THE LIBRARY

OF

THE UNIVERSITY
OF CALIFORNIA

PRESENTED BY

PROF. CHARLES A. KOFOID AND
MRS. PRUDENCE W. KOFOID

OS"

"3*

THE

HUNTING GROUNDS OF THE GREAT WEST

THE

HUNTING GROUNDS OF THE GREAT WEST

A DESCRIPTION OF THE

PLAINS, GAME, AND INDIANS OF THE
GREAT NORTH AMERICAN DESERT

BY

RICHARD IRVING DODGE

ii

LIEUTENANT-COLONEL OF THE UNITED STATES ARMY

WITH AN INTRODUCTION

BY

WILLIAM BLACKMORE

WITH NUMEROUS ILLUSTRATIONS BY ERNEST GRISET

CHATTO & WINDUS, PICCADILLY

1877

-i/d

\

TO

WILLIAM BLACKMOEE,

OF LONDON, ENGLAND,
KEEN SPORTSMAN, GENIAL COMPANION, FIRM FRIEND,

WITH WHOM I HAVE PASSED

MANY HAPPY HOURS ON ' THE PLAINS,'

AND TO WHOSE FAVOURABLE APPRECIATION OP MY

CAMP-FIRE STORIES THE INCEPTION OF

THE WORK IS PRINCIPALLY DUE,

®Ins |J0ak is gtffktionafcljr Inscribed

BY

THE AUTHOR.

A 2

PREFACE.

HUMAN NATURE is so liable to error, and to view facts
through the medium of its own idiosyncrasies, that it is
only by comparison of the opinions of different men that
the world arrives at the truth of any subject.

There is scarcely a man who has reached the middle
age of an active life whose experiences and the opinions
formed upon them would not, if written out, be interest-
ing and valuable to some portion of mankind.

To be valuable, however, it is of the utmost impor-
tance that the opinions be the result of intelligent obser-
vation or deduction of the person giving them.

In writing these pages I have carefully abstained from
consulting ' authorities/ and have treated the different
subjects from my own standpoint. Whether valuable or
otherwise, the ideas are my own ; and the beliefs ex-
pressed are the natural growth of long and varied
experiences.

I have had ample opportunity to study the Indian
character and habits in his own native wilds.

I have ' nothing extenuated nor set down aught in
malice.'

THE AUTHOR.

CONTENTS

PAGE

INTRODUCTION xv

PART I.
THE PLAINS.

CHAPTER

I. GENERAL DESCRIPTION 3

II. SURFACE 19

III. CLIMATE 38

IV. STORMS .43

V. TRAVEL . , 45

VI. CAMP 68

PART IL
GAME.

VII. HOW TO GET IT 103

VIII. BUFFALO : INCLUDING MOUNTAIN, OR WOOD BUFFALO . 119
IX. WILD CATTLE 148

: CONTENTS.

CHAPTER PAGE

X. ELK 155

XI. BLACK-TAILED DEER 173

XII. RED DEER, OR WHITE-TAILED DEER . . . . 186

XIII. ANTELOPE 193

XIV. MOUNTAIN SHEEP — BIG BORN 205

XY. WOLVES, JACK RABBIT, ROCK RABBIT, AND PRAIRIE

DOG . . . . ... . . .209

XVI. OTHER ANIMALS : INCLUDING GRIZZLY, CINNAMON, AND
BLACK BEARS — COUGAR, OR PUMA — PANTHER, AND
WILD CAT 212

XVII. GAME BIRDS OF THE PLAINS, viz. : — * COCK OF THE

PLAINS ' — DUSKY GROUSE — SHARP-TAILED GROUSE
— RUFFED GROUSE — PINNATED GROUSE — WILD
TURKEY — ROCK PARTRIDGE — QUAIL, AND OTHER
BIRDS 223

XVIII. FISH AND FISHING 247

PART III.
INDIANS,

XIX. EASTERN AND WESTERN IDEAS OF THE INDIAN: His

BOYHOOD, ORDEAL, AND THE WARRIOR . . 255

XX. TRIBAL GOVERNMENT 263

XXI. RELIGION 272

XXII. THE MEDICINE DANCE 278

XXIII. THE HAPPY HUNTING-GROUNDS OF THE INDIAN . 283

XXIV. BURIAL OF THE DEAD 290

CONTENTS. xi

CHAPTER PAGE

XXV. LOVE, COURTSHIP, AND MARRIAGE . . . 294

XXVI. SOCIAL LIFE 297

XXVII. GAMBLING, DRINKING, AMUSEMENTS, SINGING, AND

DANCING . . . . „ . . .320

XXVIIL NAMES 336

XXIX. DISEASE . . . . . . . . 338

XXX. FOOD 341

XXXI. CLOTHING 345

XXXII. EMPLOYMENT 348

XXXIII. TRADE . . 360

XXXIV. DRILLING 367

XXXV. FIGHTING 371

XXXVI, CAPTIVES 393

XXXVII. SCALPING 399

XXXVIII. STEALING 401

XXXIX. TRAILING 405

XL. TRAVELLING 413

XLI. CRUELTY 416

XLII. PONIES . 424

XLIII. ' SQUAW MEN ' 427

XLIV. CONCLUSION 430

LIST OF ILLUSTEATIONS.

PORTRAIT OF AUTHOR ...... Frontispiece

MAP to face p. xv

LITTLE KOBE (TAK-KEE-O-MAH), CHIEF OF THE

CHETENNES „ xxiv

LITTLE RAVEN, HEAD CHIEF OF THE ARRAPAHOES . „ xxv

BIRD CHIEF, WAR CHIEF OF THE ARRAPAHOES . . „ xxvi

EARLY DAYS IN DENVER (1859) ..... „ Iviii

BUFFALO ON THE PLAINS ...... ,, 119

CHARGE OF A BUFFALO BULL „ 128

INDIANS HUNTING BUFFALO ,,139

SLAUGHTER OF BUFFALO ON THE KANSAS PACIFIC

RAILROAD ........ „ 142

PEACE OR WAR ? — INDIAN COUNCIL .... „ 265

THE PEACE COMMISSION AT WORK .... „ 270

CELEBRATING VICTORY. — THE SCALP DANCE . . „ 278

'OKOLOHAMA,' THE LAST HOME OF THE INDIANS . „ 290

A DAKOTA OR Sioux BELLE 294

xiv LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.

INDIANS AT HOME IN TEPEES. — DRYING BUFFALO

MEAT FOR WINTER FOOD to face p. 353

THE NOONTIDE REPAST ON THE WAR PATH . . ,, 371
GRAND CHIEF OF THE PAWNEES „ 373

EMIGRANTS CROSSING LARAMIE PLAINS IN 1868. —

THE Sioux PREPARING FOR THEIR RECEPTION . „ 379

EMIGRANTS ENCAMPED. — THE NIGHT ATTACK . . „ 380

INDIANS RETURNING WITH THE RESULTS OF A

BORDER RAID . 401

INTEODUCTION.

THE truism that c good wine needs no bush,' is equally
applicable to the fact that a good book requires no
introduction. In the present instance, I have been
induced to depart from this sound maxim at the instance
of the publishers, who, from my bibliographical and
personal knowledge of the Aborigines of North America,
have requested me to give a brief sketch of some of the
principal Indian tribes, referred to in this book ; the
chief events of the last fifteen years ; and the probable
fate of the red man. With reference to my knowledge
of the North American Indians, I may mention that
during the last thirty years it has been my constant effort
to collect and read all that has been written relative to
these Aborigines, whilst during the last eight years I
have personally had opportunities of seeing in their own
homes some of the principal tribes between the British
Possessions and Lake Superior in the North, and the
Indian territory in the South; the Great Missouri and
Mississippi Eivers in the East, and the Pacific in the West.
During the latter period it has been my good fortune to
number amongst my acquaintances some of the principal
chiefs of several of the most important tribes, amongst
whom I can name ' Bed Cloud,' ' Eed Dog/ and ' Two
Lance,' three of the principal chiefs of the Ogallalla
Siouxj ' Spotted Tail,' head chief of the Brule Sioux ;
' Ouray/ the head chief of the Utes ; ' Washakie,' the
principal chief of the Shoshones; ' Little Kaven' and

xvi INTRODUCTION

' Bird Chief/ principal chiefs of the Arrapahoes ; ' Little
Robe,' head chief of the Cheyennes ; in addition to
which there are many of the leading chiefs and warriors
of the Kiowas and Comanches, Osages, Eiver and Moun-
tain Crows, Pawnees, Apaches, Navajoz and Pueblo
Indians, who are personally well known to me.

DESTRUCTION OF BUFFALO.

But before referring to the Indian tribes, I desire to
add my testimony to that of Colonel Dodge as to the
wholesale and wanton destruction, during the last few
years, of the buffalo. When one reads of the total destruc-
tion during the three years (1872-3 and 4) of four
millions and a half of the ' Black Cattle of Illinois,' out
of which number upwards of three millions have been
killed for the mere sake of their hides, it is at first almost
impossible to realise what this slaughter represents,
and how much good and nutritious animal food, which
would have fed the red men as well as the hardy settlers
of the ' Great West,' has been wasted.

The figures speak for themselves. When in the West
in 1872, I satisfied myself by personal inquiries that
the number of buffalo then being annually slaughtered
for their hides was at least one million per annum.
In the autumn of 1868, whilst crossing the Plains on
the Kansas Pacific Railroad — for a distance of upwards
of 120 miles, between Ellsworth and Sheridan, we passed
through an almost unbroken herd of buffalo. The Plains
were blackened with them, and more than once the
train had to stop to allow unusually large herds to pass.
A few years afterwards, when travelling over the same
line of railroad, it was a rare sight to see a few herds
of from ten to twenty buffalo. A like result took place
still further southwards, between the Arkansas and

INTRODUCTION. xvii

Cimarron Elvers. In 1872, whilst on a scout for
about a hundred miles south of Fort Dodge to the Indian
territory, we were never out of sight of buffalo. In
the following autumn, on travelling over the same dis-
trict, whilst the whole country was whitened with
bleached and bleaching bones, we did not meet with
buffalo until we were well into the Indian territory, and
then only in scanty bands. During this autumn, when
riding some thirty to forty miles along the north
bank of the Arkansas Eiver to the East of Fort Dodge,
there was a continuous line of putrescent carcases, so
that the air was rendered pestilential and offensive to the
last degree. The hunters had formed a line of camps
along the banks of the river, and had shot down the
buffalo, night and morning, as they came to drink. In
order to give an idea of the number of these carcases,
it is only necessary to mention that I counted sixty-seven
on one spot not covering four acres.

But this great loss of good and wholesome animal
food, all of which with a little judgment and foresight
could have been utilised, will be better understood by
reference to the statistics of cattle in other countries.
On reference to the official agricultural returns of Great
Britain, the United Kingdom, British Possessions, and
Foreign countries, it will be seen that the wanton and
wasteful slaughter for the three years in question (and
in making the comparison I am keeping to the illegiti-
mate slaughter for hides, and not legitimate slaughter for
food) swept away more buffalo than there are cattle in
Holland and Belgium, or as many as three-fourths of the
cattle in Ireland, or one-half of those in Great Britain.

The result, therefore, would be the same as if a
fearful murrain in one year had destroyed the whole of
the cattle in Holland and Belgium, or, in the same time,
if either three-fourths of the cattle of Ireland, or one-half

xviii INTRODUCTION.

of those of Great Britain, had been swept away by a
plague as great as that of Egypt.

The citizens of the United States will better realise
this great waste, if they consider that this destruction
amounted annually to more than double the number of
the annual drives of cattle from Texas, which range from
350,000 to 500,000 head per annum ; or that it would
have been the same during the three years as if half the
cattle of Texas or all the cattle in Canada had been
carried off by some dire disease.

The mere loss of food, however, is not the only evil
which has resulted from this wanton wastefulness.
Many of the wild Indians of the Plains, deprived of their
ordinary sustenance, Government rations not being forth-
coming, and driven to desperation by starvation, have
taken to the war path ; so that during the present war
many of the Cheyennes and Arrapahoes, and some of the
young braves from the friendly ' Eed Cloud ' and ' Spotted
Tail ' agencies have left their reservations, and joined the
hostile Sioux under ' Sitting Bull.' The hardy settler and
pioneer of the Plains who always looked to the buffalo for
his winter supply of meat, has been deprived of this re-
source, and complains most bitterly of this slaughter for
pelts.

In 1873, when the settlers in Kansas were suffering
from the destruction of their crops by the ravages of the
grasshoppers, troops were considerately sent by the Go-
vernment to the Eepublicans to kill meat for the starving
families. When the soldiers arrived, however, at their
hunting-grounds, there was but little meat for them to
kill, as the ' buffalo skinners ' had anticipated them and
had slaughtered nearly every buffalo in the district.

With the great economy endeavoured to be intro-
duced into each department of the Government of the
United States, it is difficult to understand how the Execu-

INTR OD UCTION. xvii

live, whilst they enforce a heavy tax upon each seal which
may be killed in Alaska, has neglected to avail them-
selves of such a fruitful source of revenue as that which
might be derived from buffalo pelts. A tax of $5 on
each skin, which could have been easily imposed and
collected, under heavy penalties and forfeiture of all
buffalo skins not having the Government duty stamp
thereon, would realise not less than $1,000,000 per
annum, even supposing that the number of buffalo
annually killed for their skins were only 200,000 in lieu
of upwards of a million. A tax of this amount would
have realised upwards of fifteen millions of dollars on the
buffalo ruthlessly slaughtered for their hides.

I suggested this remedy at the time, but, although re-
ferred to by the press, it was not attended to, and it is
now almost too late. It is of little use ' to lock the stable
door after the steed has been stolen.'

Such a tax, moreover, would have been fair and equit-
able ; as it is not reasonable that a few needy citizens
should monopolise for their own private benefit the
public property of the State. If the same principle were
carried out with regard to the public lands, timber, and
mines, a few citizens of the United States, similar in
character to the buffalo skinners before referred to, would
take more than the lion's share of the public property.

THE INDIANS OF NORTH AMERICA.

The number of Indians of all descriptions at present
inhabiting the United States is estimated at about 300,000.
Two centuries ago they numbered upwards of two milhons.
Everywhere, and amongst all tribes, with the exception,
perhaps, of the Dakotahs or Sioux, they are rapidly de-
creasing in numbers. This decrease arises from various
causes ; amongst the principal of which may be mentioned

a

xviii INTRODUCTION.

contagious diseases, intemperance, and wars, both amongst
themselves and with the whites. The steady and resistless
emigration of white men into the territories of the West,
restricts the Indians yearly to still narrower limits, and,
destroying the game, which in their normal state consti-
tuted their principal means of subsistence, reduces them
to a state of semi- starvation and desperation. The records
of every tribe tell the same story of their gradual de-
crease and probable extinction.

The Indians of the United States are placed under
the management of the Indian Bureau, a branch of the
Interior Department of the Government, and are go-
verned by means of superintendents and agents especially
appointed for this purpose, the department being divided
into superintendences and agencies.

There are fourteen superintendencies, viz. Washington,
California, Arizona, Oregon, Utah, Nevada, New Mexico,
Colorado, Idaho, Dakotah, Montana, Northern, Central,
and Southern ; whilst there are several independent
agencies.

In California, Washington, and Oregon territories there
are about 50,000 Indians.

Arizona and New Mexico contain a like number,
consisting principally of the Navajoes, Apaches, and Pueblo
Indians.

Nevada, Utah, and Colorado contain about 35,000,
consisting of the different tribes of Utes9 Shoshones or
Snake Indians, and Bannocks.

Dakotah, Montana, Wyoming, and Idaho, the homes
of the Dakotah or Sioux, Black-feet, and Blood Indians,
contain about 70,000 of the most warlike and uncivilised
Indians of the Plains ; whilst the Indian territory which
is situated to the west of the State of Arkansas and be-
tween Texas and Kansas, contains about 70,000, con-
sisting principally of the semi- civilised tribes, including the

INTRODUCTION. xix

Creeks, CJierokees, Choctaws, Chickasaws, Osages, Semi-
noles, Winnebagoes, Pawnees, Pottaw atomies, and the Sacs
and Foxes.

The wild Kiowas and Comanches, and the Arrapahoes
and Cheyennes, who, with some of the bands of the
Dakotahs, inhabit the country lying between the west of
the Indian territory and the eastern slopes of the Eocky
Mountains, number about 10,000.

In addition to the tribes previously enumerated, there
are also the Chippewas, or Ojibbeways, numbering some
20,000, who roam about the shores of Lake Superior and
the banks of the Upper Mississippi ; whilst the New York
Indians, consisting of the remnants of the celebrated
Six Nations, together with other miscellaneous wandering
tribes, number less than 10,000.

No satisfactory classification of the Indian tribes has
yet been made. That, however, which has been most
generally adopted is the following : —

1 . The Algonquin or Ojibbeway Confederacy occupied
all the country to the frozen regions, north of a line
commencing near Cape Fear, on the Atlantic, thence
extending westerly to the mouth of the Illinois Eiver,
thence along that river and by way of Lake Michigan,
Falls of St. Mary, Lake Superior, and rivers and portages
to the Lake of the Woods, and thence westerly to the
Eocky Mountains.

2. The Mobilian,OT Cherokee Confederacy, occupying
the country south of the line running westerly from Cape
Fear to the north line of Tennessee, thence west to the
Mississippi, thence by the Mississippi, Arkansas, and
Canadian Eivers to the Eocky Mountains.

3. The 0-chunk-o-raw, or Winnebago Confederacy,
extending from Lake Superior to the Arkansas Eiver,
including the Wisconsin Eiver and Lower Ohio, and
extending west to the Eocky Mountains.

a 2

xx INTRODUCTION.

4. The Dakotah, or Sioux Confederacy, extending
west to the Eocky Mountains from a line running from
Kewenaw Bay to the north-eastern corner of the present
State of Iowa.

The lines between the different confederacies must
be understood as only approximating to correctness, as
Indian boundaries were never well defined.

These confederacies were generally not confederacies
of Government, but were divided into a number of in-
dependent bands or tribes, often at open war with each
other, and frequently unable to speak each other's
dialects.

The Dakotahs, or Sioux. — The Dakoiahs, more fre-
quently termed Sioux, and also called by the French
' Les Coupe-gorge,' or ' Cut-throats,' from their sign or
symbol, which consists of drawing the lower edge of the
hand across the throat, are the most powerful and war-
like of all the Indian tribes. They are divided into
the Santees, or Upper Bands, and the Tetons, or Lower
Bands.

They are called by the Algonquin nations Nadones-
sioux, or ' Enemies,' which was subsequently abbreviated
or corrupted to ' Sioux,' a common name for the tribe
among the English and French traders for the last 200
years ; it is, however, a mere nickname, and excessively
disagreeable to the tribes to which it is applied.

The Santees, or Upper Bands, consist of the following
bands : —

1. The Wahpakoota, or ' Leaf-shooters.'

2. Mdewakanton, or the ' Village of the Spirit Lake,'
or Mille Lacs.

3. Wahpaton, or the ' Village in the Leaves ;' and

4. Sisseton, the ' Village of the Marsh/

The first two of these bands resided, in 1862, in
Minnesota, and originated the massacre. They are called

INTRODUCTION. xxi

' Santees,' from Isanti, because they once lived near Isant
Amde, one of the Mille Lacs.

The Tetons, or Lower Bands, comprise the following
bands : —

1. Yankton, or ' The Village at the end/

2. Yanktonai, or ' One of the End Village.'

3. Brule, or ' Burnt-thighs.1 (* Spotted Tail's ' band.)

4. Two-kettle, or ' Two Boilings.'

5. Sisapapa, or ' Black-feet.'

6. Minnecongou, or ' Those who plant by the water.'

7. Oncpapas, or ' They who camp by themselves.'

8. Sam-Arcs, or ' No Bows.'

9. Ogallallas, or 'Wanderers.' (4 Eed Cloud's 'Band.)

10. Assineboins* or ' Pot-boilers.'

All of whom reside in Dakotah, Montana, and
Wyoming.

These Indians, comprising 17 different bands, are
the most numerous tribe in the United States. Forty-
six thousand seven hundred and fifty-three received
rations from the Government at eleven different agencies
during the year 1874. The wilder portions of this tribe,
who have as yet consented to visit an agency only on an
occasional raid for rations, are variously estimated from
5,000 to 10,000, making the whole number of Sioux not
far from 53,000. As a whole, the Sioux are as yet un-
reached by civilisation, except so far as their necessities
and inclinations have led them to receive rations and
annuity goods from the hands of Government agents.

All the separate bands of the Sioux form a confederacy
similar to that of the ancient confederacy of the Iroquois
Indians. Amongst the Indians of the United States they
are the only tribes which have increased in population.
They are most aggressive, and wage a constant warfare
against their weaker neighbours. Amongst their hereditary
and implacable enemies are the Pawnees, whom they have

xxii INTRODUCTION.

almost exterminated, the Eiver and Mountain Crows,
who act as a frontier police between the Northern Sioux
and the white settlers of Montana, the Shoshones or
Snakes, and the Utes.

Amongst their leading chiefs are ' Sitting Bull,' now
engaged in hostilities in Montana with the United States
troops, under Generals Terry, Crook, and Gibbon ; < Eed
Cloud ' and ' Eed Dog,' chiefs of the Ogallalla Sioux ;
and 'Spotted Tail,' chief of the Brute Sioux. 'Little
Crow,' who was the leader in the massacre in Minnesota
of 1862, was the head chief of the Minnecongou Sioux;
and up to the time of the outbreak had always been re-
garded as the friend of the whites.

The Sioux and the Cheyennes are about the finest in
physique^ and most independent, warlike, and self-reliant
of all the tribes of the continent, and there is as much
difference between them and some of the inferior tribes
as there is between an American horse and an Indian
pony.

The Cheyennes. — The Cheyennes, also called Paikan-
doos or ' Cut- wrists,' are described by Catlin as a small
tribe about 3,000 in number, living as neighbours to the
west of the Sioux, between the Black Hills and the
Eocky Mountains. ' There is no finer race of men
than these in North America, and none superior in
stature, excepting the Osages, there being scarcely a man
in the tribe full-grown who is less than six feet in height.
They are undoubtedly the richest in horses of any tribe
on the continent, living in the country, as they do, where
great herds of wild horses are grazing on the prairies,
which they catch in great numbers and vend to the Sioux,
Mandans, and other tribes, as well as to the fur-traders.
These people are a most desperate set of horsemen and
warriors also, having carried on an almost unceasing war
with the Pawnees and Black-feet from time out of mind.'

INTRODUCTION. xxiii

At present they number about 2,000.

The principal chief of this tribe is Ta-ke-ho-rna, or
' Little Eobe.'

Moke-to-ve-to, or 'Black Kettle/ the head chief, as
well as their most distinguished war chief, was killed at
the battle of Washita.

The Arrapahoes. — The Arrapahoes, sometimes called
' Dirty-noses/ from their sign, which consists in seizing
the nose with the thumb and fore-finger, are described
by Burton as follows : —

' The Arrapahoes, generally pronounced Eapahoes
(called by their Shoshone neighbours Sharetikeh, or Dog-
eaters, and by the French Gros Venires], are a tribe of
thieves, living between the south fork of the Platte and the
Arkansas Eivers. They are bounded north by the Sioux,
and hunt in the same grounds with the Cheyennes. This
breed is considered fierce, treacherous, and unfriendly to
the whites, who have debauched and diseased them, while
the Cheyennes are comparatively chaste and uninfected.
The Arrapahoe is distinguished from the Dakotah by the
superior gauntness of his person, and the boldness of his
look ; there are also minor points of difference in the
mocassins, arrow-marks, and weapons.'

The Eev. Dr. Morse thus speaks of these Indians in
1820:— 'Their number is estimated at 10,000. Their
country extends from the head-waters of the Kansas,
south to the Eio del Norte. They are a warlike people,
and often make predatory and murderous excursions on
their eastern and northern neighbours.'

The tribe has, since 1820, from wars and that terrible
scourge the small-pox, greatly decreased, and is now
almost extinct. They now number only 1,500.

Their head chief is ' Oh-nas-tieJ or ' Little Eaven.'
Mr. Eichardson, who was in the habit of seeing him
frequently in 1865, describes him as being the nearest

xxiv INTRODUCTION.

approximation he ever met to the ideal Indian. He had
a fine manly form, and a humane trustworthy face ; he
has associated freely with the settlers in Colorado ever
since the gold discoveries of 1858. He has always been
on good terms with them, and in several instances pre-
vented outbreaks of his people, who wished to avenge
real or fancied injuries. In 1860, he received a medal
from President Buchanan, and has been honoured in
other ways by the military commanders on the Plains.
When speaking of the future of his people, ' Little Eaven '
is always despondent, as he plainly sees that the Indian
is doomed to destruction, and that a few generations at
furthest will see the race extinct. Other chiefs are ' Bird
Chief and « Yellow Bear.'

The Kiowas and Comanches. — The Kiowas and Co-
manches are wild and roving Indians, whose range
extends over a large part of T ,'estern Texas and the south-
eastern portion of New Mexico and Northern Mexico.

The two tribes in 1867 numbered 2,800. The
Kiowas, or * Prairie men,' make the signs of the prairie
and of drinking water. Catlin, when he visited them,
describes them as being a much finer race of men than
either the Comanches or Pawnees, tall and erect, with an
easy and graceful gait, and long hair, cultivated fre-
quently so as to reach nearly to the ground. He states
that they have usually a fine and Eoman outline of head,
and are decidedly distinct from both the Comanches and
Pawnees, both in appearance and language. The Kiowas
have the reputation, and doubtless deserve it, of being
the most rapacious, cruel, and treacherous of all the
Indians of the Plains. They range mainly south of the
Arkansas, and south of the Eio Grande. They have
the credit of influencing the Comanches to do whatever
they suggest.

The Comanches, or Camanches (Les Serpents), imitate

LITTLE ROBE (TAK-KEE-0-MAH), CHIEF OF THE CHKYENXES.

LITTLE KAVEX, HEAD CHIEF OF THE ARRAPAHOES.

INTRODUCTION. xxv

by the waving of the hand or fore-finger, the forward
crawling motion of a snake. In stature they are rather
low, and in person often approach to corpulency.
These fierce, untamed savages roam over an immense
region, living on the buffalo, and plundering Mexicans,
Indians, and whites with judicial impartiality. Arabs
and Tartars of the desert, they remove their villages
(pitching their lodges in regular streets and squares) hun-
dreds of miles at the shortest notice. The men are short
and stout, with bright copper faces and long hair, which
they ornament with glass beads and silver gewgaws.

On foot slow and awkward, but on horseback grace-
ful, they are the most expert and daring riders in the
world. In battle they sweep down upon their enemies
with terrific yells, and, concealing the whole body, with
the exception of one foot, behind their horses, discharge
bullets or arrows over and under the animal's neck rapidly
and accurately. Each has his favourite, war-horse, which
he regards with great affection, and only mounts when
going to battle. With small arms they are familiar ; but
' gun-carts/ or cannons, they hold in superstitious fear.
Even the women are daring riders and hunters, lassoing
antelope and shooting buffalo. They wear the hair short,
tattoo their bodies, have stolid faces, and are ill-shapen
and bow-legged.

These modern Spartans are most expert and skilful
thieves. An old brave boasted to General Marcy that
his four sons were the noblest youths in the tribe, and
the chief comfort of his age, for they could steal more
horses than any of their companions. They are patient
and untiring — sometimes absent upon war expeditions for
a year, refusing to return until they can bring the spoils of
battle. When organising a war party, the chief decorates
a long pole with eagle-feathers and a flag, and then, in
fighting costume, chants war songs through his village.

xxvi INTRODUCTION.

He makes many raids upon white settlers ; but his
favourite victims are Mexicans. Like all barbarians, he
believes his tribe the most prosperous and powerful on
earth, and, whenever the Government supplies him with
blankets, sugar, or money, attributes the gifts solely to
fear of Comanche prowess. Never tilling the ground,
insensible alike to the comforts and wants of civilisation,
daring, treacherous, and bloodthirsty, they are the Bedouins
of the frontier, and the mortal terror of weaker Indians
and of Mexicans. According to tradition, their ancestors
came from a far country in the west, where they expect
to join them after death.

Catlin says of them : — ' In their movements they are
heavy and ungraceful ; and on their feet one of the most
unattractive and slovenly-looking races of Indians I have
ever seen ; but the moment they mount their horses, they
seem at once metamorphosed, and surprise the spectator
with the ease and grace of their movements. A Comanche
on his feet is out of his element, and comparatively almost
as awkward as a monkey on the ground, without a limb
or branch to cling to ; but the moment he lays his
hand upon his horse, his face even becomes handsome,
and he gracefully flies away like a different being.'

The Kiowas number at present about 2,000 and the
Comanches 3,000.

The principal chiefs of the Kiowas are ' Lone Wolf '
and ' Satanta,' or ' White Bear.' The latter in cunning and
native diplomacy has no rival. In wealth and influence
the Dakota chief, ' Eed Cloud,' is his rival ; but in
boldness, daring, and merciless cruelty, ' Satanta ' is far his
superior. If a white man does him an injury, he never
forgives him; but if, on the other hand, the white man
has done him a service, death alone can prevent him
from paying the debt. Mr. Kitchin, who visited him in
1864, describes him as ' a fine-looking Indian, very

BIRD CHIEF. WAR-CHIEF OF THE AHRAPAHOES.

INTRODUCTION. xxvii

energetic, and as sharp as a briar. He and all his people
treated me with much friendship. I ate my meals regularly
three times a day with him in his lodge. He puts in a
good deal of style — spreads a carpet for his guests to sit on,
and has painted fire-boards, twenty inches wide and three
feet long, ornamented with bright brass tacks driven all
round the edges, which they use for tables. He has a brass
French horn, which he blew vigorously when the meals
wn-t' jvjidy.' General Ouster, in his 'Life on the Plains,'
speaking of 'Satanta,' says: — 'Aside from his character
for restless barbarity and activity in conducting merciless
forays against our exposed frontiers, " Satanta " is a re-
markable man — remarkable for his powers of oratory,
his determined warfare against the advances of civilisation,
ni id his opposition to the abandonment of his accustomed
mode of life, and its exchange for the quiet, unexciting,
uneventful life of a reservation Indian.' He and * Lone
Wolf were captured by the United States troops in 1868,
and suffered imprisonment in Texas for some years ; but
were afterwards released.

Other important chiefs of this tribe, are ' Son of the
Sun,' ' Dog Eater,' and ' Sleeping Wolf,' all of whom have
visited Washington.

Some of the principal chiefs of the Comanches are
' Ten Bears,' ' Silver Brooch,' ' Wolf's Name,' ' Little
Horse,' and ' Iron Mountain.'

PRINCIPAL INDIAN EVENTS SINCE 1862.

The principal Indian events which have occurred
within the last fifteen years are the following : —

1. The Sioux massacre of whites in Minnesota in
1862, which resulted in the deaths of 644 men, women,
and children, killed in the several massacres, and of 93
soldiers killed in battle.

xxviii INTR OD UCTION.

2. "The Sand-Creek or Chivington's massacre of In-
dians, which took place on November 29, 1864, when
about 130 of the Cheyennes (principally women and
children) were killed at Sand Creek, on the Little Ar-
kansas Eiver, by a large body of men under Colonel
Chivington and Major Anthony.

3. Fetterman's massacre, which occurred on Decem-
ber 21, 1866, near Fort Phil Kearney, and resulted in the
annihilation, by some of the Sioux Indians, under their
celebrated chiefs, ' Eed Cloud ' and ' Eed Dog,' of Colonel
Fetterman's command, consisting of 80 men and several
officers. Colonel Fetterman and his men were led into
an ambuscade, and not one was left to tell the tale of
their slaughter by the Indians.

4. The Indian war with the Cheyennes, Arrapahoes,
some of the Brule and Ogallalla Sioux Indians, and Kiowas
and Comanches in the autumn of 1868.

The principal events of this war was Colonel For-
syth's fight in September on the Arickara Fork of the
Eepublican Eiver, when with 51 scouts he succeeded in
maintaining his position for eight days against the attacks
of from 800 to 1,000 Indians under ' Eoman Nose,' until
his force was relieved by troops sent from Fort Wallace.
Of the 51 men engaged in this fight 23 were either
killed or wounded, Lieutenant Beecher and Surgeon
Movers being amongst the killed, whilst Colonel Forsyth
was seriously wounded.

And the battle of Washita, on December 23, 1868,
when the United States troops, under the late General
Custer, captured and destroyed the united winter camp
of the Cheyennes under ' Black Kettle,' of the Arrapahoes
under ' Little Eaven,' and the Kiowas and Comanches
under ; Satanta,' ' Satanka,' and * Lone Wolf.' The result
of this fight was 103 warriors left on the ground, and the
capture of a large number of prisoners, together with 875

INTRODUCTION. xxix

\

Indian ponies, and the whole of the winter supplies of
the Indians. The victory, however, was not purchased
without its sacrifices : amongst the killed being Major
Elliott, Captain Hamilton, and 19 enlisted men ; of the
wounded were Major Barnitz and 13 enlisted men.

Major Elliott and the men under his command, in a
charge against the Indians, became separated from the
other troops, were surrounded by an overwhelming force
of Indians, and cut off to a man. When their bodies
were discovered, a few days- after the battle, it was found
that they had been horribly mutilated.

The decisive character of the victory, and the severe
blow sustained by the Cheyennes, may be judged from
the number of 'big' chiefs, war chieft, and head men
killed in the battle of the Washita. It was learned from
the squaws, by means of Mr. Curtis, the interpreter, that
the following were killed : —

Cheyennes — ' Black Kettle,' chief of the band ; ' Little
Bock,' second chief; 'Buffalo Tongue, 'Tall White Man,'
' Tall Owl/ ' Poor Black Elk', ' Big Horse/ ' White Beaver/
' Bear Tail/ ; Running Water/ ' Wolf Ear/ < The Man that
hears the Wolf/ ' Medicine Walker.'

Sioux—' Heap Timber/ and < Tall Hat.'
Arrapahoes — ' Lame Man.'

On Christmas Day a detachment of troops under
Colonel Evans captured a Comanche village of sixty
lodges, who surrendered after only a feeble resistance.
In the meantime other troops had succeeded in capturing
Satanta and ' Lone Wolf/ and on January 1 General
Sheridan, in his despatch to General Sherman, was
enabled to report as follows : —

' The destruction of the Comanche village by Colonel
Evans's command on Christmas Day gave the final blow
to the backbone of the Indian rebellion. At midnight on
December 31, 1868, a delegation of the chief fighting

xxx INTRODUCTION.

men of the Cheyennes and Arrapahoes, twenty-one in
number, arrived here on foot, their animals not being
able to carry them on. They said they ruled the village,
and begged for peace, and for permission for their people
to come in, and asked no terms, but only for a paper to
protect them from the operations of our troops while en
route. They report the tribes in mourning for their losses.
Their people are starving, having eaten up all their dogs
and finding no buffalo. We had forced them into the
canons on the eastern edge of the " Staked Plains," where
there was no small game or buffalo. They are in a bad
fix and desire to surrender unconditionally. I acceded
to their terms, and will punish them justly ; and I can
scarcely make an error in any punishment awarded, for
they all have blood upon their hands/

Thus ended the Indian campaign of 1868, and another
laurel was added to the numbers already gained by the
hero of a hundred battles, who first commenced his
military career of success by a dashing charge on Indians
in Oregon.

5. The massacre of the Piegans under Colonel Baker,
on January 23, 1870, when 173 were killed, amongst
whom were 53 women and children.

6. The brutal murder on April 11, 1873, at the
Klamath Agency, of General Canby and Dr. Thomas,
when engaged as Commissioners in a peace conference
with ' Captain Jack ' and other representative men of the
tribe ; Mr. Meachan, another of the Commissioners, was
severely wounded. After seven months' fighting, the
Indians were subdued by the military, and 'Captain
Jack' and three of his principal men were tried by
Court-martial and executed.

7. The war of 1876 against the Northern Sioux
under the leadership of ' Sitting Bull.' This last Indian
campaign, in consequence of the disastrous massacre of

INTRODUCTION. xxxi

General Ouster and all the troops that were with him,
has created so much excitement in the United States, and
will probably lead to the almost immediate solution of
the Indian question, that I have ventured to give a
condensed account of the two principal events in the
campaign ; namely the fight on Eosebud Creek, on
June 17, 1876, with the column under the command
of General Crook ; and the massacre of General Custer
and his brave companions in arms on Sunday, June 25.
The United States troops " were divided into three
columns, which were set in motion to converge on the
country held by the Sioux. One of these columns came
from the West under General Gibbon, down the valley
of the Yellowstone, along the left bank of the river from
Fort Ellis, the march being commenced on April 1.
Another column came from the East under the officer in
supreme command, General Terry. He passed over the
Powder Eiver mountains into the valley of the Yellow-
stone ; and, his march being the shorter and easier, he
did not leave Fort Lincoln till May 11. The third
column, under General Crook, came up from the South,
having left Fort Fetterman on May 15. Thus these
expeditions were moving on a common centre from
hundreds of miles apart. As they approached the
country of the hostile Indians, the object was to feel for
the enemy, and to sweep by means of scouts large tracts of
these wild mountainous and desert lands. Gibbon had to
make sure that there were no Indians on the left bank of
the Yellowstone, that they had not passed over that river
and moved north ; and Terry, after he got on the scene, com-
menced feeling up the southern tributaries of the Yellow-
stone and seeking trails. When Gibbon reached the point
where the Eosebud Creek flows into the Yellowstone, he
found the Indians on the opposite side encamped eighteen
miles up the creek. Here he was joined by General Terry,

xxxii INTRODUCTION.

who had ascended the river in the steamer Far West.
The valleys of five branches were searched, and gradually
the fighting district was narrowed till it centred in the
valley of the Eosebud, and the valley of the Big Horn.
On Terry's column, which was almost wholly composed
of Ouster's regiment, the 7th Cavalry, reaching this tract,
the two columns occupied a position to the north of the
fighting men under ' Sitting Bull,' while Crook, in
command of the 3rd — the strongest column — was to the
south of the hostile Indians. The Sioux were therefore
between the two — Terry, Gibbon, and Custer being in the
valley of the Yellowstone, at the mouths of the tributaries ;
while Crook was at the head-waters of these streams.
The object of the combined movement was for each column
to drive the Indians before it, till the retreat of the Sioux
was checked by the advance of one of the others ; but c Sit-
ting Bull ' seems to have early concentrated his warriors,
heavily reinforced by the Cheyennes, Arrapahoes, and other
tribes. He therefore held a commanding position, which
he has thus far turned to account. When Crook arrived
at the head-waters of the Eosebud, learning that the
camp of the Indians was in that valley as Gibbon
had discovered, some eighteen miles from the mouth of
the river, he immediately advanced by forced marches to
attack the village ; but ' Sitting Bull,' aware of his move-
ment, took up a position, and, instead of Crook surprising
« Sitting Bull,' the latter surprised him. The battle that
ensued was long and furious, and the loss on both sides
severe. Crook fell back to his camp, and the Indians
struck their camp and hurried away to the Little Horn
Eiver, a tributary of the Big Horn.

Meanwhile, Custer encamped at the mouth of the
Eosebud, and General Gibbon broke up his camp on
the north or opposite bank of the Yellowstone, and
marched up the stream to the confluence of the Big

INTRODUCTION. xxxiii

Horn, when the steamer Far West arrived, and with
her assistance he was enabled to cross. Ouster, having
got all ready for the attack on the Indian camp, drew up
his column on June 22, consisting of the twelve troops
of the 7th Cavalry — some 14 officers and 600 men,
with 180 packed mules, loaded with fifteen days'
rations. On the next, the 23rd, the trail discovered by
Colonel Eeno was found and followed. It turned off
from the Kosebud, leading over the divide to the Little
Horn, where the scouts reported a large village. Custer
marched all night as well as all the day of the 24th ; and
on Sunday morning, June 25, the village wTas declared to
be only a few miles ahead. Custer rode in advance with
his orderlies, but failed to detect any trace of what the
scouts declared to be plainly visible. The village of
' Sitting Bull ' was on the left bank of the Little Horn,
about fifteen miles from its confluence with the Big Horn.
The river on that side is fringed with timber, from the
edge of which to the hills on the left — that opposite to
Ouster's advance — spreads a plain some miles long of
bottom-land. By the bank of the river ran the tents of
the Sioux, the largest village ever seen in the West,
extending nearly four miles, and containing 6,000 or
7,000 people, of whom 4,000 were warriors. On the
right, or the side which Custer approached, is a range of
bluffs, which the cavalry crowned, and then they looked
down upon ' Sitting Bull's ' concentrated strength. It is
probable that Custer did not correctly estimate the
number of the enemy ; for a considerable portion was
hidden behind the wood. As he looked down the whole
expanse was in commotion. Mounted bands were riding
furiously around, and columns of dust arose in every
direction, from out of which would shoot single warriors
mounted on their swift ponies, and the cry was raised
that the Indians were retreating. It may be that Custer

b

xxxiv INTR OD UCTION.

was deceived into this belief; for, detaching several
troops, he ordered Colonel Eeno to pass up, enter the
valley, ford the river, and ride down on the village,
while he, making the detour below, crossed the river and
rode up, thus to hem the Sioux between the meeting
squadrons. On the bluff he left four troops in reserve,
with his pack mules and all the material. At the head
of five troops, as the General rode down the ridge he
raised his hat to the comrades he left behind, who
returned the salute with a loud cheer — the last they ever
saw of Ouster.

Eeno moved up the ridge in compliance with the
instructions he had received, descended the valley,
forded the river above the village, and formed in
open column. Then he advanced at a trot, the pace
gradually increasing until it broke into a gallop. The
resistance was not serious for a considerable distance, and
the first intimation of real danger was in the masses on
the bluffs of the valley, opposite those down which the
cavalry had descended. The fire became heavier and
heavier on the flank of the column as it moved, while
gradually the Indians gathered in force in front. The
pressure became greater and greater, till it pushed the
column towards the river, for all round the front
and the left flank the Indians had become massed in
overwhelming strength. Then, in order to secure the
shelter of the woods, Eeno dismounted his party. The
Indians, in their efforts to dislodge the whites, charged
across the plain, up and into the very trees. On they
came, riding ponies, or running on foot, at each charge
leaving many of their number before the wood from
which they had recoiled ; till, what happened in the
advance recurred in this attempt to defend an untenable
post. Soon the forest was penetrated at every point, and
the attack then was in flank and in rear as well as in front.

INTRODUCTION. xxxv

Vain were the attempts of the officers to keep the Indians
from the commanding points. They were soon again in
possession of every post, and then Eeno saw that he
must mount and charge through timber, or, surrounded,
be cut off from the reserves. The retreat became a wild
scramble for life, the Indians rising up on every side, and
each trooper as he galloped was the target for a dozen
rifles. But fast as he pressed his horse the Indian pony
was swifter still, and often the cavalryman had to contend
with five or six painted warriors. Thus the retreat, at
first hurried, assumed the aspect of a rout, and really
became a race for the ford and life. The Indians fell
fast under the revolvers of the cavalry, as they followed
undaunted in pursuit. A strong party of the Eed Men
holding the ford attempted to bar the passage, but were
ridden down in the wild flight ; then the troopers crossed
the river and dashed up the opposite bank under a deadly
fire of the Sioux, now filling the woods which skirt the
river. It was at the ford, which is narrow, that the loss was
heaviest, for the crush prevented a quick passage ; but as
soon as the foremost soldiers crowned the hill they dis-
mounted and opened fire on the Indians to cover the
passage of their comrades, and presently the reserve left
on the bluffs came up. The Indians crowded into the
river both above and below the ford, and drawing toge-
ther charged the hill, when they met with severe punish-
ment at the hands of the fresh troops now brought into
action.

A troop was detached along the crest of the hill to
obtain intelligence of Ouster ; but at every step opposi-
tion strengthened till the officer was recalled in the fear
his men would be surrounded and cut off. For some
time Eeno was left in comparative peace. Two hours
passed ; still there was no news of Ouster. Another
hour ; and then Eeno began to devise means for an

b 2

xxxvi INTRODUCTION.

advance along the ridge, which he found almost impos-
sible, hampered as he was with wounded. The officers
were discussing the feasibility of such a movement when
the Indians in large numbers were observed coming up
the valley. The attack on Ouster had evidently been
concluded, and they now hoped to complete the destruc-
tion of the 7th Cavalry by the annihilation of Eeno's
party. The ground was hard, and the shelter imperfect ;
yet attempts had been made to dig rifle pits ; so when the
fresh assault had been delivered, the soldiers were in a
measure prepared. Yet for a few minutes the lives of
all hung in the balance, so desperate was the charge of
the blood-stained Sioux. Hand to hand the struggle was
maintained ; some of the Indians who had expended their
ammunition, entering with clubbed rifles, even hurling
stones : and it was long before the Bed Men drew off
exhausted and cowed by the loss inflicted.

No sooner had the day dawned than the attack was
renewed with deafening war-whoops, and now all the
Indians, numbering 3,000 to 4,000, appeared to be
gathered around Eeno. The men had been without water
36 hours, and, as the sun grew hot, the suffering increased,
and the animals showed signs of perishing, while around
rose the piteous cry of the wounded for the water which
flowed in a limpid stream below at a distance of some
200 yards. Though every inch of the ground was com-
manded by Indian sharp-shooters, Eeno determined to
procure a supply at all hazards. Suddenly a party sprang
out of the entrenchments and rushed down the hill as if
to repeat the charge on the valley. The attention of the
Indians being diverted by this unexpected attack, another
party with camp-kettles and canteens ran into the river,
where a storm of bullets passed over their heads, for their
comrades were firing at the Indians across the stream,
while the Indians were firing at them. So quickly and

INTRODUCTION. xxxvii

well was this gallant act performed that a full supply was
obtained at the cost of five lives. As Dr. De Wolf had
been killed, Dr. Porter alone remained to attend to the
wounded, the number of whom increased rapidly. About
noon on the 26th a change became evident. The Indians,
who had covered the country for miles and had blocked
every avenue, vanished from the bluffs and all the ground
around — presently the valley became the scene of re-
newed commotion ; the lodges were pulled down, and in
groups the Eed Men hurried away and disappeared in the
wild hills. Until dark the stampede continued, and before
the night fell, Eeno's front was clear, and his command
passed a quiet night. Nor was an Indian to be seen when
the next day dawned.

It was eleven A.M. on June 26, that Gibbon's column,
which had recommenced its forced march, observed a
heavy smoke up the Little Horn about fifteen miles
distant — taken to be an encouraging sign, but the scouts
reported a great battle ending disastrously to Ouster.
The command reached the river about one P.M., and,
having crossed at a good ford, was again in motion by
five o'clock. Two scouts with messages for Ouster were
sent out, but both soon returned pursued by the Sioux
who covered the hills. They began to appear on the
bluffs to the right, and the column moved along prepared
for battle. The force was then in a level bottom-land
of considerable width, with the Little Horn on the left,
and steep bluff-like lands on the right. It was in these
hills the Indians were most numerous, and at nightfall
heavy bodies of them were visible. General Gibbon
halted, and encamped in a square, well out of rifle
range from both river and bluff, the men lying on their
arms. With great care the column moved with the
light of the next morning up the river, the bluffs nar-
rowing as it passed till the defile opened into a valley

xxxviii INTROD UCTION.

beyond. It was in that valley that Ouster had fought,
and evidences of the struggle soon became visible to the
advance guard. The scouts saw they were approaching
an Indian village, and Terry received a message from
the front that the advance had come on the bodies of
190 troopers, and, judging from what had been seen,
there were as many more in the hills near by. As the
column proceeded, it came on the remains of an immense
and hastily- abandoned Indian village. Buffalo robes, elk-
skins, kettles, the camp utensils used by Indians covered
the ground. Wounded Indian ponies struggled here, and
dead ones lay there, mixed with the bodies of horses
branded 7th Cavalry. There, too, lay the head of a
white man, but nowhere the body, and close by, stretched,
face on ground, lay a trooper with an arrow in his back —
the top of his skull crushed in. Two Indian lodges of
line white skins were next passed, around which, in
funeral array, were the bodies of the horses killed, for
inside were grouped a band of the slain warriors, in war
paint and costume, whose spirits had gone to the happy
hunting ground mounted on the spirits of the horses
outside. On a shirt deeply stained with blood was
written — ' Lieutenant Sturgis, 7th Cavalry.' And now a
horseman was seen riding at speed down the valley. He
came to tell how Reno's command had been found on a
hill three or four miles farther up, with all that remained
of the 7th Cavalry. In traversing the ground the bodies
of the fallen soldiers and their horses were passed,
horribly mutilated, and offensive from the heat. Where
Eeno had fought the dead lay mingled together in the
wild confusion in which they had fallen in the melee,
and about three miles down the valley they had ascended,
on the other side of the river, was the scene of General
Custer's last defence, presenting an appearance even more
horrible. On one spot lay 115 soldiers of the 7th, and

INTR OD UCTION. xxxix

near the top of a little knoll in the centre of the plateau
Ouster's unmutilated remains reclined as if in sleep, his
face calm, and a smile on his lips. Around were the
bodies of 1 1 officers ; on his left was his brother, Captain
Thomas Ouster ; on his right Captain Miles Keogh.
Almost at his feet lay a handsome boy of 19, his
nephew Eeed, who insisted on accompanying the general.
Not far away wa« the corpse of Boston Custer, another
brother, and near him was Lieut. Calhoun, the husband
of Ouster's sister, a lady who lost in that desperate charge
her husband, three brothers, and a nephew. And there,
too, was Kellogg, the Herald's correspondent, while in
various parts of the field were strewn the corpses of the
officers and men lying as they fell in that fatal fight.
Custer rode at the head of five troops numbering 240
men, not one of whom survived. In all, 261 were buried,
and 52 wounded were brought away. The officers killed
were General Custer, Colonel L. Custer, Colonel Keogh,
Colone] Cooke, Colonel Yates, Lieut. Porter, Lieut. Smith,
Lieut. Mclntosh, Lieut. Calhoun, Lieut. Hodgson, Lieut.
Eiley, Lieut. Sturgis, Lieut. Crittenden. Lieut. Harrington
and Assistant Surgeon Lord are missing.

An old trapper of the Yellowstone country, named
Eidgely, who was a prisoner in ' Sitting Bull's ' camp,
is probably the only white man alive who witnessed the
Custer Massacre. He was taken by the Indians in March
last, and was detained, though kindly treated. Custer's
movements had been closely watched for days ; and the
division of the force into detachments was noted with satis-
faction. Ambuscades were prepared. There were two
villages, the smaller only being visible to Custer, consist-
ing of 25 tepees ; but there were 75 double tepees be-
hind the bluff. Custer attacked the smaller village, and
was opposed by 1,500 to 2,000 Indians in regular order
of battle. The fight was commenced in the ravine, near the

xl INTR OD UCTION.

ford, and fully half of Ouster's command seemed to be
unhorsed at the first fire. The action only lasted 55
minutes. Eidgely's account of what followed is thus
told : — ' After the massacre of Ouster's forces the Indians
returned to camp with six soldiers as prisoners, and
delirious with joy over their success ; those six were tied
to stakes at a wood pile in the village, and were burned
to death. While the flames were torturing them to death,
the Indian boys fired red-hot arrows into their quivering
flesh until they died. " Sitting Bull " was met after the
fight, and he exultingly remarked that he had killed
many soldiers and one damned general, but he did not
know who he was. The squaws then armed themselves
with knives, visited the battle-field, and robbed and mu-
tilated the bodies of the soldiers. While those soldiers
were being burned the Indians turned their attention
to a force, evidently Eeno's, attacking the lower end of
the village.' Eidgely says Ouster's command had been
slaughtered before a shot was fired by Eeno's force,
which attacked the lower end of the camp about two
o'clock P.M. The Indians returned in the evening and
said the men had fought like the devil, but Eidgely says
they did not make a statement of their losses. They said
the soldiers had been driven back twice, and they piled
up stones and the attack was unsuccessful. The prisoners
were kept burning for over an hour, but Eidgely was not
permitted to speak with them ; so we are unable to state
who they were. One was noticeable from his small size
arid grey hair and whiskers. Eeno killed more Indians
than Ouster, who fell in the midst of the fight ; and two
captains, believed to be Yates and Keogh, were the last
to die. The night after the massacre the Indians were
wild with delight, and many were drunk on whisky
stolen from the whites. The squaws performed the duty
of guards for the prisoners, and, becoming drowsy,

INTRODUCTION. xli

Eidgely and two companions escaped, securing ponies,
and began their long journey homeward.

But as a pleasing contrast to this horrible massacre
and disastrous campaign by the United States troops
against their hostile Indians, I turn to the more fortunate
and successful campaign of the present autumn by the
British against some of the Indian tribes in Canada.
Eecerit reports of this campaign are as follow : —

' Lieutenant-Governor Morris and half-a-dozen officials
have been away in the north-west territory during the
past six weeks, hunting up our Indians, armed with
treaties and presents, and, so far as heard from, their
success has been remarkable. They have met the Indians
in large numbers at different points in the territory, and
we hear that on every occasion they have come off
victorious — carrying away with them, as the result of
each encounter, treaties signed by the chiefs of tribes,
ceding their rights over immense districts of territory, and
leaving behind them nothing worse than cartloads of
presents for the Indians, and the memory of a visit
pleasant and profitable on both sides. It is thus we hope
to fight and win all our Indian campaigns. To the
United States we will leave the exclusive employment on
such occasions of horse, foot, and artillery. We shall be
content with a contract, reduced to writing, and signed
by both parties. Confidence begot of faith kept and
justice observed, has ever been and will ever be, we trust,
the bond of union between Canada and her red children.'

CAUSES OF INDIAN WAES.

The three principal causes of wars with the Indians
are : —

First. Nonfulfilrnent of treaties by the United States
Government.

xlii INTRODUCTION.

Second. Frauds by the Indian agents, and

Third. Encroachments by the whites.

With reference to the first cause of war, namely,
breach of treaty obligations by the Government, it is
only necessary to observe that it would be extremely
difficult to find any treaty entered into by the Govern-
ment with the Indians during the last twenty years,
which has been strictly and honourably fulfilled. At the
same time, however, that the United States Government
have not fulfilled their engagements, they have not in-
sisted, as they might and should have done, on a strict
compliance with treaty obligations by the Indians.

The philanthropic Bishop H. B. Whipple, of Minnesota,
who is the champion of the peace policy with the Indians,
in an important letter which he has recently addressed to
the President with reference to the cause of the existing
Indian war, in condemning the breach of the treaty
obligations with some of the hostile tribes by which the
nation's faith was pledged that no white man should
enter the Indians' territory, pertinently remarks : —
' The nation has left 300,000 men living within its
borders, without a vestige of government or personal
rights of property, or the slightest protection to person,
property, or life. We told these heathen tribes they were
independent nations, and sent out the bravest and best
officers whose slightest word was as good as their bond, be-
cause the Indian would not doubt a soldier's honour, and
they made a treaty pledging the nation's faith that no
white man should enter that territory. I do not discuss
the wisdom of this treaty, that being for others to decide,
but it is the supreme law of the land, and a violation of
its plain provisions is deliberate perjury. General Sher-
man reports that " civilisation makes its own compact
with the weaker party ; it is violated, but not by the savage"
It is done by a civilised nation. The treaty has been

INTRODUCTION. xliii

universally approved, because it ended a shameful Indian
war, which cost $30,000,000 and the lives of ten white
men for every Indian slain. The whole world knows we
have violated the treaty, and the reason of the failure of
the negotiations last year was because our own Commis-
sioners did not have authority from Congress to offer the
Indians more than one-third the sum for their lands they
are already receiving under their old treaty.'

The Bishop in continuation, and in contrasting the
position and treatment of the Indians by the United
States Government with that of the Indians living in
British possessions, paints the following two pictures, de-
scribing most forcibly the advantages of fulfilment over
nonfulfilment of treaties : —

4 On one side of the line is a nation that has spent
$500,000,000 in Indian wars ; a people who have not
one hundred miles between the Atlantic and the Pacific
which has not been the scene of an Indian massacre ; a
Government which has not passed twenty years without an
Indian war ; not one Indian tribe to whom it has given
Christian civilisation ; and which celebrates its Cente-
nary by another bloody Indian war. On the other side
of the line are the same greedy, dominant Anglo-Saxon
race, and the same heathen. They have not spent one
dollar in Indian wars, and have had no Indian massacres.
Why? In Canada the Indian treaties call these men " the
Indian subjects of Her Majesty." When civilisation ap-
proaches them they are placed on ample reservations,
receive aid in civilisation, have personal rights in pro-
perty, are amenable to law, and protected by law, have
schools, and Christian people send them the best teachers.
We expend more than $100 to their $1 in caring for
Indian wards.'

There is not a tribe but could furnish its list of
breaches of treaty obligations ; but probably in no case

xliv INTRODUCTION.

could they be found greater than in the instance of the
Absaraka or Crow Indians, who have always been at
peace with and the friends of the whites, and have acted
as the protectors of the settlers in Montana against the
incursions of the hostile Northern Sioux ; and yet, after
having surrendered to the United States Government the
greater portion of their lands in Wyoming and Montana,
they have not had a single condition of the last treaty
entered into with them fulfilled. I may notably mention
that the Government having undertaken to educate their
children, and to provide at least thirty schools for the
tribe, had when I was in Montana, a few years ago, pro-
vided only one, and that of a most inferior character.

The Indians themselves are keenly alive to the non-
fulfilment by the Government of their treaty stipulations.
At a recent council with the Brule Sioux held at the Spotted
Tail Agency, with the view of inducing the Indians to
remove from their present reservation to the Indian ter-
ritory, ' Spotted Tail,' referring to the white man's broken
faith, addressed the Commissioners as follows : —

6 We have come here to meet you, my friends. We have
considered the words you brought us from the Great Father,
and I have made up my mind. This is the fifth time
words have come to us from the Great Father. At the time
the first treaty was made on Horse Creek there was a pro-
mise made to borrow the overland road of the Indians, and
though I was a boy then they told me that promises were
made to last fifty years. These promises have not been
kept.

6 The next conference we had was held with General
Maynadeer, when there was no promise made, but we
made friends and shook hands.

4 Then there was the treaty made by General Sherman,
General Sanborn, and General Harney, when we were told
we should have annuities and goods for thirty-five years.

INTRODUCTION. xlv

They said this, but did not tell the truth. At that time
General Sherman told me the country was mine and I
should select any place I wished for my reservation. I
said I would take the country from the head of the White
Eiver to the Missouri. He said he would give us cows to
raise cattle, mares to raise horses, arid oxen and waggons
to haul logs with, to haul goods and earn money that way.
He said, also, there should be issues of such things as we
needed to learn the arts with, and, besides that, money to
every one. He told us each of us should have $15 for
an annuity. He told me these things should be carried
out, and for me to go to the mouth of Whitestone and
locate my people, and these things should be fulfilled to
me. But it was not true.

• When these promises failed to be carried out I went
myself to see the Great Father, went to his house and told
him these things. The Great Father told me to go home
and select any place in my country I chose for my home,
and go there and live with my people. I came home and
selected this place and moved here. They told me if I
would move here I should receive a fulfilment of the
promises made to me, but all I got was some very small
cows and some old waggons that were worn out.

6 Again, last summer you came to talk about the coun-
try, and we said we would consider the matter. We said
we would leave it to the Great Father for him to settle.
In reply to that he has sent you out this summer.

6 When a man has a possession that he values, and
another party comes to buy it, he brings with him such
good things as he wishes to purchase it with. You have
come here to buy this country of us, and it would be well
if you would come with the goods you have promised to
give us, and to put them out of your hand so we can see
the good price you propose to pay for it. Then our
hearts would be glad.

xM INTRODUCTION.

' My friends, when you go back to the Great Father I
want you to tell him to send us goods ; send us yokes and
oxen and give us waggons, so we can earn money by
hauling goods from the railroad. This seems to me to be
a very hard day ; half of our country is at war, and we
have come upon very difficult times. This war did not
spring up here in our land : it was brought upon us by
the children of the Great Father, who came to take our
land from us without price, and who do a great many
evil things. The Great Father and his children are to
blame for this trouble. It has been our wish to live here
peaceably ; but the Great Father has filled it with soldiers,
who think only of our death.'

The treaty was subsequently concluded, but in signing
4 Two Strike,' one of the leading chiefs, representing one
of the sub-bands of the tribe, said : — ' The reason we are
afraid to touch the pen and are silent before you is, be-
cause we have been deceived so many times before. If
we knew the words you tell us were true, we should be
willing to sign every day.'

The frauds of the Indian Agents. — These are so
notorious that it is scarcely necessary to revert to them.
The most significant fact, however, is that an Indian
agent, with a salary of only $1,500 or $2,000 a year,
ordinarily retires in the course of a few years with a
large fortune.

Congress honestly grants the appropriations due to
the Indians, but as a rule not more than from five to twenty
per cent, of the actual amount due ever reaches these un-
fortunate wards of the Government. Usually the actual
amount received by the Indians approximates more closely
to the smaller than the larger per centage I have named.

Encroachments by the Whites. — These gradual occu-
pations of the lands of the Eed Men by the whites within
the last thirty or forty years are apparent to any one who

INTRODUCTION. xlvii

will take up a map of the United States, and contrast what
was then and what is now the home and hunting grounds
of the Indian. The Indians have been removed or driven
from time to time still farther west, and the fertile States
of Illinois, Wisconsin, Minnesota, Iowa, and parts of
Missouri, have been carved out of their ancient terri-
tories. This rapid occupation of their lands cannot be
better described than by quoting the testimony of an old
Sioux chief, given at an Indian Council not many years
since. The chief is reported to have said : ' When I was
a young man (and I am now only fifty years old), I
travelled with my people through the country of the
Sac and Fox tribe to the great water Minne Tonkah
(Mississippi), where I saw corn growing, but no white
people. Continuing eastward we came to the Eock Eiver
Valley, and saw the Winnebagoes, but no white people.
We then came to the Fox Eiver Valley, and thence to
the great lake (Lake Michigan), where we found a few
white people in the Pottawatomie country. Thence we
returned to the Sioux country at the Great Falls (Falls of
St. Anthony), and had a feast of green corn with our
relations who resided there. Afterwards we visited the
pipe-clay quarry, in the country of the Yankton Sioux,
and made a feast to the " great medicine," and danced
the " Sun-dance," and then returned to our hunting
grounds on the Prairie. And now our "father" tells
us the white man will never settle on our lands and kill
our game ; but see ! the whites cover all these lands that
I have just described, and also the lands of the Ponchas,
Omahas, and Pawnees. On the south fork of the Platte
the white people are finding gold, and the Arrapahoes
and Cheyennes have no longer any hunting-grounds. Our
country has become very small, and before our children
are grown up, we shall have no more game/

Florida, also, was wrested from the Seminoles, and

xlviii INTROD UCT1ON.

there is now not one of the aborigines to be found in this
State. At the close of the Seminole war, which lasted
nearly six years, ' Coacoochee,' or ' Wild Cat,' one of
the most distinguished chiefs and warriors of the tribe,
after having been captured by Colonel Worth, thus
pathetically describes the treatment his people received at
the hands of the whites, and the latter's occupation of
the lands of his nation : —

' I was once a boy,' said he, in subdued tones. ' Then
I saw the white man afar off. I hunted in these woods,
first with a bow and arrow, then with a rifle. I saw the
white man, and was told he was my enemy. I could not
shoot him as I would a wolf or a bear ; yet like these he
came upon me. Horses, cattle, and fields he took from
me. He said he was my friend. He abused our women
and children, and told us to go from the land. Still he
gave me his hand in friendship. We took it. Whilst
taking it he had a snake in the other. His tongue was
forked. He lied and stung us. I asked but for a small
piece of these lands, enough to plant and to live upon, far
south — a spot where I could lay the ashes of my kindred.
And even this has not been granted to me. I feel the
irons in my heart.'

The Black Hills, although solemnly reserved by
treaty for the sole occupation of the Sioux, have during
the last two years, in spite of the efforts of the Govern-
ment to prevent them, been taken possession of by
miners, whilst the same thing has occurred still farther
to the north-west in Northern Wyoming and Montana,
where miners and others have settled in the best hunting
grounds of the Crows ; the only difference in these two
instances being that the Sioux, being the more warlike
race, have resented these encroachments, and killed as
many miners as they could ; whilst the Crows, on the
other hand, who have always been at peace with and the

INTRODUCTION. li

allies of the whites, have acquiesced in these encroach-
ments, or restricted themselves to remonstrances to their
agents.

INDIAN ATROCITIES AND WESTERN REPRISALS.

In order to attain a true knowledge of the North
American Indian, it is necessary that he should be de-
scribed as he really is—

A stony adversary, an inhuman wretch,
Incapable of pity, void and empty
From every drachm of mercy.

One of his most striking characteristics is the ferocity
and cruelty which he displays against his enemies, be they
red or white. It would be as true to depict the tiger as
quiet and docile, as to represent that the Indian has one
particle of consideration, feeling, or mercy towards either
his enemy or captive.

The atrocities committed by the Indians against the
whites in the various attacks which they have made on the
emigrant trains and their capture of white women, or
their raids on the settlements, are so horrible that they
cannot well be described. Colonel Dodge in his book
has given in the 36th and 40th chapters a few instances.
The Indian records teem with these barbarities, and the
western man, knowing from past experience the treatment
which he and his family will receive at the hands of
the Indians if captured, always, if he has the oppor-
tunity, makes arrangement to kill himself, wife, and
children, rather than any of them should fall into the
hands of Indians on the war path. Even officers of the
United States have not disdained when engaged in Indian
warfare to carry with them a small pocket Derringer
pistol, loaded, to be used in the event of capture as a
dernier ressort, so as to escape by self-inflicted death the
torture to which captives are invariably subjected.

lii INTR OD UCTION.

Instances of the brutal treatment of white women, cap-
tured by the Indians, are unfortunately only too numerous.
I may, however, here refer to the case of Mrs. Blynn and
child, who were captured by ' Satanta,' chief of the Kiowas,
near Fort Lyon, while on their way to their, home in the
States. ' Satanta ' kept her as his captive until the time of
the fight of the United States' troops with the Kiowas in
1868, when, in order to prevent her recapture, she was ruth-
lessly murdered. When the bodies were discovered by
the troops there were two bullet holes penetrating the
brain, and the back of the skull was fearfully crushed, as
if with a hatchet ; whilst the marks on the child led to
the conclusion that she had been seized by the feet and
dashed against a tree.

Another case was that of the Germaine girls, who were
captured on the banks of Smoky Hill Eiver in Western
Kansas, on September 10, 1874. The family consisted of
father, wife, and seven children ; six of whom were girls,
whose ages ranged between five and twenty-one years. The
following is the account given by Catherine, of the attack
and of the treatment which she and her sisters received :—
'The next morning I went down the river's bank to
drive up the cattle, and when returning heard shouts and
yells. Eunning towards the waggon I saw my poor
father shot through the back and my mother tomahawked
by a big Indian. They were both scalped while yet
living. An old squaw ran up and stuck an axe into my
father's head and left it there. Eebecca seized an axe
and attempted to defend herself. She was soon over-
powered, and knocked down insensible. While lying on
the ground covered with blood, several Indians outraged
her person. Then they tore her clothes off and covered
her up with bed-clothes from the waggon. These were
set on fire, and my darling sister was burned to death.
Stephen was killed next, his scalp being taken. Sister

INTRODUCTION. liii

Johanna and myself were placed side by side, and they
came up to inspect us and see which one they should kill.
The choice fell on poor Johanna, and she was shot through
the head. Tying us — Sophia, Lucy, Nancy, and myself —
they hurried us across the prairie, going south. My
clothes were torn from me. I was stripped naked, and
painted by the old squaws, and made the wife of the
chief who could catch me .when fastened upon the back
of a horse which was set loose on the prairie. I don't
know what Indian caught me. I was made the victim
of their desires — nearly all in the tribe — and was beaten
and whipped time and time again. They made me carry
wood and water like the squaws. I had to kill dogs and
cook them for the Indians to eat. We had nothing but
dog-meat and horse-meat. During the time we were
away from the home camp on the Staked Plains I nearly
froze. The snow was very deep, and I had nothing to
keep me warm but a blanket. Both feet were frozen, and
my nails came off from my feet. Sophia was with me
but little of the time — where she went I don't know. I
am positive I can identify every one of the seventeen mem-
bers of the party that murdered my family. ;c Medicine
Water" was with them, and I believe was the leader.'

Atrocities such as have been here indicated have
roused the indignation and passion of the frontiersman
beyond control, and as this feeling is reciprocated by the
Indian who sees his hunting-grounds occupied and food
destroyed, it has become almost impossible to exaggerate
the antipathy existing between the settlers of the Western
Plain and the aboriginal inhabitants. A bloody feud, and
a strife utterly implacable, with the mutual purpose of
extermination, exists between the two races. The Eed
Men wage a pitiless and incessant war of treachery against
the whites. They never spare ; they come in darkness
and by stealth, with rifle, tomahawk, and scalping knife ;

liv INTRODUCTION.

they creep up under the shadows of woods and by night
to the lonely hamlet or solitary cabin, and not a man,
woman, or child is left alive or unmutilated. The settler,
in his turn, is equally determined and merciless.
As evidence of this relentless war I would refer to the
following resolutions, not many years since passed . by the
Idaho Legislature, for the extermination of all Indians : —

' Eesolved — That three men be appointed to select
twenty-five men to go to Indian hunting, and all those
who can fit themselves out shall receive a nominal sum
for all scalps that they may bring in, and all who cannot
fit themselves out shall be fitted out by the committee,
and when they bring in scalps it shall be deducted out.

' That for every buck scalp be paid 100 dollars, and
for every squaw 50 dollars, and 25 dollars for everything
in the shape of an Indian under ten years of age.

* That each scalp shall have the curl of the head, and
each man shall make oath that the said scalp was taken
by the company.'

It will be observed that the hunting of men, women,
and children is put on a par with the extermination of
noxious and dangerous beasts, the males being designated
as ' bucks ' and the wretched young barbarians, consigned
to massacre by this Herodian decree, as ' everything in
the shape of an Indian under ten years of age/

The opinion of a friend of General May who passed
twenty-five years among the Indians gives so good an
illustration of Western ideas and correct mode of treatment
of the Indians, that I cannot do better than give it : —

c " They are the most onsartainest varmints in all
creation, and I reckon tha'r not mor'n half human ; for
you never seed a human, after you'd fed and treated him
to the best fixins in your lodge, jest turn round and steal
all your horses, or ary other thing he could lay his hands
on. No, not adzackly. He would feel kinder grateful,

INTRODUCTION. Iv

and ask you to spread a blanket in his lodge ef you ever
passed that a- way. But the Injun he don't care shucks
for you, and is ready to do you a heap of mischief as soon
as he quits your feed. No, Cap.," said the western to
General May, " it's not the right way to give um presents
to buy peace ; but ef I war governor of these yeer United
States, I'll tell you what I'd do. I'd invite um all to a
big feast, and make b'lieve I wanted to have a big talk ;
and as soon as I got um all -together, I'd pitch in and
sculp about half of um, and then t'other half would be
mighty glad to make a peace that would stick. That's the
way I'd make a treaty with the dog'ond, red-bellied var-
mints ; and as sure as you're born, Cap., that's the only
way." I suggested to him the idea that there would be a
lack of good faith and honour in such a proceeding, and
that it would be much more in accordance with my notions
of fair dealing to meet them openly in the field, and there
endeavour to punish them if they deserve it. To this he re-
plied, " 'Tain't no use talk about honour with them, Cap. ;
they hain't got no such thing in um ; and they won't show
fair fight any way you can fix it. Don't they kill and
sculp a white man when-ar they get the better on him ?
The mean varmints, they'll never behave themselves until
you give um a clean out-and-out licking. They can't
onderstand white folks' ways, and they won't learn um ;
and ef you treat urn decently, they think you are afeard.
You may depend on't, Cap., the only way to treat Injuns
is to thrash them well at first, then the balance will sorter
take to you and behave themselves." :

Only a few years ago in one of the Western territories,
whilst conversing with some of the leading settlers in the
neighbourhood, I heard a somewhat similar plan proposed.
In the instance, however, to which I refer, the speaker
stated that his remedy and settlement of the Indian
question would be to place all Indians on reservations,

Ivi INTRODUCTION.

and then, strictly confining them to their reservations, feed
them with rusty bacon and condemned flour ; adding that
he believed that in less than a year they would all die
off like rotten sheep.

With the existence, then, between them of such feelings
of antipathy and animosity, it is impossible for the savage
Indians and semi-civilised white men to occupy the same
country. All authorities who have investigated the subject
are unanimous in predicating that the Eed Men are a
doomed race. The edict has gone forth, ' Delenda est
Carthago ;' and the Indians will as surely disappear before
the progress of the more energetic and aggressive Anglo-
Saxon, as the snows of winter melt away before the
summer sun.

But sad as the fate of the Eed Man is, yet, even as
philanthropists, we must not forget that, under what ap-
pears to be one of the immutable laws of progress, the
savage is giving place to a higher and more civilised race.
Three hundred thousand Eed Men at the present time re-
quire the entire occupation of a continent as large as Europe,
in order that they may obtain an uncertain and scanty
subsistence by the chase. Ought we, then, to regret if in
the course of a few generations their wigwams, tepees,
and mud lodges, rarely numbering more than one hun-
dred in a village, are replaced by new cities of the West,
each equalling, perhaps, in magnificence, in stately struc-
tures, and in population (exceeding that of all the Indians),
either St. Louis or Chicago? Or if in supplanting less
than 300,000 wandering, debased, and half-naked savages,
we can people the self-same district with a population of
many tens of millions of prosperous and highly civilised
whites ?

The countless herds of buffalo, which formerly ranged
the plains, will be superseded by treble their number of
improved American cattle ; the sparse herds of the

IX TR OD UCTION. l?ii

smooth-haired antelope will be replaced by countless
flocks of woolly sheep ; and the barren prairies, now
covered with the short buffalo grass, yellow sunflower,
and prickly cactus, barely sufficient .to support the
wild denizens of the Plains, will under cultivation teem
with yellow harvests of wheat and corn, providing food
for millions ; so that in a few years the only remini-
scence of the Eed Men will be the preservation of the
names of some of the extinct tribes and dead chiefs in
the nomenclature of the leading cities, counties, and States
of the Great West.

WILLIAM BLACKMORE.

LONDON : October 5, 1876.

PART I.
THE PLAINS.

(The Great Divide.}

' This is the highest point. Two ways the rivers
Leap down to different seas, and as they roll
Grow deep and still ; and their majestic presence
Becomes a benefaction to the towns
They visit.' LONGFELLOW.

THE PLAINS.

CIIAPTEE I.

GENERAL DESCRIPTION.

WHEN I was a schoolboy my map of the United States
showed between the Missouri River and the Rocky
Mountains .a long and broad white blotch, upon which
was printed in small capitals ' The Great American
Desert — Unexplored/

What was then ' unexplored ' is now almost tho-
roughly known. What then was regarded as a desert
supports, in some portions, thriving populations. The \
blotch of thirty years ago is now known as ' The Plains.'

Like an ocean in its vast extent, in its monotony, and
in its danger, it is like the ocean in its romance, in its
opportunities for heroism, and in the fascination it exerts
on all those who come fairly within its influence.

The first experience of the plains, like the first sail
with a ' cap ' full of wind, is apt to be sickening.

This once overcome, the nerves stiffen, the senses
expand, and man begins to realise the magnificence of
being.

At no time, and under no circumstances, can a man
feel so acutely the responsibility of his life, the true
grandeur of Ms manhood, the elation of which his nature
is capable, as when his and other lives depend on the
quickness of his eye, the firmness of his hand, and the
accuracy of his judgment.

There is no lack of such occasions on the plains.

The whole western portion of the North American
Continent, from the Isthmus of Darien to Behring Straits,

B 2

4 THE PLAINS.

from the Missouri Eiver to the Pacific Ocean, is a vast
plateau, more or less elevated, through the general level
of which many mountain ranges and systems push their
heads to the limit of perpetual snow.

The term ' The Plains ' is, however, specially applied
to a comparatively restricted portion of this great area,
extending from the Guadalupe Mountains of Texas on
the south to the British line on the north — from the
Missouri Eiver on the east to the Eocky Mountains on
the west — from the thirtieth to the fiftieth parallel of
latitude, and from the ninety-fifth to the one hundred and
fifth degree of longitude.

To the scientific geologist the plains is a most
interesting and exhaustive field. Its prominent geological
features have not been so confused and defaced as in the
other elevations, and the problems presented appear so
comparatively easy as to attract the interest and attention
of even the most unscientific observer.

The first great upheaval — that which lifted from the
waters the great mass of the Eocky Mountains — must
have resulted in mountain heights to which those now on
earth are comparatively molehills.

From the ruins of these mountains the foundation of
the plains was to be formed. Their bases ceaselessly
lashed by the ever restless ocean, their summits beaten
by the deluges of rain which must have marked that
early epoch, they were torn to fragments, and the detritus,
carried nearer or farther by the currents, were deposited
in the layers where they now appear in a new creation of
solid rocks.

At their base, and stretching far to the eastward, are
now miles upon miles of rounded stones, pebbles, and
sand, the washings of ages, deposited at the mouths of
rivers and streams in form of bars, or piled in measure-
less heaps by the action of glaciers.

Almost the whole eastern foot of the mountain is now
bounded by this formation. If forms the whole country

GENERAL DESCRIPTION. 5

known as the ' Divide ' between the waters of the South
Platte and those of the Kepubliean rivers. Near Colorado
Springs it is very marked, the bar being hundreds of feet
in thickness, and of unknown extent to the eastward ;
while to the southward it follows the trend of the moun-
tain range crossing the Arkansas, building the plateau on
which now stands the new town of Pueblo, until it is
finally lost in the volcanic regions about the head of the
Cimarron Eiver. How high the original and principal
upheaval must have been to have furnished such an
amount of detritus and washings is beyond computa-
tion.

A little to the southward of the Spanish Peaks appear
the first evidences of fire ; but, from that starting-point,
far to the south and west, there is abundant proof that at
one time. in Earth's history Nature made it 'very warm '
for whatever was in that vicinity. The whole surface is
a mass of partially molten rocks, of lava and volcanic
tufa. Hundreds of extinct volcanoes dot the country,
some of which are even yet remarkable for their beauty
and symmetry of form. Of these the most remarkable
is the ' Capulin,' near the head of the Cimarron Eiver.
Rising sheer from a nearly level plateau, and built by and
for itself of molten material to a height of 1,000 feet,1
it has exactly the form, and nearly the perfect symmetry,
of a lady's thimble.

The western side is partially broken down by the last
eruption, affording a comparatively easy access to the
crater ; and, fortunately, owing to its position, it does not
in the least detract from the beauty of the cone. Three
miles to the south-west is Mount Tilden, appearing from
the road an almost perfect hemisphere. It is only
700 or 800 feet high ; but the 'ascent is exceedingly
trying, from the fact that the whole surface is composed
of loose materials, into which the foot sinks at every step.

1 The general level of the plateau from which these volcanoes rise is at
least 6,000 feet above tide-water.

(5 THE PLAINS.

How a mountain composed of such materials should have
retained for ages its perfect shape is one of Nature's
secrets.

The crater is very perfect, and the specimens of lava
and tufa are the finest to be found in any of the vol-
canoes. In this crater is growing a large cedar-tree,
which, judging from its external appearance, must be
more than a hundred years old.

From evidence which will appear farther on, there
is no doubt that the plains were for myriads of ages
the sport of nature, and were successively upheaved
and submerged partially or wholly ; how often can
probably never be known to human intelligence. I
think, however, that every portion of land in this basin,
not of the first grand mountain upheaval, can be referred
to one of three subsequent horizontal upheavals which fix
the distinctive character of the country, and each leaves its
peculiar marks.

The first of these, occurring probably about the
period of fire, brought up the immense plateau called the
* Eaton Mountains,' the ' Mesa de Maio,' the ' Mesa
Grande,' on which is Fort Union, and many other more
or less isolated plateaus, now having an elevation of from
6,000 to 8,000 feet,

The peculiarity of this first horizontal elevation, is,
that its upper surface is still a plain marked with ridges
of burnt and half-molten rocks, and covered everywhere
with lava and volcanic tufa, so hard as to defy the action
of the elements.

The land elevated by this upheaval rose perpendicu-
larly from the sea, the upper surface remaining nearly
horizontal, but inclining slightly to the eastward. The
precipitous sides, formed of the hard igneous rock, show
scarcely any evidence of wear even by the ages of
exposure to the elements ; and, although the ocean still
washed its foot, this plain gave off no detritus. It rises
from the plain below, almost as sheer and unmarked by

GENERAL DESCRIPTION. 7

the elements as if upheaved but a year ago. Wherever
found in the volcanic regions, the distinctive features of
this first plain are always the same.

Farther north, out of the region of fire, this up-
heaval brought up the same rocks, though unburned, and
preserved the same characteristic perpendicularity of
elevation. This has, however, been very greatly modified
by the subsequent action of the elements ; and while the
upper surfaces even yet retain their general level, their
sides are scored with ravines, and the debris falling from
the top has rounded out the bottoms into almost the
semblance of ordinary hills.

The second great horizontal upheaval pushed still
farther above tide-water, the continent already formed,
and added to it an immense area, forming what is now
known as the ' High Plains,' with a present elevation of
from 4,000 to 7,000 feet.

Like the first upheaval, it evidently rose sheer from the
water ; but being of softer material it is, except in some
marked places, washed by rains and the action of the sea
into an apparent continuation of the third or lowest
plain. In many places this second plain stands up almost
as sharp and straight as the first, from which, however, it
is readily distinguished by the more recent character of
the rocks. It is through this second plain that the
streams have cut the deep canons which are so marked a
feature in plains scenery ; and when, as sometimes
happens, a stream has had to work its way through the
mass of material forming both first and second plains,
the canon formed is often sublime in its magnificent
profundity.

The third plain, comprising all the portion from
3,000 or 4,000 feet above tide-water to the general
level of the Mississippi and Missouri Valleys, appears
to have been very recently formed of material brought
from the mountains and upper plains, and to have
been slowly and gradually lifted, or rather silted, out

8 THE PLAINS.

of the waters. The general features and appearance
give the idea of a subsidence of the waters rather
than an elevation of the land, though the latter has been
the process of its development.

This plain is greater in extent than either of the
others, and of an uniformity and sameness not only
uninteresting, but monotonous. About sixty miles from
Fort Lyon, on the new road to Fort Union, is one of the
most magnificent arid instructive views that ever met the
eye of a lover of nature.

Standing on the second plain and looking west, the
horizon is bounded by the long line of peaks of the
' Snowy Eange,' towering to the skies and glittering in
everlasting white. Apparently at their feet, though
more than a hundred miles from them, and looking like
a black table against a white wall, are the Eaton
Mountains, the first plain or horizontal upheaval. A
little to the right, and apparently very near, are the
' Cumbres Espagnoles,' ' Spanish Peaks,' and still farther
to the north-west the Sangre de Christo, Greenhorn,
Cheyenne, and a vast succession of mountain upon
mountain, range after range, the whole overtopped by
the magnificent mountain called 'Pike's Peak,' so
appropriately and significantly named after its original
discoverer, then Lieutenant, but subsequently General
Zabulon Pike.

To the south-west, and within five or six miles, the
' Mesa de Maio,' an interrupted continuation of the
Baton plain, rises like a huge blank wall 1,000 feet from
the high (or second) plain upon which we stand ; and
which to our rear, by a sudden and precipitous plunge
of 800 to 1,200 feet, reaches the third or lowest
plain — the basin proper of the Mississippi and Missouri —
which stretches in limitless expanse to the eastward.

From this position can be seen in plainest form, and
with all their marked peculiarities, the result of Nature's
handiwork in the four great general upheavals, which in

GENERAL DESCRIPTION. 9

my opinion brought this portion of the continent from
the depths of ocean.

In some portions of the middle plains Nature seems
to have endeavoured to outdo her previous efforts, and to
try how many and varied forms the surface of the earth
could be forced to assume by means of partial upheavals.
Some of the most curious of these formations are to the
west of the Laramie plains.

The ground is broken, in every possible way, the
lines of upheaval running at all points of the compass,
and parallel, perpendicular, or oblique to neighbouring
mountain ranges.

One very remarkable peculiarity presents itself in
several ranges of hills in the vicinity of Fort Fred Steele.
Extending sometimes for miles, a portion of earth, more
or less broad, is as it were turned on edge, as one might
partially open the cover of a book lying on a table. The
lifted edge rises almost perpendicularly from the earth,
showing the stratification ; while the other face of the hill
thus formed is the natural surface of the ground, covered
with prairie grass, shrubs, &c.

Immediately behind this long narrow hill, and
probably by the same convulsion, is elevated another
similar hill, with one sheer stratified face, the other not
so steep, and with a natural surface. This is continued,
and I have seen as many as five distinct ranges of hills,
each one in rear overtopping that in front ; all the front
faces being masses of stratified rocks, whilst all the rear
faces are the natural surface of the ground. The front
face of the range opposite Fort Fred Steele is not more
than seventy feet in height, while the summit of the last
is at least 600 feet above the plain below.

The Eattlesnake Hills present another curious featured
They are a series of four or five ranges of hills, from \
600 to 800 feet in height, parallel to, and the nearest /
from half a mile to a mile distant from, the great
Medicine Bow Eange of the Eocky Mountains. They are

10 THE PLAINS.

separated from each other by ravines 300 or 400
feet deep, and from 200 to 400 yards wide. I once
described this formation to Professor Agassiz. Without
seeing, he could not accurately account for it ; but his
hypothesis was, that Nature by her slow processes
had built up immense beds of secondary rocks about
the foot of the great wedge-shaped mass of the Medi-
cine Bow Eange. A convulsion uplifted the mountain,
forcing it through the portions of secondary resting on
its shoulders, turning over a great mass as the plough
turns the earth from the furrow. Subsequently there
came another upheaval, Hfting the mountain higher, and
turning another parallel mass from its sides. He con-
sidered that the number of parallel hills showed the
number of lifts that the mountain had received before
arriving at its present elevation.

Twenty miles south of Eawlin's Springs is another
curious freak of nature, the parallel ridges being over-
turned, not by the upheaval of a wedge-shaped mountain,
but by the successive lifts given to a huge plain (part of
first plain). A succession of parallel ranges of barren
rocky hills is finally greatly overtopped by what appears,
looking at its face, to be a fine mountain range, it being
8,000 or 9,000 feet high, and on this face looking
north can all the year round be found patches of snow.
Eeaching its summit with difficulty, one is surprised to
find stretching far to the south and west an apparently
boundless plain, with a gentle declination from the
northern face. Proceeding a mile or two south, this
plain begins to be broken with the shallow depressions
deepening gradually into ravines, the beds of beautiful
streams (full of fine trout), the heads of the Muddy, a
tributary of Green Eiver.

In the ravine formed by the grand northern face of
this magnificent plain and the parallel range on the north,
runs the old overland stage road ; and the ravine itself is
Bridger's Pass, celebrated in the olden time for its natural

GENERAL DESCRIPTION. 11

difficulty, and its danger from Indians. In the ordinary
sense of the word it is no pass at all ; that is, it crosses
no mountain range. It is, as already stated, simply a
ravine between two parallel ranges. The road was made
through it in consequence of its supply of water. The
Union Pacific Eailroad runs parallel to, and almost within
sight of, the old waggon road, for several hundred miles
west from Laramie City, the rail crossing a succession of
comparatively level plains, while the waggon road was
obliged to wind its way close to the great ranges,
climbing and descending rough and difficult foot hills,
crossing deep and dangerous ravines, increasing greatly
the distance, and a hundredfold the difficulty : attri-
butable to that prime necessity ' water.'

The ' Church Buttes,' still farther vwest, are another
remarkable feature. The bed of a great lake — probably
of fresh water — has been thrust up, so that it now
stands from 100 to 200 feet above the surrounding
plain.

This elevation must have taken place before the
material had time to solidify into rock. Though stratified,
the ' Buttes ' are quite soft, and filled with remains of rep-
tiles, &c. The faces of the ' Buttes ' are still nearly perpen-
dicular ; and, however long they may have been exposed
to the elements, not a very great deal of the material has
been washed down, the surrounding plain appearing to be
of very different composition. At a little distance — from
half a mile to a mile from the 'Buttes' — the plain is
covered with agates and petrifactions. Some of the
most beautiful specimens of moss agates come from this
plain.

Every one has heard of the ' Bad Lands,' a singular
formation which appears at intervals from the Loup
Eiver to the mouth of the Yellowstone. This was all,
undoubtedly, once the bed of a very shallow lake, or
inland sea, which must gradually have subsided, since it
remained for ages a marsh. The whole formation is full

12 THE PLAINS.

of the bones of animals, the larger of which are generally
found in nearly a naturally upright position, as if the
animals had mired in the morass.

On a foundation of stiff clay, or other hard material,
a deposit of soft and loose materials, arranged in layers
or strata, varying in thickness from thirty to 600 feet,
has been made.

