any important advantage is gained by a
summer campaign against Indians.
In winter the Plains Indians, who are very suscep-
tible to cold, remain in their teepes nearly all the time,
going out only when forced to do so, and getting
501
1
502
VARIATION IN CLIMATE.
back as soon as possible to the pleasant warmth of
their homes. Their ponies are wretchedly poor, and
unable to bear their masters on any extended scout
or hunt. They are in the very best possible con-
dition to be surprised, and even to those who escape
bullets, surprise is almost destruction from starvation
and cold.
Discipline, Indian allies, surprise, and winter, are
the powerful auxiliaries by the aid of which the scan-
ty force of United States troops have for the last ten
years been able to cope successfully with a greatly
superior numerical force of an enemy, equally well
armed, and infinitely better in all those acquired
traits that go to make a good partisan soldier.
But these winter campaigns, so terrible to the In-
dians, bring to the soldiers an amount of privation,
hardships and suffering scarcely to be comprehended
by persons unfamiliar with the peculiarities of the
Plains themselves.
Extending over nineteen degrees of latitude, and
varying in altitude from almost the sea-level to eight
thousand feet above, the Plains present an almost
infinite variation of climate; and besides the varia-
tions due to latitude and altitude, there are others
resulting from the absence of those natural protec-
tors of the earth's surface, trees, and from the aridity
of the high Plains.
The summer's sun, beating down through the thin
atmosphere, gives a temperature that would be de-
structive to life in more humid countries.
The winters are remarkable. For a week each
day will be clear and bright as a mild October day in
the East; then oftentimes without the slightest warn-
ing, a wind will come from the north, so piercing
THE NORTHER.
503
that an exposure to it for any length of time is cer-
tain death to any living thing. The thermometer
may not indicate such excessive cold; the danger is
from the sharp wind, which drives the cold like icy
daggers through the body, and penetrating to every
part, drags out the vital heat, leaving only a stif-
fened corpse of him who is so unfortunate as to be
long exposed to it. But this danger can always be
avoided if it be possible to get out of the wind. A
day which would be death on the high Plains may
scarcely be uncomfortably cold in a thicket at the
bottom of a deep narrow cañon. Indians, plainsmen,
and all indigenous animals understand this perfectly,
and fly to shelter at the first puff.
When this "Norther" is accompanied by snow it is
simply indescribable; worse than the "tourmente" of
the Alps. The deepest cañons and most secluded
thickets often afford no protection; tents are blown
down, horses stampeded, fires put out, and the
wretched sufferers can only wrap their blankets
about them and bury themselves in the snow. Such
a storm overtook a party of fifteen men on Crooked
Creek, twenty miles south of Fort Dodge, and
though there were no resultant deaths, every man
lost some portion of his body, ears, fingers, toes,
hands or feet. The post surgeon, Dr. Tremaine,
performed seventy capital amputations at Fort Dodge
in the winter of 1872-3, one poor fellow losing both
hands and both feet.
Fortunately for those of us who have to spend
the greater part of our lives on the Plains, only a
few such storms may be expected in one winter, and
they generally last not longer than three days. The
army suffers greatly from these, for however skilled
504
A TERRIBLE MARCH.
in plains-craft the officers and men, there are occa-
sions when movements must be made in the teeth
of whatever difficulty and danger. A command
may be overtaken by such a storm when rations and
forage are nearly exhausted, and must brave the
dangers of the elements to escape death from star-
vation; or the storm, coming as is usual without
premonition, may overtake a command at a distance
from friendly ravines.
When in command of Fort Sedgwick I was or-
dered to send a company of cavalry on important
duty to the Republican River, in the worst month
of winter, February. The country between that
River and the Platte is as nearly a level as the
plains ever are. The duty was performed and the
company returned on time, but this was owing en-
tirely to the pluck and will of the captain.* After
getting well on the march across the long divide
between the rivers, the command was met by a most
terrific gale and blinding snow-storm. The march
was due north in the very teeth of the gale. The
men were made to dismount and form in single file,
each man leading his horse. The leading man with
head bowed and his eyes fixed on a compass held
in his hand, broke the way through the snow, as
long as he could endure, then giving the compass
to the next man, fell out to take his place in rear.
The cold was so intense, the toil so great, the
suffering so intolerable, that some of the men re-
fused to do more, and throwing themselves into the
snow declared their determination to die there rather
than make another effort. Orders, entreaties, even
threats, accompanied by the presentation of a cocked
* Captain (now Major) John Mix, Second Cavalry.

WINTER ON THE PLAINS-A TERRIBLE EXPERIENCE IN THE TEETH OF A "NORTHER."
JETAYLA
FROZEN THERMOMETERS.
507
revolver, proving alike unavailing, the captain finally
put up his pistol, and falling upon them with the
flat of his sabre, belabored them into the ranks, and
brought all in safety to the post.
Nowhere have I seen suffering more cheerfully
borne, than on General Crook's winter campaign in
1876. For two months the ground was constantly
covered with snow from two or three to fifteen
inches in depth. Often our only fuel was a scanty
supply of green sage-brush; the cold was always
intense, and several times the mercury was frozen in
the bulbs of our thermometers.
We had ample experience of Arctic phenomena,
magnificent Aurora Borealis, "sun-dogs,"
sun-dogs," or the
appearance of five suns, and the beautiful "bridal
veil," every particle of moisture in the atmosphere
being congealed in tiny particles, so that when the
suns shone upon it, everything was seen as through
a silver veil.
One day on the Belle Fourche, when on the re-
turn march, we were struck by a storm of unusual
severity. General Crook hurried us into camp,
under the bluffs and in the thickets of a small
watercourse which was fortunately near, and under
this cover we passed a good night. At daylight in
the morning the wind had died out, but the ther-
mometers were all frozen. After taking my break-
fast, and while the men were getting ready for the
march, I held my thermometer near the fire to thaw
it out, hoping by exposing it afterwards to arrive
at some approximate idea of the cold. I kept it
there until the mercury was above freezing, then
hung it on a bush near by and watched it. Though
the sun was now just appearing the mercury froze
508
HOT, THOUGH COLD.
again in less than five minutes. Many of our ani-
mals, among them the favorite horse of one of
General Crook's staff-officers, froze to death that
night.
Encumbered with all the wraps, extra clothing,
hoods and masks that our "light marching" order
permitted, we broke camp and marched merrily
along, admiring the five suns, and the curiously
broken features of the country as seen through the
"veil." The morning was beautiful, the air perfectly
calm. By nine A. M. my mask and hood became
uncomfortable; the first was taken off, the other ex-
changed for a light felt hat. By ten my overcoat
was tied behind my saddle. At eleven I stripped
coat and thick gloves, and was yet too warm.
Turning to the surgeon,* who was riding beside me
at the head of the column, I exclaimed against the
weather:
"This is a terrible change, I fear it will affect the
health of the men!"
Thrusting his hand into his breast-pocket the
doctor drew out a thermometer, and rode for some
distance dangling it by its ring on his bare finger,
and occasionally looking at it. At last he said:
"Colonel, I don't think the heat will affect the
health of the men. It is now eight degrees below
zero."
•
A beautiful incident showing the esprit of our
soldiers occurred on the same campaign. One
morning on the northward march we broke camp
on Wind River. The day was cold but clear, and
many of the men had packed their overcoats on the
wagons. When we had just gotten fairly out of
* Dr. Ousley, Acting Assistant-Surgeon, U. S. A.
1
}
CAPTAIN HENRY'S MARCH.
509
reach of the wagons, there burst in our faces a ter-
rible gale of wind and snow, so fierce as almost to
stagger the column. With heads bowed down, the
men trudged manfully along, the officers watching
closely, and every few moments ordering some man
to rub his cheek or nose with snow. In half an hour
the gale subsided, and though the snow still fell, the
cold was no longer dangerous. Just at this moment
some glorious fellow in the ranks broke out in a
sweet but manly voice with "Marching through
Georgia." In an instant the strain was taken up,
and the suffering of the previous half hour cast to
the winds on the breath of five hundred lusty
throats.
On December 26th, 1874, Captain Guy V. Henry,
in command of his Company "D" Third Cavalry, left
its camp at Red Cloud Agency, pursuant to an order
of the War Department to proceed to the Black
Hills, and remove some miners reported to be there
in violation of treaties. The Black Hills country
was then almost entirely unknown. Warren had
skirted it, Harney had passed near but to the south-
ward of it, and Custer had dashed with his usual
impetuosity directly through it, but to Captain
Henry and his command, it was entirely unknown.
On the second day he arrived at the Spotted Tail
Agency, where he expected to secure the services.
of an Indian guide. The cold was so intense that
the Indian refused to go, and a white man named
Raymond was employed. He knew nothing of the
country, but was an "old frontiersman," supposed to
be entirely capable of going anywhere, and equal
to every emergency.
The march was made, no
miners found, and the command had returned to
1
32
t
510
A RACE FOR LIFE.
within one day's journey of its post, having been out
two weeks, and travelled over three hundred miles,
without serious inconvenience, except from the in-
tense cold, the thermometer ranging from 20° to 40°
below. zero.
ee
About seven o'clock on the morning of this last
day when the command had gotten well started on its
march, it was struck by a most furious "Norther"
cutting like a razor." So intense was the cold that
the men were dismounted to prevent freezing. The
trail was soon obliterated, and wandering blindly
through the drifting snow, holding with difficulty
the almost frantic horses, the unhappy command
struggled on. With hands and faces frozen, with
noses and ears bleeding, with eyes absolutely sight-
less from the constant pelting of the frozen particles,
the weaker men began to fall exhausted, willing to
die rather than make further effort. These were
strapped on their horses, and the command pushed
on, not a hill or ravine or clump of trees to give
even the most partial shelter.
Every moment but added to the helplessness of
the party. Recognizing the certainty of the speedy
destruction of the whole command, if the march
were thus continued, Captain Henry in desperation
gave the order to "mount," and when all had with
difficulty dragged themselves into their saddles,
"forward, gallop!"
"We all knew," said Captain Henry, "that this
was a race for life; we were helpless; neither brain
nor eye would longer serve us; the instinct of our
horses could alone save those of us who could hold
out."
Seeming to recognize the necessity of extra ex-
SAVED.
511
ertion and intelligence, the stiffened horses swept
forward, even those whose powerless riders were
strapped upon them keeping in or near the ranks.
Succor came at last most unexpectedly. The lead-
ing horses dashed up to a little cabin in the wilder-
ness, half buried in snow, and of the existence of
which not one of the command had any previous
knowledge. The white owner and his squaw wife
received most hospitably their half-frozen visitors.
The horses were turned into the corral, those run-
ning loose with powerless riders being soon caught
and relieved of their inanimate burdens. The men
were crowded into the little hovel, and every atten-
tion and care bestowed upon them.
When the storm abated an Indian was sent to the
post, fifteen miles away, whence wagons and ambu-
lances were sent to transport those who were unable
to ride. There were no deaths, but not one of forty-
five officers and men escaped without the loss of, or
serious injuries to, some portion of his person. To
this day many of those men are maimed and suffer-
ing from the effects of this "frontier experience."
But for the providential discovery of this little
unknown cabin of a ee
squaw man,” the whole party
must have perished miserably.
Not a winter passes, but scores its mark upon the
army, in the shape of dead or maimed victims.
Ye, in power, who sit on cushioned chairs in com-
fortable offices, take these lessons to heart; think
mercifully of the sufferings of those who are ordered
to brave the dangers of a winter campaign on the
Plains, and be always assured that there is, for such
orders, an urgent necessity.
CHAPTER XXXIX.
TAKING THE SCALP-HOW AND WHY IT IS DONE-
THRILLING INCIDENTS.
The Indian Custom of Taking the Scalp--Origin of the Practice
What Becomes of the Scalps - Strange Superstition attached to them
- The Head Chief of the Pawnees Pays me a Visit - He Discloses
a Freshly Taken Scalp - A strange Performance - How the Paw-
nees Wear their Hair - Custom of the Cheyennes, Arrapahoes,
Kiowas and Comanches- How the Scalp is Taken - Different ways
of Doing it-Taking the Ears with it- What I saw in an Indian
Camp - Why Colored Soldiers are never Scalped — Mutilation of the
Body- Why General Custer's Body was not Scalped - Sam Cherry
the Guide A Thrilling Incident - Fears for his Safety - Working
Out the Story of the Tragedy — His Last Shot.

gro.
HE origin of the Indian custom of
taking the scalps of their slain enemies
seems to be lost in obscurity. * Else-
where I have spoken of the religious
belief that the act of scalping annihi-
lates the soul, but while the practice is
common to all the tribes east of the
Rocky Mountains, the belief seems to
be confined to a comparatively few of the
Plains tribes. Moreover, while the practice con-
tinues in full favor, the belief itself, like very many
other of their ancient points of faith, is fast losing its
hold over the minds of the red men.
I have been told by old men of the Cheyenne and
* The books of the Maccabees, in speaking of the atrocities and
cruelties practised on the Jews by the Syrian monarch Antiochus the
Great, state that "the skin was torn from the head." Scalping would
seem therefore to have been a Syrian, and probably a Jewish custom,
and may be another evidence of the identity of the Indians with the lost
tribes of Israel.
512
USE OF SCALPS.
513
Arrapahoe tribes, that many years ago the belief in
the annihilation of the soul by scalping the head was
common to all the Indians between the Mississippi
River and the Rocky Mountains, and that the custom
originated in the desire of each warrior to lessen in
this life, as much as possible, his chances of being
annoyed by enemies in the future life.
The Indian beliefs and superstitions are so vague,
so individual (each man while following the general
creed, working in details to suit his own taste), and
have moreover been so curiously confused by, and
with, the teachings of missionaries, that I much doubt
if it be possible at the present day to arrive with any
certainty at any original Indian faith.
The practice most likely originated in the necessity
of furnishing something as a proof of deeds of valor,
and to prevent fraudulent or conflicting claims. At
the present day among the Plains tribes, a scalp is of
far more importance than merely to minister to the
pride and vanity of the taker.
Scalps taken by an individual in fair single combat
or by assassination are his personal property, but, of
the scalps of enemies killed in battle, a certain portion
is set aside. Of these a percentage goes to the
chief, whether he was in the battle or not. Others
are dedicated to the good God, and hung up in the
"Medicine Lodge," sacred from the touch of any but
the "medicine chief." Others are reserved, to be
danced over, on the return of the war party to its
village. After this ceremony they are returned to
the warriors who took them.
A strong flavor of religious superstition attaches to
a scalp, and many solemn contracts and binding obli-
gations can only be made over or by means of a scalp.
514
BROTHERHOOD.
It was a solemn day on Crazy Woman's fork of
Powder River. On the preceding day Mackenzie
had returned from his successful fight with the
Northern Cheyennes, but bringing with him a train
of travois, each bearing its burden of dead or wounded
humanity. To-day the whole command had turned
out to do honor to the gallant dead, and perform for
them our last duties. They had been laid away side
by side in a little valley. No stone marked their
resting-place, for that would insure desecration by
our enemies as soon as we had left the vicinity.
I was sitting in my tent, musing in a somewhat
softened mood over these violent deaths and lonely
burials in this far-away wilderness, when the front of
my tent was pulled aside, and the acting head chief
of the Pawnees stalked in, gravely and without a
word. We had long been friends, and had on several
occasions been in tight places together.
He sat down on the side of my bed, looked at me
for a moment kindly, but solemnly, and began in a
low tone to mutter in his own language, half chant,
half recitative. Knowing that he was making
"medicine" of some kind, I looked on without com-
ment. After some moments, he stood erect and
stretched out his hand to me. I gave him my hand.
He pulled me into a standing position, embraced me,
passed his hands lightly over my head, face, arms,
body, and legs to my feet, muttering all the while,
embraced me again, then turned his back upon me
and with his face turned towards Heaven, appeared
to make adoration. He then turned to embrace and
manipulate me again.
After some five minutes of this performance, he
drew from his wallet a package, and unrolling it,
Į
SCALP LOCKS.
515
disclosed the freshly taken scalp of an Indian.
Touching me with this in various places and ways, he
finally drew out his knife, divided the scalp carefully
along the part of the hair, and handing me one half,
embraced me again, kissing me on the forehead.
"Now," said he in English, "you are my brother."
He subsequently informed me that this ceremony
could not have been performed without the scalp.
The Indians of different tribes wear their hair in
different styles, and scalps are therefore cut off in
different ways. The warriors of the Eastern States
wore their hair short, with the exception of a lock,
some two or three inches in diameter, covering the
centre of the head. This was allowed to grow, and
was braided or tied up with feathers or porcupine
quills to keep it upright, a standing defiance to
their enemy.
The Pawnees used to clip the hair on each side of
the head, leaving a roach or mane of some three
inches in length, running from front to rear over the
centre of the head. Just on the crown, the scalp-
lock was cultivated to great length. This peculiar
head-dress gave a most ferocious appearance, but was
so marked that it was abandoned even before the
Pawnees became "good Indians," their peculiar
appearance at once fixing upon them any depreda-
tion.
All the Plains tribes wear the hair long. The
Sioux, Crows, Winnebagoes, part their hair in the
middle, carrying the mass into two tails, one on each
side of the head. The hair covering a space of about
two inches in diameter just over the crown, is sep-
arated from these tails and plaited by the Sioux
into one to three, by the Winnebagoes, into six or
}
516
HAIR COVERED SKIN.
seven, little independent tails which form the scalp-
lock. In all these tribes, the scalp is removed by
cutting only the skin on which the scalp-lock grows.
The Cheyennes and Arrapahoes part their hair in
the middle, wearing it in two long tails one on each
side of the head. The Kiowas also part the hair in
the middle, but wear only one long tail, that on the
left side of the head. The hair growing on the right
side of the head is cut a little below the ear and
worn loose. The Comanches comb the hair back
from the forehead and plait it behind in one long tail.
None of these Indians wear scalp-locks.
In scalping an Indian who wears no scalp-lock, a
handful of hair is grasped on any part of the head
and the knife passed beneath.
Only one scalp can be taken from the head of an
Indian who wears a scalp-lock, for it must show the
crown of the head, while an Indian who wears no
scalp-lock may furnish enough tufts of hair-covered
skin to enable each buck of a small party to furnish
evidence that he has killed his man.
If time and opportunity be given, every Indian, in
taking a scalp, will carefully remove every portion of
the skin covered with hair in one piece, in many cases
taking the ears with it.
Some special value or "medicine" virtue seems to
be attached to hair-covered skin. The Indian has no
hair on his face or person, and consequently scalps
only the head of other Indians. The full-bearded
white offers peculiar attractions to the scalper. Every
portion of skin to which hair is attached, even to the
small bit under the arms, is skinned off. I once saw,
in an Indian camp, a scalp consisting of the entire
skin of head, face, and body to the crotch, in one
BUFFALO SOLDIER NO GOOD.
517
piece. It was thickly covered with hair, had been
carefully cured, and peculiar value was set upon it as
big medicine."
It has been asserted by some writers that scalping
is universal among Indians. This is an error. It is
an eastern custom. West of the Rocky Mountain
chain it is not habitually practised by the Indians.
Occasionally a man may be scalped, but it appears to
be an individual exception, a simple copying of what
is known to be the custom among Eastern Indians; or
what is more probable, it results from the imitative
faculty of the Indian, who does that which he sees a
white man do; for I regret to be obliged to admit that
the majority of white men on the frontier are as
prompt to take a scalp as any Indian.
Even by those tribes by which scalps are most
highly prized, the scalp of a dead enemy is not always
taken. The reason is wrapped in their superstitions.
Even though an Indian may have so far progressed
in religion as no longer to believe that the immortal-
ity of the soul depends on the final position of the
scalp, he cannot so discard his early impressions as to
be entirely careless of his action when a scalp is in-
volved. Whether or not its removal annihilates the
soul, he is yet. sure that a scalp is strong "medicine,"
and equally sure that its taking by him will involve
consequences to him, either very good or very bad,
and he does not always know which. An Indian will
never take the scalp of a colored soldier, nor does he
give any reason for it; all to be got out of him by
way of explanation is, "Buffalo soldier no good, heap
bad medicine."
Many yet believe that, if not scalped, the soul of the
dead enemy will bear in the future state all the muti-
518
MUTILATION OF BODIES.
lations and indignities inflicted on the body. When
therefore so exasperated as to be willing to exchange
the gratification of vanity for a surfeit of vengeance,
the Indian leaves the scalp on the head, but muti-
lates the body, as he wishes the soul mutilated to all
eternity. Suicide, though not common among Indians,
is "big medicine"; a high religious act. Through it
the man rises superior to his gods. Whatever the
special religious opinion of each Indian in regard to
the taking of the scalps of slain enemies, I have
never yet known a single case where the scalp of a
suicide was stripped off, and in many cases the super-
stition is so strong as to prevent the Indians even
from touching the body. If an unscalped body is
found with many terrible wounds, gashed and muti-
lated, it was the deliberate purpose of the Indians to
torment the soul; if it be found unmutilated with but
one mortal wound, it is a case of suicide.
Though the bodies of all of Major Elliott's little
party were subjected to the usual horrible mutilations
and barbarities, only four or five of the least noted
were scalped. So also in every Indian massacre, muti-
lations of the body are almost the rule, but many of
the bodies will be found unscalped.
It is said that Custer's body was found unscalped
and unmutilated. If so, my knowledge of Indians
convinces me that he died by his own hand.
In October, 1855, the post of Fort Davis, Texas, was
established by the Head Quarters and six companies
of the Eighth United States Infantry. I was the
adjutant, but the quarter-master being absent, his
duties devolved upon me. The site chosen being four
or five thousand feet above the level of the sea, the
winter weather was expected to be severe, and we im-

SPIEME
SAM CHERRY'S LAST SHOT.
Eylok
SERGEANT LOVE'S PARTY.
521
mediately busied ourselves with preparations for such
shelter as short time and scant materials would allow
us to build.
I was ordered by the commanding officer to take the
guide, Sam Cherry, and an escort of one non-commis-
sioned officer and three privates, and, starting imme-
diately after guard-mounting each morning, to scour
the country, as far as I could go and return the same
day, in search of timber suitable for saw-logs.
From about the 10th to the 30th of October I had
thus been out, taking a different route each day.
Signs of Indians had occasionally been seen, but not
in large parties. These made us more careful, but
caused no uneasiness.
After I had reported to the commanding officer
after dark on the 30th, I asked:-
ce
Colonel, shall I go out to-morrow, as usual?"
"Why not?" he replied.
"It is muster-day, and I thought you might need
me."
"Of course, I will. I had forgotten about muster.
Detail a good sergeant to take your party to-morrow,
and instruct him where you propose to go."
The detail was made, Sergeant Love of Company G
taking my place. That night the party did not re-
turn. Next morning early the wagon-master of a
train came in to the post greatly excited, and reported
that the dead body of a man and horse had been
found in the road about six miles from the post. A
company of infantry was immediately ordered out,
and proceeding to the spot found the body of Sam
Cherry, pinned fast to the ground by the dead body
of his horse. The search was continued, and in a lat-
eral cañon were found the bodies of Sergeant Love and
522
SAM CHERRY'S LAST SHOT.
the three privates riddled with bullets, mutilated and.
disfigured, but giving every evidence of having sold
their lives as brave men should. The trails were ex-
amined and the whole story worked out. The party had
travelled along the road nearly to the entrance of the
cañon of the Limpia, known as the "Wild Rose Pass,"
when suddenly about thirty mounted Indians dashed
from the bushes along the stream, cutting it off from
retreat towards the Fort, and driving it up the lateral
cañon. Suspecting a trap, Sam Cherry suddenly
turned, dashed through the line of Indians, regained
the road, and ran for life, away from the Fort, fol-
lowed by a number of yelling savages. He was evi-
dently doing well, when his horse stumbled and fell,
breaking his neck, and pinning Sam's leg to the
ground. In an instant he was surrounded by the
exultant Indians.
Raising himself slightly, Sam fired five shots at his
enemies, then turning the muzzle against his own
temple, he escaped the tortures of their vindictive
rage by his "last shot." The baffled and terrified
Indians went away as fast as their ponies could carry
them, not touching the body, not even taking the
arms.
CHAPTER XL.
PRISONERS AMONG INDIANS
TURE
VICTIMS FOR THE TOR-
CAPTIVE WOMEN AND CHILDREN.
Certain Fate of Captives-Held only for Torture-Savage Instincts
Delight in the Agonies of his Enemy - Torture by Fire-Terrible
Fate of a Little Drummer Boy Human Fiends - Tied to a Tree
Setting Fire to Pine Knots Stuck in His Body - Sufferings of the
Poor Boy
Death's Relief- “Staked Out " - Devilish Ingenuity —
Horrible Brutality — Building a Fire on the Breast of Living Victims
- Female Captives A Fate worse than Death Unhappy Slaves
A Favorite Stake at the Gambling-Board - Passing from Hand to
Hand — A dozen Owners in a Single Day - A Terrible Situation
Giving up Prisoners — Experiences of Three White Women Captives
A Story of Horrors — Captive Children Their Fate.

