, - * PIONEER" *H EBO ES AND THEIE DARING DEEDS. THE LIVES AND "FAMOUS EXPLOITS OF DE SOTO, CHAMPLAIN, LA SALLE, SMITH, STANDISH, BOONE, KENTON, BRADY, CROCKETT, BOWIE, HOUSTON, CARSON, HARNEY, OUSTER, CALIFORNIA JOE, WILD BILL, BUFFALO BILL, MILES, CROOK, AND OTHER HERO EXPLORERS, RENOWNED FRONTIER FIGHTERS, AND CELEBRATED EARLY SETTLERS OF AMERICA, FROM THE EARLIEST TIMES TO THE PRESENT. BY D. M. KELSEY. ROFUSELY ILLUSTRATED. PHILADELPHIA : G. O. PELTON, PUBLISHER. 1883. COPYRIGHT 1882, BY SCAMMELL & COMPANY. All Rights Reserved. PREFACE. MANY are the books that give in interesting detail the ad- ventures of a single or a few heroes, or of a restricted region of the American frontiers. But it has been the conception of this volume to present a broad view, embracing the more celebrated episodes of the life led by the most noted pioneer explorers, early settlers and brave soldiers who have won distinction in border warfare. It is surely a worthy task to gather, in a natu- ral, chronological succession, records of those thrilling exploits, the recitals of which, oft repeated, have secured their heroes immortality. If it be objected that many of these worthies seemed to lack a sufficient respect for the sacredness of human life, their surround- ings should be remembered. If they were apparently too ready with the knife or the trigger, it was because their own lives were felt to be held cheaply by many about them who were unre- strainable by law. At least we have glorified no gory outlaws, nor have we paint- ed in alluring colors the road to the penitentiary or the scaffold. Tha chain is nearly complete : not entirely, for it was not de- signed to make a set history of all border events of interest. The chief aim has been to display the differing phases of the same long battle on the frontiers, from decade to decade, through centu- ries, as the Indian races were gradually pushed back by the march of the encroaching white race, till it enveloped them on all sides. It is impossible to give, in a single volume, or, indeed, in a small library, the lives of all Americans who have met with remarkable and thrilling adventures with either brute or human aborigines. But it is believed that the most typical character of each strong- ly marked period has been selected ; and while it is also imprac- Vi PREFACE. ticable to include all the stories relating to such men, it is thought that those incidents most characteristic of a man and his times, and possessing the most interest to the reader, have been chosen. So many different volumes have been consulted, that to refer each statement to the authority upon which it is based would needlessly encumber the book. When the original possesses spe- cial interest, as in the case of Boone's Autobiography, or Crock- ett's Diary in the Alamo, it is specially quoted. ST. Louis, July, 1882. D. M. K. CONTENTS. CHAPTEE I. FERDINAND DE SOTO. Birth and Education The Grandee's Daughter Getting Eid of the Lover In Amer- ica The Duel Sentenced to Death With Pizarro in South America Acquires "Wealth at Last Returns to Spain Honors Marriage Discontented Organ- izes an Expedition to Florida His Lieutenant Hostile Reception by Natives Obdurate Ucita The Lieutenant Goes out for Wool and Comes Back Shorn De Soto Gets Fairly on the Way To the Land of Gold Hats Perversity of the Indians Attacked on Every Hand Vitacucho's Plot and its Miscarriage De Soto Still Resolute Presses Forward The Indian Princess Spanish Gratitude Tuscaloosa A Grand Reception, a Battle and a Massacre Northward through Difficulties The Father of Waters Still Westward, Ho ! Driven Back Insults and Injuries Sickness Death His Grave The End of the Romance. . . 19-46 CHAPTEE IL THE FRENCH PIONEERS. Why They Came Dragons, Griffins and Demons CARTIER CHAMPLAIST Early Life The Colonists A Canadian Winter Explorations Kindness to the In- dians Return to France Back to Canada Again A Convert that Liked Pie Building Quebec Intense Cold Champlain Takes the War-path The Battle on Lake Champlain The Iroquois Make the Acquaintance of a Gun Presenting the Head of an Iroquois to the King Another Campaign Finding the Way to China A Brazen Liar A Defeat Difficulties with Disorderly Colonists Death of Champlain FATHER MARQUETTE The Jesuits in America From Canada Down the Mississippi to the Arkansas Death of the Missionary LA SALLE Early Life Coming to Canada Glowing Indian Accounts of the Country Ex- ploration of the Ohio Preparations for Another Expedition Obtains a Patent Builds a Stone Fort and a Ship Treachery and Disaster To the Mississippi Kindly Received Monso's Night Visit and its Consequences A Perilous Jour- ney A False Alarm Another Plan Traverses the Mississippi Beaujeu Deserts In Texas To Canada for Help Discord A Shot from the Grass Death of LaSalle . 47-81 CHAPTEE ILL CAPTAIN JOHN SMITH. His Early Ambition Serves as a Soldier Studies Military Science Is Thrown Over- board Adventures in the Turkish War A Lively Champion Capture and Slavery Escape Joins the Virginian Colony Dissensions on the Voyage Ac- cused of Conspiracy Settlement and Explorations Offends the Officials Con- founds his Accusers The First Fight Hardships in the Colony An Expedi- tion Surprised by the Savages Desperate Fight Captured by Indians Poca- Vlll CONTENTS. hontas Saves Smith Made President of the Colony A Cure for Profanity- Plot against Powhatan Trick for Trick Takes a Chief Captive Bringing the Dead to Life What the Company Desired Savages Experiment with Powder Reinforcements Hurt hy an Explosion Returns to England Goes to New England Captured by Pirates Escapes in a Small Boat Pocahontas in Eng- landMassacre at Jamestown Death of Smith .... 82-109 CHAPTEE IT. CAPTAIN MILES STANDISH. Descents-Service in Flanders The Purilans Attempts to Depart for " Virginia " Voyage on ,the Mayflower Exploring the Coast Attacked by Indians Ter- rible Weather Landing of the Pilgrims at Plymouth Building Homes Sick- ness and Death in the Colony Danger Threatens Samoset's Welcome Visit of Massasoit Treaty Avenging Squantum Expedition Northward Declaration of War Sending Back the Snake-skin Priscilla Sqiiantum's False Reports Obtaining Food WeymouJth Standish's Fight with Pecksnot, the Braggart Report of Standish's Death Marriage of John Alden and Priscilla Return of the Captain Massasoit Requests Help Trouble with Neighboring Colonies Removal to Duxbury Pequod War Death of Capt. Standish Massasoit's Suc- cessors Indian Jealousy of White Rule King Philip's War Begins Mount Hope Brookfield The Swamp Fight Philip Resolute A Savage's Revenge King Philip's Death End of the War 110-146 CHAPTEE Y. GENERAL ISRAEL PUTNAM. Early Years Thrashing the City Boy Caught Up a Tree Shoot, I Tell You ! Removal to Connecticut The Famous Wolf Adventure A Popular Hero French and Indian War Braddock's Defeat Putnam as a Ranger A Danger- ous Situation In the Midst of the Enemy A Pierced Canteen A Wary Senti- nel Attack on the Boats The Biter Bit Cowardly Subordinates Wood-cut- ting Disregarding Orders to Save Comrades The Barracks on Fire Putnam Saves the Magazine Down the Rapids of the Hudson Major Rogers' Careless- ness A Fight in the Woods Putnam Captured Brutality of the Indians Pre- paring for the Torture Rescued Exchanged Taking the Ship Pontiac's Con- spiracy Return Home Oppression of the Colonies Endeavors of British to Bribe American Officers Bunker Hill Superintending Hard Work The Dash Down Horseneck Two Duels, in Both of which Wit is his Weapon Paralysm Death 147-176 CHAPTEE VI. CAPTAIN SAMUEL BRADY. Early Life A Volunteer Rifleman No Commission, if You Please An Oificer in Spite of Refusal Another Kind of Work The Reason Why Sent to Sandusky Rescues Prisoners Another Trip Shooting the Dog "Give the Others a Chance" The Others Get a Chance But Brady Gets the Scalps Phouts They Take a Prisoner Phouts Gets Disgusted, and the Prisoner Gets Killed Brady Captured A Pappoose in Danger Three Big Injuns Sitting in a Row Brady Takes Aim and Away they Go A Night Attack At Brady's Lake CONTENTS. 1* t Brady's Leap Across the Cuyahoga A New Kind of Wild Turkey Brought to Triftl A Friendly Witness Last Days 177-192 CHAPTEE VII. COLONEL DANIEL BOONE, Boone's Fame Early Training A Deer Turns Out a Dear Leaves North Carolina for Kentucky The Neutral or "Dark and Bloody Ground " Captured "by the Indians The Escape The Lonely Camp Squire Boone's Arrival Alone in the Wilderness Savage Visits Removes his Family to Kentucky Attack on the Emigrants Disheartened Companions The Dunmore War Back Again Settle- ment at Boonesborough Eejection of the Peace-Belt Capture of the Three Girls The Rescue The First Siege of Boonesborough The Second Siege Capture of Boone and Surrender of his Party A Particular Attachment for Boone His Indian Toilet Escapes Again A Smart Fight The Third Siege Parleying "A Singular Custom" An Unsuccessful Attempt at Treachery by the Besiegers A Mine and a Countermine The Siege Raised Saltmaking Squire Boone Killed Flight for Life The Hat Stratagem Robbed Unjust Suspicions A Bloody Fight Attack on Bryant's Station The Water Carriers The Decoy Cunning against Cunning Reinforcements Pursuit of the Indians McGary's Rash Courage A Battle that Becomes a Slaughter Heavy Loss Flight to the Settle- ments Noble Deeds Peace Boone a Farmer The Tobacco Stratagem Throws Dust in the Eyes of the Indians Land Speculators Loses His Home Removes East Too Crowded Learns of a "Happy Land To Which He Re- moves Prosperity Trouble Again with Titles Paying Off Debts Old Age Death . . ......... 193-226 CHAPTER VIII. SIMON KENTON. A Boyish Passion His First Victory Disastrous Result His Flight Wanderings and Adventures In Dunmore's War At Boonesborough Saves Boone from the Indians A Horse-Stealing Expedition Captured Plenty of Fun for the Indians Not So Much for Kenton Too Much of a Free Ride A Hug At- tempts to Escape Recapture The Council House Condemned to the Torture and Death Simon Girty The Renegade's Intercession The Unreasonableness of his Request The Decision Reversed A Larger Council Confirms the First Girty Powerless Logan Fails to Save Kenton The Captive is Borrowed But Not Returned to the Lenders Escapes to Boonesborough Service as Soldier Loses his Land Effort to Regain it "Visits the Legislature Unexpected Honors Proudest Day of My Life "Death 227-245 CHAPTEE IX. OTHER HEROES OF THE DAYS OF BOONE. THE WETZELS Boyish Years Capture of Jacob and Lewis Wetzel Escape of the Boys Killing of Mills Lewis Wetzel Chased by Four Indians Lewis Wetzel Loading while Running "Him Gun Always Loaded" Jacob Wetzel and Ken- ton Go on a Hunt Old Wetzel's Heroism while Mortally Wounded Aveng- ing their Father Martin Wetzel Captured Kills Three Indians and Escapes X CONTENTS. Lewis "Wetzel Hunts Indians Trees Four One Gets Away Shoots an In- dian in Time of Peace Imprisoned Military Dignity An Amusing Game Which Deceives the Guard Escapes Pursuing Marauders An Impetuous Lov- er THE POES A Party of Avengers Two Birds with One Stone The Birds are Very Much Alive Andrew Poe's Fight with Two Indians A Desperate Battle Nip and Tuck Help Arrives Shot by Friends MAJOR SAMUEL McCuLLOCH Siege of Fort Henry McCulloch's Force Arrives Gets into the Fort But the Major is Cut Off Famous Leap Down Wheeling Creek . . . 246-262 CHAPTEE X. LEWIS AND CLARKE EXPEDITION. The West in 1800 Census Figures Then and Now Attempts at Making Overland Passages to the Pacific Purchase of Louisiana from the French Jefferson's Plan Setting Out of the Expedition The Ancestors of the Osages Councils with the Indians A Treacherous River Indian Horse Thieves Amusing the Visitors A Fight Threatened Winter Quarters Assault on a Small Party Losses A Retaliatory Expedition Bear Fights A Close Shave A Buffalo Hunt Exploring Difficulties of the Journey Appalling Stories Trading with the Nez Perces Indians Crossing the Mountains Descending the Columbia Win- ter Quarters Eye- Water Medicine Men On the Return Encamp with Eight Blackfeet Th'ievishness of their Visitors Deceitful Conduct A Lively Time The Journey's End . 263-277 CHAPTEE XL GEN. WILLIAM HENRY HARRISON. Birth and Education Commissioned Ensign Service among Ohio Indians Civil Appointments British vs. American Treatment of Indians Turbulent State of the Country Elskwatawa, the Prophet Tecumseh, the Chief Indian Efforts at Reformation Shawnee Rights and Superiority Tecumseh's Education and Early Experiences League of the Tribes Appeals to Superstition Eloquence of the Prophet The Prophet's Town Tecumseh's Life-work Efforts to Con- ciliate Indians Reception of the Messenger Outwitting the Governor Rumors of War Haughty Treatment Council at Vincennes Almost a Fight Depart- ure of Harrison for the Indian Village Encampment on the Tippecanoe The Attack The Battle Defeat of the Prophet The Prophet's GTeneralship Peace in Indiana Gov. Harrison's Courage Tecumseh Returns Gives the Prophet a Shaking Which He Deserves The Chief Joins the British Indians Spoiling for a Fight Disgusted at Retreat Tecumseh's Independence The Battle Death of Tecumseh Gen. Harrison's Military Reputation Conduct Aspersed Vindicated Resignation Political Success The Log-cabin and Hard Cider Campaign "Tippecanoe and Tyler, too" Sudden Death . . 278-301 CHAPTEE XII. COLONEL DAVID CROCKETT. His Family and Birth Childhood Hired Out Runs Home Three Days at School Why He Left How He Returned, Three Years Later School Again A CONTENTS. x "Wedding in Prospect Skill as a Marksman But He Did Not Hit the Lady's Heart Jilted Disconsolate Until He Finds Another Married Soldier-Life Loses His Wife Marries Another Made "a Magistrate Writs in " Verbal Writing 1 " Elected Colonel of Militia Member of the State Legislature Losses in Business Kemoval to the "Shakes" His Rifle, Betsy Powder for Christ- mas Guns A Bear Fight In the Legislature Again Electioneering Stump Speeches Popular Oratory Opposition to Jackson More Bear Hunting A Business Venture A Narrow Escape Elected to Congress A Pleasure Trip North Enthusiastic Eeception "Go Ahead " Ten Quarts of Hum for a Coon- skin Job Snelling's Honesty Defeated G. T. T. Thimblerig " Live Hon- estly or Die Bravely " Encounter with a Cougar Enters San Antonio Defense of the Alamo A Skirmish Storming of the Alamo Surrender Barbarity of Santa Anna Death of Crockett 302-329 CHAPTEE XIII. GENERAL SAM HOUSTON. Early Settlement of Texas THE AUSTINS Difficulties Besetting the Colonists Death of the Elder Austin LAJITTE, the Pirate STEPHEN F. AUSTIN The Fredonia Trouble Mexican Suspicion Murder of Hunter Houston's Early Life Serves with Jackson in the Creek War Severe Wounds High Honors Governor of Tennessee Sudden and Unaccountable Departure Adopted by the Indians COLONEL BOWIE His Famous Knife A Fight on a Sand-bar Search for Silver Mines Attacked by the Indians An Obstinate Defense President Santa Anna Austin's Mission to Mexico Imprisonment and Trial for Treason Released Confusion in Texas War Approaching Houston Made Commander-in-Chief Siege of the Alamo by the Texans The Grass Fight Surrender of the Fortress Storming of the Alamo Death of Colonel Travis^ Death of Colonel Bowie Goliad Brutal Massacre of the Prisoners Battle of San Jacinto " Remember the Alamo ! " Signal Victory Ignominious Capture of General Santa Anna Acknowledges the Independence of Texas Houston Elected President Death of Austin Mexican Raids Snively Expedi- tion Texas Enters the United States Houston Elected U. S. Senator Opposes Secession Resigns Office of Governor Death His Name .... 330-360 CHAPTEE XIY. KIT CARSON. A Boy Hunter In New Mexico Surgery on the Plains Trapping Indian Horse Thieves Pursuit by Trappers Digger Indians Success in Trapping Indian Thieves Attacked Successfully Perilous Situation A Narrow Escape Pursu- ing the Horse Thief Fight with Two Bears Up a Tree Fight with In- dians Carson Saves His Friend The Rendezvous of Trappers A Duel with a Braggart More Horse Thieves Attack on Indians Carson's Brave Generosity Encounter with Mountain Lion Another Indian Battle The War Dance "Monarch of the Prairies" Hunter for Bent's Fort The Peacemaker The In- dian Wife JOHN C. FREMONT Exploring Expeditions Incidents of the Jour- ney Too Big a Load "Indians! Indians!" The Frenchmen's Jealousy of Carson The Return Carson Settles in New Mexico On another Trip with Xii CONTENTS. Fremont Great Salt Lake Diggers and Fish Eaters Klamath Lake Search- ing for the Imaginary Crossing the Mountains Dismal "Warnings The Indian Guide Deserts Severe Hardships Accomplish the Passage Carson Rescues Fremont Fremont's Third Expedition The Mexican War Threatens News from Home Camp Attacked by Indians Lives Lost Revenge Destroying Indian Village Fremont Saves Carson A "Wary Old Warrior Foiled Carson Sent to Washington Meets Gen. Kearney, and Returns with Him Severe Fight with Mexicans Carson Goes for Help A Heroic Journey Close of the War Recognition of Carson's Services Fremont's Fourth Expedition Indian Horse Thieves, Again Saves Two Merchants from Desperadoes A Captive in Indian Hands Brigadier-General Death 361-402 CHAPTEE XV. GEN. WILLIAM S. HARNEY. A Tennesseean Intended to be a Sailor But Commissioned Lieutenant in the Army Service in the South Lafitte and His Pirates An Encounter with Them In St. Louis An Indian Council O'Fallon's Rashness Race with an Indian Another Race How an Offender Escaped a Whipping, and Capt. Harney's Anger was Cooled by a Ducking BLACK HAWK The War An Indian Victory "The Two Ponies," Harney and Lincoln A Reconnoissance Defeat of Black Hawk Capt. Harney's Marriage To Florida The Seminoles Repulse of the Indians OSCEOLA The Treaty Broken A New Kind of Treaty Harney's Influence A Treacherous Night Attack Escape through the Woods Alarmed at a Canoe That Proves to be Empty Useless Bloodhounds Fight in the Everglades End of the Florida War The Mexican War Rival Generals' Jealousies Gallantry at Cerro Gordo -Brevetted Brigadier-General Indian Troubles on the Borders Gen. Harney to W^hip the Indians He Does it Buncombe In Oregon Return to St, Louis The Civil War Begins Urged to Join the Confederate Army Retired from Service Member of the Indian Peace Commission You were a Friend of My Father'' . . . 403-428 CHAPTEE XVI. GEN. GEORGE A. CUSTER. Boyhood A Cadet Strict Discipline " Walking Extras" A Fair Fight The Officer of the Guard is Sent to the Guard House Court-Martialed Never Hears the Decision Active Service in the War Ambition Results of the Battle of Aldie The Boy-GeneralEnd of the Civil War Westward, Ho ! To Fight Indians Gen. Hancock's Expedition A Fight Threatened An Empty Camp A Buffalo Hunt The Buffalo Escapes, and the Horse is Killed Satanta Custer's First Lessons in Indian Nature The Attack on the Wagon-Train Comstock, the Scout The Kidder Massacre Comstock's Opinion Rapid Marching Court-Martialed Suspended Restored by Request of Officers CAL- FOKNTA JOE Origin and Experiences Condemned to the Torture Saved The Rescue of the White Girl "An Ambulance Man or a Hoss Man?" Joe's Pride Gets a Fall Drill A Winter Campaign March through the Snow- storm California Joe's Opinion Reconnoitering The Attack on the Cheyenne Village A Hornets' Nest The Hornets are Crushed The Seventh Cavalry Xlil Congratulated Ouster Hurries Up an Indian Moving Kescue of Captives Submission of the Indians Ordered to the East Buffalo Hunting with the Grand Duke To the "West Again A Mid-day Nap and the Awakening The Triangle Ride A Fight The Black Hills Expedition Capture and Trial of Rain-in-the-Face His Reputation and His Ominous Oath Custer Summoned to "Washington Executive Vengeance The March to the Little Big Horn Plan of Attack Reno's Hesitation and Repulse Benteen's Disobedience The Last Rally " We Have Killed Them All" 429-473 CHAPTER XYIL WILD BILL. Description Learning to Shoot His First Treasure Shooting "Wolves To Kan- sas Joins Lane's Company Astonishes the Natives by His Marksmanship Winning a Name Farmer Stage Driver Reputation The Best Shot on the Plains Attack on Indians Encounter with a Bear Fight with the McCandlas Gang A New Title Brigade Wagon-Master In Disgrace Retrieval Sharp- shooting at Pea Ridge A Spy A Dare-Devil Game Which Proves Successful Entering the Confederate Lines Again Daring Escape Racing Dead Broke A Spy Again Discovered In Prison A Sleepy Guard and a Rusty Knife How He Got Black Nell A Friend's Devotion and the General's Surprise A Mean Indian Trick Duel with Conquering Bear Put Upon Spoiling for a Fights-Wild Bill Satisfies the Natives Fight with Four Men Chief of Scouts Kills Black Kettle Wounded A Lively Marshal of Hays City "Pretty Quiet, Thank You, for a Frontier Town "Fight with Fifteen Soldiers Escape, Terribly Wounded A Plan for Making Money Dead Broke Out of His Element Marshal of Abilene A Texan's Revenge It Costs More than it Comes to Jumping for Life " Settle it with Me " On the Stage Wants Real Whiskey No Fun Allowed, so He Leaves in Disgust The Black Hills The Hunter is Hunted Marriage In Dead wood Foully Murdered Wild Bill's Character 474-510 CHAPTER XYIII. BUFFALO BILL. Boyhood The California Gold Fever Kansas Troubles A Hero for Imitation Billings as a Bocarro Saving his Father Congenial Employment A Fight at School Herding Attacked by the Indians Billy's First Redskin Defended by Wild Bill A Breastwork of Dead Mules A Broken Leg Alone in the Dug-Out Saved by Rain-in-the-Face Pony Express Rider Attack on the Stage-Coach The Horse Thieves' Den Escape He had Cleaned out the Ranch One of Chandler's Gang Scouting Enlisted Marriage Hotel-Keep- ing Scouting Again The Tenth Cavalry Don't "Blow de Injuns offer de Farm" Frightened Darkies Half-Owner of a Town The Town Moves and Cody Breaks A Kind Offer of Some Meat But He Supplies Himself The Spunky Tenth Cavalry Again Employed as Hunter Wins His Name Four Thousand Two Hundred Buffaloes in Eighteen Months A Race for Life At Bay The Fire Signal A Buffalo-Killing Match Comstock Badly Beaten XIV CONTENTS. "How, Howl" Indian Humor Which Bill Doesn't Appreciate The " Whoa- Haws" Lie against Lie A Trustworthy Messenger Flight Bringing Meat into Camp Breaking in a New Lieutenant The Fifth Cavalry Victorious Shooting Tall Bull Justice Cody An Effective "Writ of Keplevin Eastern Hunting Parties An Imperial Pupil How the Grand Duke Killed his First Buffalo On the Stage Member of the Legislature Buntline's Energy Suc- cess as an Actor Scouting Again The Cheyennes Leave their Reservation But the Fifth Cavalry Induces them to Return Cody Engages an Indian in Single Combat "The First Scalp for Custer" Later Services . . 511-656 CHAPTEE XIX. TEN YEARS OF INDIAN WARFARE. Both Sides of the Question The Modoc War The Lava Beds Peace Commission- ers A Parley The Canby Massacre Attacking the Modocs Desertion of the Warriors Surrender of Captain Jack Trial and Execution of the Murderers A Quiet Interim The Battle on the Rosebud A Slippery Enemy GEN. CROOK His Advance Reinforcements Junction of Forces A Secret Approach Gen. McKenzie's Attack on the Cheyennes A Galling Fire Help not Needed Retreat of the Cheyennes Cold Reception GEN. MILES His Expedition against the Sioux Fighting in a Snowstorm The Nez Perce Campaign CHIEF JOSEPH He is Tired Nobody Prevents His Taking a Rest Plenty of Fighting Soon Gives Him One A TJte Outbreak A Battle Death of Major Thorn- burgh Capt. Payne's Defense Six Days Under Fire A Reinforcement The Colored Troops Fought Nobly An Ounce of Prevention Mutterings of the Storm 557-578 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. OUSTER'S LAST RALLY ON THE LITTLE BIG HORN, Full Page, Frontispiece. THE PIONEER SETTLER, .... Title Vignette. FERDINAND DE SOTO, ..... 19 SPANIARDS ENSLAVING INDIANS, . . . .25 REPELLING THE LANDING, .... Full Page 27 AMBUSHING SPANIARDS, . . . . .30 DE SOTO'S MARCH, . . . . . 33 THE FIGHT AT MOBILE, . . , . .37 DISCOVERY OF THE MISSISSIPPI, . . . Full Page, 40 INDIAN FLEET MEETING DE SOTO, . . . .41 BURIAL OF DE SOTO, ..... 44 DEPARTURE OF THE SPANIARDS, . . Full Page, 45 JACQUES CARTIER, ...... 47 SAMUEL DE CHAMPLAIN, . . . . .50 CHAMPLAIN TAKES THE WAR PATH, . . Full Page, 56 JESUIT MISSIONARY PREACHING TO THE INDIANS, . . 63 MARQUETTE DESCENDING THE MISSISSIPPI, ... 65 MONSO'S VISIT, ....... 74 ASSASSINATION OF LA SALLE, .... 80 CAPTAIN JOHN SMITH, . . . . .83 BUILDING OF JAMESTOWN, ..... 86 SMITH SURPRISED BY THE SAVAGES, . . . .90 SMITH SAVED BY POCAHONTAS, . . . . 93 DESPERATE FIGHT WITH THE CHIEF OF THE PASHIPHAYS, . 99 POCAHONTAS, . ... . . . 103 POCAHONTAS PRESENTED AT COURT, .... 107 DESTRUCTION OF A VIRGINIA SETTLEMENT, . . 108 LANDING OF THE PILGRIMS, . . . . .116 FIRST CHURCH IN NEW ENGLAND, .... 119 SAMOSET'S VISIT, ...... 121 WINSLOW'S VISIT TO MAssAsoiT, . . . Full Page, 123 SENDING BACK THE SNAKE-SKIN, . . Full Page, 128 STANDISH'S ^IGHT WITH PECKSNOT, . . Full Page, 133 AMBUSHING SETTLERS, .... Full Page, 139 A NARROW BRIDGE TO VICTORY, .... 142 DEATH OP KING PHILIP, . . . Full Page, 144 PURITAN SETTLER DEFENDING HIS HOME, . . Full Page, 146 "SHOOT, i TELL YOU," ...... 148 PUTNAM IN THE WOLFFS CAVE, .... 151 TAKING CAPTIVES, .... Full Page, 154 GENERAL ISRAEL PUTNAM, ..... 159 XVI LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. PUTNAM TORMENTED, ...... 165 INDIAN SQUAW BETRAYING PONTIAC's CONSPIRACY, . 169 PONTIAC'S VISIT 'TO MAJOR GLADWIN, .... 170 PUTNAM'S PLIGHT DOWN THE ROCKS AT HORSENECK, . 173 PONTIAC, ....... 174 KILLING OF PONTIAC, ..... 175 THE COUNCIL ON A TREE, ..... 187- BRADY'S LEAP, ...... 190 DANIEL BOONE, . . . . . . . 194 CAPTURE OF BOONE AND STEWART, . . . 195 GENERAL CLARKE REJECTING THE PEACE BELT, Full Page, 201 INDIANS ATTACKING BOONESBOROUGH, .... 203 BOONE'S INDIAN TOILET, ..... 205 BOONE PURSUED BY THE INDIANS, . . Full Page, 211 WOMEN GETTING WATER FOR THE FORT, . . . 215 ARRIVAL OF REINFORCEMENTS, . . . .. 217 THE TOBACCO STRATAGEM, ..... 221 THE HUNTER'S PARADISE, . . . Full Page, 223 THE GRAVE OF BOONE, . . . . 226 KENTON RESCUING BOONE, ..... 230 KENTON'S MAZEPPA RIDE, ..... 233 DESPERATE EFFORT TO ESCAPE, .... 235 SIMON GIRTY, THE RENEGADE, . . . 239 LEWIS WETZEL LOADING WHILE RUNNING "HIM GUN ALWAYS LOADED," ...... 249 ANDY POE'S FIGHT WITH BiGFOOT, . . Full Page, 258 MCCULLOCH'S LEAP, ...... 262 THE OSAGES* FATHER-IN-LAW, .... 265 A CLOSE SHAVE, ...... 269 KILLING THE THIEF, . . . . . 275 GENERAL WM. H. HARRISON, . . . . .281 ELSKWATAWA, " THE PROPHET/' .... 284 "THE EARTH is OUR MOTHER" GENERAL HARRISON'S COUNCIL WITH TECUMSEH, ..... 290 DEATH OF TECUMSEH, ..... 299 DAVID CROCKETT, ...... 306 CROCKETT ON THE STUMP, ..... 309 CROCKETT'S FIGHT WITH A BEAR, .... 312 SHIPWRECKED ON THE RIVER, .... 316 CROCKETT'S FIRST BUFFALO HUNT, .... 322 DESPERATE FIGHT WITH A COUGAR, . . . 323 GENERAL COS, ....... 324 STORMING OF THE ALAMO, ..... 325 DEFENCE OF THE ALAMO, ..... 326 DEATH OF CROCKETT, .... Full Page, 328 MONUMENT TO THE DEFENDERS OF THE ALAMO, . . 329 LAFITTE, THE PIRATE, ..... 333 THE MURDER OF HUNTER,' ..... 335 HOUSTON WOUNDED IN THE CREEK WAR, . . . 337 GENERAL SANTA ANNA, ...... 341 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. A TEXAN RANGER, . . . . . 344 GENERAL SAM HOUSTON, . . . . . 347 HOUSTON DICTATING ORDERS, .... 351 HOUSTON AT SAN JACINTO, ..... 352 THE FINDING OF " THE MIGHTY AND GLORIOUS," . 353 SANTA ANNA BEFORE HOUSTON, ..... 354 SURGERY ON THE PLAINS, ..... 362 CHRISTOPHER CARSON, . . . . . . 364 INDIAN CAPTURING HORSES, .... 365 A NARROW ESCAPE, ...... 367 THE PURSUIT OF THE HORSE THIEF, . . . 369 A FIGHT WITH GRIZZLIES, ..... 370 THE SUMMER RENDEZVOUS, .... Full Page, 372 CARSON'S DUEL WITH THE BRAGGART, .... 374 DEFENDING A FALLEN COMRADE, . . . . 376 INDIAN WAR DANCE, ...... 378 CARSON'S HOUSE AT TAGS, ..... 383 FREMONT RESCUED BY CARSON, .... 388 CARSON SAVED BY FREMONT, . . . . 392 MEXICAN TOWNS SURRENDERING TO GENERAL KEARNEY, Full Page, 395 GEN. JOHN C. FREMONT, ..... 399 GEN. WM. S. HARNEY, ...... 404 HARNEY'S RACE WITH THE INDIAN, . . . 407 ANOTHER RACE AND A COLD BATH, .... 408 BLACK HAWK, . . . . . . 411 OSCEOLA, ..... . 414 A TREATY OF WAR, ...... 416 BILLY BOWLEGS, . . . . . . 420 IN THE EVERGLADES, ..... 422 GEN. WINFIELD S. SCOTT, ..... 425 GEN. GEORGE A. CUSTER, .... Full Page, 431 INDIANS VIEWING THE PACIFIC RAILROAD, . Full Page, 434 THE EVENING CONCERT, .... Full Page, 439 THE ATTACK ON THE WAGON-TRAIN, . . Full Page, 443 GEN. PHILIP H. SHERIDAN, ..... 446 CALIFORNIA JOE, ...... 450 THE SURPRISE OF THE CHEYENNE VILLAGE, . Full Page, 455 THE MESSENGER OF DEFEAT, ..... 457 A BUFFALO HUNT, . . . . . . 461 THE TRIANGLE RIDE, .... Full Page, 464 CAPTURE OF RAIN-IN-THE-FACE, .... 467 "WE HAVE KILLED 'THEM ALL!" THE MESSENGER OF VICTORY, 472 WILD BILL SHOOTING WOLVES, .... 475 WILD BILL (j. B. HICKOK), ..... 478 WILD BILL'S FIGHT WITH THE BEAR, . . . 480 FIGHT WITH THE MCCANDLAS GANG, . . . . 482 TAKING TO THE WATER, ..... 486 KILLING THE SLEEPING SENTINEL, .... 490 CONQUERING BEAR, ..... 494 SPOILING FOR A FIGHT, ..... 496 XV111 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. "AIN'T YOU SATISFIED?" ..... 498 WILD BILLYS FIGHT WITH FIFTEEN SOLDIERS, . . . 502 THE MURDER OF WILD BILL, .... 509 BILLINGS AS A BOCARRO, . . . Full Page, 514 BILLY KILLS HIS FIRST INDIAN, .... 517 THE DEPARTURE OF THE STAGES, . . Full Page, 522 THE ATTACK ON THE STAGE, . . . Full Page, 523 ESCAPING FROM THE HORSE-THIEVES, .... 526 AFTER THE SURPRISE, .... Full Page, 530 BUFFALO BILL (W. F. CODY), ..... 533 " KEEP OFF ! " A CENTER SHOT, .... 536 " HOW, HOW ! " . . . . . . .540 MAKING BUFFALOES FURNISH THEIR OWN TRANSPORTATION, . 543 THE SHOOTING OF TALL BULL, . ... 546 "LOOK OUT!" ...... 547 SHOWING THE GRAND DUKE HOW TO KILL BUFFALOES, . 549 AN ARROW THROUGH A BUFFALO, .... 551 TEXAS JACK (J. B. OMOHUNDRO), .... 552 THE FIRST SCALP FOR CUSTER, .... 555 MASSACRE OF MINNESOTA SETTLERS, . . Full Page, 556 THE NOBLE RED MAN OF THE POETS, . . . 558 THE REAL ARTICLE, ...... 559 GEN. E. R. S. CANBY, ..... 560 THE MODOC STRONGHOLD, . . . Full Page, 561 THE FIGHT IN THE LAVA BEDS, . . . Full Page, 563 CAPTAIN JACK, ....... 564 HOOKER JIM, ...... 565 SCHONCHIN, . . . . . . 565 BOSTON CHARLEY, ...... 565 SHACK NASTY JIM, . . . . . 565 GEN. C. H. CROOK, 567 THE BATTLE ON THE ROSEBUD, . . Full Page, 568 AN OASIS IN THE DESERT, . . . Full Page, 571 THE INDIAN CAMP, ...... 572 GENERAL N. A. MILES, ..... 575 GENERAL O. O. HOWARD, ..... 576 CAPTAIN D. L. PAYNE (THE CIMARRON SCOUT), . . 577 PIONEER HEROES AND DARING DEEDS o CHAPTER I. FEKDIKAJTO DE SOTO. little walled town of Xeres, one hundred and thirty JL miles southwest of Madrid, is like plenty of other Spanish towns, though it would look strange to our eyes. Around its walls rise hills on which are built the strong, rude castles of the old nobility ; fallen into ruins now, and not far from that three hundred years ago. In one of the oldest and most ruinous of these was born, in the year 1500, a boy, who was named Ferdi- nand de Soto. A poor Spaniard is the proudest man on the face of the earth, and his pride grows with the growth of his poverty. The parents of this boy had noble blood and the old castle; he could not be allowed to engage in any kind of work, for that would be a disgrace to his family; so he grew up in honorable idleness. So poor was the elder De Soto that he could not afford to edu- cate his son in accordance with his rank. We can imagine the life which the boy led ; taught, perhaps, by some old servant the manly accomplishments in which he became proficient at an early age. His natural advantages were very great, and the tall, well-formed, 2 FERDINAND DE SOTO. 20 FERDINAND DE SOTO. active, handsome youth seemed to have a natural aptitude for horsemanship, fencing, and other necessary acquirements of the time. Such was the beauty of his person and the grace and dignity of his bearing that the young De Soto attracted the at- tention of a wealthy nobleman, Don Pedro Arias de Avila, and was by him adopted, and sent to be educated at one of the Spanish universities. When this happened, he was seventeen years old ; old enough to have acquired considerable skill in riding and fenc- ing, and literary culture was not necessary for a- nobleman. Such was the progress, as shown in frequent tournaments, that he was soon regarded as one who was likely to become the mirror of knighthood. "While De Soto was still at the university, his patron had been appointed governor at Darien, whence, in 1519, he returned to Spain to arrange his affairs for a longer stay. His adopted son was very useful to him in many ways, and was treated like a be- loved child. De Avila, however, really considered him as little more than a beggar living on his bounty, and when, a few months after his return, the young man asked the hand of his second daughter, Donna Isabella, his rage was equalled only by his as- tonishment. He answered contemptuously, and dismissed it from his mind. But his daughter threatened to retire into a convent ; De Avila knew that she had inherited from him a strong will and unyielding spirit ; so he resolved to defeat the youthful lovers by strategy. De Soto had retired to his father's ruined castle, there to med- itate upon his failure and its causes. He was of as noble a family as Donna Isabella, and had the education and bearing of a gen- tleman; his moral character was unspotted far better than De Avila' s own. The one thing lacking was wealth. For this had his suit been rejected with contempt ; riches should be the object of his ambition. When a man proposes this as the end of all his work, when every effort is bent to the achievement of this pur- pose, he becomes what De Soto became. Casting about for some scheme which should prevent Donna Isa- bella's marrying this penniless young nobleman, or burying her- self in a convent, De Avila at first decided that he would have the suitor assassinated. ButDeSoto's death by such means would drive her to desperation as surely as anything that his ingenuity could devise. With the cunning for which he was notorious, he hit upon a plan which was satisfactory. De Soto had determined that FERDINAND DE SOTO. 21 the wealth of the newly discovered continent was the best source at which to enrich himself, and would have offered his services to the captain of one of the many expeditions that were being fitted out ; but he had no means to obtain the necessary outfit. To De Avila he would not go, and from no other source could he ob- tain help. In the midst of his perplexity, a most unexpected offer came. The crafty old Spaniard, well knowing what dangers could be thrust as honors upon his subordinates, proffered a captain's commission and outfit to our hero, with the prospect of acquiring unlimited wealth in the proposed invasion of Peru. Yet he worded his invitation so courteously as to make De Soto feel that his knightly prowess was the reason why it was given, and that his expected services would be of great value. Arrived at Darien, DeSoto was constantly employed upon the most danger- ous missions. De Avila had reversed the policy of his predeces- sor in office, Balboa, who had won the hearts of the Indians, al- ways disposed to treat Europeans well ; and had inflicted the greatest cruelties imaginable upon the gentle and unoffending natives. His underlings were encouraged in all kinds of wanton barbarity; and the cruelty which in Spain fed upon the blood of heretics, in the New "World hunted down the Indians as if they had been wild beasts. Torn limb from limb by blood-hounds, mutilated by the axe, burned at the stake such were the pun- ishments inflicted upon them for the atrocious crime of being American aborigines. De Soto had resolved to become rich, at any cost but his hon- or ; this he could not sacrifice, and often he must disobey the or- ders of the governor. One instance out of many, say his contem- porary historians, has come down to us. Don Pedro had re- solved, for some trifling reason, that a certain Indian village should be destroyed, and sent Capt. Perez, a man after his own heart, to De Soto, with orders for the latter to proceed against it with his troops. The village was to be burned, and every liv- ing creature in it put to the sword. The messenger was per- mitted to detail the whole plan of procedure; when he had fin- ished, De Soto, who felt such a commission an insult, answered : " Tell the governor that my life and services are always at his disposal when the duty to be performed is such as may become a Christian and a gentleman. But in the present case, Capt. Perez, I think that Don Pedro would have shown more discretion by ZZ FERDINAND DE SOTO. intrusting you with this commission, instead of sending you with the order to myself." Don Pedro heard the answer with joy it was just what he de- sired. With a grim smile, he said to the messenger, who was a noted duelist, never failing to kill his antagonist : "Well, my friend, if you, who area vigorous young soldier, can patiently endure De Soto's insolence, I see no reason why an infirm old man like myself should not show equal forbearance/' Stung to the quick by this taunt, the fiery Spaniard lost no time in challenging his comrade. The duel was then the recog- nized way of deciding any quarrel between gentlemen, and this took place in the presence of all the officers and soldiers of the colony. Contrary to general expectation, De Soto succeeded in disarming his antagonist, and although the latter was silent when the victor bade him ask for his life, spared him, sheathing his sword with the remark : "A life that is not worth asking for is not worth taking." Perez, ashamed of being thus defeated by a stripling, who had as yet attained but little fame as a soldier, threw up his commis- sion and went back to Spain. De Soto continued to preserve his self-respect, even though it taught him to despise his superior officers. A man of his discern- ment could not help seeing that they were a disgrace to the country which they represented, and the chivalrous young ad- venturer took no pains to conceal his contempt. De Avila' s hatred for him increased, and the young captain was warned solemnly by a friendly astrologer, whose life he had saved, that the utmost caution would be necessary if he would avoid a dis- graceful death. This friend, who was suspected of dealing in magic, professed to gather his information from the stars, but the probability is that he only betrayed the confidence of the governor. De Avila dare not persecute his enemy too openly, however ; both because of the effect which it would have on his daughter, and because he felt that one more abuse of his power might be fatal. But an honorable death in battle, he determined, should be the young man's fate. De Soto felt the danger to which he was exposed; so far 'as the object of his coming to the New World was concerned, he had failed ; he could not acquire wealth, as his companions did, by murder and robbery ; for five years he had held no communication with Donna Isabella, their letters having be. en. intercepted by De Avila, As the term of the governor's FERDINAND DE SOTO. 23 authority drew to a close, since his successor was on his way to America, De Soto even received sentence of death for opposing the execution of an innocent man, but fortunately for our story, was pardoned by the new ruler. He had before this been urged by Pizarro to join an exploring expedition of which the latter was commander, but had refused, not choosing to submit himself to this base-born adventurer. NOT was the character of Pizarro's followers such as to tempt a man of knightly renown and truth to his standard. They never, on their earlier expeditions, made an attack, except where the hope of plunder was the obvious inducement and there was but little danger of resistance. But De Soto wished to escape from the dangerous neighborhood of De Avila, who was now governor of Nicaragua ; he had been employed in various exploring expeditions, but in spite of being ten years and more in this new country, he had not become any wealthier. But the long association with these men had weaken- ed his moral sense ; he had played with pitch and been defiled. Pizarro, determining upon another expedition, offered him a po- sition second only to his own, and the offer was accepted. With his characteristic independence, however, De Soto did not hesitate to reject orders which were contrary to his sense of pru- dence or of right. Pizarro readily ignored this insubordination, as he was by no means brave enough to quarrel with any but helpless persons. The conquest'of Peru was a series of dreadful massacres, com- mitted without provocation upon a peaceful and helpless people. How much part De Soto took in this so-called war cannot now be determined ; the Spanish historians endeavor to cover up the crimes of their countrymen with excuses, and to increase the glory of the leader by every possible means ; it is probable that De Soto was, to some extent, an innocent tool in the hands of Pizarro and his brothers. His manly bearing, his open and hon- orable candor, his personal appearance, all doubtless contributed to increase the trust of the too credulous Peruvians in the good intentions of the Spaniards. Whatever repugnance he may have had to their acts of cruelty, he continued to be one of their num- ber; and although he endeavored to lessen the ransom of the unfortunate Inca as far as lay in his power, he did not hesitate to accept his share, which amounted to a sum equal to more than a quarter-million dollars of our money. Let us do him the just- ice, however, to record that the perfidious murder of the monarch 24 FERDINAND DE SOT6. took place during his absence on an errand that Pizarro devised for the purpose, and that, on his return, his anger was real, his disgust sincere. Let us pass rapidly over the remainder of this time, when he was the lieutenant of a man who never hesitated to defraud or deceive any one about him. The plan was carried out, and Peru obliged to submit to the ruffian Spaniard. But in Spain, at least, it was known that De Soto was the only one of the invading force that could be called a hero ; that without his courage and pru- dence the expedition would have been the most miserable of fail- ures. Returning to his transatlantic home, he found that his reputation had preceded him, and he was everywhere received with the most nattering distinction. All classes looked upon him as the model of what a man should be. His dearest hope was fulfilled in his union with Donna Isabella, and the happy couple were received at court with the highest marks of favor. As a re- ward for his services, the king conferred upon him the title of Marquis, and his society was sought by the most distinguished nobles of the land. His style of living was in accordance with the extent of his newly acquired fortune; indeed, such magnifi- cence reigned in the mansion which he had bought that, after living two years in Seville, he found that one-half of his wealth was gone. He thereupon determined to embark upon another adventure of a similar character. The Spaniards laid claim to North as well as to South America - } those few who had returned from a pre- vious expedition under De Narvaez had given glowing accounts of the immense treasures of Florida, as the whole region north of the Gulf of Mexico was called. The adventurers had told also of the character of the natives ; the Indians in the southern latitudes they had found peaceful and unresisting ; these were fierce and powerful. De Soto's brave soul had revolted at the sight of the atrocious cruelties practiced upon the unoffending and defense- less Indians of the south; these sterner natives of the north would be foemen more worthy of such a conqueror as himself. Hoping to find both gold and glory in Florida, he requested per- mission from the king. to imdertake the conquest at his own ex- pense. As he did not desire any aid from the royal treasury, his proposition was readily assented to, and he was created Gov- ernor of Cuba and President of Florida. He had no difficulty in obtaining recruits. Aside from the DE SOTO. hopes of wealth in which all indulged, it would be an honor to serve under so distinguished a commander. His own position was such that the Spaniards thought success assured, since he risked the glorious reputation and immense wealth which he had already acquired. They flocked to his standard from all sides ; property was sacrificed to procure suitable outfits; one man, it is recorded, had to take his wife with him, since there was noth-> ing left to maintain her. So great was the number that it was impossible for all to go, and some who had sold their estates for their equipment were obliged to remain at home. De Soto select- ed for his companions six hundred ; according to some authori- SPANTAKDS ENSLAVING INDIANS. ties, a thousand of the aspirants ; and in the early part of April, 1538, they embarked in ten ships for the El Dorado that they ex- pected to find. Donna Isabella refused to be again separated from him by the broad Atlantic, and accompanied the expedition as far as Havana. Some time was spent in Cuba, in feasting and merry-making. An old and wealthy Cuban, who was anxious to obtain a number of Indians as slaves to work his mines, was made lieutenant, in place of RTuno de Tobar, whom De Soto deprived of his office. Here, too, they obtained a supply of excellent horses, the island having been well stocked with these animals by the first settlers. 26 FERDINAND DE SOTO. "All went merry as a marriage-bell, " and although the previous expeditions had all been extremely unfortunate, no one dreamed but that this would be crowned with the most brilliant success. Setting sail from Havana May 18, 1538, the voyage was so pro- longed by contrary winds that it was a week before they came in sight of the coast of Florida. Two leagues from the shore they dropped anchor, the shallow water preventing a nearer approach. They already began to see the difficulties which would surround them ; for beacon-fires kindled upon the beach by the natives gave the Indians farther off intelligence of their coming. The earlier explorers had been received by the aborigines with the greatest kindness, and as in the other parts of America which the Spaniards had settled, had been treated with the most wanton cruelty. Less forgiving than their southern brethren, the most deeply injured chief became the implacable enemy of the white man. Their countrymen had sown the wind, and the history of the next four years shows how De Soto and companions reaped the whirlwind. The Indians soon gathered upon the shore, and with hostile demonstrations showed their evident purpose of opposing the disembarkation of the troops; so De Soto, not choosing to come into collision with the natives immediately, gav-e orders to pro- ceed about two leagues farther up the bay (Tampa), and land there. This was in what is now known as Hillsboro bay, a branch of that more important one on the western coast of the present state of Florida already mentioned. It seems hardly possible that De Soto, after his experiences in Central and South America, should not have known why the In- dians did not receive him and his followers as they had received his predecessors in the work of exploration. Such seems to be the case, however ; for when, after they had proceeded about ten miles inland, two or three fugitive Indians were captured and brought to him, and told him, in reply to his questions, of the inhumanities practiced by De Narvaez, he saw, for the first time, if we may believe the chroniclers, a new and unfailing source of danger. He endeavored, however, to propitiate the chief, Ucita, who hail received such great injuries the mutilation of his per- son, and murder of his mother, and loading these captives with presents, sent them with friendly messages to their chief. " Bring me no speeches or promises frorti these men," exclaim- ed the justly indignant savage ; " I want only their heads ! " FERDINAND DE SOTO. 28 FERDINAND i>E sotfo. Do Soto knew the power of Ucita, and the strength of his tribe j he knew that this chief must be concilated by every means in his power ; that if it were necessary for the Spaniards to retreat to their ships, they ought not to have such an enemy between them and the sea. But Ucita received all the messages and presents sent him as he had received the first. DC Soto had been especially unfortunate in his choice of a lieu- tenant whose object was so far at variance with his own. The Cuban, Yasco Porcallo, however, soon desired to retire from the service, and was permitted to do so. He was greatly offended at what he considered Ucita' s unreasonable obstinacy in returning the presents of the Spaniards and refusing to hold friendly inter- course with them, and requested permission to punish the cacique. Having received De Soto's approval of the undertaking, he made all the preparations which he considered necessary for his pur- pose, boasting that he would bring with him, when he returned, the insolent chief and as many of his people as could be conveni- iently transported to Cuba. Arraying himself in a suit of glitter- ing armor, and mounting a very fine horse, he set out, at the head of his troop of horsemen, in a style befitting a knight going to a tournament. His ardor, whether arising from his anger at the chief or his desire of obtaining slaves, so hastened him onward that his followers were scarcely able to keep up with him. Coming to the edge of a bog, they remonstrated with him, telling him that it was impassable for horsemen as heavily accoutered as they were. But he would not listen to them, and to prove that they were wrong dashed into the morass. Here his steed strug- gled and plunged for a few minutes, and then fell so that Por- callo's leg was caught under the animal's body. Deeper and deeper they sank, and although the danger was imminent, the soldiers did not attempt to restrain their merriment. At length he crawled out, his shining armor encrusted with a thick coat of black slime, and the fire of his courage completely quenched. Re- signing his commission, he left behind him all the hopes of win- ning new laurels and acquiring a new source of wealth, and went back to Cuba to mourn over the loss of his expensive outfit. A slave-hunting expedition of Porcallo's had, however, proved very fortunate ; not indeed to himself, but to the little army. It had resulted in their meeting with a Spaniard of the parry of De lN"arvaez, one Juan Ortiz, who had been captured and condemned to death by Ucita, but by the aid of the cacique's daughter, FERDINAND DE soTdi had escaped to the more merciful prince to whom she was be- trothed. Through him, his friend, the cacique Mocoso, became theirs, and later provided them with a guide. Being ready to penetrate still farther into the heart of the country, the ships were sent back to Cuba. The reason for such action has been questioned very often one solution offered being that De Soto desired to show his men that there was no hope of return. We can easily account for it in this way, without sup- posing that they needed such a spur; he could not leave enough men to defend the vessels without seriously crippling his force, and if left unguarded, they would be destroyed by the Indians. Care- fully calculating the time that would probably be required for the proposed journey, he despatched the ships to Cuba with di- rections to return with a supply of provisions and other neces- saries at the expiration of that period. With the guide furnished by Mocoso, a small party was de- spatched northward to explore the country. About seventeen leagues to the north of the main camp, they came upon an Indian village, the inhabitants of which had heard of their coming, and taken to the woods in terror. A deputation soon arrived from the cacique, offering any service in their power. Don Balthasar G-allegos, the leader, put the messengers in chains, to show his appreciation of the kindness shown him, and required them to inform him where he cou4d find a land abounding in gold and silver. The crafty natives made reply that far to the northwest was a land of everlasting summer, and of inestimable wealth ; that the people there wore hats or helmets of gold ; and similar stories. Incredible as they appear to us, the Spaniards accepted these tales as true, and Grallegos hastily despatched eight of his men to take the news to De Soto. To use the words of the Port- uguese narrator who is one of the chief authorities for this histo- ry : " De Soto and all his soldiers were very much comforted by the assurance that their toils were about to be rewarded by the discovery of another Peru." As the toils increased, the "com- fort" diminished. De Soto determined to follow Gallegos immediately, and leav- ing Captain Calderon with a troop of forty men to protect the ships on their return, set out with the main body of the army. But he met with many difficulties. Mocoso, the only chief at all friendly to the Spaniards, refused to furnish guides ; the conduct of Grallegos had stirred up a violent opposition from the Indians ; FERDINAND sOTO. and by these the difficulties of the way were considerably in- creased. Rushing out from the thickets by which the Spaniards passed, the nimble Indians would discharge a flight of arrows in- to the ranks of the white men, and return to the shelter from which they had emerged before the clumsier soldiers could lay hold of their weapons. Many of De Soto's men were killed and wounded by these sudden assailants. The morasses so common in that part of Florida offered an- other serious difficulty. A short time after meeting with Galle- gos and his party, they came to Long Swamp, as it is now called, more than a league in breadth. After searching for several days for a path which would lead across it, they built rafts, but were two days in crossing. Mounted men were sent ahead to find some practicable pathway through the untraveled wilderness, but were often killed by Indians, who shot their fatal arrows from the shelter of trees. Several pris- oners were taken, and compelled to act as guides, but were more faith- ful to their people than to their cap- tors; purposely misleading them, and then pretending to have mis- taken their way. Angry at the de- ception, the Spaniards delivered two or three of them to the blood- hounds; but they died bravely, re- gretting, like an American of later date, that each " had but one life to give for his country." Having crossed a second morass, and a sluggish stream, where they lost, by the Indian arrows, some men who were engaged in repairing a bridge that had been destroyed to delay them, they took several prisoners, of the tribe of the cacique of Acuera. De Soto treated these with much kindness, and sent them AMBUSHING SPANIARDS. with presents to propose a treaty to their cacique. The chief replied that with such as the Spaniards he wished to be always at war, and that the only kindness they FERDINAND DE SOTO. 31 could do him or his people was to leave the country. In this he persisted, notwithstanding De Soto's earnest efforts to conclude a peace with him. Threats were added to his refusal, and the army was seriously annoyed during the twenty days which they stayed on the edge of his territory, fourteen Spaniards being killed. The Indians could not be drawn into an open battle, and De Soto, seeing that the loss was all on his side and would before long seriously im- pair his strength, withdrew to Ocala, forty miles farther north. The village, the largest they had yet seen, was deserted. They had hoped to find provisions here, but were disappointed. They had consumed their whole stock of food and were sorely pressed by hunger. They soon found themselves, however, in a country that by its appearance promised better things. Extensive corn fields gave them hopes of abundant food for themselves, their horses and the drove of hogs they had brought; the ground was firm, no morasses appearing, and the way no longer lay through thick forests. But still they met with the same opposition on the part of the natives, who very naturally distrusted the coun- trymen of those who had, years before, used them so cruelly. Nor did this feeling confine its expression to threats. One cacique, Vitacucho, invited the Spaniards to visit him, and for some time entertained them with every care which hospitality could command ; having plotted a massacre when the Spaniards should be completely off their guard. Four of De Soto's Indian interpreters were intrusted with the secret, and the fact that they betrayed their countrymen to him shows that he must have treated them with something of kindness. De Soto feigned ignorance of the plan, however, and trusted to his own address to save his men. When Yitacucho had arranged everything to his satisfaction, he invited De Soto to witness a display of his forces. The gov- ernor accepted this invitation he could not well do otherwise, and, under pretense of showing the greater respect to the chief, ordered his soldiers to appear completely armed as if for battle. The cacique liked this as little as De Soto liked the invitation, but, like him, could make no objection. With the appearance of the closest friendship the two commanders walked side by side to the field where the two armies were drawn up. Several thousand warriors, young and athletic men, with nod- ding plumes of the swan and heron that made them look like giants, were placed between an impervious thicket on one hand FERDINAND DE SOTO. and two small lakes on the other. They appeared to be unarmed, as they had hidden their bows and arrows in the grass. Opposite these was formed the Spanish infantry, the cavalry being between the two armies which were on foot. Yitacucho gave the signal agreed upon, and the Indians snatched up their arms to rush upon the Spaniards. But De Soto's men had had instructions how to act, and the twelve who were in immediate attendance upon himself seized the cacique and bound him securely. The governor, springing upon his horse, would have charged upon the natives with that headlong valor for which he was famous, but a shower of arrows killed his steed. Mounting a second one, the furious assault which he led soon broke the Indians' line of battle, and they fled in confusion. Some of them plunged into the lakes, and from under the broad leaves of the water-lilies which grew there in abundance, continued, for ten hours, to discharge ar- rows at the Spaniards. It must be remembered that this is the account of the Spanish historians, who always shield their coun- trymen at the expense of the Indians. The more impartial Port- uguese narrators say that the interpreters who betrayed Yitacucho's confidence were unworthy of the trust which De Soto reposed in their statements, and that, on the field of battle, the cacique was seized before his men had made any hostile dem- onstration. Be this as it may, Yitacucho and many of his tribe were reduced to slavery, that was terminated by death, when, a week later, they attempted to regain their liberty. The Indians of this tribe and others had told them much of the difficulties which they had yet to encounter, and which De N" arvaez and his men had undergone in the very country through which th v ey were soon to pass. Disheartened by these stories as well as by the death of so many of their companions, the Spaniards in- sisted upon returning to the place where they had disembarked, and abandoning the country as soon as the ships came from Ha- vana. Except De Soto himself, there was not a man in the army who was disposed to pursue the adventure any further. The gov- ernor was " a stern man, and of few words," but when once his mind was made up, he was inflexible. " You, who are so easily dis- couraged," he said, " may stay behind. You have never seen me shrink from the post of danger ; and I will now advance, with *two hundred men, or even a smaller number, and meet all the enemies that are likely to offer any opposition to our progress." They encamped for the winter at the head of the bay of FERDINAND DE SOTO. 33 )achee, and from this point a message was despatched to Cuba, desiring that supplies might be sent thither early in the spring; and another after Captain Calderon and his troop. The ships had returned from Cuba in the meantime, bringing abundant supplies of all necessaries, and a letter to De Soto from his wife. This is of interest, urging him, as it does, to give up the adven- ture, if it must be prosecuted with the same cruelties which others had practised, and of which she had only heard since his depar- ture. "Not for all the riches of the country," she wrote, "would DE SOTO'S MAKCH. I have you commit one act, the remembrance of which would be painful to you hereafter." De Soto loved his wife, and wished to make her happy, but preferred to do this in his own way. He had invested all that remained of his fortune in equipping this expedition, and a failure would be utter ruin. In spite of her entreaties, then, as well as of the mutinous murmurs of his sol- diers, he determined to press forward to the land of gold. In March, 1540, the Spaniards left their winter quarters, and proceeded on their journey. "I will not turn back," the gov- ernor had said, "till I have seen the poverty of the country with own eyesj" and his words stimulated hi followers tQ 34 FERDINAND DE SOTO. greater exertions and endurance. The Spaniards were now on the way to the gold fields of Georgia, which they had nearly reached when, for some reason, they turned aside. They had, at one point, been assured by their guide that they would reach the land of gold in four days, but after a nine days' journey it still mocked them. To increase their troubles, their stock of provisions, with which they had been supplied by a friendly cacique, was nearly consumed ; and their search for food was not always successful. The Indian trail, which they had heretofore followed, had failed them ; and suffering intensely with hunger, they made their way slowly through the pathless forests, that seemed to stretch to the end of the world. At last, after endur- ing hardships beyond description, they came once more to a highly cultivated and open country. Two leagues farther on, they came in sight of an Indiai} town, which was situated on the farther side oi a river. On the nearer bank they encamped, and here, seated in state on the margin of the river, De Soto received the Indians who crossed in canoes. These were men of rank and authority, and after a variety of salutations, demanded to be in- formed if the white men came for peace or war. The governor replied, as usual, that he wished to be at peace with the people of that country, and hoped to be supplied with provisions. They answered that the last crop had been unusually bad, and they had hardly enough for their own people ; but that they would inform the maiden who was their ruler of this request; and re- embarking, they returned to the town. The news that this tribe was governed by a woman was re- ceived with joy by the Spaniards, for that was one point in the description which the Indians had given of the land of gold. "When this princess, who was only about nineteen years old, vis- ited their camp in the course of a few hours, her personal adorn- ment confirmed their hopes ; so rich were her ornaments of pearls and gold. She repeated what had been said about the poor har- vest, but said that one of two magazines of corn, reserved for future exigencies, should be bestowed upon the strangers ; and presented her necklace, of invaluable pearls, to the governor. Her generosity was rewarded in a truly Spanish way. Al- though " treated with every mark of respect," she was strictly guarded in the midst of her own dominions "a necessary meas- ure to keep her people in subordination to the^Spaniards." The temples and tombs were sacked for the pearls to be found there, FERDINAND DE SOTO. 35 the booty from one mausoleum amounting to five hundred pounds in weight. This town, Cofachiqui, was probably situated at the junction of the Broad and Savannah rivers. So pleasant did the Spaniards find it that they desired to settle there, but De Soto was determined to press on to the Peru of North America. For twenty years avarice had been his leading passion, and it was too strong for him now to resist it. The unhappy princess was obliged to accompany them when, on the third of May, 1540, they left Cofachiqui to proceed yet far- ther on their journey. She was compelled to call upon her sub- jects for all kinds of assistance for the explorers, especially to carry burdens from one place to another. But she finally con- trived to make her escape, and such was De Soto's chivalry, which had at last come, to the surface, that he would not permit his men to pursue her. At a town called Chenalla, supposed to be the same as Qua- latche, at the source of the Chattahoochee, they again changed their course, turning towards the south-west. In the latter part of July they were at Coosa, where, in the course of the season, they found the delicious wild grape which still abounds in Ala' bama. Received and well entertained for some time by the gi gantic chief Tuscaloosa, they offended him by their assuming authority, as usual, over him and his tribe. De Soto, after a rest at this village, prepared to resume his march, accompanied by the cacique. 'A Spanish guard had been given the Indian, under pretense of honoring him, and his satisfied manner and his con- tinued kindness led them to believe that he did not suspect that he was a prisoner. Their course was towards Mavilla (Mobile), a town under the government of a cacique tributary to Tusca- loosa. To this subject prince the chief, when they approached the town, sent orders to prepare a grand entertainment for the guests he would bring with him ; adding to this message a toke which would tell his real meaning. In conformity with the wishes of the cacique, the warriors be' longing to the town were mustered, arms were collected, and every possible preparation made for rescuing Tuscaloosa. As the Spaniards approached Mavilla, they were filled with astonish- ment at the strength of the fortifications, and TMrth alarm at the bus- tle of preparations. Their fears were allayed, however, by the na- ture of their welcome, and when, after they had been conducted to the quarters provided for them, Tuscaloosa informed De Soto that 3 36 FERDINAND DE SOTO. he wished to retire for a short time to converse with his people and make further arrangements for the comfort,, of his guests, the governor, although suspicious of his intentions, could not raise any reasonable objection. Breakfast was prepared, by De Soto's order, for himself and the cacique, as they were accustomed to eat at the same table. Tuscaloosa was summoned, but did not answer the call ; again and again he was called ; at last a Spanish officer imperiously ordered him to obey. It was the signal for the battle. "What would these unmannerly people have with my chief? " asked an Indian warrior, angrily; " Down with the villains! We can endure their insolence no longer/' He was killed instantly by a single blow from the cutlass of G-allegos, and the fight began. The Spaniards endeavored to es- cape from the town as soon as possible ; but on their way to the gates, several of them were killed or wounded. The flint-headed arrows penetrated the armor of the Spaniards, and Be Soto saw his men falling around him with fearful rapidity. Eetreat now and he could not continue the fight under these circumstances, and the prestige of the Spaniards would be lost; they would no long- er bo regarded as invincible, and would soon be driven out of the country. Dismounting, he snatched up an axe, and advanced towards the wooden wall of the town, which protected the enemy from the fire of his men. Perceiving his purpose, DeMoscoso and two or three other brave soldiers followed him ; but the torrent of stones which the Indians poured down upon them crushed the less vigorous to the earth, and De Soto and De Mos- coso continued the work alone. At last a breach was made, wide enough for the admission of the cavalry. The village soon presented a scene of the utmost horror. The cavalry had dashed in upon the Indians, who retreated hastily to the houses ; the infantry followed. From every side the flint- headed arrows came in showers, dealing death to man and horse. The Spaniards set fire to the houses, and the terrors of the flames were added to those of the sword. The light structures of reeds and dry timbers burnt with fearful rapidity, and the fire spread all over the town in a short time. The cries of the women, more than a thousand of whom were burned to death, were added to the horrid din of the battle. In the market-place of the town was Tuscaloosa, with a small body of his bravest warriors, who fought desperately while their countrymen perished around themu FERDINAND DE SOTO. 37 Not even did the charge of cavalry which De Soto led make them disperse. Shoulfter to shoulder, heart to heart, stood these earli- est defenders of our country. Now the two chiefs press forward to a personal encounter with each other the mounted, mail-clad knight of Spain and the gigantic warrior of the wilderness. But if one be defended by his shining armor, the other is shielded by 38 FERDINAND DE SOTO. the love of his people. Other warriors throw themselves before him, and engage in the hopeless combat. One by one they fall before that lance, dripping with the t blood of their race, and at last De Soto and Tuscaloosa meet. The immense war-club is raised for a blow, but with a chivalry that the lion-hearted king might have envied, and the fearless and blameless knight of France would have admired, its descent is arrested. An arrow has pierced De Soto's hauberk, and the wounded man is spared by the chief. De Soto conceals his wound, lest his men be dis- heartened and yield to the enemy. For hours the fight continues, and the Spanish army is weakened by fatigue, fainting with hunger and thirst. But fortunately for them, the main body came up ( for only the van, of two hundred and fifty men, had been engaged), and the tide turned in their favor. Still the Indians fought on, now desperately ; often Tuscaloosa forced his way to where the battle raged fiercest, hoping in the thickest of the battle to meet again with the Spanish leader ; but again he is prevented by his people. At last he sees that all is lost, and rushing into a house near by, is almost instantly buried by the falling timbers. Not an Indian escaped from fire and sword. The number of those who perished is stated at from two thou- sand five hundred to four thousand, though Bancroft thinks even the smaller number exaggerated. The Spaniards remained for almost a month in the neighbor- hood of Mavilla, before the wounded had sufficiently recovered to march. Nov. 18, they left the ruined town, and proceeded almost due north for five days. They were much delayed in crossing the Tombigbee, as the Indians disputed their passage twelve days. A further march of ten days brought them to a spot where they encamped for the winter; probably in the north- ern part of the present state of Mississippi. The ships had arrived with fresh supplies from Cuba when De Soto gave orders to march northward from Mavilla; supplies which were all the more needed by them, since all their baggage had perished in the flames which consumed the Indian town. Why, in the face of these facts, he should have turned directly away from the needed provisions, is a matter for speculation only. His motive was probably in his fear that, an easy passage homeward being provided, they would desert him and return to Cuba. It will be recollected that he had expended nearly all his fortune in equipping this expedition ; that he was resolved no* FERDINAND DE SOfO. 89 to return without acquiring such wealth in Florida as Cortez had found in Mexico, or Pizarro in Peru. The Spanish historian records, as something remarkable, that his countrymen lived peacefully here for the space of two months. The corn was standing in the fields when they first encamped, although the ground was covered with snow. They were plenti- fully supplied with food during the winter by the Indians, but, as usual, attempted to impose upon the good nature of their ben- efactors. When the spring opened, De Soto demanded that two hundred Indians should be sent with him to carry the burdens of his company. This was a requirement not unusual with the Spaniards, but strange to the Chickasaws. Determined to de- stroy the strangers, even at the sacrifice of their own homes, the Indians set fire to their own village, where the Spaniards were encamped, and attacked them. Had they been as resolute as Tuscaloosa's warriors, they would have been successful, but they speedily withdrew into the forests. Here they remained for a week, which time the Spaniards employed in erecting forges, tempering swords, and fashioning lances ; so that when the na- tives finally summoned up enough resolution to attack them again, they were well prepared for resistance. The fire in this Chickasaw village had destroyed what they had saved from the flames of Mavilla, and clad only in skins and in mats of ivy, the miserable remnant of the once gallant army continued the journey. For seven days they struggled through the wilderness, where the dense forest alternated only with al- most impassable marshes. Their spirits sank surely they had come to the end of the world but the iron will of the leader saw ahead the star of hope, and its rays, though faint and uncertain, were still golden. At last they came to an Indian village on the banks of a mighty river, and from the height on which it stood De Soto saw the yellow flood of the Father of Waters, more than a mile broad, bearing upon its mighty tide the monarchs of the forest that had been undermined by its changing current. For the first time, the eye of a white man beheld that mighty flood which to-day is bridged for our needs ; which the skill of the en- gineer has annihilated, as all distances and dangers have been conquered. His arrival awakening much curiosity among the Indians on the west bank, they came out in a great multitude, armed with bows and arrows, and gaudily painted, and crowned with nod- 40 FERDINAND DE SOTO. DISCOVERY OF THE MISSISSIPPI. FERDINAND DE SOTO. 41 ding plumes, their chiefs sitting under the awnings of two hun- dred large canoes, and bringing gifts of food to the Spaniards. Here they encamped for twenty days, building boats on which to cross the Mississippi. The Indians seemed at first disposed to resistance, but were awed by the evidently superior strength of the white men. At length eight large scows, each large enough to transport fifty men and ten horses, were completed ; probably enough to transport all the men at one time, as many had perished on the way, by disease as well as by violence; and the river was crossed. This was the region of mineral wealth, as Be Soto believed, and they plunged still more deeply into the heart of the conti- nent. Here, in the country of the Dakotas, they were regard- ed as the children of the sun, and the blind were brought into their presence to be healed. The leader answered their supplications with the words: " Pray only to G-od, who is in heaven, for whatsoever you need." Journeying toward the northwest, they reached a point proba- 42 EERDlttAND 1>E SOTO. bly near "White Eiver, two hundred miles west of the Mississippi ; having crossed the main stream, according to most authorities, at about the boundary line between the present states of Missis- sippi and Tennessee. Then, turning southward, they came into the country of the Comanches. Here they met with such treat- ment and acted in such a manner, that, although the Spanish his- torian does not hint at such a word, we are forced to conclude that the gallant Spaniards retreated from the hostile Indians. They encamped for the winter in the midst of a less warlike peo- ple, living on the banks of the Washita; and seem to have treat- ed the inhabitants with more than their usual barbarity. It will be remembered that the men engaged in this expedition were rather more humane, owing to the restraint imposed by their leader, than the majority of Spaniards who had dealings with the natives ; but Be Soto seems to have lost his humanity as his hopes died away ; perhaps h'e was even then suffering from the malarial influences of the country. Certain it is that the life and happiness of an Indian were valued less than ever, and any trifling consideration of safety would induce him to order a vil- lage burned. Misfortunes thickened around them the winter was unusually severe, and they suffered from disease as well as privations. Juan Ortiz, the veteran of De Narvaez' expedition, who had been so long in captivity, and who had been invaluable as a guide, died during this winter an irreparable loss. Every hunting party met with loss before it returned, from the arrows of the Indians ; and only the indomitable will of the leader sustained them. Hope had led them onward, but now, even to tne keen eye of De Soto, there was no ray visible. Sadly, as spring drew near, he ordered preparation to be made for the journey it was to go back whence they had come. Through a country inhabited by races they had wronged, where every day must see a contest be- tween them and the hostile natives, through marshes intersected by a network of bayous, through dense forests where the light of day scarcely penetrated to the slimy ooze on which they must tread, back to the Mississippi. They followed the course of the "Washita, then of the Eed Eiver, at the mouth of which they found a country called G-uachoya. The chief could not tell them how far they were from the sea; he only knew that the course of the riv- er, farther south, lay through an uninhabited waste. An explor- FBBD1NAND BE SOTO. 43 ing party sent onward traveled eight days through, the cane- brakes, almost impassable, and the dense woods, and were only able to advance thirty miles. Horses and men were dying with fearful rapidity, and the governor's heart sank. The natives must soon overpower them, so rapidly was their number dimin- ishing. One last resort was tried. Mindful of the adoration of the northern tribes, he said to a chief near Natchez, that he was of supernatural birth. " You say you are the child of the sun/' answers the Indian, with a touch of contempt for the falsehood ; " dry up the river, and I believe you/' De Soto was in the midst of a vast wilderness; more than half of his army had perished by disease, accident and the devastation of war j and nearly all who survived looked upon him as the author of all their sufferings. They had hoped to be cured of their diseases by drinking of the hot springs of Arkansas, whither the natives had directed them ; there, they thought, might be that fountain of youth which Ponce de Leon had sought, and perished in the seeking ; but this hope, too, had been in vain. The behavior of the cacique on whom he had tried to practise the deception mentioned above, was insulting in the extreme, and two years before, his land would have been laid waste, his people murdered. But now, the proud Spaniard must submit to every affront revenge or resentment could not be his. To these ills was added bodily weakness. The soul of the hero may feel but slightly the pain of a wound, counting it pleas- ure to suffer for his country or the right ; but the dull languor of disease wears upon him as the dropping of water wears away the stone. Oppressed by melancholy and bodily infirmity, De Soto looked around him and saw that none of his subordi- nates had inspired the Indians with a wholesome fear that although the natives had, in spite of the chiefs contempt, almost reverenced him as a god while he was in his usual health, they now began to suspect that he was mortal like themselves. In his youth, while still under the command of De Avila, an astrologer had foretold that his life would resemble that of Balboa, the discoverer of the Pacific ocean ; and that he would live no longer than De Avila's unfortunate predecessor in the government of Darien. The limit was reached now, and the old prediction often recurred to his mind, but was as often banished. A monk of considerable medical skill soon reported that the 44 FERDINAND t>E S0?6. commander was gradually succumbing to his disease/which must soon prove fatal. " This is no more than I have expected/' he answered calmly, when told of his condition ; " and I submit without a murmur to the will of G-od." He called the officers together, and bade them choose his suc- cessor; then, when they left the choice to him, nominated De Mos- coso. He counselled them as to their future course, and entrusted De Moscoso with a message for Donna Isabella. He took leave of the soldiers, whose every hardship he had shared, whose every danger he had braved ; and May 21, 1542, he died. Secretly, at night, they dug his grave ; silently they lowered his body into it; fearful that the Indians, if they knew of his death, would fall upon his followers and destroy them utterly. The next day they announced to the natives that the leader was better, although not yet able to leave his tent; and to conceal their grief, they instituted a sort of tournament. Backward and forward over the grave of their general they rode, apparently in the greatest joy. The impassible savages looked on, and sus- pected the truth. BURIAL OF DE SOTO. The searching inquiries of the cacique soon revealed this sus- picion to the Spaniards, and fearful that the grave of De Soto would be desecrated as they had defiled the Indian tombs, they exhumed his body, and weighting the winding-sheet heavily with sand, lowered it, at midnight, silently into the Mississippi. Thp 46 FERDINAND DE SOTO. broad golden flood parted to receive the body of the gold-seeker and closed above him and his hopes forever. There is not much more to tell. The Spaniards, no longer led by the spirit that would press onward, no matter through what difficulties and dangers, resolved to proceed towards New Spain without delay. It was unanimously decided that a journey by land would be less dangerous than one by water, and they under- took to find a way to Mexico through the pathless forests. After wandering two hundred miles west of the river, they turned back in despair, and sought the banks of the Mississippi again. Here they devoted themselves to the construction of brigantines, no easy matter for men in their condition, and, more than a year after De Soto's death, were ready for their voyage. Seventeen days after their departure, followed by the arrows and the hate of the Indians, they had traveled the five hundred miles to the mouth of the Mississippi, but thirty-three more had passed before they reached Panuco, a town on the coast of Mex- ico about two hundred and sixty miles from the boundary of the present state of Texas. Here they remained for a long time, quarreling so much among themselves that the Mexican viceroy was at last obliged to inter- pose his authority; not, however, until many of the three hundred and eleven survivors of this ill-starred company had perished at the hands of their comrades. For three years, no intelligence of the expedition had reached Havana. Donna Isabella waited day after day, month after month, year after year, for tidings from Florida. None came. Her cheek paled, her eye dimmed with tears. At last some one who had re- turned from Mexico told the tale as it had been told to him, of the hardships and dangers they had met, of the mighty river they had discovered, and of the death of their leader. Three days after this confirmation of her fears, her soul rejoined his whose body rests beneath the mighty river which he discovered. CHAPTER II. FEENCH PIONEEES. FOE years after the adventurous Genoese returned safe from his voyage to the east by way of the west, the new world which he had given to Castile and Leon was claimed by many other nations, and regarded by all as the land for the attainment of wealth and glory. England claimed the northern continent in right of Cabot's discovery of Newfoundland and Labrador in 1497 ; France claimed the same por- tion by virtue of the exploration of this sea by a daring Frenchman in 1488, who told Columbus of the west- ern land; and Spain held with pride to the gift of the pope all America. In the sixteenth century, these were the three great powers of Europe, and no one was strong enough to expel the others from the territory claimed. The Spaniards, then, came here to seek wealth ; the English, to JACQUES CARTIER< add to their territory; the French, to fish, and extend the limits of the papal authority over a new realm. Of course these were not the only motives of each, but they were the principal causes operating to send white men to the new world. JACQUES CARTIER. "Within fifty years after the first voyage of Columbus, French sailors had explored the coast of Canada, discovered the St. Law- rence, and established fisheries off the coast of Newfoundland. Jacques Cartier, a sturdy Breton, was the leader of the most im- portant of 'these expeditions. Nor were they trifling dangers which these sailors braved. Eeliable accounts of even older ex.- 48 SAMUEL DE CHAMPLAIN. plorers told of the dreadful beings peopling Canada ; it was the home of the dragon, the griffin, and no one knew what other ani- mals that were not to be feared in any other part of the world ; and at least one island was inhabited by demons, whose blood- curdling yells could be heard by the unwary navigator venturing too close to the shore. Despite such dangers, however, the fish- eries were claimed, the land was explored, and in 1541 a settle- ment was established near the site of what is now Quebec. The French early made friends with the Indians, and the alli- ances between them have become matters of history. The differ- ence between the estimation -in which the native held the French- man and that in which he held the Spaniard and Englishman was probably due to the early treatment he experienced at the hands' of the whites. The Indians of the South were exasperated by the treatment received from De Soto's men; the savages of New England never forgot the outrage committed by Captain Hunt; but the French, if they kidnapped the Indians later, gained their friendship first. We need not follow longer the efforts of Cartier to establish settlements in New France. The religious wars in the mother country sent to Florida those hapless colonists that per- ished at the hands of the Spaniards, but none of the dominant faith could be spared for explorations or settlements in the north. SAMUEL DE CHAMPLAIN. When France was once more at peace, interest in the exten- sion of her territory revived, and after several voyages that re- sulted in no permanent foothold being obtained, an expedition was organized under the leadership of a man whose name, given to his discoveries, has become a household word along our Cana- dian border Samuel de Champlain. Born in 1567, at a small seaport on the Bay of Biscay, his life had been spent in adventure and danger upon sea and land. Commissioned a captain in the royal navy at an early age, at twenty-three he became a soldier in the armies with which Henry IY established his claim to the crown of France, and for eight years fought bravely. The recognition of Henry's authority put an end to the war, and Champlain, finding his occupation gone, was forced to seek some new outlet for his adventurous spirit. The space of two years and a half was occupied by a voy- age to the West Indies and to Mexico. It is a noticeable fact that this bold, keen-sighted Frenchman, visiting Panama in 1592, SAMUEL DE CHAMPLAIN. 49 conceived the idea of a ship-canal across the isthmus, and saw the same advantages that Be Lesseps sees to-day in a similar plan, which our own famous engineer, Eads, condemns as imprac- ticable. Eeturning to France, he found that an old soldier, Be Chastes, had obtained from the king a patent granting him a monopoly of the fur-trade with the Indians of Canada. They had been companions-in-arms, and De Chastes knew that Champlain, young, ardent, yet ripe in experience, a skillful' seaman and a practised soldier, was above all others the man for his enterprise. Setting sail in 1603, they found that the numerous tribes, of whom Cartier had told, had vanished, doubtless with the drag- ons and demons. A few wandering Algonquins made a rude map of the country on the deck of the little vessel, indicating Niagara as a rapid ; Champlain essayed to pass the rapids of St. Louis, but failed, and the expedition returned to France. De Chastes was dead, but his mantle fell upon the Sieur de Monts, who, in the succeeding year, secured a patent from the King (patents cost nothing), being empowered to impress idlers and vagabonds as material for his colony. It was a strange mix- ture of men that filled his two ships thieves and ruffians dragged on board by force, gentlemen by rank and nature, Catholic priests and Huguenot ministers. We will not detail the quar- rels that arose between these latter elements on the voyage, nor the horror of devout Catholic and Calvinist when the sacri- legious crew insisted upon burying in one grave a priest and a minister who had died on the same day, to see if they would lie peaceably together. Sounding, exploring, surveying, they finally selected an island which they called St. Croix, in the river which now bears that name, as the site of their village ; a position having no advan- tages except that it readily admitted of defense; but as one aim of the expedition was to convert the Indians, it seemed some- what strange that this qualification should be considered so im- portant. Soldiers, sailors, artisans, betook themselves to their task, and before the winter closed in, had erected dwellings for all. The ships returned to France, leaving this strangely assort- ed company to endure the hardships of a northern winter. De- spite the sheltering belt of cedars at the upper end of the island, the north wind swept down upon them with a severity they had never known before. Immense floating cakes of ice kept them for days from the mainland; thus cutting off supplies of wood and 50 SAMUEL DE CHAMPLAIN. water; cider and wine, frozen solid, were served out by the pound; scurvy broke out, and thirty-five of the seventy -nine set- tlers died before spring. Only Champlain's indomitable tenacity of purpose kept them from despair ; but we may know that he was not less glad than they, when, in the spring, supplies and reinforcements arrived from France. De Monts was by this time fully aware of the disadvantages of his present location, and tried, although unsuccessfully, to find a suitable place somewhere on the coast of the present state of Maine, which Champlain had ex- plored the previous September. Failing in this plan, he deter- mined to go to the inland harbor of Port Eoyal, and there he es- tablished his colony at the mouth of the Annapolis River. But enemies, jealous of his monopoly, were busily at work against him in Paris, and he was forced to return thither, leaving Champlain, Pontgrave and Champdore in command at Port Eoyal. Another winter of hardships, although less severe than the last, brought them to the spring of 1606. Champlain, in a badly built vessel of eighteen tons, explored the coast as far as the southeastern part of Massachusetts, but with little resulting advantage. The peninsula of Cape Cod he found thickly studded with the wigwams of a warlike race, who inflicted some injury upon a part of the company that, contrary to orders, landed; two being killed, and the others flying to the boat, brist- ling with arrows as a porcupine with quills. The savages were re- pulsed by a charge of Champlain with nine. men, and the dead bu- ried with proper solemnities. During the interment, they could see the Indians upon a neighboring hill, dancing with glee and mock- ing them by unseemly gestures; and as soon as the graves in the wilderness were left unguarded, the bodies were exhumed and burned, the clothes being shared among the natives. Disgusted by the reception no less than by the character of the country itself, Champlain and his men returned to Port Eoyal, where the winter, less severe than those already experienced, was spent. At dinner, the aged chief Memberton was a daily guest at the table of the principal persons, and warriors, squaws SAMUEL DE CHAMPLAIN. 51 and children sat on the floor or crouched in the corners, await- ing eagerly and humbly a portion of bread or biscuit. Treated always with kindness, they became very fond of the French, act- ing as guides and instructors when the Europeans would hunt those animals peculiar to America. The colonists had been well fed throughout the winter, such was the abundance of game ; and as spring opened, and the grain planted in the fall began to grow, new life seemed infused into their efforts. But their prosperity received a sudden blow, in the king's withdrawal of the monopo- ly of the fur trade, and, to the grief of the aged Memberton, they returned to France in the fall of 1607. When the last boat-load left Port Royal, the shore resounded with lamentations ; and nothing could console the afflicted savages but oft repeated prom- ises of a speedy return. Three years later, a second colony was established in the same place, under the auspices of the queen regent (for Henry IY was dead) a-nd the Jesuits. Memberton and many of his people were baptized ; to those who came seeking spiritual counsel, the good fathers gave food in abundance; and one hopeful convert, when dying, inquired with considerable solicitude if in heaven he would find pies as good as those which the French had given him. Yet the missionaries wrote home of their excellent success, and Mem- berton, at his death, was said to be a devout Christian. The succeeding years of the colony were filled with misfor- tunes, terminating in the capture of most of the settlers by the English, and the complete destruction of the village. But even while the Jesuits had been feeding and baptizing the Indians, a lonely ship had sailed up the St. Lawrence. In the heart of the commander were bright hopes of the land of which he was al- ready enamored. Ascending the vast flood, twenty miles from shore to shore, they came to a point where the stream suddenly contracted to a mile in width ; on one hand the green heights of Point Levi; on the other, the cliffs, named by the Indians, be- cause here the stream narrowed, Quebec. Soon the solitudes saw a gang of men at work, felling trees, and in a few weeks a pile of wooden buildings rose on the brink of the St. Lawrence. A strong wooden wall surrounded an inclosure containing three buildings, a court-yard, and a tall dove-cote. This wall was pierced by loop-holes for musketry, and a moat and three or four small cannon gave greater security. Here Champlam was left witb twenty-eight men, and the ship returned to France. 4 52 SAMUEL DE CHAMPLAIN. Starving Indians beset the fort, begging for food; now, ter- rified by prophetic dreams of their enemies, imploring shelter within the enclosure. How the winter passed with them, we do not know. Champlain has recorded little besides the in- tense cold, and in the latter part of the cold weather, their suf- ferings from scurvy. But spring came on, and as the woods put on a more cheerful dress than the icy covering they had worn so long, the poor, disease-stricken creatures crept out into the May sunshine, and saw, in the young grass of the mead- ows, where the marsh-marigolds shone like miniature suns, the graves of twenty of their companions. Champlain alone seems to to have escaped the ravages of the disease which was then the scourge of mankind, and with new vigor drawn from the spring sunshine, he anticipated the long-desired journey to tlib south- west. Difficulties there were in the way, but even while his sol- dier heart despised them, he formed a plan for evading them. The Indian tribes, to whom peace was unknown, infested with their scalping parties the streams and pathways of the forest, increas- ing tenfold its inseparable risks. Anticipating surprises, he re- solved to join a war party, and fight his way to discovery. The tribes east of the Mississippi were divided into two vast families, the Algonquins and the Huron-Iroquois, and these were never at peace with each other. Opportunity was not lacking, for the surrounding Indians had frequently visited Quebec during the winter, and had been struck with amazement and admiration when they saw the superior military skill and accoutrements of the French. A young Algonquin chief had urged Champlain to join him, in the spring, in a campaign against his enemies, the Iroquois, and Champlain, hoping to hold the balance of power between the nations of the New World, and thus attain for France an unquestioned supremacy, assented to the plan. Waiting for the coming of the war-party, he at last set out without it ; but, moving up the St. Lawrence, saw, thickly clus- tered in the forest, the lodges of his allies. The southern family of Indians was divided by a mortal enmity, and the Hurons were with ^the Algonquins. Two chiefs, then, received the steel-clad strangers, and they were conducted to their lodge by a staring crowd of savages. Few of the warriors had ever seen a white man, and they surrounded these in speechless wonder. There were feasting, smoking, speeches; and these necessary ceremo- nies having cemented the bond of friendship between them, all SAMUEL DE CHAMPLAIN. 53 descended together to Quebec ; for the warriors must see with their own eyes the wonderful town where dwelt these wonderful men. It was the twenty-eighth of May, 1609, before their curiosity was fully satisfied ; before war-dance and war-feast had been often enough repeated ; before they were ready to start upon the journey which had been planned. Twelve white men, in a small shallop, were in the midst of the swarm of bark canoes that hun- dreds of dusky arms, with steady, measured sweep, were driving onward. Beaching the mouth of a river then called des Iroquois, but since named Eichelieu, they encamped for two days, the war- riors hunting and then quarreling among themselves. Three- fourths of their number, as the result of their disagreement, re- turned home, leaving the rest to pursue their course up the broad and quiet river. The shallop outsailed the canoes, and anxious to know the char- acter of the stream before venturing too far, Champlain, leaving the boat in charge of four men, proceeded on foot through the woods. His Indian allies had assured him that throughout the proposed journey his shallop could pass unobstructed; but he now heard the hoarse surging of rapids, and saw the water thick- ly set with rocks, through which no larger boat than the birch- bark canoe could be safely steered. Returning to the shallop, he found that the savages had overtaken it, and mildly rebuked them for the deception put upon him; adding that he was never- theless determined to perform his part of the contract. Nine men, with the shallop, returned to Quebec, while Champlain, with two volunteers, went onward in the Indian canoes. Sixty warriors and twenty-four canoes were counted, as the Indians, carrying their light vessels on their shoulders, filed in long pro- cession through the forest to the smooth water above the rapids. Landing towards the close of the day, less than two hours suf- ficed for the construction of a strong defensive half-moon, open on the river-side, and large enough to contain all the light sheds and huts, hastily erected for the night. Scouts were despatched in all directions, and returning, reported no danger near. The medicine-man, concealed in his hut, invoked the Manitou. The chief took more practical measures to insure their safety; gath- ering bundles of sticks, he named each one for some warrior as he stuck it into the ground ; the savages gathered around and died this arrangement attentively for a few moments, and then, 54 SAMUEL DE CHAMPLAIN. forming into battle array as thus indicated, they broke their ranks, mingled a few moments in the wildest confusion, and re- formed with wonderful alacrity and skill. At last the camp was still ; no sentinel's measured tread disturbed the silence, for al- though every warrior was wrapped in slumber, the breaking of a twig would instantly arouse them all. Advancing further south, the river widened as they went. Channels where ships might float, broad stretches of water, ex- tended from shore to shore of the large islands, leagues in extent, and Champlain entered the lake which now bears his name. We need not dilate upon the beauty of the sceno which here met his gaze ; our interest rather centers in the adventures which here awaited him and his allies. Progress was now becoming dangerous, and greater precau- tions were therefore adopted. Lying all day close in the depths of the forest, at twilight they would embark again, and pursue their way until dawn. Their intention was to follow the natural highway marked out by lakes and rivers, and which became, in the following century, the grand pathway of war, and to attack some outlying town of their enemies on the Hudson river ; but they did not have to go so far. Among the aborigines, dreams had always been regarded as supernatural in origin, and as pro- phecies or guidance for the future. Champlain had been eagerly questioned as to his dreams, but his unbroken slumbers had hither- to disappointed his allies. At last, on the twenty-ninth of July, he was able to answer their inquiries to their satisfaction ; he had dreamed of the Iroquois drowning in the lake; of his wish to succor them, and of the Algonquin advice to leave them to the fate which they deserved. Highly elated at this utterance of their oracle, they pushed forward on their nightly journey. It was ten o'clock before they saw before them on the lake a mass of dark objects moving towards them the canoes of the Iroquois. Each party saw the other and distinguished an enemy by the paint and ornaments worn ; and war-cries, making the night hideous, pealed over the dark water. The Iroquois were near the shore, and quickly took advantage of their superior position, landing, and with iron axes taken in war from the Canadian tribes, and with stone hatchets of their own making, working like beavers in cutting down trees for a barricade. The Algonquins, thus made the attacking party, lashed their canoes to long poles, and, remaining a bow-shot from their enemies, dan- SAMUEL DE CHAMPLAIN. 55 ced all night long with as much vigor as the frailty of their vessels would permit ; making up for any short coinings in this direction by the energy displayed in hurling abuse, sarcasm, menace and boasting at the garrison compliments returned with interest. The attack was deferred until daybreak. At dawn Champlain and his two followers put on the light armor of the time, and armed with sword and arquebus, prepared for the fight. The three Frenchmen were in different canoes, and each concealed himself, as the Algonquins approached the shore, either by lying flat in the bottom, or by covering himself with an Indian robe. Landing without opposition, at some distance from the Iroquois, they presently saw the enemy filing out of their barricade two hundred tall, strong men, of the boldest and fiercest warriors in America. Advancing through the forest with an order which excited the admiration of the veteran French soldier, he noted several chiefs that were conspicuous by their tall plumes, and has particularly described their armor, of twigs interwoven with cords, and shields of wood or hides. Alarmed at the large opposing force, the Algonquins called with loud cries for their champion. As Champlain, clad from head to foot in armor, a plumed casque increasing his apparent height, advanced to the front through the avenue opened in the ranks of red men, the Iroquois stood and stared in speechless wonder. Before they had recovered from their surprise, his arquebus, clumsy enough to our eyes, but all-sufficient for the time, was levelled; a loud roar rang through the woods; one of their chiefs fell dead, and another by his side rolled among the bushes. Quickly following up their success the Algonquins echo- ed the report of his gun with the wild yell with which they were accustomed to startle their enemies and awaken their own cour- age, and a flight of arrows darkened the air. For a moment the Iroquois stood firm, and answered arrow for arrow ; but when the deadly thunder broke again and again, they turned and fled in uncontrollable terror. Like dogs after deer, the allied Hurons and Algonquins tore through the thicket in hot pursuit. Some of the Iroquois were killed, more were captured ; and the vic- tory was complete. At night, they bivouacked in the forest, and prepared to tor- ture one of the captives. Champlain sickened at the dreadful sight, and asked to be allowed to shoot him. At first refusing his request, they tore the scalp from the living man's head ; then, 56 SAMUEL DE CHAMPLAIN. SAMUEL DE CSAMPLAIN. 57 as the Frenchman turned away in disgust and anger, called out : " Do as you will with him." He turned again, and the captive's sufferings were mercifully ended by the bullet which sped to his heart. Eetreating promptly a measure which, with the Indians, al- ways followed victory, in three or four days they arrived at the mouth^ of the Richelieu. Here they separated, the Hurons and Algonquins, each with a share of prisoners to be tortured, pro- ceeding towards the Ottawa, and Champlain, with a small party of Montagnais, returning to Quebec. Champlain went back to France soon after this expedition, which occurred in 1609, and recounted his exploits to the king, to whom he presented the head of a dead Iroquois, and various natural curiosities from Canada. Setting sail early in the spring of 1610, a short time before the king's assassination, he repaired immediately upon his arrival to the rendezvous with the Hurons and Algonquins at the mouth of the Richelieu. These had prom- ised to guide him to the great lakes on whose shores were cop- per mines, and the Montagnais were to lead him northward to Hudson's Bay. To each of these he had promised the same re- ward help in a second warlike expedition against the Iroquois, and it was in a boat surrounded by a multitude of canoes, filled with lank-haired Montagnais warriors, that he repaired to the rendezvous appointed. On the nineteenth of June, an island in the St. Lawrence was swarming with busy and noisy savages, Champlain's allies, cut- ting down trees to clear the ground for a dance and a feast with which they intended to welcome the hourly-expected Algon- quins. Suddenly a canoe came in sight, and as the paddles urged it forward with unusual haste, the messenger called to them that the Algonquins were in the forest, a league away, fighting with the Iroquois. "With cries of piercing shrillness, they leaped into their canoes, and made for the shore, Champlain and his four Frenchmen being among them. The light barks shot through the water, and as the prow grated on the pebbles, each warrior snatch- ed up his light arms and sped like a greyhound into the woods. The Frenchmen, untrained to the wilderness, and encumbered by heavier clothing and arms, soon fell far into the rear. Deserted in the midst of a swamp, over which their light-footed allies had bounded undeterred, having to wade through water knee-deep, to climb over fallen trees, among slimy logs and entangled roots, 58 . SAMUEL DE CHAMPLAIN. tripped by vines, lashed by recoiling boughs, " cruelly persecu- ted " by swarm of mosquitoes, the poor Frerichmen, loaded down by their armor, at length hailed two Indians running in the dis- tance, and obliged them to act as guides to the presence of the enemy. The Iroquois stood at bay behind a breast-work of trunks, boughs and matted foliage; the Algonquins had attacked them, but had met with a bloody repulse, and now nocked around them, half hidden in the edges of the forest, eager and clamor- ous, yet afraid to renew the fight until the arrival of their allies. A wild yell welcomed the Frenchmen ; another, from within the barricade, defied them. A storm of arrows from both sides fol- lowed ; Champlain and one of his men were wounded by the stone-headed missiles, but drawing the arrows from the flesh, ran up to the barricade. At the sight of the terrible strangers, clad in lightning and armed with thunder, the Iroquois threw them- selves flat upon the earth. Gaming new courage from their allies, the Algonquins rushed up to the barricade, and began to tear away the trees composing it. Some fur-traders, who had heard the firing, now came up, and could not resist the impulse to join in the fight. They opened fire upon the besieged Indians, who, wild with terror, leaped and writhed to dodge the shot which their frail armor could not resist. At a signal from Champlain, the wild horde charged upon the impromptu fort, and forced an entrance. Some of the Iroquois were cut down, as, war-club in hand, they stood hewing at their enemies ; some climbed the barrier and were killed by the raging mob without,, or, reaching the river, were drowned in its blood stained current; fifteen sur- vived and were taken prisoners. Of these, Champlain could save but one from the torture, and one was quartered and eaten. According to the custom of the Indians, the victors had no thought of following up their success. Elated at their victory, they indulged in all the festivities that their experience could suggest; and after a few days returned home with the ghastly trophies of the blow struck on the enemy. Champlain had per- formed his share of the contract, but for some reason which does not appear, did not claim from the Indians the fulfillment of their promise. Probably cares connected with his colony, and dan- ger to it arising from the assassination of the king, tidings of which awaited him on his return, called him to France without delay. Certainly he sailed thither without loss of time, and re- mained until the following spring (1611). SAMUEL DE CHAMPLAIN. 59 The entanglement of his ship among drifting fields and moun- tains of ice, off the coast of Newfoundland, on his return voyage, proved but an omen of the difficulties which were to follow. Anx- ious to establish a permanent post, through which the advantages of trade with the great Indian communities of the interior should be secured to DeMonts, he found that wild reports of the wonders of New France had brought thither numberless adventurers, eager for riches ; and saw that whatever he might accomplish or undergo would be for their advantage. Nor were the Indians pleased at the coming of this legion of traders.* A band of Hurons, loaded with skins, came to the ren- dezvous. The traders saluted them from their vessels and fright- ened them nearly to d.eath ; they could not understand how the same explosion might be used to express both enmity and respect, to kill or to honor, as the case might be. Still further frightened by the bearing of the disorderly crowd, they awakened Champlain, late at night, and invited him to their camp. There he found the chiefs and warriors assembled in council. The peace-pipe was proffered and accepted, and in troubled tones the chief said: " Come to our country, buy our beaver, build a fort, teach us the true faith, but do not bring this crowd with you." Believing that these lawless bands of rival traders, all well- armed, intended to attack, plunder and kill them, it required all Champlain' s powers of persuasion to keep the peace. The night was spent in friendly talk, but the frightened Indians soon broke up their camp, and went, some to their homes, some to fight the Iroquois, while the traders returned to Tadoussac, and Champlain to Quebec. Such was the state of affairs that Champlain was now obliged to go to France, to seek some powerful patron for the colony. This was accomplished, and as lieutenant for the nobleman who became lieutenant-general for the king, he returned to in- fuse new life into the little settlement that looked to him for support in all its trials. Yet, though he was the life and soul of New France, though without him it would soon have been left again to the Indians, his great object was not to establish colonies there. In his eyes, fur-trade and settlements were but means to an end, or rather, to two ends. These two great objects were to find a way to China and to convert the In dians. Many of the rival traders were given an interest in the company, so that much of the trouble from that quarter had van- 60 SAMUEL DE ished ; and every possible arrangement was made to further his plans for exploring expeditions. His heart must have leaped high when a young Frenchman, who had been with the Algon- quins up the Ottawa, reappeared in Paris with a wonderful, yet not improbable story of a voyage to the northern sea, distant from Montreal only seventeen days' journey. Many eminent persons about the court urged Champlain to follow up these discoveries; and the daring adventurer, nothing loath, again crossed the Atlantic in the spring of 1613, and with four French- men and one Indian, set out from the neighborhood of Montreal to find the promised passage to the northern ocean. We will not follow them in their daily toil as they made their way up the Ottawa; now over rocks, now through the woods, they had to carry their canoes ; launching them, by turns they pushed, dragged, lifted, paddled, shoved with poles the light structures of birch-bark. Here, where rapid after rapid made the river a foamy slope, where, smooth and shining, the water glided softly in and out the shadows of the trees, while the terri- fied settlers at Jamestown dared not venture out of cannon-shot of their town, and when no white man's home disturbed the New England Indian's solitude, Champlain and his men boldly pressed forward into the wilderness where never before had a white man set foot; and planted the huge crosses of white cedar, symbols of the white man's faith, along the banks of the stream. Keeping the course advised by the Indians, they reached a far inland point by a path so beset with difficulties that a chief whom they visited said, in astonishment, while he offered the calumet: "These white men must have fallen from the clouds ; for how else could they have reached us through the woods and rapids which even we find it hard to pass ? The French chief can do anything. All that we have heard of him must be true." Proceeding still northward, he was entertained with great re- joicings by Tessonat, chief of the tribes north of Lake Coulange, who was, however, only with difficulty persuaded to furnish him with canoes for the further prosecution of his journey ; and after he had agreed to help them, the promise was withdrawn, they urging that rapids, rocks, cataracts, and the wickedness of the Nipissings would bar their way. But Champlain stood firm. " This young man," he said, pointing to the adventurer who had told of his wonderful travels, "has been to their country, and did not find the road or the people so bad as you have said." SAMUEL BE CHAMPLAIN. 61 " Nicholas," demanded the chief, " did you say that you had been to the country of the Nipissings ?" Summoning all his effrontery, Nicholas asseverated that he had been there. His reply was followed by a fierce outcry from the contemptuous savages, which the unceremonious chief cut short with the blunt words : "You are a liar. You know very well that you slept here with my people every night and hunted with them all the day, so that if you ever went, it must have been while you were asleep. How can you lie to your chief? He ought to torture you, for you are an enemy to him." Questioned privately by Champlain, Nicholas Yignan swore that he had spoken truth, but when the Indians asked him con- cerning his route, he had no answer to make. Champlain, hav- ing come so far, and through such difficulties, was naturally anxious to believe his countryman, and thus displeased the In- dians. When, however, he was ready to go, he again questioned Yignan, who fell on his knees and implored forgiveness for his imposture. No further reason remained for their journey, and somewhat crestfallen, the adventurers returned to that point where Montreal now stands. When Champlain returned from a voyage to France in 1615, four Franciscans accompanied him, to labor for the conversion of the Indians. Two remained in Quebec, two went as traveling missionaries among the Montagnais and the Hurons. But the Indians wished temporal, rather than spiritual assistance, and urged Champlain to accompany them upon an inroad into the country of their enemies, the Iroquois. No special adventure made the journey remarkable. The war-party penetrated as far south as the southern shore of Lake Oneida, where an Iroquois village then stood. This was attacked under the generalship of Champlain, but such was the confusion into which his savage sol- diers fell in their attempt to follow European methods, that they were repulsed, and absolutely refusing to again assail 'the town, retreated. The Hurons had promised Champlain an escort to Quebec, but each warrior found some reason for refusing to lend his canoe, and the chiefs had no power but persuasion. Undoubtedly the defeat, which had proven Champlain not invincible, had much to do with their refusal ; even though it was caused by their own sudden retreat. Nothing was to be done, therefore, but to re- 62 SAMUEL DE CHAMPLAItfc main all winter in the Huron Tillage, and he accepted the shel- ter of the lodge belonging to a chief named Durantal. Although they would not discommode themselves to escort him to Quebec, Champlain was treated with all honor while at the Indian village ; and when, on one occasion, allured by the strange bird that we know as the red-headed woodpecker, he went far into the woods, and losing his way, was gone several days, they searched for him without ceasing, and welcomed him back with the most extravagant expressions of joy. To prevent the occurrence of such a misfortune again, Durantal would nev- er afterward allow him to go into the forest without an attendant. Returning to Quebec in the spring, he was welcomed as one arisen from the grave, for the Indians had reported that he was dead. His forest wanderings were now over; a new task, al- though a less congenial one, awaited him ; and he devoted him- self to nursing the puny colony into life and strength with the same interest and energy which he had put into his exploring ex- peditions and military raids. Quebec could hardly be called a settlement; it was half trading-post, half mission; and although Champlain was the nominal commander, the merchants and the friars, between them, controlled everything. All was discord and disorder, the two ruling classes uniting in but one thing: hatred and jealousy of Champlain. The governor displayed considerable tact in dealing with these almost unmanageable elements ; but there seemed to be no end to his misfortunes. He at last believed that he had bound the company of merchants to engagements that they would not break, and in this vain hope brought his wife to the new coun- try with which his name was now so closely identified. But his hope proved vain. Matters went from bad to worse, and at last the Indians formed a plot to utterly destroy the French. They were, however, betrayed by one of their number, and came to seek for peace. In 1622, an inroad from the Iroquois settlement occasioned considerable alarm, but ten years had not caused them to forget the fatal guns, and they hastily retreated when they found the town prepared for defense. The life of Champlain is the history of Quebec for nearly thir- ty years. But the most useful life is not always possessed of the most interest ; then let us pass over in silence the next thirteen years, eventful to the struggling colony, but of little importance save to the local antiquarian. 1635 was the date of the severest MARQUETTE. 63 misfortune which had yet befallen the struggling colony, for then it was that Champlain died. His strong hand had sustained it through troubles from without and dissensions within ; winning the respect of the savages, he prevented danger from that quar- ter; and by his indefatigable exertions foiled the efforts of those who would have sacrificed everything to their own gain. MARQUETTE. But, while Champlain was dead, the spirit of adventure was still alive, although for a little time it slumbered. It will be re- membered that a number of Franciscans had come to New France JESUIT MISSIONARY PREACHING TO THE INDIANS. to engage in missionary work; later, when Calvinists were per- mitted to trade there, it was on the express condition that they maintain a certain number of Jesuits in this wilderness. These men, vowed not only to chastity, poverty and obedience, but to go wherever their superior should send them, left the cells where they had, perhaps, studied half their lives away, and wore away the remainder of their days amid the hardships of the wilderness. They claimed to be successful in their work, and certainly the claim is justified if we consider only the number of converts ; but 64 MARQUETTE. when we come to the extent of conversion which each Indian underwent, the case is altered. Whatever they may or may not have accomplished spiritually, certainly they thought they were doing their duty, and no privations deterred, no dangers daunted them. They penetrated into the wilderness in every direction, and becoming embued with the spirit of adventure, are enrolled among the most famous of explorers. Such a man was Father Marquette, whose name has become in- dissolubly connected with the history of the Mississippi. Born in France in 1637, he came to Canada as a Jesuit missionary in 1666, and immediately applied himself to the study of several dialects of the Algonquin tongue. A year and a half had been spent in this way when he was sent to found a mission subordinate to the main one at Quebec. A year or more after this, he was sent, for a similar purpose, to La Pointe, among the Ottawas and Hurons ; here fye heard of a mighty river lying to the southwest, called in the Indian tongue by a name signifying " Father of Waters." The ideas entertained by the Europeans of that age regarding the extent of the western continent seem to us absurd. They did not realize that the width was so much greater at the middle part of North America than it had been found to be in Mexico ; and were continually expecting to come upon the Pacific after a com- paratively short journey. When the Indians, then, told him of this great river rising in the west and flowing to the south, Father Marquette's first thought was that it would furnish a highway to the South Sea, as the Pacific was then called. He had already dreamed of converting all the tribes dwelling in that region, and to this hope was added that keen desire of adventurous explora- tions that had possessed Cartier and Champlain, and was even then urging the Sieur de La Salle onward over the same course. Frontenac, then governor of Quebec, readily listened to such suggestions, and in 1673 commissioned Louis Joliet to undertake the tour of discovery, Marquette being instructed by the Jesuits to accompany him. On the seventeenth of May they started from Mackinaw, having already explored and rudely mapped the shores of three of the Great Lakes Huron, Michigan and Supe- rior. Floating along the streams on their route, carrying their canoes from water to water, and finally reaching the Wis- consin, it was just a month after their departure from Mackinaw that they came to the mouth of that river, and beheld the broad blue flood of the Mississippi. Descending this for days, they MARQUETTE. 65 traveled three hundred miles before they saw the face of any human being but those in their own company. At last they saw a trail on the eastern side of the river, and, following it, came to a town of the Illinois. Here they were kindly received, this tribe being a branch of the great Algonquin family with which the French had firmly allied themselves; and much refreshed by this evidence that they were not all alone in the wilderness, they continued their journey. Past the mouth of the Missouri, whose MARQUETTE DESCENDING THE MISSISSIPPI. swift current bore the trunks and large branches of trees with resistless power onward, and sapping 'the foundation of huge sandy bluffs, swept them into its own flood of muddy water; past the mouth of the Ohio, whose volume was now so much greater than at any other season of the year ; past the flat and marshy lands below the level of the water, protected only by the natural levees which the river itself had formed, and which, at that season, had probably given way to the vast flood's impetu- ous force. Perhaps the spring rains had swollen the volume of the main stream and its tributaries, and it was over a vast golden sea that the two frail canoes floated. At the mouth of the Arkansas they found a higher degree of civilization than they had yet observed among the natives. 66 LA SALLE. These Indians, who told them it was but ten days' journey to the sea, had plainly had intercourse with the Spaniards, for they had weapons and tools of steel, and glass bottles for use as powder flasks. Fearful lest they should fall into the hands of these white men, whom the Indians described as clothed like the French, and possessed of images and beads, they turned back home. Four months sufficed for the completion of this voyage of more than two thousand miles, the return route being somewhat different than that by which they had come ; for they ascended the Illi- nois, and are supposed to have made the portage to Lake Michi- gan near where Chicago now stands. But the Jesuit missionary had accomplished but little j his ex- plorations were regarded as mere preparation for his prime ob- ject. In October of the following year he set out, with a party requiring ten canoes for transportation, to form a mission settle- ment in the country of the Illinois. The western shore of Lake Michigan was skirted, and the mouth of the Chicago reached. Disease had already laid her hand heavily upon him, and enfee- bled by its weight, he decided to go no farther at that time. Throughout the winter the party remained there, only removing when, in the spring, a freshet nearly carried away their log hut. Arriving at the Indian town of Kaskaskia, he was "received like an angel from heaven." Here, however, he did not linger, but went upon another exploring expedition along the eastern shore of Lake Michigan, where, on the bank of a small stream south of that which now bears his name, he at last yielded to the disease which had so long enfeebled him, and was buried on the shores of the lake. A year later (1676) his bones were conveyed rever- entially by a party of his Indian converts to the mission of St. Ignace, and there buried with due solemnities. LA SALLE. While the Jesuits, as represented by Father Marquette, were exploring the valley of the Mississippi and the region drained by the more westerly of the chain of great lakes, another element of Canadian life was entering into the same work in another di- rection. While the Jesuits were able to control the Indians to a marvellous degree, it was only while the fathers alone assumed such power j any division of it with the traders or the civil au- thority was fatal to its further existence. So far, then, from the purposes of trade being served by the missionaries, the efforts of LA SALLE. 67 these men rather retarded commerce between their countrymen and their converts. There was, however, in Canada, another class of ecclesiastics, that united more readily with the laymen the Franciscans, and it was in conjunction with the priests of this order that the famous Sieur de la Salle made his tours of ex- ploration. Eobert Cavelier,de la Salle was born in Eouen, of a good fam- ily, about 1643, although no definite record of the year of his birth has been found. Educated in a Jesuit seminary for the priest- hood, for some reason he failed to enter upon the life for which he had been intended; what that reason may have been cannot be discovered after the lapse of more than two centuries; but the fact that he received no share in his father's property shows what course had been marked out for him, and the testimonials he re- ceived upon leaving college give no room for believing his con- duct forbade his ordination. Coming to Canada about 1667, for several years his only aim seems to have been the accumulation of a modest competence by means of trading with the Indians. Considering his limited means, his operations were on a bold scale ; with the same enter- prising spirit which afterwards made him famous, he pushed for- ward to the frontier, erected trading-houses, and superintending in person the details of his business, freighted his bark canoes and ascended the rapids of the St. Lawrence and other rivers. Here he learned from the Indians the only kind of navigation which then existed on the inland streams and lakes of this country. While engaged in this work, he had gained much knowledge of the language and customs of the Indians with whom he trad- ed; and hearing from them, as Father Marquette had already heard, wonderful stories of the countries and rivers south of them, his imagination was kindled, his adventurous spirit excited ; and he anticipated that fame and fortune would result from the dis- covery of a short and easy route to China. The Great Lakes had been but recently explored, and filled with new hope by the certainty that such bodies of water extended in that direction, he conjectured that the Pacific lay not far from the western end of Superior, or that a chain of similar lakes would furnish an easy passage if it were farther off. His chief trading establishment was on the island of Montreal, and was called, in commemoration of his hopes and plans, La 6 68 LA SALLE. Chino. Here a band of Senecas spent the winter of 1668-9, in ac- cordance with a custom which had obtained among the Indians of attaching themselves to any party of white men from whom they could beg food and shelter. These told him of the great Ohio, rising in their country and flowing to the sea, but so long as to require eight or nine months to paddle to its mouth. La Salle felt assured that this stream must empty into the Gulf of California, explored less than thirty years before by the Span- iards, and determined to seek the passage of which he had dreamed so long. But he was no mere dreamer of dreams ; with good, hard com- mon sense, he made preparations for a journey to be undertaken upon the representations of the natives of the country through which he was to go, in search of a passage which the most learned geographers of the age fully believed to exist. To us, Who better appreciate the dcceitfulness of the Indians, his abso- lute trust in them seems as ridiculous as the object ol his expedi- tion; but our knowledge of the country, and its natives, it must be remembered, has grown to its present proportions in a time longer by two centuries than was accorded to Champlain and La Salle. His seignory of lands surrounding Montreal must be sold to meet the expenses, for the patent which he obtained only authorized an expedition at his own expense. On the sixth of July, 1669, while Father Marquette was still only forming plans for discovery and conversion in the far southwest, he started up the St. Lawrence with fourteen men and four canoes. Thirty days afterward, they reached the broad waters of Ontario, and skirting the shore to the mouth of the Genesee, remained there a month seeking information of the Indians and making treaties with them. Continuing on their course, they met Joliet, who was then on his way from the copper mines of Michigan, and who furnished them with a rude map of the country through which he had passed. At the western end of Ontario, they found a Shaw- nee captive of the northern tribes, who promised to conduct them to the Ohio in six weeks. Further record of the expedition have we none. It is only known that he explored the Ohio as far down as the rapids at Louisville. He learned from the natives that this atream emp- tied into that greater river which, according to their account, lost itself in the vast lowlands of the south ; perhaps he would have continued his journey, but his men deserted in a body, LA SALLE. 