The curious peculiarity of the ' Bad Lands ' formation
is, that the channels cut by rains and frost in this soft
deposit have almost invariably perpendicular sides, and
differ from ordinary ravines in that there is no gradual
deepening. They appear to cut at once through the
whole thickness of the deposit, are exceedingly tortuous,
and vary in width with the nature of the particular
locality, or with the length of time that the process of
erosion has been going on.

With this general peculiarity, the 'Bad Lands' vary
in the most extraordinary degree. In some localities the
upper plain appears at a little distance unmarked ; but an
attempt to pass over it discloses the fact that it is scored
in every direction by innumerable narrow crooked chan-
nels, from thirty to 100 feet in perpendicular depth,
and from a few inches to eighty or 100 feet in width.
Through such ' bad lands ' no one but the most experi-
enced plainsman can hope to make headway.

In process of time the narrow grass-covered portions
of plain between the channels are gradually cut away
into backbones, at first very sharp and narrow, getting
broader, however, as more of the material is washed
away. This is called the ' Hogsback ' Bad Lands, and in
most of its stages is utterly impassable. When most of
the material inside a particular bed has been washed out,
and the Hogsbacks levelled with the foundation plain, the
'Bad Lands' present their most striking characteristics.

Imagine an immense irregular bowl -shaped depression
in the earth, from four to ten miles in diameter ; the
sides, from 100 to 600 feet high, cut by the action of

GENERAL DESCRIPTION. 13

water into myriads of forms, ' regular, irregular, and fan-
tastic.' The general bottom of the bowl is level ; and
scattered over it, in most picturesque irregularity, are hills
and mounds, with their almost perpendicular faces cut
into every conceivable and inconceivable design — castles
and towers, domes and pinnacles, obelisks, monuments,
and pyramids. The palace and the Indian ' tepee ' are
here side by side, and all the varied forms are fluted by
water, and frescoed in variously-coloured earths, forming
a grand and wonderful coup d'ceil that no man can imagine
or realise until he sees it.

Travel through these 'Bad Lands' is not difficult.
The ground is covered with fragments of the bones of
animals and reptiles ; and the man must indeed be insen-
sible who can pass unmoved through these most magnifi-
cent burying-grounds of animals extinct before the advent
of his race.

Almost everywhere throughout the whole length and
breadth of the plains are found, in greater or less pro-
fusion, animal remains, fossils, shells, and petrifactions.
Bones are very numerous and in great variety, from the
Saurion and Mastodon to the minutest reptile, ranging
in point of time from the remotest ages to the present day.

When the Union Pacific Eailroad was building, an
attempt was made to obtain water for the engines by
sinking a well at Julesburg. No water was obtained ; but
many interesting facts were developed, during the progress
of the work, as to the nature of the great plains deposit.
When the shaft had been sunk to a great depth (I think
between 200 and 300 feet), the workmen came to an
immense deposit of bones of animals in every state of
preservation or decay. These, as they were brought to
the surface, were eagerly picked over by curiosity-hunters,
and the most perfect carried off. Some time after this
I was so fortunate as to be stationed at Fort Sanders,
when that post was honoured by a visit from Professor
Agassiz. He had hardly been at the post twenty-four

14 THE PLAINS.

hours before (as, I am told, was usual with him) he had
converted the whole garrison into enthusiastic naturalists,
and everything rare or curious was brought to him for
examination and explanation. One of the officers had a
bone from the Julesburg well, which, after some trouble,
was fished out of a box of similar treasures, where, care-
fully labelled, it had been stowed away as something most
especially worth preserving. This was brought to the
Professor, who examined it carefully, while we stood
around in eager expectation. 'It is,' said he — in the
broken English which gave additional charm to his most
interesting and instructive conversation — ' it is the bone
of an antelope.' ' How,' exclaimed several, in disappointed
surprise, ' could an antelope bone get three hundred feet
under ground ? ' ' Ah ! that,' answered the Professor, ' I do
not know ; but I do know that this is the leg-bone of an
antelope.'

At many times, and in widely separated localities, I
assisted at the unearthing of bones of extinct monsters,
or turned over piles of curious fossils, or great beds ot
shells, which, I regret to admit, I was too ignorant to
classify or fully appreciate. One of the most remark-
able of plains phenomena is the wide dissemination of
petrifactions. It is scarcely possible to examine any piece
of pebbly ground without finding numbers of specimens,
some of them extremely perfect and beautiful. Some-
times acres of a plain will be covered with specimens of
4 wood agates ' of almost every shade of colour, from pure
white to jet black, from almost perfect transparency to
thickest opacity, all solidified in the hardest of quartz, but
showing the annual rings of woody fibre as clearly as if
the specimen had just been torn from its native tree.
Sometimes whole forests appear to have been converted
into stone. In a small ravine, a dry tributary of ' Two
Butte Creek,' I once came upon what appeared to be a
sort of raft or obstruction of logs. As it is a perfectly
treeless country, I was led to a closer examination, and to

GENERAL DESCRIPTION. 15

my surprise found that the logs were stone. Never else-
where have I seen petrifactions so large or so perfect.
One huge trunk of a pine-tree was about six feet in
diameter and ten or twelve feet long. It was hollow, and
a portion of the hollow part had been burned away. The
bark, the wood, the hollow, the marks of fire, were all
perfectly natural, yet the log was solid stone. Many
other trunks, branches, and broken portions were lying
about or heaped in a sort of dam across the ravine, which
even if full of water could scarcely have floated away the
smallest of them as wood. One broken piece of heart-
pine was as perfect as if just split from the log, with the
' fat yellow ' resin exuding between the layers ; but all was
stone. The place where these now lie is on what I
designate as the ' second plain.' a high, and here nearly
level, tableland. At this time I doubt if there is a grow-
ing pine-tree within fifty miles of the spot, and I have
never seen growing, in the most protected canon of the
Eocky Mountains, so large a pine-trunk as this petrifac-
tion. The process of petrifaction seems in many cases to
be inexplicable. Once marching with a command near the
Medicine Bow Creek, I was searching for a crossing over\
a deep and difficult ravine for my waggons, when I came
to a stump of a pine-tree about two feet high and twelve
inches in diameter. About it were lying large chips such as
none but an experienced axeman and a good axe take
from trees in felling ; something attracted my close atten-
tion to the stump, which I found to be of stone. On dis-
mounting and picking up the chips, I found that they alsox
were stone. This tree had undoubtedly been cut down
by a white man, probably since the exodus of the
Mormons. The petrifaction of the stump is easily ac-
counted for ; but how account for the conversion to stone
of the scattered chips, lying on the hard dry surface of the
ground away from moisture ! I filled my saddle-pockets
with these chips, and subsequently distributed them among
friends, scientific or otherwise. I have recently learned

1C THE PLAINS.

that the stump has been dug up and sent to some scientific
establishment in the east.

Some portions of the plains seem to be entirely under-
laid by a mass of gypsum. The streams tributary to the
Cimarron on both sides, east of 100° longitude, cut their
way through immense deposits of this mineral. North of
the Great Salt Plain of the Cimarron the deposit seems to
attain its greatest thickness. Though the ' divide ' is high,
and the country very broken, the rains in many places do
not reach the principal channels by ravines, but through
caves and tortuous caverns cut underground by the dis-
solution of the gypsum. From these hills I have taken
out beautiful specimens of selenite transparent as glass.
Here are also fair samples of alabaster, though not to my
knowledge in masses sufficiently large to be of commercial
value. The water impregnated by the gypsum is sweet
and sickly to the taste ; it fails to satisfy thirst, and war-
rants a constant admixture of some corrective.

The Great Salt Plain of the Cimarron is a curiosity
well worth travelling many miles to see. For thirty or
forty miles the bed of the stream is an expanse of sand
half a mile wide, in many places so loose as to form
quicksands. This is so impregnated with salt that the
buffalo lick it up greedily. Near the mouth of Buffalo
Creek a number of springs rise from the bed, the water
of which is a saturated solution of almost pure salt. A
great area of nearly a hundred acres is floored to unknown
depths with most beautifully crystallised rock salt, as clear
and apparently pure as that taken from the evaporating
pans at Syracuse, in the State of New York. It can be
quarried out in lumps and boulders of any size. These
splendid natural salt works are unfortunately situated in
the Indian Territory, and have not yet been in any way
developed.

The hills- in this gypsum region along the Cimarron
are covered with splendid buffalo -grass, the streams bor-
dered by beautiful trees and shrubs in great variety, and,

GENERAL DESCRIPTION. 17

bad as is the water, this country abounds in game, and is a
favourite wintering-place of the Cheyenne and Arrapahoe
Indians.

In strong contrast to the beauty of this well-
watered gypsum country is the horrible sterility of the
ajkajijolains. West of the North Platte, towards GreenS
Eiver, there stretches one of the most horrible of these j
deserts, called the ' Bitter Creek Country.' Scarcely a /
shrub or blade of grass relieves the eye. The dry earthy
is covered with a whitish efflorescence, and every puff of
the sultry wind fills each pore with an acrid caustic dust,
irritating and inflammatory to an intolerable degree. The
skin cracks ; the eyes becoming inflamed, bloodshot, and
watery, cannot bear the horrible glare ; the tongue swells,
the lips bleed, and the throat is parched. The water
quenches not the thirst, but irritates the alimentary canal,
disarranges the whole internal economy ; and many days
of travel in this country sometimes brings the hapless
traveller to an end, as full of suffering and torture as
could be devised by the most inventive Indian.

Almost similar, though not quite so bad, is the alkali \
desert of the Upper Red Eiver. Numberless others, of /
greater or less extent, give a not always pleasurable
variety of travel on the plains.

About twenty-five miles from Fort Lyon, on the Pur-
gatory Eiver, is a curious picture on stone. The rocky
bluff is of carboniferous sandstone, about fifty feet high,
and nearly perpendicular. Somewhat less than half way
up is the picture of a bear rudely drawn, and a little
larger than life size. Scientific men have examined it,
each of whom had a different opinion. The yellowish
grey rock is blackened to the depth of about two inches.
It is not painted, it is not an infiltration. The composi-
tion of the blackened rock is the same as that not dis-
coloured. One savant claimed that it is a photograph
of a bear taken by lightning on the rock ! Whatever it
is, it certainly is a remarkable freak of nature.

c

18 THE PLAINS.

Coal of good quality is found in many places on the
plains. Building- stone is confined to a comparatively
few localities. On the middle plains, about the Smoky,
Pawnee Fork, and the Arkansas, there is an unlimited
supply of a rock about equally a limestone and a sand-
stone. In some places on the Arkansas, as at Old Fort
Lyon, it comes from the quarry in such perfect cubes or
parallelepipeds, that without cutting it may be placed in
a wall like bricks. In other places the strata is much
thicker ; but the rock itself, when taken from the quarry,
is so soft that it can be cut into any desired shape with a
common handsaw. This, though it makes a pretty build-
ing, is not so durable as the harder stone of the thinner
strata.

A volume might be written of the curious features and
formations of the plains. Enough, however, has been
said to invite the attention of scientific men to this vast
and most instructive field.

19

CHAPTEE II.

SURFACE.

IT is the common opinion among persons who have never
been in the Great West, that the plains are a vast limitless
expanse, as level as an Eastern meadow. Nothing could
be farther from the truth. Nature abhors a level as it
does a vacuum ; or I should more truly say that nature,
in striving to bring all things to a general level, is con-
stantly antagonistic to partial levels, The general surface
of each of the three great plains was undoubtedly nearly
a level ; all, however, having a decided inclination from
the mountains. This general surface is now broken in
three ways : by local convulsion and partial upheavals, by
superposition of portions of an upper plain, and by the
action of water.

The great convulsion which upheaved the first plain
raised up at the same time other grounds, some of which
must have been islands in the deep ; and yet others farther
away from the fire region, which, unprotected by lava
and partially molten rocks, have been gradually rounded
into long ranges which now stand as hills above the
general level of the second plain.

The 'Two Buttes,1 the 'Potato Butte,' and many
similar lone fiat-topped peaks, are fine specimens of the
islands of the first upheaval, while the heavy ridge
stretching along the north bank of Ceriso Creek (near
the Mesa de Maio) is undoubtedly attributable to the same
upheaval, though its distinctive features have been some-
what marred by ages of exposure to the elements. So

c 2

20 THE PLAINS.

with the second plain, which at the time of its upheaval
was undoubtedly much more extensive than at present.
The line of demarkation between the second and third
plain is most distinctly indicated in the country south
and west of Fort Lyon, the second plain rising by a
sudden jump of from 500 to 1,000 feet from a
general level of the third. For from twenty to thirty
miles from this present line the surface of the third plain
is broken by large masses of the second plain, some still
almost perpendicular, other almost rounded into hills, but
all having the general level of the second plain.

Standing, therefore, on either of the lower plains, any-
where in the comparative vicinity of its junction with the
plain above it, our horizon will be bounded more or less
by hills all referable to the next plain above.

Away from the vicinity of the junction of the plains
we appear to be surrounded on all sides by a boundless
expanse of dead level. This appearance is due to the
fact that in looking at it the eye catches only the higher
lines of the upper surface of a plain which was originally
almost a dead level. I have already said that the inclina-
tion of all the plains is from the mountains. How decided
this inclination must have been at first is proved by the
peculiarity of the streams. The larger rivers, the Platte,
the Arkansas, and the Canadian, taking their rise in the
mountains, were already pouring their waters towards the
ocean in tortuous channels scarcely yet worn through the
new upheaval. They kept a general course down the
inclination ; the Arkansas alone swerved from its direct
course by a mass of hilly country (which will, I think, be
found to be referable to the second plain). The first rains
which fell upon the newly-raised lands had to make
channels for themselves. They naturally sought the
greatest inclination. It was from the mountain. An
examination of a good map will show how completely
the streams appear to ignore each other, and how each
independently takes its own course towards the sea.

SURFACE. 21

Eain which falls within 400 yards of the Arkansas
runs into Pawnee Fork, keeping nearly parallel to the
larger stream for 200 miles, before finally uniting with
it. These rains falling on and running over the newly
upheaved and soft materials of the plains, have rounded
the higher portions into long and gentle slopes, each,
however, terminating in a ravine, which becomes deeper,
wilder, and more tortuous until it has entirely cut its
wray through the second plain. When the ground is high
and the 'divides' between the streams narrow, these
streams are exceedingly precipitous and difficult, and to
travel through them with waggons is a work of art.

The streams which take their rise in the mountains
cut their way through the second plain in canons more
or less wide and deep, depending on the nature of the
material encountered. The South Platte (at first deflected
from its natural course, and sent to the northward by
the immense mass of debris washed from the mountains
and deposited in the sea as a bar) gets through with dif-
ficulty, but cutting no very remarkable canon, the
materials through which it made its way being of such
a nature as to be rapidly rounded into hills and easily worn
away into slopes.

The Arkansas cuts through the same ' bar,' but en-
counters from the second plain a more rigid resistance
than the Platte, and it gets a long way from the moun-
tains before fairly out of canon.

The tributaries of the Arkansas, which take their rise
in the mountains, cut splendid canons for their passage.
Of these the finest is that of the ' Purgatory,' which for
more than fifty miles is almost shut out from the light
of day by beetling cliffs of red sandstone, 800 to 1,000
feet high, and in many places within a very few hundred
feet of each other.

The Cimarron, rising on the west side of the great first
plain or Eaton Mountains, runs at first to the southward ;
then, turning abruptly to the east, cuts its way through

22 THE PLAINS.

the immense depth of both first and second plains by one
of the most magnificent canons east of the mountains.

The Canadian acts in the same way ; but, having to
cut through only the second plain, its canon, though fine,
is not comparable to that of the Cimarron.

So long as these streams are in the second plain they
are rapid, deep, have high steep banks, narrow but
fertile bottoms, lands covered by a thick growth of cot-
ton-wood and other soft-wood trees, with bushes and
shrubs in great variety, with plums, grapes, cherries,
gooseberries, and some other wild fruits and berries.

As soon as they emerge on the third plain their
character changes ; their current is less rapid, the banks
are low, the bed is wide, shallow, and filled with sand.
The bottom lands are very broad, without trees or shrub-
bery, except occasionally a small growth of willow,
scarcely larger than switches. The bottom is an alluvial
deposit of from one to six feet, underlaid by sand. When
the river rises and the current increases in power, this
sand is washed out from below, the bank falls in, and the
stream is never, for two consecutive years, in the same
bed, the current eating the alluvium on one side to
deposit great bars on the other. These in a very few
years gain a scanty vegetation, another slight deposit of
alluvial soil, to be again destroyed by another freak of
the ever- changing current. One of the most striking
peculiarities of these rivers is that they rise down-
ward.

In April the Arkansas, at Fort Dodge, is a sandy bed,
a fourth of a mile in width, and with possibly an average of
three or four inches of water. In June, when the moun-
tains send forth their floods of melted snow, the river
swells, the current increases in power, and washes out
long channels in the sandy bed. When the banks show
a rise of two feet the waters cut channels in the sand five
or six feet deep, and covering probably a full third of the
distance from bank to bank. At these times the current

SURFACE. 23

may be said to be a huge wave of sand surging, rolling,
turning, and shifting with incessant activity. Where
there is six feet of water in the morning, there may by
noon be a bar with but an inch. By night the bar may
be gone and a deep channel in its place. These channels
are from ten to thirty feet wide, with generally perpen-
dicular sides. Some force will set a current in a par-
ticular direction across a bar. In a few moments a
channel from three to six feet deep is cut, through which
the water pours as in a mill-race. A shift or change
above diverts the current to some other direction, and in
almost as few moments the recent channel is filled up to
within a few inches of the surface of the water. As the
currents by turns set in almost every conceivable direc-
tion with reference to the general course of the stream,
so the channels may be parallel, oblique, or even per-
pendicular to that general course. Even leaving out
of consideration the danger of quicksands, it can be
readily seen that the crossing of such a stream is no
child's-play. A good place of entrance being found, the
horse and rider, stripped of every superfluous article,
wade in. For a few paces the horse steps along in water
but a couple of inches in depth. Without a moment's
notice or preparatory deepening, his fore feet go down
under him, and he plunges head first into swimming
water with a tremendous current. He has hardly re-
covered the shock, and struck out fairly in swimming,
before his chest strikes a wall of sand, on which, after
many struggles and plunges, he finally succeeds in ob-
taining a footing. Again he walks on in shallow water,
again to be plunged suddenly into a treacherous channel,
again to scramble, plunge, and strain to get out of it.
Imagine this done over and over again for twenty or
thirty times, and with an infinity of variations, and an
idea can be formed of the crossing of a plains river in
high water. All the streams which come from the moun-
tains are the same in this peculiarity.

24 THE PLAINS.

One summer I had a small row-boat on the South
Platte opposite ' Fort Sedgwick.' Every day some one
used it in crossing the river, and though the boat drew
but about four inches of water, and though the river was
impassable to animals except by swimming channels for
nearly a third of the distance, the crossing could never
be effected twice on the same line. The boatmen soon
learned to know the position and contour of a bar by
the appearance of the ripples on the surface of the water.
The boat, in making its journey from side to side, not
unfrequently had to make three or four times the distance
up or down, seeking a passage through the constantly
shifting bars. It can be readily seen from this description
that no permanent ferry is possible on such rivers. Much
money was spent, and time lost, in the effort to establish
a flying bridge by boats at Fort Dodge. The effort failed
of course. The first boat launched in deep water was fast
aground in an hour or two, and its wreck now lies
imbedded in sand, exactly where the launch took place.

An ordinary flat boat may be used to great advantage
in crossing these streams, provided there be men enough
to manage it. After loading, a rope as long as pos-
sible, not less than 200 or 300 feet, is attached to one
corner. The other end is carried the full length up the
bank. Half-a-dozen good swimmers then take hold near
this end, and start into the water, wading when possible,
and swimming when necessary. They find a good foot-
hold well out in the river, when twenty more men are
sent out to man the rope. Such of these as cannot swim
must hang on to the rope in crossing the channels. The
rope being manned (by groups at intervals for mutual
assistance in case of danger), a couple of good men armed
with long poles are placed on the boat, and when all is
ready it is swimjjoff. As it floats towards the middle of
the rivei^'th^limmers at the far end of the rope
constantly gain ground towards the other bank, swimming
or wading, all the other men attached to the rope

SURFACE. 25

necessarily following. The bars being of such loose
shifting materials, the boat can, if there be men enough,
and a good foothold for them, generally be forced over
them, the corner to which the rope is attached acting as
a wedge in opening a way, which the men with poles
constantly widen, by pushing the stem of the boat up or
down stream, working it sideways while the ropemen
pull. If the bar cannot be forced in this way, the boat
is either pulled up stream, or allowed to drop down,
until the bar can be turned. It is a tedious process and
dangerous for men, but is often absolutely necessary as
the only means of crossing the stream. A raft on such
a stream would be utterly useless, even could the timber
to make it be found. The great danger of these rivers is
not only from swift channels and quicksands, but from
the great weight of the current, loaded as it is with sand.
A nian caught in one of these moving sand-waves seems
to lose the power even of struggling. Some soldiers
were one day fishing with a seine in the South Platte,
where the water was two or three feet deep. The three
men farthest from the bank suddenly went down. One
was caught by a comrade and saved. The others were
never seen again either in life or in death. The sand
never gives up its dead.

There are many varieties of quicksand. Sometimes
the bottom seems to fall out and leave horse and rider in
a void of sand and water. This, though disagreeable,
is not very dangerous. At other times a horse will sink
to his knees, or to his belly, before finding a firm bottom,
the sand closing tenaciously to his legs and feet. If he be
new to the experience and the sand bad, he will probably
drown or cripple himself by straining. The most dan-
gerous and treacherous are those which not only catch
and grip tenaciously, but in which the victim sinks deeper
and deeper, slowly but most certainly, until buried in
unknown depths. A man or animal caught in one of
these has no hope but from outside assistance. Fortu-

26 THE PLAINS.

nately the most dangerous sands are moderately firm on
the surface, and a man has usually sufficient warning to
enable him, with ordinary presence of mind, to escape.
Besides this, from his broader foot and quicker move-
ments, a man does not sink in quicksands so rapidly as a
horse or mule, and men will walk with impunity around
a waggon sunk to its bed, or drag out a mule sunk to its
haunches.

The streams which take their rise in the second plain,
as the Loup, the Republican, Smoky, and the more
easterly tributaries of the great rivers, have nearly the
same peculiarities as their more ambitious compeers. At
their heads they round off the broad expanse into long
slopes. Gradually deepening, they cut their way through
more or less pretentious canons, with narrow, fertile,
alluvial bottoms, gorged with vegetation, charming in
grace of outline, and beautiful in variety of scenery.
On arriving at the third plain, they take the characteris-
tics of the larger rivers in that plain, and, on a smaller
scale, are just as bare, as monotonous, and as dangerous.
This third plain was probably once the almost desert
shore of a shallow sea, or arm of the Gulf of Mexico,
into which was poured the rich treasures of alluvial soil
brought from the mountains, gradually filling it up and
forming a great marsh. It is the most barren and least in-
teresting of the plains, and sinks gradually towards the east
and south, becoming finally merged in that great alluvial
deposit now the Mississippi Valley proper. The transition
from the bare, sandy monotony of the one, to the luxu-
riant, almost tropical, vegetation of the other, is generally
too gradual to be fully appreciated. Occasionally, how-
ever, it is so abrupt as to be almost startling, giving rise
to a thousand conjectures as to the cause of the remark-
able phenomenon.

I have heretofore intimated that there are no really
level plains. This is a truth to which there are exceptions.
Portions of the surface of the great first plain, within the

SURFACE. 27

fire limit, are yet very nearly level, having been protected
from the action of the elements by the lava and half-
molten rocks with which they are covered.

Portions of the second plain are also yet found which
are not broken by ravines. These were probably very
level areas of the original ocean-bed, which in the up-
heaval were lifted so horizontally that the rains found no
inclination, and were absorbed by the porous soil before
having time to make one. Even when they occur, these
level plains are very limited in extent, and generally have
one, or many, depressions in their surface of greater or
less extent, which are lakes after rains.

On this kind of prairie are found the curious depres-
sions called ' buffalo wallow.' These are formed in the
following manner : A heavy rainfall deluges the hard and
level prairie. The water is soon absorbed by the thirsty
soil, or licked up by the hot sun-rays; a portion of the
soil, a little more moist than that adjoining, opens in cracks,
such as can be seen in any ordinary dried-up mud hole.
Another hard rain comes : these cracks are filled up by
earth washed from their edges, which, packed more
tightly, and retaining moisture longer than before, cracks
again wider in drying. This process is repeated again arid
again, until quite a depression is made into the soil, which
is now so tightly packed as to retain water for a consider-
able time. When the buffalo is shedding his coat in the
spring, he is constantly endeavouring to get rid of the
superfluous hair, and, in the absence of trees against which
to rub, he is frequently rolling and rubbing himself on
the ground. These small water-holes are his especial
delight. He throws himself into them with the greatest
satisfaction, rolling and plunging, and rounding out the
hole until it is of a size to fit comfortably his huge pro-
portions. Sometimes the prairie will be dotted for a mile
with these holes, which are generally oval in shape, five
to ten feet long, three to five broad, and from six inches
to two feet in depth.

28 THE PLAINS.

The buffalo is in no way necessary to the formation
of the ' buffalo wallow,' it being found in parts of the
country where there are no buffalo. He simply uses the
mud bath provided by nature, and in doing so renders his
tub more shapely and symmetrical. The process of for-
mation is exactly similar to that of the ' hog wallow ' of
Southern Texas. Given certain conditions of soil, position,
and rainfall, and prolific nature does the rest. Besides its
use as a bath the ' buffalo wallow ' is an admirable reser-
voir for the preservation of water. The high levels on
which they occur are frequently far from natural springs
or water-courses, and the buffalo and other game would
suffer greatly but for the water stored and retained in
these holes. Often when marching in unknown regions,
across the hot and dusty plain, with men and animals
suffering for water, I have hailed with delight the appear^
ance of these natural tanks, and many a pleasant camp
have I made beside one, the fuel for cooking being the
ample store of dried buffalo droppings, or chips in profu-
sion over the prairie.

The plains proper are treeless. The high first plain
affords in its deep canons protection to a growth of
small pine and cedar. The second plain is entirely
bare on its surface. The gorges cut by the streams
(whether rising in the mountains or in its own bosom)
are filled with a fine growth of large trees, cotton-wood,
hockberry, elm, with shrubs, bushes, vines, and a pro-
fusion of flowers. As the gorges widen the timber grows
more and more scarce, and by the time the stream
arrives at the third plain, there is scarcely a tree or
even a shrub to be found on its banks. The Platte, the
Arkansas, and the Cimarron, filter their waters for hun-
dreds of miles through the sands of their shallow beds,
without a tree to give life and variety to the scene. Their
tributaries murmuring brooks, embowered in shade, pic-
turesque with festooned vines, lovely with flowers and
vocal with the songs of myriads of birds ; while the canons

SURFACE. 29

of the second plain are bare, monotonous, and lifeless as
the third.

Many scientific reasons have been given for the tree-
less condition of the prairies, none of which, that I have
seen or heard, meet all the points of the problem. It is
easy to account for the treeless character of the high plains ;
but why one portion of the lower plain should be bare
while a contiguous portion apparently exactly similar in
soil and position is covered with a fine forest, is a problem
which I believe will never be satisfactorily solved.

From the evidence of practical farmers I am convinced
that the soil of the second plain is naturally as good for
agricultural purposes as any to be found. It is a deep,
rich loam, containing all the ingredients necessary for the
best farming lands. AlHt needsis water. Along the
railroads which cross this plain, wherever there is water
sufficient for irrigation, fine gardens are made. The trees
set out are healthy and grow rapidly, if only supplied with
enough water and protected from the winds. Many of
the streamlets of the second plain, rising apparently on its
surface, probably owe their origin to the strata from the
first plain. They sometimes meander for miles in meadow-
like plains, or through gentle undulations, before cutting
canons for themselves. The soil is perfect, the water
abundant, yet there is not a tree, scarcely a bush. As
soon as the brook has cut a narrow and deep canon, every
available space is probably crowded with vegetation — trees,
shrubs, and vines. The soil is the same, the water the
same ; the only difference is, that one portion is exposed
to the wind, whilst the other is not.

The Indians burn portions of the prairie every fall,
setting the fires so as to burn as vast an extent of country
as possible, and yet preserve unburned a good section in
the vicinity where they purpose to make their fall hunt.
The buffalo, finding nothing to eat on the burnt ground
collect on that unburnt — reducing greatly the labour of
the hunt. These prairie fires, which were formerly sup-

30 THE PLAINS.

posed to account for the treelessness of the plains, have
really comparatively little to do with it. On the high
prairie the grass is very short. When on fire, the blaze,
from six to fifteen inches high, moves over the ground
slower or faster, according to the wind, but not with vitality
or heat enough to seriously injure a bush of a few inches
in diameter. Yet the high prairie is bare. In the
canons the grass is often five to ten feet high, and dried
leaves, shrubs, bushes, vines, furnish a storehouse of fuel,
sufficient to make a roaring vortex of twenty feet of
flame. And yet the canons are full of vegetation. The
only occasion where fire acts a prominent part as a cause
of the treelessness is at the lower ends of the canons,
where the bottoms widen out, and the hills, becoming
lower, are more remote, and afford less protection from the
wind. Trees will grow in such positions, but not so
stubbornly as in the canons. The fire in the long grass
about their trunks, fanned by the winds to which they
are exposed, will destroy the smaller, and so burn the
trunks and branches of the larger trees as frequently to
kill them. In many such places the islands in the stream
which fire cannot reach will be covered with fine trees
and thick vegetation, while the contiguous banks are as
bare as any portion of the high prairie. On many
streams, particularly on the North Platte, some of the
narrow bottoms of the canons are covered with splendid
trees, large and old, without any small young trees, or a
particle of underbush. This is undoubtedly the effect of
fire, and proves, I think, that prairie fires were not so
frequent a hundred years ago as now.

As the settlements creep up the stream, and care is
taken to prevent fires, the young trees spring up, and, as
the growth of the cotton- wood is extremely rapid, all the
ground suited to their propagation is soon covered.

Another great enemy to the trees is the beaver. This
animal is very plentiful on all the streams where there is
sufficient vegetation for his sustenance. The wooded

SURFACE. 31

islands in the larger streams are a favourite home for him ;
for, though extremely active and industrious on occasions,
he does not make a dam except when forced to do so by
the scarcity of water. He works from necessity, not
from the love of labour. The amount of damage a family
of beavers can do in the way of cutting down trees is
wonderful. They eat only the bark of the more tender
branches, and a good-sized tree lasts but a little while.
Many islands are kept denuded of trees by these animals,
and they do vast damage even in the thicker and more
vigorous growth of the canons.

The treelessness of the high plains is caused by the
lack of water, and high winds ; of the lower plains, by
wind, fire, and beaver. As the third plain gradually
blends with the great alluvial deposit of the Mississippi
Valley, the timber increases in variety, size, and vigour of
growth.

The broadest expanse of the second plain extends
from the great central mass of mountains in a direction
a little east of south, including the Staked Plain, and
terminating in the so-called Guadalupe Mountains of
Texas. It is perfectly treeless, except on its south-easterly
edge, where it is marked by two extraordinary belts of
woods called the ' Cross Timbers'

The larger of these belts is about an average of twelve
miles broad, the smaller about eight miles. The 'timber'
is composed of a great variety of trees and shrubs, oak
predominating. It is not a heavy growth ; but many of
the trees are of good size, and the whole is a fair average
forest. Starting on the high arid edge of the Staked
Plain, these belts pursue a course from north-west to
south-east. This outline is very irregular, but they keep
a general parallel course at an average distance of some
fifteen miles apart, never, I am told, once joining each
other until both are finally blended and lost in the heavy
timber lands of the Brazos and Trinity Eivers. I have
crossed these belts but once, many years ago. They

32 THE PLAINS.

were to rne then, and are still, one of the most remark-
able and unaccountable freaks of nature on the plains.
The soil and general surface inside and outside the timber
are apparently the same. The belts cross streams which
just above and below are as bare as any other portion of
the plains. Water does not widen them ; the high dry
plain does not contract them. They are inexplicable.

Except the arid alkali deserts, and "those given over to
sand and sage-brush, the whole prairie is covered with
grass. Even the lava-covered tops of the first plain fur-
nish sufficient soil to dress them with a ragged coat of
green, while the canons are frequently fairly supplied
with nutritious grasses. The higher portions of the
second plain are covered with the famed buffalo-grass.
It covers the ground very thickly, to the exclusion of other
grasses, or even of flowers. The blades are short, but
two or three inches long, and curl upon themselves, form-
ing a thick close mat of beautiful sward, green as emerald
in early spring, but of a yellowish grey later in the
season. This grass is extremely nutritious, and a favourite
with graminivorous animals at all times and seasons. Its
best quality is that it does not, like other grasses, dry up
and become withered and lifeless from the dry heat of
summer, but seems to cure itself as hay uncut, and pre-
serve through the fall and winter all its nutritive
qualities.

In Texas there is a fine grass growing to the height
of two, and under very good conditions of three, feet,
called the ' gramma- grass.' The ' buffalo-grass ' of the
high plains and this ' gramma-grass,' though entirely
different in growth and appearance, are really identical.
This I discovered accidentally. At Fort Dodge I had a
small piece of ground covered with sods of buffalo-grass
taken from the high prairie. It was watered daily, and
otherwise well cared for. To my great astonishment it
appeared to change its whole nature, grew tall and rank,
and in due time developed the seed-heads of the true

SURFACE. 33

' gramma-grass.' The buffalo-grass is uninviting to the
eye, being so very short that an inexperienced man in
search of pasture for animals would pass it without con-
sideration. It makes up in thickness what it lacks in
length, and horses and cattle not only eat it greedily, but
fill themselves much quicker than would seem possible.

The Arkansas Valley at Fort Lyon is covered with
tall, fine-looking grass, which the large herds of domestic
cattle will scarcely touch, preferring to go eight or ten
miles away from the river to feed upon the buffalo-grass
of the high plain. Another curious fact in this connec-
tion is, that the cattle under such circumstances return to
the river for water only on alternate days.

Another good grass is called ' bunch-grass.' Neither
this nor the buffalo can be cut for hay, which, if required,
must be cut from the taller but coarser and greatly less
nutritious grasses from the bottoms.

Another phenomenon of the plains is the sand-hills.
Commencing sometimes high up on the second plain, the
sand is arranged or disposed in what may be termed
sand-streams. The ground covered varies in width from
a few yards to thirty or more miles. Sometimes the sand
is piled in oval or conical hills, from ten to 200 feet
in height ; at other times it seems to cover the ground to a
greater or less depth in an almost level mass. These sand-
streams pursue an almost unbroken course in a general
easterly direction, sometimes, but not invariably, follow-
ing the course of the larger water-courses. The edges or
boundary of the sand are clear cut and well-defined — a
remarkable fact, since the sand is so light as to be the
sport of every wind. It is in colour from bright yellow
to pure white, and the particles of fine sand are so very
minute that a handful thrown into the air disappears
entirely.

One of these sand-streams takes its rise in the high
land known as ' The Divide,' keeps an easterly course
parallel to a tributary of Big Sandy, called Bush Creek,

34 THE PLAINS.

crosses the Big Sandy, and makes a sharp bend to the
south, following the direction of the Big Sandy to its junc-
tion with the Arkansas. It then crosses the Arkansas, and
is joined on its south bank by another similar but smaller
sand-stream, which, taking its rise in the high table-land
between the Purgatory and Arkansas Eivers, follows the
general course of the latter stream.

The Eush Creek and Big Sandy branch has a very
regular width of about twelve miles. The sand is disposed
in small hummocks, covered with broom-sage (a tall, stiff-
jointed grass common on the abandoned fields of Virginia
and North Carolina). It is loose and deep, making travel
extremely laborious and difficult. The Purgatory branch
varies from a quarter of a mile to three miles in width,
and is better to travel over than the other. These streams
when united follow the right or south bank of the Arkansas
in a belt of from five to thirty miles in width. Some-
times this belt will leave the river for a few miles ; at other
times the sand-bluffs stand sheer from the water to the
height of 200 feet.

The sand takes every variety of form. At one place
the long gentle slopes, covered with grass, give at a little
distance no indication of the nature of the ground
beneath ; at another, the high bare knolls, cut in rifts by
the wind, look in the sunlight like huge snow-drifts. In
some places the ' hills,' or knolls, change their forms
with every wind ; in others, the wind seems to have no
effect whatever. The most curious fact connected with
these sand-streams, or ranges of knolls, is that, however
much they may a£d do vary in form, however they may
be and are shifted by the ever-changing winds, all
variations and changes take place within the regular limits
or boundaries.

The south bank of the Arkansas is bounded by
these hills for more than 300 miles. The wide sand-
bed of the river itself is in many places perfectly dry for
a month or more of each year. The prevailing winds

SURFACE. 35

during the summer and fall — the dry season — are from
the south-west ; yet, however much the form and
position of the sand-hills on the south side of the river
may change, there is scarcely a particle of sand to
be found on the north bank, nor a single sand-dune
formed outside of what can readily be distinguished as
the old limits or boundaries . of the sand-stream. Just
opposite Fort Dodge this stream narrows in one place to a
few yards. The waggon road to Camp Supply crosses at
this narrow place, and saves many miles of weary labour.
Twenty-five miles below Fort Dodge the Arkansas bends
to the north-east ; the sand-stream attempts to follow, but,
apparently unable to turn so sharply, compromises the
matter by keeping near the river with the northern edge,
while the south edge stretches in nearly a straight line to
the east in continuation of its former course. The con-
sequence is, that the sand-stream becomes nearly forty
miles wide, and so extremely difficult to cross with
loaded waggons, that buffalo-hunters, and other people of
that section, prefer to turn it by the longer road, vid
Fort Dodge.

Another of these sand-streams follows the general
course of the Cimarron. Another, and an especially bad
one, passes eastward between Wolf Creek and the Cana-
dian. Numberless others could be mentioned if necessary,
Their general characteristics are the same as of the ex-
ample given.

I must mention one, more remarkable than any other
of which I have knowledge, which, though lying in the
limits of the second plain, is not within the limits of the
United States. Starting in the south-west of the territory
of New Mexico, and running in a south-easterly direction
through the Mexican State of Chihuahua, nearly parallel
to and from fifty to seventy miles from the Eio Grande,
this sand-stream has a length of over 100 miles
by a breadth of twelve or fourteen. This stream is a
succession of bare rounded hillocks, twenty or thirty feet

D 2

SO THE PLAINS.

high, of loose white sand, crowded together with most
irregular regularity. The outside limits are perfectly
defined, the country through which the ' stream ' passes
being generally a plain, from the level of which the
'hills' rise abruptly. Standing upon one of those
hillocks the view is a most remarkable one. Along the
length of the stream, as far as the eye can reach, can be
seen only a succession of conical hillocks, crowded
together without order in position, but each perfect in
form, and white as the driven snow. The sand is so
light and so loose, and shifts so constantly, that there can
scarcely be said to be a road across it. A road enters
and a road leaves it, but all traces of the heaviest train
are soon effaced and buried in the sand. The passage is
said to be dangerous. I have crossed it but once. Before
entering it, our leader, an old freighter who had spent
many years in that country, mounted a dune, and looked
long and anxiously at the sky. The day was bright, the
air still and clear. Deciding to risk it, he gave the order,
and our waggons at once plunged to the hubs in the
yielding sand. We were not heavily loaded, and every
man was required to walk, yet the teams could make
only 100 or 200 yards before stopping to blow and
rest. Our leader, keeping ahead on the summits of
the hillocks, directed the movements, and with great
difficulty, and by sometimes doubling teams, we finally
gained the hard ground on the west side, making the dis-
tance of about twelve miles in just about as many hours.
Wherever sand-streams are covered with grass the
surface is undermined by a beautiful little animal called
the gopher (on the high plains a small striped squirrel,
on the southern plains a pouched rat). This animal feeds
on the roots of the grass, on seeds, &c., which he stores
in cavities dug out of the soft sand. His labours not
only render travel more difficult, but exceedingly dan-
gerous, especially to a rapidly-moving horse. It is this
animal that gives the danger to buffalo -hunting.

SURFACE. 37

The prairie dog digs a deep hole with a wide mouth,
and piles up around the orifice a mound of earth. It
can be seen and avoided in the sharpest chase. The
gopher digs a blind pitfall without external opening, and
neither man nor horse have any warning of danger.
Galloping, or running eager and excited, the horse sud-
denly plunges to his knees, turns a somersault, and if
both horse and rider regain their feet without a broken
bone they are fortunate.

58 THE PLAINS.

CHAPTEK III.

CLIMATE.

EXTENDING over nineteen degrees of latitude, and varying
in altitude from almost the sea level to 8,000 feet, the
plains present every variety of climate.

Summer brings its torrid heats, its miasmas and fevers,
to that portion of the third plain which joins the great
Alluvial deposit ; while the Arctic region itself can scarcely
exceed the rigour with which winter lays its icy hand on
the high plains.

Besides the variation resulting from latitude and
altitude, the yearly and even the daily extremes of tem-
perature are most remarkable, and would seem to result
not only in very great discomfort, but in constant sickness
to those subjected to them. This, however, is not the
case. No part of the world can be more healthy than the
middle plains ; and, probably from the dryness of the
atmosphere, the extremes of heat produce less effect on
the human body than in the Eastern States.

A summer's day with the thermometer at 110° is felt
about as it is in New York when the thermometer indi-
cates 90° ; and, no matter how hot the day, the mercury
goes down with the sun. One is always sure of a delight-
ful evening, when he can sit out bareheaded and enjoy
the pure delicious air without the discomfort of dew, or
the danger of ' coughs, colds, and consumptions/ and of a
most glorious night's sleep under at least one blanket.
Eefreshed and invigorated by such a night's rest, the frame
can stand a vast amount of daily heat.

CLIMATE. 39

The winters are peculiar. For a week each day will
be clear, calm, and like a mild October day of the East.
No overcoat is needed, and the presence of winter is
scarcely recognised. Then comes a storm ; the icy wind
cuts like a knife, no clothing seems to keep it from the
person, and penetrating to every part it drags out every
particle of vital heat, leaving but a stiffened corpse of him
who is so unfortunate as to be exposed to it.

An exposure to the full force and fury of a violent
'plains Norther' would be certain death to any indigenous
animal. Buffalo and antelope fly before it, and seek pro-
tection in the deepest and most wooded canons. Near
Julesburg, I once saw the snow dotted with the bodies of
a great number of snow-birds frozen to death in a storm
of a few days before. Men suffer more than other animals.
Lacking the instinct of the latter, which enables them to
presage the coming storm, men new to plains life, misled
by the mildness of the ordinary winter weather, expose
themselves possibly in light clothing on the plains, are
caught in a storm, and perish miserably in a few hours.

A gentleman, competent and in a position to form
a correct estimate, once told me that at least 100
buffalo-hunters had perished from cold in the coun-
try, within 100 miles of the Arkansas River, in two
years. During the winter of 1872-3 I was in command
at Fort Dodge, Kansas. At least seventy capital amputa-
tions were performed by the post surgeon on citzens who
were buffalo-hunters or railroad employes, whilst a much
greater number of frozen men were sent East for treat-
ment. I think it safe to say that over 200 men
in that vicinity lost hands or feet, or parts of them. One
poor fellow had both hands and both feet taken off, and
not only recovered, but was a few months ago in good
health and attending to his usual business.

Fortunately for the habitability of the plains, these
excessively severe storms occur only a few times during
a winter, and are generally of but a few days' duration.

40 THE PLAINS.

The cold itself is not intolerable. The danger is from the
sharp wind, which drives the cold like icy daggers through
the body. Great suffering can always be avoided, if it be
possible to get out of the wind. A day which would be
death on the high plain, may scarcely be uncomfortably
cold in a thicket at the bottom of a deep narrow canon.
Indians and old plainsmen understand this perfectly, and
nothing but absolute necessity will force either to encounter
the risks of a journey on the plain during a storm. At
the first symptom of its approach, all speed is made for
the nearest deep-wooded canon, where they lie still until
the storm is over.

The army frequently suffers greatly from these storms.
It sometimes happens that a marauding and murdering
band of Indians escapes during the summer the punish-
ment which it deserves. It cannot travel in winter, not
only because the Indian is more susceptible to cold than
the white, but because his ponies are too poor and weak
to carry him. A winter campaign is determined upon.
Encumbered with trains, limited in rations, and most
especially in forage, it is not always practicable for the
troops to halt until the storm expends itself, even did a
perfect knowledge of the country enable the officer in
command to find a suitable place. At other times some
military necessity, arising either from the Indians or
from complications of the Indian Department, requires
the movement of troops in mid-winter. The amount of
suffering in all such cases can hardly be exaggerated.

While in command of Fort Sedgwick, in 1867, I was
required to send a company of the 2nd Cavalry to the
Eepublican Eiver in February. It had been gone but a
few days when a most violent storm set in. At the proper
time the company returned without the loss of a man, but
this result was due entirely to the indomitable will and
pluck of the captain in command. The company had to
march for thirty miles in the teeth of the most terrific
gale and blinding snow-storm, and in at least eighteen

CLIMATE. 41

inches of snow. The men were made to dismount, and
each, leading his horse, to take turns in opening the way
through the snow. The cold and suffering were so intense
and the toil so great, that some of the men refused to do
more, and, throwing themselves into the snow, declared
their intention of dying there rather than make another
effort. Orders, entreaties, and threats, all proving alike
unavailing, the captain finally fell upon them with the flat
of his sabre, belaboured them into the ranks, and brought
all in safety to the post.

In the winter of 1865-6 a considerable command was
caught on the Cimarron, and barely escaped total destruc-
tion. An officer who was with it describes the sufferings
as most fearful. Many men were more or less frosted, and
about 600 animals frozen or starved to death.

The recent sufferings of a command sent into the Black
Hills are fresh in the minds of all. It is easy, seated in
a comfortable office, and by a good fire, to give orders for
a winter campaign or movement of troops on the plains,
but it usually means death to somebody. This is of
course a part of the soldier's bargain, and it is the pride of
our soldiers to obey orders, whether they lead to death
by the cold of , a plains storm, or by the heat of the
Indian stake. But such men deserve that there shall
always be a necessity.

The reports published yearly by the Surgeon-General
give the accurate facts relative to the thermometric varia-
tions of the plains. I mention one or two simply as
illustrations. At Fort Lyon, on the Arkansas River, on
the second plain, at an altitude of about 4,000
feet, the daily variation in summer is not unfrequently
40° ; and on one occasion, in winter, the maximum ther-
mometer at 11 o'clock A.M. was about 65°, while the
minimum sometime during the same night was 15° below
zero — a variation of 80° in twenty hours.

The city of Omaha, on the third plain, and not
exceptionally blessed or cursed with variation, had the

42 THE PLAINS.

thermometer at 120°, in the coolest places to be found,
for several days during the summer of 1874, while the
winter of the same year sent the mercury down to 28°
below zero — a yearly variation of 148°. Omaha, like
most other points of the third plain, has but little daily
variation, the nights of summer being nearly as hot as the
days, while the days of winter are nearly as cold as the
nights.

CHAPTEE IV.

STORMS.

THE atmospheric phenomena of the plains are on the
most magnificent scale. Thunderstorms are rare on the
high plains, but when they do occur they excel in all
the elements of grandeur and sublimity. Nowhere is
the lightning-flash a more vivid and blinding glare.
Nowhere is the crash of the thunder more stunning, nor
its roll more deep and prolonged. Nowhere does a man
feel more intensely the nearness and power of the Creator.
For at least six months, from November to April, of
every twelve, ' the wind is never weary on the high
plains,' and wind-storms may occur at any season. The
storms of each locality generally come from one parti-
cular direction, and, at whatsoever season occurring, are
often perfect tornadoes, overturning and destroying
everything movable.

Scarcely a military post on the plains but suffers
yearly from these storms in torn roofs and wrecked
houses. In May and June these storms are not unfre-
quently accompanied by hail. For fury, xiestructiveness,
and size of the stones, the hailstorms of the country
about Fort Lyon far excel any it has ever been my
misfortune to encounter. Two occurred in the summer
of 1870, which did immense damage, splitting the
shingles of the roofs, breaking palings or fences, killing
wild birds, domestic fowls, and all young or small
animals exposed to them. It was estimated that at least
a hundred calves were killed by these two storms.

44 THE PLAINS.

Many of the hailstones were three — some four, five, and
even six inches in circumference — and in many cases
they were not rounded stones, but irregular shapeless
masses of ice.

There is still another storm to which the plains are
subject, called a ' sand-storm.' It is not necessary that
the wind should blow particularly strong to bring on one
of these, but that it have an inclination to the ground.
A terrific wind-storm may sweep over and parallel to the
surface, without much disturbing the dust ; but one of
these impinging winds picks up everything — dust, sand,
and pebbles of the size of a pea — drives them through
the air, rendering it most painful, and even dangerous, to
open the eyes, and shutting out almost entirely the light
of day. These storms are of frequent occurrence all
over the plains, and are exceedingly disagreeable, though
easily avoided by getting into a ravine. I have frequently
watched through a window the phenomena of these
' sand-storms.' Even though the wind did not appear to
blow hard, and the surface passed over seemed to offer
but little of dust or sand, the cloud of flying particles
was so thick, that at many times it was impossible to see
twenty feet ahead. No crevice is too small for many of
these particles, which penetrate into even the most tightly
closed room, and no end of anathemas and feminine
' bad words ' have been lavished on these ' sand-storms '
by the fair followers of the drum.

All these storms are exceptional, the summer and
fall weather .of the high plains being as near perfect as it
is possible to imagine.

45

CHAPTEE Y.

TRAVEL.

THE ordinary uneducated plainsman travels, like the
Indian, by landmarks ; making, however, unlike the
Indian, some use of the sun and the stars. The more
educated use the compass and maps. All classes are
greatly dependent on instinct. A good plainsman 'is
born, not made.' He must have within him a something
unaccountable even to himself, which, however variable
and circuitous the path of his wanderings, tells him con-
stantly the direction of his return. A small natural
aptitude in this may be greatly improved by cultivation
and practice ; but a total lack of the peculiar faculty can
never be replaced by practice, study, or science.

One of the best of the explorers of twenty-five years
ago, a man who in his day, and for the length of his
service, added as much as any to our knowledge of the
4 Great West,' who, if but armed with his compass, sex-
tant, and chronometer, plunged fearlessly into any un-
known wilderness, would sit on the ground and yell
lustily for assistance if by accident he found himself
without instruments, out of sight of his tent or party.
Under ordinary circumstances a partially skilful plains-
man will not care for a compass, except on cloudy days,
or when intending to march accurately on some given
point. The sun and natural instinct, quickened by prac-
tice, are sufficient for all ordinary plain travel. Under
some circumstances, however, instinct, practice, sun,
compass, and head, all fail. Few persons, with any

46 THE PLAINS.

knowledge of geography or of the points of the com-
pass, have travelled at all without having at some time
experienced the curious sensation of being 'turned round.'
A man is going up the Hudson Eiver in a steam-boat, and,
walking from the cabin to the guards, finds himself ap-
parently going down the river. A traveller looks from
his book or paper out of a car window, and finds to his
disgust that he seems to be going back towards his
starting-point.

This feeling is sometimes so strong that I have seen
passengers really alarmed, being sure that they must have
taken a wrong train. I myself have been so ' turned
round ' on Broadway, that it required all my knowledge
of the street, of its tremendous tide of population, which
constantly rushes along its west side, and the compara-
tively few people on the other, to force me against feeling
an instinct in the direction I ought to go.

No power of mind or will can change this feeling,
which, however, generally goes off of itself after a while, as
mysteriously and with as little cause as it came. It does
not always go off, and a wrong impression once made
may cling through life, as to me Detroit is always in
Canada, and New Orleans always on the right bank of
the Mississippi, because I happened to be ' turned round '
when I first arrived in those cities. Under such curious
circumstances the features of the best known localities
become strange ; everything looks different from what
it ought to look. This is 'getting lost' in the plains
sense.

To the man whose ' head is level,' the mere being in
an unknown locality, or not knowing exactly where he is,
amounts to nothing. This is something that happens
every day, and no amount of turning among deep canons,
or wooded ravines, ever interferes with the instinct of the
true plainsman. Sometimes, however, he will arrive at a
stream which he knows ought to run in a particular
direction. To his astonishment it is running the other

TRAVEL. 47

way. On some morning the sun will rise in what to
him appears the south or west.

The old plainsman knows what this means at once ;
and unless he has a compass, or is as sure of his locality
as a resident in New York would be on Broadway, he
accepts the situation, goes into camp, and waifs until he
gets all right again.

Fortunately, this hallucination being an affection of
the mind without external cause, no two persons of any
party are likely to be affected at the same time, and in the
same way. Fortunately, too, all persons are not subject
to it, at least to the same extent ; and some old plainsmen
(in whom instinct supplies the place of imagination and
knowledge) profess to regard it as a weakness or evidence
of ' greenness.'

The man who travels by compass, whose full reliance
is on the mysterious needle — more true than any human
mind — saves himself great trouble, though not necessarily
from the annoyance of the feeling.

I have, however, seen intelligent men, accustomed to
plains life and to long journeys over the c trackless
wastes,' so completely 4 turned round ' as to lose all
confidence in the compass, to declare it was wrong, that
some local attraction affected its accuracy, &c. Two
gentlemen, by no means new to the plains, were once
with me on a hunt. They became separated from the
party, and, after wandering about for some time, sus-
pected they might be lost. They compared compasses,
made up their minds that both compasses were wrong —
' locally attracted ' — got into a discussion as to the route,
which led to a quarrel, and finally to a separation, each
pursuing what seemed to him the true route. Both were
wrong. The compasses were right. One got into camp
by accident ; the other had to be hunted up and brought
back.

The effect on some minds of being really and
thoroughly lost or ' turned round ' on the plains is most

48 THE PLAINS.

appalling. Everything appears changed and unnatural ;
the most ordinary events appear to possess unusual
significance ; the nerves become unstrung, and the man
soon loses control of himself entirely. I have been told
of two instances where lost men, when found and
approached by parties sent in search of them, made off
in the greatest terror, escaping by almost superhuman
efforts from their friends, to die of starvation in the
wilderness.

When serving in Texas, a soldier of my company
became ' lost ' while returning to the post from a small
village two miles off. A party was sent out to search for
him, and on the second or third day came upon him
almost naked in a little thicket. As soon as he dis-
covered the party, he bounded off like a deer and was
pursued. After an exciting chase he climbed a tree,
from which he was taken by force, and with the greatest
difficulty — struggling, striking, and biting like a wild
animal. He was brought back to the post perfectly wild
and crazy, confined, and watched and attended with the
greatest care for over a month before he recovered his
mind. He was an excellent man, more than usually
intelligent; but I doubt if he ever fully recovered the
shock. He recollected nothing but going a little distance
off the road for something and getting ' turned round '
and realising that he was lost.

Once in Texas, when quite a young man, I went
hunting with the acting post surgeon, an enthusiastic
sportsman, but a very nervous excitable man. After we
had been out a few hours a heavy fog settled down upon
us, completely shutting out the sun and all landmarks.
On examining our pockets we found we had left our
compasses at home. The doctor became very much
excited, and soon developed a symptom of the plains
insanity — ' to keep moving.' We were in a triangle
formed by two large branches of a stream crossed by a
road, and I explained to him that we could not possibly

TRAVEL. 49

have any difficulty in returning to our post as soon as we
could see the sun. My plan was to find a comfortable
position, go into camp, and remain quiet until the sun
appeared. He would not hear of it ; and I had to go
with him to save him from himself. He believed his
horse would take us out, and gave him his head. For
several hours the horse travelled at a good walk, when we
came upon the trail of two horses. As Indians were bad,
I examined the trail carefully, and found it was our own.

We were wandering objectless in a circle. After a
great deal of persuasion I got the doctor to go into camp.
We had nothing to eat, and had found no water. He
could not sleep, and by morning was almost insane. The
fog still enveloped us, but he would not remain in camp ;
and I thought action best for him, who was, in addition
to his other troubles, now tormenting himself with the
certainty of dying of hunger and thirst. We saddled, and
let the horses have their heads to search for water. In
a short time I killed a fine buck, of which the doctor, in
his half-crazy excitement, ate huge chunks, raw and
warm ; not that he was particularly hungry, but that he
feared he would be so. Taking each a goodly quantity
of meat, we started again. About three o'clock we
found a little water-hole, went into camp, made a fire,
cooked some of our venison, and at dark I went to sleep.
About 3 A.M. I was roused by the doctor, who, with the
most frantic exclamations and even tears of delight,
pointed out to me the stars, which were showing brightly
above us. The fog had lifted. Nothing could have kept
him in that camp ; nor was I loath to move towards
comfort and plenty. By noon we arrived at our post.
We had wandered through the glades of the chaparral
thickets for more than twenty-five miles from the post.

Though never ' turned round ' or lost in the plains
sense, I have, on several occasions during the first year of
my service, lost my reckoning so far as to sleep out for a
night or two.

50 THE PLAINS.

One of these occasions might easily have had a tragic
termination, and was so full of adventure that I relate it,
not as a model of good travelling, but as a specimen of
plains life.

I was a lieutenant, temporarily attached to a cavalry
company. We were returning from a long scout, and
had to cross a portion of the Guadalupe Mountains.
These mountains were at that time a stronghold of the
Texas plains Indians, who, hid in their fastnesses, watched
their opportunities for raids on the settlements below,
using most frequently the Bandera Pass on their return
with stolen stock. In the hope of bagging some ducks, I
went off alone to the right of the command, following for
some distance the branches of the Perdinales. I was
mounted on a powerful mule, an excellent riding and
hunting animal. My eagerness for game led me farther
than I intended, and though I. took the proper direction,
and kept a sharp watch for the trail, night overtook me
in the wilderness. I found a good place in a deep ravine
with plenty of wood, picketed my mule, and went into
camp. The frame of my tent was made of sticks, stuck
in the ground in a circle and bent together at the top.
Over these was placed my wide india-rubber pouches,
and over the slit in the top I fastened my hat. My bed
was the saddle-blanket, my pillow the saddle. I had
hardly completed my arrangements when a rain-storm,
such as Texas only can get up, burst upon me. However,
I slept comfortably and dry from above ; but the rain
soaked in underneath, and I was thoroughly disgusted,
and not a little alarmed, next morning to find that my
gun, in spite of all precautions, was so wet that I could
not discharge it. I had a revolver ; but, having no
cartridges to reload, did not try to fire it off, but from
appearance judged it to be in the same condition as the
gun. I was practically disarmed.

At daylight I started for the Bandera Pass, deter-
mined not to waste time in looking for the command, but

TRAVEL. 61

to make the best possible speed to my station, Fort
Lincoln, which was about seventy-five miles off. Soon
after sunrise I reached the Guadalupe Eiver, and was
travelling quickly and comfortably along a small open
prairie, up to the stream, when my attention was attracted
by a thin column of smoke, rising apparently from the
bed of the river.

Thinking of Indians, I darted at once into the thicket
which bordered the prairie, and, keeping well out of sight,
skirted around until I got above the smoke. My first
impulse was to put as much distance between myself and
it, and in as short a time, as possible ; but the idea
suddenly occurred to me that it might be the camp of
my command, and that I had better be dead at once
than have it known that I had run away from my own
camp. Acting on this I turned my mule, and cautiously
made my way back towards the smoke, but still above it,
on the river. The thicket was very dense. I suddenly
emerged from it to find myself almost in a herd of about
twenty horses and mules, wrhich were picketed in a small
open space not over thirty yards wide, and just on the
bluff bank of the river. To make my position worse, my
mule no sooner saw the animals than she lifted her voice
and sung out a bray, which I thought might have been
heard for miles.

I tumbled off at once, and, thrusting my hand in her
mouth, stopped her music, then backed her out of sight
in the thicket. After fastening her I returned to the
open space. The animals did not belong to my party.
The camp was evidently just under the bluff. Crawling
most cautiously to the edge, I peeped over the bank, and
my scalp felt very loose, as I saw, not forty yards off,
seven Indians squatted around a pot eating their breakfast.
I got back to the thicket as quickly and cautiously as
possible. What to do was the question. My mule,
though strong, was very slow in a race. I had two
alternatives : either to make off at once on the mule,

E 2

52 THE PLAINS.

trusting that the Indians might not find my trail until I
had a good start, or to steal a horse and get away on
that. I had no compunctions under the circumstances ;
but I doubted my ability to select the best horse, and it
would take precious moments to change the saddle. I
mounted the mule and proceeded cautiously until sure of
being out of hearing, when whip and spur were vigorously
applied, and that mule never made better time than for
the next five or six miles. I crossed the Guadalupe, then
the Verde. All this part of the race had been through
woods and thickets. From the Verde to the Bandera
Pass was a slope of about three miles of bare ground. If
I could get over that and through the pass I was pretty
safe, as I could on the other side plunge at once into the
ravines and thickets of the Medina Eiver, in which I could
elude pursuit, at least on foot. When about half way
over this bare ground, to my inexpressible delight, I ran
into the trail of my command, but had hardly time to
congratulate myself before several Indians emerged in
full pursuit from the thickets of the Verde. Under whip
and spur my mule soon brought me to the summit of the
pass, and looking back I found the Indians had stopped
on striking the trail of the troops, and were carefully
examining it. Feeling pretty safe I also stopped to watch
them, and to blow my mule. After consultation they
went back as fast as they came, leaving me unmolested to
overtake my command, which I soon did.

When travelling without a compass in bad, stormy,
or foggy days, when neither the sun nor landmarks can
be seen, plainsmen are forced to make devices to keep
their course. Sometimes a course may be determined by
the way the grass is bent by storms ; and this is not un-
reliable in the early spring, for the heavy winds of winter
being northers, the grass blown down almost invariably
points its loose ends to the south.

The direction of heavy winds of any season is pretty
constant if not deflected by the vicinity of mountains, and

TRAVEL. 53

it is not generally difficult to keep a course by the wind.
Many times the nature of the country is such that it is
impossible to travel on compass courses. Indeed either
from hills, ravines, or lack of water, it is extremely rare
that an accurate compass course can be maintained for
any distance, and a compromise must almost always be
made. The general direction ' is kept with deviations
determined by the nature of the ground. Parties tra-
velling from one section of the country to another, a long
distance apart, generally keep near some principal stream
favourable to the course, or, where the course lies across
the general directions of the main streams, the lateral
branches are used. The courses of all the larger
streams of the plains are so nearly parallel that but little
skill is required to keep in a generally correct direction.
There is said to be ' cheating in all trades,' and old
plainsmen acting as guides frequently take vast credit to
themselves for doing what any one could do who simply
remembered the parallelism of the plains streams.

Exploring or scouting parties of troops have gener-
ally a special section or direction given them, with ample
latitude as to all details of marches and camps, to be filled
at the discretion of the commanding officer.

Parties on horseback with pack animals can go any-
where ; that is, however rugged and broken the country,
a skilled plains traveller can, with such an outfit, always
find means of arriving very directly at his destination.
Waggon trains require much greater care and nicer
selection of the line of march ; but an uninitiated person
is constantly surprised at the ease with which heavily
loaded waggons can be taken by a skilful plainsman over
what appears to be an impassable country.

One of the great secrets of plains travel is the skilful
use of ' divides.' A ' divide ' is the portion of upland
which separates one ravine from another, whether they
be tributaries of the same or of different streams. Level
land is either mesa or ' bottom.' The term ' mesa ' is

54 THE PLAINS.

applied to a level upland ; ' bottom,' to the level land
bordering a stream and enclosed between the sides of the
ravine. All land which is not level is ' divide,' though
this term is specially and technically applied to the
summit or junction of the slopes rising from two con-
tiguous ravines.

The line or ridge separating the waters of two streams
not uniting with each other, is called a 'principal divide.'

In very many parts of the plains the sides of the
ravines are so extremely precipitous that crossing them is
out of the question, and all travel must either be along
the ' bottoms ' or along the ' divides.' The ' bottom,'
though comparatively level, is almost always scored by a
ditch which, winding from one precipitous side to the
other, necessitates innumerable crossings ; and, as its banks
are generally steep, immense labour is required to make a
waggon road. Sometimes a ' bottom ' is so narrow and
broken that it is impossible to follow it. The 'divide,'
on the contrary, is nearly always comparatively unbroken
level, and offers a good, though sometimes an exceedingly
crooked, route.

For the prime necessities of camp life — water, wood,
and grass — camps must habitually be made on or near
the streams, generally in the ' bottom.' Suppose from
such a camp it is desired to go from one main stream to
another parallel to it. If some distance apart, a tributary
of one may be followed up for water until the party is
within a day's march of water on some tributary of the
other before taking to the ' divide.' If closer together,
or if there be no known tributary with water, the ' divide '
should be taken as soon as possible.

It is not always an easy matter to get out of the
' bottom ' into the ' divide.' Fortunately the traveller
is restricted in his selection of place for ascent, only by
the general direction in which he wishes to travel.
Having once mastered the ascent of the side of the
ravine, his principal difficulty is overcome.

TRAVEL.

65

All ravines take their origin in the general level.
At their heads they have cut but little, and going up all
' divides ' reach the summit, or ' principal divide.' Here,
however, commences the trouble. ' Going down ' is
entirely different from ' going up ;' for while in going up
all the ' divides ' lead to one and the same end, 4 going
down' is exactly the reverse, and the one surely prac-
ticable route or ' divide ' must be selected from hundreds
that present themselves, all looking alike, and appearing
at the summit equally practicable. The one ' divide '
selected must be the one that separates the tributary
ravines of two large tributaries of the main stream.
Many times these ravines overlap each other, making
the route extremely crooked.

An examination of the accompanying diagram will
show better than any description the advantages and
difficulties of travelling on ' divides/ Suppose each

B

56 THE PLAINS.

ravine represented on the map to be a gorge impassable
for waggons. To an inexperienced plainsman the difficulties
in a journey from A to B would be insurmountable, yet
by following the dotted line it will be seen that it is
made without a single ravine. In the same way every
point on the river B can be reached from any point of
the river A without crossing a ravine. The map will
also show how easy it is to gain the ' principal divide '
going up from either stream, and how many cul-de-sacs
constantly threaten the traveller going down from the
' principal divide ' to either. The difficulty, however, is
not so great as it appears. A good plainsman can
generally tell from the ' lay of the land ' which is the
proper ' divide ' to follow.

I received my best lesson in plains craft from a
Pawnee Indian, who took a party under my command,
with waggons, without delay, or the slightest accident,
over a section of 'bad lands' which, after examination,
I believed utterly impassable. The ' divide ' followed
was extremely tortuous and narrow ; in one place so very
narrow as to require skilful driving for the passage of the
waggons, the ravines on each side being generally per-
pendicular banks from thirty to eighty feet deep.

In the buffalo region the crossing of ' divides ' by
waggon trains is greatly simplified. The buffalo always
travel on 4 divides ' when crossing from one stream to
another, and nine times out of ten a waggon can follow
wherever a well-marked buffalo trail may lead.

To persons unaccustomed to plains life, who come
out on short visits of business or pleasure, the likelihood
of getting lost from party or camp is a serious drawback.
Every such person should provide himself, before starting
on the journey, with a compass and an outline map of
the country which he proposes to visit. The most ser-
viceable compass for such use is a not too freely balanced
needle, contained in a circular brass box about two
inches in diameter, with a spring to unship the needle

TEA VEL. 57

when not in use. Such a box should be carried in the
pocket habitually, so as to preclude any chance of its
being forgotten, or left by accident.

The map should show the larger streams and their
more prominent tributaries. The position of each camp
should be located on the map as accurately as possible,
and the line of each day's .travel, and the probable
position of the evening camp, should be marked in pencil
on the map before starting each morning. Where several
persons are journeying or hunting together, the maps of
each should be a fac-simile of the other, and the person
directing operations should see that each day's march is
marked on each map before leaving camp, and that all
are marked alike.

With these precautions, and the exercise of a little
common sense, individuals may wander off with perfect
safety on each side of the line of travel, or for miles
about the camp, hunting or sight-seeing.

A knowledge of the characteristics of all streams is
a very important element in the comfort and pleasure of
plains travel. A stream is like a tree pressed fiat, except
that the branches never cross each other. The tribu-
taries are the branches. Each branch is a perfect tree in
itself, and all lead to the parent stem. The camp being
on a stream, a hunter may go up it or a lateral tributary,
and wander for miles on these or their tributaries,
knowing that whenever he wishes to return he has but
to go down the tributary on which he happens to be to
arrive finally at camp. Should his pursuit of game carry
him across a ' divide,' he has but to assure himself that
the new system of ravines into which he is about to
plunge belongs to some principal stream, as those he is
leaving. If so, going down any of these ravines will
bring him to the same main stream ; a little higher or
lower, but with the same certainty as to follow the one
he went up.

Should the ' divide ' crossed lead to a system of ravines

58

THE PLAINS.

leading to a different principal stream, the novice in plains
travel had better be careful. Before entering them he
should assure himself of his course, take compass bearings
of one or more prominent objects, and must also note all
important changes of direction made while travelling in
the new system.

Should the camp be located on a tributary of a main
stream, and the hunter desire to go down for his hunt,
he will find the difficulties of his return infinitely
increased. In going up he knows that every tributary,
every lateral branch, on which he is to hunt, has united
each with another and all with the stem on which his camp
is, before he arrives there. In going down he passes the
mouths of other ravines, many almost like that on which
is his camp, and each of which is the outlet of numberless
tributaries. On his return he is likely to find no little
difficulty in deciding which of the apparently innumerable
branches is the one he ought to follow.

The problem of the ' ravines ' is exactly the reverse
of the ' divides.' The above map will explain more

TEA VEL. 59

clearly. Camp being at A, the hunter may scour the
country on that side of the ' principal divide ' as far as D ;
then, crossing the system of ravines which enters the
main stream at B, return certainly and without difficulty
to camp A. simply by always going down the tributary
or stream on which he appears to be. Should, however,
he cross the ' principal divide ' going towards c, he will
have much more difficulty in his return. The camp
being at M, should he hunt down stream towards B, he
must, to get back without difficulty, either have a good
' bump of locality,' or be able to follow his own trail on
his return. A camp situated as at D, where the ravines
break away in every direction, is the easiest to get lost
from, unless there be some prominent and distinctive
landmarks.

If, in spite of all precautions, the novice should be
unable to find his camp or party for such time that he
begins to suspect he is lost, there is still no cause for alarm,
provided he be true to himself. I have before said that
the shock of realising that one is lost has a tendency to
unsettle some natures. It is most important, therefore,
that he who suspects he may be lost, make every effort to
keep cool, and to maintain perfect control of himself. The
first thing to do is to get on the highest ground in the
vicinity, and from it make a deliberate and careful survey
of the country, noting the direction of the larger ravines.
Not unfrequently their appearance and direction will
supply the missing link in his consciousness, and enable
him to get back into the system of ravines for which he
is looking. If not, his map should be spread out on the
ground, the compass placed upon it, and both so turned
as to make the north of the map coincide with the direc-
tion of the needle. He should then, by going back in
thought over his day's travel, working out his turnings,
&c., try to locate on the map as accurately as possible
the position he occupies. Placing the centre of the compass
over the point so located (its north still coinciding with the

60 THE PLAINS.

north of the map), he next takes the direction of his camp,
and estimates the probable distance.

All this must be done with great care, for it is mere
waste of time to attempt it from a second position after
having failed from the first. Taking points far ahead on
the course decided upon, he goes directly upon them. If
the ground is very broken, some prominent point is
selected, as far ahead as possible, and on arriving at it the
compass should again be consulted to determine another
point in the line still in advance. If on travelling over
the estimated distance neither camp nor any recognised
ground has been discovered, the lost man may try firing
his gun several times in rapid succession, and then wait-
ing for an answering shot. If there is no answer, he had
better select the highest point in the vicinity, collect fuel
and try fire. Indians use smoke for signals ; white men fire.

In those portions of the country, however, where
there are no Indians, white men use smoke ; it being
visible at much greater distance.

It would not be safe to make a smoke if the presence
of Indians were suspected ; but when not in an Indian
country, the lost man makes a fire, smothers it occasionally
with grass, so as to make as much smoke as possible, and
waits for an answering smoke. If night overtakes him,
he keeps up as large and bright a flame as possible, until
an answering blaze shall appear. If all fail, he should
waste no further time in looking for his camp, but, adjust-
ing map and compass as heretofore described, make for
the nearest large stream and follow it up or down, as will
soonest bring him to settlements.

No man should ever leave his camp or party without his
arms and a plentiful supply of ammunition and matches.
With these he can always manage to keep himself with-
out suffering, even on a solitary journey of a week or two.
In the present condition of the settlements, no man of
ordinarv intelligence ouaht to be ' out ' under such cir-

«/ o

cumstances more than two or three days.

TRAVEL. 61

In October 1872 I was returning, with three English
gentlemen, to Fort Dodge from one of the most delight-
ful and successful hunts I have ever made, and during
which our appetites for murder had apparently been fully
satiated ; for, though travelling through countless throngs
of buffalo, we were all together with the waggons, no one
caring for a shot. It was our last day ; for, though we
could not reach the post that -night, our next day's travel
was to be through a country devoid of game. The prairie
was a general level, but much broken by shallow ravines,
running apparently to almost every point of the compass.
We stopped for lunch, during which thousands of buffalo
collected on every side, at 400 or 500 yards' .distance,
and gazed at us with stupid curiosity.

Desirous of giving my guests one of the most exciting
scenes of plains life, and at the same time of securing a
quantity of good meat to take into my post, I selected
six or eight of the best men of the cavalry escort, and
directed them to dash at that part of the herd which was
in position to give us the best view of the chase, and to
kill as many calves as possible without making a long run.
Making ready, they followed a shallow ravine until within
200 yards of the herd, and dashed into it.

Every man was a good rider and pistol shot, and a
more brilliant or animating scene of the kind I have
never witnessed. In ten minutes the affair was over, and
each man had secured from one to four fat six-months'
calves.

The chase had roused all the English love of sport,
and long before the game was disembowelled and put in
the waggons my three friends were off, each for himself, in
rapid pursuit of some of the numerous herds. When the
meat was loaded, I started with the command and waggons
on my proper course, having no fear of these gentlemen
getting lost, all of them having displayed during the hunt
much more than a natural aptitude for plains travel.

After an hour one joined me, covered with dust, but

62 THE PLAINS.

rejoicing in trophies of his skill. Shortly after, another
came in the same condition ; the third, my most intimate
and best loved friend, came not.

We camped at the designated spot, waited dinner until
it was nearly spoiled, fired guns, and made smokes, and,
when darkness set in, kept huge fires brightly blazing on
the highest points far into the night. Still he came not.
I had seen him last riding round and shooting at an
enormous buffalo bull, that he had wounded and brought
to bay. I imagined every mishap and was greatly alarmed,
but could do nothing, as it was impossible in the darkness
to follow our trail back.

For one, I passed a most anxious and wretched night.
At daylight I sent out several parties to search for him,
and myself made all possible speed to the post, to send
out such a number of parties as would ensure his being
found very soon.

As I rode up to my quarters, I was astonished and
delighted to see my lost friend standing on the porch wait-
ing for me, as clean, rotund, and smiling as if he had never
crossed a horse or given a moment's uneasiness in his life.

His bull had broken his bay, and given him a further
sharp chase of two or three miles before being finally
despatched. In the chase my friend had lost his reckon-
ing, and, after losing some time in attempts to find the
trail, he gave it up, took out his map and compass, struck
for the Arkansas Eiver, crossed it, took the road, and
arrived at Fort Dodge a little after nightfall, something
over thirty miles from the place where he was lost.

While we were lighting fires and bemoaning his fate,
he was passing the bottle after a good dinner, and having
a jolly time relating his exploits. He displayed in this
case good sense and prompt action, very rare in a man
new to the plains. It was a bad country to travel in, and,
had he wasted time in looking for the trail or camp, he
would have assured himself at least one most uncomfort-
able night on the plains.

TRAVEL. 63

The importance of always having a compass cannot
be too strongly impressed on all who travel on the plains.
' Old plainsmen,' and so-called ' scouts,' or guides, who
desire to be regarded as old plainsmen, frequently
profess a great contempt for a man who cannot travel
without ' one of them little boxes.' With some this con-
tempt is real, and comes from the entire ignorance of the
nature and use of the instrument. Others who profess this
contempt are actuated by interested motives. They desire
to be employed as guides of scouting or hunting parties,
and not unnaturally are very indignant at seeing an officer
or civilian, with no guide but his ' box,' plunge uncon-
cernedly into a country the details and difficulties of
which it has taken them years to become acquainted with.

Besides this, old plainsmen and guides who ignore the
compass, in my experience are not always to be relied on
for close or direct travelling. They will lead a party into
the wilderness and bring it back ; but for my own part,
and with ample opportunity to form an opinion, I would
not give up the ' box ' for the best guide on the plains.
Of course this is very different in mountainous regions,
where the lines of possible travel are very few, and local
knowledge almost absolutely necessary.

' Old Bridger,' the most thorough and justly celebrated
of all plains guides, was employed by the Government to
conduct a heavy waggon train from Fort Fetterman to the
Union Pacific Eailroad. I was informed by the officer in
command of the escort to the train that, on emerging
from the foothills of the mountains, Bridger halted the
train, and went uneasily now to this hill, now to that,
getting on every little prominence, looking at and care-
fully studying the country. After considerable time spent
in this way, he came back to the officer and acknowledged
that he did not know where he was. ' Then,' said the
officer, ' I think you had better go to the house I see in
the valley and inquire.' The house was Medicine Bow
Station, on the railroad. Bridger had been in that valley

64 THE PLAINS.

many times before, but, never having happened to come
on it in that direction, failed to recognise the landmarks.

Again, these old plainsmen are not restricted as to
time. The principal part of their lives is spent wandering
from one stream to another, hunting or trapping, and it
is of no consequence to them whether the course is direct
or roundabout. It is during such journeying that they
fill their heads with the memories of ridges, hills, and
isolated peaks, landmarks by which their position is to be
assured at some future time ; and it is not at all to be
wondered at if these memories sometimes become con-
fused, or if the subsequent journeys through the same
country should be even more roundabout than the first.
This, while all right and pleasant to the old plainsman,
becomes a serious matter for a scouting party, which has
to do certain work in a specified time, and have rations
only for that time, or for a party of gentlemen whose
business associations admit of a visit or hunt on the
plains of a limited number of days.

A considerable force started from a military post on
an important expedition, with a number of the best guides
procurable. Though the command made fairly good
marches, the men were wakened on the morning of the
fifth day by the morning gun at the post, from which
they were distant not over twelve miles in a direct line.
This result is not, however, entirely attributable to the
incapacity of the guides.

I do not mean to intimate that guides are of no value
on the plains. On the contrary, their services are at
many times really important, especially in a country
where water is scarce. I do mean to say, however, that,
as a rule, the services of these guides are worth less than
a fifth of their own estimation of, and charges for, them.
When to their knowledge of country they add a famili-
arity with Indian languages, or of the sign language of
the plains Indians, and also, what is extremely unusual in
a white American, are really skilful trailers, their services

TRAVEL. 65

with troops become important. The most valuable ser-
vices rendered by guides is in conducting waggon trains.

Some few of these men have a wonderful capacity,
almost an instinct, for finding road, and, though in a
country entirely unknown to them, can tell almost with
certainty by the ' lay of the land ' where the best route
can be found.

A man possessed of a certain amount of travelling
instinct is very apt, after trusting to it for some time
without accident or difficulty, to fancy that it is all that
is necessary in plains-craft, and tacitly to ignore his com-
pass. The veriest greenhorn is less liable to mishap than
he. He neglects the habit of, I may say, wearing his
compass, and some time or other gets caught in a dilemma
from which he must extricate himself by extraordinary
means, or suffer greatly. I speak from ample experience,
having gotten into numerous scrapes through too much
confidence in my ' instinct.' I have already related one
of these. I will give one more before leaving a subject
of the utmost importance to all who travel on the plains.

I was out with a scouting party. Near the Two
Buttes we were snowed up, and were obliged to remain
in camp on Two Buttes Creek. One morning gave pro-
mise of clearing weather, and, taking with me two men,
I went out to get some fresh meat. The country is the
high table land of the second plain, through which the
Two Buttes Creek cuts its way in a narrow and deep gorge.
The Two Buttes, a detached portion of the first plain, is
a single hill of about 500 feet above the plain, the top
of which is broken away in the middle, leaving two
almost conical flat-topped peaks, more than 300 feet apart
at the summits, and each rising probably 200 feet above
their common base.

It is a very prominent and well-known landmark, and
can be seen under favourable conditions for more than
sixty miles. The country is an alternation of nearly level
plain and very broken ground, and would be easy to get

66 THE PLAINS.

lost in, but for these Buttes. I had wounded an ante-
lope, and was following it slowly on the broad plain,
about four miles from the Buttes, when I saw coming
swiftly down upon me a dense snow-cloud. I felt for
my compass. 1 had left it in camp. Eealising the full
danger of a night on that plain in a snow-storm, I at once
took the only means left me of assuring my course. If
I could reach the Buttes I could find my camp. Turning
my horse so that his head pointed directly to the Butte,
I waited the advent of the storm. In a few moments it
struck us, staggering the horses with its force, and shut-
ting out everything beyond a circle of a few feet. Noting
exactly the direction of the wind, with reference to the
position of myself and horse, I started, marching with the
utmost care, in a direct line, and in something over an
hour was rewarded by striking the Butte. My camp was
scarcely a mile away across a spur of the plain, and I felt
certain, as did the men with me, of its direction. But
darkness was coming on, and the cloud of snow was so
dense that I determined to risk nothing to instinct.

Taking a ravine from the Butte, I followed it down to
the creek, then followed the creek up and arrived safely in
camp, where I found all greatly alarmed for our safety.

Next day it was clear, and I went back to the Butte
(being sure of my compass this time) to verify my
instinct. I found, from the horse-tracks, that if we had
taken the course we all thought the correct one from the
Butte, we should have gone directly on to the high plain,
away from our camp, and of course into great danger. I
supplied the need of a compass by travelling ' by the
wind ' and ' by ravines ; ' but, though I came out ' all right,'
our position was so critical, and I felt so keenly the
responsibility of all our lives jeopardised by my negli-
gence, that I have never since been without a compass
when on the plains.

One of the most painful and annoying consequences
of winter travel on the plains is getting c snow-blind.' Not

TRAVEL. 67

^infrequently the days after a snow-storm are bright and
beautiful. The sun shines with sufficient warmth to
slightly melt the top of the snow, which, when night
comes, freezes into a compact mass, the glare of which is
simply intolerable. There is nothing to relieve the eye-
no woods, no hills, nothing to look at — but one broad
interminable sheet of blazing white.

The ordinary plains antidote is to smear the face
around the eyes with grease and gunpowder ; but this,
as well as goggles, green veils, broad- brimmed hats, and
other devices, answering fairly in civilised regions, are all
at fault here.

In common with many persons I am simply blind
under such circumstances, but suffer no other inconveni-
ence. Many others, however, suffer much more acutely.
The face, hands, and every exposed part, blister as if
burned by fire. I have known cases of serious illness,
the face swollen and extremely sensitive to the touch,
the eyes entirely closed, the nose a blister, the lips parched
and cracked. Many persons lose the entire skin of the
face after such an exposure, and suffer for weeks. After
having once been snow-blind, a person is much more
liable to subsequent attacks.

There is said to be another plains malady, which,
however, I cannot vouch for. It is called ' moon-blind.'
The idea is that the full rays of the moon affect the
eyes of a man sleeping exposed to them so that he cannot
see at night. I have so slept very many times without ill
consequences, nor have I ever heard of it affecting a
really reliable and responsible man. The malady is
confined to ' bull- whackers ' or other employes of
freighters and soldiers, and among the latter I have never
known it to attack a really good man.

Indeed, so far as my experience goes, either this malady
must have been devised as a special punishment to the
worthless, or suspicion must be entertained that it means
' malingering.'

THE PLAINS.

CHAPTER VI.

CAMP.

THE three essentials of a good camp are wood, water,
and grass ; and, these being present, it would seem a per-
fectly simple matter to select the proper position.

On this selection, however, depends in a very great
degree the pleasure and comfort of a trip on the plains.
The most serious mishaps of plains life occur while in
camp ; and it requires not only a good eye, but a know-
ledge of the mishaps to which plains life is subject, to se-
lect such a position as is least likely to be affected by them.

Suppose, then, a party has arrived at a stream well
wooded, and with plenty of grass. Almost any of a
hundred positions might be good under ordinary circum-
stances ; but the object and duty of the leader is to select
that one position which will be best under any of the
extraordinary events which may happen. If it is a mere
pleasure trip, and the passage of the stream be of no
consequence, the relative advantages of every position
within reach on either side may be considered ; but if the
journey is to be continued beyond the stream next day,
he is restricted in the choice of positions to the farther
bank, for if not crossed it may rise in the night, and delay
him for several days.

The next point is that the animals shall have a grazing
ground, wrhere each and every one can be at all times
under the eyes of the guards and herders, and where it
would be most difficult for Indian or white thieves suc-
cessfully to stampede and run them off.

CAMP. 69

The loss of animals being one of the most serious of
troubles, the camp should be so situated as to give the
greatest possible security to the waggons and picket line
against the sneaking attempts of thieves during the dark-
ness. The ground should be sufficiently level to permit
the tents being properly pitched ; the sward should be
thick, that rain may not render the camp muddy ; the
grass short, to secure against accident by fire. A few trees
add greatly to the beauty and comfort of a camp ; too
many shut out the sun's rays and keep the ground damp.
The camp should be in close vicinity to water, yet in such
a position as to be secure from the sudden rise to which
all the lesser plains streams are liable It should, as far
as possible, be sheltered from the wind-storms which
sweep the higher plains, and the sand-storms which occa-
sionally render the valleys unbearable.

The smaller the party the more easy it is to find a
position to satisfy all these requirements. If it be a small
party with pack mules, or but one waggon and few animals
a hundred little nooks can be found, each seeming exactly
formed for convenience and comfort. If the party be
considerable, with several waggons, more time and care are
required to find a suitable camp.

The position being decided upon, the waggons are
driven to the spot selected for them, and halted in line at
such distance apart that ropes stretched between the
hind wheels will give interval sufficient for picketing all
the riding animals.1 The draft animals are fastened to
the tongues of the waggons.

The very first thing to be done on going into camp is
to send out mounted pickets — one or more, depending on
the nature of the ground — to occupy those points in the
immediate vicinity which, either from their height or

1 This is the 'picket line/ and should not be confounded with the
' lariat ' or rope by which each animal is fastened while grazing.

70 THE PLAINS.

position, give the best view of the country around, and all
the approaches to the camp.

Every animal should be lariated out for grazing.
The best arrangement is a very strong leather head-stall,
to the lower part of which, and well down under the
chin, is firmly secured a stout iron ring. To this ring is
fastened one end of a |-inch rope thirty feet in length, the
other end of which is fastened by a swivel ring to an iron
picket-pin. This last is driven home inta the ground. In
tolerably good soil it is almost impossible for a horse
either to break the rope or draw the pin, and an attempt to
run is met by a sharp and severe wrench on the lower or
weakest part of the head, which, if the horse is going
pretty fast, will most likely throw him, and thus put a stop
to any foolishness on his part.

This is sufficient for the security of the horses under
ordinary circumstances, but when in a country dangerous
from white or red thieves additional precautions must be
taken. The legs of the horses must be secured. This is
done by ' hobbles,' or ' side lines.' Hobbles fasten the
forefeet together, side lines the fone. and hind foot on the
same side. ' Side lines ' are most secure, hobbles
detracting very little from the speed of a really stampeded
animal. Though oftentimes absolutely necessary for his
safe keeping, both methods of securing him are cruel to
the horse, rendering it difficult and painful for him to
feed, and greatly injuring his gait.

During the whole time the animals are grazing they
should be surrounded at a convenient distance by a
guard, mounted if practicable, and more or less in
numbers, depending on the size of the party and the pos-
sibility of danger, and with and among the herd should be
at least one mounted teamster to every two teams grazing.

The waggons, having been satisfactorily placed and the
animals sent out to graze, the tents are pitched or bivouacs
made in such positions as will as nearly as possible
surround the animals when tied to the waggons at night.

CAMP. 71

If the weather be bad or threatening, the tents should
be placed if possible with their backs to the wind.
Whatever may be the state of the weather, there should
always be dug a trench around the back and sides, the
earth removed, and piled against the tent, and on the
flap or loose piece of canvas at the bottom. This will
secure the inmates from damp in case of rain, and also, by
preventing the wind from getting under the tent, greatly
lessen the danger of its getting overturned by wind-
storms.

I confess to being something of a sybarite. I like to
have a good tent, nice mess-kit, plenty of bedding, and
everything to make me comfortable. For six or eight
years of his youth a man can manage with a couple of
blankets for bed, saddle for pillow, hard tack and bacon
for provender ; but after that, these become a little
monotonous, and the ordinary human longs for something
more. Especially is this the case in the army, where, after
some years of hardships, the result many times more of
bravado than of absolute necessity, one begins to realise
that this is his life, and the enjoyment of life is simply
the aggregation of the enjoyments of each day.