oro
HE Plains Indians never make captives
of men. I have never known of a
single instance, and if I have ever
heard of one, I do not recollect it.
Wounded and disarmed men are fre-
quently taken prisoners, but they are
held only for torture. Their doom is
certain, and, but for the horrible suffer-
ings they are yet to undergo, they may be
regarded as already dead.
This is an unusual phase of barbarism, except
among cannibals. Even the most primitive man, of
whom we have account, found a better use for his
enemy than to kill him, and the history of mankind
shows that the murder of prisoners is the exception
523
524
TORTURE BY FIRE.
and not the rule. It also shows that these wholesale
murders are usually done in the name of religion.
The primitive Hebrew, following his faith, murdered
without regard to age, sex, or condition. The Indian
furnishes another link in the chain of evidence that
he is a descendant of the "Lost Tribes," by doing the
same thing.
The Indian does not, however, claim to do murder
in the name of his religion. He does it because he
likes it; because his savage instincts and vindictive
temper impel him to it. His wives are his slaves; he
needs no others, and the only satisfactory use to
which he can put the male enemy that falls into his
hands, is the gratification of that temper by witness-
ing the agonies of his enemy while undergoing the
torture.
A ceremonial torture by fire is very unusual.
Though so common among the tribes east of the
Mississippi I doubt if it were ever practised (as a
ceremony) by tribes west of that stream.
It is not at all unusual for a war party to "vent its
spleen" by building a fire on the breast of a prisoner
"staked out" on the ground, but in all my long ser-
vice on the frontier, and experience among Indians,
I have never known or heard of any case where a
prisoner was formally tied to a stake and burned as a
ceremony.
In the last chapter I gave an account of the fate
of Sergeant Love and party. One of that party
was a little drummer-boy of about twelve years of
age. He had been sick, and was yet reported "in
hospital," but, being nearly well and thinking he
would not be missed, he slipped away from the
hospital, borrowed a pony from one of the herders,
A HORRIBLE DEATH.
525
and joined Sergeant Love's party, for a day's boyish
frolic.
When the party was overwhelmed this boy was
captured and taken to the Indian camp, and, speaking
Spanish with tolerable fluency, was questioned at
length by the captors, the interpreter being a Mexican
boy captured some years before, and from whom I
afterwards learned the following particulars. The
boy's answers to them proving to the Indians that
their scheme of attacking the post was sure to lead to
disaster to them, they became very angry and turned
him over to the squaws. These fiends in human
shape stripped and tied him to a tree, and for some
hours tormented him in every way their ingenuity
could devise without endangering life. Becoming
tired of this, they procured some "fat" pine knots,
and splitting them into small splinters, stuck them
into the skin until the unfortunate boy bristled like
a porcupine. They then set fire to the splinters,
and danced and yelled with delight when the poor
boy cried and screamed with anguish. When the
fire burned out they left him tied to the tree, ex-
posed naked to the cold of that elevated region.
Next morning he was tied, nearly dead, on a horse,
and carried with the party, but after going about
ten miles was found to be dead. He was then
scalped, and his body flung among some rocks,
where it was afterwards found by troops sent in
pursuit.
The Indian is thoroughly skilled in all methods of
torture, and well knows that that by fire is the most
exquisite if it can only be prolonged. He therefore
frequently resorts to it when time and opportunities
* A term applied to wood very rich in resinous matter.
526
STAKED OUT.
serve. The victim is "staked out,"* pleasantly talked
to. It is all the best kind of joke. Then a small fire
is built near one of his feet. When that is so cooked
as to have little sensation, another fire is built near the
other foot; then the legs and arms and body, until the
whole person has been crisped. Finally, a small fire
is built on the naked breast, and kept up until life is
extinct.
This extreme refinement of cruelty only occurs
when the Indians are in specially good humor, and
there is plenty of time and no danger. The temper
of the Indian is so ungoverned that he can only be
perfectly cruel when not angry, and if the victim
knows enough of his character and language to taunt
him into anger, he will probably be promptly dis-
patched. The nature and extent of all tortures de-
pend upon the time, the materials at hand, and the
temper in which the Indian happens to be.
In 1868 an attack was made by a party of Indians
on a station of the Kansas Pacific Railroad. The
men who were on herd were made prisoners almost
without resistance. The other two or three success-
fully defended their position, to the great exaspera-
tion of the red-skins, who, after losing several men,
drew off.
Just at nightfall they took their prisoners to a posi-
tion in plain view, but beyond rifle range of the sta-
tion, stripped them of their clothing, "staked" them
to the ground, built a fire on the breast of each, and
while some sat near warming themselves with great
apparent satisfaction, the others indulged in a dance
* The man is laid on his back on the ground; his arms and legs,
stretched to the uttermost, are fastened by ropes to pins driven into the
ground. The victim is not only helpless, but almost motionless.

151
SPIEGLE SC
AT THE MERCY OF SAVAGE CAPTORS-TORTURE BY SLOW FIRES.
JETAYLOR
WOMEN PRISONERS.
529
of rejoicing. The cries and groans of the unfortu-
nate men could be plainly heard by their friends, but
nothing could be done, and it was not until far in the
night that the cessation of complaint proved that life
was extinct. Next morning the Indians were gone,
but the blackened and half-burned bodies were found
still fastened to the ground, not only scalped, but ter-
ribly mutilated, and one, being an unusually hairy
man, almost skinned.
The fate of the wounded man who falls into the
hands of the Indians depends very much on circum-
stances. In a close contest, or if the Indians have
cause to be exceptionally angry, the wounded man is
promptly dispatched. If there be plenty of time and
no danger apprehended, the unfortunate prisoner will
have full experience of the ingenuity in torture of
these fiends. I have been told by Indians that none
of the soldiers slain in either the Fort Phil Kearney
or the Custer massacre were tortured. "The Indians
were too mad" and killed them as soon as possible.
Cooper, and some other novelists, knew nothing of
Indian character and customs when they placed their
heroines prisoners in their hands. I believe I am per-
fectly safe in the assertion that there is not a single
wild tribe of Indians in all the wide territory of the
United States which does not regard the person of
the female captive as the inherent right of the captor;
and I venture to assert further that, with the single
exception of the lady captured by the Nez Percés,
under Joseph, in Yellowstone Park, no woman has, in
the last thirty years, been taken prisoner by any wild
Indians who did not, as soon after as practicable, be-
come a victim to the brutality of every one of the
party of her captors.
33
530
FEMALE SLAVES.
When a woman is captured by a party, she belongs
equally to each and all, so long as the party is out.
When it returns to the home encampment, she may be
abandoned for a few days to the brutality of the men,
and delight of the women, who torment her in every
conceivable way; after which she becomes the exclu-
sive property of the individual who captured her.
In some instances he takes her to wife, and she has
protection, as such; but in the very large majority of
cases she is held by him as a slave, for the vilest pur-
poses, being sold by her owner to any one who wants
her. In nearly all the tribes there are more or less
of these slaves.
The life of such a woman is miserable beyond ex-
pression, the squaws forcing her to constant labor,
and beating her on any, or without, provocation.
She, however, fares and lodges exactly as the other
members of the family of her owner, attends the
dances, and is in no way socially ostracized. She
brings her owner more or less revenue, dependent on
her beauty; and, as property, is worth quite as much
as an equally good-looking girl of virtue. She is a
favorite stake at the gambling-board, and may change
masters half a dozen times a day, as varies the for-
tune of the game; passing from hand to hand; one
day the property of the chief, the next day, of a com-
mon warrior. No discredit attaches to the ownership
or farming out of these unhappy slaves.
Indians always prefer to capture rather than to kill
women, they being merchantable property. White
women are unusually valuable, one moderately good-
looking being worth as many ponies as would buy
from their fathers three or four Indian girls.
White women are especially valuable when the
}
HORRORS OF CAPTIVITY.
531
tribe gets tired of fighting and wants to make peace.
A runner is sent to the agency, with an intimation of
a desire for peace, and a willingness to bring in white
captives. The Indians take great credit to them-
selves for bringing in these women, invariably de-
manding a large price, which the government equally
invariably pays.
This is right, of course, no amount of money being
too great to weigh against the delivery of a woman
from the horror of such a situation. If after redeem-
ing the captives, the government would properly pun-
ish the Indians, these horrors might be stopped; but
so long as we strive to convince them by our actions
and words, that we believe them to be thoroughly
good fellows in giving up the prisoners, just so long
will they strive to deserve our commendation by cap-
turing and delivering up others.
One cause of our constant Indian wars is that the
Indian knows he can make peace whenever he wishes.
The government is mawkishly anxious for peace, and
no matter what has been done by the Indian, he has
but to intimate that he does not want to fight, and the
conflict is over, the Indian unpunished.
I was once present when three white women, one a
bright, sprightly, intelligent, married lady, were re-
turned after a captivity of several months among the
savages. This lady detailed to the wife of my inti-
mate friend (from whom I received it) a story of hor-
rors for which the life of every Indian of the tribe
would scarcely atone, yet though the Indians who
killed the men and carried off and outraged the women,
were known by name to the authorities, no one was
ever punished; nor does it seem to have entered into
the minds of any one in authority that punishment
532
CHILDREN CAPTIVES.
was deserved. There is absolutely no remedy for
this state of things, so long as we regard the petty
Indian Tribes as independent nations, with whom our
intercourse must be regulated by treaty. We cannot
make laws for other independent nations, and in the
absence of law, punishment is mere vengeance.
I have before spoken of the very great fondness of
Indians for children. In their raids on each other
and on the whites, those children who are large
enough to help themselves a little, and yet not old
enough to be likely to have strong affection or mem-
ory, are carried off to the tribe, and adopted into it.
These are sometimes adopted by men who have lost
children, otherwise they are brought up in the families
of their captors. In either case they are treated
exactly as are the other children.
When arrived at maturity, the males sometimes
return to their own tribes. The females are "sold in
marriage by their adopted parents. They never,
however, have quite the status of native-born women,
and on the slightest indiscretion are likely to fall into
the condition of slavery already described..
:
CHAPTER XLI.
THE CAPTIVE'S FATE INDIAN CRUELTY AND HOR-
RIBLE DEVICES OF TORTURE
TRAGEDIES.
The Indian's Chief Pleasure in Life-Relishing the Agony of a Vic-
tim - Cruelty to Animals - Indian Women in the Rôle of Torturers
Hellish Ingenuity - Exultation over a Captive Cruelty of the
Apaches - The Fate of Chihuahua A Band of Fiends - Bound
Naked to the Cactus - Left to Die - The Fate of Captive Women
Bondage Worse than Death — An Exciting Scene — Horrible Cruel-
-
ties New Devices of Torture Experimenting with Prisoners
Dissecting Living Human Beings — Torture of a Mexican Captive—
Digging His Own Grave - Buried Alive with the Head Out of
Ground - Partial Flaying-Dislocations - Scalped and Abandoned -
A Ghastly Tragedy - The Story of an Apache Girl - Yellow Legs.

RUELTY is a trait natural and com-
mon to humanity. The savage dances
with delight at the groans wrung from
his enemy by physical torture; the en-
lightened gentleman plunges a dagger
of courteous words into the heart of his
friend, and smiles blandly at his mental
torture. I know kindly disposed and
estimable savages, who would tie their enemy
to the ground, and pleasantly warm themselves by
the fire built on his naked breast. I know accom-
plished gentlemen standing high in the estimation of
society, who never use an angry tone, yet whose
wives have cause to envy the victim of the savage.
Barbarism torments the body; civilization torments
the soul. The savage remorselessly takes your scalp,
533
534
TORTURE OF MAN AND BEAST.
your civilized friend as remorselessly swindles you out
of
your property. The progress of enlightenment of
a people would seem to be measurable by their less
or greater abhorrence of physical torture and the
ingenuity and politeness with which mental torture
may be inflicted. The actual cruelty is possibly
about the same in either case, but it is the case of
the savage that comes up for judgment.
The cruelty of the Indian is born in and bred with
him, and clings to him through life. It is the very
lowest type or development of cruelty, its manifes-
tation being purely physical. As a boy, his especial
delight is the torture of every bird or animal that
falls into his hands. As a man, the torture of a
human being gives him more pleasure than any other
act of his life; and on no occasion is his laughter so
joyous and heartfelt as when some especial ingenuity
forces a cry of agony from the victim of his cruelty.
The torture of a human being is an active, exquisite
pleasure. Cruelty to animals is equally marked,
though simply a matter of indifference. An Indian
will ride a horse, from whose back the skin and flesh
have been torn by an ill-fitting saddle. He will ride
him at speed until he drops, then force him to his
feet and ride him again. A Plains saying is that
a white man will abandon a horse as broken down,
and utterly unable to go further; a Mexican will then
mount, ride him fifty miles and abandon him; an Indian
will then mount and ride him for a week."
In extravagance of delight in the anticipation of a
scene of torture, for hellish ingenuity in devising, and
remorseless cruelty in inflicting pain, the Indian
woman far exceeds her husband and son, and they
can give her no keener enjoyment, when returning
APACHE CRUELTY.
535
from a foray, than by bringing a prisoner on which
this ingenuity can be practised; and as a rule, when a
dead body is found specially mutilated, the head
beaten, battered, and crushed out of shape by stones,
it is squaw work.
Of all Indians, the Apaches have deservedly the
credit of being the most ingeniously and relentlessly
cruel. While yet a dependency of Spain, the pres-
ent Mexican state of Chihuahua was well peopled.
Thriving settlements and prosperous ranches occupied
every stream and spring, and the whole country was
covered with cattle. While the Spanish power was
dominant, the Apaches appear to have given little
trouble, but taking advantage of the disturbances
consequent to the revolution of 1824, they commenced
upon the unfortunate state a series of depredations,
so disastrous that in population and wealth it is now
scarce the shadow of its former self."
ee
They destroyed property, killed cattle, carried off
the women, killed and tortured the men from pure
love of deviltry. One of their favorite tortures was
to strip their unfortunate captive and bind him
tightly to a huge cactus (Peraskea Gigantea) of the
country.
To this day they are regarded as a fate to which
everything is referable, and a common saying in
regard to a bright boy is, "He will make a fine man
if the Apaches do not tie him to a cactus.'
""
"Issue day" is a great day at the agencies. The
women attend to draw their rations, the bucks to
have a quasi buffalo hunt. The beeves are delivered
to the Indians "on the hoof" alive. At the appointed
time every warrior is on his horse, ready and "eager
for the fray." The boys surround the corral in which
536
MIMIC BUFFALO HUNT.
the cattle are confined, and practise with their arrows
on the poor animals, until they are well-nigh frantic.
The gate is then opened, and the herd rushes out,
scattering widely over the plain, each animal fol-
lowed by half a dozen yelling Indians. In ten to
twenty minutes all are down, riddled with bullets and
arrows. It is an exciting scene, but should be wit-
nessed at a safe distance, as the Indians in their
excitement throw their bullets in every direction. No
sooner are the cattle down, than the squaws are at
them. An officer told me that he had seen the
tongue cut out of a beef while it was yet alive.
This system of issue is a good school for cruelty.
Cruelty is both an amusement and a study. So
much pleasure is derived from it, that an Indian is
constantly thinking out new devices of torture, and
how to prolong to the utmost those already known.
His anatomical knowledge of the most sensitive por-
tions of the human frame is most accurate, and the
amount of whipping, cutting, flaying, and burning
that he will make a human body undergo, without
seriously affecting the vital power, is astonishing.
When there is time for the indulgence of the pas-
time, no wounded man falls into his power but be-
comes at once the subject of experiment.
Of all the horrible stories which I have heard of
Indian cruelty, one told me by old Espinosa is most
vivid in its ghastly horror.
When he was about twenty-four years old, a party
of Comanches, from the same camp in which he
lived, while on a raid into Mexico, attacked a large
ranche. The inhabitants, being poorly armed, made
little resistance, except a few men, who, getting into
a courtyard, vigorously defended themselves with
PLANTED.
537
such weapons as came to their hands. All were soon
dispatched, except one man, almost a giant in
stature and strength, who, although armed only with
an axe, killed one or two of his assailants and kept
the others at bay. At last an Indian, getting on the
wall, threw a lasso over his head, and, jerked off his
feet, he was soon bound hand and foot. After the
ruthless violation and murder of all the women, the
children were fastened in a room, the ranche pillaged
and set on fire in a dozen places. Taking with them
as prisoner the one man who had signalized himself
in the defence of the ranche, the Indians departed
for their own country. On the long march the pris-
oner, though closely watched and guarded by day,
and securely bound at night, was treated with ex-
treme kindness. They complimented his courage in
the highest terms; told him they intended taking
him to their camp, adopting him into the tribe, and
making a great chief of him. The trail followed,
after leaving the head of the Nueces River, crossed
the southern end of the high table-land known to
whites as the "Staked Plains." At a water-hole on
this table-land the party halted for several days.
Telling the prisoner that they wanted it for some re-
ligious ceremony, they set him to digging a hole in
the ground. Working with knife and hands, he, in a
day or two, completed a pit about three feet in diam-
eter and over five feet deep. Early next morning a
rope was tightly tied about the ankles of the captive
and wrapped spirally round his legs and body to the
neck, binding his arms tightly to his sides. Rigid
and immovable, the man was then planted upright
like a post in the hole, the dirt filled in and tightly
rammed down around him. When all was completed
538
ALIVE OR DEAD.
nothing but his head was visible. They then scalped
his head, cut off his lips, eyelids, nose, and ears;
danced around, mocked, taunted, and left him.
On their arrival at the camp the party described in
detail their punishment of the Mexican, and in all the
tribe it was regarded as an exquisite piece of pleas-
antry. The man would live, they said, for at least
eight days, revived at night by the cold of the high
Plains, to be driven mad next day by the hot sun beat-
ing on his scalped head and defenceless eyeballs,
while myriads of flies would fill his wounds with
maggots. This "joke" gained great celebrity among
the southern Plains tribes, and the warrior who pro-
posed it was regarded as an inventive genius of the
first order.
The bodies of all men killed by Indians are almost
always terribly mutilated, but it is not difficult to tell
from the nature of this mutilation whether the bodies
fell into their hands before or after death. If it be
pierced with many bullet-holes or stuck full of
arrows, or cut and slashed with deep and careless
gashes, the spirit had passed before the Indian got
possession; but artistic dissections, partial flayings,
dislocations, breaking and splitting of fingers and
toes, indicate that the poor fellow went to his long
home with all the accompaniments of pain and hor-
ror that these devils can devise.
A few years ago, a gallant officer of cavalry sur-
prised a village of Apaches. Among the prisoners
was a sprightly girl of fourteen, who, taking the
fancy of the officer's wife, was adopted into the
Nicely clothed, well
family as a servant of all work.
fed, and kindly treated, she had every reason to be
happy and contented.
539
THE APACHE SQUAW.
Unfortunately she had been recently married, and
her heart yearned for her lover-husband in the moun-
tains. One morning she was gone. Alone, on foot,
without food, she had started on a journey of more
than a hundred miles to search for the scattered
remnants of her band, secreted in the most secluded
fastnesses. None but an Indian woman would have
undertaken such a journey, none but an Indian would
have succeeded. She was given up as hopelessly
lost, when one morning she suddenly made her ap-
pearance. She had left, plump, clean, and well
dressed; she returned naked, filthy, and emaciated.
On her arrival at the Apache camp, she found that
her husband had been killed in the fight. Having now
no protector, she was set upon by the other squaws
and stripped of all her nice clothing. Starved and
maltreated in every way, she finally made her escape
from her red relatives and friends, to take refuge
with her white enemies. Since then she has hated
Indians with the most bitter, unrelenting hatred.
She calls herself a white woman, and one cannot
insult her more than by asking in her presence if she
is an Indian.
Another officer, hunting Apaches in Arizona, one
day surprised and captured three women, who were
gathering the maguey plant. Two were left under a
guard in camp, the other forced to conduct the
troops to the Indian "rancheria." Just at daylight
next morning, the two girls under guard began a
most animated conversation, laughing heartily, and
sometimes positively screaming with delight. They
were talking over the attack of their own camp; and
fancying how their fathers, mothers and lovers, terri-
fied almost out of their wits, were scuttling away
540
YELLOW LEGS ON CRUELTY.
from the bullets, could find nothing but fun in the
contemplation of the probable scenes. This is an
excess of heartlessness not usual even among In-
dians.
I was once on a hunt with an Indian, whom, as he
now wants to have a farm, take "the white man's
road,” and be a respectable citizen, I will call "Yel-
low Legs" (that not being his name). He is a good
fellow, a splendid hunter, a man of more than aver-
age intelligence, quiet in his manner, but very blunt
in his speech.
We had had a good day's hunt, and after supper
were sitting smoking and chatting by the camp-fire,
when this subject 'came up. After some conversa-
tion, I asked:-
But how can you Indians be so heartlessly
cruel?"
"Cruel," he repeated, "what do you call cruel ?”
Torturing your enemies; killing women and help-
less children," I answered.
"Oome, oome," groaned Yellow Legs, sucking
desperately at a cigar I had given him.
After a few moments he asked with an air of great
care and circumspection:-
"Who made you?"
୧୯ God," I answered.
"And who is God?"
"The maker of all things."
"I have heard of the white man's God. He makes
everything, knows everything, does everything. Is
he good?"
"Yes," I answered.
"Have you any other God?”
"No, there is but one God."
SAVAGE IDEA OF CRUELTY.
541
ee If
"Oome, oome, oome," groaned Yellow Legs.
there is but one God, and he is good, how can you
say that anything he does is bad? Does he not tor-
ture people with all sorts of diseases? Does he not
kill women and children whenever he wants to.
are a fool, and talk like a preacher."
Civilization alone can translate savage cruelty.
You
CHAPTER XLII.
▲ RACE OF THIEVES AND
DARING AND SKILL ·
PLUNDERERS
ADVENTURES.
THEIR
The Successful Thief - His Standing in the Tribe-The Gravest of
Crimes — Horse Stealing - Doom of the Captured Thief— Reckless
Warriors - Disguised as Whites-The False Trail— Accomplished
Sneak-Thieves - Comanche Experts - Crawling into a Bivouac —
Indian Wiles - Old Texans Caught Napping — My Night Adventure
at Fort Lincoln - The Blacksmith's Death- Shot Dead in his Tracks
The Prince of Trailers — A Thrilling Incident - My Experience
with a Comanche The Fiend's Bravado - A Wild Leap - A Race
of Thieves — A Wagon Train Stampeded - The Night Attack - The
Old Rifle Regiment — A Remarkable Ruse Horses Frantic with Fear
- Unearthly Yells- The Mystery Explained.