69 and he had to make the best of his way, alone, back to Canada a distance of four hundred leagues, requiring nearly a year. But his ardor was not damped by failure. He knew that the longer expedition which he now desired to undertake would re- quire more capital than he had, or could hope to raise by his per- sonal influence. Endeavoring to learn to exercise that patience which he knew was so necessary, he watched sharply for his op- portunity. He had not long to wait before an opening presented itself. The Iroquois had never forgotten the defeats that they had suffered when Champlain had aided their enemies, the Algon- quins, and had commenced their inroads even before his death. Their insane fear of fire-arms had considerably diminished, and their hostility had consequently taken a more open form. The governor of Quebec began the erection of a chain of forts de- signed to resist their entrance into New Franco, and La Salle aspired to the command of one of these. Fort Frontenac, erected at the eastern extremity of Lake Ontario, would give great ad- vantages for the execution of his projects of trade and discovery. Fortunate in winning the favor of the governor, Count Fronte- nac, who was a man with a strong mind and an equally strong will, he went to France in 1675, and laid his plans before the far- sighted minister, Colbert, to whom, among other things, the colonial affairs had been entrusted. Although we have learned but little of La Salle's early years in Canada, the reception with which he met would lead us to suppose that his life had been one which made him respected by all men for his sound sense and steady devotion to work. By Colbert's influence, a patent was issued, granting the government and territory of Fort Frontenac to La Salle, on condition that he rebuild the fort with stone and repay Frontenac for his outlay. The garrison was to be maintained at his own expense, and cer- tain portions of the land to be cleared. The grant of the land and authority, the nobility conferred upon him, and the privileges of trade and discovery were the advantages gained by his grant. Applying himself diligently to his work, it was not long before he had performed his part of the contract, and a massive stone fort replaced the old one with its palisades and embankments. Trees were felled, fields planted, and gardens, herds and poultry yards enlivened the scene. Not neglecting trade, on which he depended for the resources to maintain his garrison and repay the borrowed money, he built three small barks with decks, with 70 LA SALLE. which to navigate the Ontario and traffic with the savages. Here he lived quietly, trading with the Indians, although the stories of the discoveries of Marquette and Joliet inflamed him with a stronger desire to trace the river which they had explored, and which he had never yet seen, to its mouth. His work here was only preparatory to the grand enterprise upon which he had so long set his heart, and encouraged by Frontenac' s approval and offers of assistance, he went to France again in 1677, to obtain means for his journey. Received with the same kindness as before, his requests were readily granted, since he asked from the government no money, but only a confirmation of his rights, with authority to push his discoveries as far as he chose to the westward, and to build forts, as he had built Fort Frontenac, wherever he thought proper. Besides this generous permission to go where he could and build wherever he chose, providing always that he paid his own ex- penses, he received a grant of the monopoly of the fur trade with all Indians except those that were already accustomed to take their furs to Montreal. By the recommendation of a nobleman who had promoted his suit at court, La Salle took into his service Chevalier de Tonti, a man of capacity, courage and resolution, who proved a most valuable officer and friend. With about thirty persons, a quan- tity of arms and merchandise, and materials for rigging small vessels, he set sail from Eochelle two months after receiving his patent, and arriving at Quebec near the end of September, imme- diately proceeded to Fort Frontenac. The season was now far advanced in this severe northern cli- mate, and La Salle made all haste to begin preparations for his journey in the spring. He thought it necessary to build a vessel above the falls, that he might use the great highway of the lakes, and for this purpose Tonti was despatched to find a point in the upper part of Niagara River, or in. Lake Erie, which would serve their purpose. Embassadors were also sent to the neighboring Indians, since their friendship was necessary to the success of the enterprise. Nor was their natural suspicion the only thing which he had to combat; jealous of his monopoly, the Canadian traders had sent messengers to inform the Indians that his plan of building forts was intended to work them evil ; as, protected in this way, he could compel them to do whatever he might wish. Although he was able to counteract these efforts to some degree, LA SALLE. 71 the savages hovered around the ship-builders, and entered the camp with a lack of ceremony rather alarming. They refused to sell their corn, and plotted to burn the vessel on the stocks. Suffering from cold, and often from hunger, fearing always a hostile descent of the savages, the men became discontented, and it required Father Hennepin's utmost endeavors to allay their fears. Meanwhile La Salle was at Frontenac, whither he had returned after driving the first bolt of the brigantine, endeavoring to counteract the efforts of his enemies. Spreading reports that he was about to engage in an extremely dangerous undertaking, enormously expensive and yielding but little hope of his return, their rumors so alarmed his creditors in Quebec and Montreal that they seized upon his effects there and sold them out at great loss to him. The delay which would be necessary to rectify this would prevent the success of his expedition, for this year at least ; so he submitted patiently to his misfortunes. At last the ship was ready, and his other preparations were complete. On the seventh of August, 1679, the sails of the Griffin were spread to the winds of Lake Erie, and making fearlessly for the midst of the great fresh water sea, they descried, on the third day, the islands in the western end. A storm beset them in Huron, and with the usual bitterness of the followers of great explorers, many of his men complained of the dangers into which they had been led. They escaped from the storm, however, but only to meet with new difficulties. Their first object was to make a favorable impression upon the Indians, whose friendship was so necessary to their success ; but this task was harder than they had anticipated. While the natives received and entertain- ed La Salle with great civility, and looked in wonder at the great wooden canoe, their show of friendship was more politic than sincere, and produced no effect upon their future conduct. Nor was this the only disadvantage under which they labored. Fifteen men had been sent forward to collect provisions, but had been tampered with, and had squandered a part of the merchan- dise with which they had been provided for trading. However, hoping that some would prove faithful to their trust, a belief which later events justified, they continued on their course. Met at a point on the northern shore of Lake Michigan by .some of his men, who had accumulated a considerable stock of furs, La Salle suddenly determined to make a remittance to his 72 LA SA1W5. creditors, and, despite the dissatisfaction of his men, sent the brigantine back to Niagara with the skins. Henceforth their journey was to be made in canoes. The company remaining, after the boat had left them, consist- ed of fourteen persons, to be transported in four bark canoes. Through either stormy or favorable weather they pursued their way until they reached the western end of the lake. Landing here, to enjoy a little rest, the foot-prints of men were seen in the sand. As La Salle wished to avoid the Indians as much as possible, he gave express orders that each should be on his guard, and remain perfectly quiet. One enthusiastic sportsman could not resist the temptation to shoot a bear which had climbed a tree for the grapes growing in great profusion over every such support, and the noise of his gun was heard by a party of Fox Indians who were hunting near by. Creeping silently to the camp, in the night, their presence was discovered and the alarm given. But the Indians protested their friendship to the white men, alleging that they supposed it to be a party of Iroquois whom they thought were in the neighborhood, and who were their deadly enemies. It was only to see if their suspicions were correct that they had come so near the camp. La Salle accepted this explanation, not caring to embroil him- self unnecessarily, and allowed them to leave the camp. But not long after they had gone, the Frenchmen discovered that a coat and some other articles had been stolen. This altered the case. If they submitted quietly to this outrage, and allowed the theft to go unpunished, it would doubtless be often repeated, and La Salle determined to have satisfaction. A short expedi- tion into the woods resulted in the capture of two Indians, one of whom was despatched to his chief with a message that unless the stolen articles were restored, the life of the prisoner would be forfeited. The message occasioned considerable perplexity in the Indian camp, for the articles had been cut into many pieces for distribution ; and they decided that the only resort would be to rescue the prisoner by force. Acting upon this decision, they attempted a surprise, but their plan was discovered in time for the Frenchmen to select and advance to such a position as the Indians were not likely to assail. Father Hennepin ascribes the bloodless settlement of the trouble to his own valor in going among the armed warriors as a peacemaker. Matters were final- ly settled to the satisfaction of all concerned, by the Indians pay- LA SALt. 73 I ing for the stolen articles with skins, and in the feasts, dances and speeches which followed, the savages exerted their utmost ingenuity to show their respect for the French. Beaching the rendezvous which had heen appointed with Tonti, and finding that, contrary to expectation, that party had not yet arrived, La Salle had considerably difficulty in detaining his men, who wished to push on to the country of the Illinois, that they might there obtain the much needed supplies of corn. They were now at the mouth of the Miami river, and La Salle wishing to keep them employed, knowing well what would be the result of idleness, set his men to building a fort upon an admirable site which presented itself. The labor of felling trees and raising a breastwork of logs, of sounding the river at its entrance to see if it would admit the Griffin, and of marking the main channel thus discovered, while messengers were sent to urge the captain of the vessel to join them as soon as possible, occupied them until the end of November. No food could be obtained but bear's meat, of which they speedily grew tired, and the danger of mut- iny and desertion increased from day to day. At last Tonti arrived with his party, bringing two canoes load- ed with deer that had been but recently killed, and the unwel- come intelligence that the Griffin had never reached Mackinaw, nor, indeed, had she ever been heard from. La Salle, having waited as long as possible, now determined to set forward, and on the third of December the whole party left the fort. Some difficulty was experienced in finding the portage. La Salle land- ed to make the exploration alone, but marshy ground compelled him to made a wide circuit, and night overtaking him, he was unable to return until the next day ; when, as we may suppose, he was heartily welcomed by his anxious followers, who had feared that he had met with some accident. At last, the eastern Indian who accompanied them found the portage, and after carry- ing their canoes five or six miles, they floated down the Kanka- kee, one of the branches of the Illinois. We need not follow them, day by day, on this mid-winter voy- age through the desolate, marshy country which the Kankakce drains. For nearly a month they saw no human habitation or roving Indians. It was not until a day or so after Christmas that they came upon an Indian village, deserted, since the warriors were hunting. Here they found stores of buried corn, which of- 74 tA SALLH. fered an irresistible temptation to men who for months had had no food but flesh. It was on the first day of the year 1680 that, entering Lake Peoria, and paddling through its whole length, they encountered, at its lower end, a party of Indians who had encamped there. Sailing boldly to the shore, the sight of the armed strangers quickly threw the whole Indian camp into confusion. La Salle did not wish to seek hostilities, but he was well aware that any appearance of timidity would only invite attack. The savages, however, finding that they were not beset, offered calumets, MON80 8 VISIT. which the French accepted with secret joy. The remainder of the day was passed in confirming the treaty thus begun, and both parties retired to rest, entirely satisfied. During the night, however, this amicable feeling was destroy- ed. Monso, a chief of one of the tribes living near Fox river, accompanied by several Miamis, with valuable presents of tools, utensils and weapons of steel, came to warn the chiefs of this party against La Salle. " He is friend to the Iroquois, and their spy. After him will come a war-party of that tribe, and he will unite with them to LA SALLE. 75 fight the Illinois. Ho is a bad man. The French told me this, and I tell you because I love the Illinois, and wish them to pro- tect themselves against this double-tongued enemy." Monso arrived and departed while the French were asleep, and it was only by the change in the manner of their hosts that they became aware of the intrigue. La Salle, on entering the camp in .the morning, was puzzled at the coolness with which he was re- ceived, and had some difficulty in drawing the story from one of the chiefs. His efforts to reassure the Indians were only partial- ly successful, for one of the chiefs of high rank made a long speech dissuading him from his perilous scheme of descending the Mississippi. The dangers which would beset them were painted in the darkest colors crocodiles, serpents and frightful mon- sters ; falls, rapids and whirlpools ; savage and blood-thirsty men along its banks, who would suffer no man to descend the stream. As the interpreter repeated this speech, La Salle could see that his men changed countenance at the fearful picture, be- lieving every word that was said. He saw, too, what was the mo- tive of the Indian, in thus trying to persuade him to turn back. " The dangers that you tell of, " he answered, gravely, " are such as are not found in any river. There are not so many in one place. ISTikanape himself does not believe all that ho has said ; then how does he expect that we should think his words true? Even if such dangers do lie before us, Frenchmen are brave, and will be only the more willing to go on, since the more dangerous the enterprise, the greater will be the glory. Nikanape desires our welfare, but there is something else at the bottom of his heart he is j ealous of his white brothers. They have been frank and open with him, but he has listened to the words of Monso, who crept into the camp at midnight, and stole off before the men of whom he had told lies could know he was there. Let Nikanape say now if he has any cause for suspecting his white brothers, and they will explain all things to him." Nikanape took this reproof in good part, and friendship was again complete. But his words had done their work; six of La Salle' s men deserted, and he was only able to keep the rest contented by putting them at work upon a fort near the lake. To this he gave a name expressive of the discouragements and disasters which they had experienced Crevecoeur, the Broken Heart. . The contradiction of Nikanape's stories about the dangers and UL SALLE. difficulties of the lower Mississippi, by some wandering Indians from the south, greatly encouraged the men, and they worked industriously on the fort and on a brigantine which was to trans- port them. But with the present means it was impossible to finish the boat; more iron, cordage and other materials were needed, and La Salle determined to go for them himself. That no time might be lost, he planned an exploring expedition to the sources * of the Mississippi, and despatched Father Hennepin with two companions, amply supplied with goods to exchange for provis- ions, and for conciliatory presents to the Indians, upon the long voyage. He himself, with three Frenchmen and an Indian, set out two days later for the long overland journey of twelve hun- dred miles, to be performed on foot, through a country where the numerous rivers were swollen by the rains and melting snows. Fortune seemed to desert the company when La Salle departed from Fort Crevecoeur. On his journey he found an admirable site for a fort, and sent word to Tonti, whom he had left in com- mand, to construct it. The place chosen was near that village of the Illinois which had been deserted when they passed it, and from which they had obtained corn. But while Tonti was exe- cuting these orders, more than half of his company deserted, taking with them such arms and provisions as they could carry. Thus weakened by the loss of men and supplies, Tonti could only fall back to the great village of the Illinois, there to await the return of La Salle. The summer was spent by the soldiers in teaching the Indians the use of fire-arms, and some simple mili- tary maneuvers ; and by the priests in attempting to communi- cate to the savages the doctrine and precepts of Christianity. They had been in the camp some six months when it was re- ported that an army of four or five hundred Iroquois and Miamis was advancing into the Illinois country. La Salle was among them, added the messenger, conspicuous by his hat and coat. The Illinois cried out against the treachery of the French, threat- ening to put to death those who were in the camp. It required all Tonti's powers of persuasion to prevent this blow, and he, as a . proof of his sincerity, offered to join them, with his compan- ions, in an attack upon the enemy. The olTcr was accepted, and when the great superiority of the opposing force was known, ho was despatched, at his own request, as mediator, being attended only by a priest. The ha and jack- et, said to be La Salle's, proved to be worn by an Iroquois war- 77 rior. The Iroquois made peace, but afterwards, discovering the weakness of their enemies, prowled about the village and end- eavored to provoke a quarrel. One after another, the Illinois warriors stole off, and Tonti and his men, thus left alone and face to face with such a formidable enemy, had but one course left them ; betaking themselves to an old and leaky canoe, without provisions or supplies of any kind, they made the best speed they could up the river. They had not traveled far before the water broke into their canoe so fast that they were forced to leave it, and go by land, two hundred miles, to the nearest Indian village, where they were certain of finding friends. Subsisting on such roots as they could find, without a compass or path to guide them, their lacerated feet but poorly protected, they were worn out with hunger and fatigue when, after a fifteen day's journey, they ar- rived at their destination, where they were kindly received, and hospitably entertained. La Salle arrived at Fort Frontenac to find that the machinations of his enemies had succeeded to their fullest extent, and that his affairs were in the utmost disorder ; but the stern nature of the adventurer, which never asked help or counsel of his followers, sustained him through this trial, and he soon started off again. It was with a company of fifty-four per- sons that he set out again to explore the Mississippi, twenty-three of whom were Frenchmen. The history of their voyage down the mighty river is one succession of stories of hospitable wel- comes by the Indians. The tribes seemed to vie with each other in their kindly entertainment of the strangers. Only one, the Quinipissas, received them at all unkindly, but La Salle took no notice of the flight of arrows which showed their hostility, and they desisted from the attack. Crosses were set up at various points upon the way, and at the mouth of the river a column was erected, a leaden plate with suitable inscription buried, and the country solemnly taken possession of in the name of the king. La Salle wished to form a settlement on the banks of the Mis- sissippi, but his ideas growing as time went on, he determined, upon arriving at Fort Frontenac, to go to France and ask the as- sistance of the government in a more extensive scheme of colon- ization than could be carried out without such help. His friend, Count de Frontenac, had been succeeded in the governorship of Canada by one La Barre, who, possessed by an insatiable jeal- ousy of his predecessor, lost no opportunity of reversing his poli- cy and injuring his friends. To the enemies of La Salle, since 78" LA SALLE. that brave and resolute explorer had been so steadily befriended by Frontenac, he lent a willing ear, and repeated their calumnies to the court. But La Salle had strong and powerful friends in Paris, and La Barre's efforts failed. Four ships were fitted out, and about two hundred and eighty persons embarked, to settle in Louisiana, setting sail in July, 1684. Unfortunately for its success, the expedition had two command- ers, of extremely different temperaments, and neither disposed to yield an inch to the other. Beaujeu, an old sailor and soldier, in charge of the navigation of the ships, was indignant at being under direction of a man who had no military rank; La Salle might have soothed his wounded vanity by deferring to his judgment, or by at least consulting his opinion ; but reserved and cold, he matured his plans in his own mind, and issued his orders when they were fully formed. Of course, Beaujeu knew, before he accepted the position, that it was but the second in the expedition, and that La Salle held no military rank ; but, brood- ing over the indignities which he conceived he suffered, and offended by La Salle' s manner, he thwarted and balked the com- mander's plans in every possible way. Owing partly to this state of enmity between those chief in command, partly to unavoidable circumstances, the voyage was a succession of disasters. One ship was captured by the Span- iards j La Salle had made a mistake in calculating the latitude when, on his previous expedition, he had reached the mouth of the Mississippi, and they anchored in Matagorda bay ; one ship was wrecked here, and Beaujeu sailed off to France with the third of the fleet. It was not long before they became involved in difficulties with the Indians. A bale of blankets from the wreck had floated to the shore and had been appropriated by the natives, who had previously carried off three men, but released them at La Salle's application. He thought that it would be a good opportunity to get canoes in exchange for the blankets, and the second lieuten- ant, Du Hamel, offered to go with a party in his boat to negoti- ate. Unfortunately, this officer did not possess that native tact in dealing with the savages which enabled La Salle to control them ; marching fully armed from their landing place to the vil- lage, and unable to make themselves understood, the Indians did not know whether to look upon them as friends or enemies. Their seizure of a parcel of skins and a couple of canoes was look- LA SALLE. 79 ed upon as a declaration of war ; the Indians pursued them, over- took them in the night at their encampment near the boat, killed two and wounded two, and then fled in terror at the discharge of a musket. This unfortunate event cast a gloom over the minds of all the settlers, many beginning to murmur at their condition, and to talk of returning to France. Only the stern, unbending spirit of La Salle kept them from utter despair; and his resolution sustained and encouraged them even in the dark days that were to follow. Leaving more than one-half of the hundred and eighty that re- mained, to construct a temporary shelter and rude fort of the pieces of timber that could be obtained from the wreck, and directing the captain of one vessel to sail close along the shore, La Salle, with a force of fifty men, set out on an exploring expedition, desiring to ascertain if this were one mouth of the Mississippi, as he sup- posed. The colony was soon removed to the mouth of the Lavaca river, a point in the south-eastern part of the present state of Texas ; La Salle continued his explorations and found that the Mississip- pi delta was not anywhere near this location. Summer and au- tumn passed in exploring the surrounding country, in building a fort and houses of the timbers which they had brought from the wreck and from trees laboriously cut down and transported from the forest; in that task common to all the colonies in the New World burial of the dead. "With indomitable pluck, La Salle now resolved to obtain help from Canada for his colony, and with that purpose in view set out with a considerable party in November, 1685. Five months pass- ed with privation and discord at Fort St. Louis, as the settlement was called ; no man knows what dangers and difficulties besetting the men struggling through the wilderness ; at last, discouraged ,and baffled, half of the party returned ; the others had perished on the way. Fever seized upon the leader, whose spirit was still unbroken ; well for him had the disease proved fatal ! But he recovered from the slow, wasting sickness ; again his tall form and fixed, calm features rose in majesty above the desponding, quarreling, discontented crew; again he planned to get help from Canada ; again, having lost eight men in the canebrakes of Lou- isiana, he was forced to return without accomplishing his object. But the situation of the colony was too desperate for him to despair; he must keep up courage for all ; and with unwearied 80 LA BALUE. patience he again organized an expedition to seek help in the north, setting out January 12, 1687. Of the nearly two hundred who had landed, but forty-five remained. La Salic was the leader, therefore he was the one to blame ; and with curiously childish logic, they would have charged all their misfortunes upon him. It was in accordance with this view of the matter that three of his companions on this last expedition formed a conspiracy to de- stroy this bane of the colonists. They had already, in a quarrel, killed three of the party, and given La Salle to understand that the victims had deserted ; and this bloody deed probably sug- ASSASSINATIOX OF LA SALLE. gested that the destruction of the Sieur de la Salle would bo a preventive of punishment for these murders. But the leader was not satisfied at this explanation of the absence of men whom he had always known to be trustworthy, and, with Father Anastase, and two natives as guides, set out in search of them. The bloody cravat of one was found, and the birds of prey, hovering over their heads, aroused their suspicions. The conspirators had crossed the stream, and, as La Salle fired at the eagles, recrossed. As one approached him, he demanded : " Where is Moragnet ? " naming one of the murdered men. LA SALLE. 81 " Along the river bank," was the vague reply, and from the musket of his confederate, concealed in the long grass, a ball struck La Salle's head. The plan had been carried out, the wound was mortal. The firm lips were powerless to utter a word during the one hour of life that remained to him ; the strong hand could only feebly press that of Father Anastase, in token that the brain still comprehended the words of Christian consolation. On a spot unknown now, known then only to a priest and the assas- sins, died Eobert Cavelier, Sieur de la Salle ; a man who had ex- plored half a continent, and who is not surpassed by any in his indomitable will and great achievements; "constant in adversities, intrepid, generous, engaging, adroit, skillful, and capable of any- thing " in the prime of life, in the midst of his labors, without having tasted the fruit of his toil ; noble in aim, in character, in person ; too far above those around him in capacity, too haughty and imperious in manner ; he died, the victim of the machina- tions of jealous enemies, of his own energy and virtues, and of his own faults. Such were really the three powers that conspired against his life; three distinct elements blended in one by the hatred of jealous, unreasoning, unmanageable subordinates. CHAPTER IH. CAPTAIN JOHN SMITH. early history of Capt. John Smith, the Englishman whose JL name is so closely connected with the first permanent settle- ment made by his countrymen within our borders, is a series of adventures equalled only by those of the Seven Champions of Christendom and Jack the Giant- Killer. Whether they are equally as authentic, we have no means of determining, but the more probable events of that part of his life shall be briefly sketched out, and the reader may believe as much as he chooses. Injustice to the authorities who state these adventures as undoubt- ed facts, let us remember that he is universally conceded to have been such a spirit as would naturally seek exciting scenes ; that his age was the age of romantic deeds; that the actions of his la- ter life showed qualities that could have been developed only by a course of training somewhat similar to that which he is said to have enjoyed. In 1592, at the age of thirteen, he had disposed of all his boy- ish property in order to equip himself for a sea-voyage, to be commenced before his parents should be aware of his plans ; but they died when his arrangements were still incomplete, leaving him a considerable estate. The trip was only deferred, however, and two years later, finding the counting-house desk at which he had been placed as little to his liking as school, he embarked for the continent with the son of r, nobleman. Leaving this young gentleman's train, he went to the Low Countries and served as a soldier there for three or four years ; returning to England, to his old home, he lived for some time in a lodge in a wood, study- ing military history and tactics, and supplied with all the luxu- ries of civilization by a faithful servant. He soon became tired of this almost solitary life, however, and returned to the continent, but was so unfortunate as to be robbed on his way from the Netherlands to France ; so that on his arri- CAPTAIN JOHN SMITH. 83 val in the latter country, he must sell his cloak to pay for his passage. Embarking for Italy, the devout Catholics in the ves- sel attributed the violent tempest which a^ose to the presence of the heretic, and Smith was thrown overboard. He had but little diffi- culty, however, in swimming to an island near by, where he was soon picked up by a less devout sea-captain. A chance encoun- ter with a Venetian vessel resulted in its destruction, and the CAPTAIN JOHN SMITH. division of its cargo among the conquerers. Smith's share amounted to something over two thousand dollars of our money, and with this sum he traveled for a while in Italy. But he soon gratified his curiosity by the sights to be seen here, and departed to the court of the Archduke of Austria, who was then waging war with Turkey. This was in the latter part of the year 1601. The Turkish army laid siege to Olympach, and were much harassed by an Austrian force surrounding them. If^ 84 CAPTAIN JOHN SMITH. the two armies, the garrison and that outside, could co-operate, success would be almost certain ; but no one would venture to pass the Turkish lines. Smfth had already explained to the com- mander of the garrison a system of signals by torches, invented by a classical author ; and he now declared himself ready to spell out any message which it was desired to send to the besieged commander. The entire success of his plan won for him the com- mand of a troop of two hundred and fifty men. t In more than one similar expedient he was equally fortunate ; his inventive and adaptive genius showed itself strongly at this time, and was cultivated for the necessities of his after life. Leaving the service of the arch-duke, and entering that of anoth- er prince, who was contending with Germany and the Turks at once, Smith was one day in camp when a Turk of rank and re- nown sent to challenge any one of the Christians to fight with him " to delight the ladies, who did long to see some courtlike pastime." So many were ready to accept this challenge, that their claims had to be decided by lot, and Smith was the cham- pion thus selected. Not only did this Turk fall by his hand, but another who woubd have avenged his friend's death, and a third whom Smith challenged, met the same fate. Suitable honors re- warded him, one being a coat of arms bearing three Turks' heads on a shield, and a Latin motto : " To conquer is to live." In a battle shortly after this, Smith was wounded and left for dead on the field. The Turks captured him, and concluding, from the richness of his armor, that he was a nobleman, took some pains to cure him in order to obtain a large ransom for*him. Learning their mistake, tl\ey sold him as a slave ; and he was bought by an officer and presented to his lady-love. This fair Turk, whose name is unpronounceable, fell violently in love with Smith, and in order to protect him from her mother's ill-treat- ment, sent him to her brother. To this brother she confessed her affection for the handsome young slave, hoping that it would in- fluence him to kindness ; but it had the opposite effect. Smith's condition was made so unendurable that he determined to escape. He at last succeeded in doing so, having killed his master in an ungovernable rage excited by ill-treatment. He had hardly reached Christian lands again, and thus become safe from pursuit, before he set sail to the African coast, to take part in a civil war that had broken out in Barbary. He had pru- dently reserved his choice of party until he should know the CAPTAIN JOHN SMITH. 85 merits of each, and finding that hoth were equally unworthy, sailed back to Europe in the same vessel in which he came. Weary of his wandering life, he returned to England in 1604, and settling on his paternal estates, spent a few years in peace. Within the past twenty years, various Englishmen had, at dif- ferent times, received permission to colonize North America, but none had been successful in the enterprise. In 1606, a new com- pany was formed for this purpose, and a charter procured from King James I. That monarch took an active interest in the ex- pedition, and busied himself in framing a code of laws for their government. The summer was spent in preparations, and Dec. 19, 1606, a squadron of three small vessels, with one hundred and five colonists on board, besides the sailors, left London. Among the more important men were Captains Gosnold and Smith, Ed- ward M. Wingfield, a London merchant, Eichard Hakluyt, who had been one of Sir Walter Raleigh's colonists, and Mr. Robert Hunt, a clergyman. There were twelve laborers, four carpenters and forty-eight " gentlemen." Dissensions sprang up during the voyage. As the names and instructions of the council appointed for their local government had, by the folly of James, been sealed in a box not to be opened until they landed, no competent authority existed to check the progress of envy and disorder. Their detention of six weeks off the coast of England, on account of contrary winds, did not prove a favorable beginning of the voyage; and the commander of the squadron chose the very indirect .route by way of the Canary islands. On their arrival at these islands, the flames of discord broke out with renewed fury, and Captain Smith, whose reputa- tion and manner had made him extremely popular with the main body of the colonists, suffered from the envy of their leaders. He was charged with entering into a conspiracy to murder the council, usurp the government and make himself king of Virginia. As the sealed box was in their own hands, it does not appear how Smith was to be sure that he had chosen the proper victims ; neither is it quite clear how a man of ordinary common sense could expect to maintain himself as king of Virginia without any outside aid, against the Indians, who might prove hostile j but the absurdity of these charges was overlooked, and he was kept a close pris- oner during the rest of the voyage. It was not until the twenty-sixth of ; April that they came in sight of the mainland of North America, naming the point Cape 00 CAPTAIN JOHN SMITH. Henry, in honor of the Prince of Wales. Sailing up the James river for forty miles, they found a country more beautiful than any they had ever seen. It was fertile and well watered, the landscape picturesquely varied with hills, valleys, and plains, all newly decked with the loveliness of spring. Landing at Point Comfort on the fourth day after their arrival, they were approach- ed by five Indians ; who at first seemed afraid of the strangers, but were easily re-assured. A visit to their town was proposed ; accepting the invitation, the Indians gave them corn-bread, to- bacco and pipes, and entertained them with a dance. On the thirteenth of May, they pitched on a place for their set- BUILDING OF JAMESTOWN. tlement, a peninsula on the north side of the James, about forty miles from the mouth. The mysterious sealed box was opened, and the names of the council ascertained. It is curious that al- most the first act of this council should have been one of disobed- ience to their superior power ; for, although Captain Smith was expressly named as one of their number, they excluded him from all share in the government of the colony. All hands set to work. The council planned a fort, but the president, Wingfield, would not tolerate the erection of any forti- fications, exeept a half-moon of the boughs of trees. A " clearing," to anticipate an expression used later in our history, was made in the forest, their tents were pitched, garden-land prepared, ""^ CAPTAIN JOHN SMITH. 87 nets made, and every thing done to prepare for the security and welfare of the colony. Soon after, Newport and Smith, with a party of twenty, were sent out to discover the head of James river. The fact that Smith's exclusion from the council did not render him unwilling to do everything in his power to benefit the colonists shows what manner of man he was. This expedition is rendered interesting by the fact that they visited Powhatan, the famous chief of the near future, during their absence; and won his gratitude by the present of a hatchet. The savages were in- clined to murmur at this intrusion upon their domains, but the chief concealed his fears, only saying to them : " They hurt you not; they take but a little waste land." On their return, they found that the colony had suffered from the carelessness of the president in not providing it with a suf- ficient defense ; for the Indians had attacked it, wounding seven- teen men and killing one boy* The fire-arms alarmed the In- dians, and compelled them to retreat ; and the president, wise by sad experience, took steps to enable the Englishmen to defend themselves. Captain Newport was now ready to return to England, and a strong effort was made to send Captain Smith thither to be repri- manded by the council there, his enemies claiming that this would be an act of kindness to him, as it would avoid the publicity of a legal trial, which might injure his reputation and endanger his life. Smith was not to be deceived by their pretended anxiety for his welfare and safety, however ; he knew that he could not be convicted of any crime except by a perversion of justice, and he trusted to his popularity in the colony>to prevent this. He accordingly insisted upon being tried, was acquitted by acclama- tion, and his chief accuser, President Wingfield, sentenced to pay a fine of two hundred pounds. This seems to have been some- what in the nature of " damages," for Smith had the entire dis- posal of it, turning it over, as an act of generosity, to the general fund of the colony. On the fifteenth of June, Captain Newport sailed for England. By this time the colonists had learned something of what diffi- culties they must overcome, what hardships they must endure. The fertility of the soil rendered the toil of cultivation greater, although the harvest wo*uld be more plentiful ; the summer heat was intolerable to the laborers accustomed to a more equable climate, and, in conjunction with the moisture, generated dis- 88 CAPTAIN JOHN SMITH. ease ; their stock of provisions was nearly exhausted. Unaccus- tomed to work and to privation, they sank rapidly under this accumulation of troubles ; so that, by the end of June, " hardly ten of them were able to stand." Such were the difficulties of their position, the imperfect shelter, the unusually hard work, the unaccustomed heat, the scanty and insufficient food, the sud- den change from the comforts enjoyed in a highly civilized coun- try to the labor and exposure of the wilderness, that fifty of their number died during the summer. The president and another member of the council had convert- ed the best of the public stores to their own use, and had plotted to escape to England in the colony's bark. Smith was gradually rising to his proper position that of the first place in the colony. Given a company of men under any pressing need of assistance from each other, and the one best fitted to give that aid will be their head, as surely as cork ri^s to the surface of the water. The pressure of circumstances had hitherto kept Smith a sub- ordinate, but he was rapidly assuming the position due to his character and abilities. Only three members of the council were left after Wingfield and his accomplice had been expelled from that body ; and of these two were extremely unpopular. Surely that ruler who can retain the affections of a people discontented with their circumstances must have a genius for government ! Smith's words and deeds .soon re-animated the colonists ; tak- ing upon himself the most laborious part of the work, he soon had sufficient shelter for them from the approaching winter; their stock of provisions being well-nigh exhausted, he resolved to make search for a fresh supply. Proceeding by water, with only five or six men, to where Hampton now stands, he fell in with some Indians and endeavored to get food from them. But the cunning savages knew very well the state of affairs at Jamestown, and would mockingly offer the poor half-starved Englishmen a hand- ful of corn, or a morsel of bread, in exchange for guns and cloth- ing. This was not to be borne, and the Indians retreated hastily into the woods before a volley of musketry. Marching to their houses, he found plenty of corn, but would not permit his men to touch it, as he expected the Indians to return with a large force to attack them. In this he was not disappointed. A body of sixty or seventy warriors, horrid in war-paint, and bearing a singular idol of stuffed and painted skins, soon appeared, singing and dancing, armed with bows and arrows and clubs. A second CAPTAIN JOHN SMITH. 89 volley dispersed them in terror, bringing several to the ground and prostrating their idol. This latter loss was not to be endur- ed, and a priest was sent to negotiate for the restoration of the monster. Smith told them that if six of them would come un- armed and load his boat with corn, he would not only return their idol, but give them beads and hatchets besides. They joy- fully accepted these terms and brought not only corn, but turkeys, venison and wild fowl in large quantities. We may imagine the welcome which Smith received on his re- turn ; but it was a gratitude that did not prompt them to save him trouble or danger. Their wastefulness was so great that many such journeys must be made during the fall, although the Indians were now so amicably disposed that they met him with baskets of corn as he landed. His absence from the colony was like the turning of the school teacher's back everything was in confusion at once. Wingfield and Kendall renewed their plot for escaping to England, and although this project was nipped in the bud by Smith's unexpectedly early return, itVas not done with- out a skirmish, in which Kendall was killed. An attempt of two others to abandon the country was also frustrated by Smith's power and influence. The quaint old chronicler tells us : " The Spaniard never more greedily desired gold than he victual, nor his soldiers more to abandon the country than he to keep it." The influence of plentiful food was soon apparent. At the ap- proach of winter, the river was covered with wild-fowl, and the Indians supplied them bountifully with corn, beans and pump- kins. This abundance of good cheer raised their spirits and cured their home-sickness; and for a little while the colony enjoyed peace. The South Sea was considered the ocean-path to every kind of wealth. The western coast of the continent had been explored by the Spaniards and by Drake, and the maps of that day exhib- ited a tolerably accurate delineation of North America; but with singular ignorance, the colonists had been directed to seek com- munication with the South Sea by ascending a river that flowed from the northwest. Such a stream was the Chickahominy, and up this Smith proceeded on an exploring expedition ; leaving the helpless colony to itself unwillingly enough, but driven to the task by the rebukes of the council for his dilatoriness in obeying the injunctions of his superiors. Ascending as far as his barge could float, sometimes being obliged to cut a way through the 90 CAPTAIN JOHN SMITH. trees that had fallen into the river, he left the vessel in charg\ of the main party, with strict injunctions not to leave it, and with two Englishmen as companions, and two Indians as guides, as- cended still farther in a canoe. Leaving this boat in the care of the two white men, he proceeded to the head of the river, twenty miles farther on, and occupied himself in shooting game. SMITH SURPRISED BY THE SAVAGES. Almost as a matter of course, his orders were disregarded by the men left at the barge, and they went straggling into the woods. Here they were suddenly attacked by Opechancanough, brother of Powhatan, with a force of three hundred men. One of their number was taken prisoner, and the others had consid- erable difficulty in escaping. The Indians extorted from their prisoner all that he knew of Captain Smith's whereabouts, and then put him to death in the most barbarous manner. Follow- ing the path of the leader, they came upon the two men left in charge of the canoe, sleeping by a fire, and killed them. Smith was wounded in the thigh by an arrow, but using one of his CAPTAIN JOHN SMITH. 91 guides as a shield, by desperate fighting, killed three Indians and wounded many others. He might have succeeded in escap- ing, but paying more attention to his enemies than to the line of retreat, he sank waist-deep in a morass. Even here, such was the terror inspired by his courage and his gun, that they dared not approach him, until, being almost dead with cold, he threw away his arms and surrendered himself. As they led him to the fire, and chafed his benumbed limbs, he was in momentary expectation of a cruel death, but his pres- ence of mind did not desert him. He knew that any exhibition of fear or of a desire for life, would do him harm rather than good. Without thus incurring their contempt he demanded to see their chief. Displaying to Opechancanough a pocket com- pass, he amused him and the Indians that gathered around by an explanation of its powers ; the vibrations of the needle and the transparency of the glass were alike wonderful. Smith fur- ther tried to explain to them the courses of the heavenly bodies, the spherical shape of the earth, the alternation of day and night, the extent of the continents and oceans, the relative posi- tions of nations and their antipodes, and many other every day matters (to us) which were doubtless extremely wonderful to the savages, always providing that they understood one-half of what he told them. Led in a sort of triumphal procession to their chief town, he was served so liberally with provisions that he thought they must intend to kill and eat him as soon as he was sufficiently fat, and the prospect did not tend to sharpen his appetite. The winter was an unusually severe one on both continents, and Smith was nearly perishing with the cold, when an Indian to whom, on his first arrival, he had given some beads and trinkets, brought him a fur garment, a most acceptable gift. The Indians were .making great preparations for an attack on Jamestown, and wished Smith to help them ; promising him as a reward for such service, not only life and liberty, but as much land and as many women as he could wish. Ho knew only too well what must be the confusion prevailing in Jamestown, and endeav- ored to dissuade them from their purpose, describing to them the dangers which they must face, from the springing of mines and from the warlike engines. But his efforts were not com- pletely successful until he had proven the truth of his words. They assented to his proposition to send messengers to the colony, 92 CAPTAIN JOHN SMITH. and he wrote a note, telling his countrymen of the danger that threatened, desiring them to send him certain articles, and instructing them to give the messengers a wholesome fright. He told the Indians what would happen to them, but they only half believed him; but when, on reaching the neighborhood of Jamestown, they saw men coming out to meet them, they turned and fled in dismay, for the first of his prophecies had been ful- filled ; fortunately in their flight they had dropped the note. Coming back cautiously in the evening, they found the very things that Smith had told them would be sent to him. When they returned to camp, and made known the wonderful adven- ture, the Indians concluding that a man who " could make the paper speak," was not to be trifled with, laid aside all thoughts of attacking Jamestown, and carried him about the country in triumph, exhibiting him to* the various tribes. It was very hard for them to decide whether he was a good or an evil spirit ; it was only certain that he was a being of a higher order. In order to determine his nature, they practiced incanta- tions about him for three days, but, it seems, without any result. It was reserved for Powhatan, the brother of Opechancanough, and a council of warriors to decide his fate. The verdict was death, and they prepared to execute the sentence without delay. Two large stones were brought in, and his head placed upon them. The immense clubs were raised by the savage executioners, who looked for their chief to give the signal for the blow, when the "tenne or twelve years old daughter" of Powhatan sprang for- ward and laid her own head upon the captive's, so that the blow must first kill her. He had easily won her affections, the differ- ence between) his personal appearance and that of her kinsmen perhaps first attracting her childish eyes ; but her entreaties had not availed now, however, she clung to his neck, refusing to leave him until his safety should be assured. The story has been doubted ; disproved almost as conclusively, to a sceptical mind, as that of William Tell and the apple, or George Washington and his hatchet; but it rests on Smith's own authority, being found in his work on Virginia ; and one would think that he ought to know. Pocahontas not only saved Smith's life, but procured his liberty. With the childish superstition of an untutored race, the Indians looked upon her interference as dictated by some higher power, and Powhatan released him, on condition that two pieces of can- CAPTAIN JOHN SMITH. 93 non and a grindstone be sent to him. Arrived safely at James- town, Smith ordered two demi-culverins to be loaded with stones and fired into a group of trees covered with icicles, as an. evidence of their power. As the boughs and ice came rattling down, the frightened Indians decided that the guns would be too heavy, and gladly accepted a few trinkets in their place. \ SMITH SAVED BY POCAHONTAS. As usual when he returned after any absence, Smith found the colony in the utmost confusion ; one party having determined to go back to England. Captain Smith, however, brought his can- non to bear upon the bark, threatening to sink her if they per- sisted in going. In revenge for this, several of them formed a conspiracy to put him to death, saying that he had led to death 94 CAPTAIN JOHN SMITH. the three men killed when he was captured, and was consequently guilty of their murder ; but Smith soon showed them their weak- ness and^ his strength. The colonists were encouraged by the plentiful supply of provisions with which they were now fur- nished by the Indians, Pocahontas with her attendants visiting them every few days, and bringing them an abundance of food. The other savages, also, brought in corn, and sold it to Smith at his own price. This prosperity was destroyed oy the action of Newport, who, with ostentatious prodigality, gave them many times as much for their goods as Smith would allow them. The president and council, also, jealous of Smith's popularity, pursued the same course. A destructive fire broke out in Jamestown not long after New- port's arrival, and occasioned them a considerable loss in arms, bedding, wearing apparel and provisions. The ship remained fourteen weeks, instead of two, the crew gathering up the sand and earth in which the glittering mica resembled gold ; and with this increased number for so long a time, and the necessity of victualling the ship with no stingy hand, lest the sailors prevent others from joining them, they ran very short of food. For some time after the departure of the vessel, the colonists wer,e considerably annoyed by the Indians. Powhatan, reading Newport's character readily, sent him twenty fat turkeys, with a request for as many swords in return. Meeting with success, he tried the same plan with Captain Smith ; disappointed here, he ordered his warriors to hover around Jamestown and take pos- session of the Englishmen's weapons whenever possible. The colonists had received strict orders to remain at peace with the Indians, and " this charitable humor prevailed till well it chanced they meddled with Captain Smith." As a consequence of his prompt and energetic action, Powhatan sent to sue for peace, dis- claiming the acts of his warriors. Pocahontas was one of the messengers, and for her sake only, as he pretended, Captain Smith consented to liberate the prisoners he had taken and conclude a, peace. The arrival of the Phoenix aroused them to new activity, not only from the ample stock of provisions which it brought, but from the influence of the commander, Captain Nelson, whose generous and manly conduct ably seconded Smith's efforts. In June, 1608, this vessel set sail for England, accompanied a short CAPTAIN JOHN SMITH. 95 distance by Smith, who, with a party of fourteen men, had been sent to explore the coast. Parting with the Phoenix at Cape Henry, they explored the bay as far as the Potomac, and returned July 21st. Although in Jamestown only three days before set- ting out on another expedition, Smith was during that short in- terval elected president, being thus accorded the honors where he had so long done the work. On neither the first or second ex- pedition did they meet with any adventures of particular interest, although on the second they were often attacked by parties of Indians. These fights, however, resulted always in the same way the repulse of the red men with no loss 06 the part of the whites. Smith and his party returned to Jamestown early in September, having, in three months, sailed about three thousand miles, and explored the whole coast of Chesapeake Bay. The map which he drew is, even in the light of modern geographical knowledge, of considerable accuracy. Soon after their return, Captain Newport arrived with new in- structions from the council in England. Like many of the others interested in the colony, he was very jealous of Captain fSmith, and had induced the company in England to grant him such pow- ers as would enable him to gratify his own conceit and outdo the exploits of his rival. He obtained from them a special commis- sion to act independently of the council of Yirginia in organising an expedition to accomplish one of three purposes : either to find a lump of gold, to discover a certain passage to the Pacific, or to obtain information of the lost colonists of Eoanoke. They prob- ably stated the desired ends in what they thought the order of their importance. As the party would be obliged to pass through Powhatan's country, they sent as conciliatory presents a bed and chair of state, a suit of scarlet clothes, a cloak and a crown. A barge, which was so built that it could easily be taken to pieces and put together again, had been provided for the trip. Smith saw at a glance the difficulties which would beset them, as, weakened by privation and disease, they attempted, in mid- winter, to make their way through an unknown country, full of merciless enemies. Then, too, he said, Powhatan could always be bought by a piece of copper or a few beads, while these pres- ents would give him so great an idea of his own importance as to make him unendurably insolent for the future. Notwithstand- ing his arguments, however, the council decided to despatch Captain Newport with a hundred and twenty chosen men, leaving 96 CAPTAIN JOHN SMITH. only eighty or ninety weak and sickly ones behind, to load the ship. This expedition returned to the colony disheartened, be- fore a week had passed. The ship, on its last arrival, had brought over new immigrants, among whom were two women, the first who had come to the colony. The greater part of the men were so-called "gentle- men" men ashamed to work, but not ashamed to get money by any other means. Incited by the words and example of the pres- ident, however, who worked with them, many of them set to work felling trees ; so great was their profanity while engaged in this labor, especially trying to their delicate hands, that Smith kept a record of each one's oaths during the day, and poured the same number of cans of cold water down the offender's sleeve at night. This original punishment soon effected the desired end, but there were many other difficulties to contend with, resulting like this from the kind of men sent out by the company. The supplies of food received from the Indians were exceeding- ly scanty and uncertain, and Smith desired to put the colony beyod the danger of want. He accordingly formed the plan of making Powhatan his prisoner, knowing that by this means he could force the Indians to provide him amply with food. For this purpose, he proposed to go to Kecoughtan, and was making preparations when Powhatan sent an invitation to the white men to visit him ; with a promise that he would load their ship with corn, if they would build him a house and give him a grind- stone, fifty swords, some muskets, a cock and a hen, and a large quantity of beads and copper. But the men sent to build the house betrayed Smith's intentions to Powhatan, and the wily savage was put upon his guard. Smith set out with a party of forty-six volunteers to execute his purpose, and was liberally entertained by Powhatan, who gave no intimation of his knowledge of the plot against himself. He disposed his warriors so carefully, however, that Smith did not find it prudent to attack him. The Indians prepared to fall upon the English and destroy them that night, as they were en- camped near Kecoughtan. " Notwithstanding, the eternal, all- seeing God did prevent him, and by a strange means. For Poca- hontas, his dearest jewel and daughter, in that dark night, came through the irksome woods, and told our captain great cheer should be sent us bye and bye; but Powhatan, and all the power he could make, would after come kill us all, if they that brought CAPTAIN JOHN SMITH. 97 t it could not kill us with our own weapons, while we were at supper. Therefore, if we would live, she wished us presently to be gone. Such things as she delighted in he would have given her; but with the tears running down her cheeks, she said she durst not be seen to have any ; for, if Powhatan should know it, she were but dead ; and so she ran away by herself, as she came/' Could anything be added to the simple words of the old chron- icle to make the picture more touching? It was impossible for the English to return to Jamestown until the tide should change, and they remained where they were, so on their guard that no blow was struck ; and the party soon departed for Pamunkey. JSTo sooner were the Englishmen out of sight than Powhatan sent two of the G-erman builders, whose treachery was wholly un- suspected by Smith, to impose a plausible story upon the English at Jamestown. Everything was going well, they said, but Cap- tain Smith had need of some weapons, ammunition and clothing. These were given to them without any hesitation, and, with six or seven !)f the more timid colonists whom they prevailed upon to join them, they returned to Kecoughtan. This trick, together with their peculiar dexterity in stealing, and the skill of one of their number who was a blacksmith, added to the stores of Pow- hatan the much-desired weapons of the white men. The visit to Pamunkey had very nearly resulted in the same way as that to Kecoughtan would have ended but for the inter- ference of Pocahontas. Opechancanough was frightened into providing them with sufficient corn, but while he was still enter- taining them with the greatest professions of friendship, seven hundred warriors surrounded the house, fully armed, ready to shoot the first Englishman that appeared. The treacherous sav- age endeavored to quiet Smith's suspicions, and invited him to come outside the door to receive a present. Captain Smith, who strongly suspected his perfidious purpose, no longer restrained his indignation, but seizing him by his long scalp-lock, and clap- ping his pistol to his breast, led him out trembling into the midst of his people. The result was an immediate surrender of their arms, and a most plentiful supply of food ; they thronged around Captain Smith with their commodities, in such numbers, for two or three hours, that he became absolutely tired out with the bar- tering, although the corn was readily sold at the rice he fixed. Falling asleep after this labor, the Indians showed their sincerity by attacking his party, but were speedily routed. 98 CAPTAIN JOHN SMITH. Leaving Pamunkey upon receipt of the sad intelligence that eleven of the colonists had been drowned, Smith returned to Jamestown by way of Kecoughtan. Powhatan had commanded his subjects, on pain of death, to kill Captain Smith by some means or othei% while the Englishman had not yet given up the idea of capturing the chief. Both parties were so on the alert that, although there were many . stratagems, none succeeded. Pow- hatan could not induce the Indians to attack the settlers openly, on account of their terror of fire-arms ; and they were ready to propitiate by loads of provisions if they had any reason to sus- pect Smith of hostility toward them. The most important stratagem of those mentioned was the attempt to poison their guests ; which, fortunately for all the white men in Virginia, was unsuccessful. Arriving at Jamestown, Smith found, as usual, that no work had been done during his absence. Their provisions had been much injured by the rain, and many of their tools and weapons had been stolen by the Indians. The new charter which had recently taken the place of the original one, gave much more power to the president, who had previously been to a great degree under the control of the council. While this was an evil, because it admitted of such gross abuses as only the one-man power can, it worked for good under the wise administration of Smith. The food already on hand, together with that recently obtained from the Indians, was enough to keep them for a year, properly used, and they were rigorously prohibited from wast- ing it. Six hours a day must be spent in labor by each man, while, previously, thirty or forty industrious men had worked hard to maintain the idlers, numbering three times as many. From time to time they missed powder, shot, arms and tools, and for a long period were unable to account for the continual lessening of such stores. At last they discovered that these arti- cles were secretly conveyed to the Germans who were with Pow-. hatan, by confederates in the town. Four or five of these at- tempted to desert, but meeting some of their comrades in the woods, went back, to disarm suspicion. At about the same time, forty or fifty Indians were lying in ambush about a mile from Jamestown, waiting to attack Captain Smith. He had already been informed that one of the Germans was in the wood, and with a party of twenty, marched to the place where he was said to be; but did not find him. Despatching his followers to inter- CAPTAIN JOHN SMITH. 99 cept the renegade on his way back to Kecoughtan, Smith, armed only with a sword, returned alone towards Jamestown. His disregard of his own safety had nearly resulted fatally, for he had not been long out of the hearing of his own men before he met the gigantic and powerful chief of the Pashiphays, a tribu- tary of Powhatan's and leader of the warriors in ambush. He at DESPERATE FIGHT WITH THE CHIEF OF THE PASHIPHAYS. I first tried, by cunning, to get Smith within range of the arrows of his men, but failing in this, attempted to shoot him. The bow was strung, the arrow fitted to its place, when Smith suddenly grappled with him, and the two struggled for dear life, must bend his every power to prevent Jua antagonist from gain- 100 CAPTAIN JOHN SMITH. ing the mastery ; relax his grasp a moment, to seize a weapon, and he was a doomed man. But the superior strength of the huge savage was gradually making itself felt, and Smith could feel himself being dragged to the river. At last, notwithstanding his efforts, both were in the water, the Indian trying to drown the white man. A despairing clutch at the throat of the savage near- ly strangled him, and as he relaxed his hold a moment, Smith drew his sword. The dusky giant no longer resisted, but begged most piteously for his life. Captain Smith led him prisoner to Jamestown and put him in chains. Captain Smith made an effort to exchange his captive for the Germans who were with Powhatan, but they refused to come, and the chief would not force them. While negotiations were slowly progressing, the captive chief escaped from Jamestown, and the Englishmen had no prisoner to exchange. * Captain Smith next went on an expedition against the Pashi- phays, to punish them for past misconduct and to frighten them into good behavior in the future. Several of the Indians were killed, their houses were burned, and their canoes and fishing- weirs taken, some of the latter being fixed at Jamestown. As he was returning, he was assaulted by a party of them, who threw down their arms and sued for peace when they saw who it was. Peace was made on condition that they would supply him with provisions, which they gladly did. On his return to Jamestown, Smith found that the Indians had been guilty of various thefts; among other things, a pistol had been stolen, and the thief had escaped with his booty. His two brothers, however, were still at their usual home, and were ar- rested and brought to Jamestown. Thence one was sent to the thief, with the message that if the pistol were not restored before midnight, the third brother, who was kept a prisoner, would be hanged. The prisoner was placed in a dark, cold dungeon, where Captain Smith, pitying his condition as, naked, he lay shivering and hungry, sent him food and some charcoal to make a fire. It was nearly midnight before the messenger returned, trem- bling lest he should be too late. The pistol was restored, and the dungeon opened to liberate the captive he lay upon the floor, motionless, cold. The poor messenger, who had used his utmost speed to save his brother, broke into the wildest lamen- tations over his body. Smith knew that the swoon resulted from CAPTAIN JOHN SMITH. 101 a neglect to open the barred window to let the fumes of the char- coal escape, and told the mourner that he would restore his bro- ther. Brandy and vinegar brought back his consciousness, but his mind was so confused that his brother was as much alarmed as ever. A night's sleep, however, restored him fully, and the wondering savages were dismissed, with a present, to spread the story of the dead restored to life by Captain Smith. Another incident, about the same time, taught them that all the superiority of the white men did not lie in their tools and arms. An Indian had, by some means, gotten hold of a bag of gunpowde.r and the back-piece of a suit of armor. He had seen the soldiers at Jamestown dry powder over the fire in such a receptacle, and proceeded to display his knowledge to his admir- ing countrymen by imitating the process. Unfortunately for himself, he continued it too long; the powder exploded, killing him and one or two of those peeping curiously over his shoulder, and wounding several others. This, together with their past ex- perience in facing the fire of guns, made them doubly desirous of peace, and stolen articles were restored and thieves given up to punishment. The English thus lived in peace for some time, and prospered as never before. Twenty new houses were built, the church was repaired, a block-house built on the isthmus of Jamestown and on a neighboring island, and thirty or forty acres of ground put under cultivation. In the midst of their labors, they found that of their stock of corn, fully one-half had rotted, and the remainder had been almost consumed by the rats, which had been left by the ship, and had increased very fast ; so that they were obliged to leave everything else and devote their energies to getting food. The Indians brought in plenty of venison and wild-fowl, and there were many oysters and fish in the river, so that there was no danger of starvation ; Powhatan, too, had spared them half of his whole stock of corn. It was some trouble to obtain the food, and many of the colonists were intolerably lazy. These would have sold tools and arms, even their houses and cannon, sooner than dredge for oysters. A plot to leave the country, and simi- lar mutinous proceedings, were for a time overlooked ; but Smith detected and severely punished the ringleader, and sharply re- primanded the others. He told them that they must work not only for themselves, but for the sick ; and threatened that who- ever was lax in his work should be banished until he should 102 CAPTAIN JOHN SMITH. either alter his conduct or starve. Of course some declared this course cruel and tyrannical, but none dared to disobey. Some were billeted upon the Indians, where they were so well treated that others invited themselves to do the same ; but the Indians, fearful of displeasing Captain Smith, sent them back. A vessel commanded by Captain Argall arrived in the spring of 1609, with letters from the council in England. The course of the president was severely blamed by these gentlemen, who had expected the colony to make them suddenly and enormously rich. This desired end was to be obtained by the discovery of a short and easy passage to the South Sea, or by working the vast mines which they were convinced must be under Virginian soil, since Peru and Mexico had so rewarded the Spaniards. The failure of the colonists was probably due to Smith's harsh treat- ment of the Indians, which had prevented them from giving the information they must possess. Smith, in all his communica- tions addressed to the council, had endeavored to dispel the illusions under which they labored ; he had tried to make. them believe his story of the difficulties with which he must contend, and that they could not soon expect to derive any income from Virginia. His efforts were futile, however, as shown by these letters. A new charter was granted, and in May, 1609, a fleet of nine vessels, with five hundred men, women and children, set sail for Virginia. Of the noblemen and gentlemen who held high posi- tions in the new government, the vice-admiral, Captain Newport, was the only one who had ever been in Virginia. Two of the vessels were wrecked on the passage, but the other seven arrived safely. But the three men to whom authority was given to supplant the existing government at Jamestown, of whom New- port was one, had been lost at sea ; and while there was no one whom they would recognize as their governor, they would not submit themselves to Smith, against whom they were prejudiced by three mutineers, Sicklemore, Archer and Martin, whom he formerly had banished. The whole community was in such confu- sion that the more sensible and judicious men entreated Smith to enforce his authority, and save them from destruction. His easiest course would have been to return to England, but he was too unselfishly devoted to the best interests of the colony to do that, and he resolutely maintained his authority over the unruly flock, It was thought best to divide their numbers, and two CAPTAIN JOHN SMITH. 103 other settlements were made, each being provided with food from the general store. These, however, were unfortunate, and the men placed there soon returned to Jamestown. Returning home after an attempt to procure safety from the Indians for one of these branch colonies, as he lay asleep in a boat, a bag of gunpowder near by exploded, tearing and burn- ing his flesh in a dreadful manner. Katcliffe (alias Sicklemore), Archer and some others had again become mutinous, and the time for their trial was drawing near. " Conscience doth make cowards of us all," and afraid of the result of such trial, they formed a plot to murder Smith in his bed, knowing that no one else could hold them in check. At the last mo- ment, the conspirator who was to execute the plot felt his heart fail him, and he could not fire. They next thought that by gaining possession of the government they could escape punishment, and tried to do so. Fev- ered and tormented by; his wounds, Capt. Smith 8 lost patience in this con- tinual struggle with the ingratitude of men whom he would have benefited, and determined to go to England; although his friends wished to avenge his injuries by the death of the conspirators, he would not plunge the colony into civil war to preserve his own dignity. His wounds, too, grew very dangerous, for lack of such surgical aid as could be obtained only in the old country ; and he des- paired of recovering, if he remained in Virginia. In the early part of the autumn of 1609, then, he left Jamestown, never to re- turn to it again. Here, for five years, the record is a blank. We know that he was coldly received in England ; but that is nothing new ; the company had been for a long time displeased at his conduct, both POCAHONTAS. 104 CAWAIN JOHN SMIftf. in treating the Indians as he did, and in so stubbornly refusing to find a gold mine. He probably retired to his estate after the cure of his wounds, remaining there in the quiet life which he had once sought in his youth. But he was not destined to end his days in the obscurity of an English country house. In 1614 an expedition of two ships was fitted out by four Lon- don merchants and himself, for the purposes of trade and explor- ation in North Virginia, as New England was then called. The idea of settlement on these inhospitable shores had been aban- doned by the English for the present, but the fisheries and the fur-trade were not relinquished, vessels being sent thither annu- ally. The enterprise was in the highest degree successful. Seven months ( according to one authority six ) sufficed for the whole voyage ; the* sailors did not suffer from sickness ; and the freights were profitable. While the sailors were busy with their hooks and lines, Smith examined the shores from the Penobscot to Cape Cod and prepared a map of the coast, naming the country New England. Yet the voyage was not free from crime. After Smith had sailed for England, Thomas Hunt, the commander of the second ship, kidnapped a large party of Indians, and setting sail for Spain, sold them into slavery, He was indignantly dismiss- ed from his office by his employers when they heard of his guilt ; but this could not prevent the evil consequences of the mischief he had done. The outrage sank deep into the hearts of the In- dians, and in after years they visited their vengeance upon in- nocent men belonging to the same race as did he who had so cruelly wronged them. Putting into the port of Plymouth on his return to England, Smith related his adventures to some friends whom he thought " interested in the dead patent for this unregarded country," and the Plymouth Company, by flattering hopes and great promises, induced him to serve them. The South Virginia Company, his old employers, had learned his value from the state of their col- ony after he left it, and made him overtures which his previous engagement to the rival association obliged him to decline. He endeavored to persuade the two companies to unite their forces, a course which had many advantages, but the rivalry existing between them would not admit of this sensible plan. Four ships were to have been furnished him, but the poor suc- cess of a previous expedition, which had suffered from the Indians so enraged at Hunt, had cooled the enthusiasm of the company ; CAPTAIN JOHN SMITH. 105 and when, early in January, 1615, he reached Plymouth, it re- quired his utmost exertions, seconded by the influence of others, to obtain two ships. "With one vessel of two hundred tons, and one of only fifty, in which there were, besides seamen, sixteen men destined to remain as settlers, he set sail from Plymouth the following March. One hundred and twenty leagues out, they encountered such a violent storm that Capt. Smith's vessel was dismasted and obliged to return to Plymouth. From this port he again set out late in June, in a small bark of sixty tons, manned by thirty sailors, and carrying the same sixteen settlers who had been with him before. Misfortune seemed to follow them, for they had not gone far before they fell in with an English pirate. The crew insisted upon surrendering without resistance, but although he had only four guns to the pi- rate's thirty-six, Smith would not do it. The fears of the crew were allayed in a strange manner, for their captain, speaking with the pirate, found that the commander and some of the crew had been old comrades of his in the Turkish campaigns, and had recently escaped from slavery at Tunis, stealing the ship. They were without provisions and had mutinied, and offered to put Captain Smith in command, or to carry him wherever he wanted to go ; but both offers were declined, and the little vessel sailed on, only to meet with two French pirates near Fayal. Again the crew would have had him surrender ; but, telling them that he would rather blow up the ship, he succeeded in escaping after a running fight. He had not left the neighborhood of the Azores when he was chased and overtaken by four French men-of-war, who had orders from their sovereign to seize pirates of all nations. At the command of the admiral, Captain Smith showed his commis- sion under the great seal, to prove that he was not a pirate, and ought, of course, to have been allowed to go on his way, as England and France were at peace; but the Frenchman detained him prisoner, plundered his vessel and manned it with Frenchmen, distributing the English sailors and settlers among the ships of his own fleet. After a few days, he gave the Eng- lishmen their vessel again, together with the greater part of their provisions. Captain Smith now made preparations for continuing the voy- age, although many of the crew, disheartened by their bad luck, wished to go back to Plymouth ; when one day, before they had 106 CAPTAIN JOHN SMITH. parted from the French fleet, the admiral sent for him to come aboard the flagship. He went, alone. While he was there, the French ship, which was really no better than a pirate, spread her sails and gave chase to a strange vessel, and was followed by her consorts. The English crew were now able to do as they had so long wished, and they turned the ship's course homeward. The sixteen landsmen, however, knew nothing of this until they sailed into the harbor of Plymouth. This abduction of Captain Smith was doubtless caused by the calumnies of his own crew, who were anxious to get rid of him, that they might return home. The admiral's ship, separated from the rest of the fleet by a storm, continued her piratical course alone. "When an English ship was attacked, Smith was confined in the hold, but was obliged to fight with them in any engagement with Spanish vessels. Having spent the summer in this way, they carried him to Eochelle ; where they detained him a prisoner on board a vessel in the harbor, although they had promised to give him a share in their prizes to remunerate him for his losses. In order to avoid sharing with him, they accused him of burn- ing Port Royal in 1613, and endeavored to compel him to give them a discharge in full before the proper authority, threatening to imprison him if he refused. While he was considering this, an opportunity of escape offered itself. A violent storm arose. In the midst of it, while it was dark, Captain Smith threw himself into a small boat, and with a half pike for an oar, pushed out to sea. The storm was so violent that the coast was strewn with wrecks. Twelve hours he passed in the frail boat, expecting every moment to be swallowed up by the waves ; till by the returning tide he was thrown upon a marshy island, where, wet, half-frozen, tired and hungry, he was found by some fowlers and taken back to Rochelle. Landing here, he lodged a complaint against the admiral w T ho had kept him prisoner, and whose ship had been wrecked in the late storm. This action seems to have led to no result but the granting of a certificate of the truth of his state- ment, his story having been confirmed by some sailors that es- caped from the wreck of the French vessel. But he found kind friends who assisted him in getting passage to England. Having published a description of New England, written dur- ing his captivity, and a map of the same section made during his first voyage thither, he spent many months of the succeeding CAPTAIN JOHN SMITH. 107 year (1616) in traveling about England, distributing copies of his book, and endeavoring to excite the enthusiasm, of the people. He appealed to the desires and passions of men, promising vast dominions to the noblemen, mercantile profits to the speculators, and a competence to men of small means. But the failure of many late expeditions had put people on their guard about the New World, and his only reward was the title of " Admiral of JSTew England," conferred upon him by the Plymouth Company. It was in the summer of this same year that Pocahontas, now POCAHONTAS PKESENTED AT COUKT. the wife of John Rolfe, visited England, and was received with great ceremony and presented at court. The Indians had been told that Smith was dead, but Powhatan, knowing that his " coun- trymen will lie much," commanded them to find out the truth. She Desired to be allowed to call Smith " father/' as she had been accustomed to do in Virginia, but he " durst not, because she was a king's daughter." When Smith had had his interview with Pocahontas, he had been, according to his own words, on the eve of sailing to New England ; but for some reason, did not go. Later, he made an- 101 CAPTAIN JOHN SMITH. other effort to go to the new country for which he had done so much. In March, 1622, the Indians, no longer restrained by the in- fluence of Pocahontas, attacked the settlement at Jamestown, and massacred thr^ee hundred and forty-seven Englishmen. The news created great excitement in the mother country, and Capt. Smith, deeply affected by this misfortune of the colony in which he took so keen an interest, was very anxious to be allowed to go to Yir- DESTRUCTION OF A VIRGINIA SETTLEMENT. ginia in person, to avenge the outrage. The company professed itself too much impoverished, however, to bear the expense of such an expedition; and their plan, which was to remunerate him and his soldiers out of the pillage, was rejected by him with the contemptuous statement that he would not give twenty pounds for all the pillage that could be obtained from the savages in twenty years. "With this, he retires from the history of the colonies, if we exv cept his answers to commissioners appointed shortly before the CAPTAIN JOHN 100 charter of Virginia was abrogated, to inquire into the abuses of authority by the company. His death occurred in London, in 1631, in the fifty-second year of his age. We could relate little of his early history that is not to be doubted; performing his work at Jamestown, when his connection with the American col- onies ceased he sank into obscurity again, until death. CHAPTER IV. CAPTAIN" MILES STANDISH. "He was a gentleman "born, could trace his pedigree plainly, Back to Hugh Standish, of Duxbury Hall, in Lancashire, England, * * # * * Heir unto vast estates of which he was basely defrauded." SUCH are the words which Longfellow ascribes to John Alden, the friend of Miles Standish ; not poetic license to grace the picture of a fictitious hero, but the truth about a real man. The captain of Plymouth was indeed of good descent, as English records attest ; and more than once his descendants in America have made efforts to regain possession of the " vast es- tates." But he left ancestral honors behind him when he sailed away from England ; it is chiefly with the name which he made for himself in this country that we are concerned. He was born at the family seat, Duxbury Hall, in Lancashire, in the year 1584. Educated as a soldier, he was .commissioned a lieutenant at an early age, as he held this rank in ."Queen Eliza- beth's forces," and was but nineteen when her death left the kingdom to James I. For some time he was in a regiment which garrisoned a town in the Netherlands, where the struggle for independence of Spain was going on; but peace having been de- clared, England withdrew the troops which she had sent to aid the patriots. Standish, however, did not return with his regi- ment, but remained in Leyden with a little colony of his country- men who had fled from religious persecution in their native land. Theirs was a pitiful story. Regarding the practices of the Es- tablished Church as leading back to error, they had striven to use the same simplicity in their public worship for which, later, the "Weslcys strove ; but the bigotry of the queen gave no latitude; all must conform to the established ritual. Determining to leave the rural homes which they loved so dearly, to seek religious liber- ty in a country where the very language would be strange; where, simple husbandmen as they were, they must make their living CAPTAIN MILES STANDISH. Ill in the intricacies of trade; they were betrayed by the commander of the vessel in which they were to sail, and taken back to stripes and imprisonment. A second effort was hardly more successful, for as they were embarking, the Dutch captain was so much alarmed by the approach of a body of soldiery, that he sailed off, bearing half of the oppressed people with him, while "half wept upon the shore." Those left behind were exposed to the most cruel treat- ment from the soldiery ; hurried from one magistrate to another, no one could find a fitting punishment for innocence, and at last they were released. This did not mean happiness, however. Of their sufferings, penniless, friendless, homeless, we have no writ- ten record; some doubtless perished of exposure, some found ^charitable friends who enabled them to reach Amsterdam. Hith- er had come fugitive Protestants from all parts of Europe, and it was a place renowned for liberality of ideas. "Whether the farm- ers from England found it impossible to make a living in this busy commercial city, or whether it was from some other cause, they soon removed to Leyden. But they were not content to remain " strangers in a strange land/' where the very language was unfamiliar to their ears ; and they determined, before very many years had elapsed, to settle in "Virginia," if they could obtain permission to do so. It will be remembered that this name, now restricted to two states, was then applied to all American territory which had been under the dominion, nominally, of the Virgin Queen, Elizabeth. The only permission which they could obtain was that King James I would " connive at them, and not molest them, providing they carried themselves peaceably." When Captain Standish first cast in his lot with the Pilgrims is not definitely known. The independence of the Dutch Repub- lic had been virtually acknowledged in 1609, and the English troops must have been withdrawn soon afterwards ; so that it could not have been very long after this time that he became in- terested in the little community. Nor do we know why he at- tached himself to them; certainly it could not have been for re- ligious reasons, or he would have become a member of the church ; it may have been the love of adventure, or perhaps the instinct of a chivalrous nature to succor the distressed. Certain it is that his bravery and sagacity in dealing with the Indians contri- buted greatly to the success of their undertaking. The story of their setting sail from Delft, being driven back to 112 CAPTAIN MILES STANDISH. Plymouth by the unseaworthiness of one of their two vessels, and setting out again with the one remaining to them, is tpo well known to require repetition here. He did not assume importance in the affairs which he knew others could manage better than he could, and was content to wait for his active service until they should have arrived in the country which Capt. John Smith had already named New England. Let us, then, leave to historians of the Pilgrim Fathers the account of .the Mayflower's final de- parture on the sixth of September, 1820, and the tedious voyage of sixty-four days. Nor will we describe their efforts to reach the mouth of the Hudson, where they had desired to land. So much were they tossed about by storms that it was with a feeling of relief that they cast anchor in a safe harbor at the ex- tremity of Cape Cod, on the morning of the eleventh of Novem- ber. Just before entering this harbor, they had drawn up the brief compact which bound them to each other, and had chosen John Carver as governor and Miles Standish as military leader. Under the latter, a party of sixteen men was sent on shore to make a short exploring tour, to return, of course, that night, since the next day was Sunday. Their report was little calcu- lated to reassure those who had remained ; a tongue of barren land, about a mile in breadth, uninhabited, although covered with a dense forest of evergreens and dwarf oaks, without fresh wa- ter such was their first knowledge of America. The Mayflower had only been chartered for the voyage, and their authority over the vessel was hence more limited than if she had been their own property. This led to some disadvanta- ges to which less determined men might have succumbed ; but when the captain refused to leave the safe harbor in which he was lying, and peril his vessel by coasting about in these unknown seas, the sturdy colonists went to work to prepare for service a large shallop which they had brought with them. This had been but partially put together in England, and the work of finishing it, and of repairing the injuries it had received during the voy- age, consumed sixteen or seventeen days. But the impatient temper of Captain Standish could not endure this continued in- action, and on the following Wednesday he set out, with a party of fifteen men, upon a more extended tour than the first had been. The danger of this journey was so well known that it "was rather permitted than approved," by the elder men who remained at work in the ship. Besides these sixteen soldiers, CAPTAIN MILES STANDISH. 113 who had each his musket, sword and corselet, William Bradford, Stephen Hopkins and Edward Tilley went with them " for coun- sel and advice." Following the eoast for about a mile, they saw six or seven Indians approaching them, accompanied by a dog. The very sight of the white men awakened such terror in the minds of the savages that they turned and fled into the woods. The English- men pursued, hoping to be able to make friends with them ; but their motives were not appreciated by the natives, who had suf- fered, perhaps, at the hands of other white men. Night came on while they were still engaged in the bootless chase, and they encamped at a point about ten miles from the vessel, continuing the pursuit the next day. But this Thursday was filled with dis- coveries. A spring of fresh water, the first that they had seen, was found bubbling up from the earth in a deep valley ; farther on was a small fresh water lake. They found several mounds of curious appearance, and dug into them ; but coming upon decay- ing bows and arrows and similar articles, they reverently re- placed the earth that formed the only monument to some depart- ed chief. A mound unlike these was discovered later, and found to be a store-house. Here they saw, for the first time, that " blessing more precious than gold," Indian corn ; the sign of that fertility in which the true wealth of the New "World consists. They were not disposed to rob the natives whose foresight had placed this food here, but their stock of provisions was running low, and they took the corn, resolving to repay the owners when- ever they should be found. They had been directed not to remain away more than two days, so that they must now bend their steps toward the ship. Losing their way in the woods, their low spirits yielded to laughter when Mr. Bradford was unceremoniously swung up into the air while examining an ingeniously contrived deer-trap. Friday afternoon, with clothes torn by the branches in the thick woods, and feet blistered by the long tramp, they reached the ship again, having found no place suitable for the location of the colony. A third and longer expedition was made, this time partly by water, as the shallop was now prepared, but with no better suc- cess than the others. Only one man, the second mate of the Mayflower, had been in the country before, and he described to them the location of a large navigable river with a good harbor, 114 CAPTAIN MILES STANDISH. about twenty-five miles due west of Cape Cod. To this point, then, they resolved to go. It was necessary for them to find very soon a place of settlement, as the captain of the vessel grew very impatient and threatened to set sail for England, leaving them where they were. Ten picked men, among whom the best known were Gov. Carver, Mr. Bradford and Captain Standish, set out in the shallop in the afternoon of the sixth of December, well-armed and provisioned, and determined to find a suitable location if any such existed. Pushing on, although the waves were unusually high, and the spray, freezing as it dashed over them, covered them with an icy armor, they entered late in the even- ing a small, shallow cave. Twelve Indians, who were on the beach, fled at their approach. It was deemed necessary to keep guard over their camp at night, as the temper of the Indians had not been tried. The sec- ond night this sentinel called " Arm ! arm ! " but the " hideous and great cry " they heard ceased at the sound of a couple of musket shots, and they concluded that it was a company of wolves. The next morning, after prayers, but before breakfast, they heard voices like those of the night, and a shower of ar- rows fell in the camp. Captain Standish was the first to seize his flint-lock and fire, and his shot was quickly followed by a second. Others were ready, but he gave orders not to shoot at random, but to wait until aim could be taken. The yells of the Indians indicated that they had a large force, and the whites feared that they might, by a sudden sally, possess themselves of the shallop and cut off all chances of retreat. Captain Standish, to prevent this, divided his force, five being appointed to defend their barricaded camp, where were their arms and provisions, and five to protect the vessel. The thick winter clothes and the mail of the Englishmen form- ed a sufficient protection, against the arrows, though they were thrown with great force, and being tipped with flint and bone, and sometimes with brass from a fishing-vessel, could inflict very bad wounds. Their flight, however, could be seen, as they did not come with the rapidity of bullets, and the whites could often dodge what might otherwise have been deadly missiles. One In- dian of remarkable stature, apparently the leader of the whole band, was noticed for the accuracy of his aim and the rapidity with which he shot. Sheltered by a large tree, his voice could be heard above the din of the conflict, animating his followers to MILES 115 still greater displays of daring and exertion. The bark of the free was splintered by musket shots, but for a long time he was unhurt. Captain Standish was but watching his chance, however, and when the burly savage exposed his arm in the attempt to despatch another shaft, he sent a bullet home. The Indian, apparently bewildered by the effect of the unseen agency which had mangled his arm, stood still for an instant; then, uttering a dismal cry, disappeared in the forest, followed by his compan- ions. Hardly had the echoes of the last shot died away before the Indians were gone, and the silence of the woods and the murmur of the sea succeeded the wild clamor of an Indian fight. Eeturning to their camp, the Pilgrims gave thanks to God for their deliverance, and gathering up their arms and provisions, prepared to return. If they had reached this point by a stormy way, still greater was the danger which beset them as they returned. The rain which had been falling had changed to sleet j the waves dashed into their boat, drenching them completely and covering their clothing and the ropes with ice. Hour after hour they sought for some place where they could safely make the attempt to land, but could find none. Their rudder was swept away j their mast was broken into three pieces, their sail being dashed into the sea j twilight was darkening into night when the pilot exclaimed, with a gesture and tone of despair: " The Lord have mercy upon us ! I was never in this place be- fore. All that we can do is to run the boat ashore through the breakers." Dazed by the words of the man in whose skill they had trusted, who had cheered them by telling, from time to time, of safe har- bors near at hand, they were about to obey his insane counsel and rush to certain death, when, above the roar of the wind, the surging of the waves and the pitiless hissing of the sleet, there rang out, clear and sharp as the crack of a musket, the tones of their captain : " If ye be men, seize your oars, or we are all cast away!" Plying the oars vigorously, as if incited to new eiforts by this appeal to their manhood, they succeeded in reaching a compara- tively quiet inlet, dimly discerned from the boat through the spray and the mist and the gathering darkness. Having learned from experience that the woods might be full of savages, they at first decided to pass the night in the boat ; but their sufferings 8 lifl CAITAltf MILES becoming unendurable, they thought more lightly of the danger of attack, and kindled a fire on shore. Here they were in less danger than they had thought, for when morning dawned, bitter- ly cold, but bright and sunshiny, they found they were on a small island. Here, then, they remained all the next day, drying their clothes, resting, and otherwise preparing for the observance of the Sabbath to-morrow. Time was precious, the season was advancing; their companions were in suspense as to their fate; but the Sabbath was observed as conscientiously as if in England. Early Monday morning they continued their voyage, search- ing for the navig- able river which had been described to them, but which they failed to find. Landing, they dis- covered one or two small streams of pure water, and saw several fields which the Indians had evidently cul- tivated in the past, but for some cause abandoned. Al- though it was not the Land of Prom- ise which they had expected when they sailed from England, it was far superior to any- thing yet found ; and they pushed across the bay to acquaint their com- panions with the results. It is not necessary to tell again what poet and historian alike have delighted to record the landing of the Pilgrim Fathers, December 22. 1620. on the only rock large enough for the pur- LAXDING OF THE PILGRIMS. CAPTAftf MtLfiS 6TAND1SH. 117 pose to be found on the sandy coast. Nor need we detail the labor of erecting the log houses which were to be their shelter from the cold and stormy weather which so much impeded their work. They had landed on Friday, and Saturday was spent in hewing trees and dragging them into the clearing chosen for the little village. Beasts of burden they had none, and the lack of such assistance made their progress very slow. Assembling in their partially finished store-house the next day, for the usual Sabbath devotions, they were startled by the demoniac yells which some of them had heard in their first encounter with the natives. The foresight of the captain had provided for such a contingency, and when he gave the word of command every man, musket in hand, was at his post. Sheltered by the log walls of the building, they could have repelled almost any num- of Indians, but the wary savages did not wait to prove this. They had already learned the efficacy of the muskets, and when they saw the settlers were armed and ready for an attack, they retreated rapidly into the woods without having showed themselves. The next day was Christmas. In the evening they heard the war-whoops of the same savages, who again retreated without further molesting them. Their work of building was continued through the week hard labor for men, one-half of whom were already wasting away with consumption and lung-fevers, con- tracted in their exposure to the extraordinarily cold winter. Notwithstanding the pressing need of shelter, the necessity for means of defense was still greater, and all hands set to work to complete the fort crowning Burial Hill, and commanding all the approaches to the chosen site of the village. On the fourth of January, Captain Standish, taking with him four well-armed men, plunged boldly into the forest, hoping to be able to establish friendly relations with the Indians. For more than a week the settlers had watched with alarm the columns of smoke rising in the morning sky, ancl the gleam of the camp-fires illuming the darkness of the night. So rapidly had the number of these fires increased that they had judged the natives were gathering around them in great force, preparatory to an attack which should be fatal to the colony. Captain Standish wished to find the Indians at their rendezvous, but it was probable that they had their scouts so stationed as to give them due warning of the approach of the white men, and although he came upon 118 CA^AlN MILES SCANDISK. their deserted wigwams and even the glowing embers of their camp-fires, he failed to find the objects of his search. We will not dwell longer on the difficulties with which they had already contended. Another trouble, greater than any be- fore, was to come upon the colony, was to come to the home of the captain. Exposure, privation and anxiety had done their work, and many of the colonists died during the winter. The first grave made was that of Rose, the wife of Miles Standish a sweet English flower, too delicate to withstand the severity of a Massachusetts winter. Of his wooing we have learned nothing, of his grief no record remains; the first intimation that we have of his marriage is the statement of his wife's death, and we can only guess that the poet has rightly interpreted his character in attributing to him the sentiment : " Since Kose Standish died, my life has been weary and dreary." Hers was the first of many graves. Before the winter had wholly passed away, it could have been truthfully said that the record of misery was kept by the graves of the governor and half the company. Tor could aifection perform its last offices, in beautifying the resting-places of the beloved clay ; lest the In- dians, seeing how many graves there were, should judge truly of the weakness of the colony, the burials were secret, and every effort made to do away with all traces of digging up the earth. It is but a confirmation of the respect in*which we would hold the brave man, when we find that courage does not make him brutal ; as, indeed, true courage never does. All through this terrible winter, when the living could scarcely bury the dead, when the well could scarcely tend the sick, when there were but six or seven men fit to bear arms, and they might at any moment be attacked by a thousand Indians, side by side with the man of God was the man of war, transformed for the time being into an angel of mercy; tending the sufferers with a hand as gentle as a woman's, performing all the homely and necessary services which the sick require. Yet in the midst of the hewing of wood and drawing of water, the defense of the settlers was not neglected. On the nineteenth of February, Captain Standish was invested with almost absolute powers as a military commander by the frightened and weakened colonists ; and even while they were in consultation, the danger became more imminent. Two Indians made their appearance upon a small eminence about a quarter of a mile off, and signaled that they wished to speak to the white CAPTAIN MILES STANDISH. 119 men. Although it was so clearly a decoy to an ambuscade, Captain Standish, wholly unarmed, accompanied by Mr. Stephen Hopkins, who carried his gun, advanced to meet them. Beaching the hill, Mr. Hopkins laid down his musket, and in this entirely defence- less condition the two brave men went on. This strange conduct is easily enough explained when we remember that the Puritans were anxious to make friends with the Indians. The latter had always been the attacking party, and the whites had acted only in self-defense. As the two men went on, the Indians who had FIRST CHURCH IN NEW ENGLAND. signaled them, turned and fled precipitately into the forest, and when the top of the hill was reached, not a savage was in sight, although they could hear the noise of a great many retreat- ing. They were much perplexed to know what was meant by such conduct, but lost no time in returning to the fort. Perceiving that they could not hope for peace from the Indians, Captain Standish mounted three small guns upon the platform of the rude fort, and assigned to every man his post in time of attack. It was now the middle of March; the severity of the winter was a thing of the past, and although the fighting force. 120 CAPTAIN MILES STANDISH. was not yet increased, the invalids were beginning to recover. Captain Standish had assembled all who were capable of bearing arms to complete their military preparations, when, to their sur- prise, a single Indian stalked boldly up to them, unembarrassed, unhesitatingly. We may imagine how each man's heart, brave though it might be, throbbed at the thought that perhaps the hour had come for the destruction of the colony. Despite their many endeavors to prepare for an attack, the paucity of their numbers would not tend to reassure the bravest. But the first words of the Indian gave them hope ; advancing into their midst, he said, in broken English : " Welcome, Englishmen." They found that he was a chief of his tribe, living on -the island of Monhegan, between the Kennebec and Penobscot rivers, about twelve miles from shore. This island was often visited by fisher- men, from whom he had learned to speak a little broken Eng- lish, and he had come to the settlement because- he supposed the Mayflower to be a fishing-vessel. He explained the hostility of the tribes around them by saying that since Captain Hunt had kidnapped so many of the Indians and sold them into slavery, those who remained were determined to avenge the injuries of their kindred, and did not distinguish between innocent and guilty white men. From this visitor, whose name was Samoset, they also learned that a short time after the Hunt outrage, a Prench ship had been wrecked off Cape God, and the savages had massacred all on board except three or four whom they reserved as prisoners. One of these had threatened them with the punishment of an angry God, and although they at first disbelieved him, a terrible plague, that broke out among them soon afterward, seemed to confirm his prediction ; and they looked in dread at the coming of the Englishmen, since he had also prophesied that their land would be given to another people. What wonder that, outraged by the white man, and fearing that they would be finally dispos- sessed by him of their homes, they should have done their utmost to drive him from their country ? His account of the plague explained the desertion of cornfields and wigwams, and greatly reassured the Pilgrims by informing them of the comparatively small numbers of the natives. The white men listened earnestly to him during the whole afternoon, and the vanity of the savage was so gratified by their interest arid attention that he had no notion of leaving them at night. CAPTAIN MILES STANDISH. 121 Captain Standish by this time was quite anxious to get rid of his guest, whom he by no means trusted entirely ; but he would not go. He was therefore lodged with Mr. Hopkins for the night, and carefully watched. Before his departure in the morning, Samoset was presented with a knife, a bracelet and a ring. He left, promising to return in a few days with some people of Massasoit, the great sachem to whom all the neighboring tribes were tributary. ^ I // - SAMOSET'S VISIT. The next day was the Sabbath. As the pioneers were assem- bling for worship, Samoset again entered the village, this time with five tall Indians at his heels, carrying furs to sell to the colonists. Captain Standish had already stipulated with Samo- set that whatever Indians came into the town should leave their bows and arrows at a certain place, about a quarter of a mile distant; and this arrangement was faithfully observed. Samo- set, to further prove his friendly intentions, had also brought back some of the tools which had been stolen some time before. The English received these guests with every token of friendly welcome, but positively refused to trade with them on the S bath each Indian was enriched by a trifling present, and all retired but Samoset, who, pretending sickness, remained until Wednesday. 122 CAPTAIN MILES STANDISH. The cottages were now so far finished as to afford protection from the weather, and the Monday and Tuesday of this week was spent in gardening. Samoset, who on Wednesday was sent into the forest to see why the Indians did not return, according to agreement, had just disappeared in the woods, when two sav- ages were seen upon the hill before mentioned, assuming many hostile attitudes. Captain Standish with one companion advanced toward them, but they turned and fled. The Pilgrims had learned from Samoset that his countrymen relied much upon magic and incantation, and rightly supposed that these Indians were endeavoring to put them under a spell. It was not until noon of the following day that Samoset returned, accompanied by three other Indians. One of these was Squantum, who had been kidnapped by Captain Hunt, but purchased and sent back to America by an Englishman, a cer- tain Mr. John Slaney. With a generosity rare in the red man, he had forgotten the injuries and remembered the benefits received ; for the sake of his liberator, he was ready to befriend all Englishmen. These visitors brought the startling news that their great sachem, Massasoit, with a train of sixty warriors, was on his way to visit them. Such guests in such numbers were by no means desirable, nor did Massasoit wish to trust him- self too far to Captain Hunt's countrymen. Several messages passed between these mutually distrustful parties, and at last, on Massasoit' s proposal that the colonists should send one of their number to explain their reasons for settling upon the lands of his vassal, Mr. Edward Winslow volunteered to go, accom- panied by Squantum, who had been acting as interpreter. The sachem gave pleased attention to this gentleman's conciliatory speech, as it was translated to him, and graciously received the presents that had been brought to him. Mr. Winslow's long and shining sword took his eye, but the owner refused to sell it. Leaving this embassador as a hostage in his camp, Massasoit, with a retinue of twenty unarmed men, went towards the village, sending six into the town as surety for his good faith. Captain Standish advanced to meet him, followed by six of his men. The Indians did not guess how large a part of the white men's force this guard of honor constituted. Massasoit and his attendants were conducted into th6 presence of Grov. Carver; the pipe of peace was smoked ; and they entered into a treaty ; one article being that neither party should go armed to visit the other, Ill 1 ~ ! Pi lift 124 CAPTAIN MILES STANDISH. Massasoit and his attendants withdrew at night, and on the next day were visited in their own camp by Captain Standish and a com- panion. The treaty thus made and cemented by friendly inter- course greatly encouraged the Pilgrims, whom a hostile recep- tion had prepared for continual contests. This peace was neces- sary in the extreme, as the last tie that bound them to their old home had been broken by the return of the Mayflower to England shortly after Massasoit's visit; remain in the wilderness they must, since there was no way to cross the ocean : even though, as the ship faded from sight, a new trouble came upon them in the death of their governor. Unmolested by the Indians, and with no hope of returning to England, they devoted themselves to the work of spring time ; spading up the earth, since thev had no horses or oxen for the plow ; planting peas and barley, also corn according to the in- structions of Squantum. In the woods was an abundant supply of berries, in the streams were fish, and eels in such quantities that their Indian companion could tread out with his feet and catch in his hands, during the day, as many as he could carry home at night. But while the men, hoe or spade in hand, work- ed around the little group of log houses, with constant visits from Indians, women and children clamoring for food and devouring with wolfish voracity, there frowned above them from the rude fort on the hill, the three cannon that were for their defense when these very Indians should prove treacherous. A visit to Massasoit by two of the Englishmen revealed to them at once the strength and the weakness of Indian tribes ; they also learned that he was at war with the Narragansetts, a power- ful tribe living to the south of his territories. NOT were all of the friendly sagamore's tributaries as peacefully disposed as him- self. Corbitant, a chief of one of the minor tribes, having re- ceived the news of Massasoit's defeat by the Narragansetts, with whom he was about to ally himself, endeavored to excite a revolt against the sagamore, and resolved to make war upon the settlers at Plymouth. Squantum, accompanied by Hobbomak, a chief who had strongly allied himself to the whites, set out from the village to visit Massasoit, with inquiries and encouragement for him from the Englishmen. Corbitant captured them, and, brand- ishing a knife, approached Squantum with the words : " When Squantum is dead, the Englishmen will have lost their tongue," CAPTAIN MILES STANDISH. 125 Intent upon the destruction of the interpreter, the captors paid little attention to Hobbomak, who, being a very powerful man, broke away while their leader was threatening his companion. Breathless and terrified, he reached Plymouth the next day, una- ble to tell if Squantum were dead or alive. " If we allow the hostile Indians to thus assail our allies," ex- claimed the Pilgrims, " none of the natives, however kindly dis- posed, will dare to befriend us. We must show them that we will protect our friends." Accordingly, on the fourteenth of August, Captain Standish set out to avenge the murder of the faithful Squantum. By the nar- row paths that generations of Indians had trodden as they went on hunting or war parties, they journeyed through the forest where every branch showered afresh upon them the rain that fell in torrents. Four miles from Namasket, where Corbitant had taken his prisoners, they halted, late in the afternoon. Night came on, dark with clouds and driving rain, and they again went on their way. In the darkness* they missed the trail, and it was only after groping a long time through the tangled thickets that they again found it. But the storm, which had hitherto been their greatest drawback, now befriended them ; the wailings of the wind, the patter of the rain-drops, hid from the keen ears of their enemies their approach. Before them, at last, glimmered the camp-fire, and creeping closer, they saw that the Indians were sleeping. The slumbering savages were rudely awakened by a report from two of their muskets, fired for that purpose, and Cap- tain Standish with two or three others, rushed into the hut where Corbitant and several of his warriors were supposed to be sleep- ing. " Stay in the wigwam," shouted Hobbomak, interpreting the leader's words; " stay in the wigwam; the English have come only for Corbitant, the murderer of Squantum ; if he is not here, they will hurt no one." But the report of the muskets had half-crazed the savages with fear, and in their wild endeavors to escape many were severely wounded. The scene may be imagined better then described, lit up by the flames of the fire, newly kindled, that the steel-clad soldiers might search the better among the half-naked, painted savages for the offending chief. But there was no need for venge- ance j Hobbomak, climbing to the top of the wigwam, called aloud for Squantum, who answered in person. Much rejoiced 126 CAPTAIN MILES STANDISH. that their faithful friend was still alive, the white men disarmed the Indians, and setting a guard, slept quietly until morning. The Indians of Corbitant' s party had, during the night, fled to their chief, so that, in the morning, only the friendly natives re- mained. As they gathered around Captain Standish with assur- ances of good will, he told them that Corbitant would not escape so easily the next time ; that if the Narragansetts continued hos- tile, they would be punished by the total overthrow of their tribe ; that he regretted that any one had been wounded, but that it was in consequence of disobeying his orders. Two of these accepted his invitation to come to Plymouth to be tended by the surgeon, and accompanied by many others, the little party returned, reach- ing the settlement that same evening. The consequences of this expedition were of great importance. Many sachems expressed their desire to ally themselves with the settlers ; Corbitant himself made peace with them through the good offices of Massasoit ; and even the Narragansetts made friendly overtures. But while a due sense of their power was thus impressed upon the south, the settlers were threatened with danger from the tribe about forty miles to the north. They decided to send an expedition to that region, to establish friendly relations with the natives and to examine the country. In the latter part of September, Captain Standish, with nine soldiers and Squantum and two other Indians as interpreters, set sail at midnight for their destination. Sailing a distance, supposed to be about sixty miles from Plymouth, they passed the first night in the boat, in a sheltered bay, supposed to have been Boston harbor. Landing the next morning, three men were left to guard the shallop, two stationed as sentinels at a short distance, and the others were led by their brave captain into the forest. On land- ing, they had found a number of lobsters lying upon the beach, and made use of them. Meeting with a woman who was going to the shore to get them, they paid her for the food, and obtained information as to the residence of the chief, Obbatinewat. As this was a little farther along the coast, the party returned to the shallop, arriving at the village after a short sail. Here they met with a cordial welcome, and were enabled to act as peace- makers between this tribe and that governed by the squaw sachem, the widow of the late chief. Squantum, with true Indian spirit, counselled Captain Standis.h to take by force all the skins. MltES mNfclSB. 127 in possession of this latter tribe, because they were bad people and had often threatened the settlements. "Were they never so bad/' answered the Puritan captain gravely, " we would not wrong them, o* give them just reason to complain of us. For we little weighed their words that threat- ened us, and if they once attempted to act against us, we would deal far worse 'with them than you desire." After trading for the furs which Squantum wished them to seize, they returned, having been absent four days. Peaceful rela- tions were now established with all the surrounding Indians, a bountiful harvest of corn was gathered, the fur-trade with the natives was profitable, fishing was rewarded with abundance, the forests were filled with deer and wild turkeys, and the streams abounded -with water-fowl. Their houses were made tighter and more comfortable, ample supplies of fuel gathered, and every- thing thus prepared for the advent of winter. The arrival of a vessel with thirty-five colonists who had left England with bare- ly enough provisions for the voyage, put an end to their rejoic- ings, and obliged them to put the whole colony upon half-rations. The colony now had about fifty men capable of bearing arms, although but a small supply of ammunition. Eumors reached them, in midwinter, that the ISTarragansetts were assuming a hos- tile attitude. As this tribe numbered about thirty thousand, five thousand of whom were warriors, the threatening character of this intelligence will be readily seen. While they were still alarmed about the rumor, a strange Indian one day entered the town and asked for Squantum. The answer that he was not there seemed to relieve him of some fear, and he was about to depart, after having left for him a bundle of arrows tied with a rattle- snake's skin, when Captain Standish, at the governor's request, detained him. He was evidently a RTarragansett, but was so ter- rified that it was only with difficulty that they could make him speak. Gradually gaining confidence, he told them that Canon- icus, enraged at their having made peace with his enemies, the tribes to the north, despising the meanness of their presents to him, and well aware of their weakness, had determined to make war upon them, and that this was his challenge. The messenger was, by the rules of war, entitled to safe con- duct 5 nor had they any desire to detain him. " Say to Canonicus that we wish to live at peace with all men. Tell him that we have done him no harm, and would not have MILES STANBisa. 129 injured him; but we are not afraid of his power, and will soon make him regret that he threatened us." Such was the message with which he was entrusted. Refusing all offers of food, or of shelter, he left the village as soon as he could do so, and disappeared in the forest. In the council that was held immediately afterwards, tradition has it that it was Captain Standish that jerked the arrows from the rattlesnake's skin, and filling it to the very jaws with powder and shot, sent it to Canon- icus as his answer. Certain it is that such a reply was despatched to the chief's declaration of war, and who so likely to send it as the hot-blooded descendant of the old crusader ? Canonicus re- ceived it, and was struck with terror. Squantum had told him that the Englishmen kept the plague shut up in a box and could let it loose upon those that offended them this might be, for aught he knew, a symbol of destruction as sure as the pestilence; he dare not destroy it, he dare not keep it, anditwas passed from hand to hand until it came back to Plymouth. The story runs (and Longfellow has made the tradition immor- tal) that the day this declaration was received, John Alden had been sent upon his memorable errand. We have already noted the brave captain's grief for his wife ; he had found, he thought, a flower as fair and sweet as his lost Rose. In direct defiance of the one guiding principle of his life : "If you want a thing well done, you must do it yourself; You must not leave it to others," he sent John Alden, the young scribe whom he had chosen as his friend, to woo sweet Priscilla Mullins for him. Alden had just returned to the humble cottage which the two strangely different friends shared with each other, with the maiden's reply : " Why don't you speak for yourself, John ?" Standish had listened in anger, and was in the midst of his bitterest reproaches when the summons came to the council. Thither he went, with what re- sult we have seen. Every precaution was now taken against a surprise by the In- dians. A palisade of strong posts ten or twelve feet high, in contact with each other, was put around the whole village. Tho three gates of entrance were locked by night, and guarded by day. Every man knew his post and his duty in time of danger. Secure in these preparations, and believing that a bold and fearless bearing would be the best to discourage the Indians, Captain Standish, with ten men, set out in the shallop, early in 130 CAPTAIN MILES STANDISH. April, to recommence trading wjth the natives. Just as the lit- tle vessel was doubling a promontory in the bay, one of the fam- ily of Squantum, his face covered with blood, came rushing to some men at work in the woods to bid them hasten to the pro- tection of the palisades. Within fifteen miles of Plymouth, he said, the treacherous chief Massasoit had assembled a large war party and was marching to the attack of the settlement. He had narrowly escaped their vengeance for speaking favorably of the English. At this startling news, the shallop was recalled by a gun, and Captain Standish, returning, adopted vigorous measures for defense. Hobbomak, who had been of Captain Standish's party, declared the report false ; saying that Massasoit could not undertake such a thing without the aid of his tributaries, of whom he himself was not the least. His wife was sent to Pokanoket, as a, secret agent, to ascertain the facts. Finding Massasoit quietly living there, she told him of the report. Indignant at the slander, he sever- ely blamed Squantum, and sent many messages of friendship to the Pilgrims. Squantum' s truthfulness had been doubted before ; they believ- ed him, and truly, to be a friend to them, but felt that he was playing a double part with his countrymen. His situation was peculiar : kidnapped by Captain Hunt, when he was returned to America he found his whole tribe had been swept away by the plague ; without hopes of advancement by means of his kinsmen, and being ambitious, he endeavored to govern the Indians of other tribes by means of his standing with the white men. His invention regarding the plague has already been related ; and he tried to make the Indians believe that he could lead the settlers to declare peace or war at his pleasure ; threatening them with war, and when he had been propitiated by gifts, announcing that he had secured peace. His slander of Massasoit was intended to provoke such enmity between the whites and Indians that he, the only means of communication between them, would obtain added honor and influence. Massasoit demanded that Squantum be sent to him to be put to death, and persisted in this, not- withstanding Governor Bradford's plea that since he alone under- stood both languages, he could not be spared. This refusal in the teeth of the treaty by which criminals were to be delivered to the proper party, enraged Massasoit, and for some time there was no friendly communication between them. This was the MILES STANblSH. 131 more dangerous, as the Indians were liable to be stirred up by the news of the recent massacre of the Yirginia settlers, to simi- lar outrages. Their difficulties were increased by the arrival of new colon- ists who proved very undesirable ; and when these were settled at Weymouth, their prodigality of food threw them often upon the charity of the people at Plymouth ; while their treatment of the Indians made enemies of the red men. Coming to want so often, and robbing the Pilgrims of their treasured food, necessi- tated frequent trips to buy corn of the Indians. On one of these expeditions, Squantum died, praying that he might be taken to the white man's heaven. This was an irreparable loss, since it deprived them of their best, almost their only interpreter. Captain Standish having been laid up with a fever, Governor Bradford had led most of these expeditions ; but upon the recovery of the former, he took the shallop and went to a point where the governor had stored some corn. It was the midst of winter, and bitterly cold weather ; they succeeded in reaching the harbor near where the corn was stored ; the weather being too cold to sleep in the shallop, they had to accept the hospital- ity of the Indians, whose sincerity they doubted. Eeceived apparently with the utmost cordiality, Captain Standish had no reason to give for suspicious actions, but quietly gave orders that a part of the company should always watch at night. No hostile act justified his suspicions, and they returned home in safety. A second trip soon became necessary, since a part of every supply of food must go to Weymouth, and early in March Captain Standish went back to Manomet. His reception was a colder one than ever before, and he was now certain that the Indians were plotting against the whites. Into the wigwam of Canacum came two savages from the vicin- ity of Weymouth, one of whom, "Wattawamat, in a speech unin- telligible in language, but plain in tone and gesture to Standish, addressed Canacum. After stating his plan to destroy the col- ony at Weymouth, he went on to say that to prevent the Ply- mouth settlers from avenging their countrymen, they too must be massacred ; that this task would be made easy by killing the captain and his six men, now in their midst. Canacum seemed much impressed by this speech, and showed a marked difference in his treatment of his guests. A plot was actually formed to massacre the seven men, but was frustrated by 9 132 CAPTAIN MILES STANDISH. the prudence of the captain, who refused to sleep anywhere but in the shallop ; whither the Indians, having a wholesome terror of muskets, were afraid to venture. News had reached Plymouth, during Captain Standish's ab- sence, that Massasoit was dangerously ill dying. Messrs. Win- slow and Hampden immediately set out upon a visit to the sick chief, and had the good fortune to cure him. Hobbomak was in- terpreter, and to him the grateful Massasoit revealed the plot of the Massachusetts Indians to destroy the Weymouth, and then the Plymouth colony. Seven tribes were in the conspiracy, some of whom were loud in their assurances of friendship. Hobbomak was instructed to tell this to the two white men as they returned to the town ; and Massasoit added a piece of advice, founded on his knowledge of his race : " Say to them that they often say they will never strike the first blow. But if they wait until their countrymen at Weymouth are killed, who are entirely unable to defend themselves, it will then be too late for them to protect their own lives. I therefore advise them, without delay, to put the leaders of this plot to death." The conduct of the Weymouth colonists was leading the Indians to despise the white men, and the Pilgrims saw that trouble was not far off. It was necessary to regain the natives' respect for the superior race, but some time had elapsed before they could decide what course to pursue. At last, at the suggestion of the governor, Captain Standish went to visit the Indians, to careful- ly scrutinize their conduct, and adopt such measures as he might think best. He was further instructed to bring back with him the head of the braggart Wattawamat. Proceeding to Weymouth, Captain Standish gave the poor wretches there the invitation of the governor and people of Ply- mouth to their home. While the Puritan soldiers were in this settlement, the Indians sent thither a spy, ostensibly to sell furs. Eeturning with the report that, although treated with the usual kindness, he saw, by his eyes, that the captain was angry in his heart, the savages were only excited to insolence. Pecksnot and Wattawamat came swaggering into the village, with a mob of Indians at their heels. "Tell your captain," said Pecksnot, "that we know he has come to kill us, but we do not fear him. Let him try it as soon as he dares ; we are ready for him as soon as he is ready for us." Pecksnot, Wattawamat and his brother, and another Indian, 134 CAPTAIN MILES STANDISH. came to where Captain Standish and four of his soldiers were. Pretending at first to wish to trade furs for blankets and mus- kets, they threw off this mask when they saw that it did not de- ceive the captain, and began to use the most insulting language. " He eat," said Pecksnot, brandishing his weapon ; " he no talk, but he eat little man all up. Little man better go live with squaws. Pecksnot big man." The chief was gigantic in size, while the captain of Plymouth's stature was as short as his patience with the Indians. Around them were seen the savages, stealing from bush to bush. The captain never once lost his calmness or self-possession, but at a signal that his men well understood, he leaped upon the dusky giant, wrenched the weapon from his hand, and laid open his skull. Wattawamat and the other Indian were killed, and the brother of the former was afterward hanged. Dismayed at the result of this fierce struggle, the Indians around the house fled from the terrible " little man," whose iron muscle could subdue Pecksnot, once the strength of the tribe, and Standish and his men spread their sails for home. The head of Wattawamat was taken back to Plymouth, and there set upon the fort a ghastly sight, but not as strange in those days as it would be now. The decisive action of Standish in this case has been often censured, but we must remember the character of the enemy with which he had to deal bold, cunning and treacherous, believing no man's word, because his own was so untrustworthy. Terrible tidings reached Plymouth : the gallant soldier upon whose generalship they relied for safety from the Indians, had been slain by a poisoned arrow. We may imagine the dismay which spread among the Pilgrims at this intelligence. Only one man saw any good in this misfortune, and although he bitterly reproached himself for rejoicing at the death of his friend, ho hastened to avail himself of the advantages which it brought him. So long as Miles Standish lived, John Alden would not " speak for himself" to Priscilla ; but when the news of his friend's death came, he was free from the obligation. Long engagements were not the fashion in those days, and the wedding took place soon after the wooing. As the solemn pledge was given, there came to the door the figure of a man " Short of stature he was, but strongly built and athletic, Broad in the shoulders, deep-chested, with muscles and sinews of iron ; Brown as a nut was his face, but his russet beard was already Flaked with patches of snow, as hedges sometimes in November." CAPTAIN MILES STANDISH. 