My advice is then to every one, to come to the plains
as his means and the amount of his transportation will
permit. No superfluities, only necessaries and comforts.
His kitchen should have a small sheet-iron cooking-stove
(made for plains travel, and can be bought in any
frontier town), with a sufficient variety of cooking
utensils. His stock of provisions should be as varied as
circumstances will permit, including an assortment of
canned fruit and vegetables.

There is no reason why his table furniture should not
satisfy the eye. He should have a light thin mattress,
with ample bedclothes and a bedstead. The simplest,
best, and easiest transported consists of three or four thin
boards laid lengthwise on a couple of strong but light
tressels about twenty inches high. In travelling the

72 THE PLAINS.

boards are put in the bottom or sides of the waggon, and
the tressels fastened on the feed-box behind.

These, with pipes and tobacco for smoking, and fluids
for those with whom change of water disagrees, give
ample means for the full appreciation of what to me is
the life most replete with enjoyment and most entirely
satisfactory.

In travelling for pleasure, the camp is habitually
pitched and ready by 3 o'clock P.M. A comfortable
nap of an hour gives vigour for a hunt of a few hours on
foot.

The return at sunset is to a good dinner, after which
all collected about a camp fire (for the nights of the high
plains are always cool) with pipes and bowl and social
converse, with songs or stories, spend free, careless, happy
hours unknown to formal conventional life, and never
vouchsafed to the dull diggers after dimes.

Before sunset all the animals have been brought in,
secured in their places, and fed (if there be forage). The
pickets are brought in, the old guard is relieved, and the
new sentinels posted with care and forethought, for on
their positions more than on their vigilance depends the
safety of the animals. Nowhere on earth can sleep be
so refreshing, so directly sent from heaven.

Up at dawn of day, a plunge in the pure cold brook
furnishes an excuse for a breakfast that would founder a
hod-carrier. The camp is struck, horses are saddled,
mules harnessed, and we are off' again to a day of toil,
excitement, and adventure, to an evening of similar but
ever-varying delight.

Alas for the perfectibility of human happiness ! Even
camp life is not without its occasional discomforts, even
its serious mishaps. The worst of these is the loss of
animals. This may occur either by stampede or by
stealing from the picket line.

A stampede may be caused intentionally either by
Indians or white thieves, or it may come from any acci-

CAMP. 73

dental and unforeseen cause, which, frightening badly
one or more horses, causes them to plunge and snort,
communicating the fright to others and others.

A stampede among horses is precisely what a panic is
among men. It is the temporary ascendency of an unrea-
soning fear, during which the instinct of self-preservation
seems to usurp the functions of all the other qualities.

Nothing is more senseless and selfish than a panic.
A cry of fire in a theatre, the falling of the plastering of
the ceiling of a church, is sufficient to change the orderly
well-behaved people into a crowd of unreasoning brutes,
who, forgetful of every obligation of manhood or duty,
rush blindly to the doors, crushing even their own wives
and children in the madness each of his own individual
selfishness.

Even highly-disciplined soldiers — men who face death
as lightly and carelessly as they turn a partner in the
dance, men whose courage is so much a matter of habit
that the feeling of fear is forgotten, if ever known —
become sometimes a blind, headlong, terrified mob, with
no more sense or reason than if stricken with madness.

All animals and birds seem* liable at times to be
afflicted with this malady ; and we have reason to modify
our self-glorification of our immense superiority over the
brute creation when we reflect that one moment of cause-
less panic reduces us from our vaunted position, 'just
below the angels,' to the level of the poor -quail, which,
in senseless flight, dashes its life out against a wall.

The stampede is the favourite and most successful
ruse of Indian horse-thieves. If the animals are well
secured and well guarded, the Indians, though they may
be in the immediate vicinity, will make no effort to
stampede them ; for, though fond of dash, they take few
chances when the stake is life or death. If the animals
are not well fastened and guarded, they are likely to be
lost at any moment. Gaining unobserved a position close
to the grazing herd, a few Indians will suddenly dash

74 THE PLAINS.

among them, yelling like maniacs and shaking buffalo
robes or blankets. An American horse, as well as a mule,
has an instinctive dread and fear of an Indian, and under
such circumstances nothing but absolute physical impos-
sibility will prevent the most gentle animal from going
off at the top of his speed. Once fairly started, the best-
mounted Indian will gradually get ahead of the stampeded
herd and lead them over the best ground in the direction
he wishes them to take. When safe from pursuit he
lessens his speed, the other Indians keep close to the
flanks and rear ; and after a run of ten or twelve miles the
whole stampeded band finds itself under control, and is
driven wherever the Indians wish.

Sometimes when the marches are hard, grass poor,
and short forage scarce, it may become necessary to leave
the horses on herd all night. This is an excellent oppor-
tunity for the Indian. He will crawl like a snake into
a badly guarded herd, while most. of the animals are
asleep, cut lariats and side hues, and with demoniac yells
frighten them into stampede. It is, however, only on
rare occasions that he attempts this : first, for reasons
arising from his religious beliefs ; and, second, because the
stampeded animals will not run well together at night,
are unmanageable, and most of them are lost to the stam-
peders. Sometimes an Indian will crawl- on a picket line,
cut the halters and get off with an animal or two, but
for night a frontier white* horse-thief can easily discount
any Indian. To small hunting parties these thieves are
really much more dangerous than the Indian. Under the
guise of hunters they will come into camp in the evening,
enter into conversation, give interesting information as to
the best hunting -grounds, and make themselves generally
agreeable. All the time they are taking mental stock of
the position, and when they finally leave it is with perfect
knowledge of every locality, the position of the best horses,
and the posts of the sentinels. If by morning they have
not got off with your best horses, it will be no fault of theirs.

CAMP. 75

The danger of a stampede is not from thieves alone ;
the disposition is inherent, and must be guarded against
at all times. The kicking and plunging of a playful horse
will excite others to a romp, which may end in a stampede.
The only stampede by which I ever lost animals was
caused by a horse lying down rolling arid snorting in a
shallow pool of water.

It should always be remembered that the suscepti-
bility of the horse to the force of example to all external
influences is so great, that no. herd is ever to be re-
garded as more gentle than its Avildest, or more brave
than its most timid, member. The- stampede of a con-
siderable herd is not only serious, from the probable re-
sultant loss of animals, but as a palpable and imminent
danger.

When just getting fairly under the influence of the
panic the herd will likely circle round or through the
camp. In the headlong rush each animal appears to be
perfectly blind to. any or all consequences. Crowded
together in a compact mass, and moving at top speed, the
force is almost irresistible. Tents are thrown down and
demolished ; wraggons overturned and broken ; and a man
caught by the stream would be trampled in a moment to
an unrecognisable pulp. Fortunately the front, as a rule,
is narrow, and can be avoided by care, quickness, and
presence of mind.

I was once sent to investigate the cause of the
stampede of a herd of about 600 animals — horses,
mules, and asses. I found that the herd had been grazing,
under charge of several herders, in a beautiful level
valley about a mile long, half-a-mile wide, on one side of
which was a deep wooded stream,, on the other a range
of low rocky hills, much cut and broken by ravines steep
and narrow, and their bottoms filled with trees and brush.
The main valley was dotted with isolated trees and
clumps of bushes. I found that the stampede had been
caused by a very large and valuable jack, which,, breaking

76 THE PLAINS.

his lariat rope, had gone frisking and roaring through
the herd, some of which starting in play had excited or
terrified others, so that in a few moments the whole was
a mass of plunging madness. From the trail, it was
plain that this mass, with a front of about eighty feet,
had circled two or three times about the valley. The
clumps of bushes and smaller trees within this tract were
torn to fragments and scattered to the winds. Near each
of the larger trees within the tract were the bodies of one
or more dead animals, crushed and trampled out of all
semblance.

The front then took to the hills, striking by accident
almost its centre against an angular wall of stone, where
a lateral ravine had cut its way to the main valley.
Against and at the foot of this rock were the bodies of
five animals. The rock split the herd into two parts, the
larger going up the ravine. I followed this. The ravine
was very crooked, while the track of the stampeded herd
was as direct as possible. Consequently the front was
frequently striking large trees or the jutting mass of rock
at the junction of ravines. Each of these obstacles had
marked its resistance by one or more dead bodies, and
had again split the -rapidly diminishing front ; and in not
one single instance did I find where the two portions so
split had come together again. In the main valley and
along the route of the stampede were numbers of animals
maimed and wounded in every possible way. Following
always the trail of the largest numbers, I, at about six
miles from the valley, began to come upon small herds-
two, three, or more animals, apparently unhurt, but
completely exhausted. Still following in the same way,
I, at about sixteen miles from the place where the
stampede originated, came up with the last herd, about
twenty animals ; and among *them, entirely unhurt and
apparently as fresh and frisky as ever, the jack which had
caused all the damage.

I returned to my post, leaving the herders to gather

CAMP. 77

up the animals. It was nearly two weeks before all
were accounted for; and I subsequently learned that
about 70 had been killed outright, and about 235 more
or less wrounded, of which nearly 100 were so much in-
jured as to necessitate their abandonment.

Another cause of disaster in camp is carelessness with
fire. When the grass is dry it bums like tinder, and if it
be long, and there be a brisk wind, the utmost care must
be used. Under such circumstances the camp fires
should as far as possible be made to the leeward of the
camp and grazing ground. If this cannot be done with-
out too much inconvenience, holes should be dug in the
ground, large enough to build the fires in, the long grass
near should be cut (with a spade in default of a better
implement) and carried off, and the earth taken from the
holes spread over to leeward.

It is a common custom to burn off a space sufficiently
large for the fires, but this is very dangerous if the grass
be long and the wind high. Even though men stand
around with blankets to whip out the fire when necessary,
it sometimes gets beyond the control of the best directed
efforts. Early in life I got a serious lesson on the danger
of fire, which would have been avoided had any older
officer thought it worth while to devote a few moments
to my instruction. And here I may remark that this
apathy of the older, and more especially of the com-
manding, officers, is but too common in our service. They
expect the youngster to know by intuition, or to learn
without instruction, all the details of duty, even under the
most unfamiliar circumstances.

I have heard old officers say on this subject, c Oh, let
them learn for themselves! I had to learn for myself, and
one's own experience is the only teaching that makes
valuable and lasting impression.' Many young men are
so imbued with ideas of their own capacity and knowledge
that they do not take such instruction kindly, but the
large majority would most eagerly accept every hint

78 THE PLAINS.

which might save them from having to purchase the
knowledge with unhappy experience.

The neglect to instruct has one most advantageous
result, in that it soon teaches the youngster self-reliance ;
but many a bitter experience, many an unnecessary
hardship, would be spared the young aspirant to plains
knowledge did his commanding officer occasionally give
him the benefit of an experience earned by his own
hardships.

Almost every item of my own knowledge of plains
life has been drilled into my memory by the sharp point
of bitter experience.

A very little instruction in youth would have saved
me many mishaps and annoyances, and it would have
been received with much thankfulness.

When a boy, fresh from ' The Point,' new to army
life, and perfectly ' green ' in frontier service, I was sent
on my first scout after Indians, in command of a party of
twenty cavalry. I had not the first dawning of an idea
of the details of plains life, nor did my commanding
officer think it necessary to give me any instruction. The
sergeant of the party was an old soldier, well instructed
in all the details of scout and camp. When out about a
week we went one day into camp, on a piece of ground
covered with grass two feet high and very dry. The
wind was blowing quite strongly.

After designating the position of the squads and
picket line, I saw the horses unsaddled and lariated
out, posted the pickets and guards, and, turning over the
command to the sergeant, went with my rod to the
stream near by to get some fish for dinner.

I had just got interested in fairly good sport, when I
was startled by shouts and commotion in camp, not more
than sixty yards away. Dropping my rod I ran back to
find the whole camp ground in a blaze, and the flames
going with great speed towards the grazing horses.
Ordering some of the men to the relief of the animals,

79

I plunged with the others into the flames to save, if pos-
sible, the arms and equipments. We had hardly got to
work before the carbines (laid across the saddles on the
ground) began to go off with the heat ; and this fire, added
to the other, and an occasional explosion of a cartridge-
box, made it so hot that we were all obliged to get out of
the camp and take cover. Some of the horses broke
their lariat ropes and stampeded ; and in five minutes
from the first alarm we were reduced from a well-armed,
well-mounted aggressive force, to an apparently half-
armed, half-mounted, singed, and dilapidated party.

Most fortunately for us the wind was so high that the
flames passed with extreme rapidity ; and though the heat
was intense for a moment, it soon subsided. The wood-
work of the arms was scorched and charred, but their
utility was not impaired ; many of the saddles and equip-
ments were almost ruined, some of the rations destroyed,
and all lighter articles of clothing gone completely. I
moved camp across the stream. By next evening the
guards and pickets had found and brought in all the
stampeded animals, the saddles and accoutrements were
mended as skilfully as our means permitted, and I was
very glad, after such an experience, to continue my scout
with only the loss of one day, though I had lost bedding
and every article of clothing except what was on my
person. Under the circumstances we got off remarkably
well, better than we deserved.

The prairie fire of the high plains is a very insignificant
affair ; but in the canons, or rich alluvial deposits of the
great valleys, where the grass is high and vegetation of
all kinds is abundant, to be caught in one is a most
serious misadventure, from which it may require the ut-
most coolness and presence of mind to extricate oneself
without injury.

Setting fire to the grass in the vicinity of the camp at
night is one of the Indian modes of annoying a party too
strong for attack and too vigilant for a successful attempt at

80 THE PLAINS.

theft. Unless proper precautions are taken, horses are
almost sure to be lost, for nothing frightens animals so
thoroughly as fire.

I have been followed for several days in succession
by a party of Indians, who fired the grass to windward
of my camp every night, forcing me to burn all round the
camp every evening before posting sentinels, and not only
to double the ropes securing the animals, but even to
keep on side lines to prevent their plunging at the picket
line.

I once shot a deer, which, running a little distance, fell
dead in a grassy glade, surrounded by a thicket of trees,
bushes, and tall grass. Biding near the spot, I dismounted,
and, giving the horse to my servant to fasten, I walked to
the deer. He was a splendid animal, with, I think, the
most magnificent antlers I have ever seen. Admiring his
beautiful proportions and meditating how I would have
the head ' set up ' until the servant joined me, I leaned
my rifle against a convenient tree, some little distance off,
and we proceeded to disembowel my prize.

Just then I wanted a smoke, filled my pipe, struck a
match, got a light, and blowing out the match (as I sup-
posed)** threw the extinguished stick behind me, and went
on with iny work. Scarcely a minute after, the servant
(who was holding while I cut the deer) sprang to his feet
with an exclamation, and, looking to the rear, I found the
grass blazing to the height of three or four feet. We
both jumped on the fire and attempted to put it out by
trampling with our feet. Finding this impossible and the
fire gaining, I directed him to run for the horses. I ran
for my gun, and the progress of the flames towards it was
so extremely rapid that I barely secured it in time.
Kunning off, and quartering to the wind, I fortunately
found under some large trees a spot of half an acre in
extent bare of grass and underbrush. Here I remained
for nearly half an hour, almost stifled by the smoke and
heat, until the fire had passed and the burned ground got

CAMP. 81

cool enough to walk over. I then went back to my deer.
He was literally cooked ; not very artistically, as the out-
side was burned to a cinder, the inside being raw. The
antlers and almost the whole head were burned off, and
the whole animal lost to me. It was nearly an hour be-
fore my servant could find on his, the windward, side of
the fire an opening by which to get on to the burnt
ground, and even then the heat was so great that the
horses were almost frantic.

This was the hottest* fire I have ever seen on the
plains, the flames sometimes appearing at least thirty feet
high.

It has already been stated that the smaller streams
of the second or high plain are subject to sudden and
extraordinary rises. This comes partly from the fact
that the original rains have cut the ground into ravines
with such regularity that all pour their waters into the
principal stream about the same time; partly that the
slopes formed are covered with a thick mat of short
sward, which absorbs water so slowly that almost all the
rainfall finds its way at once into the ravines ; but princi-
pally from the immense quantity of water which falls in
an incredibly short time.

Almost all positions of the high plains are occasionally
visited by most terrific rain-storms, so severe that they
have the general name ' waterspouts.' The quantity of
water poured from the clouds, and the effect produced,
are so apparently incredible, that I would hesitate to
describe them but that the facts are perfectly known to
every plainsman.

These storms generally occur in the afternoon of a
sultry day, and, in gathering and coming up, have all the
appearance of an ordinary thunderstorm. The rain, how-
ever, does not fall in drops, but in streams, as if poured
from the strainer of a shower-bath.

As the myriads of streams are caught by the wind
and deflected from their direct course,, they present an

G

82 THE PLAINS.

appearance of sheets or waves of water, and form in the
air thousands of mimic cascades of every conceivable
variety ; now falling in a smooth, unbroken, inclined
sheet, now flying into an infinity of jets, down or up,
or sideways, as if fretted by opposing rocks.

Nothing can be more beautiful or more disagreeable
than these storms ; and when the deluge of rain is, as is
often the case, accompanied by huge rounded lumps and
shapeless chunks of ice, they become really very serious.

Men can generally find means of protecting them-
selves, though I have seen them pretty badly beaten ;
but animals are sometimes severely injured, and always
rendered frantic, by the pounding.

If the storm overtakes a party on the march, the
animals should be unhitched at once and taken to cover,
if any be near ; or, if there be none, most securely
fastened to the waggons. If in camp, every precaution
should be taken not only to secure but to protect them.
Every approaching storm should be regarded as a possible
waterspout, and full preparation made to meet it at its
worst.

It has been my misfortune to encounter several of
these storms either on the march or in camp, but have
never had the means of measuring the rainfall. I have
been at military posts where the rainfall was measured.
One occurred at Fort Dodge, by no means as severe
as several I have encountered, in which two and a half
inches of rain fell in less than one hour.

The effect of such a quantity of water poured out
upon the high plains and rushing into the ravines can
be more easily Imagined than described. Depressions
in the surface of the ground, scarcely noticeable in
dry weather, become in a few moments raging torrents ;
ravines, ordinarily dry, become impassable rivers ; and
valleys, even though one or more miles in width,
are flooded to the depth of many feet. It took the
railroad engineers some time to learn this phenomenon.

CAMP. 83

A set of grassy slopes of a mile or more in length,
debouching into the river bottom by a valley from a
quarter of a mile to a mile in width, without a mark
of any waterway, appeared so innocent that the em-
bankment across its mouth would be supplied with a
culvert of only a couple of feet. A waterspout bursts,
the ravines are flooded, the embankment acts as a dam,
the water rises over it, cuts it away, and the road is
ruined, for a mile or more.

I have seen one such instance where the force of the
water having broken the connection, the track, ties bound
together with the rails, was swung off the break by the
power of the current until the loose ends finally rested
nearly a quarter of a mile from their proper position.

Fortunately these storms are restricted in area, but
unfortunately their disastrous effects are not confined to
the vicinity of their occurrence. The flood moves on,
carrying trouble, delay, suffering, and loss of life on its
surged waters until they are finally lost in some one of
the great rivers of the plains.

With the cloud in view, and the storm approaching,
it is easy to be on the alert, to arrange, or if necessary to
move camp, and to place the party in a position of safety
and comparative comfort. But the most careful plains-
man cannot always be prepared for ' thunder from a
clear sky,' nor arrange for a flood when not a cloud is to
be seen. Besides this, these storms are very exceptional.
Possibly every portion of the high plains may be visited
by one or more each year ; but a party may be out for
weeks in the worst season — namely, June and July —
camping on the streams with perfect impunity, never
seeing a cloud or being troubled with the rush of water.
This tends to carelessness, which sooner or later will
probably meet its reward, if not in actual loss, at least in
a thorough ; drowning out.'

I have been in six or eight storms well worthy the
name of ' waterspouts,' but in all my plains experience

G 2

84 THE PLAINS.

have never yet been ' drowned out ' by floods from the
upper portions of the stream on which I was encamped.
This I attribute to a very large ' bump ' of prudence, and
also, considering the number of years I have spent on the
plains, and the almost innumerable camps I have made,
to very extraordinary good luck.

I have witnessed the phenomena several times, the
most remarkable of which I will try to describe. My
company was encamped for the summer on a bluff bank
about twenty-five feet high, at the foot of which was
the dry sandy bed of a stream. The bed averaged
about 100 feet wide. The opposite bank was low, and
from it the ground extended away in a broad bottom,
gradually rising to meet a line of low hills. At intervals
in the bed were deep permanent waterholes, which, how-
ever, except during high water, were not connected by
any surface stream. The camp was about twelve miles
in a direct line from the mouth of the canon, by which
the stream had cut its way through a high prairie
furrowed with innumerable deep ravines, tributary to this
principal stream. About eleven o'clock on a clear, bright,
beautiful starlight night, I was lying reading in my tent,
when I heard a distant roaring, rushing sound, now more
now less distinct, but gradually swelling in power.

Guessing at once the cause, I rushed out and placed
myself on the edge of the bank overlooking the sand.
In a few moments a long creamy wave, beaten into foam,
crept swiftly with a hissing sound across the sand. This
appeared to be only a few inches in depth. Following
with equal speed, and at a distance of about sixty feet
behind the advance of this sheet, was a straight, unbroken
mass of water of at least four feet in height. The front
of this mass was not rounded into a wave, but rose sheer
and straight, a perfect wall of water. From this front
wall the mass rose gradually to the rear, and was covered
with logs and debris of all kinds, rolling and plunging
in the tremendous current. In ten minutes from the

CAMP. 85

passage of the advance wave, the water at my feet was at
least fifteen feet deep, and the stream nearly half a mile
wide.

It was three days before this stream was fordable,
and fully a month before it returned to its normal
condition. This stream drains a section of the second
plain, about twenty miles long 'by ten wide. The rain
which furnished all this wrater was a waterspout of
probably an hour's duration. Even supposing that the
rainfall extended over the whole section drained by the
tributaries of this stream, the quantity of water carried off
will give some idea of the fury of the storm.

The portion of the second plain, known as the
Guadalupe Mountains of Texas, is peculiarly subject to
these waterspouts. The moisture from the Gulf of
Mexico, carried inland by the south-westerly winds, is
collected in dense clouds about these high lands, and the
streams which take their rise in them are notorious
for their sudden and tremendous overflows. Just after
the close of the Mexican war, and before the army had
learned, by sad experience, all the freaks of nature in
the plains, the 3rd Regiment of Infantry, then en
route for New Mexico, was encamped three miles from
San Antonio, on the Salado.

This stream is a succession of waterholes, deep,
and from fifty to 200 yards long, connected by
a thread, of water over which it is easy to step. The
bed is a very crooked ditch from thirty to eighty feet
wide, with precipitous banks of eight or ten feet. Broad
level bottoms extend away on each side of this ditch to
the bordering hills, generally nearly three miles apart.

The encampment was by the course of the stream,
more than fifty miles from the Guadalupe Mountains, in
which it takes its rise. One night, or rather morning,
for it was in the ' sma' hours ayont the twal,' while
the camp was buried in repose, a sentinel on one of the
posts nearest the stream found his coat covered with

86 THE PLAINS.

water. The night was perfectly clear, though dark,
and for a few moments he sought in vain for the cause.
Hearing a rushing sound towards the stream, he finally
noticed that its bed, usually a deep, dark ditch, was
bright with what appeared to be running water, and
on approaching it he found it to be already more
than bank-full, and that he was walking in the water ot
an approaching freshet. Discharging his musket he
alarmed the camp. The long roll was beaten, everybody
tumbled out of bed and, to their astonishment, into the
water. All was alarm and commotion. The water rose
steadily but with wonderful rapidity, and began to show
a considerable current. The men were directed to
make their way to the high lands as best they could ;
horses were brought, and the ladies, laundresses, and
children carried on their bare backs over nearly two
miles of water, often up to the horses' bellies, before
arriving at the safe high ground.

Not a thing was saved. Nearly all the command —
officers, ladies, enlisted men, laundresses, and children —
were in their night-clothes. Tents, arms, provisions,
clothing, everything was carried down the stream
and totally lost. The bottom was so wide that
the water was nowhere — except in the channel — more
than, two or three feet deep, nor was the current so
strong as to be dangerous to a man. Only one life was
lost.

The next morning the thread of a stream, of only
the night before, was a mighty river twice as wide as the
Mississippi at Memphis. The most remarkable feature
of this storm was, that it occurred late in the fall. I
do not recollect the exact date, but I know that it was
much talked of, not that it was very unusual or won-
derful, but out of season.

In 1873 Company 'F,' 3rd U.S. Cavalry, met with
disaster from one of these floods. I append an abstract
from the official report of the captain.

CAMP. 87

' Fort McPherson, Neb.

'June 9, 1873.
'The Assistant Adjutant-General,

' Department of the Platte Omaha, Neb.

' SIR, — I have the honour to report that, in accordance
with instructions, I left Fort McPherson, Neb., May 27th,
1873, with one guide, one wagon-master, five teamsters,
and fifty-five enlisted men of Company ' F,' 3rd Cavalry,
for the purpose of patrolling the Eepublican Vnlley, as

directed May 31st, marched down to Blackwood

about twelve miles, and went into carnp. About 9 P.M.
a terrible freshet, without any apparent cause, swept down
the valley, carrying everything before it. Men, horses,
tents, army- wagons, were swept along like corks. For
five days previous we had no rain, and where this water
came from so suddenly I cannot yet understand. The
valley of Blackwood is about forty-five miles long, and
about one mile to a mile and a half wide. TM-j entire
stretch of country was one raging torrent, at lea.st from
six to seven feet deep, and how any man or horse escaped
is marvellous.

' The only thing that prevented total destruction was
the fact that my camp was surrounded by a belt of timber
on three sides, and as the men were carried off by the
current they were enabled to save themselves by catching
the limbs of trees. When day broke on the morning of
the 1st June, it showed almost all the men of my company
on the tops of the trees, without any covering except
remnants of underclothes, and beneath them the torrent
still raging. After the lapse of a few hours the water
began to fall, and a few men who could swim got to the
hills. Afterwards the others, myself among the number,
were got off with life-lines and various other means. Up
to this time nothing was to be seen of what had been my
camp, except the top of an army- wagon, which had stuck
to a log on the ground, and on this wagon were collected

88 THE PLAINS.

eleven men, who were thus saved from a watery grave.
. . . Six men of my company were drowned and twenty-
six horses lost. I remained at the scene of disaster for
four days, and recovered five of the bodies of the men.

' I shall not dwell on the details of this calamity further.
It can only be understood by each one taking it home to
himself and so approaching nearer to a realisation of its
import. The men, though almost destitute of clothing and
rations, worked laboriously for four days, recovering the
bodies and property, without a murmur.'

The commanding officer of Fort McPherson, in his
endorsement of the foregoing report, remarks : —

4 Nothing but the courage and coolness of Captain

and his non-comrnissioned officers prevented the loss

of the entire command.

' Captain 's life was saved by his trumpeter

McGowan, whom I respectfully recommend for a medal
of honour.'

These are undoubtedly very extraordinary floods,
even for a country peculiarly subject to them. Against
such no human foresight or precaution can avail anything.
Most fortunately such are extremely rare ; and, leaving such
deluges entirely out of consideration as beyond mortal
prevision or precaution, there are yet a thousand grada-
tions of flood, against which care, knowledge, and fore-
thought may fully protect a party.

Wind-storms are the most common of the annoyances
of camp life. The ordinary wall tent is, for summer
pleasuring, the best that can be had. It should be of
strong ' duck ' (the c linen ' are of no use, keeping out
neither wind nor water). The eyelet-holes for the side
ropes should be reinforced, and those at the corners
specially protected with stout leather. The string fasten-
ings of the front should be cut off, and their places supplied
by stout leather straps and buckles.

Only experience can teach the proper mode of pitching

CAMP. 89

a tent, so that even in irregular ground the walls shall
always be smooth arid perpendicular. When the soil is
loose, the side and corner pins should be put in the
ground inclining to the tent, so that the pin and rope,
when fastened to it, shall form one continuous straight
line from the tent to the ground. If driven with an
inclination from the tent, as is common, the pulling and
jerking of the tent by the wind will almost surely loosen
the pins in the soil, and the tent may go over when least
expected. When much wind is anticipated, or the tent
peculiarly exposed, guy- ropes should be fastened to the
spike at the top of each upright tent-pole, and the other
ends securely pinned to the ground. These precautions
will, under almost all circumstances, enable the inmates
to sleep in safety and comfort.

I once, however, had my whole tent split and blown
away, leaving the poles standing. The latter had been
firmly planted in the ground, and securely guyed with
double ropes front and back. I must admit, however,
that the tent had seen its best days, and deserved honour-
able retirement after long and faithful service.

In the late fall and winter of the high plains there is
no longer any danger of waterspouts, or sudden rises
of the streams. Wind, cold, and fire are the only
enemies to be guarded against, but these are often amply
sufficient to test one's capacity and endurance.

The camp should always at such seasons be nestled in
the deepest and cosiest nook, and protected when possible
by bluffs and thickets.

One winter I went out from Fort Lyon with a party
of officers and soldiers, to procure game for the Christmas
holidays. The second day out was delightful, not only
the weather being perfect, but buffalo and antelope were
very abundant. There was a beautiful camping-place on
the bank of the Arkansas, but it was unprotected ; and,
true to my prudential instincts, I caused the waggons to
be drawn through deep sand and ensconced the party on

90 THE PLAINS.

an island in the heart of the deepest and most dense
thicket I could find. Tents were pitched, stores put up,
and all preparations made for a camp of two or three
days.

During the night the weather changed. A furious
storm of wind and snow with the most intense cold set in,
and we, with all the protection of the thickets, with our
' Sibley ' stoves red-hot, were forced to remain under
cover of piles of buffalo robes all next day.

Had the camp been on the unprotected bank of the
river, we must not only have suffered very considerably,
but would undoubtedly have lost a number of animals
by freezing. On the third day the storm was over, and
we finished with a most delightful and successful hunt.

Only a very few years ago there was in some portions
of the plains a danger to camps which unhappily exists
no longer. It was of being run over by buffalo. This
animal is habitually stupid and sluggish, but under some
circumstances evinces a most peculiar nervousness. He
is extremely addicted to ' stampedes,' and during this
temporary aberration of his mind is as dangerous a beast
collectively as can be found in the world. I have heard
many stories of ' hair-breadth 'scapes ' from buffalo ; I have
seen railroad and waggon trains stopped to wait his
pleasure ; and as close a shave as I ever made to c passing
in my checks ' was from a buffalo stampede.

I was changing posts in March 1871, and had three
or four waggons and a small escort. One night I camped
on Big Coon Creek. It was too early for rain, and the
weather was cold and blustery. My camp was therefore
nearly in the bed of the creek, close under the shelter of
the steep, almost bluff hillocks, which border the stream.
The nook in which I camped was small, and tents and
waggons were unusually crowded together.

It was late at night, and I was in bed. The camp,
except one sentinel, was buried in sleep ; the fires were
out, darkness and silence reigned supreme. A faint and

CAMP. 91

very distant roaring sound struck upon my ear. Think-
ing of water I rushed out at once, and, running up the
side of the hill, peered up the stream into the darkness to
discover an approaching line of foam, precursor of the
flood.

Just then the wind brought the sound more dis-
tinctly. It came from the prairie, not from the stream,
and was approaching. I sent the sentinel to wake up
the corporal and other two men of the guard, who soon
made their appearance with their arms.

Explaining to the men in a few words the nature of
the danger, I warned them to keep perfectly cool and to
obey orders. By this time the black line of the moving
mass of buffalo was distinctly visible. It was bearing
directly down upon us with tremendous speed and
irresistible force. We were in an excellent position for
the protection of the camp, being directly between it and
the buffalo, and about fifty yards from it. My only
chance was to split the herd. If this could be done, we
and the camp would be saved ; if not, all would go to
destruction together. Waiting until the advance line of
buffalo was within thirty yards, the muskets were fired in
rapid and continuous succession, and we in unison let
out one of the most unearthly yells that ever split the
throats of five badly-frightened men. A few of the
leading animals fell dead, the others swerved from the
fire and noise ; the herd was split, and, tumbling in fright
and confusion down the bank on each side of the camp,
went thundering and roaring into the darkness.

In all my life I have never seen so badly-frightened a
lot of people as those in camp, nor do I blame or
disparage them in the least. Waked from sound sleep
by the rapid firing and hideous yells, they rushed out of
their tents to find themselves in the very midst of a
plunging, struggling mass of buffalo.

The edge of one portion of the split herd passed
within thirty feet of one flank of the camp, while the

92 THE PLAINS.

nearest of the other portion was about seventy feet from
the other flank. The members of my little party had the
living stream within fifteen or twenty feet on either side.
I consider this the most imminent danger that I have ever
encountered on the plains.

Had I and the sentinel been asleep nothing could
have saved my whole party from a horrible death ; for the
banks under which we were camped were so steep that,
even had they seen and been sensible enough to avoid
the camp, the buffalo in front would have been driven
upon and over us by the pressure of those in rear.
There must have been 4,000 or 5,000 animals in this
stampede.

I have already, in speaking of the tent arrangements,
recommended a bedstead. In very culd weather it is
best and warmest to couch on the ground ; but in the
pleasant season of summer and fall the ground is too
warm, too dirty, and too full of ' things with legs.' The
high plains are extremely prolific of insect life, spiders,
beetles, &c., and the bed on the ground is apt to be more
populous than comfortable.

Except in the vicinity of ' dog towns ' (the dwellings
of the little marmot, miscalled the prairie dog) there are
singularly few snakes on the plains. The only one at all
dangerous is the rattlesnake. There is considerable
nobility of character about this reptile. Though always
ready for battle, he never strikes without fair warning,
except when weak, tender, and probably almost blind
from just shedding his skin. He is very susceptible to
cold, and will at night crawl into the most comfortable
place to be found. I have never had a personal ex-
perience of his fondness for tent and bedding, but have
seen him shaken from a horse-blanket, or found him
curled up near the warm ashes of the camp fire.

In Texas rattlesnakes are very plentiful, and I have
heard many anecdotes of their fondness for a tent. A
brother officer found one coiled under the edge of his

CAMP. 93

pillow. Another, thrusting his foot into his boot, was
horrorstricken on feeling it come upon a soft, yielding
mass. Dragging the boot off with all possible expedi-
tion, out dropped a huge ' rattler.'

A once dear friend, lost sight of since the Avar of re-
bellion, was returning with a party from a long and labo-
rious exploring expedition. They camped on the ' Nueces
Eiver,' only twelve miles from Fort Inge, then considered
the western boundary of civilisation. On the long hard
trip my friend had abandoned the habit of changing his
dress for the night ; but, being so near to ' white people,'
he determined to treat himself to a civilised sleep, and to
this end arranged his person in a long night-shirt. He
had been asleep some time when he was partially awa-
kened by a cold sensation down his back. Thinking, in
his nearly unconscious state, that it was rain, he moved
his position and fell asleep. Again he was partially
awakened to repeat the process. The third time he was
roused more fully. The moon was shining brightly, and
he was just wondering where the water could come from,
when he felt the cold clammy touch on his back, and a
sensation as if a snake were fitting itself against his spine.
With a wild yell he sprang to his feet, and rushed from
the tent, bursting out the whole front, and was only
stopped in his flight by getting his bare feet full of cactus
spines. The snake was against the bare skin, and was
carried in the folds of the shirt outside the tent, where it
fell, and was found and killed by the aroused party.

It was a very large ' rattler,' and appeared stupid,
either from cold or fright, and made no attempt at resist-
ance. 'Joe' used afterwards to declare that no money
could tempt him again to sleep when in camp in a night-
shirt.

A bedstead is a sure protection against the too inti-
mate nocturnal visits of this reptile, and also of an animal
apparently insignificant, but whose attacks are more
dreaded by hunters in some portions of the plains than

94 THE PLAINS.

the assault of the most powerful c grizzly.' This is the
skunk — a beautiful little animal, with body about as large
as a common house cat. It is covered with long black
and white hair. Its tail is disproportionately long and
bushy, and, when the animal is roused, it is erected as a
banner of defiance. Its legs are very short, and its feet
formed for burrowing. A man can easily outrun it ; it
cannot climb, and it would fall an easy prey to the larger
carnivora, but that Nature has supplied it with a
weapon of offence and defence in a fetid discharge most
horribly obnoxious to everything except panthers and
Indians.

The skunk is carnivorous, and his mouth, shaped like
that of a racoon, is furnished with a beautiful set of sharp
white teeth. He is nocturnal in his habits, and very
fearless, penetrating in search of food into camps and
tents while the inmates are asleep. In such cases he is
greatly to be feared, for, so far from keeping away from
selecting men, he will, if he finds nothing more to his
taste, deliberately commence devouring the hand, face,
or any uncovered part of the sleeper. The bite in itself
would be of but little account ; but, in all the country
between the Republican River and the Indian Territory,
it is almost invariably followed up by that most horrible
of all horrors, hydrophobia.

I have never had opportunity nor the technical know-
ledge necessary for a careful investigation ; but I am
convinced that the terrible disease is the natural result to
man of the bite of the skunk (in the territory designated) ;
and that, while inflicting it on the person bitten, it does
not follow that the skunk is himself afflicted with the
malady.

I judge this to be the case, firstly, from the fact that
skunks are very numerous in the valleys of the Arkansas
and its tributaries, whilst the number of men bitten each
year with fatal result is so great and so widely separated
both in location and time as to indicate an epidemic

CAMP. 95

amongst the skunks which, if each wera equally rabid,
would soon exterminate the whole race. Secondly, from
the actions of the biting animals. The bite is not the
senseless snap of a rabid animal, bat is the result of
appetite. The skunk comes into camp in search of food,
deliberately sits down on the hand or face of a man, and
begins eating. If disturbed, he cocks his tail and stands
on the defence ; but if a fire is made, or a candle lit, or
he be alarmed by noise and bustle, he scampers off into
the darkness, to return again when all is quiet. Thirdly,
that, though I have seen many dogs bitten by skunks, I
have never known a dog or other lower animal to go
mad from such a bite.

The crowds of buffalo hunters that flocked to the
plains in 1872-3-4 suffered greatly from skunk-bites.
During the years 1872-3, while stationed at Fort Dodge,
I knew by report of sixteen cases, every one of which
proved fatal.

Assistant Surgeon Jameway, U.S.A., stationed at
Fort Hays, in a most interesting article in the Medical
Record, reports eleven cases of skunk-bite treated by
him or coining under his observation, ten of which
resulted in hydrophobia, and were fatal.

In 1872, when on a scout, I camped one night on the
Cimarron Eiver, near the crossing of the old Santa Fe
Eoad. In the night I was awakened by a noise in the
servants' tent next my own. I called out, but receiving
no answer, and the disturbance ceasing, I went to sleep
again. While dressing in the morning, one of the men
came to me with his hand bound up, and asked if there
was any cure for a skunk-bite. Though my heart sank
within me, I made light of it, and told him that it was
no more dangerous than the bite of any other hungry
little animal. I examined the wound. The whole ball of
the right thumb was torn, lacerated, and gnawed in a
fearful manner. I had no caustic or other means of
cauterisation except fire, and so many hours had elapsed

96 THE PLAINS.

since the bite, that I thought its application would do
more harm mentally than good corporeally.

I therefore had the wound carefully and thoroughly
washed with castile soap, cut off the protuberant pieces
of mangled flesh, and, binding it up, kept on a simple
water-dressing until the wound healed, which was in
about ten days. This man was with me for more than a
year after the bite. He never experienced any ill effects,
except temporary pain from the wound.

He gave me a detailed account of the occurrence.
He and another man were sleeping on opposite sides of
a common or ' A ' tent. He dreamed that he was being
eaten up by some animal, but a sort of nightmare pre-
vented his moving. After some time, however, the pain
and horror together woke him up to find a skunk eating
his hand. With a cry and sudden effort he threw the
animal from him. It struck the other side of the tent,
and fell upon the other man, who waked up, and, re-
cognising the intruder, rushed out of the tent. The
bitten man, who had heard of the surely fatal result of
skunk-bite, was so paralysed with fear and horror that
he made no effort to get up, and, seeing the skunk
come towards him again, buried himself in the blankets.
The skunk walked all over him, apparently seeking for an
opening, and, finding none, began to scratch the blankets
as if trying to dig out his victim. The mental position
of this poor fellow can be better imagined than described.

In the meantime the other man had loosened the tent
pins and lifted up one side of the tent, letting in the
moonlight ; then pelting the animal with sticks from a
distance, at last frightened it so that it ran off into the deep,
dark bank of the river. This skunk emitted no odour,
and was undoubtedly simply hungry.

This is the only non-fatal case of skunk-bite I have
known in the Arkansas country. I have known several
cases of skunk-bite in Texas, and some cases in other sec-
tions of the country. They were not regarded as at all

CAMP. 97

serious, nor did any ill effect result from them. A surgeon
of the United States army for some years stationed at
various posts in the Department of the Platte informed
me that he had never heard in that section of a fatal case
of skunk- bite. I am constrained, therefore, to believe
that this singularly fatal result is confined to the section
of country heretofore described, the valley of the Ar-
kansas being about its centre.

In many years of frontier life I have never personally
known of a single case of rabies in any animal except man.
The fondness of soldiers for dogs is proverbial ; and many
frontier military posts might well, from the number and
variety of the canine species, be mistaken for dog-breed-
ing establishments.

Indians say that wolves not unfrequently go mad,
rush into their villages, and do great damage. The fol-
lowing most interesting and perfectly authenticated facts
are taken from the records of the hospital at Fort Larned,
on the Arkansas Eiver : —

' On the 5th August, at 10 P.M., a rabid wolf, of the
large grey species, came into the post and charged round
most furiously. He entered the hospital and attacked
Corporal - — , who was lying sick in bed, biting him
severely in the left hand and right arm. The left little
finger was nearly taken off. The wolf next dashed into
a party of ladies and gentlemen sitting in Colonel - -'s

porch, and bit Lieut. severely in both legs.

Leaving there, he soon after attacked and bit Private
in two places. This all occurred in an incre-
dibly short space of time; and, although those above-
mentioned were the only parties bitten, the animal left
the marks of his presence in every quarter of the garri-
son. He moved with great rapidity, snapping at everything
within his reach, tearing tents, window- curtains, bed-
clothing, &c., in every direction. The sentinel at the
guard-house fired over the animal's back, while he ran
between the man's legs. Finally he charged upon a

H

98 THE PLAINS.

sentinel at the haystack, and was killed by a well-
directed and most fortunate shot. He was a very large
wolf, and his long jaws and teeth presented a most
formidable appearance.1

' The wounds were thoroughly cauterised with nitrate
of silver, on the plan recommended by Mr. Youatt/

The Indians are still camped in the vicinity of the
post in very large numbers. I have taken particular
pains to question them as to their experience with regard
to rabid wolves. They say that the appearance of mad
wolves in their village is not unfrequent ; that the time
of year at which they are most often seen is in the months
of February and March ; that, once having entered a
village, the wolf will make no attempt to leave it, but
will rush furiously from place to place until he is disabled ;
and that in no instance have any of them ever known a
person to recover after having received the smallest
scratch from the teeth of the rabid animal. They make
no attempt at treatment ; and one or two instances were
related where an Indian, on being affected with the
hydrophobial spasms, threw himself into the water and
was drowned.

' September 9th. — Corporal showed signs of

commencing hydrophobia on the evening of the 6th
instant. The' symptoms were as usually described, were
well marked and very characteristic. He died on the
morning of the 9th. No treatment was attempted after
the symptoms commenced. The wounds had been well
cauterised with lunar caustic from time to time, and
washed with alkali washes, and had he allowed the finger
to be removed at first there would have been a greater
probability of his recovery. A large Newfoundland dog,
which had been seen fighting with the wolf, has also just
died witb marked symptoms of hydrophobia.

c The wounds have healed in the other two persons,
and they appear to be in perfect health.'

1 This is the large grey or buffalo wolf.

CAMP. 99

The officer bitten is now (1875) in perfect health,
having never experienced any ill effects beyond the
ordinary pain of the wounds.

The evidence as to frequency of rabies in wolves comes
entirely from Indians, and, with all due respect and con-
sideration for their veracity, I. doubt it.

For nearly thirty years the army has been as con-
stantly a resident of the plains as the Indians themselves,
and with equal opportunity for witnessing all the phe-
nomena of plains life ; yet the instance given above is the
only one on record. Eabies is not a plains malady.

No description of life on the plains can now be given
which will be more than a special record of a particular
time and place. But a few years ago the journey across
the plains was the work of a whole summer. From the
time of leaving the Missouri Eiver the party was lost to
the world, and lived only in and for itself: no mails, no
news, no communication of any kind with civilisation.
Surrounded on all sides by treacherous savages, by danger
of every kind, each man became a host in himself.

To a fascination of a life of perfect freedom from all
conventional restraints, of constraint and adventure, was
added that other fascination, far stronger to many natives
— the desire to penetrate the unknown.

Now all is changed. There is no longer an unknown.
Eailroads have bared the silent mysteries of the plains
to the inspection of every shopboy. Civilisation, like a
huge cuttlefish, has passed its arms of settlements up
almost every stream, grasping the land, killing the game,
driving out the Indian, crushing the romance, the poetry,
the very life and soul out of the 'plains,' and leaving
only the bare and monotonous carcass.

PART II.

GAME.

' Merry it is in the good greenwood,

When the mavis and merle are singing,
When the deer sweeps by, and the hounds are in cry,
And the hunter's horn is ringing.' SCOTT.

103

CHAPTEB VII.

GAME : HOW TO GET IT.

To the sportsman the most prominent fascination of plains
life is the abundance and variety of game. I use the
term abundance in its sportsmanlike sense, meaning the
sufficiency.

Leaving out the buffalo (which plainsmen scarcely
consider game) there is little to be had without skill and
knowledge.

Nowhere on the plains that I know of can one
slaughter such numbers of beasts as are bagged, we are
told, by sportsmen in either Abyssinia, Southern Africa,
or India. The plains hunter must work, and he must
know how to work, or his bag will be of the lightest.
There are no villages of natives to be subsidised to drive
dangerous animals to where the hunter sits securely
ensconced in a tree ; no hundreds of peasants to make a
line of miles, and force the game to a battue ; no battalion
of keepers to drive birds to the sportsman sitting comfort-
ably in his box, with two or three breech-loaders and a
man to load them, a bottle of Eoederer and a box of cigars*
to keep the time from hanging heavily. On the plains it
is a fair fight between human sagacity and brute instinct,
and even with the most approved arms the odds are by no
means always in favour of the human.

I have said that the buffalo is scarcely considered
game by the plainsman. It is for the reason that this
animal, less than any other, requires an exercise of that
skill and sagacity in which the true sportsman finds his
pleasure andi the reward for all his toils.

104 GAME.

The man who kills his two or three pound trout with
an eight- ounce rod, correspondingly light tackle, and
delicate fly, has a half-hour of exquisite enjoyment of
which the ground-bait man can form no conception,
though the latter may get more fish ; and the successful
stalking of a black-tailed buck, even though it involves
hours of severe labour, is more full of pure satisfaction to
the thorough sportsman than the murder of an acre of
buffaloes.

The first necessity to a successful sportsman is a good
equipment. For all large animal game he must have a
good breech -loading rifle, of calibre not less than forty-five,
and plenty of the best ammunition.

The arrangement of sights and triggers is a matter of
taste and habit, but it is of the gravest importance that
the sight, however arranged, should be exquisitely fine.

Personally, I most decidedly object to elevating
sights for the rifle. Out of ten deer or other animals
missed, at least nine are over-shot. Either from excite-
ment, or because the game appears dwarfed in the wide
expanse of prairie, even the most experienced sportsmen
habitually overestimate distance, and the tendency to
put up the elevating sights is so irresistible that nearly
every successful sportsman of my acquaintance has dis-
carded this sight entirely. Besides this, the use of the
elevating sight does not in the least solve the problem. It
does very well for shooting at a target where the distance
is accurately measured ; and if the sportsman could only
induce the deer to stand still at 500, 600, or 800
yards, he might estimate the distance and hit it. But the
deer fails to be so accommodating, and will insist on stop-
ping at 650, and 737 yards, or some irregular distance of
which the sight takes no account. Moreover, as the tra-
jectory of these high ranges must necessarily be greatly
curved, the chances are infinitely against the sportsman.
He must first guess at the distance, then put up the
elevating sight nearest that distance ; then guess again as

HOW TO GET IT. 105

to whether a fine or coarse sight ought to be taken
through the sight as now arranged.

The very best sight, and the one almost universally in
use by sportsmen and professional hunters on the plains,
is the plain ' buck-horn,' a description of which is un-
necessary, as every gunsmith knows it.

The very large mass of -game 4 bagged ' is killed
inside of 200 yards. A good gun will carry a ball
to that distance with almost a flat trajectory.

Of the best gun I have ever owned, the line of fire
never cut the line of sight at all, but was tangent to or
coincident with it ; in other words, the gun did not shoot
too high at any distance, and I took precisely the same
sight at an object at ten feet as at 100 or 200
yards off. This is very unusual, but a gun is good as it
approximates to this extreme accuracy. After 200
yards, however, the curve of the trajectory of even
the best gun increases with great rapidity, and it is only
by constant practice that the sportsman can keep himself
up to the mark at long ranges. Sportsmen who use the
' buck-horn ' must learn to sight ' on the barrel.' With
practice there is no reason why this should not become
second nature ; and a sportsman soon learns to take his
sight at a distant object and elevate his gun to the proper
angle, just as the trombone player learns by practice to
stop his hand at the exact spot to give the correct note.

The greatest difficulty of this kind of shooting is that
when the barrel is elevated it shuts out the sight of the
game. This difficulty I obviate by shooting with both
eyes open. With the right I keep the line of sight and
estimate the distance ' on the barrel ; ' with the other I have
a clear view of the game and its surroundings. This is
very easy to learn ; and, though I have never known any
other sportsman to shoot a rifle in this way, it has been of
such invaluable use to me, especially in antelope shooting
and at running game, that I recommend every young
sportsman to learn and practise it.

106 GAME.

The trigger is of importance, though this, even more
than the sight, is a matter of habit. In common with
nearly all plains sportsmen and hunters, I use a hair
trigger, and can shoot accurately with no other. My
preference is for the old-fashioned Kentucky double-set
trigger. Some sportsmen use the single-set, and some
few the French double-set trigger. With this latter the
gun can only be brought to full cock after the trigger
is set, which peculiarity gives occasion for numerous
accidents and much bad language. 1 do not like either
of these triggers.

There are among the soldiers some few successful
hunters and good shots; and this is a constant marvel to
me, since they are obliged to use the rifle-musket pro-
vided by the Ordnance Department, on which the sights
are so coarse that without moving the gun a man may
take apparently accurate sight on any object within a
horizontal radius of ten or fifteen feet, and which is so
hard on trigger that few men can pull it off with the
first joint of one finger. I have frequently cocked a
United States rifle-musket, turned it muzzle downwards
and dandled it, the whole weight of the gun being on
the trigger resting on my finger, without pulling it off.
With such a weapon and great economy in the expenditure
of cartridges, it is little wonder that the majority of the
army are as poor shots as can be found. The system on
which even the little practice that soldiers have is conducted
is as absurd as can well be imagined. To put a recruit
to firing off-hand at a target 300 yards away, when he
cannot, with a rest, hit a cracker box at twenty paces,
is as ridiculous a performance as could well be devised
by even the most impractical men.

There is no sort of excuse for such sights as are put
on the rifle-musket. The apology for the hard trigger is,
that men would be more likely to shoot each other if the
triggers were easy — a most weak and frivolous pretence
when taken in connection with the facts that a breech-

HOW TO GET IT. 107

loader is never charged until wanted for use, and that when
not actually at the ' ready ' the gun stands at the half-
cock notch, which may be as hard as they please to make it.
Old men are nearly always opposed to innovation. ' The
old way is the best way.' What was best in the active,
practical days of a man's life, is very apt to be best to
him in his last days. It is extremely rare that a man
progresses with the age in which he lives. As he grows
old, or drops out of active life, his place is taken by
the young and pushing. It is not necessary that a man
grows old in years. Any occupation, or lack of it, that
takes him out of active life produces the same effect.

It is not, therefore, at all to be wondered at if some
of our staff officers are as complete fossils as can be
found in the tertiary deposits of the Bad Lands They
are out of life ; their future is assured. Their occupa-
tion becomes a matter of routine, in which the correct-
ness of a form is of more importance than the establish-
ment of a fact.

The practical men of the line have had a hard fight
with the 'inertia' of their masters of the staff, and have
no reason to be disheartened at the result. We have an
excellent rifle ; we have the bronze barrel, and may hope
in time to secure proper sights and triggers.

The rifle shooting now becoming so fashionable is
destined to work great improvement in the use of arms.
It is, however, only a step in the right direction. The
trials, as at present conducted, are rather tests of the
rifles than of the men. When these trials have pro-
gressed until men begin to compete at distances un-
known to and estimated by themselves, without elevating
sights, off-hand arid necessarily with light triggers, then
the maximum of efficiency and skill is not far off'. Then
must the soldier put in practice such shooting as he
must necessarily use against an enemy.

I have never seen a really ardent sportsman, however
experienced, who did not become more or less excited

108 GAME.

when in the actual presence of game. This excitement
is the culmination of the pleasure of the pursuit. With
the novice it is ' buck fever,' and leads to all sorts of
absurd situations. I remember, when a boy, following
the first black squirrel I ever saw for a quarter of a
mile, my gun pointed, my finger on the trigger, pulling
with all my might ; and it was only when the squirrel was
safe in his den in a hollow tree, that I discovered that
my gun was not cocked.

With every new animal encountered, in a pretty long
experience, I have had a recurrence of the malady,
though not frequently to the extent of interfering with
my success. The best shot at game I ever saw was so
nervous in its presence, that he could hardly hold his
rifle; but let him get within range, and a rock could
scarcely be steadier than, his rifle barrel, as it blazed out
almost certain death.

When I first went to Texas, soon after entering the
service, I had never killed a deer. My first post was at
Fort Lincoln (long since abandoned), in the vicinity of
which deer were almost as abundant as rabbits in a
North Carolina 'old field.' In spite of their numbers
and indefatigable hunting, I could not bag a deer, though
I fired at them ten or fifteen times every week. When
this had continued for a month, I in despair laid away
my rifle, and took to my shot-gun to go after turkeys
and quail. Some time after I was sent on a scout in the
Guadalupe Mountains ; black bear were very plentiful,
and I bagged a good many. One day, taking a carbine
from one of the men, I went into a canon, looking for
Bruin. When about three miles from camp, a herd of
at least fifty deer sprung up from the bottom of the
valley, and ran a little way up the side • of the opposite
hill. I could not resist such an opportunity, and, dis-
mounting, fired at a splendid animal near the foot of the
hill and about eighty yards off. At the report my deer
threw up its flag and went off, as did the herd. While

HOW TO GET IT. 109

looking at them with thorough disgust I noticed one
acting in a strange manner, and in a moment a huge buck
came tumbling down the steep side of the hill. I lost
no time in securing him. He was shot through the head,
though his position on the hill was at least thirty feet
above the one I aimed at.

Thus I bagged my first deer.- The charm was broken.
Next day I bagged two, and since then have never had
any difficulty in killing deer.

We will suppose the sportsman well fitted out, and
ready to take the field against the denizens of the plains.
If he has no knowledge of the habits of game, and intends
only a short hunt, he had best hire a good hunter to go
with him and find the game for him.

In this case he must stipulate that the hired hunter is
not to shoot at game unless specially ordered, otherwise
very little game will fall to his bag. The desire to kill
in the professional plains hunter is so much stronger than
his regard for the truth, that, when his rifle goes off
unexpectedly and a deer falls, he will turn, with ample
apology, to his employer to declare that the animal was
just starting to run when he first saw it, and there was no
time to point it out.

Each animal has to be hunted differently, and no
amount of previous oral instructions can supply to the
novice the place of actual experience. A few general
rules are all that can be given : —

1. Always hunt against or across the wind. If the
wind will permit, it is preferable to hunt across small
valleys, ravines, or rolling- ground.

2. Approach the top of each elevation as slowly and
carefully as if you knew that game was just beyond,
keeping your body well concealed ; and be sure, before
exposing yourself on the top, that you have carefully
scanned every portion of ground in view.

3. Eecollect that to kill game you must see it before
it sees you.

110 GAME.

4. If game is seen, reconnoitre all the ground and
decide how you can best approach, keeping always out of
sight, and constantly having the wind in your favour.

5. When within shot, do not show yourself until per-
fectly cool.

6. Never fire when panting or blown with exertion,
unless it is a desperate case.

7. Play all the advantages, and always take a rest for
your rifle when you can get it.

8. If a long shot, be sure not to overestimate. A
shot too high is utterly wasted. No one ever heard of an
animal being killed by an over shot. I myself have killed
numbers by the ricochet, the aim having been too low.

9. When the game is down approach cautiously, and
not until reloaded.

10. If the game should become alarmed and run off,
do not try to follow it, unless you should be in a wild
country where it is very tame from not having been
hunted. Continue your hunt in some other direction
than that taken by it, as the running game will alarm all
other animals near which it passes, or, at least, put them
on the alert.

There is great difference of opinion among sportsmen
as to whether game is best and most successfully hunted
on foot or on horseback. When game is very plentiful,
and the cover at all thick, the footman has a most decided
advantage ; but under all ordinary circumstances I most
unhesitatingly give my vote in favour of hunting on
horseback.

The increase in bulk and greater noise render the
sportsman more liable to be seen and heard ; but these
disadvantages are more than counterbalanced by the
increased range of his vision, and the very much larger
extent of country he can hunt over in a specified time.

Besides this, when he does find the game undisturbed
he can approach coolly and fire deliberately, unfatigued
by a previous long tramp. Moreover, his having a horse

HOW TO GET IT. 11]

does not in the least prevent his hunting on foot when
occasion requires ; and if, during his hunt, he finds a cosy
dell likely to be the home of a red deer, or a cedar
thicket into which leads a recent trail of black-tails, he
can dismount, steal into these places noiselessly on foot,
and, if nothing is found, remount and go in search of
better fortune. When a sportsman of only ordinary
pedestrian powers hunts on foot he is constantly tram-
melled by the thought of the return tramp, and is apt to
cut short his hunt. Should his enthusiasm carry him far
from his camp, the fatiguing return march will very likely
unfit him for work next day, especially if he has to pack
in much game. The sportsman should never permit his
ardour to convert sport into mere labour.

Whether on foot or on horseback, I cannot too
urgently recommend to the sportsman that he never hunt
alone. Two hunters should not go together, but each
hunter should be accompanied by a servant or other
person.

If on horseback, this person holds the sportsman's
horse when he dismounts, and follows at a long distance
when he is beating-up cover. If on foot, he assists in
carrying the game. In either case the presence of this
person is a guarantee against an ordinary mishap becom-
ing a serious casualty. A thousand accidents may happen
to a sportsman which are serious only when he is alone.
He may turn his ankle by a miss-step, or slip down a bank
and break his leg. The same accident is not likely to
occur to two men ; and, if one should get hurt in any way,
the other may not only make him comparatively comfort-
able at once, but can go for assistance. I have known of
several instances where men went out hunting alone, and
were never afterwards heard of. One of these cases
occurred in the Black Hills, within six weeks previously to
the time that this is written. I knew an estimable man who
went out alone after buffalo. Three weeks afterwards his
remains were found in the bottom of a deep chasm, into

112 GAME.

which he had fallen and broken his leg, and where he
had perished miserably by starvation.

I have known very many instances of accidents, not
very serious in themselves, but which would probably
have been fatal had the individuals been alone when they
happened. I speak from ample experience. Do not go
hunting on the plains alone.

A well-trained dog is most invaluable to the sports-
man ; for, whatever his skill as a marksman or a trailer,
he will lose more or less game unless he has the assist-
ance of man's best friend. All plains animals have
extraordinary vitality; and nothing but the breaking of
the backbone, or a shot through the brain, will certainly
bring one down ' in his tracks.' Any one of these ani-
mals is liable to run for a quarter of a mile, though his
heart be split as with a knife.

The red deer loves the cover of thick jungle of
willow, or quaking asp (a species of aspen, or cotton-
wood, which grows profusely in mountain gorges). The
black-tail prefers the thickets of pine or cedar, which
grow on rocky crags and ledges. In many cases the
trail of the wounded animals through such thickets defies
the skill of any but an Indian ; and the animal is likely to
be lost, though he expend his strength and latest breath
in going but a hundred yards. It is on such occasions
as these that the value of a good dog is best appreciated.
To be of value, however, he must be thoroughly under
control. He must be trained to remain at heel until sent
forward, then to find and take the trail of the wounded
animal. Should he run after one unhurt, he expends
his strength, and is liable to be lost. He should be
taught, when he has found or pulled down the wounded
game, to bark loudly and continuously until his master
come to him.

This training is very simple, and easy to give. Tor
such work I very greatly prefer the pointer. His nose is
as good as the best ; he has sufficient speed, strength, and

HOW TO GUT IT. 113

endurance, and is more easily taught. Greyhounds,
bloodhounds, foxhounds, setters, and even the common
cur, are used as above indicated. The first two lack
intelligence; the third and last are difficult to train;
while the setter, though otherwise a fine animal for such
hunting, cannot stand the heat arid aridity of the dry plains.

It is difficult, and fortunately unnecessary, to decide
upon the relative merits of the rifle and shot-gun.

The lover of the shot-gun has a quicker and more
frequent return for his expenditure of time and effort.
He has, moreover, the companionship and opportunity to
admire the wonderful instinct — nay, more, the human sa-
gacity— of his dog, without which shot-gun work is no sport.

I have known many keen, indomitable sportsmen
who expressed the utmost contempt for the rifle and its
returns; men who would work all day for a dozen
quail, but not an hour for the chance of a deer. I love
both arms, and always take both with me for a hunt on
the plains, but, to my thinking, the rifle is the noblest of
weapons.

The man who succeeds with it must have patience,
endurance, a quick eye, and a steady nerve. His oppor-
tunities are more rare, but their results infinitely more satis-
factory. The one is dilettante work, delightful coquetry,
with many pleasing objects changeable at pleasure ; the
other, ' grande passion,' faithful to one aim, and culminating
in supreme satisfaction, intelligible only to the initiated.

In the Eastern States, where the hunter is put on a
stand at a runway, and the deer driven by him at full
speed by the hounds, the shot-gun is in almost universal
use, and is undoubtedly for such hunting the best arm.
To my taste this is, at best, a mean kind of hunting ;
only exceeded in meanness, indeed, by the boat-hunting
of the Adirondacks. This last is simply despicable. On
my first visit to that celebrated region I committed a
murder, which has since lain heavily on my conscience.

Preliminaries having been arranged, I was sent with

I

114 GAME

my boatman to a distant lake across a three-mile portage,
over which I was expected to carry everything — guns,
oars, seats — except the empty shell of the boat. Arrived
at the lake I awaited for two hours, with some interest,
the development of this new style of hunting. Far off I
faintly heard the bay of hounds, and some moments after-
wards my boatman evinced the greatest excitement ; he
sprung into the boat, calling upon me, and at his best
speed made for the opposite shore. After a few moments I
saw the head of a noble buck coming directly for us,
swimming easily and freely ; he scarcely noticed the boat
until we were within shot, then turned and attempted to
retrace his way. With a fine sweep of his oars the boat-
man threw the boat directly in his path, and called upon me
to fire. The noble head, proudly erect, with half-defiant,
half-frightened bearing, was scarcely six feet from the boat.

' Have I got to shoot that poor animal, without giving
him any show ? ' I asked. ' Pshaw ! ' answered the boat-
man, 'that ain't nothin'. You arter come here when
ther'n the red coat ; then they'll sink when they'r shot ; so
afore lettin' the gentlemen fire I allers gets a good grip
of their tails so as to save 'em, you see.' I wanted
venison, and I wanted the magnificent head, so I fired.
I have always regretted that shot ; and though I have
made two subsequent trips to the Adirondacks, I have
never been seduced into shooting another deer in the
water. If such be sport, I don't want it.

But this is digression, and fortunately it is not plains
hunting.

On the prairie the combat is at equal wits between
man and animal, and the fire must usually be delivered
at such a distance that the shot-gun is of little use.

For some unknown reason, there are many ardent
sportsmen successful with shot-guns who cannot acquire
the art of rifle shooting. To these, much that is most
pleasurable in plains hunting must always remain a sealed
book. Against buffalo, elk, and mountain sheep, the shot-

HOW TO GET IT. 115

gun is not nearly so effective as a bow and arrow in the
hands of an Indian. Against deer in thickets where the
hunter often finds himself within a few paces and with
only the most momentary glimpse of the game, a shot-
gun may be very effective, though, to be successful in his
bag, the hunter must always have a well-trained dog.

I have frequently killed deer' with a shot-gun, which
I could not possibly have bagged with a rifle. A captain
of cavalry, almost in my presence, bagged a buffalo- bull
of eighteen months old with a single charge of No. 4
shot ; and there is a well-authenticated story of an old
hunter in the ' nine-mile bottom ' of the Purgatory Eiver
bagging seven antelope and a fine dog, with one discharge
of a huge weapon which he called a shot-gun.

These are all exceptional cases. Under ordinary
circumstances the rifle is the weapon for plains shooting ;
and if the choice of the hunter is limited to one arm he
should take the rifle, if he knows how to use it.

It is a very singular fact that even the best rifle shot
varies very greatly in his shooting at different marks. One
of the very best target marksmen I ever knew could not
hit a living animal at fifty yards, and some of the most
successful hunters are very poor shots at a target. I know
a good hunter who has killed . an immense quantity of
nearly all kinds of large game, who cannot bag a black-
tail deer though he has been shooting at them for years.
I rarely miss a decent shot at a deer or an antelope, yet I
find it almost impossible to hit a wolf or a hawk ; and
though I have, I am sure, fired at least 500 shots
at wolves, I have killed with the rifle less than twenty in
all my life. It is impossible to account for this ; but
almost every good hunter with whom I have compared
notes on this subject, confirms my own experience. How-
ever skilful and successful each may be, there is yet some-
thing at which he shoots, with no confidence in his ability
to hit.

Dead game should be butchered at once ; all large

i 2

116 GAME.

animals very soon becoming unfit for food unless the
viscera are removed immediately after death.

Once needing fresh meat for my command I sent out
some soldiers to shoot buffalo. They killed four or five
just at dark, and hurried to camp. I sent a waggon out
before daylight next morning, and, though the night had
been cool, the flesh was found to be so offensive that it
could not be used. The hunters had neglected to remove
the intestines.

It is a curious fact, and an admirable example of the
universal providence of nature, that the young of game
animals have no scent. In some mysterious way, the dam
communicates her instructions to the newly-born offspring
which, in quiet obedience, lies motionless in the hiding
place selected for it, never moving except to escape the
most imminent danger.

A hungry cougar or half- famished wolf may pass and
repass within a few feet of the little one, which, had it the
slightest scent, would at once fall a victim to these keen-
nosed gluttons. That great numbers do fall victims is
evidenced by the fact that at this season all the carnivora
are fatter than at any other. But for the admirable pro-
vision of nature in withholding scent from the young of
game animals, the races would soon be extinct.

It is sad to reflect that there is another enemy against
which nature has made no provision, and from whose
ravages there is no escape, and that in a very few years
all the larger animals of the plains must inevitably be
extinct.

This enemy is man. There are no game laws. There
can be none — at least none that can be executed. An
army of officials could not now protect the game. Within
the last few years hundreds of men, too lazy or shiftless
to make a living in civilisation, have found a congenial
mode of life on the plains.

A tent or hut far in the wilderness is the home of two
or three of these men, who have solved the problems how

HOW TO GET IT. 117

little a man can do with and be healthy, how little he
may have and be contented. These are professional
hunters.

In season or out of season they kill everything that
comes in their way. If the animal is unfit for food its
skin may bring a dime or two. Once in two or three
months they will go to the nearest railroad town, sell off
the peltries they have accumulated, buy a little flour and
bacon, a bag of salt, and a few beans. The balance of
the money is either lost at a faro bank or spent in a
roaring spree, after which they return to the wilderness.
These men think only of to-day. The game have no
respite or opportunity for recuperation, and must soon
disappear.

Every sportsman can appreciate the feeling, even
though he may not imitate the action, of the old fisher-
man who, going out to catch cat-fish, threw back into
the water all other fish caught, even though better than
cat-fish, saying in explanation, ' When I go a-catting, I go
a-catting.' There is great gratification in feeling that one
has so educated himself to a knowledge of the habits of
game as to say with certainty, ' I shall kill such game
to-day.' This feeling is not confined to hunters of large
game. I know an Eastern sportsman who will not fire at
a quail when out after woodcock or snipe ; but the most
successful plains hunters, when after bear or elk, will
fire at nothing smaller. This is really necessary to
success with these large animals, which are so timid that
even a distant sound of the rifle will at once send them
to close cover.

However satisfying to one's vanity this kind of hunting
may be, I confess that my taste for sport is rather of the
vagabond order. I like to bag these large animals ; but
I like better to ride through a country where game is in
great variety, rifle and shot-gun both ready for use, bag-
ging now a deer or an antelope, now getting into a flock
of turkeys ; at one time banging into a flock of ducks, at

118 GAME.

another beating a marsh for snipe, or quartering the grass
for grouse or quail in true Eastern style. One gets less
large game in this kind of hunting, but he has a vast
deal more enjoyment.

The most delightful hunting of this kind I have ever
had was in the country south-east of Fort Dodge, on the
small tributaries of the Cimarron Eiver. I append the
record of a hunt of twenty days in this section, in October
1872, in which one officer besides myself and three
English gentlemen participated. Everything bagged was
counted as one, and an idea of the sport can be formed
from this list : —

127 buffalo. 6 cranes.

2 deer (red). 1 87 quail.
11 antelope. 32 grouse.

154 turkeys. 84 field-plover.

5 geese. 33 yellow legs (snipe).

223 teal. 12 jack snipe.

45 mallard. 1 pigeon.

49 shovel-bill. 9 hawks.

57 widgeon. 3 owls.

38 butter-ducks. 2 badgers.

3 shell-ducks. 7 racoons.

17 herons. 11 rattlesnakes.

143 meadow larks, doves, robins, &c.
1 blue bird, for his sweetheart's hat.

Total head bagged, 1,262.

The next year nearly the same party, diminished by
one, went over nearly the same ground with a bag of like
variety, numbering 1,141.

I think that the whole world can safely be challenged
to offer a greater variety of game to the sportsman.

119

CHAPTER VIII.

BUFFALO.

Bos Americanos (American Bison.)

I SUPPOSE I ought to call this animal the ' bison ;' but,
though naturalists may insist that ' bison ' is his true
name, I, as a plainsman, also insist that his name is
buffalo.

As buffalo he is known everywhere, not only on the
plains but throughout the sporting world ; as buffalo ' he
lives and moves and has his being ; ' as buffalo he will die ;
and when, as must soon happen, his race has vanished
from earth, as buffalo he will live in tradition and story.

The general appearance of this animal is well known to
all. His enormous bulk, shaggy mane, vicious eye, and
sullen demeanour give him an appearance of ferocity
very foreign to his true nature. Dangerous as he looks,
he is in truth a very mild, inoffensive beast, timid and
fearful, and rarely attacking but in the last hopeless effort
of self-defence.

The domestic cattle of Texas, miscalled tame, are fifty
times more dangerous to footmen than the fiercest buffalo.
He is the most unwieldy, sluggish, and stupid of all plains
animals. Endowed with the smallest possible amount of
instinct, the little he has seems adapted rather for getting
him into difficulties than out of them.

If not alarmed at sight or smell of a foe, he will stand
stupidly gazing at his companions in their death throes
until the whole herd is shot down. He will walk

120 GAME.

unconcernedly into a quicksand or quagmire already
choked with struggling, dying victims. Having made up
his mind to go a certain way it is almost impossible to
divert him from his purpose. He is as timid about
his flanks and rear as a new recruit. When travelling,
nothing in his front stops him, but an unusual object in
his rear will send him to the right-about at the top of his
speed.

In May 1871 1 drove in alight waggon from Old Fort
Zara to Fort Larned, on the Arkansas, thirty-four miles.
At least twenty-five miles of this distance was through
one immense herd, composed of countless smaller herds,
of buffalo then on their journey north. The road ran
along the broad level ' bottom,' or valley, of the river.

Some few miles from Zara a low line of hills rise from
the plain on the right, gradually increasing in height, and
approaching the road and river, until they culminate in
Pawnee Bock, when they again recede.

The whole country appeared one mass of buffalo,
moving slowly to the northward; and it was only when
actually among them that it could be ascertained that
the apparently solid mass was an agglomeration of
innumerable small herds, of from fifty to two hundred
animals, separated from the surrounding herds by greater
or less space, but still separated. The herds in the valley
sullenly got out of my way, and, turning, stared stupidly
at me, sometimes at only a few yards' distance. When I
had reached a point where the hills were no longer more
than a mile from the road, the buffalo on the hills, seeing
an unusual object in their rear, turned, stared an instant,
then started at full speed directly towards rne, stampeding
and bringing with them the numberless herds through
which they passed, and pouring down upon me all the
herds, no longer separated, but one immense compact mass
of plunging animals, mad with fright, and as irresistible as
an avalanche. The situation was by no means pleasant.
Eeining up my horse (which was fortunately a quiet

BUFFALO. 121

old beast that had been in at the death of many a buffalo,
so that their wildest, maddest rush only caused him to
cock his ears in wonder at their unnecessary excitement),
I waited until the front of the mass was within fifty yards,
when a few well-directed shots from my rifle split the
herd, and sent it pouring off in two streams, to my right
and left. When all had passed me they stopped,
apparently perfectly satisfied, though thousands were yet
within reach of my rifle, and many within less than one
hundred yards. Disdaining to fire again I sent my ser-
vant to cut out the tongues of the fallen.. This occurred
so frequently within the next ten miles, that when I
arrived at Fort Larned I had twenty- six tongues in my
waggon, representing the greatest number of buffalo that
my conscience can reproach me for having murdered on
any single day. I was not hunting, wanted no meat, and
would not voluntarily have fired at these herds. I killed
only in self-preservation, and fired almost every shot from
the waggon.

The winter of 1871-2 was unusually severe on the
Arkansas. The ponds and smaller streams to the north
were all frozen solid, and the buffalo were forced to the
river for water. Their retreat was to the northward.
The Atchison, Topeka, and Santa Fe Eailroad was then in
process of construction, and nowhere could the pecu-
liarity of the buffalo of which I am speaking be better
studied than from its trains. If a herd was on the north
side of the track, it would stand stupidly gazing, and with-
out a symptom of alarm, although the locomotive passed
within a hundred yards. If on the south side of the
track, even though at a distance of one or two miles from
it, the passage of a train set the whole herd in the wildest
commotion. At full speed, and utterly regardless of the
consequences, it would make for the track on its line of
retreat. If the train happened not to be in its path
it crossed the track and stopped satisfied. If the train
was in its way, each individual buffalo went at it with the

122 GAME.

desperation of despair, plunging against or between
locomotive and cars, just as its blind madness chanced
to direct it. Numbers were killed, but numbers still
pressed on, to stop and stare as soon as the obstacle had
passed. After having trains thrown off the track twice
in one week, conductors learned to have a very decided
respect for the idiosyncrasies of the buffalo, and when
there was a possibility of striking a herd ' on the rampage '
for the north side of the track, the train was slowed up
and sometimes stopped entirely.

Late in the summer of 1867 a herd of probably
4,000 buffalo attempted to cross the South Platte,
near Plum Creek. The water was rapidly subsiding,
being nowhere over a foot or two in depth, and the
channels in the bed were filled or filling with loose quick-
sands. The buffalo in front were soon hopelessly stuck.
Those immediately behind, urged on by the horns and
pressure of those yet farther in rear, trampled over their
struggling companions, to be themselves engulfed in the
devouring sand. This was continued until the bed of the
river, nearly half-a-mile broad, was covered with dead or
dying buffalo. Only a comparatively few actually crossed
the river, and these were soon driven back by hunters.
It was estimated that considerably over half the herd, or
more than 2,000 buffalo, paid for this attempt with
their lives.

When travelling unmolested the buffalo is extremely
careful in his choice of grades by which to pass from one
creek to another ; so much so indeed that, though a well-
defined buffalo trail may not be a good waggon road, one
may rest well assured that it is the best route to be had.
He seems to have a natural antipathy to the exertion of
going up or down steep places. In crossing streams his
instinct deserts him. He plunges in anywhere, without
fear or care, and shows less sense in extricating himself
from the difficulties incident to such action than any other
animal, wild or tame.

BUFFALO. 123

His indisposition to travel over bad ground is by no
means to be taken as inability to do so. When frightened
he will, with perfect impunity, climb banks or plunge
down precipices where it would be impossible, or certain
death, to a horse to follow. I have elsewhere spoken of
his liability to stampede ; but, even, when impelled by the
madness which overpowers the stampeded animals, such
is his strength and power of resistance, that he is rarely
seriously injured by tumbles which would disable if not
kill any other animal.

The habits of the buffalo are almost identical with
those of the domestic cattle. Owing either to a more
pacific disposition, or to the greater number of bulls,
there is very little fighting, even at the season when it
might be expected. I have been among them for days,
have watched their conduct for hours at a time, and with
the very best opportunities for observation, but have
never seen a regular combat between bulls. They
frequently strike each other with their horns, but this
seems to be a mere expression of impatience at being
crowded.

The small herds, of which I have spoken as com-
prising the great herd, have each generally more bulls
than cows, seemingly all on the very best terms with
each other.

The old bulls do undoubtedly leave the herd and
wander off as advance or rear guards and flankers ; but I
am disposed to believe this to be due to a misanthropic
abnegation of society on the part of these old fellows, to
whom female companionship no longer possesses its
charm, rather than to their being driven out by the
younger bulls, as is generally believed.

The habitual separation of the large herd into
numerous smaller herds seems to be an instinctive act,
probably for perfect mutual protection. It has been
thought, said, and written by many persons that each
small herd is a sort of community, the harem and

124 GAME.

retainers of some specially powerful bull who keeps
proper order and subjection among them. Nothing is
farther from the truth. The association is not only
purely instinctive, voluntary, free from the domination of
power, of sexual appetite, or individual preferences, but is
most undoubtedly entirely accidental as to its individual
components.

I have, unobserved, carefully watched herds while
feeding. I have seen two or more small herds merge
into one, or one larger herd separate into two or more.
This is done quietly, gradually, and as it were accidentally,
in the act of feeding, each buffalo seeming only intent on
getting his full share of the best grass. The cows and
calves are always in the centre, the bulls on the outside.
When two feeding herds approach each other and merge
into one, the only perceptible change — and this is so
gradual as scarcely to be noticeable — is that the bulls on
the sides of contact work themselves out towards a new
circumference, which is to enclose the whole ; and when
a larger herd breaks by the same gradual process into
smaller ones, the bulls instinctively place themselves on
the outside of each.

When pursued the herds rush together in one compact
plunging mass. As soon as the pursuit is over, and the
buffalo are sufficiently recovered from their fright to
begin feeding, those on the outside of the mass gradually
detach themselves by breaking into small herds, until the
whole large herd is in the normal condition. If each
dominant bull had on such occasions to run through the
whole great herd to look up his lost wives, children, and
dependents, his life would not only be a very unhappy
but a very busy one.

There is one very marked and curious difference
between buffalo and domestic cattle. The cow seems to
possess scarcely a trace of maternal instinct, and, when
frightened, will abandon and run away from her calf
without the slightest hesitation. The duty of protecting

BUFFALO. 125

the calves devolves almost entirely on the bulls. I
have seen evidences of this many times, but the most
remarkable instance I have ever heard of was related to
me by an army surgeon, who was an eye-witness.

He was one evening returning to camp after a day's
hunt, when his attention was attracted by the curious
action of a little knot of six or eight buffalo. Approach-
ing sufficiently near to see clearly, he discovered that this
little knot were all bulls, standing in a close circle with
their heads outwards, while in a concentric circle at some
twelve or fifteen paces distance sat, licking their chaps in
impatient expectancy, at least a dozen large grey wolves
(excepting man, the most dangerous enemy of the
buffalo).

The doctor determined to watch the performances.
After a few moments the knot broke up, and, still keep-
ing in a compact mass, started on a trot for the main
herd, some half a mile off. To his very great astonish-
ment, the doctor now saw that the central and controlling
figure of this mass was a poor little calf so newly born as
scarcely to be able to walk. After going fifty or a
hundred paces the calf laid down, the bulls disposed
themselves in a circle as before, and the wolves, who had
trotted along on each side of their retreating supper, sat
down and licked their chaps again ; and though the
doctor did not see the finale, it being late and the camp
distant, he had no doubt but that the noble fathers did
their whole duty by their offspring, and carried it safely
to the herd.

When the calves are young they are kept always in
the centre of each small herd, while the bulls dispose
themselves on the outside. When feeding, the herd is
more or less scattered ; but on the approach of danger
it closes and rounds into a tolerably compact circular
mass.

Although there is not a particle of danger in ap-
proaching such a herd, it requires in a novice an extra-

126 GAME.

ordinary amount of nerve. When he gets within 300
yards, the bulls on that side, with heads erect, tails
cocked in air, nostrils expanded, and eyes that seem
to flash fire, even at that distance, walk uneasily to and
fro, menacing the intruder by pawing the earth and toss-
ings of their huge heads.

The enemy still approaching, some bull will face him,
lower his head, and start on a most furious charge. But
alas for brute courage ! When he has gone twenty or
thirty yards Mr. Bull thinks better of it, stops, stares an
instant, and then trots back to the herd. Another and
another will try the same game, with the same result ;
and if, in spite of these ferocious demonstrations, the
hunter still approaches, the whole herd will inconti-
nently take to its heels.

This bullying proclivity, combined with his natural
indisposition to get out of the way, has been the cause of
the death of thousands at the hands of men to whom
buffalo killing was no novelty, who needed no meat, and
who would not have gone fifty yards out of their way to
kill, but in whom opportunity so roused that spirit of
murder which is inherent in every sportsman's breast, that
the temptation was too strong to be resisted.

I should be doing injustice to this animal, and be wide
of the facts, did I assert that there is no difficulty or
excitement in its pursuit. What I have said refers to
buffalo hunting on foot, the natural and approved method
of approaching almost all game which is to be taken with
firearms.

Buffalo hunting on horseback is a very different thingy
and, to a novice, full of excitement. A buffalo can run
only about two-thirds as fast as a good horse ; but what he
lacks in speed he makes up in bottom or endurance, in
tenacity of purpose, and in most extraordinary vitality.

A herd will stand staring at an approaching horseman
until he is within about 300 yards. It will then begin
to move off slowly, and, when he is within about

BUFFALO. 127

250 yards, it will probably break into a gallop. This is the
sportsman's moment. A good horse ridden by a man who
knows his business will be among them before they have
gone 200 yards, to shoot and slaughter at his pleasure. A
poor horse, or careful rider, and the hunter will find to his
sorrow that ' a stern chase is a long chase.' If a herd is not
overtaken in 500 or 600 yards 'the chase had better be aban-
doned, if any regard is to be had for the horse. The diffi-
culty in this hunting is that the herd is enveloped in a cloud
of dust, which prevents very careful aim ; the explosion of
the pistol creates a turmoil, confusion, and change of
places among the flying animals, rendering it almost
impossible to shoot at any individual buffalo more than
once ; and their vitality is so great, that it is an exceed-
ingly rare exception when one is brought down by a
single shot.

The danger is not so much from the buffalo, which
rarely makes an effort to injure his pursuer, as from the
fact that neither man nor horse can see the ground, which
may be rough and broken or perforated with prairie dog
or gopher holes. This danger is so imminent that a man
who runs into a herd of buffalo may be said to take his
life in his hand.

I have never known a man hurt by a buffalo in such
a chase. I have known of at least six killed, and a very
great many more or less injured, some very severely, by
their horses falling with them.

The knowledge of the danger, the rush of the horse,
the thundering tread of the flying brutes, the turmoil, the
dust, the uncertainty, and, above all, the near proximity
and ferocious aspect of the lumbering throng, furnish
excitement enough to set wild the man who is new to it.
There is, however, a sameness about it which soon palls,
and an old buffalo hunter rarely runs buffalo. It is very
good for an occasional ' flyer,' but frequent repetition is
like eating quail on toast every day for a month — mono-
tonous. However ardent the sportsman, however ardent

128 GAME.

for this especial sport while new to it, two or three seasons
will dull the edge of the keenest appetite.

The running is very different under different circum-
stances. A single buffalo offers very little sport even to
an enthusiastic novice. He is generally an old fellow
whom solitary life has rendered self-reliant. He has little
disposition to run from any enemy ; and, when he does
start, he runs so slowly and wastes so much time in
' gibing and filling ' to watch his pursuer, that he is
generally a prey so easy that, after the killing, the mur-
derer's conscience smites him, and his self-respect is gone.

' I'd as lief shoot an ox,' has often been the report, in
a lachrymose, self-abashed tone, of a beginner whom I
had sent off in a fury of excitement after a solitary old
bull.

The pursuit of a small herd of bulls is equally unsatis-
factory. A race after a small herd of twenty or thirty
cows and six months' calves gives to the hunter a much
more ample compensation for his time and trouble. When
from three to six months old, the calves run like the wind ;
and to dash into such a herd, single out a calf, pursue
and bring it to bay, is a feat worthy of record for the
novice. This selection of the animal is the beauty and
perfection of buffalo hunting. On account of the con-
fusion of numbers and the dust, it can scarcely be done
in a large herd, except by first splitting it up into small
herds.

This is much more easy than would appear. When
a hunter rushes into a large herd, the buffalo on each
side of his horse push from him laterally. As he gets
farther into it the buffalo passed do not close in his
rear, but being now able to see him more clearly, press
farther and farther away. The consequence is that the
hunter finds himself riding in a V, the point of which is
only a little in advance of his horse's head. By going
completely through the herd it is not only split, but the
leading buffalo on each side, now clearly seeing the

BUFFALO. 129

position of the foe, immediately diverge from him, and
consequently from each other.

The herd is now two herds, which run off in different
directions. Pursuing one of these it is split again and
again, until the hunter is enabled to select his animal
from the diminished numbers.

All this requires an excellent horse, a cool and skilful
rider, and, what is difficult to find on the plains, good
ground and plenty of it. Among steep ravines or very
broken ground the buffalo can travel better than the best
horse.

Once when on a hunt I came upon two Mexican
buffalo hunters, one of whom possessed the finest and
most perfectly trained buffalo horse I have ever seen.
They were encamped near a water hole to which the
buffalo came to drink. On the approach of a herd the
horses were saddled, the fine horse and rider dashed into
it, split it up as I have described, singled out a victim,
always a fat two-year-old, separated it entirely from its
companions, and headed it towards his camp, all at tre-
mendous speed. They were soon met by the other
hunter, and the two, placing themselves on the flanks of
the now tired animal, drove it to their camp, when a
pistol shot finished the race. They had a fine lot of meat
and a goodly pile of skins, and they said that every
buffalo had been driven into camp and killed as the one
I saw. ' It saves a heap of trouble, packing the meat to
camp,' said one of them, naively.

Forty years ago the buffalo ranged from the plains of
Texas to beyond the British line ; from the Missouri and
Upper Mississippi to the eastern slopes of the Eocky
Mountains. Every portion of this immense area was
either the permanent home of great numbers of buffalo,
or might be expected to have each year one or more
visits from migratory thousands.

Hunters' tradition says that the first great break in
his regular irregularity occurred about the winter of

K

130 GAME.

1844-5, in that portion of country now known as Laramie
Plains. That whole section was visited by a most extra-
ordinary snow-storm. Contrary to all precedent, there
was no wind, and the snow covered the surface evenly
to the depth of nearly four feet. Immediately after the
storm a bright sun softened the surface, which at night
froze into a crust so firm that it was weeks before any
heavy animal could make headway through it.

The Laramie Plains, being entirely surrounded by
mountains, had always been a favourite wintering place
for buffalo. Thousands were caught in this storm and
perished miserably. Since that time not a single buffalo
has ever visited the Laramie Plains.

When I first crossed these plains in 1848, the whole
country was dotted with skulls of buffalo, and all appa-
rently of the same age, giving some foundation for the
tradition. Indeed, it was in answer to my request for
explanation of the numbers, appearance, and identity of
age of these skulls, that the tradition was related to me
by an old hunter, who, however, could not himself vouch
for the facts.

The next great break occurred at a comparatively
recent date. The great composite tribe of Sioux, driven
by encroaching civilisation from their homes in Iowa,
Wisconsin, and Minnesota, had crossed the Missouri and
thrust themselves between the Pawnees on the east and
south, and the Crows on the north and west.

A long- continued war between these tribes taught at
least mutual respect ; and an immense area, embracing the
Black Hills and the vast plains watered by the Niobara
and White Eivers, became a debateable ground into which
none but war parties ever penetrated. Hunted more or
less by the surrounding tribes, immense numbers of
buffalo took refuge in this debateable ground, where they
were comparatively unmolested, remaining there summer
and winter in security. When the Pawnees were finally
overthrown and forced on to a reservation, the Sioux

BUFFALO. 131

poured into this country, just suited to their tastes, and
finding buffalo very plentiful, and a ready sale for their
robes, made such a furious onslaught on the poor beasts,
that in a few years scarcely a buffalo could be found in all
the wide area south of the Cheyenne and north and east
of the North Platte.