N Indian estimation, the skilful thief
stands very nearly on a par with the
daring fighter.
Success in war tends to ferocity among
savages, indeed I am disposed to be-
lieve that success in single combat tends
to brutalize every man. The admiration
for a successful warrior is likely to be
tempered with some fear of him, while ad-
miration for the successful thief is only enhanced by
envy of his skill and consequent wealth.
Indians are very like other people. Rich men
have standing and consideration irrespective of their
personal qualities, and without reference to how the
riches were obtained. Besides this, Indians have
peculiar ideas as to the rights of property. An act
542
HORSE STEALING.
543
is not praiseworthy or criminal in itself, but from
the standpoint from which it is viewed. It is the
old fable, as to whose ox is gored.
An Indian steals the horses of an Indian of an-
other tribe. In his own estimation and that of his
tribe the act is admirable and worthy of all praise,
while in the estimation of the loser and his tribe,
the act is a most villanous theft, and the perpetrator
deserving instant death.
To steal from a member of his own band is the
greatest crime an Indian can commit; to steal from
any one else, and not be caught at it, is an act
worthy the highest commendation. The man that
steals an Indian's horse is a far greater enemy and
criminal than he who steals his wife. No penalty
except the payment of her marketable value attaches
to the latter, while the doom of the captured horse-
thief is certain death.
When not at war, Indians are not very careful of
their horses, leaving the herd habitually in charge of
the boys. The opportunities for stealing are so many
and excellent that the temptation is often too strong
to be resisted. A few reckless warriors will dash
into a herd belonging to a neighboring and friendly
tribe, and get away with as many as possible. To
avoid identification (which would insure the return
of the ponies and the punishment of the thieves, or
involve the tribe in war), they will previously have
disguised themselves in white men's clothing, or take
care to drop arrows or moccasins of some far-away
and usually hostile tribe.
This, however, is of late years a very uncommon
occurrence. When the whole vast country was free
to the Indian, the thieves could drive their stolen
544
COMANCHE SNEAK-THIEVES.
stock far away, dispose of, or enjoy it as seemed best.
Now the lines of reservations restrict their roamings,
and the stolen property can neither be concealed nor
disposed of without discovery.
Where all are such magnificent thieves, it is difficult
to decide which of the Plains tribes deserves the palm.
for stealing. The Indians themselves give it to the
Comanches, whose designation in the sign language
is a backward wriggling motion of the index finger,
signifying a snake, and indicating the silent stealth
of that tribe. There is no doubt that these Indians
are the best and most successful sneak-thieves among
red-skins. For crawling into a camp, cutting hop-
ples and lariat ropes, and getting off undiscovered
with the animals, they are unsurpassed and unsur-
passable. I have known a Comanche to crawl into a
bivouac, where a dozen old Texans, men accustomed
to the wiles of the Indians, were sleeping each with
horse tied to his wrist, by the lariat, cut a rope within
six feet of the sleeper's person, and get away with the
horse without waking a soul.
The corral fence at Fort Lincoln, Texas, was made
of thorny chaparral brush, tightly pressed between
upright posts set by twos. It was impassable for
white man or horse, yet scarcely a week passed of
the first summer after the establishment of the post,
that the Indians did not get over this fence, and
cutting horses from the picket line, endeavor to
stampede them so thoroughly, as to make them break
down the fence. This failed, and one or more Indians
having been. wounded at different times by the
sentinels, a new plan was tried. The gate of the
corral was a heavy wooden frame, to which were
hung two strong doors opening outward from the
MURDER.
545
centre. These doors were chained together at night,
and locked by the officer of the day, who kept the
key. The only means of entering the corral after
dark was by a small postern two feet by three, cut in
one of the doors.
One night I was on duty as officer of the day; it
was after twelve o'clock, and I was quietly getting
ready to visit the guard and sentinels, when my
movements were greatly accelerated by a shot pro-
ceeding apparently from the sentinel in the corral.
Running at full speed, I entered the corral, to find
the sentinel greatly excited. He had not fired; had
seen or heard nothing but the shot which came
apparently from the outside of the corral. By this
time the guard had arrived, and procuring a lantern,
we went outside and almost instantly stumbled over
a body, which on examination proved to be that of
the blacksmith, a quiet and excellent soldier. He had
been shot through the heart and killed instantly.
Next morning at daylight, the prince of all trailers,
old Espinosa, was on the track. An officer and some
twenty men were ordered out, and ran the Indians.
for fifty miles, getting so close to them that they
broke and scattered, hiding themselves in the rocks,
and thickets of the Guadalope Mountains.
Espinosa found from the "sign" that the Indian
had crawled around the corral fence, on to the parade
ground, and was probably at work on the gate when
the blacksmith suddenly came upon him and was
shot, simply to further his own escape.
The effect of this murder was that the Comanches
ceased to trouble Fort Lincoln, probably fearing
retaliation.
It is true of all Indians, but especially a trait of
34
546
A NARROW ESCAPE.
Comanches, that when on a stealing expedition, they
will not jeopardize the loss of a horse by firing a shot,
except to save their own lives.
I was once with twenty infantry men stationed near
a ranche named Las Laxas, guarding some fords of
the Rio Grande, much used by the Comanches and
Lipans. As protection against the excessive heat,
I had built over and around my tent what Mexicans
and frontiersmen call a "ramada." Forked poles are
planted in the ground, other poles are laid on the
forks, and on this frame is thrown a thick covering
of leafy boughs. For the sides, poles are tied to the
forks, and willows or other straight bushes are
wattled in. It makes a most comfortable residence
in the dry hot climate of the Plains, the tent being
used only as bedchamber.
My men, similarly protected by ramadas, were
some fifty yards away. Between us walked at night
our only sentinel, and directly on his beat my horse
was tied.
Late one night I was sitting in my ramada parlor,
doing the most disagreeable duty that falls to the lot
of a young officer,-making out Quartermaster's
papers, when my dog, lying at my feet, made a furi-
ous rush to the door, his hair all turned the wrong way.
Somewhat startled I got up, walked to the door, and
peered into the darkness, but seeing nothing, called
to the sentinel, and as he had not seen or heard any-
thing, I scolded the dog for making a false alarm.
Some hours after, long before daylight, I was awak-
ened by Mexicans from the ranche, who told me that
Indians had been through and stolen all their horses.
When daylight came I set the trailer to work up the
case. About eight Indians had visited us. All but
DASHING THIEVES.
547
That one
one had gone for the stock at the ranche.
had fixed upon my horse, and his trail indicated that
he had crawled about the ramadas half a dozen times,
watching, hoping that the sentinel might be careless.
He had come directly to my door; and, deeply indented
in the soft ground not six feet from where I stood in
the doorway, were the prints of his moccasins, show-
ing where he had bounded for concealment behind a
little mesquite bush when the dog made his onslaught.
Of course, he could have killed me, but he knew
that a shot would rouse the command, and destroy
all chances of stealing any horses from the ranche.
He let me off, and undoubtedly considered himself
well repaid, as the party got away safely with about
twenty ponies. I could give numerous other in-
stances personal to myself, or other officers, of the
stealth and cunning of the Comanches, but enough
has been told to prove their pre-eminence in these
qualities.
For dash and boldness in thieving, I think the
southern Cheyennes first, though closely emulated
by Kiowas, Sioux, and Apaches.
In 1871, four companies of the Sixth United States
Infantry were encamped for the night at Bear Creek,
in Kansas. The mules belonging to the wagon train
were quietly grazing, surrounded by herders and
guard, when two Cheyenne Indians suddenly emerged
from a little ravine, and shaking buffalo robes and
yelling like fiends, dashed into the herd. In an in-
stant all were off under the full headway of a stam-
pede. It took but an instant for the command to
turn out, but, in spite of hundreds of shots, the dar-
ing thieves succeeded in getting away with every
animal.
+
548
CAPTAIN TUPPER'S EXPERIENCE.
Nearly every horse of four companies of the old
Rifle Regiment were once lost near Fort Davis,
Texas, by a sudden and daring dash, in the face of a
strong guard, of less than half a dozen Mescalero
Apaches. The Sioux in the north, and the Kiowas
in Texas, repeat the story year after year, and hun-
dreds of instances could be given if necessary.
A very remarkable ruse, and one which I have
never heard of before or since, was tried on Captain
Tupper, Sixth Cavalry. The captain had been out
on a hard scout after the Cheyennes, and had suc-
ceeded in doing them some damage, though they
had scattered and avoided a direct fight. Finding he
could do them no more injury, and being short of
rations, he started on his return to his post, Fort
Dodge, Kansas, followed, however, by Indians, singly
or in twos and threes, who, easily avoiding any direct
onslaught of the heavier troops, effectually prevented
hunting or straggling, and continually made efforts
to get some of his horses. On the night before arri-
val at Fort Dodge, he encamped on Mulberry Creek.
Every precaution was taken, and at dusk the horses
were brought in, and besides being tied to the picket-
rope, were hoppled. It was known that the Indians
were all around them, for after dark they had made
sufficient disturbance by yelling and firing shots to
keep both men and horses in a high state of excite-
ment.
Mulberry Creek is a deep bed with almost perpen-
dicular banks. It is a peculiarly Plains stream, hav-
ing water when it pleases. For a mile or more the
water is running and in deep pools, for the next mile
or more there is not a drop. The camp was in a
sharp bend of the creek, peculiarly adapted for pro-
A HORRIBLE FIRE-BALL.
549
tection of the animals, being covered by this ditch,
here almost impassable from deep water and steep
banks.
The horses had been tied to a picket-line, at each
end of which a fire was kept burning, so that no one
could approach it without being seen. The men were
bivouacked across the elbow, some little distance from
the horses, and well beyond the firelight. In advance
of these, sentinels lay flat on the ground and watched.
The Indians had quieted, and the camp settled into
repose, when suddenly a huge ball of flame came
rushing into camp, accompanied by the most terrific
yells that ever split the throats even of Indians.
Through and among the horses it went, rendering
them so frantic with fear that some few burst the
strong fetters with which they were held, and disap-
peared in the darkness. In an instant, and without
command, the steady and well-disciplined soldiers
seized their arms, and lying flat on the ground gave
the Indians such a fusillade as to stop any desire to
charge, and almost at the same moment the myste-
rious fire disappeared. The horses were soon
quieted, and the camp settled itself to rest, which
was not again disturbed.
Next morning the dead body of a miserable pony
was found in the mud where the mysterious ball of
fire had disappeared. The outside skin and flesh
were burned to a cinder. The Indians had bound
light grass and every inflammable material at hand
all over the poor animal, then led him in the dark-
ness as near as they dared go to the line of sentinels,
turned his head in the right direction, and then set
fire to him.
CHAPTER XLIII.
HOW INDIANS TRAVEL THEIR MARVELLOUS JOUR-
NEYS AND EXPLOITS PLAINSCRAFT.
Unerring Instinct — Straight as a Bee Line -Over Trackless Wastes
Without Star or Compass-The Only Instance of an Indian being
"Lost" - Memory of Landmarks — Acute Observers Born Ex-
plorers — Penetrating Unknown Lands The Old Guide Espinosa's
Story — A Batch of Young Raiders - The Solitary Wanderer- Ex-
emption from Danger - On the Alert for Enemies - The Love of Ad-
venture Meandering Delawares — A Notable Tribe
A Notable Tribe - An Indian
Explorer — A Wonderful Story-Teller — A Strange Ambition Gratified
- Across the Rocky Mountains - Life in Mexico - Black Beaver's
Career General Marcy's Guide — Female Instinct
Female Instinct — In the Thicket
- Breaking Camp - The Advance Guard - The Mound-Builders.
Camp-The

হত
HE Indian travels by instinct. Under
no other hypothesis can we understand
the marvellous journeys prolonged to
months, and even years, made by indi-
vidual Indians; or the ease and cer-
tainty with which, when tired of wan-
dering, they make their way over the
"trackless wastes" of the broad continent
to the spot which they recognize as home.
With no knowledge of astronomy, of geography,
or of the compass, the Indian performs feats of trav-
elling for which a white man requires all three. To
him there is no north, no south. In all the wide cir-
cle of the horizon there is not a single definite point
of reference. He speaks of "sunrise" to designate
the broad half of the horizon on which the sun rises,
550
TRAVELLING INSTINCT.
551
and of "sunset" for the other side, but he makes no
use of either for purpose of direction, in travelling.
So also in night travel; and though all races of men,
in their emergence from the primitive condition, seem
to have first used the stars as guides for assuring
their journeys in a given direction, this seems never
to have occurred to the Indian.
I have never yet seen an Indian who had mounted
the ladder of human progress sufficiently far to have
observed that there is one star which never perceptibly
changes its place. With him there seems to be no
necessity for such knowledge. Instinct-that incom-
prehensible something, that takes the lark to its nest
in the wide sameness of the prairie, or the bee to its
home in the hollow tree hidden in a labyrinth of such
trees is so strong in him, that he finds no need for
geography, or points of compass.
99
Though the merest children ramble off from camp,
on foot or on horseback for miles, I have heard of
but a single instance of an Indian having been "lost;
and this is somewhat doubtful. The man was absent
from his camp and family for some weeks. On his
return, he had an elaborate story of being lost, with
many adventures. It is far more probable that he
had been on a thieving expedition, and covered his
failure with this statement.
Ask an Indian how to go to a point at a distance,
one mile or a hundred miles, and he will simply point
out the direction. Press him closely, and if he has
been to that point, he will by his minute description
disclose another of his remarkable traits, his wonder-
ful memory of landmarks.
Similar and monotonous as they appear to the un-
educated eye, each hill and valley, each rock and
552
TRAVEL BY LANDMARKS.
clump of bushes, has for him its distinguishing fea-
tures, which, once seen, he knows forever after, and
careless as he appears when travelling, not one of
these distinguishing features escapes him.
I have said that he travels by instinct, and this is
always true on long journeys into unknown countries,
or on the short trips of days or weeks spent in hunt-
ing. But for raids and forays, and for comfortable
easy journeying from one portion of country to an-
other, he makes use of these landmarks. This is his
habitual and preferred mode of travel, and if going
on such a journey into a country unknown to him, he
consults with some warrior who has visited it; and it
is simply astonishing how clearly the one describes,
and the other comprehends, all that is necessary to
make the journey a success.
The old guide Espinosa, from whom I learned the
rudiments of plains-craft, told me that when he was a
boy-prisoner among the Comanches, and the young-
sters wished to go on a raid into a country unknown to
them, it was customary for the older men to assemble
the boys for instruction a few days before the time
fixed for starting.
All being seated in a circle, a bundle of sticks was
produced, marked with notches to represent the days.
Commencing with the stick with one notch, an old
man drew on the ground with his finger, a rude map
illustrating the journey of the first day. The rivers,
streams, hills, valleys, ravines, hidden water-holes,
were all indicated with reference to prominent and
carefully described landmarks. When this was
thoroughly understood, the stick representing the
next day's march was illustrated in the same way,
and so to the end. He further stated that he had
SOLITARY WANDERINGS.
553
known one party of young men and boys, the eldest
not over nineteen, none of whom had ever been in
Mexico, to start from the main camp on Brady's
Creek in Texas, and make a raid into Mexico as far
as the city of Monterey, solely by memory of infor-
mation represented and fixed in their minds by these
sticks. However improbable this may appear, it is
not more improbable than any other explanation that
can be given of such a wonderful journey.
A sequence of landmarks is more easily established
and remembered than would appear probable to the
uninitiated. The general direction is always pre-
served as far as possible. The first stage of the
journey is towards some marked feature of the land-
scape, on or near that general direction, as a rocky
cliff, a prominent knoll, or a gap in a ridge. Arriv-
ing at that point, some other prominent feature is
selected, as far ahead as possible, and in the same
general direction. The person following the Indian's
direction will, on arriving at one landmark, readily
recognize the next, and so on in sequence.
Unlike a white man, the Indian never feels so safe
as when entirely alone. The sense of insecurity, the
fear of surprise which haunts a war-party in an
enemy's country, is not entertained by the solitary
wanderer. He has no fears for his rear, for he knows
how tedious and difficult is the process of working
out the trail of a single man or horse. In advancing,
he relies on his own sagacity and caution, and the im-
mense advantage he has over his enemies in expect-
ing and watching for them, while they are not expect-
ing or looking for him. He seldom makes a fire,
never sleeps near one. If he sees "sign" of the enemy,
he hides himself in some place from which he can
554
JOHN CONNOR'S JOURNEY.
watch. If the enemy get sight of him, he doubles
and hides in rocks and thickets, forcing his pursuers
to hunt him by the slow process of trailing. In this
way he protracts the pursuit until dark, and under its
friendly cover, places as much distance as possible
between himself and the dangerous neighborhood.
Doctor Matthews, in his "Ethnology of the Hidatsa
Indians," gives account of two journeys made by soli-
tary warriors from the Hidatsa village, one going far
down the Lower Missouri, being absent twenty lunar
months, the other to the Arctic regions, returning
after a journey of seventeen months.
Of all the Indians, the Delawares seem to be most
addicted to these solitary wanderings, undertaken, in
their case at least, from pure curiosity and love of ad-
venture.
Thirty years ago, John Connor, the head chief of
this tribe, was living with his band near Fort Martin
Scott in Texas, at which post I was stationed. He
was then a man of about fifty years, and was justly
renowned as naving a more minute and extensive per-
sonal knowledge of the North American Continent
than any other man ever had or probably will have.
He was fond of telling of his adventures, and boy-
like, I was never tired of listening to them; so we
soon became great friends.
ocean.
He told me, that when a boy of eighteen or nine-
teen, he conceived the most intense desire to see the
At that time his band was sojourning on the
banks of the Mississippi, within the limits of the then
recently admitted state of Illinois. There were too
many white people towards the East, so he decided to
go West. Travelling on foot, generally alone, but
occasionally with white or red trappers, he made his
BLACK BEAVER.
555
way to the mouth of the Columbia River, then south
along the Pacific coast for many miles, until he came
to a country occupied by Mexicans.
Liking these people, he remained some time among
them, wandering as far south as the city of Durango,
and learning to speak the language with some ease
and fluency. Tiring of the sameness of city life, he
returned through Texas to his people, having been
absent nearly three years.
This was the longest continuous journey he had
ever made, but afterwards he visited the city of Mex-
ico, and in repeated journeys crossed and recrossed,
north, south, east, and west, the vast expanse of
wilderness, until he seemed to know every stream and
mountain of the whole great continent west of the
Mississippi River. And he knew it so well as to be
able, not only to travel himself with certainty, but to
instruct others how to travel. His brain seemed to
be a vast reservoir of landmarks, arranged in se-
quence, ready for use for journeys in any direction or
for any distance.
Black Beaver, the friend and guide of General
(then Captain) Marcy, was almost equally renowned
for his wonderful journeys.
Though not displayed in so marked a way, the In-
dian woman possesses this travelling instinct, only in
a less degree than the man. The older women have
a vast amount of outdoor work, hunting up stray
ponies, etc., particularly in winter, when it is teo cold
for her lord and master to be out, or when he is prob-
ably losing the stray animals at the gaming-table.
Nothing is easier than to get lost in the sameness
of the sand-hills, which border most of the Plains
streams, but no amount of turning and twisting over
556
MOVEMENTS OF CAMP.
the hills and through the thickets, ever interferes with
the instinct that takes her direct to her camp when-
ever she wants to go there.
Several writers on Indians have been at pains to
show the military precision of Indian movements in
their changes of camp, one going so far as to declare
that when the chief's teepe fluttered in the breeze, all
other teepes must flutter; when his fell, all must fall.
There could be no greater nonsense. When camp is
to be moved, notice is formally given by criers, who,
going through the village, repeat again and again the
orders of the chief or dog-soldiers, that the camp will
break up in the morning, and move to such a place
on such a stream. If the journey be in a country
supposed to be dangerous, all the young men are in
the saddle soon after daylight, and scattered far and
wide, covering all the country in front or on the flanks
of the advance. A guard, generally of the older
men, is left with the camp, and these bring up the
rear. If there be no apprehension of danger, all the
men so disposed will move off as soon as their horses
are saddled. In either case the women come on with
the pack-animals. All the packing of household-
goods, striking the teepes, and loading the animals, is
done by the women. Each family moves off when it
is ready, the quick-working women of one family be-
ing well on the march before some of their slower
neighbors have got their teepes down. I have many
times seen Indian camps broken, and encountered or
joined them on the march, and except when in mo-
mentary and most imminent danger, the whole move-
ment is the reverse of military, being as individual as
any such move could be. I once witnessed the break-
ing up and movement of a Sioux village of over three
CAIRNS.
557.
hundred lodges, probably fifteen hundred souls, going
on the annual buffalo hunt. I was with a small hunt-
ing party camped near the village, and knowing that
they were to move, I got up soon after daylight to see
it. Early as I was, the movement had commenced,
the long slopes of prairie being dotted with Indian
men, some near, some far away, while Indians were
constantly coming out of the teepes, and mounting the
horses that stood saddled at the doors. By an hour
after sunrise most of the men had disappeared, but
by this time the camp had begun its movement. The
pack-animals being loaded, the women mounted their
ponies, and each family struck out in its own direc-
tion, and marched by itself, the only apparent care
being to prevent the loose pack-animals of different
families from mixing together. When the front of
this column had got probably two miles from me, it
was quite a mile in width, and even yet in the camp,
squaws were striking teepes, and packing ponies.
On unusually level ground, and also in very rough
and difficult country, where the range of vision is re-
stricted, the Indians set up small mounds of stones.
On the level mésas overlooking the precipitous cañ-
ons of Lower Kansas, on the Uncompagre, and other
(so-called) valleys of Colorado; in Utah, in the broken
ground of the Laramie Plains, and all over the vast
and difficult country north and east of the North
Platte River, wherever the sameness of the water-
worn steppes presents no natural distinctive mark,
such cairns are to be found.
I have heard many ingenious and far-fetched sur-
mises as to their object. It is simply to establish a
sequence of landmarks indicating the best route, and
this purpose they serve admirably, not only in sum-
558
INGENIOUS DEVICE.
mer, but in winter, when snow has obliterated every
other distinguishing mark. They, of course, only
serve their purpose in open ground, where they can
be seen, one from the other.
In timbered countries, so far north, or so elevated,
as to be subject to deep and long-continued snows,
stones will be found placed in the forks and branches
of the trees, on each side of the route or trail, which
when buried in snow, could not be followed except by
this simple device.
The Indian travels comparatively little at night,
never from choice, as he is unable to see his land-
marks. When advancing on an enemy whom he
hopes to surprise, or when escaping from too vigorous
a pursuit, he overcomes this repugnance, and trusting
to his instinct, gets along just as well, though not so
comfortably.
CHAPTER XLIV.
TRAI.ING —— INDIAN EXPERTNESS IN READING
"SIGN"
THE WONDERFUL CAREER OF PEDRO ESPINOSA.
A Savage Art
Expert Trailers
—
Frontiersmen and Indians
An
Inimitable Faculty Mexican Competitors - The Best Trailer I
ever Saw-Pedro Espinosa - A Wonderful Career-Captured in
Childhood - Made a Warrior at Thirteen - Suspected by his Cap-
tors Leading a Savage Life-Nineteen Years of Captivity — A
Fortunate Bear Hunt The Midnight Flight - Entrusted with Union
Dispatches Arrested and Shot by the Enemy - Thrilling Reminis-
- Pursuit of Comanches Six Days on the Trail— An Excit-
ing Manœuvre-Indian Tactics - Cunning and Skill-The Wrong
Scent-Scouting for Apaches - The Fresh Track A Successful
Ruse-Every Man for Himself - An Extraordinary Feat
ennes at Bay - Major Munck's Victory -The Pawnee Guide.
cences
Chey-

OMONG frontier whites, the term trail
MONG
is loosely and widely applied to any
definite mark left on the ground, other
than a road. Thus a wagon train
going across country really makes a
road, but its track is habitually called
a trail, until use has beaten it into a
road. Indeed, a few of the most prom-
inent roads of the frontier always retain this desig-
nation, and it is common to hear men speak of the
"Old Santa Fé trail," "the California trail," "the
Salt Lake trail," though the routes so designated
have been for many years thoroughly-beaten and
well-travelled roads. The most noted of these was
the "California trail," reaching from Leavenworth,
559
560
ATTACKING A STAGE.
Kansas, to Sacramento, a distance of near two thou-
sand miles, through a wilderness, almost every foot
of which was infested with hostile Indians.
For twelve or fifteen years this trail was daily
travelled by stages, and many of the most thrilling
and tragic episodes of frontier life arose from the
constant efforts of the savages to capture these stages.
The drivers were heroes; and though each stage
carried a small guard of soldiers, passengers who had
"no stomach for the fray" were out of place on the
California trail.
Scarcely a week passed but a stage was attacked.
Occasionally one was waylaid, the horses shot down,
the guards and passengers killed in fight or captured
and subjected to horrible tortures.
One of the most exciting of frontier scenes was a
running fight between a stage-load of guards and
passengers and a horde of mounted savages. In such
contests the savages were generally beaten off.
In the wilder regions of country, where there are
no roads, the term "trail" is applied by Indians and
frontiersmen, alike to the old beaten paths worn by
the feet of their ponies and the dragging lodge-poles,
and to the track or spoor of any animal. These are,
however, differently designated, the beaten track
being habitually spoken of as an "old trail." When,
therefore, an Indian or frontiersman speaks of a trail,
he habitually means the marks left on the ground by
the recent passage of an animal or party.
"Sign" in frontier language means any evidence
that something has been on that ground. The ashes
of a fire, fragments of clothing, an empty can, foot-
prints of men or animals, all are "sign." A trail is a
succession of these marks or signs. A "trail" is