135 To the startled men and women there assembled it seemed an illusion of the senses a specter, but the mail-clad figure ad- vanced into the room, and they saw that it was, in very truth, the Captain of Plymouth ; but the heat of his anger had passed, and he was ready to mingle his congratulations with those of other friends. Not long after this, Captain Standish went to England to ne- gotiate a loan for the colony, their stock of trinkets for trading with the Indians being exhausted, and Barbara, the sister of the long-remembered Rose, became his wife. This time ho held to his favorite motto, and did not delegate the asking to any one else. An expedition undertaken in the spring of 1632 shows clearly what a tower of strength the settlers thought their military lead- er. Into the settlement came an Indian, breathless with haste and terror, bearing a message from Massasoit. The Karragan- setts were marching upon his seat at Mount Hope, and he asked aid from the white men, who would be attacked as soon as he should be defeated. Four men were considered a sufficient force, when Captain Standish was one of them. It was true that the Narragansetts were advancing upon the faithful ally of the Pil- grims, but most fortunately their plans were changed by 'an in- road of the Pequods into their own territory. The difficulties of Plymouth were no longer confined to trou- bles with the Indians; other settlements had been made along the coast, and with these and with trading vessels there were oc- casional disputes. At one time, an Englishman having begun to trade with the Indians in territory claimed by Plymouth, the agent stationed there by the settlers requested him to desist; he refused, coupling his refusal with the most insulting expressions, and finally fired upon the boat which contained the agent and his companions, one of whom was John Alden. The shot was re- turned, with fatal effect. No one knows who fired this shot, but certainly it was not John Alden. Nevertheless, while in Boston a short time afterward, he was arrested and held for trial. Of course the Massachusetts colonists had no right to do this, and the Plymouth people were justly indignant at the invasion of their prerogative. Miles Standish was the man selected to represent the facts in their true light to them, and so well did he perform the task that Alden was released, and love and concord renewed between the two colonies. 136 CAPTAIN MILES STANDISH. The French, too, gave them some trouble, as this whole coast was claimed by them. The chief difficulty arising from their presence was that they sold muskets and ammunition to the In- dians, thus enabling them to do more harm to the white men. Had not the tribes been again visited by such a plague as swept away so many thousands just before the landing of the Plymouth settlers, this injudicious proceeding of the French might have resulted in the destruction of all the colonies. In 1633, Captain Standish removed his residence to a beautiful point on the northern coast of Plymouth bay, choosing an eleva- tion still called Captain's Hill. His dwelling was soon' surround- ed by others who appreciated the advantages of the location, and the little settlement was named Duxbury, from that Lanca- shire Hall which should have been his inheritance. He, how- ever, continued to act as their chief defender against all their enemies. Early in 1637, the Pequod Indians began hostilities, endeavor- ing to draw the Narragansetts into a league against the whites. These efforts were, however, made of no avail by the heroism of Eoger "Williams in visiting Canonicus, to persuade him not to listen to the Pequods. The combined force of the colonies, the fifty men from Plymouth being commanded by Captain Standish, was successful in routing the Indians. Such, for many years, was the end of most expeditions of the white men against the Indians. JSTew colonies had arisen all along the coast of New England, and the brunt of the work of defense no longer fell upon a single set- tlement. Captain Standish passed the evening of his days on his farm at Duxbury, three miles by water from Plymouth. Here he stood beside the grave of Elder Brewster, that man of Grod who had been the friend of the sturdy soldier. After the death of his friend, he must often have thought of the strangeness of that friendship, symbolized to his eye by his three muskets, lying by his three Bibles. In quiet and peace he passed away, October 3, 1656, and was buried on Captain's Hill. On the summit of this eminence, a stately monument has been erected to his memory by his numerous descendants ; the shaft, towering a hundred feet and more into the air, crowned by a colossal statue of the Captain of Plymouth ; where his grave is, no one knows ; the exact spot has long been forgotten ; but the shadow falls sometime upon it as the sun looks down on Cap- CAPTAIN MILES STANDISH. 137 tain's Hill, and the air blows fresh from Plymouth over his last resting-place, as when it bore to his listening ear the sound of the gun that called him from his well-earned repose to repel the savage's attack ; sleeping there, to "Dream of battle-fields no more, Days of danger, nights of waking." Not many years after the death of Miles Standish, died Massa- soit, the firm friend of the Puritans. In general, his friendly attitude was fully recognized, and the settlers at Plymouth, in particular, scrupulously kept the peace with this ally. To his eldest sons, Wamsutta and Pometacom, had been given English names, Alexander and Philip. The former was his father's suc- cessor, and for a while continued to keep his people in the same friendly relations which they had known for forty years. But whether his powers or his intentions were at fault, frequent dep- redations were traced to the Wampanoags. Wamsutta died in a few months after his father, and was suc- ceeded by his brother Pometacom, or Philip. For several years the same state of things continued, but Philip always protested his people were not to blame, and that he was as sincere a friend to the colonists as ever his father had been. Secretly, however, he brooded over his wrongs. Large tracts of land had been sold to the white men by Massasoit and his two sons, for what the Indians thought invaluable treasures at the time j but the trinkets were lost, the blankets worn to rags, and the land remained in the possession of the purchasers. Like children, the Indians had sold their valuable possessions for trifles, and saw too late the er- ror into which they had fallen. Nor was the loss of the land itself all of the wrong that they had suffered ; the vicinity of the white men had destroyed the charm of the wilderness ; cattle were feeding where the deer used to roam, and trespassed even upon their cornfields. The sugges- tion that fences be built around the fields was received with scorn. They had made war with the Narragansetts, with but short inter- vals of peace, ever since the white men had been in the country ; now, perhaps, they had better ally themselves with that power- ful tribe. The anger of the Indians was further excited by the attempt of the settlers to make them conform to law ; if one In- dian killed another, was it any business of the colonists ? Had they any right to hang the murderer as they did whenever they could catch him ? 138 CAPTAIN MILES STANDISH. About 1670 Philip's intentions began to be suspected, and a year later the whites attempted to disarm the Indians, who had obtained fire-arms from various sources. The savages, however, knew too well what would be the result if they were again de- prived of all weapons but the bow and arrows and the war-club, and resisted so heartily that the idea was, for a time at least, giv- en up. Proud and haughty as he was, Philip was not cruel, nor was he as bloodthirsty as many have represented him. But the pressure brought to bear upon him was too great for him to re- sist, and although he did not, perhaps, intend to make war unless further provocation were given, he sent messengers to the various neighboring tribes to know their opinion as to the stand the whites had taken. Thus were welded the links of the chain which bound Philip to war: his warriors would despise and refuse to recognize a chief who remained quietly at home while the white men overran the country; he sent to know if other chiefs intended to act; his influence was such that they, supposing he wished them to do so, prepared for war; and Sassamon informed the white men that Philip and his men had conspired against them. Provoked at this betrayal of their chief, three of Philip's war- riors killed Sassamon, and were, in turn, captured and hanged by the authorities at Boston. Angered at this invasion of the rights of their chief, many of the Indians watched their opportunity, and stole the provisions and shot the cattle of the white people. Superstition, however, prevented, for the present, the loss of hu- man life, for the " medicine men" had warned them that the party that drew the first blood would be beaten. The white men were not disposed to submit tamely to the depredations of the Indians, and were always prepared to punish the offenders. Lurking around the white settlements on the nineteenth of June, 1675, an Indian thought he saw his opportunity to inflict injury upon one of the enemies of his race. His gun was leveled, not at a man, but at some oxen quietly feeding. One fell, but he had not time to reload when he was forced to beat a hasty re- treat before the owner of the animal. As he fled, a ball struck him ; but staunching the blood, he kept on his way ; to the desire of escape was now added the desire of telling his people that the whites had shed the first blood. Quickly the Indians prepared for war. A little bag of pounded maize that was enough to sustain a warrior's strength for days and all the muskets and ammunition they could get together. CAPTAIN MILES STANDISH. 139 140 CAPTAIN MILES STANDISH. The twenty-fourth of June was a day of fasting and prayer, solemnly agreed upon by the people as they recognized their danger. This was more immediate than they had feared. As they issued from the meeting-house, a sharp crack of many guns ran through the little settlement of Swanzey, and one man fell dead. Several men were wounded, and two, who had been hastily despatched for a surgeon, were killed by a second vol- ley; later, three more fell. The war had begun in good earnest and there was no time to be lost. Messengers were sent flying over the country to bid the neighboring settlements prepare to defend themselves. The Indians, in accordance with their customs, did not venture to meet the colonists in battle, but burned settlements, laid am- buscades for the settlers, and killed the stragglers. All the horrors of Indian warfare had burst upon New England. The savages lurked in every forest, in every thicket ; they watched for the lonely settler as he opened his door in the morning, as he busied himself with his work in the field, or as he walked along the forest path to meeting. The blood-curdling war-whoop, the gleam of the scalping knife, the deadly thud of the tomahawk, were familiar to their dreams and waking thoughts alike. The whites marched directly upon Mount Hope, Philip's seat; proceeding with such secrecy as to surprise the wary savages so completely that the savage king barely escaped being made prisoner. Before his wigwam stood eight poles, each surmounted by the head of a white man. Incited to vengeance by this ghastly spectacle, the whites killed fifteen Indians, laid waste the surrounding fields and drove off all Philip's cattle and hogs. At Pocasset, a party of about three hundred Indians came sud- denly upon Captain Church's little force of thirty-six men. The soldiers fought bravely, until Captain G-olding brought a sloop to their relief. A new difficulty arose, for the water near the shore was too shallow to allow the sloop to approach, and a canoe could only carry two. But while the bullets whistled around them, riddling the sail, grazing the cheek of the captain, and passing through the canoe, the little force gained the vessel without the loss of a man. Philip had been driven from his home, and would not cease hostilities until his tribe should conquer, or be like the Pequods, exterminated. All the New England tribes but one, the Mohi- cans, joined the league, Their chief, Tineas, had long been the CAPTAIN MILES STANDISH. 141 rival of Philip, and a faithful ally throughout the Pequod war, and determined to assist his white friends now; his men proved of great service as guides through the forest. The attack upon Brookfield, Massachusetts, was prosecuted with the most determined fury by the Indians. Their sudden appearance near the town sent the eighty settlers flying into the block-house for protection. The other houses were burned by the savages, and the howling, swarthy throng, numbering six or seven hundred, sheltering themselves behind trees and fences, creeping along the ground through the high grass, seemed like so many birds of prey watching the little flock within the shelter of that rude log building. A flash at a loop-hole of the block- house, and an Indian falls ; then flash after flash, each one fatal. Despairing of success, they piled bundles of flax upon a cart which had been left near by in a field, and setting the flax on fire, moved the burning pile toward the block-house. But long before they had gotten this rude engine of destruction under the overhanging second floor of the fort, their design was per- ceived. In spite of the flames which they had hoped would con- ceal the dusky figures beneath the cart, the deadly fire again issues from the loop-holes, and at last there is no one to guide the load of burning flax. Then, while the balls fall like hail around him, a settler runs from the fort and extinguishes the flames, which the wind drives dangerously toward the block-house. Eeinforcements arrive soon afterward, and the Indians hastily retreat, leaving eighty of their number dead upon the field. The Narragansetts finally joined Philip, and fortified them- selves in a swamp. Around them stretched the impenetrable morass, only one path leading to the spot of dry land where clustered their five hundred wigwams. This path had been beat- en by the feet of the Indian, and admitted only a single file ; it ended at a brook, where a log formed a rude bridge leading di- rectly to the island. From the high palisade, around which, for greater protection, trees and brush had been piled, a deadly fire could sweep this single path. But the eleven hundred men, who have gathered to inflict a decisive blow upon the hostilo Indians, know no fear. Death is certain to those who lead the attack, but they recall the saddened homes, perhaps a father, a brother, a wife, or a child slain by the hand of the savage, and not a man flinches. The deadly fire opens from the fort, but the determii ed men rush forward so quickly that when the Indian has shot 142 CAPTAIN MILE6 STANDISH. one man, before he can reload, two more have pressed forward to fill their dead comrade's place. Now they gain the barricade, now they have forced their way into it. Hand to hand, sword to tomahawk, the battle now rages in the fort. Step by step the Indians are pressed back, until at last they turn and fly. Climbing over the high palisade, their light footsteps carry them through the marsh in which the heavily armed white man would sink waist-deep, and they es- cape in the woods. The Indian women and children are in the fort, dumb with terror and grief. Now, high into the winter sky rise the flames, consuming the wigwams, and even the corn prov- ided for the winter. Four hundred white men have been killed ; A NARROW BRIDGE TO VICTORY. of the three thousand Narragansetts, a miserable remnant has escaped; according to the account of one of their number, who was among those saved, seven hundred 'were killed, and three hundred mortally wounded. By some authorities the loss of the whites is put at a much lower figure than that given, but the number of those that died from their wounds would probably re- move the discrepancy. Certain it is that this blow practically annihilated the treacherous Narragansett tribe 3 the chief of which had made a treaty with the whites not three months before the storming of the fort. Without food or shelter, exposed to all the fury of a December snow-storm, they took their way back to the settlements, bearing CAPTAIN MILES STANDlStt. 143 their wounded with them. Canonchet, the treacherous chief, was captured, and urged to procure a treaty of peace with the other Indians. " The Indians will never stop fighting/' he answered, doggedly. " You are condemned to death ; this is your only chance of life." "I shall die before I speak anything unworthy of myself." All through the summer of 1676 the war goes on steadily the star of the savage chief declines. His bravest warriors are dead; he is losing his hold over the tribes around him; in a council one of his men speaks of peace to him. He knows that it means dis- grace, and the rash counselor dies by his master's own hand. His wife and child are captured. "Now my heart breaks, now I am ready to die!" exclaimed he whose name had so long been the terror of New England's stern people. From that same council went forth a warrior of the Wampan- oags vowing never again to recognize the authority of the 'chief, never to stay his footsteps until the white man should be on that chiefs track; it was the brother of the murdered man. Straight to the English camp he stole, to guide the soldiers in the pursuit of Philip. Dark days had come upon Pometacom, the son of Massasoit, the last chief of the Wampanoags. Few followers remain to him they should be men, but they have the hands of squaws and the hearts of serpents ; they will not fight, they plot against him. His wife and child who can tell how the savage loved them ? have been sold into slavery in the islands far out in the ocean. There is no hope left for him. Yet still ho is King Philip of Pokanoket, sachem of the Wampanoags ; and with a strange dig- nity of feeling, the hopelessly lost man goes back to his desola- ted home, once the seat of his power. On the night of August 11, 1676, a body of men under Captain Church reached Bristol Neck, which connects Mount Hope with the mainland, and concealed themselves in the bushes. Day broke, and the Indians seeing themselves closely beset, rushed from their hiding places in great disorder, under a heavy fire. Every point of egress from the marsh where they had lain was guard- ed. Past one point, where a white man and the Indian guide stood, a warrior would have run ; the white man's gun missed its mark, but a deadlier hatred aimed the traitor's, for the fugi- tive was Philip. A ball pierced his heart, and he fell forward. CAPTAIN MILES STANDISH. 145 King Philip's war was over. Still there was not yet an end to the fighting. The flames still smouldered, and often broke out, until the few Indians who survived were subdued in spirit, and had forgotten the traditions of their race. For twenty years the head of Pometacom, the last chief of the Wampanoags, looked from the gibbet at Plymouth upon the land of his fathers, that he had sold for trifles and would have re- deemed with blood ; a ghastly symbol of safety to those who suc- ceeded him in the sovereignty, of his native land. CHAPTER V. GEKEBAL ISEAEL PUTNAM. ON the road between Newburyport and Boston, just half-way between the two places, stands an old farm-house of the better class. Fifty years is the age assigned to the newest part, and the history of the logs which form a part of it dates back to - 1648. When first built, it stood in the wilderness, and the sounds most frequently heard were the sharp and ringing blows of the axe and the heavy thud of the falling trees ; while the war-whoop of the Indian frightened into silence the birds' songs. Here, in the year 1718, was born Israel Putnam. Of his early years, wo have only the record of the Town Meeting, showing the school accommodations then existing few and slight. The roads were so dangerous, and the clearings so far apart, that even as late as 1725 it was unsafe for little children to go alone to school. As he grew older, his father's estate would have enabled him to attend one of the academies in the neighboring towns, but he loved the tangled and howling forest better than the closely trimmed hedges of the towns. He left school when he had learned to write a large, round, school-boy hand, and before he had become thor- oughly acquainted with the mysteries of the spelling-book, or whatever may have served as its substitute. "Whatever was his lack of school-training (and in after years he was much ashamed of his ignorance), he received a liberal ed- ucation in the arts of the forest; and his courage was early made manifest. Yisiting Boston in his boyhood with some relative, a larger boy chaffed him for some time upon his personal appear- ance. He bore it patiently as long as he could, but, as forbear- ance ceased to be a virtue, turned suddenly upon his persecutor and administered a sound thrashing, to the great delight of all the spectators. We may believe that that Boston boy was in the future less disposed to make fun of rustics. On one occasion, the cool daring so noticeable in his after life 10 148 GENERAL ISRAEL PUTNAM. was made manifest. He had climbed a tree to possess himself of a bird's-nest upon a limb many feet above the ground, but his clothes caught on the limb, he lost his balance, and hung supported only by the band of his breeches. There was a boy named Randall in the group, who was noted for being a crack marksman, and who afterwards fought bravely at Putnam's side. Fortunately, he had his loaded rifle with him on this occasion, as on most others. "Jim Randall, is there a ball in your rifle ?" "Yes." "Do you see the limb that holds me here ?" "I do." " Fire at it." "What, to cut you down?" " Of course. For what else could I ask it?" " But I might hit your head." " Shoot ; better blow out my brains at once, than see me die here by hanging, as I shall in fifteen minutes. Shoot, I tell you." " But you will fall." " Will you fire ?" Randall brought his rifle to his shoulder ; the sharp crack was echoed by the woods; the splinters flew ; Putnam dropped to the ground, se- verely bruised by the fall. Making light of his hurts, however, he continued to join Unwilling to give up anything once undertaken, he returned alone a few days afterward, and secured the coveted prize. While we cannot but blame his rob- bery of the bird, we must see in this a prophecy of the days to come and the daring deeds for which he would be famous. Married at the age of twenty or twenty-one, in 1740 he removed to Pomfret, Connecticut, a tract thirty-six miles from Hartford, "SHOOT, I TELL YOU!" in the sports of his companions. GENERAL ISRAEL PUTNAM. 149 and on the Mohegan river. His father had followed that wise custom of the early New England farmers, of dividing a large part of his estate among his children as they grew up ; thus se- curing to each one a means of earning his living and securing a competency, and preventing quarrels over his property after his death. After the lapse of a very few years, we find him in the enjoyment of a comfortable and substantial home, his clearings well fenced and cultivated, his pastures well stocked, and his sheep-fold the pride of his heart. With numerous flocks, well cared for, he carried, on quite an extensive business in wool. But his folds, like those of his neighbors, suffered heavily from the depredations of a wolf, that for many years annoyed the sheep-raisers. Many of her cubs had been killed, but the old wolf had grown wary, and though once she had set her foot in a trap and lost her toes in getting loose, she had succeeded for a long time in eluding her pursuers. At length, finding the nuisance intolerable, he entered into a combination with five of his neighbors, to watch and hunt alternately, two at a time, and never to abandon the pursuit until she was destroyed. Commencing the hunt imme- diately after a light fall of snow, they were soon on a trail that could not be mistaken. Pursued over hill and valley, through forest and brake and swamp, at the Connecticut the wolf turned back in a direct course to Pomfret, still closely pursued by the vigilant hunters. Early the next morning, they had driven her into a den, about three miles from the house of Mr. Putnam; and here she was carefully guarded until a large number of men and boys had assembled, with dogs, guns, straw and sulphur, pre- pared for the destruction of the common enemy. It was a scene of general and great excitement, but their ex- pectations of sport bade fair to be disappointed. The instinct of self-preservation had led the thief to a retreat where she could stand an obstinate siege and defend herself with a bravery and fierceness quite appalling. Some of the hounds, excited by the chase, and eager to be at their prey, rushed headlong into the cavern, but returned, yelping bitterly and covered with wounds; and nothing could induce them to return to the charge. The at- tempt was now made to drive her out by another means, and great volumes of smoke rolled into the cave from the straw set on fire at its mouth. Failing in this, they tried the fumes of sulphur, but with no better result. Either the wolf, knowing that certain 150 GENERAL ISRAEL PUTNAM. death at the hands of her enemies awaited her, chose to die in the cave, or the smoke escaping through a fissure in the walls, she suffered less than they thought. At any rate, their efforts pro ved fruitless for many hours. It was now near midnight, and unless they soon arrived at some result, their efforts would prove fruit- less; for most of the men there assembled had been on the alert nearly twenty hours. Another effort was made to induce the dogs to go in, but without success. " Take a torch and gun, and go into the cavern and shoot the wolf,"suggested Mr. Putnam to a servant. But the man's service did not require him to undertake such dangerous enterprises, and he declined the honor to be won at such hazard. Finding no one who was willing to go, and declaring he was ashamed to have such a coward in his family, Mr. Putnam at once resolved to enter himself. His neighbors remonstrated, but in vain ; he was bent on accomplishing the death of the victim that very night, lest she should escape by some unknown passage, and achieve her safety by one sudden, desperate rush past the sentinels. Knowing the instinctive dread of fire which all wild animals have, he provided himself with strips of birch-bark as a substi- tute for torches, and without any weapon, went to reconnoiter. Through a passage that was at no point high enough for a man to stand upright, or more than three feet wide, he crawled on hands and knees. Smooth and solid rocks lined the cavity, the mouth of which is about two feet square; and a distance of more than forty feet must be traversed before he could reach his goal. From time to time his torch must be rekindled, or he would be left in utter darkness, and at the mercy of the wild beast he was seeking. Part of the surface was a descent, about one-fourth was level, and the remaining sixteen feet a gradual ascent. As he reached the farther end of the horizontal passage, he could see nothing but the darkness around him, made visible by the little circle of light surrounding his torch. Creeping cautiously on- ward, he saw the eyes of the wolf gleaming like fire through the darkness, and heard her gnash her teeth and growl as the light of the torch was seen. Giving the signal agreed upon, a kick at the rope fastened to his foot, he was hastily drawn back to his anxious friends. The return was not without its disadvantages, for his clothes were torn and his flesh badly lacerated. Loading his gun, and taking another handful of his impro- vised torches, he again descended into the narrow cave. Encum- GENERAL ISRAEL PUTNAM. 151 bered with his musket, his progress was of course much slower than before, but his knowledge of the way, and being armed, made it safer. Howling, rolling her eyes, snapping her teeth, and dropping her head between her legs, the wolf was evidently on the point of springing at her assailant. At this critical mo- ment he levelled his piece, aiming directly at her head, and fired. Stunned with the shock, and almost suffocated by the smoke of the powder, he found himself, in a few moments, again drawn out of the cave, though more gently than before. PUTNAM IN THE WOLF'S CAVE. Being refreshed by the cold, pure air outside of the cavern, ho went down for the third time, in order to bring away his pri/.o. There, in the innermost recess of the long cavern, lay tho dreaded animal in a pool of her own blood, perfectly insensible to the flame of his torch. Seizing her by the ears and givir the usual signal to his friends, he was again drawn out, dragging the carcass with him. As he emerged into the air with tho body of that foarfu ture which had so long been the terror and scourge of their fields, 152 GENERAL ISRAEL PUTNAM. he was greeted with a shout which reassured the waiting, tremb- ling wives and mothers at home. It echoed through the woods, and was heard far and near. The brave victor was escorted in triumph to his home, with the trophy of his valor borne before him on a litter, and the troop of volunteers was provided with as generous a smoking hot supper as time would allow. Putnam's agreeable manner, generous spirit and uniform good humor had already secured him the affection of his neighbors, while his integrity, good sense and enterprise had obtained their esteem. It does not take a very remarkable deed to make such a man a popular hero ; his exploit in the wolf 's den was more than sufficient, and the story spread far and near, gaining as it went. It was said that the den was full of wolves ; that it con- tained a bear and her two cubs ; the difficulty of access, great as it was, was exaggerated ; and the newspapers of England and France copied the story as thus told. This adventure, and others in his military experience, gave him the reputation of thoughtless daring. The truth was, that his mind was quickly made up as to the possibility and necessity of acting in a certain way, and paving by quick and accurate perceptions arrived at conclusions which other men reached by slow and painful -reasoning, he lost no time in carrying the quickly formed resolution into effect. Quick as a woman in see- ing what ought to be done, he was brave and strong as a man in doing it. His reputation grew as the years passed on, and his courage was shown by acts only less adventurous and daring than the killing of the wolf. When the French and Indian War broke out in 1755, he was commissioned captain of volunteers, though he had never seen a day's service as a soldier. Nor did he have any difficulty in obtaining recruits; around the standard of "the old wolf," as he was often called, flocked his personal friends and admirers ; not the outcasts, the vagabonds or the floating population, but hardy, industrious, respectable young men, the very flower of the Connecticut farmers. None of them had been educated as soldiers, or had had such experience, but bold hearts, strong arms and trust in their captain made the work far easier than to the mere soldier of fortune. Although this company was not specially designated as ran- gers, but attached to the regular army, its duty was of the hardy, bold and adventurous character usually performed by such a corps. ISRAEL i>UttfAM. 163 This work was peculiarly suited, not only to the men, but to their commander. In the active and perilous duty of reconnoitering the enemy's posts, surprising their pickets, cutting off or captur- ing detached parties, waylaying convoys of provisions, he found ample employment for his spirit of restless enterprise, as well as room for the exercise of those powers of invention and strat- agem for which he was distinguished. The French and Indian war was peculiar in its requirements of soldiers. Nearly all the Indians were enlisted on the French side, and the mountains, the forests, the river banks, the shores and inlets of the lakes were all infested with straggling parties of these ruthless marauders, whose stealthy movements render- ed them peculiarly formidable to the soldiery. Nor were they less dreadful to the settlers, who were frequently surprised in their homes by prowling savages ; and many are the tales that might be told of children carried away into captivity, of others slain before their homes. Skulking in every thicket, in the out- skirts of every wood, they were always ready to spring upon the foe. Often the English soldiers fell by an unseen hand, often they were slain before they could defend themselves. This was the lesson which the leaders of the army had to learn, a lesson writ- ten in blood in the very beginning of the war. General Braddock had set out to the west to establish a chain of communication from Quebec to New Orleans ; sending from time to time despatches to the authorities that after such an un- dertaking, which would require so many days, he would proceed to the next point. "'After taking Fort Duquesne, I am to proceed to Niagara, and having taken that, to Frontenac. Duquesne can hardly detain me more than three or four days." In reply to cautions regarding ambuscades, he replied contemptuously that though the savages might be formidable to the raw American militia, they would make no impression on the king's regulars. Approaching Fort Duquesne, the scouts brought information of an ambuscade of Indians and French in the forest. The^young aid, Colonel George Washington, advised a course which his experience in dealing with the Indians suggested. "High times/' said Braddock, with an oath, "when a young buckskin is to teach a British general how to fight." The army advanced into the forest with all the pomp and cumstance of war, only to hear the sharp crack of rifles echoed and re-echoed from every side. Not a foe was in sight. Tho ar- GENERAL ISRAEL PUTNAM. 155 tillery was directed hither, thither; the soldiers fired at random ; while into their own compact ranks poured a deadly fire. The wild yell of the invisible enemy struck terror to the hearts of the king's regulars ; and while the officers used every effort to en- courage the men to move forward and dislodge the enemy from his shelter, their endeavors were in vain. Sullenly the troops refused to obey, here and there a yet more rebellious spirit in the rear fired upon the officers who urged them forward. Brad- dock was fatally wounded, his two English aids killed, while the young American was singled out as a mark by more than one rifle- man. " Some powerful Manitou guarded his life," said a Shawnee chief, who averred that he had fired seventeen shots at him; two horses were killed under him, and four balls penetrated his coat; yet he escaped unhurt. The regulars, what there was left of them, broke and ran like sheep. The forest field of battle was left thick- ly strewn with the dead and dying ; never had there been such a harvest of scalps and spoils ; and as evening approached, the forest rang with the exultant shouts and yells of the victors. It was just after Braddock's defeat had created consternation throughout the colonies that Sir William Johnson undertook an expedition against Crown Point and other French strongholds in the region of Lake Champlain. Here it was that Captain Putnam entered upon that great theater of honorable strife and hazardous adventure, where he won those enduring laurels, that crown his memory. Fort Edward, built and held by the English, was unsuccessfully attacked by the French with their Indian allies; and the remainder of the season was passed by Johnson's forces in completing the intrenchments around the camp, only occasional skirmishes between foraging and scouting parties taking place. Here, sometimes in company with Captain, afterward Major Eogers, sometimes alone, Putnam was employed in reconnoiter- ing the enemy's lines, gaining intelligence of his movements, taking straggling prisoners, and surprising the advance pickets of their army. The first time the two captains went out together, jt was the fortune of Putnam to save the life of Eogers, a service afterward requited with the utmost ingratitude. They had been sent out to obtain an accurate knowledge of the position of the enemy, and the strength of his fortifications at Crown Point; but the situation of the fort made it impossible to approach it with their whole party. The two leaders, how- ever, determined not to return without an attempt to effect their 156 GENERAL ISRAEL PUTNAM. purpose, and concealed their men, with strict orders to remain in hiding until their return. Creeping stealthily forward, under cover of the darkness, they reached the vicinity of the fortress, and lay hidden there until morning. Early the following day they came nearer, and having completed their observations, were about to return to their men, when Rogers, who was a short dis- tance from Putnam, suddenly encountered a Frenchman. Instant- ly giving the alarm to the nearest guard, the Frenchman seized Rogers' fusee with one hand, and with the other made an effort to stab him. A desperate struggle followed. The guard an- swered the call, and the whole garrison would soon be down up- on them. No time was to be lost, yet a shot would only increase their danger. "With the rapidity of action for which he was fa- mous, Putnam sprang at the Frenchman, and with one blow of the butt-end of his musket, laid him dead at his feet. "With the utmost speed they fled to the mountains, rejoined their party, and returned to the camp without further incident. The fortress of Crown Point being too strong to be attacked, and the season being now far advanced, the colonial troops, who had only enlisted for the campaign, were disbanded, and Captain Putnam returned to the quiet scenes of domestic life upon his thrifty farm, where his fifteen-year-old son had been left in charge. Reappointed to his old command in the following year, when it was again resolved to reduce Fort Duquesne and Crown Point, he was given much the same kind of duties to perform. It was in this latter enterprise that Captain Putnam was engaged ; and although it was a season of inactivity for the main body, he had plenty of stirring incidents in this part of his experience. Appointed to reconnoiter the enemy's camp near Ticonderoga, he took Lieutenant Durkee with him as a companion. Ignorance of the difference between the English and French methods of ar- ranging their camps had nearly proved fatal to them. The Eng- lish were accustomed to kindle their camp-fires along the outer lines of their encampment, thus laying open the whole extent of the camp to the view of the enemy's scouts and patrols, and fre- quently exposing the sentinels to be picked off by expert marks- men. The French and Indians, on the other hand, kindled their fires in the center, lodged their men at a distance, and posted their circle of sentinels in the surrounding darkness. Supposing that the French sentries were within the circle of the fires, the bold scouts crept to the camp, using the utmost caution, and sud- GENERAL ISRAEL PUTNAM. 157 denly, to their great surprise, found themselves in the very midst of the enemy. The sentinels, almost at the same moment that the scouts perceived their predicament, saw by the light of the fire that some one had passed unchallenged, and one of them fired, slightly wounding Durkee in the thigh. Instant flight was the only alternative. Putnam, turning away from the glare of the fire, could hardly see his hand before him in the blackness of the night, and soon plunged into a clay-pit. Beside him, as he was groping his way to the farther side, fell another man, whom he was about to strike down, when he recognized Durkee's voice, asking him if he had escaped unhurt. [Rejoicing at their safety, they gained the farther side, and spring- ing from the pit, made good their retreat through a leaden hail that the French sentinels poured at random into the forest. Under the lee of a large log, they found shelter for the night. " I've a little rum in my canteen," said Putnam to his compan- ion; " let us drink to the confusion of those French sentinels." The canteen was produced, but alas for his generous intention ! A bullet had pierced the tin, and there was not a drop of liquor there. 'Nor was this the only evidence of his narrow escape, for on examining his blanket, the next day, fourteen bullet-holes were found. "While encamped at this point, the sentinel at a certain post had been picked off night after night; the best and bravest soldiers had volunteered to stand guard at this post of honor, because of danger, and had shared the same fate; in the morn- ing, it was always found deserted. At last it came to be looked upon as suicidal to venture on duty at that place, and men hesi- tated, and refused to go. The commander was about to fill the place by lot, when Captain Putnam, whose position as a commissioned officer excused him from all such duties, solicited the honor of standing guard there for the night. His offer was promptly accepted. " If you hear any noise from without the lines," the command- ing ofiicer instructed him, as all other sentinels had previously been, you will call ' Who goes there?' three times, and then, if no answer be given, fire. Captain Putnam listened with the respect duo to his superior ofiicer, and set out to his post. Every tree and shrub and rock in the neighborhood was carefully examined, and an exact phot< graph of the whole scene fixed in his mind, before he settled down 158 GENERAL ISRAEL tUTNAM. to the tramp, tramp, backward and forward, through the live-long night, or until he should meet the fate of his predecessors. It was midnight, and only the sound of his own footsteps or the rust- ling of trees in the wind had as yet broken the silence. Listen ! In the grass a slight rustling, as if some animal drew near; then a crackling sound, as if it had found food and were munching it. [Raising his musket to his shoulder, and aiming at the spot where the noise was heard, he called out: " Who goes there three times ?" and instantly fired. The sound of his shot had not died away before he heard a deep groan the last breath of the burly Indian who had made this post fatal to less wary sentinels. From that time forward, the guards at that point were free from molestation. At some time during the summer, Captains Putnam and Rogers were ordered to embar,k with a force of one hundred volunteers and a suitable supply of arms, and proceed down Lake George to intercept a large party of the enemy that had attacked and plundered an American detachment in charge of a provision train. The force of the enemy amounted to about six hundred men. Nothing daunted, however, by their inferiority of numbers, the two leaders executed their orders with so much spirit as to arrive at the designated point before the hostile boats came in view. Concealed in the woods, they waited until the enemy entered the narrows, and then opened upon his boats a murderous fire. Yolley after volley was poured upon them, many of the oarsmen being killed, many of the boats sunk. A strong wind swept some of the vessels through the narrows and thus enabled them to escape from the guns of their assailants, reporting the disaster at Ticon- deroga, and giving information that Putnam and Rogers were at the narrows with a large force of colonial troops. Three hundred fresh troops, whites and Indians, were thereupon despatched to cut off this party before it should reach Fort Ed- ward, a measure anticipated by the American leaders. Although the latter were fully twenty miles from their boats, they suc- ceeded in reaching them before night, and were soon moving briskly down the lake. On the following day, however, they were sighted by the French, who, flushed with the hope of certain vic- tory, advanced boldly and confidently to the attack. They were permitted to come within pistol shot before a gun was fired; then, with deadly aim, a broadside was poured upon them. The volley from the larger pieces was followed by the discharge of the mus- GENERAL ISRAEL PUTNAM. 159 kets, and this alternation was continued, making such dreadful havoc that the French, having never recovered from the first dis- mayed surprise, did not make even an effort to rally. Every volley carried death into their ranks, and the boats, crippled and shattered, laden with the wounded and the dying, were nrged through the bloody waters back to Ticondcroga. In the two en- gagements, fully five hundred of the French and Indians were kill- ed, while the Americans lost only one man, two being wounded. The services upon which Captain Putnam was gen- erally employed were not usually, however, those of such note as this described. Planned and executed in secret, their success de- pended largely upon the maintenance of this se- crecy. The movements of an army, the fate of a bat- tle, may often depend upon the information given by a scout whose name re- mains unknown, whose services are never record- ed, unless by himself. Putnam kept no journal, so that the few accounts of his work preserved in the orderly books, some stories that found their way into the newspapers, or were told by friend to friend and thus preserved for years, are all that remain as a clue to his popularity with the soldiers, the respect with which his superior officers regarded him, and the general and strong opinion that he was destined to become distinguished in a broader field of action. One incident of this campaign will show the danger and value of his duties. Sent out with five men, to take a prisoner from whom information of the strength and designs of the enemy might be obtained, he found, on approaching the camp, a suit- able place of concealment in a thicket near the road. His men were very unwilling to hide themselves here, ascribing their leader's caution to cowardice, and it was only with difficulty that he prevented them from exposing themselves in such a way as GENERAL ISRAEL PUTNAM. 160 GENERAL ISRAEL PUTNAM. would have entirely defeated the object of the expedition, and added very much to its danger. He succeeded, however, in en- forcing his commands, and the party had not been long in the covert before an opportunity presented itself. An Indian, follow- ed at a short distance by a Frenchman, passed them. Waiting until the former was far enough from his comrade to render as- sistance improbable, Putnam sprang from the thicket, ordering his men to follow. A run of thirty yards brought him to the Frenchman, whom he seized by the shoulder and called upon to surrender. The Frenchman looked around, and seeing but one assailant, and knowing that the Indian could return in a few mo- ments, resisted. Putnam's men, so brave when no danger threat- ened, had failed to obey his call. Thus betrayed into a most per- ilous situation, he stepped backward a few paces, and levelled his musket at the Frenchman. It missed fire. The Frenchman saw his advantage, and giving the alarm to his Indian comrade, sprang furiously upon Putnam, who judged it prudent to retreat. Drawing his enemy off toward the point where his men were posted, he still hoped to make the desired capture, and the Frenchman would have fallen into their hands if they had not shown themselves too soon. The alarm had been given, and it was now a dangerous place for the scouts, so they retreated in all haste to the camp. There Captain Putnam dismissed his men in disgrace, and selecting a party upon which he could place more reliance, set forth again on the same hazardous errand; this time with more success. "We need not follow the elaborate preparations made in the suc- ceeding year by the commander-in-chief, Lord Loudon, for an expedition against Louisburg. The idea was abandoned when a French fleet arrived with large reinforcements for the garrison, and the general returned to JSTew York. The French general, Montcalm, determined to make a bold push to secure the entire possession of Lake George, defended by the garrisons of Forts William Henry and Edward. Having acted as escort to General Webb from Fort Edward to William Henry, Putnam, now commis- sioned Major by the Connecticut Legislature, proposed to go down the lake and reconnoiter the enemy's position. After some delay, permission was granted, but a force of eighteen was given him, instead of the five that he had desired. Embarking in three whale-boats, and intending to land in Northwest Bay, they discovered, before arriving there, a large body of the enemy upon GENERAL ISRAEL PUTNAM. 161 an island. Leaving two boats with directions to lie to, as if for the purpose of fishing, Putnam returned in the other to inform the general of the danger which threatened the garrison. Gen. Webb did not wish Major Putnam to return for the rest of his party, but his urgency overcame the general's fear, and he was reluctantly accorded permission. On the return of his escort, the valiant commander left Port "William Henry, sending the next day a reinforcement to sustain the attack of the seven thousand French and Canadian soldiers, and the two thousand Indians, that arrived the day after the reinforcement invested the fortress. Eecalling a further force of volunteers even after their departure, a detachment which would have defeated the French, since the information that it was on the way made them prepare to raise the siege, it seemed that Gen. Webb deliberately left Fort William Henry to its, terrible fate. Fortunately for the safety of our northern border, he was soon superseded by an officer who wished to defend Fort Edward, which Webb would have surrendered without a shot fired in defense. A party of one hundred and fifty men were sent into the neigh- boring forest to cut timber for the fort, since Gen. Lyman had re- solved to strengthen its defenses ; a force of fifty British regulars being posted about one hundred rods east of the fort to protect them. A narrow causeway from their station to the fort had on one side a morass, on the other a small creek. A large body of Indians concealed themselves, under cover of night, in the swamp; arrow after arrow was aimed at the sentinel, that, with the guard killed by a noiseless weapon, a surprise might be possible ; one quivers in the tree just over his head, and he gives the alarm; a sudden rush from the covert, the Indians doubly enraged by the failure of their plans; the unarmed laborers nearest to them are shot or tomakawked, and the survivors fly in dismay towards the fort. A well-timed and spirited fire from the soldiers checks the pursuit, but the little party of defenders is almost overpow- ered, and the captain sends to the fort for a reinforcement. It is a cruel thing to do, but the commander feels it must be done; a general attack will doubtless follow this; outposts are called in, gates are shut, and the little band, fighting in the forest, is left to its fate. Major Putnam, with his corps of rangers, was stationed at on of the outposts, and as soon as he heard from his runners of the dangerous situation of Captain Little, hastened to his assistance. 162 GENERAL ISRAEL PUTNAM. Passing near the fort on his way, he was ordered by Gen. Lyman to proceed no farther. "Willing to risk not only his life, but his standing, to rescue his comrade, he made a brief apology, and hurried on to the scene of action without waiting for an answer. They make their way to where the little force of regulars main- tains its ground with desperate courage; to the music of their own shouts they charge impetuously into the swamp ; the Indians, surprised, confused, terrified, fly in every direction, and are pur- sued with dreadful slaughter ; only one white man falls during the chase, and his slayer sleeps not ten feet from where he fired the fatal shot. According to the usages of war, Putnam should have been court-martialed for disobedience of orders; a fault in a soldier which no brave achievement or brilliant success can palliate; but for some reason, Gen. Lyman chose to consider that he had given a piece of advice, and not a command ; and commending the good conduct of the men, welcomed them, with hearty good will, to their quarters. Putnam's heroism was destined, in the course of the winter, to save the garrison from a danger as fatal as delivery into the hands of the Indians. A fire broke out in the barracks, twelve feet from which stood a magazine containing fifteen tons of powder ; and had so far advanced before it was discovered as to almost bid de- fiance to every effort to extinguish it. An endeavor to level the barracks by bringing heavy artillery to bear upon them, in the hope that the supports would be cut, was in vain ; the flames continued to spread with great rapidity. Major Putnam saw the smoke and heard the alarm at the outpost where he was stationed, and hastened to the assistance of the garrison. At his suggestion, a line of soldiers was posted to pass water to him, as, enveloped by the smoke, and close to the flames, he distributed it upon the burning rafters with a perseverance that had well-nigh cost him his life. Notwithstanding his efforts, the fire raged with a violence that threatened to be uncontrollable, and began to shoot out fear- fully toward the magazine. But the efforts of the garrison were at last successful, and although Putnam was surrounded by a cloud of smoke, in a shower of cinders, singed and scorched on every side, he maintained his position near the magazine, pouring water upon the frail wooden partition, charred and smoking, that sepa- rated the flames from the powder. For an hour and a half Major Putnam had contended with the GENERAL ISRAEL PUTNAM. 163 destroying element, standing so close to the flames that thick blanket mittens were burned from his hands. Several weeks passed before he recovered from the effects of this terrible ex- posure ; but his intense sufferings lightened by the grateful atten- tions of the officers and soldiers whose lives he had saved. Passing lightly over the events of the early part of the next campaign, where there are but few personal adventures record- ed of our hero, except the courage displayed at the disastrous siege of Ticonderoga, we find several stories of little importance, but still interesting. One day, as he chanced to be in a boat with a few men on the eastern side of the Hudson, he was suddenly warned by signals from the opposite shore that a large number of Indians was in his rear and would be upon him almost immediately. Before him lay the rapids ; to remain where he was, or to cross the river exposed to the deadly aim of the Indian rifles, such were the dangers between which he had to choose. Deciding quickly upon trying the rapids, the Indians came up before the boat was well under way, and one man was killed as they fired a number of balls. The swiftness of the current soon carried them out of musket-shot, but only, as they thought, to devote them to death among the sharp rocks and abrupt descents among which their boat flew. "While his companions looked in terror at the dangers by which they were surrounded, Putnam calmly took the helm, and guided the frail vessel among the foaming, whirl- ing eddies of the stream. Now the sides are exposed to the fury of the waves, now the stern, next the bow glances obliquely on- ward with inconceivable rapidity ; now it mounts the billows, now it sinks abruptly down ; now it is dexterously turned from the rocks, and plunges down the narrow passage to the smooth, safe waters below ; while the wondering Indians, descrying his success from afar, and fully appreciating the dangers that he braves, declare that it would be a sin against the Great Spirit that has charmed his life to aim a rifle at him, if they should ever meet him at any future time. A short time after this, Putnam and Rogers were again de- spatched to cut off a party of the enemy that had plundered a train of baggage teams, but were less successful than before, as the French had gained their canoes and embarked before being overtaken. Disappointed in the object of their, expedition, they hoped to surprise some straggling party of the enemy, and thus make reprisals for the loss which they had b.een sent out to 11 164 GENERAL ISRAEL PUTNAM. avenge. Discovered by the enemy's scouts, they were obliged to give up this plan and return without delay to Fort Edward. Through thick woods made almost impassable by fallen trees and by underbrush, they were obliged to advance in Indian file, Maj- or Putnam in the van, Captain Daly ell in the center, and Major Rogers in the rear. Before resuming their march, however, Major Eogers, singularly forgetful of the caution habitual to a ranger, since his success so largely depends upo,n it, amused him- self with a trial of skill with a British officer, by firing at a mark. One of the most necessary and every day cautions to be observed by the scout is that of preserving as complete silence as possible on the expedition, never firing a gun unless at the enemy. As soon as the French scouts had brought information of this party's presence, a force under Molang was sent to intercept it. In- formed by the firing of the exact position of the Colonial force, an ambuscade in the woods was formed, and here, about a mile from the encampment, the horrid and discordant yells gave no- tice of the attack upon the van. Dalyell moved rapidly up to the support of Putnam, and the action grew general and warm; but Eogers, probably instigated by that jealousy of Putnam which appears in his published journal, contented himself with forming a circular file between the other two divisions and the creek, to prevent an attack in the rear. Inspired by the heroic example of Putnam, the officers and men alike fought with great spirit, sometimes in masses in open view, sometimes after the Indian fashion. Putnam had discharged his piece several times, and had pointed it at a large and power- ful Indian, when it missed fire. This warrior, availing himself of the unprotected state of his enemy, sprang forward, uttering his war-cry, and with lifted tomahawk compelled him to surren- der. Ho was immediately disarmed and bound to a tree, while his captor returned to the fight. The colonial troops were forced to give ground for a few mo- ments, and the savages, thinking this the commencement of a re- treat, made a new and more furious onset, certain of victory. But the provincials had rallied, and drove back the enemy be- yond the point where the battle had been raging. This success of his party put our hero in all the greater danger, as the tree to which ho was bound was now in the thick of the fight. Around him whistled the random shots from either side, burying them- selves in the tree, and riddling his clothes, but with strange good GENERAL ISRAEL PUTNAM. 165 fortune leaving him unhurt. The malice of his enemies was less luckily escaped. A young Indian, seeing him confined thus, amused himself by hurling a tomahawk at him, apparently try- ing to see how close he could come to the mark without killing the prisoner. The weapon several times grazed his skin, and stuck in the tree beside his head, and the savage, satisfied at his skill, departed to try it on an unbound victim. One of the inferior French officers came up, and levelling his musket at the prisoner's breast, attempted to discharge it, but it missed fire. Putnam's declaration that he was a prisoner of war, and ought to be treated as such, only enraged the degenerate Frenchman, who re- peatedly pushed the muzzle of his gun vio- lently against the pris- oner's ribs, and finally, giving him a cruel blow on the jaw with the butt end, left him. The Americans at length drove the ene- my from the field, but did not recapture their leader. As they were retiring, the Indian who had taken Putnam unbound him and gave him into the charge of some others of his own race. Stripped of his coat, vest, stock- ings and shoes, loaded with as many packs of the wounded as could be piled upon him, his wrists held together as closely as could be by a cord, he journeyed, in this painfnl manner, for many tedious miles. With hands swelled from the tightness of the cord, with feet torn and bleeding, exhausted by a burden beyond his strength, and frantic with torments, he implored instant death as an end to his torture. A French officer, interposing, ordered his hands to be unbound and some of the packs to be taken off ; and his captor, who had hitherto been employed about the wounded, gave him a pair of moccasins, expressing great indignation at the treatment he had received. But his torments had only begun. The chief was obliged to PUTNAM TORMENTED. 166 GENERAL ISRAEL PUTNAM. return to the care of the wounded, and the Indians, taking with them their prisoner, went on before the rest of the party to a place selected for that night's encampment. He was treated with the utmost barbarity, carrying to his grave the scar of a toma- hawk wound inflicted then upon his cheek. Led into a dark part of the forest, stripped to the skin, bound to a tree, surrounded with dry brush, death in its most horrible form seemed inevita- ble. With yells and cries that were a fitting prelude to human sacrifice, the savages gathered around him, and set fire to the brush. A sudden shower quenched the flames, but nothing could divert them from their purpose, and at last the blaze ran fiercely around the circle. The inhuman joy of his tormentors manifest- ed itself by yelling, dancing, gesticulating, as he shifted his body from side to side as the fire approached. Hope was long since fled, and he had resigned himself to his dreadful fate, fixing his mind on that happier state of existence to which his soul would soon pass, when the orgy suddenly ended. A French officer Mo- lang himself, the leader of the expedition, rushed through the crowd, scattered the brands and unbound the victim. Severely reprimanding the savages, he remained with the prisoner until he could deliver him in safety into the hands of his first captor. The savage approached his priconer kindly, and seemed to treat him with affection, adapting the hard biscuit, which was all the food he could offer, to the wounded man's condition, by soak- ing it in water. But he had no idea of allowing him to escape, and at night he was secured in this way: his moccasins -were drawn over his arms, and each arm, stretched at full length, bound fast to a young tree ; each leg secured in the same manner; his body was covered with bushes ; around him lay a large guard of In- dians. His march the next day was less exhausting than it had been, as he was permitted to have moccasins and a blanket, was not obliged to carry any pack, and was protected from injury. Arriving at Ticonderoga at night, he was placed under a French guard, and treated with the humanity that civilized na- tions accord to their prisoners of war. Being soon afterward sent to Montreal, where there were several other prisoners, he had the good fortune to meet with Col. Schuyler, whose influence secured him the treatment due to his rank, and whose liberality supplied him with necessities and comforts. The capture of Fort Frontenac by the English gave occasion for an exchange of pris- oners, and Col. Schuyler, concealing the fact that Major Putnam GENERAL ISRAEL PtJTNAM. 167 was a valuable and distinguished partisan officer, and represent- ing him as anxious to be at home with his family, secured the ex- change of the man he had already befriended. Many months now pass before we find our hero again in the van of the fight, though, perhaps, the forests and the lake shores, if they could but speak, would tell us of brave deeds and daring adventures. "We find him, in 1760, a lieutenant-colonel in the army about to attack Montreal, the dislodgment of the garrison on Isle Eoyale being a necessary preliminary to their undertak- ing. But the island was guarded by two armed vessels of twelve guns each, a broadside from one of which would demolish the whole fleet of British boats. Approaching General Amherst, Lieut. Col. Putnam said : " General, that ship must be taken." " Yes," answered the commander, " I would give anything if she were taken." " I'll take her, sir." " How ? " asked Amherst, with a smile of incredulity, perhaps of pity for the subordinate officer's folly. " Give me some wedges, a mallet, and a few men of my own choosing, and I will soon put her out of your way." Puzzled to think how such a vessel could be taken by such means, he had yet sufficient trust in the ability, ingenuity and daring of the provincial to give him what he requested, and await the result with impatience. Eowing a light boat with muffled oars, and hardly daring to breathe, Putnam and his chosen few, in the darkness of the night, approached the vessel, stole unper- ceived under her stern, and noiselessly drove the wedges homo between the rudder and the stern-post, so as to render the former quite immovable. Deprived of her helm, the vessel was left to the mercy of the elements, and soon drifted helplessly ashore, where she struck her colors at the first summons. Her compan- ion also soon surrendered, so that this victory was won without the loss of a man or the firing of a gun on either side. The singular and simple machines used in the attack of the fortress were also the product of Putnam's Yankee ingenuity. The sides of the boat being covered with musket-proof fascines, a wide plank, twenty feet in length, was fastened to the boat in such a way that it could be raised or lowered at pleasure. The fortress was defended by an abatis projecting over the water, the sharpened branches rendering storming an almost impossible feat. 168 GENERAL ISRAEL PUTNAM. Protected by this plank in an upright position, the men in the boat forced the bows against the abatis, and then lowering it, used it as a bridge over the upright branches to the more solid walls. The garrison did not offer any resistance, but capitulated on seeing these strange engines. Montreal capitulated upon the arrival of the English forces, and the conquest of Canada was thus bloodlessly effected. A short distance from this city, Putnam saw the Indian who had made him prisoner in the previous campaign, and was enter- tained by him with every mark of friendship and honor; while the American was no less pleased to proffer the brave savage protection in this reverse of his military fortunes. Putnam's services in the West Indies, whither an expedition was sent in 1762, were of more importance than interest. The shipwreck of the vessel containing his command did not long delay him, as he immediately put his men to work building rafts, with which to reach the shore, whence in a few days he joined the troops before Havana. He was now in command of a regi- ment of regular troops, with no opportunity for the adventurous life of a ranger, for which he was so well suited. It was hoped that, since the English had finally driven the French from North America, that the savages would desist from their depredations, and leave the colonies to pursue the advan- tages that had been gained in this long and sanguinary conflict. But it was a vain hope. Some of the Indians, indeed, laid down their arms, but many of the tribes on the western frontiers still continued hostilities not, as before, to sustain or restore the French dominion, but apparently with a view to regaining, for themselves, some part* of the immense territory which had been wrested from them. Even at that early day, the sagacity of Pontiac foresaw the extermination of his people a work not yet, indeed, completed, but which the second centennial may re- gard as a thing accomplished. He foresaw what a hundred and twenty years have taught his race that the intrusion of the whites to the west meant perpetual encroachment, treacherous, over-reaching negotiations and diplomacy, and ultimately, the complete annihilation of the tribes that once possessed America. He saw that the nations, divided, could not stand against the united English, and secured the co-operation of the Shawnees, the Delawares, and all the tribes along the Ohio, and east of the Mississippi, his own people, the Ottawas, of course taking part. ISRAEL PUTNAM. led In pursuance of this plot, Pontiac sent word to Maj. Gladwin, the English commandant of the fort at Detroit, that ho was com- ing on a certain day, with his warriors, to talk with him. His secret intention was to seize the fort, and massacre the garrison. The warriors were to cut down their rifles to such a length that they could conceal them under their hlankets. The conspiracy was well planned, and so quietly arranged that no suspicion was excited, until a young squaw betrayed him in June, 1763 ; so that when the treacherous visit was paid, Major G-ladwin was well prepared, and unmasked him, but unwisely INDIAN SQUAW BETRAYING PONTIAC'S CONSPIRACY. let him go. Within two weeks all the English garrisons and trad- ing posts west of Oswego, except Niagara, Fort Pitt and Detroit, had fallen into his hands; so well did he maintain his posit that it was only with difficulty that the English could hold these three points. In 1764, Col. Bradstreet was sent with a fore reduce the Indians, Col. Putnam being in command of the t: from Connecticut. Among the allies of the English on t pedition were the old Indian chief who had captured Putnam ai Joseph Brant, the famous Mohawk chief, who was afterward become odious to Americans during the Eevolution, and en, 170 GENERAL ISRAEL PUTNAM. acting as peace-maker, disseminate Christian knowledge among his people. Putnam's services on this expedition were better suited to his present rank than if they had been such as he was accustomed to perform, but they are scarcely of as much interest as when he led a few men into danger, and safely accomplished the task set. The part that he had acted in this war, from its beginning in 1755 to the defeat of Pontiac's conspiracy in 1764, had been one of pecu- liar hardship and peril. Always in the van when charging the enemy, in the rear when a retreat was ordered, stationed among POXTIAC'S VISIT TO MAJOR GLADWIN. the outposts when the army was in camp, hidden in the woods or ranging along the shores of the lake, his was never the safe and easy part that such officers as Gren. Webb chose. His courage, his complete indifference to danger, his fruitfulness of resources, commanded the admiration of all. * He laid aside his uniform, and returned to his farm. Ten years of military life, crowned by the recognition of the integrity, courage and patriotism which his promotions showed, had not impaired the kindliness of his nature, nor inflated him with pride. But now that military honors were laid aside, the civic crown GENERAL ISRAEL PUTNAM. 171 awaited him, and to post after post of honor and trust the united voice of his fellow-citizens called him, until he again unsheathed Ms sword for his native land not for its safety, but for its liberty. In the meantime, Gen. Lyman had secured from the English government a grant of land in the far west, as it was then, and a colony was organized to go to the mouth of the Mississippi. Of these Military Adventurers, as the company was called, Col. Put- nam was one, and in 1774 accompanied several other gentlemen similarly interested, on a trip then as dangerous and difficult as one to Siberia would be now. The steamboat was not known, the railroad had not been dreamed of, and the voyage was a long and tedious one. The passage up the river, too, was laborious, since even the snag-boats were not in existence. A settlement was really formed at Natchez, but Putnam's thoughts were di- verted from enterprises of private gain to devising and executing measures for the public weal. He had already taken active part in that resistance which led to the repeal of the Stamp Act and similar obnoxious laws, and he returned horn enow to make prep- arations for the war which was seen to be inevitable. The time of waiting passed away the waiting for the storm to break. The dull mutterings had been heard by the prophetic ears of statesmen and soldiers, and the roar of thunder from the guns of Lexington aroused the country. The militia seized the arms which had been kept in constant readiness, and hastened to the scene of action. A mounted drummer spread the alarm. Putnam unyoked his team of oxen from the plough, and bidding his son go home and tell his mother where he was gone, mounted his horse and dashed off towards Boston. In twenty-four hours he had ridden the hundred miles. Eeturning almost immediately to Connecticut to raise troops, he was, by the legislature of that state, commissioned as briga- dier-general ; and on his return to Cambridge was assigned an important post. Putnam's experience in the French and Indian war served him in good stead, and like many others, his reputa- tion served to attract the attention of the British commanders. One of their favorite measures, to weaken the force of their ad- versaries, was the attempt to win over to the king, by bribes of gold and offers of distinction, some of the ablest and bravest of our generals. With some they were successful, but although Putnam was offered a commission as major-general, a large pe- cuniary compensation for his services and liberal provision for 172 OKNURAii ISRAEL his sons, he rejected the proposition with a contempt and dig- nity befitting his true-hearted patriotism and manhood. Gen. Putnam's position at Bunker Hill has heen the subject of considerable controversy, but it is now generally conceded that his conduct was distinguished by the utmost intrepidity. His previous experience had, as before stated, gained him the respect of the British officers with whom he had served. " If you take General Putnam alive/' said General Abercrombie, who had re- ceived his death-wound in front of the redoubt, " do not hang him, for he 1 is a brave fellow/' But though he was, throughout the engagement, in the thick of the fight, urging his men onward, counselling anything but retreat, entreating all to maintain their ground, he escaped wounds and captivity. But retreat was inevi- table, since the ammunition of the Americans was exhausted. Putnam, though the balls fell like hail around him, was, as usual, wholly insensible to danger, and dismounting, took his stand by one of the deserted field-pieces, seeming resolved to brave the enemy alone. Dressed in a light blue and scarlet uniform, with his head uncovered and his sword waving toward the enemy, as if to arrest their impetuous pursuit or defy their advance, painter and poet have combined to make him no less conspicuous than he deserves to be. The Continental Congress was even then in session, and soon commissioned officers to lead the colonial armies from those who had been provincial leaders, Putnam being one of the four major- generals. In the work of fortification, he proved invaluable. " You seem to have the faculty, sir, of infusing your own indus- trious spirit into all the workmen you employ," said Washing- ton, who had not known him before his arrival at Cambridge. The importance and difficulty of the task so well performed can hardly be over-rated ; to put men who had taken up arms for the defense of their country, and who were burning with zeal to dare all dangers in that noble cause, to cutting down trees and digging ditches, was to give orders which none wished to obey. Many of the subordinate officers, too full of the dignity of their position, did not enter heartily into the spirit of the commander. On one occasion, when a breast-work was being thrown up on Ploughed Hill, half a mile from the enemy's intrenchments on Bunker Hill, Putnam, superintending the work with his usual vigilance, came to where a quantity of sods had just been brought up. Addressing a man standing near, he said : GENERAL ISRAEL PUTNAM. 173 "You are a soldier, I suppose. Place these sods on the wall." Seeing that the man proceeded very slowly to execute the order, Putnam added, in a mock-apologetic tone : " Oh ! I see you are an officer/' and setting to work he placed the sods in position himself. Important as his services were, and recognized as such by his contemporaries and by historians of later date, we must pass them lightly over, for to follow Putnam through the war would require a complete history of the contest in the northern half of the country. Not even when he plunges down the precipitous declivity at Horseneck, to the amazement of the British huzzars hesitating on fhe brink of the hill, may we follow him, though the same spirit animated him in this daring and successful effort to escape, that led him into the wolf's den, or down the rapids of the Hudson. PUTNAM'S FLIGHT DOWN THE ROCKS AT HORSENECK. Brave even to rashness when anything was to be accomplish- ed by sheer courage, he held in utter detestation and contempt the so-called code of honor. Nevertheless, the records of two duels remain to us, in both of which he came oif victor. It once happened that he, unintentionally, grossly offended a brother officer, who demanded reparation. Heated by wine and excitement, Putnam professed his readiness to accommodate the gentleman with a fight ; and it was agreed that they should meet 174 GENERAL ISRAEL PUTNAM. the next morning, without seconds. His opponent, armed with sword and pistols, entered the field at the time set; Putnam had taken his stand at the opposite extremity, thirty rods away, and immediately levelling his musket, fired ; proceeding deliberately to reload his gun as soon as it was discharged. " What are you about to do ?" was the angry question ; " Is this the conduct of an American officer, and a man of honor ?" " What am I about to do? A pretty question to put to the man whom, you intend to murder ! I'm about to kill you; and if you don't beat a retreat in less time than it would take to hang a Tory, you're a gone dog." The ramrod was re- placed, the gun levelled again, but the belliger- ent officer had no de- sire for that kind of a duel, and turning, fled for dear life. The second duel was equally characteristic. An English officer, a prisoner on parole, taking offence at Gen. PONTIAC. Putnam's reflections upon the character of the British, demanded satisfaction as for a personal insult. Putnam readily accepted the challenge, and having, of course, the choice of weapons, agreed to be at a cer- tain place next morning with arms for both parties. Arrived at the appointed spot, the Englishman found his opponent, un- armed but for his sword, sitting calmly smoking by the side of a powder-barrel, into a small opening in the top of which a common match was inserted. Requesting the Englishman to sit down on the other side of the cask, he lit the match with his pipe, and went on smoking unconcernedly, remarking that their chances were equal. For a moment the Englishman watched GENERAL ISRAEL PUTNAM. 175 the match, but as the fire crept slowly down towards the powder, he started up and beat a hasty retreat. " You are just as brave as I took you to be," said Putnam, strolling leisurely toward where the Englishman had halted! " That is nothing but a barrel of onions, with a few grains of powder scattered over the top, to try you. But you don't like the smell." Early in December, 1779, Gen. Putnam obtained leave of ab- sence and went to visit his family in Connecticut. Before the end of that month, he set out on his return to camp, but had proceeded only a few miles when a numbness seized upon him, and he found himself unable to move the limbs on one side of his body. Eeaching, with some difficulty, the house of a friend, he endeavored to shake the disease off by active exertion, but an at- tack of paralysis was not to be cured by such a sim- ple remedy. He indeed re- covered so far that moder- ate exercise in walking or riding was not impossible, but he must henceforth live a comparatively retired and inactive life. His mental faculties, his relish for social en- joyments, his love of pleasantry, he retained undiminished for more than ten years. After a life spent on the farm and in the army, respected alike as a bold and valuable partisan, a brave and good general, an un- shaken patriot, an industrious, sensible man, a good husband, a provident father, and, in the later years at least, a sincere Chris- tian, he passed quietly away on the nineteenth of May, 1790, and was buried with all the honors that can be accorded to a dead soldier. He had seen the French dispossessed of their vast em- pire in the new world ; he had witnessed the efforts of the Indians to regain the heritage of their fathers, and probably heard in 1769, KILLING OF PONTIAC. 176 GENERAL ISRAEL PUTNAM. with a feeling of relief, that Pontiac, the head of that conspiracy, had been treacherously slain by one of his own race in the flourish- ing frontier settlement of Cahokia, the site of which is now the bed of the Mississippi near St. Louis ; he had seen the English, in their turn, dispossessed of the greater part of their empire here, retaining, not what they had settled, but what they had conquered; he had seen the united colonies erected into the "free and independent states" which of right they had long been, and prospering under the rule of the first president ; in all these dangers and conflicts, he had borne a leading part; he "dared to lead where any dared to follow." CHAPTER VI. CAPTAIN SAMUEL BEADY. BEADY'S Lake, Brady's Eun, Brady's Hill these and more places in the region of Western Pennsylvania and Ohio, attest that a hero of the people lived there and fought for them; for in the days when these names were given, such respect was shown only to the brave men who defended the helpless from savage foemen. The evidence of a name may sometimes be false, or at least convey an erroneous impression, but in this case his- tory teaches the truth of the inference we naturally draw. Born in Delaware in 1756 or 1758, Samuel Brady was but a child when he was taken by his parents to their new home in the western part of Pennsylvania. Here he grew to boyhood, his appetite for adventure being amply fed by the contests of the settlers with the savages ; but of his own special exploits we learn nothing until the beginning of the Eevolution. Enlisting in Capt. Lowden's company of volunteer riflemen in 1775, a com- mission was offered him, but his father caused him to decline the glittering title. " Let him first learn to obey," said sturdy John Brady, " and when he has learned that lesson, he will know all the better how to act as an officer." But his cool courage soon raised him to the place of a com- missioned officer, in spite of his father's refusal. Once in the army, the judgment- of his superiors must be his only guide, and they soon decided that the young volunteer was not to remain a private. The promotion, however, did not take place until after they had reached Boston. In that city lay the British force, and surrounding it were the soldiers of the colonies. Lowden being directed to select a body of men to wade to a certain island at low tide and drive away some cattle belonging to the British, did not include Brady in the party. Brady was not the man, however, to wait for an invitation to join such an excursion, and 178 CAPTAIN SAMUEL BRABT. in defiance of military rules, made one of the number without the captain's knowledge. Somewhat to the leader's surprise, then, the second man on the island proved to be the one not cho- sen because he was too young. !N"or was this the only evidence that Lowden received of his youthful subordinate's courage. Sitting together on a fence one day, viewing the British fortifi- cations, they were thrown to the ground by a cannon ball which shattered their support. Jumping up first, Brady raised Lowden in his arms, with the re-assuring, " "We are not hurt, Captain." Appointed first lieutenant of another company in 1776, he was in all the principal battles of the two succeeding years, being made captain for gallant conduct on the field of Monmouth (June 28, 1778). The murder of his brother in August of that year, and of his father ten months later, by the merciless hand of the red man, gave his feelings another direction. Heretofore he had indeed looked upon the Indians as unfriendly to the whites, but it was a hostility of far less importance than that which threat- ened to keep the entire country under the iron heel of its foreign master. Now, his whole soul was filled with hatred against the murderer of his father and brother, and the feeling was never softened by years. At Princeton and Paoli the young lieutenant had been present as well as at Monmouth; but the latter was the last notable bat- tle of the [Revolution in which he fought. Henceforth, his con- tests were to be in the lonely wilds of the western forests, with a foe who knew nothing but woodcraft and cruelty. For seven years of his boyhood and youth he had been a dweller in Western Pennsylvania, then a sparsely settled wilderness ; and if in that time he had learned the Indian lore, eye and ear were sharpened now by the desire of revenge. We hear no more of him for nearly two years after this last named battle. In 1780, Washington sent to Gen. Broadhead, in command of a small fort within the present limits of Pittsburgh, directing him to despatch a suitable officer to Sandusky to exam- ine the place and ascertain the numbers of the British and Indians stationed there. It was the sagacity of the commander-in-chief providing in every quarter against danger, as this section was harassed by continual depredations, and in daily expectation of a more systematic attack. A good leader finds good followers, and Gen. Broadhead did not disappoint the hopes of the com- mander-in-chief by selecting any but the best man for the CAPTAIN SAMUEL BRADY. 179 W0 rk Captain Samuel Brady. Selecting him without hesitation as best fitted for the perilous mission, the officer provided him with a rough map of the country that he must traverse, and gave him command of a suitable party. Brady knew too well the perils of the wilderness to under- rate the dangers of his present errand ; but he fully understood the importance of the mission, and any danger or hardship which he might undergo was nothing when the welfare of his country was to be advanced. The appointment was accepted, and accom- panied by a few soldiers and four Chickasaw Indians as guides, he set out in the direction indicated. It was early in May, and the season unusually wet. Every stream on their way they found swollen to a torrent. The map which guided them, though probably as good as could be made of that section at that time, was so faulty as to mislead them seriously ; the distances measured on that appeared much less than they really were ; indeed so great was the difference that the food with which they were provided, and which had been calculated as sufficient for the journey, gave out before they reached home. Creeping stealthily through the woods by night, and concealing themselves in the trees by day, they managed to escape observation where the print of a white man's foot on the yielding soil of the prairie or the dry sand of the river bank might have meant death to all. This security was doubtless partly due to their costume, which was that of the Indians, and to their leader's acquaintance with the Indian languages. Hardly had they come in the neighborhood of Sandusky, when the four Chickasaws deserted. This defection was alarming, from the weakness of their party, which would, of course, be ac- curately described to the enemy. Nothing daunted, however, he pushed on, and came in sight of the Sandusky towns. Conceal- ing all of his men but one, these two waded out to an island op- posite the town and hid themselves in the driftwood with which it was partially covered. Here they remained during the night. Awakening early in the morning, they found everything hidden by a dense fog which covered river and shore, leaving visible only the logs and brush near enough for them to touch. This fog lifted about eleven o'clock, showing them about three thousand Indians amusing themselves with races. So fully occupied were the Indians with their pleasure, that 'Brady's party escaped notice, Leaving tho island at night, the 12 180 CAPTAIN SAMUEL BRADY. two soldiers rejoined their companions, and returning to a camp which they had seen on the night before, captured some squaws who were there alone. Satisfied with the information which they had obtained, they began the march homeward ; but so great was the difference between the real and estimated distances that both provisions and ammunition failed them by the time that they had reached the Big Beaver. With his last load in his rifle, Brady left the party to follow a deer track which he discovered. Going but a few rods, he saw the deer standing broadside to him, and taking aim, fired ; or rather attempted to fire, for the gun flashed in the pan, and he had not a priming of powder left. Sitting down a moment, he picked the touch hole, and then started on. Following the turnings of the path, he saw a party of Indian warriors, the chief in front, mounted, having a child before him and its mother behind him. Brady raised his rifle and stepped behind a tree to wait until he could fire at the Indian without en- dangering the sleeping child or its mother. An opportunity soon occurred, and as the sharp crack of the rifle broke the stillness, the chief fell from his horse. Calling to his men with a voice that rang like the blare of a trumpet, he sprang to the chiefs side, not for his scalp, but for the greater prize of his powder- horn. Bewildered by his action, the woman asked of the seeming Indian : "Why did you shoot your brother ?" Catching up the child, and recognizing the woman, he said to her: " Jenny Stupes, I am Captain Brady; follow me and I will save you and your child." Into the brush he dashed with his helpless burden, followed by the mother, untouched by the balls from the rifles of the other Indians, who had fallen a short distance behind their chief. Dreading an ambuscade of a hostile party of their own race, as they supposed, these were glad enough to make off without fol- lowing up their late prisoners. Arriving the next day at Fort Mclntosh with his proteges, ho found his men awaiting him. They had heard and recognized his call, but having no ammuni- tion, had beaten a successful retreat, leaving the squaws that they had taken prisoners at Sandusky to return to their dusky lords at their pleasure. So thoroughly had the cruel practices of the Indians been adopt- ed by the white men that Brady was not contented until he had CAPTAIN SAMUEL BRADY. 181 sought out the body of the Indian he had slain. The command- er gave him several soldiers, in addition to his own party, and the scene of the rencontre was found without any difficulty; but the body of the savage had been removed by his followers. A careful examination of the trail failed to disclose any appearance of such a burden having been carried away. For some time they hunted for a grave in vain. So great had been the care ex- ercised in replacing the earth and the sod that they might have walked over the spot, had not the branches, stuck in the ground to still further conceal the place of interment, been withered, thus defeating the very end they were to serve. About two feet bo- low the surface they found the body of the warrior, adorned and armed as though for the combat, and, barbarous as it may now seem, his scalp was promptly taken. While the story of his life abounds with stirring adventures, the very fact that his hatred to the savages was always the same, renders it impossible to ascertain, accurately, at this late day, the precise or even the relative time of each one. The reader must then understand that while various authorities have endeavored to place in their exact order the stories which shall be told, they differ among themselves to such an extent that, while the fact remains, we can only guess when it occurred. It was probably during his return from the Sandusky expedi- tion that he felt satisfied that he had been tracked. He knew that with the precautions he had taken, in the way of keeping to the dry ridges, walking on fallen logs as much as possible, and similar devices, even the children of the forest could not follow him without a dog. Walking along the trunk of a fallen chest- nut tree, he concealed himself in the pit made by the tearing up of the roots. He had not waited long before a little dog came snuffing along the trunk of the tree, closely followed by an In- dian. There were probably more Indians on the trail, but only the one dog ; one, therefore, would be instantly replaced, the other would be an irreparable loss. Such was the reasoning which determined Brady to fire upon the dog. As the little ani- mal rolled dead from the log, the Indian turned and fled back into the forest with a wild whoop. Brady was not followed again on that expedition. So annoying had been the depredations of the Indians that on one occasion Gen. Broadhead resolved upon a retaliatory expe- dition, to be commanded in person, Brady being at the head of 182 CAPTAIN SAMUEL BRADY. the advance guard. Near the creek emptying into the Alleghany Kiver, known now as Brady's Bend, the rangers, who were some distance in front of the main body, discovered a war-party of Indians approaching. Knowing that the main body of soldiers would easily defeat the savages, Brady and his men left the trail they were pursuing, and turned aside to seize a pass farther up the river. Everything turned out as they had supposed it would, and the Indians were defeated in both fights, with the loss of their famous chief, Bald Eagle, and many of their warriors. The little army of white men proceeded on the path they had marked out for themselves, and having destroyed the corn of the Indians and indulged in various methods of retaliation, returned home. It was probably but a short time after his return from the San- dusky expedition that the smouldering envy of his brother offi- cers was fanned into flames by his frequent successful expedi- tions. To such an extent did the feeling grow that they openly requested Gen. Broadhead to permit them to share in the dan- gers and honors monopolized by Captain Brady. The command- ing officer informed Brady of this, and he readily consented to give the others a chance. An opportunity soon occurred for his envious comrades to dis- tinguish themselves in his chosen field, for news having been brought to Pittsburgh of a murderous attack upon the settlement at Sewickly, they were despatched with a large party to avenge the massacre. Much against his will, Brady remained in Pitts- burgh. On the day after that on which the emulous officers had set out, Brady requested that he might be allowed to "go catch the Indians." The desired permission was at first refused, but by dint of long pleading, he succeeded in obtaining a party of five white men and a "pet" Indian. The larger force had moved directly upon Sewickly, intending to follow up the trail from that point. Brady calculated what their course would most probably be, and with silent speed moved forward to intercept them, instead of pursuing them. This plan proved successful, and they hid themcelves near the Indian -camp. A horse that the Indians had carried off from Sewickly came very near betraying their hiding place, seeming determined to keep near them, and it was with difficulty that Brady could refrain from tomahawking the Indian who came to look after the stolen property ; but he hoped to secure much greater results by wait- ing a little longer, SAMUEL BRADY. 183 Gathering all the plunder that they could find in the camp, and taking the stolen horse with them, the party now returned to Pittsburgh, descending the river in the canoes of the Indians. Posting themselves near one camp as soon as the Indians ap- peared to be asleep, they awaited, in dead silence, the approach of light. At daybreak the Indians awoke, and standing about the fire, recalled the triumphs of the previous days ; the scalps taken, the booty carried off, the injury inflicted on their enemies. But their exultation was short-lived the avenger was near. Seven rifles united in a deadly chorus one sharp note, and five of the savages fell without knowing what had killed them. The wild cry of their most dreaded enemy w^as heard in their midst, his men were among them, he himself was there; and the Indians who had not fallen instantly fled. One who was mortally wound- ed was pursued by the trace of blood ; having staunched its flow, he endeavored to escape; the "pet" Indian gave the cry of a young wolf; the wounded man paused and answered, then con- tinued his flight; the second time the call was given, and an- swered, but he soon espied his pursuers, and divining the source of the cry, answered it no more. Three weeks after, Brady was again in this locality, and observing that the ravens were gath- ered in one particular spot, found there the body of this Indian. Thrae days after their return the large party sent out first came into the fort, reporting that they had followed the Indians closely, but that it had been of no use ; the savages having es- caped by means of their canoes. A short time after this adventure, an honest-hearted Dutchman named Phouts, seeing Brady apparently absorbed in thought, ap- proached him and asked, in his most sympathetic tone : " Yas ist der madder, Gabtain ? " Brady looked at him a moment without speaking ; then having made up his mind as to the qualifications of the man before him, replied: " I have been thinking of the red-skins, and it is my opinion that there are some of them above us on the river. I have a mind to pay them a visit. Now if I get permission from the General to do so, will you go along ? " Phouts' eyes flashed with delight. Raising himself on tiptoe and bringing his heels suddenly to the ground, he answered^: " Py dunder, Gabtain, I rader go mit you dan to the vineat veddin' in der gountry.'* 184 CAPTAltf SAMUEL Cautioning Phouts that all must bo done in secrecy, Brady went to General Broadhead to obtain permission. This was read- ily given, but with such affectionate cautions and admonitions on the part of the superior officer as to affect both, and Brady left the general "with tears in his eyes." He lost no time, however, in making the necessary prepara- tions, so that, about two hours before daybreak, after having ob- tained a little sleep, the men left the fort, and marched that day through woods that neither of them had ever traversed before. Encamping the first night near a small creek, they found near their resting place a lick apparently much frequented by the deer, and killed one of these animals. A portion of the flesh served for their supper, and a part was "jerked/' to form provision for them when other could not be conveniently gotten. Late in the second day, they saw a number of crows hovering over the trees at a certain point near the bank of the river. Feel- ing sure that there must be an encampment there, but not know- ing whether it was of white or red men, Brady decided to use caution in approaching it, much to the disgust of Phouts, who wanted to go and see. ""We must secrete ourselves until after night/' said the captain, " and then we can see by the light of the fires that they will kin- dle, whether they are white or red." Waiting until about ten o'clock at night, they cautiously ap- proached the spot, and found the camp to be that of a party of Indians far too numerous for them to attack, although Phouts 'rather insisted upon shooting an old Indian who was sitting by the fire making a moccasin. Trusting in the judgment of his leader, however, as a child trusts in the wisdom of its mother, he allowed the old Indian to stitch away at his moccasin in safety, while, before daybreak, the two white men retired a little distance into the woods. They had seen but the one savage, although it was a large encampment, and finding the trail of a considerable party in the woods, Brady concluded that there were no more there; that the others had gone off on some expedition up the Alleghany. Determining to take the old Indian prisoner, he communicated his plans to Phouts, and the two crept cautiously to the camp again. As they could not tell certainly whether there were Indians within hear- ing or not, he dared not use his rifle, lest the report should call them down upon him. They found the Indian lying upon the SAMUEL &RA&Y. 185 ground, his head towards them, and Brady succeeded in getting very near him without even alarming the dog lying heside him asleep. Springing suddenly up, he caught the Indian by the throat, and lifting his tomhawk, bade him surrender. The old warrior quailed before the glance of the white man's eye, and yielded to his iron grip. Being told that they were going to take him to Pittsburgh, the Indian pointed out to them the place where the canoes had been hidden, and supplied with means of transportation, they started towards their first encampment, in order to secure the jerked venison which they had left there. Landing a short distance below, a fire was kindled, and Phouts left as a guard upon the old Indian, while Brady ascended the creek to secure the meat. During his absence, the wily savage complained to Phouts that the cords which bound his wrists hurt him, and the good-hearted, unsuspecting man removed them. The Indian professed great gratitude, but, the instant that Phouts looked away from him, possessed himself of his gun, and pointed it at the Dutchman's breast as he turned. Bewildered by this rap- idity of action, which he had not time to comprehend, Phouts jumped aside with a tremendous roar just as the Indian pulled the trigger ; and knowing by instinct that Indians were made to be killed, in another instant his tomahawk had cleft the skull of the savage. Brady heard the report of the rifle and his compan- ion's outcry, and returned in haste. He found Phouts sitting astride the body of the Indian, examining his shot-pouch, which had been pierced by the ball. " See here, Captain," he said, holding it up, "vas dat tamned red rascal has tone." Taking the scalp of the Indian, they continued their march, and arrived at the fort on the fourth day from their departure. Brady described to Gen. Broadhead what he had observed ; adding that he thought the Indians whose trail he had seen were on their way to attack the settlements on the Susquehanna. This alarm- ed the commander, as he had recently made a requisition of men, and he feared their being drawn into an ambuscade. But the Indians, having discovered by various indications tha the whites were aware of their movements, postponed the con- templated attack for an indefinite time. In the interval of quiet, they met with an unexpected triumph; a large party of warriors, one day, captured a single white hunter, and brought him alive into the Indian camp. Small cause for rejoicing, it seems at first CAPTAIN SAMUEL glance; but that one man was, in their eyes at least, the greatest of their enemies ; a man whose hatred of the savages was equal- led only by his daring courage and his skill in detecting all their artifices, in tracking them, in crushing them to the earth. No wonder that there 'were high festivities in the camp to which the warriors took their captive, Samuel Brady. His scalp would have been worth much to them, but alive, with full capacity for suffering any tortures, he was worth much more. It was this feeling that nerved the arm of every warrior to give a sharper blow, as the feared and hated enemy ran the gauntlet; it was this that inspired the squaws and boys to utter more fiendish yells as they danced around him, when, stripped and unbound, he awaited the completion of their preparations. Yells, threats, abuses, curses, saluted his ears as he stood by the fire kindled for the torture. Once, his name had been their terror ; the squaw of the Long-knife had hushed her frightened children to rest by the assurance that Captain Brady and his rangers were on the alert, and no danger could befall them; the squaw of the Seneca warrior had told her children that Captain Brady would hear their voices, and, terrified, they were quieted. But he was in their power, now ; he could not harm even that young squaw, who car- ried in her arms her pappoose, the child of a great chief. Nearer and nearer came the throng circling around him, as their sense of his helplessness increased; nearer and nearer, with the rest, came that squaw of the chief, bearing her child in her arms. Quick as thought, he snatched the infant from her, and threw it towards the fire. Horrified at this action, the Indians, with one accord, rushed to rescue the child, and Brady, springing past them, gained the adjacent thicket. Eecalled in an instant to the necessity of securing him, they pursued him in hot haste. Scores of bullets whistled about his ears, but untouched he made his way to the deep ravines and laurel thickets where a regiment might be concealed. Guided by the unerring instinct of the woodsman, and thoroughly acquainted with the country, he reached Fort Mclntosh in safety. Brady's daring could give place, when necessary, to caution ; a combination of qualities especially valuable, and indeed essen- tial, to an Indian fighter. At one time, as he was returning, with a considerable body of rangers, from a scouting expedition, a solitary Indian stepped out of the thicket, fired upon them, and instantly retreated to a deep ravine. Suspecting that he could CAPTAIN SAMUEL BRADY. 137 not be alone in a place so well fitted for an ambuscade, Brady ordered his men to tree. Hardly was this accomplished when the enemy, despairing of the success of their original plan, is- sued from their place of concealment, and opened fire upon them. This was returned with fatal effect upon the Indians, but so great was the number of the savages that Brady ordered a retreat to the top of the hill. From this point it was continued until the Indians, having lost about twenty men, ceased to pursue. One of Brady's men was killed, and two wounded. THE COUNCIL ON A TREE. " Brady's Hill " is the name applied to a small eminence near Beaver; Pennsylvania, to commemorate an incident in our hero's life. From the town mentioned, more familiar to these pages as Fort Mclntosh, the gallant scout set forth, with a few men, toward the Sandusky villages. Returning, they were pursued, and all killed but the leader, who was forced to beat a flying retreat. Reaching the hill now called by his name, the sight of a large tree, recently prostrated by a storm, suggested a plan to him. Once before such a tree had given him shelter in the pit left by the roots, but in this case the position of the tree was re- versed. So lately had it been torn up, however, that its leafy crown was still intact. Walking up to the tree, he walked back- 188 CAPTAIN SAMUEL BRAD*. ward in his own footprints for a space of a few hundred yards, then forward again to the trunk in the same tracks. This was to make the trail unmistakable. Hiding himself in the thick, leafy branches, he awaited the result ; three Indians soon appeared, carefully following the trail ; coming to the tree, it suddenly failed ; they were at a loss to think what this could mean, and sat down on the trunk of the fallen monarch of the forest to hold a hasty consultation. It was indeed a short one, for hardly had they settled into place when out of the green leaves flashed fire, and at the sharp crack of Brady's rifle they all fell forward, one dead and two wounded. Clubbing his gun, he leaped toward the Indians, and soon, w T ith the three scalps at his belt, he was again in the fort. If Brady's Hill be the scene of a memorable encounter, Bra- dy's Run has also a history ; the purport may be guessed from the fact that it issues from Bloody Spring. At the head of this stream a war-party of Indians had encamped. They had taken no scalps, but more than one house had been laid in ruins, and the presence of two helpless white women and a number of little children at their camp-fire attested the prowess of these so-called braves. By the dying fire the captors and captives lie asleep; all is still. Suddenly a branch snaps, and awakened by the slight noise, one dusky warrior rouses himself, and looks around in the direction whence it came. Only the faint chirp of a distant wood- cricket is heard, and he sinks again into slumber. But first he has stirred the dying embers of the fire, and the flames, leaping up to embrace the log thrown upon them, light up the shadowy camp. The shadows appear and disappear, as the flames rise and sink; but four dark forms are there always, creeping silently towards the unconscious Indians. Now the gleam of the fire- light falls upon the polished surface of four scalping knives, each held between the teeth of a shadow, while his right hand clutches a tomahawk. A low cluck as they reach their victims, and as one the four tomahawks descend crushing through the skulls of four sleeping Indians. In an instant the camp is in the wildest confusion. The savages awake from their slumbers only to find that Brady is among them; Brady, whose whole life is devoted to the extermination of their race. But they have hardly, real- ized their danger before danger is forever past for them. One after the other every Indian falls, and their captives are led back in safety to their friends. The waters of the spring have CAPTAIN SAMUEL BRADY. 189 long since regained -their usual purity, but still it bears the name of such ill omen to the children of the forest. Such were the deeds that made the name of Captain Brady a terror to the Indians of that section, inspiring them with a whole- some awe. Their respect for his name was shown by the result of one of his solitary expeditions, undertaken solely to bring in prisoners. Secreting himself near one of the Indian towns, ho marked out for his purpose a certain cabin, containing, as he knew, a warrior, a squaw, a boy and girl and a pappoose. Break- ing open the door at night, he told them who he was, and that they must go with him ; assuring them of life if they went peace- ably, of death if they made any outcry. So great was their fear of his name that they obeyed his commands unhesitatingly as ho drove them before him like a herd of cattle. He had expected to be hotly pursued, and was not disappointed; but selecting his resting places so that they could be reached only by wading up or down stream, and traveling only by night, he reached his desti- nation in safety with his whole party of prisoners. In the region where so many places commemorate, by their names, his daring deeds, tradition preserves his fame, and from father to son the stories are handed down. But many such ac- counts have slept in the memories of men, and have perhaps passed away with that elder generation to which the name of Brady was a household word. Upon some, or at least one, of the more marvelous* tales, our modern wiseacres, finding no record save the uncertain one of man's memory, have sought to throw discredit. The fact that the point where the Cuyahoga rushes through a narrow fissure in the rocks, its current contracted to a width of less than thirty feet, still bears the name of Brady's Leap, is to them worth nothing. But Brady's own lips had told the tale, and those who had heard it from him were not inclined to disbelieve it. With a party of twenty followers, h'e had set out on a scouting expedition to the neighborhood of Sandusky, but was waylaid by a large force of Indians at a small lake, now called by his name, in what is now Portage County, Ohio. From the sharp engagement that followed, only two white men escaped with their lives, Brady being one. Such was his first acquaintance with this lake, the story being proven by the excavations made on the southern shore by his friends, who found there a number of skulls and a sword the relics of the fight. 190 CAPTAIN SAMUEL BRADY. His famous leap across the Cujahoga was made, according to some authorities, a short time after this; according to others, when he escaped from the Indians by throwing the child toward the fire. It was probably after the date of most of his adven- tures, as will be evident when we come to consider the result. Hotly pursued from Sandusky, a distance of about a hundred miles, he found on reaching the Cuyahoga, that his enemies hem- med him in. To go backward was impossible and how could BRADY'S LEAP. one man bridge that chasm, more than twenty-five feet wide ? But there is no other way of escape from the yelling fiends, and sum- moning all his courage, with one mighty leap he bounds over the yawning gulf. Convulsively his hands clutch at the bushes growing on the bluff he had gained ; but they give way ; down, down, he slips almost his own height; but the iron nerves do not fail him, the sinewy hands grasp still other supports, and he con- tinues his flight. The savages stand on the othey bank, for a a moment, motionless with astonishment; quickly recovering themselves, three or four fire at him, hitting him in the leg. Notwithstanding his wound, Brady continued to run. The Indians left the steep cliff, and crossed the river at the Standing Stone, where the more gently sloping banks enabled them to ap- CAPTAIN SAMUEL BRADY. 191 proach the water. Finding them still in hot pursuit, Brady bent his way towards the lake now bearing his name, and plunged into its waters. The savages were gaining rapidly on him, and his wound so impeded his flight that he knew concealment was necessary. Striking out, then, towards a part of the lake that was covered with the broad leaves and white blossoms of the water- lily, the hollow, flexible stems of these attracted his attention, and he found, by experimenting, that he could breathe through one of these, and thus keep his head under water. The Indians followed his bloody trail to the water's edge, and finding it end there, were at a loss. Examining carefully the shores of the lake, they concluded that he had not emerged ; that, exhausted by his wound, he had been accidentally drowned, or had preferred that death to a bloodier one at the hands of his enemies. All the remainder of the day, and part of the night they spent in searching for him, dead or alive, but finally gave it up, and returned to make a more careful survey of the spot where he had cleared the river at a bound. As soon as he felt it safe to do so, Brady left the water, and succeeded in making his escape to the settlement. Returning to the river, the Indians carefully inspected the spot, measuring by their eye the distance as accurately as they could ; and arrived at a very singular conviction : none of them, they felt assured, could leap it ; since it was impossible to them, it would be ridiculous to suppose a white man could do it; the evidence of their eyes, of course, could not be disregarded, but they reconciled the fact and its impossibility by the sage conclu- sion: "He no man, he no jump across the river; he wild-turkey, he fly." And so convinced were they of this, that they carved upon the rock to which he had leaped, the rude representation of a wild- turkey's foot. This token of an exhibition of physical power beyond the belief of even eye-witnesses remained there until the summer of 1856, when, as the rock was to be quarried, Judge Moses Hampton, of Pittsburgh, obtained permission to cut it out. The distance has been several times measured, the measurements varying from twenty-five to twenty-seven and a half feet, the steep cliffs on either side rising to a height of some thirty feet above the surface of the water. The events of Brady's private life are almost unknown to us. He was ma,rried ; probably in 1786, to Miss Prusillft Van 192 CAPTAIN SAMUEL BRADY. S.wearingen, the daughter of an officer in Gen. Morgan's Eifle Corps. Whether this marriage was the result of the similar opin- ions on the Indian question which were entertained by Captains Yan Swearingen and Brady, we cannot tell ; certainly the elder officer was nicknamed "Indian Yan." Mrs. Brady had been edu- cated in the east, and was noted for her beauty, accomplishments, and amiable disposition. She had need of much fortitude to en- dure the anxiety which her husband's frequent absence, among dangers which could not be exaggerated, must have caused her. Brady was at one time brought to trial for killing, in time of peace, a party of Indians, but succeeded in proving that this was but punishment due them, as they had made a raid upon the set- tlements on the frontier. So quickly had the punishment come, that the offence had hardly been heard of before Brady was tri- umphantly acquitted, not only by the jury, but by public opinion. One witness for the defense was G-uyasutha, the Mingo chief, who swore to everything that he thought would be in Brady's favor, whether it were true or not ; and defended himself afterwards by urging his friendship for the captain. The wound received after leaping the river rendered Brady lame for life ; and he attributed to his lying so long under water in the lake, the deafness which afterward afflicted him. Although comparatively a young man when he died, he had the appearance of being much older than he really was. The date of his death is uncertain, being probably about the year 1800. The last years of his life were spent in "West Liberty, "West Yirginia, and here he died, his wife and two sons surviving him. Knowing not the date of his birth or of his death, we have only the memory of the " deeds of derring do," left to us. CHAPTER VII. COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. A COMPETENT authority says that at least thirty places in the United States bear the name of Daniel Boone, the best known pioneer, perhaps, of the country; certain it is that eight states contain counties thus designated monuments of love and admiration for a man upon whose like we shall not look again. Born in "Western Virginia or Pennsylvania, in 1735, his earliest years were spent in the unsettled forests. His father removed to the banks of the Eadkin Eiver, in North Carolina, when he was but a boy. He had already acquired something of that skill with the rifle, so necessary to the frontiersman, and for which he be- came so eminent. When a very young man, he saw a pair of large, soft eyes gleaming in a thicket; the ready gun was leveled and fired, but the deer bounded aside; with quick foot the young hunter followed his game through the wood, and at last came to a clearing, in the midst of which stood a settler's cabin ; in this he sought shelter for the night, and it was not refused him ; to do the honors to the young stranger, the members of the family hushed the excitement which had prevailed among them ; but they had not acquired the power of entirely concealing their feel- ings, and he soon learned that, as the daughter of the house and her little brother were returning through the woods from a neigh- bor's, some one, Indian or white man they could not tell, had fired at them, and chased them almost to the very door. Boone listened to the recital, and for once was glad that he had missed his aim. But though unsuccessful as a hunter in bringing down his game, better luck attended his efforts as a lover, and a long and happy life followed the marriage which took place soon afterward, between him and the owner of the soft eyes that had deceived him. But sparsely settled as it was, the state, in a few years, became too populous for the exercise of a hunter's vocation, an4 Boone. 194 COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. determined to remove to a wilder country. In the early part of May, 1769, he, in company with John Stewart and four other men, left his home in North Carolina and journeyed towards the "Dark and Bloody Ground," west of Virginia, and lying between the homes of the northwestern and the southern tribes of Indians. This country, long before known to the savages as Kantuckee, was regarded by them as neutral ground, not to be used as a habita- tion by those of either section. As a natural con- sequence of this, it became the wandering place of vast herds of buffalo and deer, the wild duck linger- ed in its streams, the wild turkeys dwelt on its hills, and the forests were full ^flife. A paradise for the sportsman, truly ; and the wild hunters of the sur- rounding tribes had long ago discovered this. This was the destination of many of their great hunt- ing parties, and here, when North and South met upon this common ter- ritory, many a bloody conflict justified the name they had given to it. To DAXIEL BOONE. the wild men of the woods the possession of a hunting ground meant subsistence 5 the pres- ence of the white man, destruction. Their fathers had been driv- en toward the sunset far enough ; here they would stay ; and arm- ing themselves with all the grim determination that an Indian could summon, they fought the white men who invaded their land. The six men who left the banks of the Eadkin Eiver in the Spring of 1769, were determined to establish themselves in the COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 195 western paradise j and although not forgetful of the danger that awaited them, they pushed defiantly forward. Early in June they reached the Eed Kiver, and there encamped, living on the game which they killed, and the fruits which abounded in the un- cultivated regions, better fare than French cook ever prepared, for hungry borderers. Of the adventures of nearly seven months we know nothing ; the triumphs of the hunter, and the pioneer's escape from danger are forgotten ; absolutely no chronicle of this CAPTURE OF BOONE AND STEWART. time remains to us. Dec. 22nd of the same year is a more mem- orable date, for then, to use the old hunter's own words: "John Stewart and I had a pleasing ramble, but ^ fortune changed the scene. 13 196 COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. It was nearly the evening of the short December day, when, as the two hunters ascended a slight eminence overlooking the Ken- tucky river, a party of Indians rushed from a neighboring cane- brake, surrounded and captured them. For seven days they were prisoners, uncertain what fate awaited them. Had there been Toothing else, the natural enmity of the two races might have decided the fate of the captives adversely; but the cool and manly bearing of Boone doubtless impressed the savage who so much desired those qualities for himself. At any rate, the entire absence of resistance lulled the captors into a false security, and they slept, leaving the prisoners unbound. Eising from his place so lightly as not to disturb the Indians about him, Boone sought out his companion, silently aroused him, and together they fled. Imagine, if you can, the dismay which was in that circle of war- riors the next morning ! "Whether the captives' fate was to have been torture or adoption (the usual alternatives) the disappoint- ment was equally great; they had been robbed of enjoyment, or their friendship had been rejected. Arriving at the camp where, a week before, they had left their four companions, they found it despoiled of all the implements of pioneer life, and no trace of their friends. These, probably ter- rified by the mishap of Boone and Stewart, had departed from the dangers of that country forever. The others, however, were of sterner stuff; if danger dwelt in the wilderness, there was hap- piness, too, and they had no notion of missing the one by shun- ning the other. Before long, however, there came new companions. Wander- ing through the forest, in search of Boone, came his brother Squire and another adventurer. The veriest stranger would have been welcomed by the lonely hunters, and we may conjecture the reception that awaited Squire Boone. But the little band of hunters were soon to be reduced to the same number as before, for Stewart was killed by the Indians late in the winter or early in the spring, and the man who had accompanied Squire Boone returned home. The two brothers were now left alone in ihe wilderness. What- ever dangers may have beset them, they escaped ; and building a cottage to defend themselves from the storms of winter, for sev- eral months they lived sufficient for each other. Whether the modesty which characterizes true courage prevents Boone from telling us the perils of this year, or whether his self-reliance, Ms COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 197 coolness, his forethought, united to his bravery and his excel- lence in woodcraft inspired the savages with such respect that they let the brothers live in peace, we cannot tell; but he speaks of their enjoyment of this life. The first of May, 1770, Squire Boone set off to the settlements, in order to obtain horses and ammunition, Daniel being left at the camp, without bread, salt or sugar. More than the lack of these articles of food was the entire absence of companionship ; not a horse or a dog cheered his solitude, and yet the unlettered woodsman found pleasure in the vast wilderness. Eoaming away from the lonely, cabin, he spent days and nights in the trackless forest, returning to find that the foe had come in his absence. Often he lay throughout the night in thick canebrakes, in order that he might not be present to receive such visits ; and here the prowling wolves made night hideous, so that he dared not sleep too soundly. But though he so fully appreciated the dangers by which he was surrounded, and so carefully guarded himself from them, it ended there ; fear had no part in his nature, and he was fully able to appreciate the " beauty in the pathless woods," for no abject terror of the denizens of the forest disturbed the calm balance of his mind. Towards the end of July his brother returned, and not think- ing it safe to remain in that place any longer, they shifted their quarters to the banks of the Cumberland River, whence in March, 1771, he returned home in order to bring his family to the wild home he had chosen. Much time, however, was consumed in the necessary prepara- tions ; but at last the farm was sold, horses and supplies pur- chased, and in September, 1773, they left the old home for the new. At Powell's Yalley, they were joined by five other families, and a company of forty able-bodied men, the whole party being well equipped with provisions and ammunition. In high spirits they journeyed onward, meeting with no accident or alarm until October 6, nearly two weeks from the time that the Boone family left home. On this day, as they were approaching Cumberland Gap, a pass in the mountains, the young men who were driving the cattle, and who had fallen five or six miles in the rear of the main body, were suddenly attacked by the Indians. Six of their num- ber were slain, one being the eldest son of Daniel Boone ; a seventh escaped with a wound ; the cattle were all dispersed in the woods. The reports of the rifles recalled the main body of pioneers, but 198 COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. it was too late; the savages had vanished before they could come up ; there was nothing to do but bury the dead. Disheartened by this sad experience, many of the men, in the council held immediately after, urged a return to the settlements. Despite his own sad loss, however, Boone strenuously opposed this, and was earnestly supported by his brother ; but even their united persuasions were of no avail ; and yielding to the argu- ments of the majority, they returned with the whole party to the settlement on the Clinch River, in the southwestern part of Yir- ginia, and forty miles from the scene of the disaster. Boone always regarded himself as an instrument in the hands of Providence to effect the settlement of Kentucky; but the tim- idity of his companions at this point in his life averted a great danger. If the advice of the two brothers had prevailed, there would have been left not one to tell 1 the story of an Indian mas- sacre. It was in consequence of the murder of the family of Logan, the eloquent Indian chief whose own words tell his mis- fortunes better than any others could, that the terrible Dunmore "War broke out early in the year 1774. It was after the beginning of this war, but before it>had attain- ed its height, that Grov. Dunmore of Virginia solicited Boone and a companion woodsman to go to the falls of the Ohio and con- duct thence a party of engineers, whom he had sent there some months before. This task was performed with safety and des- patch, a round trip of eight hundred miles being accomplished in sixty-two days. After his return, the war being now at its height, Boone was given the command of three contiguous garrisons on the frontier. After this fight, in which about fifteen hundred warriors of the Shawnecs, Delawares, Mingos, Wyandots and Cayugas were de- feated by the whites, these tribes sued for peace, relinquishing all title to Kentucky. The Six Nations, by treaty, and the Cher- okees, by sale, had dispossessed themselves previously to this time ; so that when Boone took his family and household gods into Kentucky, it was into a region abandoned by its native lords to the white men. Boone had been present at the making of the treaty by which the Cherokees sold their lands, being sent to represent the pur- chasers, a company of adventurous speculators of which a per- sonal friend, Col. Richard Henderson, was the moving spirit. In- cleedj it was in consequence of the hardy pioneer's glowing ac- COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 199 count of Kentucky, its rich plains and game-abounding forests, that many such companies had been formed in Virginia and North Carolina, for the purpose of colonization. A small company of brave and hardy men was soon collected, and sent, under the leadership of Boone, to open a road from the Holston to the Kentucky Eiver, and to build a fort where Otter Creek empties itself into the latter. The Indian has not the pa- tient, far-seeing courage which a siege demands ; his victory must be won by a single wild onslaught from his ambush in the forest, upon those who have no defense but their right hands, weaken- ed by the surprise of unexpected attack. Hewn logs are bullet proof, and hence a sufficient defense. As the fort built at Boones- borough was similar to those soon scattered all over the coun- try, a description of that will be sufficient for all. Oblong in shape, the sides were composed of cabins, separated by stockades ; the walls of these buildings were about ten or twelve feet high on the outer side, sloping downward as they neared the inner opening. At each of the four corners was a building two stories in height, and projecting some two feet each way farther than the cabins described ; the second story extend- ing a foot and half or two feet beyond the walls of the ground floor. These corner buildings, larger and stronger than the others, and called block-houses, were by their construction enabled to command the whole outer wall of the fort, and even if the sav- ages had forced their way into the enclosure, the garrison could for some time defend themselves in one of the block-houses. Two large folding gates, on opposite sides of the fort, and made of thick wooden slabs, provided means of entering and leaving the fort. Of course the enclosures varied in size, and in some cases, only one or two block-houses were built; the fort at Boones- borough has been estimated to have covered a space of one hun- dred and fifty by two hundred and sixty feet. Eude as they were, these log cabins, with puncheon, or perhaps earthen floors, built without nails, or any iron whatever, they must yet have seemed heaven to the terrified settler who, hearing the dread tidings of massacre so common then, fled from his little clearing in the woods, where a cabin of the same kind, but solitary and insecure, was his home. And on the 14th of June, 1774, after a journey during which five of their number had been killed by the Indians, and after laboring more than two months, they saw the fort at Boonesborough completed. 