This area, in which the buffalo had thus become
practically extinct, joined on the south-west the Laramie
Plains country, and there resulted a broad east and west
belt from the Missouri to the mountains which contained
no buffalo.

In 1870 the original great buffalo range had become
permanently divided into two ranges. The Southern
buffalo ranged from Northern Texas to about lat. 41° 30'.
The Northern ranged from about lat. 43°, through what
is known as the Powder Eiver country, into the British
possessions. Of the numbers and position of the Northern
buffalo but little is known.

We will see what has come to the Southern.

Their range was as described above, but their most
prized feeding ground was the section of country between
the South Platte and Arkansas Eivers, watered by the
Eepublican, Smoky, Walmit, Pawnee, and other parallel
or tributary streams, and generally known as the Eepub-
lican country. Hundreds of thousands went south from
here each winter, but hundreds of thousands remained,
It was the chosen home of the buffalo.

In 1872 some enemy of the buffalo race discovered
that their hides were merchantable, arid could be sold in
the market for a goodly sum. The Union Pacific, Kansas
Pacific, and Atchison Topeka and Santa Fe Eailroads
soon swarmed with ' hard cases ' from the East, each
excited with the prospect of having a buffalo hunt that
would pay. By waggon, on horseback, and a-foot, the
pot-hunters poured in, and soon the unfortunate buffalo
was without a moment's peace or rest. Though hundreds
of thousands of skins were sent to market, they scarcely

K 2

132 GAME.

indicated the slaughter that, from want of skill in shoot-
ing, and want of knowledge in preserving the hides of
those slain, on the part of these green hunters, one hide
sent to market represented three, four, or even five dead
buffalo.

The merchants of the small towns along the railroads
were not slow to take advantage of this new opening.
They furnished outfits, arms, ammunition, &c., to needy
parties, and established great trades, by which many now
ride in their carriages.

The buffalo melted away like snow before a summer's
sun. Congress talked of interfering, but only talked.
Winter and summer, in season and out of season, the
slaughter went on.

The fall of 1873 saw an immense accession of hunters ;
but by this time the local merchants, recognising its im -
portance, had got the trade pretty well into their own
hands. Most of the hunting parties were sent out by
them, and wTere organised for even a greater destruction
of buffalo, and with more care for the proper preservation
of the hides and meat. Central depots were established
in localities where buffalo were plentiful. Parties were
sent out from these which every few days brought back
their spoil. Houses were built for smoking and corning
the meat, and, though the waste was still incalculable,
the results would be incredible but that the figures are
taken from official statistics.

In 1871-2 there was apparently no limit to the num-
bers of buffalo.

In 1872 I was stationed at Fort Dodge, on the
Arkansas, and was not on many hunting excursions.
Except that one or two would be shot, as occasion re-
quired, for beef, no attention whatever was paid to
buffalo, though our march led through countless throngs,
unless there were strangers with us. In the fall of that
year three English gentlemen went out with me for a
short hunt, and in their excitement bagged more buffalo

BUFFALO. 133

than would have supplied a brigade. From within a
few miles of the post our pleasure was actually marred
by their numbers, as they interfered with our pursuit of
other game.

In the fall of 1873 I went with some of the same
gentlemen over the same ground.

Where there were myriads of buffalo the year before,
there were now myriads of carcasses. The air was foul
with sickening stench, and the vast plain, which only a
short twelvemonth before teemed with animal life, was a
dead, solitary, putrid desert. We were obliged to travel
south-east to the Cimarron, a distance of nearly ninety
miles, before we found a respectable herd. Even there
we found the inevitable hunter, the southern line of the
State of Kansas being picketed by them. They were
wary of going into Indian territory, where they might
be arrested ; but an unfortunate herd no sooner crossed
the line going north than it was destroyed. The butchery
still goes on. Comparatively few buffalo are now killed,
for there are comparatively few to kill. In October
1874 I was on a short trip to the buffalo region south
of Sidney Barracks. A few buffalo were encountered,
but there seemed to be more hunters than buffalo. The
country south of the South Platte is without water for
many miles, and the buffalo must satisfy their thirst at
the river. Every approach of the herd to water was
met by rifle bullets, and one or more buffalo bit the
dust. Care was taken not to permit the others to drink,
for then they would not return. Tortured with thirst
the poor brutes approach again, always to be met by
bullets, always to lose some of their number.

But for the favouring protection of night, the race
would before now have been exterminated. In places
favourable to such action as the south bank of the Platte,
a herd of buffalo has, by shooting at it by day, and by
lighting fires and firing guns at night, been kept from
water for four days, or until it has been entirely

134 GAMS.

destroyed. In many places the valley was offensive from
the stench of putrefying carcasses.

At the present time the Southern buffalo can hardly
be said to have a range ; the term expresses a voluntary
act, while the unfortunate animals have no volition left.
They are driven from one water hole to meet death at
another. No sooner do they stop to feed than the sharp
crack of a rifle warns them to change position. Every
drink of water, every mouthful of grass, is at the expense of
life ; and the miserable animals, continually harassed, are
driven into localities far from their natural haunts, any-
where to avoid the unceasing pursuit.

A few, probably some thousands, still linger about
their beloved pastures of the Eepublican ; a few still
hide in the deep canons of the Cimarron country ; but
the mass of Southern buffalo now living are to be found
far away from the dreaded hunter, on a belt of country
extending south-west across the upper tributaries of the
Canadian, across the northern end of the Llano- Estacado>
or Staked Plain, to the Pecos Eiver.

The difficulty of getting the hides to market from
these remote and Indian-infested regions is some
guarantee that the buffalo will not be extinct for a few
years.

In the beginning of the hide business, the hunting
parties organised themselves on any haphazard basis.
Every man wanted to shoot ; no man wanted to do the
other work. Buffalo were slaughtered without sense or
discretion, and oftentimes left to rot with the hides on.
This did not pay, and these self-organised parties soon
broke up. When the merchants got the business into
their hands they organised parties for work. The most
approved party consisted of four men — one shooter, two
skinners, and one man to cook, stretch hides, and take care
of camp. Where buffalo were very plentiful, the number
of skinners was increased. A light waggon, drawn by
two horses or mules, takes the outfit into the wilderness,

BUFFALO. 135

and brings into camp the skins taken each day. The
outfit is most meagre : a sack of flour, a side of bacon,
five pounds of coffee, ten of sugar, a little salt, and
possibly a few beans, is a month's supply. A common,
or ' A,' tent furnishes shelter ; a couple of blankets for
each man is bed. One or more of Sharp's or Eemington's
heaviest sporting rifles, and an unlimited supply of ammu-
nition, is the armament ; while a coffee-pot, Dutch oven,
frying-pan, four tin plates, and four tin cups, constitute
the kitchen and table furniture.

The skinning knives do duty at the platter, and
' fingers were made before forks.' Nor must be forgotten
one or more ten-gallon kegs for water, as the camp may
of necessity be far away from a stream. The supplies
are generally furnished by the merchant for whom the
party is working, who, in addition, pays each of the
party a specified percentage of the value of the skins
delivered. The shooter is carefully selected for his skill
and knowledge of the habits of the buffalo. He is cap-
tain and leader of the party. When all is ready he
plunges into the wilderness, going to the centre of the
best buffalo region known to him, not already occupied
(for there are unwritten regulations recognised as laws,
giving to each hunter certain rights of discovery and
occupancy). Arrived at the position he makes his camp
in some hidden ravine or thicket, and makes all ready
for work.

Early next morning, rifle in hand, and belt well sup-
plied with ammunition, he sallies forth. His object is
not only to kill, but to avoid frightening the living.
Keeping the wind, peeping over hills, creeping along
ravines, now bagging a solitary victim, now screened by
a bank, putting bullets into three or four before they can
get away. Occasionally he may find a herd in an excep-
tionally favourable position. Crawling like a snake
along the bottom of a ravine, he may approach unsus-
pected to within thirty or forty feet of the nearest.

136 GAME.

Hiding his every movement, the heavy rifle is brought
to bear, and a bullet sent into the heart of the nearest
buffalo. The animal makes a plunge forward, walks a
few steps, and stops with the blood streaming from his
nostrils. The other buffalo, startled at the report, rush
together, but, neither seeing nor smelling danger, stare
in uneasy wonder. Attracted by the blood they collect
about the wounded buffalo. Another bullet is now sent
in ; another buffalo plunges, stops, and bleeds. The
others will stare, and, seeming to think the wounded
animals responsible for the unusual noise, concentrate
their attention on them. Again and again the rifle
cracks. Buffalo after buffalo bleeds, totters, and falls.
The survivors stare in imbecile amazement.

The game is so near, and the shooter so well under-
stands his business, that but one shot is necessary for
each life. The wounded animal may walk off some dis-
tance, but is sure to come down.

When the shooter has killed or mortally wounded
as many as his party can skin, he crawls off as cautiously
as he approached, and returns, well satisfied, to camp.

This is called in hunters' language ' getting a stand ;'
and the number killed by the hunter, under such circum-
stances, is only limited by the number of animals in the
herd, or the capacity of the hunting party to skin.

I have myself counted 112 carcasses inside of a semi-
circle of 200 yards radius, all of which were killed by
one man from the same spot, and in less than three-
quarters of an hour.

Sometimes the buffalo will stand even when they see
their enemy. Two such instances have occurred to me.
Once returning down the Arkansas Eiver from an ex-
ploring expedition, I had arrived within a day's journey
of my post, and wished to take in a quantity of meat.
A herd of some seventy-five finding itself on the wrong,
or river, side of me, dashed past at full speed. I fired.
The herd disappeared on to a table land to my left. I

BUFFALO. 137

followed, and, on reaching the top of the hill, found it
standing around a cow dying on the ground. As I
approached all stared at me, but did not offer to run.
I sat down on the ground in plain view, within fifty
yards of the nearest, and deliberately shot down every
calf in the herd — twelve — and killed another cow, a
bullet passing through a calf into her. By this time
my waggons were up. Going to the edge of the bank
I called up the men, and when we went to butcher our
game we were obliged to drive the uninjured buffalo
away by waving our hats, shouting, and throwing stones.
The other 'stand' was very similar, but, needing less
meat, I killed but four or five calves.

The skinners with the waggon follow the shooter at
a distance, taking care to keep out of sight of the
buffalo.

The skins of the victims are whipped off with mar-
vellous dexterity and rapidity, and the tongues cut out.

If preparations have been made for smoking, corning,
or otherwise saving meat, the hind quarters are cut off,
and loaded with the skin and tongue upon the waggon.
The loin, the ribs, the hump, aJl the best and most
savoury parts of the animal, are left to rot, or are eaten
by wolves. In the very large majority of cases the
whole carcass is left to rot where it fell.

In the height of the furor of slaughter (1872-3),
when buffalo were so plentiful that skinning was the
only work, the ordinary process was found to be much
too slow for the ' great American buffalo-skinner,' so he
devised a plan of his own. An incision was made
across the back of the head, just in fron;t *of the ears
and around the throat. This thick skin, ears included,
was started by skinning down some six or eight inches.
Connecting incisions were made from the throat down
the belly, and from this down each leg to the knee as is
usual. A stout rope was fastened about the thick skin
on the back of the head, the ears preventing its slipping

138 GAME.

off when pulled. A strong iron spike about three feet
long was then driven through the head of the buffalo
into the ground, pinning it fast. The waggon was then
brought up, and the other end of the rope made fast to
the hind axle. The horses were whipped up, and the
skin torn from the carcass at one pull. I have seen a
skin taken off in this way in, I think, less than five
minutes (though I did not time it by the watch). Some-
times the skin was badly torn, and always, more or less,
flesh adhered to it, giving additional work to the stretcher.
When, therefore, the careful preparation of each skin
began to be of greater importance than time, this process
was abandoned, and the skinner returned to his usual
greasy, filthy, and legitimate work.

When the skins are brought to camp the work of the
stretcher begins. This is of no little importance, for, if
not done properly, the value of the skin is diminished, if not
destroyed. A smooth piece of ground, exposed all day to
the rays of the sun, is selected. Small slits are cut in the
edges of the skin all around its whole circumference at in-
tervals of about a foot. The skin, flesh side up, is stretched
as tightly as possible, and pinned fast by wooden pegs
driven through the slits into the ground. Every particle
of flesh or fatty matter is then carefully removed from the
exposed surface, which is left to dry and harden in the
sun. Should a rainfall occur durr j this process the skin
is lost, as, in drying, it contracts so as- to draw the pegs or
tear loose from them, shrivels up, and is worthless as a
merchantable article. In from two to. five days, accord-
ing to the season and heat of the sun, the skin is cured
and stacked with others ready for transportation to
market.

At the present time such is the care bestowed on
killing, skinning, and curing, that with the most successful
parties 100 skins delivered in market represent only
about 125 dead buffalo.

It was my desire and intention to have furnished com-

BUFFALO. 139

plete and authentic official statistics of the number of
hides of buffalo transported over the different railroad
routes, and thus obtain a pretty accurate knowledge of the
numbers actually killed. To that end, I made application,
either direct or through friends, to the officers of the
various railroads which bring this product to market.

To my very great surprise I soon found I was tread-
ing on most delicate ground ; the authorities of but one
prominent road giving me the information desired.

The refusals, couched in most polite language, were
grounded on the alleged impossibility of giving the inform-
ation without going over all the loose bills of lading of
those years, involving time and a large amount of clerical
labour.

It is impossible to conceive that two great railroads
like the Union Pacific and Kansas Pacific, with an enor-
mous carrying trade, should do their business without
books, and that the officers are really unable to give,
without such labour, the amount of any kind of freight
carried in any specified time. I am, therefore, constrained
to believe that the refusal is prompted by fears that
publicity in this matter might result in some legislation
which would interfere with profits.

Such fears are without foundation. The buffalo are
virtually exterminated. No legislation, however stringent
or active, could now do anything either for or against
the trade in the ' buffalo product/

Most fortunately this general reticence found excep-
tions. The Atchison, Topeka, and Santa Fe Eailroad gave
me a prompt, full, and clear statement, from which, and
from personal knowledge of the business of other roads,
I am enabled to make a very satisfactory estimate of the
numbers of buffalo slaughtered for their hides since the
winter of 1871-2.

The three great railroads mentioned — the Union
Pacific, Kansas Pacific, and Atchison, Topeka, and Santa
Fe — have done most of the carrying trade, and have

140

GAME.

divided the lion's share very equally between them. The
last-mentioned road penetrates the very heart of the
great Southern buffalo range.

The Union Pacific has done less ; but it and the
smaller roads which touch the buffalo region, taken to-
gether, have carried about as much as either of the two
principal buffalo roads.

Careful inquiry convinces me that the Atchison,
Topeka, and Santa Fe Eailroad has carried about one-
third of the entire buffalo product (exclusive of robes).
On this I found my estimate.

BUFFALO PRODUCT.

Year

Atchison, Topeka,
and Santa Fe

Union Pacific,
Kansas Pacific, and
all other Railroads

Total

1872
1873
1874

Hides^sTo.
165,721
251,443
42,289

Hides — No.
331,442

502,886
84,578

497,163
754,329
126,867

459,453

918,906

1,378,359

1872
1873
1874

Meat — Ibs.
None
1,617,600
632,800

Meat— Ibs.
None
3,235.200
1,265,600

-4,852,800
1,898,400

2,250,400

4,500,800

6,751,200

1872
1873

1874

Bones — Ibs.
1,135,300
2,743,100
6,914,950

Bones — Ibs.
2,270,600

5,486,200
13,829,900

3,405,900
8.229,300
.20,744 850

10,793,350

-21,586,700

32,380,050

In the transportation of Indian tanned hides or robes,
the Atchison, Topeka, and Santa Fe Eailroad has but one
rival, and that -not a dangerous one, in this trade.

It is even more difficult to get at the statistics in this
trade than of the other, -much of it being -clandestine.

BUFFALO. 141

Persons who, by trading illegally with the Indians, have
accumulated many robes, are too careful to be caught in
so gross an error as shipping their goods as freight on
railroads.

They evade publicity by hiring freight cars and load-
ing them themselves. The railroad is not solicitous,
except as to the number of pounds carried.

The exact amount of the robe trade is known to but
one or two firms in the United States, and they are
extremely careful that outsiders shall not have the
details.

The Atchison, Topeka, and Santa Fe Eailroad carries
a freight of about 19,000 robes each year. The Union
Pacific about 10,000. Probably an average of about
5,000 are put upon the market clandestinely. An ave-
rage of about 55,000 comes down the Missouri from the
Northern Indians. The robe ' crop ' is therefore in the
neighbourhood of 90,000 yearly.

I have already spoken of the immense waste of hides
incident to the first great rush of green hunters into the
masses of buffalo. My own estimates are confirmed by
well-informed persons ' in the trade,' who were in the
heart of the buffalo region at that time. The mass of
these hunters were such poor shots that they wounded
two or three buffalo for every one bagged, and most of
which subsequently died or were killed by wolves. The
skinners and curers knew so little of the proper mode of
curing hides, that at least half were ]ost of those actually
taken. In the summer and fall of 1872 one hide sent to
market represented at least three dead buffalo. This
condition of affairs rapidly improved ; but such was the
furor for slaughter and the ignorance of all concerned,
that every hide sent to market in 1872 represented no
less than five dead buffalo.

Early in 1873 the organisation of hunting parties had
been properly effected.

The ' hunter ' had learnt his work, and dead buffalo

142

GAME.

were now so plentiful that skinning became arduous labour.
Little care was taken ; the skins, jerked off in any way,
were frequently torn. The curer left flesh on, or failed
to stretch them properly, and they spoiled. In the crop
of 1873 one hide delivered represents two dead buffalo.

As the game became scarce, more attention was paid
to all details ; and in 1874, and up to this time, so much
care is taken by the best hunting parties, that 100
skins delivered in market during that and the last
year represent 125 dead buffalo. No parties have ever
got the proportion lower than this, and it is therefore not
a fair average. To avoid overestimating, I have in
every case taken the lowest figures : —

Years

Hides delivered

Dead buffalo

1872
1873

1874

497,163
754,329

126,867

1,491,489

1,508,658

158,583

1,378,359

3,158,730

It is much more difficult to estimate the number of
dead buffalo represented by the Indian tanned skins, or
robes, sent to market. This number varies with the dif-
ferent tribes, and their greater or less contact with the
whites.

Thus the Cheyennes, Arrapahoes, and Kiowas of the
Southern plains, having less contact with whites, use skins
for their lodges, clothing, bedding, par-fleches, saddles,
lariats, for almost everything. The number of robes
sent to market represents only what we may call the
foreign exchange of these tribes, and is really not more
than one-tenth of the skins taken. To be well within
bounds I will assume that one robe sent to market by
these Indians represents only six dead buffalo.

Those bands of Sioux who live at the Agencies, and
whose peltries are taken to market by the Union Pacific

BUFFALO.

143

Eailroad, live in lodges of cotton cloth furnished by the
Indian Bureau. They use much civilised clothing, bedding,
boxes, ropes, &c. For these luxuries they pay in robes ;
and as the buffalo range is far from wide, and their yearly
' crop ' small, more than half of it goes to market.

The wilder Indians of the Upper Missouri yet use many
skins, though their contact with whites has given them
a taste for civilised luxuries for which robes must be paid.

I have no personal knowledge of the proportion, but
am informed, by persons who profess to know, that about
one robe is sent to market for every five skins.

The yearly crop of robes already estimated represents
their dead buffalo as follows : —

Kiowas, Comanches, Cheyennes, Arrapahoes, Indians

whose crop goes over A. T. and S. Fe R. .
Sioux at Agencies Union Pacific Railroad
Indians of Upper Missouri .....

In three years, 1872-73-74

Add total killed by whites in those years .

Sent to
market

19,000
10,000
55,000

Represent
dead buffalo

114,000

16,000

275,000

Total

405,000

1,215,000
3,158,730

4,373,730

Making the enormous, almost incredible, number of
nearly four and a half millions of buffalo killed in
the short space of three years. Nor is this all. No
account has been taken of the immense number of
buffalo killed by hunters, who came into the range from
the wide frontier, and took their skins out by waggons ; of
the immense numbers killed every year by hunters from
New Mexico, Colorado, Texas, and the Indian territory ;
of the numbers killed by the Uetes, Bannocks, and other
mountain tribes, who make every year their fall hunt on
the plains.

Nothing has been said of the numbers sent from the
Indian territory, by other railroads than the Atchison,

144 GAME.

Topeka, arid Santa Fe, to St. Louis, Memphis, and else-
where ; of the immense numbers of robes which go to
California, Montana, Idaho, and the Great West ; nor of
the still greater numbers taken each year from the terri-
tory of the United States by the Hudson Bay Company.

All these will add another million to the already
almost incredible mortuary list of the nearly extinct
buffalo.

•f

MOUNTAN OR WOOD BUFFALO.

In various portions of the Eocky Mountains, especially
in the region of the parks, is found an animal which old
mountaineers call the ' bison.' This animal bears about
the same relation to the plains buffalo as a sturdy moun-
tain pony does to a well-built American horse. His body
is lighter, whilst his legs are shorter, but much thicker
and stronger, than the plains animal, thus enabling him to
perform feats of climbing and tumbling almost incredible
in such a huge and apparently unwieldy beast.

These animals are by no means plentiful, and are
moreover excessively shy, inhabiting the deepest, darkest
defiles, or the craggy, almost precipitous, sides of moun-
tains, inaccessible to any but the most practised moun-
taineers.

From the tops of the mountains which rim the parks,
the rains of ages have cut deep gorges, which plunge
with brusque abruptness, but nevertheless with great
regularity, hundreds or even thousands of feet to the
valley below. Down the bottom of each such gorge
gurgles a clear, cold stream of the purest water, fertilising
a narrow belt of a few feet of alluvial, and giving birth
and growth to a dense jungle of spruce, quaking asp, and
other mountain trees. One side of the gorge is generally
a thick forest of pine, while the other side is a meadovv-
like park covered with splendid grass. Such gorges are
the favourite haunt of the mountain buffalo. Early in the

MOUNTAIN OR WOOD BUFFALO. 145

morning he enjoys a bountiful breakfast of the rich
nutritious grasses, quenches his thirst with the finest
water, and retiring just within the line of jungle, where,
himself unseen, he can scan the open, he couches himself
in the long grass and reposes in comfort and security
until appetite calls him to his dinner late in the evening.
Unlike their plains relatives, there is no stupid staring at
an intruder. At the first symptom of danger they disap-
pear like magic in the thicket, and never stop until far
removed from even the apprehension of pursuit. I have
many times come upon their fresh tracks, upon the beds
from which they had first sprung in alarm, but I have
never even seen one.

I have wasted much time and a great deal of wind in
vain endeavours to add one of these animals to my bag.
My figure is no longer adapted to mountain climbing,
and the possession of a bison's head of my own killing is
one of my blighted hopes.

Several of my friends have been more fortunate, but
I know of no sportsman who has bagged more than one.1

Old mountaineers and trappers have given me wonder-
ful accounts of the numbers of these animals in all the
mountain region ' many years ago ; ' and I have been
informed by them that their present rarity is due to the
great snow-storm of 1844—5, of which I have already
spoken as destroying the plains buffalo in the Laramie
country.

I ought to say here, however, that experience has
taught me that the stories of these worthies must be taken
with many grains of allowance. As a rule they regard
every man who does not lead their life, who is not as
unkempt, greasy, and filthy as themselves, as a ' green-
horn ' whom it is their privilege and their duty to ' stuff'

1 The author is in error here, as, in a point on the Tarryall range of
mountains, between Pike's Peak and the South Park, in the autumn of
1871, two mountain buffalo were killed in one afternoon. The skin of the
finer was presented to Dr. Frank Buckland. — W.B.

L

146 GAME.

with as many impossible stories as they can. One may
find out from them a good many valuable facts, by
listening, apparently uninterested, to their talk with each
other ; but show any interest or ask a direct question, and
a hundred to one that the answer is the hugest lie that
the spokesman can invent for the occasion. Under the
most favourable circumstances at least half of what these
old fellows tell is downright fabrication, and as it and
any thread of truth that there may be are told with the
same grave face and apparent sincerity, one can never tell
which half to believe.

One of my friends, a most ardent and pertinacious
sportsman, determined on the possession of a bison's head,
and, hiring a guide, plunged into the mountain wilds which
separated the middle from the South Park. After several
days, fresh tracks were discovered. Turning their horses
loose on a little gorge-park, such as described, they started
on foot on the trail ; for all that day they toiled and
scrambled, with the utmost caution, now up, now down,
through deep and narrow gorges and pine thickets, over
bare and rocky crags ; sleeping where night overtook
them. Betimes next morning they pushed on the trail,
and about 11 o'clock, when both were exhausted and well-
nigh disheartened, their route was intercepted by a preci-
pice. Looking over they descried, on a projecting
ledge, several hundred feet below, a herd of about
twenty bison, lying down. The ledge was about 300
feet at widest, by probably 1,000 feet long. Its inner
boundary was the wall of rock on the top of which
they stood ; its outer appeared to be a sheer precipice
of at least 200 feet. This ledge was connected with
the slope of the mountain by a narrow neck. The wind
being right, the hunters succeeded in reaching this neck
unobserved. My friend selected a magnificent head, that
of a fine bull, young but full grown, and both fired. At
the report the bisons all ran to the far end of the ledge
and plunged over.

MOUNTAIN OR WOOD BUFFALO. 147

Terribly disappointed, the hunters ran to the spot and
found that they had gone down a declivity, not actually
a precipice, but so steep that the hunters could not follow
them.

At the foot lay a bison. A long, a fatiguing detour
brought them to the spot, and in the animal lying dead
before him my friend recognised his bull — his first and
last mountain buffalo. None but a true sportsman can
appreciate his feelings.

The remainder of the herd were never seen after the
grand plunge, down which it is doubtful if even a dog
could have followed unharmed.

148 GAME.

CHAPTER IX

WILD CATTLE.

I SHOULD be doing injustice to a cousin-german of the
buffalo, did I fail to mention as game the wild cattle of
Texas. It is the domestic animal run wild, changed in
some of his habits and characteristics by many generations
of freedom and self-care. I have already spoken of the
ferocious disposition of some of the so-called tame cattle
of Texas. A footman is never safe when a herd is in his
vicinity ; and every sportsman who has hunted quail in
Texas will have experienced the uneasiness natural to any
man around whom a crowd of long-horned beasts are
pawing the earth and tossing their heads in anger at his
appearance.

I admit some very decided frights, and on more than
one occasion have felt exceedingly relieved when an aggres-
sive young bull has gone off bellowing and shaking his
head, his face and eyes full of No. 8 shot, and taking the
herd with him. I speak, I am sorry to say, of an ex-
perience now more than twenty years old. Texas was a
new country then, and certainly an aggressive country.
Every bush had its thorn ; every animal, reptile, or insect
had its horn, tooth, or sting ; every male human his re-
volver ; and each was ready to use his weapon of defence
on any unfortunate sojourner, on the smallest, or even
without the smallest, provocation.

I doubt if time has ameliorated the qualities of the
bush, the reptile, or the insect.

The cattle which are brought north seem to be some-

WILD CATTLE. 149

what gentled, either by the ' softening influence of a
higher civilisation,' or by hard driving ; and, judging from
newspaper items, the real or homicidal Texan, who killed
his man every few days just to keep his hand in, is less
plentiful now than in the ' good old times.'

The tame cow is nearly as dangerous as the bull ;
while in its wild state, the cow, except in defence of her
calf, is as timid as a deer. The wild bull is ' on his
muscle ' at all times ; and though he will generally get out
of the way if unmolested, the slightest provocation will
convert him into a most aggressive and dangerous
enemy.

The wild cattle are not found in herds. A few cows
and their calves may associate together for mutual protec-
tion, but the bulls are almost always found alone. Should
two meet, a most desperate combat determines the mastery
then and there, very frequently with the life of one of the
combatants.

He who would enjoy the favours of a cow must win
his way to them by a series of victories. The result of
this is that the number of bulls is greatly disproportioned
to the number of cows ; and this disproportion is increased
by the fact that it seems impossible for the bull to keep
his mouth shut, and when not actually eating he is bel-
lowing, or moaning, or making some hideous noise which
indicates his whereabouts to the hunter.

Among buffalo there are more bulls than cows ;
among wild cattle there is probably one bull to thirty
cows.

The buffalo and domestic cattle will cross,1 success-
fully, however, only when the buffalo cow is the mother
of the mule. The domestic cow will receive the attentions

1 This has been denied. I am, however, positively assured by officers
who have seen the animals that there were several specimens of the cross to
be seen in 1874, on the farms on the Republican and its tributaries. I am
also informed that several authentic instances are recorded in the United
States Patent Office Reports.

150 GAME.

of the buffalo bull, but invariably dies, being unable to
bring forth the calf.

It is somewhat singular that two animals, sufficiently
similar to cross in breed, should be so entirely dissimilar
in all traits of character. The buffalo bull, as we have
seen, is gregarious, inoffensive, seldom or never fighting,
and truly fatherly in his care for his progeny. The wild
bull, on the contrary, is sullen, morose, solitary, pugna-
cious, and, except on occasions, associates with neither
wife nor offspring.

The buffalo cow has little or no natural instinct, runs
away from her calf on any fright, and leaves its protec-
tion to the bulls.

The wild cow takes the most anxious care of her calf,
and is transformed by maternal affection from one of the
most timid of animals to a most daring and desperate
combatant, attacking the cougar, leopard, or even her
own lord and master, should they come too near its hiding
place.

The buffalo loves to roam at large over the treeless
plains, taking long journeys every year and having no
fixed abiding place.

The wild cattle bury themselves in the closest recesses
of the most dense chapparal, and rarely stray even in a
lifetime beyond a few miles from their chosen haunts.

Wild cattle hunting is a sport either too exciting or
not sufficiently so. There is no mean. The Mexicans
ordinarily kill them by lying in wait, hidden in the thick
branches of a tree at a water hole to which they resort.
This is a slow, unsatisfactory, and cowardly way of taking
game, but it is the only method by which these animals
can be successfully and safely got at.

As I have said, the whereabouts of a bull can be
readily discovered by his bellowing.

This would seem to give the hunter an easy suc-
cess. Not always so, however. He is probably at that
moment ensconced in the darkest recesses of a dense

WILD CATTLE. 15,1

thicket of ' wait-a-bit ' trees. This bush generally puts a
prompt quietus on the most sanguine temperament. It
stands ' thick as hair on a dog's back,' about twelve
feet high, the straight stems from the size of a pipe-stem
to two inches in diameter. Lateral branches spring out
from every stem so thickly as to make a jungle almost
impenetrable even of themselves ; and when each is armed
with innumerable thorns bent like fish-hooks, sharp as
needles, and strong and tough as steel, it will readily be
seen that hunting in such a thicket is no sport. His
broad horns, thick hide, and immense strength enable
the bull to make his way through such a thicket with
ease and immunity.

Suppose that, under cover of the noise made by the
bull, a hunter has overcome the natural difficulties of the
approach. Moving with the greatest care he finds him-
self within twenty feet of the unconscious animal. He
plainly sees the outline of his quarry ; but when he raises
his rifle he finds a thousand tough twigs and branches
between him and his aim, either of which is sufficient to
deflect the bullet from a vital part Suppose, however,
that an accidental opening gives him a good shot. He
knows that the chances are a thousand to one against his
bringing the animal down with one shot, and that the explo-
sion of the gun will bring the bull upon him in full charge ;
and this in a thicket through which the bull moves easily
and quickly, while he can scarcely move at all, and where
there is not a tree behind which he can take cover, or in
the branches of which he may find refuge. A man must
be endowed with more than the ordinary disposition for
getting into scrapes who would attack under such cir-
cumstances.

Sometimes a bull may be caught feeding in an open-
ing of the chapparal. In such case, as he will not run
away, he becomes an easy prey, provided the hunter has
the wind, keeps perfectly quiet after his shots, and is so
covered by the thicket that the bull can see neither him nor

152 GAME.

the smoke of his piece. The bull seems to have little
faculty of judging the position of an enemy by sound,
unless the sound is very close.

The cows are extremely difficult to bay, being exces-
sively timid, and hiding in the densest thicket at the first
symptom of danger. If caught feeding and mortally
wounded, a cow will generally manage to get into the
thicket and elude her pursuer. Nothing but his ap-
proach to the hiding place of her very young calf will
cause the mother to stand and show fight to her arch
enemy — man.

There is an old army story to the effect that, when
General Taylor's little army was on the march from
Corpus Christi to Matamoras, a soldier on the flank of
the column came upon and fired at a bull. The bull
immediately charged, and the soldier, taking to his heels,
ran into the column. The bull, undaunted by the num-
bers of enemies, charged headlong, scattering several
regiments like chaff, and finally escaped unhurt, having
demoralised and put to flight an army which a few days
after covered itself with glory by victoriously encounter-
ing five times its numbers of human enemies.

Twenty-five years ago a friend and classmate (long
since gone to ' that bourne ') was stationed at a post in
Texas. He was a bright, intelligent, rollicking, roystering
blade, full of kindly feeling, and honourable in all his
instincts ; but so given to practical jokes, or ' fun,' as he
called it, that he was cordially hated by many of his
associates, and was a terror even to the friends who
appreciated the worth hidden under all his curious
foolishness.

This officer was visited by a cousin of his, a young
gentleman of good presence and manners, who was not
only a graduate of an institution of learning in the
' Mother of Presidents,' but had received his diploma as
a M.D. from a medical college in Philadelphia. In
spite of his education, the young gentleman, though an

WILD CATTLE. 153

ardent sportsman, was not only profoundly ignorant of
what game ought to be found in Texas, but was the
' greenest ' man in all practical affairs of frontier life that
ever fell into the hands of such a joker. He was made
to believe the most improbable stories, and to attempt
the most impracticable things. One morning the host
gravely proposed an elephant hunt. ' What ! ' said the
doctor in the greatest excitement, ' do you have ele-
phants out here?' 'Plenty of them,' said the host.
Preparations were at once commenced, and by 9 A.M.
a party of youngsters, ripe for the fun, were after
elephants.

The doctor was fed with all sorts of stories, given
every kind of advice, and in the course of the morning
sent into every impossible place in search of elephants,
until he was well-nigh frantic with eagerness and disap-
pointment.

When some five or six miles from the post, the
doctor was sent, through a thicket of ' wait-a-bit ' thorns,
of which he knew nothing. Anticipating rare sport at
his plight on his return, the host sat on his horse waiting,
when he heard a shot, and was soon after startled with
loud cries for help.

Galloping through the glades he arrived at a small
prairie opening of an acre or two in extent, around
which the doctor was frantically urging his pony, while
only a few yards behind was a, huge wild bull in full
charge. All the manliness of the host was aroused by
this real and unexpected danger of his friend, and without
a moment's hesitation he dashed in and fired a pistol
shot. In an instant the bull turned upon him. His
large American horse was unequal to the emergency,
and in turning was met full in the side by the horns of
the beast. Both horse and rider were lifted for one
instant into the air, and then came down in a heap toge-
ther. The horse was dead without a struggle, one horn
being completely through his body, the other caught in

154 GAME.

the bones of the chest. One leg of the rider was between
the horns of the bull, pinned fast between his head and
the body of the horse. When heaped together the
horse's body was on the bull's head, fastening it to the
ground, and most fortunately preventing any movement ;
and the rider, his leg fast, was lying on the bull's
back. The whole hunting party was soon assembled.
They were afraid to shoot the bull, lest his struggles
might further injure the man pinned to him. At last
his jugular vein was opened, and he slowly bled to
death. His horns were then cut off, the horse lifted off,
and the now nearly dead man carried on a litter back to
the post. Though no bones were broken, he paid the
full penalty of his 'joke,' not only in the loss of a fine
horse, but by several weeks of severe suffering. It was
his last ' elephant ' hunt.

I was once a party in a fight with a wild bull, which
we caught by accident on a small prairie dotted with
rnesquite trees. Two of the party crept behind trees
and fired with rides, while two others beside myself
attacked on horseback with pistols. For half an hour
we had a most lively fight, the bull charging first one
then the other with the greatest fury, never stopping for
an instant. When finally brought down he was covered
with wounds, over twenty of which must eventually
have proved mortal.

155

CHAPTEE X.

ELK.

(Cervus Strongyloceros.)

OF all American game the elk is justly entitled to stand
first in the estimation of the sportsman.

His size, splendid form, noble presence, and magni-
ficent antlers, excite the most hopeful enthusiasm in the
breast of the sportsman, while his quickness of eye, keen-
ness of ear, and wonderful delicacy of scent, render his
successful pursuit a feat to test the skill of the hunter.
The average elk will weigh about 500 pounds. I was
some years since presented by a friend with a pair
of antlers of a noble buck of his own killing, which he
said weighed as he fell 800 pounds. I can readily
believe it, since the antlers attached only to the frontal
bone weighed of themselves sixty-one pounds.

The range of the elk seems originally to have been
commensurate with the territory of the United States,
from the Atlantic to the Pacific, from Michigan to
(Florida, T was going to say, having no evidence of an elk
ever having been seen in that State, I will substitute)
Texas. They are now found on the plains, in greater or
less numbers, from the British line on the north, to the
Eed Eiver on the south, from the Missouri on the east,
far beyond the plains through the Eocky Mountains to
the Pacific coast.

They are not prolific, and, though cautious and difficult
to approach by the novice, are easily killed by the skilled
hunter. Moreover, they have many foolish traits, which
oftentimes puts it in the power of a hunter to kill a great
many at one time ; and, as I have said in the same case

156 GAME.

in reference to buffalo, few sportsmen can resist the
desire to kill when the opportunity presents itself. Be-
sides this, the Pacific railroads having opened the eastern
markets to western game, the country in their vicinity is
overrun each winter by pot-hunters, who kill as many as
possible for shipment.

All these cases combined rapidly diminish the number
of elk. They do not long survive the settlement or
occupation of a country, or the constant and murderous
attacks made upon them by the pot-hunters.

One must go, at the present time, to the wild and
unknown parts of the country to find elk in any great
abundance.

Elk vary in their habits with the locality and season
of the year. The following is descriptive of the habits
of those frequenting the Laramie Plains. In May, June,
and July, it is rare to find two together. The female is
secluded in some close thicket or rocky fastness, pre-
paring for, or taking care of, her calf. The buck is also
in trouble. The immense antlers which he so proudly
tossed last autumn dropped off in February, and he
is undergoing the tedious, painful, and wearing process
of growing another pair. He is weak, languid, and
rather thin in flesh, for, although food is good and
abundant, most of the blood he makes goes to the build-
ing-up of his magnificent horns. These start from the
same base from which the old ones fell, and, at starting,
are about the size or a little larger than the old base.
The horn starts like an asparagus shoot, and from the
commencement grows full size in diameter. The upper
surface of the old base gets soft and bulbous. A thin
skin covered with short downy hair stretches over this
bulb, which contains apparently only thick black blood,
and grows at the rate of nearly half an inch in twenty-
four hours. Soon after fairly getting started, a deposit
commences at the centre of what is to be the future horn,
a bony substance which gradually increases in size and

ELK. 157

strength, until, when the embryo horn is a foot in length,
the portion near the base is of full size, of tolerably
strong compact bone, and surrounded on the outside by
a network of innumerable blood vessels, more or less
separated from each other by layers of bone. These
layers form the corrugations and knobby protuberances
which appear on or near the lower portion of the perfect
antler. The growing horn is exceedingly tender, and
liable to be injured in a thousand ways.

I have been told that an elk will sometimes bleed to
death should a horn be knocked off at certain stages of
its growth. During this time, therefore, the buck elk is
exceedingly careful of himself, retires to the most solitary
spot known to him, as near the snow line as convenient
in order to get rid of flies, and spends all the time not
necessary to obtain food and water in lying in the high
grass or small bushes, which he utilises in keeping the
flies off without danger of hurting his horns.

By about the 10th of August the horns have attained
their full growth. The blood vessels gradually dry up,
commencing at the tips of the spikes, after which the
whole horn, though yet covered with ' velvet,' arrives at
its perfect hardness. The ' velvet ' now begins to crack,
and evidently to itch in an intolerable way ; for the buck
spends most of his time in rubbing his horns against small
trees, or weaving them, as it were, up and down in a thick
bush. This, in hunters' language, is called ' shaking,'
probably because the bush is shaken backwards and for-
wards. During this time the buck is very easily killed.
He is generally alone. The hunter from a high point
surveys the slopes and higher valleys, and sees a bush
being shaken violently. He has no need to be more
careful than to assure himself that he has the wind right.
The buck, sawing his head up and down in the bush, can
see nothing, and himself makes too much noise to hear
anything, and so falls an easy victim. By about the 1st
of September the antlers are entirely clear of velvet, and

158 GAME.

the buck elk, fat, sleek, and proudly tossing his new-
grown weapons, is the most magnificent, noble-looking
animal on the continent. And now in splendid condi-
tion, and looking each ' the monarch of the glen,' the
bucks come down to the valleys ready to try their fasci-
nations on the does, who, on their part, having about
completed their maternal duties, are ready to be fasci-
nated, and come with their calves to swell the numbers
of the herds, which at this season congregate together.

All are now in the very best condition, and this is
the true time for the sportsman who shoots for pleasure.
He will not kill so easily as when the bucks are ' shaking,'
but every one he does get is in its absolute prime, and,
fortunately for him, the pot-hunters are not yet out.
They must wait for freezing weather or their harvest is
spoiled. It is impossible for the eastern gourmand to
realise how delicious elk or venison is in September. The
game sent east in mid-winter is of the poorest. The bucks
through the remaining season are thick-necked, poor,
stringy, and tough. The does are all with young, though
fatter and far better eating than the bucks.

About the 15th of September the running season com-
mences. I have heard so many stories about duels
between buck elk at this season that I suppose the fighting
must be conceded, though I have met but one person
who claimed to be an eye-witness to such a combat. I
must say on my own part that with several years'
experience among these animals I have never seen a
fight, or any wound, scar, or other evidence of a fight on
a buck elk, and I have seen twenty or thirty bucks in a
herd, with probably twice as many does, all apparently
on the very best terms with each other, though more or
less ' running ' was going on. Certainly there was no
fighting or offering to fight, or interference in any way of
one buck with another. These may have been ex-
ceptional ' community ' arrangements, but my opinion is
that fights are exceptional.

ELK. 159

The buck has a deep bellow as call for the doe. In
defiance or as warning of danger his note is a low whistle,
very much prolonged, and capable of being heard at
incredible distances. A musical friend tells me that the
note is the soft natural ' E ' of the organ. It is by no
means combative or warlike, and I think indicates the
true character of the elk.

It is somewhat singular that while endowed by nature
with splendid proportions, wonderful strength, and the
most formidable weapons of offence, the elk is one of the
most timid of animals. I have never seen even a
wounded elk evince the slightest disposition to defend
himself. In a close encounter with either man or dog he
is not to be compared for a moment as a dangerous
animal with either the black-tail or the common red deer.
His size, strength, and horns seem to be utterly useless to
him.

An exception to this general rule occurred in the
experience of an army officer, who related to me the
following anecdote : He was, with one soldier, crossing a
section of country about half of which was covered with
timber. Their attention was attracted by a loud and
singular noise proceeding from a thicket on one side of
their route. Approaching cautiously, they found a small
park -like opening of about a couple of acres in extent, in
which two immense buck elks were having a mortal
combat. They did not push with their horns, as would
appear natural ; but, backing from each other for about
twenty feet, would, with blazing eyes, hair turned the
wrong way, and heads lowered, rush together like knights
in the tournay, with tremendous speed and force, meeting
with a fearful crash of horns, and each emitting at the
moment of contact a shrill snort of anger and defiance.
Each would then back off for a new start. Many courses
were thus run, without advantage on either side, when
the officers, getting tired of the sameness of the affair,
fired at one, when both ran off together. There were no

160 GAME.

does in the vicinity, and the c running ' season was over.
It is presumable, therefore, that these ' gentlemen ' elk,
having some private quarrel, had retired to this seques-
tered spot to settle their personal difficulty in accordance
with the rules of honour.

From September to the next May or June the elk are
in herds of generally from five to seventy-five animals,
although I have seen a herd which I verily believe
contained more than 500 head. This was, however, in the
days of good hunting, before the Union Pacific Eailroad
had rendered the haunts accessible to all the world.

When feeding unmolested the habits of the elk are
almost identical with those of domestic cattle, except that
they generally feed in one direction, and pass much more
quickly over the ground.

Elk are very great travellers, passing over great
distances. A herd found feeding in one spot in the
afternoon may be twenty miles away the next morning.
They travel mostly at night, and rarely spend even forty-
eight hours in the same vicinity.

When travelling unmolested they always walk in
single file, or one after the other, no matter how many
there may be. In this way a herd strings out to a great
distance, and makes a marked trail very easily followed.

When disturbed, either while feeding or travelling,
they run together for an instant like a flock of sheep, and
huddle up in a close clump, their long necks stretched
out, and their eyes staring with a scared, helpless look.
Soon an individual starts off, all the others following, not
now in single file, but in a widening wedge, the leader
being the point.

If the leader is knocked down by a bullet all stop
and huddle again, seeming to hold a silent consultation.
After a moment another leader starts, and all follow.
Should the hunter get very near before disturbing the
herd by a shot, this peculiarity of always having to stop,
seemingly to select a leader, gives him, if a good marks-

ELK. 161

man, the means of killing several, if not many. If, as
soon as the leader gets fairly started, he is dropped, all
stop, and by the time another is selected and starts the
hunter can have reloaded and possibly gained many
paces nearer. Another start, another knock down, and
so on. I have myself killed five from one herd in this
way, knocking down one after another two leaders, and
being much nearer to the herd when I shot the last than
when the first fell.

The gravest objection to this style of shooting is that,
in my experience, nine times out of ten the leader is a
doe. Unlike the buffalo, the buck elk rarely takes the
lead, and if he brings up the rear it is only because his
fat prevents him from running faster. His favourite
position is in the middle of the herd, surrounded by
admiring females, any one or all of whom he is as willing
to sacrifice to his own safety as was Artemus Ward to
let his wife's cousins go to the war. The larger, fatter,
and more tempting he is to the sportsman, the more
timid does he appear and the more pains does he take to
keep himself well surrounded by the herd.

To bay this ' monarch ' is no easy matter, and so, by
all rules, he is the special one the sportsman most desires
to bay. It is not like murdering him when his head is
in the bush and he has nothing but his nose to depend
on. Now he has not only his own eyes, but a score of
other eyes are watching for him ; not only his own ears,
but a score of feminine ears are specially sharpened for
his protection. But the eyes and ears of a whole herd
may be successfully eluded ; noses never. The very
first necessity to a successful stalk is to have the wind
right. It is best to approach directly up the wind, but
this cannot always be done without exposing one's self to
the eyes and ears. Across the wind, if it be strong, is
equally good ; but if it blows in flaws it is dangerous.
The elk may hear the hunter, and turn and stare in the
direction of the sound ; but, if the alarm is not confirmed

M

162 GAME.

by other senses, they will commence feeding again. If,
however, they either see or smell him, they are off at
once, travelling with such speed and to such distance that
pursuit is generally useless. If, therefore, the sportsman
finds that he cannot approach without exposing himself
to discovery by one of these senses, he had better lie
still and wait patiently until the herd has moved to such
a position that he can approach with every advantage.
Even when he has succeeded in approaching sufficiently
near to the herd he may have to wait a long time before
he gets a fair chance at the bearer of the special pair of
antlers on which he has set his heart. This is very
trying to the nerves, and if the sportsman does not get
' buck fever ' under such circumstances he may regard
himself as proof against the malady. The moment
arrives at last. If the ground is fairly open and favour-
able for tracking wounded game, a steady sight close
behind the shoulder, and three inches above the brisket,
gives the most deadly wound. It is not, however, sure
to drop the elk at once, for, even though shot through the
heart, it may run half a mile. If, therefore, the ground
is much broken, and there be ravines and thickets in
which the wounded animal may conceal himself, the best
shot is through the shoulder-blade, about six inches from
the top of the withers. This is a risky shot, as the
sportsman has nothing but' his eye to guide him in the
selection of the exact spot ; and if the bullet is put too
high, or .too low, or too far forward, or too far back, the
animal, though mortally wounded, may run for miles.

If, however, the sportsman is near enough and marks-
man enough to put his ball just right, the game is sure
to drop in its tracks. In nearly all my elk hunting I have
had the advantage of good dogs ; and how inestimable
that advantage is may be judged from the following ex-
perience : —

I had succeeded in crawling up to within forty yards
of the nearest of a herd of about thirty elk. My dog,

ELK. 163

a fine large pointer, was flat on the ground behind me.
After some waiting my chosen buck gave me a fair shot ;
but, whether from ' buck fever ' or from allowing too
much for his movement in walking, I put the bullet too
far forward. I had time to see this when the herd rushed
together, looking in all directions for the danger. Slipping
another cartridge into my gun, I took most careful aim
at a splendid doe that was nearest me, and fired. To my
intense disgust the doe did not fall, and the whole herd
pitched over a bank and disappeared. Eeloading, I ran
to the edge of the bank, and found the herd again huddled
together, about 125 yards off. Again I fired after a most
careful aim, and at the report the whole herd went away
at a great rate towards some high bluffs about a mile off.
I now sent the dog after them and yelled frantically to
my servant to bring up my horse. Mounting in all haste,
I dashed furiously after the retreating game, which, how-
ever, reached and climbed the bluffs far ahead of me.
When, with great difficulty, I succeeded in gaining the top,
I found the herd again crowded together about 600 yards
off, and my dog just entering the compact mass. Again
they started. I had great fears for the dog, but presently
saw him bounding pertinaciously against apparently one
animal, which after some moments turned out of the herd
and came to bay. Galloping up I recognised my wounded
buck. A bullet dropped him, and, sending the dog on, I
followed at my best speed. The herd was by this time
out of sight. The dog, too, soon disappeared, and I
followed only by the dust which was kicked up by the
retreating herd. I was riding a well-built and most
powerful Canadian pony, and never before or since have
I ridden at such speed over such rough ground. True
to their instinct the elk had taken the worst ground they
could find. It was the soil of the ' bad lands,' through
which water cuts its way in ravines with perpendicular
sides. These were small, only a foot or two in depth and
from six to twelve inches wide ; but the ground was thickly

u 2

164 GAME.

scored by them, and, to make matters worse, was covered
with sage bush from one to two feet high, completely
concealing them from the view of either myself or horse.
One moment the pony's fore feet would go down, the
next his hind feet. I rode him from his ears to his tail,
sometimes in front, sometimes in rear of the saddle. How
I stuck on I do not know, but after a mile of such riding
(if it could be called riding) I was rewarded by seeing my
dog holding one elk at bay while another was lying down
a few yards off. I got them both. All three elk had
been mortally wounded, yet I should have bagged neither
had it not been for the dog.

Singular as it may appear, plains hunters are equally
divided in opinion as to the gait of the elk when at his
best speed. Some old hunters who have bagged their
hundreds of elk, stoutly maintain that the elk only trots,
even when at his best pace ; while others, equally good
authorities, insist that he runs like a deer. The truth is
that both are somewhat right and both wrong. The
elk trots with great speed, and this seems to be his
easiest and most natural gait. He, however, can and
does run much faster than he can trot, but it is a
laboured effort and soon tires him out. A hunter
on foot in August, September, and October might
well declare that an elk only trots, for at this sea-
son he is very fat, easily blown, and nothing short of
being absolutely forced to do so will induce him to break
his trot. When thin he runs much more easily and
readily, and a hunter seeing him in February might with
equal truth declare that he did not trot at all. I believe
an elk will trot across ordinary prairie at the rate of
about a mile in 3 min. 30 sees.

His run will lessen the time by thirty seconds at least.
The peculiarity of the animal is that his gait is about as
good on the worst as on the best ground. In going up
and down bad places he is only excelled by the mountain
sheep, and no heavy plains animal can compare with him

ELK. 165

in crossing a bog. He has a faculty of spreading out his
hoofs and false toes, and getting down on his legs, so that
his track in the soft mud is of the most nondescript
character, at least eighteen inches long and of no shape.

In going through bush or timber, he sticks his nose in
the air, throwing back the points of his huge antlers on
each side of his body, and makes about as good time as if
in the open.

For doubling, dodging, and hiding, this huge animal
is, considering his bulk, far superior to the hare, or even
the fox ; and the facility with which he will squat and
conceal himself in the slightest possible cover, is really
most remarkable.

It is this peculiarity which makes him so difficult to
bag in thickets and wooded countries. The hunter may
have the wind and be ever so cautious. The cracking of
a dry twig or the rustling of withered leaves will put the
elk on the alert and send him noiselessly out of danger.
If, however, he finds his enemy very near, he relies on
his skill in hiding, and will remain motionless, though the
hunter pass within a few yards of him. Two hunters of
my command, in September 1875, followed a trail of elk
into a little valley filled with a jungle of quaking asp.
All at once one of the hunters found himself so close to
a huge buck that he could almost have touched him with
his gun. The animal was perfectly motionless, had his
head down, but was watching the hunter steadily, and
with so fierce an aspect, that the man was, though an
excellent shot, actually frightened into a miss at that dis-
tance. At the report of the rifle the whole valley sud-
denly became alive with elk. The men were in the very
midst of a herd of at least a hundred, many of them within
a few yards.

Nothing is more provoking than to trail an elk into a
beaver dam thicket, to know he is in there, within a few
feet of you, whilst you can neither see nor get him out.
In such a case a well broken dog is invaluable.

166 GAME.

The most exciting of sport is an elk chase on horse-
back ; but, unless the country be particularly favourable, it
is not likely to be very successful. When pursued, the
elk takes instinctively to the very worst ground. He will
go easily in arid out of the almost perpendicular ' bar-
rancas ' of the l bad lands,' where no horse can possibly
follow. He will go at full speed across a morass, in which
a horse must inevitably stick at the first bound. He will
dash without a moment's delay or hesitation through a
thicket so dense that horse and rider are forced to go at a
walk. Though, therefore, he cannot cope with a good
horse in speed, he has the most decided advantage in a
country which is at all difficult.

The first necessity in the race is to force him to break
his trot. It is said that an elk will trot at an equal speed,
without stopping or even flagging, for twenty miles. If,
therefore, the horse is too slow or the ground too difficult
to force a break, the race may as well be abandoned at
once.

Suppose, however, the ground good and the horse
fleet. A tremendous burst of speed brings the horse and
rider on the haunches of the elk, who until now has
been going at an even trot but at tremendous speed,
throwing his legs easily and holding his head proudly in
the air. The pursuer gets very near, sometimes within a
few paces. The speed must be increased, and the elk is at
the best of his trot, so reluctantly he breaks into a run, thus
increasing his speed very considerably. But in taking
the run he gains in speed at the expense of all his ease,
grace, and beauty of movement. His run is an awk-
ward, lumbering, rolling gallop. His head is carried low
and thrust forward. A few hundred yards of this gait
tells. His mouth is open, his tongue out, his eyes
glazed with fear. A few moments more and he must
surrender, unless some ruse can be hit upon to outwit
the pursuer. He doubles at the most unexpected
moment, dodges into every ravine, runs around points

ELK. 167

of hills, pushes into every place where there appears a
chance for cover, and, finally, when all have failed, he
squats in some bunch of grass or sage bush and receives
the coup de grace without resistance or struggle.

I have had a number of such chases, and, though
several times I have been near enough to be by courtesy
' in at the death,' I am obliged to admit that I have never
run an elk down and killed it.

In 1867 I went with several gentlemen on an elk
hunt in the Loup country. I had with me six Pawnee
Indians, and, as the Sioux were at this time very hostile,
a small force of infantry. We had several days of fair
sport, and bagged all the meat needed by the party.

We camped one night on one of the head tributaries
of Wood Eiver. This stream is hardly a stream, there
being but little running water ; but it has cut through the
deep alluvial of the c bottom ' a most crooked channel,
about thirty feet wide by at least twenty feet deep.
This chasm is filled with trees and underbush, forming
an almost impenetrable jungle. Next morning, just as
we had finished breakfast, an Indian informed me that a
large buck elk had gone into the channel some half a
mile below. We determined on a chase. The north
side of the stream being most favourable, I sent the
Indians below the elk, with instructions to drive him by
us on the north side.

I was mounted on an excellent, powerful, and long-
winded horse, but not, however, remarkable for speed.
One of the party was riding a regular ' quarter horse,'
exceedingly fleet for a short distance, and he was selected
to break the elk's trot.

We had but fairly crossed the chasm and settled all
preliminaries, when there carne trotting by with free and
easy grace one of the most magnificent bucks I have ever
seen. He passed within twenty-five yards of us ; and,
with a shout that made the welkin ring again, we dashed
after the game.

168 GAME.

Within 300 yards the 'quarter horse' ran almost
against the buck, who, turning his head in surprise,
broke into his lumbering run. Some accident stopped
the fast horse, but I was near enough to take up the
running. In a mile the elk was nearly pumped,
and showed every symptom of the greatest distress.
Looking back I saw all the party strung out for half a
mile ; none were near enough to be my rival in the chase.
I therefore husbanded my forces, and let my horse only
run fast enough to keep the elk at the very top of his
speed. The race was up to the creek bottom. I kept
on the left of the elk, between him and the ravine, and
so near that I could easily have killed him with a boar
spear had I had one. I was admiring my prize and
enjoying every moment, running easily, " horse perfectly
in hand, when, without a single preliminary look or act,
the elk turned sharp to the left, frightening my horse
into a momentary swerve, passed in front so near that
I could have touched him with my hand, and, without a
moment's hesitation, plunged off a perpendicular bank of
twenty feet into the chasm, and disappeared in the jungle.

The whole line of pursuers saw the act, and turned
short to the ravine, but it was at least fifteen minutes
before we could hunt the elk from his hiding place. As
it was he broke cover 500 yards from me3 on the other
side of the ravine, and, before I could find a place to
cross, I was hopelessly out of the race. Galloping from
one hill top to another, I saw the finish. Like myself,
the whole party was thrown out except two Indians, one
mounted on a poor pony, the other on a mule. Though
terribly blown the elk led them a long chase, and, getting
into some broken ground, wrould have escaped any pur-
suer similarly mounted but an Indian. From my vantage
ground I could see all his manoeuvres, and he worked
hard and well for his life. Though now scarcely able to
trot he was full of ruses. He would dodge around the
point of a hill, get out of sight of his pursuers, double his

ELK. 169

track, turn to one side, and squat in a little ravine or
clump of sage bush. When they lost sight of him the
Indians would dismount, take the trail, follow it up, jump
the game, now slightly refreshed by the rest, and off all
would go again. This was done several times, until
finally, completely exhausted, the elk squatted in some
high grass, and one of the Indians, walking up, finished
him with a pistol shot.

An old army friend, who was stationed many years
ago in the Indian territory, has told many stories of
splendid and successful runs in that open and beautiful
country. He even yet, however, bears a grudge against
one especial buck, which outwitted him.

He was out hunting alone, and had got nothing. To
make matters worse, a cold rain set in, drenching him to
the skin. On his way homeward he came upon a mag-
nificent buck elk alone. Dismounting, he crept up, took
good aim, and ' snapped.' Powder was pricked into the
tube of his old-fashioned muzzle-loader, but all to no
purpose. The gun snapped again and again. The
powder in the barrel was hopelessly wet, and would not
burn. Eeturning to his horse, he mounted, and after a
splendid dash came alongside of the buck, who, however,
would not break his trot, even although the horse ran
against him. Lifting with one hand his rifle high above
his head, he brought the heavy barrel with full force
across the elk's back, without apparently producing the
slightest effect. Again and again the blows fell, until,
after receiving about a dozen, the elk made up his mind
he had had enough, and, when the heavy barrel again
descended, he by a quick motion to the right avoided it.
The blow fell with terrific force against the horse's ribs,
almost breaking them in, and nearly dislocating my
friend's arm. The chase was continued, however, for
some distance farther, when, coming to a small lake or
pond of water, the elk plunged in, and only stopped
when the water was over his back. The lakelet was out

170 GAME.

of the hunter's depth in the centre ; and, even had he
followed, the pursuer could have done nothing but pound
the elk on the antlers, which would have produced no
effect. Besides, if the elk had mustered courage enough
to show fight, both horse and rider would have been
helpless. The lakelet was not over fifty yards across ;
but after pelting the elk with sticks and stones, and
failing to dislodge him from his retreat, my friend was
fain to return home discomfited, wet, sore, disappointed,
and miserable. He has not forgiven that elk to this
day.

Next to the buffalo the elk is the animal on which
the Indian depends for food. The plains Indians usually
stalk them, and are very successful. Not being biassed
by such puerile considerations as size, appearance, or
wealth of antlers, the Eed hunter fires at that animal
which he is most sure to hit, and, having wounded, is
almost sure to bag it, as he will follow its trail for miles,
if necessary, with indomitable patience, and the instinct
of a hound.

The Utes, Bannocks, and other Indians living on the
slopes of the mountains, sometimes make a wholesale
slaughter in winter. A herd being discovered, a sur-
round is made, and the elk are driven into a deep snow-
drift, where they are butchered at leisure. It is the
principal food of these Indians, there being no buffalo
in the country.

I have been told that the remnant of a plains tribe
(now living in the Indian territory, but the name of
which I have forgotten) is very successful in killing elk
from horseback. Each hunter is armed with a long
pole, light but strong, the small end of which is split
and forced open for about a foot, forming a Y. About
six inches from the open end is fastened a knife blade,
sharpened to the finest edge, and set diagonally in the
Y; that is, one end is farther forward than the other.
The whole is firmly secured by thongs of raw hide.

ELK. 171

A herd being discovered, the hunters make a sur-
round, and dash upon the frightened beasts, which,
confused by the sudden onslaught, and having no leader,
crowd together. Eunning up behind the elk, the hunter
sets the crotch of his pole against the hind leg, just above
the knee ; a sharp push severs the hamstring. The
other leg is served in the same way. So quick and
noiseless is this work, that it is said not to be unusual
for each hunter to secure two or three victims before the
herd finally breaks away.

Although the elk generally shows himself possessed
of the instinct of self-preservation to a degree which
makes him a fair match for any sportsman, he sometimes
becomes so paralysed with fear as to be apparently unable
to move. At other times he seems entirely to lose; his
senses, and will rush into a snow-drift, or over a precipice
to certain death, under circumstances of danger from
which a deer or an antelope would easily extricate himself.

A pot-hunter came one day, not far from Fort Fred
Steele, upon a band of twenty-eight elk, feeding in a
canon, the sides and upper end of which were perpen-
dicular rock. Entering the canon from below he wralked
directly up the centre to within fifty yards of the herd,
which were crowded together at the upper end. He then
opened fire, and shot down, one after the other, the whole
herd, not one making an attempt to escape, though the
canon was more than 100 yards wide, and they could
have passed the hunter on either side without approach-
ing nearer to him.

The Big Horn River breaks its way through the
mountains by one of the most magnificent canons on the
continent, the sheer descent of the gorge being in many
places not less than 2,000 feet. Three army officers,
hunting elk one day along the edge of this chasm, came
upon a herd of some thirty elk, which took refuge in a
small growth of pine timber. One hunter took position
on each side, while the third went into the timber.

172 GAME.

He soon found the herd, fired, but missed, and the elk
disappeared. After searching from one side of the timber
to the other he joined one of his companions, who told
him that the elk had not passed out by him. The two
then went to the other, who made the same report.
Their positions covered all the ground, and, it being cer-
tain that the elk were in the timber, all three went in.
After a long search, the herd was found standing on a
ledge, from one to three yards wide and scarcely thirty
long. To get on this ledge, they had made a clear jump
down a precipice of not less than fourteen feet. Their
position was apparently without remedy. On one side a
perpendicular wall of fourteen feet, on the other a sheer
descent of 2,000 feet into the depth of the chasm.

In the excitement of finding the game, one of the
officers fired. An elk fell, struggled an instant, toppled
over the brink, and, after what appeared an age of anxious
waiting, a faint thud announced the arrival of the carcass
at the bottom of the gorge. Another was shot with the
same result, and the firing stopped. The officers remained
on the ground for an hour, so near that they could almost
touch the elk, and yet unable to bag one. They looked
in vain for some means of releasing the elk from their
voluntary prison, and, finding none, returned to their camp,
leaving the poor beasts to their fate.

In a very few years this most splendid animal will
have shared the fate of the buffalo.

The presence of the Indians was, a few years ago, a
protection to the game of the plains. Their general re-
moval to reservations has made it safe for worthless whites,
too lazy to work, to penetrate almost every portion of the
country. These men butcher the game for their hides in
season and out of season.

173

CHAPTEE XI.

BLACK-TAILED DEER.

(Cervus Macrotis.)

THE black- tailed deer is the largest of the deer proper
in this country. He is a magnificent animal, sur-
passed by the elk in size, but not in beauty of outline
or grace of movement.

When in good condition and on the alert, just
startled by an unusual sight or sound, he combines all
the beauty that the most exacting imagination could
desire. His splendidly proportioned body is set lightly
but firmly upon the most delicately tapering legs. A
glorious neck supports the most perfect head, crowned
with antlers, magnificent, not from size, but from
regularity and grace of curve. He steps as if walking
on air, and with head proudly aloft, flashing eyes, dilated
nostrils, attitude half of timidity, half of defiance ; even
a Landseer must despair and must fail to do justice to
the perfections of his noble proportions. I once saw
a small herd frightened by a train of cars on the Union
Pacific Eailroad, near Sherman. They made off at speed,
but in such a direction that by a sharp curve the train
emerged from the rocks directly across their line of
flight, and within thirty yards. The frightened oes
scattered in every direction. Not so a magnificent buck,
startled by the sudden appearance and close vicinity
of the snorting monster ; but, disdaining to fly, he drew
up and back his form, as if expecting but defying

174 GAME.

attack, and stood stockstill until the train passed, the most
perfect picture of animal life it has ever been my good
fortune to see.

I may be a little enthusiastic ; but the black- tail
is to me the finest of plains animals, and its pursuit
possesses a fascination which I find in no other hunting.

The black-tailed deer is considerably larger than
the red deer, the bucks in good season not unfrequently
weighing over 250 pounds, and I have heard of one
killed by an army officer which kicked the beam
at 280.

In colour it is very dark grey or mouse colour,
though for some time after shedding in the spring
the coat consists of a thin covering of coarse reddish
hair. Its tail, unlike the broad white flag of the red
deer, is rather thinly haired, and the end is tipped for
two or three inches with a thick tuft of short black
hair, which gives the name to the animal. Its tail is
not lifted in running as with the red deer. Its ears
are rather long and heavy, from which circumstance
it is in some parts of the country called the ' mule
deer/

The ease and grace of motion of this animal are
confined to his slower movements. In running, other
deer project themselves forward by a great muscular
effort of the hind legs, alighting on the fore feet, but
using the fore legs only as support until the hind legs
can be brought into position for another effort.

The black-tail uses all four of his legs in making
his spring. All his feet strike the ground at the same
time and are in the air at the same time. This
gait appears very awkward, and these ' buck jumps '
would seem to promise but little speed. On the contrary,
however, he is extremely fleet on any ground, and he
gets over rocks and ravines with almost as much ease
and certainly with as much speed as that king of
climbers, the mountain sheep. His habits are very

BLACK-TAILED DEER. 175

similar to those of the elk, except that he rarely trusts
himself on the plains except when migrating.

The buck loses his horns in February ; and in April
and May he retires to the fastnesses of the mountains, as
near the snow line as possible, to grow another pair.
This process is evidently as painful and sickening
to him as to the elk, for from May to July it is only
by penetrating to and rousing him from his lair that
he can be seen at all.

During these months the does, unlike cow elk, assem-
ble in herds, probably for mutual protection of the
fawns ; but they also, though never seen with or near the
bucks at this season, keep well up on the sides of the
highest mountains within reach.

While the horns are yet in the velvet, the bucks
collect in herds, but it is not until October that both
sexes congregate together again. The velvet is rubbed
off at the proper time, against trees and bushes, as with
the elk.

During the running season the bucks are exceedingly
pugnacious, the friends and companions of only a few
days before fighting desperate battles for the ' favours
of the fair.' They rarely kill each other, however, the
weakest or most timid betaking himself to flight before
any serious injury is done. Frequent and large scars
show, however, that these encounters are no child's
play.

A herd of black- tails in the height of the running
season resembles a well-ordered family of barn-yard
fowls. Each buck has by actual experiment ascertained
which of the other bucks he can whip and which can whip
him ; and while tyrannical to the last degree, and per-
mitting no familiar approach of the former, he takes
most excellent care to keep well out of the way of the
latter.

The buck's life at this season is a very busy one.
Twenty or thirty may be in one herd, with as many

176 GAME.

does, but his love-making is beset with innumerable
difficulties. One moment he is charging a buck that
he can thrash ; the next, getting promptly out of the
way of one that can thrash him. He sees a young
Lothario making love to a doe, and ' goes for ' him
straightway, but has hardly time to congratulate himself
on his acquisition before he in his turn has to get away
as fast as his legs will carry him. The herd is a scene
of turmoil and confusion. The does are jostled and
driven without ceasing.

There is no ' selection ' allowed her, and so that she
gets a lover she seems perfectly indifferent as to the in-
dividual. This season lasts but a short time ; and soon
after it is over, the bucks, their animosity having departed
with their love, separate from the does, and again set up
their bachelor establishments. They are terribly run
down, are poor and unfit for food ; but they very soon
recuperate, and I have seen almost as fine fat black-tailed
bucks in December as in September, when, however, they
are at their very best. In August and September the
black-tails come down from their mountain fastnesses,
and spread themselves over the country, wherever they
find a locality suited to their tastes. This is the migratory
season, and these animals not unfrequently make journeys
of more than a hundred miles. The places selected are
to be their homes until the next April or May, and they
are very choice in the selection.

The ground must be broken by deep and crooked
chasms, the tops and sides of which must be covered with
thickets of cedar or pine. The black-tail must have long
slopes dotted with cedar and covered with rich grass for his
feeding grounds, and, if possible, a contiguous pine forest
in whose sombre depths he can hide himself from enemies
or the too ardent rays of the sun. He is exceedingly
wary and difficult to bag, anless his habits are thoroughly
understood; so much so, indeed, that I have known
sportsmen, excellent at other game, who had never

SLACK-TAILED DEER. 177

bagged a black-tail ; and I take no shame in confessing
that I hunted them occasionally for many years before
arriving at the secret of success. He feeds a great deal
at night, but in the very early morning he may generally
be found feeding on the cedar-dotted slopes on his way
to his lair. He may then be stalked as a red deer ; with
more caution, however, as his senses are more delicate
and he is more ready to take alarm. By 7 A.M. he has
usually satisfied his appetite, and, after going to water,
lies down in some position where he is least likely to be
seen. The deep canons, in the neighbourhood of which
he makes his haunt, have generally the upper edges
rounded off by water, so that the plain or mesa above is
joined to the precipice below by an inclination longer or
shorter and more or less steep. The black-tail's favourite
position for rumination and siesta is on the lower edge of
this slope, just where it begins to be precipitous. From
this point he can see all that passes below, whilst he is
undistinguishable from the rocks, bushes, and grass around
him. He cannot be seen from the plain above, and
nothing can approach down the slope without starting
fragments or loose stones which give him warning. When
in this position the hunter can hope to bag him only by
the help of another man. When alarmed he will not
quit the slope unless forced to do so. The sportsman,
having discovered the game from below, must make an
ample detour, and station himself on the slope to the
leeward of the deer. When he is in position another man
must approach on the slope from the windward. As soon
as the deer scents the intruder he will get up and walk
quietly down the wind, and, of course, directly upon the
sportsman waiting for him.

The black-tailed deer has one fatal quality — curiosity.
He is never quite satisfied with the evidence of any one
sense, except his nose ; and if an enemy approach against
the wind, and yet close enough to be heard, he will spring
to his feet, make a few bounds away from the noise, then

N

178 GAME.

stop and look around for the cause. This is the sports-
man's opportunity, and nine -tenths of the black- tails
bagged are killed in that pause. If not fired at or if
missed during that pause, and he starts again, no further
effort need be made to bag that deer, for, after fully
satisfying himself what the danger is, he never stops until
safe in the thickest cover which is known to him.

Once in a while they seem to become almost paralysed
with curiosity, and will stand staring until several shots
have been fired. I have had frequent experience of this.
Once a friend and myself came suddenly on a herd in a
dense, dark cedar thicket. They broke up the side of a
steep hill — or rather mountain — stopped and stared until
we had dropped two in ' their tracks ' and mortally
wounded three more.

On the 16th of August 1875 I came within long shot of
a herd of four^as fine bucks as I ever saw — and knocked
down all. Three I bagged ; but the fourth, though mortally
wounded, hid in a thicket and was lost. On this occasion,
and the only time in my life, I bagged two noble bucks
with one rifle-ball.

If there be no convenient canon for his noonday
siesta, the black-tail betakes himself for his nap to some
ridge or point surrounded by cedars as dense as possible.
This is my favourite stalk ; and when the ground is soft
enough to show the tracks, and the wind is right, I always
consider such a deer as ' my meat.' A trail leading to
such a thicket being found, it should be followed with the
greatest caution if the wind will permit. If the wind
should be unfavourable a careful survey of the thicket
must be taken, and a detour made sufficiently wide to be
sure of bringing the sportsman to leeward of the game.
The difficulty of this approach is that the thicket may be
so extensive that the sportsman may be obliged to trust to
chance. He may pass within a few feet of the crouched
animal, give him the wind, and lose him. This cannot
occur if he has the trail. All at once a scramble and a

SLACK-TAILED DEER. 179

bound indicate the presence of the game sometimes only
a few paces off. An outline is visible through the thick
branches. A quick sight, a sharp report, and another is
added to the bag.

In such hunting, an old-fashioned round bullet pro-
pelled from a muzzle-loader, even ' Hawkins's best,' is
worth absolutely nothing. Each twig — and they are in-
numerable between the gun and the game — would serve
to deflect the ball. The ' old hunters ' killed very few
black-tails, and those were usually stalked when feeding.
I have never seen a black-tail feeding in the evening,
and am inclined to believe that they remain crouched
until nightfall.

When suddenly surprised by the very close vicinity of
an enemy, the black-tail seems sometimes to make up
his mind that the best policy is to remain concealed.
Under such circumstances he will crouch close to the
ground, with his head down, and allow a man almost to
step on him without moving. I was once hunting in Elk
Mountain. My route led through a little vale, in which
thickets and open sports or parks irregularly alternated.
Passing in the open but close to a thicket, my orderly
called to me in a low tone, and on my halting pointed out
something in the bush which he said was a deer. I
scouted the idea. We were too near, and I could see
nothing unusual, but he insisted that he had seen it move.
I dismounted and walked quite near, when I could see
through the bush a grey patch as large as my hand,
apparently on or very near the ground. I was about to
fire at it, when it flashed across my mind that there were
many men, tie-cutters, at work about the mountain, and
that this might be some sleeping or drunken man. I
approached still nearer and called out in a loud voice,
warning whoever was there that I was about to fire. I
did this two or three times, still advancing, until I was
scarcely twelve feet from the object, when, giving a last
loud warning, I fired, and bagged a splendid black-tail.

K'2

180 GAME.

An army surgeon, a keen and successful sportsman,
informed me that once he was marching across country
with a command of several companies. One afternoon
they had encamped in a small mountain valley, meadow-
like in its evenness and the luxuriance of the grass.

Near his tent was a small clump or thicket of bushes
scarcely ten feet in diameter. Having occasion to go
into the clump, he was startled to find himself within six
feet of a splendid pair of antlers, and, looking closely, he
saw the form of a magnificent buck, crouched close, his
head on the ground, perfectly motionless, but watching
the intruder from the corners of his eyes. Eeturning to
his tent, the doctor got his rifle, and, going again to the
thicket, violated the order against firing in camp, but
secured full pardon for the offence by bagging the largest
and fattest black-tail buck that ever fell to his lot before
or since.

The reader will recollect that in the earlier part of
this work I separated ' the plains ' into three plains, each
of which has its characteristics ; and the lines of demarca-
tion between which are generally indicated with much
precision.

The great ' divide,' on a slope of which Denver stands,
and which is itself a portion of the great second plain,
extends eastward in a direction from a little north of west
to south of east, crosses diagonally the Arkansas and
Purgatory Eivers, and pushes its way far into the Indian
territory.

The Purgatory cuts through this second plain by a
most magnificent canon ; while the Chaquaque, Eule
Creek, and many other streams, take their rise in the
grand step by which the descent from second to third
plain is accomplished. The step is very marked. For at
least 200 miles the second plain terminates in a wall,
generally precipitous, and varying in height from 500 to
2,000 feet. From the foot of this wall the third plain
stretches eastward to the alluvial.

SLACK-TAILED DEER. 181

This wall is not built by the plumb or square of the
human mason, but is cut by the Great Architect into
myriads of fantastic shapes, and furrowed by seams and
chasms innumerable, from five to thirty miles in length,
and of every conceivable pattern, and running at times to
every point of the compass, all, however, to pour their
waters at last in the direction of the Arkansas Eiver.
The sides of these canons, and the upper and lower plains
in their vicinity, are more or less thickly covered with
cedar. Sometimes the gorges are filled with a small
though thick growth of pines.

These canons, of all places I have ever seen, are
much frequented by the black-tails ; and from the latter
part of August until the next April, they are here to be
found in abundance amply satisfactory to the keenest
sportsman.

The line of the grand wall was at its nearest point
only about twenty-five miles from Fort Lyon, at which
post it was my fortunate privilege to be stationed for
two hunting seasons.

Every respite from my legitimate duties found me in
these canons, and I habitually bagged from fifteen to
thirty-one splendid animals in a week's hunt, the latter
being my highest number.

I am informed that there are now many sheep in
that lovely hunting ground. If so, there are no deer.
The black-tail has the strongest antipathy to sheep, and,
when a herd is driven into any locality, the deer leave
with as much precipitation as if the sheep were hounds ;
nor will they return until all scent or indication of the
sheep's presence is obliterated by time. This may appear
a curious statement ; but I have had such ample oppor-
tunities of demonstrating its correctness, that I give it as
a positive fact.

I once spent a week at a fine spring in the heart of a
series of canons, which more abounded in black-tails
than any locality I have ever seen. It was on this occa-

182 GAME.

sion that I bagged thirty-one. The constant presence of
men, horses, and dogs had no effect to frighten away the
deer, and one or more were bagged early each morning,
sometimes within a few hundred yards of camp. About
a month after, wishing to show special attention to a
favoured guest, I took him to the same place. There
was a slight fall of snow on the ground, and, as we came
within a couple of miles of the spring, I noticed trails
of deer, which became more frequent as we neared the
spring. All the trails indicated that the deer were at
full speed, bounding as if badly frightened away from the
neighbourhood. My curiosity being excited, I followed
some of these trails, and discovered that the deer had en-
tirely left the system of canons which I came to hunt, had
crossed a portion of the second plain, and taken refuge in
the almost inaccessible rocks and ravines of the 'Mesa
de Maio/ at least fifteen miles away. As far as I followed
these trails, they showed that the deer never stopped or
even flagged. This, and their taking to the open plain,
indicated their action to be based on terrible fright, or
other equally strong motive. Returning to the spring,
we encountered a herd of sheep which were being driven
across country through these canons. We went into
camp, and next day commenced hunting in earnest, but
with such poor success that after some days we moved to
another locality, through which the sheep had not passed.
This experience has been repeated so often, that I am
perfectly confident in the assertion that black-tails will
not live in the same neighbourhood with sheep. I have
seen a few apparent exceptions, as Cariso Creek, the
valley of which is a favourite sheep-range, while on the
tops of its adjacent mountains black-tails are to be found.
In every such case, however, it will be found that the
sheep never go up the mountain, nor the deer down into
the valley, and that the deer is separated from his anti-
pathy by 1,500 to 2,500 feet of altitude.

The black-tail has wonderful strength and vitality,

BLACK-TAILED DEER. 183

and is exceedingly tenacious of life. One morning, after
a long and trying stalk, I had approached sufficiently
near to three splendid bucks for a shot, but was so
situated that I could not see them from where I stood,
nor change my position to where I could see them, without
danger of giving them the wind. After some hesitation
and careful study of the ground, I decided to risk the
wind. I had not progressed fifty paces, when I saw
all three dash into a small clump of cedars in full view
and at short range. This clump was separated from
a dense and contiguous thicket of small pines by a
little glade of less than ten feet in width. I sat down
on the ground and pointed my rifle at this giade. I was
hardly ready when a buck sprung into the glade, paused
scarcely an instant, and plunged into the thicket. I c drew
a bead ' on the spot where he had been, and a moment
after another sprung directly in front of my rifle, and as he
turned to gain the thicket I fired. He went off. Slip-
ping in another cartridge, I looked up to see the head
of the last deer, as he peeped- through the branches to
see the cause of the unusual noise. A bullet through
his head dropped him ' in his tracks.' After securing
him I went into the glade and found a trail of blood,
showing that the second deer had been hit. I followed
this trail most carefully, through an unusually dark, dense,
and tangled thicket, for more than 400 yards, and was
finally rewarded by finding my buck dead. My bullet
had struck him, as he turned, just on the rearmost rib,
very near the spine, and ranged forward. Five ribs
had been cut as completely as though the blow had
been struck with a heavy axe. The bullet had then
passed inwards through the lungs, and came out well
up in the chest. Scarcely any other animal but would
have fallen at once ; yet ' this buck ran for a quarter of
a mile through a thicket, every step of my progress
through which was attended with unusual exertion.

The capacity of the black-tail for scrambling over

184 GAME.

rocks and escaping from a pursuer after receiving a
wound entirely disabling to most animals, is exemplified
in the following anecdote, which I relate at the risk of
becoming tedious : I was hunting near Eed Eocks, on
the Purgatory Eiver, with a dear friend who lives in St.
Louis, Missouri. As I approached the brink of a chasm,
a deer sprung to his feet on the opposite brink, and
stood facing directly towards me. It was a very long shot ;
but estimating the distance as well as I could, and taking
careful aim, I fired. I saw the bullet strike the sloping
rock below and in front of the deer, which, however, fell,
but immediately got up again and made off. I lost some
time in finding a place where the chasm could be crossed,
but finally got over, took the trail of the deer, and
followed it for about 200 yards, when the animal sprung
up from a little cover, and attempted to make off, but
fell ' all in a heap ' in the top of a small fallen tree. I was
within six feet of my game, when I saw another deer at
some distance, went after, wounded, followed a long
distance, but finally lost it. I then returned to bag my
first. To my very great surprise it was not to be found.
My servant came up with the horses, and aided me in the
search, but to no purpose. There was no blood anywhere
to be discovered, and the ground was so marked with tracks
that it was impossible to follow those of any one deer.
Close by was a sharp ravine, not over eight or ten feet
deep, across which was a game trail : so steep, however,
that I could scarcely believe that a wounded deer would
make the passage. However, as one side had been
thoroughly searched, I crossed it, and had gone scarcely
twenty paces, when the deer jumped up and made
directly for me. I was about to fire at it again when I
noticed that a hind leg was broken and that his gait
was otherwise most unsteady. I therefore ran after,
thinking to catch him. He soon slipped on a rock and
fell. Getting close to him I noticed that the bone of his
fore leg was protruding through the skin of the shoulder.

BLACK-TAILED DEER. 185

Here was something more extraordinary than my ex-
perience had before shown me. Anxious to secure and,
examine this curiosity I shot him through the head, and,
placing him on my horse, took him into the camp to my
friend. Together we dissected out the course of the
bullet. From the ricochet it had struck the deer on
the fore arm, passing through and breaking the bone. It
had then gone into the chest, striking a rib which deflected
it outward, so that it passed just under the skin to the
paunch, where it came out and struck the hind leg just
above the knee, breaking the bone. The deer had a
fore leg and hind leg broken on the same side ; yet it
managed to change its position for a distance of 300
yards, and to cross the ravine — easy enough for an un-
wounded animal, but which I should have pronounced
entirely impossible for one with such a wound as I Imve
described.

186 GAME.

CHAPTEE XII.

RED DEER, OR WHITE-TAILED DEER.

(Cervus Lencurus.)

OF all the animals that inhabit the plains, the red deer
is the most generally and widely known.

Some of the others are exclusively plains animals,
while he seems to be indigenous to all climes and places
alike. He is found almost everywhere on the continent,
from the gloomy pine forests of Maine to the brush-
covered islands of the Pacific Coast ; from the icy plains of
British America to the ever sweltering glades of Florida.

He is a splendid deer, yielding the palm in size and
majestic appearance to the black- tail, but in beauty and
grace to no living animal. His gait and speed are the per-
fection of motion. His magnificent bounds, in which
strength, speed, ease, and lightness are combined, his
gallant carnage, the flaunting defiance of his white flag
of a tail elevated high in air, all combine to render him,
to a student of nature, one of the most beautiful and
interesting of animals.

These, together with his natural capacity for taking
care of himself, and thus calling into play all the best
points of the sportsman, make him an object of the
keenest interest and desire to every lover of the chase,
while the delicacy and exquisite flavour of his flesh
render him an object of at least equal interest to the
gourmand.

The most widely disseminated, he is also, except the

RED DEER, OR WHITE-TAILED DEER. 187

antelope, the most prolific of large game animals ; and,
while comparatively few have enjoyed the pleasure of
bringing him to bay, there are not many persons in all
the length and breadth of the country who have not at
some time enjoyed the pleasure of bringing him to table.

While always the same animal in general appearance,
red deer vary in size and habits in so remarkable a
degree that it is not to be wondered at that plainsmen
divide them into several groups or branches of the same
family. Their habits are always adapted to their safety
and preservation in the particular locality of which they
are denizens.

On almost all plain streams that are fringed with
cotton-wood the red deer is found, a very independent
animal, feeding by day or night as it suits him, going out
on the plain as fearlessly though not so far as an antelope,
and living a twofold life — now a prairie animal, now an
inhabitant of the jungle. When danger threatens him
on the prairie, he flies to the cover of his cotton-wood
thickets. Should they be invaded, he seeks the solitude
and safety of the high plains. The sand hills, which in
some places border the great rivers, harbour numbers of
red deer ; and, but that the soft and yielding sand renders
stalking difficult arid most tiresome, the results of hunting
in these localities are generally most satisfactory.

The willow-covered islands of the Platte and Arkansas
are favourite homes for the red deer ; and here he
becomes a rabbit in his habits, feeding only at night and
remaining crouched in his lair by day. Here he loses
his freedom and elasticity of movement. When dis-
turbed, instead of going off with high springy bounds, as
is his wont in other places, he steals away, ears back and
tail down, to crouch again in the grass as soon as he is
out of immediate danger. The islands below the junc-
tion of the two Plattes were, in the winter of 1867-8,
plentifully supplied with these animals; yet the oldest and
best hunters, whether white or Indian, were unable to

188 GAME.

bag them. It was useless to hunt on foot, as the high
grass and bushes completely concealed the movements of
the deer, which would lie so close, and sneak away so
silently, that the hunter was never aware of the near
vicinity of his game. Hunting on horseback with rifle
was equally out of the question ; for though a deer was
occasionally seen, it was but the most momentary
glance.

After repeated failures I struck upon a means of out-
witting them. Seated in a light, strong waggon, and with
another person to drive, I passed slowly, shot-gun in
hand, through the long grass and willows. From my
elevated position I could occasionally see a brown form,
sneaking swiftly and silently away, sometimes only a few
feet from the horse's head. A charge of buckshot deve-
loped this form into a deer, and during the winter I was
enabled to add to my bag several fine animals which I
could have got in no other way.

As a rule, the red deer, wherever found, is a lover
and frequenter of thickets, and I have never met him
very far away from cover of some kind.

The variation in size is not easily accounted for, but
it exists in quite as remarkable a degree as in mankind.
In the Black Hills of Dakota this inequality in size is
more marked than in any other locality in which I have
hunted. In the same day's hunt a sportsman may
bag a mammoth buck of over 200 pounds, and another
buck, equally old, equally fat, which will scarcely weigh
seventy-five pounds. On Eapid Creek I bagged two
bucks which, closely dressed, neck and legs cut off, yet
weighed about 130 pounds each. On Box Elder, the
next stream, and only ten miles north, was killed a
little buck, well antlered and very fat, which, dressed
in the same way as the others, scarcely weighed forty
pounds. Yet these are undoubtedly the very same
animals. Deer precisely similar in every particular,
except size, are to be found filling all the intervals from

RED DEER, OR WHITE-TAILED DEER. 189

the largest to the smallest, and all seem to run together
as amicably as would people who differ only in size.

The red deer, like the elk and black-tail, loses his
horns in February, but he undoubtedly suffers very little
from their renewal. He does not seek solitude or moun-
tain fastnesses during their growth, but remains about his
usual haunts, and in company with others of his kind.

The rapid growth of this huge frontlet seems to have
no effect either on his disposition or his habits, except that,
while it is hardening, he betakes himself on hot days to
some sunny spot, ' drying his horns.' as hunters term it.
This is remarkable, as he naturally loves damp, shady
places, and except at this particular season, or in winter, I
have never seen a red deer lie down in the sun.