A SUDDEN SURPRISE-THE ATTACK ON THE UNITED STATES MAIL COACH.
TRAILERS.
563
made up of sign, but sign is by no means a trail.
Feeding deer or scratching turkeys make sign, but it
may be impossible to trail them. There may be an
abundance of sign in and about an abandoned camp,
yet if those who made it are moving cautiously, it may
take the keenest eye, the closest scrutiny, and the
utmost limits of this knowledge to detect the trail by
which they left it. The safety of a party may depend
on the proper reading of a "sign;" the success of a
pursuit depends almost entirely on the ability of the
pursuer to work out "trail."
Trailing is the art of evolving trail from sign. The
requisites of a good trailer are sharp eyes, perfect
knowledge of the appearance and character of the
sign made by whatever is being trailed; and, when
trailing Indians, a thorough knowledge of the country
and the habits of the Indians.
To all people who live on the frontier, or in a
sparsely settled country, some knowledge of trailing
is absolutely necessary. A pony strays, or a cow
fails to come home. There are no neighbors of whom
inquiries can be made, or who might take up the
runaway. It must be hunted up, and this can only
be done surely by its trail. There seems, however, to
be a lack of capacity on the part of the white man to
become really expert in trailing, and this is not
necessarily due to lack of early training, for white
men who have been captured when boys, and lived
with the Indians until maturity, are and always remain
comparative bunglers.
Ignoring the savage talent at its command, the
government keeps numbers of these white (so-called)
guides and trailers in its employ. In over thirty-two
years' experience I have never yet seen one who was
35
564
ESPINOSA.
better than a mere schoolboy, when compared with
Indian trailers. Were there any meaning in the
common cry of "efficiency and economy" something
might be done in this direction.
It is a curious fact that Mexicans, under favorable
circumstances, develop this faculty in a degree so
marvellous as to be wonderful even to the Indians
themselves. As a rule they are not remarkable
either for courage or for veracity, but as trailers,
guides, packers, they are invaluable.
The best trailer I ever saw was a Mexican, and he
was also remarkable as abounding in the simple manly
virtues.
Pedro Espinosa was born about the year 1810 in a
little ranche on the banks of the Rio Grande, near
the village of Laredo. When he was about nine
years old this ranche was captured by a raiding band
of Comanches, all the inhabitants put to death with
the usual Indian accompaniments of horror, except a
number of children of both sexes, who were carried
into captivity.
On reaching the home encampment of the tribe
these children were adopted into it, but though
generally treated as Indian children, were carefully
watched. When about thirteen years of age, Es-
pinosa was permitted to accompany a war party on a
raid against the Tonkaways, and so distinguished
himself that he was made a warrior. Within a few
years he became a distinguished and prominent man.
But though apparently thoroughly a Comanche
Indian; though having several wives and a numerous
family; though fighting with the bravest, stealing
with the most crafty, and committing outrages with
the most cruel; though taking part in all their
ESCAPE.
565
councils and ceremonies, and identified with all their
interests, he had never forgotten his native land, nor
forgiven the violation and murder of his mother. He
hated the Indians and their ways with the most bitter,
unrelenting hatred, and his heart yearned for return
to his own country and people.
Whether, in spite of most careful dissimulation, he
revealed something of this feeling, or from the craft
and suspicion natural to the Indian character, no
opportunity was ever given him to carry his designs
into effect. Though a dozen or more raids were
made yearly into Mexico, he was never permitted to
be one of a party that went near the Rio Grande.
Among his other accomplishments Espinosa was a
most successful bear-hunter. The Guadalope Moun-
tains (now in Texas) were then as now, infested by
great numbers of these animals; and when Espinosa
had been with the Indians nineteen years, he was
permitted to go with a party to those mountains on a
bear-hunt.
One night when the other Indians were asleep, he
crawled among the horses, selected the best two,
without regard to ownership, and by morning had
put many miles between himself and his late com-
panions.
After a long journey he arrived safely at Laredo,
where, the memories of his boyhood being perfect, he
soon made himself known to his relatives. In course
of time he married and settled down, and when I
knew him he was a useful and honored member of
the community in which he lived.
Utterly ignorant of all civilized knowledge, he was
full of wisdom in all that pertained to his own mode
of life. Brought up a thief, he was honest and faith-
566
HIS DEATH.
ful. Though nineteen years of his life had been
passed amid the crime, horror and licentiousness of
savage life, he was a firm friend, a kind and loving
husband and father, a gentle, affectionate, loveable
man.
In 1849 I commenced my "Plains" life at Fort
Lincoln, Texas, not on the Plains, but on a military
line established to protect the southern settlements
of Texas from the incursions of the Plains Indians.
Covering the Bandera and other much-used passes
of the Guadalope Mountains, Fort Lincoln was an
important position; and it was extremely necessary
that a thoroughly competent and reliable man, well
posted in all the wiles of the Indians, should be
selected as guide and trailer for the troops stationed
there. The choice fell on Espinosa. For many
years he served the government well and faithfully,
and at last yielded up his life in 'fidelity to it.
In 1861, when the traitor Twiggs had planned and
was consummating the surrender of all the troops and
material of war in Texas, Espinosa was selected to
carry dispatches from Union men in San Antonio,
to Colonel Reeve, then on his way to the coast with
a command, notifying him of the condition of affairs,
and warning him to turn back, and try to reach the
states by way of Santa Fe. While executing this
office, Espinosa was captured by some of the forces
sent to intercept Reeve, and the dispatches found on
his person. After reading them, his captors drew
their pistols and shot him to death.
Espinosa has yet a warm place in my affection.
He guided me in my first Indian fight; he gave me
my first lessons in plains-craft, and in hunting for
large game.
WONDERFUL SKILL.
567
As a trailer he was a marvel, even to the Indians
themselves; and cautious and skilful as might be the
pursued, it seemed impossible to hide a trail from the
trained eyes of this remarkable man. One or two of
his exploits will show, better than any description, to
what skill a trailer may attain.
I was once sent in pursuit of a party of murdering
Comanches, who had been pursued, scattered, and the
trail abandoned by a company of so-called Texas
rangers. On the eighth day after the scattering, Espi-
nosa took the trail of a single shod horse. When we
were fairly into the rough, rocky Guadalope Moun-
tains, he stopped, dismounted, and picked up from
the foot of a tree the four shoes of the horse ridden
by the Indian. With a grim smile he handed them
to me, and informed me that the Indian intended to
hide his trail. For six days we journeyed over the
roughest mountains, turning and twisting in appar-
ently the most objectless way, not a man in the whole
command being able to discover, sometimes for
hours, a single mark by which Espinosa might direct
himself. Sometimes I lost patience, and demanded
that he show me what he was following. "Poco
'iempo," (in a short time), he would blandly answer,
and in a longer or shorter time, show me the clear-
cut footprints of the horse in the soft bank of some
mountain stream, or point with his long wiping-stick
to most unmistakable "sign" in the droppings of the
horse. Following the devious windings of this trail
for nearly a hundred and fifty miles, scarcely ever at
a loss, and only once or twice dismounting, more
closely to examine the ground, he finally brought me
to where the Indians had reunited.
Again I was in pursuit of a party of Comanches,
568
THE TRAIL WORKED OUT.
several hundred strong. On reaching the head
springs of the Perdinalis River, I found that the
Indians had made there a halt of several days; that
the vicinity for one or two miles in every direction
was marked with the footprints of grazing horses;
that the Indians had evidently scattered in every di-
rection on leaving, and set fire to the prairie behind
them. In despair I went into camp, and set Espi-
nosa to work out the problem. At night he re-
turned, unsuccessful but confident, having labored
patiently for six or seven hours. Before dawn he
was out again. About eleven o'clock I rode out on
his trail, easily followed in the black ashes, and found
him just about to return to me. He had succeeded.
We returned to camp. The command, all ready,
marched in rear of Espinosa for twelve or fifteen
miles, when we struck the trail of the united Indians.
That night he explained how he had managed.
Going down the river from the camping-ground of
the Indians, so far as to be sure he was beyond the
range of feeding-horses, he made a circuit, the camp
as centre, carefully examining the ground. He soon
discovered "sign." Dismounting and going down
on his hands and knees, he, with his breath, blew
away the light ashes, until sufficient prints were
found to show the direction of the trail. Mounting
his horse, he continued his circuit, finding other
"sign," and fixing in the same way the direction of
the trails which diverged from each other like lines
from the centre of a circle. A second circuit about
four miles from camp, discovered the trails, still
diverging. A third circuit, a mile and a half beyond
the last, discovered them, as he anticipated, converg-
ing. Carefully taking the direction of three or four,
APACHE SKILL.
569
and finding they all pointed to a common centre, he
fixed the direction of that point in his mind; and so
beautifully was the whole problem worked out, that
if he had been one of the Indians, previously in-
structed where to go, he could not have gone to that
point more directly.
Their mode of life and natural capacity for this
kind of education, make all Indians wonderful trailers;
and although even the poorest among them is superior
to any white man, the tribes and individuals differ in
their capabilities as trailers in a degree hardly to be
expected. The northern and central Plains Indians
are comparatively poor trailers, buffalo having, until
within a few years, been their means of support, and
its pursuit requiring little knowledge of trailing.
Those tribes which depend for their daily food on
small animals and game, become expert in this art.
Of all tribes which inhabit the Plains, the small
remnant of the Delawares are probably the most
generally expert, though they are closely emulated
by the Comanches. Even they, however, must yield
to some of the mountain tribes. I doubt if
I doubt if any In-
dian ever quite attained the perfection attributed to
his heroes by Cooper, though some of the feats told
of the Apaches are almost as marvellous.
An officer of the Twenty-third Infantry, having a
small force of soldiers, and some Apache guides, was
scouting after hostile Apaches in Arizona. To be
successful, all movements of troops had to be made
at night, though the scouts stealthily spread over the
country by day, looking for trails. One afternoon, a
scout came in and reported that he had found a fresh
trail, which he believed led to a "rancheria," or vil-
lage of hostiles. After dark the command moved.
570
KNOWLEDGE OF TRAILING.
In due time the trail was found and carefully fol-
lowed, the Indian scouts working out the devious
route of the hostiles, through rocks and thickets, by
feeling the ground with their fingers.
There was a halt and consultation in front, and
word was sent back to the officer in command that a
new and fresher track had crossed the trail they were
pursuing. He went to the front. The scouts in-
formed him that there was the fresh print in the soft
ground of a naked foot on, but across, the general di-
rection of the trail. Blankets were procured, and'
held up around the spot as a screen.
A match was
struck, by the light of which it was discovered that
the new footprint was that of a bear. Following
the original trail, before daylight the "rancheria "
was discovered and the officer was enabled to make
a successful attack.
•
Trailing is a most important and necessary part of
the education of every Indian. Without knowledge
of it he could neither disguise his own trail, or follow
with any certainty the trail of his enemies, and in
some portions of the country he would most certainly
starve if he could not read "sign." He is taught
from childhood to note every mark on the ground,
to tell what made it, its age, and everything about it
of importance to himself. His daily life as a hunter
makes him thoroughly conversant with the habits of
game animals. These and a pair of eyes exquisitely
sharpened by constant use, enable him confidently to
take and keep a trail, where a white man, even with
sharp eyes and some practice, would only see an
occasional unmeaning mark.
In the previous chapter, I have stated that on ordi-
nary journeys through a country but little known to
CLOSE PURSUIT.
571
nim, the Indian travels by "landmarks." A knowl-
edge of this peculiarity greatly facilitates the pur-
suit, and a good trailer, especially in a rough and
broken country, will soon so locate the series of
landmarks by which the pursued are travelling as to
be able when entering a valley or basin, to tell almost
the exact spot where the trail will leave it. When,
therefore, the pursued resorts to ruses and doubles,
the pursuer wastes no time in carefully tracking him
through all his windings, but goes at once to where
his knowledge tells him the trail will pass, there
looks for it, and finding it, pushes on with renewed
confidence. The pursued may spend several hours
in making a devious trail, which the pursuer will get
over in as many minutes.
Only imminent danger will force such an Indian
away from his sequence of landmarks. When, how-
ever, he finds his pursuers gaining on him, he abandons
it at once, strikes off in the most unexpected and er-
ratic way, resorting to every possible ruse, keeping
on rocky ground, or in the bed of a brook, to delay
or baffle the pursuit. If these fail, the party agree
upon a place of reunion, fifty, sixty, or a hundred
miles away, and scatter in every direction, each by
himself, satisfied that no trailer is expert enough to
follow a single track as rapidly as it can be made.
The hard ground of the high prairie is peculiarly
favorable to the pursued; and the ease with which a
horseman can travel anywhere, and in any direction,
renders the trailing of the Plains Indians a slow and
difficult process. It is not at all, remarkable that so
many arduous pursuits are simply waste of labor and
horse-flesh, for it may be laid down as a rule that a
party of raiding warriors cannot be overtaken except
572
THE NORTHERN CHEYENNES.
by surprise. The pursuit of a tribe or village is dif-
ferent. Encumbered with the women, children, bag-
gage and extra stock, their progress is necessarily
slow, and they cannot scatter.
The most extraordinary feat of travel and pursuit
within my knowledge took place in September and
October, 1878. A part of the Northern Cheyennes,
about one hundred and twenty men, with all their
women and children, left Fort Reno in the Indian
Territory, fought their way through one line of en-
vironing troops, evaded and outran two other lines.
These Indians, encumbered as they were, travelled
nearly, if not quite, three hundred miles in ten days.
They marched in open order, covering a belt of from
three to eight miles wide, and making a trail on the
hard prairie so slight that even an expert trailer
could only have followed it with difficulty.
After their last fight with the troops (in which
Colonel Lewis was killed), they were followed by
Major Mauck and his cavalry with such remorseless
vigor, that they were forced into the settlements of
Kansas to obtain a remount. Even with this, how-
ever, they were barely able to gain the shelter of
the sand-hills west of the head of the Loup, where
they secreted themselves in a country devoid of water
except a few ponds known only to themselves. Here
they were found completely exhausted, by troops of
the Fourth line, and captured.
As trailers, Major Mauck had a number of white
guides, and one invaluable Pawnee Indian. The
white scouts spread out fan-like far in advance,
watching, and following the trail on the ground.
The Pawnee travelled on his knowledge of the
sequence of landmarks, by which the Indians used
FEARS FOR HIS REAR.
573
formerly to travel through this country, and though
the white guides were frequently temporarily at fault,
the Indian never hesitated a moment.
The weakness of the Indian is his trail. Could he
get rid of it, he would be unconquerable except by
treachery. Fortunately for his enemies he knows this
weakness, giving it probably too much value. Cun-
ning, crafty, secret, swift, and enduring, he has perfect
confidence in himself and his powers, but he knows
that it is by means of the trail that he gives his
enemy the most effective blows, and he is continually
uneasy lest that enemy should turn the tables, and
strike him by the same means. This is why he is so
bold when alone, so timid when with a party.
A raiding party of Indians, coming to a recent
trail of troops, will stop, examine, hesitate, follow it
probably for miles. Concluding finally that there is
no serious cause for alarm, they may go on toward
their original destination. If another recent trail of
troops be struck within a few miles, the party will
most probably abandon its schemes and go back. This
is not that the Indian fears to be intercepted. He
cares nothing for the strategical disadvantage of an
enemy in his rear, but the frequent and recent trails
show the presence and activity of the troops. These
may cross his trail at any moment, and following it,
strike him by surprise in his camp.
In going on or returning from a raid, he cares
nothing for advance guards, but always when he has
cause to believe there is danger, some of the most
trusty warriors follow on the trail as rear guards,
three or four miles behind the main body. Surprise
is destruction, and surprise is most likely to come
from the rear and by means of his trail.
CHAPTER XLV.
INDIAN HUNTERS ADVENTURES ON THE PLAINS
EXCITING SCENES THE HAUNTS OF GAME.
66
The Lost Chance - An
The Indian's Disgust-
Buffalo Surround - The
The Best Hunters in the World - Their Stealth, Cunning, and Endur-
ance Getting Position - Many a Slip"
Astonished Indian - My Successful Shot-
The "Pot-Shot" - Exciting Scenes - The
Square Chase Hunting the Elk-Cutting the Hamstring - Butch-
ered at Leisure - The "Good Old Times "— Terrified Animals —
Fun in Mid-Winter-Traps and Snares - Luckless Anglers -- Abhor-
rence of Fish-The Staked Plains Origin of the Buffalo — A Curious
Superstition — Stone Calf and the Legend - Lieutenant Ogle and the
Sioux - Preparing for the Surround — The Onslaught - Discovery
of a Fresh Herd - The Indians Dissatisfied — Threatened Attack.

IS stealth, cunning, endurance, and
knowledge of the habits of animals,
make the Indian the best hunter in the
world, but as a rule he is not remarkably
successful. Considering the advantages
that these qualities give him, he is not
comparable, as a game-killer, to the white
hunter of the frontier. This is due princi-
pally to the fact that he is a very poor shot,
ammunition being far too scarce and valuable to be
expended in practice, and partially to his nervous ex-
citability in the presence of game.
An Indian will spend hours patiently and stealthily
searching for game in its probable haunts. When
found, he may, if it is not in a position favorable to
574
A POT HUNTER.
575
his approach, spend other hours as patiently watch-
ing it. The animal finally getting into good position,
he crawls silently towards it, but aware of his defi-
ciencies as a shot, and the value of his ammunition,
and wishing to make "assurance doubly sure," he al-
ways tries to get nearer, and yet nearer, frequently
frightening away the game long after he is within
point-blank range. Time is nothing to the Indian.
Having a fair shot at a deer, within a hundred yards,
he will spend an hour trying to reduce the distance to
seventy-five yards, then another hour in bringing it
down to fifty yards. Many excellent opportunities
are thus lost.
Once, when out hunting, I fired at a splendid buck,
about one hundred and twenty yards from me, across
a little prairie. It fell dead, when apparently from
under its very feet, up sprang an Indian. He was
within thirty yards of it, and yet trying to get nearer.
His disgust at the inopportuneness of my shot was
only equalled by his astonishment at the distance.
The bow could not be relied on to kill at much
over thirty yards, and until the introduction of the
long-range rifle, the large mass of game killed by In-
dians was within twenty yards. Even now fifty or
sixty yards is a long shot at any animal, except ante-
lope.
The Indian is an avaricious hunter. Let him get
within his own distance of a single animal, and he is
almost sure to get it; but if several animals are to-
gether, he is always hoping that his "medicine" is
good enough to secure him a "pot-shot," from which
he will get several or all. Aiming now at one, now
at another, again at a bunch, he will work himself into
such a state of excitement, that the chances are two
576
CARE OF BUFFALO.
to one that he becomes incautious and frightens the
game, or firing, misses all.
In the mere hunting (finding and approaching
game) there is as little difference between Indians as
in their riding; but in success in bagging it, individ-
uals and tribes differ in a remarkable degree, those
tribes which depended on the buffalo having indiffer-
ent success with smaller game.
The pursuit of the buffalo was, after war, the noblest
excitement of the Plains Indian, but the slaughter of
this animal was accomplished differently by different
tribes.
Even when buffalo were plentiful, they were care-
fully protected by the Middle Plains Tribes, no indi-
vidual warrior of Cheyennes or Arrapahoes being
permitted to ride into or after a herd, or even to shoot
an animal unless it was alone, or the herds were mov-
ing. All were required to keep away from herds
which were stationary, and thousands of buffalo
might thus remain in the close vicinity of an Indian
camp for weeks, when half a dozen white men would
have frightened them all away in a few days.
In Chapter XXII. I have given a description of
what was but a very few years ago the most excit-
ing scene of savage life, the "surround" of the buf-
falo.
So far as I am able to ascertain, either from writers
or by questioning Indians, the "surround" of buffalo
was peculiar to the Cheyennes and Arrapahoes. The
Dacotas, an exceptionally improvident people, take no
care of the buffalo. Two or three youngsters, out on
a hunt, find a herd, and dashing into it, take great
credit to themselves for killing one or two each; an
act which among the Cheyennes would have been
1
HAMSTRINGING ELK.
577
rewarded with a whipping, such as they would re-
member with terror all their lives.
Even in the great fall hunt, the Sioux make no
"surround," but rely for their meat and skins on a
square chase of the herd. The Crows, and some other
far-northern tribes, are said to be as improvident as
the Sioux, and kill the buffalo in the same way.
The Pawnees were famous for making quasi "sur-
rounds," driving the buffalo over precipices, and kill-
ing immense numbers, many of which spoiled before
the women could perform their work upon them.
The Kiowas and Comanches almost invariably used
the lance in their chases after buffalo, a weapon all
the more deadly because it was silent.
Surrounds of elk were made in much the same way
by the middle Plains Indians. One or two small
fragments of tribes now living in the Indian Terri-
tory used formerly to be wonderfully successful in
killing elk on horseback. Each hunter was armed
with a long pole, light but strong, the smaller end of
which was split and forced open for about a foot,
forming a Y. About six inches from the open end
was fastened a knife-blade, sharpened to the keenest
edge, and set diagonally in the Y, the whole being
secured and strengthened with raw-hide.
A herd being discovered, the hunters approach
against the wind, and dash suddenly upon the fright-
ened beasts, which, confused by the onslaught, and
having no leader, crowd together. Running up be-
hind an elk the hunter sets the crotch of his pole
against the hind leg just above the knee. A sharp
push severed the hamstring. The other leg was
quickly served in the same way, and the game
secured.
578
CIVILIZATION VS. GAME.
The mountain Indians make a sort of surround of
elk in winter which is said to be very successful.
During the deep snows, this animal collects in great
herds on the high exposed slopes from which the
wind has driven the snow. A herd being discovered
in such position, the Indians creep around, and drive
them into a deep snow-drift, where they are butchered
at leisure.
The Utes are said to make "surrounds" of ante-
lope, but I do not know how it is done.
But all this was in the "good old times." Except
those far north between the Missouri River and the
British line, which have been protected from the in-
satiable "pot-hunter" by an environment of savage
tribes, the buffalo is practically extinct.
Civilization has laid its hand on many of the best
hunting-grounds. The "Republican country" (all
that between the Platte and Arkansas Rivers), which,
only eight short years ago was a veritable hunter's
paradise, teeming with animal life, is now dotted
with farms and villages.
In May, 1871, I drove in a light wagon along the
Arkansas River, from Walnut Creek to Pawnee Fork,
through one herd of buffalo, not less than twenty-five
miles wide, and extending north and south as far as
the eye could reach. On the very ground on which
Larned City now stands, I one day in pure wanton-
ness gave chase in my light wagon to a herd of
buffalo, and bagged two.
All the large game is rapidly going with the buf
falo. Civilization crowds them into restricted areas,
where they are set upon by the "pot-hunter," and
the carcasses whirled off to Eastern markets.
Until within a few years the Plains Indian hunted
BAGGING ANTELOPE.
579
the smaller animals, deer and antelope, as the white
sportsman hunts them, more for pleasure than from
actual need of the proceeds. The hunting was done
on horseback, and only when he felt like it. Now
the Indian is forced into competition with profes-
sional white hunters, armed with the most improved
weapons. To secure game now he must work.
What he lacks in skill as a shot, he tries to make up
by care and patience in the hunt itself. Creeping
noiselessly as a snake through thickets and jungle, or
with his head covered by a cap of weeds or grass,
crawling on his belly across the bare prairie, he will
spend the whole day in labor that no white man
would stand. He is very susceptible to cold, and in
winter hunts very little, only when forced to it by
actual hunger.
Late in the fall, antelope collect in herds, hundreds,
even thousands, running together like sheep. Of late
years, that is, since he obtained the breech-loading
rifle, such a herd is a true godsend to the Indian.
Riding slowly and carefully as near as possible to
the herd without alarming it, he suddenly dashes in,
and riding almost among the terrified animals, pumps
his bullets into them until his ammunition is expended,
or his horse tired out. The antelope crowd together
in their fright and present a mark not easy to miss.
Eight or ten antelope is not an unusual number for a
good hunter to bag from a large herd, in one such
chase.
I have never yet seen a trap, pitfall, springe, or
other device for taking game which might be sus-
pected of being native to the Indian. I may even go
further and assert, that (except the common steel
trap) I have never seen or personally known of any
36
580
NOT FISH-EATERS.
trap being used by any Indian of any tribe with which
I have come in contact. I once thought this peculiar
to the Piains tribes, and due to the fact that having
an abundance of large game, easily killed with bow
or lance, their inventive faculty was never stimulated
by necessity.
Wider experience has convinced me that this lack
of inventive faculty is not confined to the Plains In-
dians. Many of the aboriginal inhabitants of the fur-
bearing regions in the north are now good trappers,
but the art is not natural to them, having been ac-
quired from long intercourse with the old French
trappers. Some few of the occupants of the Plains,
as the Delawares, are good trappers, but they are
merely imitators, using civilized traps exclusively.
Most of the tribes of the Pacific coast and on the
waters of the Columbia and other great western
streams, and some of the northern tribes east of the
Mississippi, have traps and baskets for catching fish.
But the southern Plains tribes have no such appli-
ances. A few fish are killed by lance or arrows, but
until within a very few years, these Indians had no
knowledge of angling with line and hook. They are
not fish-eaters, preferring even offal.
When the Cantonment (Indian Territory) was first
established, an Indian would gladly exchange a
beautiful bass of three or four pounds, for a pound of
bacon or sugar. They have learned better now, and
though they will not eat the fish themselves, they ask
a higher price for it.
The Cheyennes and Arrapahoes have a curious tra-
dition, or rather a religious superstition, regarding the
buffalo. They believe that these animals are created
within the bowels of the earth; that every year, when
1
ORIGIN OF THE BUFFALO.
581
the young grass appears, herds of thousands pour
out of two holes in the ground, and, under the
direction of the Good God, depart on their long
journeys to the countries of those tribes whom he
desires especially to favor, or who have the most po-
tent medicine men. They believe that these holes
are on the "Staked Plains," south of the Cana-
dian, and east of the Pecos; and there are now
living, men of both these tribes, who will take oath
after their most solemn forms, that they have been to
the spot, and seen the buffalo coming out in countless
throngs.
I have once or twice mentioned "Stone Calf," a
chief of the Southern Cheyennes, intelligent and
influential. He is not a good Indian from the
"Ring" standpoint, as he submits to starvation and
imposition with a very bad grace. Last spring
(1880), when begging for food, and urging me to
permit him to go to the "Staked Plains" for buffalo,
he assured me most solemnly that he knew where
these holes are, and would be able to get all the
buffalo he wanted.
I attempted to rally him on the absurdity of his
belief, but found myself in a very few moments in
such position as if I had attempted to banter a High
Churchman on his belief in the Trinity, or a Roman
Catholic on the authenticity of a miracle.
He was in real, solid earnest, and as I never inter
fere in the religious beliefs of people, I backed down
as gracefully as possible.
Wherever the buffalo are yet to be found, the old
rules for hunting yet obtain. The Indians on reserva-
tions are not permitted to go off for these hunts, with-
out the presence of an officer and small force of
582
LIEUTENANT OGLE'S REPORT.
troops. In September, 1880, a party of Sioux from
the Standing Rock Agency, went on a buffalo hunt,
accompanied by Lieut. Ogle of the 17th Infantry, and a
small force. I append a synopsis of his report, show-
ing the power and absolute control of the dog-soldiers
and the general ceremony attending this (to the
Indian) most important of duties and exciting of
pleasures.
"The Indians conducted their march as though
invading a hostile country. A large number of young
men were appointed soldiers to conduct the march
and hunt, and for the policing and protection of the
camp. These men had their faces blackened. Seventy-
five to one hundred marched on either flank, from one-
half to a mile from the main body and parallel to it.
They were mounted on the best ponies and looked
like a body of cavalry. About a dozen unmounted
men walked with each party, and were known as 'the
walking chiefs.' Another party of walking chiefs
preceded the main column and conducted the march.
By walking they were enabled to determine when
the women and children were tired, and the marches
were short and the halts frequent.
"About dusk the runners sent out the night before
came in and were received with great ceremony, the
Indians collecting in a circle around a fire, singing,
howling, and beating on tin cans. About one hundred
of the best mounted young men dashed out at full speed
to meet them, circling around them, the scene repre-
senting the grand entrée of a circus. The chief em-
braced the runners and assisted them to dismount.
Then a smoke was taken all around, and after three
times invoking them to tell the truth as to what they
had seen, the runners spoke for the first time. The
DISAGREEABLE DOG-SOLDIERS.
583
report of buffalo seen created a great excitement.
The Indians were forbidden to shoot, and some un-
lucky ones who were tempted by deer and antelope
had their guns taken from them, and were soundly
beaten with heavy clubs, their ribs being broken
in some cases. On the 26th of September, camp was
formed and the hunt commenced. A herd of seventy
buffalo was surrounded and every one killed, the
Indians claiming them all, though Lieut. Ogle's party
joined in the hunt.
"The Indians were anything but pleasant compan-
ions, and very disagreeable masters; and they issued
orders that were odious to the white men, but which
they thought it expedient to obey; so it was deter-
mined to leave them and return home by Grand River.
To this the Indians objected, and declared that if the
white men went that way they should go naked and
on foot. They preferred that Lieut. Ogle and party
should return the way they came, but wished them to
remain, which they did. When they struck a herd
the next day the Indians claimed it for themselves,
but suggested that an old bull or two off on the right
would furnish excellent sport for the whites. Follow-
ing these bulls, they were fortunate in finding a large
herd. Fourteen were shot, but when a party were
sent for the robes the next day, it was found that the
Indians had been ahead of them. The next day, Sept.
29, Lieut. Ogle returned to his
direct route. At this time the Indians had killed
two hundred antelopes, one hundred and fifty to two
hundred buffalo, and a number of deer, otter, and
beaver. During their first day's run many accidents
occurred, eleven Indians being thrown, and one having
his arm broken. Another was reported shot."
post by the most
DOMESTIC
CHAPTER XLVI.
ANIMALS SPEED AND
INDIAN PONIES
ENDURANCE OF
ANECDOTES AND INCIDENTS.
66
Indian Stockbreeders - Chief Ouray's Ambition Animal-Stealing"
Tribes — The Cherokee Ponies — An Inseparable Companion - Ponies
a Necessity, Wives a Luxury— Where
Where Blood" Doesn't Count
The Express Rider and his Wonderful Pony - The Daring Mail
Carrier Riding by Night and Hiding by Day - A Marvellous
Roadster The Indian's Treatment of his Horse An Animated
Skeleton - Browzing on Cottonwood - The Diet of Bark -- Thrilling
Chapter in Indian History - Escape from the Agency - Marching
like Victors - Encounters with Troops - An Ambuscade Turning
the Tables on the Redmen - Col. Lewis Shot Flight of the Indians
Horrors of the Kansas Raid - Munck's Cavalry Pursuit - Speed
and Endurance Race and Trick Animals - The War Pony.