200 COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. In September or October of the same year, the last tie which bound Daniel Boone to any other than his chosen dwelling place in the wilderness was broken ; for then he led his family and a few followers once more towards that which his daring and skill had made a home. Joined in Powell's Yalley by new recruits, the little company consisted of twenty-six men, four women, and four or five boys and girls. At the head of Dick's Eiver, some few of these had separated themselves from the rest in order to join the settlers at Harrodsburg, in the interior of the state; so that it was less than thirty, perhaps barely twenty persons, who pushed on towards Boonesborough ; " my wife and daughter," as the old man afterwards recorded with some pride, " being the first white women that ever stood on the banks of the Kentucky Eiver." In spite of the fact that the British officers endeavored in every way to excite the animosity of the Indians towards all settlers in this region, and even furnished the savages with arms and am- munition, the little colony at Boonesborough remained for some time undisturbed. This was doubtless due in part to Gen. George Eogers Clarke, whom the Yirginia Legislature sent with a force to protect the western settlements, and who, rejecting the belt which the treacherous savages offered as a token of peace, did good service in the defense of the colonists ; but much of the se- curity must be explained by the character of the pioneers them- selves. The winter and spring of 1776 were passed by the set- tlers in hunting, fishing, clearing and planting. Suddenly, one day in the winter, as they were engaged in their usual work, a small band of marauding Indians appeared, and in the -skirmish that ensued, one of the whites was killed. Then the red men de- parted as suddenly as they had come, and the settlers were un- molested during the next half year. It was on the fourteenth of July of the same year, that three young girls, Miss Betsey Callaway, her sister Frances, and Dan- iel Boone's daughter Jemima, were in a, canoe on the Kentucky Eiver, within sight of Boonestorough. Eaised in the frontier district of North Carolina and Yirginia, and accustomed for near- ly two years to the pioneer life of the Kentucky fort, they had no fear of the boundless forest or the rushing river. The pre- sence of danger was a thing unheeded, because so intimately known. But even a braver heart, if such ever beat in a woman's breast, would have quailed at the sight of a swarthy form mov- 202 COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. ing through the water, the slight boat in which they were follow- ing as surely as though drawn by some demoniac enchantment. The terrified girls clung to each other, not knowing what was to befall them. Steadily the canoe moved to the other side of the river, and now, in the stream and the forest, appeared other dark faces, gleaming with triumph. Within the fort, all seemed for a moment confusion, but a calm intelligence brought order out of chaos, and despite the fact that their canoe had been left on the other side of the river, a party under the leadership of Captain Boone was soon on the track of the savages. Care, as well as swiftness, was necessary ; excite his wrath by too merciless a pursuit, and the tomahawk, raised against those three defenceless heads, would make a failure of success. More than thirty miles the track was followed, through the densest cane brakes and on the path of the buffalo ; nearly fifty miles from the fort, the pursuers overtook them just as they were kin- dling a fire to cook. The watchfulness of the Indians was not less than the carefulness of the pioneers, for each saw the other at about the same time. A short, sharp report, of four rifles at once ; the red men fly ; two more rifle shots, and two of the In- dians fall, one slain by Boone, and one by Col. Floyd ; the others escape, but without a moccasin, knife or tomahawk, with only one shot-gun, and no ammunition, losing of course their captives. This was the only exciting event of the year to the colony. From time to time a new member was added to their society, and everything progressed quietly. Heart-rending as the anxiety of the parents must have been when the three girls were captured, the alarm thus given prevented, perhaps, a greater disaster. Even on the day of the capture, some other parties had at- tacked several stations ; and the settlers living out of the forts were harassed ; many men were killed, and most of the cattle were destroyed. So general and great was the alarm, that about three hundred speculators and adventurers returned to their old homes east of the mountains. By April of the succeeding year, however, Boonesborough could no longer claim to be exempt from the sieges that other forts had suffered. A hundred Indians gathered about the fort, and advanced to attack it with all the horrid din which incites them to conflict. But the same cool intelligence which had de- feated them before, was against them now. The sharp crack of the rifle, aimed by the unerring marksmen within, was but little COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 203 to their taste, brave warriors as they were, and they soon with- drew, carrying with them their dead and W9unded. The settlers suffered slightly, one man being killed and four wounded. But though the Indians had raised the siege so soon at this April attack, they were not to remain away long. On the 4th of July, their number being doubled, they returned. Detachments were sent to alarm and annoy the neighboring settlements, and thus prevent reinforcements being sent to Boonesborough. ' For two days the attack was vigorous. The twenty-two men within the fort saw with anxious hearts the two hundred "red devils" surrounding them. "With patient fe ^|i|i||r^f^ courage they await- ed the result ; drop- ped a soldier's tear over the one man that was killed dur- ing this time; tended their two wounded comrades; told each other with grim pleasure that an- other Indian had fallen, until the num- ber seven had been reached; then, sud- denly, with great clamor, the Indians raised the siege, and departed. The neighboring settlements, Logan's Fort and Harrodsburg, suffered more severely than Boonesborough; but considerable reinforcements strengthened the several garrisons, forty-five men reaching Boonesborough in the latter part of July, and a hun- dred more about a month later. This increased strength resulted in greater boldness on the part of the settlers, so that for about six weeks there were almost daily skirmishes with the Indians. INDIANS ATTACKING BOONESKOROUGH. 204 COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. Notwithstanding this warlike state of affairs, the men pursued their work of tilling the land as usual ; some, of course, acting as sentinels. At hunting, a still more dangerous occupation, but equally necessary, as supplying them with meat, they took turns. The procuring a subsistence was thus at all times a dangerous work. Such was the case in January, 1778, when a party of thirty, headed by Boone, went to the Blue Licks to make salt for the different stations. On the seventh of February, while out hunting in order to procure meat for this party, he fell in with a party of a hundred and two Indian warriors, on the march toward Boonesborough. More than fifty years old, he could not outstrip the fleet-footed young pursuers, and for the second time was captured. "What at first sight appears a totally unnecessary step was now taken; Boone surrendered his entire party, numbering twenty -seven men ; the Indians promising safety and good treat- ment. He foresaw the result from the first, however ; the In- dians were diverted from their purpose by the unexpected good fortune, and returned home with their prisoners and booty. For this surrender Boone has been much censured, and at a later period was court-martialed ; but was honorably acquitted, the judges deciding that his course had undoubtedly saved Boones- borough from attack. The Shawnees returned to their principal town, Old Chillicothe, on the Little Miami ; the prisoners sharing the few comforts and the many privations of their captors, during a three days' march in wet, cold weather. After a stay of nearly a month, the leader and ten of his men were taken to Detroit, then held by the Brit- ish, who, as before stated, were the chief agents in exciting the Indians against the Americans. The ten subalterns were present- ed to the commandant, who was very anxious to get possession of Boone, in order to liberate him on parole; but persuasions were of no avail. Even a ransom of a hundred pounds did not tempt them ; they had formed a particular attachment, and were by no means disposed to part with the object of it. This affection, perhaps, was not returned by the man whom it kept from home and family, but resistance would only infuriate the savages, whose suspicions he must allay if he hoped ever to escape from them. Go back to Chillicothe he must, and the fifteen days' march was accomplished with submissive cheerfulness. An Indian family now adopted Boone, with the usual formal- ities, which, to quote one of his biographers, "were often severe COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. and ludicrous. The hair of the head is plucked out by a painful and tedious operation, leaving a tuft, three or four inches in di- ameter, on the crown, for the scalp-lock, which is cut and dressed up with ribbons and feathers/' After copious ablutions in the river, "to wash the white blood out of him," he listens in the council house to a speech from the chief who expatiates upon the BOOKE'S ESTDIAN- TOILET. honors conferred on him. His head and face having been paint- ed in accordance with the latest and most popular style, a grand feast concluded the ceremony. The prisoner bent every endeavor to pleasing his captors : often accompanying them on hunting parties, they could not sufficient- ly admire his skill ; this was less admirable, however, than in the frequent shooting matches ; in these, they could not conceal their joy when they excelled him, or their envy when his success 206 COLONEL DANIEL fiOONE. was better than theirs. Of course he was not slow to learn this, and to act on the knowledge, so that they were seldom displeased at their adopted son's excellence with the rifle. His physical comfort was carefully attended to, but his mental state must have been far from enviable, for added to the anxiety about his wife and children was the fear that the station would be less safe and prosperous than if it had his personal care. So closely was he watched, however, that escape seemed impossible. Having accompanied a party to the Scioto Licks tonnake salt, upon his return he found a war party of four hundred and fifty warriors at Chillicothe, preparing for a descent upon Boones- borough. Everything must be risked now that he might escape. Rising at the usual hunting hour the next morning, and provid- ing himself with one meal's victuals, he started out upon a hunt- ing expedition for the day. So completely had he disarmed sus- picion that no objection was raised, or even thought of. Pro- ceeding in the usual direction until far out of sight, he suddenly turned towards Boonesborough, a hundred and sixty miles away. Thither he went at his utmost speed, stopping for nothing during the five days required for the journey. The little food taken from the Indian camp was all the material sustenance he had until he reached the fort. As he feared, he found the garrison careless, the defenses poor- ly kept up. By precept and example he encouraged his men, and things were soon in good condition to receive the enemy. But while they were hourly expecting the Indians, one of Boone's companions in captivity, having gotten away, reached the fort with the intelligence that the escape of the pioneer leader had so powerfully affected his captors that they had postponed their meditated attack for three weeks. Indian spies filled the coun- try, and the whole atmosphere seemed to be full of alarm. The red men evidently saw that unless the whites were utterly exter- minated, they themselves were doomed. It was in self-defense that the blow was to be struck, and to make it of any use it must be deadly. This was the Indian reasoning, and with it the whites were perfectly familiar. Every mind was strung to the highest pitch for the approaching contest, *very eye and ear was on the alert. Such a state of things cannot long continue ; the tense bow-string must relax 5 after a little while the settlers were less vigilant. Observing this, and wishing to prevent its spread, Boone organ- COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 20T ized a party of nineteen of his brave companions, intending to attack one of the Indian towns on the Scioto. Cautiously ad- vancing to within four or five miles of the town which he wished to surprise, he met its thirty warriors, on their way to join the main Indian force, then marching toward Boonesborough. In the "smart fight" which followed, the whites lost no men; the In- dians a few, retreating very soon, and leaving their horses and baggage to the victors. Spies despatched to their town returned with the information that it was evacuated. The storm was gath- ering thick and fast about the settlements, and there was no time to be lost. Back to Boonesborough the little party went with all speed, passing the forces of the enemy the sixth day, and arriv- ing there the seventh day after the skirmish above described. On the succeeding day the enemy appeared in even more terri- ble guise than they had anticipated. Nearly five hundred war- riors, horrid in war paint, and decked with the ghastly trophies of their past victories, advanced towards the fort, like vultures approaching the doomed and innocent flock. But the wild war- riors of the woods had before this besieged Boonesborough in equal multitude, and had retreated from their undertaking be- fore the sharp crack of those unerring rifles. Yonder painted host, moving through the forest shadows as if in some demoniac dance, led by tbe most distinguished chiefs of their own race, was most formidable because of the Canadian Frenchmen by whom it was commanded. It was the voice of Captain Duquesne that sum- moned the garrison to " surrender in the name of his Britannic Majesty," and to him and eleven of his countrymen must the answer be made. "Within the fort, a council of all the fighting men was hastily summoned fifty in all ! More than one knew what were the hor- rors of captivity among the savages hard work and ill usage, entire subj ection to the whims of a hundred masters. Such would be the result of surrender. On the other hand, there were nearly ten besiegers to every one of their own number, and if the fort were taken by storm, death by the most fearful tortures would be certain to follow. This was the alternative. With grave faces and anxious hearts they weighed the question, and every man returned the answer that they "would defend the fort as long as a man of them lived." Although they thus decided, they did not yet make known their resolution. A delay of two days was granted them for con- 208 COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. sideration, but was "used for preparation. Horses and cattle were collected in the fort from the surrounding fields, and everything made ready for a determined resistance. On the evening of the ninth of August (1778) Boone announced to Captain Duquesne the determination to defend the fort. " Now/' he said, " we laugh at your formidable preparations ; but thank you for giv- ing us notice and time to prepare for our defense. Your efforts will not prevail ; for our gates shall forever deny you admit- tance." Such a reply was wholly unexpected, and considerably disappointed the enemy. Their leader, however, quickly recov- ered himself, and offering new terms, requested that nine of the principal men should leave the fort, to treat with them. Al- though they could talk perfectly well in their positions at that time, the wary pioneers allowed themselves to trust an enemy whose wiliness they knew. Boone and eight of his companions left the fort to treat with the foe, and so earnest were the asser- tions of Duquesne, that they had orders to take the Kentuckians prisoners, and not to kill them, that the settlers almost believed them. A treaty was made, and signed ; what were the contents cannot now be ascertained, nor need it cause us any regret ; no wisdom has been lost to us. Determined as the Indians were to drive the whites from their favorite hunting grounds, they would not propose, in earnest, anything to which the settlers would agree. But promises are easily made by those who have no in- tention of keeping them, and who cannot be compelled to do so. "It is a singular custom among the Indians, of whom I am the leader," said Captain Duquesne, when the articles had been signed, " for each white man with whom they have made a treaty to give each hand to be clasped by an Indian, in token of good faith." It was a singular custom, Boone thought, and one of which he had never heard, experienced frontiersman though he was. But any refusal to comply with the demands of the enemy would on- ly enrage them. The white men extended their hands; the In- dians selected for the occasion advanced, each constraining his features to express a smile (but vrhich was by no means enchant- ing) and uttering the word " Brother !" in his softest tones. Trained as he was to conceal his feelings under an appearance of apathy, it was beyond his skill to hide the snake-like glitter of the eye, which betrayed his intentions to his destined victim. They grappled with the settlers, but were thrown off by the strength of despair, as the white men wrenched themselves free. Back COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 209 to the fort they fled, amid a shower of bullets and arrows, and tomahawks wielded by angry hands. The conference had taken place at a distance of only sixty yards from the fort ; had it been greater they would have suffer- ed more in their flight; as it was, but one man was wounded. The firing continued after the party had reached the fort, but was re- turned by the besieged with such fatal effect that the assailants were soon obliged to fall back from their exposed position, and taking advantage of all the shelter afforded, to continue the at- tack with more caution. Despairing of success in a siege where all the loss seemed to be on his own side, Duquesne now determined upon an expedient which he hoped would be more successful. The fort was situated sixty yards from the Kentucky Eiver, and beginning at the water mark, he directed the course of a mine toward the fort, in order to blow up the garrison. The fact that the usually clear river was muddy below a certain point awakened suspicion in the fort. Boone immediately divined the true state of affairs, per- ceiving that they must have thrown the earth into the river in order to prevent its being seen by him. The point of division between the clear and the turbid water indicated the direction of the mine, and he gave orders to dig a deep trench inside of the fort, in such a way as to cross the enemy's mine. The clay dug from this trench was thrown over the walls of the fort, and Du- quesne, reading without difficulty a message so plainly expressed, desisted from the undertaking. Having thus learned from experience the watchfulness of the men with whom he had to cope, he determined to renew the at- tack in the manner of a regular Indian siege, trusting that the numbers of the garrison would soon be so diminished that they would be forced to surrender. In this, however, he was disap- pointed. Man after man of his own force fell ; his provisions were nearly exhausted, and after nine days' trial of power and policy, he raised the siege, and led off his savage host. Thirty- seven of the Indians had been killed, and many wounded ; these being, according to the usage of all the tribes, immediately taken from the scene of action. Boone lost two men, four others being wounded. Boonesborough was never again disturbed by any large body of Indians. This was in consequence of the establishment of many new stations between it and the Ohio Eiver. Not only 210 CJOLONEL DANIEL BOONE. could the Indians not reach this station without leaving enemies in the rear, but the others being weaker were more tempting prey. Early in the autumn, Boone left the garrison in care of the fort, judging that no emergency would arise in which his leadership and counsel would be required ; and set off to ISTorth Carolina for his family. His wife supposed that he had been killed at the time when he was captured by the Shawnees, and had returned to her old home. Early in the following summer they again reached Boonesborough, and Boone industriously cultivated his farm, volunteering his assistance whenever occasion required to the neighboring immigrants. In October, 1780, it once more became necessary to obtain a sup- ply of salt, and for this purpose Boone started in company with his brother Squire, to Blue Licks. The spot seemed to be fatal to the pioneer; here, less than two years before, he had been taken prisoner by the Indians, remaining in captivity for several months ; here again he was destined to meet with loss, for on this occasion, after a hot chase "by the Indians, he had the unhappiness of seeing his brother, the sharer of his boyish sports as well as the dangers and hardships encountered in manhood, shot and scalped by the savages. Nor could the poor satisfaction of re- venge be his. One against many, he must fly for his life. Track- ed by a dog, his hiding place was constantly betrayed by its bark- ing, until, after a long flight, he turned and shot the dog. He con- cealed himself behind a tree, but held his hat out on a stick when his pursuers had thus wasted their shots, he aimed at them, and succeeded in killing both. Another misfortune had overtaken Boone a short time before. In 1779, a commission had been appointed by the Yirginia Legis- lature to settle Kentucky land claims, there being considerable trouble about the conflicting interests of different settlers. The Henderson or "" Transylvania Company," as it was called, under the auspices of which Boonesborough had been .settled, claimed entire independence of Yirginia and every other state. Kentucky, however, had been constituted a county of the Old Dominion, and various tracts of lands had been entered by later settlers under the laws of that -commonwealth. Other states had sent pioneers to this region, and matters seemed to be in inextricable confusion. Major Boone, in company with many others, turned all his available property into ready money, intending to invest in land warrants. Having raised about $20,000 in paper money, 212 COLONEL DANIEL BOONS. and being entrusted with large sums by his neighbors, he set out on his journey to Richmond. On the way he was attacked and robbed of the whole amount. One of the victims of this misfor- tune writes thus to his brother, who had also suffered by the robbery : " I feel for the poor people who, perhaps, are to lose even their pre-emptions ; but I must say, I feel more for Boone, whose char- acter, I am told, suffers by it. Much degenerated must the people of this age be, when amongst them are to be found men to cen- sure and blast the reputation of a person so just and upright, and in whcrse breast is a seat of virtue too pure to admit of a thought so base and dishonorable." Yet, in his autobiography, there is no word of this. The lands he had wrested from the savages were taken from him by legal quibbles ; having money to buy the title to them, he was robbed of it ; undertaking to perform a service for his neighbors, their money was taken along with his own 5 and at last he was ac- cused of appropriating it to his own use ; yet he complained not, and we know how hard it is to bear such suspicions. Although Boonesborough was not again attacked, Kentucky was by no means in a state of tranquility. Pioneers and Indians both recognized the fact that Kentucky was not large enough for both races, and each fought, not for supremacy,but for existence. The year 1779 is distinguished in the annals of the state as hav- ing seen one of the bloodiest battles ever fought between the two contending races within her borders. With the single ex- ception of the subsequent fight at Blue Licks, no more san- guinary conflict ever stained the Dark and Bloody Ground, from the time that the white man first trod her fertile soil until the days of Albert Sydney Johnston. Although Boone was not in this battle, so important was its bearing upon the history of the state that it must be briefly described. Colonel Rogers, returning from ~New Orleans with supplies for the stations on the Upper Mississippi and Ohio Rivers, ascended these streams until he reached Cincinnati. (" Upper Mississippi" then meant that part of the river .between New Orleans and the little French trading post called St. Louis.) Coming by chance upon a party of Indians crossing to the Kentucky side of the river, he determined to surprise them as they landed. Owing to low water, a large sand-bar on the south side of the river was laid bare, and here Rogers' men disembarked. Before they could COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 213 reach the spot where he proposed to attack the enemy, they were set upon by a force so far superior to their own that from the first they fought without hope. Rogers was instantly killed, as were many of his men. The miserable remnant fled to the boats, only to find that of the two, one was in the possession of the Indians. Losing all sense of everything but their own danger, the few men in the other pushed off from shore without waiting for their com- rades. Turning upon their pursuers, and charging furiously, a small number broke through their ranks and made the best of their way to Harrodsburg. Sixty men fell by the hands of the Indians. Of less importance was an expedition headed by Col. Bowman, and starting from Harrodsburg, against the Shawnee town of Chillicothe. Beginning with every conceivable promise of suc- cess, a most remarkable lack of action on the part of the comman- der nullified all the advantages. This was in July, 1779. In June, 1780, Riddle's and Martin's Stations, situated at the forks of Lick- ing River, were attacked by a large party of Indians and Cana- dians, headed by Col. Bird. All the inhabitants were made cap- tives, an,d treated most cruelly; those unable to endure were tomahawked. The succeeding winter was one of the severest ever known in Kentucky. In addition to the inclemency of the weather (which was not unbearable, since it kept the Indians close in their wig- wams), most of the corn had been destroyed by the savages dur- ing the summer, and the settlers we're obliged to live chiefly on buifalo flesh. " A hardy race, accustomed to difficulties and ne- cessities, they were wonderfully supported through all their suf- ferings." Throughout the summer hostilities were continued. Two boys were carried off from one station, and in many places horses were stolen and men killed, whenever such an opportunity pre- sented itself. Nor was it savage ferocity only which was to be encountered ; they were led by some renegade white men, among whom the notorious Simon G-irty was the most conspicuous. A league was formed, the parties to it being the Shawnees, Chero- kees, Wyandots, Tawas, Delawares and some other less important tribes. The warriors of these nations, numbering nearly six hun- dred, appeared before Bryant's station on the night of the 14t of August, 1782. Had they arrived a few hours later, they would have found the fort wholly unprepared for any sort of defense, 214 COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. for the entire garrison was about to march to the relief of Hoy's station. Preparations for departure, however, did not differ ma- terially from preparations for defence, and the Indians were somewhat dismayed by the activity of the garrison, attributed by them to a different cause. The spring which supplied the fort with water was at some dis- tance from it, as was not uncommonly the case ; the settlers seem- ed to feel perfectly secure until actually attacked. Taking ad- vantage of what would be the necessity of the garrison, the main body of Indians placed themselves in ambush near the spring, while a detachment of a hundred warriors was sent to the other side of the fort. This smaller party was intended as a decoy, to draw the garrison out, when the larger body, rushing upon the opposite gate and hewing it down with their tomahawks, would gain possession of the stronghold. At dawn, the garrison assembled under arms, and were about to open the gates and march out, when they were startled by a furious volley of fire-arms, echoed, in a lower key, by the wild yells of the savages. From the picketing could be seen a small party of Indians, making the most furious gestures. The more experienced and wary of the settlers detected the trick, and re- strained the ardent courage of those who would have sallied forth to the attack. They saw that there was to be a determined siege, and they were without water. There was but one thing to be done : the women must go to the spring, as usual, and bring a supply into the fort. " Why must we go ?" was the question. " Why cannot armed men take the risk, since they, at least, can defend themselves ? We are not bullet proof, and the Indians take scalps from women as well as from men." " You bring the water every day," was the reply, " and by doing so now you will avert suspicion. If you do as usual, they will not think their ambuscade is discovered, and wishing to re- main concealed for a longer time, they will not fire upon you. If we go, they will know that we suspect them, and will either shoot us down at the spring, or follow us into the fort." There was a momentary hesitation; then some of the braver women declared their readiness to go, and the less courageous followed their example. Betraying no sign of fear, they set out, marching in a body to the spring. Their behavior completely COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 215 blinded the Indians, five hundred of whom lay within pistol-shot, and some even nearer. 216 COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. As they returned, they began to give way to fear, and let me not say they ran ; perhaps they feared the garrison were thirsty. Thirteen young men were now despatched to attack the decoy party, with orders to make the fight appear of as great extent as possible, by firing as fast as they could load and reload, and making a great deal of noise. Then the rest of the garrison silently placed themselves at the other side of the fort, ready to receive the expected attack. The Indians concealed west of the fort heard the firing, and thought that their stratagem had proved successful. The pre- concerted signal was given, and the five hundred rushed upon the fort that they thought defenseless. The first dreadful volley awakened them rudely from their dream of success ; followed as it was by a second and a third in close succession, it was not long before they were sufficiently recalled to their senses to fly to the woods. Hardly had they disappeared when the party sent out to attack the decoy came in, highly delighted at the repulse of the enemy. Having recovered from the surprise of their warm reception, the Indians issued from the woods and attacked the station in the regular manner, the fight lasting four or five hours. About two o'clock in the afternoon reinforcements were received from Lexington, couriers having been sent thither as soon as the pres- ence of the Indians had been discovered. Those who were mounted succeeded in getting into the fort without being hurt, but those on foot were cut off by the Indians, a running fight be- ing kept up for over an hour. G-irty determined, however, to try to pursuade, since he could not force them to surrender; as- suring them that his present force of six hundred warriors was not all that he could bring to bear upon them ; that reinforce- ments would soon arrive with several pieces of artillery, when they could not hope to resist ; that if they would surrender, not a hair of their heads should be injured. In spite of the threats of the artillery, however (which really was alarming, as the Indians had destroyed two stations with cannon), the garrison held out, and in the morning the Indians had disappeared. All the morning reinforcements arrived, until by midday one hundred and seventy-six men were assembled at Bryant's station. About fifty or sixty of these men were commissioned officers, who resigned the privileges of their position to fight in the ranks for the common weal. Colonels Trigg and Todd, and Majors Boone COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 217 and Harland, were the leaders. Subordinate to these were Mai ors McBride, McGary, Levi Todd, and Captains Bulger and Gor- don. General Logan was expected to join them, in twenty-four hours ARRIVAL OF REINFORCEMENTS. at the farthest, with a large force. Although the number of men collected in the fort was unusually large, it was but a fraction of the opposing army. The Indians themselves were perfectly aware of this, and took no trouble to conceal their route; adver- tising it, rather, by the breadth of their trail and by marking 218 COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. the trees. This self-confidence of the savages somewhat alarmed Boone, whose courage never degenerated into a fool-hardy con- tempt for danger ; but a retreat would now be construed by the Indians as evidence of weakness. Encamping that night in the woods, on the succeeding day they reached the Lower Blue Licks, and for the first time came within view of the Indians. To Boone, the very sight of the place where he had suffered so much before, must have seemed a foreboding of evil. The white men halted, a hurried consultation being held by a dozen or twenty officers. All eyes were turned on Boone, the veteran woodsman whose soldierly qualities they respected no less than they did his courage and integrity of heart. Cautious were his words; the leisurely retreat of the Indians showed them to have a large force ready for battle. % About a mile from where they now were, there were two ravines, one on each side of the ridge, and here he feared they might form an ambuscade. The place was excellently fitted for that purpose, as by making use of both ravines the Indians could attack them at once in front and flank before they could anticipate such a danger. There were two courses to be pursued : either to await the arrival of Logan, who would soon join them; or to divide their force, one half to march up the river and cross at the rapids, falling upon the rear of the enemy, while the remaining half crossed at that point, attacking the enemy in front. Opinions were divided as to the better course. If they re- mained where they were, they might be surprised under cover of darkness, and massacred ; if the force was divided, they might be beaten in detail. The discussion was suddenly cut short by the passionately rash courage of McGrary, who, with a war cry like an Indian's, spurred his horse into the stream, shouting, " Le,t all who are not cowards follow me !" His ardor communicated itself to the others ; no order was pos- sible. In the stream together were officers and men, mounted and unmounted. He was leader who was foremost in the wild, irregular mass, and toward this post of honor every man strug- gled. As they ascended the ridge on the opposite side of the stream, McGrary, Boone, Harland and McBride were in the van. On they went with the same wild courage. IsTo scouts were sent in advance, not even ordinary precautions were taken ; the only aim seemed to be to reach the field of blood as quickly as possible. COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 219 Boone' s fears were realized. Hardly had they reached the spot described, when the Indians, concealed in one of the bushy ra- vines, fired upon the van. The centre and rear hurried to the assistance of their companions, but were stopped by a terrible fire from the ravine on the other side. Unprotected, on the bare and open ridge, the whites still stood their ground before the devastating volleys from the enemy sheltered by the nature of of its position. Gradually the combatants closed with each other, the Indians emerging from the ravine. This enabled the whites to return their fire with greater effect than before. Many of the whites had already been killed, among them Todd, Trigg, McBride, Harland and young Boone, while the Indians were gradually extending their line, so as to cut off the retreat of the Kentuckians. Perceiving this, the rear endeavored to break through, and this movement being communicated to the whole body, a general retreat ended in the wildest disorder. The clear mountain stream ran blood, and the grass on its banks, trampled and uprooted in the deadly struggle, was stained with the same horrid dye. Those who were mounted escaped, but those who must trust to their own swiftness perished. At the commencement of the retreat, when the dreadful carn- age was at its height, Boone, who had seen his son and so many of his friends slain, found himself with a few companions, almost totally surrounded. But the attention of the Indians was chiefly drawn to the ford where most of the fugitives were endeavoring to cross. His acquaintance with the locality here served him in good stead. Dashing into the ravine in which the Indians had lain, they crossed the river below the ford, after having sustained more than one heavy fire, and baffling several small parties that pursued them. Having crossed, they entered the woods at a point where there was no pursuit, and made their way back to Bryant's Station. Horse and foot thronged the river, struggling at once with the current and with the Indians, who were mingled with them in a confused mass. Nor was it altogether a strife for self-preserva- tion; the blood-stained record of the day is bright with stories of generosity. In the wild panic, some dozen or twenty horsemen, having gained the farther side of the river, spurred their horses onward, though many were still struggling in the stream. One of their number, ISTetherland, who had been strongly suspected of coward- 220 COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. ice, observing this, reined in his horse, and called upon them to fire on the enemy, thus affording relief to those less fortunate than themselves. This was only temporary, however, for the num- ber of the Indians was so great that the places of those killed were quickly supplied. From the battle-ground to the ford was one dreadful scene of carnage, and for nearly twenty miles the pursuit was kept up. Beyond the ford, there was but slight loss to the whites. Among the prisoners was a young man named [Reynolds, whose captivity was the direct result of his own generosity. Between the battle ground and the river r in the course of the retreat, he came up with an older man who was much exhausted with the rapidity of the flight, being infirm by reason of wounds received in former battles. Dismounting, Reynolds helped this officer upon his horse, and continued his way on foot. Swimming the river, his buckskin breeches became heavy with the water, and he was soon overtaken by a party of Indians, and compelled to accompany his captors. A prisoner's fate is never decided by the Indians until the close of the campaign, when they return to their village. Young Reynolds, then, was kindly treated by his captors, of whom there was a considerable party. A small group of Ken- tuckians seeming to them to be easy prey, he was left in charge of three of their number. These, eager to join their companions, delegated the care of the prisoner to a single Indian, and guard and captive jogged along quietly enough, the latter being unarm- ed. The Indian, at last, stooped to tie his moccasin, when Rey- nolds knocked him down with his fist and disappeared in the thicket. A gift of two hundred acres of first class land was the acknowledgment which ho afterward received from the man whose life he had saved. Before reaching Bryant's station, the fugitives met Logan, at the head of his detachment. When all who had escaped arrived at that place, Logan found himself at the head of four hundred and fifty men. With Boone as second in command, he set out toward the battle field, hoping that the enemy, encouraged by success, would encamp there. But while defeat only enraged the red men further, victory sent them home to their own country, exulting in their scalps and prisoners. The battle field was covered with the bodies o the white men, frightfully mangled. After burying these, Logan and Boone returned to Bryant's station and disbanded the troops. COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 221 Such was the bloodiest battle ever fought between white and red, for the soil of Kentucky. About seventy of the Kentuckians, or nearly one-half of the whole number engaged, were killed', and the 19th of August, 1782, was long celebrated in the local traditions. A few prowling bands of Indians infested the less thickly set- tled part of the country, but for some time there were no im- portant sieges or fights. Colonel Boone was enabled by the com- pensation which the State of Virginia gave him for his military THE TOBACCO STRATAGEM. services to purchase several tracts of land, which he cultivaU-1 with his usual industry, varying his agricultural pursuits with hunting expeditions. On one of these tracts he erected a com- fortable log house, near which he planted a small patch of tobac- co to supply his neighbors ( for he never used the " filthy weed " himself). He had built a " tobacco house," for curing it, of rails ten or twelve feet in height, and roofed with cane and grass. The stalks were split and strung on sticks about four feet long, the ends of these being laid on poles placed in tiers across .the building. 222 COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. The lower tier being dry, Boone was busily removing it to the upper part of the building, supporting himself on the lower poles, when, looking down, he saw that four Indians, armed with guns, had entered the low door. One of them said to him : "Now, Boone, we got you. You no get away more. We carry off to Chillicothe this time. You no cheat us any more." Looking down from his perch, Boone recognized the intruders as some of the Shawnees who had captured him in 1778, and an- swered, pleasantly : " Ah, old friends, glad to see you. "Wait a little, till I have finished putting up this tobacco, will you ? You can stand there and watch me." The loaded guns, which had been pointed at his breast, were lowered, and the Indians stood watching his every movement. At last, so interested did they become in answering his questions about old acquaintances, and in his promises to give them his to- bacco, that they became less attentive, and did not see that he had gathered the dry tobacco into such a position that a touch would send it into their upturned faces. At the same instant that he touched this, he jumped upon them with as much of the dried tobacco as he could gather in his arms, filling their eyes and nos- trils with its dust. Blinded and strangling, they could not follow him as he rushed towards the cabin, where he could defend him- self. Looking around, when he was about fifteen or twenty yards from the tobacco house, he saw them groping in all directions ; and heard them cursing him as a rogue, and themselves as fools. Quietly tilling his beautiful farm near Boonesborough, several years were passed in peace and tranquility. Here he dictated to one John Filson the autobiography before mentioned, and after its publication in 1784, it was one of his greatest pleasures to lis- ten to it when any one would read it to him. In his opinion, it was one of the finest specimens of literature in existence. One charm, at least, that it had for him, it has for all ; it is " every word true not a lie in it." But the storms were not yet at an end ; the earliest settler in the community, he had been obliged to buy his farm ; expending for this purpose money earned as a defender of Kentucky, his aversion to legal technicalities and ignorance of legal forms pre- vented his taking care to secure a perfect title. Such defects were eagerly hunted up, about this period, by speculators, and many better informed and more careful men lost their lands by litigation. COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 223 224 COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. As a result of the arts and rogueries of these speculators, not a foot of land remained to Boone. Sadly, but not bitterly, he resolved to leave Kentucky, and about 1790 he and his faithful and be- loved wife removed to a place near Point Pleasant, on the Kana- wha River in Virginia. Here he lived about five years, cultivat- ing a farm, raising stock, and whenever possible, hunting. But to the woodsman, life in this " highly civilized " region, as it seemed to him, was unendurable. Here there were but traces of game, which must be carefully followed sometimes (and these occasions were fast growing more and more frequent) even the most skillful hunter failed to meet with success. "With eager in- terest he listened to the adventurers returned from the far prai- ries west of the Mississippi, when they told how, over the flat, grass-clad plains and the low hills, roamed vast herds of buffalo ; how the wild duck haunted the borders of the swift Father of "Waters and the turbid flood of its chief tributary how often the cry of the wild turkey was heard through the forests that bor- dered the life-giving streams. He who had found happiness in the Kentucky wilderness longed for a land where he might make his home secure from the grasp of those who wished to defraud j whence he could go to the hunting ground, and not find it trans- formed to farms. In this region so favored by nature, the wandering hunters told him, the people were simple and straightforward, honest and hon- orable, needing not the laws made for those disposed to evil, nor seeking to avoid, through the subtilty of lawyers, the conse- quences of their own actions. To a man of Boone's tastes and experience, a land where lawsuits and lawyers were unknown must have seemed the very ideal of a dwelling-place. Hither, then, in 1795 or 1797, he took up his journey. The country west of the Mississippi then belonged to the Crown of Spain, and from the representative of that royal owner, the Lieu- tenant-Governor resident at St. Louis, he received " assurance that ample portions of land should be given to him and his fam- ily." The Femme Osage settlement, the home of his son Daniel M. Boone, was his residence until 1804, and it was of this district that in 1800 he was appointed Commandant. This office com- bined civil and military duties, and was held by him until the transfer of the territory of Louisiana to the United States G-overn- ment in 1803. Removing to the residence of his youngest son, Maj. Nathan Boone, he remained there until 1810, when he went to COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 225 live with his son-in-law, Flanders Callaway, in Callaway county. In consideration of his official services as Syndic, ten thousand arpents of excellent land (about eight thousand five hundred acres) were given to Colonel Boone by the Government. In ac- cordance with the special law, he should have obtained a con- firmation of the grant from the royal Governor at New Orleans, and have taken up his residence on the land. The Lieutenant- Governor at St. Louis undertook to dispense with the latter con- dition, and Boone " reckoned all would be right" without any further attention to formalities than was implied in the original grant. He probably trusted that justice would be done by the United States Government; but the Commissioners appointed to decide on claims rejected Boone's for want of legal formalities. This, however, did not occur for some time after his removal to the state, so that the first few years spent within its bounds were marked by no ill luck. The office which he held underthe Spanish Government was similar to the present one of justice of the peace, with the addition of military duties, but its exercise did not re- quire all his time. Plenty of leisure remained for hunting, and obtaining, after two or three seasons, valuable furs in sufficient quantity to enable him to pay some debts outstanding in Ken- tucky, he went thither, and asking each creditor the amount due him, paid it without any other guarantee than their assertion. Returning to Missouri, though he had but half a dollar remain- ing, he said to his family : "Now I am ready and willing to die; I am relieved from a burden that has long oppressed me ; I have paid all my debts, and no one will say, when I am gone, ' Boone was a dishonest man ;' I am perfectly willing to die." In 1812, Colonel Boone sent a petition to Congress, praying that his original claim be confirmed. At his request, the Ken- tucky Legislature, by a series of resolutions, directed the Sena- tors of that state to exert themselves to further this petition. His appeal was neglected for some time; but Congress, in Feb- ruary, 1814, granted him one thousand arpents a tract of land to which any settler would be entitled. During the period of anxiety about his land, a worse trouble came, in the death of the wife who had shared his dangers and toils for so many years. For seven years he was to live alone. Before this he had given up his favorite pursuit of hunting, even in his last expeditions being attended by some friend or ser- 226 COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. vant. His time was divided among his children, the house of Mrs. Callaway, his eldest daughter, being headquarters, and the home of Major Nathan Boone seeing him oftenest. He employed his time in making powder horns for his grandchildren, repairing rifles, and such other work as had been familiar to him in past years and was not now beyond his failing strength. One occu- pation which seems to us rather singular, was the daily rubbing and polishing of a coffin which he had had made for himself, and which, at his death, was found in a state of excellent finish. This was the second coffin made for him ; the first did not fit to his satisfaction, so he gave it to his son-in-law, Flanders Callaway. An attack of fever prostrated him in September, 1820, and on the twenty-sixth of that month, at the residence of his youngest son, he died, in the eighty-sixth year of his age, and was buried beside his wife. The Legislature of Missouri passed resolutions of respect, adopted a badge of mourning for thirty days, and ad- journed for one day. In 1845, the people of Frankfort, Ky., ob- tained the consent of the family to inter the bones of the great pioneer and his wife in the rural cemetery they had prepared ; and the burial took place on the 20th of August of that year. THE GRAVE OF 3300XE, CHAPTER Till. SIM01ST KENTON. I~N the year 1771, there lived in Fauquier County, Virginia, a rustic belle, who found it impossible to decide between two of her many lovers. One of these two was a young farmer, nam- ed William Leitchman ; the other was Simon Kenton, a boy of but sixteen, but tall and well-formed. In accordance with the custom of the country, the matter was taken up by the friends of Leitchman and they administered a severe beating to his young rival. Smarting under this rough treatment, and feeling no less the coquette's admiration of the prowess of his assailants, Ken- ton determined upon revenge. He accordingly challenged Leitch- man to single combat. It was a regular stand-up fight, in which fists were the only weapons. Such was its character at first, but the more matured strength of Leitchman transformed it in both particulars, as Kenton was soon brought to the ground, and kicks as well as cuffs bestowed upon him. At last, however, he gained the mastery, winding his rival's long hair about a bush that was near, and returning with good interest, not only the blows, but "the pangs of misprized love" as well. His passion led him farther than he wished, for in a little time his antagonist lay ap- parently lifeless upon the ground. Frightened at the unexpected termination, he resolved upon immediate flight. Through the wilderness, then, he went at full speed, the dark shadow of the gallows clouding his way, and urging him onward. For better concealment, he resolved to drop the name of Kenton, which might betray him, if a reward were offered for his apprehension, and assume that of Butler. It is as Simon Butler, then, that for many years he is known in the his- tory of Kentucky. Not yet, however, was he destined to reach the fertile land with whose welfare his own was to be so closely connected in the future. Falling in with various parties of adventurers and ex- 15 228 SIMON KENTON. plorers, he at last became acquainted with two companions, Ya- ger and Strader, the former having been captured by the Indians when a child, and kept by them for many years. He described to Kenton an earthly paradise, which was familiar to him in his childhood by the name of Kan-tuck-ee, saying that it was to be reached by descending the Ohio. So confident was he in his own powers as a guide that Strader and Kenton procured & canoe, and the three young men set out. After rowing for several days they became rather incredulous, telling Yager that he must have confused different localities, and in spite of his protestations to the contrary, they insisted upon returning to Virginia. They then went to the neighborhood of the Great Kanawha, and spent nearly two years in that locality, engaged in the congenial and profitable labors of hunting and trapping. Attacked by a party of Indians in March, 1773, they were driven from their tent. As they fled, Strader fell by a shot from the as- sailants, but Kenton and Yager were more successful in their re- treat. But so hurried had been their flight, that they had neither guns, blankets nor provisions neither food nor shelter, nor the means of procuring it. For five days they journeyed through the trackless forests, with no guide towards the Ohio, their pro- posed destination, except the moss on the northward side of the trees, and no food but the roots which they found on the way. Completely exhausted by their rapid flight and by hunger, they reached the banks of the Ohio at sunset on the fifth day, and ob- tained a supply of provisions from a party of traders that they found there. Meeting soon after with another party of explor- ers, Kenton obtained a gun and some ammunition, and, plunging alone into the forest, lived a hunter's life there until late in the summer. Joining somewhat later another party of adventurers, he left them in 1774, when Dunmore's war broke out. During the whole of this contest between the two races, the names of Simon Butler and Simon G-irty were well known as among the most efficient spies employed by Lord Bunmore. In their later years, the one was honored as a brave man and a faithful champion of the white man, the other reviled as a traitor and a renegade. Kenton had not yet given up the idea of finding the place de- scribed by Yager, and when the troops were disbanded at the close of the war, he, together with two others, set out in the di- rection indicated. After considerable wandering, they built a SIMON KENTON. 229 cabin where "Washington, Ky., now stands, and planted a small clearing with corn. In the forest, one day, he met with two men, Fitzpatrick and Hendricks, whom Kenton invited to remain at -his cabin. In descending the Ohio, their canoe had been over- turned, and such had been their experience in their endeavors to find the settlements, that Fitzpatrick was thoroughly disgusted, and refused to stay. Hendricks accepted the invitation, and re- mained at the cabin while the others escorted his late companion to " The Point," the site of the modern Maysville. Having seen him safely across the river, and provided him with a gun and some ammunition, they returned to the camp, where they had left Hendricks without a gun, but with a bountiful supply of food. They arrived at the cabin only to find it deserted, pierced here and there by bullets, and the various articles in much confusion. From a low, bushy ravine not far from the clearing rose the thick smoke that comes from a newly kindled fire ; strong must the In- dians be, when they so boldly encamped near the dwelling of their victim's companions, and Kenton and his two friends, judg- ing that it would be too unequal a contest, beat a hasty retreat into the woods. The evening of the next day they returned cautiously to the neighborhood of the camp, to find the fire smouldering, the Indians gone, and the ground strewn with the bones of their luckless companion. At the time of their return, Hendricks had probably been alive; perhaps the Indians were not so numerous as they had feared, and a sudden, sharp attack might have saved him from that most horrible of deaths. Slowly they retraced their steps to the cabin at Washington, pondering on the uncertainty of their lives, and filled with use- less regrets for their comrade. In the following September, a wandering hunter told them of the settlements in the interior of te state, and especially of the fort at Boonesborough. That this was pleasant news to them, is shown by their leaving the camp at Washington, and setting out, through the forest, to visit the dif- ferent stations established in various parts of the state. What became of his two companions is not recorded, but Ken- ton went to Boonesborough, where he participated in two sieges, and served as a spy with most excellent success. It was during the year 1777, while Kenton was in Boonesborough, that several men in the fields near by were attacked by Indians, and ran to the fort. One of the savages overtook and tomahawked a white man, but while stooping to scalp him, was covered by Kenton' s uner- 230 SIMON KENTON. ring rifle. A sharp crack, and the Indian fell prostrate over his victim. Boone, with thirteen men, of whom Kenton was one, sallied to the relief of the others ; half of the number, including SIMON KENTON. $531 the leader, were wounded at the first fire, and an Indian had al- ready stooped, tomahawk in hand, over the white chief whose cool courage they so much feared, when Kenton, with the spring of the panther, slew the Indian, and catching up into his arms the body of the leader, bore it safely into the fort. "When the gates were securely closed, Boone sent for Kenton, his sense of gratitude having overcome his usual taciturnity. Yet so unused was he to courtly phrase that all he could say was, " "Well, Simon, you have behaved yourself like a man to-day. Indeed, you are a fine fellow." Perhaps the young giant of twenty-two, standing there before the already famous pioneer, appreciated the praise more than any one else could ; for he knew how much meaning there was in these few words from that man of action. In the expedition that Boone led against the Indian towns in the summer of 1778, Kenton did good service as a spy, although not without danger to himself. After having crossed the Ohio, being on one occasion considerably in advance of the rest, the sound of a voice from an adjoining thicket caused him to halt and take his post behind a tree. Soon there emerged from the thicket two Indians, both mounted on one pony, and in the highest good humor. Totally unsuspicious of danger as they were, one fell dead and the other wounded, by Kenton' s fire. But this seeming success was an unlucky thing for him, for just as he was about to scalp his victims, he was almost surrounded by a party of about forty Indians. By dint of hard running, and dodging from the shelter of one tree to that of another, he managed to elude them until the main party came up, and in a furious attack, defeated the savages. Boone returned to the fort with all of his party ex- cept Kenton and a young man named Montgomery, of whom we shall hear again. These kept on to the Indian village, to " get a shot," and supply themselves with horses. For two days and a night they lay within rifle range of the town, but met with no success in their first amicable purpose. In the second, however, they were more fortunate, for it was on good horses that once belonged to Indians, that they rode into the fort after the siege was raised. About the first of September of this same year Kenton and Mont- gomery, with a companion named Clark, set out to the Indian town of Chillicothe with the avowed purpose of stealing horses, and there seems to have been no opposition to the expedition 232 SIMON KENTON. from those older and presumably wiser settlers who remained in the fort. Probably Boone was not there, having returned to North Carolina for his family ; for Kenton, as we shall see, dis- claimed being directed by him. They arrived in the neighborhood of the town without meet- ing with any adventures, and soon discovered a drove of horses feeding quietly upon the rich blue-grass of the prairie. Being well provided with salt and halters, they succeeded in capturing seven, and much elated with their good luck, made off with their prizes. Towards the Ohio they went with all speed, expecting to reach the settlement some time in the night; but such a storm arose that they found it impossible to cross. The wind blew almost a hurricane, lashing the swift current of the river into waves like those of the sea, and through which the terrified horses had no mind to go. Nothing was left for them to do but to ride back a little distance into the hills and turn the horses loose to graze. In the morning the wind had fallen, but the horses re- fused to enter the water, remembering, doubtless, the storm of the previous day. Knowing the Indians would probably be in pursuit of them, they determined to select the three best of the seven, and make their way to the falls of the Ohio, where some men had been stationed by General Clark. Acting on this plan, four of the horses were turned loose. Hardly had they set out, however, when they regretted what they had done, and returned to recapture the animals which by this time had strayed out of sight. The little party separated, and the three men went in different directions, Kenton bending his steps toward the point where they had tried to cross the river on the preceding day. Before long he heard a wild whoop from the direction in which he was going. Dismounting and tying his horse, he crept stealthily towards the sound, to make observations. Reaching the high bank of the river, he saw the Indians very near him, but was himself unper- ceived. So close to him was the party, that, seeing he could not retreat unseen, he adopted the boldest, because the safest plan, and aimed at the foremost Indian. His gun flashed in the pan. With the speed of the startled deer he ran through the forest, where the storm had torn up tree after tree by the roots, and laid them prostrate on the earth. After him came the force of mounted Indians, but so much did the fallen timber retard them that they divided into two parties, and rode around the obstructions. Just KENTON. 233 as Kenton emerged from the timber, he was met by one of the Indians, who rode up, jumped from his horse and rushed at him with uplifted weapon. Drawing back, in order to strike the In- dian with Ms gun before the tomahawk could be used, Kenton found himself in the embrace of an Indian who had slipped up behind. The main body having come up, resistance was useless, and Kenton surrendered. While the Indians were binding Ken- ton with tugs, Montgomery fired at them, but missing his aim, fled and was pursued by those not guarding Kenton. Soon the KENTON'S MAZEPPA HIDE. party returned, displaying before the eyes of the miserable cap- tive the bloody scalp of his companion. Clark had escaped their clutches, and soon afterward arrived safely at Logan's Fort. According to their usual custom, the Indians took their prison- er with them to their own townof Chillicothe, thereto determine his fate in solemn council. When they were ready to set out towards that place, they proceeded to secure their prisoner in such a way as to prevent his escape, and at the same time provide them with as much amusement as possible. Catching the wild- est horse in their company, they lashed their prisoner on it, ty- ing his feet together under the horse, fastening his arms with a rope and then covering them with a pair of moccasins ; then ty- 234 SIMON KENTON. ing a rope around his neck, and securing one end to the horse's neck, they tied the other end to his tail to answer for a crupper. Of course only a limited number could assist in the preparations j so the majority amused themselves by dancing around him and inquiring, tauntingly: " You steal Injun hoss again ? Injun got heap good hoss you steal some? Long-knife like Injun hoss steal whole drove. Long-knife on Injun hoss now, but he no steal it." The wild young horse was set free from their restraint, and ran, rearing and plunging, into the woods. The moccasins on his hands prevented Kenton from defending himself from the overhanging branches, and he was so securely tied that there was no possibility of escape. The horse, finding that he could not rid himself of his burden, returned to the company of his fellows, and jogged along with them quietly enough. At night the prisoner was as securely bound as by day. Laid on his back, each foot was tied to a stake driven into the ground for that purpose. His extended arms were lashed to a pole laid across his breast, and a rope tied around his neck, almost tight enough to choke him, was fastened to a neighboring tree. In this uncomfortable position, at the mercy of the numer- ous swarms of gnats and mosquitoes, he passed three nights. The last of these was at the encampment about a mile from Chillicothe, where all the inhabitants of the town came to welcome the war- riors and their prisoner. For about three hours this party of one hundred and fifty tormented the luckless captive, dancing and yelling around him, stopping occasionally to beat and kick him. Returning to town after this diversion, they left him for the rest of the night to the tender mercies of the gnats and mos- quitoes. As soon as it was light in the morning, they returned to the camp to make preparations for more amusement. Kenton was doomed to run the gauntlet. The warriors formed in two lines, about six feet apart, each armed with a stout hickory, so that they could beat him as much as they pleased. Nor was this all. Kenton, his sharp eyes made sharper by the danger, saw more than one knife drawn to plunge into him. Familiar with the custom of the savages, he broke through the line before reach- ing the first Indian so armed, trusting to reach the council house before they could overtake him; if he should succeed in doing so, he would not be again compelled to run the gauntlet. With all SIMON KENTON. 235 his speed he ran, pursued by two or three hundred Indians, yell- ing like as many devils let loose. He might have been able to reach the goal if he had not met an Indian, walking leisurely from the town: with this unexpected foe to contend with besides DESPERATE EFFORT TO ESCAPE. the yelling horde behind, and exhausted by all that he had under- gone during the past three days, he was soon caught and thrown down. The others came up, and there was a repetition of tho night's performances; they danced and shouted, beating and kicking him to their heart's content. Then, fearful that his 236 SIMON KENTON. strength might give way before they were sufficiently amused, they brought him food and water. As soon as he was thus refreshed, they took him to the council house, where his fate was to be decided. The warriors placed themselves in a circle, an old chief standing in their midst, with a knife and a stick. Although Kenton did not understand their language, the glance of the eye and the movements of the hands told him plainly that many urged his death. The speeches were at an end, and the old chief handed a war- club to the warrior who sat near the door. By means of this the vote was to be taken, a blow upon the ground meaning death, while simply passing it to the next meant life. Here, again, Kenton could discern their meaning by their gestures, and the votes for his death were by far the more numerous. The old chief tallied all on his stick, first on one side, then on the other, and soon declared the result, when sentence of death was passed up- on the prisoner. There was another question to be decided which demanded hardly less careful consideration; this was the time and place of execution. Whether he should be put to death immediately, or reserved for solemn sacrifice in the presence of the whole tribe, was debated with considerable warmth. The latter opinion pre- vailed, and they set out with him toward Wapatomika. Passing through two other Indian towns on the way, Kenton was com- pelled to run the gauntlet at both, being severely beaten. All this time there had been not a single opportunity to escape, but being carelessly guarded at the latter town they passed through, he made a break and ran. However hopeless his escape from this large body might seem, nothing but death could follow failure, and he had for days past endured a living death. In spite of all the exhausting tortures which he had undergone since his capture, he distanced his pursuers, and his hopes rose high; only to be dashed down, however, for when he reached a point about two miles from the town, he met a large party of Indians, on their way to join his tormentors. These, recapturing him, took him back to the town, and gave him again into the hands of his orig- inal captors. The last ray of hope had gone out in the night of despair. There seemed no chance of life, and Kenton sullenly gave him- self up to his fate. Of the horror of his doom he had already had a foretaste, made doubly dreadful as it was by the love of SIMON KENTON. 237 life so strong at three-and-twenty. With the calmness of despair he looked upon the yelling horde around him, conveying him to Wapatomika and the stake. Already had his skin been stained with the black dye which showed him condemned to death, when the renegade white man, Simon Girty, approached him. Com- rades-in-arms had they been, while serving together in Dunmore's war; thence one had joined the Kentucky settlers, and the other, after serving a short time in the American army against the British, had deserted to the Indians, the allies of the latter. Like all apostates, he became worse than those who were "to the manor born," and for twenty years his name was the terror of the border; could anything be hoped from the man who was more savage than his terrible allies, who spared not man, woman or child ? At his belt hung the scalps, still reeking with blood, with which he had just returned ; near by were his prisoners, a woman and seven children. When Kenton had entered the council-house at Wapatomika, he had been greeted with such a scowl from all assembled there as would have made his heart sink if he had still entertained any hope. Now, however, he felt it was welcomed, as showing that the inevitable end was near. Throwing a blanket on the floor, Girty, in his harshest tones, ordered him to take a seat upon it. Angered by a momentary delay, the "white savage " caught the prisoner's arm, and jerking him roughly upon the blanket, pulled him down upon it. In the same forbidding tone Girty asked him how many men there were in Kentucky. Kenton, true to the last, answered that he did not know, but that he could name the officers and state the rank, and the questioner could judge for himself. Thereupon he proceeded to name every man to whose name a military " handle" was at- tached, whether he had a command or not, and succeeded in giving an impression that the whites were much stronger than they were in reality. In response to an inquiry about William Stewart, Kenton said that he was an old and intimate acquaintance. " What is your own name ? " was the next question. " Simon Butler," answered the prisoner. The effect was elec- trical. Springing from his seat, Girty embraced his old compan- ion with all the ardor of a more emotional nature. Turning to the assembled warriors, he spoke in defense of his friend. They had trodden the war-path side by side, and had slept under the same blanket. His emotion made him eloquent: 238 SIMON KENTOrf. " Shall I be denied this one thing ? Warriors of the Shawnees, when has the hand of Katepacomen been clean, when that of his Indian brother was bathed in blood ? Has Katepacomen ever spared the white man's scalp ? Has he not brought to Wapato- mika eight prisoners ? Do not seven fresh scalps hang at his belt? Now the white brother of Katepacomen has fallen into the hands of his Indian brothers and they wish to torture him. Shall Katepacomen stand by and see his brother eaten by the flames ? To those who are born warriors of the Shawnees, the life of a white prisoner is given for the asking ; will my brothers deny so little a thing to the brother born among the white men, who has chosen to live among the Indians?" No voice but his own broke the stillness; when he finished, the deep, guttural tones of the chiefs spoke both approval and disap- proval. Some of them urged that the prisoner had already been condemned to death, and that they would be acting like squaws to be changing their minds every hour. Besides this, the pris- oner richly deserved his doom; not only had he stolen their horses, but he had flashed his gun at one of their young men, and had tried his best to escape. So bad a man could never be a bro- ther to them, as was G-irty ; he could never be an Indian in his heart, like Katepacomen. More than this, many of their people had come a great distance to witness the execution, and after coming so far, it would be cruel to disappoint them. Girty listened impatiently to this pathetic, pleading for the en- joyment of the people. No sooner had the young warriors con- cluded their speeches than he sprang to his feet, and spoke again in favor of his friend : "Has Katepacomen ever spared the white man's scalp? Has he ever before pleaded for the life of a captive ? Never before has he asked a boon of his Indian brothers, and now this, which they would grant without hesitation to one of their own race,, they would refuse to him. If the warriors of the Shawnees trust in the good faith and love of Katepacomen, let them give him the life of his white brother." Not a word did Kenton understand of these speeches, since all used the Shawnee tongue. At length the discussion came to an end, and the war-club was passed around the assembly, that the vote might be taken. This time the decision was for life. Hav- ing thus succeeded in his endeavors, Girty conducted his friend to his own wigwam and fitted him out from his own wardrobe, SIMON KENTON. 239 Kenton's clothes having been torn from him by the infuriated savages. For three weeks they lived a perfectly quiet life, Ken- ton meeting with the most friendly and cordial treatment from the SIMON GIRTY, THE RENEGADE. very chiefs who had most violently opposed Girty's pleadings. About twenty days after his deliverance, as Girty, Kenton and an Indian named Eedpole were walking together, they were met 240 SIMON KENTON. by another Indian, who repeatedly uttered a peculiar whoop. This, Girty informed him, was the distress halloo, and summoned them to the council-house. Kenton had no particular love for any council-house whatever ; he would have much preferred to give them all a wide berth, and not hold any very intimate com- munication with those who were assembled there ; but there was no choice. The Indian who had hallooed, saluted them, and readily gave his hand to Girty and Eedpole, but refused Kenton's. This was ominous. It was but the beginning of what was to come ; on reaching the council-house, no one of the warriors there assem- bled would give his hand to Kenton. Many of the chiefs were strangers from distant towns, and the assembly was larger than in either of the other councils. Once again the impassioned de- bate was held Girty pleading for his friend, the savages thirst- ing for his blood. But the eloquence which had before proven so effective was lost upon the stranger warriors, and turning to Kenton, the " white savage" said, with a suspicious brightness in his eyes : " Well, my friend, you must die." A strange chief seized the captive by the collar, and he was quickly bound and committed to a guard. With him they instant- ly set off, the Indians being on horseback, and Kenton on foot, a rope tied around his neck, one end being held by one of the guard. About two and a half miles from Wapatomika, Girty overtook them and told Kenton that he was on his way to the next village, in order to secure the influence of some friends he had there. But there, as in Wapatomika, the eloquence of Kate- pacomen was in vain, and the white savage, the terror of the bor- der, the most ruthless of the children of the wilderness, returned by another route to his home. He could not again see the friend he could not save. When they had gone two or three miles beyond the first vil- lage they saw, a few yards from the trail, a squaw chopping wood, while her lord the warrior sat by smoking, to see that she worked industriously. The very sight of Kenton set on fire the hot blood in his veins, and snatching the axe from the hand of the patient toiler, he rushed upon the captive, and before any defense could be made, dealt a blow which crushed through his shoulder, shattering the bone, and almost severing the arm from the body. Eaising the axe for a second time, his arm was SIMON KENTON. 241 stopped by Kenton' s guard, who reproached him with wishing to rob them of pleasure by the premature murder of the victim. Arriving at a large village on the head waters of the Scioto, they halted for the night. Here, a chief of striking and manly appearance, of calm and noble front, speaking English fluently and well, his utterance such as persuades men to do his will, came up to Kenton. It was Logan, the eloquent chief of the Min- goes, so highly praised by the author of the Declaration of Inde- pendence. Struck by the manly beauty and soldierly bearing of the young captive, or perhaps moved only by his misfortunes, Logan, after exchanging a few words with Kenton, said to him : "Well, don't be disheartened ; I am a great chief; you are to go to Sandusky they speak of burning you there, but I will send two runners to-morrow to speak good or you." Cheered by this promise, Kenton remained quietly at Logan's lodge all night and the next day, being permitted to spend much of the time with the benevolent chief. Logan kept his promise, and the runners were despatched to Sandusky early in the morn- ing, returning in the evening. After their return, Logan avoided seeing Kenton until the succeeding morning, when, walking up to him, accompanied by the guards, he said : " You are to be taken to Sandusky." Giving him a piece of bread, the chief, without uttering another word, turned and walked away. Kenton had been consumed by the most intense anxiety since the return of the messengers, and the conduct of the friendly chief did not tend to reassure him. There was nothing to conjecture but that Logan had overrated his influence, that his intercession had been as useless as Girty's, and that Kenton must meet the dreadful fate decreed by the council. To Sandusky, then, they marched, his hope at the lowest ebb. It seemed that every friendly power failed when exerted in his behalf, no matter how strong it might be in other directions. Despite the exertions of these two friends, he was to be burnt at Sandusky the morning after his arrival. But even then, when only a few hours of life seemed to remain to him, an apparent enemy was transformed into a powerful friend. This was Captain Drewyer, a French Canadian in the employ of the British government as Indian agent. He represented to the Indians the value, to the commandant at Detroit, of a prisoner 242 SIMON KENTON. intimately acquainted with the settlements in Kentucky, and by appealing first to their cupidity, and then to their fears, his bribes and threats secured the loan of Kenton, it being expressly stip- ulated, however, that when all possible information had been ex- tracted from him, he should be returned to them for their own purposes. Drewyer immediately set out for Detroit with his prisoner. While they were on their journey, he told Kenton on what terms he was released from immediate danger, adding that he ( Drew- yer) had no intention of keeping his promise by delivering up to such inhuman wretches the life in his power. Continuing in this strain, lauding his own generosity, he began to question Kenton as to the number of men in Kentucky, and the state of defense. Kenton replied that he was only a private, obeying orders given by those who had the direction of affairs ; that being in so low a rank, his range of vision was but narrow, not enabling him to judge of the general condition of things ; that he had no taste for meddling with others, for he had found it quite enough to take care of himself sometimes more than he could do. After this reply, he was troubled with no more questions. Arriving in Detroit early in October, he remained there in a state of easy restraint, for eight months. Restricted to certain rather wide boundaries during the day, and obliged to report every morning to a British officer, there was no other condition attached to his comings and goings. Some time was required for his recovery from the effects of the Indians' brutality, but, once strong and well, the young freeman longed for his wild home again. To escape from Detroit was easy enough, but it would be more difficult to journey safely through the wilderness, alone and unarmed, a distance of two hundred miles, among Indians who were eager for his death. Even setting aside the latter con- sideration, there would be, in those trackless forests, no food but the wild game, which could not be killed without a gun. Carefully and secretly he laid and worked out his plans. Two young Kentuckians, taken with Boone at the Blue Licks and pur- chased by the British, shared his thirst for liberty, and the three patiently awaited their opportunity. The most difficult thing was to obtain guns and ammunition without the knowledge of the commandant, but even this was overcome; Kenton bought of two Indians, plied with rum for the purpose, their guns, and hid the precious purchase in the woods. Managing to get another SIMON KENTON. 243 rifle, and a supply of ammunition, through a citizen of the town, they set out on their lonely and perilous journey. Traveling only at night, they reached Louisville after a march of just one month. Ten months hefore, Kenton had started out, in company with Montgomery and Clark, to the town of Chillicothe. In the space of a month, he had been exposed to the ordeal called run- ning the gauntlet no less than eight times ; three times had he been tied to the stake to suffer the most horrible death known to fiendish ingenuity ; and the intervals had been times of the greatest possible mental anguish. Arrived in Kentucky, he was by no means disposed to rest up- on his laurels, and to live upon the memory of what he had suf- fered. Had he been made of such stuff, he would not have had the intercession of either G-irty or Logan; the one knew by ex- perience, the other by instinct, what manner of man he was, and it was the manhood within him that they would have rescued. From his arrival in Kentucky, then, until 1782, he was constant- ly in active service, as guide, scout and officer. In the latter year, a piece of unexpected good news reached him. Hearing, for the first time in eleven years, from his old home in Yirginia, he learn- ed that Leitchman, the rival of whose death he thought himself guilty, was yet alive, having soon recovered from the consequences of the fight. Dropping the name of Butler, and assuming his own again, he returned to visit his parents, and succeeded in persuad- ing them to remove to Kentucky. Friendly relations were also established with Leitchman and his wife. Simon Kenton's father died on the journey, but the others reached Maysville ( or the site of the present town ) and founded there a settlement on the very spot where he had pitched his first camp on Kentucky soil. Being so near the Indians, however, did not contribute to the peace of the town, and incursion and raid were frequent. Kenton never let such inroads pass without severe retaliation, and in 1793 he drove back the last of the dusky invaders into the Ohio country. In the succeeding year he served as major in " Mad Anthony Wayne's " campaign, but was not present at the victory which closed it. But with peace to the borders came trouble to Kenton. The same difficulties which beset Boone in regard to the title to his land, came to Kenton, and even his body was seized for debt. To escape the persecutions of the speculators, he moved over to the Ohio wilderness in 1797, or, according to another authority, 16 244 SIMON KENTON. in 1802. Living there quietly enough, the restful monotony of the farmer's life was broken in the year 1813, when, joining the Kentucky troops under Governor Shelby, he was present at the battle of the Thames. Returning to his cabin, he continued to live near Urbana until 1820, when he removed to a spot within sight of what had been the Indian town of Wapatomika, the scene of so many adventures forty-two years before. But misfortunes continued to follow him, and the very land which he tilled had to be entered in the name of his wife. He had owned large tracts of land in Kentucky, but they had become forfeited to the state for taxes. In 1824 he undertook to go to Frankfort, to ask of the Kentucky Legislature a release of the forfeiture. Saddling his sorry old horse, he set out on his jour- ney, stopping the first night at the house of Major Galloway, in Xenia, Ohio. This friend, seeing the shabby outfit of the old pioneer, gave vent to his honest indignation against a country that could leave the old age of so faithful a servant to penury. " Don't say that, Galloway," said the old man, drawing his tall figure to'its full height, his gray eyes flashing fire as they did but rarely ; " Don't say that, or I'll leave your house forever, and never call you my friend again." Arrived at Frankfort, the old man cut but a shabby figure in the now busy streets, that he had known as glades in the forest and buffalo-paths through the cane-brakes. His tattered garments, his dilapidated saddle and bridle, and his old, almost broken down horse, excited universal derision from the thoughtless mul- titude. But no one dreamed that this was Simon Kenton. Truly, a prophet is not without honor, save in his own country, and among his own people. But a rescuer came, in the person of General Fletcher, an old companion-in-arms. Hearing the story of the pioneer, this friend in need took him to a store and fitted him out with a good suit of clothes and a hat, and then escorted him to the State Capitol. Here, seated in the Speaker's chair, the most prominent men present in the city were introduced to him, and he was made to feel that the place given to him, in their minds, was second only to Boone's. "With this, he was more than content, and for years afterward did he speak of this as "the proudest day in his life." General Fletcher's kindness was highly appreciated, as he prob- ably kept that suit of clothes and the hat until his death : certain it is that ten years after this they were still in active service. SIMON KENTON. 245 His mission was crowned with entire success. Not only were his lands gladly released by the Legislature, but the exertions of some friends secured from Congress a pension of $250, thus se- curing his old age from absolute want. [Returning to his cabin on the banks of Mad River, he spent his few remaining years in calm and quiet, passing peacefully away at the ripe age of eighty- one in the year 1836. He was buried near the home of his declin- ing years, within sight of the spot where, nearly half a century before, the Indians had bound him to the stake ; and thus passed away the second pioneer of Kentucky of the great region, in- deed, west of the Alleghanies. CHAPTER IX. OTHEE HEEOES OF THE DAYS OF BOONE. THE WETZELS. OF all the heroes of the border, who lived in the latter years of the last and the earlier part of the present century, there are none whose names are dearer to those who love tales of ad- venture, than the Wetzels. "Western Yirginia was a wilderness when, in the year 1772, old John Wetzel, a rough but brave and honest German, settled there with his family of five sons and two daughters. Nor was such a course any less dangerous than it appears. The boys were but children, the youngest, Lewis, being eight or nine years old, and could not afford any assistance in defending the home, if it should be attacked by the treacher- ous denizens of the woods. But in the rough school of the fron- tier, boys quickly learned to be men. and John Wetzel probably soon had help from his sons in his occupation of hunting and fishing, and in locating lands. Their home was at some distance from the fort, a position of no small danger in those times, when the Indians were so troublesome. Many adventures are recorded of his five sons, and none without interest. Handed down from father to son, published in the newspapers of later date without any reference to other parts of the heroes' lives, isolated in the same way in books of adventure, it is only with great difficulty that they can be arranged in order; and even when the utmost care is used in sifting the early adventures from those of a later time, the position of some must be guess-work. The youngest of these brothers, Lewis, is the one around whose name the deeds of daring cluster most thickly. Let us, then, follow the course of his life, turning aside occasionally to notice Martin or Greorge, John or Jacob, as the case may be. The heat of the contests with the Indians seemed to have pass- ed away in 1778, and no fear was felt of sudden incursions from them. Lewis and Jacob, both mere boys, were playing near the THE WETZELS. 247 house, when Lewis, turning around suddenly, saw the barrel of a gun protruding from behind a corn crib. Quick as thought he jumped backward, but too late, for a ball wounded him severely in the chest. Hardly had the shot been fired, when two dusky giants leaped from their shelter upon the boys and carried them off. On toward their village across the Ohio they went, passing that river on the second day. The bullet had ploughed its way over almost the whole width of Lewis' chest, and the wound was excessively painful ; nor did the rapid pace at which they went tend to subdue the fever in his hot young blood; but he knew too well the fate of an Indian's prisoner, if he were too weak to keep pace with his captor, and to avoid the tomahawk, bore his pain with composure. The Ohio between the young captives and their homes, the In- dians relaxed their vigilance, and did not tie the boys the next night. The camp-fire died down, the night wore on, and the two warriors were fast asleep. With the light, quick step which he had learned from the Indian fighters who frequented his father's house, and indeed, from his father and elder brothers, Lewis rose and went to Jacob's side. A touch awakened the sleeping boy, and signs told him his brother's plan. Noiselessly they stole away and pushed into the woods. They had gone ahout a hun- dred yards, and their feet were torn and bleeding ; many weary miles had yet to be traveled. " We cannot go barefooted," said Lewis; " I will go back and get moccasins." Back to the camp he* stole with noiseless tread, and soon re- turned with the desired protection. Going a little farther, an- other want was discovered they were unarmed. Back again to the camp went Lewis, and with a gun, escaped for the third time in safety. At their utmost speed they went, but not fast enough to wholly distance the Indians. The warriors had soon discovered the absence of the captives, and knowing well the point at which the boys would aim, followed in haste, but fortunately not noise- lessly. The boys heard their pursuers, and slipped aside from the trail that they had been following ; the Indians passed on- ward, but soon returned ; the Wetzels had eluded them, however, and reached the Ohio in safety. Lashing two logs together, they crossed the stream, and soon reached home. It was about four years after this, when Lewis was near eigh- teen, that he had what is perhaps the most famous fight of his 248 THE WETZELS. life. An expedition into the Indian country, under the leader- ship of Col. Crawford, had resulted most disastrously; the com- mander and many of his subordinates were taken prisoners, and put to the torture ; many were killed ; a few escaped, and ar- rived, breathless with their speed and terror, at the nearest set- tlements. One of these fugitives had left his horse at Indian Spring, and pushed on to Wheeling on foot. Arrived there, he persuaded Lewis Wetzel to go back with him to the spring for his horse. Wetzel knew the danger, and spoke of it, but Mills was determined to regain possession of the animal, and they went together. Beaching the neighborhood of the spring, they spied the horse tied to a tree near the water. This was an unmistaka- ble sign, and Wetzel warned Mills of the danger; the latter, how- ever, was deaf to all his companion could say, and started toward the spring to unfasten the animal. A sharp crack another and he fell mortally wounded. Wetzel knew that his only safety was in flight, and ran at his utmost speed. Pour Indians bounded from the shelter of the trees whence they had fired upon Mills, and followed him with fleet footsteps. The fugitive would soon be theirs, and in glad anticipation of a prisoner to be tortured, or of a scalp to be added to the string of ghastly trophies, they aroused the echoes with their fiendish yells. Half a mile they ran, and one of the savages was so close upon his heels that Lewis, dreading the tomahawk, turned and shot him dead. Any pause would be fatal, for even if he reloaded and shot another, there would still be two more pursuers to whom such a delay would be an incalcula- ble advantage. There was no need to stop, however, for he had acquired the ability to load his gun while at a full run, and this invaluable art was now called into use. Another half mile, and he was still in advance, though but slightly; as he turned to fire, the foremost Indian caught the muzzle of his gun, and the struggle was, for a moment, of doubtful issue. The savage had nearly wrested the weapon from the hands of his antagonist, when, gathering all his strength for one last effort, Lewis re- gained possession of his gun, and, with its muzzle touching the Indian's neck, fired, killing him instantly. The end of the contest had not come a moment too soon, for the others had nearly overtaken him. Springing forward, he elud- ed their grasp, until, having had time to reload, he slackened his pace slightly, in order to put an enci to the sport. A glance THE WETZELS. 249 around, however, would send his pursuers behind trees to shelter themselves from that terrible gun, never unloaded. Another mile was passed in this manner, and at last a comparatively open spot was reached. Turning here, he pointed his piece at the foremost Indian ; the tree did not shelter him altogether, and he fell, dangerously wounded. The fourth Indian retreated in hot haste, to tell his brethren of the magic power he had escaped; and doubtless many a camp-fire heard the story of the long-haired youth whose gun was always loaded. It was probably about this time that Jacob Wetzcl and Simon LEWIS WETZEL LOADING WHILE RUNNING "HIM GUN ALWAYS LOADED." Kenton decided to go on a fall hunt together into the^ hilly coun- try near the mouth of the Kentucky Eiver. Arriving at the se- lected ground, they found unmistakable " Indian sign." They had no notion of retreating without finding how many warriors there were near, and moving cautiously about, and following the firing which they heard from time to time, they discovered the camp about evening on the second day. Keeping themselves concealed until night, they saw, by the light of the fire that was kindled, five well-armed warriors. In defiance of that law which enjoins a night attack for 'an inferior force, that its numbers may be magnified by fear and uncertainty, they decided to defer the 250 THE WETZELS. fight until dawn ; perhaps because the flickering light of the fire might make one miss his aim. Lying behind a log which would serve for concealment and a rampart, they awaited the coming of light. At the first dawn of day, their guns were cocked, the triggers drawn, and two Indians fell. Wctzel's rifle was double- barreled, and the third man was killed almost as soon as the first. Having now to contend with equal numbers, they bounded over the log and were in the camp almost before the remaining Indians had recovered from their first surprise. Resistance was useless, for they thought that there must be many " Long-knives" near, and the terrified Indians sought safety in flight. The fleet-footed hunters followed with even greater speed, and soon returned to the camp, each with a bloody scalp at his belt. Hitherto, the Wetzels had acted in self-defense, or, as all the settlers did, had attacked the Indians to prevent the savages from attacking them ; but after 1787, a new element, the desire of re- venge, was added to their motives. Old Wetzel was returning home in a canoe with a single companion, when they were hailed by a party of Indians on shore and ordered to land ; they of course refused, and were rowing for their lives when they were fired upon and Wetzel shot through the body mortally wounded. " Lie down in the canoe," he said to his companion, "and I will paddle as long as my strength lasts maybe then we'll be out of range." The dying man rowed on, and as they approached the settlement the Indians ceased to pursue them; his heroism saved the life of his friend, and made his sons relentless enemies of the savages. It was probably but a short time after his father's death that Mar- tin Wetzel, the eldest of the brothers, was surprised and captured by the Indians. For a long time escape was impossible, for he was carefully and closely watched; but after months had passed, and he seemed perfectly satisfied to remain where he was, he was accorded greater liberty; and finally, he acquired their confidence to such an extent that he was adopted into one of their families. With three young warriors he started on a fall hunt, and the party encamped near the head of the Sandusky Eiver. Here Martin was very careful to return to camp first in the eve- ning, prepare wood for the night and perform all the other offi- ces which a warrior finds so distasteful ; in this way he made still greater progress in their confidence. But all the while he was planning to escape; not merely that, but to take a signal THE WETZELS. 251 vengeance for his father's de^th and his own long captivity. One afternoon, as he was hunting at some distance from the camp, he came upon one of his Indian companions. The unsuspecting sav- age parted from him after a momentary greeting, and a few sec- onds afterward fell, pierced to the heart by a hall from Wetzel's rifle. Concealing the body in the hollow made by the torn-up roots of a tree, and covering it with brush and dead leaves, he returned to camp. Wood was gathered for the night, and supper prepared. "When the two Indians returned, Martin innocently inquired about the third; neither had seen him. As time went on, and still the mur- dered savage did not come, Wetzcl expressed great concern about his absence. " Maybe he find new hunting-ground far off," suggested one, with an indifferent air. Later on, Martin again gave vent to his anxiety in words, and another explanation was proffered : " Maybe he follow turkey too far to come back. He camp in woods." The Indians, he saw, were completely off their guard, and it only remained for him to decide whether he would attack them separately or both at once. Concluding the former to be the better plan, when they set out in the morning he followed one at a safe distance. Cautiously pursuing him until near evening, he pretended to meet him unexpectedly, and began to talk about the day's hunt. Chatting gaily for a while, Martin's lynx eye watch- ed the Indian's every motion ; the savage turned aside for a mo- ment, when crash ! went the white man's tomahawk, cleaving his skull. A hollow near by concealed the body, and Wetzel went back to camp. The third destined victim approached, bending under the load of game which he had shot. Eunning forward to disencumber him of his burden, as the Indian supposed, his relentless toma- kawk descended, and crushed out the life of the last barrier be- tween him and freedom. There was now no danger of pursuit, and Wetzel leisurely gathered up what he chose to take with him, not forgetting the scalps of his three victims, and reached homo in safety after an absence of nearly a year. An adventure of Lewis "VYetzel's, which some authorities place in 1786, will not be out of place here. By frequent incursions upon the settlements, the Indians had so aroused the whites that a re- taliatory expedition was organized, Lewis Wetzel being one of 252 THE WETZELS. the party. Scouts brought in the news that the marauders were too many to be attacked by them, and a council of war being held it was decided to return home. The party quickly prepared to retrace their steps, and many had already departed, when the commander, seeing Wetzel seated carelessly on a log, with his gun lying across his knees, asked him if he were not going. " No," answered Lewis, with a glance of contempt at his flying comrades ; " I came out to hunt Indians, and now that they are found, I am not going home until I take a scalp, unless I lose my own." Persuasions were of no use. Sullenly he sat in the same posi- tion on the log, waiting until the last white man was out of sight; then, shouldering his rifle, and assuring himself that scalping- knife and tomahawk were ready for use, moved oif in an oppo- site direction, hoping to meet with a small party of Indians. Ev- ery precaution was taken to prevent being surprised, and every effort made to find any Indians that might be lurking in his neighborhood, but night fell, and he had not seen any. A fire was necessary, but he dared not let its light be seen; so he con- structed a small coal-pit out of bark and leaves, covered with loose earth, and by covering his fire and himself with his blanket, succeeded in keeping warm without endangering himself by showing a light. The next day better success attended him, for he found, to- wards evening, a tenantless camp, which two blankets and a ket- tle showed was not deserted. The owners of these articles, he supposed, were out hunting. Hiding himself in the thick under- growth, he patiently awaited their return. They came in about sunset, and about nine or ten o'clock, one of them, shouldering his rifle, started out to attend to a deer trap that he had set. Impatiently Lewis awaited his return, but dawn drew near, and he was unfortunately obliged to leave the camp with only one scalp. This was taken without difficulty, as he crept to the side of the sleeper and with one blow sent his scalping knife through the heart of the savage. Eeturning, he reached the settlement one day after his companions had arrived there. On one occasion he determined to go on a fall hunt into the Indian country. Penetrating as far as the Muskingum, he came upon a camp containing four Indians. Only a moment's hesita- tion as to whether he should attack such a party, and he deter- mined to take the risk. Creeping cautiously to a covert near the THE WETZELS. 253 camp, whence he could see every movement of his enemies as they moved about the fire, he waited until all were asleep. Si- lently leaving his hiding place, he stood in the midst of the un- conscious Indians. Crash ! went the tomahawk, and the skull of one, and almost in the same instant, of a second, he had laid open. The noise of the blows, slight though it was, had awakened a third, who had scarcely struggled to his feet before he shared the fate of his comrades. The fourth was more fortunate, for he es- caped by flight. " Did you have any luck ? " inquired a friend, on his return from this " hunt." "Not much," replied Lewis, "I tree'd four Indians, but one got away." In 1789, a fort had been erected where Marietta now stands, and its commander, G-en. Harmar, was very anxious to make a treaty with the Indians. For this purpose he sent messengers with a white flag to the nearest Indian tribes, to invite them to the fort, that he might treat with them. With great difficulty were they finally persuaded to lay aside their distrust of the " Long-knives," and accept the invitation. In order to slightly understand what followed, we must remem- ber the spirit which then animated the whites in the wars against the Indians. Such were the treachery 'and the cruelty of the sav- ages that the white men felt it must be a war of extermination. Of course the soldiers sent here, who had been used to dealing with a different foe, did not appreciate this feeling of the men born in forts and grown up through a series of sieges, but en- deavored to deal with the Indians as they were accustomed to treat more open and honorable enemies. The frontiersmen would not put any faith in an Indian's word, and not believing that the savages would keep treaties, were themselves by no no means backward in violating such engagements. When, therefore, Gen. Harmar succeeded in persuading tho Indians to come to the fort, Lewis Wetzel recognized it as an excellent op- portunity for fresh triumphs over his enemies. With a companion nearly as daring as himself, he, according to the plan which they agreed upon, found a spot which would answer for their purpose, and lying here in ambush, they shot at an Indian who rode by at full speed. He did not fall, and they thought that the shot had missed him. It was known among their neighbors on what errand Wetzel and his companion had 254 THE WETZELS. gone, and on their return they were questioned as to their suc- cess. They did not dream that the Indian had been seriously hurt, but he was mortally wounded, and, riding into the fort, died that night. Humor soon informed Gen. llarmar who had killed him, and he despatched a party of men to take Wetzel, dead or alive. Such was the anger of his neighbors, however, that they resolved to form an ambuscade and kill the soldiers who should attempt to take Lewis. Happily the commander of the force was persuaded to return without making the desperate attempt, and Lewis considered the whole thing disposed of to the satisfaction of all concerned. Shortly afterward, however, he found that Gen. llarmar was by no means of the same opinion, for while at the house of a friend he was surprised, captured and taken to the fort, where he was loaded with irons. To the liberty-loving woodsman, this confine- ment was as intolerable as the disgrace of being treated like a criminal. Chafing under the restraint, he sent for Gen. Harmar, who speedily came. "Don't hang me up like a dog," he said; "if you don't want to let me go, put me in the middle of a party of Indians armed with scalping knives and tomahawks ; give me a tomahawk and let me fight it out with them." Gen. Harmar, with lofty dignity, replied that he must act in conformity with the law of which he was an officer, and which did not allow him to make such a compromise, and the poor pris- oned woodsman was once more left to himself. Tot many days had passed before he again sent for theKJommander. " I've never been used to keeping so close in the house, and I cannot live much longer shut up here without exercise," he com- plained. Accordingly, the guard was ordered to knock the fetters off, leaving only the handcuffs, and to permit him to walk about on the point at the mouth of the Muskingum. Loosed from the fet- ters, that had weighed on his heart no less heavily than on his limbs, and breathing the free air of heaven once more, he frol- icked about like a young deer released from a trap. Starting suddenly away from them, as if to escape, he would run a few yards and then return to the guards that accompanied him out- side the fort. This was repeated several times, the distance on each run being a little greater, until, his guards having become used to it, he ran nearly a hundred yards before they discovered WETZELS. 255 that he was really attempting to escape. They fired, but missed their aim, and he soon outran those pursuing him. He knew the country well, and could thus readily elude the less skilled woodsmen. Making for a dense thicket two or three miles from the fort, he squeezed under a log, and lay there cov- ered by the thick brush, safe from discovery, even when two keen-eyed Indians stood upon the log under which he lay. Gradu- ally the footsteps of his pursuers died away, their cries were lost in the distance, and as night came on, he found himself alone in the thicket. But on this side of the Ohio, he had no friend on whom he could rely, and, handcuffed as he was, he could not swim across it. Creeping cautiously down to the river, he saw, at the opposite side, an acquaintance in a canoe, fishing. G-ently splashing in the water, he succeeded in gaining this man's atten- tion, and was by him ferried ever the river. Once on the Vir- ginia side, he was in the midst of devoted admirers and friends, who would die for him before they would allow him to be retaken. G-en. Harmar, however, was not so easily discouraged, but years afterward offered a reward for Lewis Wetzel, dead or alive. Zeal for the execution of the law, however, was confined to his breast, for no one claimed the reward, although many could have captured him. Not long after his return he was invited to accompany a rela- tive to his home on Dunkard Creek. Accepting the invitation, they reached their destination only to find the house a heap of smoking ruins. Wetzel declared the trail to indicate that the marauders were three Indians and a white man, and that they had carried off one captive. This was the betrothed of the host, and he insisted upon following them immediately. Wetzel, nothing loath, assented, and they pushed on, hoping to overtake the ma- rauders before they reached the Ohio. Despite the pains which had been taken to hide the trail and deceive the pursuers, Wet- zel, guessing what course they had taken, took a bee-line for the point at which he thought they would aim. Night came on, but still they continued their journey, guided by the light of the moon, until midnight; then this help failed them, and they rested for the few remaining hours of the night. At dawn they were again upon their way, and late in the afternoon saw, among other fresh footsteps in the sand, the print of a little shoe, evidently of a white woman. Just at dark, they discovered the encampment upon the opposite side of the river. Swimming the stream, they 256 THE POES. made sure of the position of the captive, and several other points about the camp ; but although the frantic lover urged an immedi- ate attack, Wetzel insisted upon postponing it until morning. . At dawn the savages were preparing to continue their journey, when two rifles were fired from the thicket, at the same instant, with fatal effect; one shot killing an Indian, one the renegade white man. The lover sprang forward into the camp as soon as he had fired, to release the captive, and Wetzel pursued the two Indians into the woods. Firing his rifle at random, they rushed toward him before he could reload, as they thought, but the gun was already prepared for execution, and its contents sent into the body of the nearest pursuer. Loading as he ran, he again wheeled and fired, and the last of the party lay dead before him. Lewis Wetzel has been called the Boone of West Virginia, but the title can hardly be allowed. Boone is the type of the fron- tiersman whose name is known to history as the father of a set- tlement; Lewis Wetzel is famous in tradition as a wild borderer. Both classes of characters were necessary to the establishment and preservation of settlements ; the wilder, more unsettled In- dian-fighter roaming the country, and giving information of dan- ger to the men in the forts. It is true that Boone did not have much of this assistance ; Boonesborough was too far in the van of the army of pioneers. Still the difference in the stability of character remains ; but however unknown to graver history may be the names of the Wetzels, the traditions respecting them will long linger around the places that they have defended from the incursions of the Indians. THE POES. Whether it is due to the character of the settlers, whether we possess larger stores of information regarding them, or whether the Indians made a more determined stand there than any- where else, the State of Kentucky and its near neighbors seem to possess more traditions of border adventure than any others. Perhaps that sectional pride which in New England has pre- served, and it is hinted, multiplied the relics of the Mayflower, and which in Virginia delights in the magic letters " F. F. Y.," here preserves the stories of adventure we cannot tell. The fact remains, be the explanation what it may. Among the heroes of the border whose names are associated with the same time and place that knew the Wetzels, were two 257 brothers, Adam and Andrew Poe. The adventure of the latter with two Indians is a story often told, but which will bear one more repetition. In the spring of 1781, the Indians had made several raids upon the white settlements in what is now Wash- ington County,. Pennsylvania, but was then a part of Virginia. This was the home of both the Poes, and of many a brave bor- derer besides, and none were inclined to tolerate these inroads. A woman and a child had been murdered, an old man carried off as a prisoner, and excited by such outrages, it was not many hours before the whole settlement was ready to pursue the sav- ages. Twelve men on horseback set out to follow the trail, but were soon compelled to dismount. Andy's experienced eye de- tected that the Indians were not far off, and begged his compan- ions to be quiet, so that the savages would not be provoked into killing their prisoner. His request was disregarded, and he left the company, going directly to the bank of the river. He had not gone far before he saw the Indian canoes at the water's edge, and not seeing any Indians, went cautiously down the bank, with his rifle cocked. When about half-way down, he saw two "Wyan- dots, standing below within a few feet, looking in the direction of the party that he had left. One was gigantic in size; far larger than Poe, who was remarkable for his stature and strength; the other was small; both were fully armed, and had their guns cocked. Eetreat was impossible, and, hastily deciding that he would kill the big Indian and take the little one a prisoner, Poe took aim. His gun missed fire. Thus betrayed to the savages, he concealed his exact position by hiding in the thick bushes for a moment, until the larger party overtook five other Indians, who, with the prisoner, were farther down the stream. Creeping to the very edge of the bank, he again pointed his rifle at the big Indian, but for a second time it failed him. Dropping the rifle, he sprang upon them. They had wheeled around when his gun snapped, but had not had time even to raise their rifles before the struggle commenced. Catching each around the neck, and throwing his weight suddenly upon the larger of the two, Big- foot, he drew both to the ground with him. As they fell, in their surprise both Indians dropped their guns, and their other arms, fortunately for Poe, were all on the canoes. Andrew had only his scalping-knife, but it was hard to reach in his present position. Bigfoot lay flat on his back upon the ground ; Poe had fallen with his left side upon him ; while slightly be- THE POES. 259 hind the white man, to his right, was the little Indian ; each of the three struggling for dear life. Poe made several efforts to get at his knife, in order to despatch the warrior under him, but Bigfoot, catching his hand, held it in an iron grasp, talking all the while, in his own language, to his comrade. Suddenly his grasp was relaxed, and the knife, coming out of the scab- hard with unexpected ease, flew out of Andrew's hand. At the same time, the little Indian jerked his head from under his cap- tor's arm, and sprang to the canoes. Bigfoot, thus left alone with his enemy, threw his long arms about him and held him tight until the return of the little Indian with a tomahawk. The savage took aim, but just as the tomahawk was about to leave his hand, a well directed kick from Poe upon his wrist sent the mis- sile flying into the river. A furious yell expressed Bigfoot' s an- ger at the little Indian, who had thus allowed himself to be de- feated, and who now returned to the canoes for another weapon. The second effort bade fair to be more successful. Approach- ing the prostrate, struggling men, the little Indian engaged in a series of feints, intended to divert Poe's attention from his real object. Poe was on the alert, however, and saw through his maneuvers. At last the real blow was struck, aimed at his head ; but throwing up his arm, he received the blow upon his right wrist; the tomahawk, glancing off, flew over his head. The little Indian regained his weapon, and was advancing the third time to the attack, when Poe, wrenching himself from Bigfoot's grasp by a powerful effort, caught hold of a gun and shot him. The more powerful antagonist now remained to be disposed of, nor was this an easy task to the wounded white man. Bigfoot had regained his feet as soon as Poe, and the little Indian's body had not fallen before he caught Andrew by a shoulder and a leg to throw him into the river. Poe was on his guard against such an attempt, and grasped the Indian's neck so tightly, just as he was in the act of throwing, that both went together into the water. Here, each had the same object in view to drown the other ; and the struggle was long and fierce. Carried out farther and farther into the stream, now one, now the other had been uppermost, holding his antagonist under the water, until they were full thirty yards from the shore. At last Poe seized the tuft of hair on the crown of the Indian's head, and kept him under water until he thought he was dead. Exhausted with the loss of blood from his wound, and with the long struggle, he released his hold and 17 THE POSS. swam with his left arm toward shore. But Bigfoot had been " playing possum," and now, escaped from Andrew's grasp, made for dry land. It was a race to see which should first gain posses- t sion of the one loaded rifle which lay upon the bank. Poe, dis- abled by his wound, could swim but slowly, and Bigfoot gained the coveted prize. But the gun was uncocked, and in attempt- ing to cock it in haste, he injured the lock. The other was un- loaded, as its contents had killed the little Indian. Adam Poe, having heard the discharge of the rifle which An- drew had fired, now came to the assistance of his brother ; his gun, however, was unloaded, as he had fired at one of the other party of Indians. The victory now belonged to the one who could first load. Luckily for the brothers, the Indian drew the ramrod too hastily from the thimbles of the stock, and it fell a short distance from him. He quickly regained it, but too late ; the momentary delay was fatal to him, in giving his enemy the slight advantage he desired. Adam took deadly aim and shot him dead. Immediately Adam jumped into the river to help his brother, who was almost fainting, to shore. But if the flesh was weak, the spirit was still strong. . "Let me alone," cried Andrew; "I'll get out. Get his scalp before he rolls into the river." But his brother's life was an object of more interest to Adam than any scalp he could take, and despite Andrew's protests, the dying Indian, jealous of his honor even in the agonies of death, was allowed to reach the river and get into the current. His body was carried oif, and his scalp, that pride and ornament of the warrior, never fell into the hands of his enemies. While this desperate contest was going on, the main body of tho whites had overtaken the Indian party, recaptured the pris- oner, and with the loss of one of their number, slain all but one of their enemies. Attracted by the sounds of the Poes' fight, they came to the tardy relief of the brothers; but, mistaking Andrew, who was still in the water, for a wounded Indian, one of them fired and hurt him severely in the shoulder. He re- covered from his injuries, however, and lived for many years ; telling over and over, in his old age, the story of this desperate encounter. Bigfoot and his four brothers, all killed in this fight, were war- riors of high repute among the Wyandots, and their death was a severe loss to the tribe. Despite their well known lenity to the MA JOE SAM MCCULLOCH. 261 whites, they were by no means disposed to forgive this injury. A warrior was despatched to avenge his kinsmen, hut returned without executing his purpose. MAJOR SAM MCCULLOCH. But these were not the only heroes of the time, nor the only exploits. Selecting from a mass of interesting traditions those most striking, we find the scene is laid at a rude frontier fort near Wheeling. The capital of West Virginia was then a little village, containing not more than twenty-five rude log huts, and Fort Henry, a quarter of a mile away, was its defense. In its early days it was invested by a force of Indians, four hundred strong. The terrified settlers fled to the fort, there to defend themselves and their families. Of the forty-two men, twenty -six had fallen before the siege was well begun, and help was neces- sary. Messengers had safely reached the neighboring settlements, and one little party of fifteen fought its way into the fort with- out the loss of a man. But now they descry a throng of horse- men approaching, numbering more than their whole force it is Major McCulloch, the famous ranger, with forty followers. The Indians are thick around the band, but before them are the gates of the fort, opened to receive them, and they fight desperately. More than one Indian warrior bites the dust before them, and at last they dash triumphantly into the fort. But one, the commander himself, has been cut off; a hundred Indians are between McCulloch and the station ; a host who know so well the injuries which his daring courage has before inflicted upon their race, that they are determined to take him alive, and inflict the most exquisite tortures they can devise upon their en- emy. He finds it useless to try to gain the walls of the fort, and knowing that his life depends upon the speed of his horse, rides away, pursued in hot haste. Before him, beside him, behind him, throng an innumerable host of red-skins ; on one side only there are none it is the brink of a precipice, one hundred and fifty feet above the river. A moment he halts ; the Indians have not fired a shot, and he knows, only too well, what that means ; choosing to be dashed to pieces on the rocky banks of Wheeling Creek, rather than to undergo the tortures which await him, he drives his spurs into his horse, and the noble animal, as though appre- ciating the alternative, leaps into the yawning gulf. Down, down, one-half the distance, before the echoes of the triumphant shouts MAJOR SAM MCCULLOCH. of the Indians died away ; and the horse's hoofs at last strike the smooth face of the rock, and sliding and scrambling, steed and rider roll into the stream below. Only his own shout of triumph now breaks the stillness as he recovers himself and reaches the farther shore, for the savages stand awe-struck at the heroic dar- MCCULLOCH'S LEAP. ing of the man who has escaped them. Eeturning to the siege, they found that Major McCulloch was not the only brave white man alive, for the fort was so obstinately defended that they were soon forced to retreat from a bootless attack. CHAPTER X. THE LEWIS AND CLAEKE EXPEDITION. AS we glance hurriedly over the last census returns, to ascer- tain the rank of a favorite city, or some other point of equal importance, we must often pause to think that it was not so form- erly ; such a state was placed above such another in the list, such a city was but a small town, ten years ago. But go back for eighty years, and note the differences. Of the ten cities highest on the last list only one-half figured prominently in the returns of 1800. Cincinnati, a little town on the Ohio, had been settled but twelve years before, and boasted less than eight hundred in- habitants. True, beyond the Mississippi were larger towns, but they were not in the limits of the United States; that whole coun- try then belonged to France. In the Southwest, the most import- ant was New Orleans, which contained eight thousand people, or more than twice as many as Brooklyn then. Cahokia, a town on the east bank of the Mississippi, was the most considerable Am- erican settlement in the region above. Seven miles above it was a French trading post and village, which boasted not a single house built of any other material than logs, and from which, for years afterward, the inhabitants used to come, to buy goods, to the town whose site is now in the midst of the Mississippi. This un- important village, the sixth city on our latest list, has since at- tained considerable notoriety, her hopeful citizens styling her, affectionately, the " Future Great City of the World," or with true American brevity, the " Future Great." Three years later, the unsettled wilderness to the south of Lake Michigan saw the erec- tion of a rude stockade fort, named Dearborn, where in 1831 the village of Chicago was built. Away on the Pacific coast, the Spanish missionaries had already been at work, and the harbor entered by the Golden Gate was the approach to one of their posts, where, in 1835, a village of adobe huts was begun; called, from the mission, San Francisco. 264 LEWIS AND CLARKE EXPEDITION. Such, a't the beginning of the century, were the great cities of the West, and we may imagine the state of the surrounding coun- try when such was the character of the centers of population. Not yet had the idea of an overland passage to the Pacific been abandoned, though the dangers of the way and the length of the journey were better appreciated than they had been nearly two hundred years before, when the French settlers in Canada ex- pected to find the western ocean a few days' easy journey from Lake Superior. Even before the Revolution the project had been tried by Jonathan Carver, but want of means obliged him to abandon it. The war occupied the attention of all, exclusively, and there was no time or money for such expeditions. In the meantime, however, the Hudson Bay Company had sent its trad- ers into the western wilderness, and after peace was concluded, John Jacob Astor transacted much business with them. It was not until after the purchase of Louisiana by the United States in 1803 that the government first took an interest in such explorations. This purchase was made by the influence of Pres- ident Jefferson, whose keen eye saw the advantages which would attend such extension of territory. Highly delighted at his suc- cess, he recommended to Congress, in a confidential message, that a party should be despatched to trace the Missouri to its source, cross the Eocky Mountains, and proceed to the Pacific. The plan was approved by Congress, Captain Meriwether Lewis, the Pres- ident's private secretary, being appointed to lead the expedition. "William Clarke, the brother of Gen. G-eorge Rogers Clarke, was afterward associated with him, and the success with which they met was largely due to his knowledge of the habits and character of the Indians. The preparations for the expedition were completed and the party selected before the close of 1803. Nine young men from Kentucky, fourteen United States soldiers, two French watermen to serve as interpreter and hunter, and a black servant of Capt. Clarke, composed the party, enlisted to serve as privates during the expedition. Several others were to accompany them a part of the way. It was the twenty-first of May, 1804, however, when they left St. Charles, near the mouth of the Missouri, for the un- trodden western wilds. On the first day of June they were at the mouth of the Osage, where they listened to the story that their French guides gravely told them of the origin of the tribe from whom the river was named. This was the story : LEWIS AND CLARKE EXPEDITION. 265 A snail had passed its whole existence in quiet on the margin of this stream, when a high flood swept it down to the Missouri, and left it exposed upon the bank. Here the heat of the sun soon ripened the snail into a man, but the change in his nature had not caused him to forget his native river, and thither he bent his steps. Soon overtaken by hunger and fatigue, he was nearly fainting with exhaustion, when the Great Spirit, appearing to him, gave him a bow and arrow and showed him how to kill and cook deer, and cover himself with its skin. As he approached the river, he met a beaver. " Who are you ?" asked the beaver, haughtily, " and why do you come to disturb me in my possessions ?" The Osage (for such was the snail-man) haughtily answered that the river was his own, for he had once lived on its borders. THE OSAGE'S FATHER-IN-LAW. The dispute threatened to grow into a fight. The daughter of the beaver, however, reconciled them, and was finally married to the Osage ; the whole tribe being their descendants. Many friendly visits were received from parties of Indians from the various tribes along the banks, and they distributed laced coats, hats, medals and trinkets among them, carefully suiting the gift to the rank of their recipient. Passing the quarry where .the red stone used for calumets is found, a place sacred to peace, where even warring tribes meet without hostile demonstrations, they reached, on the twenty-eighth of August, a bluff, surrounded ,by a beautiful plain. Fine prairies were on either side of the river, and timber was more plentiful. Here they encamped, de- ;siring to repair a boat which had been injured, and do some other necessary work. Here they were visited by a number of ISioux chiefs and warriors on the thirtieth, to whom Capt. Lewis delivered a speech, with the usual advice regarding their future conduct. The council held the next day is remarkable for the 266 LEWIS AND CLARKE EXPEDITION. similarity of the speeches, each speaker laying great stress upon his love for the white sons of his great 'father, and his poverty, which could be relieved by gifts from them. This place they called Council Bluffs, because it was the scene of the first formal council held with the Indians. As yet they had been received with great professions of friend- ship by the Indians, who, although generally tall, well formed and active, excelling in personal beauty and dignity the tribes farther east, were poorly armed, generally with bows and ar- rows. Their first alarm came from another source. The Missouri is a peculiarly changing river, washing away one shore and adding to the other continually. In a few years whole farms, of many acres each, have been thus carried away from their owners by the treacherous stream. Such was the danger which now beset them. About midnight on the twentieth of September the sleepers were startled by the cry that the sand- bar was sinking. Hastily embarking, they made for the other shore, reaching it barely in time to see the bank which they had just left fall into the water. At an island a few miles above this point they were joined by one of their hunters, whose horse had been stolen by the Indians. Leaving the island, they soon overtook five Indians on the shore ; having anchored, they spoke to them from the boat : " We are friends, and wish to remain such, but we are not afraid, of any Indians. Some of your young men have stolen the horse which your great father in Washington sent for your great chief, and we cannot treat with you until it is brought bawere clustered around the camp-fire, telling stories of the occur- rences of the day. The Revolutionary War formed the main subject until his manhood had nearly arrived ; and after that war closed, the fierce border warfare furnished accounts of per- petual skirmishing and scalping. He eagerly drank in the words of the old chiefs regarding the times before the advent of the whites, and about their broken treaties and promises. In his first battle, which occurred when he was sixteen or eigh- teen years old, Tecumseh is said to have fled in fright from the field of battle; but in the second he fought like a young lion, completely wiping out the stain of cowardice. This was an attack upon some flat-boats descending the Ohio, and all the boatmen were killed but one, who was reserved for the torture. Strangely enough, since it could not have been an unusual occurrence, the young warrior had never before witnessed such a scene. Filled with horror, he remonstrated against the practice with such elo- quence that his hearers agreed that they would never burn an- other prisoner. Such was the power that his great mind had al- ready gained over his people. One great influence that Tecumseh used over the tribe was a superstitious one. The prophet is not an uncommon character GENERAL WILLIAM HENRY HARRISON. 