The red deer is not migratory, and can generally be
found all the year round in the vicinity of his chosen
haunt. When located in the neighbourhood of moun-
tains, or on ground likely to be affected by the black-
tail, he has to give way to the larger, more powerful,
and more pugnacious animal. In August, therefore,
as the black-tails come down to select their fall and
winter residences, the red deer (or white-tail, as he
is commonly called wherever there are black-tails)
moves down in lower country and away from the im-
mediate neighbourhood of the black-tails. The habits
of the animals are so dissimilar, however, that they rarely
come in contact; the black-tail preferring the tops of
canons and high rocky ridges, while the white-tail is
better satisfied in the dark, shady dells at the bottoms of
the canons. If the country is very broken, it is not un-
usual to bag black and white-tails in the same day's
hunt, and sometimes even near each other, on the tops
and at the bottoms of the same ravines. Such cases are
evidence that there is plenty of food on the summits ; for
when the black-tails come into the valleys to feed, as
they do in the late fall and winter, the white-tails
decamp and abandon that vicinity.

190 GAME.

The white-tail is much more gregarious and domestic
than either the elk or the black-tail, the bucks and does
being found together at all seasons. However, all the
does found with bucks between May and September are
barren, those that have produced fawns keeping apart,
and each one by herself until the fawn is weaned, when
both join the herd. The running season commences in
October and lasts a much longer time than with the
black-tails, sometimes as long as two months. There is
not that constant fighting which marks this season with
the black-tails, but they do fight, and most furiously.
The whipped buck is generally run out of the herd. It
is of course impossible to say exactly how these domestic
details are managed ; but it has always seemed to me that
a portion of the bucks form a conbination which, while
not interfering with its own individual members, drives
out of the herd all not belonging to ' the ring.' In the
earlier part of ' the season ' there is much fighting.
About half the bucks are soundly whipped and run out,
after which the others seem to get along peaceably, though
there may be only one buck to every two or three does.
The whipped bucks sulk off alone or in bands of three or
four, never going near the herds where the does are.
They are to be pitied ; forthey are not only deprived of
female companionship, but, possibly from being spared the
cares of domestic relations, become extremely fat, and
are eagerly sought after by hunters ; while those bucks
which have been favoured by the sex are thin, tough,
unfit for food, and are not worth the pulling of a
trigger.

Though generally producing one fawn each season,
the does are very irregular in breeding. Many are barren,
while many others bring forth two fawns at a birth.
There is a well-authenticated instance of a doe with three
fawns ; but it is a question whether all were hers, or
whether she may not have adopted a little one which had
lost its own darn — an habitual occurrence with antelope.

RED DEER, OR WHITE-TAILED DEER. 391

On the average red deer are prolific ; and, as the does
not unfrequently commence breeding when only a year
old, they soon stock a country suited to them when not
hunted by men or other carnivora.

Though my fortune has taken me over a great portion
of one widely extended country and into many uninhabited
regions, I have never seen any section which could com-
pare in numbers of red deer with Southern Texas. In
the winter of 1848 the plains at the back of Port La Vaca
were alive with them, and I believe that I am well within
the mark when I say that I have seen 1,000 in a
herd. When collected together in this way it was ex-
ceedingly difficult to approach sufficiently near for a
successful shot, at least with the muzzle-loading round-
bullet rifle of that day.

I have elsewhere spoken of a lovely valley in the
Guadalupe Mountains in which I discovered an Indian
camp, long since abandoned except by the dead. A
month after that discovery I obtained permission to go on
a hunt, and arrived in that valley about noon one day,
hunted that afternoon, all next, and until noon the third
day. My bag to my own hand was five black bear and
twenty-three deer, which altogether being as much as my
pack mules could possibly carry, I was forced to return
to my post before my hunt was half out. This was an
exceptional oasis. The foot of white man had probably
never before trod it. The Indians being debarred by
superstition from entering it, the game for several years
had been entirely undisturbed, and knew nothing of the
danger of the presence of man. Deer would stand and
look at me within fifty paces, and but that I was young
and ardent the sport would soon have degenerated into
murder.

While red deer are not so wary or acute of sense as
the elk or black- tail, and are, therefore, much more
easily bagged, they are not afflicted with the stupidity of
the former nor the curiosity of the latter. No panics of

102 GAME.

fright or of curiosity interfere with their instinct of self-
preservation ; and, though on a few very rare and ex-
ceptional occasions I have bagged several red deer from
the same herd with successive rifle shots, it was because T
had every advantage of position and wind. Being unable
to see or smell anything unusual, the shots only produced
a momentary alarm.

This deer has less vitality than any other of the large
plains animals, and more readily succumbs to a well-
directed bullet. Unless the back is broken, however, he
rarely falls at once, and being generally found near
thickets, and instinctively taking to them when wounded,
he is very frequently lost unless the hunter has a good
dog. Even with his heart split he may run 100 or
200 yards — ample space in which to conceal himself,
should the thickets be dense. I once, on a specially un-
lucky day, mortally wounded four splendid bucks without
bagging either. On the next day I went over the same
ground with my dog (which had been sick the day before),
and found all the bodies, unfortunately spoiled from re-
maining so long after death without disembowelling. The
best sportsman, unless he has a good dog, may calculate
on losing one out of every three actually killed.

193

CHAPTEE XHI.

ANTELOPE.

(Antelope furcifer.)

THIS is peculiarly a plains animal, loving the high,
dry prairie, and being frequently found so far from
water as to raise a doubt in the minds of many plains-
men whether he may not be able to live without
drinking. Absurd as this is, the hypothesis has more
of plausibility than would at first appear. There is
scarcely a desert so barren and arid that the antelope
cannot find means of existence, and apparently a very
comfortable existence, as, wherever found, he is invariably
at the proper season in splendid condition.

He, however, drinks with as much regularity as the
deer ; and however parched and dry the desert may be
to man, if antelope are found on it, their keen noses have
shown them where to find a spring, or pool of rain
water in the cavity of a rock, and to which they resort
at least once a day to slake their thirst.

Should a man suffering from want of water on a
desert, where none is known to exist, come on a herd of
antelope, and exercise due care in watching their move-
ments without alarming them, his patience will within
twenty-four hours meet its reward in the discovery of
their hidden store of the precious fluid.

The antelope is the smallest of the larger game
animals of the plains, averaging, when dressed, scarcely
fifty pounds. The head of the male is armed with

o

194 GAME.

horns from eight to fourteen inches in length, and,
though very considerably larger, are of the same cha-
racter as the horns of the chamois. At about two-thirds
of its length, measured from the base, the horn becomes
somewhat palmated, and a short prong branches off,
giving to the animal its name ' prong-horn.' The tips
are bent inward — a fortunate provision, as these little
animals are very pugnacious, and, were the horns straight,
their combats would frequently result in death. As it
is they cannot seriously hurt each other, and the fight
consists in a simple trial of pushing. They do not butt
like sheep, nor strike like goats, but, putting their heads
together, each combatant pushes with all his might.
The weaker gradually gives ground until, finding himself
overmatched, he attempts to escape, generally receiving
such a punch in the side or buttocks as most decidedly
accelerates his speed and puts an end to the combat.

Though these horns are apparently of the same
growth as those of cattle or goats, the antelope never-
theless sheds them every year. The horn has a pith,
and is not wholly shed, as the elk or deer horn, but
the hard horny shell comes off the pith just as the
shell comes off the body of a crab. In May the
outside shell begins to get loose ; the antelope retires
to some solitude, the shell drops off, leaving a spongy,
white, fleshy substance, sparsely covered with short, stiff,
black bristles, pointing towards the end, and the growth
of which evidently aids in pushing off the shell. This
pith grows with wonderful rapidity, becomes somewhat
larger than the old horn, and the outside hardens into a
horny shell. The whole process takes but two or three days.

Many plainsmen, who ought to know better, insist
that antelope do not shed their horns. I know they do.
I have killed an antelope with the shell already off one
horn ; the other loose and nearly off. I have killed many
with the shell loose, and several times have had a shell
come off in my hand. I have bagged antelope when

ANTELOPE. 195

the point of the horn, though already turning black, was
so soft that it might be bent backwards and forwards
between the fingers ; and at the proper season and in
favourable localities I have found the dropped horns in
greater profusion than I ever saw those of elk or deer.
Although I hear it frequently disputed, there is no fact
connected with the habits or characteristics of any game
animal more certainly within my personal knowledge
than that the antelope sheds his horns.

The coat of the antelope can only be called 4 hair ' by
courtesy. Each fibre is less like hair than like the
separate delicate plumes which go to make up each
feather of a large bird. This hair is very thick,
brittle, nearly two inches long, and of a reddish colour,
inclining to yellow on the sides and white on the belly.
Around the root of the tail and extending well up and
down on the buttocks, the hair is perfectly white, and
longer than elsewhere. Under ordinary circumstances
this is scarcely noticeable ; but, when the animal is
frightened or otherwise excited, he possesses the faculty
of erecting this white hair, spreading it out like a fan,
and, as it were, intensifying its whiteness.

This peculiarity, with the ease and lightness of his
movements, and his graceful carriage, make him a most
beautiful animal, attractive alike to the lover of nature
and to the lover of sport. He loves the treeless plains,
and is rarely found in wooded or mountainous countries,
although the cedar wooded slopes through which the
black-tailed deer so loves to roam, seems to possess equal
fascination for the antelope. The two animals seem to
get along together much better than the two deer. In
the Eule Creek canons I have frequently seen black-tails
and antelope browsing in close vicinity ; and during my
hunts in that, my favourite hunting ground, I usually
bagged about an equal number of the two animals, and
not unfrequently two or three of each in the same day's
hunt. Even in these canons, however, there is but a

02

196 GAME.

small space of common ground, and the habits of the
two animals are so entirely dissimilar that the hunter
has only to vary the direction of his hunt to change
the game. A close hugging of the higher portions of
the canon ensured an encounter with black- tails, while
a circle in the plains beyond the foot of the slopes was
equally sure of antelope. This peculiarity was one of
the great charms of that hunting ground. The morning
was devoted to the deer ; the return trip in the afternoon
to antelope. When caught in the common ground, each
instinctively made for what to him was the safest place.
The black-tail disappeared with magical celerity in the
cedar jungle or pine thickets of the upper canons ; while
the antelope gained with all possible despatch the wide
plain, where he had ample space for watchfulness. The
black-tail relies on concealing himself from the sight of
his enemy ; the antelope on keeping the hunter in view
and himself beyond range of possible danger. The
de termination to see is carried to such an extent that,
having once been seen by antelope too far off for a shot,
the hunter can have but the barest hope of getting
nearer. However favourable the ground, the result is
the same. The moment he disappears from view in his
effort to approach, the antelope also disappears, or at
least changes his position ; and, when the hunter arrives
at the point from which he expected to get a shot, he
finds nothing to shoot at. When several persons are
together, if those in view stop and remain stationary, the
antelope may also stand and watch, giving opportunity to
one in rear to slip into a position for a shot. Should,
however, any of those seen attempt to slip to one side
for a like effort, the animal is off like a rocket. Much
has been said and written of the curiosity of the antelope,
and of the modes of taking advantage of this peculiarity
by flagging, waving hats, &c. It is undoubtedly their
most fatal defect of character, though, from lack of skill
or patience, I have rarely been able to profit by it.

ANTELOPE. 197

There is a phase of curiosity peculiar to this animal,
which is in itself more remarkable than that ordinary
curiosity which it has in common with all plains animals,
the black-tail especially ; and this has added more antelope
to my bag than any other of its characteristics. It is a
panic produced by a combination of curiosity and terror.
In a country where antelope have not been much hunted,
they become, as it were, beside themselves at the appear-
ance of any object very unusual and strange.

Thus a waggon train crossing such a country will
attract every herd within the range of vision. They will
rush at it with every indication of extreme terror, and,
passing within a few yards, will sometimes make a com-
plete circuit of the train, going off at last in the direc-
tion from whence they came. I have known a few
instances where the panic was so great that the herd
passed between the waggons, although the whole wide
plain was open to them.

On one occasion, when scouting in the ' Two Butte '
country, then very little known, I crossed three or four
miles of very high table land, during the passage of
which at least half a dozen herds charged desperately at
my two waggons, made in some instances complete
circuits, and went off, leaving one or more of each herd
to pay the penalty of their temerity.

On another occasion, when passing in a ' spring
waggon ' over a broad, barren, and apparently lifeless
plain, three specks appeared on the far horizon, and,
making directly for us, soon developed into antelope.
The waggon was stopped. A companion and myself
seized our rifles, sprang out, and made all ready to give
them a warm reception. The antelope came on, passed
completely round us, within fifty yards, and went off
in the direction they came, unhurt, though we each fired
eight or ten shots at them. I do not like to record such
an instance of bad shooting ; but, as the sportsman as a
rule remembers only his remarkably successful shots, it is

198 GAME.

well occasionally to recollect that he may do very badly.1
And here, by-the-bye, on behalf of sportsmen, I protest
against the general disposition to take hunting stories
cum grano salis, and to laugh at that trait of the
sportsman which induces him to relate only the most
remarkable of his experiences. This is the most natural
thing in the world, and is true not only of the sportsman
but of all men. The most hum-drum business man would
not be likely to speak of the daily recurring details of
his business ; but let him make a specially good bargain, or
have a counterfeit bill passed on him, and his confidant
will assuredly have the story in all its details. When the
sportsman has bagged his thousands or even hundreds of
heads of game, the adding of another is of little conse-
quence, and not likely to be remembered unless its acqui-
sition was accompained by an experience out of the
common. It is not the every-day experiences which
make an impression. Memory refuses to take note of
the commonplace, and records only those experiences
which are marked by something unusual, of good or ill,
of fortune or of misfortune.

Another peculiarity of the antelope is his apparent
inability to connect sound with clanger. The striking of
a bullet on the hard, dry prairie always knocks up more
or less dust ; and the antelope, instead of running away
from the sound of the gun, runs from the dust made by
the bullet. I have frequently taken advantage of this
trait, and when a herd, entrenched in an expanse of level
prairie, was too far off for anything but the merest chance
shot, I have, by causing my bullets to strike the ground
beyond, driven them in a panic to within fair distance
for a shot, and have bagged one or more. On one
occasion I stalked a large herd feeding in an open glade,
surrounded by rocks and cedar thickets. Unable to

1 The author is an admirable shot at antelope and other game. I have
seen him kill with right and left shots two antelopes running in opposite
directions, at a distance of 300 yards.

ANTELOPE. 199

locate the sound of the rifle, or to see any dust, they
rushed round and round the glade, and only escaped
after I had knocked down seven of their number.

Another trait he has in common with the domestic
sheep, namely, that where the leader goes the rest will
follow at all hazards ; and if the leader, in his fright, or
from having been hit, should bound in the air, all the
others bound likewise in the most ridiculous manner. A
knowledge of this peculiarity enables the hunter fre-
quently to bag antelope which would otherwise escape
him.

Sometimes a herd will start in a diagonal direction
which the sportsman can cut by rapid riding. Provided
he does not interfere with the course of the leader, he
need not fear that the others will change their direction.
As he nears them they increase their speed, but keep in
the track of the leader, and the hunter may get near
enough for several good shots. I one afternoon bagged
three antelope by successive shots from my hunting
waggon, in which, by a rapid dash across the prairie, I
had cut their line of flight.

I have already spoken of the antipathy of the ante-
lope to woods and close canons, and their disposition
always to take refuge on the open prairie. This I have
frequently taken advantage of. A herd being discovered
in a canon, a circuit is made, and the hunter suddenly
shows himself at the mouth of the canon. Without a
moment's hesitation the whole herd will rush for the open,
even though they have to pass within twenty feet of the
sportsman. A friend and myself one day bagged five in
such a rush, the herd passing within thirty yards of us.

The antelope is the most fleet of all the plains animals,
though he may be pulled down by greyhounds, and on a
few occasions I have run into a herd on a good horse.
His run is remarkably even and regular, so that he is
nearly as good a mark running as when standing. Indeed,
I think I have bagged more antelope on the run than

200 GAME.

when perfectly still ; and, contrary to the usual rule in
killing game, I am quite sure that I have bagged more
over 200 yards than within that distance. Their habit of
collecting in large herds in the late autumn, and the
knocking up of dust from the dry prairie by the bullet,
very greatly assists the sportsman in this kind of shooting.
Unless it strikes an antelope, each bullet indicates its
position on the ground, and the sportsman has an oppor-
tunity to rectify a previous error. The long-range rifle
of the present day will kill at incredible distances if it
hits, and is so quickly loaded that, after stalking a herd
of antelope, and getting one fair standing shot, the sports-
man has still the chances that six or eight running shots
may give him.

I have already spoken of knocking over seven from
one herd. This was by no means a fair criterion, as the
animals were panic-stricken, and did not run away ; but
I have frequently bagged two, and many times three, even
when the herd went directly away from me at full speed.
On one occasion, after missing a fair standing shot at
150 yards, I yet bagged three antelope as they went off.

Except the buffalo, the antelope is the most gregarious
of the plains animals ; yet in April they are scattered
singly in twos and threes. The does are alone, preparing
for their fawns, and can generally be found not far from
water and some little cover in which they can hide their
little ones for a few days, or until they are old enough to
escape their enemies by flight. The bucks go off alone
when shedding their horns ; but, as this process requires
but a short time, they soon collect again in groups. Un-
like the deer, the female antelope, after parturition, leaves
her fawns hid, and consorts during the greater part of the
day with the herd ; and, when they are strong enough to
keep up with the herd in running, she permanently joins
the herd with her little ones.

As a rule, and for the whole year round, antelope are
in herds; but in September and October these herds

ANTELOPE. 201

increase in number, until sometimes hundreds are collected
in one band. The does are very motherly, and will give
suck to other young besides their own ; consequently
very few of the fawns die, even although their dams may
have been killed.

The seasons for running and for parturition are the
same as for other deer. Antelope are very prolific, the
female generally producing two fawns at a birth, whilst
barren does are unknown. In all my experience I have
never seen one, while among red deer in some locations at
least half the does are barren.

In September and October the flesh of the antelope is
no better for food than that of the black or white-tailed deer,
nor so good as that of the mountain sheep, but it has the un-
usual advantage of being most excellent all the year round.
At the season when the other large game animals are poor,
tough, stringy, and unfit for food, antelope meat, however
poor, is always tender, juicy, and most delicious.

In the late fall, when the antelope congregate in great
herds, the Utes and other Indians of the foot hills make
surrounds and kill great numbers of the panic- stricken
herds.

Antelope possess very great vitality, and will carry
off more lead in proportion to their size than any
other animal. They possess, too, remarkable courage,
and, under ordinary circumstances, do not trouble them-
selves to get out of the way even of the large buffalo
wolves. A single antelope will bravely face a single
wolf, and successfully beat off his attack, and a herd does
not fear the attack of any number of wolves. Wherever
the antelope are numerous there will generally be found
plenty of wolves, who lie around the herd at a little dis-
tance, watchful and ready to take advantage of any
accident in their favour ; now pouncing upon one which
has strayed from the protection of the herd, and making
a prompt meal of any one which should happen to be
sick, or get injured in any way.

202 GAME.

I once wounded a large doe from a herd which ran
past me. I saw she was badly hurt, shot through the
body, and wished to give her time to lie down. Mounting
my horse, I rode slowly in the direction taken by the herd.
After proceeding half a mile I saw her standing with her
face partly towards me, and very much on the alert, and
in a moment discovered that she was in the heat of a
combat with a large wolf. The wolf circled round, try-
ing to get at her flanks and rear, and made many feints of
springing upon her, but, in spite of the advantage of his
sharp teeth, he was too cowardly to come to close quar-
ters. The little antelope bravely faced her foe, and con-
tinually charged, striking viciously with her fore feet,
and would certainly have beaten off her assailant, but
that the smell of blood made him unusually pertinacious.
I watched the fight for more than five minutes with the
greatest interest. At last the antelope in making a charge
slipped, probably from weakness. In an instant the wolf
had her by the throat, threw her on the ground, and
worried her like a dog. I wanted the wolf to kill her, and
waited for some time until she was perfectly quiet, and I
believed dead. I then rode up slowly. The wolf took
to his heels on my approach, and to my very great surprise
the antelope sprung to her feet and went off in another
direction at as great a rate of speed as before. I ran
her with my horse for a long distance, and finally brought
her to bay with another shot. The wolf, though a large
one, had only scarified her throat ; and, though he would
eventually have killed and eaten her, he had done her
no serious injury, although he had had her unresisting
in his jaws, and had been worrying her for several
minutes.

Very different was the result when a pack of wolves
got after a wounded antelope. On the same hunt as in
the last case (and during which I saw more wolves than
ever before or since in the same time) a friend and I had
got several shots at a herd, bagging four or five, several of

ANTELOPE. 203

which, though mortally wounded, ran off to greater or
less distances. Leaving the dead we went at once after
the wounded, securing, after some little time and trouble,
all but one. When we got near the place where he had
been last seen we started a pack of six or eight wolves, and,
going to the spot, found our antelope, its throat lacerated,
its hamstrings cut, its flanks torn open, and half the viscera
already devoured.

With a good pack of greyhounds, and in a good run-
ning country, where antelope are not too numerous, splen-
did sport may be had in coursing them. Many portions
of the plains, apparently good running ground, are covered
with beds of cactus, growing low, but very thick, which
are scarcely noticeable until one is among them. The
antelope instinctively takes to these when pursued by dogs,
passing over them unscathed, while the hounds, if not
stopped at once, as is frequently the case, are sure to be
lame, possibly for weeks. If there are many antelope the
hounds become scattered in pursuit and are liable to be
lost, the effort is a failure, and the game escapes.

I have never yet seen a single greyhound pull down
an unwounded antelope. I have heard of plenty of
owners of such dogs say that this dog could and would
do it ; but, when I have gone out to see, something has
always happened to prevent the dog's execution of the
feat on that particular occasion.

A very fleet, powerful, favourite pointer of mine once
caught and killed an unwounded antelope. There was a
little snow on the ground, and the weather was very cold.
I have always believed that the antelope slipped and
strained himself on the icy ground, so that he could not
do justice to his natural fleetness. As it was, that one
success nearly ruined the finest antelope dog I ever
saw. He ever after believed himself able to catch ante-
lope, even though unwounded, and was constantly ' trying

204 GAME.

it on' in spite of repeated and severe thrashings. He
never succeeded again.

Unlike those of deer, which are so useful in thousands
of ways, the skins of antelope are thin, porous, and weak.
They are of little value, and are rarely preserved, except
by the poorest of the pot-hunters, who, after taking the
hair off, sometimes attempt to sell them as buckskins.
The Indians make use of them for fringes and ornamental
work.

205

CHAPTEE XIV.

MOUNTAIN SHEEP — BIG-HORN.

(Ovis montana.)

THIS splendid animal, which among the horned beasts of
the Great West ranks next in size to the elk, can scarcely
be called a native of the plains. His home is among
crags and broken rocks, generally at an elevation above
tide-water of not less than 5,000 feet.

It must be remembered, however, that the plains
proper rise to an altitude of 8,000 or 9,000 feet above the
sea level, and their surface is cut with many huge canons
and deep barrancas, and torn and broken into confused
and tumbling crags, forming congenial homes for many
animals usually inhabitants of only mountainous regions.

I have designated as ' the plains ' all the non-primary
country between the Mississippi and the Eocky Mountains.
Many portions of this section would be considered grandly
mountainous were they not overshadowed and dwarfed
by the real mountains in the background.

The mountain sheep appears to care very little whether
he lives among primary or secondary rocks, provided they
be sufficiently elevated and torn and jagged enough to
suit his fastidious taste.

In 1868, when the position now known as ' Fort
Fred Steele ' was first occupied by troops, the adjacent
country more abounded in game than any I have ever
seen. Elk, black-tail deer, and antelope were to be had
at any time, and mountain sheep were far more plentiful
than in any locality I have ever visited. I have frequently

206 GAME.

encountered two or three herds in a day's hunt, some con-
taining not less than fifty animals. They are, however,
exceedingly difficult to kill, especially by a hunter on
horseback. Though they come down from their rocky
fastnesses for water and occasionally for food, they must
do so at night. I have many times seen their tracks
about a water hole or spring in a valley, but in all my
experience have only found the animals themselves in the
valleys some three or four times. They are usually to be
found high up on the mountain side where the precipitous
rocks rise from the natural slope of the mountain.

The sportsman who wishes to bag mountain sheep
must be a good mountaineer, patient, and careful, with a
keen eye and noiseless tread. He must always have the
wind, for the sheep's nose is as keen and accurate as that
of the elk.

With these advantages, and wind and pluck enough
for a mountain scramble of fifteen or twenty miles a day,
the sportsman may in many portions of the plains very
surely count on finding c big-horn,' and if he does find
him, and is cool, he may bag several from one herd.
When surprised in his rocky home, the action of the
mountain sheep is greatly dependent on the sense which
notifies him of the vicinity of his enemy. If he smells
the hunter he is off at once, and without taking the
trouble to notify his pursuer that he has been near. If
he hears him he will run about, prying inquisitively with
eyes and nose to discover the nature of the approaching
danger. If the hunter succeeds in approaching near
enough for a shot without being either smelt, seen, or
heard, he may count on a splendid opportunity.

The animals, on the report of the rifle, will rush to-
gether and stand gazing at the smoke of the piece, until
time and repeated explosions have convinced them of the
necessity for a retreat. In this way I have known four
or five to be bagged before they decided to leave. I am
a very poor mountaineer, and have had less personal

MO UNTAIN SHEEP— BIG-HORN. 207

experience with this animal, and have bagged fewer, than
any other of the game animals of the plains. These few
have been generally from lucky shots at the herds as they
scampered among the rocks far above me. I have, how-
ever, been with parties when many were killed by sports-
men more enamoured of mountain climbing than I am ;
and, though I know but little of the habits of the
animal, I am consoled by the fact that the oldest moun-
taineers know scarcely more.

The mountain sheep is a curious combination. His
body is that of a very large deer ; his head that of a
domestic sheep, except that no domestic sheep could pos-
sibly carry the enormous horns with which his mountain
cousin is provided. These horns are often more than
twenty inches in circumference at the base,and, starting out
at the rear, make more than a complete circle, the points
projecting below and in front of the eyes. I have been
told that head and horns will often weigh sixty pounds.
He sheds his winter covering very late, whilst, after
shedding, his coat is thick with short, greyish hair. By
fall this has changed to a dun, almost the colour of the
elk. The outer hair has become more than an inch long,
rather wiry ; and in winter he puts on an additional jacket
in the shape of a coating of exceedingly fine wool, which,
though sometimes quite three inches long, never shows
outside the other hair, but lies curled up close to the skin.

As with all animals whose habits are not positively
known, there are many fables as to his mode of life ;
among others, the habit, when pursued, of throwing
himself down immense precipices and alighting unscathed
on his huge horns. As he is a beast of heavy body, the
first attempt at such a feat would most undoubtedly
result in a broken neck. The truth is that his feet, though
protected with the horny toes of other animals of this
class, are soft, spongy cushions, almost erectile, and cling-
ing almost with the tenacity of a fly to any projection,
however slight, on which it may strike.

208 GAME.

I have seen mountain sheep run up the face of a rock —
slightly inclined it is true, but apparently offering not the
slightest foothold for man or beast — for a distance of
nearly thirty feet. I have known them go down an
apparently sheer precipice, at least an equal distance, and
over which it would seem that only a rock squirrel might
pass unharmed. In these cases a careful examination has
shown me little crevices and narrow ledges furnishing
foothold sufficient for such a climber, and by springing
from one to the other of which he undoubtedly made the
descent.

Of their domestic habits scarcely anything is positively
known, though, from what I have seen of the animals, I
judge that in these they are very similar to sheep. The
lambs begin to be seen in June, generally stowed away
on some shelf of rock inaccessible to man or dangerous
animal.

The little fellow takes to climbing very naturally, and
soon follows its dam and the herd wherever they please
to journey.

What becomes of the mountain sheep when man
invades his stronghold it is impossible to say. Hundreds
may be in a locality. Man appears : a few, possibly ten,
are killed ; the others disappear, and leave no sign.

From about the middle of August until the 1st of
November the flesh of the mountain sheep is the most
delicious bonne bouclie that ever tickled the palate of
the gourmand. It is impossible to describe it ; but if one
can imagine a saddle of most delicious ' Southdown,'
flavoured with the richest and most gamy juices of the
black-tail, he will form some idea of the treat in store for
him when he shall sit down to a feast of mountain sheep
in season and properly cooked. Except when ' in season,'
the mountain sheep is thin, tough, and the poorest food
that the plains furnish to man.

209

CHAPTEE XV.

WOLVES, JACK BABBIT, ROCK RABBIT, AND PRAIRIE DOG.

(Canis Lupus, Occidentalis.)

THERE is scarcely a portion of the prairie that can be
traversed by the hunter on which he will not see wolves.
These are of two kinds —

The buffalo wolf, as tall as an ordinary greyhound,
lean, gaunt, and hungry-looking ; the prairie wolf (mis-
called coyote on the middle and northern plains), about
half-way in size between the fox and the buffalo wolf.
The coyote proper I have never seen except in Texas
and Mexico. It is a miserable little cur of an animal,
scarcely larger than a fox.

All of these wolves are exceedingly cowardly, one
alone not possessing courage enough to attack even a
sheep. When in packs, and very hungry, they have been
known to muster up resolution enough to attack an ox or
cow, if the latter be entirely alone. Writers of all ages
have linked the name of the wolf with hypocrisy, with
famine, and with ferocity, until we have come to regard the
animal as the incarnation of ail that is mean, treacherous,
bloodthirsty, and dangerous. What American boy but
has felt the glow of enthusiasm or tremor of terror on
reading the exploit of the heroic young Putnam ? It is
not a grateful office to divest the imagination of ideas
imbibed from childish story-books ; but truth compels me
to assert that, of all the carnivorous animals of equal size
and strength, he is the most harmless to beast and the

p

210 GAME.

least dangerous to man. He will not even attack when
wounded ; and, though he will snap at attacking dogs in
self-defence, he never follows up the advantage which his
sharp teeth and powerful jaws give him, but takes to
flight the moment he can do so.

The wolf is marvellously acute in all his senses, so
that it is only in places remote from hunters that a good
shot can be had at him. He furnishes splendid sport
when hunted with hounds, though he is so fleet and long-
winded that no ordinary pack can overtake him. It is
usual to have in each pack one or more greyhounds to
overrun and bring him to bay, and thus enable the slower
hounds to come up.

THE JACK BABBIT.

(Lepus Americanus.)

This animal is, I am told, almost identical with the
English hare.

He is found in greater or less numbers in all the length
and breadth of the plains. He is very easily bagged by the
shot-gun sportsman. Though a fine large animal, he is,
to my taste, very poor food, and I have therefore killed
comparatively few of them.

To the hunter who owns a pack, he is an object of the
greatest interest, and to an ardent follower of the hounds
presents as perfect sport as can be had on the plains.

He runs with great ease and amazing swiftness, and
will give even the very best pack of hounds all the work
they want.

He usually runs very straight, only resorting to doubles
when nearly tired out, or when pursued by greyhounds.

When the plains have become settled and civilised,
and the large game killed off, he will furnish to the sports-
man an unfailing source of pleasure, and I doubt not the
time will come when coursing this animal will be as
common here as coursing the hare in England.

JACK RABBIT— ROCK RABBIT— PRAIRIE DOG, 211
ROCK RABBIT.

This is a pretty little animal, not so large as the
eastern rabbit, living generally in clefts and holes in rocks.
He is delicious eating and furnishes good sport. The
hunter rarely finds him far from his hole, and must bag
him with a quick shot as he scuttles away to that safe
refuge.

PRAIRIE DOG.

This well-known animal is badly named, having
no more of the clog about him than an ordinary grey
squirrel. He is a species of marmot, and burrows in the
ground as do wolves, foxes, racoons, skunks, and all the
smaller animals on the treeless plains. He lives on grass
and roots, and is exceedingly prolific, each female bring-
ing forth several sets of young each year. He is not
excellent eating ; but the young are as good as the com-
mon squirrel, and, when other fresh meat is not to be had,
they make no unwelcome addition to the bill of fare.

I regard the prairie dog as a machine designed by
nature to convert grass into flesh, and thus furnish proper
food to the carnivora of the plains, which would un-
doubtedly soon starve but for the presence in such
numbers of this little animal. He is found in almost
every section of the open prairie, though he prefers dry
and arid to moist and rich localities. He requires no
moisture and no variety of food. The scanty grass of the
barest prairie appears to furnish all that is requisite for
his comfortable existence. Though not in a strict sense
gregarious, prairie dogs yet are fond of each other's com-
pany and dig their holes in close vicinity. Such a collection
is called a town, and they sometimes extend over immense
areas. The numbers of inhabitants are incalculable.

Cougars, panthers, wild cats, wolves, foxes, skunks,
and rattlesnakes, all prey upon them without causing any
perceptible diminution of their immense numbers.

p 2

212 GAME.

CHAPTEE XVI.
OTHER ANIMALS:

INCLUDING GRIZZLY, CINNAMON, AND BLACK BEARS — COUGAR, OR PUMA —
PANTHER, AND WILD CAT.

IN the foregoing pages I have endeavoured to give the
reader a correct idea of the nature and habits of such
animals as the plains hunter will be sure to encounter if
lie goes to the right places. There are other animals
which he may come across, but which no length of hunt
or selection of locality can beforehand guarantee even a
sight of; and, unless specially fitted out for their pursuit,
his hunting for them will meet with no success, except
by the merest accident.

This special fitting out consists in providing himself
with a pack of first-rate dogs, trained to hunt the
animals of which he is in search. If intending a long
hunt, he should have dogs specially to hunt each
kind of wild beast. These should be carried in wag-
gons when not wanted for hunting, otherwise they will
soon disable themselves in crossing the cactus-covered
prairies. Of course this kind of hunting costs money.
If he can afford the expense it is for the sportsman him-
self to decide whether he had better hunt, say for bear,
for several reasons, without a dog, on the very slim
chance of catching one on the open ; or spend money in
the purchase of one or more good bear-dogs, with the
assurance of bagging his bear on the first hunt.

Of all animals to be hunted with dogs the most
important in size, and formidable in character, is the

GRIZZL Y SEAR. SI 3

GRIZZLY BEAR.

(Ursus ferox.)

This is the largest of the carnivora of America. His
home is in the mountains ; but in the fall of the year he
comes down to the plains for plums, berries, grapes, and
other wild fruit, of which he is inordinately fond. These
animals are scarce and shy, keeping as much as possible
in thickets, whence, without dogs specially trained, it is
impossible to dislodge them. If feeding in the open
the slightest sound or suspicious circumstance will cause
him to take to the nearest cover, where he will lie con-
cealed though the hunter pass within a few feet of him.
If too closely approached, he rises suddenly with ' hough,
hough,' a hideous noise, half grunt, half roar, which
causes the stoutest heart to stand still, and the bravest
man promptly to find business in some other locality.

A grizzly will always run away if he can, and never
attacks except when wounded, or when he thinks himself
cornered. The female will occasionally attack in defence
of her young, but more generally runs away and leaves
it to its fate. When wounded a grizzly attacks with the
utmost ferocity, regardless of the nature or number of his
assailants ; and then his great size and strength, his
immense teeth and claws, his tenacity of life, and, above
all, his determination to do injury, render him without
doubt the most formidable and dangerous of wild beasts.

My personal knowledge of this animal is of the
slightest. In many years of plains and mountain expe-
rience I have never encountered but one grizzly. He
ran like a deer. I pursued on horseback ; but, after an
exciting chase, he escaped into a beaver dam thicket,
from which it was impossible to dislodge him.

I have known several men to be killed by grizzlies ;
and one of the most complete wrecks of humanity I ever
saw was a man whom a grizzly, in the last moments of

214 GAME.

his life, had gotten into his embrace. The man told me
his story. He was huntsman for a party of miners in
California. One day, when out alone, he ascended a
steep and high mountain, and, just as he arrived at the
top, met face to face a huge grizzly just starting down
the trail by which the man went up. Neither could
retreat without giving great advantage to the other.
The bear raised himself on his hind legs, and, thus
erect, approached the man, who, presenting his rifle and
getting his knife ready, awaited the attack. The bear
slowly advanced and took the muzzle of the rifle in his
mouth. Depressing the butt of the piece so as to direct
the ball through the bear's brain, the man fired. Before
he had time to use his knife, or even to think, he found
himself in the bear's clutches. ' It was all over in a
second,' said he. ' I didn't feel pain, and I remember
thinking I was about like a mouse in a cat's jaws, and
what a fool I was to think I might hurt a grizzly with
my knife, when everything went away, and I didn't know
any more 'til I come to the next day in camp.'

His companions had found him and the grizzly
apparently dead in a heap together. The bear was dead,
shot through the brain. The man showed signs of life
and was taken to camp, restoratives were applied, and his
wounds examined and dressed. The bear in his last throes
had apparently given but one rake with each of his terribly
armed paws. One fore claw passed over the man's right
shoulder, had hooked under the right shoulder-blade and
torn it out entirely. The other fore claw had torn all
the flesh from the right side. One hind claw had torn
open the lower abdomen, letting out the bowels and
badly scarifying the left leg, while the other hind claw
had torn every particle of muscle from the right thigh
from groin to knee. In spite of these terrible injuries,
the man, after many months, recovered. When I saw
him he was apparently in good health, but could not use
or even move his right arm or either leg. He gave me

GRIZZLY BEAR. 215

the particulars of his fight and described his wounds with
great animation and gusto, smoking his pipe the while,
and wound up with the remark, ' Anybody can fight bear
that wants to ; I've had enough grizzly in mine.' I thought
he had.

A year or two ago two soldiers from Fort Wingate
foolishly attacked a grizzly on foot. Both were terribly
torn, and I believe both died. Only a year ago a soldier
of the 3rd Cavalry died from injuries received from a
wounded bear, which he rashly followed into a thicket.

In 1870 a small party of citizens were going up the
Chaquaque canon. The trail led along a bench high
above the bottom, in which were trees and thickets. The
piping of young turkeys was heard in the thicket, and
one of the citizens who carried a shot-gun proposed to
go down and kill some for supper. The party waited for
him. He had hardly disappeared in the thicket before
he reappeared in full flight, while close at his heels fol-
lowed a huge she-grizzly with two cubs. In a few seconds
she overtook and struck him a powerful blow with her
fore paw, knocking him senseless. She then deliberately
smelt over the prostrate body, and, apparently satisfied
that he was dead, went slowly back to the thicket. The
party above had been unable to do anything. As soon
as the bear left they hastily consulted together, and some
of the boldest were about to go down when the body
sprang to its feet, and made the best possible time to the
top of the hill. An examination disclosed the fact that
the bear's claws had struck the man's body behind, just
below the waistband of his trousers ; and though every
particle of clothing, upper and under, had been torn from
that part of the person, the skin was not broken nor the
man injured beyond some slight bruises. He explained
that the blow, throwing him forward on his stomach, had
knocked the breath and consciousness out of him. When
he recovered his senses the bear was smelling at him, and,
knowing the consequence of moving, he laid still. I have

216 GAME.

never heard a more striking instance of presence of mind
and nerve.

The female grizzly bears from one to three cubs each
year, producing them early in the spring. She has great
maternal affection (though sometimes her fears get the
better of it), and the young remain with her until they
separate to go into winter quarters.

All bears are, I believe, omnivorous ; yet it is difficult
to understand how so huge an animal can become so
enormously fat on the scanty supply of food to be found
in the regions in which he prefers to live. He is an
indefatigable worker, turning over the logs and stones for
the larvae of beetles and other insects, tearing open ant hills,
and digging for roots, whilst he will travel long distances
for acorns, plums, cherries, and other wild fruits.

THE CINNAMON BEAR

is the compeer of the grizzly in ferocity, in tenacity of
life, and in everything but size, and the remarks on one
apply equally well to the other.

THE BLACK BEAR.

(Ursus Americanus.)

This animal is well known, being found in almost all
portions of North America suited to his taste. He is by
no means a plains animal, but delights in mountains,
rocks, thickets, and damp, cool jungles, scarcely trusting
himself on the open prairie even to cross from one ravine
to another. He is not large, his weight at the very best
rarely exceeding 300 pounds. He is very shy and timid,
avoiding sight and pursuit in everyway ; and, though when
approached closely, he makes great bluster and show of
fight, he is really not more dangerous to the hunter than
would be a hog of the same size. It is difficult to find

CINNAMON BEAR— BLACK BEAR— COUGAR, OR PUMA. 217

him without dogs, though in the berry season, many years
ago, I bagged without a dog no less than five in one day,
catching them in little patches of plum or hackberry
bushes, dashing up on horseback and shooting them with
a revolver as they ran. This, however, was in the valleys
of the Guadalupe Mountains of Texas, where they were
in greater plenty than I have ever seen elsewhere.

When hunted with dogs they give excellent sport,
running fairly for some time, with much more speed than
one would give them credit for, and then taking to a tree.
Unless the country is exceedingly unfavourable, one is
rarely started that is not brought to bay. The general
habits and characteristics of all the bear family are nearly
the same.

COUGAR, OR PUMA.

This animal, called variously the ' Mexican lion,' 'Cali-
fornian lion,' and ' mountain lion,' is an habitual resident
of many rough and broken parts of the plains. He
is shy, spending his days in thick cover, and prowling
like a huge cat at night. His senses are very acute,
and it is exceedingly rare that one is seen ; and the hunter
might easily be forgiven for disbelieving the existence of
such an animal, were it not that the prints of his foot-
steps in the vicinity of camp show plainly when and
where he has been prowling.

Except by the rarest accident the hunter cannot hope
to bag him except by the aid of dogs. Although, when
pressed by hunger in the winter, he will seize, carry off,
and eat the most powerful mastiff, yet at other times he
will fly from the baying of the tiniest cur. When pur-
sued by a pack, he runs well for a little distance, but
soon tires, and will then take to a tree, selecting one that
leans well to one side, for he is not a good climber. Out
of reach of the dogs he stands upright on a horizontal
branch, and calmly surveys his vociferous and baffled pur-

218 GAME.

suers. Should a man appear on the scene, he ceases to
watch the dogs, and, dropping in a crouching position
on the branch, prepares for a spring. Under such circum-
stances I would advise no one to approach within thirty
or even forty feet. He is now, of course, easily bagged ;
but no bungler with the rifle should be allowed to shoot
at him, as, when wounded, he is a desperate and most for-
midable antagonist, dangerous to the hunter, and sure to
kill some and lacerate others of the dogs. A bullet through
the brain is the only perfect safety, and none should fire
except the rifleman sure of his aim.

A pair generally live together, selecting for their
home a cave or overhanging rock. In default of these
a den is not unfrequently constructed in some dense
thicket, leaves and bough being so piled together as not
only to make a bed, but the sides and even the top are
somewhat protected from the winds and weather. I once
found such a den in a thicket on the bank of the Laramie
Eiver. Near it were lying the skeletons of a large elk,
of a fine black-tailed deer, and of a huge buffalo wolf.
The latter had evidently been attracted by the scent of the
fresh meat, and, prowling near in the hope of a meal, had
himself served as dinner for his more powerful and vora-
cious conquerors.

The female gives birth to a pair of young, with which
it is by no means safe to meddle, even when found alone.
One or other of the parents is sure to be not far off, and
a cry of the young one will bring on the intruder an
encounter by no means agreeable.

PANTHER.

This is nearly the same animal on a smaller scale. The
cougar is almost a lion. The panther is but a huge cat.
It is much more plentiful than the cougar. It lies in the
thickets by day, and prowls at night. It is equally
difficult to bag without dogs, and even more easy with

PANTHER. 219

them. It is a good climber, and, when pursued by dogs,
runs up the first tree, however straight, and lies like a
squirrel close to the trunk, with its head in a crotch,
watching the dogs. It takes no notice whatever of the
approach of a man, who might even pull its tail, with no
more effect than to make it go higher up the tree. It is
not at all dangerous to man, never attacking him even
when wounded, though a poor shot may cause sad havoc
among the dogs.

One becomes accustomed, as he grows older, to
having the illusions of his youth dispelled ; but after having
killed fifty or more panthers, under a variety of cir-
cumstances, without ever seeing one show fight, it is
difficult to account for the respect, even the terror, with
which eastern professional hunters surround the ' painter '
as they call it. In listening to the soul-stirring recitals
of the Adirondack hunters, of their ' deeds of high
emprise ' and ' hair-breadth 'scapes,' in encounters with
the ' painter,' one would never suppose that the animal is
really very harmless to the hunter, and bagged with less
danger than any other of the larger carnivora.

In many years of panther hunting I have never
known a person to be hurt by one ; and I have myself
seen a Mexican boy lay hold of the tail of a panther which
had taken refuge from dogs in a small mesquite tree, and
hold on lustily, while his brother shot the animal through
the head.

I was once on a most glorious hunt with a large
party of officers, all of whom, save one other and myself,
have gone to ' that bourne.' The dogs started a panther,
which, taking refuge in a tree, was bunglingly shot by
one of the party with a revolver. Springing from the
tree the panther fled to a narrow-mouthed cave on the
side of a steep hill, into which it was followed by five or
six of the dogs. Among the party of hunters which soon
collected around the mouth of the cave was a Mexican
guide, called Policarpio, much liked and petted by the

220 GAME.

officers, by whom he was called Polly for short. Polly
was devoted to the dogs, and came up with tears in his
eyes, and many reproaches to the officer who fired the
unlucky shot. We could hear the fight going on in the
bowels of the earth. ' Some of the dogs 'ill be killed,'
said Polly to the officer, 6 and it 'ill be all your fault.'
Still the fight went on, the growls of the combatants
being interspersed with an occasional yell of pain as some
dog got into the jaws of the enemy. Polly became more
and more excited, yelling, swearing, and crying by turns
or together. At last a piteous yelp was heard as from a

dog in its last agony. ' He's a killin' Lucy, by ,'

screamed Polly, with a ferocious glare at the offending
officer ; and, throwing off his coat, he, without a word
of notice, pushed himself into the hole, which at the
entrance was barely large enough for him to crawl in on
his belly. He disappeared all but the soles of his boots,
but in an instant was seen to work himself backward.
We seized his feet and helped him all we could, and in a
moment or two got him out dragging a dog by the hind
leg. Again and again he went in, each time bringing out
a dog, until only the favourite bitch, Lucy, remained in
the den. The cave widened out and became considerably
larger inside than at the entrance ; the fighting animals
were constantly changing positions ; there was not a
particle of light when Polly was in the entrance, and he
had to get hold of each dog by feeling, at the risk of a
bite from panther or dog. It was too dangerous ; and we
tried to prevent his going in for the last dog, preferring
to leave her to her fate, and had almost persuaded him
when a most piteous wail from Lucy sent him in again.
After what seemed an age of waiting, his feet were seen
struggling towards the entrance. Seizing them, we
dragged him out with some difficulty ; but, though he
held firmly by the leg of the dog, he could not get her
out. Quick as thought he drew his pistol, and, placing
it within the mouth of the cave, fired. The dog, released

WILD CAT. 221

suddenly, was thrown down the hill, and a few moments
afterwards we dragged out the dead panther. It had
seized the bitch by the throat. Polly's keen eyes saw the
situation, saved the dog, and settled the affair by a shot
in the panther's brains.

I have been told that the panther is more prolific
than the cougar, the female producing as many as four at
a birth. I think it probable, as they are more plentiful
than the cougar, but I am not able to state it as a fact.

WILD CAT.

This animal is widely diffused through almost all por-
tions of the territory of the United States. On the plains,
however, it attains a size unknown to its relations in
the eastern States. I once killed one in the Eule Creek
canons south of the Arkansas, which, without the
viscera, removed at the time of killing, weighed a week
afterwards, when it had become thoroughly dry, fifty-four
pounds. This is nearly three times larger than any I
have ever seen in the mountains of North Carolina, where
they are thought to attain their maximum proportions.

The wild cat is more common and more easily killed
without dogs than any of the larger carnivora of the plains,
yet it cannot be relied on for sport unless the hunter
has one or more dogs especially educated for its pur-
suit. Of all the carnivora, it yields the best sport when
hunted with dogs, running with great speed and endur-
ance, taking refuge in a tree when tired, but on the
approach of the hunter bounding off again, leading
hunter and pack a merry race over rocks and through
thickets for many a mile before yielding up his life. It
is no more dangerous than a house cat except that it
inflicts a severer wound.

It is the most destructive of plains animals, except,
possibly, the skunk, feeding by day or night ; now de-
stroying a brood of young grouse or quail, now climbing

222 GAME.

a tree to a turkey roost, and carrying off the unsuspecting
bird. It generally prefers bird diet ; but, if this fails, it
takes up its residence near a prairie dog town, and lives
a comfortable and happy life, being able to pursue these
animals into their holes, where it dines at pleasure.

The wild cat makes its den in a hole in the rocks, in a
hollow tree, or in summer time contents itself with a
deserted hawk's nest, or, if that becomes too warm, with
a bed on the soft grass in some dark thicket.

The female produces from three to six kittens at a
birth, and, unlike the house cat, only one litter a year.
The male takes no part in the provision or care for the
young.

Besides the before-mentioned animals, the hunter may
find — and will find if he has dogs — foxes, badgers, and
racoons, all of which give some sport. None of these
animals run well, all taking to holes when closely pursued.

The true sportsman owes it to the brotherhood to do
what he can to preserve the game birds of the country
by destroying, whenever he has an opportunity, all the
above-named animals, as well as skunks, opossums,
hawks, and snakes.

223

CHAPTEE XVII.

THE GAME BIRDS OF THE PLAINS, VIZ.:

THE ' COCK OF THE PLAINS '—DUSKY GROUSE — SHARP-TAILED GROUSE— RUFFED
GROUSE — PINNATED GROUSE — WILD TURKEY — ROCK PARTRIDGE — QUAIL,
AND OTHER BIRDS.

IT is not to the rifleman alone that the plains offer
facilities for glorious sport. The lover of the shot-gun
can find his opportunities. Almost everywhere at the
proper season can small game be found in greater or less
numbers. Among these, the first, not in size but in the
sport they yield, is the grouse. There are on the plains
or foot hills of the mountains no less than five varieties
of the grouse : —

1. 'Cock of the Plains' — Tetrao (centrocercus)

urophasianus.

2. Dusky Grouse — Tetrao obscurus.

3. Sharp-tailed Grouse — Tetrao (centrocercus)

Phasianellus.

4. Buff Grouse — Tetrao umbellus.

5. Pinnated Grouse.

I do not propose to enter into a detailed description of
these birds. This can be obtained from any recent
standard work on ornithology. I shall confine my re-
marks to such peculiarities of each as I think are not
generally known.

224 GAME.

' COCK OF THE PLAINS/

Tetrao (centrocercus) urophasianus.

This noble bird has been doubly unfortunate in its name.
Audubon, in giving it the above name, intended, doubtless,
to signify his appreciation of the size and beauty of the
bird. It was, however, a most unfortunate selection of
title in that it did not catch the popular taste (Avhich no
sportsman can wonder at). Had he called it the ' grey
cock,' or ' sage cock,' or even the ' plains cock,' his
name would probably have been adopted; but the
frontiersman is too economical of speech to adopt any
such nomenclature as that bestowed, and the consequence
is that the finest grouse in America is commonly, almost
universally, known as the ' sage hen.'

As the Pacific Railroad has put these grouse within
reach of sportsmen, I propose to do a favour to them by
proposing a change of name. ' Sage grouse ' is most appro-
priate. While in no sense a mountain bird, this grouse is
a lover of high altitudes, being, I think, never found below
3,000 feet above the sea level, and flourishing most
abundantly on the very high mesas and slopes on the first
plain, 8,000 or 10,000 feet above tide water, where he
gains his greatest preponderance in size and beauty of
plumage.

He varies very greatly in size in different localities,
the best cocks of some sections being but three or four
pound birds, while in other sections they will weigh
eight, ten, or even more pounds.

The habits of this grouse are almost identical with
those of the common barn-yard fowl. They go in packs
at all seasons of the year. In the early spring, in April
or May, depending on altitude, the hen makes her nest
in the same way and in some such cover as the domestic
hen would select, and steals away daily to deposit an egg.

' COCK OF THE PLAINS: 225

When she has twelve or fifteen she commences sitting.
The period of incubation is said to be twenty-one days.
The chicks gain strength very rapidly, and, in a day or
two from her first pip, the mother walks forth with her
brood. Until the little ones are well able to take care
of themselves she keeps them near thick cover, where
they are comparatively secure from the attacks of hawks,
but all join the pack while the young are yet small. I
have seen packs numbering not less than several hundred
birds, of all ages and sizes, from huge old cocks of appa-
rently ten or twelve pounds, to chicks not larger than
quails.

In spite of the identity of habits of this grouse with
those of the barn-yard fowl, it appears to be impossible either
to cross the two, or to domesticate the grouse. Several
persons have told me of the utter failure of persistent and
well-directed efforts. They have set the eggs under the
common hen, but as soon as hatched the little ones
desert their foster mother, and run into cover. If
hatched and kept in a coop, they refuse food, wear
themselves out in continued efforts to escape, and soon die.

There is a common prejudice against this grouse, on
the ground that its flesh is said to taste strongly of the
sage which is its principal food in winter. My experi-
ence is that this is simply imagination. I have never
been able to discover such a taste, and I have eaten them
at all seasons of the year. I must admit, however, that
when I have shot them in winter I have so far yielded to
the prejudice as to remove the crop at once. At all other
seasons of the year they feed, as other birds do, on in-
sects, principally grasshoppers, and I have frequently
opened crops which were distended to the utmost with
these plagues. To my taste, there is no bird (except the
field plover) so perfectly delicious as the young sage
grouse during the month of August. It is as juicy, tender,
and delicate as a spring chicken, besides having the
richest game flavour.

Q

226 GAME.

Early in the season this grouse affords most admirable
sport. They lie well to the dog, and, if approached
cautiously, get up very irregularly, sometimes almost one
at a time. Once, although using a muzzle-loader, I had
sixteen birds down before one was retrieved. The flight
is short, and the pack scatter as they settle. Although
apparently very strong and swift on the wing, a charge
of No. 6 shot is amply sufficient to stop the flight, and
the bird is so large, and flies so fairly, that the merest
tyro finds it no difficult matter to make a bag.

In September and later the hunting is a different
thing. The pack rises as one bird, the flight is long, and
it settles together ready for another flight. It does not
lie to the dog unless thoroughly tired, and, after settling,
runs with great celerity. Besides all this, they have a
way of disappearing entirely, baffling the dog, and
exasperating the hunter. On many occasions I have seen
a pack marked down by experienced hunters ; yet on
proceeding to the spot neither dog nor hunter was able
to get one up again, or even to find a trace of them. At
this season, therefore, the pursuit of the sage grouse re-
quires much more labour and skill than in August. Yet,
at any time in the hunting season, when found in sufficient
abundance, it yields better sport and a greater return for
the labour bestowed than any bird on the plains.

This grouse is very fastidious in his choice of abode,
and must have everything to suit him. The sage bush
may be regarded as his home. In it he shelters himself
from storms and from the attacks of his enemies. Under
it he sleeps in security and comfort. He must have con-
venient to him one or more grassy glades where he pro-
cures his supply of grasshoppers, and he must be within
easy reach of the purest water.

Fort Fred Steele is a sort of centre of the very best
hunting ground for this grouse that I know of. In 1868
I took a small party of gentlemen on a short excursion
to the ' heads of the Muddy.' We remained but two

DUSKY GROUSE. 227

days. Each morning, before 9 o'clock breakfast, we
had killed an ordinary horse-bucket full of trout, and
between breakfast and dinner bagged so many grouse
that, although wTe mustered, including hunters and escort,
some thirty persons, and all ate what they wanted, we
yet carried into the post nearly 200 birds, of a weight of
almost 1,000 pounds.

THE DUSKY GKOUSE.

(Tetrao obscurus.)

This bird has a variety of names, being called in different
parts of the country the 'blue grouse,' the 'black grouse,'
and the ' mountain grouse.' He is found almost every-
where in the mountainous regions of the Great West, be-
tween an altitude of about 6,000 feet and the snow line.
As many portions of the plains attain an elevation of from
6,000 to 10.000 feet, and are otherwise suited to his
habits, he not unfrequently comes in the way of the
plains hunter.

Though a fine large bird, second only to the sage
grouse, and most delicious as food, he affords less sport to
the hunter than any other of the grouse family. In his
habits he differs entirely from other grouse. He is
solitary, never being found in packs after the brood has
been weaned by the mother bird. He frequents jungles
and pine or quaking-asp thickets, will not lie to the
dog, nor fly from the hunter. He is usually found on
the ground, but when disturbed takes refuge on a branch
of the nearest tree, and will sit still though the hunter
approach within a few feet. He gives no opportunity for
wing shooting, for, if driven from his perch, he seeks
another a few feet off, or darts off among the thick
branches of the pine in a rapid and tortuous flight
sufficient to baffle the quickest aim.

While the brood is yet with the mother they are to be

Q 2

228 GAME.

found on the margins of thickets of shrubs and bushes
that dot the surface of otherwise open grassy glades. When
driven from these a few may be killed on the wing ;
but the larger number fly into the branches, whence they
may be shot one after another. Though this pot -shooting
is repugnant to the true sportsman, it keeps the larder well
supplied with most delicious food, and when other game
is scarce great numbers of these birds fall victims to this
peculiar habit.

I have frequently known a bird to sit quietly on a
branch while a bungler with a rifle fired half a. dozen or
more shots at him from a distance of only a few feet.

Of his domestic habits but little is known. I have
never seen two fully-grown birds together at any season.
The female makes her nest generally on some dry bank
close to a stream, and where the ground is so steep that
it is comparatively safe from the tread of heavy animals.
She lays from ten to fifteen eggs, about the size of those
of a guinea fowl. When hatched, the brood is taken to
the nearest shrub-dotted glade, where it remains until
weaned, when it separates, and each bird betakes himself
to a solitary life among the pines.

SHARP-TAILED GROUSE.

Tetrao (centrocercus) PhasianeUus.

This bird is commonly and erroneously called the
4 willow grouse.' It is said to be a native of British
America, and that it is gradually working its way south
and east, as the pinnated grouse is pushing its way to the
west. Whether this be true or not, certain it is that the
bird is now much more plentiful on the plains than it was
only a few years ago, and that it is now found in great
abundance even as far east as the Missouri River, where
less than ten years ago it was unknown.

It takes its name from the fact that the two middle

SHARP-TAILED GROUSE. 229

feathers of its tail project an inch or more beyond, and
are somewhat stiffer than, the others, forming a sort of
spike. It is also somewhat lighter in colour than its
cousin, the pinnated grouse, though marked much in the
same way.

In its habits and general characteristics it is almost
identical with the more common bird, with the exceptions
that it loves the thickets of willow and cotton-wood along
the margins of streams, and that it is much more of a
percher, frequently alighting in trees, especially in cold
weather.

In spite of these peculiarities this grouse furnishes
splendid sport, though its pursuit is attended with more
labour than that of the pinnated grouse. Early in the
season it lies to the dog almost too well, requires close
hunting, and its flights are very short. Later on it be-
comes more wild, often getting up beyond the reach of
the hunter, and, flying to a great distance, alights in thick
cover, from which it is dislodged with great difficulty.
However, the hunter who has the assistance of a good dog
may count on a fair proportion of every pack he en-
counters.

This grouse is now found in greater or less numbers
on all the streams in the west from the British line to the
Canadian Eiver, and from the Pacific Ocean to the
Missouri Eiver. It is a very great accession to the game
of this vast region, to which the pinnated grouse has not
yet penetrated, and adds much to the pleasure of the
plains hunter.

It is very prolific, each hen bringing up yearly one or
more fine broods of from fifteen to twenty young, which
are so well cared for that comparatively few fail to reach
maturity in spite of hawks and other enemies. She
makes her nest on the ground, like the pinnated grouse,
in the most secluded spot she can find. I think she must
have the power of withholding her scent during the
period of incubation, otherwise it would seem to be

230 GAME.

impossible for the eggs at least to escape the search of
prowling wolves and foxes, or the more patient and pene-
trating skunk, all of which abound in the wild regions
which she inhabits. Not unfrequently the nest is broken
up ; the hen seeks another locality and makes another
and another nest, rarely failing of success in the end.

THE RUFF GROUSE.

(Tetrao umbellus.)

This bird, so well known to eastern sportsmen, scarcely
deserves a place in a list of plains game birds. A few
may be found in the timber along the foot hills ; a large
number were killed by my command in the Black Hills,
but it delights in timber, in thick cover, and is in no sense
a plains bird. It exists in certain favourable localities
on the plains, but cannot be relied on for sport by the
plains hunter.

PINNATED GROUSE.

The appearance and habits of the pinnated grouse are
almost as well known as those of domestic fowls. I have
therefore but little to say of them, except to enter my
protest against the name ' prairie chicken.'

Probably no name that could be adopted would take
the place of the name by which the farmers and non-
sportsmen of the west know this bird ; but I confess that
after working hard, and getting a fine bag of grouse, iny
gorge rises like Mr. Podsnap's when some one says, ' You
have a fine lot of chickens.' This game is spreading west
with advancing civilisation. This apparently curious
problem is easily solved. It being a purely prairie bird,
and going to cover only when forced to do so, it cannot
protect its young from the attacks of hawks, and the

PINNATED GROUSE— MIGRATORY BIRDS. 231

broods are either entirely destroyed, or but few arrive at
maturity. The settlers shoot the hawks for the protec-
tion of their domestic fowls, and the grouse, thus indirectly
protected, increase with wonderful rapidity. It is found
in great numbers far up the Arkansas.

There is nothing to warrant the belief that this grouse
will cross with the sharp- tailed ; but they are not only
found in the same localities, but I am assured by a keen
and observing sportsman that he has bagged the two birds
from the same pack at Omaha, Nebraska.

MIGRATORY BIRDS.

In spring and fall almost all kinds of migratory birds
pay a visit of greater or less duration to the plains. I
propose, however, to notice in detail only those birds which
breed upon the plains. These may be divided into ' game
birds,' or those which lie to the dog; and 'other birds'
which, though called ' game ' when killed, are not so in this
sportsmanlike sense. Of ' game birds ' proper there are,
besides the grouse, but three which are indigenous to the
plains. These are the turkey, the rock partridge, and the
quail.

THE WILD TURKEY.

Of all the game birds of the world the wild turkey
is undoubtedly the finest, not in splendour of plumage,
but in his magnificent proportions, and the sport he
affords the hunter. In size the wild turkey is simply
magnificent, the full-grown cock, when fat, not un-
frequently weighing from twenty to twenty-five pounds.

His domestic habits are identical with those of the
tame turkey. They go in large flocks, are polygamous,
and the cocks are exceedingly pugnacious in the laying
season. The hen makes her nest on the ground, and is

232 GAME.

extremely ingenious in selecting its hiding place. She
leaves the flock daily to deposit an egg, until she has
twelve or fifteen. Then commences the work of incu-
bation. As soon as the hen commences to sit, the cocks
cease their quarrels and collect together in amicable
companionship.

It is said that the cocks will kill the young ; at any
rate, the hen keeps the brood away from them until the
young birds are nearly grown. In the fall all collect
together, sometimes in incredible numbers. I have seen
flocks which I am quite sure contained several hundred
birds.

They frequent the valleys of streams along which
is a fringe of heavy trees, on the branches of which they
roost at night. They are very choice in their selection
of a roosting place, preferring a dense mass of trees not
far from a bluff bank, from the top of which they can
easily pitch into the branches. The turkey flies strongly
and well, but his great weight makes it difficult for him
to rise from the ground ; consequently, he takes the
wing very reluctantly. I have known a flock remain for
several hours on the bank of a stream fifty or sixty yards
wide, and which it wished to cross, running up and down
the bank, piping loudly, and making constant feints of
efforts. When one dares to fly over, all the others follow
rapidly and easily. Every one who has kept tame
turkeys must have noticed the dilatory and ridiculous
performances attendant on getting to roost each night.

Though each has roosted on the same branch for
months and knows exactly the best way to get to it, he
will go round and round the tree, noting each branch and
favourable alighting place with critical eye, and seemingly
intent on finding some new way to arrive at the old end.
Now he thinks he has found if, squats and almost stretches
out his wings, when he thinks better of it, and walks on to
do the same thing over and over again. The wild turkey
has the same peculiarity and makes as much c to-do '

WILD TURKEY. 233

about getting to bed as a spoiled child. The wild
turkey runs with great celerity, and, when much hunted,
learns to put as much space as possible between himself
and his pursuer in as short time and with as little noise
as can be.

All his senses are exquisite, and in sense of smell
he is scarcely excelled by the elk. When, therefore, this
game is wild it requires no little skill to bag him
without a dog specially trained. The hunter' must work
on foot against the wind, cautiously pushing his way
without noise. If he is discovered either by hearing,
sight, or smell, the turkeys silently disappear in the
cover, and the hunter only knows of their vicinity by
seeing their tracks. If, however, he succeeds in ap-
proaching, undiscovered, near enough for a shot, the
explosion of the gun throws them into a panic, of which
the knowing hunter will take the fullest advantage,
Some will fly up and alight in the branches of the
nearest trees ; some will squat where they are in any
little cover that promises protection ; others, again, will fly
to a distance, alight, and squat in the grass or bushes.
The hunter marks these latter carefully, certain that they
will not stir from their hiding places until they think all
danger is over. Those in the trees first claim his atten-
tion, as they are likely to fly at any moment, and, having
now seen him and realised the nature of the danger,
will probably go a long distance. One or at most two
shots is all he can hope for at these. The ground should
then be carefully gone over to find any which may have
squatted on the first alarm, and finally he proceeds to
pick up those which have taken to cover, and from which
he has the right to expect his best return. A flock
of twenty or thirty birds under such circumstances ought
to yield six or eight to a good hunter ; early in the season,
and with young birds, even more. When a flock is
caught on the prairie and frightened, they will run
to the nearest ravine, in the breaks of which many

234 GAME.

will squat, hiding so closely as almost to allow themselves
to be stepped upon before taking wing.

In October 1873 I bagged twenty-two turkeys from
one flock, shooting from my horse. I discovered the flock
in a small ravine, lired into it and drove it out into a prairie
on which there was but little cover. Galloping up to
within good range of the closely running birds, I dis-
charged both barrels. The turkeys flew up, but settled
immediately and continued to run, crowding together as if
for mutual protection. When nearly all had been killed,
the remnant ran into some high grass and squatted. I
kicked them up and bagged them like quail, getting all
but two or three of the flock.

In Texas, many years ago, I used occasionally to
kill them with a stick from horseback. A flock being
discovered on the edge of an open prairie two or three
miles across, a detour was made, and the horsemen,
coming up from the wood, rushed with a yell at the
birds, frightening them so badly that some would fly to
the open prairie. The first flight was from 400 to
600 yards, depending on the weight and fatness of
the bird. Alighting, he ran at full speed. At the end
of his first flight he would probably be 200 or 300
yards ahead of the horseman, but this distance was
soon lessened after he alighted. On the near ap-
proach of his pursuer, he would essay another flight,
this time scarcely 100 or 200 yards. A third flight
generally finished all wing business, and his further efforts
at escape were confined to running and dodging. A
stick four feet long and as large as one's finger was
carried by the hunter, and, as the turkey turned to
avoid the horse, a smart blow on the head finished its
life and the race. Of course, such hunting is only
possible on ground especially favourable. In this way
I one day killed two, and a brother officer three, turkeys
from one flock and in one race.

Some days after, another officer from the same post

WILD TURKEY. 235

went out riding with his wife. Coming on a flock of
turkeys in a favourable position, he proposed they should
catch one. After a beautiful and exciting chase, a fine
large cock was run down so that he could scarcely move,
and confined himself solely to avoiding the feet of the
horses. The officer had no stick to kill with, and in
his excitement, thinking he could easily catch a bird so
exhausted, he sprang from his horse and took after the
turkey on foot. He ran his best, but the bird ran just
fast enough to avoid his clutch, and finally, when utterly
blown and exhausted he gave up the chase, he turned to
see his horse disappearing in the distance, and his wife
on her horse in full pursuit of the runaway. He had to
walk about eight miles to the post, and for some months
after it was not quite safe to say ' turkey ' to him.

A well-trained dog is almost invaluable in all hunt-
ing. He is less indispensable in turkey shooting than
with other small game, although when the birds are
scarce and wild he is of the greatest assistance.

The most effective dog for turkey shooting is one
trained to rush into the flock, barking loudly and con-
tinuously. The birds fly into the trees and bushes, or into
high grass, where they squat. Those in the trees watch
the barking dog, paying no attention to the hunter, who
can approach and shoot them at leisure. Those in the
grass lie as close as quails, and furnish the most perfect
shooting. In less than an hour one morning I bagged
fourteen fine birds from a small patch of grass scarcely
two acres in extent.

One of the most common and effective methods of
killing turkeys is by shooting them upon their roosts at
night. This is taking a rather unsportsmanlike advan-
tage of the bird, but is good sport, and, as numbers can
be more easily and certainly bagged by this method than
any other, it is the best when numbers are required. It
can only be used successfully when the leaves are off'
the trees. A clear starlight night is better for this

236 GAME.

hunting than any one made brilliant by the moon, as
in this latter case the birds are much more apt to fly
away after a shot or two. The roosts are easily found
by day from the marks under the trees. Sometimes only
two or three birds will roost in one clump of trees; at
other times a roost of twenty or thirty birds may extend
in a thin line for half a mile along a stream ; and, again,
a small wood favourably situated may be the roosting
place of hundreds of birds, forty or fifty being occa-
sionally found on one tree. The hunter should approach
with caution. He will necessarily make some noise in
pushing through the thicket in the dark, but this will not
generally disturb the birds so as to cause them to fly.
There must be no talking ; the sound of the human voice
will send the birds off more rapidly than the noise of a
dozen guns.

Arrived at a favourable spot under the trees, from
which he may shoot at several without changing position,
he selects the bird nearest the ground, takes careful aim,
and fires, keeping perfectly quiet after the shot. It is
desirable to kill dead each bird fired at, for if only
wounded it may flounder from branch to branch, making
a great disturbance, and frightening away many birds,
besides the chance of its flying off into the thicket and
being lost. If a bird high up in the tree be shot first, it
will, even though killed dead, probably -frighten away all
the birds below it and near which it passes in its fall.
The hunter should use, therefore, a good charge of
powder and heavy shot, and always fire first at the
lowest bird within reach. If the hunter is careful, and
the turkeys have not previously been much shot at while
roosting, he may get as many as he wishes.

In 1872 I shot twelve from one tree, on the Cimarron
Biver. Many years ago a soldier in Texas bagged twenty-
six from one tree without changing his position. On one
occasion in Texas I had been sent out with a small party
of cavalry to procure game for the post at which I was

TURKEY.

stationed. One night we encamped near an immense
turkey roost. Four or five of the men went into the
roost after dark, and, though armed only with the mus-
quetoon, a most miserable weapon, bagged eighty-two
birds in a couple of hours. This was in earlier times,
before hunting had become a trade with so many persons.
At the present time there is scarcely a portion of the
country in which the turkeys have not had experience of
the danger of having white men near their roosts, and,
unless the birds be much scattered, there is, even in the
most unfrequented localities, little hope of getting more
than six or ten shots before all have taken to flight. In
places where they are much shot at on the roost, they
become extremely shy and difficult to approach, flying
off to the hills at the first sound of the hunter in the
thicket. Under these circumstances they become much
more difficult to kill by night than by day.

For some few years past a very considerable number
of wild turkeys have been sent from the plains to the
eastern markets alive. These are caught in pens by a
process too old and well known to need description, and
taken in coops to the nearest railroad station. By the
time these birds reach their destination they are, through
fright and starvation, the mere shadows of their former
selves. I have, within the last few years, met several
gentlemen, whose highest ambition was to be thought
epicurean, whose verdict was unanimous that the western
wild turkey was unfit for human food. They had evi-
dently been dining upon some of these unfortunate
anatomical specimens. If they will make a trip west
and try the bird in its natural condition, I think I can
guarantee an entire change of opinion.

Wherever civilisation has not exterminated them,
wild turkeys are to be found from the Atlantic to the
Eocky Mountains, and from the Gulf of Mexico to
about latitude 44° N. They have even crossed the
southern range of the Eocky Mountains, some of the

238 GAME.

largest and finest specimens I have ever seen being found
in .North-Eastern Arizona. It is a prolific bird, and
most Indian tribes are debarred by superstition from
eating it. The consequence is, that, in spite of the un-
remitting attacks of white hunters, they are yet found in
almost incredible numbers on many portions of the plains.
Near the railroads and along the confines of advancing
civilisation they are comparatively scarce; but there are
still immense sections of country in which the hunter has
only himself to blame if these most delicious birds fail to
furnish at least a portion of his daily fare.

EOCK PARTRIDGE.

This bird is not described in any work on ornithology
I have yet seen. It weighs about a pound, being two or
three times larger than the ' Bob White ' of the Eastern
States, and forms an intermediate link between it and the
sharp-tailed grouse, which it resembles somewhat in
habits. In shape and colour it is usually like the ' Bob
White;' but in the laying season the cock changes its
plumage almost entirely, and becomes the most beautiful
game bird of the country. His back remains the same
sober brown; but the white and black lines about his
eyes increase in intensity of colour, his breast becomes a
dark red, while his legs down to the knee are jet black.

They go in coveys, like the quail, but in entirely
different ground. They love the bare rocky sides of hills
or bare mountains, and take readily to the cover of cedar
thickets. Their favourite resort, however, is the grassy
tops of limestone mesas through which the waters have
cut yawning chasms and canons.

Disturbed from these, a flutter and a plunge places
500 or 1,000 feet of precipice between him and
his pursuer. While scarcely grown, they lie well to
the dog, and very early in the season, when found in
fairly good ground, this bird affords splendid sport.

ROCK PAR TRID GE— Q UAIL. 2 39

Later they lie very close until flushed once, then scatter
and run in every direction, so that even with the best dog
the hunter rarely gets more than two or three shots at a
covey.

In North-Western Texas and South-Eastern New
Mexico this bird is abundant; that is, three or four coveys
may sometimes be found in a day's hunt. I have, how-
ever, never seen it except in the portion of country speci-
fied, and the plains hunter cannot rely on it for sport.

QUAIL.

The western quail, though sufficiently like its eastern
cousin, ' Bob White,' to be constantly confounded with it
even by observing sportsmen, is yet a different bird. The
general appearance and characteristics of the two birds
are the same; but the western is smaller, has less white,
and the white is not so pure. He does not lie so well to
the dog, and is more fond of brush and thickets. His
flight is swifter and more erratic, and to bag him requires
harder work and better shooting.

Transport him to the rich grain fields of the east,
remove from him the constant apprehension of the attacks
of hawks, skunks, and foxes, and he might in a few
generations become the same bird. The richer food
would probably increase his bulk, the comparative safety
induce him to live in the open fields rather than in
thickets, and thus getting more sun he might lighten in
colour.

This quail is found in immense numbers on nearly all
the streams which water the plains from the Arkansas
River to the Gulf of Mexico, and the wilder and more
unsettled country the more decidedly does he differ from
the ' Bob White.'

Except when found in or driven into grass he will,
in the wild countries, scarcely he to a dog at all. He
delights in thickets of wild plum, rose, or sunflower, and

240 GAME.

can be driven from these only with the greatest difficulty,
running from side to side, and, when forced to fly, hopping
up with a whirr to dart down again, sometimes within a
few feet of where he got up. The hunting is hard work,
and the hunter gets only snap shots. It is rare shooting
either for practice or to the hunter who wishes to test his
skill. It is no sport for a beginner.

If, however, this bird can be forced from his favourite
cover and takes refuge in grass, he yields the same sport
as the eastern bird, although under the most favourable
circumstances even the very best shot will be surprised
at the number of misses he makes. As food he is as
delicate and delicious as the eastern bird. So far as I
have been able to discover, his domestic habits are identical
with those of 'Bob White.' The birds pair, take turns
in sitting on the nest, and together care for the young
brood. The male has the same call, though not so distinct
or loud, and in spring may be seen sitting on a log or
stump of a tree repeating his monotonous note.

OTHER BIRDS.

Of other birds than the birds already mentioned, there is,
to my knowledge, but one single bird which makes its home
the year round on the plains. This is a pretty little bird
with a light brown back, lighter belly, and a black and
white ring round its neck. In some sections of the plains
it is called the ' skylark,' from the habit of the male
poising himself in the air over its nest and mate on the
ground, and twittering his little song. In other sections
it is called the ' snow bird ' from its being present in great
numbers when the whole wide waste is covered with snow,
and all other birds have sought a warmer climate. It
collects in immense flocks in the fall and winter, and, being
very fat, is equally tempting to the palate as the ' rice
bird.'

There are a very considerable number of birds which

OTHER BIRDS. 241

come to the plains in the early spring, rear broods, and
return in the fall to a more congenial clime.

Of these the c Brandt goose ' is the largest. They
prefer the more northerly of the plains streams, never
breeding, so far as I know, south of about latitude 42° N.

Beaver dams are seldom found on streams which are
subject to high water, and are always in muddy places,
the beaver not ' founding his home upon a rock.' The
black water saturates the adjacent soil, making all approach
exceedingly difficult, except to webbed feet, and giving
rise to dense thickets of willow and other water-loving
bushes.

Along streams thus secure from freshets and prowling
animals the Brandt makes a nest of small sticks, grass,
leaves, and feathers, on some secluded point only a few
inches above the water. On streams liable to spring rises
and otherwise unprotected, she builds a huge structure of
sticks, some of them apparently too large for her to carry,
in some convenient fork of a tree, twenty, thirty, or even
more feet above the ground, and not unfrequently a
hundred feet from the water. This outwardly rough
affair is nicely lined with leaves, grass, and feathers,
making a superb bed for the eggs.

The North Platte Eiver was in 1868 a favourite resort
of these birds, and in the vicinity of what is now Fort
Fred Steele there were numbers of such nests, some of
them high up in the lofty cotton-woods quite forty feet
above the ground. I one day found a nest in the hollow
upper end of a huge cotton-wood, the top of which had
been broken off by the wind. It was just such a cavity
(only larger) as would have been selected by a wood duck.
There were eight eggs. I broke one to test their freshness,
but the little goose was already formed. The eggs are
not quite so large as those of the domestic goose, but when
fresh are more delicate and of a richer flavour. They are
eagerly sought after as a most welcome and delicious
addition to the ordinary breakfast fare of the plains.

R

242 GAME.

The young grow very rapidly ; but it is some months,
and they are almost if not quite fully grown, before their
wings can lift their heavy bodies from the ground. For
a month or more the young are covered with a yellowish
down. From the time they commence feathering they
are delicious food, and their hunting is good sport, though
there is, of course, no wing shooting.

The mallard duck also breeds in great numbers on
the beaver-dammed or sedgy streams of the plains, as
far south as the Arkansas. Its habits are those of the
common puddle duck, except that they pair.

The teal also pairs, but prefers to make its nest in the
bottom lands adjoining such swift-running streams as the
Arkansas or Platte. The young of both these birds are
fine eating, and in August and early September, being
then unable to fly, are easily bagged.

In the early spring, soon after the 1st of May, the
plains are enlivened with immense flocks of curlew.
These soon break up into pairs, and, scattering over the
high, dry prairie, commence making preparations for
'raising' a family. The nest is a most crude affair, a
mere circular depression of an inch or two hollowed in
the ground. It is scarcely lined, a few feathers and a
very scanty supply of grass alone keeping the eggs from
the soil. Scarce an effort at concealment is made, the
bird evidently relying for its safety upon its sober, un-
attractive light brown, hardly distinguishable from the
brown earth and grass.

When the female is sitting, a person may pass within
a few feet without disturbing her. She has the habit,
common to many birds, of pretending to be wounded
when disturbed, and I have several times been startled to
see a large bird fluttering and tumbling along the ground
from almost under my feet. She lays from eight to ten
eggs. They are about the size of those of a guinea fowl,
but more nearly oval in shape. The young brood leaves
the nest in a day or two, and follows the mother bird.

OTHER BIRDS. 243

They are most comical little fellows, with their long legs
and bills, and their disproportionately small bodies, covered
with soft, yellowish down. They are wonderful adepts
at hiding ; and a brood suddenly come upon, when on an
apparently bare prairie, will disappear as if they went
into the ground. Only the sharpest eyes may, after care-
ful search, be able to discover one or two. The young,
when newly fledged, give tolerably good sport to the
hunter. They will not lie to the dog, nor do I think
they possess any game scent ; at this time, however, their
flights are short, and they do not run, but walk delibe-
rately off after alighting, giving the sportsman opportunity
again to get within shot. Many persons esteem the curlew
very highly as food. To my taste he is a poor bird — dry,
and without flavour.

With, or soon after, the curlew come myriads of field
plover which, pairing and scattering in a somewhat similar
manner, occupy in incredible numbers the highest and
driest slopes of the third plain. I have said that they
pair. I am led to the belief by frequently seeing them
by twos in the nesting season, but I am by no means
positive of the fact. They come in flocks, and remain in
flocks throughout their stay on the plains. Some specially
favourable locality will be the nesting place of numbers ;
and in that vicinity numbers may always be found to-
gether, not in coveys like quail, or flocks like ducks, but
scattered, each independently seeking his food in his own
way, but keeping within call of his neighbours. If they
pair the females go off alone during the process of incu-
bation, while the males remain together. I have never
seen two old birds with the young, and therefore conclude
that the female has its sole charge and responsibility.

The nest is made like that of the curlew. But two
eggs are laid, and the young follow the mother soon after
hatching. I have seen them running after her while yet
scarcely dry. Their appearance is most curious. A little
ball of soft white down, not larger than a pigeon's egg,

E 2

244 GAME.

mounted on a pair of long stilts of legs, causing the
beholder to wonder how they could possibly have been
disposed inside of an egg-shell, much too short for either
joint to have been developed when straight. The period
of incubation is very short, and they arrive at maturity
with wonderful rapidity, so that early in July the young
birds are ready for the sportsman. At this time they
furnish excellent sport, and are to my taste the most
delicious bird that ever tickled the palate of a gourmand.
In July and August all, old and young, are mere lumps
of fat of most exquisite flavour, far surpassing canvas-
back, reed bird, or the most delicate tit-bit of any bird
that flies or swims.

Some few years ago I went on a short exploring ex-
pedition, accompanied by an officer very appreciative of
all the good things of life. It was in August, and our
table was daily loaded with most delicious birds — young
turkeys, ducks, goose, quail, and plover. The officer was
devoted to quail ; and when I urged him to try plover,
extolling its superior excellence, he invariably replied,
' No, I thank you ; quail is good enough for me.' One
day it happened that we had no quail, and he concluded
to try plover, which he had never yet tasted. Pulling
off the little lump of fat which served the bird as a leg,
he placed it in his mouth. In a moment he looked at
me earnestly and rather reproachfully, and said, with
emotion, ' I wish some one would kick me.' ' Why ? ' I
asked. ' Because,' he replied, in despondent tones, ' I
have for a week past been eating quail, when I might
have had plover e\ery day.'

The plover is not, properly speaking, a game bird,
though it has the game scent. It does not lie to the dog,
nor squat, nor attempt to hide. It runs well, and, when
approached too nearly, takes to flight. Immediately on
alighting it has a pretty and graceful manner of
stretching its wings upward and together until they
almost touch, before settling them in their places.

OTHER BIRDS. 245

In August it is difficult to bag on the wing, as it will
not permit a footman to come within shot. It, how-
ever, seems to have no fear of a horseman or a vehicle,
and is easily bagged on the ground, the sportsman
riding or driving as near as he pleases. About the
middle of August they leave the high lands and collect
in immense numbers in the low lands of the streams,
more or less constantly flying back and forth, and the
sportsman can have splendid wing shooting. By the end
of August all, or nearly all, have disappeared as silently
and mysteriously as they came.

On almost every part of the plains where running
streams are bordered by grassy meads, the Bobolink may
be found in early spring — the same light-hearted, merry
creature that he is in the east. He spends this portion of
his life in tumbling in short eccentric flights through the air,
pouring forth almost incessantly his ecstatic song. They
arrive in immense flocks, but pair very soon after, and
under a cover of a thick bush or bunch of grass they
make on the ground a round, well-built, softly-lined
nest, in which they rear four little ones, feeding them
in the nest until fully fledged. When the young are
grown, the birds collect in flocks almost innumerable,
and many may be bagged by a single charge of No. 10
shot. Though very fat and excellent, they are not, I
think, quite so delicate in flavour as later in the season
when, after migration, they have become reed or rice birds.
When they arrive in spring the male has already donned
his brilliant coat By the time he is ready to leave
before the 1st of September he has exchanged this for the
sober dark brown, almost black, and the sexes are
indistinguishable.

Beside the birds above mentioned, the prairie furnishes
nesting places for a great variety of smaller birds,
songsters and others, which, however, furnish neither
good sport to the hunter nor fine food for the table.

About the middle of September the great Arctic

246 GAME.

breeding places begin to pour upon the plains migrating
millions of water fowl of every variety, from the
uncouth pelican to the smallest of sand pipers, geese
of several kinds, ducks in wonderful variety, plover in
half a dozen varieties, snipe, &c. Some of these stop
for longer or shorter periods on every stream, and it is
not until the ' icy hand ' of winter has closed the water-
courses that all disappear.

These add immensely to the pleasure of the sports-
man, and make the months of September and October
the choicest of all periods of the year to the plains hunter.

247

CHAPTER

FISH AND FISHING.

ASK an old frontiersman about fish and fishing, and the
chances are a hundred to one that he will answer, ' Oh,
there are no fish in the plains streams.' If. you want
fish you must go to the ' Big Horn/ or Bear Lake,
or the Timpanogos, or the Middle Park, or some other
mountain locality of which he has specially pleasing
reminiscences.

This is easily accounted for. After a man has taken
his one, two, and even five and six pound trout ' as fast
as he could throw his hook in,' the ordinary plains fishing
is tame even to monotony. Nevertheless, there is scarcely
a stream on the plains which will not furnish fair sport
to one not so enamoured of ' game ' fish as to disdain
anv that will not rise to a 'fly.'

Many of the streams which take their rise in the
gorges of the great first plain are filled with trout near
their heads. These disappear as soon as the streams
fairly reach the second plain, their place being filled by
other and more common fish.

The Purgatory, a tributary of the Arkansas, and the
Muddy, a tributary of the Green Eiver, are notable
examples of this.

There are said to be trout in some of the streams
which take their rise in the second plain, as the Bijou
and some of the tributaries of the Republican. This is
not well authenticated, and I doubt it. It is a most
curious fact, well known to plainsmen, that there is not

248 GAME.

a trout in any tributary of the North Platte Eiver,
while every tributary of the South Platte in the moun-
tains furnishes an abundance of this noble fish.

The head waters of the Cache-le-Pondre and Laramie
are in many places but a few yards apart, rising on
different slopes of the same mountain. One set of
tributaries is full of trout ; the other set has not one. The
same peculiarity occurs in many places — for example, in
the rim of mountains which separates the North and
Middle Parks, and the range separating the waters of
the Papo-agie and the North Platte. North, south, and
west it is the same : no single tributary of the thousands
that finally find their way to the North Platte has trout.

From the facts that the head waters of these tribu-
taries are so pure, and that they rise in the same strata
and under precisely the same circumstances as the
trout streams, it was for a long time supposed that there
was something injurious in the main stream of the North
Platte preventing the trout from passing up.

A gentleman much interested in these matters deter-
mined to test this. The small stream on which Fort
Sanders is situated is extremely pure and clear — a model
trout stream, but containing no trout. In 1868 this
gentleman sent east for eggs, and went to some trouble and
expense in arranging a proper hatching box in the very
head spring of the brook. The eggs were hatched, and
the young trout, apparently perfectly healthy, were, when
large enough, turned into the brook to take care of
themselves. I am informed (in 1875) by an officer
stationed at Fort Sanders that not a single one of those
trout has ever been seen or heard of since.

However pure the head waters of streams, their
impurity lower down has a most decided effect in keep-
ing trout from those heads. Thus the waters of the
Black Hills of Dakota are pure, cool, and delicious
enough to satisfy the most fastidious trout, yet there
is not one in all this splendid mass of mountains. Nor is

FISH AND FISHING. 249

there a trout to be found in any stream, however pure,
whose waters lower down pass through the great tertiary
beds called the ' Bad Lands.'

The ' speckled ' or brook trout of the west, though
not the same fish, is very like his brother of the Eastern
States — so like, indeed, that many sportsmen insist that
they are identical. The western fish grows to much
greater size ; the spots are not so brilliant ; and the back
and sides, just in front of the tail, are covered with small,
short, black marks, or 'hatchings,' as if made with the point
of a pen. It takes the fly well, but not so greedily as
the eastern fish. The reason is, that they are from early
spring gorged with food in the myriads of young grass-
hoppers which fall into the stream before getting their
wings. I have seen the whole bottom of a small stream
literally covered with grasshoppers for miles. Later in
the season this supply becomes less plentiful, and the fish
bite better. On an August morning, before breakfast, I
once took from some beaver dams on the ' heads of the
Muddy ' 116 trout from four ounces to half a pound in
weight. I used three 'flies,' and several times took three
fish at a single cast.