হত.
HE possession of domestic animals may
be regarded as an exponent of civili-
zation, the number and variety pos-
sessed by a people being usually in
direct proportion to its advancement.
Domestic animals indicate stability,
and he who possesses them in vari-
ety must have a home. Indians are no
exception to this rule, those tribes most
advanced being best off in this respect, and vice
versa.
The semi-civilized tribes of the Indian Territory
have horses, cattle, sheep, hogs, and every animal
ordinarily domesticated by whites, and barnyard
fowls in great variety and abundance. The Zuni
584
BREEDERS AND STEALERS.
585
and other Pueblo Indians own and breed horses,
cattle, sheep, goats, dogs, cats and chickens.
The wilder Indians who possess domestic animals,
may fairly be divided into "animal-breeding" and
"animal-stealing" tribes. In the first-class, the Nav-
ahoes stand pre-eminent, owning and breeding im-
mense herds of horses, asses, sheep and goats. They
have dogs, but no cattle, cats, or fowls. The moun-
tain Utes aspire to emulate the Navahoes, but as yet
only a few individuals have met with success. Ouray
greatly encouraged this business, and himself pos-
sessed large herds of horses, asses, cattle and sheep.
The Plains tribes possess and breed only horses and
dogs, the mules in their possession being invariably
stolen, or purchased from other tribes. Many of
the tribes west of the Rocky Mountains, particularly
those in Eastern Oregon and Washington Territory,
breed great numbers of horses.
Though the Apaches habitually own and occasion-
ally breed horses, they belong properly to the "ani-
mal-stealing" class. They live in a country so totally
devoid of all the ordinary necessaries of life, that dur-
ing winter almost every horse, colt and mule is killed
for food. In spring the stock is replenished at the
expense of their neighbors.
The large mass of the tribes between the Rocky
and coast ranges of mountains, neither own nor
breed horses. They are excellent at stealing these
animals, but either from ignorance of his proper use
or from constant craving for animal food they no
sooner get possession of a horse than he is killed
and eaten.
The name "Digger" is applied loosely to a number
of tribes of miserable Indians who roam about the
586
CHEROKEE PONIES.
deserts of Utah, Nevada, and California, or live in
brush huts on reservations. These appear to be
nearly as low down in this scale of humanity as it
is possible to be. Their food is principally grass-
hoppers, green or dried. They have no domestic
animals, not even a dog.
To the nomads of the Plains, the horse is now so
invaluable that it is difficult to realize how they man-
aged to live before they got possession of him. The
horses introduced by the Spaniards must have been
inferior in size, or the race has greatly degenerated.
Compared to the ordinary American horses the In-
dian ponies are very small. Before the Cherokees
were removed from North Carolina, they had a race
of ponies very diminutive, but so strong and so ex-
tremely docile, hat extravagant sums were paid for
them by whites, for the use of invalids and children.
The mustang, or wild horse, from which the Indian
pony comes, is an exceedingly vicious brute, and his
descendants do not much improve in temper. It
would be curious to inquire into the origin of the
much smaller and more docile pony of the Cherokees.
To the Plains Indian the pony is an inseparable
companion and an indispensable servitor. If an In-
dian had no pony, and could get none cheaper, he
would readily give his favorite wife for one. Indeed,
cheap as ponies are on the Plains, the ordinary price
for a maiden is only from one to four; and though a
rich man may be assessed five or six ponies for taking
a poor man's wife, this comes from a spirit of fairness
and equity, and is without necessary relation to the
market value of either women or ponies. The pony
is a necessity, the wife a luxury.
Averaging scarcely fourteen hands in height, he is
A WONDERFUL PONY.
587
rather slight in build, though always having power-
ful forequarters, good legs, short strong back, and
full barrel. He has not the slightest appearance of
"blood," though his sharp nervous ears and bright
vicious eyes indicate unusual intelligence and tem-
per, but the amount of work he can do, and the dis-
tance he can make in a specified (long) time, put
him fairly on a level with the Arabian or any other
of animal creation.
I once tried to buy a pony that took my fancy, and
offered the owner (an American) what I considered
a good price, forty dollars. He looked at me a mo-
ment in surprise, and said his lowest price was six
hundred dollars. I thought the man a braggadocio
and said nothing more. I subsequently learned that
the man was a professional express-rider, and for the
six months previous had been employed by the gov-
ernment and individuals of Chihuahua to carry mail
once a week between Chihuahua and El Paso, nearly
three hundred miles, the road being closed to ordi-
nary travel by the Apaches. Riding that one pony,
he had made the distance in three consecutive nights,
hiding by day, and next week made the distance back
in the same time, receiving one hundred dollars for
each trip. Six months of this work had not dimin-
ished the fire or flesh of that wonderful pony.
Though of indispensable value to the Indian, the
pony receives not a particle of care or attention. He
is never stabled, washed, rubbed, curried, blanketed,
shod, fed nor doctored. When not under the saddle
his life is spent in the herd. When, in the home
camp, he brings his master from a hard day's work,
the attentive wife slips off saddle and bridle, and lets
him go to the herd, or feed at pleasure. When in a
588
WINTER AND SUMMER.
temporary camp, he is picketed and must make the
best meal he can by cropping the grass within the.
limits of his tether.
On a march, the condition of his pony's back does
not seem to trouble the Indian at all. The ill-fitting
Indian saddle almost always tears the horse's back,
and the rider accepts it as a dispensation of Providence,
the act of the Bad God, for which he is not in any
way responsible. In summer he may take the trouble
to tie a cloth over the sores to keep the flies out, or
when a foot becomes very tender from bad ground
or long travel, he may tie it up in a piece of buffalo
robe; but this is the extent of consideration the pony
ever receives from his master.
In the winter he is a most miserable object, an
animated skeleton. Exposed to the terrible cold and
piercing winds of the Plains, his scanty and innu-
tritious food buried beneath the snow, he would
undoubtedly starve, but that the squaws cut down
acres upon acres of young cottonwood for him to
browse upon. At this season, with coat long, shabby
and rough, matted with dirt and burrs, hips extended
in the air, belly puffed out with sticks and bark
swallowed in the vain attempt to appease the hunger
that consumes him, forlorn, downcast and miserable,
he looks an uncouth monster rather than a horse.
But when spring has mellowed the earth and drawn
from her pregnant bosom the tender grass, he sheds
the rough coat, scours the protuberant belly, and with
rounded, supple form, head erect, ears and eyes full
of bright intelligence, he is again ready to bear his
master in fight and foray, to be trusted even to death.
The highest and best quality of the pony is his
endurance. No animal could serve the careless and
THE CHEYENNE PICNIC.
589
prutal Indian as he does. Even though starting on a
journey of hundreds of miles, the Indian never spares
his pony, but all along the line of march is dashing at
full speed, now here, now there, at one time chasing a
herd of antelope, at another scurrying away to the
top of a ridge miles away, in mere curiosity to see
what is beyond.
When the Northern Cheyennes broke away from
the Agency, and made their desperate effort to get
back to their loved northern homes, each warrior
started with from two to ten ponies for his own use,
and an ample number for the women, children and
packs.
Courageous and confident, easily beating off the
attacks of the few cavalry companies that were avail-
able for its pursuit, this gallant band of but one
hundred and twenty-five fighting men, encumbered
by more than four times their number of women and
children, moved through the Indian Territory and
Southern Kansas as nonchalantly as though a vic-
torious and overwhelming army. Moving by easy
stages, their march was only a picnic from one
luxuriant grass-plat to another; the pleasure of the
jaunt just agreeably varied by slight encounters with
troops, and mimic buffalo-hunts among the herds of
fat cattle.
On Poison Creek in Southern Kansas they encoun-
tered herds of real buffalo, a temptation so strong as
to prove irresistible, and here the march was sus-
pended to enable them to kill and "jerk" sufficient
meat to carry them to the Missouri River.
These pleasurable commissariat duties were rather
suddenly brought to an end by the near approach of a
larger force of troops than they had hitherto encoun-
590
THE DEATH-TRAP.
tered. Constant victory had given them such con-
fidence in their own powers and "medicine,” that,
though knowing that the troops outnumbered them
more than two to one, they determined to set a trap,
and give their pursuers such a lesson as would
effectually send them to the rear and insure an
unmolested journey to their destination.
This portion of the Plains is a formation of carbon-
iferous sand-stone covered by a thin layer of alluvial.
The running streams meander through valleys cut
entirely through the stone. The lateral slopes or de-
pressions gradually deepen until the stone foundation
is reached, and following this with more or less wear
for some little distance, plunge precipitately into
cañons whose bottoms are alluvial deposits, but whose
sides are perpendicular walls of rock, from the tops
of which the plain rises smoothly, gradually, and with-
out the slightest cover for an approaching enemy.
These are, by plainsmen, called "box cañons," and
even though but ten to twenty feet in depth, they
afford positions and opportunities for defence almost
equal to those of the best artificial defensive works.
A "box cañon" of unusually excellent defensive
facilities was selected by the astute Cheyennes. It
was exceptionally rich in luxurious grasses suitable
for the stock; it contained several springs of water;
its windings formed natural bastions; and toward its
upper end it was so deep and narrow as to afford
perfect protection to the women and children. The
edges and weak places were strengthened by low
walls of loose stones, behind which, entirely covered
and hidden, the little band crouched for its deadly
spring.
The Indians evidently anticipated that in the
DEATH OF COLONEL LEWIS.
591
eagerness of pursuit the troops would rush blindly
into this pitfall. But Col. Lewis knew his enemy.
Vigorous as was his pursuit his advance was always
covered by scouts.
The principal valley from which the Indians had
entered the "box cañon," had for a day or two been
the grazing-ground for their stock, and was every-
where marked with numerous tracks. The scouts
would probably have passed without notice the en-
trance to the "box cañon," and thus led Lewis, in
spite of his caution, into an ambuscade from which
he must have suffered severely, but for the constitu-
tional impatience and excitability of the Indians.
Though they knew that the troops for whom the trap
was laid were but a short distance off, they were
utterly unable to refrain from firing at the few
advanced scouts. These shots, by disclosing their
presence and position, deprived the trap of its only
really dangerous feature.
The scouts promptly returned to the command and
Informed Col. Lewis of the situation.
Two companies of cavalry were dismounted, and
advanced deployed as skirmishers, occupying one
whole side of the "box cañon." A company of
infantry occupied the other side. The lines closed
in and the battle soon raged entirely to the dis-
advantage of the Indians. After scarcely an hour of
this sharp work, the savages, finding themselves
completely environed, were so convinced of their own
defeat as to have made a flag of truce to open com-
munications, when Col. Lewis, incautiously exposing
himself, was struck down by a rifle-bullet and died in
a few moments.
This so demoralized the troops that they fell back,
592
FLIGHT OF THE INDIANS.
and night coming on, they retired from the field, and
went into camp. The Indians were not slow to take
advantage of this opportunity, and under the friendly
cover of darkness, they escaped from the cañon and
continued their flight towards the north. Before the
battle had fairly joined, Lewis had sent a few of the
very best marksmen among the scouts, to lie, perdu,
among the rocks about the mouth of the cañon, with
orders to kill as many as possible of the Indian ponies.
This order had been so admirably executed, that, in
spite of the utmost care on the part of the Indians,
not less than seventy of their ponies had been de-
stroyed. What remained were sufficient for a few
days' march, but not for such a race as they now
realized they had to run; so, deviating from their
most direct route, the Indians turned to the eastward
and made a raid into the settlements to procure a
remount.
The horrors of that raid are a part of the history of
Kansas, but in spite of the great number of horses
taken, the Indians were so closely pressed by Major
Mauck and his cavalry, that, to this day, they cannot
be made to believe that Mauck made his wonderful
marches with one and the same set of animals.
Treated properly, the pony will wear out two
American horses; but in the hands of the Indian he is
so abused and neglected that an energetic cavalry-
officer will wear him out.
After endurance, the best quality of the pony is
sureness of foot. He will climb a steep rocky hill
with the activity and assurance of the mule; he will
plunge down an almost precipitous declivity with
the ease and indifference of the buffalo. In swamps
and quicksands he is only excelled by the elk, and he
BUYING PONIES.
593
will go at speed through sand-hills, or ground under-
mined by gophers, where an American horse would
labor to get along faster than a walk, and fall in the
first fifty yards of a gallop.
The amount of work got out of him by an Indian
is simply astonishing. No mercy is shown; indeed,
he never seems to realize that his pony is tired. Tell
an Indian to find out something, and he will probably
go and return at speed, though the distance be twenty
miles. If the pony flags, he gets more whipping; if
he gives out, another is saddled to go through the
same experience.
The variation of quality and power of the Indian
pony is very little as compared with that of our
horses, so little indeed that a "pony" is the standard
of values. One may be faster or stronger than
another, but these advantages are likely to be coun-
terbalanced by some special viciousness, or other
defect. Age seems not to be considered, the animal
being a "pony
pony" so long as he has sufficient vital
energy to get fat in the spring. I have never seen
an Indian examine a horse's mouth, and am satisfied
that, knowing nothing of judging age by the marks
on the teeth, they yie'd it as a point of no conse-
quence.
The loss of an eye or injury to a foot or leg is so
serious a defect as to render him no longer a stand-
ard pony. When an Indian buys a number of ponies
from another, they are not selected, but "cut off"
from the herd, as one buys a lot of sheep. Those cut
off are then examined, singly, and if full-grown and
not defective, are accepted.
In all large herds there are a few special favorites,
riding, war, or trick ponies, which are excepted in all
594
WORK OF PONIES.
general bargains. Even when a man has stolen an-
other's wife, these are not taken to pay for her, unless
there are not enough of others.
No care whatever is taken in breeding, and it is
difficult to make the Indian comprehend that the
stock might be improved.
The wealth of an Indian is expressed by the num-
ber of ponies he owns. We say a man is worth so
many dollars; the Indians say he is worth so many
ponies.
In fixing the status of the individual, wealth has
even more weight among Indians than among whites.
To be influential and powerful, a man must have
ample means and be liberal with it. When the tribes
were rich, almost every middle-aged man owned his
herd, and even now some of the more powerful chiefs
own several hundred ponies. Each pony of a large
herd has its work assigned it. The poorest or least
valuable are used as pack-animals, scarcely ever
being mounted except by the boys, in mischief.
Steady, reliable old fellows are selected to drag the
lodge-poles, on which are fastened the wicker-work
cages in which are transported the old and infirm,
and the children of from one to four years of age.
Each squaw has her own pony, and also each child,
old enough to ride one. Then come the hacks, used
for gadding about, for visiting neighboring villages,
and for hunting deer. Next in importance in the old
time, were the trained "buffalo ponies," for which
there is now no use. Next in value are the race
horses, those trained to tricks being second only to
the Indian's only real love, his war pony. This last is
the only animal on which he ever bestows the slightest
care. No one but the owner is ever permitted to
THE WAR PONY.
595
ride him, and the owner himself would think it dese-
cration to mount him for an ordinary ride. On war
parties he is carefully "saved-up," the owner riding
another animal and leading him by a lariat. He gets
the best grass; in his tail is tied the bag of good
medicine; for him are reserved all the dangers and
excitement of battle; to his speed and intelligence the
Indian entrusts his honor and his life.
37
}
CHAPTER XLVII.
ON THE FRONTIER TRAPPERS AND SQUAW MEN
TRADING POSTS AND INDIAN AGENTS.
On the Frontier-The Border Line-The Early Trappers - Playing
the Wild Rover - Romantic Adventures — Adoption by the Tribe
The Old Trading Posts-A Winter's Work for Whiskey — The
Indian Trader - Perambulating Groggeries - Indian Wives and
Half-breed Children - Growing Rich Influence with Washington
Magnates - The Squaw Men - Adventurers and Outcasts - The Asy-
lum of Thieves and Murderers - Pliant Tools of Corrupt Agents
Treachery and Debauchery — Leading a Band of Sioux Horse-
thieves — Inciting the Indians to Deeds of Atrocity -- A Thousand
of such "Missionaries " — Indian Marriages — Social Degradation —
The Black Hills War-A Costly Sacrifice
A Costly Sacrifice - Dishonest Interpreters
How the Indians are Misled - Escape from a Disastrous Contest.