283 among the Indians, who are exceedingly superstitious ; and they believe most firmly in his power to foretell events and to avert threatened misfortunes. Elskwatawa shared, to some extent, in the great talents of his brother, but, to reverse the expression of an old author: "His virtues another's, his faults were his own/ 7 He was neither courageous nor truthful, but cunning, sharp and boastful. Even more eloquent than the chief, his man- ner was said to be more graceful than that of any other Indian ; the less said about his personal beauty, the better. There can be no doubt, however, that, like Tecumseh, he really sought the good of his people. With all his vanity, deception, superstition and craft, he doubtless believed that he was advocating measures for their good. In November, 1805, Elskwatawa first formally declared him- self a prophet in a speech made to an assembly consisting of many of his own nation and of the kindred tribes, Wyandots, Ottawas and Senecas, in northern Ohio. Professing to have been to heaven, he denounced two practices common among the In- dians, witch-craft and drunkenness, and so great was the ascen- dancy which his eloquence obtained over them that he prevailed upon many of them to abstain from strong drink. In this, Te- cumseh's influence is seen, but the persecutions for witchcraft were all the Prophet's work, resulting in many executions, even of chiefs. So far did he go in this matter, supported by the superstitious terrors of his tribe, that G-ov. Harrison was obliged to send a let- ter of remonstrance to the Delawares, urging them, in the name of the Seventeen Fires (States), to require of this prophet some proof that his pretensions were true. But this did not accomplish the end that he desired; for a time, indeed, the persecutions ceased, but the influence of Elskwatawa was increased by his ac- cepting G-ov. Harrison's challenge to work miracles. Hearing by chance from a white man that an eclipse of the sun would oc- cur on a certain, day, he boldly announced that on such a day he would prove his supernatural power by making darkness come over the sun. At the appointed time, the Prophet, standing in the midst of his assembled tribe at mid-day, cried out, when all grew dark around them : " Did I not prophesy truly ? Behold I Darkness has come over the sun, as I told you." This established him more firmly in the esteem of the tribes, 284 GENERAL WILLIAM HENRY HARRISON. and his influence increased. About a year later, in April, 1807, he had gathered around him nearly four hundred Indians, greatly excited by religious fanaticism and ready to join in any enter- prise into which the brothers should lead them. Great alarm was felt all along the border when the strength of the Indians became known, and their designs appeared to be suspicious. In order to learn their object in gathering so many warriors around them, the agent at Fort "Wayne sent a half-breed Shawnee with a request that Tecumseh and the Prophet, attended by two other chiefs, should visit him, that he might read to them a letter just received from their great fa- ther. The message was deliv- ered in council, but the great chief did not deign to ask advice., "Go back to Fort Wayne, and tell Captain "Wells that my council fire is kindled on the spot appointed by the Great Spirit, and that here I will hear any message that the great father in Washington may send me. If he has anything to say to me from the great father, I will expect him here in six days." Nor would he abate an inch of his royal dignity, and Cap- ELSKWATAWA, "THE PROPHET." fafa Wells > lettep rein ained un- read. The excitement among the Indians increased, and by the first of May, it was estimated, fifteen hundred Indians had visit- ed the Prophet, coming from all quarters. Many came from a great distance, and the great assembling of councils, the mes- sengers sent from tribe to tribe with belts of vampum and with pipes, showed that some uncommon movement was on foot. It was ascertained that English agents were busily at work, but all plans were studiously concealed from the Americans. Several councils were held during this year between the two races, the Indians insisting that the treaty made at Greenville about twelve years before did not prescribe the boundaries which the white men claimed. Tecumseh's fiery eloquence, defying the GENERAL WILLIAM HENRY HARRISON. 285 skill of the interpreter, traced the history of the white man's dealings with the Indians, and in its object and effect only stop- ped short of breaking up the council ; his speeches were, as he had intended, repeated at every camp-fire. In 1808, great numbers of Indians came flocking from the neigh- borhood of the Great Lakes to visit the Prophet, and prolonged their visit until their provisions were entirely exhausted. Gov- ernor Harrison thought it prudent, as well as benevolent, to sup- ply them with food from the public stores at Fort Wayne. To the Indian agent who carried out this order, it did not appear that the followers of the Prophet had any hostile intentions re- garding the Americans ; it was simply a religious reformation that he was preaching. But succeeding this reformation, in the following year, came the political movement, when Tecumseh' s importance became greater than his brother's. In the spring of 1808, the Pottawatomies and the Kickapoos granted Tecumseh and Elskwatawa a tract of land on the Tip- pecanoe, one of the tributaries of the Wabash. Here, with about forty Shawnees, and something less than a hundred Indians from other tribes, they established themselves in spite of the remon- strances of the Delawares and the Miamis, and the village known as Prophet's Town was built. In June, having determined to pay a visit to Gov. Harrison, the Prophet sent a messenger to say that he and Tecumseh wished to live in peace with the whites. Having thus paved the way for a reception, he proceeded to Yincennes in August. Governor Harrison had noticed the. evil effect of liquor upon the red man, and in his communications to the Department at Washington we find frequent remonstrances against allowing it be sold to him. But the love of gain was uncontrollable, and the traders continued to sell the liquid fire, which soon kindled a flame that threatened to consume the border settlements. When, therefore, he saw that Elskwatawa really desired that whisky should be kept from the Indians, and that he had succeeded in reforming many of them in this particular, the governor was dis- posed to form a very favorable opinion of the Prophet. In a long speech to Gov. Harrison he detailed the system of religion of which he professed to be the exponent, and narrated his experience during the three years that he had endeavored to benefit his people ; closing with the Indian's usual conclusion to a speech made to the white man, a request for gifts. Beneath all GENERAL WILLIAM HENRY HARRISON. Ms ignorance, persecuting fanaticism, and imposture, Gov. Har- rison thought he saw a real ambition to be a benefactor to the Indians, and respected him for it. With a supply of provisions the Prophet returned to the Tippecanoe, having completely out- witted the governor. But while Elskwatawa thus appeared to be the mainspring of this movement, there was a yet greater man in the background. A thousand years ago, the aged seer said to the prince whose throne had been usurped by a warrior of renown : " Know how to wait, and the kingdom will come to thee." This was Tecumseh's great power the ability to wait the proper place for the execution of his plans. When this time came, he calmly set aside the prophet, and asserted his own supe- rior qualities as a leader. Even his brother's fame and power were made to serve his own purpose, to further his plans for form- ing a vast confederacy of the Indian tribes, which should restrain the whites from farther encroachment, perhaps even to drive them to the country east of the Alleghanies. For three or four years he traveled all over the country, visiting the various tribes, and exerting all the magic of his eloquence to induce them to join the league. In April, 1809, the Indian agent stationed at Fort Wayne in- formed Gov. Harrison that he had heard the Prophet had ordered the Indians to take up arms to exterminate the white settlers at Yincennes and along the banks of the Ohio ; this being the order of the Great Spirit, who would utterly destroy those who ven- tured to disobey them. This was probably an ambitious scheme of the Prophet's own, during Tecumseh's absence. Only a hun- dred warriors were actually with him, but reliable information came that four or five times that number were within fifty miles of headquarters, awaiting only the signal to fall upon the whites. He therefore immediately organized two companies of volunteer militia, and garrisoned Fort Knox, two miles from Yincennes, This, and similar energetic measures, appeared to frighten the Prophet, who was never very courageous, and who, like all In- dians, would not strike at an enemy who was on his guard ; so the threatened attack was never made. In July he visited the governor at Yincennes, with a train of about forty warriors, and meekly but earnestly denied any part in the plot; claiming to have actually dissuaded the tribes from the hostilities they had planned. But Gov. Harrison no longer GENERAL WILLIAM HENRY HARRISON. 287 believed in the Prophet's sincerity. A few months before, he had solemnly promised to make known to the Amerioans any plots which might be formed against them, and he now admitted hav- ing been pressed both by other tribes and by the British to join in a league against the United States. The cloud darkened over the scattered and exposed settlements in Indiana. News came that the followers of Tecumseh and the Prophet numbered, now four hundred, now eight hundred, and that as many more would respond to the Prophet's call. The Indians refused to buy powder and shot from the American trad- ers, hinting that they could get plenty from the British without paying for it. The strength of the league continued to increase, and the Wyandots, greatly esteemed among the other tribes for their wisdom and valor, came into the union. The great belt, the symbol of union between the tribes in the previous war, was given into the keeping of this latest accession, who also pos- sessed the original copy of the treaty of Greenville. In the meantime Tecumseh had been among the Shawnees on the Auglaize, trying to induce them to further his scheme ; but the old chief, Black Hoof, the head of the Shawnee nation, resolutely opposed his efforts. Present at the defeat of Braddock, fifty-five years before, he had seen too clearly, in the course of his long life, how useless were all attempts of Indians to drive back the whites; he had signed the treaty of Greenville, and from that time actively opposed all war with the settlers. Such was the ascendency which his office and his personal character gave him over his people that all Tecumseh' s eloquence was in vain, and the greater part of the tribe remained faithful to the treaty. In June, a deputation of the friendly Pottawatomies visited Gov. Harrison, and gave him information regarding the Prophet's plans. Every exertion was to be made by him to gain the sup- port of the tribes west of the Mississippi ; and that secured, De- troit, Fort Wayne, Chicago, St. Louis and Yincennes were all to be surprised. He had failed in his attempt to influence some of the nearer tribes, by reason of the arguments which the Dela- wares, friendly to the Americans, used to these whose decision still hung in the balance. Every effort was made by the Prophet to secure the assistance of the tribes, more than one execution for witchcraft being referred to his desire to frighten the chiefs into joining him, 288 GENERAL WILLIAM HENRY HARRISON. Immediately upon the receipt of this information, Gov. Har- rison sent two confidential agents to Tippecanoe to discover the designs of the Prophet. Kindly received by Elskwatawa, the following conversation ensued : " The governor," said the agent, Mr. Dubois, " has seen that the Indians are unfriendly to the Americans, and that they are combining for a purpose that he does not know. Why does Elsk- watawa hate the United States, the people of his great father at Washington ? Why has he gathered so many warriors together, and armed them with new rifles ? The Long-Knives are not in the dark ; they can see what he has been doing, and their war- riors are arming themselves and getting ready to fight, both here and in Kentucky. But they do not wish to fight, unless the In- dians compel them to do so ; all this is for defense, and Elskwa- tawa and his people will live in peace as long as they do not plot mischief to the white man." " The Great Spirit has fixed the spot for the Indian to kindle his camp-fire, and he dare not go to any other. Elskwatawa' s and his brother Tecumseh's must be on the banks of the Tippe- canoe, or the Great Spirit would be angry with them. Evil birds have carried false news to my father, the governor. Let him not believe that Elskwatawa the Prophet wishes to make war up- on him and his people ; let him not listen to the evil birds that carry false news." " How has the great father at Washington injured your peo- ple ? Say how it has been done, and you will be righted." " The Indians have been cheated out of their lands ; the white men have bought from the chiefs of the towns, who had no right to sell. Only the whole tribe can sell lands." Mr. Dubois told him that he ought to go to Yincennes and pre- sent his complaints to the governor, but this he refused to do, al- leging that he had been badly treated on the former visit. The agent, after a little more talk, of small interest, went back to re- port to the governor. Soon after this visit, four canoes, filled with the Prophet's followers, descended the Wabash ; these In- dians, stopping at a settlement a little above Yincennes, attend- ed a Shaker meeting oh Sunday, behaving with great propriety while there, but winding up their Sabbath by stealing five horses. A second messenger to the Prophet was less kindly received than Mr. Dubois had been. Conducted into the presence of Elsk- watawa and his principal men, he was left standing at a distance GENERAL WILLIAM HENRY HARRISON. 289 of about ten feet *rom where they were sitting. The Prophet looked at him for a few moments without speaking, and appar- ently without recognizing him. At last, in a tone expressive of anger and scorn, he said : "Why do you come here? Brouilette was here; he was a spy. Dubois was here; he was a spy. Now you have come; you are a spy. There is your grave." From a lodge near by issued the majestic form of Tecumseh, who said, in a cold and haughty tone : " Your life is in no danger. Say why you have come among us." The messenger, in reply, read a letter from G-ov. Harrison, urg- ing upon them the necessity of submitting to the government. "I know your warriors are brave," he said, "but ours are not less so. What can a few brave warriors do against the innumer- ible warriors of the Seventeen Fires? Our blue-coats are more mrnerous than you can count; our hunters are like the leaves >f the forest, or the grains of sand on the Wabash. Do not think tat the red-coats can protect you ; they are not able to protect lemselves. They do not think of going to war with us. If they lid, you would in a few moons see our flag wave over all the forts of Canada. What reason have you to complain of the Seventeen Fires? Have they taken anything from you? Have they ever violated the treaties made with the red men? You say they have purchased lands from those who had no right to sell them. Show that this is so and the land will be instantly restored. Show us the rightful owners. I have full power to arrange this business; but if you would rather carry your complaints before your great father at Washington, you shall be indulged." Pleased with the governor's speech, Tecumseh said that he would now go to Yincennes and show the governor that he had been listening to bad men when he was told that the Indians wished to make war. He had never been to see the governor, but remembered him as a very young man riding beside Gen. Wayne. Thirty of his principal men, he said, would attend him, but the party would probably be larger, as many of the young men would wish to go. Notwithstanding the request which the governor made, on hearing this, that but a few should come, four hundred descended the Wabash on the twelfth of August. Paint- ed in the most terrific manner, they were well prepared for war in case of an attack. (rovernor Harrison had made arrangements for holding the 290 GENERAL WILLIAM HENRY HARRISON. council on the portico of his own house, and here, attended by civil and military officers, a small guard of soldiers, and many of the citizens of Yincennes, he awaited the arrival of Tecumseh. It was the fifteenth of August, 1810. At the hour appointed for the council, Tecumseh, attended by about forty of his warriors, made his appearance. The main body of the Indians was en- camped in and around the village. Advancing within thirty or forty yards of the house, the chief suddenly halted, as if awaiting some movement on the part of the governor. An interpreter was "THE EARTH is OUR MOTHER" GEN. HARRISON'S COUNCIL WITH TECUMSEH. sent to invite him and his followers to the portico, but Tecumseh declined this invitation, saying that he thought a grove near by, to which he pointed as he spoke, was a more suitable place. The governor objected that there were no seats there. Tecumseh replied that the Indians, children of the earth, loved to repose upon the bosom of their mother, and the governor yielding the point, seats were placed for the white men and the Indians lay upon the grass. Tecumseh opened the council by saying that he was determin- ed to resist every cession of land unless made by all the tribes acting in concert; that while he had no intention of making war upon the "United States, it was his unalterable resolution to take GENERAL WILLIAM HENRY HARRISON. 291 a stand, and resolutely oppose the further intrusion of the whites upon the Indian lands. He concluded with a brief but passionate recital of the wrongs that his people had suffered at the hands of the white men for the last fifty years ; a story that powerfully appealed to the passions of his followers. The governor replied in pacific terms to this address, and sat down while his speech, in turn, was being translated to the Indians. But the interpreter had not proceeded far when Tecumseh sprang to his feet, and with a fiery eloquence that made itself manifest in look and ges- ture, as well as in words, addressed the council. Ignorant of the Shawneo tongue, Gov. Harrison supposed that he was making some explanation, or advancing some argument in support of what had been said ; but others warned him. Winnemac, a friend- ly Indian, who lay on the grass beside him, busied himself in re- newing the priming of his pistol, concealing both weapon and action from the Indians, but evidently desirous of the governor's notice. Gen. Gibson, who understood the Shawnee language, said to Lieutenant Jennings : " Those fellows intend mischief; you had better bring up the guard." At that moment, the followers of Tecumseh sprang from the grass, seizing their tomahawks and war-clubs, and turning their eyes upon the governor. Hastily drawing his sword, Harrison stood on the defensive, his attendant citizens arming themselves with clubs and brickbats, the few soldiers being of course better prepared. Not a word was spoken on either side, until, as the guard came up, ready to fire, the governor ordered them not to do so. Turning to the interpreter for information, he was told that Tecumseh had interrupted him, declaring that all that the governor had said was false, and that he and the Seventeen Fires had cheated and imposed upon the Indians. Gov. Harrison se- verely reproved Tecumseh, saying that he would hold no further communication with him ; that he must immediately leave Yin- cennes; he had come under the protection of a council fire, and therefore might return in safety. There being now no doubt of the purposes of the two brothers, Gov. Harrison proceeded to prepare for the contest by calling out the militia and making a judicious disposition of the regular troops. But it was more than a year after before hostilities actu- ally began. Tecumseh was still engaged in the effort to strength- en his cause by adding other tribes to the league, and in the sum- 19 292 GENERAL WILLIAM HENRY HARRISON. mer of 1811 proceeded to the south, in order, as was believed, to secure the assistance of the Creeks. Gov. Harrison was awaiting reinforcements ; these having arrived, he set out towards Tippecanoe, to hreak up, if necessary, the rendezvous of the Prophet. On the "W abash, sixty or sixty-five miles above Vin- cennes, he erected a fort, which, by the request of the soldiers, he called Fort Harrison. Friendly Jndians brought accounts which left no doubt that he had acted wisely in leading this expedition into the enemy's country, and one of his sentinels was severely wounded by a straggling party of Indians. Advancing still farther, at the mouth of the Yermillion River he built a block-house to protect his boats and heavy baggage, and proceeded thence to the immediate vicinity of the Prophet's town. He was desirous of attacking this as soon as possible, be- cause he knew that Tecumseh might return any day, although but one-fourth of the year had expired that he had fixed as the pe- riod of his absence. At this point he was met by ambassadors, who, at his request, on his assurance that he had no hostile in- tentions, if the Indians would keep to the treaties, showed him a suitable place for a camp. He found the place admirably adapt- ed for regular troops who were to be opposed to enemies fight- ing in the same way, but affording great facilities for the guarded approach of savages. A truce had been agreed on, to last until the next morning, and trusting partly to this, partly to vigilance, he made his preparations for the night. It was a piece of dry oak land, rising about ten feet above the level of a marshy prairie that stretched towards the Indian town, and nearly twice that height above a similar prairie on the other side, across which sluggishly flowed a small stream, its course marked by willows and brush-wood. Towards the left, this peninsula of high land widened considerably, but narrowed rapidly to the right, where, about one hundred and fifty yards from the right flank of the little army, it came to an abrupt termination. Here about seven hundred men were disposed on the night of Nov. 6, 1811 ; the order of encampment was the or- der of battle, each man sleeping opposite his post in the line. Notwithstanding the truce, an attack was fully expected, nor was the commander disappointed. Tecumseh had left absolute orders that war was to be avoided during his absence, but the Prophet was not disposed to obey such directions under the present circumstances. He had j ealous- GENERAL WILLIAM HENRY HARRISON. 293 ly watched the decline of his own power and the rise of his bro- ther's, and perhaps wished to re-establish himself, by a victory over the common enemy, in the esteem of his people. Perhaps he was urged too strongly by the chiefs around him. "We cannot now tell what motives actuated him. Surrounded by impetuous warriors, the flower of the Winnebago braves, worked up to the highest pitch of fanatical zeal, more fierce and cruel than ever Indians had been before, and in no way inferior to G-ov. Harri- son's force, is it any wonder that Tecumseh was disobeyed ? Early in the evening the Indians held a council and settled up- on a plan. The chiefs were to meet the whites in council the next day, and agree to all of Harrison's proposals ; retiring then to where their warriors were stationed. Two Indians were to remain behind and assassinate the governor. After that, the general battle would begin, as the attack upon the governor would be the signal for his troops to fight. At the very summit of his importance, Elskwatawa boasted loudly of his power over life and death ; concocting some strange preparation and saying outlandish incantations over it, he poured it in equal quantities upon two small boughs from a neighboring tree, and then inform- ed the warriors that one half of Harrison's army was dead, and the other half crazy, so that it would be a small matter for the In- dians to finish the work of destruction with their tomahawks. The night was dark and cloudy, a drizzling rain setting in about midnight. Perhaps it was the weather that made them change their plan, since such a nightwas admirably suited to the second which they adopted ; certain it is that before four o'clock on the morning of the seventh, the Prophet's whole force was creeping silently through the long, wet grass, upon the sentinels of the American camp. It was G-OV. Harrison's custom to awake the troops an hour be- fore daybreak, the whole force remaining under arms until the sun rose. A little after four he rose, and was pulling on his boots before the fire, conversing with some of his officers in two min- utes the signal for calling out the men would have been given, when suddenly a single shot was fired, followed by that wild yell which was the night-mare of all who slept in the Indian country. The shot had been fired by a sentinel as he discovered an Indian creeping up to the camp ; the yell was but the prelude to a thousand others. The guard gave way at the point of attack, but the men who 294 GENERAL WILLIAM HENRY HARRISON. had been sleeping on their arms were immediately prepared to receive the Indians bravely ; though the suddenness of the attack might have created a panic among veterans, and only one man in twenty there had ever been under fire before. The camp-fires were put out, that their light might not assist the Indians, and in the terrible darkness the battle raged on all sides. Elskwatawa had prophesied that the American bullets would rebound from the bodies of the Indians, and that while all would be thick dark- ness to their enemies, they would be enabled to see clearly. For some reason, however, he did not personally try the truth of his prophecies by engaging in the fight; unwilling " to attest at once the rival powers of a sham prophecy and a real American bullet ;" stationing himself on a small hill near at hand, he chant- ed a war-song, presiding, like the evil genius of the Indians, over the battle in the darkness. To the messengers that came to tell him that, despite his assurances, his followers were falling, he said : " Tell them to keep on fighting, and it will be as the Prophet has said." With a determined courage that was rare with them, the In- dians fought openly, charging bravely upon the bayonets, and quite abandoning their usual practice. The battle lasted until a little after daylight, one last furious charge of the soldiery put- ting the Indians to flight. Less than a month after this great bat- tle, Harrison wrote that the frontiers had never enjoyed more perfect repose. Tippecanoe was the name which, in commemora- tion of this victory, was long bestowed upon the successful lead- er, whose great military talents were soon after officially recog- nized by his appointment to the position of commander-in-chief over all the forces in the west and northwest. Nor was the victory due mainly to the subordinate officers and the soldiers. It was the example and precepts of their general that urged them onward to victory. From side to side of the camp he rode, here leading a charge in person, here directing an officer how to give support to the side attacked, here stopping to reprove the cowardice of a French ensign who sheltered him- self behind a tree, and who complained bitterly of the injury done him in supposing he was cowardly in getting there. " I vas not behind de tree, de tree vas before me. Dere vas de tree, here vas my position ; how can I help ? I cannot move de tree, I cannot leaf my position." GENERAL WILLIAM HENRY HARRISON. 295 G-ov. Harrison was in no slight danger, as the Indians had de- termined to kill him, if possible. Intending to ride a white mare, his usual steed, an accident compelled him to use another ; a most fortunate circumstance for him, for the Indians made a special mark of an aid mounted upon a white horse, and he was killed very early in the engagement. But although the brim of his hat was perforated, and his hair grazed by a ball, the governor es- caped unhurt. The whole day was spent in fortifying the angles of the camp and caring for the wounded. The next morning a strong party was sent out to reconnoiter the Prophet's town, which was found deserted by all but a chief with a broken leg. There was a great quantity of corn, which proved very acceptable, since on the pre- ceding day they had had no food but horse-flesh. The town had been abandoned in the utmost haste. Having dressed the wound of the chief and provided sufficient food to last him for several days, they told him to say to the Indians that those who should leave the Prophet and return to their own tribes should be forgiv- en ; then destroyed the brass kettles, took with them the corn, the fowls and the hogs, and burned tho town. The Prophet's influence was gone forever, and in Tecumseh's absence there was no one to rally the scattered savages. The chief returned in a few days, to find the confederacy seemingly crushed at the first blow ; his town destroyed, his followers scat- tered, the Prophet in disgrace. Not all tho cunning of Elskwat- awa could shield him from the just anger of his great brother. Se- vere were the reproaches, utterly disregarded the trivial excuses for having disobeyed the positive command to keep the peace; Tecumseh, doubly exasperated by the disobedience and by the attempt to excuse it, seized the Prophet by the hair and gave him a good shaking. When we think how he had used his influ- ence over the Indians for their destruction, we cannot help re- gretting that Tecumseh administered no greater punishment. The Prophet's power was indeed gone forever. " You are a liar/' said a "Winnebago warrior to him whom they had but lately revered as a messenger from the Great Spirit; "for you told us that the white people were dead or crazy, when they were all in their senses and fought like the devil." The Prophet replied, in a tone strangely different from that which he was accustomed to use, that there had been some mis- take in the compounding of his decoction. The enraged Indians 296 GENERAL WILLIAM HENRY HARRISON. bound him, and threatened him with the death to which he had condemned so many on the charge of witchcraft, but finally re- leased him without inflicting any punishment. To prove their good intentions towards the whites, however, they told many long stories of what they were going to do to him; there being as much truth in their threats as in his pretensions to superna- tural power. But Tecumseh did not despair. His own immediate adherents were dispersed among the various tribes, his headquarters had been destroyed, and that spiritual influence which his brother possessed was entirely gone ; but the tribes far and near acknowl- edged his fitness to be a leader, and many of them were still wil- ling to listen to his plans. He continued his work then, still hop- ing to be chief of a confederacy great as that of the Seventeen Fires. The Indian depredations continuing to alarm the frontiers through the spring of 1812, G-ov. Harrison endeavored to induce the friendly tribes to drive off the Prophet and other disaffected Indians, but was for a while only partially successful. In June, Tecumseh, angered by being refused ammunition at Port Wayne, went to Maiden, allying himself with the English who were then in possession there, and who had, just before his arrival, heard of the declaration of war between the two countries. Engaging actively in the cause of the British, he sent the Prophet, who had regained something o his brother's confidence, to Fort Wayne to assure the agent that he was friendly to the Americans ; but his hostility soon became well known by the part that he took in more than one engagement, and about August of the same year he was made a brigadier-general in the British army. When, in September, 1812, Gov. Harrison received the military appointment already mentioned, his main object was to recap- ture the Michigan territory and its dependencies, which Gen. Hull had allowed to fall into the hands of the British. In order to do this, and secure communication with the United States, it would be necessary for him first to take Maiden, and then to drive the Indians from the west bank of the Detroit. Having done this, he would march upon Upper Canada and conquer that. But delays of reinforcements prevented his moving as rapidly as possible, and he passed the winter in Fort Meigs, built for the purpose. Late in April of the following year (1813), a large force of Brit- GENERAL WILLIAM EEtfRY HARRISON. 297 ish and Indians, under the command of Gen. Proctor and Tecirm- seh, appeared before the fort and began to erect their batteries. By order of Gen. Harrison, the American troops threw up a re- doubt twelve feet high, behind which they retired, and against which the ammunition of his majesty was wasted. The siege continued eleven days, during which the Americans met with se- vere loss on the part of a scouting troop ; but this was thought in- sufficient success by the British commander, and he returned to Maiden. The same officers returned to the siege two months later, but again gave up the work. Perry's victory on Lake Erie made the British general less ag- gressive, and in September he abandoned Maiden, intending to make his way to the heart of Canada by the valley of the Thames. Harrison having received all his expected reinforcements, fol- lowed in hot pursuit, overtaking him on the fifth of October. At every defeat that the English had suffered, the Indians had be- come more and more dissatisfied, and at length began to hold secret councils, of the proceedings in which they would tell Gen. Proctor nothing. Tecumseh, especially, was jealous in the ex- treme of his dignity, both as an Indian chief and as a British general ; rarely speaking to English officers or agents in any but the Shawnee tongue, although he knew English enough to carry on any ordinary conversation. Nor would he brook what he con- sidered an insult. At one time, while they were still at Maiden, provisions became scarce, and while the English were supplied with salt beef, the Indians were given horse-flesh. Tecumseh com- plained to Gen. Proctor, who seemed indifferent to the remon- strance. Touching first the hilt of the general's sword, then his own tomahawk, he indicated a way of settling the difficulty, with the words : " You are Proctor ; I am Tecumseh." General Proctor gave orders that English and Indians should have the same food. As may be guessed, Tecumseh was a very difficult ally to man- age. Constantly suspicious of the English, Gen. Proctor found it necessary to deceive him as to the result of the naval battle, and also as to the retreat from Maiden. Fearing his outspoken disapproval, and dealing with him by a cringing and maneuver- ing policy which the Indian readily saw for what it was, the Eng- lishman only encouraged his ally to the greater insolence. "When the general first made known to the chief his determination to proceed up the Thames, Tecumseh retorted in a speech of which t 298 GENERAL WILLIAM HENRY HARRISON. Proctor kept a copy, that others might realize the insults which he was obliged to swallow. After telling how the Indians had waited for the English to give the signal for war, he spoke of the uncertain information that had been given them in regard to the naval battle. "You always told us," said he, with fierce emphasis, "that you would .never draw your foot off British ground ; but now, father, we see you are drawing back, and we are sorry that our father does so without seeing the enemy. We must compare our father's conduct to that of a fat dog that carries its tail upon its back, but when affrighted it drops it between its legs and runs off. Father, listen ! The Americans have not yet defeated us by land ; neither are we sure that they have done so by water ; we therefore wish to remain here and fight our enemy, should they make their appearance. If they defeat us, we will then retreat with our^father." The advice of Tecumseh was not regarded, and the haughty chief, curling his lip with scorn, threatened to leave the English service. Only the protests of the Sioux and Chippewas kept him faithful to his allies. Sadly he said to a young Indian compan- ion, as they began the retreat: " We are now going to follow the British, and I feel well as- sured that we shall never return. " On his retreat up the Thames, Gen. Proctor promised Tecum- seh to give battle, first at this place, then at that ; evading always the fulfillment of his promise until it was no longer possible. It was only when arrived near the Moravian town, a village of con- verted Delawares, that Tecumseh absolutely refused to retreat any farther, and Gen. Proctor found he must prepare for battle. Here, protected on the one hand by the river, on the other by a marsh, the English and Indians arranged themselves in order of battle, awaiting the American forces. After his warriors were posted, Tecumseh said to the chiefs who surrounded him : (e Brother warriors, we are now about to enter an engagement from which I shall never come out my body will remain on the field of battle." Unbuckling his sword, and handing it to one of them, he charged him : " When my son becomes a noted warrior and able to wield a sword, give this to him." The American infantry charged and broke through the English GENERAL WILLIAM HENRY HARRISON. 299 line, throwing it into complete disorder, and working such des- truction that the battle at this point was soon over. Col. John- son's mounted battalion rode bravely upon the other wing, where there were more than a thousand warriors under Tecumseh's com- mand ; but the Indians remained motionless until they coul.d see the flints in the Americans' guns. Then Tecumseh sprang for- ward, with the Shawnee war-whoop, and fired the signal for the fight. The advance guard of the American force was nearly all cut down by the first fire, and Col. Johnson himself severely wounded. For seven or eight minutes the battle raged fiercely, DEATH OF TECUMSEH. Tecumseh cheering his men onward. Over the prostrate body of the American leader bent an Indian chief, ready with his scalping-knife ; a pistol-shot and the savage fell dead. The Ameri- cans did not recognize the tall form, clad simply in a buck-skin suit, without any ornament but a medal, as that of their most formidable Indian foe since the days of Pontiac; his warriors knew only that he had fallen, by whose hand it little mattered, and turning, fled to the surrounding marsh. General Harrison could not be praised enough for this victory, won, as was Tippecanoe, by his skill as a general and courage as a leader. Congress gave to him and to his assistant, the aged 300 GENERAL WILLIAM fiENRY HARRISON. ex-Gov. Shelby of Kentucky, a vote of thanks; accompanying it by a gold medal presented to each. The General's success and popularity, however, aroused the jealousy of the Secretary of War, who gave instructions to inferior officers without having consulted the commander-in-chief, and by similar means showed his prejudice against the hero of the west. General Harrison would have been lacking in due self-respect had he been content to retain his position under the circumstances, and he promptly resigned. His resignation was tendered and accepted during President Madison's absence from the Capital ; and the Chief Executive, who greatly regretted that he had not known of the difficulty, gave him a fresh token of his confidence by appointing him, in the summer of 1814, one of the commissioners to treat with the Indians at Greenville. Two years later, he was chosen to represent Ohio in the national Congress, but had hardly taken his seat when his conduct while in command of the northwestern army was impugned. A committee of investigation was, by his own request, appointed, Col. Johnson being the chairman. It is hardly necessary to say that the result was a triumphant vindi- cation of the patriotism and ability of the slandered soldier, who had so illy deserved the aspersions. It is not our purpose to follow every step of his future life ; here his military career ends, and the remainder need be only briefly outlined. A state senator of Ohio in 1819, five years later he was chosen a presidential elector, casting his vote for Clay; elected to the United States Senate in the following year, in 1828 he was appointed minister plenipotentiary to the United States of Columbia, then in the confusion so common to the Spanish- American countries. One of the first acts of Gen. Jackson's ad- ministration was to recall him, and with a sturdy independence he descended from the high offices that he had held, to accept the position of clerk of the Hamilton county court. Brought forward in 1836 as a candidate for the presidency, the opposition to Van Buren was not united in support of any one candidate, and the devoted follower of Jackson was elected. Four years later, the Whigs had learned better, and the convention held at Harris- burg, after three days' balloting, chose William Henry Harrison, of Ohio, and John Tyler, of Virginia, as their candidates. " Give Harrison a log-cabin and a barrel of hard cider, and he will never leave Ohio to be President of the United States/' said one of his political enemies. GENERAL WILLIAM HENRY HARRISON. 301 The saying spread like wild-fire, and the log-cabin became the insignia of the Whigs, as their war cry was : " Tippecanoe and Tyler, too, And with them we'll beat little Van." Thus the memory of a victory achieved nearly thirty years be- fore served to show the esteem in which he was still held by the people ; and the name of the Prophet's town was coupled with the cry of " Victory !" in the fall. The story draws rapidly to a close. For the first time in its history, the country was called upon to mourn the loss of its Chief Magistrate, a month after his inauguration. Grief was gen- eral and wide-spread. " Never since the time of Washington," . said the National Intelligencer, " has one man so concentrated upon himself the love and the confidence of the American peo- ple." Unfortunately, even the child can remember the grief of the nation on such an occasion ; there is no need to expatiate up- on it, nor is there need to say more of the character or services of him, whom the people that he defended appropriately and affectionately styled "Old Tippecanoe." CHAPTER XII. JiJ COLONEL DAYID CROCKETT. YERY newspaper issued to-day chronicles the life of the na- Ition, as made up of innumerable individual lives ; but fifty years ago each journal told of a few prominent individuals, leav- ing to the reader the task of constructing a whole from these parts. Hero worship is dying out of the newspapers and the political party; it is no longer enthusiasm for a soldier or a statesman, but the policy of the party, or, perhaps, the " machine," which controls elections. Such was not the case a half century ago; then it was personal prejudice that defeated a candidate, or per- sonal preference that elected him. Such were the days of Col. David Crockett, the earliest of American humorists, whose quaint sayings were household words or equally venerable newspaper paragraphs before Mark Twain was born. John Crockett, the father of David, was born in Ireland or on the passage to this country. He was a soldier in the American army during the whole period of the Revolution. Either he was married before the war began, or an opportune furlough enabled him to woo and win Rebecca Hawkins, a native of Maryland; for their fifth son, David, was born August 17, 1786. The fam- ily had lived for a time in North Carolina, but had, at some time before this date, moved to Greene County, as it is now called, in East Tennessee. This was then a wild and partly set- tled country, where the Indians gave considerable trouble. Short- ly after the removal of the Crockett family, the Creeks murder- ed John Crockett's parents, wounded one son, and carried into captivity another. This captive uncle of our hero remained among the Indians for nearly eighteen years ; the fact that he was a deaf mute rendering it difficult for him to escape. He was finally recognized and purchased by two of his brothers. Such was their poverty, and so far in the wilderness was their home, that John Crockett and his wife could not give their chil- COLONEL DAVID CROCKETT. 303 dren any tuition at school for a long time ; to this lack of school- ing is probably due that dislike and contempt of the most famous of them for " this way of spelling contrary to nature." Each of them probably acquired a goodly share of shrewd common sense by the part which he was obliged to take in active life. John Crockett seems to have been one of those unfortunate men whose business ventures always fail. "A rolling stone gath- ers no moss," and in seven or eight years from the time of his son David's birth, he had moved, changing his business with each removal, no less than three times. The last time, he settled in Jefferson County, and opened a small tavern on the road between Abingdon and Knoxville. The accommodations were of the kind best appreciated by the wagoners who were continually go- ing to and fro between these places. The tavern was on such a small scale that David had almost entire charge of the horses belonging to the guests ; a task that at times was arduous, but to which he soon looked back longingly. There came to the little tavern one evening a Dutchman, nam- ed Jacob Siler, who said that he was moving from Knoxville to Kockbridge, Virginia, about four hundred miles off. He wanted some one to help him with the cattle that he had with him, and John Crockett hired his twelve year old son to go with this stran- ger that long distance on foot. David was very kindly treated by his master, who professed himself very much pleased with the services of his young assistant; but so strong was the boy's at- tachment to his home that he never once lost sight of the idea of returning. In order, however, that this hope might ever be re- alized, he was obliged to conceal it. After what seemed an age.to the impatience of youth, but which was really four or five weeks, he espied, while playing with some companions near the road, three wagoners who had often stop- ped at his father's tavern. He told them his pitiful tale of home- sickness, and they said that they would stop at a tavern seven miles fi;om there that night, and leave at dawn the next morn- ing that if he would be at that place before day, they would take him along with them, and defend him if his master pur- sued. Between his anxiety to be at home, and his dread of pursuit, the boy slept but little, and arose three hours before day- break. When he started, the snow was about eight inches deep, and still falling ; no moon shone, and an opening through the timber was the only road. Cheered by the thought that it was 304 COLONEL DAVID CROCKETT. the way homo, and anxious lest lie should be too late to overtake the wagoners, the little hero plodded on, the snow, in the latter part of his journey, being up to his knees; and arrived about an hour before day-light. He was at first fearful of pursuit, but the drifting snow had obliterated all trace of his foot-prints. He journeyed on in company with the wagoners, until they reached a house on Roanoke, where he left them, intending to pursue the rest of the way on foot, as he would thus arrive at home much sooner. Meeting with a strange gentleman who in- vited him to ride upon a led horse, he accepted the offer, and they continued together until they reached a point fifteen miles from the little tavern, where the road diverged. Although the name of this stranger did not linger long in the boy's memory, the kindness was never forgotten, but was mentioned nearly fifty years after with gratitude. He lived at home until the next fall, when his father sent the boys to a school recently opened in the neighborhood by a cer- tain Benjamin Kitchen. But his attendance here was not of long duration. Having had, on the fourth day, a falling out with one of the larger boys, David, who was just getting a good grip on the alphabet, slipped out while the more advanced pupils were spelling, and hid himself in the bushes by the roadside. As soon as school was over, and the other boy came along the road, young Crockett sprang upon him like a wild-cat, and soon made him cry for quarter. But the victor felt himself not invincible by the super- ior strength of the schoolmaster, and decided to forego learning for a time. This was a resolution not to be announced at home, however; so, having persuaded his brothers to keep his secret, they, as usual, left the house together the next morning, as if all were going to school ; but David left them as soon as they were out of sight of the house, and spending the day in the woods, re- turned with them in the afternoon. For a few days the plan worked admirably, but soon the school- master sent a note of inquiry to David's parents. The father had been drinking just enough to make him cross. In answer to his questions the boy told the whole story, saying that he knew that "Kitchen would cook him up to a cracklin' in no time." He was soon aware, however, that he would not meet with any support at home, for his father said : " I'll whip you a 'tarnal sight worse'n the master if you don't start off to school right now." COLONEL DAVID CROCKETT. 305 The boy tried hard to beg off, but vainly. Seeing his father cut a stout hickory, he judged it was about time to put a little greater distance between them j off he ran, not towards the school- house, chased hotly by the irate old man; but he succeeded in giving the slip to the hickory rod, and did not return home for nearly three years. Often, he says, did he wish to be at home again, but the dread of Schoolmaster Kitchen and his father's big hickory kept him away. Going back, he was not recognized for some time, nor did he make himself known. They had given him up as dead, and when his sister, startled by some familiar gesture or smile, proclaimed that the lost was found, such was the joy of all that he would rather have submitted to a hundred whippings than have remained away longer. The whole of the ensuing year was spent in working out two debts of his father's, the entire sum being seventy-six dollars. The second term of this service was with an honest old Quaker, John Kennedy, for whom he continued to work after the expira- tion of the fixed time, in order to provide himself with clothes. During this service, a pretty niece of the old Quaker's came to visit him, and young Crockett fell violently in love. The warmth of his affection was equalled only by his bashfulness, but at last he " screwed his courage to the sticking-place," and, with the usual threats of dying of grief if his love were not returned, he laid bare his heart to the lady. It was in vain, however, for she told him that she was engaged to her cousin, young Kennedy, and Davy reconsidered the idea of going into a decline, deciding that, as his troubles probably came from the lack of learning, he had better go to school. For six months, then, he attended a school kept by John Ken- nedy's married son, working two days in the week to pay for his tuition the other four, and for his board. Having learned to read a little in the primer, to write his own name, and gotten as far as the multiplication table, he decided that he could not possibly do without a wife any longer, and quitting school, immediately set about providing himself. An old playmate was his choice, and after some evasion and delay, she accepted his offer, and a day was set for the wedding, the bridegroom-elect being about eigh- teen. He had purchased a rifle, and was frequently a competitor in the shooting-matches for beef. One Saturday he set out to one of these gatherings, intending to go on towards the lady's home af- 306 COLONEL DAVID CROCKETT. terwards. In fact, he had some important business there, as they were to be married the next Saturday, and he had not yet asked the consent of her parents. Of his success in this direction, how- ever, he had not the slightest doubt, and his good opinion of him- self was not lessened by the fact that he won nearly the whole beef by his skill with the rifle. Disposing of his prize for five dollars, he walked onward, stopping on the way at the house of his sweetheart's uncle. Hero he found her sister, who, with con- siderable regret, told him that he was being deceived ; .that his promised bride would marry some one else the next day; but that, although the success- ful rival had asked for the lady and had secured the license, her parents, she knew, would much prefer David, and if he would only go onward to her father's house, he might yet break off the match. David de- clined to do so, however, not wishing, perhaps, to force him- self upon her. Once again he was disconso- late, and might have remained so a longer time, if a girl whom he describes as so ugly that it hurt one's eyes to look at her had not taken pity on him, DAVID CROCKETT. and introduced him at a reap- ing to a pretty little Irish girl, with whom, of course, he was soon in love as deeply as ever. To make a long story short, they were married, in spite of the opposition of her mother. Finding that no one else objected, the mother-in-law at last re- lented, and gave them two cows and calves towards settling in life; they rented a cabin and a little ground; John Kennedy gave them an order on a store for fifteen dollars' worth of household goods ; "Adam delved and Eve spun," and by dint of hard work they made a living for themselves and the two sons born to them soon. But renting ground was poor policy; so in 1809 they removed across the mountains to Lincoln county, where game was still plentiful, and where he laid the foundation COLONEL DAVID CROCKETT. 307 of his fame as a hunter. After a two years' residence here, they moved again, this time to Franklin County. In 1813, the Creek Indians, living in Alabama and Georgia, being incited to hostilities by the British and Spanish, surprised Fort Minims, forty miles north of Mobile, and massacred the garrison, numbering about three hundred persons. There was no mistaking the meaning of this ; the Creeks felt themselves strong enough to drive the whites out of the country. A call for volunteers speedily followed, and the hunter felt the wild passion that leads a man to the field of battle raging in his breast. His wife would have persuaded him to remain with her and their boys, but he answered : " If every man waits until his wife tells him to go to war, we will all stay here and be murdered in our own homes." To this argument she had no reply, and when the muster was held at Winchester a few days later, her husband was the second or third man who stepped forward to enlist. Thirteen hundred mounted volunteers joined Gen. Jackson's command, being en- rolled for sixty days. At the end of two months, however, the war was by no means over, and many of them re-enlisted. Crock- ett distinguished himself, not only as a scout and a spy, but as a brave man in open battle. His skill in hunting proved of mat- erial assistance to his comrades, for open-hearted as he was, when he had anything to share, no one around him lacked. Shortly after, he met with the misfortune of the death of his wife. Left with three children, the youngest a mere baby, he at first committed them to the care of his brother's wife; but how- ever good, it was not a mother's, and he undertook to supply the deficiency in another way. A widow of one of his comrades lived near by, and to her he suggested a union of their two fami- lies. Her two children were as small as his, and each seems to have adopted the other's quite cheerfully. The succeeding years were filled with events of comparatively slight importance. Crockett continued to increase in popularity, the elements of which lay in his readiness to share with all com- ers, his perpetual good humor, his fund of anecdote, and, when this failed him, his capacity for ready invention ; above all, by his instant recognition of the merest chance acquaintance. There is nothing which gives a man so favorable an impression of an- other as that ability of the other to call him by name without hesitation. "We are well-disposed towards those whom we impress, 20 308 COLONEL DAVID CROCKETT. Removing to Laurens county, he found there a most primitive state of society. Thinking that some sort of restraint would be necessary, the men of the community met to elect magistrates and constables. The election took place in due form, Crockett being made magistrate ; but they omitted the making of laws, leaving that entirely to the discretion of their chosen officials- The law as thus administered was somewhat informal, as may be> imagined. Justice Crockett's warrants were in what he called "verbal writing " that is, he would say to his constable, when any one was noted as an offender : " Catch that fellow and bring him here." Justice and constable considered this sufficient; and it is to be supposed that the criminal did, too, for he usually allowed him- self to be brought. The Assembly added their settlement to those in Giles county, and decreed that the justices must make outtheir warrants in " real writing," and keep written records. These were hard lines to one who could hardly write his own name, but by dint of perseverance he succeeded in learning to write more easily, and to keep his records without much difficulty. Then, too, he was ably seconded by his constable, whom he em- powered to fill out warrants when he thought it necessary, with- out reference to his chief. But the judgments he delivered were never appealed from, for all the irregularity that there may have been in getting at them; since they were formed on common- sense, justice and honesty. One honor led to another, for so did his office of magistrate raise him in his own opinion, that he was a willing candidate for their positions. A short time before a certain military election, he was urged by a Capt. Matthews to run for major of a regiment; he at first refused, saying that he had had enough of military life; but so strong became the persuasions of Matthews, who said that he intended to offer for colonel, and would do everything in his power to advance his friend, that Crockett yielded. Finding, however, that in spite of these protestations of friendship and of- fers of assistance, Matthews 7 son intended to run for the post of major, our hero's usual good nature failed him, and'thinking that, if he had to contend with the family, it might as well be with the head of it, he concluded that he would prefer to be colonel. "When the election was over, he had the satisfaction of finding that both of the Matthews were badly beaten, and he was Colonel Crockett. ,A.t the next election ho becanie a candidate for the State Leg- COLONEL DAVID CROCKETT. 309 islature. Electioneering was a now business to him, and lie felt somewhat doubtful as to his success, knowing but little, if any- thing, about " government/' Like many another man, though, while not claiming to know more than he did, he did not tell ex- actly how much he did not know ; the result was that nobody thought anything about it, being satisfied that a man who could CROCKETT ON THE STUMP. make such entertaining speeches', tell such capital stories, and then lead the way to a neighboring bar, was the man to represent them. But Col. Crockett was not satisfied with himself 5 he was anxious to know as much about government as any other repre- sentative of the people. Arrived at the capital and duly recog- nized, he found his brother legislators continually introducing bills, and became possessed with the idea that he must do the same, A friend drafted one for him, and he arose and confidently 310 COLONEL DAVID CROCKETT. presented it to the consideration of the house. A member who opposed it alluded to Col. Crockett in a disparaging way ; but if ever a man regretted lack of courtesy towards an opponent, this one did ; for thus called upon to answer, the mighty hunter pour- ed forth such a flood of backwoods eloquence that the whole as- sembly roared with laughter ; he ended by comparing this op- ponent to " an old coon dog barking up the wrong tree." Before his election, he had built a large grist-mill, with pow- der-mill and distillery near by; the buildings for these three purposes costing about three thousand dollars. This was more than he had, but he trusted to the profits of his business to ena- ble him to pay off the debt thus contracted. During his absence at the capital, however, a freshet swept away the buildings, and he was ruined. On his return, his wife, much to his pleasure, said to him : "Just pay up, as long as you have a bit's worth in the world; then everybody will be satisfied and we will scuffle for more." Taking this advice, he disposed of the negroes that he owned, and everything else available for the purpose, and prepared to go still farther west. His new location was near or in that part of the country known as the " Shakes," from the frequent, though light shocks felt there after the ~Ncw Madrid earthquake of 1812. He was accompanied only by his eldest son, still a boy, and a young man. Building a cabin and clearing a small space, he put in a crop of corn, and while it was growing indulged in his fav- orite sport of hunting. "Betsy," as he called his old, roughly- fashioned rifle, was the companion of many a long day spent in the woods ; Betsy never told him a lie, but always sent a ball just where he told her ; Betsy killed six deer in one day in that game abounding country; and during that spring as many as ten bears fell before her. A called session of the Legislature sum- , moned him soon after he got in his crop, and on his return he brought his family to his new home. The latter .part of October, 1822, saw the little family, with two heavily laden pack-horses, traveling yet farther into the " far West;" in front of this little party, humming a song, walked a cheerful, light-hearted woods- man, carrying a child on one arm and a rifle with the other, and followed by half a dozen dogs. For two months things went on well at that little cabin in the woods, seven miles from the nearest house, and fifteen miles from the next nearest neighbor. "Betsy" kept them supplied with a COLONEL DAVID CROCKETT. 311 abundance of meat; but at last, near Christmas, there was dan- ger of starvation, for the stock of powder gave out. Not only did it mean no more game, but no Christmas guns could be fired. Col. Crockett knew that a keg of powder had been left at his brother-in-law's house for him, on the opposite side of a stream called Rutherford's Fork, and determined to get it. Unusually heavy rains had swollen the little river so that it was about a mile wide, stretching from hill to hill. There were no bridges, and either he had no boat, or it could not be used in the long stretch of shallow water. He " learned then," to use his own words, " how much anybody could suffer and not die/' "Walking for about a quarter of a mile through snow four inches deep, he came to that vast expanse of water. Through this he waded and swam, holding aloft on his gun the bundle of dry clothes. So cold was he when he emerged, that, trying to run, in order to get warm, he found it impossible to move his foot its own length. But, as he records, he got the powder, though he was obliged to stay three or four days on the other side of the river, and cross- ing on the ice, broke through more than once. Undaunted by what he had undergone, as he neared the home side of the stream he saw what he thought was a bear's trail, and determined to follow up his favorite game. The animal had evidently broken through the ice, and, disgusted with the cold bath, returned to land. Following the trail, it led him to his own door, and proved to be that of a young man sent by his wife to search for him her intense anxiety telling her that he must have been drowned or frozen. A heavy rain that night, turning to sleet, was followed in the morning by the " southerly wind and a cloudy sky" so favorable for hunting, and Crockett, his brother-in-law, and the young man living with him, started out. Before long they separated, he pre- ferring to look for larger game than they. Two wild turkeys were killed early in the day by " Betsy," and with these on his shoulder the hunter continued his search for bears. The dogs soon gave the alarm, but on looking up the tree where they were barking he came to the conclusion that it was a turkey which had flown away. The false alarm was given several times, and he had about made up his mind to shoot the hound that was fore- most, when he saw a bear of extraordinary size. So large was he that the dogs were afraid to attack him, and when they had seemed to be barking up the wrong tree, had only been enticing 312 COLONEL DAVID CROCKETT. their master onwards. So dark had it grown, that he was hard- ly able to see the animal, or there would have heen less difficul- ty in despatching it; but after a severe encounter, in which he stabbed the bear again and again, and his own clothes were torn and covered with blood, the huge, clumsy animal lay dead. Having on hand a number of skins, he set out, in company with his eldest son, who seems to have been a favorite companion, to. wards a town forty miles away, to trade for groceries. Here he met with some of his old acquaintances of political life, who urged CROCKETT'S FIGHT WITH A BEAR. him to become again a candidate for his old office from this new district; but he refused positively to do so. " I live down in the cane," he said, " forty miles from town, and nobody knows me in this district as they did in the other." He thought this was decisive, but it seems that his old comrades thought otherwise. About a week afterwards, a passing traveler stopped at the cabin in the cane, and showed the family there a newspaper in which Col. David Crockett was announced as a can- didate for the Legislature. It was a clear case of the office seek- ing the man, but the man was at first disposed to regard it as a joke that was being played on him. Our hero was never loath COLONEI/ MVID CROCKETT. 313 to enter into liny fun, and soon determined to have the best of it. Hiring a young man to work on his farm, he started out elec- tioneering, nd the district soon rang with the praises of the great bear-hunter, the man from the cane. There had been three candidates in the field, but Crockett made things so hot that in March they held a caucus to decide which should remain in the lists. The strength of the three was concentrated on Dr. Butler, a nephew by marriage of the great Tennesseean, G-en. Jackson. Meeting this gentleman at one of the large gatherings, Crockett hailed him with : "Well, doctor, I suppose they have weighed you out to me ; but I should like to know why they fixed your election for March in- stead of August. This is a branfire new way of doing business, if # caucus is to make a representative for the people." Thinking to poke fun at Crockett, he answered: " "Where did you spring from, Colonel?" " O, I've just crept out from the cane, to see what discoveries I could make among the white people. You think you have greatly the advantage of me j it's true I live forty miles from any settle- ment; I am very poor, and you are very rich ; you see, it takes two coon-skins here to buy a quart, but I've good dogs, and my little boys at home will go their death to support my election; they are mighty industrious ; they hunt every night until twelve ^o'clock, but it keeps the little fellows mighty busy to keep me in -whiskey. When they get tired, I takes my rifle and goes out and kills a wolf, and the state pays me three dollars for the scalp ; j3O one way or another I keep knocking along." ^ Well, Colonel," rejoined Dr. Butler, "I see you can beat mo electioneering." ''You doii't call this electioneering, do you? When you see m electioneering I go fixed for it: I've got a hunting shirt with two pockets in it that will hold half a peck apiece; and I puts a bottle in one, and a big plug in the other, for I never like to leave a man worse off 'n I found him. When I meets a friend, I gives him a pull at the bottle ; he'll be mighty apt, before he drinks, to throw away his tobacco ; so when he's done, I pulls out my big twist and gives him a chaw. Then he ain't likely to find fault, as he would if he'd a lost his tobacco; and I'll be mighty apt to get his vote, I reckon." But this entire absence of pretense, this blunt acknowledgment of bluntness, was the most successful kind of electioneering. The 314 COLONEL DAVID CROCKETT. crowd was in a roar of laughter at the discomfiture of the elo- quent gentleman, and the rough humor of the backwoodsman. Nor did their admiration at all diminish ; it carried him safely through the election, his majority over all three candidates (two others had come out between March and August) being nearly two hundred and fifty. He served this time in the Legislature for two years, 1823 and 1824. In the earlier part of his term, his independence of party trammels and soldiers' prejudices was manifested by his vote for U. S. Senator, when the candidates were Senator Miller and Gen. Jackson. Mr. Miller had served the state well, and even the en- thusiasm of a soldier for his old commander, of a Tennesseean for Andrew Jackson, could not make David Crockett vote against one whom he knew to be well qualified. But while this course preserved his self-respect, it lost him many friends, and may have assisted, two years later, to cause his political defeat. But ten years afterwards he would not acknowledge himself in the wrong. The defeat mentioned was in this way : urged to run for Cong- ress, he at first refused, but was afterwards induced to consent. The representative at that time was the opposing candidate, and by reason of a factitious popularity. arising from the increase in the price of cotton and his vote on the tariff question, succeed- ed in beating the " gentlemen from the cane" by two votes. Many persons believed that the election had not been fairly conducted; the action of one officer, at least, in charge of a ballot-box, giving room for suspicion; but so far was Col. Crockett from wishing to contest the election, that he said to some friends who represent- ed that he would probably secure the seat in that way : "If it is not the wish of the people, clearly expressed, I don't want to serve them." Back to his farm, then, he went, and occupied his time in work- ing there, and in his favorite pursuit of bear hunting. In the fall of 1825, he concluded to build two large boats and load them with pipe-staves for market, but met with characteristic interruptions. Working steadily on until the bears got fat, he started out on a hunting tour, in order to supply his family with meat for the winter. Hardly has this been salted down, and the hunter set- tled to boat-building again, when a neighbor, living some twenty- five miles away, came to ask him to go bear-hunting in that part of the country. As may be imagined, Crockett readily consent- ed, and they set out together. During an absence of two weeks, COLONEL DAVID CROCKETT. 815 they killed fifteen bears, thus supplying the neighbor's family with their winter meat. Nor was this the only hunt undertaken for others. Returning home, he worked for a while on the boats, and in getting staves, but before many days longed for the com- panionship of Betsy. Starting out with his little son, the first day they disposed of eight bears. "While the two were looking for water and a good place to camp, they came upon a poor fel- low who was grubbing, as it turned out, for another man, in or- der to earn meat for his family. Crockett, knowing what hard and poorly paid work this was, induced the man to accompany him on his hunt, and assist in salting down the flesh of the ani- mals that they should kill. During the week they killed seven- teen bears, the grubber being enriched with over a thousand pounds of excellent meat. Hardly had Crockett returned home, when he started out again to hunt with a neighbor. Such an invi- tation was never refused, whatever reasons there may have been for remaining at home ; his love of the sport and his obliging good nature rendered it impossible to say no, when any man said : " Come and hunt bears for me." But hunting was over for the season, and Crockett was free to attend to his business. Having about thirty thousand staves and two good boats, he engaged a crew, and set off to New Orleans. "When they got upon the Mississippi, and found that the pilot was wholly ignorant of the treacherous stream, all were considerably alarmed ; the brave hunter, according to his own candid confes- sion, believing himself a little worse scared than anybody else. Lashing the boats together for greater safety, they only made matters worse by rendering them unmanageable, and were oblig- ed to let the current carry them whither it would. Then it was that the superior safety and pleasure of bear-hunting became more apparent to him who had never doubted. Sitting in the little cabin of the hinder boat ( for since they were lashed together they went broad-side down the stream ) he heard great confusion among the crew. The current had carried the two boats against an island, where great quantities of driftwood had lodged, and the next thing would be the submergence of the upper boat. This was already turned so that it was impossible to get out at the hatchway, and the only other means of exit, a hole at the side, was very small. The efforts of the crew to rescue their com- mander were successful, however, and he was pulled through this hole ; although his shirt was torn from him, and his body very 316 COLONEL DAVID CROCKETT. much abraded. Hardly had he touched the other boat when that from which he had just escaped was drawn under the seething mass of yellow water. All night they were on that raft of drift- wood, four of them bare-headed, three of them bare-footed, our hero being one of these last. So great was his sense of gratitude SHIPWRECKED ON THE RIVER. for life, however, his relief at the escape from the immediate dan- ger, that he almost forgot the discomforts of his position, and "felt prime." Early in the morning they hailed a passing boat, which sent a skiff to their relief. On this boat they returned to Memphis, where a friend in need provided them with clothes and money for the rest of their journey. Having lost his boats and their lading, all his clothes but those that he wore, and nearly lost his life, Crockett arrived at home, thoroughly disgusted .with boat- ing, and gave himself up to electioneering, as another represen- tative in the national councils was to be chosen the next August. There were three principal candidates in the district where our interest centers ; one being Col. Alexander, and another, Gen- eral Arnold. These two gentlemen seemed to regard themselves COLONEL DAVID CROCKETT. 3lt as the only important candidates, replying to each other's cam- paign speeches at considerable length, and thinking beneath their notice the third man, the bear-hunter. But the people knew that as surely as the muddy Mississippi's alluvial deposits enrich- ed their land, this untaught son of the backwoods was the best man to protect their interests, and by an overwhelming majority at the polls rebuked the conceit of his more polished competitors. His fame as a humorist had preceded him, and if an anonymous biographer, writing about 1832, is to be believed, hotel-keepers and transportation companies considered him such an attraction that each was anxious to secure his patronage. But although his ready humor was the foundation of his fame, his time at the na- tional capitol was not spent idly. Faithful, hard work for his constituents was his idea of his duty, and he endeavored to carry it out. The details would be of interest only to the historian of that section of Tennessee at that particular period ; but the gene- ral fact is of importance to his biographer. His efforts were chiefly directed to those internal improvements which he knew were so much needed in his district, and it was a great disap- pointment to find that G-en. Jackson was not in sympathy with him. Coming from his backwoods cabin in Tennessee to be a courted guest in "Washington society, where the originality of his character was fully appreciated, received at the White House by the Chief Executive, the sudden change did not dazzle him. Close observation of others taught him the manners of those in his new position, and the graces of the society gentleman sat easily upon the bear hunter. Still, through all, the fact was apparent that this polish intensified the luster of a true jewel, instead of giving false value to a pebble. " A man's a man for a* that/' and he defended the manhood in him by opposing his old commander whom he thought in the wrong. This was highly resented by his constituents, and many politicians and newspapers devoted to Jackson so exaggerated his defection that at the next election he was defeated by a small majority. He had served two consecutive terms in Congress, returning to the plow after each session as calmly as ever did Cincinnatus or our own Washington; and when the verdict of the people was made known to him after his election in 1830, he coolly accepted the situation, and went on with his work. Every effort had been made by Jackson's worshipers to secure his defeat at this time, but success did not satisfy them. Gerrymandering secured such 318 COLONEL DAVID CROCKETT. a division of his old district at the next session of the Legislature that it seemed to them that the next election would give them an easy victory ; but they reckoned without their host. Their pre- vious success had been partly due to their practice of making ap- pointments for Crockett to speak, and carefully keeping it from him; at the time set, his opponents would rise and say to the crowd that had assembled, that he had refused to speak, being afraid of the result. He only heard of their pursuing this course when it was too late to counteract it, and the result was his de- feat. Before the next election, however, the minds of men were calmer, and ready to listen to both sides of the question ; and the result was an easy victory for Crockett. He had not been long in Washington after the beginning of his third term when his physician advised him to take a pleasure- trip for the benefit of his health. So well had he been pleased with his brother members from the northern part of the country that he determined to see them in their homes. Baltimore was visited on his journey northward, the strange sight of a railway train here meeting his eyes for the first time. Approaching Phil- adelphia by water, he was on deck when three flags were run up. He enquired the meaning. " O," said the captain, " Fd promised some friends to let them know if you were on board." To the man who, on reaching Baltimore, had recognized a great city as a place where any one would be made to feel his own unimportance, this was a revelation. The idea that any one should care about his coming to this strange place was astonish- ing. As the boat neared the shore, he saw one vast " sea of up- turned faces " a gesture from the captain pointed out to them the lion of the day and a rousing cheer for Davy Crockett saluted his ears. " Give us the hand of an honest man," cried the people, crowd- ing around him as he stepped on shore. But this recognition was not all that awaited him. The most cordial hospitality of the Quaker City was extended to him by her most honored sons. The anti-Jackson man from Tennessee was hailed with delight by the Whigs of the North, who greeted his defection from his party as an evidence of that party's weakness. Speech after speech from him was demanded by the crowd wherever he went, and although he often tried to escape their importunity, his good-nature al- ways yielded. Some gentlemen presented him with a seal val- COLONEL DAVID CROCKETT. 319 Tied at forty dollars ; the device being two race-horses, evidently at the top of their speed, and the motto that to which our hero had clung, whether bear-hunting or law-making, whether cling- ing, half-naked, through the winter night, to a raft of driftwood in the Mississippi, or sitting, an honored guest, at the President's table : " Go ahead." Tradition has it, that when a suitor of his daughter approached him by letter, about this time, he replied : " DEAR SIR : I have received your letter. Gro ahead. DAVID CROCKETT." Whether this were known at the time or not, the motto was generally recognized as suited to the man, and the seal was cop- ied by many of his fellow Congressmen. A club of young Whigs, desiring to present him with a handsome rifle, secured from him directions as to the size and kind that he preferred, and the or- der was given to the manufacturer. Dinners were tendered him in abundance, and everywhere the greatest eagerness to entertain him prevailed. In New York the same flattering reception awaited him, and Boston did not lag behind her sister cities. An invitation to visit Harvard, however, he flatly refused to accept. The authorities of that institution had recently conferred upon President Jackson the title of doctor of laws ; Crockett claimed to possess no degree and to wish for none u but a slight degree of common-sense/ 7 one such doctor was enough for the state 5 the people of his district interpreted LL. D. as "lazy, lounging dunce ;" and he had no mind to run the risk of going to Cambridge, although he would spell with any of them as far as " crucifix," where he had left off at school. Returning to Washington, he served the remainder of his term, and started home in good spirits with the handsome rifle which had been presented to him. His course was rather a round-about one, as he took Philadelphia, Pittsburgh and Louisville on the way, but he was none the less glad to get home to his little cab- in in the cane his own home, his own land, his own beloved ones. Here he lived, until the congressional campaign of 1835 opened, when he again took the field against a Jackson man. This was Adam Huntsman, a crippled soldier, whose services were made much of to the voters of the district. This nomination was secured by a practical joke, which illustrates the ready wit of the great hunter. Strolling up to a political meeting one day, with his rifle on his shoulder, Crockett wa.s soon addressing the crowd. The free 320 COLONEL DAVID CROCKETT. and independent voters lost no time in informing him that lis- tening to speeches was dry work, and that there was plenty of liquor in a shanty near by. This had been built by a Yankee, and stocked for that special occasion. So experienced a canvass- er as Crockett took the hint immediately, and leading the way to Job Snell ing's bar, called for a quart; that worthy called his attention to a sign : " Pay to-day, trust to-morrow," and refused to fill the order without the money. This Crockett did not have, and the crowd that had gathered around him rapidly dispersed to seek his better provided rival. But although he was without money, he had no difficulty in finding a ready substitute. Plung- ing into the woods, he had the good fortune to see, in a very short time, a fine fat coon. A well-aimed shot secured the prize, and back to the crowd he went. A coon-skin is not money, but was then and there recognized as the equivalent of a quart of rum, so that when Crockett threw it upon the rough counter, Snelling, without any hesitation, set out a bottle. This was soon disposed of, and the crowd listened to the speaker. They soon became clamorous for more liquor, however, and Davy, reflect- ing how long his speech must last if he had to go and kill a coon so often, led the way to the bar. His quick eye and ready wit found him a way out of the difficulty ; Snelling had thrown the coon skin under the counter, and Crockett, drawing it thence by the tail, which protruded beyond the logs, gravely presented it in payment for a second quart. Job was not at all popular in that country, as he was always on the alert to make money oif the peo- ple, and this they did not relish ; so, though the trick was seen by many, no one betrayed the joker. The story circulated through the assembly, and made the liquor all the better. Again and again did they drink, the same coon-skin serving for payment, until, at the close of the day, ten quarts of rum had been con- sumed. The story went the rounds of the district, and the people concluded that a man sharp enough to trick Job Snelling was a better man to look after their interests than any war-worn vet- eran that ever lost a leg. After the election, Crockett went pri- vately to Snelling and offered him the price of the rum. "Wai, neow, Colonel," responded that honest individual, "I guess I won't take your money. You see, I like to be tricked once in a while ; it keeps me from gittin' to think I'm tew all-fir- ed smart." JEe had charged the nine quarts to the other candidate, who COLONEL DAVID CROCKETT. 321 paid the bill, not knowing exactly how much might have been drunk at his expense. Contrary to all expectation, however, Crockett was beaten by over two hundred votes. This was attributed by him to unfair- ness of the judges, and to bribery by certain enthusiastic Jackson men. Even at that early day, the charge of corruption was not unheard or unfounded ; and even the President could stoop to electioneer for a dependent. Nor was the unsuccessful candi- date at all backward at expressing his opinions to his late consti- tuents ; he told them what he thought about the fairness of the election, and warned them of the ruin towards which the country was going, as directed by Jackson und the " Little Flying Dutch- man," Yan Buren; concluding by telling them to go to Hades ( only he didn't use the Greek ) and he would go to Texas. Settling up his affairs as well as he could, and leaving his fam- ily well provided with food, he started out with his trusty rifle, to join in the struggle of the Texan patriots for freedom. Cor- dially received and well entertained at Little Hock, where he stopped for a few days, he proceeded on his journey. Embark- ing on a steamboat upon the Eed Eiver, he watched a game of thimble-rig, and finally made a bet with the trickster. "Winning this, he refused to play any more, but by degrees acquired con- siderable influence over the man. Crockett learned that he had been educated " as a gentleman," and suddenly thrown on his own resources. One disreputable way of earning a livelihood had succeeded another, until now, when he earned a scanty living by this mode of cheating. Crockett took him to task in a friend- ly manner, and tried to shame him out of his evil practices, but he answered that it it was of no use to try; he could not live like an honest man. " Then die like a brave one," exclaimed his enthusiastic men- tor. "Most men are remembered as they died, and not as they lived. Come with me to Texas; cut aloof from your degrading habits and associates here, and in fighting with the Texans for their freedom, regain your own." Starting up, and striding two or three times across the room, the outcast stopped before his friend, and answered, with an oath : " Fll be a man again live honestly, or die bravely. I'll go with you to Texas." ,He held to this resolution, and Crockett being determined, as 322 COLONEL DAVID CROCKETT. usual, to " go ahead," they set out in company early in the morn- ing after their landing. Stopping at night at a small tavern, they noticed, leaning against a tree, what might be called a back- woods dandy. This was the " Bee-hunter," introduced to them more favorably by the little incident that occurred early in the morning. A blustering, swaggering fellow, who imagined that the young man had, on some previous occasion, insulted him, ap- proached him with the most offensive expressions. The Bee- hunter gave him no satisfaction for a long time, but at last, springing upon him, carried him to the pump, and there COLONEL DAVID CROCKETT. all the fight out of him by a stream of water. With this hero Crockett and Thimblerig concluded to travel, especially when they found that he was an excellent guide across the prairies. The trio was soon separated, however; the Bee-hunter rode off suddenly, and apparently without cause \ Crockett, soon after- ward, saw a herd of buffaloes, and gave chase, and poor Thim- DESPERATE FIGHT WITH A COUGAR. blerig was left alone on the prairie. The buffaloes proved too swift for Crockett's mustang, and although he might have easily retraced his steps, it was always his principle to go ahead, and he would not turn back. Concluding that it would be impos- sible for him to return that night, he looked about him for a lodging place, and had selected the leafy branches of a tree, pros- trated by a recent storm, when a low growl warned him that it 324 COLONEL DAVID CROCKETT. was already occupied. In a moment more an immense Mexican cougar showed itself. Finding a ball from his rifle produced but little effect, Crockett clubbed his gun, but all his strength was not sufficient for the destruction of the animal. Seizing his hunting-knife, he slashed away at the creature, that, mad with the wound, fought as only a cougar could but at last it was stretched dead at his feet. Hardly had this enemy been despatched than he was alarmed by the approach of a large party of Indians ; but they proved friendly, and guided him back to the route. As they approached a camp, they saw, seated by the fire, a solitary man busily engaged in some absorbing pastime. Drawing nearer, Crockett recognized Thimble- rig at his old occupation. The chief sounded the war-whoop, the warriors echoed it, and poor Thimblerig sprang to his feet in terror. Crockett reassur- ed him, and the Indians rode off, the chief happy in the gift of a bowie-knife from a white man whom he knew by the ad- venture with the cougar to be a brave and skillful hunter. The Bee-hunter, Thimblerig GENERAL cos. * said, had returned laden with honey ; his apparently inexplicable conduct being explained by his having seen a single bee winging its way to the hive ; he was now hunting, in order to obtain meat for their supper, and soon re- turned to the camp with a wild turkey. Having cooked this, they were at supper with two others who had joined their party, when a company of fifteen or twenty horsemen appeared at a distance. The announcement from one of the strangers that these were Mexicans was followed by his description of them as ruffianly cowards. This was borne out by their conduct when the Ameri- cans returned their first fire. Flying like a cloud before the wind, they were pursued in hot haste, but succeeded in eluding the chase. Being now in sight of the independent flag flying over the fortress of the Alamo, our three heroes bent their way thither, and were welcomed by the shouts of the patriots. The garrison of only about one hundred and fifty men was commanded by Col. Travis, the famous Col. Bowie being alsg COLONEL DAVID CROCKETT. 325 present. The Mexican general, Santa Anna, was extremely anx- ious to obtain possession of the fortress again, as he considered its surrender to the Texans early in December, 1835, extremely disgraceful, although General Cos had been allowed to state his own terms of capitulation. The Americans even then were ex- pecting an attack, an anticipation only too well realized. "Wan- dering hunters brought information of the movements of an at- tacking force. February 22, 1836, about sixteen hundred Mexi- cans, headed by Santa Anna himself, approached within two STORMING OF THE ALAMO. miles of the Alamo. The scouts reported that the assailants had endeavored to excite the Indians to hostilities against the Amer- icans, but that the Comanches held the Mexicans in such con- tempt that these efforts were of no avail. Early on the morning of the twenty-third, the enemy came in sight, marching in reg- ular order, and trying to display their force to the greatest pos- sible advantage, to terrify the garrison. But men who take up arms to fight for liberty are not easily frightened, and the gar- rison withdrew in good order from the town to the citadel, re- solving to defend it to the last. All their stores had been taken there on the first alarm. The Texan flag was raised thirteen stripes of red and white alternating on a blue ground, with a large white star and the word Texas in the center, 326 COLONEL DAVID CROCKETT. The enemy marched into the town under a flag whose bloody hue proclaimed the mercUess treatment that would be the lot of the patriots, if they surrendered. A messenger came in the af- ternoon to demand an unconditional and immediate surrender, but was answered by a cannon-shot. The Mexicans replied to this by a heavy fire, which was continued for many days. The Texan sharp-shooters made considerable havoc among the Mex- DEFENCE OF THE ALAMO. icans, and wore unhurt by their cannonading. Daily reinforce- ments came to the enemy, but the garrison, hoping for aid from two places, Goliad and Refugio, to which messengers had been sent, kept up hope. On the third of March, however, they de- spaired of assistance from without, and Col. Travis exhorted them, in case the enemy should carry the fort, to fight to the last gasp, and render the victory as serious to the victors as to the vanquished. Three hearty cheers approved this course. On the following day the messenger who had been despatched to Goliad and Refugio was seen running toward the fort hard pressed by half a dozen of the Mexican cavalry. .Crockett, the Bee-hunter and two others, sallied out to his relief, and after a slight skirmish with the pursuers, chased them so far, in the ar^ COLONEL DAVID CROCKED. 32? dor of the moment, that their retreat was cut off by another body of cavalry, which got between them and the fort. There was no course open to the Americans but to fight their way through. "G-o ahead I" shouted Col. Crockett. There were about twenty of the Mexicans, and they fought savagely until a larger detach- ment issued from the fort, when they retreated, leaving eight dead upon the field. The messenger and the Bee-hunter were mortally wounded, the former dying before they entered the fort. The latter, whose songs and jests had so often raised the spirits of the garrison, as his manly, unassuming piety had ex- cited their admiration, died about midnight, a sigh for his be- trothed escaping him as he sang: " But toom cam' the saddle, all bludy to see, And hame cam' the steed, but hame never cam' he." It was the last song she had sung to him, before he left her for the Alamo. The autobiography of David Crockett is the principal source of information in regard to these last days in the fortress. Un- der the date of March 5, 1836, we find this entry : "Pop, pop, pop! Boom, boom, boom! throughout the day. No time for memorandums now. G-o ahead ! Liberty and inde- pendence forever ! " That is the last. Before daybreak, on the sixth, 'the whole Mexican force assaulted the fortress, Santa Anna commanding. The battle raged fiercely until daylight, when only six men, of whom Col. Crockett was one, were left alive in the fort. These were surrounded, and, knowing resistance was useless, were compelled to yield. Gen. Castrillon, to whom they surren- dered, was brave but not cruel, and wishing to save the prison- ers, went to Santa Anna to ask for orders. "No quarter/' had been the command, but Castrillon hoped that these few might be spared. With steady and firm step Col. Crockett followed the humaner Mexican to his superior's presence, looking full and fearlessly into the cruel commander's eye. "Your excellency," said Castrillon, "here are six prisoners I have taken alive ; how shall I dispose of them ? " Looking at the general fiercely, Santa Anna answered, in a violent rage : " Have I not told you how to dispose of them? Why do you bring them to me ? " The murderous crew around him wanted no other orders to COLONEL DAVID CROCKETT. 329 fall upon the defenseless prisoners. Col. Crockett sprang for- ward like a tiger at the ruffian, but a dozen swords were sheath- ed in his heart. "Without a groan, with a frown upon his brow, but a smile on his lips, he died. This is, for us, the end of the story. "With that battle, when the Texans, crying " Eemember the Alamo," swept down like a hurricane upon the Mexicans, with their final triumph in the struggle for independence, and subsequent annexation to the United States, we have nothing to do. The sixth of March, 1836, ends the life of an honest man, who served his country as best he could, who never refused to serve a fellow-creature, and who died fighting for another people. " Each of the heroes around thee had fought for his land and his line, But thou hast fought for a stranger, in hate of a wrong not thine." MOiNTJMENT TO THE DEFENDERS OF THE ALAMO. CHAPTER XHL GEISTEBAL SAM HOUSTON. THE AUSTINS. r I iHE first white men who descended the Mississippi doubtless JL looked with surprise upon the stream, when, for the first time, they saw a turbid flood mingling with its crystal waters. Side by side the golden river of the western mountains and the blue wa- ters from the north flow for miles, blending at last into one stream, truly the Father of Waters. The swift current carried them on, and the meeting of the two rivers was well-nigh forgot- ten. The mystery was not to be solved by men who had never ascended the Missouri to its native mountains, and in ignorance of its nature they passed on. When a man in the prime of life unites his fortunes to those of a state struggling for independence, and becomes a leader in peace and war, the earlier fortunes of each must be followed, in order that their union and its results may be understood. As the color of the Missouri is given to the lower Mississippi, so the hero affects the time in which he lives; and the history of the state gives him another dignity than he would have had alone, as sure- ly as the northern stream contributes to increase the volume of the mightier flood. If we would form a clear mental picture, then, of the life of Sam Houston, let us first turn to the early history of Texas. At the cession of the territory of Louisiana to the United States in 1803, Texas became debatable ground : claimed by our government as a part of the purchase; claimed by the Spanish authorities as never having been ceded to France, and hence not to be sold by the rulers of that country. The United States did not give up claim to it until 1819, when a treaty was made by which Texas was relinquished to Spain, and Florida sold to the United States. The foundations of the independence of Texas were laid before Mexico, of which it formed a part, had thrown THE ATJSTIN3. 331 off the Spanish yoke, and it was only as a Spanish subject that the first settler of English descent could go there. Moses Austin, a native of Connecticut, had settled west of the Mississippi in 1798, owning allegiance to the government then ex- isting there. Procuring from the Spanish officials a grant of the lead mines of Potosi, sixty-five miles south of Saint Louis and forty miles west of Ste. G-enevieve, he remained there con- tentedly for twenty years. [Reduced to comparative poverty by the failure of the bank of Missouri, he projected apian for colon- izing parts of Texas with emigrants from the United States. G-oing to San Antonio, the capital of the province, in the fall of 1820, to further his plans, the governor ordered him to leave the country, or suffer imprisonment. As he left the office, naturally discouraged by this unfriendly reception, he met Baron de Bas- trop, an alcalde of the city who had come to Mexico on a special mission from the King of Spain, and choosing to make it his home, had acquired considerable influence. He had known Aus- tin before, and readily lent his voice to the scheme, obtaining a more favorable hearing from Gov. Martinez. A petition was drawn up and signed by the local authorities, praying the gov- ernment to allow Austin to bring three hundred families into Texas ; but " the law's delay" was such that no immediate action was taken upon it, and Austin returned to his Missouri home. So well was he assured of success, however, that he immediately commenced preparations for removal. In the succeeding spring (1821) he received information that the desired permission had been granted, but his energy was subdued as never before : a cold had settled upon his lungs, and a few days after he died. The scheme of planting a colony in Texas was left as a legacy to his son, Stephen Fuller Austin, who at the age of twenty- eight had already been a member of the territorial Legislature of Missouri, and a circuit judge in Arkansas. To this latter ter- ritory he had removed to promote his father's plans by raising corn and other provisions to supply the train of emigrants on their way. To him, therefore, the bequest was not unexpected or unwelcome, and his best energies were bent to accomplish the task. Towards Texas he bent his steps, meeting upon the way the commissioners sent to conduct his father to the land grant- ed. Austin, the commissioners and fourteen colonists made up the party that arrived in San Antonio on the twelfth of August, 1821, and immediately proceeded to select the lands. The fertile (THE AUSTINS". region watered by the Brazos, Colorado and G-uadalupe Elvers was chosen, and Col. Austin returned to New Orleans to ad- vertise for colonists. Such were not difficult to find, but on his return a new trouble arose. The change in the government of Mexico necessitated a journey to the capital, to secure a confirm- ation of his grant. The new government was anxious to encour- age immigration, and made even better terms than Spain and Feb. 18, 1823, this grant was confirmed. Mexico was just beginning to establish her reputation as a mother of revolutionists; and independence having been secured by the first rebellion, a second speedily followed. This detained Austin for a long time at the capital, and when he reached the colony he had been absent a year. Of course this did not tend to reassure the immigrants, some of whom had returned home. Encouraged by the presence of the leader, and ofDeBastrop, who had been appointed their Land Commissioner, the town of San Felipe do Austin was laid out, and land having been assigned to each settler in proportion to his needs, all set to work. This was a time to severely test the leader's ability, but, weighed in the balance, he was not found wanting. Everywhere his help was given; from the " raising" of a house or the clearing of a corn-field, to the framing of a code of laws, the task received his assistance., At once civil governor, military commander and judge of their only court, he was tne father of the colony, and looked well to his offspring. Nor was this the only settlement made under his direction. At different periods between this first immigration and the year 1835, more than fifteen hundred persons had come to Texas under his direction. The colony had its own difficulties, how- ever, with which to contend. One of these was the rapidly in- creasing number of immigrants; it became impossible for the settlers already there to raise enough grain for all until the la- test comers should have time to plant and gather a crop, and often they must clothe themselves in skins, and live upon game. But their chief trouble was with the Indians. Their hunting parties must be large, to guard against sudden attack from the savages ; while a sufficient number must be left at home to pro- tect the settlement. The savages had been exasperated against the whites by the conduct of Lafitte. This notorious pirate had for many years been master of the Mexican and Texas coast, when, in 1817, he made G-alveston Island his headquarters, and THE AUSTINS. 333 gathered around him a thousand followers. Preying upon the Spanish and American commerce alike, they paid no heed to the rights of any man. The savages, exasperated by their kidnap- LAFITTE, THE PIRATE. ping of squaws, assaulted their encampment many times, but were as often driven back with terrible slaughter. Becoming at last insupportable, the United States sent out an expedition to break up the nest, and the pirates were driven to Yucatan. Having 334 *HE AUSTINS. cursed Texas with their presence for so many years, they left her a legacy of hatred by the Indian for the white man. For two or three years the Indians continued to annoy the col- onists, not by attacks upon the town, but by robberies and mur- ders committed whenever the weakness of a traveling party tempted them. Stories are tiresome when all have the same in- cidents and the same results, so we need not touch upon the con- flicts between the settlers and the savages, ending by the latter's pledge not to come east of San Antonio. So well had the lesson of submission been taught that this treaty was never violated. In 1823-4, the surrounding country was much infested with robbers, who often concealed that crime by murder; but a sever- ity only justified by the circumstances, struck a wholesome terror into the hearts of the highwaymen. Austin's was not the only colony brought into Texas from the United States, but the other* had not the same advantages. San Felipe was surrounded by a vast tract of unclaimed lands, and when these were granted to Austin, there was no man to dispute his right ; but the rest were located by the government upon lands claimed by others, and those fomented the popular feeling of the Mexicans against the Americans. The colony most unfortunate in this respect was that of which Hadjden Edwards was empresario, or leader. After land had been granted to the settlers and improved by them, old Mexican claims were revived, and the officials, jealous of the rapidly in- creasing element, decided invariably against the Americans. The difficulty soon culminated in war, and the Fredonians al- lied themselves with the Indians, through the agency of John Dunn Hunter. This was a white man who had been captured by the Cherokees when a child, and who had obtained almost para- mount influence in the tribe. These allies were secured by a prom- ise that when success had been obtained, Texas should be divid- ed equally between the Indians and Americans ; for the Fredo- nians aimed at no less a prize than the political independence of Mexico. But Texas was not yet ready for self-government; the Mexican forces, under Col. Bean, attacked and routed the Fredon- ians ; the Indians were bought off from their alliance by gifts of land; to show their attachment to the established authority, the savages murdered Hunter, who would have kept them to their first promise; Edwards was dispossessed of his grant, and he and his colonists returned to the United States. THE AUSTINS. 335 During this war in Fredonia, the other colonies progressed finely. But all were regarded with a jealous eye by the Mexi- cans, because they so faithfully preserved their own institutions. At the time when Mexico was a dependency of Spain, Texas had been a separate province; but when the independent consti- tution was adopted, Coahuila and Texas were made one state. THE MURDER OF HUNTER. This large extent of territory being comprised under one govern- ment, and that inefficient, crying evils naturally arose. The con- stitution of this double state was adopted in 1827, being ostensibly modeled on that of the United States, but with fatal differences. One law passed in 1830, prohibited further immigration from the United States. This, however, was disregarded by those who wish- ed to come, and in 1831 the Americans there numbered about twenty thousand, 336 GENERAL SAM HOUSTON. The Mexican revolution of 1832 showed clearly the strength of Texas, and hence increased the jealous hatred of the Mexicans towards her. The anxiety of the United States government to extend its limits to the southwest also contributed to strengthen their suspicions of the colonists. The Americans were accused of trying to carry their new home over to their native country, and for this purpose, it was thought, they fought so steadily for what they had learned to consider their rights. Every man of discernment saw that the day was not far distant when Texas would be no longer a part of Mexico ; but Austin tried to keep his colony peaceful and prosperous, that, when the time came for the struggle, their efforts might be crowned by success. He had refused to aid the Fredonians, for their revolt was pre- mature; his duty to his adopted country forbade his encour- aging resistance to its legally constituted authorities, when, al- though there were evils, they were hardly such as could or should be redressed by fighting. He knew that his colonists, free-born Anglo-Americans as they were, would not always submit to the government of men accustomed to tyranny, and modelling their state after those of the Bark Ages of Europe. GENERAL SAM HOUSTON. "Whatever laws might be made, there was no such thing possi- ble as keeping the adventurous and daring spirits of the United States out of any place whither they wished to go, and the dis- turbances of 1832 attracted many such to Texas. ]STot the least among these, if we consider either his previous position or his later services, was Sam Houston, whose voluntary exile from Ten- nessee, for the past three years, had been explained in many ways. Born in Kockbridge County, Virginia, in 1793, his father died in 1807, leaving a widow and nine children in destitute circum- stances. Removal to Blount County, Tennessee, immediately followed, and here the youth of our hero was spent in alternately attending school, working on his mother's farm, and clerking in a store; until suddenly he left home and joined the Cherokee Indians. This wild life does not appear to have lasted very long, for we find him, while still a mere boy, teaching school hi order to pay off some debts. At the age of twenty, he enlisted in the army for the Creek war, then raging in Florida, and by his gal- lantry in action won the approval of Gen. Jackson. His daring pn the field at the battle of the Horseshoe resulted in several GENERAL SAM HOUSTON. 337 severe wounds, from which he did not recover for over a year; and in the promotion to the rank of second lieutenant. Being appointed sub-agent for the Cherokee Indians in 1817, he was soon accused of abusing his authority; but investigation proved that the charges were made by contractors whom he had displeased by his integrity. Receiving in the succeeding year a commission as first lieutenant, dated back a year, he resigned his HOUSTON WOUNDED IN THE CREEK WAR. military and civil honors in 1819, to devote himself to the study of the law. In this profession he speedily attained eminence, being in 1819 elected District Attorney ; at the same time the ti- tle of Major-General of militia was accorded to him. Political honors, also, awaited him. Elected and re-elected to Congress in 1823 and '25, he left his seat there at the close of Jiis second 838 GENERAL SAM HOUSTON. term only to ascend the steps of the gubernatorial mansion as its master. In 1829 he was happily married, and to all appearance there was no cloud in the sky. His majority had been over- whelming, his popularity was unbounded, his administration met with no opposition. Such was the brilliancy of his prospects when, without any warning to those outside their mansion, Mrs. Houston returned to her father's house, and the governor resigned his office and fled from the city in disguise. The news fell like a thunderbolt upon his friends. Neither of the two who alone could satisfy curiosity ever told the story, and the secret has gone down with them into the grave. Houston, on leaving the city, went to the Cherokees, who were now settled on the Arkansas River in the Indian Territory, and was by them formally admitted to all the rights of citizenship in the tribe. But his absence was a puzzling thing to those interest- ed in him, and it was accounted for in various ways. There are al- ways those who are ready to impute evil, and perhaps the memory of Burr's treason, which men still in the prime of life had known at the time, predisposed them to suspect Houston. It was rum- ored that he was to invade and detach Texas from the Mexican government; that he was to aid Mexico against the Spanish in- vasion; that he was to collect a party of white adventurers and join them to his Indian friends, no one knew for what purpose. So well-defined were these reports that they reached the* ears of President Jackson, who immediately wrote to Houston to depre- cate such a thing as the attack upon Texas. Similar information, claiming to be obtained from Houston himself, reached the Pres- ident again, and Jackson confidentially directed the secretary of state of Arkansas to keep him informed of any movements on Houston's part which might seem to confirm this intelligence. He soon received the welcome news that there were no such movements on foot. Appointed confidential Indian agent to the tribes of the south- west in 1832, it was probably in the early part of the succeeding year that he went to Texas. He had been solicited by friends there, as early as 1829, to join them, but had preferred his life in the Cherokee nation. When he did cross the boundary it was probably, at first, in prosecution of the work assigned him as Indian agent. The Mexicans complained a great deal of the in- roads of Indians from the United States, and Houston had orders frc-m our government to induce them to leave Texas and return COLONEL JAMES BOWIE. 539 to their reservations. While engaged in this work, which the jealousy of the Mexican authorities rendered unsuccessful, he met with Col. James Bowie, around whose name clusters so many border associations, and who lived and died so bravely for Texas, that it will not be out of place to introduce him still more fully to the reader. COLONEL JAMES BOWIE. A native of Georgia, his parents removed to Louisiana in 1802, with their five sons, of whom the most famous in after years was the second, James. Here he grew to manhood, tall and well- proportioned, fair-haired and blue-eyed ; erect in bearing, mild and quiet in his manner; jovial and companionable, but not a drunkard; with a wonderful art of winning people to him, and extremely prodigal of his money. Contrary to the impression which generally prevails, he was not an habitual duelist. The knife which bears his name, and which was first made by his bro- ther, Rezin P. Bowie, was never but once used by him except as a hunting knife. This single occasion was in 1827, when James Bowie met, on a sand-bar in the Mississippi, an antagonist by whom he had been, on a previous occasion, waylaid and shot. James Bowie fell at the first fire, and his opponent, Wright, was advancing to give him the coup de grace, when Bowie drew the knife and killed him. Several others were killed in this fight, for the quarrel had been well known, and both men had many partisans. After a lucrative trade in the negroes captured by Lafitte, bought by the Bowies and sold in Louisiana, James and Eezin P. Bowie settled in Texas, in 1830, the former became a naturalized citizen, and soon afterward married the daughter of the Vice Governor of San Antonio. Late in 1831, the two brothers, accompanied by seven of their countrymen and two negro servants, set out in search of the de- serted silver mines of San Saba. They had been on the road more than two weeks when they were overtaken by two Comanches and a Mexican captive. Early the next morning, before they had left the camp, the Mexican of that party arrived in a state of great exhaustion, with a warning message from the Comanche chief. Over a hundred and fifty hostile Indians would soon at- tack the little party, in spite of the efforts of the Comanches to dissuade them. The chief offered what assistance he could give them, but his party only numbered sixteen, badly armed and without ammunition. Col. Bowie deemed it wisest to push on 22 340 COLONEL JAMES BOWIE. towards the old fort on the San Saba, and the Mexican returned to his party. But with bad roads and worn-out horses, it was impossible for them to travel thirty miles that day. It was at first difficult for them to find any camping-place where they would be at all secure from the Indians, but finally they selected a cluster of live-oak trees, near which was a thicket of bushes of similar growth, and, thirty or forty yards in another direction, a stream of water. They were not disturbed during the night, but in the morning, just as they were about to leave the camp, discovered the Indians about two hundred yards away. They numbered one hundred and sixty-four, while there were eleven men, all told, in the camp. The whites accordingly wished to avoid a fight, and sent out Re- zin Bowie and David Buchanan to parley with them. Advanc- ing to within forty yards of where they had halted, Bowie asked them, in their own tongue, to send forward their chief to talk with him. They replied in English with the salutation : "How d'ye do ? How d'ye do ?" and with a volley from their rifles, breaking Buchanan's leg. With his wounded comrade on his back, Bowie started back to the encampment, followed by a heavy fire. Bu- chanan was wounded twice again, but slightly, while Bowie es- caped unhurt. A spirited contest now ensued, the rifles of the whites doing deadly work among the Indians on the open prai- rie. Slowly and surely the savages closed around the little camp in a complete circle, and the white men almost despaired of driv- ing them off. But the Indians were by no means pleased at their success ; every .volley from the camp brought down five or six of their warriors, while they had no guide for their aim but the smoke of the white men's guns. They now determined to resort to stratagem, and set fire to the dry grass of the prairie with a double object in view; it would at once drive the whites from their shelter, and enable the Indians, under cover of the smoke, to carry off their dead and wounded. A change in the wind ren- dered the position of the white men doubly dangerous, driving the fire directly upon them; if they remained where they were, they would be burned alive ; if they left it, it would bo to fall into the hands of the enemy. Only one fire remained in their guns, and in the shower of sparks no man dared open his powder- horn. The thicket which sheltered them was now burnt, and they set about building a breastwork of loose stones and of earth which they dug up with their knives and sticks. The fight had COLONEL JAMES BOWIE. 341 lasted since sunrise, and it was now nearly night. The Indians withdrew to a distance of about three hundred yards, and en- camped, while Bowie's party working hard at the earthwork, succeeding in raising it breast-high by ten o'clock. As they worked, they could hear the wild lament of the Indians over their dead, and when they awoke at the change of guard, the sad sounds still greeted their ears. They prepared for another at- tack next day, although their originally small party had been GEKERAL SANTA ANNA. much reduced, one man being killed and three wounded ; but the Indians did not again attack them. Eight days were passed here, when they returned to San Antonio, a twelve days' journey. Such was the famous Col. Bowie, of whose death by the hands of the enemies of Texas we shall learn later on. His introduc- tion of Houston to various Mexican authorities probably proved of material advantage to our hero. Of course it was Houston's character and reputation that drew Bowie to him, and that, only two months after his first coming to Texas, led to his election as 342 STEPHEN F. AUSTIN. a delegate to the postponed constitutional convention. Houston was the chairman of the committee that framed a constitution to be submitted to the general government and to the people; a brief, but model document, that would have insured to the Tex- ans, had it ever gone into effect, all those rights and privileges so dear to the people of the United States. Three delegates were chosen, to present this constitution to the supreme government, Stephen F. Austin being elected by the largest majority. For some reason the others, Wharton and Miller, did not execute the commission, and Austin went alone to the capital. Santa Anna had been recently elected President, but had re- tired to his estates, leaving Yice President Farias in charge of the government. His design was to overturn the constitution and establish a "strong" government, with himself as dictator; hoping that his retirement would relieve him of responsibility. Meanwhile, all political business was thrown into disorder, which was further increased by a terrible epidemic prevailing in the city. In a few weeks, cholera carried off ten thousand of the inhabit- ants of the metropolis; it spread to the provinces; the meetings of Congress, even, were deranged by it. Austin despaired of the success of his mission. He had already urged his suit with such importunity as to offend Farias ; there was no prospect that Congress would take any action upon it. Full of disappointment, he wrote to a citizen of San Antonio, recommending that all the municipalities of Texas unite in form- ing a state, under the constitution of 1824, and thus prepare to resist a refusal of their application. Some one in San Antonio sent a copy of this letter to Farias, who received it after Austin had left the capital. An express was immediately despatched, and Austin arrested and carried back to a Mexican prison. For four months he lay in close confinement from the light of day, and for a time denied the use of writing materials. These were furnished him, however, by a priest who had ministered to the colony of San Felipe a warm personal friend, and the musings written in pencil in a small memorandum book give a picture of his mind. In June his condition was improved. He was removed to more comfortable quarters, and given to understand that he would sometime be brought to trial. The charge was treason, and the first court before which he was brought was a military one. The judge decided it was a case over which he had no jurisdic- STEPHEN F. AUSTIN. 34 tion. A civil court was next tried, but the same decision was given. The judges knew that there were no real charges, but were equally afraid to acquit or convict. Austin ascribed his persecution to a crew of land-sharks, who had fraudulently ob- tained eight hundred leagues of land around Monclova. These men knew that if he were at liberty, he would expose their claim. During his imprisonment, he was re-elected to the Legislature, but never occupied his seat. Rumors reached him, now accusing him of being too Mexican, now of paying too much deference to popular opinion in Texas. At last, after he had been in prison for a year and a half, and absent ten months longer, he was al- lowed to return to San Felipe in September, 1835. The greater part of the time that he was a prisoner the confinement was mere- ly nominal, and he was treated with flattering attentions by Santa Anna, when that official resumed the reins of power. Nearly a year before Austin was permitted to return, the President had taken the petitions of the Texans under consideration, convoking a special council, in which Austin had a seat, for that purpose. His decision was adverse to the erection of Texas into a separate state, although he held out hopes that he would organize it as a territory. Texas had been the scene of confusion for two years. Early in 1835 the Federal Congress had reduced the number of the militia to one soldier for each five hundred inhabitants, and decreed that the others should be disarmed. This measure was intended to prevent resistance to anything that Santa Anna might propose, but failed signally. While the President was pretending to give favorable attention to them, he was really planning a military occupation of the state, and only awaiting an excuse to punish them for their boldness. This excuse was soon made by oppression. The spirit of the people had been aroused by various tyrannical actions, in the assessment and collection of taxes, in quartering soldiers upon the people, and in arresting several citizens upon slight pretence. In pursuance of the decree directing the disarming of the citi- zens, Captain Castinado was sent to seize a small cannon at Gon- zales, that was used against the Indians. The citizens were pre- pared to resist the demand by force, and the Mexicans were soon compelled to withdraw. The warlike spirit spread like a prairie fire in the fall ; and before a month had passed, two forts, Goliad and Lipantitlan, garrisoned by Mexicans, had been captured. 344 STEPHEN F. AUSTIN. This was done by volunteers who were without military organ- ization, the leader being elected only for one attack. Some of the more prominent men in camp wrote to San Felipe requesting Austin to come to them, and he was elected their commander. A TEXAN RANGER. At this stage there were two parties in Texas, one declaring for war, the other for peace. Of this latter, the leading spirit was Sam Houston, who, in August, 1835, introduced at a meeting in San Augustine a series of resolutions which, although they remonstrated against Santa Anna's tyranny, professed loyalty to the national constitution of 1824. But it soon became evident, even to him, that it was impossible to prevent war, and in Nov- ember of the same year he accepted the commission tendered him commander of the troops of Eastern Texas. TEXAS WAR FOR INDEPENDENCE. 345 Houston did not wish to interfere with Gen. Austin, and, when the latter urged him to take entire command, absolutely refused to do so ; saying that Austin had been elected by the troops, and the reinforcements had been enlisted under them j that if he were to resign it might afford ground for discontent. The same Gen- eral Council, which elected Houston to his military position, es- tablished a provisional government, and, after declaring the stand which Texas had taken to be in accordance with the support of the constitution of 1824, adjourned until March 1, 1836. At this second session, Austin was sent as a commissioner to the United States to secure loans to maintain the government ;; Henry Smith was elected governor, and Houston commander-in-chief. But the interval between these two sessions is not devoid of interest. On the second of November, the Texan army, number- ing at least a thousand men, left Concepcion, where, on the twen- ty-eighth of October, they had defeated the Mexicans under Gen. Cos, losing but one man to the enemy's sixty, and marched to San Antonio de Bexar, one and a half miles away. The town had been put in good condition to maintain a siege, breastworks be- ing thrown up at the entrance of every street into the square, a redoubt erected in a vacant lot fronting the plaza, and artillery mounted behind the parapet on the roof of the old church. The Mexicans numbered about eight hundred, and were*well supplied with cannon, while the Texans had but five small pieces. It had been decided that to storm the place would involve the loss of too many men, and that, therefore, a regular siege should be ordered. Every effort was made to draw the enemy out of his fortifica- tions, but in vain. They soon gave evidence of weakness by send- ing horses away to lessen the consumption of provisions; three hundred animals, sent to Laredo, were captured by a detachment under Col. Travis ; their poor condition showed the scarcity of provender in the town, and Austin thought that it could not long hold out. But Cos was waiting for reinforcements, and would not surrender. The Texans grew impatient with inaction, and the besieging force gradually diminished, until, by the fourteenth, there were less than six hundred. The " Grass Fight/' as it is called, occurring on the twenty- sixth, was the first engagement of note during the siege. A for- aging party, sent out by Gen. Cos, was attacked by Col. Bowie and a force of about one hundred men. A confused, running fight, the Mexicans being reinforced, resulted favorably for the Texans. 346 TEXAS WAR FOR INDEPENDENCE. They had none killed, two wounded and one missing, while the enemy had fifty killed and several wounded. The Texans were reinforced before assistance reached the Mexicans. Mexico complained bitterly of the assistance in men, ammunition, and money that New Orleans was busily transmit- ting to the rebel citizens of a friendly government. President Jackson replied that there was no law in the United States to prohibit the transmission of arms or funds or prevent persons from leaving the country, if they did not organize forces within its limits. So high ran the feeling that forces were organized within the United States, but no one notified the authorities, and more than one well equipped company was sent to aid the pa- triots. Notable among these were the New Orleans G-rays, two companies of which were sent to San Antonio in less than a month and a half after the news of the Texan revolution had reached New Orleans. Gen.Burlesonwasnow in command of the army around Bexar, which, although considerably reinforced, did not number more than eight hundred men. An attack on the town was ordered, but subsequently postponed. The rage of the soldiers on learning the latter decision was indescribable, and when, late in the even- ing of the fourth of December, Col. Benjamin K. Milam cried : " Who will go with old Ben Milam into San Antonio ?" he was answered by a shout from every man in the army. The assault took place on the morning of the fifth, and for four days the Tex- ans pressed hard upon the enemy. At length, on the morning of the ninth, Gen. Cos, who was now shut up in the Alamo, sent a flag of truce, expressing a desire to capitulate. Easy terms were given, the officers being required to pledge their word of honor that they would not in any way oppose the re-establishment of the constitution of 1824. Col. Milam was killed early in the assault, and the honor of the victory belopged to Col. Johnson, upon whom the command devolved. To him, also, Gen. Burleson delegated the command at the Alamo, leaving a force sufficient to garrison it ; the re- mainder of the army dispersed. The humanity with which the wounded Mexicans were treated was remarkable in the annals of war, but, as we shall see later, the lesson was lost upon the en- emy. But new difficulties were to beset the new republic, only to be averted by a clear head and a strong hand. An effort was made TEXAS WAR 'FOR INDEPENDENCE. 347 to depose the existing authorities on account of inefficiency; but Houston replied to this speech, in a meeting at San Felipe, with such effect that the mover of the resolutions tore them up and left the assembly. While these internal dissensions weakened Texas, Mexico became the more united. The surrender of Cos at San Antonio was by the Mexicans regarded as a disgrace, and all concurred in an eager desire to avenge the dignity of the re- public. Of this feeling the Texans were hardly aware ; they still looked for co-operation, from the other states in supporting the constitution of 1824, yet, with a strange inconsistency, were looking confidently forward to independence. It was in accord- ance with this feeling of the Mexicans that Santa Anna deter- mined to lead the Mexican army in person into Texas, and, col- lecting a force and maintaining it by a tax of one per cent, every twenty days, he entered the state a little after the middle of Feb- ruary, 1836. At the beginning of the war in the previous year,, the Texans had united to repel the invader; but now they show- ed not one hundredth part of that activity. They were exhausted by privations and toils ; they did not believe that Santa Anna would enter the state again ; there would be volunteers from the United States to assist them, if they waited ; and the quarrels of the civil authorities had a par- alyzing effect upon the people. The invasion was a thing not to be denied by the civil or mili- tary officers, however, and Gov. Smith despatched Col. Travis, Gen. Houston and Col. Bowie, each with a force of thirty men, to the relief of Bexar. On the twenty-third of February, the town was regularly invested by a force of five or six thousand, the besieged numbering but one hundred and forty-five. These are the numbers as stated by Col. Travis, in a letter written dur- ing the siege. On the sixth of March, 1836, the Alamo fell. The garrison had held out a long time, and had fought desperately; the commander, Travis, fell, mortally wounded by a ball ; a Mex- ican officer rushed towards him with drawn sword; the hero of the Alamo, rousing himself with the energy of despair, drew hig GENERAL SAM HOUSTON. 348 TEXAS WAR FOR INDEPENDENCE. own sword, and the two enemies closed in a fatal union, the sword of each sheathed into the breast of the other. Such was the spirit with which these men fought for their independence. Every prisoner was slain. The corpse of Travis was hunted out from the heaps of slain, that Santa Anna might run his sword through it. Two officers were detailed to pile up the bodies of the defend- ers and burn them. In the search they found a man still alive, lying sick on a stretcher. " Do you know him?" asked one. " I think," replied the other, " it is the infamous Col. Bowie." They berated him for fighting against the Mexican government ; he replied by denouncing them for fighting under such a tyrant as Santa Anna ; they commanded silence ; he answered : " Not when ordered by such as you." "Then we will relieve you of your tongue," rejoined one of the officers. The brutal order was given to the soldiers near by, and speed- ily obeyed. The bleeding and mutilated body of the gallant Tex- an was thrown upon the heap of the slain, the funeral pile of the patriots saturated with camphene, and the tall pillar of flame that shot upward bore the soul of Bowie up to God. A woman and a negro servant were the only persons in the fort whose lives were spared. These were sent to Gen. Houston, accompanied by a Mexican, who was commanded to offer peace and general amnesty to the Texans, if they would lay down their arms and submit to the government of Santa Anna. Gen. Hous- ton's answer was : " True, sir, you have succeeded in killing some of our bravest men, but the Texans are not yet conquered." These words were accompanied by a copy of the Declaration of Independence, which had been adopted at "Washington on the second of the month. Having taken San Antonio, Santa Anna diverted the attention of the patriots by feints upon Gonzales and Bastrop, and then marched upon Goliad, where Col. Fannin, the hero of Concep- cion, was stationed with a small force of volunteers, variously estimated. In obedience to an order from Gen. Houston, Fannin, who had greatly diminished his force by sending out parties to the assistance of neighboring settlements, set out towards Victo- ria. After a march of six or eight miles towards the Coleta, he ordered a halt, to graze and rest the oxen and refresh the troops. TEXAS WAR FOS, INDEPENDENCE. 