The best months for trout fishing on the first plain,
or in the Rocky Mountains, are August and September,
though good sport can be had in July and October. In
every section of country the 'gamest' fish found is almost
invariably trout. Thus, in some portions of the Southern
States the ' trout ' is a black perch. In Texas and in the
Indian territory, as far north as the Canadian, the 'trout'
is a magnificent bass, very like the striped sea bass in
appearance. His usual maximum weight is from three
to six pounds ; although I have taken a ten-pounder from
the Medina Eiver of Texas, and have seen a glorious
fellow which weighed thirteen pounds taken from the
Guadalupe Eiver.

They are very game, and the smaller take a gaudy
' fly ' readily. The ' big fellows ' can only be seduced by

250 GAME.

live bait. In the Rio Azul of Western New Mexico, and
in many other pure streams where the real fish does not
exist, the ' trout ' is a dace. In size from a mere minnow
to half a pound, he is very 'game,' taking the fly as
greedily and well as any trout.

in almost all the plains streams is found a fish of the
herring family, and most generally called the ' white fish.'
It has large, coarse, white scales, is very thin and flat for
its length and depth, is quite bony, and not very delicate
food. It is, however, exceedingly voracious, seizes any
kind of bait with tremendous vigour, and makes a most
interesting fight, especially as, his mouth being bony and
easily torn, he must be handled delicately. His maximum
weight is about three pounds.

In Walnut Creek, a tributary of the Arkansas, I have
taken a fish which I have never seen elsewhere. I call it
the ' white bass.' It is almost the exact counterpart of
the black bass in size, shape, and manner of biting, but
it is pure white and has large staring eyes.

In the purer streams of the plains is found a beautiful
species of cat fish, called in some parts the ' lady ' cat,
and in others the ' channel ' cat. Its maximum weight
is about three pounds. The spines on the pectoral fins
are unusually developed and inflict a most painful wound.
The body is long and tapering, covered at irregular
intervals with small black spots, like trout ; its head is
narrow, and mouth very small for a cat fish ; it has few
bones, and is most delicate and delicious food. The best
bait is a small piece of the white fish before mentioned.
Unlike other cats, it 'is very dilatory in its biting, nibbling a
long time before taking a good hold. It is very strong and
active, and, when hooked, makes almost as good a fight as
a bass or trout of equal weight. It is the trout of cat fish.

The blue cat is also common in all the plains streams,
attaining sometimes a weight of fifteen to twenty-five
pounds. These large fish are coarse, but the smaller are
fine eating. No special skill is required for taking them,

FISH AND FISHING. 251

as they swallow the bait and make off at once. A large
hook and a strong line are indispensable, however, as they
pull like oxen.

In the deep, sluggish streams of the lower third plain
is found the great mud cat of the Mississippi. They
attain an enormous size, and to my thinking are unfit for
food, being very coarse and tasting of mud. At Fort
Earned, in 1871, several were taken in a seine by some
of the soldiers. One of these weighed fifty-four pounds,
and an ordinary striped-head fresh-water turtle, eight
inches long, was found in his maw.

Streams whose beds contain no running water, but in
which there are large and deep permanent pools, even
ponds, and lakelets which have no apparent outlet, are
frequently crowded with fish. These are usually sun fish
or perch, cat fish, suckers, and chub.

It is his own fault if the plains traveller does not have
good sport and all the ' brain food ' he requires from the
plains streams.

PART III.
INDIANS.

SONG OF THE WILD BUSHMAN.

Let the proud white man boast his flocks

And fields of food-full grain,
My home is 'mid the mountain rocks,

The Desert my domain.'

THOMAS PKINGLE,

255

CHAPTEE XIX.

EASTERN AND WESTERN IDEAS OF THE INDIAN — HIS
BOYHOOD — ORDEAL, AND THE WARRIOR.

IT is doubtful if there be a people on earth concerning
whom there is so wide a difference of opinion as the
North American Indians.

Eastern people, educated, by reading Cooper's and
other similar novels, to a romantic admiration for the
' red man ; ' misled by the travellers' tales of enthusiastic
missionaries, or the more interested statements of agents
and professional humanitarians ; and indulging in a phi-
lanthropy, safe because distant, and sincere because igno-
rant, are ready to believe all impossible good, and nothing
bad, of the ' noble savage.'

The western frontier people who come in contact
with him, who suffer from his depredations, and whose
life is made a nightmare by his vicinity, have no words
to -express their detestation of his duplicity, cruelty, and
barbarism. No amount of reason, no statement of facts,
will ever change the opinion of either eastern or western
people on this subject.

In the east, Christian charity and sentimental humani-
tarianism form good ' paying leads,' which the professional
philanthropist will not fail to work to his own best ad-
vantage by statements of ' facts ' and an array of statistics
satisfactory to the most sceptical ; while the western man,
who has lost his horses, had his house burned, or his wife
violated and murdered, finds a whole life of hatred and
revenge too little to devote to his side of the question.

256 INDIANS.

The conception of Indian character is almost im-
possible to a man who has passed the greater portion of
his life surrounded by the influences of a cultivated, re-
fined, and moral society. As well undertake to give to a
pure and innocent maiden a realising sense of the depths of
degradation to which some of her sex have fallen. The
truth is simply too shocking, and the revolted mind takes
refuge in disbelief as the less painful horn of the dilemma.

As a first step towards an understanding of his
character, we must get at his standpoint of morality.
As a child, he is not brought up. Like Topsy, ' he
growed.' From the dawn of intelligence his own will
is his law. There is no right and no wrong to him. No
softening stories of good little boys are poured into his
attentive ears at a mother's knee. No dread of punish-
ment restrains him from any act that boyish fun or fury
may prompt. No lessons, inculcating the beauty and
sure reward of goodness, or the hideousness and certain
punishment of vice, are ever wasted on him.

The men by whom he is surrounded, and to whom he
looks as models for his future life, are great and re-
nowned just in proportion to their ferocity, to the scalps
they have taken, or the thefts they have committed. His
earliest boyish memory is probably a dance of rejoicing
over the scalps of strangers, all of whom he is taught to
regard as enemies. The lessons of his mother awaken
only a desire to take his place as soon as possible in fight
and foray. The instruction of his father is only such as
is calculated to fit him best to act a prominent part in
the chase, in theft, and in murder.

Imagine a white boy growing up with such surround-
ings. The most humane of Christian gentlemen will
exclaim, ' There is a fit subject for the penitentiary or
the gallows ; ' and yet that same Christian gentleman be-
lieves the Indian boy to grow up and develope into the
' noble red man,' endowed with all the virtues.

BOYHOOD— THE ORDEAL. 257

BOYHOOD.

At twelve or thirteen the boy begins to be a man, and
yearns for some opportunity of signalising his courage or
his craft. Banded together, the youths of from twelve to
sixteen years roam over the country (restricted only as
will hereafter appear), and some of the most daring and
desperate attacks have been made by these children, in
pursuit of Indian fame.

These excursions teach the boy all that is necessary to
his savage life. Privation teaches endurance. When he
has food, he eats to repletion ; when none, he hunts for it.
If he has clothing, he wears it ; if not, he is happy and
contented in breech-clout and paint.

He is patient, for time is nothing to him ; never home-
sick, because all places are equally his home. His eye
becomes keen for every mark on earth, or tree, or blade
of grass ; and he puts in practice all he has heard from the
elders around the camp fires, as to how to conceal his
trail, or hide his camp, or of the best method of approach
to, or attack upon, an unsuspecting enemy. Virtue, morality,
generosity, honour, are words not only absolutely without
significance to him, but are not accurately translatable
into 'the Indian language of the plains.

THE ORDEAL.

From each of these excursions return, with crest erect,
and backbone stiffened, one, two, or more youngsters,
whose airs and style proclaim that each has made his
coup, and is henceforth candidate for the distinction of
warrior.

The chiefs and warriors assemble in general council,
and with the utmost gravity listen to the claims of the
candidates. Each in turn, frenzied with excitement,
with bounds and yells, and frantic gestures, pours forth

s

258 INDIANS.

in almost incoherent language a recital of the deeds on
which he bases his claim.

When conflicting claims are made by the candidates,
their companions on the excursion are called on for
their statements ; and when all the testimony is in, the
candidates, their friends, and spectators are turned out
of the council, which then proceeds to deliberate. After
a lapse of time the names of the happy few deemed
worthy of initiation as warriors are formally and loudly
announced from the door of the council lodge.

The initiation is a religious as well as a military
ceremony, and varies with the different tribes, the ordeal,
as a rule, being more trying as the tribe is more warlike.

The process here described is that of the Southern
Cheyennes, a tribe numbering less than 3,000 souls, but
powerful in the skill and daring of its warriors.

When it has been formally announced by the general
council that a youth has earned his right of initiation as
a warrior, he is taken by his father (or, in case of the
father's death, by his nearest relative), himself a warrior,
to some spot outside the Indian camp. After some
religious ceremonies have been first transacted the youth
is stripped to the skin. A broad-bladed knife is then
passed through the pectoral muscles, so as to make two
vertical incisions, about two inches from each other, and
each about three inches long, in each breast. The
portion of the muscle between these incisions is then lifted
from the bone, and the ends of horse-hair ropes, about
three-fourths of an inch in diameter, passed through the
opening and tied in a knot. A stout post, of some twenty
feet in height, has already been set in the ground, and to
the top of this are tied the other ends of the ropes.

Having fastened the ropes so as to give the boy a
play of ten or twelve feet from the post, the father takes
leave of him, and he is left to fight his battle of en-
durance, of pain, and terrible suffering. Here he remains
alone without food, water, or sympathy ; denied even

THE ORDEAL. 259

the poor consolation of showing to others how bravely
he can bear his sufferings, until his own vigorous efforts,
or the softening of the tissues through partial mortifica-
tion, enable him to tear out the incised muscles and
escape from his bondage. Having freed himself, he
makes his way to his family lodge, where he is carefully
examined, and, if it is found that he has fairly torn the
muscle, his wounds are washed, and dressed with herbs,
rudely, but with so much skill that they are in a few
weeks entirely healed. Singular as it may appear, an
instance of fatal result, even in the hottest weather, is
almost unknown.

Sometimes the incisions are made in the muscles of
the shoulder-blade or of the back. In this case the
ropes are attached to some movable object. Two
American gentlemen, visiting a Cheyenne camp in the
fall of 1873, came one day upon a poor boy of not
more than fourteen years, dragging after him, by long
ropes, three buffalo skulls ; one from a cut on each
shoulder-blade, and the other from an incision beside
the back-bone. It is terrible to see these poor boys
tugging and pulling, with whoops and yells, at their iron
flesh ; but each understands that it is best for him to
tear loose as soon as possible ; best, not only physically as
a quicker ending of his torture, but also best in a re-
ligious point of view. It is ' good medicine ' to tear
loose at once — bad medicine to be several days about it.

Let it not be supposed that the father's affection
stays the knife, even one line, to spare his boy from
suffering. His religion would deter him from any, even
the slightest, modification or lessening of the pains of the
ordeal, even if his pride in his son's endurance were not
stronger than his sympathy as a parent.

Few white men have witnessed this ordeal ; and even
the Indian, who comes by accident upon a boy in the
throes of his agony, is required by religion and etiquette
to ' pass on the other side.'

260 INDIANS.

Should the candidate cry out, or even flinch, under
the knife, the ceremony is over, and he is taken back to
the lodge to be brought up with the women, and made to
perform woman's drudgery and menial offices.

He cannot marry, or hold property, and is held in
extreme contempt by the warriors. Though generally
treated with indignity by the women, one occasionally
manages to make himself a favourite with the sex, not
a little to the discomfort of the warrior husbands, who
cannot, however, demean themselves by showing jealousy
of such a party.

Should the courage or endurance of the candidate
fail him after being tied, he can at any time untie him-
self, or, in case the incisions are in the back, can go to
the camp and ask to be untied. In each case the result
is the same as that given. He can never be a warrior of
the tribe. It speaks highly for the endurance of the
Southern Cheyennes, when it is stated on good authority
that there are not over six of these men-squaws in the
wrhole tribe.

From the initiatory ordeal the candidate steps at
once into manhood, with all its rights and duties, privi-
leges and immunities. He is no longer under the control
of his father, holds property if he can beg or steal it ;
can marry if he has the wherewith to pay for his wife ;
and his associates are the warriors of the tribe.1

1 It is proper to state that this initiatory ordeal is not a condition of
manhood, except among the Cheyenne tribe. These Indians have as far as
possible kept themselves from the demoralising influence of whisky sellers,
and are probably, at this moment, more nearly aboriginal than any tribe in
the territory of the United States. They have kept nearly clear of inter-
marriages with the whites, and from contact with other tribes and Mexicans.

These sketches nearly all relate to the Cheyeunes. Where the habits
and customs of other tribes are noted, it will be so specially stated.

THE WARRIOR. 261

THE WARKIOR.

Behold him now a warrior !

And here let us stop a moment to take an inventory
of his peculiarities and capabilities.

He is enduring, self-reliant, patient, and cunning —
a magnificent rider, a fair shot with bow, pistol, or rifle,
and a thorough plainsman.

His eye is prompt in detecting either the slightest
mark on the ground, or object at the farthest verge of
the horizon. A lazy loafer about his camp one day, he
is a swooping demon the next — an abject beggar, or
daring thief, as circumstances warrant. Lying is to him
one of the fine arts, and his tongue is active to ' con-
ceal his thoughts.'

Licentious without generosity, treacherous in all his
acts and dealings, most cold-blooded, and full of inven-
tion in the refinements of his cruelty, he is a most dan-
gerous and terrible animal, and would be tenfold more
so did he possess courage, as the white man under-
stands the term. Bravery he undoubtedly possesses. He
makes rattling da,shes, in which whoops, and yells, and
shaking of buffalo robes are expected to do almost
as much as his shots (and woe betide the unfortunate
enemy who trusts his safety to flight). He springs
to his arms from soundest sleep at the first symptom
of alarm, and is ready to fight or fly, as may seem best
to him. He fights to the death when cornered ; but
it is as the wolf fights, who neither gives nor expects
mercy.

His fighting is either the excitement of the charge
or the desperation of despair ; and, giving him every credit
for physical prowess and personal bravery, there is yet
in every Indian a total lack of that courage which prompts
men to fight from a sense of duty.

His charge is magnificent when sure that his numbers,

262 INDIANS.

or the completeness of the surprise of his enemy, give him
an easy success ; but two or three cool whites, seated on
the ground and remaining quiet and ready, will, by simply
bringing to their shoulders the deadly rifle, change the
most headlong charge of a dozen Indians to a retreat.

For this there are two reasons : first, the Indian's lack
of discipline, and that shoulder-to-shoulder courage which
comes of discipline ; and, secondly, he is taught to risk
life as seldom as possible, and that, in all his exploits, craft
is better than courage.

The grandest of exploits and the noblest of virtues to
the Indian are comprehended in the English words — theft,
pillage, rapine, and murder. He can expect no honour
from man, or love from woman, until he has taken a scalp.
or at least stolen a horse ; and he who crawls upon a sleep-
ing enemy, and kills him before he can awaken, is a better
warrior and entitled to more praise than he who kills his
enemy in fair fight.

The securing of a scalp is an affair for tribal rejoicing.
A scalp dance, council meetings, general commotion, and
unlimited adulation, lift the happy taker to the seventh
heaven of gratified vanity. To this end, a scalp is a scalp.
The tender cuticle which covered the skull of an infant,
and the ' long, fair hair ' of a helpless woman, are as
eagerly taken and as dearly prized as the grizzled scalp
lock of the veteran of a hundred fights.

263

CHAPTEE XX.

TRIBAL GOVERNMENT.

NOTHING is more difficult to understand than the govern-
ment of an Indian tribe, and for the good reason that it
is a very curious compound of despotism, oligarchy, and
democracy.

The office of chief or ruler of each tribe was originally
hereditary. This has been greatly modified of late years,
the United States Government having in some instances
deposed refractory chiefs, and substituted in their place
others supposed to be more manageable.

Their own very peculiar and eccentric ideas on the
subject of government have also a material bearing on
the virtual deposition or advancement of a chief. The
head chief is supposed to be the principal man of the
tribe. Whether he is so or not is a matter of accident or
good management.

Each tribe is more or less divided into bands, each
under the control of a sub-chief (generally an ambitious,
aspiring man, envious of the head chief, and jealous of the
other sub-chiefs), whose great anxiety is to make himself
popular, and get as many lodges as possible under his
command. Each sub-chief, as a rule, keeps his band as
much as possible away from other bands. This is done
in order to ensure its safer and more perfect control, and
is desirable on account of the greater facility for procuring
food.

So long as the head of a lodge is under his actual
control, the sub-chief has unlimited power over him and

264 INDIANS.

his, extending even to life and death. An abortive
attempt to change his allegiance to another sub-chief may
involve him in the most disastrous consequences. But,
should the deserter succeed in reaching the other band,
he is not only absolved from blame, but may meet his
former chief and master without ill consequences and on
good terms.

In 1867 the Cheyennes were at war with the United
States. A portion of the Brule band of Sioux were very
desirous of joining and assisting them in spite of the
orders and influence of Spotted Tail, then, as now, chief
of the Brule band. One morning it was discovered that
twenty or more lodges of the malcontents had decamped
during the night. Assembling his guards Spotted Tail
pursued the fugitives, overtook and captured them. Every
deserting warrior and many of their women were soundly
beaten, the horses killed, the arms broken or confiscated ;
all the lodges, provisions, robes, property, and finery of
all kinds ruthlessly destroyed, and the miserable band
driven back to camp, beggars, and powerless for good or
evil. While under Indian ruling, this was a perfectly just
and proper thing to do ; the deserters themselves would
have been right and free from blame or danger had they
succeeded in reaching the Cheyenne camp.

This is an exceptional instance ; and the severity of
punishment was justified by the facts that the intended
desertion -was to a different tribe, and that the action of
the deserters was likely to compromise the whole Brule
band, and possibly involve it in a war with the United
States.

The change of allegiance from one sub-chief to another
of the same tribe is a common occurrence, and little
notice is taken of it ; but the rule seems to be that, while
the sub-chiefs word is law to his band, any member of
that band may change his allegiance at will, at his own
risk, while making the change.

A prominent part of tribal government is the council,

TRIBAL GOVERNMENT— THE COUNCIL. 265

but what the functions of this council are, what its duties
or powers, and how far these latter are concurrent with
those of the chief, are questions about which I could
never get a satisfactory answer from even the most
intelligent Indian. It is certain, however, that it is re-
garded by the Indians themselves as a most important
feature in their governmental affairs.

A council lodge is provided for every band, and the
council is summoned to meet on any and every occasion.
There seem to be no regular members of the council.
On the contrary, it seems to be composed of any and all
warriors who may choose to assemble or call. The chiefs
and prominent warriors do, however, most of the talking,
the younger warriors keeping in the background.

The conclusion is not arrived at by vote, but by
acclamation ; hence eloquence, or the power of swaying
by words the opinions or passions of hearers, is an im-
portant lever in Indian governments.

It may not be out of place here to remark upon the
peculiar and unnatural style of speech-making which
obtains whenever whites and Indians meet in council,
and in which there is always much twaddle about the
Great Spirit, Great Father, &c. It is not a natural way
of speaking for white men, and, from careful inquiry, I
am convinced that it is equally foreign to the Indian.
It is not fairly accounted for by the paucity of words in
Indian languages, and must have originated with our
' Pilgrim,' ' Pennsylvania,' and other 'Fathers,' in whom
a strong desire to convert the savage was constantly
struggling with a painful lack of knowledge of his language,
which would, of course, force them to recur over and
over again to the same set of words. This peculiarity
being accepted by the Indian as the white man's manner
of speaking, he (being an imitative animal) adopted it ;
and so we go on, year after year, making and listening to
speeches which are as absurd to the Indians as to ourselves.

Whatever the power or influence of chief and council.

266 INDIANS.

there is another power to which both have to yield on
all matters which it assumes the right of deciding. The
first two may be said to represent the brains of the tribe
or band ; the latter represents its stomach. As brains
are only occasionally called into requisition, while the
demands of the stomach are incessant, the tribe is habitually
under the control of this 'third estate.' This power is
composed of all the hunters of the tribe, who form a sort
of guild, from the decisions of which, in its own peculiar
province, there is no appeal. Among the Cheyennes
these men are called 'dog-soldiers.' The younger and
more active chiefs are always enrolled among these ' dog-
soldiers,' but do not necessarily command. The ' soldiers '
themselves command by viva voce determination on general
matters, the details being left to the most renowned and
sagacious hunters selected by them. Among these ' dog-
soldiers ' are many boys who have not yet passed the
initiatory ordeal as warriors.

In short, this ' guild ' comprises the whole working
force of the band. It is the power which protects and
supplies the women and children. A war party is under
the command of the chief. The home, or main camp,
with its women and children, horses, lodges, and property
of every kind is under the control and protection of the
' dog-soldiers.' From them emanate all orders for marches.
By them the encampments are selected. They supply the
guards for the camp, designate the hunting parties and
the ground they are to work over, and, when buffalo are
sought, they select the keen-eyed hunters who are to go
in advance and make all the arrangements for the sur-
round.

One of the most important functions of the ' dog-
soldiers ' is the protection of the game. Except when
laying in the supply of meat for winter, only sufficient
buffalo is killed for the current supply of the camp. Great
care is taken not to alarm the herds, which will feed for
days in the vicinity of an Indian camp of a thousand souls,

TRIBAL GOVERNMENT— DOG-SOLDIERS. 267

while a camp of half a dozen white men would have
driven them all away in a day. Only designated parties
or individuals are permitted to shoot at herds, or even at
solitary buffalo ; and an Indian not so designated will take
as much precaution to avoid a herd as, under other cir-
cumstances, he would take to approach it. The boy
parties spoken of heretofore are never permitted in any
way to molest herds within one, two, or more days'
march from the main camp.

Punishment is not often resorted to, but, when decided
upon, is prompt and severe. Crimes against the body
politic, or violations of the orders of the chief, are
punished severely ; sometimes by death, at other times by
beating and destruction of property. In these cases the
chief acts ; but he must have at least the tacit consent of
the council, and the active assistance of the 'dog-soldiers.'
Nearly all crimes against individuals are compounded by
the payment of damages, the amount of which is assessed
generally by the chief, assisted in important cases by two
or more prominent men. A violation of the ' dog-
soldiers' ' rules is at once met by a sound beating.

I cannot say exactly how the powers and duties of
these three governmental forms blend and concur, or
where they become antagonistic, and I have never met
an Indian or white man who could satisfactorily explain
them. The result, however, is fairly good, and seems well
suited to the character, necessities, and peculiarities of
the life of the plains Indian.

When Texas was annexed to the United States the
Comanches, by far the most powerful Texan tribe of
Indians, were governed by San-ta-na, a chief distinguished
above all others by his eloquence and wisdom in council,
and his daring, skill, and success in the field. His word
was law, and such his popularity with his tribe that sub-
chiefs and warriors vied with each other in anticipating
his wishes. When the United States troops were sent to
occupy and defend Texas it was found that scarcely a

268 INDIANS.

place in all the length and breadth of this immense new
State was safe from the incursions of this tribe of daring
warriors. Whites were killed and scalped on the very
outskirts of San Antonio, then the most populous town in
the State ; and a very considerable village, New Braunfels,
was sacked, the men massacred, and the women and
children carried into captivity.

The scanty force of regular troops, though well-nigh
ubiquitous (as it is always expected to be), failed
necessarily to protect so immense an extent of
territory from the inroads of the most dashing and
venturesome of all Indian raiders. At this juncture a
successful effort was made to bring San-ta-na into council
with the whites. He was loaded with presents, and
induced to make a visit to Washington city. The effect
of such a journey on this utterly ' untutored savage ' may
be imagined. The immense distances traversed, through
country entirely occupied by white men, the numbers of
people, the great cities, the quantities of arms and warlike
appliances of all kinds, convinced him of the utter futility
and certainly disastrous consequences of further warfare
with the whites.

On his return to his tribe he explained, as far as he
was able, what he had seen, and attempted to impress on
his people the necessity of keeping the peace. They at
once attributed his change of mind to bribery, and his
account of his journeyiugs and the wonders of the white
man's country were set down as fabulous tales ' got up '
for a purpose. He was looked upon with suspicion, as a
traitor to the interests of his people, and regarded as a
remorseless and criminal liar. His influence declined, his
people fell away from him, and ambitious sub-chiefs
seized the opportunity of increasing their own power and
influence. A few years and this once-powerful leader,
heart-broken, deserted by all except two faithful wives,
paid the last debt to nature. In a little canon, near the
Bandera Pass, was, twenty years ago, a small mound of

TRIBAL GOVERNMENT— RED CLOUD. 269

stones. It marked the final resting place of the greatest
Indian warrior of his time. Such was the fate of an
hereditary chief who dared to go against the prejudices
of his tribe.

The history of Eed Cloud, the head chief of the
Ogallalla Sioux now living, almost reverses the picture.
Not an hereditary chief, he owes his prominence to his
persistent hostility to the whites. The United States
Government determined to open a road to Montana by
way of Powder Eiver. It must necessarily pass through
a favourite hunting ground of the Sioux. Treaties were
made with prominent hereditary chiefs of the Sioux bands,
by whom the right of way was granted. So great was the
dissatisfaction among the Indians that Eed Cloud saw his
opportunity and denounced the treaties and their makers ;
he declared war to the knife against every white man
wrho came .over that road, or ventured into that country.
Clouds of warriors, the ambitious and the disaffected of
all the tribes and bands of that country, flocked to
his standard. The hereditary chiefs found themselves
deserted and powerless, and in some instances were only
too glad to preserve their control over their bands by
acknowledging Eed Cloud as master. A long and
tedious war ensued, in which Eed Cloud made a great
reputation, and constantly received accessions to his
power, at the expense of the hereditary chiefs.

Avoiding any general or even serious engagement, he
so harassed all trains and expeditions that the few troops
then in his country could scarcely be said to hold even
the ground they actually stood upon. Several forts were
established, but they protected only what was inside the
palisades. A load of wood for fuel could not be cut
outside without a conflict. This at last culminated in the
terrible massacre of Fort Phil Kearney, in which half the
garrison (gallantly, though unwisely, meeting the enemy
outside) perished to a man. Instead of sending more
troops, and promptly and terribly punishing the Indians,

270 INDIANS.

a c humane ' commission was appointed to treat with
.them. The garrisons were withdrawn, the road aban-
doned, and in their own opinions the Indians are un-
conquerable, and Eed Cloud the greatest warrior in the
world.

Spotted Tail, another Sioux chief (already mentioned),
also rose from the ranks. When a boy of nineteen or
twenty years, he incurred the implacable enmity of a sub-
chief, already noted for his daring and ferocity, by aspiring
to a girl on whom the chief had set his eye. One
day, meeting accidentally a short distance from the camp,
the chief peremptorily demanded of Spotted Tail a
renunciation of the girl under penalty of instant death.
Drawing his knife, Spotted Tail defied him to do his
worst. A long and bloody conflict ensued. Some hours
after a straggler from camp found the two bodies locked
in a death grip, and each gaping with innumerable wounds.
The chief was dead. Spotted Tail recovered, to step at
once into prominence ; and when, a few years after, the
hereditary chief died, he was almost unanimously selected
as principal chief, in spite of the most determined oppo-
sition of the sub-chief, who by regular succession should
have obtained the position. Spotted Tail has proved an
able and judicious ruler, and has well justified the choice
of his tribe. One instance of what may be termed a
political execution, and I have done with the subject of
Indian government.

Big Mouth, another chief of the Brule Sioux, was
the peer of Spotted Tail in most manly and warlike
qualities. In the constant complications arising of late
years from the more direct contact of Indian and white,
Big Mouth steadily gained in power and influence. A
few years ago Spotted Tail made a visit to Washington,
New York, and other eastern cities, and was much feted.
On his return, with changed views and c new-fangled '
notions as to the policy of the Indians, Big Mouth
eagerly seized the opportunity of increasing his power

TRIBAL GOVERNMENT— SPOTTED TAIL. 271

by disparaging the honesty and good sense of his superior
in position. Finding matters inclined to go against him,
Spotted Tail one day called at the door of Big Mouth's
lodge and asked to speak with him. On Big Mouth's
appearance, he was seized by two warriors, who held him
fast, while Spotted Tail drew a pistol, placed it against his
body, and shot him dead.

Nothing was ever said or done about the murder, and,
as may be well supposed, there has not since been much
political 4 log rolling ' or ' wire pulling ' in that Indian
tribe.

272 INDIANS.

CHAPTEE XXI.

RELIGION.

No Christian, Moslem, or Bhudhist is more devoted to his
religion, no High Churchman a greater stickler for form,
than the Cheyenne Indian. His religion is mingled and
interwoven with every phase of his life ; and no project of
any kind, governmental, social or individual, is ever
undertaken without first obtaining the sense or disposition
of the deities on the subject.

In common with the best of the plains Indians, the
Cheyenne believes in two gods, equals in wisdom and
power.

One is the ' good god,' aiding the Indian, to the best
of his ability, in all his undertakings, whether good or
bad, and (without reference to abstract right or morality,
of which the Indian has no conception) always and under
all circumstances his friend and assistant. From him
comes all the pleasurable things of life : warmth, food,
joy, success alike in the chase, love, and war.

The other is the ' bad god,' always his enemy, and
injuring him at all times and places, when not restrained
by the power of the good god. From the bad god
comes all pain, suffering, and disaster. He brings the
cold, he drives away the game, and through his power
the Indian is tortured with wounds or writhes in death.

Constant conflict, of which the Indian is the subject,
is going on between the two gods, with constantly
varying results. Having no inward sense of right or
wrong, and no idea of any moral accountability, either
present or future, the Indian attributes to the direct

EELIGION. 273

action of one great power all the good, and to the other
great power all the bad, that may happen to him. For
his devoted and unremitting services on behalf of the
Indian the good god demands nothing in return — no
adulation, no prayers, not even thanks. He is the
Indian's friend, as the bad god is his enemy, for some
inscrutable reason of his own, which the Indian does not
undertake to divine.

While the Indian believes in another life after death,
the power of the two gods does not extend to it, but is
restricted entirely to benefits or injuries in this world ;
and his status after death does not in any way depend
either on his own conduct while living, or on the will of
either of the two gods.

It must be understood that the Indian can do no wrong ;
in other words, he has no moral sense whatever. Murder
and theft are his means of livelihood. Greed, inconti-
nence, and other traits, which we call vices, are as natural
to him as to any other animal, and under no greater
restraint than brute instinct or fear. He may be punished
corporally for a crime against his chief or tribe. He
may have to pay ponies for stabbing another Indian, or
for taking away his wife ; but all crimes and peccadilloes
bring, or do not bring, their punishment in this life.
Whatever his character, whatever the actual deeds done
in the flesh, the Indian, when dead, goes at once to the
Happy Hunting Grounds, unless debarred by accident.

There are two ways by which the Indian soul can be
kept out of the Happy Hunting Grounds. The first by
scalping the head of the dead body. No scalped Indian
can ever inherit their kingdom of heaven. Hence the
eagerness of each tribe to scalp all their enemies, and the
care they take to prevent being themselves scalped.
This superstition is the occasion for the display of the
very best traits of Indian character. Most reckless
charges are made, and desperate chances taken, by war-
riors to carry off unscalped the body of a chief or of a

T

274 INDIANS.

dear friend. Instances have occurred where many
Indians were killed in vain efforts to recover the bodies
of slain warriors. An Indian Homer might find an
Indian hero as worthy of immortal fame as Achilles for
his efforts to save the body of his friend ; and no Chris-
tian missionary ever evinced a more noble indifference to
danger than the savage displays in his efforts to save (as
he thinks) his friend's soul. Let the scalp be torn off, and
the body becomes mere carrion, not even worthy of a burial.

The other method by which an Indian is cut off from
his heaven is by hanging. The Indian believes that the
soul escapes from the body by the mouth, which at the
moment of dissolution opens by itself to allow a free
passage. Should death ensue by hanging or strangula-
tion, the soul can never escape, but must always remain
with the body, even after complete decay. This death
has, therefore, more terrors than any other to an Indian,
and he will rather submit to a thousand deaths at the
stake, with all the tortures that ingenuity can devise, than
die by hanging.

There is no hell or purgatory for the Indian. The
souls of all the dead reach the same place, except those
annihilated by scalping, or those condemned to live for
all time and eternity with the putrid or decomposed
bodies which die by strangulation. Believing that no
line of conduct of his own can avail him for good or
evil, feeling his helplessness and entire dependence, or
the relative powers of the two great beings who fight
continually for or against him, the Indian's first and most
important concern is to find some sure means of disco-
vering which of the gods has the ascendency for him at
any particular time. This is by divination.

The word ' medicine ' is of universal application
among the Indians. Everything supposed lucky, or
healthful, or indicative in any way of the presence or
pleasure of the good god. is a ' good medicine.' Every-
thing the reverse, ' bad medicine.'

RELIGION. 275

Being, like all primitive people, extremely supersti-
tious, there is scarcely anything that does not partake of
one or the other character. The flight of a bird through
the air, the course of a snake in the grass, the yelping of a
fox, all sights and sounds of every-day life, have to the
Indian a spiritual significance and meaning. But for a
more intimate knowledge of the immediate future he
depends on. a process of ' making medicine,' thoroughly
known only to the Indians themselves.

Different coloured earths or sands, ashes of certain
plants, or of particular bones of birds, animals or reptiles,
and other ingredients, which are kept sacredly secret, are
mixed together in a shallow dish or other receptacle,
and gently stirred with a stick (as one might compound
a dressing for a salad). From the combination of colours,
or some other peculiarity developed during this process,
the Indian believes that he can infallibly divine which
god is to him in the ascendant at that time. Should the
4 medicine ' be ' good,' a small quantity is put in little
pouches of dressed deer skin, and tied in the hair of the
warrior, and around the necks of the women and chil-
dren. What is left over is carefully burned on the lodge
fire. Should the process develope ' bad medicine,' the
mixture is taken outside of the camp, and is carefully
buried, no one touching it.

No Indian will undertake a hunt or trivial journey of
a few days without first ' making medicine.' If ' good/
he goes off happy and contented ; if ' bad,' he remains at
home. In summer, when the Indian life is active,
scarcely a week passes that ' medicine ' is not made in
every lodge.1 This may be called private devotion ;
Each band occasionally ' makes medicine ' in common,
and at least once a year the whole tribe is assembled,
and spends even weeks in a ceremony as interesting, and
sometimes as tragic, as can be well conceived.

1 Many of the old trappers of the plains have firm faith in their power of
1 making medicine,' and in their religion are as good Indians as any.

T 2

276 INDIANS.

While each warrior head of a lodge is the priest for
himself and family, there is in each tribe a 'medicine*
chief,' who may be called the bishop of the diocese. He
is usually a man of strongly marked character, with brains,
savoir faire, and knowledge of men sufficient to enable
him to sustain his rather difficult role. He is necessarily
the head of a band, though his spiritual duties in no way
debar him from temporal command, or even from service
in the field. As a rule, however, he is content with the
ease and dignity of his position, and relies upon his in-
fluence with the head chief for prompt punishment of any
contempt or violation of his orders by any individual of
the tribe.

The Indian, not being a worker, has no need of a
Sabbath day. ISTo regular time is set apart for the
ordinary duties of religion. The priest is not, therefore,
expected to perform any ceremonies; and his duties seem
to consist principally in taking care of himself and family
in all distributions of game killed, in maintaining his
precedence and superior sanctity by a studied non-inter-
course with the commons of the tribe, and by an occa-
sional visit to a sick man, for which he is paid if the
patient recovers. To his priestly office he unites the
professional duties of physician and surgeon. These
require no special knowledge of the healing art ; for as all
disease is only the presence of the bad god, if * he ' can
be exorcised by the spiritual power of the priest the
patient will get well at once. This exorcism is supposed
to be accomplished by incantation — the performance of
mysterious ceremonies to the music of most doleful wails
and lugubrious howls, sufficient, one might suppose, to
drive out the most obstinate of devils.

Almost all Indians have some knowledge of simples
and of the treatment of wounds, so that the medicine
chief is only called in in extreme cases.

In winter, when cold and snow proclaim the presence
of the bad god, the Indian, his camp snugly ensconced

RELIGION. 277

in some sheltered nook, is content to doze or gamble
away the hours and days, satisfied to escape hunger. But
when the good god smiles in genial warmth and burst-
ing buds, when the green grass shoots up, and the half-
starved ponies begin to fatten, the Indian blood warms,
and he begins to plan expeditions of foray for scalps and
horses. Now is the opportunity of the medicine chief.
Selecting some eligible situation, he sends runners to the
various bands, directing them to meet at that point at a
specified time to ' make medicine.'

This is not always a pleasant summons ; and, when
there is no imminent or serious question of war, the
bands oftentimes prove refractory, sometimes escaping to
such a distance as to defy pursuit. A vigorous medicine
chief, backed by the power of a strong head chief, will,
however, as a rule, bring all in time to the appointed
rendezvous.

In 1872 a band of the Cheyenne tribe positively
refused to obey the summons. Some days after, the band
was suddenly pounced upon by an overwhelming force of
dog-soldiers. The new comers made no attack on or
remonstrance with the refractory warriors ; but, having
made the proper military dispositions against armed
resistance, a number of warriors were detached, who, going
to the lodges, ordered the squaws to pack up at once. If
this order was not obeyed with proper alacrity, the squaw
was- most soundly beaten with a rod quite as thick as her
thumb. From begging and crying the squaws soon fell
to working, and in a very little while the lodges were
struck, and women, children, and household goods
marched away, escorted by the whole force of soldiers.
Of course the lovers, husbands, and fathers could do
nothing but sullenly follow.

278 INDIANS.

CHAPTEE XXII.

THE MEDICINE DANCE.

ALL being collected at the rendezvous, preparations are
at once commenced for the ' medicine dance.' The
squaws are set to work patching the old, or making a
new, medicine lodge — a huge structure of dressed skins,
capable of holding some hundreds of people. All is
bustle and excitement ; for not only does the policy for
the year depend upon the result of this dance, but some-
body is likely to die during its performance, and the selec-
tion of dancers is not yet announced.

The medicine lodge is completed. A joss, or image,
rudely cut from a plant or split log, with the profile of a
man, one side painted white, the other black, is suspended
from the centre and near the top of the lodge. A circular
space of some twenty feet in diameter is roped off for the
dancers. A concentric space of a few feet is for the
guard; all the outer portion of the lodge is for the
spectators.

In accordance with his right and duty the ; medicine
chief now announces his selection of the warriors who
are to make the dance. The number varies ; but is, on an
average, one for every hundred persons in the bands
represented.

The head chief also announces his selection of the
guard, whose duty it is to see that the dancers are in no
way interfered with, and that they perform their duty in
accordance with the instructions of the medicine chief.

THE MEDICINE DANCE. 279

The number of guards is about equal to that ot the
dancers. The announcement of the names of dancers and
guards, and of the hour when the dance is to commence,
is made in a loud voice from the door of the medicine
lodge. Each and all named are warned that disgrace and
death will be the portion of any warrior who fails to appear
at the time appointed.

A few moments before the specified time, the guard,
fully armed and under its appointed captain, files into the
lodge and takes its place just outside the ropes of the
inner circle. At the appointed instant the dancers are
escorted by the medicine chief to the inner circle. Each
is stripped to the breech clout (sometimes entirely naked),
and holds in his mouth a small whistle of wood or bone,
in the lower end of which is fastened a single tail-feather
of the medicine bird.1

The medicine chief arranges the dancers in a circle
facing to the centre, whilst he himself, having got out of
the way, gives the signal to commence. At once every
dancer fixes his eye on the suspended image, blows shrilly
and continuously on his whistle, and begins the mono-
tonous and graceless Indian dance, the whole line of
dancers moving slowly round the circle. Some of the
young ones, carried away by religious enthusiasm, bound
vigorously into the air; but the older and more experienced
expend only a bare sufficiency of force, for this is a dance
of endurance. The will of the gods is to be known by
the effect of the dance on the dancers, and, until the high
priest shall announce himself satisfied, the dancers must
continue their weary round, without sleep, food, drink,
or obedience to any call of nature.

For the first eight or ten hours the dance is uninter-

1 The Road Bunner, or Chapparal Cock. This bird is believed by all the
plains Indians to be wonderfully ' good medicine/ The skin, or even some
feathers, are as efficacious in keeping evil from the lodge as was the horse-
shoe to our ancestors. The poor bird pays dearly for this favourable opinion.
It is incessantly hunted by the Indians, and is now exceedingly rare on the
plains north of Texas.

280 INDIANS.

esting enough ; but by that time fatigue, the slow rotary
motion, the constant keeping the eyes on one spot, and the
expenditure of breath in unceasing whistling, begin to tell.
By this time every foot of space inside the lodge is crowded
with eager and intensely interested spectators. Eelatives
and friends watch every movement of the dancers, rouse
up the flagging by yells and shouts, by words of encou-
ragement or terms of endearment. The lodge is a fright-
ful babel of sounds, which culminate in shrieks and a
rush of women, as some dancer totters, reels, and falls to
the ground. The rush is sternly met, and the body
dragged by the guard out of the dancers' into the guards'
circle. There it is laid on its back, and the high priest
proceeds to paint symbols and hieroglyphics on the face
and person with ' medicine paint ' of varied colours. If
consciousness is not restored by this treatment, the body
is taken into the open air and buckets of water thrown
over it. This, as a rule, soon revives the inanimate form,
at sight of which the women set up yells of delight, and
surround the priest with prayers and entreaties that this
dancer may be spared further effort.

Throughout all the ceremony the word of the medi-
cine chief is law, which no power may question. He may
now order the revived dancer back to the circle, to dance
until he again falls, or he may excuse him. Influenced
by the women, or by the promise of one, two, or half a
dozen ponies (according to the wealth of the dancer), the
priest generally accedes to the request, and the overcome
dancer is carried off to his lodge by his women, to be
petted and condoled with until fully recovered. In the
meantime the dance goes on. One by one the dancers
fall, to be revived by the same process, and excused by the
same persuasion, or sternly ordered back to their work.
As the death of a dancer is indicative of ' bad medicine,'
this forcing one back after falling is only done in rare
and important cases, or when the priest has an object
to gain.

THE MEDICINE DANCE. 281

If the dance progresses to the end of the appropriate
time (from one to three days, or until all the dancers have
fallen at least once) without a resulting death, the priest
proclaims ' good medicine.' The dance ceases, the dancers
are feted and caressed, the medicine lodge is taken down.
Happiness and congratulation are expressed in every face.
The chiefs and warriors, assured of the power and pro-
tection of the good god, meet in council to decide
upon the programme for the year, which, after ' good
medicine,' is always war.

But it may happen that one or more bodies are brought
from the dance which neither paint nor water will revive.
There is no need to announce ' bad medicine,' for no sooner
is death assured than the whole camp becomes a pandemo-
nium. The howls of the men mingle with the shrieks and
wails of the women. The dance is broken up. Horses are
killed for the use of the dead in the Happy Hunting
Grounds. Their widows inflict ghastly wounds on their
arms and breasts. The whole camp is a turmoil of con-
sternation and mourning. As soon as the last rites for
the dead are completed, the bands separate, and each in
its own way seeks to escape or avert the wrath of the
bad god.

The power of endurance developed during these
dances is simply wonderful. I am assured by persons
who claim to know that it is not unusual for some of the
warriors to continue the dance for three days and nights
without a moment's intermission or particle of nourish-
ment. No warrior is ever required to make the medicine
dance the second time.

The last few years, which have been so full of troubles
in the Christian world, have not spared the religion of the
Indian. More frequent intercourse with the whites has
lessened the power of superstitious belief, and in many of
the plains tribes the medicine dance is getting into dis-
repute. The Cheyennes and Kiowas, however, either

282 INDIANS.

from their stronger natures or from less contact with the
whites, abide by their ancient faith, and each year cele-
brate the medicine dance in all its original rigour.

A chief of the Arrapahoe Indians once gave me his
reasons for riot believing in the medicine dance. A
medicine chief of the Arrapahoes was an ambitious man,
and aspired to the temporal command of the tribe. How-
ever much the views of the other chiefs on the temporal
affairs of the tribe differed from his, it was always found
that the result of the medicine dance was in accord-
ance with and furtherance of his wishes.

If he wanted war, the strongest warriors available
were selected to make the dance, and they were, besides,
allowed indulgences, intermissions, and resting spells.
The result was, of course, ' good medicine.' If he wanted
peace, some weak warriors were selected for the dance,
which was, moreover, conducted with such rigour that
even the strongest failed. He was rich, because he al-
ways selected a number either themselves rich, or the
sons of rich men, who were made to pay roundly for
being let off after falling. In other words, he used his
priestly office in a way to advance his temporal interests,
and if the ' good ' or ' bad ' god allowed him to do this
without punishment, the medicine dance was no test of
the power or wishes of either.

However different it may be among intelligent, edu-
cated people, it is very certain that priestcraft is a trade
among the ignorant savages.

283

CHAPTER XXIII.

THE HAPPY HUNTING GROUNDS OF THE INDIAN.

THE Indian's idea of the future life in the Happy Hunting
Grounds is as vague, confused, indefinite, and inconsis-
tent, as can well be imagined. He believes that he will
be happy — perfectly happy; but of the how, wh}7, or
wherefore, he pretends to know nothing.

His creed is a wide one ; for all persons, of all ages, sexes,
colours, or beliefs, who die unscalped or unstrangled,
will meet in that final heaven of bliss. He goes there just
as he was here, with the same passions, feelings, wishes,
and needs. His favourite pony is killed at his burying
place, to enjoy an eternity of beautiful pasture and to
bear his master in war or in the chase.

He will need arms to defend himself against enemies
(man or beast) : his rifle, pistol, bow, and quiver are
buried with him. He will need fire : so flint and steel
or a box of matches go towards the outfit for his final
journey.

There is no death in that life ; but wounds and pain,
hunger and thirst, love, revenge, ambition, all the passions,
or incentives to action, are there. The Indian knows no
happiness in this life, except in the gratification of his
natural appetites. His future life will develope greater
capacity and wider opportunity for the enjoyment of the
appetites.

He will meet enemies, whom, however, he strives to
make as few as possible in that world, by scalping as
many as possible in this. He will encounter dangerous

284 INDIANS.

beasts ; for the spirits or phantoms of all animals, reptiles,
birds, insects, and fishes go also to the Happy Hunting
Grounds. In short, the next world is to be simply an
intensified continuation of this — death alone overcome.

How an unhappy disposition here can be happy
there, he does not try to explain. He has no concep-
tion of, or belief in, any special divinity presiding over
the future state ; consequently he cannot conceive of a
special miracle in each case fitted to the necessities of the
beneficiary.

The conception of the abolition of death in the future
state seems to be attended with a doubt or modification.
He expects to kill and eat all the game he wishes ; to
clothe himself with the skins of animals ; to fight with, and
even to take the scalps of, his enemies ; but what becomes
of the slain phantoms of animals, or the spirits of scalped
ghosts of men, is a problem which he wisely leaves for
future solution.

From what has been said it will be truly inferred that
not only animals but inanimate nature is represented in the
future state. All things which the Indian can make for
himself in this life he can make in the next ; consequently
there is no need to take that class of things along with
him. He can there procure skins for his clothing and
for his lodge, robes for his bed, &c. But articles be-
yond his skill in manufacture — gun, powder, lead, caps,
knife, blankets, and an iron pot for cooking — must all be
carried into the next world by the dead man, who is,
moreover, buried in shirt, pants, and coat of civilised
manufacture (or as many of those articles as the owner
possessed during life).

The Indian understands perfectly well that the dead
does not actually take with him into the next world the
material articles buried with him in this, for some of
them are hung round the burial place exposed to view.
He believes, however, that, if the articles are allowed to
remain with or near the body until decomposition is com-

THE HAPPY HUNTING GROUNDS OF THE INDIAN. 285

pleted, the spirit of the dead man will have in the next
world the use of the phantoms of those articles.

The most touching trait of Indian character is the
universal desire that the dead shall enter the Happy
Hunting Grounds with as complete an outfit as possible.
Any article supposed necessary in a future state which
the dead man did not possess in life, is at once supplied
by relatives or friends, often at considerable sacrifice.
Whatever the absolute needs of an Indian life, there is
no known instance of his despoiling, to satisfy them, the
grave or burial place of another Indian of his own tribe.
He will go hungry from lack of means to kill game,
though he knows a dozen trees containing graves in each
of which are gun, powder, and lead.

The personal misfortunes and peculiarities which an
Indian has in life stick to him beyond the grave. A one-
legged man in life is one-legged to all eternity. One
who loses his sight here gropes blind through the Happy
Hunting Grounds. Time is no more. There is no
growing older there, consequently every one remains for
ever at exactly the age at which he entered the new life.
The puling infant, the decrepid hag, the young virgin, or
the stalwart warrior, as each dies, so shall he or she re-
main to all eternity. A body emaciated and distorted
by pain and disease sends on the long journey a soul
which shall suffer in the same way.

As the surroundings of the final scene of this life
make their impress on the whole future of the soul, it
is but natural in the Indian to desire to be taken off the
stage as suddenly as possible, and while in the full power
and vigour of man or womanhood.

I have heard a story connected with the death of
Major Elliott, a gallant officer of cavalry, who three years
ago fell in an encounter with the plains Indians. It
smacks too much of sentiment to be genuine ; but I give
it for what it is worth, premising, however, that, if true,
it is the solitary instance I have ever known of an Indian

286 INDIANS.

showing any generosity to, or favourable appreciation of
the gallantry of, a foe.

Major Elliott, with some sixteen men, got separated
during the battle from the main body of troops. They
were surrounded, and all perished, gallantly fighting to the
last. Some time after a party was sent out to discover
and bury the remains. All were found where they died,
the soldiers scalped and terribly mutilated ; Major Elliott
unscalped, but with his right hand and foot cut off.
Months after, when the war had ceased, a chief who was
known to have been in the fight was asked how it hap-
pened that Major Elliott was not scalped. His reply was,
that he and the other Indians were so impressed with
admiration at the gallant conduct and unyielding courage
of Major Elliott that they did not wish to prevent his
getting to the Happy Hunting Grounds, but that in order
to deprive him of the power of injuring them there they
had cut off his hand and foot.

Another well-known superstition of the plains Indians
is, that a man killed in the dark will dwell in darkness
throughout eternity. This, for the white man, is a most
fortunate belief, and materially lessens the dangers and
labours of the troops. With their stealth, craft, patience,
and knowledge of country, the Indians would, be truly
terrible in night attacks. As it is, such an attack is very
rare, and, when decided upon, is invariably made by moon-
light. They will crawl into a camp and steal horses, and
may sometimes fire a few shots into it from a distance.
But on a dark night there is little danger to be appre-
hended, even though surrounded by the most hostile
Indians.

In common with the ancients of history, the Indians
believe that the manes or shades of the departed slain in
battle require to be appeased by the death of the slayer,
if possible; or, failing his, by that of some one of the
slayer's nation or tribe.

In the spring of 1873 a band of Cheyennes on a

THE HAPPY HUNTING GROUNDS OF THE INDIAN. 287

marauding expedition to New Mexico were surprised by
troops, and some six or eight killed. When the survivors
reached home with the news, the most fearful excitement
prevailed throughout the Indian camp, and a party was
at once made up to go to the settlements to obtain white
victims in retaliation. Fortunately for the unprepared
settlers, but most unfortunately for themselves, a small
party of surveyors were at work on the route of the
Indian march. They were set upon by the Indians, who,
when they had killed a number sufficient to appease the
shades of their slain friends, returned satisfied to their
encampment without molesting the settlers.

Two or more warriors of contiguous tribes have a
collision in which one is killed. His relations and friends
seek every opportunity to retaliate by killing one or more
of the relatives of the slayer. The shades appeal in turn
to their friends for appeasement, and in course of time
what may have arisen in a mere broil between two half-
drunken bucks has widened and deepened until almost
every family of each tribe has a blood feud with one or
more families of the other.

No mercy is ever shown in Indian warfare ; and when
ambition is stimulated by superstition, and hatred and re-
venge by religious duty, the conflict becomes more personal,
more and more bitter, bloody, and barbarous, until each
individual of each tribe will only be satisfied with the
complete extermination of the other. The Sioux and
Pawnees are perfect exemplifications of this feeling.

It has already been stated that the plains Indians
regard all pain and suffering as direct manifestation of
the power of the bad god.

During the last thirty years they have been visited by
small pox and cholera. To describe the superstitious
terror, the consternation and abject fear, of these ignorant
savages at such times is almost beyond the power of
words. When the epidemic is sufficiently pronounced

288 INDIANS.

for sure recognition, a universal cry of despair ascends
to heaven, for the bad god has them in his power, in
his most terrible and dreaded form. Camp and lodges
are abandoned ; the dead and dying left alone and uneared
for ; and those not yet afflicted, breaking up into families,
fly in every direction from the scene of suffering. They
hope by the rapidity and secrecy of their movements to
baffle the pursuit of the bad god. An unfortunate
seized with the disease en route , is forced to leave the
party, to live or die, solitary and alone in the wilderness.
Husbands abandon their wives, children their aged parents,
mothers their nursing infants ; and this terrible race for life
continues until the disease has worn itself out, either from
want of contact or lack of victims. The places at which
these visitations have overtaken the Indians are for ever
regarded with superstitious terror, and no persuasion or
bribe could induce an Indian knowingly to visit them.

More than twenty-five years ago the writer, with a
small force, was scouting in the Guadalupe Mountains in
Texas, then a favourite hunting ground of the Indians. In
going from one mountain pass to another, an old Indian
trail was discovered. It was deep and wide, showed
plain evidence of much and frequent usage, but no sign
of recent travel. It evidently led to some spot which
had been a favourite place of resort, but which, for some
reasons, had for several years been abandoned. Curious
to know more, the trail was followed. After winding
along ridges for three or four miles, it led by a long and
steep descent to a most charming valley, nestled and
hidden in the very bosom of the mountains. This valley
was about twelve miles long by an average of three-fourths
of a mile in width. A beautiful stream wound in graceful
curves from mountain to mountain as if seeking to leave
no spot of the valley untouched by its invigorating
influence. Tall, shapely trees clustered along the margins
of the stream ; smooth lawns of the greenest grass, dotted
with clumps of shrubbery, and covered with lovely

DISEASE— SMALL POX. 289

flowers of every hue, made a picture as fair as the eye of
man could wish it.

Descending the stream for some two miles, we came,
in one of the loveliest of the many lovely nooks, upon the
remains of an Indian camp. Many of the old lodge
poles were still standing, though the lodges themselves
had long since gone to decay. Scattered about, rusted
and rotten, were cooking utensils, arms, saddles, all the
paraphernalia that go to make Indian wealth and Indian
comfort. In the midst of these, and in every direction in and
around the camp, were innumerable bones — the dislocated
skeletons of the Indian inhabitants : some, almost entire,
lying where the breath had left the bodies ; others scattered
and broken as they had been dragged, and gnawed, and
left by the wolves. To all appearance not a thing had been
touched by man ; not a living soul had entered that camp
since the day of its awful visitation by the bad god.

290 INDIANS.

CHAPTEE XXIV.

BUEIAL OF THE DEAD.

THE final disposition of the body of a dead Indian may
or may not be a religious ceremony. In some cases
the most elaborate care is taken, and every form reli-
giously observed. In other cases the body may be
thrown into a ravine or hole, and carelessly covered with
grass or leaves, or it may be left to rot on the ground.
The favourite burying place of the plains Indians is in a
tree. From the care taken in its selection, and the more
or less elaborate construction of what may be termed the
casket, or burial case, a very fair estimate may be formed
of the rank and standing of the dead.

If a chief, or a son of a chief, is to be buried, the
country for miles around the camp will be scouted over,
and several eligible burial sites selected, the relative
merits of which form a subject of discussion worthy the
consideration of a general council. A position is finally
decided upon. It must be in a sound, strong tree, well
sheltered from the wind, and apparently safe from any
chance of being uprooted by the violent wind-storms
which sweep with terrific violence over the plains. The
branches must be so situated that the final resting place
shall be as nearly horizontal as possible.

Poles are cut for the construction of a platform, and
the whole is firmly bound together and to the branches
by thongs of raw hide. It is from six to ten feet long,
and from three to five feet wide. Upon it are spread
rushes, grass, or the leaves and small boughs of trees, and

g I

& •§

BURIAL OF THE DEAD. 291

over these is laid one or more buffalo robes. On this bed
the corpse is disposed, sometimes in a sitting posture, but
generally lying on the back in a natural position.

The body is dressed in the most gorgeous apparel
obtainable ; for the spirit will appear so dressed in the
Happy Hunting Grounds, and as good a first impression
as possible is greatly desirable. An old uniform coat
which has rendered faithful service to some lieutenant of
the army, a pair of tarnished epaulettes, and a hat from
some military post, are greatly prized portions of the
burial dress.

As has before been stated, such articles of civilised
manufacture owned by the dead in life or furnished by
the generosity and piety of friends, as are considered
necessary to his comfort or his appearance in the future
world, are buried with him. His hair is combed carefully,
parted in the middle, and plaited (with buffalo hair to in-
crease the length) in a long tail on each side of the head,
each ornamented with large circular silver or plated
buckles. Around his neck is suspended the medicine bag,
containing his ' totem,' and the bones, ashes, earths, &c.
used in his private devotions. At his girdle (or on his
lance, or shield among the more southern plains Indian)
are hung all the scalps he has taken in life. His face is
painted in the most splendid style of Indian art.

All being completed, light but strong branches are
attached to the sides of the platform, arid bent over the
body like the bows of a waggon. The enclosure for a
body buried in a horizontal position is not over two feet
high. Over these are stretched buffalo hides (green if
they can be obtained), with the hair out, and securely
fastened to the platform and to the boughs with
thongs of raw hide. Every aperture is closed as tightly
as possible. Such necessary articles as pots, kettles, &c.,
as might be in the way inside, are securely fastened to the
platform or the neighbouring branches ; and over all are
hung streamers of red and white cloth, to frighten away

292 INDIANS.

any animals or birds which might venture to disturb the
remains.

Such a tomb in the dry climate of the plains will last
for several years. Whether it does or does not appears
not to concern the Indians in the least. They never re-
build or repair ; and when time, decay, or accident has
destroyed the platform and scattered the bones on the
ground, they are left as they fall, no further care or notice
being given to them.

The elaborate arrangements described above are only
made when the Indians, are in a winter encampment, and
have plenty of time to devote to the excitement and
luxury of grief. At other seasons, or when on a journey,
or pressed for time, caves are used for chiefs ; holes or
small ravines for the common warriors. Scalped warriors
are never buried, but left where they fell. Occasionally
a favourite wife of a chief is buried in a tree ; but, as a rule,
dead women are hustled into the first convenient hole in
rock or prairie without ceremony or special manifestation
of grief.

The country in the vicinity of the Cimarron River,
south of Fort Dodge, is almost exclusively a gypsum
formation. Instead of wearing channels on the surface
of the ground and forming ravines, the rains have pene-
trated the soil, dissolved the gypsum, and formed for
watercourses long intricate tunnels and caverns innumer-
able. These are favourite burying places. During a visit
to this locality with a party of soldiers, a cave elaborately
walled up was discovered and broken into by the men, and
a great quantity of useful and curious articles, trinkets, and
Indian finery taken from it. I was little disposed to scold
them for the desecration when they brought me a string of
at least a dozen white scalps, some of infants, and one of
long, fair, and most beautiful silky hair, which had un-
doubtedly adorned the head of some woman at least
sufficiently cultured to appreciate and take excellent care
of the lovely ornament.

BURIAL OF THE DEAD. 293

Even chiefs are not always buried with religious care
and attention. Once, on a scout, I came upon an Indian
encampment very recently abandoned, and which, from
the dead horses, broken arms, cut-up lodges, and signs of
blood, I at first supposed had been harried by a hostile
band. A more critical examination soon convinced rne
that these were only evidences of the death of some
prominent man. I found where a heavy body had been
dragged over the ground. Following this trail for about
200 yards, I came to a small mound of dry leaves.
Pushing them aside I was astonished to recognise the
body of the war chief of the, Comanches^ a man greatly
loved and feared by his tribe. He was dressed in a uni-
form coat ; his head was adorned with a hat and feather ;
his face was painted ; his gun and equipment, complete,
were beside him, and in his hand he held a box of
matches. A closer examination disclosed the fact that
one end of a rope had been tied around his ankles, the
other evidently attached to the pommel of a saddle, and
the body, thus dragged naked from camp, was afterwards
dressed for the grave. All the skin was torn from the
back, sides, and loins, and the body otherwise greatly
mutilated by this rough treatment. It was not until some
months after that I learned that this chief had died of
delirium tremens. The tribe had gone into all the
usual mourning ecstasies, and had given him a good out-
fit for the Happy Hunting Grounds, but had shown its
appreciation of the mode of his death by treating his body
with indignity.

294 INDIANS.

CHAPTEE XXV.

LOVE, COURTSHIP, AND MARRIAGE.

' Love rules the court, the camp, the grove.'

THERE is a vast amount of love making in an Indian
encampment. No sooner has the boy passed his ordeal
and become a warrior than he begins to look for a wife.
Although the only real essential in the affair is that he
has ponies to pay for her, yet, for reasons which will-
hereafter appear, it is always better to win, if possible, the
love of the girl. His first approaches are very like those
of a bashful backwoods lover. He frequents the lodge
of his charmer, does much c heavy standing around,'
showing only by looks the feelings which agitate his
breast. Not meeting with rebuff he takes to serenades,
' vexes the drowsy ear of night,' and sets all the dogs and
old women in camp frantic with ' most doleful strains '
on a wretched substitute for a flute. Now he begins to
hope, and for hours each night lies in wait near the door
of her lodge, watching for the appearance of his beloved,
but carefully concealing himself from the observation of
any other person.

There being an average of eight or ten people living
in the one room of the lodge, his opportunities for private
converse with his mistress would be of the fewest, but for
her assistance. In case his addresses are not distasteful
to her, nor unfavourably regarded by the father, she, after
dark, leaves the lodge, and is immediately pounced upon
by the lover. If she resists or cries out he is obliged

A DAKOTA OR SIOUX BELLK.

LOVE, COURTSHIP, AND MARRIAGE. 295

immediately to quit her. If she does neither, he carries
.her to a little distance, just out of hearing of the lodge.
There they seat themselves side by side on the ground,
and, throwing a blanket over the heads and forms of both,
make love to their hearts' content.

Couples so engaged are never disturbed. It is one of
the social fictions of Indian life, that the lover is supposed
to be entirely unknown to any but his mistress (love in a
man being regarded as a weakness). It not unfrequently
happens that two or more lovers are paying addresses to
the same girl at the same time. All are lying flat on the
ground, as well concealed as possible, but within a short
distance of the lodge door. The girl appears. A rush is
made. A lover seizes her. If the right one, she yields
passively and is borne off, the others disappearing at
once. If a wrong one, a slight resistance or exclamation
and she is at once released, to repeat the process until
satisfied with her captor.

Slight as is the opportunity, no little coquetry can be
and is displayed by the Indian maiden in these momentary
love passages. The girl is finally won. And now a
curious scene ensues between the lover and the cruel
parent of his beloved. ' I think of taking your daughter
for my wife,' says the lover. ' She is an ugly thing, lazy
as a bear, does not know how to cook or to work, and is
of no sort of account ; but as I am sure you must want to
get rid of her, I came to tell you that, as a favour to you,
I will take her off your hands.'

' Oh,' answers the father, ' you want my darling girl,
the best and most loving daughter man ever had ; the best
cook and dresser of buffalo skins, the finest bead maker,
the hardest and most willing worker in the whole tribe.
I cannot spare my darling. I will not part with her to
any one, much less to you, who are young, who have taken
only one scalp, who have stolen not over two ponies.
You, indeed ! No ; you cannot have my daughter, unless
you give me twenty ponies for her.'

296 INDIANS.

' Twenty ponies ! ' cries the lover, with great contempt ;
4 twenty ponies for an ugly girl not worth one buffalo
robe ; I can buy a dozen better girls at the price.'

With many hard words and much personal vitu-
peration the war goes on, the father praising, the lover
disparaging, the girl, until after a stormy altercation,
running sometimes into weeks (if the old man sees any
lover-like weakness or impatience in the younger), a
bargain is struck at something like the fair market value
of the girl, which is usually from one to four ponies.
There is no marriage ceremony. The price being paid,
the man conducts his new purchase to the lodge of his
father, there to remain until the increase in his family, or
his wealth and consequence in the tribe, force or enable
him to set up a lodge for himself.

297

CHAPTER XXVI.

SOCIAL LIFE.

THE life of an Indian woman is a round of wearisome
labour. Her marriage is only an exchange of masters.
The pride of a good wife is in permitting her husband to
do nothing for himself. She cooks his food, makes or
mends his clothing, dresses skins, dries meat, goes after
and saddles his horse. When making a journey, she
strikes the lodge, packs the animals, and superintends the
march. On arriving at the camping place she unpacks the
animals, pitches the lodge, makes the beds, brings wood
and water, and does everything that ought to be done,
hardly permitting her lord and master to unsaddle his
own horse.

What she gets in exchange for all this devotion it is
impossible to say. Whether from ignorance of any better
fate, or from constant occupation, certain it is that a
happier or more contented woman cannot be found,
And yet she is more absolutely a slave than any negro
before the war of the rebellion, for not only may her
person, but her virtue, be sold by her husband to any one
who will buy it.

Polygamy seems to be natural ; at least it is a custom
of all primitive or natural people. Each red man has as
many wives as his inclination prompts or his wealth
allows. Indeed, his wives are like gamblers' diamonds, to
be accumulated in times of prosperity, as a sure revenue
when disaster shall overtake him. In spite of all this, the
women' are not without their weight and influence in all

298 INDIANS.

the affairs of the tribe, and, though not permitted even to
enter the council lodge, they are very frequently the
' power behind the throne,' directing and guiding almost
without knowing it themselves.

The husband owns his wife entirely. He may abuse
her, beat her, even kill her without question. But if
moderately good-looking, or having a fair reputation as
a worker, she has a sure remedy against all conjugal ills
in being able to leave him for any other man who will
take her and pay for her. The transfer of devotion and
allegiance of women to other men than their rightful
owners is not at all an unusual occurrence among the
plains Indians. It may come from ill- treatment on the
part of the husband, or from what would be termed in
civilised society a regular elopement or seduction.

A man takes a fancy to another man's wife. He
makes his advances, is met by encouragement, and, after
a siege more or less protracted, wins her. The husband
wakes up some morning to find his wife gone. He searches
for her through the encampment, and finds her in another
man"s lodge, going about her avocations as if at home,
and he is informed that she has become the wife of that
other man. The bereaved husband goes at once to the
chief and states his grievance. One or two prominent
warriors are called in. They examine into the case and
assess the damage, somewhat in accordance with the cir-
cumstances, but more usually with reference to the ability
of the new husband to pay. Whatever forfeit is decided
upon by the chief and his advisers must be paid at once.
This being done the affair is over. There is seldom any
wrangling or fighting, and in every case, forfeit or none,
the woman is permitted to remain with the man of her
choice.

Few persons have been in the Indian territory who
have not heard of ' Romeo,' a Mexican Cheyenne half-
breed, an excellent guide and interpreter. His mother
was a Cheyenne Indian. He was brought up with that

SOCIAL LIFE—ROMEO^ WIFE. 299

tribe, has a Cheyenne wife, and lives among them. He
is fluent in several Indian languages, has the sign language
at his fingers' ends, and besides speaks very excellent
English.

He was employed as guide and interpreter for my
command for one season, and I was glad to while away
the time on the monotonous prairie marches by inducing
him to talk of himself and his people. One day he told
me of a love affair. He had a year before fallen in love
with the wife of an Indian in the same camp. She was
beautiful, charming, fascinating, all that was lovely. Her
husband was poor and rather worthless. Eomeo laid
violent siege to her heart. For two months all that
devotion and presents could do was done, and finally she
crowned his happiness by coming to his lodge. Next
morning the husband came and found her. He went to
the chief. ' The chief and some of the old men came to
me,' said Romeo, ' and we went down to the herd to
select the animals to pay for my new wife. After a long
talk they took five ponies and two mules (five of my best
ponies and a splendid pair of mules). It was very hard ;
but then she was so beautiful, and I loved her so much,
I Avould have given all I had for her ; I was in heaven
with her, she was so good and pretty. Three mornings
after I woke up and found her gone. I was wild. I
rushed out to look for her, and found her in the lodge of
her other husband. She told me that she had gone back
to him. I went to the chief. He came with some old
men to the lodge. I demanded my wife or the return of
my ponies and mules. The other husband said, " That
is your wife ; I did not bring her here ; I do not want her ;
I have the ponies and mules paid me for the wife you
took from me. You cannot have them. Take your wife
if you want her." The wife refused to go with me. She
said she loved her first husband best, and wanted to live
with him, and would not live with me. After a long
talk, the chief and old men decided that the woman should

300 INDIANS.

take her choice of us, but that, as the other husband had
not seduced or stolen her back, he was entitled to keep
the ponies and the mules. So,' added Borneo, ' I lost my
wife, my ponies, and my mules. I did not care for the
ponies and the mules, but I did for my wife. She was so
beautiful and so good.' After some moments of silence,
in which he struggled manfully with his emotions, Romeo
turned to me with the tears forced back in his eyes, and
said, in a choked voice, * Colonel, I think that was a put-
up job.'

Should the wife of a chief be seduced from her
allegiance, nothing, as a rule, is said about it. The chief
is too great a man, too high and mighty, far too removed
from the feelings of common humanity, to waste -a moment's
thought on so insignificant a thing as a woman. His
runaway wife may be in the same camp, in the very next
lodge, and he may pass her every day without even
deigning to bestow a word or a look upon her.

The unmarried women have a similar right of self-
protection against their arbitrary sale by their fathers.
The girl may be sold. She goes with her purchaser to
his lodge, but resists, with all her power and strength,
his efforts to consummate the marriage. If in two or
three days and nights his entreaties or passions have
failed to make her his, she has a right to go back to her
father's lodge, who, however, in this case is obliged to
pay back to the purchaser the price he received for her.

An- American had been for a long time with the
Brule Sioux. He had already one Sioux wife, but, taking
a fancy to a girl, he, without any previous courtship,
bought her of her father for one pony. She remained in
his lodge three days and nights, resisting all his entreaties,
protestations, and promises. At the end of that time she
went back to her father, and the marriage became null
and void. The purchaser got his pony back, but this
was the only satisfaction he received from his conjugal
investment.

SOCIAL LIFE. 301

Another American bought a Sioux girl (without court-
ship) and took her home. Towards bed-time the husband
attempted some little familiarity, whereupon the new
wife drew a huge knife and attacked him with the utmost
ferocity. Taken by surprise, he avoided her repeated
lunges with great difficulty, and very nearly paid for his
venture with his life. By good luck he at last got in a
blow with his fist, which knocked her down. Disarming
her arid seizing his riding-whip, he proceeded to give her
a tremendous thrashing ; after which recreation he went
to bed, leaving the wife crying bitterly on the floor.
Half an hour after she dried her tears, got up, undressed,
and went to bed, and has been since not only a good,
but most affectionate wife.

The Indian has not the first dawning idea of moral
obligation. His views on chastity might well have been
derived from a close study of the ancient Hebrew
records.

For the man there is no such word, no such idea, as
continence. He has as little control over his passions as
any wild beast, and is held to as little accountability for
their indiscriminate gratification. Women are expected
to be chaste, not from any moral sense or obligation ;
but, being the absolute property of their husbands, they
are required to keep themselves entirely for their
husbands.

Unmarried girls are generally more virtuous than the
married women. Unchastity not only injures their
chances for a good husband, but is likely to be severely
punished by the father, as it considerably depreciates
their market value, to the loss of the latter.

Indian men of all tribes (that I know of) are the
same in their entire abandonment to the gratification of
their passions at any time and in any way.

There is no single point in which tribes differ so
greatly as in the average chastity of their women. The
Cheyenne and Arrapahoe tribes occupy the same territory,

302 INDIANS.

live together in the same camps, and are closely and con-
stantly associated. The men of the two tribes are
identical in their habits of personal chastity, but entirely
different in their ideas of family government and the
virtue of their women.

Among the Arrapahoes infidelities are not specially
regarded, even by the husband. Among the Cheyennes a
discovery would result in serious consequences, possibly
death, to the woman. The result is remarkable.

The Cheyenne women are retiring and modest, and
for chastity will compare favourably with the women of
any nation or people. The Arrapahoe women are loose
almost without exception. The females of the one tribe
are almost models of purity and chastity ; those of the
other tribe almost exactly the reverse.

The exchange of husbands spoken of heretofore is
in no sense a violation of the rules of the strictest chastity.
It is legitimate and proper. It is the woman's protection
against tyranny. The Cheyenne woman, being of a
spirited, high-strung race, is very quick to resent any
ill-treatment of one husband by taking another.

No tribe visits any punishment on the lover. The
man's right is always to importune, to win if possible, and
the attempt of one on the virtue of another's wife is not
at all incompatible with the closest friendship between
the men. There is no such thing as ' seduction,' as
understood by the whites. The woman is expected to
protect her virtue or take the consequences. The object
of all attention is understood, and a Cheyenne belle
cannot receive the secret addresses of an admirer under
the convenient civilised form of an innocent flirtation.
The blame of a liaison falls on the woman entirely. She
is expected not only always to say 'No,' but to keep
herself out of the way of temptation. A Cheyenne
woman is never seen alone. Two or three women
sitting at the door of a lodge will get up and go inside
on the approach of a man not of their own family, even

SOCIAL LIFE. 303

though he be an intimate friend. When the husband is
absent from home at night, the wife, before retiring, ties
a lariat, or rope, about her waist, and wraps it tightly
around her legs to the ankles. Custom has made this a
perfect protection. With it she may sleep alone in a
lodge unmolested ; without it half the bucks in the band
would visit her before morning, even though her children
and other persons were in the lodge with her.

The woman is required to be virtuous, and to protect
herself. Custom gives her certain means and assistants
to that preservation. If she conforms to these she is
safe ; if not, it is her own fault, and she is likely to be
punished as for a wilful crime. Thus, a man forcing a
woman who had tied her legs would be killed. The
woman neglecting that precaution can be violated by all
the bucks, and she alone has the blame.

There are other customs equally arbitrary and equally
to the disadvantage of the women. Imagine a village of
500 people, in which there are 100 bucks of all ages,
from thirteen to sixty, entirely irresponsible to any power,
human or divine, and restrained from the indiscriminate
gratification of their passions only by certain customs
which from long usage have attained the force of laws ;
imagine 100 females of all ages above puberty, required
to keep themselves virtuous, yet protected from violence
at any time and place only by their observance of certain
arbitrary rules, unnatural and uncomfortable ; imagine
these bucks constantly on the alert for some neglect of
these rules, with the right to enter any lodge when the
husband is absent at night to see if the wife has tied
herself, and the absolute right to force her if she has not ;
imagine all this and more, and some idea may be formed
of the morals of a Cheyenne Indian village.

The plains tribes vary greatly in the punishment
meted out to unfaithful wives. By unfaithful wives is
meant not only those who willingly enter into a liaison,
but those who, by neglect of some rule, have subjected

304 INDIANS.

themselves to violation.1 The Cheyennes are the most
severe, not unfrequently inflicting death. A young girl
had become the third or fourth wife of a man at least
fifty years old. As was, perhaps, natural, she became
enamoured of a young buck, who, not having the means
to buy her, persuaded her to run away with him. The
elopement was successfully accomplished, and the young
couple arrived at the village of another band of the
same tribe, where they 'set up7 housekeeping as man
and wife. Some five or six months after the whole tribe
was called together for the ' medicine dance.' The
husband found his runaway wife, and demanded that she
be returned over to him for punishment. Had the
young lover possessed any means to pay for her
abduction the affair would probably have been settled in
that way ; but, having nothing, the girl was, by order of
the chief, delivered to her husband. Seating her on the
ground, he crossed her feet so that the instep of the one
was over that of the other, and deliberately fired a rifle
ball through the two. He then formally presented her
to the young man, grimly remarking, ' You need not fear
that she will run away with any other man.'

The Comanches split the noses of unfaithful wives ;
and I have seen one unlucky woman with five separate
gashes in her nasal organ, entirely destroying both its
usefulness and its beauty. These public marks have a ten-
dency to lessen the value of a woman should the husband
desire to sell, and are. therefore, not always resorted to.

In all the plains tribes the husband has the entire
disposal of his wife's person, and may sell or lend her at
his discretion. I spent one winter at North Platte
Station on the Union Pacific Kailroad in charge of
Spotted Tail's band of Brule Sioux. There was con-
siderable trouble from drunken Indians ; and, when I

1 These remarks apply to married women only. A buck forcing an
unmarried girl or widow would be required to take her as his wife, and pay
for her. The tying is a custom of the Cheyennes only.

SOCIAL LIFE. 305

came to inquire closely as to where they obtained liquor,
I found that almost any common warrior of the band
would sell his wife for a night for a bottle of whisky, and
that citizens and soldiers were in the habit almost nightly
of paying this price.

In this band one of the duties of hospitality was to
furnish a wife to a guest whom the host wished specially
to honour. A citizen physician, employed by the Govern-
ment to act as assistant surgeon, was stationed at a military
post at which the Sioux frequently visit. The doctor had
a charming and lovely wife, without the slightest dispo-
sition to flirt ; but he, being a gay individual, extremely
devoted to the sex, was correspondingly jealous lest his
wife might imitate his example. Spotted Tail came on a
visit to the post, and the doctor was specially attentive
and hospitable to the Indian chief. One night, the doctor
and Spotted Tail came into a room in which were
assembled several officers. The doctor was jocose, full of
fun, rallying the Indian on their manners and customs, on
his having several wives, &c. Spotted Tail stood it for
some time. At last he said, ' Doctor, you come to my
camp, I give you plenty to eat, good bed, and wife to
sleep with. I have been in your camp three days, and
you no say wife to me once.' It is impossible to describe
the horror depicted in the doctor's face. He soon made
an excuse to leave, and his close intimacy with Spotted
Tail was at least suspended.

The sale of a wife is not unusual. The Indians are
very fond of children, and anxious to have as many as
possible. Should the wife not bear a child within a
reasonable time she is almost sure to be sold ; and if she
remains barren she is not unlikely to be passed from hand
to hand by sale and purchase, until she either has a child
or is too old for further sale. In transferring a wife by
sale the husband generally keeps the children, if there be
any (though I have heard of cases where the wife and
children were sold together). The possibility of separa-

x

306 INDIANS.

tion helps to keep the wife in proper subjection, though
neither her sale nor her voluntary abandonment of her
husband and children (by exchange of husbands) prevents
her visiting, when she pleases, the lodge of her first hus-
band, and seeing her children at her pleasure.

In times gone by the Sioux had a very peculiar cere-
mony, which I have never heard of as practised in any
other tribe. At a certain season of the year the whole
band was assembled. All the males who had arrived at
the age of puberty were formed in two lines, about four
feet apart, facing inwards. All the females of and above
the same age were required to pass in single file between
the ranks. Any man in the ranks who had within the
year had sexual intimacy with any woman was obliged by
his honour and his religion to put his hand upon her as
she passed. So sacred was this obligation that, it is said,
if a man failed to touch a woman he should have touched
she turned upon him, slapped his face, and proclaimed
him a coward ; on which he was publicly disgraced and
forced to leave the band. The touch of the man bore no
ill consequences to him, nor was the woman punished nor
discarded by her husband. Though still living as before
with her husband and children, she became an outcast.
If found alone away from the camp, she could be ravished
with impunity by any man or men. This fate she could
avoid by never going away from her lodge unless accom-
panied by some one. When the next yearly ceremony
took place, if she passed through the lines without being
touched the curse went off, and she was restored to her
original purity and standing.

Civilisation and Christianity, which punish one sin by
cursing a whole life, might take a lesson in charity from
these ignorant savages. White men came to live and
intermarry with the Sioux, and were placed in the lines ;
they not only did not touch, but they persuaded their
paramour beforehand that there was no honourable or
religious necessity for exposing themselves. These soon

SOCIAL LIFE— CHILDREN. 307

taught their other lovers and the other women. Women
were also sometimes suspected of denouncing and disgrac-
ing, for the gratification of malice or revenge, men who
really had not been guilty with them. The ceremony fell
into disrepute, then into disuse, and is now, I believe,
entirely discontinued.

It is regarded as effeminate in a man to show any affec-
tion for his wife, or attention to any other woman (where
he may be seen). A very noticeable exception is Powder
Face, a prominent chief of the Arrapahoes, a desperate
and dangerous fighter, covered with scars, and celebrated
for the many scalps he has taken, and risks he has run.
His wife is a rather pretty woman of about twenty-five.
They have been married some years, and have no
children. In spite of this no two people could be more
devoted and apparently happy. She goes with him every-
where, his most willing slave. He will sit for hours before
his lodge door combing her hair, painting her face, petting
and fondling her — conduct which would disgrace a less
determined or well-known warrior.

Children are highly prized. The father feels pride in
his sons, who keep alive his ambition. They also help to
feed the family, and take care of the stock. He feels
interest in his daughters as a sure revenue when mar-
riageable. The little children are much petted and
spoiled, tumbling and climbing unreproved over the father
and his visitors in the lodge, and seem never to be an
annoyance, or in the way. The boys grow up, as it
happens, without restraint in anything. The girls are
early taught the lesson of subordination, and begin to
labour almost as soon as they can walk.

Indians are gregarious. Even the chief prefers to
have one or more families beside his own in his lodge.
Each lodge of the common people contains from three to
five families (rather crowded for a single room not over
twenty feet in diameter).

There are no regular hours for meals, nor is there, as

x2

308 INDIANS.

a rule, more than one meal a day. A huge pot or kettle
full of meat is put on the fire. When done it is placed
in the middle of the lodge, and each person helps himself
with his fingers. When they have no flour, dried buffalo
meat is used for bread. When all are satisfied the kettle
is set aside, and those who get hungry oftener than once
a day go and help themselves.

They are hospitable to each other and to strangers,
always offering something to eat to visitors If it is
known that there is anything specially good to eat in any
lodge, and wherever more than an ordinary smoke in-
dicates cooking, there is sure to be a lot of loafers drop
in. They always have the first chance at the pot, the
occupants of the lodge contenting themselves with what
is left. Tea, coffee, and sugar are exceptions, and are
only given to distinguished guests.

A great deal has been said and written about the
stoicism of the Indians. Years of intercourse with them
has convinced me that this stoicism is only manner, the
result of a life of watchfulness and comparative solitude.
Of their wonderful endurance of pain and want I have
already spoken. But the Indian is really of a very ner-
vous and excitable temperament, easily acted upon. No
people who fight at all, fight so badly when surprised.
No people are more easily and thoroughly ' stampeded,'
or rendered senseless by fear. The Indian will talk himself
wild with excitement, vaunting his exploits in love, war,
or the chase, and will commit all sorts of extravagances,
when telling or listening to an exciting story. In their
everyday life Indians are vivacious, chatty, fond of telling
and hearing stories, indulge in broad wit, and are
specially fond of practical jokes.

The nights are spent in song, and dance, and revelry,
and, for the number of people engaged, a permanent
Indian camp (safe from all danger of enemies) is at night
the noisiest place that can be found.

Uneducated people of our own race feel no surprise

SOCIAL LIFE. 309

at the rising of the sun, the change of season, the flash
of lightning, or the roll of thunder. They accept them
as facts, without explanation, and, though beyond their
comprehension, without surprise. One shows surprise at
something out of the ordinary line of his experience. It
is an act of comparison.

The Indian has actual and common experience of
many articles of civilised manufacture, the simplest of
which is as entirely beyond his comprehension as the
most complicated. He would be a simple exclamation
point did he show surprise at everything new to him, or
which he does not understand. He goes to the other
extreme, and rarely shows or feels surprise at anything.
He visits the States, looks unmoved at the steamboat and
locomotive. People call it stoicism. They forget that to
his ignorance the production of a glass bottle is as in-
scrutable as the sound of the thunder. A piece of gaudy
calico is a marvel ; a common mirror, a miracle. He
knows nothing of the comparative difficulties of invention
and manufacture, and to him the mechanism of a loco-
motive is not in any way more matter of surprise than
that of the wheelbarrow.

When things in their own daily experience are per-
formed in what to them is a remarkable way they do
express the most profound astonishment. I have seen
several hundreds of Indians, eager and excited, following
from one telegraph pole to another a repairer, whose legs
were encased in climbing boots. Where he walked
easily, foot over foot, up the pole their surprise and de-
light found vent in the most vociferous expressions of
applause and admiration. A white lady mounted on a
side-saddle, in what to the Indian woman would be
almost an impossible position, would excite more surprise
and admiration than would a Howe's printing press in
full operation.

Twenty years ago, when Indians knew comparatively
little of the wonders of civilisation, Lieutenant (now

310 INDIANS.

General) P was sent with a small force to treat with

a band disposed to be troublesome. He took with him as
guide and interpreter a Delaware chief, Black Beaver, a
warrior celebrated throughout the length and breadth of
the plains. Beaver was semi-civilised, had been to Wash-
ington, owned a farm, and was a person of social con-
sequence in his country. The refractory Indians were
assembled in council, and the difficulties adjusted. Lieut.

P then proceeded to descant upon the numbers and

power of the whites, and the folly of the Indians making
war upon them. As a peroration, he directed Beaver to
tell the Indians about steamboats. Beaver had seen
steamboats, and gave a glowing description. At its con-
clusion a murmur ran through the council. ' What do

they say, Beaver ? ' asked P . ' He say he don't

b'lieve that d d lie,' said Beaver. ' Tell them about

railroads, then.' Beaver had travelled on railroads, so
proceeded to give his ideas and experiences on that sub-
ject. Again a murmur passed through the assembly.
4 What do they say now, Beaver ?' asked P— — . 'He

say he don't b'lieve that d d lie either.' Somewhat

nonplussed for a wonderful thing which they might
believe, P at last said, ' Tell them about the tele-
graph.' ' I don't know what that is,' answered Beaver.

P explained that by the aid of a little wire he could

stand where he was and talk to the Great Father at
Washington, &c., &c. Beaver listened attentively, but
with a grave face, and made no attempt to translate.

'Why don't you tell them?' said P , impatiently.

6 'Cause,' said Beaver, nodding his head slowly and

emphatically, ' 'Cause I don't b'lieve that d d lie

myself.' l

1 This story was told me in 1867 by the officer to whom it is accredited.
After I had written it out as above, I came across it in General Marcy's
excellent work on frontier life. The story illustrates my point, and, whoever
may be the author, it is too good a one to lose. If I am poaching on the
General's manor, I apologise.

SOCIAL LIFE. 311

The home or lodge of the plains Indian is a co/nical
covering of dressed buffalo hides, supported on a frame-
work of light peeled poles, crossed near the top and
spread out at the bottom. It is from twelve to twenty feet
in diameter, and about fifteen feet high. The fire is built
in the centre, and the smoke escapes through an aperture
at the top. Thi? aperture is guarded by a sort of winged
cap, capable of being turned in any direction, and which
prevents the wind from blowing directly down into the
lodge. The draught is, however, very defective, and the
lodge is usually in cold weather too full of smoke to be
bearable to any one but an Indian. It is, however, admir-
ably adapted to their necessities. Its shape secures it
from the danger of being overturned by wind-storms, and
with very little fuel it can be kept warm and comfortable
even in the coldest weather.

The beds are piles of buffalo robes and blankets,
spread on the ground as close to the outer circumference
as possible. They serve the double purpose of sleeping-
places by night, of seats and lounges by day. They are
not ' made up,' though on fine days bedding is taken out
of the lodge, shaken, and spread in the sun. In this small
space are oftentimes crowded eight or ten persons, possibly
of three or four different families ; and since the cook-
ing, eating, living, and sleeping are all done in the one
room, it soon becomes inconceivably filthy. Except the
bedding, the parfleche trunks containing the dried meat
and extra clothing and finery, a few pots, kettles, and tin
cups, there is no furniture, nor is there any attempt at
order in the arrangements of even these few articles.

The wealth of the Indian is in his horses and mules.
He has no taste or desire for the accumulation of more or
other things than are necessary for the wants of his family
for the time being. The fall hunt supplies him with robes
enough to keep him warm during the winter, and still
leaves him sufficient for sale so as to supply the necessities
to be obtained from white men.

312 INDIANS.

When spring opens the camp breaks up, and the bands
lead a nomadic life. Everything has to be packed and
unpacked, put on horses and taken off again ; and the
women, who do all the work, are very sure gradually to
abandon those things which are of little use.

Their own clothing and finery are packed in the par-
fleches, and easily cared for ; but everything bulky or
cumbersome, and not of absolute necessity, is thrown away.
Another reason for this poverty is the necessity of pro-
perly fitting out the dead for his journey to the Happy
Hunting Grounds. He must have certain articles even if
the living have to go without, and this religious necessity
keeps them nearly impoverished in almost all articles of
civilised manufacture.