HAT is "The Frontier"? It is safe
to say that the two words do not
impress the same idea on any two
people. Common as is their use,
they convey to all, from President
to lowest rustic, only a hazy impres-
و,
sion of something "out west; an
undefined boundary between civiliza-
tion and barbarism.
This being true, it is not at all remarkable that the
term "frontiersman" should have an equally loose
and indefinite meaning; the name being applied to
men of the most varied habits and characteristics, liv-
ing lives as dissimilar the one to the other, as if they
occupied different quarters of the globe.
596
TRAPPERS.
597
Some "frontiersmen " live wholly within savage ter-
ritory, among savages, from whom they differ only by
a shade; others live entirely within civilized territory,
and have no thought in common with savage life; but
the large mass live now on one side, now on the other,
as may be consistent with their individual well-being
and safety for the time.
The ordinary citizen, in the rut of the daily routine
of his civilized life, can scarcely be made to realize,
that thousands of his fellow-citizens, sometimes intel-
ligent, and occasionally accomplished men, gladly ex-
change all the comforts and advantages of civiliza-
tion, for the privation, hardship, danger and freedom
of barbaric life.
With the single exception of the far-away Moqui
Pueblos, I doubt if there be a tribe of Indians in the
Territory of the United States, whose characters,
habits, and ideas have not derived some tinge or
shading from contact with whites.
Trappers were the pioneer frontiersmen.
The earlier trappers would seem to have been actu-
ated by the disposition to rove, quite as much as by
anxiety to make money, for not a few of them passed
carelessly by streams richly stocked with beaver and
otter, and in fair proximity to the trading-posts; to
go far beyond, to streams less rich, or from whence,
if animals were plenty, the pelts could not be got to
market.
The adventures of these men have furnished mate-
rial for many thrilling stories, but though capable of
being glossed with romance (as even the Indian him-
self, in the hands of a Cooper), these adventures are
only those every day incident to savage life. The
tribes were not as a rule specially hostile to whites,
598
A DEBT.
and access to the chief was not difficult. A few pres-
ents, and the purchase of one or more squaws consti-
tuted the adventurer a member of the tribe, identified
with its interests, taking part in its successes, and
suffering from its disasters.
But the labors of the individual trapper did not
always satisfy his ambition or his greed. Indian cus-
tom saddled upon him the support of a greater or
less number of the relations of his wives. He util-
ized this material and put them to work, setting and
watching traps, killing game, etc., etc. These In-
dians, heretofore entirely ignorant of traps and trap-
ping, became in time excellent trappers. The Hud-
son Bay Company recognized this, and, realizing
the advantage of trading directly with the compara-
tively ignorant Indians, took away from the trappers
this source of profit, by taking all the trapping In-
dians into their direct employ. This was and is done
by furnishing, in the fall, to each of these Indians an
outfit, provisions, traps, etc., without requiring imme-
diate payment. This is called a "debt." In the
spring the Indian comes in, brings his pelts, and pays
off his debt. The posts are so isolated that the In-
dian is almost always forced to go to the same one to
outfit, so that the risk is little.
Great as were the profits, it was soon discovered
that these could be greatly enhanced. Heretofore
entirely ignorant of any intoxicating fluid, the Indian
developed a passion for fire-water so intense as to be
little short of an insanity. After paying his "debt,"
he would give all the remaining pelts for the means
for one good "drunk" (half a pint of whiskey), and
when he got sober would contract another "debt" for
next year's outfit.
THE INDIAN TRADER.
599
The enormous profits of this traffic soon attracted
another class of frontiersmen. These were the In-
dian traders. Nowhere could be found a more utterly
debased and worthless set of men. Too lazy to work,
even to trap (the laziest of all work), they made their
living by pandering to the worst passions of the In-
dian. With their only stock in trade, a keg or two
of the cheapest and poorest whiskey loaded on a light
cart, or slung across a pack-horse, a couple of these
men would in the early spring penetrate to the
streams occupied by the trappers, and return in a few
weeks with skins worth five hundred, or a thousand
times their cost to them. There was no danger, for
though the trappers might have killed them and
taken the whiskey, such action would have deterred
others from coming next spring.*
This trade was a sore annoyance to the Company,
as the trapper oftentimes drank up all his crop of
pelts, and could not pay his debt. Strenuous efforts
were made to break it up, but with so little result that
the trader is now, as he has been for two hundred years,
a prominent man; an institution of the frontier.
He fits out the great caravans, the perambulating
groggeries, which keep the Indian in the depths of
poverty and debasement; he furnishes most of the
fine breech-loading fire-arms and metallic cartridges,
which enable the Indians so stoutly to resist the
aggressions of the whites; he supplies the Indians.
with all those contraband articles of which the Gov-
ernment, with its usual wisdom, prohibits the sale by
* The cost of even a single " drunk" was so great, that these occasional
sprees did not result in death, or even permanent physical injury to the
Indian, and the generally received impression that the number of In-
dians has been greatly decreased by the use of fire-water is erroneous.
600
PATRIARCHS.
any person in whose hands the trade might be regu-
lated and controlled. He is not unfrequently the
henchman and partner of the Indian Agent, and
under cover of his name and ill-fame, this excellent
man perpetrates the most atrocious frauds upon the
unfortunate beings consigned by a benignant Gov-
ernment to his care.
These men frequently become very wealthy, build-
ing great outfitting stores and dépôts in favorable
locations, and gain great influence, not only with the
Indians, but sufficient among the magnates at Wash-
ington to secure the passage of laws for the benefit
of themselves and their half-breed children. Their
red wives, being only property, are no impediment
to their possession of white wives and families in the
States. As they grow old, some retire from business,
return to their families in the States, and not unfre-
quently take a prominent position in society and
public affairs, and are looked up to as authority on
all Indian questions. Others pass the winter of their
days in their western homes, surrounded in patri-
archal manner by a crowd of admiring wives, children
and dependents.
Next in order of frontiersmen comes the "
man."
squaw
The custom of adoption by marriage has resulted
to the Indian in unmixed evil. Living with every
Indian tribe are numbers of men, Americans, French-
men, Germans, Mexicans, Negroes, who, having pur-
chased wives, are regarded as belonging to the tribe.
Some of these men are the veriest outcasts, refugees
who dare not set foot in any State. Others are ad-
venturers without capital, who hope to make a petty
living by speculating on the improvidence of the
SQUAW MEN.
601
Indian. Others again are cattle men, who by taking
Indian wives, gain the right to hold their cattle
on Indian reservations. Others by like right open
farms, and stock ranches.
In nearly every treaty it has made with Indians,
the Government has bound itself to prevent the
encroachments of white men. In not one single
instance has any effort been made to carry out this
provision of the treaties. White men go through
and over the Indian Territory, or remain in it, just
as it pleases them. For a certain class of whites, an
Indian reservation is a veritable house of refuge, for
here are no laws, no writs, no sheriffs, no jails, no
penitentiaries, no hangman. Here is the secure home
of the forger, the horse-thief, the murderer; here
“He shall take who has the power,
And he shall keep who can.
""
Before the grand influx of whites into Indian coun-
try, and while the tribes were yet intact, uncontrolled,
preserving all their ancient customs, and enacting all
their martial ceremonies, the epithet "squaw man"
was applied to those few individuals who flinched or
failed in the tortures of the initiatory ordeal of war-
rior. It was expressive of the utmost contempt.
Within the last few years, and at the present time,
the name is given to those persons other than In-
dians, who by purchase of wives have been adopted
or tolerated in the tribe. It is yet used as an expres-
sion of contempt, applicable to the most shiftless of
this class; for though trappers and traders habitually
take squaws to wife, this name is not usually applied
to them. They have a visible, or at least ostensible
means of support, and being regarded as somewhat
permanent members of the tribe, are not on the same
602
A SPECIMEN WHITE.
plane with the others, even in the estimation of the
Indian.
وو
"Squaw men represent every class of men, from
the educated gentleman, wearied of the hollow con-
ventionalities of civilized life, to the bloodthirsty ruf-
fian, more debased and degraded than the Indian
himself.
99
The meanest and most contemptible of these
squaw men are to be found around the agencies,
hangers-on and dependents; sending their squaws
to draw rations for the family, and making a liveli-
hood by buying and selling their rations, from and
to the Indians; by clandestinely dealing in arms and
liquors, and in any other underhand way that requires
no manual labor, their abhorrence. These are the
pliant tools of corrupt agents, making affidavits to
cover any deficiency, and swearing to any story made
up for them beforehand.
At his own best games, in lying, stealing, drinking,
treachery, and debauchery, the "squaw man" of this
class is so far superior to the Indian as to gain his
unqualified admiration, and he becomes a power
among them by the display of qualities similar, but
superior, to those held in highest estimation by them.
These men come most closely and directly in con-
tact with the Indian, and it is from them that he gets.
his ideas of the character, capacity, morality, and re-
ligion of white men. Being able to go among the
white settlements at will, they are often accused of
acting as spies for the Indians, informing them where
a valuable lot of horses or mules may be had for the
taking. A specially fine lot of horses (said to belong
to a prominent Pennsylvania politician) were being
wintered on the west of the Laramie plains. A
WRONGS OF THE SYSTEM.
603
small party of Sioux Indians, starting from their
camp on Powder River, went direct to the herd,
and carried off every one. It was afterward stated
and believed, that a white "squaw man," living with
the Sioux, found out the location of this herd while
on a visit to the settlements. On his return to the
tribe, he made up a party, and guided it to the spot.
These "squaw men" are also accused of wreaking
personal vengeance by inciting Indians to some act
of atrocity on their enemy. There is scarcely a crime
of which they are not accused, and it is doubtful if
there be a crime of which some of them are not
capable.
There are in the United States about one hundred
Indian reservations and agencies, at each of which
there is an average of not less than ten of this class
of "squaw men." The effect on the Indian of a
thousand such "missionaries" may be imagined.
Marriage among Indians was already a sufficient-
ly slight bond. These men purchase and abandon
women at pleasure, debasing and prostituting them,
and lowering the tone of the tribes. But a few years
ago the Cheyenne women were models of chastity.
Even yet they are, in this respect, the highest type of
Indian women; but the cupidity of their fathers and
husbands, and the money and license of the "squaw
men," will eventually place them socially and morally
on a level with the lowest. Nor does the injury end
here. Abandoning their women at pleasure, these
men leave them and their children a tax on the tribe
or band, and in the present habitual condition of
semi-starvation, to which all are reduced, the unfor-
tunate mother, to keep body and soul together, is
ofttimes forced to sell not only herself, but her children.
604
The
୧୧
RASCALLY INTERPRETERS.
99
squaw men are a serious injury to the
United States Government.
The Mexicans have a proverb that "a woman is the
best dictionary." The "squaw men" prove its correct-
ness by soon acquiring enough of the language of the
tribe in which they are domiciled to set up as inter-
preters, and most of the intercourse between the Gov-
ernment and the Indians is filtered through these
men.
Confident of a certain power with and over Indians,
almost every "squaw man" becomes something of a
politician. He invariably has some "axe to grind "
of his own, and his interpretations are always colored,
or at least shaded, to suit his own ends.
There was scarcely an Indian of the Sioux nation
who was not willing in 1875 to sell the Black Hills to
the United States at a fair price. But the rascally
ce
squaw men” among them, believing that the Gov-
ernment would pay any price, and constantly mindful
of their own interests, so worked and lobbied among
the chiefs and warriors, that the terms demanded were
simply ridiculous. In this case they injured the In-
dians, plunged the Government into a costly war, and
overreached themselves.
A serious complication arose in September, 1880,
which the "ring" men charge to the perversions of
the interpreters, though these latter stoutly maintain
that they interpreted correctly what was told them by
the Secretary.
A deputation of chiefs of the Cheyennes and Arra-
pahoes went to Washington to see the Secretary of
the Interior, and get, if possible, a definite idea of the
boundaries of their reservation. They came back
elate and joyous, saying that the Secretary had in-
INTRUDING WHITE MEN.
605
formed them that their reservation was bounded on
the east by the Arkansas River, on the north by the
state line of Kansas, and on the west and south by
the Cimarron River, and they were advised to move
into it immediately.
Now, almost every foot of ground within the limits
specified is what is called "Cherokee lands," and is
at this moment occupied by hundreds of thousands of
cattle, the owners of which pay to the Cherokees, by
and with the knowledge and consent of the United
States Government, a per capita tax for the privilege
of grazing.
Had the Cheyennes gone into that country, a col-
lision with the white herders of those cattle would
have been inevitable, for each would have wanted
the grass for their own stock; involving a costly
war and the probable ultimate destruction of the
tribe.
Major Randall, the military commander at Fort
Reno, and the officer most directly in control of these
Indians, seeing at once the danger of the situation,
and the incongruity of the alleged statement of the
Secretary with the actual facts, explained all to the
Indians, assuring them that the Secretary would not
possibly have given them any such boundaries. He
advised them not to go into that country. His wise
counsel prevailed, and what might have been a matter
of most serious consequence to all concerned, was
happily evaded.
There is a law of the Statute Book prohibiting
whites from intruding on Indian reservations, but,
like all other laws relating to Indian affairs, (except
those which divert the money into certain channels,)
it is a dead letter, not worth the paper it is printed
606
A RULE OF CONDUCT NECESSARY.
on.
The Government cannot or will not act when
the Indian only is aggrieved.
There being no hope of advancing the Indian in
morals and civilization by getting rid of the "squaw
men," the only remedy left is, that Congress shall
pass laws for the regulation of whites in Indian Ter-
ritories, making marriage with a squaw a civil con-
tract, voidable only by death, or by divorce for cause,
adultery a misdemeanor, and bigamy a felony; and
appoint judges or officers to see to the execution of
these laws.
As I have before said, "the first step in Indian
civilization is to give him a rule and guide to his con-
duct," and this can only be done by judicious laws
properly executed.
FRONTIERSMEN
CHAPTER XLVIII.
TEXAS COW-BOYS AND BORDER
A STRANGE AND THRILLING
DESPERADOES
STORY.
Frontiersmen-Who They Are - The Miners and Gold Hunters — Un-
savory Buffalo Hunters - Texas Cow-Boys-A Life of Privation,
Hardship and Danger — A Plains “Norther" - The Most Reckless
of all Desperadoes - Utter Disregard of Life - Spoiling for a Fight
The Terror of the Frontier Cattle Thieves-A Strange and
Thrilling Story-History of a Bloodthirsty Combat-A Remarkable
Incident of Border Life A Noted Desperado - His Gorgeous Ap-
pearance
Stealing a Herd of Cattle — Tracking the Thieves — Their
Discovery Watching for a Favorable Opportunity - Killing his
Victims One by One - A Merciless Foe - Death of the Sixth Ruffian
- He Proves to be the Leader of the Band - A Question of Time.
-

ESIDES the classes of frontiersmen
heretofore described, and which, though
claiming to be American citizens, are
Indians by adoption, Indians in man-
ners, customs, habits, interests, every-
thing except color; there are other
classes which though frequently living
in or near Indian territory, have no affili-
ation with, and are usually extremely
hostile to, the savage denizens of the land.
First came the miners.
The history of the earlier miners is a record of
brutal crimes, not only against the Indian inhabi-
tants, but against each other. The lazy and reckless
often banded together, jumping the claims of the
607
608
MINERS.
weak and timid, and shooting like a dog the man
supposed to be brave.
But order was gradually evolved even from this
chaos. The Government passed laws defining and
fixing the rights of miners, and in the absence of
proper officers to enforce these laws, the better class
of miners banded together, and fixed them upon the
minds of the disorderly by the terrible sentences of
Judge Lynch.
Considering the heterogeneous elements of which
miners' society is composed, the universal custom of
carrying deadly weapons, the recklessness of men
under the influence of the strongest of passions, un-
fettered by the restraints of law, and deprived of the
softening influence of reputable women, the mining
communities of the present day are remarkable for
the absence of crime.
up
To the discovery of the precious metals, and the
passion of those who search for them, we owe a
knowledge and development of the Great Western
wilderness which could not have been gained by a
century of ordinary effort. These men have built
great states, and peopled a vast continent. Restless,
pushing, bent only on gold and silver, they have had
no time and less inclination to consider the rights of
the original owners of the soil. Men who would
demolish the house of a white friend, were gold
discovered beneath it, are not likely to stickle at
territorial limits, or regard the lines of Indian Res-
ervations.
Next in order came the Great American Buffalo
Destroyer, fearless as a Bayard, unsavory as a skunk,
whom I have sufficiently described in Chapter XXII.
For every single buffalo that roamed the Plains in
COW-BOYS.
609
1871, there are in 1881 not less than two, and more
probably four or five, of the descendants of the long-
horned cattle of Texas. The destroyers of the buf-
falo are followed by the preservers of the cattle.
Years ago, while yet a cherished portion of Mexico,
Texas was famous for its cattle. Individuals owned
thousands, even tens of thousands, which roamed
almost at will, over the vast and fertile plains. The
care of these was left to a few men and a crowd of
Mexican boys from eight to twenty years of age; for
not much money could be paid in wages, when the
finest cow or fattest ox was worth but two or three
dollars.
After the annexation of Texas to the United States
the earlier drives of great herds of cattle were ac-
companied by such numbers of these boys, that all
the herders were commonly called "Texas Cow-boys;"
and though the cattle business has now spread over the
greater portion of the great West; though the price of
cattle has increased so enormously that the best wages
are given; and though the Mexican boys are replaced
by full-grown white men, the appellative "cow-boy
is everywhere "out west" commonly applied to all
those who herd cattle.
The daily life of the cow-boy is so replete with
privation, hardship and danger, that it is a marvel
how any sane man can voluntarily assume it, yet
thousands of men not only do assume it, but actu-
ally like it to infatuation.
I doubt if there be in the whole world a class of
men who lead lives so solitary, so exposed to constant
hardship and danger, as this.
A large herd of cattle will be guarded by a num-
ber of men, who have a common place for eating and
610
HARDSHIPS OF THE COW-BOY.
sleeping, but they are never there together.
Day
and night, in good weather and bad weather, some of
them must be with the herd. The men are divided
up into reliefs, each relief being on duty in the saddle
not less than eight hours of the twenty-four, and
each individual having a specified beat sometimes
eight or ten miles long. Each relief must go around
the whole herd, see that all are quiet and un-
molested. The outside limits are carefully watched,
and if any animals have strayed beyond them, their
trail must be followed up, and the fugitives driven
back to their proper grazing ground. Under ordi-
nary circumstances, and when the herd is simply being
held on certain good grazing ground, with abundance
of water, these duties are comparatively easy; but
when the grass is poor, and water scarce, the animals
stray continually, and great watchfulness and labor
are required for their care.
Especially is this the case in winter, when the
grass is covered with snow. Cattle in large herds
are easily stampeded, becoming panic-stricken on very
slight, and frequently without, provocation. Nothing
so starts them as a Plains "Norther," and they will
fly before a severe storm of wind and snow some-
times for incredible distances. These are the trying
times for the cow-boys. When a stampede occurs
from any cause, every man must be in the saddle,
follow the fleeing animals day and night, get control
of the herd and bring it back to its ground. The
worse the weather, the worse the stampede, and the
greater the necessity for the presence and activity of
the cow-boys.
A terrible Norther, during the winter of 1880,
stampeded many herds in Southern Kansas and the
DESPERADOES.
611
Cherokee strip, some of which made fully ninety
miles to the south before being got under control.
With and among them were numbers of cow-boys,
with only the scantiest ration of bread and meat, with
no shelter or bedding, with no protection from the
terrible cold except the clothing they happened to
have on when the stampede was announced.
For fidelity to duty, for promptness and vigor of
action, for resources in difficulty, and unshaken
courage in danger, the cow-boy has no superior
among men.
But there is something in this peculiar life which
develops not only the highest virtues, but the most
ignoble of vices. It is not solitude, for the shepherds
of the Plains lead lives quite as solitary, and they are
generally quiet, inoffensive persons. The cow-boy,
on the contrary, is usually the most reckless of all
the reckless desperadoes developed on the frontier.
Disregarding equally the rights and lives of others,
and utterly reckless of his own life; always ready
with his weapons and spoiling for a fight, he is the
terror of all who come near him, his visits to the
frontier towns of Kansas and Nebraska being re-
garded as a calamity second only to a western tor-
nado. His idea of enjoyment is to fill himself full of
bad whiskey, mount his mustang, tear through the
streets, whooping, yelling, flourishing and firing his
pistols until the streets are deserted and every house
closed, then with a grim smile of happiness he dashes
off to his comrades to excite their envy by graphic
pictures of his own exploits and the terror of the
timid townspeople.
Cattle-stealing is a mania not confined solely to our
Scotch ancestors. The frontier has many "cow-boys"
38
612
A TERRIFIED RUFFIAN.
out of employ, many impecunious gentlemen who long
yearningly for a herd of cattle. The "waifs and
strays" of large herds, or even a considerable herd,
carelessly guarded, will suddenly disappear. Some-
times the herdsmen and the cattle disappear together,
and should the owner be absent, are likely to dis-
appear for him for all time.
In 1872 the owner of a considerable herd returned
to his ranche in Southeastern Kansas after a short
absence, to find his herd and herders gone. Taking
the trail alone, he plodded west for more than one
hundred miles, when he found about half his herd in
the possession of a notorious desperado near where
Larned City now stands. On inquiry he found they
had recently been purchased of a man who had gone
still further west with the other half. Following on,
he found his herd in charge of its reputed owner on
the Arkansas River near Fort Dodge. The thief was
the most notoriously blood-thirsty ruffian on the
frontier. After a terrible combat the thief was killed,
and the owner, collecting his cattle, returned with
them eastward. Arriving at the ranche of the robber
who had his others, he went to him and said quietly,
"I have taken the scalp of your partner and got half
my cattle. I want to know if I'll have to take your
scalp to get the other half." The terrified ruffian
gave them up without a contest.
A few years ago the beef contractor at one of the
military posts in the Indian Territory had an adven-
ture which I will let him tell in his own idiom.
"Wall, boys, I was mighty nigh onto busted that
time, an' I'll tell you about it. You see I'd worked
hard an' roughed it, an' got a nice little lot of cattle.
The contract for this post was to be let, I bid on it,
A HANDSOME OUTFIT.
613
an' got it. Wall, my cattle was none of the best, the
grass was poor, an' afore long the commandin' officer
says to me, says he, 'There's complaints agin your
beef, you must do better, or I will order the com-
missary to buy good beef and charge it to yer.' Says
I, 'Commandin' officer, I know my beef is none of the
best, but give me a little time, and I'll get yer the
very best.' 'All right,' says he, 'but do it.' So next
mornin' I put some money in my belt and started for
Texas. I bought a hundred and fifty head of first
class beef, and hired a Mexican boy to help me drive
'em. He was only a little chap about twelve years
old, but he was powerful bright and handy, and, sand!
lots! I had a breech-loadin' rifle, and pistols, but the
Injuns was bad, so I bought a double-barrelled shot-
gun for the boy. Everything went on all right till
we'd got into the territory about one hundred miles
from here. One mornin' we was movin' along, when
a man rode up to me. He was a small-sized man, but
the handsomest man I ever seed, an' dressed the
handsomest. He had on high boots, big silver spurs,
an' buckskin breeches, an' a buckskin huntin'-shirt
all over fringes, an' open at the front. He had
on a white biled shirt, an' a red silk necktie with
long ends a flyin' behind. Around his waist was
a red silk sash, an' he wore a regular Mexican
sombrero, an' his bridle an' saddle was Mexican,
an' covered with silver. He was on a splendid
mustang that bucked an' shied all the time, but he
rode him like his skin. I tell you, boys, it was a
handsome outfit. "Good mornin',' says he, a liftin'
up his hat mighty polite. Good mornin',' says I,
an' with that we chatted along pleasant like. He told
me that he had a big herd of cattle about three miles
614
GOVERNMENT PROPERTY.
to the east, an' he was afraid I'd give 'em the fever,
an' he wanted me to keep more to the left, off his
range. Wall, I was agreeable, an' he kept with me
for a mile an' more, showin' me where to go and then
thankin' me polite, he said good-bye, an' rode off.
Wall now, boys, I had kept on the course he told me
for about two hours, when just beyant a little rise I
drove right into my gentleman friend an' six other
fellers. Ridin' right up to me, my friend says, says
he, after thinkin' it over, I have concluded it would
be a pity to lose such a extra fine lot of beef cattle as
you have got, so I have concluded to take 'em in.'
Wall, boys, I saw right through the thing in a minit.
I knowed it were no use to fight agin so many, so I
begged. I told him how I was situate, that if I
didn't get them cattle to the post I was ruinated. He
listened for a few minutes pretty quiet, an' I thot I
had got him, when all at once he drawed a pistol, an'
all the other fellers drawed their pistols at the same
time.
"My friend,' says he, 'we don't take no advantage
of cattle-men, but them cattle of yours is the same as
Government property. They is going to feed soldiers.
All such property is as much ours as anybody's, now
you git'—and with that he stuck his cocked pistol in
my face, an' all the other six stuck their cocked pis-
tols at me. Wall, boys, me and that Mexican boy—
we left.
"Them fellers rounded up my cattle, an' drove 'em
back ther own way. Boys, my heart was most
broke. I knowed I was ruinated if I lost them cat-
tle.
Wall, we travelled
along for a mile or more,
when I made up my mind. Domingo,' says I to the
little Mexican, are you afeared to stay and take
GETTING IN HIS WORK.
615
care of the hosses, while I settle with them chaps?'
"No,' says he, 'an' I'll help you ef you want me.'
"The country was about half prairie, an' t'other
half the thickest kind of black jack, and scrub-oak
thickets. I hid that boy an' them hosses wher a
hound couldn't ev found 'em, and when it got towards
evenin', I started on foot to hunt up my friends' cattle
camp, an' as I knowed I had to get in my work in the
dark an' at close range, I took the boy's double-bar-
rel shot-gun, each barrel loaded with sixteen buck-
shot, an' big size at that.
2
"About midnight I found the herd. The cattle was
held in a prairie with thickets all around it. I poked
around, keepin' in the thickets. They had about a
thousand head not countin' mine.
I found ther 'dug
They knowed me,
went among 'em.
In about an hour
out.' Ther was two men on herd. I poked around
till I found wher my cattle was.
an didn't make no fuss when I
Thar I laid down in the grass.
one of the herders rode right close on to me, an' I let
him have one barrel. In a minit the other herder
hollered out, what the h-1 is that,' an' gettin no
answer he galloped right over ther, and I give him
the other barrel. I got back to the thicket and went
to my camp, an' to sleep. Next mornin' when the sun
was way up, that boy he woke me, an' says, says he,
'ther havin a high time in that camp, you had better
be looking after 'em.' Wall, I got my breakfast an
went to look after 'em. They wus in a big commo-
tion, all of 'em together, huntin' everywhere for my
trail. I had wored mocassins, an' I knowed none of
'em fellows could follow my trail. I had another big
advantage of 'em. They couldn't go nowhere unless
they wus on hossback, and the brush wus so thick they
616
me.
THE CAREFUL CAPTAIN.
had to ride in the open prairie whar I could see 'em.
I poked round in the thicket wher they couldn't see
Next night I tried it agin, but they wus all on
herd and held the cattle out in the prairie so fur from
the woods that I had no show. I changed my plan, an'
went back to my camp. Next mornin' I was out early
pokin' in the thickets and watchin'. A lot of cattle
grazed up towards a pint of woods. I knowed they
would stop that soon, so I hid in that pint. Pretty
soon a feller came chargin' round on a full run after
them cattle. He was a likely chap, an' I felt a little
oneasy until I recognized him as having stuck a
pistol in my face two days before. I got him.
"Wall, boys, thar's no use in stringin' this thing
out. Them chaps wus scared from the start, and
would have got out of thar, if they hadn't had to go
through thickets. I knowed that, an' took it easy.
In three days I had gradually got away with them.
They wus so few that they couldn't herd ther cattle.
On the mornin' of the fourth day I noticed a lot of
cattle feedin' off. They wus nigh two miles from the
dug-out-I laid with 'em, but in the thicket. To-
wards afternoon a feller came dashin' in at full speed
an' rounded up within twenty feet of me. When he
fell he was so tied up in his lariat that he stopped the
hoss. I caught an' tied that hoss in a thicket, so that
the others at the dug-out wouldn't know this man
was dead.
After the second day I had never seed my fine cap-
tain. He had made the others take chances, but he
had stayed in the dug-out, an' run no risk himself.
I thought if I could get him I'd be all right. So,
afore day next mornin' I hid in a break about twenty
yards from the door of the dug-out, an just at day-.
COMPLICATIONS.
617
break I covered that door with my shot-gun, an' fired
off my pistol with the other hand. As I expected, he
jumped out of the door with his gun in his hand, but
he had no chance an' no time, I doubled him up right
in the door. In a few minits a white rag was stuck
out of the door on a stick. I called to the man to
come out, and put up his hands, an' he did. I walked
up an' said to him, 'I ought to kill you, but I won't if
you will do as I tell yer. Get your hoss, cut out my
cattle, and drive 'em over to that hill.' He said, says
he, 'I never saw you before, an' I don't know your
cattle; I am the cook of this outfit, an' I am the only
man left.' So I made him get me a hoss, an' he an
me cut out my cattle, an' drove 'em over near my
camp, an' me an' the boy took 'em, and by hard drivin'
got to the post in time. It were a tight fit, boys; an'
now, what'll yer have to drink.”
وو
To the miners and the cow-boys we owe most of
our complications with Indians. The one class in
search of the precious metals; the other in search of
good grazing grounds; the one over-running the
mountains, the other pre-empting the plains and val-
leys; all, careless of the rights, and impatient of the
claims, of Indians; all, with a ferocity begot of greed,
hating the Indian, hating a Government which, they
believe, protects and perpetually pauperizes the In-
dian at their expense; all ready and willing to bring
on any
conflict between the Government and the In-
dian, which may lessen the numbers and diminish the
Territory of the latter; they go anywhere and every-
where, constantly pushing the Indian to the wall,
constantly forcing issues suited to their own ends;
constantly showing the inadequacy of the laws and
forces of a popular government to the enforcement
ร
618
CITIZENSHİP OR EXTINCTION.
of unpopular measures, and rendering futile and
ridiculous all treaties made with Indians.
The miners opened and settled the Black Hills in
spite of Indian and Government; the cow-boys will
open the Territory in spite of Indian and Govern-
ment. It is simply a question of time, and not a long
time.
Those humane persons who have the true interests
of the Indians at heart will do well to recognize the
fact that there is no power in this Government to
maintain the status quo. The Indian must be in-
vested with the rights and duties of a citizen, or he
must go. The majority of the people of this country
may be willing to maintain him in idleness, pauperism,
and in the possession of territories sufficient to main-
tain a great nation of whites. The miners and cow-
boys are not willing,-they are on the ground. The
problem is for their solution.
CHAPTER XLIX.
BORDER RUFFIANS
A LIFE OF PRIVATION AND
DANGER — THRILLING PERSONAL EXPERIENCES.
Fugitives from Justice - Escaped Criminals - Beyond the Settlements
-Commencing Life Anew - An Exploring Expedition in Northern
Texas Thrilling Incident in My Early Military Life My Camp
near the Squatter's Cabin — Alone with a Frontier Ruffian — A Dan-
gerous Companion — He Threatens my Life-Strange Hospitality –
A Reckless Frontiersman The Monomania of Assassination — A
Wonderful Two-handed Shot - Desperate Combat of Two Border
Ruffians - Dying Happy - Slade, the Notorious Desperado — An Ar-
rant Coward - The Influence of Drink Strange Freak of a Man of
Wealth A Tender Heart Beneath a Rough Exterior - Burying
Himself in the Wilderness-A Lawless Life.