84$ The march had hardly been resumed, when they were attacked by the Mexicans. All day long they fought, and when night came, as neither side had gained a decisive victory, the Texan officers decided that that they could not save their wounded with- out capitulating. A white flag sent out by them was promptly answered by the enemy; the Mexican General Urrea would treat only with the commanding officer. Col. Fannin, though crippled by a wound, went out and made excellent terms. The Texans were to be received and treated as prisoners of war, and were accordingly marched back to G-oliad, where they arrived March 22d. On the evening of the twenty-sixth, the prisoners were dis- cussing their departure to the United States, whither they were to be sent, and some were playing " Home, Sweet Home," upon the flute, when a courier arrived from Santa Anna. At dawn the next day (Palm Sunday), the Texans were formed in several di- visions and marched oif in different directions. Four Texan physicians, who had been employed in caring for the Mexican wounded, were taken to the tent of Col. Guerrier, a Mexican officer. A volley was heard from the east; another from the south ; more than one voice cried " Hurrah for Texas ! " before it was stilled forever; many fled for their lives, but were fol- lowed and cut down by the cavalry. " Can it be possible," asked Dr. Shackelford of Col. Guerrier, as that officer entered his tent, that they are murdering our men?" " It is true," answered the Mexican, " but I have not given the order or executed it." Three hundred and thirty Texans suffered death by that order of Santa Anna's, about twenty-seven escaping to their friends. Santa Anna was now fully convinced that Texas was almost completely subdued, and proposed to return, leaving a subordi- nate officer to finish the work ; but the representations of his generals prevented him from carrying out this plan. The Texan army retreated towards the west, Houston having decided to make the Colorado the line of defence; but the panic, which spread through the country, kept men at home to defend their families, and thus no reinforcements came. This panic was main- ly produced by the deserters from Houston's army. The com- mander-in-chief earnestly begged the chairman of the military committee to re-assure the people. "We can raise three thou- sand men in Texas," he wrote, " and fifteen hundred can defeat all that Santa Anna can send to the Colorado." Every effort was 350 TEXAS WAR FOR INDEPENDENCE. made to raise more troops, but no reinforcements had arrived when the news of Fannin's surrender came. The army was about to attack the Mexicans, but on hearing this intelligence, Houston decided not to risk a battle these few men around him were the only hope of Texas and ordered a retreat. " I held no councils of war/' he said, in announcing this movement to the govern- ment. "If I err, the blame is mine." The retreat was commen- ced on the evening of the twenty-sixth of March ; being rein- forced by one hundred and thirty men. Encamping west of the Brazos, the enemy gradually advanced upon them. The Texans had received some reinforcements, and had also succeeded in bringing up two six-pounders, the famous pieces of artillery pre- sented by citizens of Cincinnati, and named the Twin Sisters. They crossed the Brazos, and here Houston told them that he had been blamed by some because the Texans were not permitted to meet the enemy ; but that, as soon as circumstances would per- mit, they should have fighting to their satisfaction. Texas could not survive two battles ; they could not merely check the enemy ; he must be whipped, and the work done in one fight. On the seventh of April Houston notified the army to be ready for action at any moment. The spies kept them informed of the movements of the enemy, and on the nineteenth they learned that Santa Anna was there in person. The Texans continued their march, closely followed by the Mexicans, until on the twenty-first both were encamped near the San Jacinto river. Here at noon of that day a council of war was held under a tree, the officers discussing whether they should attack the enemy or await an attack from him. Some of them urged that the strength of Santa Anna's position and the coolness of his veterans would be disastrous to the raw militia of their army, but others favored the attack. A bridge, which was the only passage to the Brazos, was hewn down by the Texans to cut off the retreat of the Mexicans. About three in the afternoon, the Texan army formed in line of battle. The twin sisters opened a destructive fire upon the Mexicans when within about two hundred yards of their breastworks ; and the whole line, advancing in double-quick time, crying "Kemember the Alamo ! Remember G-oliad !" pour- ed a murderous fire into their ranks. The Texans never halted, but on the left pressed on to the woodland, driving the Mexicans before them, the cavalry on the right meeting with the same suc- cess. In the center the enemy's artillery had been taken, and TEXAS WAR FOR INDEPENDENCE. 351 HOUSTON DICTATING ORDERS. turned against his own flying forces. The Texan commander was everywhere along the line of attack, encouraging and directing his men j often getting in front of his own gunners. 352 TEXAS WAR FOR INDEPENDENCE. In fifteen minutes from the time of the first assault the Mexi- cans were flying in all directions. With terrible slaughter among the fugitives the flight continued, men and horses, dead and dy- ing, forming a bridge through the morass for the pursuers. Not many of the Texans were wounded; the commander-in-chief had his horse shot two or three times, and received a severe wound in the ankle. Still the chase continued, Houston still at the head of his men. The Texans, having no time to load, clubbed their guns; then they used their pistols, and their bowie-knives next came into requisition. Night fell, and the pursuit was given over HOUSTON AT SAN JACINTO. for that day. The victors secured seven hundred and thirty prison- ers, and provided for the wounded of both armies as well as they could. Two hundred and eight of these were Mexicans, twenty- five were Texans; six hundred and thirty of Santa Anna's men, and eight of Houston's had been killed. The Texans had taken, besides, a large quantity of arms, great numbers of horses and mules, the camp equipage and the military chest of the enemy, the latter containing about twelve thousand dollars. The impor- tance of this acquisition will be apparent when it is stated that TEXAS WAR FOR INDEPENDENCE. 353 there T7as no such thing belonging to the Texan army. Houston had started out, on this campaign, with a private fund of two hundred dollars ; one-fourth of this sum had been given to a woman who had been widowed by the Alamo massacre, as he had not the heart to refuse her request for aid. The excitement of the battle had hitherto made him forget his wound, but now, in the comparative quiet, Houston found his foot intolerably painful; the boot was cut from the swollen limb, and everything done to alleviate the pain. Detachments were sent out, the next morning, to scour the THE FINDING OF "THE MIGHTY AND GLORIOUS. country for the purpose of making prisoners. One of a party of five, while in the act of shooting a deer, discovered a Mexican fugitive. All rode after him, but he fell into a morass. They had some difficulty in getting him out. In answer to their ques- tions, he said he was a private soldier; they pointed to the fine studs in his shirt, when, bursting into tears, he admitted himself an aide-de-camp of the general. JSTot being able to walk, he was placed on one of the horses and taken to the Texan camp. As the party passed the prisoners, a murmur of surprise was heard, increasing until the equally surprised captors distinguish- ed the words, "El Presidente," It was, indeed, the Mexican 854 TEXAS WAR FOR INDEPENDENCE. dictator who had caused the massacre of the Alamo and G-oliad Santa Anna, himself, " The Mighty and Glorious." Being conducted into the presence of G-en. Houston, he imme- diately proposed to negotiate for his release. G-en. Houston told him that the civil government of Texas would take cognizance of that; that he had no authority to treat. Houston rebuked Santa Anna for his cruelties, and received the excuse that the rules of war had devoted Travis and his men to death, since they had refused to surrender, although unequal to defense; that if SANTA ANNA BEFORE HOUSTON. Fannin had ever capitulated, he was not aware of it ; Urrea had deceived him, and informed him that they were vanquished; and he had orders from his government to execute all that were taken with arms in their hands. Eaising himself painfully, Houston said: " General Santa Anna, you are the government a dictator has no superior." It was at this interview that Houston, excited by a remark de- rogatory to the bravery of the Texans, by one of Santa Anna's subordinates, took from his pocket an ear of dry corn, and, hold- ing it out, said, " Sir, do you ever expect to conquer men who fight for freedom, when their general can march four days with one ear of corn for his rations?" TEXAS WAR TOR INDEPENDENCE. 355 The prisoner was assigned quarters near Gen. Houston's tent, and was treated with great magnanimity. An armistice was agreed upon, Santa Anna sending orders to Gen. Filisola, his second in command, to retire to Yictoria and Bexar, to set free all prisoners, and not to ravage the country. Different opinions prevailed in the Texan cabinet as to what course should be pur- sued; a small minority favored the immediate execution of the monster, but the majority judged that such a course would enrage Mexico still more, and lose them the sympathy so active in their favor in the United States. It was finally decided to treat with him, and on the fourteenth of May, 1836, a public and a secret treaty were signed, by which Santa Anna acknowledged the in- dependence of Texas, and engaged to remove his troops from the state. Gen. Houston's wound had proved so troublesome that he was obliged to ask for leave of absence, and go to ]STew Orleans for surgical aid ; leaving Texas May 5, he was absent j ust two months. Returning, he found the independence of Texas fully establish- ed, although the treaty had not yet been entirely fulfilled, Santa Anna being still a prisoner. His detention rendered Texas all the safer, as the Mexicans found it impossible to raise another invading army without the presence of their dictator. A general election was ordered by the President to take place in September; for the highest office, the supreme executive, there were two candidates, Stephen F. Austin and Henry Smith. About two weeks before the election, an assembly of more than six hundred persons at Columbia nominated Houston. On his ar- rival in New Orleans he had been solicited by a number of Tex- ans there, to become a candidate for the presidency, but had positively refused. At this time, each of the two candidates re- presented a political party, the power of each party being about equal. Houston knew that he would be obliged to fill all appoint- ive offices with his political friends, and his administration would meet with severe criticism and stern opposition from the other party. Houston himself was free -from the trammels which bound the others, and believing that he could effect a consolid- ation of both, he accepted the nomination, and was elected by a large majority. The constitution adopted at this election gave him the appointment of his cabinet, and Gen. Austin was made Secretary of State, and Ex-Go v. Smith Secretary of the Treasury. Besides the questions already mentioned as submitted to the 23 356 TEXAS WAR FOR INDEPENDENCE. people in this election, there was another of considerable impor- tance, both now and later. Should Texas apply for admission into theKepublic of the United States ? This was decided in the af- firmative by a nearly unanimous vote, -and Austin immediately went to work to prepare instructions for the diplomatic agents that were to be sent to our capital. For three days he worked, and late into the night, in a room that, in spite of the extremely cold weather, was without fire. The exposure brought on a cold which terminated fatally on the twenty -seventh of December. Thus early in the history of the infant republic died "the father of Texas, the first pioneer of the wilderness." His untiring ser- vices were fitly styled invaluable by the order issued from the War Department. His mission to the United States was a deli- cate and difficult one, but executed with fidelity and crowned with success. It is unnecessary to detail the events of this administration. A threatened invasion from Mexico was repelled ; the United States acknowledged the independence of Texas, but refused to listen to her request for annexation ; the Indians were made to keep at a respectful distance; economy of the strictest kUid was practiced even to the disbanding of the army. The constitution made the first presidential term only two years in length, the incumbent being ineligible for re-election ; so that in 1838 he left the office, that for the next three years was to be filled by the late Yice-President, Gen. Lamar. When Houston was elected for the second time he found the public debt enormously increas- ed ; government securities worth but fifteen or twenty cents on the dollar; the Indians hostile; the Mexicans threatening anoth- er invasion. The Congress, then in session, was busily con- sidering questions of retrenchment and reform, and to them the new President lent his most earnest endeavors. Various recom- mendations of his were acted upon, and a rigid economy prac- tised in all departments of the government. About this time, the question of annexation to the United States was revived. Mexico had not, for six years, made any serious attempt to re-conquer her revolted province, and the Tex- ans judged that this would be a point in their favor. But the Mexicans heard of the movement, and to keep up their claim, sent a number of small marauding parties into Texas. In view of these inroads, President Houston recommended to Congress that the archives of the government be removed from Austin tp TEXAS WAR FOR INDEPENDENCE. 357 some more secure point. Thereupon ensued the "Archive "War," a bloodless combat, in which the pride of the city of Austin was laid low. The Mexican raids continued, and in March, 1842, San Antonio and G-oliad were taken. Many prisoners were taken by the en- emy in the succeeding year, and were badly treated. The re- lease of one hundred and four in the year 1844 has been thought to be in accordance with the dying request of Santa Anna's wife. Early in the year 1843, it was expected that a large party of Mexican merchants, with valuable stocks of goods, would pass along that large strip of uninhabited country belonging to Tex- as. They were looked upon as legitimate prey, since the war had recommenced, and the War Department, instructed by Pres- ident Houston, authorized the organization of a party for its cap- ture. Col. Snively, the commander of the expedition, was in- structed to keep on Texas soil, make captures only in honorable warfare, and pay one-half of the spoils into the public treasury. This last was regarded as an unreasonable condition, and was rejected. The party of one hundred and eighty men set out about the middle of April, and, two months later, fell in with a party of Mexican soldiers sent to guard the train. Of these seventeen were killed and eighty taken prisoners. Elated with their suc- cess (for they had taken a good supply of provisions and horses), the party separated, preferring to return by two different routes. The news that such an expedition was contemplated had reach- ed St. Louis, and two hundred U. S. dragoons had been sent out to protect the caravan. These discovered Snively' s party, sur- rounded it, and under pretense that it was on the soil of the Un- ited States, compelled the men to surrender and give up their arms. It was afterwards proven that they were on Texan soil, and the United States paid for the guns that had been seized. The miserable failure of this expedition caused it to be after- ward disclaimed by the President as unauthorized, but this was not sufficient to prevent his being blamed severely for it at the time. If it had been successful, that would have been another thing entirely. But Houston was becoming unpopular, because of his attitude regarding the question of the day annexation. Desiring it as earnestly as any of his constituents, he dissembled his wishes, thinking an indifferent attitude on the part of Texas would sooner secure it ; this was not generally understood, and ho was accused of thwarting the wishes of the people in that direction, 358 TEXAS WAR FOR INDEPENDENCE. A more honorable measure than the Snively expedition, was the assertion of the strength of the government during the dis- turbances which occurred in the eastern part of the country. Two factions, the Regulators and the Moderators, defying the law, engaged in a vendetta ; many men on both sides were killed and many unlawful acts committed ; the militia was called out and the disturbance quelled, but it was several years before peace was established between the more bitter members of the two parties. But the securing of an armistice with Mexico was one of the greatest events, if not the greatest of Houston's second administra- tion. There was ev&ry reason to believe that this would result in a treaty between the two republics, by which the elder would rec- ognize the independence of the younger. England and France united to insure the independence of Texas, on condition that she should not be annexed to the United States. The application to be admitted into the Union had been renewed, and rejected again. The influence of the two great European powers that had interested themselves, finally secured Mexico's recognition of Texas as a sovereign power. On the election of Mr. Polk to the presidency of the United States, the question which had been twice brought before them, and twice been disapproved, was reconsidered again, and the Con- gress of the United States invited the Republic of Texas to enter the Union. A convention was called for the consideration of this offer, and by a vote of fifty-five to one, it was accepted. October 10th, the people ratified the action of the convention, and De- cember 2d, President Polk signed the bill extending the laws of the United States over Texas. February 19, 1846, the republic was finally merged in the state. At the first session of the State Legislature, G-en. Houston was elected U. S. Senator, and was re-elected in 1847 and 1851. This prevented his taking part in the war between Mexico and the United 'States, which followed the annexation of Texas. An old Jackson Democrat, he was early suspected of a leaning towards the North, and this was confirmed by his vote upon the question of extending the Missouri Compromise line across the continent. His leaving the Democratic for the Know-Nothing party, about 1854, made him so unpopular, that he saw he would not be re- elected in 1857; so he announced himself as an independent can- didate for governor. For the first and last time in his life, he was Beaten in a popular election. Two years later, he was an inde- WAR FOR ttfDEtENfcENCE. 359 pendent Democratic candidate for the same office, and w^as elect- ed by a handsome majority. In a circular, addressed to his con- stituents before the election, he said: " I would lay down my life to defend any one of the states from aggression which en- dangered its peace, or threatened its institutions. I could do no more for the Union. I could wish to do more ; for the destruc- tion of the Union would be the ruin of all the states." The Legislature convened in extra session January 21, 1861, and on the first of the succeeding month, the convention called for the purpose of considering the question of secession, passed an ordinance taking Texas out of the Union. It was too late to prevent secession, but Houston warmly advocated the plan of Texas resuming her former position as an independent republic, and not attaching herself to the Confederacy. Failing in this, he refused to take the oath to support the new government, and was promptly displaced. He made no eifort to assert his authority as governor, knowing that it could result in no good to Texas. From his retirement, he protested against the proclaiming of martial law as anti-re- publican, and watched, " more in sorrow than in anger," the war measures adopted by both armies. Secession he thought would be successful, and he feared that both northern and southern gov- ernments would lose the spirit of democracy. "The welfare and glory of Texas will be the uppermost thought, while the spark of life lingers in this breast:" so he said in a public speech in the city of Houston,. Mar. 18, 1863, and, while few be- lieved in the principles that had led him to resign his office, no one doubted his sincerity. This was his last appearance before a public audience. A lit- tle more than four months afterward (July 26, 1863), the spark was extinguished forever Houston thought no more of the wel- fare and glory of Texas. Even in the whirl and turmoil of civil war, the people turned aside for a moment to show respect for the memory of the man whom they had delighted to honor. The hero of San Jacinto, the only man who was twice president of Texas, he had seen the statesmen and patriots of his youth gath- ered one by one to their fathers ; and the only monument erect- ed to his memory is that imperishable one in human hearts. Has the life of Houston, as here told, been a history of Texas, rather than a biography of the man ? Let it be so, to fitly rep- resent the truth. The history of the general cannot be told un- 360 TEXAS WAR FOR x less his battles are recorded; of the statesman, unless the victor- ies of peace be recounted; of the patriot, unless the land that he loved be prominent on the stage. His was the strong and steady hand that held the helm; the sail filled, the oars were plied, but the steersman directed the course. One word of explanation remains to be added, and that in re- gard to his name. His signature, on all the state papers and other documents existing, stands " Sam Houston." There is never any use made of the full name of which this is probably the ab- breviation.. Like all heroes of the people, his name is preserved as he wrote it. CHAPTER xiv. KIT CABSOff. SHOKT of stature, slender of limb, a fair, clean shaven face with a mild and quiet expression such was the personal appearance of a man whose name is known far and wide as that of as skillful a hunter, as intrepid an Indian fighter, as ever was celebrated in our legends of the border; such was Kit Carson. Authorities differ as to. both time and place, but those whom we may assume to have gathered their information from his own lips, say that Christopher Carson was born in Kentucky in 1809. The removal of his parents, in the succeeding year, to the neigh- borhood of Boonslick (Boonsboro), Howard County, Missouri, had led some to suppose that this was his birthplace, while still others make him a native of Illinois. His father was a skillful hunter and trapper, and the boy was early trained to take part in the sport. By the time he had reached the age of fifteen he was known as a good shot in the country where all could shoot well, and had had more than one perilous adventure with the wolves that infested the neighborhood. Of these trials of his courage no particulars have come down to us ; but the bare fact that there were such stories told of him, shows that the exploits of his manhood were foreshadowed by those of his youth. In 1824, his father apprenticed him to a saddler, but the con- fined life was extremely distasteful to him, and after enduring it for two years he joined a party of traders who were going to Santa Fe. This expedition was by no means without danger, for the route was infested with hostile Indians, who were always ready to commit depredations upon the caravans. The armed par- ty, however, reached the proposed point, the capital of a Mexican province, without encountering any such interruption. The only accident of the journey was a wound in the arm of a man whose gun accidentally went off as he was taking it from the wagon. The KIT CARSON. injured member grew rapidly worse, and amputation being nec- essary, three of their number, Carson and two others, were ap- pointed to perform the operation ; the instruments were a razor and an old saw, while a bolt from one of the wagons was heated and used to cauterize the wound. The patient recovered, much to the surprise and joy of the surgeons. Carson spent some time in Taos, learning the Spanish language. .Returning with anoth- er party of traders to Missouri, in the spring of 1827, he enga- KIT CARS6N. 363 ged himself as teamster to a company of merchants bound for El Paso. Here he remained. This was a complete change from his old Missouri home; the adobe huts, built to surround a square . court, in the old Moorish fashion, each separate house forming a fort that could be defended by its master ; the vineyards, whence came the light wine and brandy for which the place was well- known ; the population, half Indian, half Spanish : all these had been known to him in Taos, and he only renewed his familiarity with them in El Paso. The winter of 1827-8 was passed in Taos, in the employ of Mr. Ewing Young ; thence, in the spring, he went as interpreter with an expedition commanded by Col. Tramell, bound for Chihua- hua. While this position was held in higher estimation than any he had yet occupied, he did not find its safe monotony pleasant, and left it to engage in the more humble work of a teamster, re- turning with his new employer to Taos. Here he found an op- portunity to engage in the pursuit for which he was so eminent- ly well qualified, and in which he delighted hunting and trap- ping. A party of trappers, sent out by his old employer, Mr. Young, came in with but few peltries, having been driven away from the chosen grounds by the Indians, and a larger company was organized for the double purpose of chastising the savages and trapping beavers. The commander of such an expedition of course desired to take with him only experienced men, as raw recruits were apt to create confusion. It was then a high com- pliment to Kit's courage and ability that he, a boy of nineteen, should be allowed to join them in this party. They failed to find the savages who had committed the offense, following a trail which afterwards proved to be that of another band of marauders. Acting, probably, upon the principle that if these Indians hadnotdeserved'punishment already, they might do so in the future, a sharp skirmish ensued upon their meeting, and fifteen warriors were killed. Proceeding along the Salt river, a tributary of the G-ila, they successfully prosecuted the work for some time, but finally decided to go to the Sacramento valley. Their route lay through a desert, where they suffered dreadfully for want of water and food ; with this, however, they were amply supplied by a party of Mohave Indians, whom they met in the canon of the Colorado. The Mission of San Gabriel extended its hospitality to them. We can hardly realize what they endured, or of how much value to the young trapper was 364 CARSOti. such a, journey. Accustomed, even in the most sparsely settled districts, to roads more or less plainly marked, it is hard for us to appreciate the situation of those who first marked out these roads. The difficulties of the route were still farther enhanced by the presence of the Indians, against whom they must be al- ways on their guard. This journey is far inferior in interest to subsequent adventures, if each be considered singly; but taken as an indication of what he could do, and as training for his future life in that thinly settled country, it is of very great importance. The party spent some time in trapping upon the Sacramento river, the richness of the soil about them supplying them with abundance of food. The country around them was filled with vast hordes of the Klamath or Digger Indians, not, however, re- duced to the miser- able wretches that they are to-day. Then, they were the lords of the land, subsisting upon the plentiful gifts of mother earth, strong and brave. The vices of the white man, which his superior strength defies, are the destruction of that lower race, and like those of so many other tribes, the mod- >ern Digger does not- fitly represent his CHRISTOPHER CARSON. fathers ; though even then this tribe was inferior to the Apaches and Comanches. The curious in such matters may refer this to the diiference in their food ; would it not be better to conclude that the higher courage attacked the larger game, while the Klamaths were content to war upon and live upon grasshoppers ? For so did the Diggers anticipate the experiments of our later entomologists. Long before the days of which we write, the Spaniards had established missionary stations along the coast of California, about thirty or forty miles apart, for the purpose of Christianiz- KIT CARSOtf. ing the Indians. Each little community was tinder the govern- ment of a prefect, always a priest, whose temporal authority was equalled only by his spiritual. He was appointed by the Crown of Spain, and that government contributed a considerable sum for the maintainance of these missions. Attached to each of these stations was a band of Indians, for whose labors the worthy fathers conceived that the religious instruction given them made a full return. When, therefore, the Indians became restive under their "burden of forced labor, and forty of them deserted, the missionaries lost little time in appealing to Capt. Young and his trappers, for assistance in compelling the neighboring tribes not INDIAN CAPTURING HORSES. to harbor the fugitives. Carson, at the head of a party of eleven, set out towards an Indian town near San Gabriel, and an attack upon it resulted in the destruction of one third of the inhabitants, and the complete submission of the others. Peace having been thus restored, Capt. Young sold a number of furs to a trader, who was then at San Gabriel, and received in payment a large drove of horses. But the Indians, apparently conquered, were only awaiting an opportunity to avenge themselves upon the trappers, and one night stole sixty of these horses while the sen- tinel slept. Carson, with a party of twelve, was sent in pursuit of the thieves. It was not difficult to follow the trail of so large a drove, but so rapidly did the Indians retreat with their booty, 366 Rttf CARSON. that the white men traveled about a hundred miles before com- ing up with them. Carson arrived near the Indian camp, placed his men carefully and silently, and at a given signal they rushed upon the warriors as they sat eating. The savages, having no fear of pursuit, were feasting on the flesh of some of the stolen horses. The attack of the white men came upon them like a thunderbolt. Eight were killed, and the remainder scattered in all directions, leaving the victors to return with the horses not consumed, and with three Indian children that were left in the camp. Early in the fall of 1829, Capt. Young decided to go southward to the valley of the Colorado. Stopping at Los Angelos, many of the trappers became involved in a drunken fray with the citizens, and he left sooner than he had intended. On the Colorado they encamped, and were very successful in adding to their stock of furs. On one occasion they would have lost all if it had not been for the courage and address of Carson. Left in the camp with only a few men, he was one day confronted by a large party of Indians, numbering two or three hundred. These did not mani- fest any enmity to the trappers, and they were apparently un- armed ; but Carson discovered that each one had formidable weap- ons concealed under his upper garment. He ordered them to leave the camp, but the Indians, seeing how far superior were their own numbers, paid no attention to the command, acting as if they did not comprehend the language. Carson quietly drew up his men, armed with their rifles. The old chief had betrayed a knowledge of Spanish, and to him Carson said in that language: " You see that there are very few of us, but we are all well- armed, and determined to sell our lives dearly. Gro." Awed by the tone of his voice and the glance of his eye, as much as by his words, the Indians, who never voluntarily face open danger, sullenly withdrew. Their plan had most probably been to produce a stampede of the horses, and thus secure them, after they had robbed the camp of the valuable furs in it. Although the trappers were not again disturbed by the Indians, this was not the only meeting j for, a little later, they turned aggressors, and robbed the Indians of a large drove of cattle and of several good horses. Returning to Santa Fe, the furs were disposed of for such a sum that each man's share seemed to him a fortune, and each one im- mediately proceeded to get rid of it as soon as possible. Carson KIT CARSON. 367 was not behind his companions in their indulgence in the dissipa- tions of a Mexican town. Having sown the wind by killing his opponent in a street brawl, the resulting whirlwind blew him far back towards his old home in Missouri. Meeting with a party of trappers on their way to Utah, he joined them, remaining with them some time. They suffered, occasionally, from the depreda- A NARROW ESCAPE. tions of the Crows and the Blackfeet, but so slightly that Fitz- patrick, who was in command, would not permit Carson to go in pursuit of them. Eeinforced by another party, however, a theft of sixty horses while they were in their winter camp he was permitted to avenge. Selecting twelve volunteers, he took up the trail, and coming upon the Indians in one of their strong- 368 KIT CARSON. holds, cut loose the horses, attacked their rude fort, killed five warriors, and made good their retreat with the animals that they had recovered. This was the most considerable fight during the winter. It was during this winter that Carson had a very narrow escape. Out looking for "beaver sign," with a few men, he came suddenly upon a party of sixty well-armed and mounted warriors. Eesistance was useless, and the trappers beat a hasty retreat, while the bullets whistled alarmingly thick about them. He was accustomed to say, long afterwards, that this was one of the narrowest escapes that he had ever had. In the spring of 1832, the party being upon a stream where he was convinced there was no beaver, Carson, with two others, left them and proceeded to another stream. Here, high up in the mountains, and hence not disturbed by the Indians, they pursued their work successfully for the whole season. Taking the furs to Taos, they disposed of them for a good price, and Carson, taught by his past experience, resisted all temptations to squan- der his money. This was a hard task for one so fond of the so- ciety of his companions. During his stay at Taos, he was invited by Capt. Lee to join an expedition that he was organizing, and in October of the same year set out with about twenty traders and trappers, going north- ward and entering winter quarters on a branch of the Green river. While in the camp, a neighboring settler was robbed of six valu- able horses by an Indian whom he had had in his employ, and in whom he had hitherto reposed great confidence. To Carson he applied, asking him to pursue the Indian and retake the horses. Having obtained permission of his employer, Kit went to a neigh- boring Utah village, where he was well-known, and procured the assistance of a brave and hardy young warrior, whom he knew to be reliable. So slight were the indications of the trail that they could on,ly follow with extreme difficulty and slowness at first ; but once convinced of its direction, they proceeded more swiftly. They had traveled about one hundred miles when the Indian's horse fell sick; in vain did Carson urge him to continue the pursuit on foot ; the warrior bent his steps homeward, and Kit, putting spurs to his horse, followed the trail for thirty miles farther. The fugitive spied*him at the same moment that Kit saw the object of his search, and with true savage caution turn- ed to seek a shelter from which he might fire at his assailant. Galloping towards him, Carson raised his rifle, took' aim and fired KIT CARSON. just as the Indian reached what he thought would be safety. With one bound the savage fell beside his horse, and the report of his own gun was his only requiem. THE PURSUIT OF THE HORSE THIEF. Soon after his return with the horses, Carson joined a party of three others, with whom he trapped all summer on the Lara- mie, with unusually good results. While hunting on foot for game for this camp he met with the most perilous of his adven- tures. He had just shot an elk, and was preparing to take pos- session of his game, when two grizzly bears rushed upon it. He 370 KIT CARSON. had not yet reloaded, and besides, his rifle could defend him on- ly against one; there was nothing to be done but to make for the nearest tree.* The bears were close behind him when he reached a sapling, up which he climbed as fast as he could. Fierce with hunger, his pursuers would put their huge paws around the A FIG^T WITH GRIZZLIES. slender trunk, and endeavor to reach him. Cutting a branch from the tree, he would rap sharply each black nose that came near enough, and bruin would go away growling, only to return when the pain ceased. Nearly the whole night was passed in this way, KIT CARSON. 371 but towards morning the bears departed. "Waiting until they were at a safe distance, Carson scrambled down from his perilous perch, and made his way to the camp. The elk he had killed had been devoured by the wolves, but he was only too glad to have escaped with his life ; and his safety consoled his compan- ions for supping and breakfasting on beaver. For the fall hunt, Carson joined a company of fifty, locating in the country of the Blackfeet, around the head waters of the Missouri ; but the Indians were so numerous and hostile that they removed to the Big Snake River. During the winter, the Black- feet stole in one night eighteen of their horses, for the recovery of which Carson was sent with eleven men. Riding fifty miles through the snow, they came to where the Indians had encamped. The savages, wearing snow-shoes, had the advantage, and the par- ley which they demanded was readily granted. The Indians said that they thought the horses belonged to the Snake tribe; that they did not intend to steal from the white men. In reply, Carson asked them why they did not lay down their arms and smoke. To this question they had no answer, but both parties laid aside their weapons and prepared for the smoke. The war- riors made long-winded, non-committal speeches ; the whites refused to hear anything of conciliation from them until the horses were restored. Thereupon the Indians brought out five of the poorest horses. The whites started for their rifles, and the fight commenced. Carson and a companion named Markland got hold of their rifles first, and were in the lead. Selecting for their mark two Indians near to each other, both took aim, and were about to fire, when Carson saw that Markland's antagonist was aiming with deadly precision at his friend, who had not noticed him. Chang- ing his aim, he sent his ball through the heart of the Indian, and tried to dodge the shot of his own adversary. He was a moment too late, and the ball struck the side of his neck, passing through his shoulder and shattering the bone. The fight continued until night, but Carson was, of course, only a spectator. His wound bled profusely, and gave him considerable pain, but not a word of complaint escaped his lips. Nightfall ended the fight in favor of the whites, but their situation was extremely precarious. Not knowing how soon the Indians might return with reinforcements, they dared not light a fire, lest it should betray their where- abouts. In the darkness and cold they held a hurried council, 24 372 KIT CARSON. KIT CARSON 373 and decided to return to the camp. Loss of blood had rendered their leader so weak that he was unable to sit on his horse ; so, contriving a rude litter, they carried him. Three others were wounded, but so slightly that they were able to ride back. Arrived at the camp, a party of thirty was despatched to pursue the Indians ; but it returned in a few days, having faile/l to over- take the marauders. Carson had fully recovered from his wound before the follow- ing summer, when, for the second time, he attended the grand rendezvous of trappers. This meeting was held annually in the midst of the great western wilderness, and attended by traders, trappers and hunters who were anxious to exchange the products of their labor for goods and money. Parties came in about the time agreed upon, and encamped around the given spot. Those who came earliest waited until others had arrived, before they began to trade, thus fulfilling the unwritten law of honor which prevailed among them. It was a motley crowd that was there assembled, the traders dilating upon the difficulty and danger of transporting their goods from St. Louis, a thousand miles away. Indians and white men met there on neutral ground, and the hardy hunter of the States consorted with the no less hardy French Canadians. Nominally a peaceful meeting, it was no small task to keep from open fights, and it sometimes severely tasked those better disposed to restrain their comrades. Among the more orderly was Carson, who did his best to bury the hatch- et, even though a large party of Blackfeet, including the Indians who had stolen the horses, was present, protected by a white flag. His influence over the Indians, however, was considerable ; they respected his courage too highly for him to be unpopular among them. There was a greater danger to be encountered among the white men. A French Canadian, John Shuman, was notorious as a bully and a braggart. So often had his acquaintances been intim- idated by him, that none of them dared resent the insults which he took pleasure in heaping upon them. Encouraged by their sub- mission, and greatly under the influence of liquor, he began to try the same treatment with the Americans. Riding about the encampment, he denounced them as lily-livered cowards, weaker than women, fit for no manly sport or occupation, and deserving liberal applications of hickory, outwardly. Human nature can- not stand everything ; Carson threw aside his role of peace-mak- 374 KIT CARSON. er, and stepping out from the crowd, said, in his softest and qui- etest tones : "I am an American, and one of the least of them. If you want to fight any of us, you can begin with me." CARSON'S DUEL WITH THE BRAGGART. The gigantic Shuman looked contemptuously down from his seat in the saddle upon the slender, smooth-faced young man who stood before him ; then, putting spurs to his horse, and riding oif to a little distance, then back again, raised his rifle and took aim. Kit had sprung upon a horse and was ready with his pistol. Both fcrtf CABSotf. 875 fired at the same instant, Shuman's hall grazing Carson's cheek and cutting off a lock of his hair. Kit had not aimed at a vital part, wishing to teach the bully a lesson, not to kill him ; his hall entered Schuman's hand, came out at the wrist, and passed through his arm above the elbow. He begged abjectly for his life, and never insulted Americans again. Arrangements were made at the rendezvous for the fall hunt, and Carson started thence with a party to the Yellowstone. Meeting with little success, they removed two or three times and finally determined upon a wandering hunt. Through the glit- tering white expanse of the so-called mud-lakes, the vast prairies covered with the worthless artemisia and heavy sand, the weary horses plodded forty or fifty miles without food or water. "Winter set in with the severity common in this latitude, at this elevation, and they were on the brink of despair. It had been resolved to kill one of the horses and drink his blood, when they came in sight of a party of Snake Indians. . From these they bought a fat pony, and the rank flesh was the sweetest they had ever tasted, seasoned, as it was, by hunger, the best of sauces. Invigorated by this food, they proceeded on foot to Fort Hall, thus allowing their worn-out horses as much rest as they could give them. Ar- rived at the fort, and having recruited their strength, they start- ed out on a buffalo hunt, and brought in as much meat as their horses could carry but on the third morning after their return, the Indians drove off all their horses from the corral in which the animals were confined ; the sentinel mistaking the savages for the friendly red men employed about the fort. Pursuit was out of the question, as the same trick had been played a short time ago on the people of the fort, and they could only await the ar- rival of a detachment of their party which they expected from Walla Walla. The men expected, came in about four weeks, with a plentiful supply of horses ; with fresh steeds, and men well fed and rested, they started towards Green river, where, at a rendezvous, a party of a hundred was organized to trap upon the Yellowstone and the head waters of the Missouri. This was the country of the Blackfeet, and as they expected to meet these Indians, it was ar- ranged that while fifty were trapping and hunting for food, the others should guard the camp, and cook.. Their precautions were useless, for the small pox had raged so fiercely in this hostile tribe that their numbers were much diminished, and the survivors 376 KIT CARSON. too depressed in spirit to attack the whites. A camp of the friendly Crows, near by the place where they wintered, gave them companionship and assistance. DEFENDING A FALLEN COMRADE. Hardly had they begun trapping again when they learned that the Blackfeet had recovered from the effects of the pestilence, which had been less severe than had been represented. Learn- KIT CARSON. 377 ing. that they were encamped not far from the trapping ground, the whites determined to take the initiative. Carson and five companions went forward to reconnoiter. [Returning, a party of forty-three was organized, Carson unanimously chosen as leader, and the others left to move on with the baggage. It was not long before the Indians were overtaken, and ten were killed at the first fire. Carson and his men were in high spirits, and followed up the attack for three hours, meeting with but little resistance. Their ammunition began to run low, and the firing was less brisk, when the Indians, suspecting this to be the state of affairs, turned and charged upon them, uttering their terrible war-cry. Enabled to use their small-arms, Carson's men drove back the savages with considerable slaughter, but rallying yet again, they charged so fiercely that the trappers were forced to retreat. In- cited by the brave generosity of Carson, who placed himself be- fore a companion disabled by his horse falling upon him, and shot the foremost of the six warriors who rushed to get the fallen trapper's scalp, his men rallied around him, and fired again upon the Indians. Again the trappers retreated a short distance, and made a stand ; both parties seemed to be exhausted, each appar- ently waiting for the other to renew the attack. While they thus remained passive, the reserve force of the white men came up, and being thus freshly supplied with ammunition, they renewed the attack with the old vigor. The desperate fight which ensued ended in the defeat of the Indians. The Blackfeet lost many men in this encounter, and did not again venture near the trap- pers. After leaving the summer rendezvous of trappers, and engag- ing in several profitable trades, Carson settled himself for the winter to hunt for the garrison at a fort on the Colorado, and in the spring engaged in the old business with only a single com- panion. This, he thought, would enable him to work more qui- etly ; as, personally, he was popular with the Indians, especially with the Utahs, among whom he was going ; but all the tribes resented the presence of any considerable body of white men in their territories. It was while on this expedition that he had a hand-to-hand encounter with a large and fierce mountain lion, being armed only with a hunting knife ; the long fangs of the savage creature tore his flesh dreadfully, and faint with loss of blood, he was on the point of yielding to it, when the love of life, strong even when we are in despair, incited him to one more 378 KIT CARSON. effort, and the keen edge of his knife nearly severed the head from the body. Encamping with a large party on the old trapping ground on the Yellowstone, about midwinter they discovered that a large INDIAN WAR DANCE. detachment of the Blackfeet was alarmingly near. Forty men, headed by Carson, were sent to sustain their attack. Both sides fought bravely until darkness put an end to the contest, and dur- ing the night the Indians retired, taking their dead with them. The whites knew that this was but a small portion of that pow- KIT CARSON. erful tribe, which numbered about thirty thousand, and that they -would probably be attacked very soon by a larger force. Carson directed that a breastwork be thrown up. Hardly had this been completed, when the Indians began to assemble around the impromptu fort. In three days about a thousand warriors were gathered around the fort. The war-dance took place in sight and hearing of the trappers, and at the first appearance of day- light the Indians advanced ; only to retire, however, when they saw the strength of their position. They had recognized, in the preparations for defense, 'the hand of Kit Carson, and they dar- ed not again contend against the " Monarch of the Prairies." Several seasons were passed in trapping, but no extraordinary adventures characterized them. The price of furs decreased so much that it was no longer a profitable business; and after eight years spent in it, Carson, now twenty-five, decided to engage himself as hunter to Fort Bent. It is much to be regretted that, while he knew thoroughly "the lay of the land," and all the minor points of use to him in guiding a hunting expedition, his lack of education prevented his recording this knowledge in such a way as to confer a lasting benefit upon others. At Bent's Fort he found his position extremely pleasant. Not only did he like the work in which he was engaged, but he form- ed a sincere and lasting friendship with his employers, Messrs. Bent and St. Vrain. Here he found no difficulty in feeding the forty men in the fort, killing thousands of elk, deer and antelope, as well as smaller game; while a buffalo hunt afforded him the keenest pleasure. His accurate knowledge served him well in this pursuit, as did also the respect and esteem of the Indians for him. It was while ho was acting as hunter to Bent's fort that some of these well-disposed Indians, having suffered considerably from the incursions of the powerful Sioux, sent to him for assistance. Such had been his success in hunting that he accepted this invi- tation, and accompanied the Indians to their camp. Hero he found, besides the painted Comanches, to which tribe the mes- sengers had belonged, a considerable band of Arapahoes. In the council which followed, they told him that the Sioux had a thou- sand warriors and many rifles; but expressed the utmost confi- dence in the Monarch of the Prairies' power to defeat these dreaded enemies. Carson listened to the representations of the tribes that had sought his aid, and urged upon them the superior advantages of a peaceful settlement of the difficulty. So great 380 KIT CARSON. was his influence over them that they consented to send him ag mediator, and he succeeded in persuading the Sioux to return to their own hunting grounds at the end of the season. It was while he was acting as hunter to Bent's Fort that he married an Indian wife, by whom he had a daughter still living. In less than a year after her marriage, the mother fell a victim to her devotion to her husband. Learning, when her little daugh- ter was but a week old, that her husband was lying ill a hun- dred miles away, she mounted a horse and rode to where he was. A fever, thus contracted, put an end to her life. "When this daughter was about five years old, Carson brought her to St. Louis, to put her under such care as would be better calculated for her improvement than the rude teachings of her mother's people, or the little training she could receive from her father's rough companions. Hither his fame had preceded him, and he was amazed to find himself a lion. But pleasant as such recog- nition might be, it could not compensate him for the life that he loved ; and he longed to return to his old hunting-ground. His journey to St. Louis proved to be a turningrpoint in his life, for it was here that he fell in with Lieut. John C. Fremont, then under orders from the United States government to explore and report upon the country lying on the line of the Kansas and Great Platte Rivers, between the western boundary of Missouri and South Pass. Bigelow, in his life of this gallant officer, pub- lished during the presidential campaign of 1856, makes the state- ment that the meeting between Fremont and Carson was purely accidental ; but most of Carson's biographers represent that Fre- mont was familiar with the name and fame of the daring plains- man. This latter seems much the more probable ; it is hardly to be believed that the active young officer, from whose brain had emanated the idea of this expedition, should never have heard of the most famous of the hunters the " Thief-Taker," as the whites had named him; the "Monarch of the Prairies," as the Indians called him. Carson was engaged as guide, and proved an invaluable acqui- sition even to a party composed, as this was in great measure, of voyageurs familiar with prairie life by reason of their services to the fur companies. Twenty-one men, principally Creoles and Canadians, composed the party at first; to it being added Mr. Preuss, as assistant topographer, a hunter, and the guide. In May, 1842, they left St. Louis, proceeding by boat to Chouteau's KIT CAESON. 881 Landing, near the mouth of the Kansas, whence, after a few days' delay, they started on the overland journey. For a distance of nearly a hundred miles the road was excellent; " The prairie stretched as smooth as a floor, As far as the eye could see," and the path was so well-defined that they experienced no diffi- culty in pursuing it. Arrived at the ford of the Kansas, they met with their first delay since leaving Chouteau's Landing. The horses were driven in and reached the opposite bank in safety, and although the oxen occasioned some anxiety by swimming down the river, they were recovered the next morning. An in- dia-rubber boat, twenty feet long and five feet wide, was launch- ed, and on it were placed the body and wheels of a cart, the load belonging to it, and three men with paddles. Such was the velocity of the current, joined to the unwieldy nature of the freight, that the boat could only be successfully steered to the opposite side by means of a line held in the teeth of one of the best swimmers, who assisted in drawing the vessel over. Six passages had been made in this way, the swimmer being Basil Lajeunesse ; night was rapidly approaching, and it was necessary that the work of transportation should be completed. Disre- garding the advice of Carson, Lajeunesse started out the last time with a double load; the boat capsized, and it was only with considerable trouble that the cargo was recovered. Carson and the hunter, Maxwell, were in the water the greater part of the next day searching for the lost articles, and were so affected by the exposure that the party had to remain encamped there an- other day. Two days more were passed at a camp seven miles further up the river. Provisions were dried and repacked, cart covers painted, and marksmanship perfected. Leaving this camp, they marched onward through a country, where for several days their only difficulty was the scarcity of water. Eeaching the country occupied by the Pawnees, they found it would be necessary to keep guard at night, since these thieving hordes openly attacked the weaker parties, and endeav- ored to carry off the horses of even the stronger. It may be readily believed that any report of the Indians being in the neighborhood was carefully investigated. Such an alarm was given by a man who had fallen some distance in the rear, and who came spurring up, shouting " Indians, Indians I" Being questioned, he said that he had been near enough to see and count 382 fci a war-party of Indians following them, stating the number as twenty-seven. A halt was called, arms examined, and while they were preparing for the attack which they expected, Carson gal- loped off alone in the direction that the Indians were said to be advancing. Eeturning, he said that the twenty-seven Pawnees had changed to six elk, that had scampered off when they had passed. A more serious alarm resulted from their first buffalo hunt, some days later, in Carson's being thrown from his horse by its fall among the herd. This, although really a serious ac- cident, did not not prevent his engaging in the hunt the next day. A threatened attack of the Sioux produced great confu- sion in the camp, as they were not accustomed to the perils of the life upon the plains. Carson, knowing that these men were not to be depended upon in an encounter with the savages, as were those experienced trappers who had been his companions in the previous years, made his will, and the knowledge of this increased the fears of the men ; but this, like the other dangers they had encountered, passed off without any serious result. The grasshopper, that scourge of the West, whose ravages have of late years been more familiar than ever to us, had destroyed nearly all the vegetation in the country through which they were shortly to pass, and famine had so weakened the Indians that they were unable to attack Fremont's party. Carson's position in this expedition was honorable, as testify- ing to his reputation as a guide and hunter but it has by no means been accorded the consideration which it deserved. The party, as before stated, consisted almost entirely of French voy- ageurs, who had spent their lives in hunting in the less dangerous regions farther east; there was, besides, a hunter of experience in the country through which they were passing ; all were alike in their jealousy of Kit Carson, and their anxiety to supplant him wherever possible in the favor of the commander. So well did the Creoles succeed in causing his claims to be overlooked, that he was not included in the party which, on the fifteenth of Aug- ust, ascended the highest peak of the Rocky Mountains and planted the American flag on the summit of the height hitherto untrodden by the foot of man. The return trip was accomplished without accident,' the party arriving in St. Louis Oct. 17th, less than five months from the date of departure, Carson leaving them at Fort Laramie. From this point he proceeded to New Mexico, where he settled near his old KIT CARSON. 883 headquarters, Taos ; married a Spanish lady, and went to farm- ing ; being occasionally employed as a hunter by his old friends, Messrs. Bent and St. Train, of Bent's Fort. In June, 1843, he heard that Capt. Fremont had organized a second expedition, starting from Kansas City May 29th, and resolved to see his old CAKSON'S HOUSE AT TAOS. commander. His was too noble a heart to think that he had been slighted before : if he had noticed the enmity of his compan- ions at all, he had by this time forgotten it. Setting out from Taos, he journeyed seventy miles before he fell in with the party ; Fremont, conscious of the value of his services, immediately ex- 384 KIT CARSON. tended him a cordial invitation to join, which was accepted with- out the least hesitation. On leaving Taos, Carson had expected only to meet Fremont, and immediately return, but the allure- ments of the journey were such as he could not resist. The destination proposed for the first part of their journey was the Great Salt Lake, which a division of the party, including Fremont, Carson, and five others, reached by descending Great Bear Eiver. Embarking in the india-rubber boat, they found themselves in the midst of this great inland sea in a craft which hasty construction had made unseaworthy, while the waves in the distance were lashed by the rising wind into foamy white- ness. The transparency of the water enabled them to see the bottom of the lake through its emerald depths ; yet deceived them somewhat as to the real distance between them and the yellow sand beneath. They directed their course towards one of the lower islands, reaching it about noon. Tho spray, which had covered them with a crust of salt, clothed the low cliffs of this island with a glittering mantle of whiteness, and the hollows in the rocks were lined with the same substance to the depth of one-eighth of an inch. One thing from which they suffered on the journey had been the lack of salt; a want which they were now fortunately able to supply, as the water proved to be a saturated solution of common salt, without those other substances which render the water of the ocean bitter. Encamping for the night upon the island (which they named "Disappointment," be- cause, afar off, they had thought its barren shores looked fertile), they were lulled by the murmur of the waves beating upon the cliffs. Returning in the morning to the camp where they had left two of their companions, they remained upon the shores of the lake for some time, subsisting upon what game they could kill. This was but a poor resource, and they were glad to wel- come the other division of the party that came with supplies. The severe and early winter of this high latitude was now ap- proaching, and Fremont, knowing that some of his party would not be able to endure its hardships, called them together and told them of what was yet to be undergone. Eleven of the party consented to return to the settlements, twenty-five pushing on- ward to the limit of their journey. Difficulties thickened around them. Although it was only the latter part of September, the weather was very cold, and the wintry rain was blown directly in their faces. It was no longer possible to journey regularly KIT CARSON. 385 every day, and be certain of finding a suitable place for their camp at night. The many short and steep ascents in the road consumed the strength of both men and horses; and each cart had to be pushed up each steep inclination by the men. Two buffaloes were killed by Carson, and an ox that they had brought with them was slaughtered. The only Indians with whom they met were those tribes whose whole life was spent in the search for food; Diggers and the kindred fish-eating Indians. Both live during the summer upon the most loathsome animals ; with long hooked sticks they draw the lizards from their holes, and by circles over the wide plains they drive into pits, prepared for the purpose, the abundant grasshoppers. In winter time they re- tire to those homes which a beneficent nature has fashioned for them the caves in the rocks. By the presence of such inhabitants was the sterility of the country made manifest, but Fremont pushed bravely on until he had fulfilled the orders under which he was acting. The arrival at a point on the Columbia river, one hundred and fifty miles in a bee-line from its mouth, connected his surveys and observations with those of Commander "Wilkes, and fulfilled his instructions. He was not satisfied with the execution of his orders. Although it came in the form of an order from the War Department, per- mission to undertake this second expedition had been obtained with difficulty, and even rescinded after it was given; and he was so enthusiastic over his work that he determined to take another route an his return, three principal points being the spec- ial objects of interest. These were Klamath Lake, a lake called Mary's, and a large river known by report as Bonaventura, flow- ing from its headwaters in the Eockies to the Pacific. The diffi- culty of their undertaking was enhanced by the season, and by the youth of some members of the party, several of whom were not twenty-one. The journey is one full of interest to the scien- tist; as the only white men by -whom that country had been tra- versed were the hunters, who lacked skill and will to transfer their knowledge to the printed page; but as far as reaching the three bodies of water above mentioned is concerned, it was a failure, simply because two of them have no existence, and the third, Klamath, is a lake when the snows from the neighboring mountains are melting, and a green plain during the remainder of the season. Day after day they journeyed painfully on in the hope of find- 386 KIT CARSON. ing the fertile valley and wooded shores of the river of Good Luck; but at last the hope was recognized as a vain one, and they determined to cross the mountains. For a few days they had fol- lowed a broad trail, and thus were relieved from anxiety regard- ing suitable places for encampment. Carson had described to them in glowing language the valley of the Sacramento, where, it will be remembered, he had been some fifteen years before. Towards this Land of Promise they bent their steps, undismayed by the fact that it was the middle of January, and that there were mountains to be crossed. To the camp established on the head waters of the Salmon-trout River, came scores of Indians to warm their nearly naked bodies at the white men's fire, and to secure anything which could be gotten by fair means or foul. These were by no means disposed to underrate the difficulties of crossing the mountains; one old man, who seemed particularly intelligent, communicated to them by signs the information that in the proper season for making the journey across the moun- tains it was six sleeps to the place where the white men lived; but that now the journey could not be made ; that the snow would be over their heads. Fremont replied that the men and horses were strong and would beat down a road through the snow; and a judicious display of the bales of scarlet cloth and the various trinkets they had brought with them, so wrought upon the old man that he began to describe the country beyond the mountains : if they were able to pass through the snow, he gave them to un- derstand they would find abundance of grass six inches high and no snow. This far he had been on elk hunts, and he brought into the camp a young man who had been to the settlements. Cap- tain gutter's lordly domain was only about seventy miles from them, they knew, and persuading the young Indian to act as guide, they provided him with stouter moccasins than he was wearing, and comfortably warm clothing. Arraying himself in the blue and scarlet cloth, and the.green blanket which they gave him, he strutted about the camp certainly the most gorgeously attired of all in it. Him, with two others, Fremont kept in his own lodge that night; Carson, TV ho had previously shown them the use of his fire-arms, lying across the entrance. The commander address6d his men upon the undertaking the ne:at day, not disguising the probable hardships, and telling them the distances as he had calculated them. They cheerfully assen- ted to his decision, and preparations for departure were immedi- KIT CARSON. 887 ately begun. Provisions were very low. A dog which had been found near Salt Lake and shared their life, had now become fat, and being killed made a strengthening meal for the party. There was no one who did not realize the difficulty and danger of the undertaking, and with a silence unusual to the light-hearted, talkative Creoles, they set out. The sun deepened as they advanced. One man with his horse led the way, beating down a path for the others until both were tired ; falling back to the rear, the next man took his place. The road which they had made was at sunset strewn with the camp equipage, the horses floundering in the snow, being unable to carry anything. Beaching a level spot protected on one side by the mountain, and on the other by a ridge of rock, they encamped for the night. A strong wind commenced at sunset, and the night was bitterly cold one of the most severe they had yet exper- ienced. Here two Indians joined them, one an old man haran- guing them at considerable length regarding the difficulties of the particular pass they had chosen, and professing his ability to show them a better way. The Indian guide was much affect- ed by his repetitions of " Eock upon rock, snow upon snow, rock upon rock," and began to lament having left his own people, to die before he reached the whites. Awaking early in the morning, Fremont saw this temporary guide standing shivering before the fire, and threw another blan- ket over the Indian's shoulders. A few moments afterwards they missed him ; he had deserted, and they never saw him again. A part of the day was spent in the construction of snow-shoes and sledges, that the journey might be completed with more ease. Fremont and Carson left the men to this work, and climb- ed up the mountain to see what lay before them ; arrived at such a point in the pass as commanded a view beyond the range, Kit recognized with delight the lower peaks near the coast with which he had been familiar fifteen years before; pointing out to the leader the various points of interest as marking certain ad- ventures. With almost incredible difficulty the body of men ad- vanced through the snow, which was from five to twenty feet deep. The first day after the encampment noted, a distance of only four miles was traversed ; many being unused to snow-shoes, and all of them nearly blinded by the glaring whiteness. Days were spent in beating down the snow with mauls, so that the animals might be led along that road ; and fifteen days -after the 25 388 KIT CARSON. desertion of their Indian guide, they encamped upon the summit of the pass, a thousand miles from the Columbia Eiver. The val- ley lay before them, and they thought the worst was over; but the descent was less easy than might have been thought. Deep fields of snow lay beneath them, and there were other, though FREMONT RESCUED BY CARSON. lower mountains to be crossed ; but before them lay the goal, and far off there glittered in the evening sun a silver line and a broad expanse of azure the Sacramento River and San Francisco Bay. Yet so often had they been deceived, that the question arose in each one's mind: "Is it not another salt inland lake? KIT CARBON. 389 Here again the snow must be beaten down to make a roadway for the beasts of burden, and while the others of the party were engaged in this, the leader and the guide went on ahead to re- connoiter and select the best possible directions for the path. Coming to a small stream bordered on either side by rocks, Carson bounded across, landing in safety upon the opposite side, but Fremont's moccasin glanced from the icy rock and he fell in- to the little river. It was a few moments before he could recover himself, and Carson, thinking only of the danger to his leader, sprang into the midst of the floating ice to rescue him. Happily, no evil results ensued. Slowly the work of making a road went on, and at a snail's pace the party advanced towards the valley. Such were the hardships which they underwent, that more than one strong man was deranged by them. At last, one month after the first encampment upon the mountain-side, they reached Mr. Sut- ter's ranch, and received a most cordial welcome. Carson left the party as soon as his services were no longer necessary, and went back to Taos. Here he bought a farm, built a house, and settled down to the quiet, uneventful life of a hard- working agriculturist. Before they separated, however, he had promised Fremont to act as guide again, if another expedition should be organized ; and when that officer, in the spring of 1845, sent to claim the fulfillment of that promise, Kit sold at a great sacrifice the property that he had accumulated, and placing his family under the protection of Messrs. Bent and St. Train, went to the appointed rendezvous. The story of the early part of this expedition possesses little interest to us ; it is only when the party have reached California that the plot thickens. It will be remembered that Texas, which nine years before had won its in- dependence from Mexico by a sanguinary contest, had this year made a successful application for admission into the Union; and that this was the very year in which the Mexican "War commen- ced. The threats of the Mexican officers in California somewhat alarmed Fremont, as he did not wish to begin hostilities, but he was permitted, when they found he did not mean to withdraw, to remain and finish his work. But although openly they were friendly, or at least neutral, the Indians were instigated by them to attack the Americans, as the people of the United States are called by both Mexicans and Indians. It was rumored that a thousand warriors were on their way there, where they were at the time intending to destroy that and any other American post. 390 KIT CARSON. Captain Fremont had now been ten days at Lawson's Post, awaiting opportunity for continuing his journey. Finding, how- ever, that such there was not likely to be, a party was organized to march against the savages, and thus aid the more defenseless points. "With five men from the post, besides his own command, they set out. Carson having been elected Lieutenant of the com- pany, the choice of the leader was thus confirmed by his men. They soon found the trail of a large party of Indians, and follow- ing it closely, came up with them. The savages repelled the attack with vigor and courage, but were defeated with terrible slaughter, and retreated in dismay to their fastnesses in the mountains. The newly-chosen lieutenant was in the thickest of the fight, as always, and did noble execution upon the enemies. Returning to Lawson's Post, they completed their prepara- tions, and recommenced their perilous journey. Fr'emont had determined to return bywa^y of Oregon, and open up a new road between the northern and southern settlements. Proceeding northward, they passed several days in tranquil journeyings ; when one evening, just as they had finished preparations for the night, they were surprised by the sudden appearance of two white men in their midst. They were only too well aware of the hardships and dangers which these two men must have en- countered, and accorded them a hearty welcome. Warmed and fed, they were permitted to tell their story. They were part of a detachment of six men, escorting a United States officer across the plains with despatches for various points in California ; he being instructed, after these despatches should have been deliv- ered, to find Capt. Fremont wherever he might be. They had left the main party two days before, and had only escaped from the Indians, that pursued them more than once, by the swiftness of their horses. Fremont and Carson, with a picked body of ten men, immedi- ately set out in the direction indicated by the messengers. In the trackless wilderness, it is no easy matter to find a wandering party, but Carson advised a halt at a certain pass, and here the other party joined them. The officer proved to be Lieut. Gilles- pie, with letters for Fremont from his family the first news he had received of them since the beginning of the journey. He sat up until midnight, keeping up a good fire, but as the men had marched sixty miles without a halt, he did not require a guard to be kept for the remainder of the night. klT CARSON. 391 At last the fire died down; the commander slept as soundly as his men more soundly than one of them. An unusual sound, a dull thud as of a heavy blow, was that a groan ? and Carson's light sleep was broken. " What's the matter there ?" he called to Basil Lajeunesse, who lay beside him. No answer came. Springing up, he saw in far less time than it takes to tell it, that the blow of an axe had crushed in the heads of Basil and his next neighbor one had never known what kill- ed him, the other had groaned as he died. Aroused by Kit's voice, the four friendly Delawares, and, a moment later, the whites, sprang up. Each man fought for his life, and the Indian chief having been killed, theKlamaths fled. Three of the whites had been killed and one of the Delawares wounded. These very Indians had been to the camp a few days before, and although there was little meat on hand, Capt. Fremont had divided with them, and had even unpacked a mule to give them knives and tobacco. Sadly they left the encampment, bearing with them the bodies of their fallen comrades as long as they could carry them; then, because a grave could not be dug in that hard soil without im- plements, they buried them under the fallen timber. They did not again omit the precaution of placing a guard at night espe- cially necessary, since the Indians throughout the whole region were in arms. Lieutenant Gillcspie had brought the information that war with Mexico had been declared, and Fremont deter- mined to go back to California. Making the circuit of Klamath Lake, he encamped at a spot nearly opposite that where his three men had been killed, and sent Carson, with ten men, forward to see if there w^ere an Indian town in the neighborhood, leaving an attack to his discretion. The little party soon came upon an In- dian village containing about fifty lodges. By the commotion in the town they knew that their vicinity had been discovered, and lost no time in attacking the Klamaths. The Indians fought as all men' do in defending their homes, but were at length com- pelled to retreat, and Carson and his party took possession of the village. This was the most highly adorned of any that they had yet seen, and the lodges were provided with unusually con- venient appliances and utensils for cooking; but Carson felt that its destruction was necessary, and gave orders accordingly. The ascending smoke gave Fremont notice that an encounter had KIT CARSON. taken place, and not knowing its issue, he hurried forward with the main body; but he arrived only in time to hear the pleasant news of victory. They moved away from this spot, but soon Fremont deter- CARSON SAVED BY FREMONT. mined to punish the Indians still more, if possible. So he sent back a party of twenty to the ruins of the village to lay in wait for the return of the Indians, who would naturally soon revisit it and look after their dead. Soon about fifty savages appeared, KIO? CARSON. 393 and word was sent to the main body, as by previous arrangement. Fremont, Carson and six men hastened to reinforce the party. On approaching the ruins, Carson saw only one Indian wander- ing about, and dashed at him, raising his rifle to fire; but the gun only snapped, and he was apparently at the mercy of the savage, who instantly drew an arrow to the head and would have shot Carson dead ; but Fremont had seen his friend's danger, and, plunging the rowels into the side of his horse, he reached, knock- ed down and rode over the Indian before the arrow could leave the bow, thus saving Kit's life by prompt and brave action. Inspired by their successes, they continued on their journey to the valley of the Sacramento'. Four days after the attack upon the Indian village they came to a point where the easiest road led through a deep canon, but Carson, scenting danger ahead, advised another, although a more difficult route. It was well that they acted upon this counsel, for a large party of the Klamaths lay in ambush in the narrow passage. Disappointed at this fail- ure of their plans, they rushed out and attacked the whites, but were repulsed without much trouble. One old warrior stood his ground, advancing from tree to tree cautiously, and shooting rap- idly at Carson and another man who were edging their way to- wards him. At last, an unlucky exposure of his person brought Kit's rifle into position, and in another moment the ball from it had reached the savage's heart. Reaching the valley of the Sacramento, they had not been long in camp before the men began to grow restless from inactivity, and Fremont decided not to wait for positive orders. Sonoma was taken, and Monterey would have yielded to them if Commo- dore Sloat had not anticipated them. The Americans in Cali- fornia rallied in great numbers around Fremont's party, inde- pendence of Mexican rule was declared by them, and the Bear Flag and the Stars and Stripes floated side by side over the camp. San Diego was taken after Los Angelos had been occupied and abandoned, and here Commodore Stockton established himself, appointing Col. Fremont Governor of California, and Carson, with a force of fifteen men, was sent with despatches to Wash- ington. He was instructed to make the journey in sixty days if possible; this he felt confident he could do. Coming upon a par- ty of Apache Indians, his boldness disconcerted them, and they provided him with fresh horses for the continuance of his jour- ney. His friendly relations, personally, with the Mexicans, en. 394 KIT CARSON. ' abled him to obtain from them a fresh supply of food. He was not far from Taos when he descried a speck moving across the prairies, which he knew could not be any natural object. As it drew nearer, he found it was an expedition sent out by the Uni- ted States Government, under the command of General Kearney, for the relief of the few men in California. Ho lost no time in presenting himself to this officer, describing the state of affairs there and the nature of his errand. Gen. Kearney proposed that Carson should turn over the despatches to another messenger, and return with him and his command to California. Kit knew that the successful bearer of despatches would be recognized by the Government as a valuable servant; he was within a short journey of his family, whom he had not seen for many weary months ; but he knew, also, what his services would be worth to Kearney, and with a cheerful " As the General pleases/' gave up the papers to the messenger selected, and took up the march back to California. From the eighteenth of ( October until the third of December, they were on the road ; camping on the evening of the latter date within the limits of California, and advancing the next morning toward San Diego. A scouting party under Carson's command captured and brought into camp some spies that had been sent out by Gen. Castro, then in Los Angelos. These being forced to give information, told them that the Mexicans were planning to at- tack them before they could join their allies in San Diego. Car- son, thoroughly familiar with both parties, advised Kearney to evade this attack, while his men and horses were exhausted by reason of the long journey, and to take another route. Kearney, acquainted only with the Mexicans in the eastern part of their country, where he was accustomed to take towns by simply sum- moning the alcalde to surrender, and not knowing that those in California had acquired the energy and courage of his own coun- trymen, persisted in keeping the same route. Approaching with- in fifteen miles of the enemy's forces, a reconnoitering party re- ported that they were encamped and strongly fortified in an In- dian village. The scout was discovered and pursued, but suc- ceeded in reaching the camp in safety. Gen. Kearney determined to attack them without delay, and for that purpose ordered an advance at one o'clock in the morn- ing. Tired and hungry, the troops came upon the Mexican advance guard before day. These men, stationed here to prevent __... MEXICAN TOWNS SURRENDERING TO GEN. KEAKNEY. 396 KIT CARSON. a surprise, slept fully dressed, with their saddles as pillows, and their horses picketed near by, so that each man could be ready to repulse an attack as soon as awakened by the neighborhood of an enemy. The attacking force consisted of fifteen Ameri- cans, under the command of Capt. Johnson, with Carson as second officer. The guard drew back into camp, and the party under Johnson and Carson was reinforced- by Capt. Moore, with twenty-five men. Moore ordered an attack upon the enemy's center, hoping to effect a division and create confusion in the camp. Onward they rode " into the jaws of death." Carson's horse stumbled and fell, carry ing the rider to the ground. There he lay, unable to rise until the whole body of horsemen should have galloped past. Rising as soon as they passed him, he caught up a gun from the hand of a dead comrade (for his own had been shivered to pieces by the fall), mounted and rode on- ward. Many of the men were mounted on mules which proved unmanageable, and although the Mexicans were forced to retreat a short distance, they soon discovered the condition of the Americans, and turning back, transformed what would have been a nearly bloodless victory into a terrible slaughter. Thirty of the forty mounted on horses were either killed or severely wounded, and although the main party of the Americans came up to reinforce their comrades, the Mexicans fought with such fierce courage that it seemed a hopeless case. Gen. Kearney, although wounded, remained at the head of his troops, hoping that two mountain howitzers, which were to be brought up, would materially assist his efforts to force the Mexicans to re- treat. But they had not been made ready for use before the gunners were shot down, and the lasso captured the horses at- tached to one. Some fortunate accident or ignorance rendered the Mexicans unable to use the gun, or still greater slaughter might have ensued. Retreating to the rocky shelter near by, the Americans, who had only three officers, including Carson, remaining, waited for pursuit from the enemy. Both sides were exhausted by the long day's fighting, and neither cheered by the consciousness of a de- cided victory. The winter night was spent in burying the dead and tending the wounded ; while the enemy was receiving rein- forcements of both Mexicans and Indians. The next morning they took up the line of march towards San Diego, as had been decided in the council of war held during the KIT CARSON. 397 night ; Carson, with a body of twenty -five able-bodied men lead- ing the way, followed by the .wounded and those employed in tending and transporting them. They were about to encamp by a stream of water for the night, when the Mexicans made a vig- orous charge upon them. Unable in their weakened condition to support an attack from such superior numbers, they were obli- ged to give way, and retired to a hill a short distance off. The Mexicans drew off to a neighboring height, and commenced a deadly cannonade; but were dislodged by a party of Americans, and the eminence was soon occupied by the main body of Kearney's men. They were without food, and there was only water enough for the men. Their condition was desperate, and only desperate measures could be proposed in the council of war which was held. Carson listened to what the others had to say, and then rose in the council and said : " Our case is a desperate one, but there is yet hope. If we stay here, we are all dead men ; our animals cannot last long, and the soldiers and marines at San Diego do not know that we are com- ing. But if they receive information of our position, they will hasten to the rescue. There is no use thinking how or why we are here, but only when and how we are going to get away. I will attempt to go through the Mexican lines to San Diego, and get relief from Commodore Stockton." Lieutenant Bcale, of the United States Navy, since widely and favorably known as an explorer, volunteered to accompany him, and the proposition being accepted by Gen. Kearney, they left the camp as soon as it was sufficiently dark. They had learned from their Indian allies the habit of putting the ear to the ground to hear any suspected noise, and were thus able to inform them- selves of the movements of their enemies, sometimes when those enemies were most confident of a secret advance or retreat. The two messengers accordingly took off their shoes in order to insure silence. They found that the Mexicans had placed three lines of sentinels around the hill on which the Americans were en- camped, thus making it extremely difficult to evade their watch. Several times, as they crept cautiously along the earth, the sen- tinel might easily have touched them with the long barrel of his gun. Slowly they advanced, and at last got clear of the Mex- ican lines, though not of all difficulties. For the distance of two miles they had crawled upon the ground, sometimes each hear- ing the other's heart beat in the deathly stillness. At last 3 KIT CARSOtf. they could spring to their feet, and speak to each other their joy at escaping thus far. But they must avoid the beaten road, lest they be pursued and captured ; and through the bushes they trod with shoeless feet, the earth covered with the thorns of the prick- ly pear. All that night, all the next day, far into the next night they continued their journey. At last the challenge of the sen- tinel at San Diego was heard ; they answered, " Friends," and were taken into the presence of Commodore Stockton. Their story was told, and a force of two hundred men ordered to proceed by forced marches to the relief of their suffering countrymen. Carson was detained in San Diego, as without proper care there was danger of his losing both his feet, so much had they been lac- erated on thisjiterally " thorny path of duty." Lieutenant Beale was partially deranged by the hardships of the journey, and did not fully recover his physical health for two years. Gen. Kearney's troops and the escort sent, reached San Diego without being molested again by the Mexicans, whose numbers were not sufficient to justify them in attacking so large and strong a force. The Americans remained for several weeks in garrison, recruiting their strength. A force of six hundred at last took the field under Gen. Kearney and Com. Stockton, to march against Los Angclos, where there were about seven hundred of the enemy. The Mexicans were soon forced to break up the camp which they had established just outside the town, and the Amer- icans took possession of Los Angclos. Their success was an empty one, however, for the Mexicans evaded their pursuit, sur- rendering to Col. Fremont, who, with a force of four hundred men, was marching from Monterey to Los Angelos. Acting on Carson's advice, Fremont had used every effort, during his en- tire stay in California, to propitiate the Mexicans ; but Kearney, judging them by the natives of what is now eastern Mexico, was at no pains to conceal his contempt and aversion. This attitude was an unfortunate one, as, if Fremont had been in command, the struggle upon the Pacific coast would have been much less sanguinary; his policy of conciliation would have won over many of the Mexicans who admired their American friends and*wished to imitate them. During-the few succeeding months of the war there was a lull in the hostilities in this portion of the country. Stockton was made civil governor, Fremont general-in-chief of the California forces, with Carson for his first lieutenant. An Englishman, who KIT CARSON. 399 landed in July, 1846, at Monterey, from a British man-of-war which had been sent there, thus describes Fremont and his men: " Fremont rode ahead, a spare, active looking man, with such an eye. He was dressed in a blouse and leggings, and wore a felt hat. After him came five Delaware Indians, who were his body-guard, and have been with him through all his wanderings. The rest, many of them blacker than the Indians, rode two and two, the rifle held by one hand across the pommel of the saddle, . . . . He has one or two with him who enjoy a high repu- tation in the prairies. Kit Carson is as well known there as the Duke of Wellington is in Europe. The dress of these men was principally a long, loose coat of deer-skin, tied with thongs in front; trowsers of the same, of their own manu- facture." Carson had joined Col. Fremont as soon as it was possible for him to leave Kear- ney, and was gladly welcomed. In March, 1847, he was again entrusted with de- spatches for Washington, Lieutenant Bcale being detailed to accompany him with reports for the Secretary of the Navy. The companion of his perilous journey from Kearney's camp to San Diego was still so weak that Carson, for the first twenty days of the journey, had to lift him off and on his horse ; but the pure air, healthful exercise and genial companionship soon strengthened him. The long journey was accomplished without harm to any of the party. The incidents of the journey were such as in these days of rapid and safe transportation would be alarming, but then were regarded as every-day affairs. Arrived in St. Louis, Col. GEN. JOHN C. FREMONT. 400 KIT CARSON. Benton received him cordially. In "Washington Mrs. Fremont met him at the depot, and declaring that her husband's descrip- tion had made an introduction unnecessary, conducted him to her own and her father's house. He was lionized to an extent quite puzzling to himself he had only done what he ought, the GJ-overnment's recognition of his services being a lieutenant's commission in Col. Fremont's regiment. In command of fifty men, he started on the return trip, which was made in complete safety until the " Point of Rocks " was reached. Here, a spur of rocky hills gives- shelter to an ambush, while the grass and water at their base invite the caravan to encamp. The horses and cattle of a volunteer company camping here were stolen by the Indians, but sueh was the confusion that followed, that Carson, who was resting near by for the night, proved that his right to the title of the "Thief-Taker" had not diminished, and the ani- mals were all restored to their owners by him. The succeeding spring (1848) he was again sent to Washington as the bearer of despatches. At Santa Fe he learned that his appointment, made by the President, had not been confirmed by the Senate, and was urged to leave the dangers to be encounter- ed by those who reaped the rewards due him. But although he had seen evidences of unworthy favoritism and gratification of political rivalries, he had no notion of letting such things influ- ence his own conduct. The mission was successfully accomplish- ed, and, avoiding all difficulties with the Apaches, he returned in safety to his home at Taos, and settled to his old, peaceful oc- cupation. Here he entertained his old commander and the par- ty engaged in making a winter survey of a pass for a road to California. An old trapper of twenty-five years' experience had been employed as guide, but so incompetent was he for the work, that they blundered for half a month through the deep snow. Fully one-third of the party died from starvation and freezing. Life at Taos was interrupted by occasional expeditions as guide. On the banks of the broad mountain stream that flows through the valley, stood the comfortable houses of Carson and his friend Maxwell. To both, but especially to the former, came the small, lithe Apaches, and the Comanches, nearly half Mexi- can in blood; they feared not to come to the home of " Father Kit," as they have called him. But like a judicious parent, he never hesitated to chastise his self-styled children, as more than one incident bears witness. KIT CARSON. 401 In the winter of 1849-50, the Indians were more than usually troublesome. On one occasion, a party of them had stolen all the horses belonging to a detachment often dragoons, encamped in the vicinity of Taos. An expedition was immediately organ- ized, consisting of three settlers, and the soldiers who had been robbed, under the command of Carson, by whom it had been planned. Four of the party, being but poorly mounted, fell be- hind, and the remaining ten came up with the thieves. There were twenty warriors, all well-armed and well-mounted ; and they had no notion of giving up their booty. Had they been content to abandon the animals to their rightful owners, they would have escaped, but as it was, the sharp conflict which fol- lowed resulted in the loss of five warriors. Perceiving that the leader of their enemies was the one who had never yet been de- feated by them, they rode off, leaving all the stolen horses but four to the attacking party. But it was only occasionally that the peacefulness of his life was thus interrupted. Learning at some time during the next summer, that a number of desperadoes had volunteered to ac- company two wealthy men to the settlements in the states, in- tending to rob them by the way, Carson collected a party, and in one hour from the time of receiving the information, was follow- ing them. The first party had been gone some time when he learn- ed of the plot, and it was not easy to overtake them. At a distance from Taos representing two days' march a recruiting o nicer join- ed Kit with twenty men, and by forced marches soon overtook the caravans, and arrested the ring-leader. Messrs. Brevoort and Weatherhead, when informed of the danger, quickly recov- ered from their first surprise, and offered a reward proportion- ate to the service done. This, however, Carson was resolute in refusing, until, when the traders returned from St. Louis, they presented him with a handsome pair of silver-mounted pistols, suitably inscribed. The next summer, he started to St. Louis as a trader, intend- ing also to visit his daughter, who was married and living there. On his return, he met with what was perhaps the most perilous adventure of his life after the close of the war with Mexico. The officer of a party of United States troops bound to !N~cw Mexico had affronted the Cheyenne Indians by whipping one of their chiefs. The Indians were unable to revenge this insult upon the real offender, but, full of vindictive rage, were lying in wait for 402 KIT CARSON. other and weaker bodies of white men. Carson's chanced to be the next party with which they met, and, in consequence, was the one which must feel the weight of their anger. The fifteen white men were taken prisoners, and were placed in the midst of a circle of warriors. As the warriors arranged all the details to their satisfaction, settling how they should dispose of the booty and when the prisoners should be put to death, Kit revolved their situation in his own mind. Well known and loved by this very tribe while he was acting as hunter for Bent's Fort, so many years had passed since then, so many insults and injuries had been heaped upon them, so many incompetent men had been sent to fight them, that they had lost their old reverence for his name, as they lu;d forgotten his face. The Indians had spoken in their own tongue, thinking that it was not understood by the prison- ers; judge of their surprise, then, when the captive leader step- ped forward and addressed them in Cheyenne. He told them his name, and reminded them of past friendship ; hinting at the pun- ishment which would certainly follow if they put his party to death. The Indians released them, but Carson proceeded cau- tiously, knowing that he was by no means safe. After they had encamped for the night, he despatched a Mexican boy, in whom he had great confidence, to Eayedo, to ask for reinforcements; so that when five warriors galloped towards him the next day, they were somewhat astonished to see his force. The rapid march of the troops, in accordance with the request, did the Indians much good, as they thus learned the spirit animating the soldiers. A long journey undertaken for the purpose of trapping on the old familiar ground, a trip overland to California with large flocks of sheep, for a trading venture ; a lionizing in the early days of the city of San Francisco, strangely changed between 1848 and '53 ; faithful performance of his duties as Indian Agent for ~New Mexico, to w^hich post he was appointed late in the year 1853; promotion from rank to rank during the Civil War, until he was brevetted Brigadier-General ; important services to the government in the task of subduing and conciliating the Indians ; all these fill up the measure of his days. Adventures, which to us would seem hair-breadth escapes, were passed by as every day occurrences in his life, and rarely chronicled by any one. He died at Fort Lyon, Col., in May, 1868. Nearly fifteen years have passed since then, but the memory of the " Monarch of the Prai- ries" is kept green by those who love tales of border adventure. CHAPTER XV. GENERAL "WILLIAM S. HARNEY. A LTHOTJGH settled as early as 1756, at the close of the last .jLJ^century, Tennessee, the late state admitted into the union, was little more than a wilderness, except around those centers of civilization where had been the first settlements. To its wilds had already been attracted some of the most daring and patriotic spirits of the time ; the Hermitage was not yet built, but already the name of Jackson was prominent in its annals j from this state was Missouri to call that man, who sat longer than any other in the highest council of the nation ; here were Crockett and Hous- ton to become known thereafter; here had removed a gallant officer of the Revolutionary army,. Major Thomas Harney, and here, in August, 1800, was born the youngest of his six sons, William Selby Harney. Left a widow when her children were all young, Mrs. Harney intended her youngest son for a sailor, but destiny overruled her wishes. The youth of seventeen visited, during one of his school vacations, an elder brother serving as army surgeon at Baton Rouge. Attracting the attention and acquiring the friend- ship of Gen. Jessup, who was in command, he was asked by that officer if he did not wish to enter the army. He replied that his mother intended him for the navy, but a few days afterwards Gen. Jessup handed him a commission as second lieutenant. This bore the date of Feb. 13, 1818, and in June of the same year the young officer, not yet eighteen years old, joined his regiment, then serving in Louisiana. His first active service was against the pirates who then in- fested the Gulf coast. There had never been a time, since the sixteenth century, when piracy did not exist in the waters wash- ing the shores of Louisiana, Florida and Cuba. For many years the commander of these outlaws had been the elder of the two brothers Lafitte, themselves French, and disposed to be friends 26 4C4 GENERAL WILLIAM S. HARNEY. with those of their own race in Louisiana. It was to secure the aid of this lawless host that Gen. Jackson, in 1814, declared martial law in Louisiana, and ordered off the bench the judge who refused to release the Lafittes then awaiting trial. It is doubtful if the famous battle could have been gained without them, and Gen. Jackson secured the pardon of the brothers, on condition that they abandon the life they had been leading. The condi- tion was faithfully observed, and the pirates being left without a leader, were scattered abroad to commit lesser depredations. It was to pursue and punish some of these that Lieutenant Harney's company was sent soon after he joined. On reaching the archipelago, the company made their head- quarters at J^ew, near Navia Bay, whence a detachment un- der Lieut. Harney was sent to ascend the bay to reconnoiter. Here he discovered and took "GEN. w. s. HAKNEY. possession of some vessels bal- lasted with bar-iron. Examination showed that the bars were hol- low, and filled with quicksilver. The detachment was delayed so long that the main body supposed all the men in it had been kill- ed, and were considerably surprised to learn of their safe return with the prize they had captured. Cruising with his detachment in a boat on the bay, Lieut. Har- ney signaled a small sailing vessel. She hove to, and the detach- ment boarded her. " Let me see your papers, sir," demanded their officer of the captain. Descending into the cabin, the commander reappeared with what he claimed was his ship's register. As the lieutenant looked at them, a voice in jhis ear said : " The captain has just given his men orders, in French, to get ready to fight." In a moment the crew had been secured, the captain having been thrown down the hatchway, and the lieutenant and his men returned in triumph with the smuggler. So closed his first cam- paign. Soon after his return in January, 1819, he was ordered to Boston on recruiting service, where he remained for more than GENERAL WILLIAM S. HARNEY. 405 a year. Ordered to report for active duty in June, 1820, he was selected by Gen. Jackson, his father's friend and neighbor, to serve as temporary aid during the absence of an officer on his staff. Jackson was at this time acting as governor of Florida, which had been but recently purchased of Spain, and honored Lieut. Harney with the command of the guard attendant on the transfer of the territory from one government to another. It is not yet that we find him engaged in that active service which has connected his name alike with the everglades of Florida and the wilds of Oregon. It was in 1824, after he had exchanged into the artillery, that Lieut. Harney first saw St. Louis, to be in future the home to which he should look with longing eyes. The peculiarly French gaiety which then distinguished the society of this city, was particularly to the taste of the young lieutenant, with animal spirits, and possessed of physical advantages which secured him the favor of the ladies. Ordered to proceed to Council Bluffs, the orders were countermanded soon after they started, and the four companies wintered at Bellefontaine, fifteen miles above the city ; whence in the spring they resumed the perilous journey in keel-boats up the Missouri, on the banks of which, above Boonville, were no white settlements. Arriving safely at Two Thousand Mile Creek, a council was held with the Crows, Mandans and Gros-Yentres, which, but for Lieut. Harney, might have terminated most disastrously. One of the conditions of the treaty was the restoration of a family of British subjects that had been taken prisoners, and for whose liberation the English minister had asked. The inter- preter finished, stating all the details, and the chiefs sat motion- less. After a moment's pause, one arose and said that they were willing to liberate the captives, but a ransom must be paid. Ir- ritable by reason of a recent illness, one of the commissioners, Major O'Fallon, lost his temper at the cool audacity of the chief, and advancing into the circle struck first the sp ; eaker and then two other chiefs over the head and face with his horse-pistol. Not a word was spoken by either the outraged chiefs or the start- led Americans, as a comrade caught the offender before he could strike another of the Indians; but the savage warriors seized their arms and assumed a defensive or offensive attitude. It was a moment of extreme peril, for the Indians far outnumbered the whites. 406 GENERAL WILLIAM S. HARNEY. The disciplined troops were called to arms, and the commis- sioners tried to explain to the Indians that Major O'Fallon's action was the result of delirium. The explanation was received in grim silence, and when Lieut. Harney, with outstretched hand, advan- ced towards the Crow chief, the Indian, folding his arms, looked at him in sullen defiance. Cursing the chief, he looked him stead- ily in the eye for a few moments ; finally the chief took the ex- tended hand. Order was restored and the negotiations contin- ued; the family was released on payment of the ransom demand- ed, and a treaty of peace concluded. Lieutenant Harney, a tall, spare man, possessed of powers of endurance equal to his strength, had acquired a reputation as a runner that had reached the ears of the tribes dwelling on the upper Missouri, and they were extremely anxious to test his fleetness. He had a race with a Crow Indian, but encumbered with his uniform, with his pockets full of relics and curiosities he had been buying from them, the Indian won. Harney grace- fully acknowledged the defeat, and challenged his antagonist to another race the next day. The Indians retired well pleased with the success of their champion, and returned the next day at the appointed time and place, laden with buffalo robes, tobacco, and all the ornaments and treasures they could muster for a reward to the winner. Over a level, grassy prairie they ran, and for some distance the Indian was in the lead. "A little faster, Harney, or he'll beat you," cried a brother officer, jealous for his comrade's reputation. Benewing his ef- forts, he soon passed the Indian, and was the first to reach the goal, a half-mile from the starting point. " I wouldn't have had you lose that race for a thousand dol- lars," said Gen. Atkinson. Both sides felt much interest in the race, and his fleetness of foot raised him greatly in the consider- ation of the Indians. Eeturning to the east, at Council Bluffs he heard of his pro- motion to the rank of captain, and at the same time received an offer which was a sore temptation to the soldier with no fortune but his good name and his sword. Struck with his manly cour- age and energy, Gen. Ashley, an eminent pioneer citizen of St. Louis, proposed to fit out a trading expedition to the Yellow- stone, and place Harney in charge of it; but the soldier, born for the battle-field, declined the generous proffer. Arriving at St. Louis in October, 1825, he was ordered to re- GENERAL WILLIAM s. HARNEY. 407 port to his regiment for duty in the Creek Nation, where he re- mained until the succeeding June. Ordered to New Orleans then, he there made the acquaintance of the Duke of Saxe-Weimar; as well as of an entirely different person, the ex-pirate L/afitte. A 408 GENERAL WILLIAM S. SARNEY. year later he proceeded to the north, where the long imprison- ment of Black Hawk was whetting his appetite for war that no- ted chief having been captured while on a marauding expedition with Ecd Bird, and held for trial. His movements for the next two years are of but little inter- est. True, it was at Fort Winnebago, on Green Bay, in 1828, that he first met a certain second-lieutenant in the army, Jefferson Davis, with whom he formed a friendship that lasted for fifty years, unshaken by political differences. ANOTHER RACE AND A COLD BATH. Stationed at Portage-des-Sioux, between the Fox and the Wis- consin, in the winter of 1829-30, he volunteered to take his com- pany to the pineries, to cut timber for a fort. They had return- ed to the camp, waiting for spring to open. The weather was bit- ter cold, and the Fox Eiver frozen over, when another exciting foot race occurred. An Indian had broken one of the rules of the garrison, and Capt. Harney, always a strict disciplinarian, resol- ved to administer a flogging. Believing in a fair chance for every one, he told the Indian that if he reached a certain point without being overtaken, having a start of a hundred yards, he should escape the flogging. The race was on the ice, and both GENERAL WILLIAM S. HARNEY. 409 men, moccasincd, belted and stripped for the run, set off at full speed, the captain swinging a cow-hide. The red man ran for his skin, the white man for his reputation, and despite his greater motive, the Indian knew that the cow-hide was com- ing nearer to him. Directing his course towards one of the nu- merous air-holes, he sped safely over the thin crust of ice, through which his heavier pursuer sank into the cold water. An expert swimmer, Capt. Harney with a few strokes reached the thick ice, but his cow-hide was lost, and he returned to camp. The Winnebago had sufficient consideration for himself to keep away from the camp while Captain Harney remained there. We again take leave of our hero until 1832, going back two years from that date to explain the position of the Indians with regard to. the Government. In June, 1830, many of the Indians sold their lands to* the government and prepared to remove west of the Mississippi, but the Sacs and Poxes, the Sioux, Omahas, lowas, and Ottawas, refused to remove to the reservations provided for them. Keokuk was the head chief of the first mentioned tribe, and used his utmost efforts to persuade them to adopt the treaty, but Black Hawk's influence outweighed his, and the latter's ar- guments were backed by the memory of the unprovoked brutal- ity of the white settlers. Secret negotiations among the tribes had almost consolidated the various nations, and Keokuk, re- penting of the sale of his country, endeavored, without success, to secure different terms from the government. Thinking them- selves safe, the warriors of the tribe set out on their fall hunt; re- turning to find their women and children without a shelter, the white people having taken possession of their villages. Encamp- ing on the Mississippi, they at length resolved upon re-taking their towns, but neither party could overcome the other, and they decided to live together. This arrangement resulted badly for the Indians, as they were exposed to every kind of fraud. Black Hawk determined that his people should not be the aggres- sors, and they carefully refrained from acts of violence and blood- shed. The governor of Illinois, frightened by the threatened war, called out the militia to assist Gen. Gaines, but that officer succeed- ed in effecting his pacific purpose for a time without bloodshed. But this quiet did not last long. At a council early in June, 1831, Black Hawk told Gen. Gaines that he would not leave his lands, and was not afraid of the U. S. soldiers. He was deceived in 410 GENERAL WILLIAM S. HARNEY. supposing that his reinforcements from the other tribes would be very large, whereas Gen. Games was more accurately informed. The Illinois volunteers, seven hundred in number, arrived at headquarters, the Indian allies of the chief retreated across the river, and the general took possession of their villages. A treaty followed, but it was broken in less than a year. Black Hawk reappeared upon the Hock River in the spring of 1832 ; and Major Stillman was sent towards Sycamore Creek with two hundred and seventy men. Black Hawk's flag of truce was disregarded, its three bearers treated as prisoners, and the party sent to inquire after them pursued, two being killed. Major Stillman determined to lose no time, and moved forward with more haste than order upon the Indian, encampment. Here there were but forty warriors, the others being on a hunting ex- pedition, but Black Hawk had already heard of the fate of his five messengers, and they were prepared for an attack. Towards the encampment the troops marched, anticipating an easy victory confusion and precipitation marked their advance ; and as the Indians rushed upon them before they had well crossed the creek, they retreated as they had advanced. Flushed with victory, the chief sent runners to the Sacs and Missouris, who reached their destination twenty-four hours be- fore despatches reached the whites ; and the good news aroused the Indians to new spirit. Their butcheries and depredations spread terror and panic over all the border. They cannot be blamed too severely for this, for until the courtesies of war were so deliberately violated by the whites, they had displayed a pa- tience and forbearance seldom found on either side in the annals of Indian warfare. Soon after Capt. Harney reported to Fort Armstrong and was ordered to an outpost near to the scene of Stillman's defeat. At the fort he made the acquaintance of Col. Zachary Taylor, and of a young militia captain, a country lawyer, who had en- listed to gain the political capital which military service could give him Abraham Lincoln. To the tall and awkward joker, and the equally tall, but lithe and graceful listener, who were so often companions, the soldiers in good-natured irony gave the nick-name of " the two ponies." Capt. Harney was here fre- quently sent out to reconnoiter, as the volunteers, very much afraid of Black Hawk since Stillman's defeat, could not be relied upon for such duty. GENERAL WILLIAM s. SARNEY. 411 This regiment of militia was therefore mustered out, and a new levy made ; but the delay proved well-nigh fatal to success. The Indians had retreated, the trail was lost, and pursuit seem- BLACK HAWK. In a council of war that was held, ed a hopeless undertaking. Captain Harney said : " The Indians have but one hiding place in the whole country, and it will not be very hard to find. If you will allow me, Gen- eral, I will take fifty men and make a reconnoissance." 412 GENERAL WILLIAM s. HARNEY. " Such a force would be too small," replied G-eneral Atkinson, shaking his head " the party would be in too great danger of being cut off. Take with you three hundred Pottawattomies." But the chief of the Pottawattomies refused to go. "Black Hawk got many warriors, he jump out from ambush and kill such few Indians and white men. Captain Harney he big fool to go without big army." With only the fifty men, and a few friendly Menominies, he started, only to be deserted, early on his journey, by all the In- dians except one, with whom he had once had a desperate en- counter, overcoming and disarming him. " Me stay with Captain Harney," said this whilom antagonist, with dignity ; " me stay and die with him." But Captain Harney's detachment soon returned to the main body with the intelligence that the Indians were retreating in a certain direction. Gen. Atkinson at once ordered a forced march, and it was not long before the Indians were found in a strong po- sition near the Wisconsin. Thence they continued their retreat towards the Mississippi, where they were again overtaken, not, however, to again escape without giving battle. Impetuously the American troops charged upon them, as the lofty courage of their leader urged them to deeds of desperate valor by his words and example. " For how can man die better Than when facing fearful odds For the ashes of his fathers, And the temples of his gods ? " So thought Black Hawk, as with total disregard of danger he cheered the sinking hearts of his warriors, driven from hill to hill, and making one last desperate stand on the river bank to defend themselves or die. Here the troops made a furious onset, and drove those who survived the attack into the river. Black Hawk fled up the river and concealed himself in the woods, where, two days later, he was captured by the Sioux and deliv- ered to the whites. For several years after this battle of Bad Ax, which was the close of the Black Hawk war, we find no dangers overcome by our hero. The succeeding year (1833) is a memorable one in his ' life, marked, as it is, by his marriage to Miss Mullanphy, of St. Louis ; and several promotions advance him to the rank of lieu- tenant-colonel of the Second Dragoons, recently organized. WILLIAM s. &A&NEY. 413 The long contest with the Florida Indians had begun. Here, in the dense forests and impenetrable swamps, lurked the Semi- noles, the " runaways" from all tribes. Dwelling with these were fugitive negro slaves, their usual good nature and servility to the white man transformed, by the oppression of brutal mas- ters, into the fiercest antipathy to the whole race. These were the tribes with whom Jackson had fought in 1813 ; these were the tribes that in 1835 had fallen upon Major Dade's detachment, as with all the precautions which even Indian warfare required, he marched to punish the savages who had committed such fre- quent outrages; only two men survived to tell the tale of a dis- aster unparalleled for forty years. Here, in February, 1837, Col. Harney joined his regiment, reporting to Camp Monroe, then under the command of Col. Fan- ning. A comparison of commissions showed that Col. Harney was the senior officer, and therefore entitled to the honor; but in consideration of Col. Fanning's age, he waived his right. Having already seen service in Indian warfare, Col. Harney fully understood the value of constant vigilance. Unwilling to trust entirely to his subordinates, he made a reconnoissance in person, and discovered unmistakable signs that Indians were lurking in the neighborhood. [Returning to camp, he advised Fanning that, as they would probably be attacked during the night, it would be well to throw up breastworks, which would give the raw recruits confidence, and prevent their becoming panic-stricken at the first fire. His suggestions were adopted, hasty fortifications made, and pickets posted in the direction from which the Indians would probably come, with strict orders to give the alarm immediately. The troops lay ready during the whole night, and early in the morning the alarm gun was heard and the pickets ran in. The men, whom the Indians had ex- pected to surprise, were in readiness, and sprang to the breast- works. A sharp contest ensued. At first the recruits fired almost aimlessly, but the boldness and vigor of Col. Harney soon inspired his men with that confidence necessary to a steady and effective fire, and after three hours' fighting, the Indians retreat- ed. Here and there on the field about the camp they found belts covered with blood, shot-pouches and scalping knives; but the savages had dragged away the bodies of their fallen comrades. The name of the camp was now changed to Fort Mellon, in memory of a gallant officer who had fallen in the fight, and Col. 414 GENERAL WILLIAM S. HARNEY. Harney was left in command. All his efforts were directed to- wards the successful prosecution of the war with as little loss as possible. To secure this much-desired result, the troops were kept in such constant action that hardly a single depredation was allowed to be committed on the inhabitants of the country, not a stalk of corn was allowed to grow anywhere but on the farms of the citizens. Unable to plant any corn in the swamps, whence no enemy but famine could drive them, many of the chiefs volun~ GENERAL WILLIAM S. HARNEY. 415 tarily surrendered themselves ; among them was Osceola, the moving spirit of the war. The chief, like all the Indian leaders,. had ample cause for in- citing his people to war against the whites. The stern Puritans of the north and the chivalry of the south united in a treatment of the native lords of the soil that was only less bad than the brutal- ities of the Spaniard. France was the only country whose set- tlements in the New World were not founded on oppression and injustice, and the French colonists were seldom, if ever, molest- ed by the Indians. Osceola, the son of an English trader and a Seminole chiefs daughter, had married the daughter of another chief by an escaped slave-woman. The mother's owner claimed and seized the daughter as his slave, and the outraged husband threatened revenge* Imprisonment for his threats only added fuel to the flames, and on his release the war was opened by the murder of Grcn. Thompson and four others, and the massacre of Major Dade and his party. A treaty was made, and according to its terms, the Indians prepared to remove to the reservation assigned to them. The frightened citizens returned to their homes, the recaptured slaves were restored to their owners, and it seemed that prosperity was about to succeed to the horrors of war. But as the Indians gath- ered at Fort Brooke, ready to embark, a spirit of laome-sickness, a wild and uncontrollable longing for the moss-covered oaks and evergreens of the forest, seized upon them, and they fled away from the fort of the white man. Preparations were immediately made for recommencing the war; fortunately the time thus con- sumed was the sickly summer season, when any campaign would have resulted in a great deal of sickness among the men. Osceola had not only broken the treaty himself, but had in- duced other tribes to do so. At a council, Osceola drew his knife and drove it into the table, saying, " The only treaty I will ex- ecute is with this." Gen. Jessup considered himself authorized, therefore, to seize as prisoners of war the chiefs who had met for conference with him under a flag of truce; a violation of all the established courtesies of war. There was but a handful of In- dians remaining in Florida, their negro allies having been re- claimed, and many of their bravest warriors killed in the previ- ous campaign ; they were surrounded by a complete cordon of military posts, and confronted by an enemy bent on their exter- mination. 416 GENERAL WILLIAM S. HARNEY. The aim of Gen. Jessup was to completely surround the Indians, and close the circle gradually. To the point of danger in this line, because the one where the Seminoles were most likely to attempt to break through, Col. Harney was assigned; and it was only by the negligence of other officers that a few escaped at other points. Active hostilities began early in January, 1838, with a sharp and active engagement in which Gen. Nelson com- manded the whites. Later, a naval officer was so severely de- feated, that it was all his men could do to regain their boats. Gen. Jessup with a stronger force moved upon them at the same point, but Gen. Eustis, who was in immediate command, had so dis- posed his forces that the dragoons under Col. Harney could ren- der no effective service to the others, and at the first attack the Americans were repul- sed by a murderous fire. Col. Harney had in the meantime pene- trated to the flank and rear of the enemy, Gen. Jessup took command and rallied his men, and the combined attack proved more successful. Col. Harney's request that he might be allowed to pursue them, was granted, but a severe rainstorm caused the commander to withdraw the permission. Sent the next day with two companies to follow the Indians, Col. Harney found their camp abandoned; they had fled to the everglades, inaccessible to the soldiery. [Returning with this in- formation, he urged upon the commander the desirability of send- ing for the Indians, as they would probably desire to treat now, after the punishment that had been inflicted. This advice, most A TREATY OF WAR. GENERAL WILLIAM S. HARNEY. 417 worthy of consideration, was adopted by the general, who sent a messenger to the Indians, offering terms of peace. Many of the officers urged upon Gen. Jessup the necessity of termina- ting the war by allowing the Seminoles to retain a part of the country ; but he would only offer such terms on condition of the approval of the government. Many of the Indian chiefs sur- rendered, with followers to the number of two thousand, and again the war seemed to be at an end. The government refused to ratify this arrangement, and the subsequent action of Gen. Jessup looked to the untutored savages very much like a breach of faith. He had violated the security of a flag of truce, and Osceola had died in prison; he had de- coyed them from their fastnesses, only to hold them as captives. Having thus lost all confidence in the whites, the Seminoles, always reckless of danger for themselves when it was possible to inflict injury upon their enemies, harried and burned and slew whenever the presence of soldiery did not prevent. Colonel Harney, with his dismounted dragoons, was sent after Sam Jones, one of the principal chiefs, and pursued him into his hunting grounds by forced marches made at night. He succeed- ed in surprising the Indians, and put them to rout, but they fled into the swamps, whither the troops could not follow them. As they pursued the flying savages, one of the soldiers shot a squaw, mistaking her, in the confusion, for a warrior. Greatly distressed at this injury inflicted upon a woman, they did everything in their power to relieve her. At a loss what to do with her, Col. Harney made the suggestion that, if they left her, her friends would come after her in the night. It was proposed to lie in wait near by, and capture those who should come, but Col. Harney declared that those who came on such a mission of humanity should have safe conduct. The chief and the woman's husband came and visited her that night, taking her away the next, but though Sam Jones was such a tempting prize, Col. Harney re- strained his men from molesting them. The woman recovered, and when several months afterward the tribe was met by Col. Harney and his command on terms of peace, she displayed con- siderable gratitude towards those who had acted in a manner better agreeing with their professed Christianity than the whites generally used towards the savages. Gen. Jessup was soon after recalled from Florida and sent to the Cherokee country ; Gen. Macomb, the commander-in-chief, 418 GENERAL WILLIAM S. HARNEY. repairing in person to the seat of war. Arriving in Florida, and establishing his headquarters on Black Creek, he immediately sent for Col. Harney. The plans which that officer had suggested, and upon which Gen. Jessup had acted, were laid before him, and Col. Harney marked out the reservation which would con- tent the Indians, who were committing all sorts of depredations and murders. " A settlement can be made with them, if I can only be assured that the government will keep faith ; but they have been de- ceived, and are suspicious of the promises of the War Depart- ment. I cannot undertake to deceive them myself, and unless 1 can be assured that the treaty, when made, will be observed by our own people, I can do nothing." Gen. Macomb had instructions to pacify the Indians, and to make arrangements for them to remain in the country.- Satisfied at this, Col. Harney' s influence got a number of chiefs together, who were induced by the respect in which they held him, to make an amicable arrangement. But the depredations continued. Some of the chiefs repudiated this treaty, some never assented to it. The people of Florida were not satisfied with it, and while the assurance of the Secretary of War was that it was only a tem- porary measure, calculated to quiet their remonstrances, it only inflamed the passions of the Seminoles. Col. Harney was thus shown to be as unreliable as any of the others, and his reputa- tion for truth and honor existed no more among the deceived and betrayed Indians of Florida. As soon as the treaty had been made, Gen. Macomb directed Col. Harney to select a suitable site for a trading-house, to be built in the reservation. Selecting a point on the Coloosahatchie Eiver, fifteen miles above the mouth, he left there thirty dis- mounted dragoons, while he went on to Gen. Taylor's headquar- ters on Tampa Bay. Gen. Macomb had verbally authorized him to call upon this officer for two companies to protect the house, but Gen. Taylor refused to let him have any troops. Calling at the site on the Coloosahatchie as he returned, he found every- thing progressing admirably, the Indians appearing perfectly contented. But while he was on the way from Tampa, the Sec- retary's letter had arrived, saying that the treaty was only tem- porary. In some mysterious way, the Indians had heard of it, and swift runners spread the news among all the tribes before it had been sent to the whites. GENERAL WILLIAM S. HARNEY. 419 It was then, without arousing any suspicion in the mind of the officer, that the afterwards famous chief Billy Bowlegs came aboard the boat, and told him that the chiefs wished to see him before he left. Never guessing what news had come from Wash- ington, he concluded to land, and spend the night on shore in his tent. The next day he went hunting, returning about nine o'clock, tired out. Taking off his coat and boots, he lay down, intending to rest a little and then get up to see how the sergeant in command had posted his sentinels. But he fell asleep, to be awakened at daylight by the firing of guns, the yelling of In- dians, and shouts of, " Eun to the water !" in the familiar voices of his own men. Seeing that his men, standing up to their necks in the water, were wholly unarmed, he knew that he could not help them, and determined to save himself. Running down the river about a quarter of a mile, every thought bent to the planning of an escape, he walked into the river a few paces, then backward up the bank, so as to make the' Indians think that two men had been drowned at that point. In the mean time the men in the river had been induced to sur- render, and were massacred as soon as they left the water, only a small party escaping in a trading boat. They then proceeded to the colonel's tent, and their yell of disappointment rang in his ears as he plunged into the brush. Following his trail, they found the point where he had walked into the water, and con- cluding that he and some companion had preferred drowning to falling into their hands, gave up the search. He had not proceed- ed far when a man was seen coming towards him, and, thinking it w T as an Indian, he drew his pocket-knife, the only weapon he had, and prepared for defense ; but the supposed Indian was one of his own dragoons who had watched him from the river, and had not surrendered with his comrades. Over the mangrove roots and sour-grass that lacerated his un- protected feet, until the dragoon, Britton, gave him his shoes, un- der the burning, vertical rays of a July sun in Florida, blacking their faces with the charred wood left by camp-fires which they passed, so that they might be better disguised, they strained every nerve to get to a certain point fifteen miles away. Now and then their route led them to the river bank. The third time that they approached it, Britton heard a voice on the river. Sending the dragoon down the stream, Col. Harney ascended it, to look 27 420 GENERAL WILLIAM S. HARNEY. for the Indians. Britton soon reported that they were coming; he had seen a canoe with some one in it of course, Seminoles. "Britton, can you fight?" BILLY BOWLEGS. "I will die with you, Colonel." " There seem to be two Indians. Do not let one get behind me while I am fighting with the other. I can soon overcome GENERAL WILLIAM S. HARNEY. 