Indians marry very young — the buck as soon as he
is fortunate enough to steal the horses to pay for her, or
can persuade his father to buy a wife for him. Girls gene-
rally marry very soon after the age of puberty — the father,
as a rule, being anxious to realise her value; and the girl,
with true feminine instinct in these matters, wishing to be
a woman and have a husband as soon as possible. Some-
times a father gets ' hard up,' and has to sell his girls
while they are yet mere children. These are eagerly
bought up cheap by middle-aged well-to-do bucks, who
keep them for future use, giving them, however, even whilst
children, all the rights and privileges of wives. Sa-na-co,
a Comanche chief, and the best Indian (from our stand-
point) I ever saw, had a wife only about ten years old. I
have seen several other warriors who have had mere
children as their third or fourth wives.

The natural result of the total lack of privacy in an
Indian lodge is a corresponding lack of modesty or deli-
cacy. Those acts of domestic life which among whites
occur in secret are performed by the Indians without
hesitation in the presence of adults and children of both
sexes.

To the possibly already overcrowded lodge, the young

SOCIAL LIFE. 313

son brings his young wife. There can be but little
romance about a bridal bed on which half a dozen pairs
of curious eyes are fixed, and half a dozen tongues
making comments. The Indians seem to think it all right,
and in their sexual and marital relations they are scarcely
above the brute. The husband of one wife brings home
another and another. They all sleep in the same bed if
it is big enough ; if not, the older wives are turned out for
the younger favourites. I have never heard of any diffi-
culties or trouble between the wives on this account, and
the sentiment of jealousy seems to be entirely wanting.
The devotion of a man to a new wife, or his infidelity to
them all, seems not to awaken the slightest feeling, and is
no more regarded than the infidelities of a cock by his
feathered harem.

I have been told by many men, both white and Indian,
who had wives in the ' wild ' plains tribes, of several
curious social and physiological facts, which only want
clear confirmation to be both interesting and instruc-
tive, as bearing on the theories of unity of races.
That when ' the way of women is upon them,' they
are regarded as unclean, and retire in summer to the
woods, in winter to a lodge especially set aside for their
use, where they remain until entirely well ; — that from
a period extending from one to three days after she is
well, the woman alone has any sexual desire ; — that both
men and women regard cohabitation with a wife who is
enceinte, as ' bad medicine ' for the family, though the
husband's infidelity with another woman in that condition
would entail no bad consequences on him.

Either from lack of suitable food or the constant
drudgery of her hard life, the Indian woman is not pro-
lific. I have never seen a mother of over four children,
and many women are barren. The average is scarcely
more than two children to each woman. Eed Bead, a
Sioux, used greatly to felicitate himself on his large and
fine family, his two wives having five children between

314 INDIANS.

them. In most lodges the children are not more plenti-
ful than women.

Parturition seems to be a matter of scarcely more
concern to the woman than to the buffalo-cow. With the
first child she may, or not, have a woman to attend her;
but, if she be ordinarily healthy and well developed, she
usually does everything for herself. I have been told
that in good weather they prefer to go off alone to some
retired place in the woods or brush. The whole affair is
a matter of an hour or two, and when the child is two or
three hours old the mother is most likely at her usual
avocations.

Once when on a scout I met a small party of Indians
who stopped and chatted for a few moments. The chief
asked me where I was going, and, finding that my route
took me on his trail, he informed me that one of his
wives had stopped a short distance back to have a baby,
and requested me not to permit any of my men to molest
her. Proceeding about three miles we met the woman
alone, riding quietly along the trail, the baby strapped in its
cradle on her back.

While the child, either boy or girl, is very young,
the mother has entire charge, control, and management
of it. It is very soon taught not to cry, by a very sum-
mary, if not gentle, process. Its mouth is covered with
the palm of the hand, while its nose is grasped between
the thumb and forefinger until the little one is nearly
suffocated. It is then let go, to be seized and smothered
again at the first attempt to cry. The baby very soon
learns that silence is its best policy.

Almost as soon as the male child is weaned the con-
trol is taken from the mother, and it becomes practically
its own master. The mother is never permitted to punish
a boy, no matter what its fault. She, however, retains
her control over the girls until they are married, and
whatever comfort she derives from her children is from
them. The maternal instinct does not appear to be very

SOCIAL LIFE. 315

strong. Widows not unfrequently sell their female
children, even though not pressed by necessity, and I
have known several instances of an Indian woman offer-
ing to exchange her baby for a white one.

Some years ago. an officer of the army, with a young
wife and lovely boy-baby, was crossing the plains. The
Indians were peaceful and he had but a small escort.
One afternoon an Indian woman came into camp ;.nd,
struck with the beauty of the white infant, proposed a
'swap.' The young wife, taking the proposal for fun,
laughingly consented, but was soon greatly terrified when
the woman laid down her own baby and attempted to
take the other. A violent scene ensued, and the woman
and her baby were finally put out of camp by the troops,
she in a towering passion and vowing revenge. Before
sunrise next morning, a large force of warriors appeared
with the woman, demanding the white baby, and
threatening to take it by force if not surrendered. A
long parley ensued, and the Indians were finally bought
off by the payment of blankets and sugar.

The widows and orphans of a tribe are cared for, after
a fashion, by the ' dog-soldiers,' who, in the general division
of meat and skins, set aside sufficient for their main-
tenance. Among the plains tribes a woman on the death
of her husband becomes not only herself free, but the
possessor of her female children as property. The sons
are independent ; but are obliged to support the mother
and sisters, if old enough, or if they have themselves no
families. The widows are like their white sisters in their
aversion to the sweets of freedom and single blessedness,
and if at all young and good looking are very soon
married again, I have been told that the old and ugly
who have no sons to support them, not unfrequently
purchase for themselves a husband, by giving over to him
the ownership of her daughters, not as wives, but as so
much saleable property. The life of a woman who has

316 INDIANS.

a man to provide for her is so much more secure, so
much freer from the chance of hunger or want, that
almost every woman greatly prefers even the annoyances
of a bad busband to the precarious hazards of widow-
hood.

A grave trouble to the Indians, and one of which I
have heard many complaints, is the number of widows
and orphans left on their hands by white men. The
Indians have this whole matter in their own hands ; they
have but to prohibit their women from marrying white
men. But this is not at all to their taste. A father can
get for his daughter possibly twice as much from a white
man as an Indian would pay, arid he sells at the highest
price. To prohibit his selling his own property would
be regarded as an invasion of his most sacred and vested
rights. Having sold and got his price, he feels himself
relieved of all responsibility regarding her. She should
henceforth be supported by the husband ; and the father
regards it as a hardship, an outrage, a real cause of com-
plaint to be obliged, even partially, to assist in the support
of a woman, his own daughter, sacrificed by his cupidity to
a man whom he knew would abandon her sooner or later.
When the trapper was an institution of the plains, he did
not consider his outfit complete unless he had one or more
Indian wives. When he went back to the settlement
he left them behind. If he returned to the same country
he took them again, but if he changed his locality he got
a new supply from the tribe he happened to be nearest to.
The forsaken dames could not always secure other
husbands ; for, though generally the best looking of the
tribe (trappers had taste and money), the women, not
being so constantly exposed to danger, were generally
very considerably in the excess of the men in numbers.
Their fathers would not support them, not being bound to
do so either by affection or custom ; so they and their
children became a tax on the strength and energy of the
tribe.

SOCIAL LIFE. 817

At a council held at North Platte, in 1867, between
the Indians and some representatives of the Government,
one of the chiefs spoke earnestly and feelingly on this
subject. He said that his tribe was poor and could not
support the widows and orphans abandoned by white
men, and he begged that some special provision might be
made by the United States for this class of people.

Our dealings with the Indians have habitually been so
stupid that it is not at all remarkable that they consider
us very nearly idiots, to be hoodwinked and bamboozled
at any time or on any subject by a specious speech or
promise. Their belief in our credulity was undoubtedly
the cause of their making of that council one of the most
remarkable demands ever made in earnest by any people.
The spring and summer of 1867 had been a succession of
raids, plunderings, and murders. All the plains tribes
were loose. Ouster, with a considerable force, was scout-
ing between the Kansas Pacific Eailroad and the Platte
Eiver. It was necessary to communicate with him. A
lieutenant and thirteen men of the 2nd Cavalry, with
Eed Bead, a Sioux chief, as guide, were sent from Fort
Sedgwick to intercept him. The lieutenant was very
wary and used every precaution against surprise, making
no camps, but halting at uncertain intervals to rest and
refresh his men and graze his animals. He had, however,
to deal with Pawnee Killer, the most redoubtable of all
the hostile chiefs (and from whom this account comes).
One night the lieutenant marched until nearly morning,
then halted, and, without making fires or unsaddling,
allowed his exhausted men to lie down and sleep.
Pawnee Killer, who was attending him like a fate,
crawled with a large force on the sleeping men, and, just
at dawn, one volley sent every sleeper, save two, to his
long account. Those two men were a corporal arid Eed
Bead. The corporal, at the fire, sprung to his feet, pistol
in hand, and, as the enemy rushed upon him, fired two
shots, killing two Indians. Before he could do more he

318 INDIANS.

was riddled with bullets. Eed Bead ran, was pursued,
and, in spite of his Indian cunning and endurance, caught
and killed. Subsequently, when the Indians came into
this council to make peace, they brought an old widow
who they said had lost her sons, and had no one to sup-
port her, and they demanded that the United States
should give her a pension. On investigation it trans-
pired that the widow's two sons were the men killed by
the corporal in his last gallant effort.

Judging from the weak-kneed concessions of previous
councils, the Indians had good cause to expect that the
widow would get a pension. Fortunately there were
men in that council who neither feared the Indian nor
expected to make money out of him. The demands of
the Cheyennes were not only not entertained, but they
were met by so fearless and manly a statement of what
would result to them if they continued their warfare, that
they left the council lodge under the influence of the
only sentiment that can actuate them to humanity — viz.,
fear — and have since then behaved tolerably well.

Though sharp in horse trade and quick to compre-
hend the general principles of barter with white men, the
idea of devoting himself to a particular occupation or
trade, and making a living by the exchange of his pro-
ductions for the productions of others, seems never to
have occurred to him. Each man is his own artisan.
What he needs he must make for himself or buy from
the white man. He has indomitable patience, is imita-
tive, and, with the assistance of his knife and raw hide,
he manages to supply most of his necessities. The skins
of animals are to him what the bamboo is to the
East Indian, or the breadfruit tree to the South Sea
Islander. In various forms they furnish house, bedding,
furniture, clothing, horse equipment, almost everything
necessary to his comfort. Invention seems almost totally

wanting.

SOCIAL LIFE. 319

The old way is the best way, and children do not
improve on their father's skill and knowledge. His skill
in drawing is very slight ; yet, aided by his marvellous
knowledge of the ' landmarks,' or natural features of a
country, he will, with the ground for his drawing-board
and his finger for a pencil, make a map by which any
plainsman can travel with certainty.

During his frequent visits to Fort Chadbourne, Sa-
na-co would ask an officer to write on a piece of paper the
name of some article, as ' sugar.' This paper he care-
fully put away. Next day he would ask another officer
to write, say, ' coffee.' He went the rounds of all the
officers, and we supposed he was making ' medicine ' of
some kind. He left the post. Some weeks after a mes-
senger came in with a letter to the post sutler, which
was found to be an order written on a slip of paper, each
name on a line by itself, for ' coffee,' ' sugar,' and at least
a dozen other articles. The order was signed Sa-na-co,
and the signature and each name of an article was so
exactly counterfeited, that the writer of the original could
not have distinguished which was his own writing.

520 INDIANS.

CHAPTEE XXVII.

GAMBLING.

THE Indians are excessively fond of gambling. The old
games so often described are generally discarded, all the
tribes being sufficiently civilised to possess and understand
cards. Those who come in contact with Mexicans are
well up in all the mysteries of ' monte.' Those who are
civilised on reservations acquire a knowledge of ' poker '
and ' seven up,' sufficient for all practical purposes, in
a quarter the time it would take them to learn the
alphabet.

The wilder tribes invent games for themselves, and
play with considerable skill. All Indians are arrant
cheats at cards, and as dexterous in concealing their
manipulations as a ' three-card monte dealer.' Women
play also, but I have rarely seen them playing with men.
Having but little to lose, or work to do, their sittings are
not protracted. The bucks play from morning till night,
and from night to morning again. In the winter camps
scarcely anything else is done. The stakes are high for
a poor people. I have myself looked on at a game
between two Arrapalioe chiefs where, it was said, for I
could not understand, 120 dollars depended on a single
hand. They are possessed of the true gambler's passion,
and will, if in bad luck, lose ponies, lodge, arms, robes,
blankets, and, finally, wives, and even children (though
this is now rare). I have, however, known, some
twenty years ago, more than one case among the Co-
manches where an unlucky gambler lost wife, children,

GAMBLING— DRINKING. 321

and all. Turning over his property to the winner, the
loser started alone for Mexico, to recuperate his fallen
fortunes by thieving.

There is no secrecy about the gambling. A blanket
spread on the ground, in the open air in good weather,
on the floor of the lodge in bad, serves as table.
Spectators crowd around, and if a man is losing heavily
the whole camp soon know's it. In such case the wives
generally put in an appearance, before things have pro-
ceeded to extremities, and break up the game, either by
bullying the husband, or informing the winner that they
will not live with him if won.

DKINKIXG.

The vice of all others most unhappy in its consequences
to the Indian is his love of strong drink. His passion for
intoxication amounts almost to madness. To drink liquor
as a beverage for the gratification of taste, or for the
sake of pleasurable conviviality, is something of which
he can form no conception. His idea of the pleasure and
the use of drink is to get drunk, and the quicker and
more complete that effect be obtained the better he likes
it. He is very easily affected, and what would be a very
ordinary intoxication without perceivable effect on a
white man will make him ' roaring drunk.' To gratify
this passion the Indian will go to any lengths, take any
risks, or do any dirty act.

The laws of the United States are very stringent m
prohibiting the sale or gift of intoxicating liquor to
Indians, as well as its introduction into the Indian
territory. It is easy to make laws, but by no means
always easy to enforce them. When the laws were
made, Indian territory was every portion of the country
occupied by Indians. Much of that territory is now
within States, and the laws of those States protect its

Y

322 INDIANS.

citizen in the sale of liquors if lie takes out a licence.
Decision after decision has been made in the interest of
parties who were trying to reconcile the right to permit
one man to sell liquor, with the right to prohibit another
from getting drunk, until at the present time ' Indian
territory' means simply the ground inside an Indian
reservation. A squatter who goes over that line to sell
liquor subjects himself to fine and imprisonment. If he
remains on his own side of the line, he can with im-
punity sell all the liquor he pleases to Indians who come
to him. Whether this is the intent of the law may be
questioned, but that it is the actual practical working of
the Indian laws is well known to every frontiersman.

The Indian will give everything he possesses for
whisky. I have already spoken of the habitual sale by
the Brule Sioux of a wife for a bottle. I have known an
instance where an officer was earnestly importuned by a
Cheyenne to give him one bottle of whisky for a mule
worth $150.

With such profit in prospective, it would require an
army of detectives to keep the frontier liquor dealers
from trading with the Indians. And when the Indian is
as eager for whisky as the trader is for ponies and
peltries, it is hardly necessary to say that the traffic is
incessant.

Mexicans from New Mexico fit out great caravans for
trade with the Kioways, Apaches, and Comanches. The
southern part of the State of Kansas is populated with
perambulating groggeries. One grog-shop keeper of
Dodge City kept, during the winter of 1872-3, several
4 outfits ' in the field with such profit to himself that a
few such winters would qualify him for the highest social
or political honours of his State. His regular price for
one gallon of watered whisky was one pony, or five
Indian dressed buffalo robes. One Arrapahoe chief is
said to have bartered at that rate over fifty ponies during
the winter.

DRINKING. 323

The Arrapahoes would have been utterly impoverished
but for the excess of rivalry among the traders, who, in
their eagerness, got over the line into the Indian territory,
and were pounced upon by the Indian Department.
Sixteen or eighteen wTere arrested and sent to prison.
This broke up the trade for the time, and in good season,
for the Arrapahoes were barely saved the necessity of
going to war to recuperate.

Texas, Nebraska, Colorado, Wyoming, Utah, and
Dakota, all compete with Kansas and New Mexico in
this most lucrative trade. Buffalo hunters have come to
regard a keg or two of whisky as a necessary part of
their ' outfit,' adding immensely to the number of skins.
The only wonder is that any Indians are left alive.

The peculiarity of the ' Indian drunk ' is, that, if there
be only liquor enough, it is quick and complete ; conse-
quently he is not ' quarrelsome in his cups.' For the
number of drunkards, the very few outrages or murders
committed among themselves is very remarkable.

Drunkenness is not a female vice, and in all my
experience I have never seen a drunken Indian woman.
They, however, look with amiable complacency on the
bestiality of their lords, and seem to regard it as a matter
of course. On one occasion I witnessed the reverse. A
Ute squaw was trying to take home her husband, who had
not had quite enough whisky, and was only ' obstinate
drunk,' though he could scarcely walk. She was very
patient — he, brutal. Finally he struck her. Seizing on
a good-sized rod that happened to be lying near, she fell
upon and beat him most unmercifully. Thinking he had
had enough, I walked towards them to interfere. Seeing
me she threw down the stick and began to laugh, while
the husband sat upon the ground blubbering like a
whipped school boy.

The guide at Fort Martin Scott, Texas, was a Dela-
ware, a faithful and reliable Indian. His pay was for.ty
dollars per month. On drawing it he would go to

324 INDIANS

Freclericksburg (two miles distant), and spend the whole
in ' white man's clothing,' from hat to boots, all complete,
even gloves. Arrayed in his new clothes, he would
strut about the post thoroughly enjoying himself. He
would spend a whole day calling at the different houses ;
officers, ladies, citizens, soldiers, laundresses, and servants,
all had opportunity and were expected to admire his
' get-up.' This ceremony performed, he asked for leave
of absence for two, or perhaps three, days, at the end
of which time he stalked into the post in blanket and
breech clout alone. All his clothing had been bartered
for the means of having a ' good heap drunk ' for the
time of his leave. This was a regular monthly occur-
rence.

AMUSEMENTS.

Drinking, gambling, and love making may be said to
be serious occupations rather than amusements. Next
to this the principal indoor delight of the Indian is story
telling. A good story teller is a man of importance.
The bucks, squaws, and children crowd to his lodge, or
any other where he happens to be, and spend the long
winter evenings listening to his recitals. These stories
are as marvellous as the imagination of the teller can
create, jumbling gods and men, fabulous and living
animals, the impossible and the possible in the most
heterogeneous confusion. There is little point or wit in
them, and scarcely any dramatic power, except the
narrator be telling of some personal event, when he
also acts the scene with all possible exaggeration. The
personal stories are generally very filthy, and the language
of the plainest. They have no evasive ways of expressing
things ; a ' spade ' is a ' spade,1 with a vengeance. The
presence of women and children is riot of the slightest
consequence, and imposes no restraint whatever either
on words or actions.

AMUSEMENTS. 325

One of the most curious of spectacles is a story teller
and his audience when the sign language is used. Sitting
silent in a circle, all eyes are intently fixed on the story
teller, who, without a word of speech, is rapidly moving
his hands, now one, now the other, now both together.
Occasionally a grunt of satisfaction or approval runs
round the circle. More and more eagerness of attention,
writhings and twistings of the body, show the increase of
interest, and finally a burst of uproarious laughter and
applause marks the point of the story.

The sign language is in universal use on the plains,
and two Indians who cannot speak or understand a word
of each other's language will converse as easily and
understandingly as if they had been reared in the same
lodge. Such a means of communication is almost an
absolute necessity to the Indians, split up as they are into
numberless tribes and bands, each speaking a language
different from the other. That scarcely any but his own
immediate people understand his spoken words, while all
are expected to understand a silent language of which he
is master, is undoubtedly the direct cause of the Indian
taciturnity in the presence of strangers.

The fact that the human voice, whilst the most dis-
tinctly marked, is the least common of sounds on the
plains, that its use may notify enemies of their presence,
and scare game from their vicinity, leads to the constant
use of sign language in conversation while on raids,
expeditions, and hunting parties, and accounts for their
taciturnity at such times. They are silent, but may
possibly be ' talking ' all the time. In their own camps
and families this means of conversation is used at least
half the time. I know nothing of the sign language
taught to deaf mutes ; but I am told that the Indian sign
language is very similar, except that, there being no
alphabet, the signs express phrases and ideas rather than
words.

The outdoor amusements of the plains Indians are

326 INDIANS.

riding, shooting, racing — both on foot and horseback —
wrestling, swimming ; and with the boys a sort of game
of ' tag.' In good weather nearly half a buck's waking
hours are passed in the saddle. Biding is second nature
to him. Strapped astride of a horse when scarcely able
to walk, he does not, when a man, remember a time
when he could not ride. Having never seen the riding of
Arabs, Turcomans, Cossacks, and other world-renowned
riders, I cannot say how the Indian compares with them,
but I am satisfied that he is too nearly a Centaur to be
surpassed by any.

The bit used is commonly known as the 'Mexican
bit.' It is a most cruel affair. The bar is bent in the
centre, forming a tongue from two to four inches long,
which extends backwards towards the horse's throat To
the upper end is attached an iron ring, which embraces
the lower jaw, forming the curb. Long side levers are
attached to the bar, and to these the reins of horsehair
or raw hide. The headstall is of horsehair, and elabo-
rately ornamented with round silver or plated buckles.
With such a bridle the most refractory horse can be
thrown on its haunches by one turn of the wrist, and I
have heard of one or more instances where a horse's jaw
was broken by a violent pull.

The saddle is a light frame of wood, the side pieces
shaped to fit a horse's back. The seat is not rounded,
but almost perfectly straight, and forms very nearly right
angles with the pommel and cantle. These are about
eight inches high above the seat. The pommel ends with
a rounded knob. The cantle, rather wide at top and
bottom, is cut away in the middle to make a depression
to fit the leg or heel of the rider, and forms his support
when he wishes to throw himself on the side of his horse.
The whole is covered with green hide, which in drying
binds all the parts together tight and strong almost as
iron.

The girth is a broad band of plaited hair, terminating

AMUSEMENTS. 327

in iron rings (or bent wood covered with raw hide, if iron
rings cannot be obtained). These rings are attached to
the saddle on the principle of the Mexican ' Cinche,' by
which a man of ordinary strength can almost crush in a
horse's ribs.

Great liberties of position are taken by an Indian on
horseback, and it is of the utmost importance that the
saddle be strong and the girth fail not.

The stirrup is of thin wood strengthened with raw
hide, by which material it is also fastened to the saddle.
Some slight padding is put between the horse and saddle,
the skin of a wolf or buffalo calf ; or in these later days
a piece of old blanket or grain sack. The stirrups are
extremely short, so much so that the thigh of the rider
is almost horizontal. They are, however, of little use
except in mounting, or as rest to the foot when riding.

Civilised people mount on the left side of the horse,
because the knights of old, from whom we get our ideas
of horsemanship, wore their swords on that side, and
could not, therefore, mount on the right without incon-
venience from that weapon.

The Indian mounts always on the right side ; and this
is undoubtedly natural and most convenient, as it leaves
the left hand free to hold the reins and manage the
horse, while the right grasps the mane or pommel of the
saddle.

In travelling necessary stores are carried en croup,
or slung to the saddle on each side. One blanket or robe
is around the rider's person, and he sits on an extra one
if he has it. His gun is carried across his thighs, resting
against the pommel ; his bow and quiver are slung on
the back, by a strap passing from right to left, but which
brings the quiver almost perpendicular with its opening
over the right shoulder.

When travelling from place to place, under ordinary
circumstances, a more unromantic or less dangerous-look-
ing 4 specimen ' could not be found than an Indian warrior.

328 INDIANS.

His seat and carriage are particularly ungraceful. The
short stirrups force him to sit almost on the small of his
back, and the back itself is rounded into an unseemly
curve. His head is carried forward as far as the length
of his neck will allow. His left hand holds the reins ;
his right is armed with a short stick, to which is attached
a thong of the inevitable raw hide, and with a light blow
of this he marks every step of his horse. He uses no
spurs ; but his heels are constantly drumming on the
horse's ribs, with a nervous motion difficult to account
for. He scarcely ever turns his head or moves his body,
and, even when most watchful, appears to see nothing.
He looks stiff, constrained, and uncomfortable on horse-
back, and yet this uncouth object will perform feats of
horsemanship actually incredible to one who has seen
only civilised riding.

With his horse at full speed he will pick up from the
ground a small piece of coin. He will throw himself on
the side of his horse in such a position that only a small
part of an arm and leg can be seen from the other side.

One method of racing is to start from a line and
rush full speed at a tree, the one who first touches
it being winner. Another is to rush at a heavy pole
placed horizontally about six feet from the ground,
resting on forks firmly set. If the rider stops his horse
a moment too soon he fails of touching the pole ; if a
moment too late the horse passes under the pole, leaving
the rider dangling to it or thrown to the ground.

A third method is to fasten to the ground two strips
of buffalo hide from six to ten feet apart. The starting
point is some 200 yards from these strips, and the
game is to run at full speed, jump the horse between the
strips, turn him in his tracks, and return to the starting
point. The horse which fails to get beyond the first
strip with all four of his feet, or which gets a single foot
beyond the second strip, is beaten, even though he makes
the best time.

AMUSEMENTS— HORSE RACING. 329

The training of the ponies has quite as much to do
with the success of an Indian race as his speed or the
address of the rider. Great pains are, therefore, taken
in training, and a pony thoroughly up in his tricks is
highly prized.

The Indian is an arrant jockey, and understands all
the tricks of professional horse racing as well as any
veteran of Jerome Park. He rarely comes in com-
petition with whites, because his passion being for trick
races, as those described, he dislikes to come down to a
square and fair race over a straight track. Besides
this, it is really exceedingly difficult to hit on a fair
distance between the Indian and American horse. The
start being always from a halt, the small, quick pony
is almost sure to win at from 100 to 300 yards, while
the long stride of the American horse is equally sure
of carrying him in winner from 600 yards to two miles.
A mile or two is then doubtful, after which it is safe
to back the endurance of the pony.

A band of Comanches under Mu-la-que-top, once
camped near Fort Chadbourne in Texas, and were
frequent visitors and great nuisances as beggars at that
post. Some of the officers were decidedly ' horsey,'
several owning blooded horses, the relative speed of each
being known, by separate trials, almost to a foot.
Mu-la-que-top was bantered for a race, and, after several
days of manoeuvring, a race was made against the third
best horse of the garrison, distance 400 yards.

The Indians betted robes and plunder of various kinds,
to the value of sixty or seventy dollars, against money,
flour, sugar, &c., to a like amount. At the appointed
time all the Indians and most of the garrison were
assembled at the track. The Indians ' showed ' a miser-
able sheep of a pony, with legs like churns, a three-inch
coat of rough hair stuck out all over the body, and
a general expression of neglect, helplessness, and patient
suffering struck pity into the hearts of all beholders.

330 INDIANS.

The rider was a stalwart buck of one hundred and
seventy pounds, looking big and strong enough to carry
the poor beast on his shoulders. He was armed with
a huge club, with which, after the word was given, he
belaboured the miserable animal from start to finish.
To the astonishment of all the whites, the Indian won
by a neck.

Another race was proposed by the officers, and, after
much ' dickering,' accepted by the Indians, against the
next best horse of the garrison. The bets were doubled ;
and in less than an hour the second race was won by the
same pony, with the same apparent exertion and with
exactly the same result.

The officers, thoroughly disgusted, proposed a third
race, and brought to the ground a magnificent Kentucky
mare, of the true Lexington blood, and known to beat
the best of the others at least forty yards in 400. The
Indians accepted the race, and not only doubled bets as
before, but piled up everything they could raise,
seemingly almost crazed with the excitement of their
previous success. The riders mounted ; the word was
given. Throwing away his club, the Indian rider gave
a whoop, at which the sheep-like pory pricked up his
ears, and went away like the wind, almost two feet to
the mare's one. The last fifty yards of the course was run
by the pony with the rider sitting face to his tail, making
hideous grimaces, and beckoning to the rider of the mare
to come on.

It afterwards transpired that the old sheep was a
trick and straight race pony, celebrated among all the
tribes of the south, and that Mu-la-que-top had only just
returned from a visit to the Kickapoos, in the Indian
nation, whom he had easily cleaned out of 600 ponies.

In practising with bow and arrow, the Indian has a
short loop of raw hide attached to the pommel of the
saddle, which he passes over his head and under his arm
when he wishes to throw himself on the side of his horse.

AMUSEMENTS. 331

This, with the leg holding the cantle, gives him firm sup-
port, and leaves both arms free. He can, however, use
only the right side of the horse. In pistol practice, the
loop is not necessary, and, needing only one hand with
the weapon, he can shelter himself on either side, holding
on to the pommel with the left hand.

Compared with the white hunter of the plains, the
Indian is a wretched shot. He is about equal to the
United States soldier, being deficient for the same reason —
lack of practice. The Government and the Indian are
each too poor to afford to waste more than ten cartridges
a month on drill, and no man ever became an expert
marksman on that allowance. The Indian is really much
more dangerous with the bow than with the pistol ; but
the latter gives a longer range, and the Indian does not
like close fighting any better than other people.

With all his power of endurance, his life in the open
air, and his constant and violent exercise, the Indian is
not physically a powerful man. He has not the slightest
knowledge of the use of his fists, and the poorest member
of the prize ring could carry off the belt from the whole
red race.

The boys wrestle a good deal, but without rule or
science — a mere scuffle. An average white man will ' get
away' with the strongest and most active Indian either in
a wrestling match or in a foot race for short distances.
In a race for miles the Indian endurance will win.

All Indians swim, as it were, by instinct, and evince
great courage and skill in the passage of the plains rivers,
dangerous from their swift currents and terrible from
their treacherous quicksands.

There are no games of ball, nor any approach to the
civilised games of children, except the sort of game of
tag mentioned.

The women ride astride, mount on the right side, use
the same saddle, and are almost as much at home in it as
the men.

332 IXDIAXS.

It is impossible to say what the amusements of the
Indian women are, but it is a fact that they appear very
contented, cheerful, and happy.

Where no one can commit a moral wrong, there is, of
course, no opportunity to talk scandal. Mr. Chain
Lightning can take to his bosom the spouse of Mr.
Scarface without causing even a ripple of remark from
male or female. I have heard that the gentle sex holds
in great contempt a woman who fails to do everything
possible for her husband. I have never seen any such
thing. Of the several wives of the same man, one may
be an excellent worker, another lazy and worthless,
another have one or more slits in her nose, but all seem
to get along perfectly with each other and with the other
women of the band.

Officers have described to me the squaw fights of the
Indians of the Pacific Coast, in which every woman of the
band was engaged, while the men stood by enjoying
the spectacle. I have not only never seen, but never
heard of, a fight between two plains Indian squaws. In
fact, the Indians seem to herd together exactly as do the
buffalo, amicably, each one doing as he pleases without
molesting or being molested by others. Two bulls may
fight over a cow, or the cow may exercise her natural
right of selection, but the affair possesses not the slightest
possible interest to any but those engaged.

The little girls are very fond of dolls, and of playing
baby-house, and the mothers take great pains and show-
considerable skill arid taste in making and dressing the
puppets.

SINGING AND DANCING.

The singing of the Indian consists in the monotonous
repetition of a few half-guttural, half-nasal sounds (notes
they can scarcely be called, as they form no music), varied
by an occasional yell. Whatever the occasion, the ' song '
is the same, however varied the accompaniment.

SINGING AND DANCING. 333

The religious singing over a sick man is exactly the
same as the singing in the scalp dance, except that in the
first case the interjections are the most dismal and doleful
wails, while in the latter they are the yells which accom-
pany the swooping charge on an enemy, or the blood-
curdling war whoop which proclaims a coup.

The dance consists of the alternate raising or putting
down of the feet, accompanied by a quick jerking motion
of the body. It is varied by bounds and springs into the
air ; but there is no effort at posturing, nor any set position
for the feet. In the ceremonial dances, in which warriors
alone participate, the dancers form themselves into a
circle facing inwards, and sometimes join hands for a few
moments. Any position or contact which tends to re-
straint is, however, soon abandoned in the excitement to
which they work themselves. In the ordinary social
dances of almost nightly occurrence in the main camp,
and in which men, women, and children may all take
part, no positions are taken or set forms gone through.

They know nothing of tenors, or altos, or bassos, and
have no idea of either waltz, reel, strathspey, or American
jig ; they do not even take partners, but each dances by
himself or herself to the music of his or her own howls.
How such singing and such dancing can give the pleasure
they undoubtedly do, is one of the problems of humanity ;
but for all purposes of excitement, almost indeed of
frenzy, they are amply sufficient to the Indian.

I was one hot day sitting in the shade of a lodge in an
Indian camp, where all was monotonously quiet, when a
fat, jolly-looking old woman in a calico gown, and holding
a long staff in her hand, emerged from the door of a lodge
near by, and, without a word of preparation or invitation
to any one, fell at once into the regular song and dance.
In a few moments other women came out of other lodges
and joined at once in the accompaniment. The loafing
lovers and husbands, lying or squatting about on the
ground, lifted their heads, looked, and soon first one, then

334 INDIANS.

another, sprung to his feet and struck in just where he hap-
pened to be, without joining or nearing the others. In ten
minutes from the time the old lady gave her first ; whoo-
ah,' the whole camp was full of isolated figures lifting foot
after foot, jerking their bodies and filling the air with a
babel of ' whoo-ahs.' A more ridiculous and unmeaning
spectacle to an outsider could not be imagined.

The ceremonial dances of the Indians have been so
frequently and so minutely described, that I can add
nothing to the stock of knowledge on that subject, except,
perhaps, in a single item, viz.. the part of such cere-
monial forced on captives.

I was once a spectator at a scalp dance, which was
a special and exceptional occasion ; for not only had a
goodly number of scalps been taken, but two prisoners,
a woman of about forty and a boy of twelve, were to
grace the ceremony. The peeled wands bearing the
stretched scalps had been planted in a circle in the ground.
The warriors who had been ia the fight, and won the
right to participate in the dance, were assembled in a
circle around these wands. The prisoners were brought
from the lodge in which they were confined, by the war-
riors who had captured them, and forced to take places
in this circle, their hands being held by the hands of the
warriors on either side of them. At a signal all the war-
riors joined hands, and commenced the monotonous song,
accompanied by the alternate lifting of feet, as described,
all turning slowly about the scalps. The woman prisoner
accepted the situation, and in looks and actions appeared
to take as enjoyable an interest in the dance as any of
the proper performers. Not so the boy. With eyes
downcast, without a voluntary motion of foot or body,
he was dragged round the circle, taking only such walk-
ing steps as were necessary to avoid being pulled down.
As the dance progressed, all the warriors became excited,
all eyes were fixed on the scalps, as each slayer in turn,
springing from the circle and bounding to his wand,

SINGING AND DANCING— SCALP DANCE.

335

vaunted in extravagant terms his own exploits, and acted
over again the taking of the scalp. But all the turmoil
and excitement failed to produce the slightest effect on
the boy prisoner. Not once in the dance of an hour
did he lift his eyes to the scalps, to which were directed
all the eyes and attention of his captors. Not once did
he evince the slightest interest in any of the proceedings,
nor make the slightest movement unless forced to it. I
could not but admire the proud determination of one so
young to resist all the efforts of a crowd of enemies to
force him into a semblance of rejoicing over the scalps of
his tribe — possibly of his own father.

336 IXDIAXS.

CHAPTER XXVHI.

NAMES.

INDIANS have no family names. The appellations by
which they are known are obtained in the most hap-
hazard way, and changed at the will of the individual
or of his associates. The male child is called by some
diminutive, expressive of the pride or affection of the
father. This name, as he grows older, is liable to be
changed by his boy companions either in admiration or
in ridicule. On his initiation as a warrior he takes a
name, generally of his own choosing, though it may be
bestowed by his warrior friends.

From this time until his fame is fixed and mature,
he is likely to change his name after every fight or
thieving expedition, each change expressive of the fullest
appreciation of his own importance and exploits on that
occasion. But these changes, though gratifying to his
own vanity, are not always accepted by his companions,
or the tribe generally. Even the most noted warrior
cannot always control the disposition to ridicule or
nickname, which all Indians possess in a remarkable
degree ; and, however he may insist on calling himself or
being personally addressed by his chosen title, he may
be known and spoken of by a different name given him
by the warriors of the tribe.

Any personal defect or deformity of character or
person is almost sure to be seized upon as a fit name.
Mu-la-que-top called himself very differently, but was
known by that title among his own and all the southern
plains tribes. Powder Face has won and adopted a

NAMES. 337

dozen names, in well-fought combats ; yet lie is known to
all plains tribes and to the whites by the title which he
got from having his face badly burned by an explosion
of powder when a young man.

Some of the names are expressive of early pecu-
liarities, others of utter contempt; but it is a curious
fact that, however opprobrious the common title by
which a warrior is known, he is almost sure in his
maturer years to acquiesce in and accept it. The names
adopted by the warriors themselves are intended always to
be expressive of some particular action or situation, and are
generally adopted from the known habits of animals with
which they are familiar. Thus a warrior who, brought
to bay, has finally beaten off his enemies and escaped,
names himself Standing Bull. Another goes off alone
on an expedition, from which he returns with stories of
successful rapine, and calls himself Lone Wolf.

Girls are generally named by the mothers, and
frequently have fanciful titles, meaning or indicating
some thing which the mother may think worthy of com-
memoration, as the Hebrew women of the Old Testament
named their children. This name is liable to be lengthened
by affectionate diminutives, or contracted into a nick-
name, but it is not changed as the names of the boys.
Married women do not take the names of their husbands,
or change their own titles in any way. There are no
equivalents for Mrs. and Miss, and in the name, title, or
designation there is nothing to show whether a woman
is married or single.

When on reservations, or thrown into comparatively
close contact with whites, the male Indian is very prone
to take to himself some 6 white' name ; and at a military
post in the close vicinity of Indians there is always a
lazy lot of Franks, and Bills, and Jims, loafing as
an occupation, living by constant and unblushing beg-
gary, and ready to prostitute their wives or daughters
for a drink of whisky.

338 INDIANS.

CHAPTEE XXIX.

DISEASE.

THE Indians, like most people who live in the fresh air,
are a naturally healthy race, and, like all healthy people,
are very impatient of sickness. A wound is tangible
and understood. A slight knowledge of surgery is
universal, and the treatment very successful, owing pro-
bably to the general good health of the subject and the
pure, dry air of the plains.

Sickness is very different. To be burning with fever
or racked with rheumatism without external wound or
apparent cause, is so wonderful that it can be attributed
only to the direct action of the 'bad god.' JSTo idea
of diagnosis has occurred to them, for they have not
even advanced sufficiently to comprehend that there are
different kinds of ordinary disease. Sickness is sickness ;
that is all. There being but one disease, there is but
one remedy (other than the exorcisms, chauntings, and
other religious ceremonies) — that is, the sweat-house. A
small structure, shaped like a bake-oven, with one open-
ing in the side, is constructed of rough stone, if possible,
on a bank overlooking a pool of water. A fire is built
within, and, when a proper degree of heat is attained, the
fire is raked out ; the patient, stripped naked, crawls in ;
and the opening is closed with a blanket. When almost
baked, and the perspiration streaming from every pore,
he is taken out and plunged into the water below. In
some instances this treatment is very efficacious. In
others, the patient enters the water and the Happy

DISEASE. 339

Hunting Grounds at the same instant. This result will
not, however, prevent a repetition of the treatment with
the next patient. . The tenacity of life of an Indian is most
remarkable.

He will carry off as much lead as a buffalo bull, and
to ' drop him in his tracks ' the bullet must reach the
heart, the brain, or the spine.

I was once with a force of troops which camped
near a large band of Comanches, on the Llano Eiver, in
Texas. An Indian came into camp wounded, and our
surgeon was asked to see him. When he returned he
told me that a heavy bullet had penetrated from the
rear, just at the junction of the pelvis and thigh bones,
breaking both. The wound was some eight days old,
mortification had set in, and the man died that night.
It subsequently transpired that the Indian had been
wounded in a fight with troops near Fort Inge, had
kept his seat, escaped his pursuers, and had ridden alone
a distance of over 100 miles (in an air line), crossing the
Guadalupe Mountains. A white man would have in-
stantly fallen from his horse on receiving such a wound,
and never could have moved, much less mounted a horse.

There was at Fort Mason a worthless old Tonkaway
Indian, a beggar and hanger-on of the garrison, who
had but one foot. Colonel May, then commanding, told
me that this Indian had, when alone, some miles from
the post, found a bee tree. On cutting it down to get
at the honey his foot was caught, crushed, and held in
such a way that he could not free himself. For three
days he remained in this condition, hoping some one
would find him. He then made a fire of such leaves
and twigs as he could reach, and, taking out his knife,
dislocated the foot at the ankle joint, stopping the flow
of the blood by searing the arteries with fire coals.
When free he made his way to the post, where his stump
was properly dressed by the surgeon.

I have myself seen an Indian go off with two bullet

z2

840 INDIANS.

holes through his body, within an inch or two of the
spine, the only apparent effect of which was to change
his gait from a run to a dignified walk. I have heard
anecdotes enough of this remarkable character to make a
book of themselves.

The Indian, in his natural condition, is almost as little
afflicted with disease as an animal in its wild state.
Chills and fever in some localities, rheumatism in others,
and sometimes, but rarely, a case of consumption, form
the principal ills their flesh is heir to. Contact with
civilisation has brought its scourge in measles, whooping
cough, scarlet fever, small pox, and that worst of all
horrors, syphilis, which is slowly, but surely, destroying
all that portion of the Indian race which raids upon
Mexico.

The occasional attack of a tribe or band by cholera
can be accounted for no more satisfactorily than can be
the Epizootic, which passed at a regular rate, without
contact or apparent cause, from the Atlantic to the
Pacific, sparing no herd of horses, however isolated,
either of white man or Indian.

The Indians generally are beginning to believe
strongly in ' white man's medicines,' and will travel
a long way to see or obtain remedies from a post
surgeon.

341

CHAPTEE XXX.

FOOD.

THE food of the plains Indians consists almost entirely of
meat. Some tribes cultivate a little maize, and some-
times a few vegetables, pumpkins, melons, &c. All are
fond of plums, grapes, and other wild fruits and berries,
which are gathered in season, and dried for winter use.

The Indians on reservations are furnished with flour
by the Indian Department, but not in sufficient quantities
to enable them to have their ' daily bread.'

Every animal, bird, or reptile serves by turn the
Indian appetite. The entrails of birds and animals are
a special ban bouche. The smaller are eaten raw
and warm with animal heat. As soon as a deer or
antelope is killed it is opened, and the successful hunter
betakes himself to what, to him, is the most perfect
repast ; nor is he satisfied until its bowels, stomach, liver,
and not unfrequently heart and lungs, have all disap-
peared before his astounding appetite. The liver of a
very fat buffalo or elk will not unfrequently become
granulated and broken up by overheating in a long
chase. This, with the contents of the gall bladder
sprinkled over it as sauce, is the most delicious morsel
that can titillate an Indian palate. A Pawnee Indian, a
special friend of mine, once brought and presented me
with several pounds of this stuff tied up in a handker-
chief, and was greatly disappointed and mortified that 1
did not swallow it at once. The smaller entrails of the
larger animals are also eaten raw.

342 INDIANS.

When a young man — new to the plains, with a heart
full of romance and head stored with Cooper's and others
fictions of ' beautiful Indian maidens ' — I was on the

escort of General S , commanding the Department,

on a long scout, or reconnaissance, through Texas. One
day, when camped near what afterwards became Fort
Belknap, we were visited by a then prominent chief of
the Northern Comanches, Pa-ha-yu-ka, who brought
with him a few warriors and his family — several wives
and one daughter. The daughter was a vision of loveli-
ness, apparently about fourteen, but ripened by the
Southern sun to perfect womanhood. Eather below the
medium height, her form was slight and lithe, though
rounded into the utmost symmetry. Her features were
regular, lips and teeth simply perfection, eyes black,
bright and sparkling with fun, and the whole countenance
beaming with good humour and bewitching coquetry.
A tightly-fitting tunic of the softest buckskin, beautifully
embroidered with porcupine quills, reaching half way
between the hip and the knee, set off to admiration her
rounded form. The bottom of the tunic was a con-
tinuous fringe of thin buckskin strings, from each of which
dangled a little silver bell, not larger than the cup of a
small acorn. Her lower limbs were encased in elabo-
rately fringed leggings, and her little feet in beaded
mocassins of elaborate pattern. Her beautiful hair was
plaited down her back, and adorned with huge silver
buckles. The parting of her hair was carefully marked
with vermilion paint, and a long gold, or brass, chain
was twisted carelessly about her hair and neck. What
wonder if, with one look, I literally tumbled into love.
She saw my admiration, and, with the innate coquetry of
the sex in every clirne and of every people, met my
eager glances with a thousand winning airs and graces.
We could not speak, but love has a language of its own.
I haunted that Indian camp fire. Neither duty nor
hunger could tear me a.way ; and it was only when the

FOOD— THE COMANCHE BELLE. 343

Indians retired for the night that I could return to my
own tent and blankets to toss and dream of this vision of
paradise. Next morning with the sun I was again with
my fascination. The general gave the Indians a beef.
Some time after a warrior came and spoke to the girl.
Rising from her seat, she gave me a look of invitation to
accompany her. Proceeding a few yards into a little
glade, we came to several Indians standing around the
slaughtered beef, which was turned on its back, and the
stomach split open. Taking a knife from one of the men,
my c beautiful Indian maiden ' plunged her lovely hand
and rounded arm into the bowels of the beast, and found
and cut off some eight or ten feet of the ' marrow gut.'
Winding it about her arm, she stepped on one side, and,
giving the entrail a shake, inserted one end in her
beautiful mouth. Looking at me with ineffable content
and happiness expressed in her beaming countenance,
she slowly and without apparent mastication swallowed
the whole disgusting mass. I returned sadly to my tent,
my ideal shattered, my love gone ; and I need hardly
add that this one Indian love affair has satisfied my
whole life.

When game is plentiful the Indian is choice in his
food, eating only the delicate and savoury parts. When
suffering from hunger, he will eat anything — snakes,
lizards, toads, and sometimes even carrion birds. Dog flesh
is regarded as an almost sacred dish, being reserved only
for feasts on great occasions. Fat wolf is nearly as good
as dog, and not unfrequently supplies his place in the
pot when the domestic animal is scarce.

A skunk is a very great delicacy, much prized by
squaws in an interesting situation. The odour of this
animal is no protection against the Indian, who will
seize it by the tail and beat it against the ground until
dead, regardless of the fetid discharge which would
sicken almost to death another man. The result is that
an Indian camp is by no means a desirable country

344 INDIANS.

residence for a gentleman afflicted with acute olfactory
nerves, the stench being simply abominable.

The offal about the butcher's shop of a military post
is greedily devoured (generally raw) by any Indian
hangers-on of the garrison. Blood, either warm or
clotted, is swallowed with avidity ; and I have seen an
Indian draw his knife through the udder of a just-killed
doe, and, placing his mouth in the gash, suck the warm
mixed milk and blood with the greatest pleasure.

Nothing can be too filthy to come amiss to the all-
devouring Indian appetite.

Some few animals or birds are protected by supersti-
tion (though this is not strong enough to amount to
absolute prohibition). Our favourite Christmas bird, the
turkey, is tabooed to the Indian, who will not eat it
except when on the very verge of starvation. He believes
it will make him cowardly and run from his enemies, as
the turkey does from its pursuers. The plains Indian
depends for his regular winter supply of food on the
buffalo. The meat is cut into thin flakes and dried in
the sun. It is then pounded up and packed into trunk-
shaped receptacles (called parfleches), and is the true
Indian bread. The children are usually seen munching
this dried buffalo meat in the same way as their Anglo-
Saxon confreres eat with avidity either biscuits or sticks
of candies.

345

CHAPTEE XXXI.

CLOTHING.

THERE is no tribe of plains Indians that does not now
use more or less civilised clothing, seemingly, however,
more from imitative faculty than for any use or comfort
derived from the clothing itself.

The natural and ordinary summer dress of the male
Indian is breech clout and mocassins. The breech clout
is formed by tying a string or belt around the waist ; one
end of a piece of very dirty cloth, six or eight feet long
by four inches wide, is drawn under the belt in front,
passed between the legs and under the belt behind ; one
loose end forms a flap in front reaching nearly to his
knee, the other hangs out for three or four feet in the
rear, like a tail. This is all that is necessary for modesty
or decency from the Indian standpoint. In winter the
inevitable buffalo robe furnishes all the comfort and
warmth that he desires.

Girls wear the breech clout until they nearly reach
the age of puberty, when it is exchanged for a buckskin
jacket without sleeves, but fitting well up to the throat,
and a short kirtle of the same material reaching nearly
to the knee. The old women and nursing mothers do
away with the jacket, either leaving the body above the
waist entirely exposed, or covering it with a loose piece
of cloth in the way of a scarf.

These are the primitive fashions. c Time's resistless
course ' and contact with white people have so changed
those fashions that they are now in vogue only among

346 INDIANS.

those of the tribe who are too poor to afford the luxuries
of civilisation ; and nearly all the women at present wear
gowns of their own make, of calico or costlier material,
according to the wealth and affection of the husband.

Even in his most natural and poverty-stricken condi-
tion the Indian is excessively fond of finery, and always
has something extra for grand occasions. A few feathers
tied in the hair, a ring or two of brass wire for the wrists
or ankles, and so up to the elaborate display of useless
finery that the wealth and position of the individual can
afford or is entitled to. Descriptions and illustrations of
these articles have so often been made that it is useless
to speak further of them.

The common warrior, whatever his wealth, is not
permitted to array himself in certain fineries, nor to
festoon his shield in certain ways. Earrings are worn
almost universally by men, rarely by women. The holes
for insertion are made in the upper cartilage of the ear.
I have seen an Indian with three or four huge brass rings
in each ear, each ring supported by lead-work connec-
tions, shells, stones, pieces of bone, until each pendant
was at least a foot long, and the whole together would
weigh one or two pounds. Of course the ears were
dragged out of shape, enlarged to twice their natural
size, and much torn.

Paint forms a most indispensable article of dress with
all ages and sexes, and no Indian, whatever may be his
actual apparel, considers himself in full dress unless his
face is besmeared with paint. They show no taste or
skill in its use. Each individual daubs it on (using a
smooth stone for palette and his fingers for brush) as
seems most becoming. The Indian idea of full dress is
to heap upon himself every article of finery that he
possesses. The result is some of the most incongruous
and ridiculous ensembles that can be imagined.

I was once present at a council of grave importance,
involving peace or war, on the subject of the Pacific

CLOTHING. 347

Eailroads. Turkey Leg, a chief of some prominence,
came into the council lodge, buffalo robe tightly folded
around him. Over his head and face he wore a common
green veil. Over that, perched on the very top of his
head, and at least two sizes too small for him, was a very
tall, straight-bodied, stove-pipe hat. When he rose to
speak he retained his hat and veil, but dropped his buffalo
robe, disclosing his other apparel, which consisted solely
and entirely of a very scant calico shirt. The other
Indians seemed to think it all right, but I doubt if any
white man present carried off any very vivid idea of
Turkey Leg's speech.

The Government has for several summers employed a
number of Pawnee Indians as scouts. When clothing
was first issued to them they seemed to get along pretty
well with everything but the pantaloons. In a few days
almost every Indian had cut out the whole of the seat
and front of his pants, leaving the legs attached to the
waistband by the piece of cloth passing up the outer part
of the thigh and hip.

There is no such thing as fashion, no idea of incon-
gruity or unfitness. Whatever the white man wears the
Indian will wear if he can get it (except boots). He sees
the letters on the cap of a soldier. He has no idea that
they mean anything, and must therefore be ' pretty ' to
the white man. If he can get a hat, however dilapidated,
he covers it over with all the broken cross-sabres, bent
bugles, and pieces of letters that he can pick up. A gaudy
tie may adorn the neck of a man who has no shirt.
Another will have a vest buttoned to the chin, and nothing
else. No more ridiculous, motley, overdressed, half-
dressed, and undressed crowd can be found in the world
than a band of plains Indians when 'fixed up' for
company. A shirt will last several years, being worn
only on special occasions. As it is never washed, its
condition during the last few years of its usefulness can
be imagined.

348 INDIANS.

CHAPTEE XXXII.

EMPLOYMENT.

WHEN I first came upon the plains only a very few of the
Indians were possessed of firearms, and those were of the
most inferior kind. The bow was universal. Even the
Indians who owned guns still held on to the bow as
the more reliable weapon in close fight. All the time a
warrior could spare from the difficult task of furnishing
food for his family was fully occupied in keeping himself
supplied with materials for war or for killing game. A
good bow takes a long time and much care and labour in
its construction. The best wood is the Osage Orange
(bois d'arc of the old French trappers, corrupted into
' bow dark' by plains Americans). This wood grows in
comparatively a limited area of country, and long
journeys are sometimes made to obtain it. Only the best
are selected, straight and as free as possible from knots.
The seasoning process is slow and very thorough. A
little cutting, shaping, and scraping with knife or piece of
glass, then a hard rubbing with buffalo fat or brains, and
the stick is put aside in a warm place, to be worked
at again in a few days or weeks. A good bow with fair
usage will last many years, but it is liable to be broken
at any time by accident. Each warrior therefore possesses
several sticks of bow wood in various stages of completion.
The strings are formed of closely-twisted fibres of the
sinews of animals. These sinews are cut out their full
length. Each is then subdivided longitudinally into
strings, and these picked and re-picked into fibres as fine

EMPLOYMENT. 349

as hairs and as long as possible. With the rude means at
their disposal it requires no little skill so to put and twist
these fibres together as to form a string perfectly round
and of precisely the same size and tension from end to end.

The arrows require in the aggregate much more
labour than the bow. Any hard, tough, straight-grained
wood is used. It is scraped to proper size and taper, and
must be perfectly round. The head is either of stone or
iron — of late years almost exclusively of iron, for stone of
the necessary hardness is extremely difficult to work, and
twenty or more stones are spoiled and broken for each
arrow head made.

The Indian has not even yet the slightest practical
knowledge of working iron whilst hot, though almost
every one has seen it done in the blacksmiths' shops of
military posts. His idea of making anything of iron is to
get a piece of that metal larger than necessary, and wear
it down to proper size and shape by friction on a rough
stone. This labour has been also very greatly reduced
within the last few years, thin flat iron being in much
more general use, as hoops for barrels, binding for boxes,&c.

Under the most favourable circumstances, however,
the most skilful Indian workman cannot hope to complete
more than a single arrow in a hard day's work. In a
short fight, or an exciting dash after game, he will
expend as many arrows as will keep him busily at work
for a month to replace.

The necessity of making all his own weapons of
offence and defence, and of supplying himself and family
with food (a matter of serious difficulty and uncertainty
with those rude weapons), are undoubtedly the true
original reasons for devolving all the other labour on the
woman. To keep himself constantly prepared for war or
the chase gave the man all the work he could possibly
do. Naturally all domestic details, with the labour
necessary for their proper performance, devolved upon
the woman.

350 INDIANS.

The possession by Indians of excellent firearms has
greatly diminished the use of the bow. But ammunition
may be scarce, or the gun itself get out of order, and, as
he cannot repair it, he has then to take to his bow, until he
can find some white man to fix the gun for him. Many
Indians are too poor to buy a gun, and have not been
lucky enough to kill a man who had one. These use the
bow, as also do all the boys ; so that, however rich and
well armed a band may be, the bow is even yet an
indispensable possession of every male Indian.

The partial introduction of firearms has relieved the
warrior of a great portion of his former employment, but
he has no sense of generosity or other inward monitor to
indicate to him that he ought in turn to relieve the
woman of some portion of her labour.

In his natural condition the Indian is a true son of
Ishmael, his ' hand is against every man.' Whether his
disposition has undergone any change is a question, but
the long range breech-loading rifle has certainly modified
his habits. He is not nearly so fond of war as he was in
the 'good old times,' the game being greatly more
dangerous. The policy pursued by the Government
tends, however, to keep alive a warlike spirit, by
encouraging acts of aggression. The Indians are half
starved on reservations, and exposed to the amiable
attention of whisky sellers, until too poor to stand it
longer. They then break out. Sending their families to
the Staked Plains, or some other almost inaccessible
refuge, they make dashes and raids on the exposed
frontier settlements, killing people and carrying off all the
stock they can lay their hands on.

When they have stolen enough to re-start them com-
fortably, or when too closely pursued by the troops, they
either send a messenger to their agent or, avoiding the
troops, slip back into the reservation, and declare their
willingness to make peace. The proposition is not only
eagerly accepted by the Department, but the new treaty

EMPL 0 YMENT. 351

entered into is celebrated by many and valuable presents
to the Indians. In but one single instance that I know
of have the Indians been required to give up the stolen
stock, and even on that occasion only a part was actually
returned.

At the very moment of writing this several white
women are prisoners in the hands of the Indians, under-
going all the hardships and outrages which those words
imply, scarcely an effort for their relief being made by a
Bureau which finds it more to its convenience and profit to
preach humanity in the East than to do right in the West.1

The honour of one true woman is worth more than
all the Indians on the plains ; yet rapes, murders, and
pillages go on year after year, simply ' because there is
money in it.'

After the almost complete impoverishment of the
Arrapahoe tribe, heretofore spoken of, I had an interview
with a prominent chief, who in the most solemn manner,
almost with tears in his eyes, assured me that his people
could not live the next year but by going to war. They
wanted to live in peace ; but they were too poor to live
in peace, and they relied upon the stealings of the summer,
and the gifts they would receive for making peace, for
means to start again in a condition of comfortable inde-
pendence.

In October 1874 I took a small party of English
people on a hunt from Sydney Barracks on the Union
Pacific Eailroad. On the second day we came upon a
mixed band of Sioux and Cheyennes, numbering about

1 After almost superhuman efforts "by the troops two of the girls were
recovered on February 25, 1875. When restored to freedom and civilisation,
one was seventeen, the other hut eleven years of age ; yet both had been sul>
jected to ' indescribable indignities and beastly outrages by nearly all the
male Indians ' from the 10th of September, 1874, to February 1875. The
Indians who murdered their parents, brothers, and sisters, and outraged
them, are all known, but, instead of being pimished, they are now * good
Indians, living on a reservation, fed, petted, and coddled.' The case here
referred to is that of the Germain girls.

352 INDIANS.

1,500 souls. They then belonged to a reservation, and
should have been upon it. The small escort of troops
with me alarmed them not a little, and, in a council talk
which we had subsequently, Two Lance, the principal
chief present, informed me that he and his people were
forced to leave the reservation by actual hunger. ' You
may look,' said he, ' through every one of the 200 lodges
in this camp without finding a bit of meat, except the
fresh buffalo we killed yesterday. We know we are
doing wrong in leaving the reservation, but we could not
see our wives and children die of starvation. Though in
going to the Eepublican to kill buffalo we know we are
in danger from the Ute Indians, from the white buffalo
hunters, and from the soldiers, yet we are going because
if we do not soon get meat we shall starve.'

With a disposition naturally prone to war, and such
incentives as are forced upon him, it is scarcely too much
to say that the principal employment of the Indian warrior
is war and preparation for war. If not of equal import-
ance as an incentive to manual employment as war, the
chase requires even more time and labour. Hunger is of
perpetual recurrence, and the work of the Indian in sup-
plying food for himself and family is never done.

Only a few years ago the plains were covered with
buffalo, elk, and antelope ; white men passed and repassed,
killing such game as was necessary for food, or occasionally
for the mere wanton love of killing. These few animals
were not missed from the numberless throng, and the
Indian had no real competition in hunting. The work
of getting ready for the hunt was greater, but the hunt
itself comparatively easy. All is .now changed. The
countless millions of animals on which the Indian depended
for food, clothing, comfort, and even for life, are gone.
Their bones whiten the plains, the fell victims of the
universal greed for money.
Slaughtered for their hides !
The Indian is the most patient of men. Were he

EMPLOYMENT— THE GREAT FALL HUNT. 353

as good a shot as he is a hunter, he would lack meat
only when he could find no living animal. With his
head covered by a cap of grass or weeds, he will lie for
hours on his belly, noiseless as a snake, watching the
game he wishes to kill ; now perfectly motionless, now
crawling a few feet ; no constraint of position, no fiercest
heat of the plains sun, seeming to affect him in the least.
He will lie for a whole day at a water hole, waiting for
the game to come to drink (thougli in this case the water
must be so situated that hoofed game can get at it from
a certain direction, most hunted animals going to water
against the wind if possible).

The plains Indian is very susceptible to cold. He
therefore hunts but little in winter, goes out only in the
most pleasant weather, and but a short distance from his
encampment ; for at this season he goes on foot, his ponies
being too poor to carry him. The habitual hunting of
the Indian is desultory, as he may feel in the humour of
sport or as the larder runs low.

Every year ' the great fall hunt ' is made for the pur-
pose of killing and curing a supply of meat for winter
use. It is in this hunt that he finds his most perfect en-
joyments and excitement. Great preparations are made
in advance. Eunners are sent out to scour the country
for long distances and seek out the most eligible situation
for the hunting camp. It must be near water, of course ;
there must be plenty of timber, for poles are to be cut
and scaffolds erected for drying the meat ; there must be
level sward for stretching and drying the skins ; and,
above all, it must be as nearly as possible in the centre
of a region abounding in game. The spot being decided
upon, the whole band — men, women, and children — move
to it, lodges are pitched, scaffolds erected, and everything
put in order for work.

The 'dog-soldiers' are masters now, and woe be to
the unfortunate who disobeys even the slightest of their
arbitrary or democratic regulations. All being ready, the

A A

354 INDIANS.

best hunters are out long before the dawn of day. If
several herds of buffalo are discovered, that one is selected
for slaughter whose position is such that the preliminary
manoeuvres of the surround and the shouts and shots of
the conflict are least likely to disturb the others. A
narrow valley with many lateral ravines is very favourable.
If the herd is on a hill, or otherwise unfavourably situated,
the hunters may wait for it to go to water, or by discreet
appearances at intervals drive it to the best spot. During
all this time the whole masculine portion of the band
capable of doing execution in the coming slaughter is
congregated on horseback in some adjacent ravine, out
of sight of the buffalo, silent and trembling with suppressed
excitement. The herd being in proper position, the lead-
ing hunters tell off the men and send them under tem-
porary captains to designated positions. Keeping carefully
concealed, these parties pour down the valley to leeward,
and spread gradually on each flank of the wind, until the
herd is surrounded except on the windward side. Seeing
that every man is in his proper place, and all ready, the
head hunter rapidly swings in a party to close the gap,
gives the signal, and, with a yell that would almost wake
the dead, the whole line dashes and closes on the game.
The buffalo make desperate rushes, which are met in
every direction by shouts and shots and circling horse-
men, until, utterly bewildered, they almost stand still to
await their fate. In a few moments the slaughter is
complete. A few may have broken through the cordon
and escaped. These are not pursued if other herds are
in the vicinity.1

1 I have never personally witnessed a surround. The above description
is given on the authority of white men and Indians who have assisted in
many. The dog-soldiers are exceedingly tenacious of their rights, and object
strenuously to the presence of any one who may not be punished for violation
of their rules. The chief dares not, without their consent, to give permis-
sion for any outsider to accompany the band in a surround. Those who
belong to the band by marriage, and a few others specially favoured, are the
only white men who have ever been eye-witnesses to this most exciting of

EMPLOYMENT— THE GREAT FALL HUNT. 355

The slaughter completed, the ' soldiers ' return to camp
to swell and strut, and vaunt each his own individual
exploits, while the women skin, cut up, and carry to
camp almost every portion of the dead animals. As
soon as those skins are stretched, that meat cut up in
flakes and put to dry — or, in other words, when the
woman's work is done — another surround is made with
like result, and this is continued until enough meat and
skins are obtained, or until cold weather drives the
Indians to their winter camp.

The weapon principally used in the surround is the
revolving pistol, though some men may use carbines, and
others bows. When bows and arrows alone were used,
each warrior, knowing his own arrows, had no difficulty
in positively identifying the buffalo killed by him.
These were his individual property entirely, except that
he was assessed a certain proportion for the benefit of the
widows or families which had no warrior to provide for
them. If arrows of different men were found in the
same dead buffalo, the ownership was decided by their
position. If each arrow inflicted a mortal wound, the
buffalo was divided, or not unfrequently given to some
widow with a family. The head hunter decided all
these questions, but an appeal could be taken from his
decision to the general judgment of the dog-soldiers.
Since the general use of firearms has rendered impossible
the identification of the dead buffalo, the Indians have
become more communistic in their ideas, and the whole
of the meat and skins is divided after some rule of ap-
portionment of their own invention. None but the lazy
and the poor shots are satisfied with this arrangement,
but it is the only solution of the problem left to them

Surrounds of elk are made on the same general

Indian scenes. A white hunter, considered very reliable, told me that he had
once seen nearly 300 buftalo killed in one surround, that the whole affair
occupied less than ten minutes alter the signal was given, and that not a
single buffalo escaped.

A A 2

356 INDIANS.

principles. The Ute Indians (a mountain and not a
plains tribe) make surrounds of antelope, and are said to
be very successful.

In addition to the work required in war and hunting,
the male Indian finds employment in some attention to
his horses, in making saddles, bridles, lariats, everything
necessary for his own equipment.

The work of the Indian woman is almost incessant
during daylight. Fortunately for her there is little
resinous wood on the plains, and their aboriginal in-
habitants have as yet devised no means of making a light
sufficient to work by at night. Once in a while they
obtain a few candles from a trader or a military post ; but
these are kept for grand occasions, and are more for
ornament than use. The woman makes all the clothing
for herself, husband, and family, whether of buckskin or
cloth. Until within a few years the needle was a piece
of sharpened bone, the thread a fibre of sinew. Now
nearly all the sewing is done with civilised appliances.
She cooks the food, brings all the wood and water
used in trie lodge. This last is not a hard task ; for they
do not bathe or wash the face and hands except on rare
occasions, and then they go to the stream. Bloody,
greasV, or otherwise filthy hands are wiped on the leg-
gings or other part of the clothing. I have never seen
an article of clothing washed in an Indian camp.

I have already said that all the packing of household
goods, striking and pitching lodges, as also the packing
and unpacking of animals, is done by women. But her
hardest work is at the time of the fall hunt. If the buffalo
are moving, the success of the hunt may depend upon
the rapidity with which she performs her work on a
batch of dead buffalo. These animals spoil very
quickly if not disembowelled. The bucks do not, there-
fore, wish to kill in any one day more than the squaws
can skin and cut up that same day. No sooner are the
buffalo dead than the squaws are at work.

EMPLOYMENT— GREAT FALL HUNT—DRESSING SKINS. 357

The southern plains Indians turn the animal on its
back, and commence skinning, as we do, by a split down
the belly. The northern tribes turn the animal on its
belly, and make a starting slit down the spine. In either
case the skin is removed with marvellous celerity. The
meat, cut as closely as possible from the bones, is tied up
in the skin, and packed on ponies to camp. The entrails,
emptied of their contents, form the principal food of
all during the hunt, not only being the most delicious
morsel, but not requiring a waste of time in cooking.
Marrow bones and hump ribs roasted on the coals serve
for most delicious suppers after the day's work is done.
All these are prepared by the women and brought to
camp.

The skins are spread flesh side upwards on a level
piece of ground, small slits are cut in the edges of each,
and it is tightly stretched and fastened down by wooden
pegs through the slits into the ground. The meat is cut
into thin flakes, and placed on the drying scaffolds or
poles. All this work is done in an incredibly short time.
Another surround is then made, and so on, until the
winter's supply is obtained.

The hunt being over, or, in the intervals, if game is
scarce, the women proceed to ' gather the crop.' Old
parfleches are brushed up and new ones made. The now
thoroughly dried meat is pounded to powder between two
stones, and packed in these receptacles. Melted tallow is
poured over the whole, which is kept warm until the
mass is thoroughly saturated. When cold the parfleches
are closed and tightly tied up. The contents so prepared
will keep in good condition for several years.

The dressing of skins is the next work. No tannin
is used, consequently no leather is made. The thickest
hides are selected for shields, parfleches, &c. The hair
is taken off by soaking the skins in water in which is
mixed wood ashes, lime, or some natural alkali. The
skin is then cut into the required shape arid put on a

358 INDIANS.

form while green. When it becomes dry it retains its
shape, and is almost as hard as iron.

Making a robe is a much more difficult process. The
skin in its natural condition is much too thick for use,
being unwieldy and lacking pliability. This thickness
must be reduced at least one' half, and the skin at the
same time made soft. When the stretched skin has be-
come dry and hard from the action of the sun, the woman
goes to work upon it with a small iron instrument shaped
somewhat like a carpenter's adze. It has a short handle
of wood or elk horn tied on with raw hide, and can be
used with one hand. These tools are heirlooms in families,
and are greatly prized, more especially those with
elk horn handles. With this she chips at the hard skin,
cutting off a thin shaving at each blow. The skill of this
process is in so directing and tempering the blows as to
cut the skin, yet not cut through it, and in finally ob-
taining a perfectly smooth arid even inner surface and
uniform thickness. To render the skin soft and pliable,
every little while the chipping is stopped, and the chipped
surface smeared with fat and brains of buffalo, which are
thoroughly rubbed in with a smooth stone. It is a long
and tedious process, and none but an Indian would go
through it. Hides for making lodges have the hair
taken off, are reduced in thickness, and made pliable.
Deer, antelope, and other thin skins are beautifully pre-
pared for clothing, the hair being always removed.

Thus there are four different processes in the prepa-
ration of skins, each admirably adapted to the use to
which the prepared skin is to be put.

In none of the plains tribes is there the slightest
knowledge of traps and trapping. Their invention seems
to have stopped short of even the simplest contrivance
for catching game, either animals or birds. I have heard
of their stealing the traps of a white trapper; but the
first time a bungler gets his lingers caught in its jaws, the
trap is thrown away as ' bad medicine/

EMPLOYMENT.

359

These seem to be the only aboriginal people in the
world who have not some pitfall, spring, or native trap.
I attribute this lack to the plentiful supply of large game
always to be had on the plains. The Indian never wanted
for food and clothing when countless herds covered the
plains. He had no ' necessity,' and his ' invention ' was
therefore never born.

A few fish are killed by lance or arrows, but until
within a very few years the plains Indians had no know-
ledge of angling with line and hook. They are not
fish eaters, and only use them when nothing better is
to be had.

300 INDIANS.

CHAPTEE XXXIII.

TEADE.

THE trade or commercial industry of the plains Indians is
limited to a small barter among themselves, and the
annual exchange with white traders, licensed by the
Indian Bureau, of their surplus buffalo robes for sugar,
coffee, tea, clothing, trinkets and gewgaws. With good
management there is a great deal of money to be made by
the whites in these trades, and a licence is eagerly
sought.

Long before the time of the ' big trade,' each trader
sends out runners or drummers to the camps of the
different bands to find out how many robes are likely to
come in from each, and to solicit trade, with promises of
presents to the chiefs and prominent men.

The trading is done under the auspices of the Indian
Bureau, and the agent, having control, does pretty much
as he pleases. He may permit the traders to go with
their goods to the winter camps of the Indians ; or he may
refuse such permission, thus forcing the Indians to come
to the traders. When there are several traders it is
almost impossible for the agent to act in any way without
his action being for or against the. interests of one or
other of the traders. However fair and impartial his
action may be, somebody is sure to believe himself injured,
and equally sure to accuse the agent of interested motives
and collusion with his rivals.

When permission is given to go to the winter camps,
all the traders are notified at or near the same time, and

TRADE AXD TRADERS. 3G1

each starts off his waggons with all possible despatch ;
unnecessary, because the runners of each have interviewed
the Indians, who are by far too shrewd not to understand
the value of competition, and will not, therefore, begin the
trade until all the traders have arrived.

Beaching the camp, their tents are pitched, their wares
unpacked, and displayed to the best advantage. The
bucks stalk gravely from tent to tent, talking business ;
while the squaws crowd every available space, and admire
and chatter with all the eagerness for shopping that the
gentle sex everywhere display. But many long talks are
to be held, many important questions settled, before the
trade actually begins. The traders cannot take advantage
of each other by underselling ; for the Indians imme-
diately inform all the other traders of a reduction proposed
by one. Consequently they are forced into at least an
appearance of combined action, although each is doing
all he can for himself by presents and personal influence
with the chiefs.

Finally, prices are agreed upon. The pint cup is the
standard of measure for sugar, coffee, tea, &c. A partial
stretch of the extended arms (about one and a half
yard), very accurately measured by both trader and
Indian, is the standard of measure for cloths.

From the moment that the trade commences it is con-
ducted with something like fury. Each buck rushes to
the trading tent, followed by Ins squaws loaded with
packs and bundles of buffalo robes, and each demands to
be helped first. The tent is jammed. The trader and
his assistants fly round with incessant activity. The robes
are not sold by the quantity ; but each is passed singly
over the counter, and the price taken before another is
passed. This, of course, greatly increases the work of the
trader.

Each buck trades first for the winter's supply of
necessaries for himself and family, then for articles for
his own use, convenience, or adornment ; then he selects

362 INDIANS.

presents for his. favourite wife, or for a young girl whom
he wishes to make a wife, or possibly for the wife of some
other warrior to whom he has taken a fancy. When all
this is done, if any robes are left, he graciously permits
his wives to dispose of them as suits their own pleasure.

For what the Indians have come to consider neces-
saries— sugar, coffee, tea, flour, Indian cloth, blankets,
calico, beads, needles and thread, knives, paint, &c. — the
price agreed upon beforehand is rigidly demanded of
each trader.

Unless one has purchased at better rates than the
other, neither gains any special advantage in this regular
trade, except in the number of robes purchased. It is
in the sale of trinkets, gewgaws, and articles of Indian
finery and Indian luxury, and on which a stated price
cannot be set, that the real competition is created and
the great profits made.

A novelty has great charms for an Indian, who will
pay a hundred times its value for an article new to him
which strikes his fancy. He has no real standard of
value, and what he will give for an article, not in the
sale, is regulated entirely by the greatness of his desire
for it. The trader understands this perfectly, and not
unfrequently gets two or three robes for a piece of tawdry
jewellery which probably cost him twenty-five cents.
The trade continues until each family has bought all it
needs, or until the robes give out.

In some instances traders have established permanent
store tents at the Indian camp, kept open as an ordinary
store all the winter. This, however, is not so profitable
an arrangement as it would appear ; for the Indians are
not only arrant thieves, but most importunate beggars,
and the trader is compelled to be giving something all the
time, or risk losing the favour of the chiefs and head men.

The price of a buffalo robe has very greatly increased
within the last two or three years. In 1871-2 it was
worth from seven to nine cups of sugar ; a red Mackinac

TRADE. 363

blanket was good for two or even three robes ; whilst one
measure of Indian cloth, or five or six measures of calico,
was the equivalent of one robe.

Counting all expenses of transportation of goods,
employment of runners, salesmen, &c., the robes actually
cost the traders from two and a half to three and a half
dollars at the Indian camp. And this, too, when all
legitimate mercantile advantages are taken. The Indian
buys sugar by measure. The trader brings out the
lightest and most fluffy article to be found, weighing,
scarcely half a pound to the pint. The Indian is no
judge of coffee, tea, &c. The very poorest article to be
found in the eastern market is brought to him. Of the
quality of Indian cloth, blankets, calico, and such articles,
the Indian is a very fair judge ; and in the regular trade,
with his accustomed articles, he is not easily taken in. It
is when he finds something new and specially adapted
to his fancy that his pocket is turned out.

I have said that he has no standard of value.
Neither can he comprehend that any other man can have
such standard. He will work a month to complete a bow
and quiver of arrows, and then probably sell them for
something that cost twenty cents. He will gravely offer
to ' swap ' a broken-down mule worth nothing for a two-
hundred dollar horse.

Years ago, before matches were so common as now,
a Lipan Indian saw an officer take a box, of what to him
were little sticks, from his pocket, and, scratching one on
a stone, light his pipe. He eagerly inquired into this
mystery, and looked on with astonishment while several
matches were lighted for his gratification. He went to
his camp near by, and soon came back with half a dozen
beautifully-dressed wild cat skins, which he offered for
the wonderful box. The exchange was accepted, and he
went off exceedingly gratified. Some time after he was
found sitting by a stone on which he was gravely scratch-
ing match after match, holding each in his fingers until

364 INDIANS.

forced to drop it, and then inspecting and examining the
scorched fingers, as if in doubt whether it were real fire.
This he continued until every match was gone.

In 1867 a Sioux Indian came to Fort Sedgwick,
having in his possession a very fine and elaborately
painted buffalo robe. Many offers were made by officers
for its purchase — sugar, coffee, flour, &c.. to the amount
of nearly twenty dollars being offered and refused. Some
time after a sergeant passed who had in his hand a paper
containing two or three pounds of loaf sugar cut into
cubic blocks or lumps (cut loaf, then new to frontier
people). He gave the Indian a lump or two, and passed
on. In a few moments the Indian came running after
him, took the robe from his shoulders, and offered it for
the paper of sugar. The exchange being made, he sat
down on the ground, and slowly and deliberately, with
every appearance of the most perfect gratification, ate up
every lump.

The laws of the United States prescribe heavy penalties
for those who sell intoxicating liquors to the Indian, or
even take it into his country without special authority.
In prohibiting the regular trader from selling whisky to
the Indian, the Government exercises the same supreme
wisdom that it everywnere displays in the management
of Indian affairs.

It takes the traffic in liquor (which will go on as
long as an Indian is left) out of the hands of responsible
men, in which it could be guarded and regulated, and
places it in those of the most grasping, unscrupulous,
rascally set of men in the world. The trader is also usually
prohibited from selling arms and ammunition. Whether
truthfully or not, this most lucrative department of the
Indian traffic has come to be regarded by frontier people
as the special prerogative of the Indian Bureau and its
pets and favourites. Who sells the arms to the Indians
will probably always be a mystery ; but certain it is that
they are always found completely armed with the very

TRADE. 365

latest and most approved pattern of breech-loading rifles,
pistols, &c., and, although utterly ignorant of the manufac-
ture of powder or lead, they are nevertheless always
fully supplied with these indispensable necessaries.

Where does the Indian get his arms ? This is a very
serious question to the army and to the frontier settlers,
but a question to which there is never an answer. Who-
ever is responsible is also responsible for the life blood
of many a good and brave man, and for the tears and
sufferings of many a widow and orphan. There would
be no doubt, no mystery, did not the abominable greed
for money cover up every crime and every villany.1

A few years ago I met a man said to be possessed of
a very considerable share of the world's goods, who, in
a communicative mood, told me that he had made his
first step towards fortune by being selected to pay a
sum of money to a tribe of Indians on the Pacific fron-
tier. Going to San Francisco, he proceeded to expend
one-half of the money in a most careful and judicious
selection of the most suitable goods in that market.
The other half of the money (less a sufficient sum for
transportation) was expended in the purchase of rifles,
pistols, powder, lead, caps, liquor, and articles of finery.
He arrived in the Indian country in the most fortunate
season, sent out runners, got the tribe together, and, after
a talk, opened and distributed his gifts. The Indians
were more than delighted. They had never seen such
excellent articles, nor had a tithe of the quantity ever

1 The following has been told me as true. If so, it will afford some light
on the question, Who sells the arms? The names of all the parties can be
furnished : —

A. few years ago an army officer of high rank was in command of a force
confronting a large body of Indians who were believed to be getting ready
for an outbreak. The officer learned from his spies that a wagiron train
loaded with arms and ammunition was on its way to the quasi-hostile
Indians. He immediately sent out and captured the train. He reported his
action to the proper authorities at Washington. The Indian agent also made
a report, and the result was that the officer received a most decided snub.
He was ordered to release the train, and mind his own business.

3G6 INDIANS.

been brought to them before. When all were in the best
possible humour, he opened his cases of arms, &c., and
then told them that he was ready for trade. They rushed
at it with avidity, sometimes giving furs worth $200 or
$300 for a gun which cost twenty. c I did a pretty good
thing,' added he ; 'I satisfied the Department, I made
the Indians perfectly happy, and I cleared for myself
somswhat more than double the whole amount of money
given to me in the first place.' I give this story, as I
accepted it, for what it is worth. It is entirely within the
bounds of probability.

It is well known that the founders of some of the
most colossal fortunes in this country started as traders
with, or agents for, Indians, and the greatest city of the
Mississippi Valley may be said to have been founded and
built on the Indian trade.

367

CHAPTER XXXIY.

DRILLING.

IN" good weather a very considerable portion of time is
spent in drill, and very great proficiency is attained.
There seems to be no fixed system of tactics, each chief
instructing according to his own particular ideas. There
are no ranks, no organisations or units of command ; but
there are words or signals of command, by which the
same evolutions are repeatedly performed, seemingly
more by the admirable intuition of the individual Indian
than by any instruction that could possibly have been
given him. The whole band will charge en masse, and
without order, on a supposed position of the enemy. At
a word it breaks or scatters like leaves before the storm.
Another signal : a portion wheels, masses, and dashes
on a flank, to scatter again at another signal. The plain
is alive with circling, flying horsemen ; now single, lying
flat on the horse, or hanging to his side, as if to escape
the shots of a pursuing enemy, and now joined together
in a living mass of charging, yelling terror.

The most remarkable part of the drill is the perfect
control the chief seems to exert, not only on the mass,
but on the individual, and this in spite of clouds of dust,
and noise enough to drown the roar of a cannon. It is
done by signals, devised after a system of the Indian's
own invention, and communicated in various ways.

Wonderful as the statement may appear, the signalling
on a bright day, and when the sun is in the proper direction,
is done with a piece of looking-glass held in the hollow

3G8 INDIANS.

of the hand. The reflection of the sun's rays thrown
on the ranks communicates in some mysterious way the
wishes of the chief. Once standing on a little knoll over-
looking the valley of the South Platte, 1 witnessed almost
at my feet a drill of about 100 warriors by a Sioux chief
who sat on his horse on a knoll opposite me, and about 200
yards from his command in the plain below. For more
than half an hour he commanded a drill which for variety
and promptness of action could not be equalled by any
civilised cavalry of the world. All I could see was an
occasional movement of the right arm. He himself after-
wards told me that he used a looking-glass.

The signal drill is most strong and sacred ' medicine,'
the secret of which it would be destruction to divulge.

o

Even the whites, intermarried and living with them, are
not admitted to the mystery. I have questioned several
of these and many plains hunters, who could never tell
me more than that such system is in common use. In
the hope of emulating the fame of our renowned chief
signal officer, I have used both persuasion and bribes to
the Indians themselves, but could never get at even a hint
which I might use as a starting point of a practical system
of signalling. They admit the use of the glass, and that
is all.

In communicating at long distances on the plains,
their mode of telegraphing is equally remarkable. Indian
scouts are frequently employed by the United States Go-
vernment, and are invaluable, indeed almost indispensable,
to the success of important expeditions. The leader, or
interpreter, is kept with the commander of the expedition,
while the scouts disappear far in advance or on the flanks.
Occasionally one shows himself, sometimes a mere speck
on a distant ridge, and the interpreter will say at once
what that scout wishes to communicate. I learned many
of these signals, which are simple enough : as, for instance,
riding rapidly round in a circle means ' danger ; get to-
gether as quickly as possible.'

DRILLING. 369

The only really wonderful thing about this telegraph-
ing is the very great distance at which it can be read by
the Indian. I have good ' plains eyes ;' but while, even
with an excellent field glass, I could scarcely make out
that the distant speck was a horseman, the Indian by my
side would tell ine what the distant speck was saying.
Indians signalling and telegraphing are undoubtedly only
modifications and extensions of the sign language hereto-
fore spoken of. All are offspring of a necessity growing
out of the constant wariness incident to a life of peculiar
danger.

I have already mentioned the religious belief which
condemns every scalped warrior to annihilation, and cf
the heroism often displayed by the Indian in risking his
own life to save unscalped the body of his chief or friend.
This superstition is the primary cause of a drill peculiar
to the plains Indian. It is to stoop from the horse at full
speed, and pick up objects from the ground. At first
small and light objects are selected. These are gradually
exchanged for heavier and more bulky ones, until some
few individuals attain such wonderful proficiency as to be
able, unassisted and at full speed, to pick up from the
ground, and swing across his horse, the body of the
heaviest man.

This, however, is generally done by two Indians.
Hushing neck by neck on either side of the prostrate form,
each rider stoops at the same instant, seizes the part most
convenient, and the combined strength and address of the
two swings the body in front of one of the riders, who
carries -it away to a safe place. The warriors take turns
in picking and being picked up, for at any time during a
fight each may have to act or be acted upon as fore-
shadowed in the drill. When drilling as wounded, the
prostrate man will assist the others by extending arms
and legs. When drilling as dead, not only is no help
afforded, but the ' acting ' dead man assumes by turns

B B

370 INDIANS.

every position, the most unnatural or even impossible that
a really dead body might be supposed to fall into. This
drill is practised in good weather, most assiduously, on
all kinds of ground, until riders, ponies, and supposed
dead and wounded are thoroughly proficient in their
several parts.

371

CHAPTEE XXXV.

FIGHTIXG.

FROM the tactical manoeuvres described, an idea may
be formed of the general characteristics of the fighting
of the plains Indian. I have already spoken of his
bravery. No man can more gallantly dash into danger
when his reward, either in scalps or ponies, is sure.

It is in the higher qualities of courage, the firmness of
soul which enables a man to take his chance of wounds
and death, for the sake of principle or duty, without hope
or expectation of reward, that the Indian is generally
lacking. He has, however, exceptional glimpses of this
higher order of courage, as when risking his life to carry
off dead and wounded comrades ; and I have been told of
two instances where a few Indians devoted themselves to
sure death, to save large numbers from destruction. As
a rule, the Indian relies upon surprise, upon the effect of
a sudden and furious dash, accompanied with unearthly
yells, to demoralise his enemy and render him a sure
prey. In this he has no superior ; nor can he be excelled
in the spirit with which he follows up a first successful
effort, nor in the remorseless vigour and determination of
his pursuit of a flying foe.

Their fights with each other are almost invariably
surprises ; but if two hostile bands, nearly equal in numbers,
should meet on the plains, a long contest is likely to ensue,
in which the fighting is done at extreme long range, and
consists principally in dashing about on their horses,

B B 2

372 INDIANS.

making short feints of charges, yelling with intense fury,
and once in a while firing a shot.

Occasionally a young buck, anxious to signalise nis
bravery, will dash, well covered by his position on the
side of his horse, up to within 200 or 300 yards of
the enemy, fire off his gun in mid career, and circle
back to his own party. A youngster from the other side
will then try his hand with the same result. This goes on
until one party show^s evidence of weakness, when the
feints of charges on the other side become real, and the
whipped band gets away as it can. This is not at all
usual. Generally the affair is kept up until the ponies
give out, when each party draws off to try to achieve by
superior craft and cunning what it failed to do in open
fight.

I have been told of a desperate fight, which lasted
four days, in which the bucks on each side displayed pro-
digies of valour, and in which one man was killed. If
one party is greatly superior in numbers, it dashes at once
into the others, relying on the demoralisation of the
weaker side to prevent its doing much damage. Then it
is Indian against Indian, pony against pony ; and, unless the
ground be partially unfavourable, the beaten force break-
ing up, each man for himself, will get away without nearly
so much loss as might be expected.

The first impulse of the Indian, on being surprised in
his camp, is that most natural to all animals — to scuttle
away as fast as his legs will carry him. He does not,
however, forget his arms, nor lose his head to such an
extent as to fail to take the direction to the nearest cover.
While under this terror, or ' stampede,' as it is called on
the plains, he is by no means to be feared, his shooting
being wild in the extreme ; and it is only when wounded
that he recovers his presence of mind, and becomes again
the really dangerous animal that he is. Indeed he is then
ten times more dangerous than when unwounded, for in
the latter condition he will always sacrifice a chance to

GRAXD CHIEF OF THK PAWNBES.

FIGHTING. 373

kill for a chance to escape. The moment he receives a
disabling wound he becomes utterly reckless ; and, seeming
to devote his whole remaining energies to the one single
object of killing as many as possible of his enemies, he
fights with the fierceness of the wolf, but with coolness
of aim and desperation of purpose, as long as his eye can
distinguish an enemy, or his finger pull a trigger.

Many a white man has been sent to the Happy Hunt-
ing Grounds from carelessly going up to an Indian sup-
posed to be dead. An officer of high rank in our service
has suffered all his life from a wound inflicted under such
circumstances. Stampeded and demoralised, an Indian
was running for life, without thought of using his arms.
He was pursued, shot, and fell ; and the officer, stopping
his horse, was in the act of turning himself round to return
to his command, when he was struck under the shoulder-
blade by an arrow, sped with the last breath of the Indian.