N the "good old times" there was a
class of frontiersmen, behind the trap-
per, trader, and squaw-man, but though
in many cases actual settlers, tillers of
the soil, yet carefully keeping as far as
possible in advance of the tide of actual
settlement. These were fugitives from
justice and escaped criminals. These
men would go beyond the line of settle-
ments as far as they dared, build cabins, send for
their families, and under assumed names commence
life anew. They were a peculiar people. Almost all
were extremely inquisitive and suspicious, but many
had humane, hospitable traits, while others were as
savage and dangerous as their Indian neighbors.
The latter as a rule moved forward as the frontier
619
620
THE SQUATTER.
advanced; the former, in many instances, living down
the haunting fear of the officers of the law, became
respected members of the communities which grew
up around them.
In my earlier military life on the frontier I met
numbers of these people, almost always self-con-
victed and easily distinguishable from the bona fide
settlers. Invariably they were hospitable and ready
to give aid or information to white strangers, but an
adventure I had with one, nearly thirty years ago,
gave me something of a distaste for their intimate
companionship.
I was on a scouting and exploring expedition in
Northern Texas. After many days and weeks of
tedious travel without sign of settlement, I came
upon a little one-room one-story log house, the owner
of which had something of a farm in cultivation, and
a small surplus of corn in store. My horses were
nearly "played out," and I gladly availed myself of
this opportunity to rest and recuperate men and
animals.
୧୧
The squatter" was a tall, handsome man, in the
prime of life, very hospitable, and urgent that I
should take "bed and board" with him. Declining
this, I nevertheless camped near his house for con-
venience, determined to remain until I had exhausted
his stores of forage or got my horses in good march-
ing order.
During several days I was with him whenever my
duties permitted. He was an admirable hunter, I a
mere novice, delighted with the opportunity to gain
instruction and information. We hunted together
every day most successfully. One day I went out
alone, and failing in my designs against deer and
I'M GLAD I DIDN'T SHOOT YER.
621
turkeys, strayed into the heavily timbered river "bot-
tom," and for an hour or two greatly enjoyed myself
shooting squirrels. Securing a good bag, I started
for my camp, but had gone but a few hundred yards
when I came plump upon my frontier friend.
He was seated on a log, concealed within a little
thicket, nervously fumbling with the lock of his rifle;
and when I came to look closely at him, he had the
most diabolic expression of countenance I ever saw
on a man.
"Hello, old fellow," said I, on recognizing him,
"have you had any luck?"
He made no answer for some time, but continued
to thumb the lock of his gun, looking at me in such a
way that I began to think him insane.
After some moments he broke out in a loud voice:
"Why, I could have killed you just as easy as
winkin'; you don't pay no sort of attention when you
are in the woods."
"You might have killed me any time in the last
four days," I answered; "I have not been looking
for danger from you."
He looked at me wildly for a moment, then rising
with an effort, shouldered his rifle and came out and
joined me.
"No man," said he, "could ha' come on me that
way. It was a powerful temptation. I am glad I
didn't shoot yer, but I wouldn't advise yer to go
pokin' about that way often."
We returned together amicably to his house, where
he insisted on my taking supper. During the meal
he so impressed me with anecdotes of his past life (by
his showing he had killed several men), and enco-
miums upon himself for not killing me when he had so
622
SLADE THE ASSASSIN:
good a chance, that so long as I remained in that
neighborhood I never hunted alone without keeping
as close a watch on all my surroundings as if the
country had been infested with hostile Indians.
I have hunted with many Indians of different tribes,
and do not believe that such an opportunity would
have offered a like temptation to any Indian profess-
ing friendship, and whose tribe was at peace. The
incident only shows that white men, ostracized and
reckless, become more savage than the savages them-
selves. Assassination becomes a monomania.
I have known a frontier ruffian to make a journey
of two hundred miles to have a fight with another
whose fame as a "dead shot" rivalled his own.
In 1871 a deputy United States Marshal, of South-
ern Kansas, — a wonderful two-handed shot, that is,
using a pistol equally well with either hand, was
ordered to arrest a notorious bully. In the conflict
which ensued both were shot through the body. Some
hours after, the dying ruffian asked how the Marshal
was, and being told that he could not live until morn-
ing, expressed himself satisfied and happy.
"I am perfectly willing to die," said he, "when I
know I take along with me the best pistol-shot on
this frontier."
The Marshal recovered.
Slade, the most successful assassin on the frontier,
who had murdered in cold blood over fifty men, some-
times tying them to a stake and practising at them
with his pistol, as he did Jules, was the most arrant
coward in existence. When his own time came, he
begged on his knees, crying and whining like a
whipped cur.
Under all the selfishness, the recklessness, the in-
A
THE DANGEROUS CLASSES.
623
difference to the rights of property, and disregard of
human life, many of these frontiersmen carry warm,
human hearts, full of hospitality, generosity, kindness,
and charity.
One of the most abominable old ruffians I ever
knew, who, under the influence of greed or whiskey
was a perfect devil, was, when not possessed by either
of these fiends, an honest, honorable, humane, tender-
hearted gentleman. A merchant of means and good
standing in one of our large cities, he fell under the
influence of drink. His wife sued for and obtained a
divorce and alimony. When he had gotten sober
enough to realize the calamity, he sold out his store,
settled all he had in the world-nearly one hundred
and ninety thousand dollars-on his wife and three
sons, and taking only a change of clothing and a fron-
tier outfit of arms and necessaries, he buried himself
in the wilderness.
I knew him well,- hanging around a frontier town
a filthy, greasy, blear-eyed, dangerous brute; in the
wilderness a courageous, courteous, intellectual, gen-
tleman.
There are "dangerous classes" in all communities.
Frontiersmen come from all grades of society, all
classes of people. With the restraints of law and
public opinion they would present the different char-
acteristics of ordinary humanity. Without law or
moral surroundings they develop peculiarities, which,
however, are only the shells in which circumstances
and surroundings encase the men.
CHAPTER L.
FRONTIER SCOUTS AND GUIDES HEROIC ACHIEVE-
MENT OF AMOS CHAPMAN FACING DEATH.
A
Plainscraft — Importance of Guides — The Old Trappers
The Old Trappers - Lessons from
the Indians - How an Experienced Guide was Lost- Old Bridger
Kit Carson — The Requisites of a Good Scout - Boots Hill - California
Joe Wild Bill - Buffalo Bill Amos Chapman - His Wonderful
Achievement-What Gen. Miles Said of Him Heroic Conduct of
Chapman - Surrounded by Indians — A Thrilling Deed—“ Amos!
Amos! We have got you now - Remarkable Pluck - Facing Death
to Rescue a Wounded Comrade - Major Forsyth's Fight - The Alarm,
"Indians!" Gallant Defence The Charge of Roman Nose and
His Band-Terrific Volley from the Whites Secret Departure of
the Scouts for Help - Threatened Starvation-Living on Decaying
Mule Flesh- Succor at Last.
""

N its duplex capacity, explorer of the
wilderness and guardian of the frontier,
the army finds constant use for men ex-
perienced in plainscraft and in knowl-
edge of Indian habits and languages.
Some of these men are employed as
guides; for though an average officer,
trusting to his instruments and general
knowledge of country, may take a command
safely through an unknown wilderness, this in very
mountainous regions, or in those portions of the
Plains where water is scarce, can only be done at the
expense of frequent delays and considerable suffering.
The navigator of a ship requires no aid in deep
water, but when he nears the shore he wants a pilot
to guide the vessel through intricacies, the secret of
624
TRAPPER GUIDES.
625
The
which can only come from local knowledge.
commanding officer of an exploring expedition on
land may be likened to the commander of a vessel
near the shore. Though he perfectly knows his
position, his bearings and his course, he knows not
what rocks of precipitous mountains, what reefs of
impassable barrancas, what shoals of waterless plains,
lie between him and his goal. He therefore procures,
if possible, the aid of some one who has already been
over the ground.
Of all frontiersmen the old trappers were and are
the best guides. Learning their lessons from the
Indians with whom they were so constantly and
intimately associated, these men travel entirely by
landmarks; mountains, plains, rocks and brakes,
the bosky dell, the lone tree, the quality of the grass,
even the nature of the soil, each and all give a definite
idea to the old trapper and fix the location forever in
his mind. But the trappers moved down one stream
and up another, and though safe guides, they are
generally extremely slow and roundabout in their
movements. Ignorant of geography and almost
entirely independent of the points of the compass, they
will take you where you wish to go and bring you
safely back again, but they must do this in their own
way, and each by his own sequence of landmarks.
In this present day of activity, they have lost much
of their prestige. They are yet necessary to point
out obscure springs and water-holes of the prairie,
or labyrinthine passes over mountain-ranges, but their
knowledge is of the past. Even "old Bridger" was
hopelessly lost, when coming on to a secluded valley,
hidden as he supposed from all knowledge of white
men, he found a railroad running through it. Every
626
DUTIES OF SCOUTS IN THE FIELD.
day adds to army knowledge; every day diminishes
the importance of guides.
The necessities of the army in the olden time, and
the then remarkable services of these men, have caused
many of their names to be handed down in the history
of our frontier, which is but the history of the
development of our country. Bridger, Kit Carson,
and many others, are names which will not be for-
gotten. As trappers they gained the local knowledge
which they afterward applied to the services of their
country.
To his other accomplishments the really valuable
scout must add a fair knowledge of trailing, and in
this art the cow-boy is quite as efficient as older
plainsmen, for he has more constant necessity for it.
No people understand mountainous regions so well
as miners, or are better able to judge "the lay of the
land" by its general surface marks.
Every class of plainsmen furnishes some requisite
faculty or knowledge valuable in a scout.
The success of every expedition against Indians
depends to a degree on the skill, fidelity and intelli-
gence of the men employed as scouts, for not only is
the command habitually dependent on them for good
routes and comfortable camps, but the officer in com-
mand must rely on them almost entirely for his
knowledge of the position and movements of the
enemy. These they learn by scouting far in advance
or on the flanks of the column, and here the knowledge
of trailing becomes of the utmost importance.
An officer is ordered on an expedition into the
Indian country. He looks in every direction among
all the frontiersmen available, to find the men suited
to his purpose. It is presumed that all are brave, so
JULESBURG VOLUNTEERS.
627
he only examines the applicants as to the qualities
for which he especially needs them.
It is a curious fact that, outside of courage, the
qualities most valuable in a scout are those least
likely to command admiration among the ordinary
associates of their possessor. Bridger was rather
looked down upon because he was sober and frugal;
Kit Carson was often sneered at, because, though
known to be the bravest of the brave when a fight
became absolutely necessary, he would never fight if
he could possibly avoid it even by running away in
the night.
It is a remarkable fact that frontiersmen, so utterly
reckless of life that they will shoot each other for
mere pastime, are oftentimes the most arrant cowards
when the antagonist is an Indian.
Julesburg was celebrated for its desperadoes. No
twenty-four hours passed without its contribution to
Boots Hill (the cemetery whose every occupant was
buried in his boots), and homicide was performed
in the most genial whole-souled way, the shooter and
shootee smiling pleasantly in each other's faces.
One day a small party of Indians appeared in the
sand-hills back of the town. The alarm spread like
wild fire. An ex-officer of the war galloped about
calling for volunteers. In an hour a hundred men
were in saddle, every one of whom had probably
killed his man. The Indians had decamped, taking a
number of horses. The trail was broad and easily
followed. On dashed the hundred for ten or twelve
miles. Said the ex-volunteer commander afterwards,
"We had them sure. At the head of Ash Hollow
we commenced to pass the played-out stock. My
men were badly strung out. I called to them, 'A
39
628
RENOWNED SCOUTS.
close up,
half-hour more, boys, and they are ours-
don't spare the spur!' In less than half an hour I
turned a bend of the hollow, and there were the In-
dians within five hundred yards. I gave a great yell
and turned to urge on the men. I was alone. There
was not a single man of that whole hundred in sight.
Well, I just turned around and got out of that as
quick as I could, and you don't catch me again
volunteering to command men called brave, simply
because they shoot each other."
Of ten men employed as scouts nine will prove to
be utterly worthless. Of fifty so employed one may
prove to be really valuable, but, though hundreds, even
thousands, of men have been so employed by the Gov-
ernment since the war, the number of really remark-
able men among them can be counted on the fingers.
The services which these men are called on to per-
form are so important and valuable that the officer
who benefits by them is sure to give the fullest credit;
and men so honored in official reports come to be
great men on the frontier. Fremont's reports made
Kit Carson a renowned man. Custer immortalized
California Joe; Custer, Merritt, and Carr made Wild
Bill and Buffalo Bill, Plains celebrities "until time
shall be no more."
One of the best and bravest, the most sober, quiet
and genial of all the scouts I have ever known is
Amos Chapman. Although yet young, a volume
would scarcely suffice to give all the desperate ad-
ventures and "hairbreadth 'scapes" of this remark-
able man. For fifteen years he has been almost con-
tinually employed by the Government, and his
services and sufferings put him in the front rank
of valuable citizens.
THE ATTACK.
629
In 1874 Miles was operating against the combined
wild Indian forces of the Territory. The hostiles
had gotten in his rear and intercepted his trains. It
was extremely important that his situation should be
known at Department Headquarters. On the 10th
of September, 1874, a party consisting of one Ser-
geant, three private soldiers and two scouts, in all six
men, were directed to proceed to Camp Supply with
despatches. What befell them in their efforts to
obey the order is fittingly told in the following letter
from General Miles to the Adjutant-General of the
Army:-
HEADQUARTERS, IND. TERR. EXPEDITION.
CAMP ON WASHITA RIVER, TEXAS, Sept. 24, 1874.
ADJUTANT GENERAL, U. S. A.:
(Thro' Office Asst. Adj't. Genl. Hdqrs. Dept. and Mil. Div. of the Mo.
and of the Army.)
GENERAL: I deem it but a duty to brave men and faith-
ful soldiers, to bring to the notice of the highest military
authority an instance of indomitable courage, skill, and true
heroism on the part of a detachment from this command, with
the request that the actors may be rewarded, and their faith-
fulness and bravery recognized, by pensions, medals of honor,
or in such way as may be deemed most fitting.
On the night of the 10th inst., a party consisting of Sergt.
L. T. Woodhall, Co. "I," Privates Peter Rath, Co. "A,"
John Harrington, Co. "H," and George W. Smith, Co. "M,”
Sixth Cavalry, Scouts Amos Chapman and William Dixon,
were sent as bearers of despatches from the camp of this
command on McClellan Creek to Camp Supply, I. T.
At 6 A. M. of the 12th, when approaching the Washita
River, they were met and surrounded by a band of one
hundred and twenty-five Kiowas and Comanches, who had
recently left their agency; at the first attack all were struck,
Private Smith mortally, and three others severely wounded.
Although enclosed on all sides and by overwhelming numbers,
one of them succeeded, while they were under a severe fire, a
630
COOL HEROISM.
short range, and while the others, with their rifles, were
keeping the Indians at bay, in digging with his knife and
hands a slight cover; after this had been secured, they placed
themselves within it, the wounded walking with brave and
painful efforts, and Private Smith, though he had received a
mortal wound, sitting upright within the trench, to conceal
the crippled condition of their party from the Indians.
From early morning till dark, outnumbered twenty-five to
one, under an almost constant fire, and at such short range
that they sometimes used their pistols, retaining the last
charge to prevent capture and torture, this little party of five
defended their lives and the person of their dying comrade,
without food, and their only drink the rain-water that collected
in a pool mingled with their own blood. There is no doubt
but that they killed more than double their number, besides
those that were wounded. The Indians abandoned the attack
on the 12th at dark.
The exposure and distance from the command which were
necessary incidents of their duty, were such that for thirty-
six hours from the first attack, their condition could not be
known, and not till midnight of the 13th could they receive
medical attendance and food, exposed during this time to an
incessant cold storm.
Sergt. Woodhall, Private Harrington, and Scout Chapman
were seriously wounded. Private Smith died of his wounds
Private Rath and Scout Dixon
on the morning of the 13th.
were struck but not disabled.
The simple recital of their deeds, and the mention of the
odds against which they fought, how the wounded defended
the dying, and the dying aided the wounded by exposure to
fresh wounds after the power of action was gone, these alone
present a scene of cool courage, heroism and self-sacrifice,
which duty, as well as inclination, prompts us to recognize,
but which we cannot fitly honor.
Very respectfully your obedient servant,
NELSON A. MILES.
Col. and Bot. Maj. Genl. U. S. A. Commanding.
SHOULDERING A WOUNDED MAN.
631
Heroic as was the conduct of all, that of Chapman
deserves most special honor, for he received his
wound while performing a deed, than which the lof-
tiest manhood can find nothing nobler. The first
intimation of the presence of Indians was a volley
which wounded every man of the party. In an
instant the Indians appeared on all sides. Dis-
mounting and abandoning their horses, the brave
band moved together for a hundred yards to a "buf-
falo wallow," a shallow, natural depression in the
prairie. Chapman and Dixon, being but slightly
wounded, worked hard and fast to deepen this de-
pression, and as soon as it was sufficiently deep to
afford some cover it was occupied and the work con-
tinued from within. Smith had fallen from his horse
at the first fire and was supposed to be dead. Now,
when the excitement of prompt and vigorous action
had somewhat abated, the supposed dead body was
seen slightly to move. He was alive, though entirely
disabled. To leave him there was to ensure his
death, for the Indians were firing at him. But how
could the little garrison of wounded men assist him?
Turning to his comrades Chapman said: "Now, boys,
keep those infernal red-skins off of me and I will run
down and pick up Smith, and bring him back before
they can get at me." Laying down his rifle, he
sprang
out of the buffalo wallow, ran with all speed to Smith,
seized and attempted to shoulder him. "Did any of
you ever try to shoulder a wounded man?" asked
Chapman, when telling the story. "Smith was not a
large man, one hundred and sixty or seventy pounds,
but I declare to you that he seemed to weigh a ton.
Finally I laid down and got his chest across my back,
and his arms around my neck and then got up with
632
CHAPMAN'S DEED OF HONOR.
him. It was as much as I could do to stagger under
him, for he couldn't help himself a bit. By the time I
had got twenty or thirty yards, about fifteen Indians
came for me at full speed of their ponies. They all
knew me, and yelled 'Amos! Amos! we have got you
now.' I pulled my pistol, but I couldn't hold Smith on
my back with one hand, so I let him drop. The boys
in the buffalo wallow opened on the Indians just at
the right time, and I opened on them with my pistol.
There was a tumbling of ponies, and a scattering of
Indians, and in a minute they were gone. I got
Smith up again and made the best possible time, but
before I could reach the wallow another gang came
for me.
I had only one or two shots in my pistol, so
I didn't stop to fight, but ran for it. When I was
in about twenty yards of the wallow, a little old
scoundrel that I had fed fifty times rode almost on to
me and fired. I fell with Smith on top of me, but as I
didn't feel pain, I thought I had stepped in a hole. The
Indians couldn't stay around there a minute, the
boys kept it red-hot, so I jumped up, picked up
Smith, and got safe in the wallow. Amos,' said
Dixon, 'you are badly hurt.' 'No, I am not,' said I.
"Why look at your leg,' and sure enough, the leg
was shot off just above the ankle joint, and I had
been walking on the bone dragging the foot behind
me, and in the excitement I never knew it, nor have
I ever had any pain in my leg to this day."
The surgeon at Camp Supply amputated Chap-
man's leg below the knee, more than two weeks after
the receipt of the wound, and in a week thereafter
had to take away his clothing to keep him in bed.
Chapman is still in the government employ, as use-
ful and as ready for a fight as any two-legged scout.