421 and kill one, and then will be ready for the second. "Where are they?" " Under that wild fig-tree." "I will go now. Be sure and keep a sharp look-out." Arriving at the point indicated, with so stealthy a step as not to alarm the children of the forest, he planted one foot firmly upon the ground, the other upon the shell bank, ready to leap upon them. Kaising himself, he saw the canoe his own, con- taining only a harpoon and the paddles. Calling Britton to him by a yell of triumph, and instructing him in paddling the canoe, they soon overtook those of his men who had escaped in the boat!, To them he announced his intention of going back to the camp, to see what had become of his force, and they volunteered to ac- company him. "With seven men, he returned that night to as- certain who had been the killed. Leaving two men in the boat, with five men and two #uns he proceeded to the camp, where they looked into the faces of their comrades, ghastly with death in the light of the moon. Counting the dead, they found all there but five, and shouted to call these to them. They afterwards learn- ed that two heard the shouts, but thought it merely an Indian ruse to draw them from their hiding places. Col. Harney, knowing that the Indians had taken two barrels of whiskey in the stores, wished to avenge his murdered men, sure that a surprise would result in victory ; but his men were unwilling to take a new risk, and the little party returned to headquarters. Colonel Harney was as yet ignorant of the reason for this at- tack, only learning of the Secretary's letter when he arrived at Florida Bay. The news of the attack and massacre spread rap- idly over Florida, and produced the most profound sensation, leading to hostilities of the bloodiest kind. Yet the Secretary, whose faithlessness was the cause of this, was retained in the cabinet, his conduct unquestioned. By his orders, blood-hounds were imported to hunt down the Indians. Less cruel than the men who set them on, "they were found to be perfectly useless." With the campaign between November, 1839, and May, 1840, we have nothing to do, as Col. Harney was on sick leave in Cuba, being threatened with consumption. Little of importance oc- curred between the time of the massacre of the Coloosahatchie (July, 1839) and the last month of the succeeding year; a series of scenes of petty bloodshed on both sides filled up the measure pf the days, 422 GENERAL WILLIAM S. HARNET. In December, 1840, Col. Harney was ordered to proceed to the everglades and attack the Spanish Indians, of whom Chaikika was the chief. Here, in a vast expanse of water varying in depth from one to five feet, and covered with an almost impenetrable saw-grass, except for- the channels which extended in every direc- tion, dotted with innumerable islands, it was supposed that many of the Indians had their headquarters. This suspicion had been confirmed by the account of a negro man named John, who had been captured by them in 1835, and had but recently escaped. Col. Harney, with a force of ninety men in boats, and John as a IN THE EVERGLADES. guide, penetrated into the heart of this wilderness. John led them directly to the island where the Indians were encamped the band of Chaikika, who had been the chief commanding the party that massacred the dragoons at Coloosahatchie. The chief was chopping wood at a short distance from his people when the soldiers approached. Discovering the presence of the enemy he dropped his -axe and ran for the high grass. Two or three soldiers started in pursuit, but only one proved able to keep up with him. This was Hall, the same man who had shot the squaw by mistake. Finding that escape was hopeless, and being WILLIAM S. ftARtfEY. 423 unarmed, he turned, and threw up his arms in token of surren- der. The mercy he had dealt to those who surrendered at Co- loosahatchie was shown to him. Hall sent a bullet into his hrain, and he fell lifeless into the water. Two thousand dollars' worth of stolen goods were identified, and thirteen revolvers belonging to Harney's massacred dragoons. Nine of the warriors were hanged, the tenth reserved for use in the future as a guide. This was virtually the end of the Seminole war, protracted through eight years, at the cost of millions of dollars and many lives. This contest baffled the military skill of the ablest gener- als. Col. Harney's services were, beyond question, more efficient than those of any other officer in the field. The Indians always had most respect and esteem for the man who was most successful in contending with them, and Col. Harney was the only man upon whose word they would rely. For a period of several years we take leave of him. During this time Texas, an independent republic, had laid aside her sov- ereign loneliness at the invitation of the Congress of the United States, and become one of the many. Mexico had never admit- ted the independence of Texas ; the action of the United States was, therefore, regarded as a breach of the treaty between the two nations, and the Mexican war ensued. Col. Harney was stationed at San Antonio with six regiments of dragoons, when, in the winter of 1845-6, he learned that the Mexicans were assembling on the Bio G-rande, west of San An- tonio. He determined to push forward, to reconnoiter and to protect the frontier, and collected a force of seven hundred men. His officers suggested that they had no cannon, and proposed v sending to Victoria for two pieces ; but this would cause too much loss of time. "Have the Mexicans any artillery?" inquired Col. Harney. " They have field-pieces and ordnance of excellent character, sir/' replied an officer readily, glad to break the argument by such facts. " Well, then, we will go and take them ; they will suit me ex- actly." Advancing to within fifteen miles of the Bio Grande, a recon- noissance in person revealed that the Mexican troops had gone; crossing the river, he occupied Presidio, and wished to move upon Monterey, but the unanimous opposition of his officers forced him to abandon this plan. On his way back to San An- 424 GENERAL WILLIAM S. HARNEY. tonio, he was met by two orders from G-en. Wool, then in com- mand ; the first, desiring him to return to San Antonio immedi- ately; the second, placing him under arrest, and giving his com- mand to another officer. Gen. Wool explained that the latter order had been issued because the people of San Antonio had assured him that Colonel Harney would not obey the first. Promoted to the full rank of colonel the last of June, 1846, he and Brig.-Gen. Shields, with a guard of only fifteen men, set out to report to Gen. Taylor at Matamoras, where the Mexicans had met with a signal defeat in May at the hands of that officer. The perils and difficulties of the journey cannot be exaggerated: through a country full of enemies, marching all one day without water, the escort was so scanty that it was a most hazardous un- dertaking. They reached Monterey only to find Col. Harney placed under the command of Gen. Wool, who had exposed him to the indignity of an arrest in San Antonio. Sent with his dragoons to the front, Col. Harney made a re- connoissance, and failing to find the enemy, returned to the post assigned. Here, as he and his officers were indulging in festiv- ities after their tiresome day, a courier arrived with a despatch from Gen. Wool, ordering his immediate return, as the enemy was advancing. Beading the despatch to his officers, and know- ing the general had received false information, he bivouacked for the night, and on the following day, falling back upon the main body, reported to Gen. Wool. In reply to that officer's reproach- es for his tardiness in obeying orders, he said : " I knew that you had received false information, sir. If you had inquired of me, I could have told you, from my own know- ledge, that there was no enemy." He was soon afterward transferred to Gen. Taylor's command. Gen. Scott's old jealousy of Gen. Jackson showed itself in an at- tempt to deprive Col. Harney of his command, he having been an especial protege of " Old Hickory/' but foiled in this, he could not but admit that it was a gallant soldier and a good offi- cer that he would have injured. His conduct at Madellin and the more important Cerro Gordo won for him the commendation of Scott, and the rank of Brevet Brigadier-General. Present at the taking of Mexico, and performing valuable services during the entire war, when peace was at last declared he was stationed with his regiment at San Antonio. He remained in Texas, with occa- sional short leaves of absence, until July, 1854, when a leave grant- GENERAL wimAta s. HARNEY. 425 ed for two years permitted him to visit his family, who had lived for some years in Europe, while the husband and father had been serving his country in its wars. Although our right to annex Texas had been vindicated, the country was not to be left in peace. The disturbing element was the same that kept the earliest settlers on the Atlantic coast al- ways prepared for a combat, that has made itself a name of ter- ror to the far western prairies the Indians. As usual, the cause of this war was the injustice and oppression of the white man, revenged by the cruelty of the red man. A party of emigrants to California, passing the Big Platte, about thirty miles below Fort Laramie, left a cow, that had giv- en out, in charge of the Bois Brules. Buffaloes were not to be found by the hunters, and the agents of the II. S. Government had failed to furnish them with the usual supplies ; but they had no thought of violating that trust, even to prevent the starvation of the tribe. Even when a visit from a neighboring chief awak- ened all their sense of hospital- ity, they explained to him that their own meager rations would not permit a great feast of wel- come. The Ogallala chief said that he had seen a white buffalo (a cow) on the prairies, but ap- peared satisfied on learning the facts of the case. He and his war- riors would go out on a hunt, said the visitor ; and strangely GEN. WINFIELD s. SCOTT. enough, the game that they brought in was the carcass of the white buffalo. The owner of the cow sent in a bill for it to Fort Laramie, and received payment from the officer in command who immediate- ly despatched a force of thirty men, under the command of a lieutenant, to demand the warrior who had killed the cow. Drunk when they arrived at the village, it is hardly probable that this demand was made in a manner calculated to ensure its admission by the Indians. " The Ogallala chief is in the village of the Bois Brules, and they cannot give him up to his enemies. But he has behaved badly ? and you can take him ; that is his lodge." 426 GENERAL WILLIAM S. HARNEY. "No, you must bring him here/' insisted the officer, with drunken dignity. " The Indian does not give up the friend who is in his lodge, and Black Beaver's people would kill him if he did so." But the hospitality of the desert met with no recognition here, and the order was given to fire. Black Beaver was killed, but his death was speedily avenged by that of the lieutenant, his interpreter, and all the detachment but one man who, found wounded, was taken into the lodge of a warrior and nursed back to health* Such was the beginning of the war in which the whole Sioux tribe took up the quarrel of their kinsmen, the Bois Brules. In such a state of affairs, the most distinguished Indian fighter in the army could not well be spared, and Gen. Harney was re- called before one quarter of the two years had passed. Leaving Paris on Christmas Eve, 1854, he reported in Washington. " Gen. Harney," x said President Pierce, " you have done so much that I will not order you, but I do wish you would con- sent to assume the command and whip the Indians for us." Proceeding to the west, as soon as he reached the Indian coun- try he received a message from the Sioux chief, Little Thunder, saying that he would either shake hands with him or fight. But Gen. Harney had already reached a position commanding the Indian village, and even the personal pleading of the chief did not secure peace without punishment for robbing the mails and killing emigrants. Seventy-two savages fell in the attack which followed, in which only four white men were killed. Soon forced to retreat, the Indians were allowed to make their escape, since they were encumbered with their women and children. One most important assistant in guarding the camp from attack was Gen. Harney's veteran charger, Buncombe, who had seen severe service in the Mexican war, and who now learned to detect the presence of a wolf, a buffalo or an Indian near the camp ; giv- ing an invariably correct alarm, and in many cases saving the lives of the men. He could distinguish between the intruders, and would stamp harder and oftener, and snort more loudly, if it were an Indian, than if it were a buffalo or a wolf. The decisive victory gained over Little Thunder awed the Sioux into submission, and a five days' conference with the chiefs of all but two bands resulted in a treaty. Chiefs and sub-chiefs were recognized, and arrangements made for the government of GENERAL WILLIAM s. EARNEY. 427 the tribe, so as to secure the blessings of peace to both the Indians and the whites. The Sioux stood to their promises, and held to the obligations that the treaty imposed upon them, even after the government showed that it had no intention of keeping faith with them. His instructions forbade him to do more, although the bands not represented were somewhat turbulent, and challenged him to meet them on the war-path ; and he returned to St. Louis. The removal of the remnant of the Seminoles still lingering in the swamps and everglades of Florida next occupied his time, and in May, 1857, he was ordered to Kansas, where a delicate and im- portant duty required all his firmness and sagacity. This was to keep the peace which the politicians seemed determined to break a strange duty, it seems, for a soldier, occurring under a com- bination of circumstances equally strange. But his services in Kansas, and those immediately afterwards in Utah, do not pre- sent points of special interest to any but the historians of those states. Ordered to Oregon early in the fall of 1858, he procured the appointment of Father de Smet as chaplain to his force. This eminent Jesuit had been a missionary among the Fiat Heads and kindred tribes around the Columbia and its branches, and not only possessed considerable influence over them, but perhaps knew the country and disposition of the tribes better than any one else ; so that he was invaluable to this expedition. The California Indians had been hostile for some time, and there had been several skirmishes, when G-en. Clarke, then in command, invited them to a council. Eefusing to surrender their privileges, they were thus addressed by Major Key: " The great war-chief, General Harney, who is known among all the tribes for his success among them, is on his way here ; and if you do not accede to the terms which we propose, he will make war upon you, so that you will be glad to accept even harder conditions." When G-en. Harney arrived at Fort Yancouver, he found that many of the tribes had sued for peace, and treaties had been made with them. The turbulent Indians had fled to the Flat Heads, and G-en. Harney concluded to demand their surrender. In many instances they were promptly given up, but in other cases there was more delay. So completely had the Indians been pacified, through the good offices of Father de Smet, and the active and 428 GENERAL WILLIAM s. efficient measures of Gen. Harney, that no disturbances followed. His perfect knowledge of Indian character, and his wisdom in adapting his plan of action to the enemy with whom he had to deal, secured him a greater degree of success than any officer as- signed to duty on the frontier. His one rule in intercourse with them, never broken, was to keep faith; and the wisdom of this was endorsed by the experience of Father de Smet. He was recalled from Oregon in July, 1860, and ordered to St. Louis, whence, in April, 1861, he proceeded to Washington. Made the first prisoner of war, and strongly urged to join the Confed- erate Army by many old acquaintances, his journey to Washing- ton was a series of ovations to the great war-chief of the West. On his return to St. Louis, again invested with the command here, he bent every energy to the task of pacification; believing that there was no necessity for a single gun to be fired in the state, and resolved that none should be while he could prevent it. But he had hardly arrived in the city before the order came depriving him of his command, and giving him leave of absence until further orders. The further orders never came, and his name is still upon the retired list. The pretext for this action was his connection with those who leaned towards the Confederate States, but no evidence exists to show that, while he remained in command, he was anything but a faithful servant of the coun- try for which he had done so much. Forty-two years he had spent in active service, the greater part of the time being on the frontier, among the Indians. Appointed a member of the Indian Peace Commission in 1865, he visited the savages, for the last time, on the waters of the Platte and the Black Hills country. It is a touching tribute to his rep- utation among the Indians, that while engaged in this work, an elderly Indian woman came up to him, and shaking his hand earn- estly, said : " You were a friend of my father." Who her father was, or where G-en. Harney had known him, could not be ascertained; but that is unnecessary to the beauty of the incident; it might have been a typical Indian, for to the fathers of many of the present generation he had indeed been a friend. CHAPTER XVI. GEKEEAL GEOEGE A. CUSTEE. ~Y"T~^HE]N" a man has achieved success in any direction, we are VV always desirous of knowing how far his boyhood and youth gave promise of the future. It is with a feeling of gratifica- tion that we learn that such a novelist delighted his schoolmates by the stories he related to them ; that such a historian almost de- stroyed his sight by his close application ; that such a ruler of men so governed circumstances, that from a canal-boy he became pres- ident; that such a general gave promise of his future excellence as a soldier by his rank at West Point. After a while, however, the story becomes monotonous, and it is with equal gratification that we turn to the eminent scholar who, in boyhood, was es- teemed a dunce, to the successful general who was not in the first rank at the Military Academy. Born in Ohio, in the latter part of 1839, George Armstrong Ouster's early life was like that of many an American boy, born and raised in the country. At school in the winter, rarely fail- ing to have his lessons creditably prepared in spite of the mili- tary novel often opened under his geography; at work on his father's farm in the summer ; accompanying an elder sister, re- cently married, to Michigan, then but sparsely settled; full of life and fun, yet never quarrelsome ; of the gentlest and most lovable disposition : such is the record of his boyhood. Early imbued with a passion for a soldier's life, he was not yet seven- teen when he determined to go to West Point. No influence aided him in his endeavors, and nothing came of them the first time ; but a personal interview with the congressman, to whom he had written, resulted in his appointment the following year. The discipline at the Military Academy seems to outsiders un- necessarily strict. A trifling dereliction from duty is an unpar- donable offense ; a failure to black one's boots at the proper moment necessitates an afternoon's guard duty; while a neglect GENERAL GEORGE A. CtJSTER. of lessons for a visit to Benny Havens' cabin is no worse it can not be. Saturday afternoon is time for recreation, but the poor delinquents must spend it " walking their extras." For offenses not great, but making up in number what they lacked in enorm- ity, sixty-six Saturdays were thus spent by Cadet Ouster during his four years' course ; and when every examination was passed and only the order from Washington was needed to transform the cadets into officers, the ranking of the class of thirty-four showed thirty-three above him. " My career as a cadet," said he, as a soldier, " had but little to commend it to the study of those who came after me, unless as an example to be carefully avoided." A single instance will be enough to show the character of his offenses against military law. It was in 1861, after the examin- ations were passed, when they were only waiting to be assigned each to the particular branch of the service for which he was best fitted, that Cadet Ouster was performing the duties of officer of the the guard ; an honor bestowed only once on each one during his fo.ur years' course. At dark he heard a commotion near the guard tents, at some distance from the main camp, and hastened towards the place indicated by the uproar. In th e midst of a con- siderable group were two cadets noisily disputing with each other; hardly had he arrived when they began a pitched battle with their fists. Prudent bystanders attempted to separate them, and the officer of the guard ought to have assisted them, and sent the two combatants to the guard tents for breaking the peace and the rules at the same time. He did nothing of the kind : push- ing his way into the centre of the group, he dashed back the would-be peacemakers with the words : " Stand back, boys ; let's have a fair fight." Unfortunately, his enthusiasm for a " fair fight" was witness- ed by two officers of the army, one of whom was the officer of the day ; they did not seem to appreciate his soldierly instinct as the proper thing, and he was placed under arrest. Only a few hours after this arrived the order from "Washington, directing the members of his class to report to the adjutant-general for further o'rders; but he was detained. Arraigned before a court-martial " with all the solemnity and gravity which might be looked for in a trial for high treason," his comrades who had preceded him to Washington set influential friends to work, and secured an order for his release. GEOEGE A. CUSTER. 431 GEORGE A, CUSTER, 432 GENERAL GEORGE A. OUSTER. Active service awaited the recent graduates from the Acad- emy; for not only had the army been enormously increased, but many of the officers had resigned and joined the enemy. Rapid promotion awaited merit, and Ouster confided to some of his comrades that he was determined to be a general before the war was over. It was an incautious admission, received by many with ill-natured sneers, and frequently made the occasion of se- vere sarcasm ; but his desire was based on what he knew of his own abilities. Towards the latter part of June, 1862, not many days after the battle of Aldie, Captain Ouster returned to camp after a long day's ride. Entering the large tent where his brother staff- officers were chatting and smoking, a repetition of the frequent chaff on the subject of his ambition greeted him. " Hallo, general!" " Pretty tired, general ?" " G-entlemen, General Ouster!" " How are you, general?" " Allow me to congratulate you, general," with a low bow. " You're looking well, general." With his blue eyes flashing with anger, which he could hardly control, he replied with some bitterness: "Laugh as long as you please, but I will be a general yet, for all your chaff. See if I'm not that's all." Irritated by the unusual malignancy of his persecutors, he looked about him as if for some one on whom he could fix a quarrel, when Yates said to him: "Look on the table, old fellow; they are not chaffing this time. In the midst of the papers on the table, lay a large official envelope directed to "Brigadier G-eneral G-eorge A. Ouster, U. S. Yols." Gen. Pleasonton, on whose staff he had been for some time, had sent in his name and those of four others to the Pres- ident, for promotion to a brigadier's rank; but never had Ouster suspected that his dash and daring had already won him the cov- eted rank. Through the war we need not follow "the boy-general," as he was called. In %iany a fierce cavalry charge he led his men, animated by the splendid courage of their leader. But we must not fall into the error that is so common, the idea that he was but a handsome figure-head, placed by " Ouster's luck " at the head of a brigade, and later of a division. If no other officer .had GENERAL GEOEGE A. OUSTER. 433 that good fortune, which, connected thus with his name, became proverbial, it was because no one else could so quickly decide what was to be done while the guns of the enemy were booming in his ears. It may be readily believed that his rapid promotion did not endear him to his brother officers, especially those vet- erans over whose heads he stepped ; but before he had led that brigade twice into battle, his men were ready to die for him; and to many an old soldier's eye the picture is still vivid : the tall form of the young officer, clad in trousers and loose jacket of velveteen, the sleeves of the latter garment nearly covered with the gold lace and braid which he used to indicate his rank; the broad falling collar of his blue shirt ornamented with the silver star of a brigadier ; a low-crowned, broad-brimmed soft felt hat sat upon the flowing golden curls; a flaming red neck-tie giving whatever else of color was needed. Four years of harcl fighting, and the war was over, Gen. Ouster receiving the first flag of truce sent by Gen. Lee. The army must be reduced to a peace footing. The volunteers were mus- tered out, those officers who had been originally civilians return- ed to their homes; the old army officers, stripped of the rank ac- quired in connection with this corps, reduced to their former station. Major-General Ouster of the Volunteers became Captain Ouster of the Fifth Cavalry. The organization of the Seventh Cavalry in July, 1866, gave him a commission as lieutenant-col- onel, the three highest officers in the regiment being major-gen- erals. He had wished to go to Mexico, where the unfortunate emperor Maximilian was gradually losing hifc hold upon the peo- ple, but could not obtain leave; and was ordered to accompany President Johnson on his trip to Springfield, Illinois, for the Lincoln monument celebration. Soon came the welcome orders to report to Fort Eiley, then the terminus of the Pacific railroad, and the young couple to whom the attendance upon the President's much criticised pro- gress had been a delightful pleasure tour, set off for the plains. Here, in command of the regiment, since the colonel was depart- ment chief, much hard work awaited him. Recruits came from the large towns, enlisting with the desire to shirk every duty which they could, and intending to desert when they got tired. These must be transformed to veterans and heroes. The Indians saw that before the iron horse the buffalo must retreat, and exasperated by the prospect of being thus reduce^ 434 GENERAL GEORGE A. OUSTER. GENERAL GEORGE A. CUSTER. 435 to ignoble work, perpetrated many outrages. During the sum- mer and fall of 1866 numerous thefts and murders had been com- mitted, the stations of the overland mail route had been attacked, but the guilty Cheyennes and Sioux had never been called to ac- count. The agents of these tribes doubtless knew who had com- mitted these offenses, but an attempt to bring them to punish- ment would have interfered with the profits of trade ; and what- ever recent investigation may have failed to prove of the Indian agents, it certainly shows that they are not as honest and dis- interested as our favorite political candidate. The leading chiefs and warriors of the various tribes had threatened an out- break along the whole frontier as soon as the grass was green in the spring ; and to intimidate these, rather than to punish those who had already committed crimes, G-cn. Hancock set out with a large force, comprising infantry, cavalry and artillery. At Fort Eiley, Gen. Ouster joined this force, with four companies of his regiment. Much time was consumed in trying to induce the Indians to come into council. Runners had been sent out to the principal chiefs, and all had agreed to assemble near Fort Larned on the tenth of April but they encamped thirty miles away. It soon be- came evident that they did not intend to allow this distance to decrease ; the message to the effect that, discovering a large herd of buffalo, they had stopped to procure meat, was not received with much confidence. Gren. Hancock resolved to move nearer to the Indian encampment, and although Bull Bear, a Cheyenne chief, reported that the chiefs of his own tribe and the Sioux were on their way, the army resumed the march. They had gone only a few miles when they beheld an Indian line of battle drawn di- rectly across their path. There were several hundred warriors, most of them mounted, armed with bow and arrows, tomahawk and scalping-knife, each one carrying, besides these traditional arms of his race, either a revolver or a breech-loading rifle, some being, by the kindness of the Indian Department, provided with both. Scattered over the wide extended plain were small parties, evidently scouts and couriers. For a moment a fight seemed the inevitable result of this war- like array. The infantry and artillery formed in line of battle, and the cavalry marching on the flank came galloping up, their drawn sabres flashing in the morning sunlight. Along the hos- tile line rode the chiefs, evidently exhorting their warriors to 28 436 GENERAL GEORGE A. OUSTER. deeds of heroism, while each side seemed waiting for the other to strike the first blow. In the midst of the universal anxiety and expectation, Gen. Hancock, accompanied by his staff, rode forward and invited the chiefs to meet him midway between the two opposing forces. About ten or a dozen of the principal Chey- ennes and Sioux therefore rode to the point designated, and shook hands with the officers, seemingly much gratified at this peace- ful termination of the encounter. The interview ended, and, in accordance with the plans then proposed, the Indians went back to their village, the soldiers following leisurely in the rear, and encamping near the savages' lodges. Here they found that the women and children had fled in dread anticipation of a massacre ; and two chiefs, who volun- teered to follow and bring them back if G-en. Hancock would provide them with horses, failed to return. One of the scouts, later in the evening, reported that the rest of the chiefs were sad- dling up to leave, and Ouster was at once directed to surround the village with his men in order to prevent their departure. Complete quiet reigned, as if the inmates of the lodges were asleep. Investigation showed that the camp was entirely empty ; fearful of a massacre, the Indians had fled, leaving all their pro- perty. It is probable that the scout who brought the inform- ation, himself a half-breed Cheyenne, had played a double game, the long operation of surrounding the village so quietly as not to alarm the quick-eared Indians, causing a loss of much valuable time. The cavalry was ordered to follow the Indians. Before day- light all their careful preparations for pursuit were completed ; and all chance of catching the fugitives was gone. Following the trail carefully, preceded by their company of plainsmen and friendly Indians, their only success lay in compelling their ene- my to disperse into small parties. Thus the trail was lost, and the troops were obliged to give up the pursuit. Satisfied that the Indians must be many miles in advance of them, and that the country was full of game, Gen. Ouster left his men before they found that the Indians had separated, and galloped off after some antelopes that were descried in the dis- tance. Always a lover of dogs, he was accompanied by several fine English greyhounds, and was mounted on a thorough-bred horse of remarkable size and speed. But though he took advan- tage of every turn, the fleet animals eluded his pursuit, and call- GENERAL GEORGE A. CUSTEK. 437 ing off his dogs, he was trying to determine how far he was from the troops, when he saw, about a mile from him, a large, dark ani- mal grazing. Though he had never seen one in its wild state, he instantly recognized this as a buffalo, and of the largest size. An ardent sportsman, this was an opportunity such as had never yet befallen him. Calling his dogs to follow him, he slowly pur- sued the course of a neighboring ravine until he had approached nearly within pistol-shot of the game; his leisurely advance be- ing designed to give the horse opportunity to recover himself for a second run. The buffalo discovered the presence of the hunter, and set off at his utmost speed. Fast and far sped the frightened buffalo ; the good greyhounds were left behind ; only the horse and his rider followed the huge animal, and at last commenced to gain upon him. Mile after mile over the springy turf, and the mettle of the thoroughbred began to show in the race for life and death. The protruding tongue and labored breathing of the bison proved that he could not long continue his flight, and the wild, delighted yells of the hunter greeted these evidences of weakness. Placing the muzzle of his revolver close to the shaggy hide of the buffalo, he had his finger on the trigger, when the animal, exhausted by the long chase, and feeling himself unable to escape by flight, wheeled around and lowered his horns to gore the horse. Instinctively the charger veered about to avoid the attack, and to retain con- trol over him the rider brought his right hand to the assistance of his left. In the excitement of the moment his finger pressed the trigger, and the ball went straight through the brain of the horse. He fell dead in the midst of his leap, and Ouster, disen- gaging himself from the stirrups as soon as he realized the situa- tion, found himself whirling in the air beyond his horse's head, his one thought being : "What will the buffalo do with me ?" But Mr. Bison was too much astonished by the strange pro- ceeding to make any attack upon his late pursuer, and he fled over the prairies, this time unchased. Fortunately for Ouster in his buffalo hunt he had retraced the steps taken in pursuit of the antelopes, and was now ahead of his own column. G-iving up the idea of catching the Indians, it was decided to push on and warn the stations on the stage route that the Chey- ennes and Sioux would soon be on the war-path ; but for many the warning came too late. The golden opportunity had been 438 GENERAL GEORGE A. CUSTER. lost when Gen. Hancock allowed the Indian village to be desert- ed. Of course, Ouster, a young officer without experience in this kind of fighting, could not pretend to advise a general of Han- cock's long service on the plains. The abandoned village was burned, and war formally opened. Gen. Hancock called a council at Fort Dodge, where the Kiowas and Arapahoes were the most prominent tribes represented. Ex- travagant promises of good conduct were made, especially by Satanta, of the Kiowas, and his fervid friendship was soon re- warded by the gift of the uniform coat, sash and hat of a major- general. When he attacked Fort Dodge a few weeks later, he was thus enabled to appear in full uniform. With a force of three hundred and fifty men, Ouster was or- dered on his first Indian scout, with directions to proceed from Fort Hays, in Kansas, to Fort McPherson, in Nebraska; thence southward in a semi-circle, returning to Fort Hays by way of Forts Sedgwick and Wallace. This would involve a ride of more than a thousand miles. Having seen but one war party of Indians since leaving the main body, and unable to catch that, they arrived at Fort Mc- Pherson, remaining there a few days, in accordance with the or- ders of Gen. Sherman. Here Ouster learned another important lesson in Indian fighting. A council was held this time with Pawnee Killer, one of the Sioux chiefs who had escaped from Gen. Hancock. Promising to bring his band to encamp by the fort, he received from Ouster presents of such finery and dainties as were best suited to his taste, and left for his village. Gen. Sherman, soon afterward arrived, and from him Ouster learned what was the value of Pawnee Killer's promises. A de- tachment sent out immediately to find the chief and make him do as he had promised, failed in its object, and Ouster and his men set out on their return expedition. No real fighting had yet oc- curred ; but plenty of Indian warfare, attended by its utmost bar- barities, was soon to be experienced. According to a modifica- tion of the plan first proposed, a trusty officer was to be sent, with a sufficient escort, to Fort Sedgwick with Ouster's despatch, and to receive any despatches there for him. The train of twenty wagons was to go to Fort Wallace for supplies, the condition of the roads preventing such a journey to McPherson. Major Elliot was selected as the bearer of despatches, and set out with an escort of ten men in one direction at the same time GENERAL GEORGE A. OUSTER. 439 440 GENERAL GEORGE A. OUSTER. that the train, guarded by a full squadron of cavalry, left the camp in another. The rest of the force settled down to the ted- ious task of waiting, the monotony of which was only relieved by the evening concert of the wolves around the camp, and by a visit from Pawnee Killer and some of his braves. These, as be- fore, professed great friendship for the whites, and especially for the " Yellow Chief;" such was the Indian form of the newspaper correspondent's " floating golden curls of the boy-general." Paw- nee Killer had no great respect for the young officer whom he had already fooled, and wound up the conference by a request for coffee, sugar and ammunition ; but his contempt was unmerited. Ouster had learned the lesson, and was not to be again deceived into trusting an Indian. The Sioux, despairing of being able to massacre the soldiers, for such had been the object of their com- ing, took to flight; the chief managing to secure a revolver that had been left lying near him ; and the large and heavy horses of the troops being unable to overtake the fleet and hardy ponies of the Indians, the party, after a short pursuit, returned to camp. The success of a troop sent out against a small body of the savages that appeared soon afterwards, did not entirely reassure them ; much anxiety was felt regarding Major Elliot and his men, and the wagon train. The former was thought to be in the most danger, from the weakness of the party; but when, a few days afterwards, the little detachment, safe and sound, rode into camp, the general felt assured that the hostile Indians would attack the train. He could not hope that they had remained in ignor- ance of either expedition ; but, knowing of both, they probably determined to wait until the wagons loaded with supplies should return, and thus secure a victory that should be more than an empty honor. Thinking this, and believing that h.is wife, whom he thought at Fort Wallace, would put herself under protection of the train to join him in camp, Ouster determined to take every possible measure for the protection of this party. He accordingly sent out a full squadron, well mounted and armed, to meet the train, which was defended by forty-eight men. Attack was not antici- pated before the wagons reached Beaver Creek, fifty miles from the camp, as they would have the advantage of a larger escort as far as that point. The way from the camp to Fort Wallace lay over the open plain, where the deep ravines leading to the water courses would GENERAL GEORGE A. OUSTER. 441 afford shelter to unfriendly Indians. Yet so level was the plain, so almost imperceptible was the course of the ravines, that an un- practised eye would have seen no place of concealment. "If the Injuns strike us at all/' said the wary scout, Comstock, with the train, as they approached a point of which we shall hear again, "it will be just about the time that we're comin' back along this very spot. Now mind what I tell you, all." The suggestion of a young and inexperienced officer that the Indians seemed to have departed from that region, brought the reply, full of wisdom: " Whar thar ain't no Injuns, thar you'll find 'em thickest." And as they approached this spot on the return, the keen eye of the scout saw peering over the brow of the' hill far away to the right, strange figures. His field-glass revealed that they were In- dians, and his judgment was soon confirmed by the officers. In a little while the sharp-eyed savages saw that they were discovered and rode boldly to the crest of the hill. Twenty, thirty, a hun- dred warriors came in view, and still from beyond the hill new hosts appeared. Between six and seven hundred Indians, array- ed in full war costume, brilliantly hideous with paint and feath- ers, armed with carbines and revolvers, sometimes with bows and arrows, bore down upon them. The white men could only resolve to sell their lives as dearly as possible. The train was formed in two parallel columns, the cavalry horses between them ; the dismounted men being formed in a circle enclosing the wagons, then the march was resumed. As they went onward in momentary expectation of an attack, the Indians continued to approach until they came within easy range ; the troops had orders, however, not to fire unless attacked. Sud- denly, with a wild whoop, the savages rushed at them. To stam- pede the horses, to massacre the escort, to carry off the supplies in the wagons such was evidently their plan. Forward they dashed, as if to trample beneath the feet of their ponies the hand- ful of men at that side of the wagons ; the cavalrymen dropped to their knees as the Indians came thundering upon them, and taking deliberate aim at the moving mass, poured a deadly vol- ley into the crowded ranks. As they wheeled off to the right, only pausing to gain possession of the bodies of those who had fallen, the white men cheered loudly, and Comstock taunted them, in their own tongue, with their lack of success. But his words to his companions gave a less hopeful view. Seeing that the sav- 442 GENERAL GEORGE A. CUSTER. ages had withdrawn out of rifle range, where they were evident- ly holding a consultation, he said : "There's no sich good luck as that they're goin' to give it up so. Six hundred red devils ain't agoin' to let fifty men keep 'em from gettin' at the sugar and coffee that's in these wagons, and they want our scalps besides, to pay for them we popped over a few minutes ago." As the officers passed along the line, cautioning the men not to waste ammunition, as all of it on hand would probably be need- ed, the Indians returned to the attack, but in a different manner. They had hoped at first that their great superiority of numbers would enable them to accomplish easily their purpose ; but this style of attack, so foreign to the Indian's nature, had proven un- fortunate, and they determined to act with greater caution. Led by the chiefs, the whole army of redskins rode in single file, at a safe distance from the carbines of the' troops. Gradually the long line turned, curving around the smaller circle of troops, until the whites were completely surrounded. Still they rode around and around, as the vulture circles about the dying prey. Each warrior throws himself upon the side of his well-trained pony, leaving only his head and one foot exposed, and thus protected by a living barricade, aims either over or under the neck of his steed. Still the little force of white men marched steadily onward, de- fending themselves with results fatal to many Indians. For three hours the fight was kept up, and now every moment increased the danger. Although the redskins had suffered great loss in men and ponies, the cavalry found their supply of ammunition was running low, and would soon be exhausted. Night or a rein- forcement was the only hope ; but it was still early in the day, and their comrades in the camp could not know what had befall- en them. Meanwhile the keen-eyed Indian scouts, posted along the high bluffs which bordered the plain, had seen a faint, dark line on the horizon ; a line which might be a break in the ground, the shadow of a cloud. But slowly it moved along, as if the cloud were driven by the winds, and in a moment the savages saw that it was a column of cavalry moving rapidly towards them. Three hours hard riding had exhausted even the hardy Indian ponies, and the chiefs and warriors decided to escape while it was still pos- sible. The cavalry was at least two hours' journey from them. GENERAL OEOEGE A. OUSTER. 443 444 GENERAL GEORGE A. CtlSTER. but their horses might bo in good condition for pursuit, and be able to overtake them. Your true " noble red man " always wish- es large odds against his enemy. To the surprise of the troops, then, a furious hail of shot and arrows was followed by their withdrawal ; busily engaged in at- tending to the wounded, of whom, however, there were but few, about an hour had passed when new cause for alarm appeared a body of horsemen approaching them. Another force of Indians, they thought; but the field-glasses revealed to them the familiar blue blouses of their comrades, and the hasty retreat of their as- sailants was explained. Great anxiety was felt in regard to a party of eleven men, that had been sent to Fort Wallace on a mission similar to Major El- liot's, under the command of Lieutenant Kidder. Comstock's opinion was far from encouraging : " Ef I knowed what kind of a man the lootenant was, I could tell you mighty nigh to a certainty what you want to know. But, yer see, Injun huntin' and Injun fightin' is a trade of itself, and it takes some time to larn the business. Ef a man don't know what he's about, he can't make a livin' at it. I've lots of confi- dence in the fightin' sense of Red Bead (the Sioux guide), and ef he can have his way about it, thar's a purty fair show. But I don't know how far the lootenant will take advice. I reckon them young fellers that have jist come from West Pint know all the book-larnin', but they ain't had a chance at anything else, and ginerally, if one of 'em knowed half as much as he thinks he does, you couldn't tell him nothing." The command had in the meantime moved forward from the forks of the Republican River to the Platte, and it was determined to return to the point at which a large body had left the main party, lest Lieutenant Kidder should miss the trail. At length they found the trail of the detachment, leading to the old camp on the Republican. Two days farther would take them to Fort Wallace, hence they must soon know the fate of the party. At length the body of a white horse was found, shot within the last few days, and with the brand TJ. S. It was the color of those ridden by the force, and there was but little room to doubt that it was one of theirs. All the equipments had been carried away, and noth- ing remained to indicate whether it had been taken ill, and shot by the soldiers, or killed in a fight. Proceeding onward, they found the trail regular and unhurried, as when at first discov- GENERAL GEORGE A. OUSTER. 445 ered ; after going a little distance they found another horse, near which Comstock's eye saw pony tracks ; and the solution was no longer doubtful. Following the trail, they found evidence that Kidder and his men must have trusted to the speed of their horses ; and for sev- eral miles the pursuit had continued. Within a mile of Beaver Creek, where a dense growth of tall wild grass was mingled with clumps of osiers, they saw large buzzards floating in the air above them, and the odor which pervaded the atmosphere was unmis- takable. Biding in all directions in search of them, one of the Delawares accompanying them uttered a shout that attracted the attention of the whole command. There, within the limits of a very small circle, lay the mangled, mutilated bodies of the eleven men. Every scalp but Red Bead's had been taken, and every skull crushed by the blow of a tomahawk ; the features of each face so disfigured that not one could be recognized, nor could the officer be distinguished from the men; each body was brist- ling with arrows. How long the fight continued could not be told, but evidence of a desperate struggle was found about the ground. Only the body of the Sioux chief was not mutilated, conclusive proof that this was the work of his own tribo. The fact that the throats of all were cut, was, to the experienced plainsmen, another indication of the same thing; since this was the mark by which the Sioux designated their victims. The bodies were buried in a large trench, and the march was con- tinued. But another danger beset the command, this time from within itself. Allured by the large wages paid to miners, and fright- ened by the fate of those who fell into the hands of the Indians, many of the men deserted, some in broad daylight, riding oif in sight of their officers, and firing upon pursuers. Of the fifty- three deserters, who escaped in this way or under cover of night, six were recaptured ; and strict vigilance prevented any further attempt. Arriving at Fort "Wallace, Ouster found the supplies at that point nearly exhausted, and no communication existing between that and other stations. He accordingly selected a hundred of his best mounted men to go to Fort Harker, a distance of two hundred miles, and judging that Fort Wallace would be left in peace, chose to accompany it himself. At every station they heard of Indians having been in the vicinity within a few days 446 GENERAL GEORGE A. OUSTER. of their arrival, but for some time found no fresh signs of their neighborhood. Eapid marching, however, was necessary, and though two men were killed by the Indians while far in the rear, they were left to be buried by the troops at the nearest station. Leaving the command to rest one day at Fort Hays, General Ouster, accompanied by Cols. Cook and Ouster and two troop- ers, rode on to Fort Harkcr. Here he sent telegrams announc- ing the Kidder massacre, and there being no necessity for his presence until the train should be ready to return, asked and re- ceived of General Smith, his superior officer, authority to visit his family at Fort Riley, ninety miles by rail from Fort Harker. The ingenuity of his enemies turned this expedition for sup- plies into a journey on private business ; and for leaving Fort Wallace without orders, marching his men excessively, and allowing two of them to be killed, he was actually brought before a court- martial. Custer showed that he had acted upon the last orders that GEN. PHILIP H. SHERIDAN. him to proceed to Fort Wallace, where Gen. Han- cock would give him further directions ; that since the latter offi- cer had left Fort Wallace before his arrival, he thought it his duty to follow him personally, but necessity had compelled him to obtain supplies for the station. But the Indian campaign of 1867 had been a failure, and it was necessary to find a scape-goat. Custer was therefore selected to be held up as the cause of fail- ure, and being found guilty, was sentenced to be suspended from rank and pay for a year. The justice of this sentence is not apparent; if he deserved any punishment at all, if the charges were at all true, he should have been instantly dismissed; if this was too severe for the facts, he was not guilty of the offense with which he was charged. Gen. Sheridan was put in command of this Indian country, and arrived at Leavenworth, where Custer was tried, just after sen- CALIFORNIA JOE. 447 tence was passed; not a word could he say of trial or sentence; etiquette prevented him; but he placed his suite of apartments, reserved for him as department commander, at Ouster's disposal. But as spring came on, and with it the Indian campaign, Ouster could not bear to see the regiment depart for active service while he was left behind; so he returned to Monroe, Michigan, where his boyhood had been passed at his sister's house, and where he had met and married his wife. While he tried to,.kill time here, and, being of a disposition in- clined to make the best of things, doubtless succeeded, his com- rades on the plains, trying to kill Indians, were less fortunate. The campaign of the spring and summer of 1868 was as great a failure as that of the previous year. Even in his short experi- ence, Ouster had shown himself good material for an Indian fight- er, and early in the fall he received a telegram from Gen. Sheri- dan, asking him to come at once to join his regiment, on the strength of an application for him made by Gens. Sherman and Sheridan, and nearly all the officers of the Seventh Cavalry. Leaving at once, he was overtaken by a despatch from the adju- tant general, directing him to report to Gen. Sheridan ; the au- thorities had yielded to the necessity of the case. CALIFORNIA JOE. After reporting as ordered, he proceeded to the camp of his regiment, thirty miles southeast of Fort Dodge. Finding that there were many scouts attached to the various bodies of cavalry into which the main force had been divided, and that these acted independently of each other, he decided to organize them into a special detachment, under the command of one of their own number. The next thing was the selection of such a chief, a task by no means easy to the officer unacquainted with the compara- tive merits of the men. One attracted his attention : a man of forty or more years, his well-proportioned figure more than six feet high ; a huge sombrero crowned the head, the natural cover- ing of which floated in luxuriant dark curls to the shoulders ; the pleasant, intelligent face was half hidden by a long brown beard and moustache, but the kindly black eye was not obscured, even by the clouds of smoke that issued from his constant com- panion, a stubby briarwood pipe. " California Joe " was the name by which he was known, and no effort has succeeded in as- certaining any other. This was the man whom Ouster now 448 CALIFORNIA JOE. appointed chief of the scouts, and a short account of the experi- ence which fitted him. for the position will not be out of place. From Kentucky, in 1849, a party of sixty-five adventurers set out towards the gold-fields of California. Not knowing the dan- gers of the plains, they slept night after night without a guard. The result need hardly be told. Two hundred Indians crept stealthily into the silent camp, only announcing their presence by the dull crash qf the tomahawk, as it cleft the skull of a slum- berer. A woman and two little boys were among the sixty-three victims, while Joe, the husband and father * sorely wounded, es- caped after enduring almost incredible hardships to- Port Lyon. But he had started out to reach the state from which he took his name, and in less than two months he was ready to continue his journey. But in spite of the constant watch which was kept, the little party was attacked; two men were killed, and the third taken prisoner. The bravest may well tremble at the fate which now awaited California Joe ; and he made strenuous efforts to avoid it by compelling them to kill him at once. His struggles, his writhings, his cries were alike unheeded, for they knew he was too firmly bound to escape, and thought no help was near him. One of the chiefs cut off the outer rim of each of Joe's ears and placed the pieces in his belt. The fire was kindled a short dis- tance from his feet, being thus placed that the torture might be prolonged ; but as the flames arose, and were reflected from the clouds, that which was meant to be torment became a means of bringing help, for a party of fifty trappers, encamped less than half a mile away, saw the reflection in the sky, and guided to the exact spot by Joe's lusty yells, put the Indians to flight and rescued the prisoner. A peaceful life followed this adventure, lasting for more than a year; spent in trapping with his rescuers. More than one ro- mantic story of the border is remembered in connection with his name, of which the recovery of little Maggie Reynolds is perhaps the most charming. The eleven year old daughter of a hardy trap- per, she left her home on the Yellowstone one morning, as she had often done before, for a hunt. Night came, but Maggie had not returned. Bay after day passed, and the search which they in- stituted was fruitless. They could only guess what had befallen her. Months had passed away, and to the little cabin came Califor- r CALIFORNIA JOE. 449 nia Joe, who was then trapping near by. To him the story was told, but when they suggested that she had been devoured by some wild beast, he shook his head : " Til bet a silver fox's skin that that ar gal is now with them 'tarnal. Cheyennes. I beared thar was a white face with 'em." The mother's heart stood still ; such a captivity was worse than death for her child. " Ain't thar any way ter git her out of their clutches ?" "Yer may just bet thar is, and I'll do it myself." A judicious supply of fire-water furnished to four Indians, with the promise of more, secured their services. A large village of their tribe was sought and entered, their presence not exciting any alarm. Were they not Cheyennes? To the little pale-face, who served a squaw, cross and exacting, like all Indian women, because so treated herself, they whispered of a canoe, where the thick forest overhung the yellow Missouri; of the quiet of mid- night; of the hope of reaching home. More noiselessly than the antelope bounds over the thick grass of the prairies did the girl leave the camp, escaping unheard by the squaw at whose side she slept. Now the image of the morn wavered upon the surface of the water, rippled by the breeze, and slipping, sliding, clambering down the bank where only the thick roots held the sandy soil from the river, she leaped into the dusky arms outstretched to re- ceive her, and was soon safe at home. As the story is sometimes told, Maggie afterwards became the wife of the man who had planned her rescue ; but this is by no means certain. He attained considerable reputation during the war, being es- teemed the most .skillful marksman in Berdan's sharpshooters. For several years after the war he was attached to G-en. Curtis' command, and finally, as we have seen, was appointed chief of scouts by Custer. The close of the first interview after the ap- pointment was announced, is characteristic of both. " See hyar, Gineral, in order that we hev no misonderstandin', d jest like to ask yer a few questions." "Certainly, Joe," answered the officer, sniffing the fun from afar. " Air you an ambulance man, or a boss man?" " What do you mean? I don't understand your question." " I mean, do you b'lieve in ketchin' Injuns in ambulances or on hoss-back ?" " Well, Joe, I believe in catching Indians wherever we can find 450 CALIFORNIA JOE. them, whether they are found in ambulances or on horse-back." " That ain't what I'm drivin' at. S'pose you're after Injuns and really want to hev a tussle with 'em, would ye start after 'em on CALIFORNIA JOE. hoss-back, or would ye climb into an ambulance and be hauled after 'em ? That's the p'int I'm headin' fur." " Well, Joe, if I really desired to catch them, I would prefer the horseback method ; but if I wished them to catch me, I'd adopt the ambulance system of attack." CALIFORNIA JOE. 451 Joe's rugged features beamed with satisfaction as he answered : " You've hit the nail squar' on the head. I've been with 'em on the plains whar' they started out after the Injuns on wheels, jist as ef they was agoin' to a town funeral in the states, and they stood about as many chances of ketchin' Injuns as a six-mule team would uv ketchin' a pack of thievin' Kiotees, jist as much." Probably from sheer pleasure at finding his new superior a man so after his own heart, Joe improved his opportunities by getting drunk that very night. This was a fault with which Custer had no patience, and the offender was degraded the next day from the rank of chief of scouts to that of simple scout; in which capacity he remained with Custer for the rest of the cam- paign, and did good service. The terrible fight with a panther, which left scars upon him to the day of his death; the timely bullet which saved his friend, struggling unarmed with a burly Indian who had crept upon him unawares; many a bold scouting expedition; must all remain un- told. Volunteering his services to G-en. Crook in 1876, he be- came disgusted with that officer. "He won't furnish pie to his men," urged Joe, with offended dignity. But dignity, sense of injury, desire of remonstrating, resolution to hold aloof, all van- ished before the potent charm of a certain black bottle, that con- tained something better than pie. At any rate, such was Joe's opinion of its contents. But though the briarwood pipe seldom left his lips, it did not make him a silent man. ]STotable even among scouts, who are never taciturn when off duty, Joe's silence was a thing unknown. His " partner," the friend whose life he had saved, rarely ut- tered a word, and as Jack Sprat and his wife divided the meat, Joe and his friend entertained each other. Joe was killed by an unknown man early in December, 1876; the reason for the act being still a mystery. Little of interest was done for a month after Custer rejoined his command. The regiment had lost many of its old men by desertion since the commander's court-martial, and the green re- cruits could not ride or shoot. Considerable time must be spent in training the men for their work; and it was not until the mid- dle of November that the regiment was fit for service among the Indians. According to the system that had been pursued, it was now time for going into winter quarters, to remain completely 29 452 GENERAL GEORGE A. CUSTER. inactive until spring ; but that plan was now changed. Fighting only in the summer, when the Indians had no difficulty in find- ing forage and game, was practically giving them choice of time ; but in winter, so scant were their supplies that many of their ponies often died of actual starvation, and several weeks of good grazing in the spring were required to restore them to a suitable condition for battle, pursuit and flight. A maxim of the art of war directs the soldier to do that which the enemy does not ex- pect or desire ; this winter campaign would carry this out to the letter, and so careful preparations were made for a descent upon the Indians in the depth of the season. Four hundred wagons, with a guard of infantry, and thirteen friendly Osages as scouts, accompanied the Seventh Cavalry to Camp Supply, as the new station was named; the expedition being under the command of Gen. Sully. Custer chafed under the restraint which the extreme caution of the aged officer im- posed upon him, and the approach of G-en. Sheridan was hailed with joy. They were to operate beyond the limit of Gen. Bully's district, and he was therefore relieved from further command. Preparations were immediately made for marching at a mo- ment's notice into the Indian country, and after six days' wait- ing came a brief letter of instructions, necessarily general in terms. On the evening of the twenty-second of November, or- ders were issued to be in readiness to move promptly at day- break the next morning. While the snow fell fast without the frail canvas shelters, each doubtless found time to pen a few lines to friends, to tell them of the proposed expedition ; for besides the ordinary uncertainties of war, they could not tell when they would again be in communication with the civilized world. All night long the snow-storm continued, so that when reveil- le sounded at four o'clock the next morning, the ground was covered with snow to a depth of over a foot, and the fall had not abated. In the very teeth of the blinding storm they marched, and before they had gone many miles even the Indian guides owned that they had lost their way. Undeterred by such diffi- culties, Custer shaped his course by a pocket compass, became his own guide, and reached Wolf Creek, where he had intended to camp that afternoon. Next morning at dawn they started again, this time with a clear sky overhead ; and a scouting party under Major Elliot found a fresh trail of a war-party, one hun- dred and fifty strong ; the last of the season, probably going GENERAL GEORGE A. CUSTER. 453 home disgusted with the weather. The Seventh was in the heart of the Indian country, unperceived. Already in the valley of the Washita, they proceeded on this trail by night. To guard against surprises, two Osages, on foot, preceded them by three or four hundred yards ; then the rest of the Indians, the white scouts, including California Joe, and in their midst, Ouster himself; at a distance of a quarter or a half mile followed the main body. Perfect silence marked their march ; and not a match was struck, even to light a pipe. The Osages in front smelled fire, but it proved to be only the embers of one kindled by Indian boys who had been herding ponies during the day. Custer now preceded the whole command, with the two Osages. As they approached the crest of each hill, one of the guides would, according to the invariable Indian custom, hasten forward and peer cautiously over the hill. This happened several times, when at last the Osage placed his hand above his eyes, as if look- ing intently at some object, and then crept stealthily Back to the leader. " What is it?" he asked, eagerly. " Heaps Injuns down there," was the reply, as the guide point- ed to the valley just beyond the hill. Crouching low, so as not to be seen in the moonlight against the horizon, Custer and the Indian crept to the crest of the hill, whence the soldier could see a large body of some kind of ani- mals at a distance which he estimated at half a mile ; but he could not tell but that it was a herd of buffalo. Turning to the guide, he asked : "Why do you think they are Indians?" " Me hear dog bark." In a moment, as if to confirm his words, a dog was heard bark- ing in the heavy timber to the right of the group, and the tinkle of a bell showed that their ponies were near by. Another sound, the cry of an infant, awakened the soldier's regret that he was forced by the atrocity of his enemy's murders and depredations to engage in a war in which the women and children could not be protected. " The "bravest are the tenderest, The loving are the daring." Halting here, all necessary arrangements were made for the attack. Few attempted to sleep, so bitterly cold was the night, 454 GENERAL GEORGE A. CUSTER. so comfortless their fireless, shelterless condition. From group to group, crouching or lying upon the frozen snow, went Ouster. "Fight!" said California Joe, as the leader approached the scouts; "I haven't nary doubt concernm' that part of the busi- ness; what I've been tryin' to git through my top-knot all night is whether we'll run against more'n we bargain for." " Then you don't think that the Indians will run away, Joe? " "Bun away ? How in creation kin Injuns or anybody else run away when we'll have them clean surrounded by daylight?" " Well, suppose then that we succeed in surrounding the vil- lage, do you think we can hold our own against the Indians?" " That's the very p'int that's been botherin' me ever sence we planted ourselves down here, and the only conclusion I kin come to is that it's purty apt to be one thing or t'other if we jump these Injuns at daylight, we're either goin' to make a spoon or spile a horn, and that's my candid judgment, sure. One thing's sartin; ef them Injuns don't hyar anything of us till we open on 'em at daylight, they'll be the most powerful 'stonished red-skins that's been in these parts lately they will, sure. An' ef we git the bulge on 'em and keep a puttin' it to 'em pretty lively like, we'll sweep the platter thar won't be nary a trick left for 'em. As the deal stands now, we hold the keards and are holdin' over 'em ; they've got to straddle our blind or throw up their hands. Howsomever, there's a mighty sight in the draw." The first faint streaks of light appeared in the east, and all was in readiness for the advance. In spite of the freezing cold, over- coats were removed, that the men might be free in their move- ments. Two detachments were sent, one each way round, to attack the village from the other side, the signal being the first notes of " G-arry Owen." Communication with the two divisions that had gone to the other side of the village was impossible, and the commander must guess at their readiness. So still was the vil- lage as they approached, that he feared a repetition of Hancock's experience ; but a single rifle shot, that rang sharp and clear from the further side of the town, and the rollicking notes of the air selected as the signal, aroused the whole village in an instant. From all sides the soldiers dashed, shouting, into the town ; the Indians realized the situation at once, and arming in a moment's time, sought the shelter of the nearest trees and the neighboring stream, whence they poured shot upon the troops. In answer to the exultant cheers of the soldiers came the wild war-whoop GENERAL GEORGE A. OUSTER. 455 456 GENERAL GEORGE A. OUSTER. of the savages; but in a few moments the village was in the hands of the troops. Before the victory could be called complete, however, the In- dians must be driven off. This wasa-work of more difficulty, but slowly and steadily they were driven from behind the trees. Post- ing themselves in the ravines, they fired from an almost perfect shelter, until the sharp-shooters that Ouster had recently trained picked them off as they exposed themselves to get a shot. In- side the lodges were the Indian women, who now gave vent to their despair by singing the death-song; and the wild, unmusical lament added to the din. A Mexican interpreter, Romero, or " Romeo." was sent to reassure them with the promise that they would be unharmed and kindly treated ; but it was difficult to obtain a hearing from the terrified creatures. At ten o'clock the fight was still raging. California Joe con- cluded to start out on his own account, and after moving about for sometime in what Gen. Ouster calls a promiscuous and in- dependent manner, obtained permission to collect and drive in a large herd of ponies that was seen near by. In the meantime a number of Indians had been noticed, collected on a knoll about a mile away, and as Joe came into camp with two squaw prison- ers assisting him with his drove of three hundred ponies, Ouster saw that the number of the enemy outside the lines had grown to nearly a hundred. All were mounted warriors, fully armed, and their force was constantly increasing. At first, he had thought that a few might have escaped from the village, but this army could not have done so, nor would they have been so com- pletely equipped. A squaw, being questioned, gave the aston- ishing and by no means pleasing information that this was but one of a group of villages ; that besides this of the Cheyennes, there was another of the same tribe, and those of the Arapahoes, Kiowas, Comanches and Apaches clustered in the timbered val- ley, the farthest being less than ten miles off. There was no doubt of an attack from a greatly superior force upon the troops, exhausted by their long fight ; and no time was lost in preparing to repel it. A fresh supply of ammunition was issued, and the fight soon began at all points of the circle which now formed the line of battle, and of which the village was the center. The Indians fought with an excessive caution, rare, when numerical superiority was so great as at this time, but the burn- ing of the village seemed to arouse them to new fury. The tim- GENERAL GEORGE A. OUSTER. 457 ber and the configuration of the ground, however, enabled Ouster to use his men to the better advantage, and he finally judged that offensive measures might be adopted. Step by step the Indians were driven from the field, every inch of ground contested and it was not until three o'clock in the afternoon that they were forced to yield. It was difficult to know how to dispose of the spoils of war ; the village, with all that was in it, had been burned, but more than sixty squaws and children were their prisoners, and nearly THE MESSENGER OF DEFEAT. nine hundred ponies were in their possession. The latter were too tempting to marauding parties, were needed by the Indians, but useless to the troops ; to keep or abandon them was equally dangerous, so all were shot, except those necessary for the pris- oners. When Romeo announced to the squaws that they would be kindly treated during the march, they gathered around the u big chief," as the Indians style a commanding officer, and obliged him to go through much handshaking. One squaw told him that her people had returned the night before with white scalps and plunder; and celebrated their success by getting drunk. She also insisted upon his marrying a young girl of the 458 GENERAL GEORGE A. OUSTER. tribe, and performed the whole Indian ceremony before the in- terpreter could explain to Ouster what she was doing. It was necessary to frighten the warriors in the other villages, to deter them from making an attack then, with band playing, and colors flying, he marched straight down the river towards the threatening parties assembled at various points. The move- ment had the desired effect, for the Indians turned and fled in confusion ; the lesson of the attack on the Cheyenne village need- ed no immediate repetition. Messengers had carried the doleful news in every direction. California Joe and another scout were sent with a despatch to G-en. Sheridan, giving report of the battle ; and returned safely to the regiment before it reached Camp Supply. The return despatch repaid the Seventh for the hardships of the march, and when the same officer further honored them by a review, a great conde- scension in military etiquette, since Sheridan was a major-gen- eral, and this but a single regiment, their proud pleasure knew no bounds. One hundred and three warriors had been killed, a'nd the amount of plunder that fell into their hands seems almost incred- ible, until we reflect that this was the preparation made for win- ter. The loss of the regiment had not been small, two officers and nineteen men being killed. Among the wounded was Col. T. W. Custer, the general's brother, who had accompanied him on his ride to Fort Harker, and of whom we shall hear again. But this was only the beginning of the campaign, and five days after the review mentioned, the regiment again set out for the Washita, accompanied by G-en. Sheridan and his staff, and the Nineteenth Kansas Volunteer Cavalry, raised especially for In- dian hostilities; the entire force numbering about fifteen hun- dred men. Thirty days' rations were provided, and the force presented a formidable array. u I'd just like to seethe streaked countenances of Satanta, Med- icine Arrow, Lone Wolf, and a few others of 'em, when they ketch the fust glimpse of the outfit. They'll think we're comin' to spend an evenin' with 'em sure, and hev brought our knittin' with us. One look'll satisfy 'em, and thar'll be some of the durnd- est kickin' out over these plains that ever war heer'n tell of. One good thing, it's goin' to come as nigh killin' of 'em to start 'em out at this time of year as ef we hed an out and out scrummage With 'em. The way I looks at it they hev just this ch'ice : them GENERAL GEORGE A. CUSTER. 459 as don't like bein' shot to death kin take ther chances at freez- in/ " The regiment reached the battle ground without adventure, and found that they had plunged into a hornet's nest when they had attacked the Cheyennes. The whole forest, for twelve miles, was a line of Indian villages, six hundred lodges having been within five miles of the battle ; now deserted, their inhabitants having fled in the utmost confusion, leaving everything behind. As they continued the march down the Washita to Fort Cobb, a despatch, was brought by Kiowa Indians, under Satanta and Lone Wolf, stating that all the tribes for twenty miles from the station were friendly. Custer mistrusted the intentions of a large party that came armed and painted for war, but was obli- ged to follow orders. The chiefs agreed to ride with him to Fort Cobb, assuring him that their villages would encamp near by, to prove that they held no communication with the hostile tribes. As chief after chief, on one pretext or another, left the column the next day, Custer felt his suspicions confirmed. He was now sure that the lodges were to be moved away from, instead of to- ward Fort Cobb, and resolved to prevent it. When all the min- or chiefs had gone, Satanta and Lone Wolf were seized as prison- ers and hostages ; a little later, by G-en. Sheridan's orders, a mes- sage was sent to the Kiowas that if their bands were not in camp at sunset of the next day, the two chiefs would be hanged at that hour. The tribe that had moved at such an imperceptible rate became alarmed, and were under the guns of Fort Cobb long be- fore the- designated time. The Arapahoes remained to be dealt with, but Custer, with forty men, went to their village and induced them to settle peace- fully upon their reservation. Such was the estimation in which this journey was held than one of the officers of his command, in bidding him good-bye, contrived to slip into his hand a small pocket derringer, loaded; with the remark: " You had better take it, General ; it may prove useful to you." It was intended, in case of his being captured and deprived of his more formidable weapons, to enable him to escape torture by becoming his own executioner. He returned in safety, however, having accomplished his purpose, and was ready, early in March, 1869, to go in search of the Cheyennes who had not been in the village on the Washita. No difficulty was experienced in finding the trail of the band, 460 GENERAL GEORGE A. OUSTER. and as the Indians, when not pursued, move with the laziest sort of deliberation, the cavalry overtook them, although they had had a start of a month. There were nearly three hundred lodges in the village and near it, sheltering the whole Cheyenne tribe; but the safety of two white women, who were known to be held captives in their power, prevented Ouster from making an attack. Four chiefs, Big-Head, Dull Knife, and two others were captured and offered in exchange ; but the Indians would make no definite answer. Finally Ouster sent one as messenger to say that if by sunset the next day the women were not delivered up to him, he would hang his captives to a certain tree which he designated. The ropes were ready, and the limb selected when the Cheyenncs brought in the women, whom they did not think of equal importance with chiefs as hostages. Ouster had not offered an unconditional exchange of prisoners ; the Cheyennes must return to their reservation. Seeing that no other terms could be obtained, and knowing too well what the "Big Yellow Chief" could do, they promised to comply with his demands as soon as their ponies were in condition for marching, and never again to go upon the war-path. For years after Ouster's death this promise was still unbroken ; but until the United States government keeps faith with the Indians we cannot expect peace. The campaign in the Indian Territory was now at an end, and the summer could be spent in rest. Encamped in the neighborhood of Fort Hay, Ouster's life was now a perfect round of pleasur- able excitement. Tourists from the east or from Europe often came to see the successful Indian fighter, and bunting excursions took place nearly every week. The Indians were really and truly at peace, cowed by his successes ; the campaign had made them thoroughly respect him. The succeeding winter was spent at Leavenworth, where he began to write his "War Memoirs/' and the spring and summer of 1870 were passed like the same seasons of the previous year. The removal of his regiment that fall to the east of the Missis- sippi gave a quieter and less pleasant life, the monotony of which was broken only once. When, in 1872, the Grand Duke Alexis visited the United States, it was desired to show him a buffalo hunt, and Ouster was chosen to escort him to the plains. The Russian was delighted with his hunt and with Ouster, whom he saw for the first time in the picturesque buck-skin hunting-shirt which the general always GENERAL GEORGE A. OUSTER. 461 wore on the plains; and insisted that he must accompany the party on the tour through the west. But, however pleasant this might be, his next orders delighted Ouster still more. In March, 1873, the Seventh Cavalry was or- dered to Dakota, and all the officers, scattered about among dif- A BUFFALO HUNT. ferent posts, rejoiced at the news. It meant business, calling them out in a body, and when they met at Memphis, all were glad to see each other and anxious for work. The railroad is the great conqueror of the Indian. " No one 462 GENERAL GEORGE A. OUSTER. measure," says Ouster himself, " so quickly and effectually frees a country from the horrors and devastations of Indian wars and Indian depredations as the building and successful operation of a railroad through the region overrun. The Northern Pacific was to be built, and the government had assigned troops to protect it from the Sioux. On this expedition, known as the Yellowstone, Ouster's daily practice was to precede the main command escort- ing the surveyors and engineers, and the heavily laden wagons, and mark out the best road, thus avoiding the serious delays that had occurred before the adoption of this plan. On the morning of August 4th, the Arickaree scout and guide, Bloody Knife, discovered fresh signs of Indians; nineteen had been prowling around the camp on the previous night, and had gone away, traveling in the same direction in which the whites were marching. This, however, created no alarm, as the pioneer party numbered ninety, and they felt sure that the Indians would not attack so great a force. Halting at ten o'clock on the high bluffs bordering the Yellow- stone valley, the horses were watered, and then picketed out to graze; half a dozen pickets were posted on the open plain be- yond, and the remainder of the party prepared for solid comfort. On the grass beneath a wide-spreading cottonwood lay Gren. Ous- ter, with his saddle and buckskin coat for a pillow; boots off, cravat untied, collar open, he was fully prepared to enjoy his out-door nap. Beside him lay his brother, Col. Ouster, and not far off were the other three officers, Moylan, Calhoun and Yar- num, similarly prepared for the same pleasure. Around them lay the men, and in a few moments the pickets were the only mem- bers of the party not asleep. Suddenly came the cry of " In- dians!" and the sharp crack of the sentries' rifles followed the cry. Officers and men sprang to their feet, catching up the rifles, which, as a matter of habit, had been placed within easy reach. "Hun to your horses, men; run to your horses I" shouted the general, as he saw that the Indians intended to stampede the an- imals and then attack the soldiers. Springing to their saddles, they rode headlong forward to where half a dozen Sioux warriors were galloping up and down before them, evidently to decoy them onward to a point where a large body lay in ambush. Leaving Moylan with the main force as a reserve, Gen. Ouster, with his brother, Calhoun and twenty troopers, rode forward after the retreating Sioux. There was GENERAL GEORGE A. OUSTER. 463 no hope of overtaking them, such was the fleetness of their po- nies, but they did not choose to go at full speed. Ouster rode forward, accompanied only by an orderly, and made the sign for a parley, but the Indians would not respond. His orderly was then sent back to warn Col. Ouster to keep a sharp lookout upon the heavy bushes to the left; the message was delivered, and the man on his way back to the general, when the savages in front advanced as if to attack, and at the same moment Ouster saw three or four hundred Sioux warriors bursting from the suspect- ed bushes. Dashing from the timber at full speed, yelling and whooping as only Indians can, they yet moved forward in as per- fect order as the best drilled cavalry. "Wheeling his horse suddenly around, and driving his spurs in- to its side, Ouster rode for his life towards his brother's party ; shouting : " Dismount your men, dismount your men !" with al- most every bound of his horse. It was a race on as it were two sides of a triangle, to see which should reach the troops first, Ouster or the mounted Indians. The order was unheard, but fortunately Col. Ouster had before this contended against a sud- den and unforeseen onslaught of savages, and gave the order which his brother would have given. Nearer and nearer he drew to the little group of dismounted cavalrymen, as, kneeling in the grass, with finger on trigger, they awaited the enemy approach- ing with equal rapidity. It seemed but a moment more, and the Sioux, riding as if unconscious of their presence, would have trampled the kneeling troopers down to the earth. " Don't fire, men, until I give the word, and when you do fire, aim low/' was the direction which the young officer gave, as he sat on his horse, calmly awaiting the onset; then: "Now, men, let them have it." And before the volley of well-aimed snots, followed quickly by another, the warriors reeled in their saddles and their ponies fell dead. They lost confidence in their power to trample down the little body; they faltered; they fled in the wildest confusion. A third shower of balls hastened their flight, and the cheer of the cavalrymen announced their victory and the arrival of Moylan and the main force at the same time. Of course, it was but a temporary retreat; the Indians would soon return to the attack, and preparations must be made to re- pulse them the second time. A natural terrace was to be used as a breastwork, and though the Indians made every attempt to dis.- 464 GENERAL GEORGE A. OUSTER. GENERAL GEORGE A. CUSTER. 465 lodge them and force them to the open plateau, the men kept their position. Finding their plans foiled, they tried another, which was detected by the quick eyes of Bloody Knife. Crawl- ing through the grass, Ouster thought they could hardly mean to attack on foot, and was only enlightened as to their intention when small columns of smoke were seen shooting up all along the front. " They are setting fire to the long grass, and intend to burn us out," were the ominous words of Bloody Knife, his face clouded with anxiety. Then, while his expression brightened, and a scornful smile parted his lips : " The Great Spirit will not help our enemies. See, the grass refuses to burn." A month later the dry grass would have burned like tinder, but now it was too green, and the Indians were obliged to find another mode of attack. A pathway in the rear of the troops would have led the redskins along the water's edge, where the high bank would screen them from observation ; so that the horses, concealed in the grove near the river, might have been stampeded. The design was fortunately discovered, and the In- dians soon afterward retreated. This occasioned considerable surprise at first, but was explained when an immense cloud of dust was seen at a distance, rapidly approaching. Not waiting to welcome their comrades, the cavalrymen, as soon as they were certain that relief was at hand, were in their saddles in a moment and dashing after the enemy. A hot pursuit failed in its object ; the fleet and hardy ponies outran the heavy cavalry horses, and they returned to camp under the cottonwood trees where they had rested in the morning. This was the first intimation to the whites that the Sioux were on the war path, and although none of the men in the fight were killed, two unarmed old men, the veterinary surgeon and the sut- ler of the Seventh, were found dead; they had strayed from the main body in search of natural curiosities, as they were in the habit of doing, and had been wantonly murdered by some wan- dering Sioux. Nothing more was seen of war parties during the remainder of the time that they were on this expedition, although Indians were seen hovering near for several days; until an attack by the Sioux under Sitting Bull, at nearly the end of their journey, which was repulsed without loss. Ordered now to Fort Abraham 466 GENERAL GEORGE A. CUSTER. Lincoln, Ouster passed some time in quiet, until the Black Hills expedition in 1874 again called him into the field. This unexplored region, that derived its name from the dark pines that tossed on the hillsides in the wind like the plumes on a hearse, had been ceded to the Sioux by solemn treaty in 1868 ; but some Indians came to a trading post with gold dust and nug- gets, which they admitted had been found there, and the accursed thirst for gold drew the eyes of all men thither. The govern- ment decided to send a strong detachment to explore the hills and ascertain if gold were really to be found there, and Ouster, with a force of over twelve hundred men, was detailed for the duty. Two weeks after they set out, they entered the Sioux reserva- tion, two hundred and twenty-seven miles from Fort Lincoln. Through a country more beautiful than any they had ever seen, they marched, unmolested by the Indians, who, busily watching Ouster, had no time for the war which they had intended to carry on in small parties. Ouster's report represents the country as a perfect garden, but this was doubted by those who had seen it in a less favorable season; the geologists, too, who had accompanied him, made un- satisfactory reports. But the tide was not to be stayed. Adven- turers by hundreds flocked into the country, regardless of pro- hibition. The mischief had been done ; Ouster's expedition had shown the Sioux that the United States did not intend to keep the treaty any longer than that treaty was to the Government's advantage, and the clouds began to gather fast in the beautiful country that had seemed to him an earthly paradise. In the next year, while Ouster and his command were resting peacefully at Fort Lincoln, the identity of the Sioux who had murdered the sutler and the veterinary surgeon on the Yellow- stone expedition was proven in a singular manner. The mur- derer boasted of his crime at the trading-post where he was drawing rations and ammunition. The news quickly reached Ouster, who sent out a detachment of a hundred men to march to the agency. Sealed orders, opened twenty miles beyond Fort Eice, directed them to capture and bring in the murderer, Eain- in-the-Face. As the troops neared the agency it was found necessary to observe the greatest care, to prevent the Indians, gathered to clraw rations, from finding out the object of their expedition, GENERAL GEORGE A. OUSTER. 467 Captain Yates, in command of the force, succeeded in blinding the Sioux as to his real purpose, and Eain-in-the-Face was thrown completely off his guard. On a certain day, Col. Custer was sent, with five men, to go to the store and capture the mur- derer, should he put in an appearance. It must be remembered that, like many officers of the Seventh, Col. Custer' s highest rank was only a brevet, he being really junior to Yates. The cold weather caused the Indians to keep their blankets drawn over their heads, but at last one of them loosened his, thus throw- ing oif the disguise. It was Rain-in-the-Face. Col. Custer threw CAPTURE OF RAIN-IN-THE-FACE. his arms around him and seized the rifle which the Indian attempt- ed to grasp. Taken completely by surprise, he was quickly secu- red ; his people were greatly excited, and numerous speeches were made by the warriors in the high, monotonous voice they use. Captain Yates immediately prepared to repel an attack, and found that such care was not unnecessary, for five hundred Indians gathered around him, demanding the release of the prisoner. Eain-in-the-Face was taken to Fort Lincoln, and kept in cap- tivity several months, notwithstanding the efforts that his tribe 30 468 GENERAL GEORGE A. OUSTER. made to secure his freedom. He finally made his escape, and went at once to the hostile camp. From that point he sent word that he had joined Sitting Bull and was waiting to revenge him- self on the Big Yellow Chief for his imprisonment. Rain-in-the-Face was a warrior of whom his trihe were parti- cularly proud, on account of his powers of endurance. At the sun-dance, where a gash is cut under some of the sinews of the back, immediately under the shoulder blades, and the Indian suspended by a buffalo thong passed through this until his own weight causes him to fall, this young man had stood the test most successfully, hanging in this way, exposed to the burning summer sun, for four hours. Early in 1876 it was determined to make war upon the hostiles, and, probably that the Indians might have a chance of life and victory, ample supplies of arms and ammunition were distribu- ted to them through the agencies. Early in March, a force was sent under the command of G-en. Reynolds, accompanied by G-en. Crook, the department commander, in person, towards the Pow- der River. Here Crazy Horse's village was attacked, but the victory was not as complete as it should have been made; and Crazy Horse was only exasperated by the destruction of his pro- perty, while all his men and weapons and nearly all his ponies remained to him, leaving him as strong as ever for fighting op- erations. G-en. Terry was to send out, as soon as the late spring of the far north would allow, a force to cooperate with Gen. Crook's. Custer was to be assigned to the command of this column, ac- cording to the plans of G-ens. Sherman and Sheridan, the force consisting mainly of his regiment, and being organized at his post. The reason for this was obviously Custer's success as an Indian fighter ; he had never yet met with disaster while in com- mand of an important expedition. But while he was hard at work preparing for this journey to the land of the Sioux, he was summoned to Washington as a witness as to some alleged abuses in the War Department. Notwithstanding the fact that he was needed in Dakota, that he knew little, if anything, about the matter that was being investigated, he was obliged to go to the capital, where he was kept a month. Unwilling to go, since he was needed at the west, unwilling to testify, since he could give only hearsay evidence and opinion, Gren. Grant, then President, persisted in believing that he was anxious to make such state- GENERAL GEORGE A. OUSTER. 469 ments as he could, and took his presence in Washington as a per- sonal injury and insult offered to himself, the commander-in- chief of the army. Custer heard that Grant was bitterly incensed against him, and knowing it was without just cause, endeavored to see him, hop- ing by a frank statement of the truth to disabuse his mind of that impression. Three times he called at the White House, but was compelled to wait in the ante-room for hours without gain- ing admittance, to the President. Nor did a letter to Gen. Grant produce the desired effect. Calling upon Gen. Sherman, Custer found that he was in New York, and left Washington on the evening train. The next day, Gen. Sheridan received a telegram from Gen. Sherman, direct- ing him to intercept Custer at Chicago or St. Paul, and order him to halt for further orders; that he was not justified in leaving without seeing the President or the General of the Army; that the expedition from Fort Lincoln should proceed without him. Telegrams to Gen. Sherman from Custer failed to disclose the reason for this ; could a soldier tell his subordinate that the Com- mander -in-Chief of the army had a petty spite against him, and was wreaking it in this way? The poor favor of being at Fort Lincoln instead of Chicago was granted, and at last, after an car- nest and touching appeal, Custer was allowed to accompany, as a subordinate, the regiment of which he was senior officer on duty. The two columns marched towards each other, and Gen. Crook's came within striking distance of Sitting Bull, but here again val- uable time was lost. As they were in camp, they were attacked by the Sioux, and Crook decidedly out-generaled by Sitting Bull, a born soldier. Driven back with serious lose, Crook returned to his permanent camp, " Meantime Gens. Terry and Gibbon, one from Fort Lincoln, the other from Fort Ellis, had effected a junction of their forces near the mouth of the Tongue Eiver, and steps were immediately taken to find out where the Indians were. Their position was supposed to be, after the closest investigation, between the Rosebud or the Little Big Horn, only fifteen miles separating the two streams. It was announced by Gen. Terry that Gen. Custer's column would strike the blow. Gibbon was to move upon them at the same time, by a route of nearly equal length, but no orders were giv- en as to the rate of marching, and Custer was left entirely to his 470 GENERAL GEORGE A. OUSTER. own direction as to what he should do if he struck the enemy first. Leaving the camp on the 22nd of June, the regiment marched up the Rosebud, passing many deserted Indian camps, and follow- ing an old trail. Learning from scouts that the village was in the valley of the Little Big Horn, Ouster resolved to continue the march by night, that he might surprise the Indians. At eight in the morning of the 25th the command was on one of the branches of the Little Big Horn ; the Indians had been seen, a surprise was no longer possible, and it was determined to attack at once. Custer, true to his usual custom of completely surrounding the enemy before an attack, a policy which had proved so successful at the Cheyenne village on the Washita, now divided his com- mand, sending three companies under Major Reno to the left, and three under Captain Benteen farther in the same direction. He retained command of five companies, one being left in charge of the packs. As they moved onward, Major Reno received orders to move for- ward at as rapid a rate as possible, since the village was running away, and to charge upon it. Advancing at a fast trot, about two miles farther on he came to a ford of the river, where he crossed. Here he charged down the valley, driving the Indians with great ease for two and one-half miles; then, thinking he was being drawn into a trap, and not seeing Custer, or any support, concluded to dis- mount his men and make it a purely defensive fight. Finally, however, he again mounted his command, and charged once more upon the Indians. His only hope had been to gain some high ground, and this he succeeded in reaching. Shortly afterward, he was joined by Capt. Benteen's force, which had been sent to sweep everything from the left bank of the river. Leaving the main body at half-past ten, an hour and a half was occupied by this march. Not long after this, Benteen received this penciled order from Lieutenant Cook, Custer' s adjutant: " Benteen, come on ; be quick ; big village ; bring packs." He reported to Reno, in direct defiance of orders. When the three battalions separated, Custer moved rapidly down the river to the ford, which he attempted to cross. The Indians had by this time recovered from the effect of Major Re- no's so-called charge, and crossed the creek to the east side, where Custer was. Custer struck their village, three and one- GENERAL GEORGE A. OUSTER. 471 half miles long, about the middle, his attack being a complete surprise to the Sioux. But Beno's hesitating assault had con- vinced them that nothing was to be feared from him. Step by step, Ouster's command was driven back from the ford. JSTot a man was there that he could not trust faithful and good soldiers were those who remained with him. As they re- treated, the company commanded by Lieutenant Calhoun, Ous- ter's brother-in-law, was posted to cover the rear. Both knew what the result would be. Bravely the men fought, the young commander, the bravest and gentlest of men, encouraging them to the last. Beside him was Second Lieutenant Crittenden, who had only joined the previous fall, and whose first battle this was, emulating the calm courage of his superior officer. Every man in his place, no faltering, no going back, they fought on until the last cartridge was gone, and one by one dropped dead in his tracks under that terrible hail that yonder dark cloud of savages poured upon them. To the last, the voice of their commander encouraged them, or they would not have fallen in ranks, every man in his place, to the very end. Onward rushed the Indians, to repeat the slaughter upon Cap- tain Keogh's company. Ouster had retreated as far as ho could, and was now determined to hold the Indians in check until Ben- teen could come up to attack them in the rear. He knew by this time that Eeno had been beaten, or he would have been heard from, but trusted to Benteen for the help he so sorely needed. Keogh's men had been nerved by what they had seen to die as bravely as Calhoun's company, and as man after man fell in his place, the survivors closed up the ranks. At last there was left but a little group of men on the hill. Captains Ouster's and Smith's men had tried to cut their way to the river, but fell in the ravine. Captain Yates' company was with the officers on the hill. Man after man went down; at last the ammunition grew scant. The Indian bullets flew like swarms of bees. One struck gallant Captain Tom Custer, who had taken two flags from the enemy in battle, and yet escaped; he fell, and another struck him, the last killing him. Beside him lay the bodies of his younger brother, and of their nephew, only a boy, just out of school. The Crow scout, Curly, saw that there was no hope, and beg- ged the general to let him show him a way to escape. It was a momentary pause, while the Indians were gathering for a fresh 472 GENERAL GEORGE A. OUSTER. attack. A moment's thought, perhaps of the wife, and of mother who were praying for him, and he waved away the faithful scout, and went back to die. Only a few officers were left, of all who had marched toward the river that morning. Ouster's last shot was gone, but he fought like a tiger with his sabre, and before that terrible weapon, more r \VE HAVE KILLED THEM ALL 1 " THE MESSENGER OF VICTORY. dreaded by the Indians than the pistol, three warriors went down. As the last fell, the hero of the sun-dance, that Eain-in-the-Face whom Ouster would have hanged for the murder of two helpless old men, kept his vow, gratified his revenge ; for Ouster fell by a ball from his pistoL Last of all the officers, died Lieutenant Cook, and the few remaining men fled, only to be cut down by the enemy. Then the wounded Indians came streaming back into camp, with the words : "We have killed them all; put up your lodges where they are." There was no danger now to the Sioux ; Ouster was dead. The story is told by the Crow scout who escaped, and by the boasts of the victors ; and the position of the bodies, as they GENERAL GEORGE A. CUSTEB. 473 Were found on the battle-field, told more plainly than words how every man had fought* Among the mtftilated corpses lay that of their leader, respected even in death by his enemy ; reverence for his valor and for his swordsmanship induced them to spare his body the indignities shown to others. If Beno had supported him, if Benteen had followed orders, if a higher authority had not displaced him from command so that his subordinates could dream of disobedience " Of all sad words of tongue or pen, The saddest are these " It might have been. CHAPTER XVII. WILD BILL. SIX feet one in his moccasins, deep chested, compactly built, with quiet gray eyes, clear and calm as a woman's, an al- most womanish gentleness of expression, bright chestnut hair floating over his shoulders it does not seem a promising picture to those who would hear of adventure. But that small, muscu- lar hand had taken deadly aim at scores of men; before the gaze of that eye many a bold border spirit had quailed. "He shoots to kill," says the admiring plainsman, with that cool disregard of human life which is so common in any newly settled country ; and the name of Wild Bill was a terror to evil-doers. Illinois was but a thinly populated state, containing fewer in- habitants than does the city of Chicago at this moment, when, in May, 1837, there was born, in La Salle County, James Butler Hickok, better known to us as Wild Bill. The primitive state of the country doubtless had much to do with the nature of his tastes and favorite amusement the practice of marksmanship, then an indispensable accomplishment in the frontier state just east of the Mississippi. All the treasures that he could command were jealously hoarded, trades with his companions increased his stock of trifles invaluable to a boy, and at last he had enough to barter for a pistol. A little, single-barreled, flint-lock, old style pistol was a priceless treasure to the eight-year-old boy, ancl he only ceased to practice with it when ammunition gave out. Then every effort was made to get powder; the place of lead could be supplied by pebbles, but he must have powder, and all the lesser valuables that he could accumulate were traded off for that neces- sary article. The character of the services which he rendered to his family and country may readily be guessed. If a runaway hunting expedition into the woods was too severely punished, his enthusiasm found vent in shots at stray chickens or pigs. He was not appreciated, WILD BILL. 475 however, as lie expected to be, and he was actually compelled to go to school whenever an occasional session gave opportunity. How far his education went, in the direction of books, is doubt- ful ; certainly not very far ; but at any rate he learned to read, and eagerly devoured the few books of adventure that came in his way. Happier times came, however, when he was about fourteen, for then he became the possessor of an excellent pistol and a rifle, and thus armed, he spent most of his time in the woods. Such were the ravages of the wolves at that period, that the state of- WILD BILL SHOOTING WOLVES. fered premiums for their scalps, and young Hickok now found his skill with the rifle and the pistol enabled him to earn no small income. But the story of Kit Carson's adventures had inflamed him with a passion for the "West, and declaring to his brothers that he would one day beat anything that Carson had ever at- tempted, he proceeded to the realization of his ambition. A short experience as tow-path driver on the Illinois and Michigan canal, was ended by a flght with another driver. Though fists were the only weapons, and his antagonist was a powerful man, the boy's activity and endurance gave him a decided victory. After this, he returned home, and lived quietly for two years, or until he was about eighteen years old. 476 WILD BUI. The troubles in Kansas were then beginning, and thirsting foi* excitement, our hero betook himself thither. Collecting as much money as he could command, he set out on foot to St. Louis. Great as have been the changes of nearly thirty years, even in 1855 this son of the prairie found much that was wonderful in the great city, inferior only to New Orleans and Cincinnati among those west of the Alleghanies. The railroads toward the west were then unheard of, but along the levee, from Bremen to Carondelet, stretched a line of magnificent steamers, that formed a main element of the city's prosperity. In all directions they went, from all directions they came; and after mature delibera- tion, our young adventurer took passage on one bound for the upper Missouri; his proposed destination being Leavenworth. History says it was a tedious journey, and those who can recall a steamboat trip on the Missouri will doubtless accept the state- ment as true. Arriving at Leavenworth, they found that the mob, unreason- ably suspicious of their intentions, would not permit them to land. "Where there's a will there's a way, and young Hickok, costuming himself as a roustabout, and engaging in their work, managed, while carrying off freight, to slip through the crowd, and gain the centre of the town. Once there, he soon joined the anti-slavery forces, led by Jim Lane, a recent immigrant from Indiana. Three hundred men, each armed with such weapons as taste or means dictated, formed the regiment that was called out for drill and rifle practice a few days after Hickok joined it. As Lane was complimenting his young recruit on the excellence of his marksmanship, in which he easily beat every man present, the boy's quick eye saw a crow flying overhead. Drawing a pis- tol from his pocket, he took aim, pulled the trigger, and the bird fell dead. He returned the weapon to his pocket without a word ; indeed, any comment would have been unheard in the wild cheer- ing with which his comrades greeted the excellence of the shot. Thenceforth he was the darling of the regiment, that marked its favor by the bestowal of the nickname, Shanghai Bill. The rea- son of the first part of the name may be readily guessed, when we remember his stature, which was now joined to the slender build of a boy ; but why "Bill" was preferred to his own name, no one knows. It may have been a mistake; it may have had a reason; certain it is that the soubriquet clung to him through- out his life. WILD BILL. 477 For two years he fought as a brave and excellent soldier to keep slavery out of Kansas, always recognized by Lane as the most effective man in the command. Then, entering a claim of a quarter section in Johnson County, he built a cabin, and settled down to farming. Though not yet of age, such was his reputa- tion that he was almost immediately elected constable. The conscientious and efficient way in which he did the work of this position did not endear him to those Missourians who made fre- quent predatory incursions on Kansas soil, and twice they burned his cabin during his absence from home. Giving up the idea of living quietly here, he engaged himself as driver for the Over- land Stage Company. In such a position it was not difficult to make a reputation, honorable or not, according to one's personal courage and prowess. Apparently a reckless driver, few acci- dents happened to him, and as he drove the big Concord coach, bounding along like a wounded buffalo, at headlong speed down the hill into Santa Pe, the rough frequenters of the saloons, always fighting drunk and armed to the teeth, looked on in admiration. Yictor in twenty fights or more, the best shot on the plains, and never losing his presence of mind in an emergency requiring action, he was the hero of all who knew him. Such were the foundations of a reputation that before many years was to extend to the seaboard on either side of the conti- nent; a reputation even then shortly to be enhanced by success as a soldier. It was in the fall of 1858 that the Indians, break- ing out of the reservation on the Sweetwater, committed many outrages. Settlers were massacred, cabins burned, express rid- ers killed, and at last a large party attacked a stage-coach, kill- ing four men, and seriously wounding others. Nor was this all. The theft of horses was so frequent as to seriously cripple the service, and the danger was such that for more than two months express and stage were suspended on that division. Summoned to St. Joseph to attend a council that the officers held regarding the best means of proceeding against the Indians, Bill offered for consideration a plan which w r as immediately adopted. At the head of fifty well-armed and mounted men, they set out, on the 29th of September, towards Powder Eiver, where they found an indistinct trail. It grew fresher as they went on, and chock full of dare-devil courage as each one was, they were not sorry to find that they were close upOn the marauders. Suddenly, as they fol- lowed in the footsteps of the Indians, they found that the origin- 478 WILD BILL. al party had been joined by another of equal size, so that the enemy now numbered about two hundred. Many were the ex- pressions of opinion about the expediency of following a force four times as great as their own, but Bill cut the discussion short with : "I'll shoot the first man that tries to go back," and none tried. Perhaps the threat was not needed ; at any rate, his men were filled with new enthusiasm, and went gaily onward to Clear Creek. Here the trail was but two or three hours old, for the Indians march but slowly when they do not fear pursuit; and WILD BILL (j. B. HICKOK.) nothing but the lateness of the day prevented an attack as soon as they could be overtaken. A halt was ordered. " Do you see that little blue smoke over the hill-tops?" asked Bill, pointing due north. "Well, that means an Indian camp. You boys just stop right here and I'll locate the game." Leaving the trail and riding far to the windward, he reached a high point from which he could reconnoiter the camp. Satisfy- ing himself as to the exact force of the Indians, how their camp was pitched, and that the stock was corraled, not tethered, he returned to his men. Eesting themselves and their horses, and getting everything in readiness for a fight,, it was ten o'clock when the signal was given WILD BILL. 479 to mount and ride onward. Proceeding toward the camp with due caution, they found that the Indians, as usual, had set no guard, trusting to their quick ears and light slumber to inform them of the approach of an enemy. The awakening came too late. Eousing themselves from the first sound sleep, they hardly realized what the confusion meant ; but as each came out of his lodge, he went down before the pistols of the attacking party, who were commanded to use no other weapons. The assault was a complete success ; the fight quickly became a slaughter, the horses and ponies were secured, so thatthe Indians had no means of pursuit left to them. Eeturning to St. Joseph with their booty, all of the stolen horses and more than a hundred Indian ponies, a big spree celebrated their success. Of course a fight followed, but only one man was killed. Leaving the service of the Overland Stage Company, in 1859, Bill engaged to drive freight teams from Independence, Mo., to Santa Fe. It was while thus employed that he met with an ad- venture that came near being a fatal one; nothing less than an encounter with a huge cinnamon bear, strong and active as the grizzly, and possessed of greater powers of endurance. The teamster in charge of the eompanion wagon had fallen some distance behind when Bill saw, dire'ctly in front, as if dis- puting the right of way with him, a huge cinnamon bear and her two cubs. Moved with fear for the safety of her young, the ani- mal growled forbiddingly as the bold pi ainsman advanced towards her. Armed with a pair of pistols and a large bowie-knife, Bill felt no fear as to the result of the encounter, little knowing the strength or endurance of the enemy with which he had to contend. As the bear approached him, he took aim, and when she was within about twenty feet of him, fired. The ball struck her squarely on the forehead, but rebounded like a hailstone from the thick skull, serving only to inflict a trifling cut that infuriated the animal, already angry. N~o time remained for retreat to the safety of the wagon-top, for in the next instant the bear sprang upon him, bury- ing her long, sharp claws in his flesh. The second pistol disabled one paw, but rearing upon her hind legs the bear grappled with him almost like a human antagonist. His left forearm was crushed, his breast ploughed in bloody seams by the claws, his shoulder torn, his cheek laid open, but time after time the long knife was plunged into the huge brown carcass, until the blood of both antagonists, brute and human, flowing in rivulets from 480 WILD BILL. wounds, soaked the ground on which they fought. Now his foot slips, and he falls to the earth, the bear over him, holding his left arm in her mouth ; but with almost superhuman strength he reverses their positions, and again and again buries his dripping knife in her flesh. At last a deadly gash across the throat severs the wind- pipe, and his terrible an- tagonist is dead. Faint with loss of blood and severe exertion, he lies beside her, only able, when his companion at last comes up, to point feebly to the dead bear and his own wounds. For two months he lay help- less, and several more had passed before he was able to go to work again. He did not, on his re- covery, again enter the employment of the freighters, but took a situation, offered by the Overland Stage Co., as watchman and hostler at Bock Creek Station, fifty miles west of Topeka. This was a relay post where generally about twenty-five horses were kept. Bill's duties were more in the way of protecting the animals from the thieves so plentiful in that part of the country, than in attending to the horses, an assistant being provided for the latter purpose. They were lodged in a "dug-out," a thatched cabin built on the hillside, so that the back and part of the side walls were formed of earth, the remainder of the cabin being of logs. A horse-blanket formed the only partition between kitchen and bed-room. More commo- dious and pretentious were the buildings used as stables; and strong enough to defy, when locked, any ordinary assault. Here, in this lonely cabin on the hill-side, the two men passed the fall WILD BILL'S FIGHT WITH THE BEAR. WILD BILL. 481 of 1861, the monotony of this life only broken by the daily ar- rival of the stage with news from the outer world. Exciting news it was, for the papers told of the contest even then in pro- gress. But those were the days when men enlisted " for the war/' rather than for two months, since no one wanted to be a soldier longer than this trifling conflict should last. About a dozen miles from this station was the rendezvous of a gang of horse-thieves, who occasionally committed highway rob- bery. Like many such bands, they tried to attach themselves to the military service ; during the whole war, the guerillas, or bushwhackers, claiming to belong to one of the two armies, made odious the name of that to which they were attached. The McCandlas gang, as this was called from its leaders, two brothers of that name, was the most prominent in that portion of the state, pretending that they were commissioned to collect horses and enlist recruits for the Confederate army. The horses of the Overland, at Hock Creek, numerous and in good condition, were a tempting prize, of which they were resolved to become possessed. Bill, too, the best shot in the state, and utterly fearless, would be a most valuable addition to their numbers. But threats and per- suasions proved useless. " When you want these horses come and take them, and if you want me, you'll find me here." Such was the answer which he gave to a party of five, on the morning of the 16th of December. The outlaws rode on he was too formidable to be attacked by such a force and Bill prepared for their return. His companion was out hunting, and could not be expected to come back in time to render any assistance. The stables were locked, the door and the one window of the dug- out secured, his weapons a large bore rifle, two revolvers and two bowie-knives carefully examined. It was three o'clock in the afternoon of the short winter day when the two McCandlas boys, with eight of their most desper- ate followers, rode up to the cabin. Finding the doors of the stables locked, and the house prepared for defense, they yet trusted that their numbers would inspire the watchman with fear. " Come out o' yer shell," yelled one of the leaders with an oath. " Ef yer don't, thar'll be a small-sized murder at Rock Creek, and the Company'll hev to hire another watchman." " I'll shoot the first man that tries to open a stable door," an- 482 WILD BILL. swered Bill ;"and ef thar's any murderin' done at Bock Creek this arternoon thar'll be more'n one corpse to bury." " Surround the house and give him no quarter 1" " Come and fight me, you cowardly dog ! " We omit the most emphatic words in the conversation ; such words as cause the Indian to call our language " talk damn." It must be understood that the whole proceedings were liberally garnished with such expletives. Tying their horses to surround- ing trees, they began to batter the door with a log which lay near FIGHT WITH THE MCCANDLAS GANG. by; the defence soon gave way, and Jim McCandlas, armed with revolver and bowie-knife, leaped into the room, his finger on the trigger, ready to shoot. But Bill was too quick for him; a rifle- ball through his heart, and drawing up his legs, as though to make room for his companions, the desperado fell dead. In quick succession three shots from Bill's pistol killed as many more of his assailants, and the fight became more furious every moment. The remainder of the gang had now surrounded Bill, who pour- ed shots right and left, and thrust desperately with his knife ; but the odds were great, and when one of them struck him over WILD BILL. 483 the head and knocked him backward, Jack McCandlas jumped upon him, with knife ready to plunge into his heart. Bill strug- gled, freed his right arm, and placing the muzzle of his pistol right against his enemy's breast, fired as the knife descended. The hand of the dying man dropped*helpless, he rolled to the floor, and his almost victim regained his feet. The blood poured from his own wounds and mingled with that of his adversaries as Bill fought on, like a tiger at bay. On the floor of the hut lay six of the desperadoes, dead, and two desperately wounded. These, with the two still uninjured, now beat a retreat, the latter managing to regain their horses and ride away; one of the wounded men likewise escaped, but afterward died of his injuries; but as the other ran, Bill snatched a, gun from the hunter, who just came up at this time, and fired at him; it is needless to say he fell dead in his tracks. " All of a sudden," said the hero of this fight, when telling of it afterward, " it seemed as if my heart was on fire. I was bleed- ing everywhere. I rushed out to the well and drank from the bucket, and then tumbled down in a faint." His companion carried him into the house, where he lay un- conscious for nearly an hour. The arrival of the stago then brought help, for one of the passengers possessed some surgical skill, and he revived him and dressed his wounds. " I remember that one of them struck me with his gun, and 1 got hold of a knife; and then I got kind o' wild like, and it was all cloudy, and I struck savage blows, following the devils up from one side of the room to the other and into the corners, striking and slashing until I knew every one was dead." Such was all that he could then tell of the fight. As his strength returned, so that he need no longer speak while gasping for breath, the earlier part of the conflict was detailed, and the two who had escaped confirmed the story by their own independent account. The listening bystanders caught at his expression, and henceforth the name of Shanghai Bill was dropped in favor of that which he bore until his death. But the victory was dearly bought; for months he lay helpless, so severe were his wounds, and nearly a year had elapsed before he was entirely well. Going to Leavenworth on his recovery, he was appointed Bri- gade "Wagon Master by Gen. Fremont, then in command there. The war was now at its height, and those states in which, like Missouri and Kansas, both sides were represented in almost equal 31 484 WILD BILL. numbers, were the scenes of the fiercest conflicts between small parties. Bill's first trip with a train was toward Sedalia, a few days after his appointment. The wagons, laden with provisions, were a tempting prize to the Confederates, and on the third day from their departure the/ were attacked by a company of Gen. Price's command. The force was small, numbering only twelve men, and judging the odds too great for successful resistance, they yielded without firing a shot. The leader, however, was a man of another mettle. Turning his horse towards Kansas City, he spurred onward, followed by a least fifty of the attacking party. Mile after mile they rode, and four of the pursuers fell dead before the fugitive's pistol; bullets fell like hail around him, but none touched him. At last he was safe within the lines, and his assailants returned to their booty. Bill reported the facts to the commander at this post, who de- tailed two companies to assist him in recovering the property. He felt himself disgraced by this loss of his first charge, and was eager to avenge himself. The Confederates, elated at their suc- cess, were taken by surprise; a short and decisive fight followed the charge which Wild Bill led into their ranks as they were marching towards headquarters, and Bill conducted the train in triumph to Sedalia. He had not enlisted in the army, but voluntarily took the place of a sharp-shooter in the battle of Pea Ridge, in March, 1862 ; lying behind a large log on a hill overlooking Cross-Timber Hollow, for nearly four hours, picking oif the Confederates. His victims numbered thirty-five, and were of all ranks, from the private soldier to Gen. McCulloch. The attention of a Confeder- ate company was directed towards the source of this murderous fire, and they charged upon him, riddling the log with bullet- holes. But a company of his comrades saw his danger, and charging down the hill, came to a hand-to-hand encounter with the Bebs, which proved to be the hottest engagement of the bat- tle, more than half on both sides being killed. Soon after this battle, Gen. Curtis engaged Bill as a spy, with orders to enter Gen. Price's lines and get all the information he could about that officer's intentions. Every effort was being made to carry Missouri into the Confederacy; her people were in sympathy with the more southern states, and the Government was seriously alarmed at the stand she had taken. Many Mis- sourians had flocked to price's army, and steps must be immedi- WILD BILL. 485 ately taken to drive him out of the borders of the state. Bill was given a fine horse and instructed to make his way into the Confederate lines as speedily as possible, by any means that he chose. Assuming the name of Bill Barnes, and representing him- self as the brother of a man recently killed in the Confederate army in Texas, he made a wide circuit, entering the state of Ar- kansas somewhat south of the center, and went to Little Eock. There he enlisted in a company of mounted rangers organizing to join Price. The Missourian had fallen back to Elk River, where he was reinforced by Gen. Shelby, and the united forces awaited the coming of Gen. Curtis, who, with a slightly inferior command, was following swiftly from the north. Bill was appointed an orderly within a week after his enlistment, a position enabling him to execute his plans all the better. As the two armies lay drawn up in order of battle, separated only by the narrow creek, and waiting only for daylight to begin the battle, Gen. Price, who occupied the right, sent Bill with despatches to Shelby, who was on the left. Taking the papers from the hands of the gen- eral, Bill saluted with all the respectful grace he could command, and rode directly towards the left. Once out of sight, however, he turned his course towards the company in which he had en- listed, and, addressing a certain braggadocio sergeant, said : " Jake Lawson, come out here; I want to see you a minute." A tall, lank Arkansan, whose joints appeared to be on the jumping-jack pattern, came lounging out of his tent. "Whatcher want?" he enquired, rolling a huge quid into his cheek. "I want to have some fun, that's what. Let's astonish these fellers that have never been under fire, and give 'em something to fight up to to-morrow." " What shall it be pistols at three paces, or hand to hand with the bowie ? Jist what yer like." "No," answered Bill, with some scorn; "the general can't af- ford to lose his men that way; but I'll bet my horse agin yourn that I kin ride closer to the Feds' line than you kin." "Humph !" answered Lawson, as he took a fresh "chaw," and turning on his heel strode back into his tent. " What's the matter, Jake ? Are you afraid?" "No, I ain't afeared, but what's the sence or to in such a d d trick as that ' 498 WILD BILL. self up to the law ; he was tried the next day, and acquitted, since he had acted in self-defense. The decision of the jury was based rather upon the golden rule than upon any legal form or precedent, but like many of the same kind, it gave entire satis- faction to all concerned. Leaving Springfield shortly after this, Wild Bill again went to trapping in Nebraska, but only for a brief period. Having little luck where he first tried for beaver, he determined to change his "AIN'T YOU SATISFIED. location, and on his way to the southeastern portion of the ter- ritory, as it was then, hitched his horse before a country saloon, went in and called for a drink. With an expression of curiosity on his face, the saloon-keeper set out the black bottle and the glass, which Bill proceeded to use. As he raised the glass to his lips, a sudden push in the back splashed the liquor into his face, and sent him staggering against the counter. One of the half- dozen herders, all half-drunk, had taken this means to express their resentment at the stranger's lack of courtesy in drinking by himself, when he might have company for the asking. A well- directed blow, planted full between the eyes, sent the herder reeling backward over the boxes on which he and his compan- WILD BILL 499 ions had been lounging. Turning to the other herders, Bill en- deavored to convince them that this was,a perfectly proper mode of proceeding, but they would not listen to him. "If yer don't believe me, then, I tell yer what I'll do. I'll fight any four of yer with pistols at five or fifteen paces, just as you like." "All right," answered the men, sobering up at the prospect of a fight. The bar-keeper was chosen umpire, the distance fif- teen paces marked off, and the combatants posted. " Air ye all ready ? One, two, three fire 1" As the sound of the last word died away, one man fell dead, but a ball had pierced Bill's right shoulder, so that that arm fell, limp and useless, to his side; but using his left hand with as much dexterity as his right, he fired three shots in rapid succes- sion, each one taking effect. Only one of his antagonists surviv- ed, and he was badly wounded. Bill set out on the same day towards Kansas City, judging that that was not a wholesome neighborhood for him; and remained at that place until his wound was so far healed that he was able to accompany an ex- pedition against the Cheyennes under Black Kettle. Gens. Carr and Primrose were the commanders of the two forces, Wild Bill and Buffalo Bill being each chief of scouts in a division. Hotly pursued for more than a month, the Indians were at last brought to bay on the north side of the Washita, in Indian Territory, where they had placed themselves in such a strong position that the most desperate fighting was required to dislodge them. But a charge from both front and rear at once drove them out of the woods, and though the advantage had only been gained with great loss to the troops, the yells of the soldiers seemed to say that they did not intend to stop fighting until the Indians were defeated. The two scouts, both famous for their marksmanship, did good execution upon the Indians fleeing from covert to covert. With reckless courage they charged into the midst of the hostiles, firing with deadly effect as they rode. The Cheyenne chief saw his warriors falling thick around him, and knew there was no hope of victory. The Indian lacks the stubborn courage of the white man; the savage seldom, if ever, fights as Custer and his men fought on the Little Big Horn; and now Black Kettle turned and fled for his life. After him, regard- less alike of tomahawks, spears and rifles, rode Wild Bill. Black ^ ell shows her mettle ; up to the chief's side rides the scout, and 32 500 WILD felLL. into the chief's heart is plunged his knife. But a spear has pierced his hip, and he js almost unhorsed; only the timely as- sistance of his friend and brother scout, Buffalo Bill, saves him from the certain death which stares him in the face. He had hoped to secure the chief 's scalp, but it is impossible; the poi- soned spear has made so painful and dangerous a wound that he must be taken back to Fort Hays in an ambulance. Still suffering from the two old wounds that he had received in his fight with Conquering Bear and in the Nebraska duel, Bill concluded to return to his old home in Illinois for a visit. On this scene we draw the curtain ; the mother's welcome of the son whom she had not seen for fourteen years, who had in that time encountered so many dangers on this, strangers have no right to look. His fight at Chicago with a band of seven roughs we omit for a different reason ; it presents no points of special inter- est beyond the fact that while, before the fight, they were ex- tremely curious to know the antecedents of" Leather-breeches/' when .he had gotten hold of a billiard-cue they were perfectly satisfied with what they had learned of the man himself; at least, they did not ask him any more questions. The fact that he received and accepted an invitation to act as guide to Yice-President Wilson and his party, in their trip to the far west, shows conclusively how wide-spread was his reputation ; but what were adventures to the ladies and gentlemen of that party, were incidents of every-day life to Wild Bill, and it is not until his return to Hays City that we find characteristic events recorded of him. Here, in this frontier town of nearly two thou sand inhabitants, where there were nearly a hundred gambling dens, and the saloons were innumerable, fights, often terminating fatally, were of such every-day occurrence that the people de- cided that they must have a marshal to regulate affairs. It was hardly necessary to determine that it must be a man with a rep- utation to fill the position, and "Wild Bill's qualifications being esteemed the most satisfactory, he was elected to the office in September, 1869. "I kin clean out Hays City, and its marshal, too/' boasted one Jack Strawhan, whom Wild Bill had once assisted in arresting. " I'll git even with that feller yit." These threats were duly reported to Bill, and he was not un- prepared, when, some six weeks after his election, he saw Straw- han enter the saloon in which he was drinking with a party of WILD BILL. 501 friends. The desperado strolled up towards the bar with as much indifference as he could put into his mariner, and was within ten feet of Bill, when, thinking himself unnoticed, he drew a heavy navy. But Bill's sharp eyes had not lost a single movement, and almost before the revolver was cocked, a bullet went crashing through his skull to his brain. " Come up, boys, let's all take a drink," said the marshal, turn- ing coolly to the bar again, and the coroner's jury, that very day, returned a verdict of " served him right." Akin to this was the case of the bully who wanted to run Hays City. One part of the town, dismayed at the spectacle of a half- drunken man flourishing two pistols, had consented to be " run," but one thoughtful individual went to find the marshal. That of- ficial, in defiance of the laws which appear to govern all conser- vators of the peace, was easily found, and readily obeyed the summons. As Mulvey, the desperado, went yelling through the streets, pointing his pistols at all who were not sufficiently re- spectful, he was approached by Wild Bill, and heard his quiet tones saying: " Stranger, I shall have to arrest you for disturbing the peace. Come with me." "Well, now, stranger, suppose you come with me. I reckon I've got the winning hand." "That's so," answered Bill, ruefully, as he looked into the muzzles of the two pistols, " I can't beat that pair." "No, I reckon you can't, and since you are so fresh it will be a good thing for me to hang you up to dry. March 1" " Don't hit him, boys, he's only in fun/' said Bill, as if to dep- recate an attack on Mulvey from the rear. The desperado turn- ed to see the " boys " who were not there, and fell dead as a bul- let from Bill's pistol went home to his brain. So detestable had Mulvey rendered himself that the citizens would hold no inquest over his remains. No honor could be too great for the man who had rid the town of two such characters as Strawhan and Mulvey, and Bill met with thanks on every side for thus securing peace to the town. His duties were easy for some months after this occurrence. The chief trouble came from the soldiers, who were stationed about a mile from Hays City, and who did not regard themselves as amenable to civil law. Wild Bill had arrested several of the worst cases, at different times, and had thus aroused their bitter- 502 WILD BILL. est enmity. It was in February, 1870, that he said to a big ser- geant, who was becoming uproarious, just what he had said to the desperado Mulvey. "How much do you weigh, Mr. Long-Hair ?" asked the sol- dier, astonished at his " cheek." " A hundred and sixty-five when I'm in a good humor," re- plied Bill, " but my fighting size is something more than a ton ; you come along with me." WILD BILL'S FIGHT WITH FIFTEEN SOLDIERS. " I won't go with you now," answered the sergeant, " but I'll fight you in front of this saloon ; and if you whip me, Til go with you 5 and if I whip you, you'll come with me." "Fight, fight, let 'em fight? A fair fight, now," broke in a chorus of a dozen soldiers. There was no getting out of it; in spite of his peaceful propensities Wild Bill must yield to the ma- jority. All weapons were left in charge of the saloon-keeper, and the fistic encounter began. But while the soldiers had been so anxious to have the fight begin, when they saw how it went on, they were equally anxious to end it. Fourteen of them came to the rescue of their officer, and it might have fared worse for Bill had not the saloon-keeper, seeing the immense odds against WILD BILL. 503 his friend, gathered up Bill's pistols and, at great risk to himself, pushed through the crowd with them. One of the soldiers went down at the first shot. "Look out!" cried the crowd around them, " he's got a pistol." It was a totally unnecessary warning, for before the words were well uttered, two more fell. The remaining soldiers drew their pistols, and as Bill retreated, firing as he went, seven balls struck him. Smoky Eiver was the bar of safety which he had at last placed between himself and his pursuers, and after swim- ming this he dragged himself painfully onward. Secreting himself in a buffalo wallow, he tore up part of his clothes to bandage his wounds. Exposed to the bitter cold, he lay here for two days, suffering the most intense agony from his fevered wounds ; then, weak from loss of blood and fasting, he tore loose the bandages, now frozen stiff, from the ground to which they had stuck, and wrapping his feet, from which he had been obliged to cut his boots, in his undershirt, with slow and painful steps toiled onward to the ranche of a friend. Knocking at the door of the cabin, it was with a troubled face that his host received him, for but little could be done. Not knowing that he had been wounded, Gen. Sheridan had issued an order to bring in the marshal, dead or alive ; it was supposed that a long chase would be necessary, and they had not thought of searching for him so near home. For three weeks he lay in the loft of the little cabin, tenderly cared for, and entirely unsuspected of being in the neighborhood. "When he had sufficiently recovered to travel, he went in a box-car to Junction City, and remained there until he had completely recovered. The western climate had proved unhealthful to him, and when his wounds were healed, Bill determined to go east. Some occu- pation was necessary, and he determined to take to Niagara Falls a number of Buffalo, and some Comanche Indians, that the visitors there might be entertained, and he be enriched by a buf- falo hunt such as, under ordinary circumstances, could be seen only on the plains. The work of catching the huge wild animals proved more difficult than he had expected, but at last six were secured, and four Comanches employed ; one of them being the pos- sessor of a tame cinnamon bear, and another of a monkey, which were added to the menagerie. Trusting that the voluntary con- tributions of the crowd would be amply sufficient, he built only a slight fence around the ground where the mock hunt was to 504 WILD BILL. take place ; but the expense exceeded the receipts by more than a thousand dollars, and after having spent all the money he had in preparation, he was obliged to sell out to pay his hotel bill. Returning to the West, and stopping at Abilene, Kansas, he was agreeably surprised when they proposed to appoint him marshal, for some source of income was necessary; his buffalo venture had left him dead broke. Abilene was, if anything, worse than Hays City had been when Bill first entered upon the same office there. Being the central point from which the cattle raised in the Southwest were shipped, the herders were about the worst class of visitors that ever afflicted a town. Within two days, Bill had signalized his appointment by killing a desperado who was mak- ing things extremely lively j and a chance shot from Bill killed his own deputy. The companion of the first desperado also pro- voked his own death by an endeavor to avenge his friend. Af- ter this triple tragedy there was comparative quiet in Abilene for several weeks. But peace was impossible in such a place, and late in Decem- ber, 1870, there was an extensive riot, in which, as usual, Bill came off victor. But so enraged was one man at the bodily in- juries that had been inflicted upon him that he swore he would have Wild Bill's heart. Beturning to his Texas ranche, he called a council of eight men whom he knew were well fitted for his purpose, and giving each one fifty dollars to pay expenses to Abilene, promised to divide five thousand dollars among them when any of their number should have killed Wild Bill and brought his heart to the Texan as proof. In high feather they started out, but being in possession of so much more money than any of them had ever had before, perhaps, they got gloriously drunk before they had been two hours in Abilene. With all the self-importance of a tipsy rough, one of them boasted that they had come on important business. "What is it?" asked a loafer. But the rough only shook his head with drunken gravity. The crowd caught up the question, and pressed him hard, until, un- able to longer contain himself, he burst out with: " We're a'goin' to shoot Wild Bill and take his heart to Texas, for his d d interference with folks he ought ter let alone." Bill had no lack of friends in Abilene, one of whom lost no time in telling him what the Texan had said. Bill's resolution was immediately taken. WILD BILL. 505 " Gro back to the crowd and tell them, quiet like, so's not to make 'em suspect anything, that I'm a goin' down ter Topeka by the nine o'clock express, to git some new pistols, for mine ain't any account; they're worn out, I reckon." The information was conveyed to the party, and they took the hint. Sobering up as rapidly as possible, they laid their plans. Bill was fond of cards, and could be readily induced to pass from one car to another in order to join in a game with one of them; lurking enemies on the platform; a sudden stab in the darkness; a body thrown from the train as it rushed by; eight men leaving the car at the next station, and returning through the darkness of the winter night to complete their hellish work, unwitnessed by mortal eye. But Bill was on his guard. About ten or eleven o'clock, he left the car in which he was sitting, and with a pistol in each hand, went to that in which he knew he would find his would-be assassins. Satisfying himself of their exact position, he threv, r open the door and walked up the aisle towards them. Covering the gang with his pistols, he said : " Now 5 you scoundrels, get out of this car, or I'll put a bullet in each of you. Leave the train instantly." His tone was so quiet that it would, of itself, have attracted no attention from bystanders, but they saw shoot in his eyes, and prudently retreated backward to the door of the oar. "Jump," he commanded, as they hesitated a moment on the platform, and the muzzles gleamed ominously in the flickering light from the next car. The train was rushing over the level prairie at a fearful rate, but certain death awaited them here, while that might give each a chanco for life. Into the darkness, then, each man leaped as the train sped onward ; one was killed outright, three badly hurt by the fall ; but if they had not jumped, there would have been none that escaped. But it is hardly necessary to follow him farther during the re- mainder of the time that he was in Abilene, or when he became United States marshal of Hays City. His name was so well known that in most cases the statement that Wild Bill was com- ing, was enough to quiet a row at once. If the quarrel was not stopped, he would say, on coming up : " See here, boys, this has gone far enough now." If an unusually desperate ruffian still manifested a desire for more fight, the soft tones would again be heard : "If you want any more, here I am. You can settle with me." 506 WILD BILL. But the invitation was seldom accepted. A man who shot so quickly and well as Wild Bill was most thoroughly respected, even in that wild western town. Joining the Buffalo Bill combination in 1873-4, stage-fright, at first, was a serious drawback to success, but in one of his earliest performances he made a decided hit. Buffalo Bill, Texas Jack and Wild Bill were, in one scene, represented as sitting around a camp-fire, telling stories; at the end of each adventure related, the bottle was duly passed, but Wild Bill failed to comprehend the necessity for "property" whiskey. Taking a drink, he said, with great indignation, in a voice that could be heard all over the house: "You must think that I am the worst fool east of the Rockies, that I can't tell whiskey from cold tea. This don't count, and I can't tell a story unless I get real whiskey." The building shook with the plaudits of the audience, and when Buffalo Bill had procured some "real whiskey," the play went on with a first-class story that Wild Bill related. This was only one instance of his disregard of stage conventionalities ; another was his mischievous practice of firing so close at the " Indians" that the poor supes were nearly frightened to death. Reproved by Buffalo Bill for this, he exchanged his stage suit of buckskin for his ordinary street dress, and walked out of the theater, leaving the stage carpenter to inform the principal actor that "the long-haired gentleman that just went out told me to give you his respects and tell you to go to thunder with your old show." His second appearance on the stage was due to an un- successful attempt upon a faro bank in New York, but the " Wild Bill Combination" was not of long life. Returning to the West, he went to Kansas City, thence to Cheyenne, where he remained a short time, but soon decided to go to mining in the Black Hills, where gold had been recently discovered; a treasure soon to be bought with blood from the Sioux and Blackfeet. Encamping with two companions in this debatable land, he one day went to the creek, about a hundred yards away, for a supply of water. Stooping to dip the water from a hole in the ice, he spied, trotting up the creek, a silver fox, the skin of which was worth fifty or sixty dollars. This was too valuable a chance to be lightly thrown away, and drawing his pistol from his belt, he started in pursuit. But quick as he was, the fox, darting from cover to cover, eluded him for many a WILD BILL. 507 weary mile, and at last escaped him in the darkness. Eetracing his steps when he saw there was no hope of success, he heard, as he approached the camp, a terrible sound the war-cry of the Sioux. Creeping cautiously nearer, he saw the whole scene by the light of the flames that consumed the cabin; fifteen or twen- ty Indians, reveling in the possession of the keg of whiskey which formed an important part of the miners' outfit, while the belts of two were decorated each with a fresh scalp, reeking with blood ; the bodies of his companions were probably con- sumed in the cabin. Knowing that he would not be safe anywhere in the neighbor- hood, he fled with all the speed he could command, not stopping for rest until the next morning. Nearly worn out with fatigue, he then lay down under a tree and immediately fell asleep. The flight was continued when he awoke and had satisfied his hunger on a sage-hen which he shot; and he thought he had a fair chance of reaching Fort Fetterman, when, on the evening of the second day, he discovered that the Indians were on his trail. They rap- idly gained on him, and his chances began to look doubtful, as he had only one revolver, and two chambers of that had been emptied. Four shots, then, remained, and with these he must defend himself against a force so far superior in number. As they came up within range, he fired one shot after another, and four Indians dropped from their ponies; then, retreating to the edge of the precipitous bank, with his pistol still raised as if to fire again, he leaped down to the creek below. A dizzy whirl through the air, and he reached the creek beneath, falling into an air- hole, and thus escaping all injury beyond a ducking in the icy water of the creek. Keeping well under the ledge of rocks that shielded him from view, he continued his journey along the course of the stream, while above him the Indians searched fora descent to the bed of the creek. All night long the chase con- tinued, if such it could be called when the savages expected to find only the mangled body of the white man on the ice; and in the morning Bill, worn out by his long flight, reposed himself behind the trunk of a large cedar. He awoke to find the day far advanced, but cloudy and dark. Soon the thunder rolled heavily in the distance, the earliest prophecy of approaching spring; and the sound was echoed by another, the roar of the flood that came rushing through the canons. The danger was imminent. Clinging to the rugged bank, he 508 WILD BILL. clambered slowly upward, while each moment seemed an age. A sound in a higher key than the rumbling of the thunder and the roar of the waters, and for a moment he turned; there were the Indians, struggling, rider and horse, in the stream ; the wa- ters swept impetuously onward, tossing the dark forms on its seething mass of foam, and dashing them against the rocky sides of the canon. At last the summit of the precipice was reached, and the weary man, no longer flying from enemies, continued his journey until he reached Fort Fetterman in safety, on the fourth day after the attack on the camp. Not contented with his experience there, Bill wished to organ- ize an expedition to the Black Hills, of sufficient numbers to be comparatively safe from the Indians; but was obliged to wait until the following spring (1876). Going to Cheyenne in Febru- ary of that year, to perfect arrangements, he again met a lady whom he had admired for many years, and who became his wife early in March. A wedding-tour to Cincinnati followed, and it was not until the twelfth of April that the party of about two hundred started from Kansas City. Having discharged his duties as guide, Bill settled down in Deadwood to watch for an opportunity for a profitable strike. Deadwood needs no description, admits of none a mining town, peopled by adventurous roughs, built up of drinking saloons and gambling dens. Frequent prospecting tours along the gulches among the hills alternated with rest in the town, the monotony being diversified by many games of poker. Much money, of course, thus changed hands, and the last day of July Bill won $500 from an adventurer named Jack McCall. The loser admit- ted it was a fair game, and seemed as well satisfied as any man could be under the adverse circumstances. As Bill was playing with some others on the afternoon of the 2d of August, McCall carelessly entered the saloon. !N"o one suspected that he had any particular purpose in view, until, when he had reached a position only about a yard behind Wild Bill, he suddenly drew a pistol, and uttered the words : " D n you, take that ! " He fired at the head of his victim. The ball crashed through the skull, passed through the brain, and came out through the right cheek, imbedding itself in the arm of another player. Wild Bill's head bent slowly forward, the cards fell from his relaxing fingers, and he fell prone on the floor. Words cannot describe the excitement which reigned in Dead- WILD BILL. 509 wood. Wild threats of lynching the murderer were heard on every hand, but the more orderly-minded prevailed upon these hot-headed avengers to give McCall a fair trial, and the jury ac- quitted him. But the court was improvised for the occasion, and when the bully visited Yankton a few days later, boasting of his deed, he was promptly arrested, brought before the legally es- tablished tribunal, found guilty, sentenced, and hanged. The murdered man's body was taken in charge by his comrade and friend, Colorado Charley, and a grave dug on the mountain THE MURDER OF WILD BILL. side, where the pine-trees shaded the flower-studded sod. "With his rifle by his side, he was laid to rest. 