اعمال
TAYLOR
RESCUING A WOUNDED COMRADE-HEROIC EXPLOIT OF AMOS CHAPMAN.
"By the time I had got twenty or thirty yards, about fifteen Indians came for me at full speed of their ponies. They all knew me, and yelled,
'Amos! Amos! we have got you now.""
FORSYTH'S FIGHT.
635
One of the most remarkable defences ever made
against overwhelming forces was that of Major Geo.
A. Forsyth, United States Army, in command of a
force of one Lieutenant of Infantry, an Acting Assist-
ant Surgeon, and forty-eight scouts-fifty-one men
all told.
He was scouting against Indians, in their loved
hunting-grounds, the Republican Country. On the
night of the 16th September, 1868, he encamped on
the Arickaree Fork of the Republican River. Fresh
signs of Indians in great force had been seen, but the
little party was not uneasy. It was hunting Indians;
it wanted to find Indians; and it found Indians.
Just at dawn of the morning of September 17th,
1868, the guard gave the alarm, "Indians!" Every
man sprang to his feet, secured his arms and horse,
then turned his attention to a little band of six In-
dians, which dashed upon the camp, shaking buffalo
robes, firing guns, and yelling like fiends, in the hope
of stampeding the animals. In this they were frus-
trated, though they succeeded in getting the pack-
mules and some few horses.
Satisfied that this was but the prelude to a more
serious attack, Forsyth ordered his men to saddle up.
This had scarcely been accomplished when over the
hills, in every direction, poured swarms upon swarms
of Indians.
The Arickaree Fork, like most other Plains streams,
is a river, or mere brooklet, depending on the season
of the year. In September it is a wide sand-bed,
through which meanders a thread of water some eight
feet wide by two inches deep. Just in front of
Forsyth's camp was an island a hundred yards long
by twenty or thirty wide, on which was a small
636
ASSAULT OF ROMAN NOSE.
growth of bushes. Realizing at once the advantage
of this cover, slight as it was, and the disadvantage
to the Indians of having to charge over the sandy
bed of the stream, Forsyth ordered his men to take
position on the island. A few of the best marksmen
were placed under cover of the banks of the stream,
while the command fastened the horses to the bushes
on the island. These preliminaries were hardly com-
pleted when the more advanced Indians, throwing
themselves from their horses, crawled up to within
easy range and opened a fire so terrific that by nine
o'clock in the morning Forsyth had been twice se-
verely wounded (the left leg being shattered), Dr.
Movers and two men killed, a number of others
wounded, and every horse had been shot down.
But the gallant whites had not been idle. Many a
dead and wounded Indian had been carried to the
rear under their accurate and continuous fire. Dis-
abled as he was, Forsyth did not flinch from the
command. Lying, propped on his elbow, he saw
everything, superintended everything. Under his
direction, while the best shots were keeping the In-
dians at bay, the other men were digging for life,
making rifle-pits, using the bodies of the dead horses
as parapet. By nine o'clock the little party was in
as good posture for defence as it could hope to be.
The Indians had made a mistake in not charging
at the first attack. They now realized it and made
preparation for an assault. Under the command of
the Chief Roman Nose, a gallant band of about three
hundred warriors, superbly mounted, formed just
beyond rifle-shot below the island. A heavy skirmish
line pressed closer and closer, with a fire so searching
and accurate that the beleaguered garrison could not
THE INDIANS ARE DEFEATED.
637
expose a head or arm to return it. Realizing what
was coming, Forsyth put everything in readiness.
The guns of the dead and wounded were loaded and
placed near the best shots on the threatened side.
When the fire of the Indian skirmishers had com-
pletely silenced the fire of the whites, the signal was
given, and Roman Nose thundered on to the be-
leaguered island. But when his gallant command had
gotten so near that the Indian footmen could no
longer fire for fear of hitting their friends, the line
of parapet bristled with steady defenders. "Now!"
shouted Forsyth, and the abandoned parapet blazed
with death. On dash the gallant Indians. Roman
Nose goes down in the sand of the river; the Medi-
cine Chief falls at the very foot of the entrenchments;
but nothing can stand the cool and accurate fire of
the whites. The Indians falter; a ringing cheer, and
another well-directed volley from the whites; they
break and scatter beyond range.
The victory is won, but at terrible cost. Of the
whole force of fifty-one men, twenty-three are dead
or wounded.
Disheartened, but not despairing, the Indians now
determine to destroy by siege the little band of whites
that they are unable to beat by assault.
Their skirmishers surround the entrenchments and
keep up a continuous and well-directed fire. This is
continued all day, but at night they draw off. This
is Forsyth's golden opportunity. He seizes it, and in
the darkness dispatches two trusty scouts to the
nearest military post for assistance.
All the next day the same fighting with dismounted
warriors. The next night two more men sent with
despatches are driven back by the Indians. On the
638
A HORRIBLE SITUATION.
third day it was evident that the Indians had become
sick of the contest. The main body withdrew, but
left a sufficient number to beleaguer and harass the
suffering garrison.
That night Forsyth sent off two more scouts, who,
as they did not return, were supposed to have gotten
through the Indian lines.
On the 20th the uninjured men of the command
were so far relieved of the constant apprehension of
attack as to be able to give attention to the wounded,
for up to this time no wound had been dressed.
But now came a worse enemy than Indians. In its
eagerness to "do something," the command had been
out so long that though husbanding its rations with
the greatest care it had on the morning of the attack
scarcely a mouthful to eat. During the first few days
of siege it had had abundance of horse and mule
meat, but this had become now so putrefied that no
stomach could stand it; and the "horse and mule
meat lying around loose," as Forsyth expressed it
when the food consideration was presented to him,
became in the end, by its intolerable stench, one of
the serious discomforts of this remarkable experience.
On the 25th, after nine days of fighting, suffering,
starvation and stench, the most welcome reinforce-
ments came, and this little party was relieved from a
situation the horrors of which no man can realize.
Lieutenant Beecher, Dr. Movers, and six men were
killed. Eight others were disabled for life, but the
other wounded twelve completely recovered.
In this fight the Indians had nine hundred warriors,
the whites fifty-one all told. The Indians admit a
loss of seventy-five killed and wounded. The whites
lost eight killed and twenty wounded.
CHAPTER LI.
THE PRESENT AND FUTURE OF THE INDIANS MY
IDEA OF WHAT SHOULD BE DONE.
"Wards of the Nation "
Charity Begins at Home — Official Tyranny
– Hidden Crimes Against the Indians Their Need of Help and
Sympathy - Their Future-Contrasts Between Their Condition a
Few Years Ago and Now - On the Verge of Starvation- Why They
Do Not Progress — The Indian Ring-A Powerful Organization
How the Indian is Robbed, Swindled and Imposed Upon — The Source
of all Indian Ills-Neglect by the Government
Neglect by the Government - Criminal Responsi-
bility - My Idea of What Should Be Done - The Tide of Immigra-
tion-Only a Question of Time.

паз
N the foregoing pages I have endeavored
to give a clear, detailed, and accurate
account of the life, habits, and mode of
thought of the Plains Indians of the
present day.
In concluding, while I abstain from
any discussion of the "Indian Ques-
tion," as unsuitable to a work of this
kind, I cannot satisfactorily complete my
labors without giving a synopsis of the present
political situation of the Indians, and a slight sketch
of my idea of what should be done towards the
amelioration of the condition of this unhappy race.
It is difficult to approach the subject dispassion-
ately, for next to the crime of slavery the foulest blot
on the escutcheon of the Government of the United
639
640
AMERICAN MANHOOD.
States is its treatment of the so-called "Wards of
the Nation."
Among the many thousands who, I hope, will read
these pages, there are very few who wish anything
but good to the Indian race. American people as a
rule are brave, consequently their instincts are habit-
ually on the side of honor and mercy. Almost every
one has manhood enough to urge him to assist the
weak and helpless.
A terrible epidemic, or disastrous conflagration,
scores a portion of our country, the cry of suffering
opens the hearts and purses of those in more favored
localities, and nothing is left undone that can be
done to alleviate the distress. A report is spread
that Ireland is on the point of starvation, and Ameri-
can contributions pour in with a munificence so
lavish as to shame the government most interested.
The starving of even far-away India and China find
aid and comfort from our people, whose charitable
instincts are wide as the earth itself. It is only at
our own doors, and towards a race whose care should
be our peculiar duty, that we suddenly become in-
comprehensibly deaf to the appeals of those slowly
but surely dying of absolute starvation.
The struggles of any foreign peoples. to free them-
selves from the chains of tyranny find in us a most
hearty sympathy. Yet we permit a whole race, in
our own country, to groan and suffer under an official
tyranny as remorseless as any on earth.
Some of the most charitable men I have ever
known were abominable spendthrifts, by no possi-
bility ever paying a just debt Charity to them was
an active passion, payment a disagreeable duty. It
would seem that this in an eminent degree is our
INDIAN CITIZENSHIP.
641
characteristic as a nation. So long as charity and
sympathy are voluntary they are sweet virtues to be
practised; when they become obligatory they are
disagreeable duties, to be avoided if possible.
The Indian has no literature, no means of access
to the great heart of the American people. The per-
sons in whose hands he finds himself are interested
in having things remain exactly as they are, and will
not permit his sufferings to be known.
The crimes against the negro were open to, and
seen by, all the world. The crimes against the Indian
are unknown because purposely hidden, and because
of his isolation. He suffers in secret, and therefore
without sympathy.
Many eloquent writers have depicted the wrongs
and the sufferings of the Indian; but I know of no
single one who has not, however unwittingly, written
in the interests of the Indian Ring; for the most
honest and conscientious among them have been
unable to see for the Indian any future not bounded
by the status quo.
There is no future for the Indian as Indian; but I
can see for him long vistas of honor and usefulness
when he shall have become a citizen of the United
States. If we had said to the Irish or to the Germans,
"You may live among us, but you shall never be
citizens," would we have been as great a nation
to-day?
Since the inception of our Government we have
said this to the Indian; and yet we wonder why he
cannot be a citizen. At this moment the Cherokees,
Chickasaws, Choctaws, the remnants of the Six Na-
tions in New York, the Pueblos of New Mexico and
Arizona, are as fit for citizenship as the average of
642
CONTRASTS.
white emigrants to our soil. We tell them flatly,
"You are Indians, - an inferior race. You have
not sense or discretion enough to hold property or
take care of yourselves. You are on a par with
prisoners and lunatics, we will take care of you."
And we do it; but, gracious Heaven! what care!
But a few years ago the Indian was wild, free and
independent. Now he is a prisoner of war, restrained
of his liberty and confined on circumscribed areas.
But a few years ago he was rich in ponies and prop-
erty; now he is so poor that "no man will do him
reverence." But a few years ago the Plains fur-
nished him ample supply of food; now he is, con-
stantly on the verge of starvation. But a few years
ago war and the chase gave ample vent to all his
ambition and energy; now he is expected to be con-
tent and satisfied with an empty stomach and nothing
to do. But a few years ago tribal government was
so strong as to deter them from the commission of
outrages among themselves. We have broken down
the tribal authority and substituted nothing in its
place. The Indian is absolutely without law, either
human or divine. The well-disposed are at the
mercy of the evil-disposed; yet we wonder that the
Indian does not progress.
By refusing to give him land and a home in sev-
eralty, we carefully prevent the development of any
ambitious longings for individual wealth and inde-
pendence; and by withholding any reward from
labor we as carefully prevent the formation of any
habits of industry; yet we wonder why the Indian is
not ambitious and industrious.
Were it possible to induce the American people to
act towards Indians as they do towards persons of
•
HYPOCRITICAL FRIENDS.
643
other nationalities, I have said enough; but such
action is not possible under the present management.
Before the war of the Rebellion, the "Indian
trade"- by which must be understood the five to
eight millions appropriated by Congress, and the
purchase and sale of commodities between white and
red men was estimated by competent persons at
not less than forty millions a year.
Since the de-
struction of the buffalo, and the confinement of In-
dians on limited reservations, this gross amount has
been reduced probably one-half.
In Chapter XX. I have detailed how this trade is
conducted, and it will be readily seen that poor as
the Indian now is, he yet affords good picking to
those whose business it is to coin him into money.
These men are a "power in the land," not only by
means of the money squeezed from the Indian, but,
"clothing themselves with hypocrisy, as with a gar-
ment," and pretending to be the Indian's best friends,
they gain the ears and the assistance of those true
and pure humanitarians who, being ignorant of the
facts, believe whatever these deceivers tell them.
The prolific source of all Indian ills is that most
tragic of national farces called the "Treaty System."
By it we have taken advantage of the greed or
ignorance of chiefs, to swindle the Indians out of
their lands. Every so-called treaty has been op-
posed, always by a minority, and sometimes by a
great majority of the tribe interested, and these
opponents are always dissatisfied and disposed to be
hostile. Sometimes, as in several cases on record,
the chiefs themselves have refused to be swindled.
The Government has not hesitated, but deposing the
refractory chiefs, has set up others, its own creatures,
644
THE TREATY SYSTEM.
and concluded the melancholy farce, by entering into
a solemn treaty, to which the United States were
actually party of both parts.
We profess to regard the Indian tribes as "interior
dependent nations." The "Treaty System" so far
recognizes their independence as to make it impos-
sible for us to enact laws for their control and bene-
fit, or to give them any standard by which to regulate
their conduct. By holding intercourse with them
only as "bodies politic" we keep all on the same
plane; there is no recognition of individual worth
or advancement; no prospect of citizenship is ever
held out, and there is no hope for any man ever to be
more or better than the mere conventional Indian.
But the crowning feature of this "system" is, that
the Government at this moment has formal "treaty"
arrangements with hundreds of petty tribes, all of
which are now held on reservations, actually pris-
oners of war. The recognition of this fact is abso-
lutely necessary; the very first step towards the
improvement of the condition of the Indian.
violation of treaties, or by virtue of treaties procured
In
by fraud, the Indian is confined to reservations.
violation of law, the game on which he depended for
food has been destroyed by white men.
In
The United States having made prisoners of the
Indians, and having by negligence permitted them to
be deprived of the means of self-support, is in honor
bound to see that they do not suffer. Is this obliga-
tion of honor fulfilled? Far from it! On the con-
trary, we leave our helpless prisoners to starve, and
shoot without mercy the reckless few who, goaded
to desperation by their sufferings, dare to cross the
dead line of the reservation.
PRISONERS OF WAR.
645
In this horrid crime every voter of the United
States is either actively or passively implicated, for
it has its root in the legislative branch of the Gov-
ernment. The appropriations for the support of the
Indians are entirely inadequate, the most favored
tribes receiving no more than about eight cents a
day for the support of each individual.
All this is criminal. It is time that all persons.
responsible for the care and condition of the Indians
should recognize that they are prisoners of war, and
that justice and humanity alike require that they be
supported until such time as they can learn to sup-
port themselves in their new mode of life.
To advance, the Indian like other men must have
an object in life, — an incentive to effort. Many of
the so-called wild tribes are willing to labor, and do
labor right manfully for the one crop, which is all
they can rely on under the present management.
Give each a farm of his own, and many of them
will soon be independent of government support.
Through the fault of a system of government
which pays little attention to the rights of those who
have no votes, no representation, and no redress in
the courts, the control and management of the In-
dians have been so far an utter failure- - debasing,
pauperizing, and exterminating them.
The Indian is in a state of progression common at
some time in their history to all nations and peoples.
The efforts made for his advance in civilization have
so far failed of beneficial result, not from exceptional
stupidity or barbarism, or other peculiarity of char-
acter or habit of the subject, but because men of
power and influence find there is more money to be
made of him by leaving him as he is.
40
646
CHANGES RECOMMENDED.
These are a few, a very few, of the wrongs and
iniquities practised upon the Indians by those who
profess to be his friends; and which, if continued,
will in a few years lead to his utter extermination.
There is but one hope for him. "Treaty systems"
and tribal relations must be broken up, and the
Indians individually absorbed in the great family of
American citizens. This must necessarily be a
gradual process, and in the mean time some plan
must be adopted which, while protecting him from
the harpies who now feed upon him, shall soonest fit
him for the honors and responsibilities of an Ameri
can citizen. I give the outline of the plan which I
believe best suited to that end.
1. Turn the Indians over to the War Department.
2. Abolish the Indian Bureau as now constituted,
with all the laws and parts of laws establishing it
and controlling or directing its operations. Replace
the Commissioner of Indian Affairs, the Superin-
tendents, Inspectors, Agents, &c., by detailed army
officers, and let the Indians be supplied by and
through the Quartermasters and Commissary De-
partments of the army.
3. Abrogate all existing treaties.
4. Abolish all trade and intercourse laws now on
the Statute Book. Give the Indians the same rights
in trade as are enjoyed by citizens of the United
States (arms and liquors excepted), until the Indians
shall have become citizens.
5. Enact laws for the control and guidance of the
Indians until they have as citizens come under the
operation of the common law.
6. Make Commanding Officers of military posts in
Indian territory or on reservations ex-officio Super-
TRANSFER OF INDIAN BUREAU.
647
intendents of Indian Affairs, and give them magis-
terial authority over the Indians so long as they live
in unorganized territory.
7. Give the Indians farms in severalty, not, how-
ever, requiring each to live on his farm, but encour-
aging them to form permanent settlements and
villages.
8. All the land of the reservations not allotted to
Indians to be bought of them by the Government
and thrown open to settlement by whites.
9. Give the Indian the ballot, and all the rights
and duties of citizenship, as soon as the country in
which he resides shall have been organized into a
county.
10. Feed the wild Indian. See that he has suf-
ficient food, even to the exclusion, if necessary, of all
other supplies.
Whether or not the above propositions will effect
the end designed will depend entirely on the mode
of carrying out the first and second.
For some years there has been a great deal of
flippant talk, both in and out of Congress, about the
transfer of the Indian Bureau to the War Depart-
ment, the enemies of the measure asserting positively
that the passage of such a bill would be the utter
destruction of the Indians; its friends with equal
positiveness asserting that it would civilize the In-
dian, cause wars to cease, and redound in every way
to the advantage of the country and the Indian.
The transfer to the War Department of the Indian
Bureau as now constituted, would effect nothing
except to saddle the War Department with the onus
of its actions. The Indian Bureau is the means by
and through which are perpetrated most of the
648
RADICAL CHANGE NECESSARY,
wrongs and outrages I have described. Its defects
and wrongs are inherent to itself,- have "
have "grown
with its growth and strengthened with its strength."
By means of its machinery a comparatively few men
swindle, pauperize, and degrade the Indian, and keep
the country plunged in endless war.
To be effective for good, the change in the system
of management of the Indians must be radical; com-
plete not only in machinery, but in men. With such
a change, my plan is entirely feasible, and will, I
believe, result in cessation of Indian wars, in economy
to the country, and, above all, in converting two
hundred and fifty thousand savages into good citi-
zens, in converting an element of weakness and
enormous expense into an element of pride and
power.
The real friends of the Indian are injuring his
cause by demanding too much. They insist that the
treaties shall be regarded as binding for all time..
There is no power in this Government which can
much longer delay the settlement by whites of the
Indian territory, and it is a mere question of time
when all the reservations will be overrun. The Gov-
ernment tried faithfully to keep the whites out of the
Black Hills, which was an Indian reservation. It
failed signally.
The Indians now hold under treaty stipulations
over forty-one millions of acres of land. It cannot
be expected that a population which united would
make a city less populous than Cincinnati, shall be
for all time maintained in possession of lands suffi-
cient for the support of the whole population, white
and red, of the United States.
Against the resistless tide of immigration the In-
THE INDIAN SITUATION.
1
649
dian has absolutely no chance. His only hope is in
setting with the tide, and this he can only do as an
American citizen.
As a people we are disposed to place little value
on human life, unless that life happens to be taken by
Indians.
Let us take into consideration:
That the Indians are savages;
That while abolishing tribal authority we substi-
tute nothing therefor, leaving the Indians absolutely
without rule of life or conduct;
í.
That they are now amenable to no law, civil, mili-
tary, or divine, except the law of retaliation;
That they are prisoners of war, confined against
their will on restricted areas;
That the civilized world makes it not only the
right, but the duty of the prisoner of war to escape,
if he can;
That in treating them, and with them, only as
tribes, we ignore individual obligation; and by blam-
ing all alike we take away from the well-disposed all
incentive to good behavior;
That we endeavor to repress the ardor and aspira-
tions of a naturally ambitious race by keeping them
penned up on reservations, disarmed, and with noth-
ing to do, when by giving them occupation we might
divert this ambition into other and useful channels;
And last and most important:
That we keep them always hungry; sometimes on
the verge of starvation;
And it must be conceded that the Indian behaves
much better than we have any right to expect.
The actual number of murders and outrages com-
mitted by Indians on citizens is so small as would
650
INDIAN VS. WHITE OUTRAGES.
scarcely be thought of if perpetrated by whites. In
the summer of 1867, white men in Julesburg robbed
and murdered more citizens than all the Indians have
robbed and murdered during any one of ten years
past. In 1873, Dodge City emulated the fame and
shame of Julesburg; and at the present moment
there is scarcely a busy town along the lines of rail-
road now pushing through Arizona, New Mexico,
and Texas, that does not have its almost daily mur-
der. I may even come nearer to civilization; for I
believe the records will show that more outrages on
life and property have been perpetrated during the
last year by whites in the two States of Kentucky
and Missouri than in the same time by all the Indians
in all the length and breadth of our extended frontier.
I speak of outrages against citizens. The killing
of soldiers in battle is not to be regarded as murder
or outrage. It is simply the necessary adjunct to our
pernicious system of Indian management.
The newspapers of the land are much to blame for
the exaggerated feeling against Indians. The local
paper of a frontier town will carefully avoid any
mention of the daily or nightly killings by its inhabi-
tants; but let a frontiersman be killed, or even scared
by Indians, and column after column is devoted to
the minutest, and most generally imaginary, details.
This can readily be accounted for, each little frontier
town desiring the presence of troops, not for protec-
tion, but for the money they spend.
That the Eastern papers should so readily take up
this cry, giving a line to a murder by a Kentucky
gentleman, a column to a murder by an Indian, can
only be accounted for by the desire for sensation.
L'ENVOI.
651
L'ENVOI.

S regards the Indian, the citizens of
the United States may be divided into
four classes. First.-Earnest, honor-
able, thinking men, humanitarians by
instinct, education, and surroundings.
Second.-Professional humanitarians,
who feed upon and make a trade of
the Indians. Third.-Exterminators.
Fourth. The great mass of the peo-
ple, knowing little of, and caring less for, the Indian.
I am perfectly aware that in the foregoing pages
I have affronted the first three classes.
Basing themselves on justice and honor, some of
the very best and purest of our citizens fight for the
Indian a Quixotic battle with the windmills. Misled
by Cooper, Catlin, and other enthusiastic authors, and
by the fictional colorings of professional humanitari-
ans, they have set up an ideal Indian, clothed with
graces and virtues, which a moment of calm and un-
prejudiced reflection must show to be impossible in a
savage. Forgetting the fact that civilization claims by
right of discovery or possession, all lands occupied
by barbarians, they demand that our intercourse with
Indians shall be regulated by treaties, and that these
treaties shall be binding on all, and for all time. This
652
L'ENVOI.
is a generous instinct worthy of honorable men, but
is just as impracticable as if those men should deter-
mine that there shall be no more poor among whites.
Civilization must and will destroy the savage and
possess his lands, unless that savage is given an
exactly equal right of possession, and this can only
be done by making him a citizen.
To the professional humanitarians I have nothing
to say, except to assure them of my unalterable hos-
tility, and determination to use every faculty with
which I am endowed to wrench the Indian from their
sordid grasp.
To the thinking men of the third class I would
say, "Hold! consider that the Indian is a fellow-
creature; that his savage condition is his misfortune,
and greatly our fault: that as a citizen he can be made
a valuable acquisition to the country. Look at the
numbers of intellectual, cultivated Indians now in the
Territory; and recollect that but for the indomitable
courage, perseverance, and brains of Juarez, a full-
blood Indian, our sister republic would now be groan-
ing under the tyranny of a foreign Emperor."
Scarce a score of years have passed since even the
most honorable, earnest philanthropists of the coun-
try were torn with doubts as to the effect of the sud-
den elevation of three millions of slaves to the rights
and duties of citizenship.
Against the most obstinate prejudice; in spite of
difficulties such as few peoples have had to encounter,
the Negro race has demonstrated the justice of eman-
cipation by a thirst for knowledge and a capacity for
instruction, which put to shame the present lower
class of southern whites.
L'ENVOI.
653
Enlightened or savage human nature is much the
same. Men rise to meet emergencies. That the poor
and ignorant of almost every land and clime swell
the number of our valuable citizens, should encourage
us to extend the experiment of freedom and citizen-
ship.
""
But a few years ago,
"Abolitionist ” was a term of
bitter reproach. Now, every man in the country
whose opinions are worth notice is an "Abolitionist."
"A little leaven leaveneth the whole lump.'
The only hope for the Indian is in the interest
and compassion of a few true men, who, like the
handful of "Abolitionists" of thirty years ago, have
pluck and strength to fight, against any odds, an appa-
rently ever losing battle. These in turn must rely upon
the great, brave, honest human heart of the Amer-
ican people. To that I and they must appeal! to the
press; to the pulpit; to every voter in the land; to
every lover of humanity. Arouse to this grand work.
No slave now treads the soil of this noble land.
Force your representatives to release the Indian from
an official bondage more remorseless, more hideous
than slavery itself. Deliver him from his pretended
friends, and lift him into fellowship with the citizens
of our loved and glorious country.
THE END.

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