'Not forever, for as the town grew, the beauty of the woodland grave on the hill-side departed, and reverently his friends removed to another resting- place all that was mortal of one of the brav.est scouts that Amer- ica has ever produced. "He was a plainsman in every sense of the word," says G-en. Custer, who knew him well as a scout; "yet unlike any other c-f his class. . . . Whether on foot or on horseback, he was one of the most perfect types of physical manhood lever saw. . . . His manner was entirely free from all bluster or bravado. He never spoke of himself unless requested to do so. His influence among the frontiersmen was unbounded, his word was law. Wild Bill 510 WILD BILL. is anything but a quarrelsome man, yet no one but himself can enumerate the many conflicts in which he has been engaged." One notable peculiarity was his sincere regret at the invariable termination of such contests ; and it was a notorious fact that Wild Bill was always chief mourner at the funerals which he made necessary, and frequently paid all expenses. In one in- stance, at least, he went even farther, contributing to the support of Mrs. McCandlas whom her husband left destitute, until her de.ath. CHAPTER XVIII. *BUFFALO BILL. I'N the early part of 1845 there was born in Scott County, Iowa, a boy whose name was destined to be known, within thirty years, from California to Eussia, William Frederick Cody, bet- ter recognized by his famous and well-earned title of Buffalo Bill. But his fertile farm in Iowa seemed to his father, Isaac, less desi- rable than a "claim" in the far western gold country, and in 1849, when the California fever raged so fiercely, he made an un- successful effort to reach the distant mines. For three years after this he remained with his young family in Iowa, during which time little Billy was sent to school to get him out of the way, while his leisure time was spent in trapping quails. Thus early began his love for hunting. But Mr. Cody had not yet given up the idea of moving to some new country, although California had so rapidly filled up that golden opportunities no longer presented themselves in that state. In March, 1852, then, he disposed of his farm, and, with his family, set out for Kansas. The journey gave no slight pleasure to the seven-year-old boy, to whom the corn-bread and negroes, then so plentiful in that part of Missouri, were objects of equal interest. When the family stopped near Weston, there to remain until Kansas was open to emigrants, and the father, after a short absence spent in establishing a trading-post at Salt Creek Valley, returned to take his son over to Kansas, the boy's delight knew no bounds. Even the statement that two ponies, his own proper- ty, there awaited him, could hardly add to his excitement. The military parade at Fort Leavenworth, the fleets of prairie schooners that dotted the green valleys, even the burial service that the encamped Mormons held over one of their number, preceded the arrival at the camp. There he found the frontiers- men, who, clad and armed in the manner peculiar to the border, were equally wonderful. " They look like pirates," was his child- ish opinion. Yonder small group of dark-skinned apd curiously *By the courtesy of tho hero himself Hon. W. F. CODY we were referred to his autobiography while preparing this sketch. In that volume he gives his life and adventures in more detail in an exceedingly interesting manner. It can be obtained from his publisher, F. E. BLISS, Hartford, "Conn. 6 12 BUFFALO BILL. attired persons next claimed his attention, and the very fact that they were Indians made him doubly anxious to interview them. But his ponies were a disappointment, being so wild that they would not suffer him to touch them. One was caught, and he enjoyed a ride upon it on the second day, but his father's hand never left the bridle. They were again at the agency in the evening, when there came towards them, from a camp farther down the river, a magnificent specimen of western manhood; more than six feet tall, and well built, his long, sinewy limbs and broad chest were covered with a beautifully beaded suit of buck- skin; a native of the prairies, his step was as light and elastic as that of the Swiss mountaineer or the Scotch Highland lassie; his brown face wa^ shaded by a huge sombrero. Looking at the boy, who was trying to 'win the love of one of the ponies by petting, he said: "Little one, your ponies seem wild yet." "Yes, and one of them has never been ridden." "Well, I'll ride him for you." It was no effort to " witch the world with noble horseman- ship," but only a wish to please a child. It might well have been the first, for never a knight or king rode such a steed over such a course. Bearing, plunging, using every endeavor to unseat his rider, the pony at last concluded that it was a hopeless task, and quietly submitted to the guidance of a master. si O, that's nothing," answered the Californian to Mr. Cody's praises; "I was raised on horseback. I ran away from home when I was a boy, went to sea, and finally landed in the Sand- wich Islands, where I fell in with a circus. I was with it two years, and made a mark as a bare-back rider. But I heard of the excitement over the discovery of gold in California, and went there, but didn't go to mining. I went to work as a bocarro catching and breaking wild horses. Last summer we caught this herd that we have brought across the plains, and want to sell it in the states. I'm going over to Weston to-morrow to see if my uncle is still living there, and when we've sold the horses I'll go and see the rest of my folks in Ohio." " I am acquainted in "Weston, and perhaps can tell you about your uncle. What is his name ? " "Elijah Cody." " Elijah Cody ? Why, he is my brother." Sure enough, the stranger, Horace Billings, was Mr. Cody's fctTEFALO fclLL. 51 3 nephew, who had never been heard from during all his long ab- sence. Between the young giant and his little cousin there soon sprang up a strong friendship, the boy looking up to the man as the greatest of living beings, while the man looked upon the boy something as a huge Newfoundland looks at a diminutive black- and-tan. Billings was soon afterward employed in catching gov- ernment horses, a large herd of which had stampeded from Leav- enworth some time before, and now roamed over the prairies. During the time that he was thus employed, little Billy was his constant companion, and received from him most excellent les- sons in the management of a horse and the throwing of a lasso. Many a wild chase there was across the prairies, when the ani- mals, with every muscle strained to the utmost, with nostrils di- lated and eyes glaring with terror, dashed madly onward, fol- lowed closely by the reckless bocarros. The long lariat whirls around and above the head of each man, as he gallops beside the animal he has chosen; now he throws it, and the horse, half- strangled, and unable by his brute instinct to account for the sud- den compression about his neck, sinks struggling to the ground. Of such scenes as these was the boy a delighted spectator, al- though, of course, he did not possess sufficient strength to be of any very material assistance ; but there was soon developed an intense longing to be like this wonderful cousin. Through the next few years we need not follow him; only pausing to note that his companions, boys from the neighboring friendly Kickapoo tribe, taught him something of their language, and from them he acquired considerable skill in the use of the bow and arrow. Mr. Cody's avowal of his anti-slavery opinions was rewarded by a murderous assault, from the effects of which he had hardly recovered when his house was surrounded by a pro-slavery mob, and he only escaped by disguising himself in his wife's clothes; the ruse was not detected in the darkness. Nor did a removal render him much safer. Learning of a plot to kill her husband, Mrs. Cody sent her eldest son, now nine years old, to warn him of his danger; as the boy rode on, he heard, from a party of men encamped at the creek crossing, the words : " That's the son of the old abolitionist we're after." In a moment came the order to halt. But onward dashed the plucky little animal at his master's bidding, and those who pur- sued him were soon distanced; the boy realized how much de- pended upon his escape, and rode without caring to spare even BUFFALO BILL. 515 his beloved pony. For a long time Mr. Cody's life was not safe in Kansas, especially in the neighborhood of his own house, and it was only by stealth that he could visit his family. In the meantime, Billy had been nearly heart-broken by the theft of his pony. Meeting one day with Mr. Eussell, the great freighter, whom he knew well, he poured all his troubles into sympathizing ears. " Billy, my boy, cheer up. Come to Leavenworth, and I'll em- ploy you. I'll give you twenty-five dollars a month to herd cattle." Consoled for the loss of his steed by the brilliancy of his future prospects, Billy hurried home to inform his mother of this mun- ificent offer; but less dazzled by it than her son, she refused to let him go. All his pleading was in vain, and he was reduced to the alternatives of staying at home, or running away. He chose the latter, not returning for two months, when he brought a hun- dred silver half-dollars to his mother, who had' long before this learned of his whereabouts, and consented to let him remain in Mr. Eussell's employ. But she was not content that he should long continue at this work, and persuaded him to stay at home and go to school. For some time, acceding to her wish, he de- voted himself to his books, until an unlucky fight with his rival for the favor of a small maiden, ended in the infliction of a slight cut on the thigh of his antagonist. Believing that he had killed him, Billy lost no time in getting away, and soon reached a hav- en of safety. This was a freight train sent out by his former employers, the wagon-master of which, John Willis, was an old acquaintance, and now proved himself to be a friend in need. Mrs. Cody had heard of Billy's fight, and was in considerable anxiety about him when, that night, after the men connected with the train had en- camped, he and his friend rode to her house. After much solici- tation, she gave her consent to the plan which they had formed, although fearful lest her boy should fall into the hands of In- dians. The event proved that her boy was quite able to take care of himself. In accordance with the proposition that Willis had made to him, then, Billy set out to Fort Kearney with ih$ train, and spent the summer in herding. The death of er, in the spring of 1857, rendered it desirable for him t tinue in this work, and in May of that year he was hands accompanying a herd of beef cattle to the Albert Sidney Johnston, who was then fighting the Mornq^g. cfn 83 516 BUFFALO 'BILL. Reaching a point on the South Platte some thirty-five miles from Old Fort Kearney, they encamped for dinner. As a matter of habit, three men were posted as guards ; the cook was busily getting dinner, and the wagon-masters and others taking a quiet noonday nap. Notwithstanding the fact that no one was ever entire- ly safe from attack, they thought nothing of Indians, having no idea that there were any near them. The guards themselves doubtless were cursing the unnecessary precaution which kept them from enjoying a nap beside their companions, when they heard on every side the war-whoop of the red man, and saw In- dians who seemed to have sprung from the earth, or dropped from the sky. As the men jumped to their feet and seized their guns, they saw the cattle rushing off in every direction; the first effort of a war-party being to stampede all the animals belong- ing to the camp which they attack. The three guards had been killed at the first fire of the savages, who now charged down up- on the camp. Eeceived by a well-directed volley from the re- volvers and yagers of the teamsters, they drew off, but evidently only to re-form for another attack. "Make a break for the slough yonder," shouted Frank Mc- Carthy, in charge of the herd ; " and then we can use the bank as a breastwork." Obeying the order, and carrying with them the one man who had been wounded, they for sometime successfully defended them- selves. But something more than defense was necessary ; they must reach the shelter of Fort Kearney again, for the Indians largely outnumbered them, and seemed as fresh as ever, while the teamsters had no hope of reinforcements. " Well, boys, we'll try to make our way back to Fort Kearney by wading in the river and keeping the bank for a breastwork." Several miles were traversed in the manner indicated by their leader; the Indians above them on the high, steep bank watch- ing an opportunity to send a raking fire down upon them. A raft of poles was constructed for the wounded man, and served also, when they came to deep water, to keep their weapons dry as they swam. Night came on, and still the relative position of the two parties was unchanged. The strength of the boy began to fail, and he lagged behind the others, now a few feet, now as many yards, now still farther. Patiently he toiled on, summon- ing all his powers of endurance. It was ten o'clock. Looking up at the bright moonlit sky, he saw ? darkly outlined against it ? BUFFALO BILL. 517 the plumed head of a warrior looking over the brow of the bluff. Sharp and clear rang out the report of Billy's gun, and with one wild cry the Indian leaped up, and then fell forward into the water dead. " Who fired that shot ?" shouted Frank McCarthy, as he and the other men turned back upon hearing the report. "I did," answered the boy, not a little proud of his first effort. "Yes, and little Billy has killed an Indian stone dead, too dead to skin," added one of the men, as they came nearer, and he caught sight of the dusky form lying in the shallow water. Above them, on the bank, the Indians set up a terrible howl- ing, and sent one or two vol- leys of shot downward, but they were fortunately so well protected by the bank that no harm was done. "What would the savages have said if they had known that the warrior had fallen at the hands of a boy twelve years old ? The event cre- ated quite a sensation at the time ; Billy, on his arrival at Leavenworth, was interviewed by a reporter, and he was soon widely known as the youngest Indian killer on the plains. Billy was now wedded to a life on the plains, and in the sum- mer of the same year was employed as extra hand on a train bound for Utah. It was on this trip that he first met Wild Bill, whose reputation and prowess made him as great a hero to the boy as Kit Carson had been to himself. He had not yet earned the title by which he became famous, but his powerful build, his ability to " out-run, out-jump, and out-fight any man in the train," the true manliness that never allowed his exertions of power to become brutality, laid the foundations of the respect and love which Buffalo Bill always felt for him, during a friendship that lasted for nearly twenty years. But it was not his general char- acter which first endeared him to our hero, but a special display BILLY KILLS HIS FIRST INDIAN. 518 BUJTALO BILL. of his lovable qualities and his readiness to defend the helpless. A surly, overbearing fellow, one of the teamsters, had for some time taken particular delight in bullying and tyrannizing over Billy, when one day, while they were at dinner, he ordered the boy to perform some small service for him. Billy hesitated a moment, and the teamster gave him a slap in the face, that sent him from the ox-yoke on which he was sitting, sprawling on the ground. Jumping up with a mad wish to revenge the insult, Billy snatched up a kettle of boiling coffee and threw it at him. Smarting at the boy's retaliation no less than at the scalding received, the teamster sprang at the boy with all the ferocity of a wild beast, only to be stopped midway in his course, felled by a blow from Wild Bill. " What's it yer business, anyhow ?" he demanded, as he rose and drew his sleeve across his face to wipe away the blood ; " What did yer hev to put in yer oar for, I'd like ter know ?" " It is my business to protect that boy, or anybody else, from abuse or kicks," answered Wild Bill, his gray eyes, glittering like steel, fixed steadily upon the angry teamster; " and if you ever lay a hand on little Billy again, I'll give you such a pound- ing as you won't get over for a month of Sundays." As in after years, the statement that " whoever wants any more of a fight must settle it with me," was enough, and Billy was not again molested either by that teamster, or by any who might, otherwise, have been so disposed. The same point at which, on the previous trip, they had been attacked by the Indians, again proved to be the scene of misfor- tune, for the Mormons, learning that the supplies in this train were destined for Gen. Johnston's army, surprised and attacked the teamsters, possessed themselves of such goods as they could carry off, and burned the wagons and the bulk of their contents. Eeturning to Fort Bridger, they spent the long and tedious win- ter, suffering greatly from lack of food. Eeduced to one-quarter rations, they were at last obliged to kill the cattle for beef. Buffalo Bill, in his Autobiography, asserts that the animals were so poor that they had to prop them up to shoot them down. But better times came with the opening of spring, and two trains, under the command of the brigade-master, set out by way of Port Leavenworth for Utah. The two trains were about fifteen miles apart when Simpson, the brigade-master, directed his assistant wagon-master. Woods, fctm?ALO BILL. and young Cody, to ride ahead with him to the forward train. They had gone about seven miles, and were on a high, flat sur- face of considerable extent, when, half a mile away, they saw a body of Indians slowly emerging from a ravine ahead of them. Down came the savages in a furious charge upon the little party. But a warm reception awaited them. Jumping from his own mule, Simpson gave the order to dismount and shoot the animals. Jerking the carcasses around the men to form a triangular breast- work, he had hardly completed his arrangements for defense when the Indians were so near that they were almost within range. " Get ready for them with your guns, and when they come within fifty yards, aim low, blaze away, and bring down your man." The order was faithfully obeyed, and three Indians fell at the first fire. Only one or two of the savages, luckily, carried rifles, most of them being armed only with bow and arrow. Around and around the little fortification they rode, directing a flight of arrows every now and then against the men crouching there, and firing as fast as it was possible to reload. Withdrawing at last to a considerable distance, they appeared to be holding a council. This continued for about two hours, while the white men, in fev- erish haste, dug up with their knives the earth inside the barri- cade, throwing it around and over the mules to form a better de- fense. An effort on the part of the Indians to burn them out by setting fire to the prairie failed, on account of the shortness of the grass ; and, finally giving up the idea of succeeding by an at- tack, the redskins began a siege. Evidently the Indians knew of the first train, but not of the second, in which lay the only hope of the besieged party. The siege lasted all night, and far into the next morning. The sun indicated about 10 A. M., when they heard in the distance the report of the bull-whips, sharp and clear as that of a rifle. In a few moments they saw the foremost wagon coming slowly over the distant ridge, and soon the whole outfit came in sight. Once more, for the last time, the Indians charged upon our little group, and, repulsed as gallantly as before, dashed away over the prai- ries. No other incident marked their progress over the plains. Let us pass lightly over the next few years, spent partly in the same work, partly in mining, partly as a pony express rider. The latter part of 1859 found him trapping for beaver on the tri- butaries of the Republican, where a serious accident befell him. 520 Spying a herd of elk, Billy and his companion started in pursuit of them, but while turning a sharp bend in the creek the former slipped and broke his leg. One of their yoke of oxen had fallen a short time before, and t it being impossible for them to cure the poor thing's hurts, they had shot it. Billy now begged his friend to put him out of his misery in the same way. But Harrington set the broken bone as best he could, and making the wounded boy as comfortable as possible, set off to the nearest settlement, one hun- dred and twenty-five miles away, to get a yoke of cattle with which to remove Billy. At least twenty days would be needed for the trip, and during this whole time the helpless boy must be left alone. Twelve days passed, each one longer than the pre- ceding one had been, and the boy wearily counted the time that must go by before anyone could come. In the midst of the cal- culations which had been repeated so often, he fell asleep. A touch on his shoulder awakened him, and he opened his eyes to see an Indian warrior standing beside him, his face hideously daubed with war-paint. In a mixture of Sioux and broken Eng- lish, this grisly visitor asked him what he was doing there, and how many companions he had. Hardly knowing if he were awake or dreaming, Billy heard the voices as of a large party outside, and saw the little dug-out filled with Indians, but had no time to reply before the old chief, Kain-in-the-Face, entered. To him Billy appealed, and not in vain. His young men were on the war-path, but this was a "pappoose," and they consented to spare him. Billy had been a frequent visitor to the lodge of Rain-in-the-Face, and the old chief pitied his condition; but took all the arms in the dug-out to accoutre one of his warriors, who had no gun. Helping themselves liberally to the provisions which they found, the Indians spent the remainder of the day and all night there. The sugar and coffee were all consumed, these being luxuries for which the Indians eagerly seek. Taking with th^m such cooking utensils as they fancied, they departed next morning, leaving Billy too glad to escape with his life to grumble at their helping themselves to his food. The next day it began to snow, and for three days the storm continued. Thick and fast fell the flakes, blocking the doorway and covering the dug-out until it looked like a huge grave. The wood was under the snow, and sooner than endure the pain which attended the getting it, he lay without fire for some time, eating raw frozen meat and snow. Harrington, he felt sure, had been feUFFALO felLt. 621 lost in the show, and ho had nearly given up all hopes of leaving the dug-out alive. The hoarse "whoa, haw!" that he heard on the twentieth day was the sweetest music that had ever pleased his ears. The two friends greeted each other with all the enthu- siasm of two school-girls, each having supposed the other had per- ished. They reached the settlements in safety, but it was many months before Billy could walk without crutches. Harrington had braved many difficulties and hardships to succor his friend, and Mrs. Cody could not do enough for- him when he fell sick at her house in the spring, she nursing him most tenderly until his death. While he lay in the dug-out, Billy had vowed that if he escap- ed with his life he would leave the plains forever, but as the summer came on, and he had completely recovered from the ef- fects of his accident, he began to long for the old life. Offering himself as a pony express rider, he was greeted with : " My boy, you are too young for that work. It takes all of a man's strength." " I rode two months last year on Bill Trotter's division, and filled the bill then, and I think I am better able to ride now." " What ! are you the boy that was riding there, and was called the youngest rider on the road ? " " I am the same boy." " I've heard of you before. You are a year older now, and I reckon you can stand it. I'll give you a trial, anyway, and if you weaken you can come back to Horseshoe station and tend stock." He was assigned to duty on the road between Eed Buttes, on the North Platte, to the Three Crossings of the Sweetwater, a distance of seventy-six miles. Biding into the latter one day not long after his appointment, he found that the rider who was ex- pected to carry on the letters that he brought had been killed in a drunken row the night before, and there was no one to lake his place. Without a moment's hesitation, Cody changed horses, and undertook the extra ride of eighty-five miles. Arriving at the end of the route in good time, he turned and rode back to the starting-point, accomplishing a distance of more than three hundred miles on the round trip. The Indians were becoming very troublesome along the stage route, continually lying in wait for the express riders and the coaches ; and all, especially the lone riders, had to take many 524 desperate chances. The drivers and passengers of all stages de* parting were armed to the teeth, and it was quite an interest- ing sight to see the huge affairs load up and start 6ff from a sta- tion. It was always realized what perils might beset them on the way. About the middle of September the savages gath- ered sufficient courage to openly attack a stage. As the heavy vehicle lumbered on, five hundred Sioux appeared from the long grass, where they had lain concealed, and, yelling like so many devils let loose, rushed upon them. Passengers and employes were well armed, but the odds were too great; the driver and two passengers were killed, one man badly wounded, and the stage plundered. Much stock was driven off from the dif- ferent stations, and it was finally decided to stop the pony express for at least six weeks, and run the stages only occasionally for the same length of time. It was while nearly all the employes of the road were thus ly- ing idle that it was decided to send out a party of volunteers against the Indians. Of this company Billy was one, but as the incidents and results have already been related in the sketch of the captain, Wild Bill, it is unnecessary to repeat the story here. Returning to headquarters, Cody, who had made himself quite a favorite, was put on as an extra rider as soon as the pony ex- press was again running ; having little to do except on extraor- dinary occasions. Having much leisure, he devoted considerable time to hunting, a sport to which he had been attached ever since, at the age of five or six years, he had trapped quails in Iowa. Starting out for a bear-hunt one day, he had gone some distance, and killed only some sage-hens, which he was about to cook for his supper, when he heard the whinny of a horse near by. Know- ing of no white men in the neighborhood, and fearing that the animal might belong to a roving band of Indians, he determined to make a reconnoissance. Re-saddling his horse and tying him securely, so as to prevent his straying with his fellows, he start- ed up the stream, gun in hand. On the opposite side of the creek, high up on the mountain, he soon saw a light shining through the gathering darkness. Approaching cautiously, he found that it came from a dug-out on the mountain-side, from which he heard voices. At last he could distinguish the language in which they spoke it was English. Knowing that the occupants of the hut were white men, and supposing them to be a party of trappers, he walked boldly up to the door and knocked for admission ; in 625 to the inquiry from within, "Who's there?" he replied: " A friend and a white man." "Come in," and a big, ugly-looking fellow opened the door. It was too late to back out, though Billy would have readily done so when he discovered into whose hands he had fallen. They were eight as rough and villainous looking men as he had ever seen in the whole course of his adventurous life. Two of them he recognized as teamsters discharged some time before, and now sought because they had robbed and murdered a ranchman. Without showing any signs of recognition, however, he conceal- ed his fear and distrust. "Where are you going, young man, and who's with you?" "I am entirely alone. I left Horseshoe Station this morning for a bear-hunt, and not finding any bears, I had determined to camp out for the night and wait till morning; and just as I was going into camp, a hundred yards down the creek, I heard one of your horses whinnying, and then I came up to your camp." " Where's your horse?" "I left him down the creek." "We'd better some of us go down after it." " Captain, I'll leave my gun here and go down to get him, and then come back and stay all night here," said Billy, thinking it would be better to escape without his gun than not at all. "No you don't, my fine young fellow," thought the despera- does, " we don't know but what you're a spy on us." "Jim and I will go down with you after your horse," one of them said, "and you can leave your gun here all the same, for you won't need it." "All right," answered Billy, who could raise no objection. " Come along, then." As they reached the little camp one of them unhitched the horse and said, "I'll lead him. Come on." " Yery well ; I've got a couple of sage-hens here. Wait a min- ute till I get them." On they went, the man who led the horse in the van, Billy in the middle, the other bringing up the rear. Although he had left his gun at the dug-out, he fortunately had both of his revolvers, and the first plan of escape having failed, he quickly hit upon another. "I've dropped one of the sage-hens," he said presently, with vexation, to the man following him; "do you see it anywhere?" 526 fetlFFALO The unsuspecting man stooped to look upon the ground, while Billy, quickly drawing one of his revolvers, struck him a blow on the head that knocked him senseless. Hearing the blow, the man who was leading the horse turned, his hand on his revolver, ready in true frontier fashion for the emergency, whatever it might be. Peering through the darkness, he had not discovered what was wrong, when Billy fired, shooting him dead in his tracks. No time was to be lost, and jumping on his horse our hero rode down the creek at full speed. The shot was heard at the dug-out, and not very sure of their ESCAPING FROM THE HORSE THIEVES. guest's intentions, the outlaws came rushing down to the stream. They found the body of their comrade that had been killed, and learned from the other, who had by this time recovered con- sciousness, what had happened. On they came, then, in hot pur- suit, and although unmounted, gained rapidly upon Cody, as the ground was so rough that his horse could make but little headway. At last they came so close that he saw he must re- sort to strategy, and throwing himself from his horse, he gave the animal a hard slap with the butt of one of his revolvers, and scrambled up the mountain side. The horse started down the BUFFALO BILL. 527 valley, and the pursuers, led on by the sound of his hoofs clatter- ing on the hard ground, passed at full speed by the pine-tree be- hind which Cody was hidden. Soon he could hear them firing, supposing that he was still on the horse, and cheered by this evi- dence that he had given them the slip, he toiled on toward Horse- shoe Station, twenty-five miles away. A party of twenty well- armed men started the next morning to " clean out the ranch " of horse-thieves, for such were his hosts of the evening before, but the birds had flown. A thorough search of the whole neighbor- hood gave no other result ; but for some time afterwards they were not troubled by horse-thieves. When the war broke out in 1861, young Cody became a mem- ber of Chandler's company, a body of men enlisted for the pur- pose of revenging upon the Missourians the injuries inflicted during the Kansas troubles. Missouri had not seceded, nor did all of her people sympathize with the South, but it was a slave state, and, they thought, fair game. The services to the Union consisted in collecting horses from the well-stocked farms in Jackson, Lafayette, and the neighboring counties; the animals not being turned over, however, to the authorities. The Missouri- ans naturally resented this behavior there is nothing they hate as they do a horse-thief, and in several running fights chased the jayhawkers back to Kansas. The United States officials set detectives on the track of Chandler and his men, and several were arrested ; but not before Mrs. Cody had set the matter in its true light before her son, and induced him to abandon an en- terprise that was neither right nor honorable. But Billy was destined for more legitimate work as a soldier. Passing over the remainder of 1861 and the beginning of the next year, during which time he was employed in buying horses for the government, we find him, in the spring of 1862, accompany- ing, as scout and guide, the volunteer regiment which Col. Clark led against the Indians. It will be remembered that this was the year that the Sioux, enraged by the violation of the treaty made seven years before, committed so many robberies and massacred so many settlers. The Ninth Kansas performed scouting service along the Arkansas, among the Kiowas and Comanches, who threatened coalition with the more northern tribe; but though there were several skirmishes with the savages, there were none of especial interest or importance. Leaving this service late in the fall, he joined the Eed-Legged Scouts, operating in the valley 528 BtJFFALO BILL. of the Arkansas and in southwestern Missouri. Much of their time was employed in hunting bushwhackers, among whom the notorious Younger brothers were prominent, and many were the lively skirmishes between them. Employed also in carrying de- spatches, the short periods of time spent at the various military posts were passed in all the festivity that each place allowed. But darker days were coming. His mother died in Novem- ber, 1863, and for a long time Billy mourned her with all the ardor of his nature. Going to Leavenworth, he tried to drown care in drink, and for two months gave fair promise of becom- ing as disreputable as any of his new associates. Awaking one morning, early in the new year, he found himself a soldier in the Seventh Kansas. When or how he had enlisted he could not tell, but knew that he must have been far gone on a spree, and con- cluded to make the best of it.' In the spring, the regiment was ordered to Tennessee, where Cody soon became a non-commis- sioned officer, and was put on detached service as a scout. The Seventh was ordered back to Missouri and performed good work in repelling Price's last raid. Wild Bill and Billy Cody were frequently together during this campaign, after the escape of the former from the Confederate linee. Service in St. Louis in the winter of 1864-5 resulted in an ac- quaintance with a young lady of this city whom he married in the spring of the following year. The interval between the close of the war and his marriage was spent in stage-driving, but hav- ing promised his wife that he would leave the plains, he rented a hotel in Salt Creek Yalley, and for a few months settled down to the business. Many qualities combined to make him a good and popular landlord, but six months of it proved enough for him. Longing for the old wild life again, and believing that he could make more money on the frontier than where he was, he started west. Meeting at Junction City with his old friend Wild Bill, who was scouting for the government, and learning from him that more scouts were needed, he had no difficulty in obtain- ing employment. It was while he was scouting around Fort Hays that he met with Gen. Custer, who had just come out with Gen. Hancock's Indian expedition. Custer's favor was soon gained, and when Cody had acted- as guide for him in one in- stance, he said : " If you were not engaged as post scout at Fort Hays, I would like to have you with me this summer. But if you ever happen BUFFALO BILL. 529 to be out of employment, come to me and I'll find you something, to do." It was shortly after this that an expedition was sent in pursuit of some Indians who had made a raid on the K. P. E. E. Five or six men had been killed, here and there a workman who was at some distance from his fellows, and about a hundred horses and mules had been run off. A company of the Tenth Cavalry a negro regiment was sent against them, Cody being scout and guide. A mountain howitzer was sent with the force, and the darkeys, confiding in this and in their own courage, boasted loudly : " Soon 's we kin see dem Injuns, we'll blow dem clar offer de farm." On the second day out, they suddenly discovered a large body of Indians about a mile away, and charged down upon them. Hastily placing his howitzer on a small knoll, the commander detailed twenty men to guard it, and with his remaining force, crossed the little stream to meet the Indians. Hardly had they reached the other bank, when they heard a terrific yelling in their rear, and looking back to the slight eminence where the gun had been left, saw the guard flying towards them on the wings of fear, pursued. by a hundred red-skins. The captured cannon was in the midst of another large party, who danced around it as if they wished to invoke the great divinity of gun- powder. Turning his command back, the leader soon regained possession of the gun, which the savages did not know how to use, and the troops, dismounting, and taking position there, finally, after two hours' hard fighting, gave up the idea of "blowing de Injuns offer de farm." " Heah dey come," the darkeys would yell, as the redskins charged down upon them. " Dere muss be ten tousand of dem." " De whole country's alive wid dem." " Massa Bill, does you t'ink" we's eber gwine to git out ob heah?" The commander was wounded, the gun was useless. " Do you think there's any show for us to get back to the fort, Cody?" asked the officer, when he saw that the Indians seemed to be constantly receiving reinforcements. " Yes, I think there's a very good show for it," was the cheer- ful answer; and through the gathering darkness they made their 530 BUFFALO BILL. BUFFALO BILL. 531 escape and arrived in safety at Fort Hays, although several men had been killed. A business venture soon promised to make our hero a million- aire. In company with a railroad contractor he formed a project for building a town on the line of the new road. The site was duly surveyed and staked off into lots, one of which was present- ed to any one who would build on it, the corner lots and other desirable situations being reserved for sale-at fifty dollars each. ." Eome was not built in a day," but this modern place of the an- cient name grew in a month's time to a town of two hundred frame and log houses. One day a strange gentleman dropped into the store that Cody and his partner had established, and af- ter some conversation on general subjects, said to them: "Gentlemen, you've got a very flourishing little town here. Wouldn't you like to have a partner in your enterprise ? " " No, thank you. "We've got too good a thing here to whack up with anybody." " Well, I'm the agent of the Kansas Pacific Railroad, and my business is to locate towns for the company along the line." " I reckon we've got the only good town site in the neighbor- hood, and as a town is already started, we have saved the com- pany considerable expense." " You know as well as I do that the company expects to make money by selling lands and town lots ; and as you are not dispos- ed to give us a show, or share with us, I guess I'll have to start another town near you. Competition is the life of trade, you know." " Start your town, if you want to. We've got the bulge on you, and can hold it," was the confident answer. The very next day Hays City was begun, one mile east of Rome. Here the railroad company would locate their round houses and machine shops, Hays City was to be the business center, and to Hays City went all Rome literally, for the inhab- itants tooktheir houses. Three days after the interview related, our speculators stood in front of their own store and watched the removal of the last remaining building in Rome to the rival town. The agent proved to be " a good fellow," however, and the late proprietors of Rome spent many .days in buffalo-hunting on the surrounding prairie. Knowing their down-heartedness over the failure of their speculation, he presented each of them with two first-class business lots in Hays City. 34 532 BUFFALO BILL. Having finally concluded that it was useless to think of reviv- ing Borne, the two devoted all their time to fulfilling their rail- road contract. Being pushed for horses, Cody put his favorite saddle-horse, Brigham, to work; but he had about given up the idea of using him for this purpose when one of the men called out that there were some buffaloes coming over the hill. "I'll go after the herd," our hero answered; "hitch your horses to a wagon and come after me, and we'll bring in some fresh meat for supper." His saddle had been left at the camp, a mile away; so taking the harness from Brigham, and mounting him bareback, he start- ed after the game. While he was on the way, he saw five officers ride from the fort, evidently bent on the same errand. As they came nearer, he perceived that they were strangers, having but lately arrived in that part of the country. "Hello, my friend," called out one, whose uniform showed he ranked as captain, " I see you are after the same game that we are." "Yes, sir; I saw those buffaloes coming over the hill, and as we were about out of fresh meat I thought I would go and get some." Brigham had on a blind bridle, and looked like a common work-horse. Accomplished buffalo-hunter as he was, he was not, at the best, as stylish or handsome an animal as one would ex- pect to see. " Do you expect to catch those buffaloes on such a horse as that?" asked the captain. " I hope so, by pushing on the reins hard enough," replied Cody, meekly. "You'll never catch them in the world, my man," the captain assured him; " it requires a fast horse to overtake the animals on these prairies." " Does it? " asked Cody, as if very much surprised at the in- formation. "Yes; but come along with us. We are going to kill them more for pleasure than for anything else, and don't want any- thing but the tongues and a piece of tenderloin ; so you can have all that is left." "I am much obliged to you, captain, and will follow you." As the buffaloes came within about a mile of them, the officers BUFFALO BILL. 533 dashed ahead. Cody noticed that the herd was making towards the creek for water, and knowing that it would be difficult to turn them, from their direct course, he started towards the creek to head them off. On came the buffaloes, rushing past him less than a hundred yards away, with the officers at thrice that dis- tance behind them. Pulling the blind-bridle off Brigham, who started at the top of his speed the moment he knew his master was ready, Cody rode in ahead of the others, and in a few mo- ments was alongside the rear buffalo. Raising his rifle, he fired and killed the animal at the first shot, and Brigham, knowing BUFFALO BILL (w. F. CODY). perfectly well what he was expected to do, carried him to the side of a second. It was but a few moments' work to despatch the whole herd of eleven, twelve shots being fired, and jumping from his horse, he turned to the party of officers as they rode up, and said : "Now gentlemen, allow me to present to you all the tongues and tenderloins you may wish from these buffaloes." "Well, I never saw the like before/' gasped the astonished captain; "who under the sun are you, anyhow?" "My name is Cody." Captain Graham, the senior officer of the party, afterward en- 534 BUFFALO BILL. gaged Cody as scout and guide, and often hunted in company with him. That very night the Indians made a raid on the horses belong- ing to the contractors, and ran off five or six of their best work- teams. At daylight the next morning Cody mounted Brigham and rode over to Fort Hays to procure assistance for the pursuit, and Captain Graham was ordered out with his company. This was a part of the Tenth Cavalry, and though they had never been in an actual fight with the Indians, the soldiers were quite as certain of their ability to catch the band they were after as had been their brethren who were so badly defeated on a pre- vious expedition. " We's agwine to sweep de red debils offer de face ob de earf, sah," they boasted, as they marched onward, impatient for a fight which was to end in victory. Capt. Graham was a brave man, anxious to make a record for himself, and Cody could not follow the trail quickly enough to satisfy his anxiety to overtake the redskins. Controlling his impatience at the necessary delay as well as he could, he rode onward, and was soon rewarded by finding the trail so much fresher that it could be pursued with less difficulty. The Indians had evidently thought that they would not be pursued beyond a certain point, and had made no effort, after passing that, to conceal their route. The camp was discov- ered from the brow of a hill a mile or so away from it, and the greatest caution now became necessary. The plan was that they should advance silently through the timber in the night, approach the Indian camp as closely as they could without being discov- ered, and then make a sudden dash upon the enemy. Everything went well until they neared the point where they must leave the woods; when one of the "colored gentlemen" became so excited that he fired off his gun. " Charge !" came the order before the report had fairly died away on the still night air. Through the crackling timber they rushed as fast as their horses could carry them, but the nature of the ground was but ill adapted to a cavalry charge, and the Indians were far away on the prairies when the soldiers reached the camp. The trail was followed a short distance the next day, but there was no chance of catching the Indians, and they returned to Fort Hays. The disobedience of the darkey who had fired the gun was punished by compelling him to walk back to the fort. BUFFALO BILL. 535 The terminus of the Kansas Pacific was now in the heart of the buffalo country, but the Indians were so troublesome that it was difficult to obtain meat for the twelve hundred workmen em- ployed. It was necessary to employ a special hunter, whose knowledge of the country and the Indians would render him as safe in this work as it was possible for a solitary white man to be. For this dangerous task Cody was employed, and during the time that he engaged in it, a period of something less than a year and a half, he killed more than four thousand buffaloes. His success as a hunter of the huge animals had already made him famous, but he had never before devoted himself so steadily to it; so that it was reserved for the army of railroad hands to give him that title which has clung to him ever since, and by which he is more widely known than by his own name Buffalo Bill. During this time he was not unmolested by the Indians. One day in the spring of 1868, he had galloped about twenty miles, and had reached the top of a small hill overlooking the valley of the Smoky Hill River, when he suddenly saw a band of about thirty Indians less than half a mile away. Knowing by the way they jumped on their horses that they had seen him as soon as he came in sight, he wheeled around and started back to the railroad. Brigham knew, as well as his master, that it was a race for life, and made most excellent time. A few jumps took them across a ravine, but looking back when a slight ridge be- yond had been gained, Bill saw that his pursuers seemed to be gaining on him. Three miles farther, and there were eight or nine Indians not more than two hundred yards away. Brigham's long gallop had evidently told upon his speed, but he now exert- ed himself more than ever. But the Indians were well-mounted, and one of them came dangerously near, occasionally sending a rifle-ball whistling along. A shot that would disable Brigham would be fatal to his rider, and realizing what danger to himself lay in the Indian's slightest success, Bill suddenly stopped, turn- ed in his saddle and fired. Down went both the Indian and his horse, and not waiting to see if the warrior was dead, he rode on at the utmost of poor tired Brigham's speed. The chase was continued until they came within three miles of the railroad track, where tw companies of soldiers had been stationed to pro- tect the workmen. One of the outposts saw the Indians pursu- ing Bill across the prairie, and giving the alarm, cavalrymen soon came galloping to the rescue. 536 BUFFALO BILL. The Indians had no mind to attend such a reception, and soon turned, and the running was now in the other direction. Brig- ham was soon surrounded by admiring infantrymen and track- men, discussing his exploits; and the way he was rubbed down and walked around would remind one of the winner of the Derby. Some of the Tenth Cavalry now came up, and forty of them, with Bill on a fresh horse offered him by Capt. Nolan, put out after the retreating redskins. The Indians' horses were badly blown by the long gallop after Brigham's stride, and the troop- ers' fresh animals steadily gained on them. Soon they were "KEEP OFF!" A CENTER SHOT. overtaken and one by one eight Indians fell before the rifles of the pursuers. This time the colored cavalry certainly did good service, and Buffalo Bill had reason to be grateful. "When he reached the place where his ball had struck the horse of the foremost pursuing Indian, he found that the bullet had hit the animal exactly in the center of the forehead, causing his in- stant death. He was a beautiful animal too good for a maraud- ing redskin to ride on after white scalps. If there was anything Buffalo Bill had a weakness for, it was in the direction of fine horseflesh. Like all plainsmen, he loved BUFFALO BILL. 537 the animal to whose fleetness he so often had to trust his life. When he returned to the camp, he spent some time in petting the noble Brigham, who had borne him so finely that day, and the bond of affection between them was still further strengthened. Buffalo Bill declared that Brigham was the best horse he ever saw or owned for buffalo chasing, and he certainly was good enough to get away from or get after Indians, as many an occa- sion had shown. On another occasion Bill had gone hunting, and having killed fifteen buffaloes, he and Scotty, the butcher who accompanied him to cut up the meat and load it into a light wagon, had come within about eight miles of their destination, when they suddenly saw a party of about thirty Indians riding out of the head of a ravine. Immediate action was necessary. The hunter could, of course, have escaped by fast riding, but he could not leave his companion, for whom there would be no chance of safety. Jump- ing to the ground, they unhitched the pair of mules used in the wagon, and tied them and the horse to the vehicle. Piling the buffalo hams around the wheels in such a way as to form a breast- work, and securing their extra box of ammunition and three or four more revolvers which they always carried, they crept under the wagon. On came the Indians, urging their swift and hardy ponies to their greatest speed. When they were within a hun- dred yards, the two white men opened a sudden and galling fire upon them. Changing their course, which had been directly down upon the wagon, the Indians rode around and around their proposed victims, firing as they rode. Their shots killed the three animals, but the two men were unhurt. Three of their number hav- ing been killed, and others wounded, they withdrew for a time. Knowing that he would be attacked by the Indians some time, Buffalo Bill had made arrangements to obtain assistance when- ever it should be needed. A smoke in the direction of the hunt- ing-ground was the signal for the officers at the end of the track to send reinforcements. Then, when the Indians gave them a little leisure, he set fire to the grass on the windward side of the wagon. The fire spread rapidly, and as the dense column of smoke arose, they knew that help would soon come. The In- dians, not understanding this movement, again opened the attack upon them, but retreated as the cavalry advanced across the prairie. Buffalo Bill and Scotty pointed out to the soldiers the five "good" Indians that lay on the field of battle. 538 BUFFALO BILL. Shortly after this occurred a somewhat unique match, being nothing less than buffalo-killing for the championship and five hundred dollars a side. The contestants were Buffalo Bill and Billy Comstock, who had an excellent reputation as hunter, scout and guide. It will be remembered that he scouted for Gen. Cus- ter, and he had won that officer's hearty esteem. He was treach- erously killed by the Indians not long after the match. The hunt was to begin at eight in the morning, and last eight hours. Great interest was felt in it, not only on the plains, but as far east as the Mississippi, one excursion party of St. Louis- ans numbering about a hundred. A referee was to follow each man, and keep count of the buffaloes he killed. The first run was decidedly in Cody's favor, owing to the method he adopted no less than to the superior accomplishments of Brigham. Corn- stock chased his buffaloes, firing at them as they bounded along; so that his game lay scattered over a line nine miles long. Buffalo Bill rode towards the head of the herd, killing the leaders, when the bewildered followers would circle around the hunter. Not only did he kill more buffaloes with less work for his horse, but his game lay within a comparatively small circle. The result of the first run thirty-eight to twenty-three was duly announced, and the hunters and their friends refreshed with champagne. They had not rested long, when they saw another herd com- ing towards them, and charged into it. It consisted chiefly of cows and calves, which are very much quicker in their move- ments than the bulls, and only a small drove, so that the result of this part of the slaughter was not large ; changing the score from fifty-six to thirty-seven. When a third drove was found, Buffalo Bill concluded that as he had now some odds to give his opponent, he would ride without saddle or bridle. The killing of thirteen buffaloes occupied the remainder of the eight hours, and Cody was declared victor, the score being sixty-nine to forty- six. In May, 1868, the railroad was finished as far as Sheridan, and as it was not proposed to extend it any farther just then, Buffalo Bill's services as a hunter were "no longer required. As scouts were in great demand on account of the Indian war which was then raging, he concluded to engage again in that work. Ko difficulty, of course, was experienced in securing an appointment as scout and guide, and he was ordered to report to Fort Larned for duty. BUFFALO BILL. 589 Soon after his appointment, he being special scout to Gen. Ha- zen, that officer left Fort Lamed with an escort of twenty sol- diers, with, of course, Buffalo Bill, for Fort Harker. The party ar- rived at Fort Zarah at noon of the same day, where Gen. Hazen left his guard, with instructions for them to return the next day; and he proceeded alone to his destination. The scout did not wish to wait, and telling the sergeant in command of the squad what he intended to do, saddled up his mule and started back alone. He had gone about half the distance when he was sudden- ly "jumped" by about forty Indians, who came dashing up to him, extending their hands with the greeting: "How, how!" Eecognizing them as some of the very redskins who had lately been hanging around Fort Lamed, he extended his hand ; think- ing it best to respond thus to their overtures, although they had on their war-paint and were evidently on the war-path. Stretch- ing out his hand to one of them, it was grasped tightly, and he was pulled violently forward ; at the same moment another seiz- ed the bridle of his mule, and in less time than it takes to tell it he was completely surrounded, his revolvers jerked from the holsters, and he was rendered nearly senseless by a blow on the head from a tomahawk. The warrior who had hold of the bridle of his mule dashed off towards the Arkansas River, and after them came the others, yelling with delight. Looking towards the river, Buffalo Bill saw on the opposite side an immense village moving down the bank, and was more than ever convinced that the Indians were on the war-path. It was a military council, then, into which his captors ushered him a few moments later, and in which he recognized wily old Sa- tanta and several others whom he knew. After a talk among themselves, which lasted for some time, and which he could not understand, Satanta asked him where he had been. A happy thought struck him, and he answered : " I've been after a herd of whoa-haws." " The effect was electrical, for the Indians had been out of meat for several weeks, and the large herd of cattle which had been promised to them had not yet arrived. Eagerly Satanta questioned him as to where the cattle were. " A few miles back," was the reply; " Gen. Hazen sent me to tell you that the whoa-haws were coming, and were intended for your people." " Big chief says whoa-haws for Satanta and his warriors ?" 640 BUFFALO Bill. " Yes, I've been sent to bring them to you." But the KlowaS have treated me badly and the big chief will be very angry. Why have your young men abused me so ?" "My young men want to have heap fun, and want to see if Long-Hair very brave." Buffalo Bill knew that this contained no more truth than his own statements, but did not let the Indians see that he thought so. " It's a rough way to treat friends." HOW, HOW!- Turning to his young men, Satanta bade them restore the arms which they had seized, and scolded them for what they had done. Having learned from Buifalo Bill that there were soldiers with the herd, he thought it was best to get the cattle without fight- ing for them. After a short council of the chiefs, he again went to the prisoner and asked : " You go 'cross the river and bring whoa-haws down to the bank, so we get 'em ?" " Of course, that is my orders from G-en. Hazen." " Long-Hair mustn't be angry at my young men ; they just want some fun. You want warriors go with you ?" BtJfFALO BILL. 54} " No, it will be better for mo to go alone ; then the soldiers can go straight on to Fort Larned, and I'll drive the herd down to the river-bottom. Wheeling his mule around, he departed for the cattle, which, it is needless to say, existed only in his imagination. But the Indians were less unsuspicious than he had thought them, for when he had reached the farther side of the river, he looked back and saw ten or fifteen of them following him. "When he turned towards Fort Larned, they pursued him at full speed. He was still four miles from the post, when he heard the evening gun. Little did the soldiers of the garrison think that there was a man flying for his life from the Indians,- and trying to reach the post. The pursuers were gaining on him, two or three being only a quarter of a mile behind him when he crossed Pawnee Fork, two miles from the fort. Just as he gained the opposite bank of the stream, he saw some soldiers not far off, in a government wagon. Yelling at the top of his voice, he rode up to them, and told them that the Indians were after him. " Let's drive the wagon into the trees," suggested Denver Jim, "and we'll lay for them." Hurriedly driving in among the trees and low bushes, they se- creted themselves and waited for the Indians. Before many min- utes they came. Two of them were allowed to pass, but two of the next group fell at the first fire from the bushes. The others discovered that they were riding upon deadly rifles, and wheel- ing their ponies, retreated in hot haste, soon joined by the first two. Scalping the two Indians that they had killed, securing their arms and catching their horses, Buffalo Bill and his com- panions made their way to the post. Here he learned that ear- lier in the day Satanta and his men had' surprised and killed a party of woodchoppers and herders, seven or eight men in all. The soldiers who had afforded him such timely assistance had been sent out for the bodies of these men. The garrison, hearing the guns in this last engagement, thought that the chief was about to attack the fort with all his forces; all was excitement there, and every preparation being made to withstand the attack. Cap- tain Parker, who was in command, was endeavoring to get some one to take important despatches to Gen. Sheridan at Fort Hays.^ None of the scouts were willing to undertake the trip, as the night was so dark and stormy that each distrusted his own ability to find the way ; besides this, there was the danger of Indians. 542 BUFFALO BILL. Buffalo Bill knew the country better than any of the others, but he was tired with his long day's ride. When he saw that no one else would go, he offered himself, provided he should be furnished with a good horse. He was offered a choice of all the horses in the garrison, and set out at ten o'clock for his sixty- five miles' ride. The journey was accomplished without injury to the scout. Despatches were to be taken to Fort Dodge, and as no one else would volunteer, Cody started that afternoon. Returning from Dodge to Larned, thence to Hays, made a trip of three hundred and fifty-five miles in fifty-eight riding hours since he started with Gen. Hazen ; a journey mostly in the night, over a wild country, where there were no roads to follow and where he must be continually on the outlook for Indians. So well did G-en. Sheridan appreciate his willingness to undertake missions which meant long and dangerous rides, that he appoint- ed him chief of scouts and guide for the Indian expedition upon which the Fifth Cavalry was soon to be sent. As this regiment lay in camp on the South Fork of the Solo- mon, Col. Royal, who was in command, requested Cody to go out and kill some buffaloes for the boys. "All right, Colonel, send along wagons to bring in the meat." "I am not in the habit of sending out my wagons until I know there is something to be brought in/' replied the colonel, with dignity ; " kill your buffaloes first and then I'll send out the wa- gons." Cody said nothing, went out, killed a half-dozen buffaloes, and returning, asked the colonel to send out his wagons for the meat. The next afternoon Col. Royal again requested him to go out and get some fresh buffalo meat. Nothing was said on either side about wagons, and the officer expected to have to send them out when the hunter returned. Riding out some distance, Buffalo Bill, coming up with a small herd, managed to get seven of them headed straight for the camp. Instead of shooting them he ran them at full speed right into the camp, and then killed them all in rapid succession. Col. Royal came up to him, and angrily de- manded an explanation. " I can't allow any such business as this, Cody. What do you mean by it ?" " I didn't care about asking for wagons this time, colonel, so I thought I would make the buffaloes furnish their own transpor- tation." BUFFALO BILL. 548 The colonel had no more to say; the answer was unanswerable. Encamping on Saline Hiver, Major Brown had his private am- bulance brought out, and invited Cody to accompany him to the railroad station to meet Lieut. Bache, who was expected to fill a vacancy in his battalion. Arriving at the station just as the train got in, they had no difficulty in finding the lieutenant, and giving him the back seat in the ambulance, headed for camp. Major Brown was inclined to be mischievous, and had said, as they set out: MAKING BUFFALOES FURNISH THEIR OWN TRANSPORTATION. "Now, Cody, when we come back, we'll give Bache a lively ride and shake him up a little." The road was rough, and the night was dark. Taking the reins from his driver, Major Brown at once began whipping the mules. To further encourage them, he pulled out his revolver and fired several shots. Onward they jolted. "Is this the way you break in all your lieutenants, major? 3 inquired the new comer, good-humoredly. "Oh, no; I don't do this as a regular thing; but it's the way we frequently ride in this country." Battling down a steep hill at full speed, just as they reachec the bottom, the front wheels struck a ditch over which the mules 544 BUFFALO BILL. had jumped. The sudden stoppage nearly pitched Major Brown and Cody out on the wheels. Lieutenant Bache came flying headlong to the front of the vehicle. " Take a back seat, lieutenant." "Major, I have just left that seat." The wagon was soon lifted out of the ditch and they drove in- to camp in fine style ; but the account which Lieutenant Bache gave of his ride caused it to be remembered for a long time by the officers of the Fifth. Our scout won the favor of Gen. Carr, who knew the habitual exaggerations of the men belonging to this branch of the service, and did not, until he had proved him, think much of one who said nothing about himself. Finding, July 11, 1869, that they were nearing the Indians with whom they had had several unimport- ant skirmishes, and whom they had been trailing for some time, he and his Pawnee companions advanced cautiously, and at last discovered the village encamped in the sandhills south of the South Platte, at Summit Springs. Leaving the Pawnees to keep watch, Cody returned to the regiment about ten miles in the rear, and reported to Gen. Carr. At the scout's suggestion the troops were ordered to make a circuit to the north so that if the Indians had detected their presence, they might attack the village on a side where they were not expected. Thus avoiding discovery by the Sioux scouts, and confident of giving them a complete surprise, Gen. Carr kept the command wholly out of sight, halting to give final orders when within a mile of the village. Halting again on the top of the hill overlooking the Indian camp, the signal was given to charge, and the cavalry dashed down upon the village. The Sioux had driven up their horses and were just getting ready to make a move of the camp when they saw the soldiers riding down upon them. Many of them jumped upon their ponies, and leaving everything else behind, advanced to meet the charge; but, when they saw the force with which they would have to cope, rode rapidly away, while those not fortunate enough to be mounted, fled for safety to the neighboring hills. Through the village rode the soldiers, firing right and left, and the scene quickly became one of the wildest confusion. " Keep a sharp lookout for white women," had been the order given by Gen. Carr, who was confident that the Sioux had such captives among them. The company which had been ordered to BUFFALO BILL. 545 take possession of the village after its capture soon found the dead body of one white woman, the head cloven by a hatchet, and near by lay another, wounded. The latter was a Swede, and could not talk English, but through a soldier of her own nationality they learned that both wounds had been the work of a squaw who wished to prevent their telling how cruelly they had been treated. The booty was extremely rich. Much of the property acquired by recent raids upon white settlers, considerable stores of gold and silver, besides eight hundred ponies and mules, fell into their hands. A hundred and forty Indians had been killed, a hundred and twenty squaws and pappooses were taken prisoners. The two hundred lodges, with all the dried buffalo meat and other provi- sions, were burned, and the body of the murdered white woman buried. But the Sioux had not fled; they had only retreated, to advance again upon the attacking party. Having recovered from their surprise, they rode back towards the village, and the whole prairie was soon covered with the combatants. Along the Indian line of battle rode the chief, Tall Bull, mounted on a spirited bay horse, encouraging, cheering, urging, entreating his men to follow him and fight until they died. Cody, on the skirmish line, could hear him telling them that they had lost everything, that they were ruined, that the white soldiers must be driven back. Treacherous and cunning as ho was, with, perhaps, an unquenchable thirst for liquor, and not hesitating to beg anything whatever from the white man, we can not but respect the courage of the man, the devotion of the leader to the cause of his race, as he urged his warriors onward to vic- tory or death. To Buffalo Bill, with the mad fire of battle cours- ing in his veins, this was but a Sioux, one of the tribe that could not be trusted, and he determined to deprive the Indians of their leader. Creeping to a ravine the heait of which was often passed by Tall Bull as he rode to and fro among his men, he waited his opportunity. Not many minutes had passed before it came, and raising his gun, he fired at the mark, scarcely thirty yards away. The chief reeled and fell from his saddle, and the frightened horse dashed into the ranks of the cavalry. The soldier who se- cured him had seen his rider fall, and readily relinquished him to the scout. Mounting his prize, he rode down to where the prisoners were, only to be greeted by the pitiful crying of a 1 546 BUFFALO BILL. squaw, the wife of Tall Bull, the same who had killed the one white woman and wounded the other. The animal, which his captor named Tall Bull, after its form- er owner, was for four years afterwards the fastest runner in the state of Nebraska. A pony obtained at this fight, and named Powder Face, became as noted through the stories of Ned Bunt- line as Tall Bull by his speed. Cody soon made Tall Bull pay. At first no one would bet on the horse; but he proved more successful on his native prairies than had "Old Mountain" some years before in St. Louis. Powder Pace, too, proved to be an excel- lent racer, jumping away so quickly on his first trial that he left his rider sitting on the ground ; but he dashed ahead and won the race without him. Powder Face was afterwards stolen by the Indians, and there was no horse fleet enough to over- take the thief. We now pass over nearly two years, spent in scouting and hunt- ing. He was guide to several minor expedi- tions against the In- dians during this time, but there is but little interest attaching to the incidents of them. He also accompanied several English gentlemen upon buffalo hunts, but however exci- ting to the hunters from over the sea the chase may have been, it was not a circumstance to the match with^Billy Comstock. In the spring of 1871 we find him appointed justice of the peace, at the desire of Gen. Emory, who was much annoyed by the pet- ty offences which the civilians about the post committed. Just THE SHOOTING OF TALL BULL. BJI.L. 647 after he had received his commission, and before he was supplied with blank forms or statute books, a man came rushing up to his house, to get out a writ of replevin, to recover possession of a horse which a stranger was taking out of the county. 35 548 BUFFALO BILL, "Where's the fellow that's got your horse?" asked Justice Cody. " Going up the road, about two miles away," was the answer. "All right; I'll get the writ ready in a minute or two." Saddling up his horse, and taking his gun, he said to the man : " That's the best writ of replevin I know of; come along, and we'll get that horse, or know the reason why." Overtaking the stranger, who was driving a herd of horses, the following dialogue ensued : " Hello, sir ! I am an officer, and have an attachment for that horse." " Well, sir, what are you going to do about it ?" " I propose to take you and the horse back to the post." " You can take the horse, but I haven't time to go with you." " You'll have to take time, or pay the costs here and now." " How much are the costs ?" "Twenty dollars." " Here's your money." The stranger went on his way, the complainant went home with his horse, and the justice pocketed the costs. After a while he learned more about the formalities of law, but he could not have complied more faithfully with the spirit in which it is often administered. Early in the fall of 1871, Cody accompanied on a hunting ex- pedition a large party, which numbered, among others, Gen. Sheridan, and many noted newspaper men and soldiers. Per- haps the pleasure enjoyed at this time had something to do with the order which, later in the winter, reached the commanding officer of the Fifth Cavalry, as his regiment was leaving for Ari- zona: "Don't take Cody with you." Certain it is that when preparations were being made for a big buffalo hunt for the Eus- sian Grand Duke Alexis, in January, 1872, he was selected to show the foreign visitor how to kill buffaloes. The friendly Sioux chief, Spotted Tail, was induced to come, with a number of his warriors, to show how the Indian looked and acted on his native plains. The Eussian prince arrived at the appointed time, Buffalo Bill was introduced to him, and after the Indians had given their ex- hibition of horsemanship and sham fights, and celebrated a grand war-dance, they retired to dream of the buffalo hunt the next day. With a commendable desire to lose as little time as possi- BUFFALO BILL. 549 blo, the grand duke had asked many questions of his guide and tutor : " How do you shoot buffaloes ? What kind of a weapon do you use ? Any particular style ? Am I going to have a good horse?" Cody assured him that he would have Buckskin Joe to ride, a steed whose accomplishments in the matter of buffalo hunting were equalled only by those of the late Brigham ; and that all he would have to do, after getting into a herd, would be to sit on the horse's back and fire away. Much was said in the newspapers of the day about this hunt, and the grand duke's success. With a truly republican desire to SHOWING THE GRAND DUKE HOW TO KILL BUFFALOES. detract from a prince's merit and add to a citizen's, one asserted that Buffalo Bill killed Alexis' first buffalo for him ; another, equally ill-natured, insisted that Cody held the animal while the prince shot it. Having given these two versions, the veracious historian proceeds to state the third and more credible, since supported by the testimony of Buffalo Bill himself. They had not gone far before they saw a buffalo herd, and were soon in the midst of it. Preferring at first to use his pistol, Alexis emptied the six chambers without producing the slightest effect. Riding up to his side, Cody exchanged revolvers with him, and the six shots in the second went the way of those in the first. Seeing 550 BUFFALO that the animals would make their escape without his killing one of them, Cody rode up to the prince again, gave him his gun, and told him to urge on his horse close to the buffaloes, and he would give him the word when to shoot. A blow from his master's whip, and Buckskin Joe, in a few jumps, carried his rider within ten feet of a huge bull. "Now is your time ! " cried the teacher ; the pupil fired, and down went the buffalo. Stopping his horse, the grand duke dropped his gun and waved his hat, the suite came galloping up, and soon the champagne corks began to fly in honor of his suc- cess in killing the first buffalo in the hunt. A " scratch" shot on the way home brought down another, and the hides and heads of both animals were carefully preserved. The imperial pupil seems to have improved rapidly under the tuition of the famous plainsman, for within the two or three days which they spent in camp, he killed eight. Desiring to see an Indian buffalo-hunt, one was arranged in which the Sioux used their more primitive weapons; the long iron-tipped lance of tough wood, and the bow and arrow. One chief drove an arrow entirely through a buffalo, to the grand duke's astonishment. Eeturning, Gen. Sheridan called out from the carriage : " Cody, get in here and show the duke how you can drive. Reed will exchange places with you and ride your horse." Later, as they approached Medicine Creek: " Shake 'em up a little, Bill, and give us some old-time stage- driving." No more was needed. On the horses bounded, faster and fast- er, until they came to a steep hill which led down into the valley of the Medicine ; straight down the hill they went, bounding along over the ruts, while both general and prince were kept busy holding on to their seats. In fine old style they dashed into the camp where they were to obtain a fresh relay, but the grand duke begged to be excused from any more of the same kind. But although preferring to go a little slower than he had been driven, he was not ungrateful for the attention paid him, and made Cody several valuable presents. We next find our' hero in the eastern states, whither he had been cordially invited by many of those whom he had accompa- nied on hunts. Attending one evening, while in New York, the representation of u Buffalo Bill, the King of Border Men," he BUFFALO BILL. 551 was called upon the stage by the audience, as soon as his presence m the theater was known. Of the speech with which he respond- ed no record remains, for no one heard it; such was his embar- rassment that he could not utter a word. Judge of his surprise when the manager offered him a handsome salary to take the part of Buffalo Bill himself! The offer was declined, and only the indomitable perseverance of Ned Buntline induced him to go upon the stage in the fall of the same year. AN ARROW THROUGH A BUFFALO. In the meantime, he had been elected a member of the Neb- raska Legislature, chiefly by the efforts of his friends, as ho cared very little about it and took no pains to secure an election. He resigned his seat almost immediately, and with Texas Jack, went to Chicago to meet Buntline. Disgusted by the facts that a per- formance was to take place in four nights from that date, that the drama was not written, the company formed, or the " stars " trained, the manager of the theater where they were to play re- fused to have anything to do with it; but Buntlino rented the house, wrote his drama in four hours, set his stars to studying, went out and engaged the minor actors, came back and trained his stars, and actually had everything in readiness at the time set. The hero forgot his part when he came before the audience, 552 BUFFALO BILL. but skillfully encouraged by Buntline, supplied its place by orig- inal speeches, and brought down the house by describing a hunt with a businessman of that city, whom everybody knew. Wild Bill joined the company in the season of 1873-4, when the original stars were already experienced actors. He urged upon his friend that they were making fools of themselves, and all the people were laughing at them ; Buffalo Bill replied that he didn't care for that, as long as they came and bought tickets. It is but right to say here that Wild Bill's message when he finally left the troupe did not result in any per- manent estrange- ment between the two plainsmen, and although he re- mained firm in the determination not to have anything more to do with the "old show/' they were always the best of friends. For some years now, we find the time passed in much the same way ; traveling in the dramatic season from place to place, hunting and scouting during the summer. In 1876, we learn that the theatrical season closed somewhat earlier than usu- al, for the Sioux war had begun, and our hero " snuffed, like a charger, the wind of the powder." Proceeding to the west, he expected to be in time to join the expedition under Gen. Crook, who wished to engage him as scout; but learning that he was too late to do this, and that G-en. Carr with the Fifth Cavalry was on his way to join Gen. Crook, he accepted the position of guide and chief of scouts under his old commander, with his old regi- ment. Operating on the South Fork of the Cheyenne and at the foot of the Black Hills for about two weeks, they had several skir- BUFFALO BILL. 553 mishes with small bands of roving Indians, who were easily re- pulsed ; and coming to the conclusion that they had driven all the redskins out of that section of the country, the regiment started back to Fort Laramie. But they had not gone far, when a scout arrived in camp with the terrible tidings of the massacre on the Little Big Horn. There was no fear for themselves, yet the news spread dismay through the camp, and many a soldier vowed to avenge "the flower of our knighthood, the whole ar- my's pride ; " and the roughest man of the regiment * " Had no trouble to muster A tear, or perhaps a hundred, At the news of the death' of Custer." The Fifth was ordered to proceed at once to Fort Fetterman, and thence join Gen. Crook. But the same evening that the scout arrived with the news and the order, came another, with the in- formation that eight hundred Cheyennes were on their way to join Sitting Bull. Deciding to take the responsibility of delay in obeying orders, Gen. Merritt, who was now in command of the Fifth, selected five hundred men to intercept the Cheyennes. Making a forced march back to Warbonnet Creek, they arrived there before the Indians. That the enemy had not crossed, was ascertained by Cody, who, on his way back to the command, dis- covered a large body of Indians coming up from the south. They proved to be the Cheyennes, and the cavalrymen immediately withdrew out of sight until an attack should be ordered, while Gen. Merritt, accompanied by Cody and two or three aides, went on a reconnoissance to a neighboring hill. From the summit of this they saw that the Indians were march- ing almost directly towards them, while a body of fifteen or twen- ty dashed off to the direction in which the troops had come the night before. For a moment our party could not discover the reason for this maneuver, but it was readily understood when they descried that this detachment was chasing two soldiers, who must be bringing despatches to Gen. Merritt. Fearing that they would succeed in intercepting the messengers, the command- er yet did not wish to betray the presence of his troops by send- ing soldiers to their rescue. Cody suggested that when the cour- iers came closer to the command, and the Indians were about to charge, he be allowed to take the scouts and cut them off from the main body of the tribe. "All right," said Gen. Merritt ; " if you can do that, go ahead." 554 BUFFALO BILL. Bushing back to the command, and selecting fifteen men, he re- turned to the point of observation. " Go in now, Cody," ordered the general, " and be quick about it. They are about to charge on the couriers." Bashing down the hill, they charged upon the Indians. The running fight lasted but a few moments, the Indians who were not killed riding off towards the main body; then they turned upon the pursuers, and a young Indian, decked in all the paint and ornaments of a war-chief, called out to the leader of the scouts, in the Cheyenne tongue: " I know you, Long-Hair ; if you want to fight, come and fight me." It was a challenge not to be disregarded. Galloping towards each other, they diminished the distance between them to thirty yards before a shot was fired ; raising his rifle the scout took aim and fired, and the Indian's horse fell to the ground. Almost at the same moment his own horse stumbled and fell, but it was on- ly a moment's work for each to free himself from his fallen steed. They were now not more than twenty paces apart. Rais- ing their rifles, both took aim at the same instant; one ball whistled past the scout, without harming him ; the other struck the Indian in the breast, and he fell. Even as he struck the ground, his enemy was upon him, and while, as he stood so far in advance of his little command, a body of two hundred Indians charged down upon the scout, he stopped over the prostrate savage, and having with one stroke of his knife severed the scalp-lock from the head, swung the reeking trophy and its gorgeous adornments in the air with the words: " The first scalp for Custer ! " A company of soldiers had been ordered to his rescue, and they came not a moment too soon. Seeing that the Indians could not be ambushed, G-en. Merritt ordered out the whole regiment. The fight did not last long, and the Indians soon began a flying re- treat. Pursued for thirty-five miles, they were forced to aban- don t everything that impeded their flight to the Eed Cloud agency, while the troops followed them. Arrived there, Cody learned that the Indian he had killed was Yellow Hand, the son of a leading chief of the Cheyennes. The old chief offered four mules for the adornments of his son, but they were not for sale. Accompanying the Big Horn and Yellowstone expedition, after the Fifth had joined Gen. Crook, it is too old a story to tell of his BUFFALO BILL. 555 gallant services in carrying despatches through a country infest- ed by hostile Indians, besides presenting all the difficulties of a THE FIRST SCALP FOR CUSTER. wild region to the night traveler. Where other scouts dared not go, Buffalo Bill was always ready to volunteer. So we leave him, remembering that if we omit mention of later incidents, it is not because they are unworthy of him ; but it must be remember- ed that what would to others be exciting adventures, are to him but repetitions, shadows, of the events of his earlier life. 556 TEN YEARS OF INDIAN WARFARE. CHAPTER XIX. TEN YEAES OF INDIAN WAEFAEE. T~N tracing the course of the contest between Indians and white -L men, during late years, it is not our purpose to go back as far as the massacres by the Sioux of the Minnesota settlers in 1862, when the savages boldly invaded villages with all the hor- rors of their warfare. These appealed but slightly to the popu- lar interest while the great Civil War was absorbing every one; nor even do we follow the story downward for the next few years. Beginning with the early years of the last decade, we trace out, from the daily and weekly papers, and from the few books into which these late events have been crystallized, the history of the recent Indian wars. The causes of the conflicts, which are constantly alarming the frontier, are not hard to discover. The very fact that there are found men ready to fight in any given cause, proves that it is not wholly bad. "It takes two to quarrel," says the old pro- verb, and in every quarrel there must be wrong on both sides, however unequally distributed. Endeavoring, then, to steer clear equally of those who insist that "Indians are Indians" (as they undoubtedly are), that there is no trust to be placed in any of them, and that they ought to be exterminated whenever op- portunity offers, and of the author of "A Century of Dishonor," who regards all such wars as the outcome of the Government's bad faith, let us remember that the United States deliberately breaks the most solemn treaties with the savage tribes of the West, and that the Indians are not the noble red men who figure in Cooper's novels. But of the difference between the ideal In- dian, pausing from his hunt to quaff the pure water that gushes from the rock in the plain, brave and honorable, and the dirty, lying, thieving wretch who hangs around the saloons in the fron- tier town until he can beg or steal enough whiskey to sink him even lower than he is by nature, or who, failing that, resorts to 558 THE MODOC WAR. the haunts of some chief whose sole business it is to attack the passing emigrant train or massacre the women and children in an isolated cabin on the plains, we shall learn most by a study of the plain, unvarnished facts. " How many warriors has your tribe ?" asked an officer of a Modoc. " There is our country," replied the Indian; "once it was full of people." BlIREAO OP /LLUSTRATiON.JiUFrALO'N. Y. THE :N T OBLE RED MAN OF THE POETS. Allowing for the habitual exaggeration of the red man, we know, from the remains of their ancient villages, that this peo- ple must once have numbered thousands, while at the date of which we write, scarcely four hundred souls made up the once powerful Modoc nation. Always unfriendly and opposed to the whites, it was well for the settlers that their strength was broken by a wasting famine very early in the history of the West ; a famine so terrible that a squaw killed her husband, and with her child, subsisted upon his body, until^ when better times came, and MODOO WA*. 559 they offered ner less dreadful food, she became insane, and con- fessing her horrible deed, fled to the rugged cliffs on the western shore of Lake Klamath. Removed from their home near Lake Klamath to the south- ern part of Oregon, Captain Jack's band for some time refused to go, but was at last induced to follow the main body of the tribe. The Klamaths, a notoriously quarrelsome people, had been THE REAL ARTICLE. placed on the same reservation, and trouble arose within three months after Captain Jack had settled there. By the efforts of the Indian agents, the disturbances were quelled, and the Klam- aths removed to a more distant part of the reservation. But the troubles were soon renewed, and the Modocs, terming this reser- vation " only a trap for the benefit of the Klamaths, departed to the high lands known as the lava beds, situated beyond the Cal- ifornia border. The Government made several ineffectual efforts to compel 560 THE MODOC WAR. these Indians to return to their reservation, but they persistent- ly rejected all peaceful overtures. Commissioners had been ap- pointed when they first left Oregon, but had resigned when they found all efforts unavailing; and in March, 1873, a new commis- sion was formed, composed of Gen. E. E. S. Canby, Eev. Dr. E. Thomas, a leading Methodist divine of California, Messrs. Mea- cham, Rosborough arid Dyer. Trusting in a system of gentle compulsion, with a proper display of the force that could be used if necessary, the commissioners held several parleys with the In- dians, who were insolent and aggressive. At one of these interviews Captain Jack and his men appeared with fresh white scalps at their helts, but gradually becoming more shy and cautious, refused to come into camp at all. It was the evening of the tenth of April that Bogus Charley came into camp with several others, all of whom were liberally treated, receiv- ing presents of clothing and provisions. By these Indians the commissioners sent a message to^the chief, inviting him to a talk at a designated spot about half a mile outside of the picket lines. Boston Charley came in the next morning, say- ing that Captain Jack, with five of his followers, would meet them there. Between ten and eleven o'clock the commissioners, accompanied by the interpreter and his squaw, and Boston Char- ley and Bogus Charley, went out to the spot designated, and there met the six Modocs. Sitting down in a sort of a broken circle, the commissioners explained what they wished the Mo- docs to do, and what would be the advantages of such a course of action. Captain Jack answered evasively in an apparently serious strain that seems to have blinded the white men. When he had finished, he stepped back, and Schonchin began to talk. Imagine the scene: a wide valley, nearly level, a kind of con- gealed sea, where the black and ragged crested waves were of lava ; here and there, in the small hollows a little ash-like soil supported a tangled growth of sage-bush ; bounded by dark and QEN. E. R. S. CANBY, 562 THE MODOC WAR. frowning walls of lava-like rock, more than a thousand feet high; here was the little circle, nearly all seated, one only standing by his horse ; such was the picture as Schonchin spoke. Suddenly, in the pauses of his speech, Mr. Dyer, who stood hy his horse, heard a cap snap ; turning quickly around, he saw Captain Jack with his pistol pointed at Gen. Canby. It was the signal for the massacre. Aiming again at the same victim, the chief fired, and the noble old man fell, while Dr. Thomas was killed at al- most the same instant. Mr. Dyer turned as soon as he heard the cap miss, and was pursued by Hooker Jim ; but the two shots qf the latter were without effect, and he retreated when the white man drew his derringer. Mr. Meacham escaped, as well as the interpreter and his squaw. The bugle sounded to arms, and the troops hastily advanced. On they dashed past the body of Dr. Thomas, and that of their beloved and respected commander, eager to avenge his death ; but the enemy had escaped into the almost impregnable fastness- es that towered above them, and they had to return to the camp without accomplishing their desires. The Canby massacre was speedily known all over the country, and created the most intense excitement and resentment against its perpetrators. Gen. Schofield was sent against the Modocs and they were attacked in the lava-beds by Gen. Gillem and Col. Mason. This engagement took place on the 15th; and all day long both the troops and the Indians fought gallantly and des- perately, for revenge or for life. The Modocs, driven to their camp at nightfall, were not unwilling to renew the conflict the next day. Finally they were cut off from the water, their camp was broken up by shelling, and it was only under cover of night that they were able to escape. At last the Modocs had been driven twenty miles from their original stronghold ; and although they fought with desperate courage, the contest was a hopeless one. Entrenched in one of the caves which had probably once been a vent for the liquid mass now forming a rocky sea over so great an extent of country, Captain Jack, with less than fifty warriors, had held six hundred soldiers at bay ; but he was powerless to cope with his own fol- lowers, when interest or fear bade them desert to the enemy. Half of his warriors had surrendered themselves, and his spirit was broken. At last a Modoc, with a white flag, met a scouting party with the intelligence that Captain Jack wanted to surren- 564 THE MODOC WAR. der, and when it was seen that he was well received, the chief himself came forward with extended hand. It was the middle of the summer afternoon as the party ap- proached camp with their prisoner, and all but the necessary guards were enjoying a siesta. But as the soldiers on duty re- CAPTAIN JACK. cognized the Indian captive who was approaching, and passed the information each to the other, the drowsy quiet vanished as if by magic. Wild cheers from the troops greeted the murderer of their beloved old commander, as he entered the camp and stood before them, every inch a chief. Proud, disdainful, indifferent to taunt and courtesy alike, he maintained a dogged silence, even when ironed ; only a subordinate protested against this insult. THE MODOO WAR. 565 HOOKER JIM BOSTON CHARLEY. SHACK NASTY JIM. MODOCS. 566 GENERAL CROOK. But when it was once decided wh'at should be done with the Modocs, and a civil trial preferred to a court-martial, or exter- mination without trial, as some extremists urged, Captain Jack's silence was broken. Condemned to death, he said that he had not wanted to fight the whites, but had been driven to it by his warriors ; but the law takes cognizance of actions, not of wishes, and he, with those of his followers who had participated in the massacre, were sentenced and hanged. Probably he would have remained silent had any other mode of death been chosen; but this, to the Indian, is the most horrible of all. Believing that the soul escapes through the open mouth at the moment of death, strangulation, according to his idea, prevents this, and the unhappy spirit, condemned to hover around the decaying body, is kept forever from the happy hunting grounds. So we take leave of the Modocs, that once, according to the boast of a chief, were as the sands of the sea in number and now are a miserable remnant of little more than two hundred souls. Comparative peace reigned for a space of about two years. Although there was no lack of outrages committed during this time, yet they did not result in war with any one tribe. But when the discovery of gold in the Black Hills country drew ad- venturers thither, the Sioux were ready to fight for the land which had been so solemnly ceded to them. The information that soldiers were marching against them from both north and south only enraged them the more, and it is calculated that the first half of the year 1876 saw the murder of a hundred miners. Certain it is that the latter part of that half-year saw a massacre unapproached since the days of Braddock ; but no Washington rode unharmed among the showers of bullets, when Custer and his command were slaughtered. "We have already detailed the earlier part of this double expedition, but the battle on the Rose- bud is so characteristic of Indian warfare that it deserves fur- ther description. On the principle that " it takes a thief to catch a thief," many of our best Indian fighters make it a rule to employ friendly red- skins in every campaign ; especially is this true of the Gray Fox., as the savages have dubbed G-en. Crook, naming him from the color of his usual apparel and his success in foiling their most cunningly laid plans. In this battle, his right wing consisted of these dusky allies and two companies of infantry, while his left was composed entirely of cavalry. Slowly advancing, the whole THE BATTLE ON THE ROSEBtJD. 567 line was soon in the midst of furious fighting. The cavalry charged upon the dusky mass, with about the effect of a descent upon so many flies; the army of Indians scattered, resolving itself into a number pf individual savages, but only to reu- nite and prepare to receive, in an equally strong position, anoth- QEN. C. H. CROOK. er charge. So the cavalry was led onward, until the two wings were completely disunited. The left was recalled to the origi- nal position, but it was more difficult to retrace their steps than it had been to advance. Charging onward, they had found the enemy melt away before them; retreating, Indians poured from every ravine and hill. Contending with the dusky foe on flank and rear as well as in front, there was a moment of desperate hand-to-hand fighting sabres and pistols, lances and knives, and they had hewn a path back to the standard of the commander. 568 THE BATTLE ON THE ROSEBUD. GENERAL CROOK. 569 It was an eventful year to the Indian fighters. All through the summer and fall we hear of marches and fights ; of the Indians pursued so closely and so secretly that on one occasion at least the soldiers found the live embers of a fire, a bloody hatchet, and parts of a newly killed antelope carcass in a new brush tepee, on the line of march. As they advanced to the northward, their course became plainer to the Indian, whose only learning is the woodcraft which enables him to baffle or pursue his enemies; and the horizon, here and there, grew dark with the smoke of signal fires. Gen. Crook expected to receive reinforcements of Crow Indians early in June, but as they did not join him at the time when they were ordered to do so, he sent two companies of in- fantry forward to Powder River, a day in advance of the main column, to meet them, in order to insure safety from the hostiles. But telegraphic communication with the Crow agency had been broken, and they had never received his orders. It was then without the expected assistance that he must advance into a coun- try where every foot of ground could have told a story of some inhuman massacre or desperate defense. The country through which they were now marching had been the scene, in 1866, of a massacre of ninety men, near Fort Phil Kearney; in 1867, of a desperate fight of six Montanians near by the same spot, an encounter which not one of the white men survived ; Crazy Woman's Fork had seen, in 1868, a furious at- tack upon a party of twelve men, who heroically defended the women and children, and at last drove off the assailants. Three times had this been the objective point in a military invasion of the Indian country'; in 1865, Gen. Connor had, by desperate fighting, destroyed a village of hostile Cheyennes and Arapa- hoes ; in 1866, Gen. Carrington had left the Indians masters of the situation; and early in 1876, Gen. Crook himself had fallen back temporarily. Many of the chiefs were quite willing to sell the Black Hills on any terms that the government might offer ; according to their assertions, the truth of which was afterward confirmed by other evidence, there were but few Sioux absent from the reservation, the bulk of Sitting Bull's forces being Cheyennes, with a sprink- ling of other tribes. But Sitting Bull swore that he would fight for the Black Hills as long as the question was unsettled, or as Ipng as he lived. In July, Gen. Merritt was ordered to join Crook, but was * 570 GENERAL CROOK. layed somewhat by the band of eight hundred Cheyennes, whom he drove back to their agency. Doubtless this had a most ex- cellent effect upon all the Indians who learned of it, preventing them from leaving the reservation. Another reinforcement of six companies of the Fifth Infantry was ordered at the same time, the commander being Gen. Miles. This officer, who had served through the Civil War, and had then earned himself an honorable name, had the reputation of being one of the best In- dian fighters on the border. Doubtless the news of this last force was doubly welcome to Gen. Crook, who preferred infantry to cavalry, since the latter are at home and ready to fight under all circumstances ; the cavalry, dismounted, being compelled to fight under unusual conditions. But even before the arrival of these reinforcements, while the Indians were three to one, Gren. Crook had no doubt of his ability to whip them. His delay came from his fear that the victory would be barren of results if only a small force were engaged, while the assistance of the promised troops would enable him to end the campaign with one crushing blow. The aim of both Terry and Crook had been to effect a junction, and on Aug. 8th, the former marched up the Eosebud for that purpose. The ^eat was intense, and the lack of water, so com- mon in that region, increased greatly the sufferings of men and horses. There was but little grass, for ever since the battle on the Little Big Horn the Indians had bee*i burning the vegetation which might afford sustenance to the enemy's horses ; and an oc- casional oasis in this desert, where the grass, protected by slight shade, had been too green to burn, was hailed with joy. As they journeyed on, a Sioux squaw brought intelligence of a terrible fight between Crook and the Sioux, in which the latter had been well-nigh annihilated. Scarcely daring to believe this welcome news, they pushed onward, and found, on reaching his camp on the 10th, that it was true. The combined force, according to Gen. Sheridan's official despatches, amounted to less than two thou- sand seven hundred men; the Indians could muster from eight to ten thousand warriors. Having retired to Fort Fetterman to wait for the expected re- inforcements, it was about the middle of November when Gen. Crook left that point at the head of the largest force that had been sent against the Indians for many years. Eleven companies of cavalry, the same number of infantry, four of artillery, and a GENERAL CROOK. 671 572 GEtfERAfc CROOK. body of three hundred and fifty Indians commanded by white of- ficers, formed his army. Intending to march against Crazy Horse, he learned that that wily Indian chief had so placed his camp that a long and roundabout march would be required to surprise it, and it was determined to attack the Cheyennes, who were somewhere near, in the foot-hills. The Indian allies for some time searched for the exact locality, and were at last re- THE INDIAN CAMP. warded by finding the village without being discovered. E"ov. 23rd, Gen. Mackenzie, with seven hundred picked cavalry and the whole body of friendly Indians, marched toward the Chey- enne camp, halting at striking distance the next day to wait for darkness to conceal his farther advance. When night fell, the march was resumed, and before daylight he reached a point from which the men could distinctly hear the clamor made by the voices and tom-toms of the Indians, as they performed the scalp- GENERAL CROOK. 573 dance in honor of a recent successful attack upon a small party of Crows. The situation of the troops was pitiable in the extreme. In the bottom of a dark and narrow gorge, around them rose the rocky sides to a height of a thousand feet; the snow lay piled in drifts from two to four feet deep, and the cold was intense, yet no fire could be built, and perfect silence must be maintained. The horses stood with heads bowed down, tired out with the long march ; the men shuffled their feet quietly, and now and then changed their positions, just moving enough to keep from freezing. As the faint gray streaks in the east proclaimed the approach of morning, the noises in the Indian camp died gradu- ally away; and when all was still, the half-frozen troops climbed with stiffened limbs into their saddles, and moved forward to the attack. Moving silently down the long canon towards the village, which lay stretched out for three miles along the banks of the frozen stream, the Indian allies rode forward, and with all the whoops and yells which characterize their conflicts, fell upon one end of the village. Many of the Cheyennes, seizing their arms, rushed to cover among the rocks inaccessible to the white men; some were killed before they had gained this refuge, while others stayed behind to defend their lodges. The cavalry were soon in the midst of the fight. Dull Knife, the Cheyenne chief, sprang to his arms, and called upon his warriors to repulse the soldiers. But though the summons was echoed by a rapid and galling fire from those savages still in the village, nothing could withstand the onset of the heavy cavalry ; and having seen his youngest and favorite son fall at his very feet, Dull Knife joined his flying band, and in a short time the village, entirely deserted by its inhabitants, was in the possession of the troops. From their rocky refuge the Cheyennes poured an incessant fire. ]STo power from below could dislodge the determined fight- ers from their position, and it soon became apparent that the at- tacking force was powerless against less than half its numbers. Burning the village, and disposing his men so as to secure as much protection as possible from the fire of the enemy, Gen. Mackenzie despatched an Indian to ask Gen. Crook for reinforce- ments. Not until ten A. M. the next day did this runner reach the main camp, when the infantry was immediately sont to the relief of the cavalry. There was no delay; every man was anx- 574 GENERAL MILES. ious to get where he could help his comrades, and though swear- ing like " our army in Flanders " as they floundered on through the deep snow-drifts, they only halted for a few hours at three A. M., when the guide lost the trail ; proceeding onward at dawn and meeting some of Mackenzie's advance guards a little after sunrise. They found that their coming would afford no assistance, for the enemy had been obliged by the cold to leave their lofty posts and retreat to a position where they could build fires and pre- pare food. The Indians, to whom clothes are an adornment rather than a necessity, habitually sleep naked when in camp and unsuspicious of danger those of the plains, whatever may be said of their hardy vigor, are peculiarly susceptible to cold ; so that the Cheyennes, driven by an enemy with which human nature could not contend, collected their herds of ponies during the night and retreated. Even then Mackenzie's plans were frustrated, for a strong and determined rear-guard drove back the pursuers set upon their track as soon as their departure was discovered. With no food but the flesh of their ponies, no clothing but the green hides of the same faithful animals, they made their way with almost incredible difficulty across the bleak snow-clad sum- mits of the Big Horn Mountains to the camp of Crazy Horse. From their old allies and friends, the Sioux, to whom they had never yet refused assistance, from whom they had never yet fail- ed to obtain it, the half-frozen and famishing Cheyennes might well hope to receive food, shelter and protection. But self-pre- servation is the first instinct of'our natures, and the Sioux chief felt the support of fifteen hundred people too great a tax upon his own band; and he received them so coldly, and supplied their wants with such a niggardly hand, that they soon left the camp. Unable to contend against such difficulties, no alternative was left them, and early in 1877 they surrendered themselves. Justice soon overtook the Sioux who had denied food and shel- ter to their suffering allies, in the shape of an expedition against them headed by Gen. Miles. Setting out Dec. 27th, with a force of seven companies of infantry, numbering three hundred fight- ing men, they experienced heavy snow, intense cold, and severe windstorms. The influence of the latter upon the temperature can hardly be estimated by those who know but little of the plains ; they cut through and through with the keenest and most piercing cold. Slowly they proceeded, their progress retarded GENERAL MILES. 575 by hardships which cannot be exaggerated, towards the Wolf Mountains, sixty miles away. At last they were rewarded by finding Indian sign, and pushing on, struck a large force of In- dians on the 7th. Defeating these, they marched onward, en- countering a body of a thousand warriors on the 8th. Fully armed, and well supplied with ammunition, the redskins were confident of victory. The ground was rough and broken, so that no cavalry was needed; indeed, if they had had such a force, it would have been diificult to use. GEN. N. A. MILES. Again and again they charged upon the troops, but were as often repulsed. For five hours the fight continued, though during the greater part of this time a blinding snowstorm almost hid them from each other. The Indians at last retreated, fighting as they went, and were closely pursued as far as supplies permitted. The loss on the part of the troops was small; that of the Indians could not be absolutely determined. Many squaws and children were taken prisoners, to whom the kindness with which their captors treated them seemed very extraordinary. Used to the 576 CHIEF JOSEPH AND THE NEZ PERCES. inhumanity of their own treatment of captives, it was quite puz- zling to them. The strength of the hostiles was practically broken; the Chey- ennes had come in and surrendered themselves. Sitting Bull, with his conglomerate force, had hetaken himself into Canada, and Crazy Horse and his band of Sioux had been defeated by this last fight with Gen. Miles. A band of the Nez Perces Indians are the dusky heroes of the next campaign, which was conducted by Gen. Howard. The so-called Chief Joseph, of the Nez Perces, was really a scalawag with some followers, the main body of the tribe keeping firmly to the treaty made with the United States in 1855. Leaving-^their reservation in the summer of 1877, these non- treaty Indians, as they were called, refused to return, and it was necessary to employ force. Gen. Gibbon accordingly march- ed against them, and a severe en- GEN. o. o. HOWARD. gagement ensued when the two forces met, Aug. 9th, which resulted in a heavy loss to the troops. Encouraged by this success, Chief Joseph and his band started eastward to the buffalo country, but were met by Gen. Sturgis, with the Seventh Cavalry. All day long they fought, and the Indians, badly cut up, retreated, followed by Gen. Sturgis, who had now been reinforced by Gen. Howard. The last day of September Gen. Miles made a sudden attack upon the enemy, whose camp was on the level ground of the river bottom. The Indians fled to the crests of the surrounding hills, and thence re- pulsed the charges of the Seventh Cavalry. A row of dead hor- ses marked the line of attack, and nearly all the officers were killed or disabled. Finally the Indians took to" the pits and ra- vines, whence it was almost impossible to dislodge them. The arrival of Gen. Howard, Oct. 4th, was followed, the next day, by the surrender of Joseph and his band. "I am tired of fighting/' said he; "our chiefs are killed; the old men are all dead ; it is the young men who say yes or no. He who led on the young men is dead. It is cold, and we have Ti THE UTES. 577 no blankets ; the little children are freezing to death. I am tired my heart is sick and sad. From where the sun now stands I will fight no more forever." The outbreaks of the succeeding years are mainly due to the bad faith of the Indian agents. The Utes, particularly, had always been notably peaceable, submitting to many indignities rather than go to war with the whites. The inveterate enemies of the Sioux, it was their earnest desire to "travel the white man's road," as the Indian expresses it. In July they set fire to the CAPT. D. L. PAYNE. timber near their reservation in order to concentrate game. This resulted in the destruction of considerable property, and the guilty ones were ordered to bo arrested. Provoked by many previous indignities, they were not disposed to submit to this reasonable requirement, and it became necessary to send for troops. Major Thornburgh was accordingly despatched with one hun- dred and sixty men, and followed the enemy into the sandhills. Here the Utes, brought to bay, ambuscaded, but the ruse was fortunately discovered by the troops, and they were obliged to change their tactics. Dashing down upon the main force, they 578 WAR CLOUDS. reached the end of the train, and a moment held their own, but were more than once repulsed. The gallant commanding officer led a counter charge against them, but fell at the head of his men. Securing his body, they retreated and intrenched themselves be- hind the wagons and dead horses. Again and again the Indians charged upon them, only ceasing at night, and recommenced early the next morning. The death of Major Thornburgh left Capt. Payne in command, and encouraged by him the troops held out bravely, until the sixth day came. Worn out by the constant vigilance required as well as by the intense anxiety with which their situation most naturally filled them, with what delight they must have seen yonder dark spot on the horizon grow into a line, the line into amoving mass, the indistinct outlines of which grad- ually brighten into the semblance of a company of soldiers ! For once, if never before or since, they felt the distinctions of race even more completely blotted out than the advocates of the Fif- teenth Amendment and the Civil Eights Bill could hope, and they did not scruple to accept the assistance of these black sol- diers. " The colored troops fought nobly," and when Gen. Mer- ritt arrived with the Fifth Cavalry, there was but little more to be done. The Utes,however,did not return to their reservation un- til the burning of their agency, and the murder of many white men had enraged the surrounding country. Trouble with the Poncas was anticipated, when, early in 1881, they were removed from their reservation, which was ceded to the Sioux, who would not accept the gift. But before the In- dians could take decisive action, the presence of Gens. Crook and Miles, who had been sent with two columns to visit and re- port upon the state of affairs, frightened them into submission. However clear the day, a dark rim may mark the horizon, and gradually overspread the sky; from the aspect of the frontier that cloud is never absent ; when it may be borne onward by op- pression or the desire for revenge, cannot be predicted. Even as we write, from here and there come reports of fights and mas- sacres ; whether or not these, spreading over the West, shall deepen into absolute war, cannot be predicted. The wisdom of our present system of managing the Indians is questioned every day; and perhaps, before long, our Government will adopt the British policy, and treat them, not as dependent nations, but as bodies of citizens subject to all the laws of the United States.