I have heretofore mentioned the deadly hate which
exists between the Pawnees and the Sioux. Thirty years
ago the Pawnees occupied and claimed as their own all
the whole vast country from the Arkansas Eiver to the
Black Hills. The Sioux of Iowa, Minnesota, and
Wisconsin, pushed back by the advancing tide of civilisa-
tion, thrust themselves between the Pawnees on the
south and the Crows on the north, against each of which
tribes an incessant and most bitter war was then and has
been since waged. Gradually they spread over the wide
plains of Dacotah and Nebraska. The Pawnees, who are
undoubtedly the very hardest of Indian fighters, defended
for a long time, with desperation and success, the line of
the Platte, covering their chosen home, the great Buffalo
region of the Eepublican and Smoky Eivers. One fall,
about fifteen years ago, the whole Pawnee tribe was
encamped on the south bank of the Platte, near the
mouth of Plum Creek. Several hundred of the best
warriors, taking with them only a comparatively few of
the strongest and quickest working squaws, went over to

374 INDIANS.

the Kepublican for the fall hunt. Learning of this their
opportunity, the Sioux assembled every available man,
and by stealthy marches surprised and fell upon the com-
paratively defenceless main camp of the Pawnees, utterly
and ruthlessly destroying every man, woman, and child,
and carrying off the ponies and plunder to their fastnesses
north of the North Platte. The Pawnees never recovered
from this blow, and shortly after went upon a reserva-
tion assigned to them by the Government.

In August 1873 the Sioux struck another blow at
their hated enemies. The Pawnees, in charge of their
agent, were hunting on the waters of the Eepublican.
Leaving a few men and the squaws and children to pack
the animals, the bucks on the morning of the 4th of
August had scattered in search of buffalo. No sooner
were they at safe distance, when the unfortunate women
were attacked by an overwhelming force of Sioux, and
every one butchered. Thirteen men and fifty women and
children were massacred. The bodies were all scalped ;
those of the women violated after death and most horribly
mutilated. Even nursing babies were scalped, and their
bodies pinned to the ground by arrows. So bitter is the
animosity between these tribes that it is difficult to prevent
collision when they meet, no matter what the circum-
stances.

In 1868, when Spotted Tail's band of Sioux was
encamped at North Platte station, they by some means
learned that a company of fifty Pawnees (then in the
United States service) were being transported west on
the cars. They immediately flew to arms, and a strong
guard of soldiers had to be stationed along the track to
preserve the peace.

The Sioux are the meanest, most treacherous, and
most cowardly of plains Indians, and, though much petted
by the Indian Bureau, are the most constant in their
aggression on the whites. Their treatment by other
Indians makes the Pawnees the most reliable friends of

FIGHTING. 375

the whites ; and in any encounter with plains tribes, and
more especially with Sioux, the Government can always
rely on the services of 100 or 200 efficient allies, un-
surpassed as scouts.

The Cheyennes and Utes hate each other with an
equally bitter hatred, and fear each other more. The
one is a plains tribe, the other a mountain tribe. One
can do nothing except on horseback ; the other, though
owning and valuing ponies, is essentially a foot tribe.
A single Indian of either tribe on his own ground counts
himself equal to at least three of the other. The Cites
go into the plains with fear and trembling. The
Cheyennes will scarcely venture at all into any country
so broken as to prevent their operating to advantage on
horseback. Though constantly at war with each other,
few are killed, because neither will venture far into the
domain of the other.

In the fall of 1870, Little Washington, with his
band of several hundred Utes, went on to the Arkansas,
just below the mouth of the Sand Creek, to make the fall
buffalo hunt. Buffalo were rather scarce, and but few
surrounds had been made, when one day some Utes, who
\vere out on foot towards ' Two Butte Creek,' looking for
herds, discovered three Cheyennes on horseback. Noting
the direction in which they were travelling, the Utes got
in their front, and waylaid and shot them all ; but were
in such terror lest other Cheyennes might come on them,
that they did not even stop to take their scalps or catch
the ponies, but rushed back to their camp and. gave the
alarm. The whole camp was instantly in commotion,
and in an incredibly short time in march ; nor did they
stop their flight until safe in the almost inaccessible canons
of Eule Creek. One of the Cheyennes, though mor-
tally wounded, managed to get back to his camp. A
large party was at once sent in pursuit of the Utes ; but
the moment the trail entered the canons the plains Indians
turned back — not one would risk himself in a place

376 INDIANS.

where he must fight at such disadvantage. All plains
tribes share with the Cheyennes their contempt for moun-
tain Indians on the plains, and their fear of them in the
mountains.

The mixed band under Two Lance, before spoken
of, had to go well upon the head waters of the Eepub-
lican to find buffalo in sufficient numbers. This brought
them to the edge of the Ute country. As, Two Lance
told me, they feared would be the case, the Utes soon
found them out ; and a few warriors, slipping into the
vicinity of camp during the night, stampeded the ponies
at daybreak, and, in spite of the overwhelming force and
hot pursuit of the Sioux, got safe to the mountains with
over 200 head.

In 1867 almost all the plains tribes were on the war
path, making a last desperate effort to preserve to them-
selves the great buffalo range between the Platte and the
Arkansas. A company of fifty Pawnee Indians in the
service of the United States, and under a white captain
(Major North), was stationed on the Platte opposite Plum
Creek. A force of Cheyennes, afterwards ascertained to
be 154 strong, came north to capture a train on the
Union Pacific Eailroad, and so certain were they of success
that they had with them squaws and pack mules to carry
off the booty. The Cheyennes struck the Platte at Plum
Creek, and, as soon as it was known, the Pawnees were
ordered across the river to engage and hold them in
check until additional forces could be brought up.

The captain of the Pawnees, finding his force greatly
inferior, resorted to stratagem. Stripping his men to
Indian fighting costume, he made each put on his uniform
hat, and throw over his shoulder his uniform overcoat,
buttoning only the top button ; he then advanced to the
attack. The Cheyennes had a most admirable position.
Plum Creek is a deep bed, generally dry, some sixty feet
wide, with high and almost perpendicular banks. The
stage road was crossed by a bridge. The Cheyenne line

FIGHTING— PAWNEES AND CHEYENNES. 377

was drawn up directly opposite, and facing the eastern end
of this bridge, and about 100 yards from it. The right
flank, which might be turned, was protected by eight
or ten dismounted Indians posted in the loopholed
stable of Plum Creek Stage station. The Cheyenne
leader undoubtedly believed that the advancing force was
United States cavalry. His plan was to permit them
partially to cross the bridge, and then, by a vigorous
charge, with the usual yells, to frighten the restive and
not well-broken cavalry horses, render them unmanage-
able, and thus throw the whole force into confusion in a
most difficult and dangerous position. The Pawnees
advanced by the flank, left in front. As soon as the
leading files passed the bridge they rapidly inclined to
the left, giving room for those in the rear to come up
into line. When nearly half the company had passed,
the Cheyennes charged with furious yells. When they
had arrived within fifty yards, the Pawnees threw off hats
and overcoats, and with a true Indian yell dashed at the
enemy. The latter, entirely surprised and stampeded,
wheeled their horses, and fled in utter dismay and con-
fusion. The Pawnees took sixteen scalps, two prisoners,
and a number of animals, without a single man or horse
being even scratched. So little danger is there in a
c stampeded ' Indian.

In fighting with white men, a surprise is always
made when possible ; when this cannot be done the
Indians use other tactics, modified to suit the circum-
stances of the case. A pitched battle on anything like
equal terms as regards numbers is impossible ; first,
because the army is so small and so widely scattered
over our vast country that it is everywhere greatly
outnumbered ; and, second, because the Indians, not being
hampered with waggons, pack mules, or other impedi-
menta, can always avoid such a battle, and would never
be brought to accept it unless they outnumbered the
soldiers at least five to one.

378 INDIANS.

When their very great superiority of numbers em-
boldens them to determine on such a fight, and a con-
siderable force is engaged, the different bands, each
under its chief, are drawn up into an array, not a line —
for the bands form no lines — but which nevertheless
forms the line of battle. This line may charge alto-
gether or by individual bands. The Indians never
receive a charge and very rarely meet one. When
charged, the portion of the array immediately in front
of the charging force breaks and melts away into
individual Indians, while the bands on either side close in
to attack or harass the flanks and rear of the charge.
The broken Indians, wheeling in circles, form on the
flanks to attack, whenever practicable, or break again
when charged. Should the attacking force, carried away
by excitement, become scattered in pursuit of the flying
individuals, its defeat and destruction is almost sure.
The magnificent riding of the Indian and his superb
drill in this, his favourite mode of warfare, give him an
immense advantage. Avoiding, by quick turns of the
small and active ponies, the direct pursuit of their more
bulky foe, and circling like birds of prey, they collect
together, fall upon his flanks and rear, overwhelm him,
and disperse, to repeat the process on another.

In small fights the some tactics prevail. I know of
one instance where a small force attacked at least five
times its number, beat, scattered, and drove them for
more than two miles ; but, the troops also becoming
scattered in the pursuit, the enemy turned upon them,
wounded the officer in command, and killed and wounded
more than half the party, the survivors saving themselves
only by the speed of their horses.

There is one well-authenticated instance of a fair
stand-up fight between nearly equal numbers of troops
and Indians. A lieutenant of the old 1st Dragoons with
sixteen men met a party of hostile Apaches about twenty
strong. The two forces approached each other in line,
and at about 100 yards each broke into charge, the lines

FIGHTING— ATTACKS ON EMIGRANT TRAINS. 379

passing each through the other. Wheeling, a second
and a third charge were made, not a man on either side
flinching from his work. On the third charge the Indian
chief received a bullet in his brain, and his followers
tied beaten from the field.

The Indian and the old hunter or trapper of the
plains rarely come into collision. The latter is too cool
and dangerous a customer to be attacked without due
and careful preparation. Moreover, he is too poor to
warrant the almost certain loss that must ensue to an
attacking force. The Indians therefore content them-
selves with watching his camp and stealing his hard-won
peltries, his blankets and kettles, the first time he leaves
them undefended.

The Indian's great delight is the attack of a waggon
train. There is comparatively little risk, and his reward
in ponies and plunder most ample. For days he will
watch the slow moving line, until he knows exactly the
number and character of armed men that defend it. If
their numbers or carelessness warrant a direct attack, he
selects some place where the ground is unfavourable for
coralling the waggons. Here he lies in wait, and at the
proper time rushes out with terrifying yells, frightening
the teams, which run away, overturning waggons, and
throwing everything into confusion. Cool heads and
steady hands are required at such moments, and if the
whites fail in these their fate is soon decided. If a direct
attack involves too much risk, the Indian's next concern
is to get possession of the horses and mules.

He will follow the train for days, or even weeks,
never seen, his presence never suspected. Lulled into
false security, the white guardians become somewhat
careless ; the herd is permitted to wander farther from
camp, or with a too slender guard. Like a thunderbolt
from a clear sky, the Indians rush into the herd with
whoops and yells, scare it into stampede, and in a
moment all disappear together.

One unaccustomed to Indian warfare would naturally

380 INDIANS.

suppose that cover, rocks, thickets, &c., would be the
safest place for a small party attacked by an over-
whelming force. Unless the thicket is large, no more
fatal mistake can be made. In stealth, cunning, and
patience the Indian is the white man's superior.
However closely the fugitive may hide himself, the
Indians will find some means of getting at him without
exposing themselves. His only hope is darkness, when
the Indian's superstition renders him timid, and under
its favourable cover he must put as many miles as pos-
sible between himself and that party of Indians.

A party of railroad surveyors at work on Lodge
Pole Creek were suddenly attacked by a large force, one
or two killed, and the survivors took refuge in a dense
thicket of sage brush, three or four feet high and about
150 yards in diameter. The thicket, though commanded
by a bluff about 200 yards off, was otherwise very
favourably situated, the ground around it being smooth
and bare, affording no cover. The whites had run in
on the side nearest the bluff, and were congratulating
themselves on their good position, when a pony carrying
two warriors came at full speed across the open towards
the farther side of the thicket. As he passed the edge
the rearmost rider threw himself to the ground and
crawled into the thicket. Another and another Indian
was dropped in the same way, the whites firing at the
flying horseman, but failing to hit, either from the speed,
the distance, or from not daring to expose themselves
sufficiently for a good shot Several Indians, having got
on the bluff, were harassing them with a hot fire ;
whilst those Indians who were dropped from the horses
crawled into the thicket, and surrounded on three
sides the wretched men. Scarcely moving a twig
themselves, any movement of a bush by the whites was
immediately followed by a shot. The protruded barrel
of a rifle, or the exposure of the smallest portion of the
person, was the target for a volley. When night came

FIGHTING. 381

three men, one wounded, stole out of the thicket and
made their way to the nearest post, the only survivors of
a party of eight or ten.

Another fatal mistake is to run away. It is a singular
but well-established fact, that the mere act of running
from an enemy has a tendency to demoralise the
person running, and that even the bravest man under
such circumstances is liable to ' stampede himself, or
lose his head at the very time that all his coolness and
judgment are most necessary. Eiding furiously and
without discretion, he will either throw his horse down
by riding him into some ravine or hole, or tire him out
so as to be easily overtaken. Fright has rendered the
rider helpless, and he is killed without difficulty, or cap-
tured alive, to delight the women with his torture. I
have known of one instance where a good plainsman, a
citizen, who had been in several fights, a splendid rider
and shot, became stampeded, and, when overtaken, stood
quiet, pistol in hand, and allowed himself to be shot
several times, and finally killed, without attempting the
slightest defence.

A citizen, employed at Fort Dodge as herder, was
one day out, fully armed, guarding the herd, when a
small party of Indians dashed upon it. One made direct
for the herder, who turned his horse and rode direct for
the garrison, but was overtaken and killed within 200
yards of the quarters, without firing a shot.

The safest position for a small party is on a perfectly
level plain without timber, rocks, holes, or other cover for
an enemy, and large enough for the party to be well
beyond fair shot from any ravine. If no such place
can be got at, then scan the nearest approach to it.

A good plainsman, when travelling with a small party
on unknown ground, is always on the look-out for such
favourable positions, and if 'jumped ' by Indians in bad
ground he gets back to the last good place without loss of
time, horse well in hand, going at a good round rate, but

382 INDIANS.

not running. These tactics are always adopted by the old
trappers and hunters of the plains, and by all plainsmen,
old or new, who know Indians ; and so well have the
Indians come to understand it, that when they see two or
three men take such a position, dismount, tie the legs of
their horses, and sit down on the ground rifle in hand,
they turn away and leave that party alone as c bad medi-
cine.' Of course there are exceptions, when the Indians
are very hostile, or the small party owns exceptionally
many or good horses ; but these are only exceptions, and
rare exceptions. The Indian does not want to be killed or
wounded any more than a white man, and he thoroughly
counts the cost of all risks. He knows how he himself
fights when cornered ; and his experience teaches him that
the white will fight just as desperately and even more
dangerously, and that an attack on a party so situated will
probably cost more lives than the scalps and horses of
the party are worth. Besides, as I have elsewhere said,
he lacks discipline and the courage that comes of disci-
pline. He argues like a militiaman in presence of the
enemy, who, being in line with a thousand other men, sees
a hostile line a thousand strong advancing to the attack.
' Heavens,' thinks he, ' what can I do against such a force ? '
and, totally forgetting the thousand men in line with him,
he incontinently takes to his heels, not from lack of
courage but of discipline. The white soldier going into
battle knows that many will be killed and wounded, but
always expects that he himself will be lucky and escape
unhit. The disposition of the Indian is just the reverse ;
each thinks he is the one going to be hit, and every man of
thirty or forty charging Indians will throw himself on the
side of his horse on the presentation of a single rifle.

To the white defender such position is admirable, not
only in affording no cover to the attack, but in bracing
and steadying his own nerves. There is no chance of his
stampeding himself; and a man is never so cool, nor
fights so desperately, as when he has made up his mind to

FIGHTING. 383

live or die on one spot. Many a life has been saved by
this simple proceeding, which would otherwise have been
sacrificed. Sometimes the defenders get into a buffalo
wallow. This is excellent ; the ground is much broken
by these depressions, in which case they can also be used
in the attack. If time be given the earth should be dug
up with knives, and a rifle pit be made. Even a very
slight one is of immense advantage. I know of one suc-
cessful defence against repeated and desperate charges of
an overwhelming force, where the breastwork was the
bodies of three live horses, thrown to the ground in a
sort of triangle, and their legs firmly tied.

A frontier desperado, having committed a cold-blooded
murder at Hays City, was pursued by a party of whites
and nearly overtaken. Stopping on a level prairie, he
dismounted, drew his pistol, shot his horse dead, and,
taking position under cover of the body, he killed and
wounded three or four of his assailants, defended himself
successfully until nightfall, and then escaped.

In 1867 I was with a party of officers elk hunting on
the Loup Eiver. We had an escort of twelve or fifteen
infantry soldiers, and six Pawnee Indians. We established
our camp in a fine position, and each officer, taking one
or more Indians, went hunting as it suited him. One day
I was out with one Pawnee, and, not finding game, had
ridden some twelve or fifteen miles from camp, when
we were discovered by a band of between forty and
fifty hostile Sioux, who immediately set upon us.

About four miles back I had noticed a splendid defen-
sive position, one of the very best I have ever seen.
Putting our horses at half speed we plunged into the
barrancas of the 4 bad lands,' and in half an hour emerged
on the spot sought for. Here we dismounted and made
our preparations for fight. The Pawnee positively refused
to fight on foot, and when I was ready I found him ready
also ; not a rag of clothing on his body, and nothing but
a bridle on his horse. From some receptacle he had

384 INDIANS.

fished out a lot of narrow red, blue, and white ribbons,
which he had tied in his hair, and in the mane and tail of
his horse, and which, as he moved, streamed out for yards
in the rear. Sitting perfectly naked, with unwonted ease
and grace, on his bare-backed horse, with fire in his eye,
determination in his face, a Spencer carbine in one hand,
the reins and a Colt's revolver in the other, he looked no
mean ally in a fight for life. I had hardly time to admire
his ' get-up,' when the whole plain in front seemed alive
with yelling savages, charging directly down upon us.
When they got within about 250 yards I drew up my
rifle ; but before I could get an aim the whole band threw
themselves on the sides of their horses and, swooping in
circles like a flock of blackbirds, rushed back to the limit
of the plain (about 600 yards). Here they halted and
held a consultation, and some of them, £oing off on the
flanks, examined all the ground and approaches. Find-
ing no line of attack except in front, they again essayed
the charge, again to be sent to the rear by the mere rais-
ing of the rifle. This was again and again repeated with
like result. Finally they withdrew beyond sight, and I
wished to start ; but the Pawnee said, ' No, they will come
again.' They were absent for nearly an hour ; I believe
they were resting their horses. It was very hot, the whole
affair was becoming very monotonous, and I was nodding,
if not asleep, when the Pawnee said, ' Here they come/
I started up to find them within shot, and brought up my
rifle ; whereupon all ducked, wheeled, and went away as
before, entirely out of sight. During all the charges the
Pawnee had evinced the greatest eagerness for fight, and
I had no little difficulty in keeping him by me whenever
the enemy ran away after a charge. Answering yell for
yell, he heaped upon them all the opprobrious epithets he
could think of in English, Spanish, Sioux, or Pawnee.
When they wheeled and went off the last time, he
turned to me with the most intense disgust and con-
tempt, and said, emphatically, ' Dam coward, Sioux ! now

FIGHTING. 385

go.' So, after a few hours' siege, we saddled our horses and
returned to camp without molestation, but were followed
the whole way ; and from that time we had no sport or com-
fort in our hunt, the wretches preceding us by day, driving
away the game, and trying to burn us out every night ;
constantly making their unwelcome presence felt, and yet
never giving us a chance for even a long shot at them.

In 1868, when crossing country with one cavalry
' orderly,' I, on rising a little ridge, found myself within less
than 100 yards of two Indians, who, going up the ravine
at my feet, had just passed the position on which I was.
Fortunately, it was a drizzly, disagreeable day, and they,
having their heads covered up with their blankets, neither
saw nor heard us. Waiting until they had got out of
sight, I passed on a little distance, when I saw others and
others, until I found that I was actually surrounded on
three sides by parties of Indians, whose numbers I could
not estimate. Several stopped and looked at us, then
went on, evidently taking us for some of their own
parties ; and it was not until we had obtained a fair start
for a high and level table land which I knew of, about
two miles off, that they discovered we were whites. The
alarm was given, and they came for us. My ' orderly '
being mounted on a mule, and the country being very
rough and difficult, they had a great advantage in the
race, and, on arriving at a good position on the plain, I
had only time to loosen the girth, and tie my horse's head
close down to his fore feet, when the whole yelling band
appeared on the edge of the table land. As soon as they
saw my position they stopped, consulted, scattered, and,
keeping well out of certain rifle range, went all around
me looking for some ravine or other cover for a safe
approach. Finding none, they returned to their first posi-
tion, and had another consultation ; after which they rode
off in the direction they had come, and I saw no more of
them. The whole affair, chase and siege, did not last
over half an hour.

c c

386 INDIANS.

In 1871 I was changing stations from Fort Lyon to
Fort Larned on the Arkansas, taking, of course, my
servants and household property. I had several waggons
and an ample infantry escort. About thirty miles west
of Fort Dodge the waggon road crosses a portion of the
high prairie called the ' nine mile ridge.' This high
land is cut by several broad depressions, and towards
the river broken by numberless little ravines — very
favourable ground for antelope hunting — and into these
I, with my coloured man servant, was soon poking after
game. It was a raw, foggy morning, and I had been
hunting probably for two hours, when the fog lifted
slightly, discovering two men on horseback about 200
yards oflf, whom, as they had on overcoats, I took to be
soldiers from Fort Dodge. As soon as they saw me,
however, one of them rode the signal ' danger,' * collect
together,' and I began to think of my escort. Looking
round I was greatly annoyed to find the spring waggon,
in which was my coloured cook, about 600 yards from
me, opposite the Indians, while the waggons and escort
could not be seen. Making the best of the situation I
galloped back to the spring waggon, had it driven well out
into the plain, and the mules unhitched and well secured.
The driver got out his rifle, and everything was satisfac-
tory except the presence of the cook. I not only feared
she might be hit, but I knew the Indians would be more
dangerous if a woman were likely to be a prize. Making
her lie down in the bottom of the waggon, I packed
around her lunch and other boxes, blankets, cushions,
seats, everything that might stop a bullet, and gave her
positive orders to remain perfectly quiet and concealed,
no matter what took place. I then took position with
my two men some paces on one side of the waggon, to
spare it from shots. During all this time the Indians had
been collecting, and, soon after I was ready, a line of
about thirty moved slowly towards me. At about 800
yards they broke into a sharp canter. Expecting the

FIGHTING. 387

charge to come in a moment, I went towards the waggon
to be sure that the animals were tied safely, when, to my
great indignation, I found Julia (the cook), revolver in
hand, and her head thrust out of the front of the
waggon. ' Get back there,' I angrily ordered ; ' do you
want to be shot ? ' ' Lord Colonel,' she answered, ' let
me alone. I'll never have another chance to see an
Indian fight.' The earnestness of this, under the cir-
cumstances, most unexpected answer set all to laughing ;
and John, the husband, who a moment before was almost
white with apprehension, regained, with good humour,
his natural black. Every moment of delay being most im-
portant to us, I, when the Indians had got within about
400 yards, stepped forward, made the Indian signal ' Halt,'
and displayed a white handkerchief. To my great
gratification they halted ; and in a moment one came
forward with what had once been a white flannel shirt,
fastened to the pole of a lance. We met half way — I
very friendly, he very gruff; I disposed to talk, he to
be saucy. I asked the name of the tribe. He answered
by demanding something to eat. I asked where they
came from. He answered, ' Powder, lead, sugar.' We
could not understand each other well, which I was rather
thankful for, as it prolonged the talk. He wanted
everything ; and asked, not as a beggar, but demanded, as
one having right. I am compelled to admit a certain
amount of duplicity on this occasion, having, to gain
time, promised things which I had no intention of per-
forming.

The Indians had not seen the waggons, which were
crossing one of the long depressions below the level of
the plain on which we were. They were sure of us ; but
preferred getting what we had without a fight if possible,
especially as we had a good position. While we con-
tinued to talk I heard most welcome sounds, and, looking
in that direction, saw the waggons coming at the full
speed of the mules, while a line of ' the boys in blue,'

c c 2

388 INDIANS.

rifle in hand, stretched at a run towards the spring
waggon. I pointed them out to the Indian, and told him
to go. He needed no second bidding, but rushed back
to his party, which was in the greatest turmoil and con-
fusion. I went back to the waggons, hitched up and
started, the Indians holding a consultation.

As I regained the road, the chief came to me with
the flannel shirt flag. He was very much grieved. ' I
had deceived them. They could have killed us and
taken everything we had before the troops came up.
They did not kill us, because I promised to give them
what they wanted ; therefore I must give them all I
promised. He wanted to go with his young men and
sleep in my camp that night, that I might give them
plenty to eat, and powder, lead, and other things I
promised.' I told him that he and his party were robbers
and murderers ; that he must go away ; and that if he
or any of them came near my march or my camp I
would kill them. He left me and rode slowly back to his
men, the most disgusted looking Indian I ever saw. We
went our way, leaving the band sitting in a circle on the
ground, evidently discussing in no amiable frame of
mind the outrage that had been perpetrated on them.

A very common mistake, and one especially easy to
fall into when armed with a modern improved breech-
loading rifle, is in firing too soon. In the 'good old
times ' of muzzle-loading, the man who fired a shot
without sure death to his enemy was very likely to * go
under ' himself. The Indian has great respect for a
loaded, but none for an empty, rifle. He knows the value
of nerve, and fully appreciates the dangerous character
of the man who can refrain from firing until he has a
sure shot. He is particularly susceptible to what is called
' moral effect.' Shots whistling harmlessly by his ears
tend to encourage him, while the fall of a single man or
horse will sometimes send a very determined band to the
right-about.

FIGHTING— GIVING THE 'COUP: 389

A story is told of Jack Hays, a captain of Bangers,
very celebrated under the Eepublic of Texas, that once,
when his company had charged and put to flight a band
of Comanches, his very fine and fast mare became unduly
excited, ran away with and carried him alone in amongst
the flying savages, who set upon him from every side.
Without firing a shot he rode with them for several
miles, keeping off too pertinacious assailants by simply
presenting his pistol, until finally getting control of his
horse, he drew unhurt out of the dangerous neighbour-
hood.

A very curious and unexplained custom among the
northern plains tribes is called ' giving the coup'
How the custom originated is not known ; but the term
indicates that it was at least named by the old French
trappers, predecessors of the Hudson Bay Company.
When a foe has been struck down in a fight, the scalp
belongs to him who shall first strike the body with knife
or tomahawk. This is the coup. If in a melee or
running fight a warrior kills an enemy, he, in order to
secure his proper recognition and reward, must rush at
once on the prostrate body, and strike his coup, re-
gardless of other enemies that may be at hand. This,
of course, renders the Indian less formidable. The
enemy being in full flight, a brave and skilful warrior
who would press on and on, adding victim after victim
to his list, would return at last to find the scalps of all
the enemies killed by his hand at the girdles of laggards
in the race, to each of whom would be accorded all the
honours due to one who had killed his man. While he
who took all the risks and did all the killing, and who,
in his eagerness to kill, may have passed even the last of
his victims, has nothing whatever to show for his gal-
lantry, and is consequently without honour or credit,
the cowardly shirks, far in the rear, gain all the glory
and applause. The consequence is that, when a foe falls,
the slayer, even in the hottest race, and though other

390 INDIANS.

victims are at his hand, must, to obtain the proper recog-
nition of his act, at once give up all thought of further
killing, make his coup, and take the scalp. It can be
readily seen that this custom is entirely to the advantage
of the fugitives, and accounts in some measure for so few
Indians being killed in their fights.

After the return of a successful party, when scalps
have been taken, a ceremony is performed by the
warriors who took them, no other person being permitted
to be present. I have been a spectator at a distance,
but all to be seen was a number of Indians squatted on
their haunches in a circle. During the ceremony the
scalps are trimmed, cleared of any fleshy matter, and the
skin partially cured by some process. Each scalp is then
stretched by thongs inside of a small hoop of wood, and
the hair combed and greased. Each warrior then
attaches his scalp or scalps in their hoops to a peeled
willow wand, some eight or ten feet long. All march
gravely back to camp, each bearing his wand and scalps
in his hand. The wands are planted in a circle in the
centre of the camp. This ceremony is called ' counting
the coupsj and is preparatory to the ' scalp dance.'

A great deal of unnecessary sympathy has been
wasted by the philanthropic world on the killing of
squaws in battle by whites. In some instances, as the
' Sand Creek massacre,' most horrible and barbarous
murders of women and children have been committed,
worthy the Indians themselves ; but, as a rule, no woman
is hurt except by accident, or when fighting like a man. In
the surprise and attack of a camp, when all is excitement,
and bullets are flying in pursuit of every flying enemy,
that women and children should be killed and wounded
is to be expected. In such cases the younger squaws are
very prompt to make their sex known, holding up their
hands and yelling ' squaw,' ' squaw ;' and, even in the
excitement and thirst for blood engendered by battle, I
have never known or heard of a woman being killed

FIGHTING-FIGHTING SQUAWS. 391

under such circumstances by any soldier of the regular
service. The dress and mode of riding of bucks and
squaws are so entirely similar, that in conflicts and pur-
suits on horseback squaws are not unfrequently killed.
Many of them, particularly the middle-aged and old
women, handle arms with great facility and address, and
are fully as dangerous in fight as their husbands and
sons. Many a man has received his death wound from
a fighting squaw; and if any man finds himself the target
for flying bullets or arrows, I think he deserves all he
gets should he allow a sentimental squeamishness to
prevent his putting an end to the annoyance and the cause
of it, whether woman or man.

Few persons visited San Antonio, Texas, between the
years 1845 and 1850 who did not know and like jolly
' Tom Howard,' whose rotund person and jovial
countenance little indicated the fighting dare-devil that
he was. Tom was an ' Old Texan,' whose creed was to
hate, and whose first duty was to exterminate, 'Greasers'1
and Indians at all times and under all circumstances.
One day, riding out from San Antonio with a friend, they
came upon two Indians, and without a moment's
hesitation charged them. One of the Indians was soon
disposed of. The other kept on at full speed, sending
arrow after arrow at the pursuers, until a shot from one
of them brought down his horse. Eecovering his feet in
an instant the Indian sent an arrow into the head of the
horse of Tom's friend, which fell dead on a leg of the
rider, pinning him to the ground. Another was sent full
into Tom's stomach, dropping him from his horse. All
his arrows being expended, the Indian rushed at Tom and
seized his rifle, when the friend, raising himself on his
elbow, fired his pistol with so true an aim that the Indian
fell dead. After some time and with great difficulty

1 A term of contempt applied by Americans to the lower class of
Mexicans.

392 INDIANS.

the two whites got upon their feet. Shaking themselves
up, and getting the arrow out of Tom, they went to
examine their dead Indian, and, to their astonishment and
mortification, found it was a woman. The buck had
been finished almost without an effort. The squaw came
near finishing both her white enemies. Tom's brother
used to tell the story with great glee, adding that, though
the arrow went eight inches into Tom, it did not get
through the fat.

CHAPTEE XXXVI.

CAPTIVES.

THE plains Indians rarely make captives of men unless
they have some object to gain or special animosity to
gratify. Under ordinary circumstances they content
themselves with terminating the existence of a man
captive in the most convenient way consistent with a
proper amount of suffering. The death of a captive by
torture of fire is now very unusual, and since I came
upon the plains I have known of but few instances.

In 1855 a small party of the 8th United States In-
fantry, out from Fort Davis, Texas, looking for timber to
build the post, were surrounded by a large force of
Apaches, and all killed except a drummer-boy of twelve
or thirteen years of age. He was captured and taken to
the Indian camp, and, speaking Spanish with tolerable
fluency, was questioned at length by the captors, the
interpreter being a Mexican boy captured some years
before, and from whom I afterwards learned the following
particulars. The boy's answers to them proving to the
Indians that their scheme of attacking the post was sure
to lead to disaster to them, they became very angry and
turned him over to the squaws. These fiends in human
shape stripped and tied him to a tree, and for some hours
tormented him in every way their ingenuity could devise
without endangering life. Becoming tired of this, they
procured some ' fat ' * pine knots, and, splitting them into
small splinters, stuck them into the skin until the un-

1 A term applied to wood very rich in resinous matter.

394 INDIANS.

fortunate boy bristled like a porcupine. They then set
fire to the splinters, and danced and yelled with delight
when the poor boy cried and screamed with anguish.
When the fire burned out they left him tied to the tree,
exposed naked to the cold of that elevated region. Next
morning he was tied, nearly dead, on a horse, and carried
with the party, but after going about ten miles was
found to be dead. He was then scalped, and his body
flung among some rocks, where it was afterwards found
by troops sent in pursuit.

In 1868 an attack was made by a party of Indians on
a station of the Kansas Pacific Eailroad. One man who
happened to be outside was captured ; the other two or
three successfully defended their position, to the great
exasperation of the red skins, who, after losing several
men, drew off. Just at nightfall they took their captive
to a position in plain view, but just beyond shot of the
station, stripped him of his clothing, fastened him on his
back to the ground, built a fire on his naked breast, and
sat around it warming themselves with great apparent
satisfaction. The cries and groans of the victim could
be plainly heard by his friends; but nothing could be
done, and it was not until far in the night that the
cessation of his cries proved that life was extinct. Next
morning the blackened and half-burned body was found
still fastened to the ground, not only scalped, but, being
an unusually hairy man, almost skinned, and the flesh cut
and hacked from the bones.

I have before said that the Indians are fond of
children. In their raids on each other and on the whites
those children which are large enough to help themselves
a little, and not so large as to be likely to have strong
affection or memory, are carried off to the tribe and
adopted into it. These foster children are treated by the
Indians as their own, grow up, become warriors, or are
sold in marriage, exactly as the other children of the
families adopting them.

FEMALE CAPTIVES. 395

Either the character and customs of the Indians have
greatly changed, or Cooper and some other novelists
knew nothing of Indians when they placed their heroines
as captives in the hands of these savages. I believe I am
perfectly safe in the assertion that there is not a single
wild tribe of Indians in all the wide territory of the
United States which does not regard the person of the
female captive as the inherent right of the captor, and I
venture to assert further that in the last twenty-five years
no woman has been taken prisoner by any plains Indians
who did not as soon after as practicable become a victim
to the lust of every one of her captors.

The rule is this. When a woman is captured by a
party she belongs equally to each and all, so long as that
party is out. When it returns to the home encampment,
she may be abandoned for a few days to the gratification
of any of the tribe who wish her, after which she
becomes the exclusive property of the individual who
captured her, and henceforward has protection as his
wife.

No words can express the horror of the situation of
that most unhappy woman who falls into the hands of
these savage fiends. The husband or other male pro-
tectors killed or dispersed, she is borne off in triumph to
where the Indians make their first camp. Here, if she
makes no resistance, she is laid upon a buffalo robe, and
each in turn violates her person, the others dancing, singing,
and yelling around her. If she resists at all her clothing
is torn off from her person, four pegs are driven into the
ground, and her arms and legs, stretched to the utmost,
are tied fast to them by thongs. Here, with the howling
band dancing and singing around her, she is subjected to
violation after violation, outrage after outrage, to every
abuse and indignity, until not unfrequently death releases
her from suffering. The Indian woman, knowing this
inevitable consequence of capture, makes no resistance,
and gets off comparatively easy. The .white woman

396 INDIANS.

naturally and instinctively resists, is ' staked out,' and
subjected to the fury of passions fourfold increased by
the fact of her being white and a novelty. Neither the
unconsciousness nor even the death of the victim stops this
horrible orgie ; and it is only when the fury of their
passions has been glutted to satiety that she is released
if alive, or scalped and mutilated if dead. If she lives,
it is to go through the same horrible ordeal in every
camp until the party gets back to the home encamp-
ment.

Should the Indians not wish to be burdened with a
captive, they may, after surfeit of their passions, tie her
to a tree and leave her, as I have known in two instances ;
or butcher her in cold blood, of which there are number-
less instances.

The wife of a sergeant of the old 2nd Dragoons was
captured by a party of seven. They stripped her naked,
staked her out, and all violated her until glutted. They
then tied her to a tree, whipped her with switches until
her body was covered with bloody weals, and left her.
Next morning she was found by troops almost dead.
A laundress of the 3rd Infantry, straying too far from
camp on the Pecos Biver, was seized by Indians, thrown
in front of one on his horse, and hurried off. Her
screams attracted attention. Two or three men sprung
on horses and dashed in pursuit. Finding himself unable
to escape with his burden, the Indian drew his knife, cut
and stabbed the poor woman, and threw her lifeless body
to the ground.

A very pretty, intelligent, and attractive girl was in
1867 captured by Indians within a few miles of Fort
Dodge. One man of the party escaped and hurried to
that post. A force of cavalry was at once sent out, which
came upon the Indians in time to rescue the poor girl
and save her life, but not until she had been ravished by
every Indian, numbering at least thirty. In this case the
girl's good looks undoubtedly saved her a worse fate, the

WHITE FEMALE CAPTIVES. 397

Indians being too much excited by her beauty to wait to
take her to a safe place.

The Indians prefer, if possible, to take female
captives, white women especially, one moderately good
looking being worth as many ponies as would buy three
or four Indian girls. Besides this, they are exceedingly
valuable when the tribe gets tired of the war path and
intimates its desire for peace with the United States.
Tlrc Indians take great credit to themselves for bringing
in these captives, invariably demanding a large price ;
while the Government, as eager for peace as a schoolboy
after a thrashing, instead of punishing the villains for
their outrages, pats them on the back, and tells them that
they are good fellows for bringing in the prisoners, and
pays the price demanded.

I was once present when three white women, one a
bright, sprightly, intelligent lady, were returned, after a
captivity of several months among the savages. They
had been captured on the Little Blue, and carried to the
tribal encampment. This lady detailed to the wife of
my intimate friend (from whom I received it) a story
of horrors, for wrhich the life blood of every Indian of
the tribe would be inadequate punishment. Yet although
the Indians who killed the men, carried off and outraged
the women, were known, no one was ever punished, nor
does it seem to have entered the mind of any person in
authority that punishment was merited.

Sa-na-co, a Comanche chief, had a white wife, a Ger-
man woman, rather above her class in intelligence. Once
when Sa-na-co was on a visit to Fort Chadbourne, Texas,
with his family and band, an officer asked her if she did
not wish to return to the whites. ' No,' she replied ; ' my
husband, children, and near relatives were killed when
New Braunfels was taken by the Indians. I have no
friends among the whites. I have been long among the
Indians, and no longer suffer. Sa-na-co treats me well ; and,
though my life is hard, it is no worse than to work for

398 INDIANS.

my living among strangers. I shall live the balance 01
my life with the Indians.' This is the only instance in
all my experience of a white woman remaining volun-
tarily with the Indians.

I could give numbers of well-authenticated instances
of outrages as bad, and many far worse, than any here
described. I have told enough, however, for elucidation,
and I am glad to leave this sickening and horrible subject.
I would infinitely prefer to suppress all mention of these
fearful atrocities, and I only mention them in the interest
of truth. Without some reference to them, it is almost
impossible to depict the Indian as he really is, and
also to account for the antipathy which exists between
those living on the frontier and the red man of the plains.

899

CHAPTEE XXXVII.

SCALPING.

WHEN Indians wear scalp locks the process of scalping
consists in removing from the head a round piece of skin
of which the crown is the centre. None of the plains
Indians wear scalp locks, the hair being parted in the
middle from front to rear, all the hair on either side being
plaited into a long tail behind each ear. The process of
scalping is, therefore, different. A handful of hair is
grasped, the skin to which it is attached lifted, and the
knife passed underneath. As the long side tails are most
convenient to take hold of, the scalp is generally taken
from one side of the head, and not unfrequently two or
more scalps are taken from the same head. When there
is plenty of time the whole portion of the skin of the head
covered with hair is carefully removed in one piece, in
many cases the ears remaining attached.

Some special virtue or value seems to be attached to
hair-covered skin. The Indian has no hair on his face or
person, and consequently scalps only the heads of other
Indians. The full-bearded white man offers peculiar at-
tractions to the scalper. Every portion of skin to which
hair is attached, even to the small bit under the arms, is
scalped off. I once saw in an Indian camp a ' scalp ' con-
sisting of almost the entire skin of head, face, breast, and
belly to the crotch in one piece. It had been carefully
cured, and peculiar value was set upon it as 'big
medicine.'

Scalping is not fatal. I have known several persons

400 INDIANS.

alive and in good health who had undergone the
process.

In 1867 a party of Indians took up a rail on the
Union Pacific Eailroad, and laid obstructions on the track.
After dark a freight train ran into the trap, and in a
moment was a wreck. The engineer and stoker were
killed ; the conductor and breaksmen jumped off to find
themselves beset by the yelling savages. They ran into
the darkness, and all escaped except one breaksman, who
was pursued, shot, and fell. The Indian dismounted, and,
sitting astride of the body, scalped the head, then stripped
it of all clothing except shirt and shoes. Early in the
morning another train approaching was flagged by a
hideous-looking object, which turned out to be the breaks-
man, who, shot through the body and scalped, had yet
walked a distance on the track to warn the train he knew
would be along at that time. He was taken on board,
and the train moved up to the wreck, which, after plunder-
ing, the Indians had left. While examining the condition
of affairs, one of the men found a scalp, and, taking it into
the car, it was immediately recognised by the scalped man
as his own. It was put into water, and, when the man
arrived at Omaha, an effort was made by the surgeons to
make it grow on again, but without success. I saw the man
some months afterwards, perfectly recovered, but with a
horrible-looking head. He said that the bullet, although
knocking him down, did not render him unconscious, and
that his greatest trial in that terrible night was the
necessity of shamming dead, and not daring to cry out
when the Indian was slowly sawing at his head-covering
with a very dull knife.

401

CHAPTEE XXXVIII.

STEALING.

Ix the estimation of the Indian, the skilful thief stands
very nearly, if not quite, on a par with the daring fighter.

The one attracts the admiration, not unmixed with
the fear, of his compeers ; while admiration for the other
is only modified by envy of his skill and consequent
wealth. ; Money makes the mare go ' among red skins
as among white skins ; and the man who owns a big herd
of horses and mules (the wealth of the Indian) is a most
respectable and respected man, however he got them.
Where all are such magnificent thieves, it is difficult to
decide which of the plains tribes deserves the palm for
stealing.

The Indians themselves give it to the Comanches,
whose designation in the sign language of the plains is a
forward, wriggling motion of the fore finger, signifying
a snake, and indicating the silent stealth of that tribe.
This is true of the Comanches, who for crawling into
a camp, cutting hobbles and lariat ropes, and getting off
with animals undiscovered, are unsurpassed and unsur-
passable. But for dash and boldness in thieving, I think
the Cheyennes stand first, though closely emulated by the
Kiowas.

I have known a Cornanche to crawl into a bivouac
where a dozen men were sleeping, each with his horse
tied to his wrist by the lariat, cut a rope within six feet
of a sleeper's person, and get off with the horse without
waking a soul.

The corral fence at Fort Inge, Texas, was made of

DD

402 INDIANS.

upright logs set two feet into the ground, the upper ends
sawed off level, a plate of timber put on the top, and
each picket or log fastened in its place by a wooden pin,
an inch in diameter, through the plate into the end of the
picket. The stable inside of the corral was built in the
same way, but more carefully and of heavier materials.
Two sentinels walked around this stable during the night,
and a stable guard slept within. One morning after a
dark and stormy night it was discovered that several
pickets had been removed from the fence and from the
stable by sawing off with a knife the pins in the upper
end and digging out the earth from the lower, and two
horses were taken. Though the work must have taken
several hours and the sentinels must have been changed
during its performance, not one had seen or heard any-
thing suspicious while on his post. From the fact that
the two best horses were stolen from nearly the opposite
ends of the stable, with nothing in the position or the
stall to indicate favouritism, the commanding officer was
inclined to believe that the thieves were white men, who
had visited the stables beforehand, and that one or more
of the sentinels were in collusion. A lieutenant with
half a dozen men and a good guide were soon on the
trail, and, after a race of sixty miles, they at daylight
next morning surprised two Indians, killed both, and
rescued the horses. None but Comanches could ever
have taken out those pickets under the very noses of the
sentinels, or selected in the dark the two best out of sixty
or seventy horses.

The corral fence at Fort Lincoln was made of thorny
chaparral bush, tightly pressed between upright posts set
by twos. It was impassable for white man or horse, yet
not a week of the first summer after the establishment of
the post passed that Indians did not cross this fence and
cut horses from the picket line. Fortunately they could
not get the horses over it after they got possession of
them ; and one or two of the thieves having been wounded

STEALING. 403

by the sentinels, they discontinued their attempts, never
having secured a horse.

Many years ago I was, when in Washington, requested
by a man to help him to procure a commission in the
regular army. He based his claim on services rendered
during the Mexican War. When I asked what the services
were, he told me the following story : c I raised a company
of cavalry to go with Doniphan to invade Mexico. When
he started my company was not full, and we did not get
off for near a month after him. I started from Leaven-
worth with a splendid company, well mounted and sup-
plied with everything, and had a splendid march to near
Pawnee Eock, on the Arkansas Eiver. Here I went into
camp one day rather early. The horses and mules were
turned loose as usual, and were feeding in the river bottom
close by, without guards. A sentinel was posted in camp.
It was a hot day, and I and most of my men were asleep,
when the sentinel called out that a herd of wild horses
was in sight. I sprang up and saw a herd of forty or
fifty galloping swiftly towards my herd. I knew there
was danger of a stampede, but, before I could decide
what to do, the horses entered my herd, and all went off
together. When they got off about 500 or 600 yards, I
was astonished to see an Indian rise upon the back of
each of the horses we had supposed wild. They left me
without a hoof. There was nothing to do but to return.
Abandoning waggons and stores, I loaded my men with
provisions and sufficient ammunition for protection, and
started for the settlements. It was an awful march, and
we came very near perishing from fatigue, thirst, and
hunger. I think my sufferings on that journey entitle
me to a commission/ I helped him all I could by ad-
vising him not to tell the story. As, however, he failed
to get the commission, I think he probably disregarded
my advice.

Nearly every horse of four companies of the old Eifle
Eegiment were once lost near Fort Davis, Texas, by a

D D 2

404 INDIANS.

brilliant dash, in the face of a strong guard, of not more
than half a dozen Apache Indians. The mules belonging
to the waggon train transporting the baggage and supplies
of several companies of the 6th Infantry were, at Bear
Creek, Kansas, in 1871, stampeded and carried off by
two Indians, in spite of hundreds of shots. Such instances,
though not on so large a scale, occur every summer, and
hundreds could be given if necessary.

By turns sneaking and bold, and oftentimes both
together, the Indian is at all times and under all circum-
stances a most dangerous thief, and it is not too much to
say that a horse or mule on the plains is never entirely
safe from his skill and rapacity.

405

CHAPTER XXXIX.

TRAILING.

I CAXNOT begin this subject without a slight tribute of
respect and affection to one who, though utterly ignorant
of all civilised knowledge, and to whom the letters of the
alphabet were as unintelligible as Egyptian hieroglyphics,
was yet full of wisdom and knowledge in all that apper-
tained to his own mode of life ; who, brought up as a
thief, was yet honest and faithful ; his boyhood and early
manhood passed arnid the crime, horror, and licentiousness
of an Indian tribe, was yet a firm friend, a kind and loving
husband and father. He was a patient, successful hunter ;
and not only the very best trailer I have ever seen, but
pronounced by John Connor, the Delaware chief (un-
doubtedly the most competent judge of the subject on the
plains), the very best trailer, Indian or Mexican, on the
continent. Under his guidance I made many a long
march and rapid pursuit, and to him I am indebted
for my first lessons in plainscraft and in hunting for large
game.

Pedro Espinosa was born about the year 1810, of
Mexican parentage, in a ranche or hamlet on the banks
of the Eio Grande, not far from the town of Laredo.
When he was nine years old, this ranche was captured by
Comanches, and all the inhabitants put to death with the
usual accompaniment of horror, except a few children of
both sexes, who were carried into captivity. On reaching
the tribe the children were adopted into it and well treated,
but carefully watched. Espinosa was one of these. The

406 INDIANS.

Comanches were at that time the most numerous and
powerful tribe of the southern plains, and were in a
chronic state of war with all the world. When about
thirteen years of age, Espinosa was permitted to accompany
a party on a raid against the Tonkaways, in which he so
signalised himself that at fourteen he became a warrior,
and subsequently a distinguished one. Though apparently
thoroughly an Indian, identified with all their interests,
fighting, stealing, and committing outrages with the
others, taking part in all their ceremonies, married and
having a family, he had never forgotten his native land
arid people, nor forgiven the violation and murder of his
mother.

He hated the Indians and their ways with the most bit-
ter, unrelenting hatred, and his heart yearned for return
to his own country. Whether, in spite of most careful dis-
simulation, he revealed something of this feeling, or from
the natural craft and suspicion of the Indian, no opportunity
was ever given him to put his wishes into practice. Though
a dozen raids were made yearly into Mexico, he was
never permitted to be one of a party that went near the
Eio Grande. When he had been with the Indians nine-
teen years, and was twenty-eight years old, he went with
a party into the Guadalupe Mountains to hunt black bear.
One night, when the other Indians were asleep, he slipped
among the horses, selected the two best (without regard
to ownership), and by morning had put thirty miles
between himself and his late companions. After a long
journey he arrived safely at Laredo, where, the memories
of his boyhood being perfect, he soon made himself known
to his relatives. In course of time he married and settled,
and, when I knew him, was a useful and thoroughly
respected member of the community in which he lived

In 1849 I commenced my 'plains' life at Fort
Lincoln, Texas, not on the plains, but on a military line
established to protect the southern settlements of Texas
from the incursions of the plains Indians. Covering the

TRAILING. 407

Bandera and several other much used passes, Fort Lincoln
was an important position, and it was extremely necessary
that a thoroughly competent and reliable man, well posted
in all the wiles of the Indians, should be selected as guide
and trailer for the troops stationed there. The choice fell
on Espinosa. For many years he served the Government
well and faithfully, and at last yielded up his life in
fidelity to it.

Some time after the close of the war of the rebellion,
a friend wrote me from Texas giving the last scene in the
life of Pedro Espinosa. In 1861, when the traitor Twiggs
had planned and was consummating the surrender of all
the troops and material of war in Texas, Espinosa was
selected to carry despatches from Union men in San
Antonio to Colonel Eeeve, then on his way to the coast,
notifying him of the condition of affairs, and warning him
to turn back and take his command to the States by way
of Santa Fe. While executing this office Espinosa was cap-
tured by some of the forces sent to intercept Eeeve, and the
despatches found on his person ; after reading which the
captors drew their pistols and shot him to death.

A ' trail ' is the succession of marks left on the ground
or grass by anything moving to a definite end- — as a trail
of troops, an Indian trail, a deer trail, a waggon trail.
' Sign ' is evidence, more or less positive, that something
has been present on that ground. A ' trail ' is made up of
' sign ; ' but ' sign ' is by no means a ' trail.' Feeding deer
make 'sign;' but it maybe impossible to 'trail 'them,
There may be an abundance of ' sign ' in and about au
abandoned Indian camp ; yet it make take the keenest
eye and closest scrutiny to detect the trail by which
they left it. The safety of a party may depend on
the proper reading of ' sign ; ' the success of a pursuit
upon the greater or less ability of the pursuer to follow
4 trail.'

The weakness of the Indian is his trail. Could he get
rid of it he would be unconquerable. Fortunately for his

408 INDIANS.

enemies he knows this weakness, and the knowledge
renders him comparatively manageable.

A raiding party of Indians coming to a recent trail of
troops, will stop, examine, hesitate, and follow it for miles.
Concluding, finally, that there is no serious cause for fear,
they may go on towards their original destination. If
another recent trail be struck within a few miles, the party
will most likely turn back, and I doubt if there is a band
or party on the plains bold enough to put three trails of
troops between it and its retreat. It is not that the Indian
fears to be intercepted on his return, but the frequent trails
show the recent presence and activity of troops. He
himself leaves a trail which one of those parties
of troops may strike and follow at any moment. He is
bold as a hawk to his front ; timid as a hare towards his
rear. In going on or returning from a raid, he cares
nothing for advance guards ; but always, when he thinks
there is danger, one or two of the most trustworthy
warriors follow on the trail as rear-guard three or four
miles behind the main body. Surprise is destruction, and
surprise is most likely to come from his reary and by
means of his trail.

In crossing a waggon road likely to be used by troops,
a war party will scatter out a mile or two and cross
singly ; and not unfrequently, after crossing, each will dis-
mount and carefully erase the marks, in and near the road,
of his horse's feet.

' Trailing ' is the art of evolving c trail ' from ' sign.'
The requisites of a good trailer are sharp eyes, perfect
knowledge of the appearance and character of the ' sign '
made by whatever is being trailed, and, when trailing
Indians, a thorough knowledge of the country and the
habits of Indians.

Trailing is second nature to the Indian, though indi-
viduals and tribes differ in their capabilities as trailers in
a very remarkable degree. On the plains where large
game is (or was) abundant, the tribes which depend for

TRAILING. 409

their daily food on small game are those which become
most expert ; and of these the Comanches are far superior,
except, possibly, the small remnant of the Delawares.

The Indian is taught from childhood to read every
mark on the ground, to tell what made it, its age, and
all about it of interest or importance to himself. To these
are added a thorough knowledge of the habits of game
or animals of any kind, and a pair of eyes exquisitely
sharpened by constant practice. These enable the Indian
confidently to take and keep a trail, where a white man,
even with sharp eyes and some practice, would, if he saw
anything at all, only see an occasional unmeaning mark.
The perfection arrived at is little short of miraculous.

A knowledge of the country and of the Indian mode
of travel very greatly facilitate the pursuit of a savage.
When anticipating pursuit he will resort to all ruses, keep
as much as possible on rocky ground, mount a high hill,
only to go down again on the same side. Getting into the
bed of a brook he will keep along its channel for miles,
going out and getting in again, doubling on his track,
doing any and everything which may delay or baffle the
pursuit.

As will more fully appear hereafter, Indians travel by
4 landmarks,' A good trailer, especially in broken country,
will tell from the general appearance of the country what
special prominent landmarks the Indian is travelling by.
When, therefore, the pursued resorts to ruses and doub-
lings, the pursuer wastes no time in painfully tracking
him through all his windings, but goes at once to where
his knowledge of his habits tells him that the Indian will
pass a certain ridge or go out of a certain valley. There
he looks for the trail, and, finding it, pushes on more con-
fidently than before.

The pursued may spend several hours in making a
devious trail which the astute pursuer will jump over in as
many minutes. The hard ground of the high prairie,
marked as it is with more or less of buffalo ' sign,' is

410 INDIANS.

peculiarly favourable to the pursued, and the ease with
which horsemen can travel anywhere and in any direction
renders the ' trailing ' of the ' plains Indian ' a slow and
difficult process, of which the success is always more or
less doubtful. Besides, the trailers employed by the
Government are generally white plainsmen, no more to
be compared to Espinosa in trailing than a bull pup to
a,n English beagle.

One or two of Espinosa's exploits will show better
than a fuller description to what skill a trailer may attain.
I was once sent in pursuit of a band of murdering
Comanches, which had been scattered and the trail aban-
doned by a company of so-called Texas rangers (a sort of
militia in the service of the United States, and resembling
the ranger of the Eepublic of Texas in nothing but the
name). On the eighth day after the Indians had passed,
Espinosa took the trail of a single shod horse ; looking
neither to the right nor left, apparently seeing or noting
nothing, he silently and patiently plodded on, not a mov-
ing animal or bird, not the slightest mark on ground or
grass, escaping his wonderful eye. When we were fairly
into the rough, rocky Guadalupe Mountains, he stopped,
dismounted, and picked up from the foot of a tree the four
shoes of the Indian horse. With a grim smile he handed
them to me, and informed me that the Indian was going
to hide his trail. For six days we journeyed over the
roughest mountains, not a man in the whole command
being able to discover, sometimes for hours, a single mark
or sign by which Espinosa might direct himself. The
monotony and apparent objectlessness of this march were
extremely trying to my patience, and several times I im-
patiently demanded of Espinosa that he would show me
what he was following. ' Poco tiempo ' (in a short time)
would be his only answer ; but in a longer or shorter time he
would (with a quiet twinkle less marked) show me the clear
cut footprints of the horse in the soft bank of some
mountain brooklet, or, calling my attention, would point

TRAILING. 411

with his long wiping stick to most unmistakable ' sign ' in
the droppings of the horse. For more than 100 miles,
over the most difficult country, did this remarkable man
follow the single track, scarcely ever at a loss, and only
once or twice dismounting from his horse to examine the
ground more closely, until finally we came to where the
Indians had united.

Once again, with Espinosa as guide, I was in pursuit
of a large party of Comanches. On reaching the head
spring of the Perdinales, I found that they had there
made a halt of several days, that the whole vicinity was
marked with footprints of horses, and that, after the
Indians had left, the prairie had been burned, obliterating
the trail. Sending Espinosa to work out the problem, I
went into camp with my party. He returned at night-
fall, having laboured patiently for six or seven hours.
He had not succeeded, but was confident. By dawn
he was out. About 11 o'clock I rode out on his trail,
easily followed in the black ashes, and found him just
about to return to me. He had succeeded. "We returned
to camp. The command, all ready, marched rapidly in
rear of Espinosa for a dozen miles, when we struck the
trail. That night Espinosa explained how he had managed.
Going down the river from the camping ground of the
Indians, so far as to be sure he was beyond the range of '
feeding horses, he made a circuit, the camp as centre,
carefully examining the ground. He soon discovered
' sign,' and, dismounting from his horse, he went down on
his hands and knees, and with his breath blew away the
light ashes, until sufficient prints were discovered to show
the direction of the trail. Mounting his horse he con-
tinued his circuit, finding other sign, and fixing in the
same way the direction of the trails, which he discovered
diverged from each other like lines from the centre of a
circle. Next day he went out and tried the trails about
four miles from camp to find them still diverging.
Another trail a mile and a half beyond, discovered them,

412 INDIANS.

as lie anticipated, converging. Carefully taking the direc-
tion of three or four, and finding they all pointed to a
common centre, he fixed the direction of that point in his
mind ; and so beautifully was the whole problem worked
out, that if he had been one of the Indians, previously
instructed where to go, he could not have gone to that
point more directly.

Once when in rapid pursuit of a small party that had
made an attempt on our stables, Espinosa said to me,
' Lieutenant, we shall not catch these Indians ; their rear-
guards have discovered us ; they are travelling at night.'
I asked an explanation. He showed me where they had
sometimes gone under a low branch of a tree, which could
easily, have been avoided had there been light enough to
see, or crossed a ravine at a bad place when a good one
was close by, &c. I could give twenty equally strong
proofs of his ability as a trailer, but enough has been said
to show to what perfection a really good trailer can carry
his art.

413

CHAPTER XL.

TRAVELLING.

THERE is nothing about the Indian more remarkable than
the ease and certainty with which he makes his way over
the ' trackless wastes ' of plains on journeys of sometimes
hundreds of miles. He has, of course, no knowledge
of the compass ; nor have I ever seen a ' wild ' Indian,
who, even with the most careful and repeated explana-
tion, could get the faintest glimmer of an idea of the use
of the ' little box.' The reason is obvious. There is no
' north ' and no ' south ' to him. In all the wide circle of his
horizon there are no definite points, no points of refer-
ence. He speaks of ' sunrise ' to designate that broad
side of the horizon on which the sun rises, and of sunset
of the other side ; but he makes no use of either for pur-
pose of direction in travelling. The sun does not rise on
consecutive mornings in the same place, and would be to
him anything but a safe guide.

The same thing obtains of night travel ; and, brilliant
as are the stars of the plains, it seems never to have
occurred to his mind that use might be made of them in
assuring his journey in any particular direction. His re-
liance on short journeys, for hunts of a week or more
from his camp, is on instinct — the same incomprehensible
something that takes a pigeon to its nest, or a bee to its
home in the hollow tree. This rarely fails him, and I
have heard of but one instance where an Indian got
4 turned round,' lost, and wandered for several weeks alone
before he recovered himself.

414 INDIANS.

On long journeys to a definite point his sole reliance
is on his memory of 'landmarks.' Similar and mono-
tonous as the hillocks and valleys of the plains appear to
the uneducated eye, each has its own distinctive features
to him, which, once seen, he knows for ever after as
quickly and well as the farmer knows the distinctive
marks of the cattle which he feeds day after day. When
going into a country unknown to him, he consults before-
hand with some warrior who has visited it, and it is
astonishing how clearly the one describes and the other
comprehends all that is necessary for a successful journey.

Espinosa told me that when he was a boy among the
Comanches, and the youngsters wished to go on a raid
into a country unknown to them, it was customary for
some of the older men to assemble the boys a day or two
before the start for instruction. All being seated in a
circle, a bundle of sticks is produced, marked with
notches to represent the days. Commencing with No. 1,
the stick with one notch, each is taken in succession. A
rude map is drawn on the ground with finger or piece of
wood illustrating the journey of the day represented by
the notched stick. The larger rivers and streams are indi-
cated, the hills, valleys, ravines, hidden water holes in dry
countries, every natural object, peculiar or striking. When
this was understood, the stick representing the next day's
march was illustrated in the same way, and so on to the end.
He further stated that he had known one party of young
men and boys, the oldest not over nineteen, and none of
whom had ever been into Mexico, to start from the main
camp on Brady's Creek in Texas, and make a raid as far
into Mexico as the City of Monterey, solely by memory
of information fixed in their minds and represented by
such sticks. However improbable this may seem, it is
not more improbable than any other explanation that
could be given of the wonderful journeys made by
Indians into countries utterly unknown to them.

A party exploring a country unknown to it, or to

TRAVELLING. 415

others of the tribe, will, if the new country prove desir-
able as a hunting ground, set up in rough and difficult
ground small mounds of stones to indicate the best route
to be taken by those who come after. Many such cairns
are to be found in the rough ground of the Laramie
plains, and also in the precipitous canons of Southern
Kansas. These cairns are very frequent in the country
north of the North Platte, and I have heard many
surmises as to their object. It is simply to indicate the
position of the trail when the ground is covered with
snow. So in a timbered country in the north, stones
will be found placed in the forks and branches of trees,
on each side of the trail, which could hardly be followed
when covered with snow, except by this simple device.

Most of the plains tribes have a comparatively cir-
cumscribed country, which they learn by heart. Every
mark is known, every precipitous dell affording safety in
retreat, every water hole, no matter how hidden in
rock or prairie ; and, having seen it once, he knows it for
all his lifetime, either for his own use, or to communi-
cate his knowledge to his people. The Indian travels
comparatively little by night ; never as a matter of choice.
When advancing towards an enemy whom he hopes to
surprise, or when escaping from too vigorous a pursuit,
he overcomes the natural distaste for night travel superin-
duced by his religion. Even in these cases, however, he
wants all the light he can get, and the knowing frontier
settler or plainsman always takes especial care to guard
well his stock about the full of the moon in May or June.

416 INDIANS.

CHAPTEE XLI.

CEUELTY.

THE cruelty of the Indian is inexplicable except on the
hypothesis that cruelty is a normal trait of humanity.
Wild beasts are not cruel ; for, although the wolf may
tear and devour the entrails of a deer while that animal
is yet alive, he does it from greediness alone. The mem-
bers of the cat family play with and torment their victims,
but they undoubtedly do this as practice in catching.
Besides, if we are to believe the men who have been in
the jaws of these animals, Nature has kindly compensated
this exceptional apparent cruelty by inflicting on the
victims of the feline race a nervous paralysis, which not
only deprives them of any sense of pain, but prevents a
realisation of the horror of their position.

The cruelty of the Indian is inborn and inbred, and
it clings to him through life as a distinguishing charac-
teristic of his humanity. As a boy, his special delight is
the torture of every bird or animal he can get hold of
alive. As a man, the torture of a human being gives
him more pleasure than any other act of his life, and at
no time is his laughter so joyous and heartfelt as when
some special ingenuity wrings a groan or cry of anguish
from the victim of his cruelty.

For extravagance of delight in the anticipation of a
scene of torture, for hellish ingenuity in devising, and
remorseless cruelty in inflicting, pain, the Indian woman
far exceeds her husband and son ; and they can give her
no keener enjoyment, when returning from a foray, than

CRUELTY, 417

by bringing some prisoner on which this ingenuity can
be practised.

I have been told that when a female prisoner has
been brought to camp, stripped, and staked out for the
benefit of all comers, the women will come around, taking
the liveliest interest in the proceedings, inciting their
lovers, husbands, and sons to repeated violations of the
victim, their jealousy (if they have a spark of that feeling,
which I doubt) completely extinguished in the pleasure
of the suffering inflicted.

Cruelty to animals is equally marked, though of a
more passive nature. The torture of a human being is
an active, exquisite pleasure. The suffering of an animal is
simply a matter of indifference. An Indian will ride a horse
from the back of which every particle of skin and much flesh
has been torn by the ill-fitting saddle. He will ride him
at speed until he drops, then force him to his feet and ride
him again. A ' plains ' saying is, that ' a white man will
abandon a horse as broken down and utterly unable to
go further; a Mexican will then mount and ride him
fifty miles and abandon him ; an Indian will then mount
and ride him for a week.'

Once, when hunting in the Guadalupe Mountains,
we very nearly lost a bear, because Espinosa failed to
fire at a critical moment. After the bear had been killed
I took him to task for not firing. He replied, ' I could
have killed the bear, but I had only one shot. We may
be "jumped" by Indians at any time. I will never be
taken prisoner, and always save the last shot for myself.'
The answer made a deep impression on me, and I have
always tried to act on Espinosa's rule, but in the excite-
ment of the chase rules are often forgotten. Espinosa's
experience among the Indians had left not only a bitter
hatred, but a most lively fear of falling alive into the
hands of these savages. Many a horrible story of their
barbarous cruelties has he detailed to me at the camp
fire.

E E

418 INDIANS.

As a fair sample, I will here repeat two of these,
both of which he knew to be true, so far as a man can
be sure of what he did not actually see.

When he was about twenty-four years old, a party
of Comanches (from the same camp in which he lived),
while on a raid into Mexico, attacked a large ranche. The
inhabitants, being poorly armed, made little resistance,
except a few men, who, getting into a courtyard, vigor-
ously defended themselves with such weapons as came to
their hands. All were soon despatched, except one man,
an almost giant in stature and strength, who, although
armed only with an axe, killed one or two of his assailants
and kept the others at bay. At last an Indian, getting
on the wall, threw a lasso over his head, and, jerked off
his feet, he was soon bound hand and foot. After the
ruthless violation and murder of all the women, the chil-
dren were fastened in a room, the ranche pillaged and
set on fire in a dozen places. Taking with them as pri-
soner the one man who had signalised himself in the
defence of the ranche, the Indians departed for their own
country. On the long march the prisoner, though closely
watched and guarded by day, and securely bound at night,
was treated with extreme kindness. They complimented
his courage in the highest terms ; told him they intended
taking him to their camp, adopting him into the tribe,
and making a great chief of him. The trail followed,
after leaving the head of the Nueces River, and crossed the
southern end of the high table land known to whites as
the ' Staked Plain.' At a water hole on this table land
the party halted for several days. Telling the prisoner
that they wanted it for some religious ceremony, they
set him to digging a hole in the ground. Working with
knife and hands he, in a day or two, completed a pit
about three feet in diameter and over five feet deep.
Early next morning a rope was tightly tied about the
ankles of the captive and wrapped spirally round his legs
and body to the neck, binding his arms tightly to his

CRUELTY. 419

sides. Eigid and immovable, the man was then planted
upright like a post in the hole, the dirt filled in and
tightly rammed down around him. When all was com-
pleted nothing but his head was visible. They then
scalped his head, cut off his lips, eyelids, nose, and ears,
danced around, mocked, taunted, and left him. On their
arrival at the camp the party described in detail their
punishment of the Mexican, and in all the tribe it was
regarded as an exquisite piece of pleasantry. The man
would live, they said, for at least eight days, revived at
night by the cool of the hi^h plains, to be driven mad
next day by the hot sun beating on his scalped head and
defenceless eyeballs, while myriads of flies would fill his
wounds with maggots. This 'joke ' gained great celebrity
among the southern plains tribes, and the warrior who
proposed it was regarded as an inventive genius of the
first order.

The Tonkaways cannot properly be called a plains
tribe Very few are now left; but when Espinosa was
with the Comanches, they were a powerful tribe occu-
pying all the low country between the Brazos and Sabine
Eivers (now comprising the south-east portion of Texas).
Incessant warfare existed between the Comanches and
Tonkaways, and for many years Espinosa went once or
twice or more times each year with parties of Comanches
on forays into the Tonkaway country. One of these
parties was surprised in camp one morning by a superior
force of the enemy, several killed, two captured, and the
others dispersed. Espinosa escaped and returned to his
camp. Some time after, one of the warriors who had
been captured arrived on foot at the camp, and gave
the following account of his adventures. His com-
panion in misfortune was wounded. They were bound,
placed on horses, and marched rapidly to the eastward.
On the second day the wounded Comanche evinced
signs of weakness. That night the Tonkaways were
sitting chatting about the camp fire, the two captives,

E E 2

420 INDIANS.

bound hand and foot, lying near the ground. One of the
Tonka ways got up, walked to the wounded man, took
out a knife, coolly and quietly cut a piece of flesh out
of his thigh and placed it on the coals to broil. Another
and another followed, cutting slices. When the flesh
was sufficiently cooked, each man ate his slice, talking
at the same time to the Comanche, and complimenting
him on the excellence and tenderness of his flesh. The
Comanche retorted by hoping that he would disagree
with them, wishing that his flesh was poison, &c. When
an artery or large vein was cut, the flow of blood was
arrested by searing with a firebrand. This horrible
feast was continued far into the night, by which time
nearly all the flesh of the thighs and loins had been
consumed. The Comanche then began his death song,
and his life and the feast ended together. The other
captive, stimulated by the prospect before him, made,
after all were asleep, a successful effort to free himself,
and escaped.

The Tonkaways have always had the reputation of
being cannibals. Some six or eight were employed as
scouts at Fort Martin Scott, Texas, and did good service
against the Comanches. I once asked a sub-chief if the
tribe ate men. He denied it ; but said their fathers ate
their enemies, not to satisfy hunger but to gratify
revenge. I believe it is the only tribe in North Ame-
rica that practises or did practise cannibalism.

A few years ago I met a gentleman who told me that
he was one of a party that went to the front after
the terrible Minnesota massacres of 1862. There was
no fighting, the Indians having retired, and the party
devoted itself to burying the dead and relieving the
necessities of those whites who, hiding in thickets and
ravines, had escaped the fury of the savages. He said
that no words could express the horror of the scenes
that must have been enacted. Scalped and mutilated
corpses of men and women, and of babes whose brains had

CRUELTY. 421

been beaten out against walls or trees, were collected and
buried. They found at one farmhouse the scalped and
mutilated body of an old man lying on the floor of the
living-room. On the floor of an adjoining bedroom the
corpse of an old woman was found in the same con-
dition. On going into another bedroom a most pitiable,
sickening sight met their eyes. Three young girls, the
eldest about twenty, the youngest not more than four-
teen, scalped and terribly mutilated, were hanging against
the walls by large nails driven through the palms of the
outstretched hands. They had been in this position for
several days. The youngest had been dead some time ;
another died almost immediately after being taken down ;
the third lived for a day or two, and gave some account
of the massacre. The ringleader of the outrage was
well known to the family, and had always been regarded
as a special friend. He had often taken meals with them ;
and on the morning of the massacre he and two or
three others came in. friendly as usual, shook hands all
round, and asked for something to eat. A few moments
after, this friend suddenly drew his tomahawk and
crushed in the skull of the father. The women ran
into the bedroom and attempted to barricade themselves.
A yell brought twenty or thirty more Indians, who sur-
rounded the house, cutting off all chance of escape.
The door of the bedroom was then broken up and the
mother killed by a blow. The three girls were then
stripped of all clothing and successively violated, the
special friend being the first to begin the outrage.

The girls were thus kept all day serving the lusts of
these fiends, in the same room with the dead body of
their mother.

Just before night an Indian came in with some report
which seemed to alarm them, and after consultation one
went out and brought in an axe and some large spike
nails. The girls were then taken singly into their own
bedroom, forced into a standing position with their backs

422 INDIANS.

against the wall, their arms stretched out, and the hands
held open and in position while the nails were driven
through the palms into the wall.

After being scalped, their breasts cut off, and other-
wise namelessly mutilated, they were left to suffer and
to die.

Enough is on official record of the horrors of the Min-
nesota massacre to take from this story even an appearance
of improbability.

Cruelty is both an amusement and a study. So much
pleasure is derived from it, that an Indian is constantly
thinking out new devices of torture, and how to prolong
to the utmost those already known. His anatomical
knowledge of the most sensitive portions of the human
frame is wonderfully accurate ; and the amount of beating,
cutting, slashing, and burning he will make a human body
undergo without seriously affecting the vital powers is
astonishing. When there is time for the indulgence of
the pastime, no wounded man falls into his power but
becomes at once a subject for experiment. The bodies
of enemies are almost always terribly mutilated ; but it is
not generally difficult to tell, from the nature of the muti-
lation, whether the body fell into their hands before or
after death.

If the body is pierced with many bullet holes or
arrows, or cut and slashed with deep and careless gashes,
the spirit had passed before the Indian got possession.
But artistic dissections, partial flayings, dislocations, break-
ing and splitting of fingers and toes, indicate that the poor
fellow went to his long home with all the accompaniments
of pain and horror that these devils can devise.

It is a rather curious fact that, while I have heard of
but one or two instances of Indians committing suicide,
they have a sort of respect for that act in the whites.
In one instance, to my personal knowledge, the horse of
a gallant fellow fell, pinning him to the ground unhurt,
but surrounded by a crowd of yelling, grinning Apaches.

CRUELTY. 423

Some had already dismounted to secure him, when,
placing his pistol to his head, he blew his brains out.
The Indians fled away in consternation, not only not muti-
lating the body, but not even despoiling it of arms, &c.
I have heard of several similar instances.

An officer of the army, blessed with a magnificent
' auburn ' beard, of the length, thickness, and beauty of
which he is just a trifle vain, was one day receiving with
me a visit from a party of Indians, who professed the
greatest friendship. One of the Indians was greatly
struck with the appearance of that beard, and his favour-
able appreciation was so marked as to attract attention.
At last, seeming unable to contain his admiration, he
reached forth his hand as if to touch and smooth it. The
officer, very much flattered, passed his own hand over the
ornament, and asked the Indian if he liked it. Compli-
ments were given and received and all was amiability and
good feeling, until the Indian unfortunately let out that
he so admired the beard because it would be such fun to
hang the officer up by it to a tree and shoot at him with
arrows. The ' mutual admiration society ' was imme-
diately dissolved, and the officer, turning to me, said,
emphatically, ' Colonel, if I am ordered on an Indian
expedition this summer, I swear I'll cut this beard off.'

424 INDIANS.

CHAPTER XLH.

PONIES.

MY subject would not be complete without some mention
of the pony, the plains Indian's inseparable companion
and most serviceable slave. Scarcely fourteen hands in
height, he is rather light than heavy in build, with good
legs, straight shoulders, short strong back, and full barrel.
He has no appearance of ' blood ' except sharp, nervous
ears, and bright intelligent eyes ; but the amount of work
he can do, the distance he can pass over in a specified
time (provided it be long enough), put him (in Indian
hands) fairly on a level with the Arabian. Though of
indispensable value to the Indian, he receives not a particle
of attention. He is never stabled, nor washed, nor
rubbed, nor curried, nor blanketed, nor shod, nor fed, nor
doctored.

When not under the saddle his life is spent in the
herd. After a hard day's work the saddle and bridle are
taken off, and he is picketed or turned loose, in either
case to shift for himself. If his back be bloody and torn
by the saddle, a cloth or skin is fastened on it to keep the
flies out. When travelling over rough and rocky ground
his rider may take the trouble to tie up a tender foot in a
piece of buffalo robe. In the winter he is a most miser-
able object, an animated skeleton. Exposed to the terrible
cold and piercing winds of a plains winter, his scanty and
innutritious food buried beneath the snow, he would un-
doubtedly perish, but that squaws cut branches from the
cotton-wood tree for him to browse upon. At this season,

PONIES. 425

with coat long, shabby, and rough, matted with dirt and
burrs, hips extended in the air, belly puffed out with
sticks and bark swallowed in the vain hope of appeasing
the hunger that consumes him, forlorn and downcast, he
looks an uncouth monster rather than a horse.

But when spring has mellowed the earth and drawn
from her pregnant bosom the tender grass, he sheds the
rough coat, scours the protuberant belly, and with
rounded supple form, head erect, ears and eyes full of
bright intelligence, he is again ready to bear his master
in fight or foray, worthy to be trusted even to the death.

After endurance the best quality of the pony is his
sureness of foot. He will climb a steep rocky hill with
the activity and assurance of the mule. He will plunge
down an almost precipitous declivity with the indifference
of the buffalo. For going over swamps and marshy
places he is only excelled by the elk ; and he will go at
speed through sand hills, or ground perforated with
gopher holes, where an American horse would labour to
get along at a walk, and fall in the first fifty yards of a
gallop.

The amount of work got out of him by the Indian is
astonishing. No mercy is shown. Tell an Indian to find
out something quickly, miles away, and he will probably
go and return at speed, though the distance made be
twenty miles. I have seen a party run their ponies for
more than an hour in mere pastime. In their drills of
one or two hours no halt is made to breathe the horses,
which, however, have opportunity at least of changing
gait. In the fight, already described, at Plum Creek, the
pursuit continued for sixteen miles, and the pursuers
returned from it in a hand gallop. And this work is
done under apparently most unfavourable circumstances :
a terrible bit, an ill-fitting saddle, and a rider as cruel and
remorseless as fate itself.

The Indian pony is undoubtedly the same animal as
the mustang or wild horse of Texas and the southern

426 INDIANS.

plains, and wild life agrees with him. He is sufficiently
tractable to the rough-riding Indian ; but when brought
into civilised ownership he is either a morose, ill-tempered
brute, hard to manage, and always dangerous, or he
degenerates into a fat, lazy, short-breathed cob, fit only
for a baby or an octogenarian. The latter is especially
the case when he is stabled, shod, and fed on corn and
oats. Prosperity spoils him, as it does many animals of
higher order, and his true character, capacity, and value
are best displayed in adversity. The variation in quality
of powers is little compared with that of our horses ; so
little, indeed, that ' a pony ' is the standard of values.

One may be a little faster or somewhat stronger than
another, but these advantages are likely to be counter-
balanced by some special vieiousness or other defect.
Age seems to be little considered, the animal being
' a pony ' so long as he has sufficient vital energy to get
fat in the spring. The loss of an eye or a permanent
lameness is so serious a defect as to render him no longer
saleable as ' a pony.' When an Indian buys a number
of ponies from another, they are not selected, but 'cut off'
from the herd, as one would buy a lot of sheep from a
flock. Those ' cut off' are then examined singly, and, if
full grown and not defective, are taken. In all large
herds there are a few special favourites — riding, war, or
trick ponies — which are excepted in all general bargains.
Even when a man has stolen 'another's wife, these are not
taken among those he must pay for her.

427

CHAPTEE XLIII.

SQUAW MEX.

THIS is the name given by Indians to those men, not of
their tribe, who, by purchase of squaws (marriage), have
been adopted by or are tolerated in it. They are of
two classes. First, men of some means and frequently
of ability, wTho come among the Indians as traders, and
who, as a means of gaining their confidence and obtaining
their trade, take to their bosoms a wife from each tribe,
sometimes from almost each band. These men fre-
quently become very wealthy and gain great influence
among the Indians, and their red wives (being only
property) are no impediment to their having wives and
families in the States. As they grow old they sometimes
retire from business, return to the States, and not un-
frequently are respected and influential members of
society. Others pass the winter of their days in their
western homes, surrounded in patriarchal style by a'
crowd of admiring offspring and dependents.

Secondly, living with every Indian tribe is a number
of outcasts, American, French, Mexican, the lowest
refuse, who, spewed out by the society in which they
were born, find congenial refuge among these savages.
This life is not always a matter of choice, but is some-
times forced upon them by a too eager inquiry after
their persons by the myrmidons of the law. Not
unfrequently they are accompanied on their arrival
among the Indians by a number of horses of various
brands, sufficient not only to make friends of some of

428 INDIANS.

the principal men, but to buy one or more squaws and
a ' tepee,' and enable them to set up housekeeping.
These men become part of the tribe thus adopting or
tolerating them, and, when near the agencies, send their
squaws to draw rations for themselves and their children.

Having more natural shrewdness than the Indian, and
a knowledge of the mode of life and habits of thought
of the white man, they soon gain a certain ascendency
over their red brethren. Being able to go among the
white settlements without suspicion, they are accused of
acting as spies for the Indians, of informing them where
a valuable lot of horses or mules is to be had for the
taking, and even of wreaking personal vengeance by
inciting the Indians to some act of atrocity. There is
scarcely a crime of which they are not accused, and I
doubt if there be a crime of which some of them are
not capable.

These are the men who trade clandestinely with the
Indians. These furnish the arms ; these supply the
whisky ; these are the ready tools of corrupt agents,
making affidavits to cover any loss, and swearing to
any story that is made up for them. At his own best
games, in lying, stealing, drinking, and debauchery, the
squaw man is so far superior to the Indian as to gain
his unqualified admiration ; and he becomes a power
among them by the display of qualities similar, but
superior, to those held in highest estimation by them.
It is from these men that the Indians get their ideas of
the character, capacity, morality, and religion of white
men.

The Mexicans have a proverb that 6 a woman is the
best dictionary.' The squaw men prove its correctness
by soon becoming adepts in the language of the Indians.
All the intercourse between the Government and the
Indian is filtered through these men and partakes of
their character, being full of duplicity, treachery, and
evasion. In all the length and breadth of the plains

SQUAW MEN. 429

there is not an interpreter that can be relied on; and no
treaty or delicate mission should ever be undertaken
without several interpreters, who, moreover, should be
required to give each his interpretation out of hearing
of the others. There are in the United States about
100 Indian reservations and agencies, at each of which
there is an average of about ten of these squaw men.
The effect on the Indian of a thousand of such ' Mis-
sionaries' as these miserable outcasts may be imagined.
A thousand ruffians with their half-bred children are fed
and fostered by the Government. They are an injury
to the country, a detriment to the Indian, and should be
abolished.

430 INDIANS.

CHAPTEE XLIV.

CONCLUSION.

THE plains Indian, while not so degraded as many other
tribes and people of this and the older continent, is as
thoroughly savage as any. His religion inculcates neither
obligation nor duty either to God or man. His education
teaches no morality. His social life is scarcely a re-
move from that of the beasts of the field. His idea of
right is the execution of his own will ; of wrong, the en-
forcement of another will in opposition to his. But, how-
ever savage he may be, it is worth while to reflect that
the ancestors of the most enlightened nations were at
some time in the world's history as savage as he is now.

Our growth has been the slow development of ages
upon ages. It is hardly fair to expect him, even %ith
superior advantages, to change his nature in two or three
generations. He has, moreover, never had a fair chance.
His advantages, knowledge of and contact with civili-
sation, are rather apparent than real.

The fur trade of North America has founded and
built up some of the most colossal fortunes in England,
France, and America. The larger portion of this trade
comes from the Indian. Its profits, even with the legiti-
mate traffic, were and still are enormous ; and, when ad-
vantage is taken of his passion for finery and fire water,
these already enormous profits are so far increased that
sharp arid unscrupulous competition is not to be wondered
at. The nature of the direct trade, the small capital re-
quired, and its position outside of the jurisdiction of the

CONCLUSION. 431

law, attract to it tlie very worst class of whites, who
communicate to the Indian all the most glaring vices, and
none of the good qualities, of civilisation.

That the Indian at this day is the cruel, inhuman
savage that he is, is partially the fault of the Government,
which has never done its duty by him. Until within a
very few years, the agents through whom the Government
dealt with the Indians were purely political appointments.
A man was selected, not for character or capacity, or
knowledge of Indians, but simply as a reward for the
political services of himself or his backer, to perform a
duty requiring courage, skill, tact, and knowledge of
human nature. His tenure of office was the pleasure of
the appointing power, and his salary almost nominal — a
pittance of $1,200 or $1,500 a year. He was entrusted
with more or less money and property for Indian expen-
diture, much of which he might appropriate himself if so
disposed, and his office and contact with Indians gave
him the control of the trade in illicit articles, arms, &c.
On so miserable a salary a strictly honest man would re-
turn from his years of danger, privation, and banishment,
if not poorer, at least no richer than when he accepted
the agency. The dishonest man in the same position, and
under the same circumstances, might return with $100,000
or $200,000. Could there be conceived a more efficient
and sure method of converting an honest man into a
thief?

Within a very few years a decided effort has been
made to benefit the Indian service by leaving the selection
of agents to the Christian bodies of the country. This
failed necessarily, since the root of the evil — low salaries,
and uncertain tenure of office — remained untouched.
Experience of life does not teach that men are less greedy
of money because they are professing Christians. Temp-
tation comes to all alike, and (leaving entirely out of con-
sideration the crowd of greedy hypocrites who live by
the systematic deception of the really good and chari-

432 INDIANS.

table) Christianity alone will save no one. The man who
would steal as a layman, will steal as a Christian.
Human nature is very weak in its pocket ; and honest,
perfect administration is hardly to be expected of men
who risk their lives on low salaries and uncertain tenure
of office.

The Government makes three vital mistakes in
dealing with Indians —

1. In not enforcing its treaty obligations.

2. In dealing with Indians through two different

Departments.

3. In yielding too much to the sentimental humani-

tarian element of the country.

1. Not enforcing its treaty obligations.

The treaty system is, in my opinion, entirely a wrong
one. The Indians should be treated as wards of the
Government, and as such protected, defended, held
accountable for misdemeanours, and made to behave
themselves. The admirable result of such a system is
seen in Canada. The very Indians who raid, and steal,
and murder on our northern frontier are well behaved
and innoxious just over the line.

The habit of regarding and treating the tribes of
nomads who roam about our wide west as independent
nations with whom our intercourse must be regulated by
treaties, while exceedingly absurd, is now so engrafted
upon us that a change is most difficult and can only be
made gradually. Let us note what that system is, point
out its defects, and try to suggest remedies.

The Government, by Commissioners duly appointed
and accredited, make a treaty with an Indian tribe. The
Government agrees to pay certain fixed annuities in pro-
visions and goods ; to preserve to the Indians the lands
inside the limits agreed upon, and to prevent impositions
upon them. The Indians agree to give up certain por-

CONCLUSION. 433

tions of land which they regard as theirs ; to restrict
themselves thereafter within certain limits, carefully
defined and described, and to abstain from war, raids,
thefts, and depredations of any kind. This treaty goes
to Congress, is approved and enacted into a law.

And with what result ?

The Government does not pay the annuities agreed
upon, but by its negligence connives at the constant
robbery perpetrated by its agents. The amount of money
appropriated by Congress is ample for the support and
comfort of the Indians, provided they get it or its
equivalent.

But they do not get it. Cheated in quantity and
quality of rations and of goods, cheated in transportation,
the appropriation burdened by expenses of numerous
commissions, of deputations of a favoured few Indians
to Washington and the eastern cities, it is doubtful if the
Indians derive any benefit from more than 20 per cent,
of the vast sum appropriated.

Again. After the treaty is made, some speculator
finds out that there is a valuable tract of arable or tim-
bered lands within the lines of the reservation. A few
chiefs are bribed or coaxed into agreement. A ' ring ' is
formed. The ' lobby ' gets to work upon it, and a re-
cession of a goodly slice of the reservation is the result.
The Government takes no steps to prevent the encroach-
ment of whites upon Indian territory.

The greed of the individual Indian will cause him to
sell his daughter to a white man. That man, while
claiming protection from Government and all his rights
as a white, yet becomes a part of the tribe. He draws
rations for himself and children, as Indians. He builds
himself a house on Indian ground, from which Govern-
ment has promised by treaty that he shall be excluded.
He takes advantage of the improvidence of the Indians
to buy up their surplus rations in the day of plenty, to
sell them back at enormous profits in their day of want.

F F

434 INDIANS.

He makes himself a power among them, to their constant
injury and to the detriment of the Government.

He becomes rich, gets special Acts through Congress
for the benefit of his half-breed children, and not unfre-
quently, as he grows old, he returns to civilisation, to a
wife and family in the States, takes a prominent position
in society, and is looked up to as an authority on all
Indian matters.

At this moment almost every agency is surrounded
by the houses of these men ; and at Spotted Tail and
Eed Cloud he may now be seen on ration day, buying
here, for one dollar, a sack of flour which cost the Indian
department seven or eight dollars to deliver, and there,
a sack of corn on similarly favourable terms.

On the other hand, the Indians, complaining that they
are swindled by their agents, that their annuities are not
fully paid, that white men encroach on their reservations,
cut off their wood, kill their game, &c., make these
charges, whether true or false, the excuse for raids,
plunderings, and murders. Under the pretence that the
agent starves them on their own ground, parties go off
ostensibly on a hunt ; really on a foray. The Govern-
ment complains of the damage done by these parties.
The chiefs and head men reply that they are friendly, that
they have not left the reservation, that they do not
believe that the outrages were committed by Indians of
their tribe, that they cannot control their young men, and
wind up with recriminations and counter charges.

The agent wants anything but an investigation. He
hushes the matter up. The murderer may publicly wear
the trinkets of the murdered man ; the thief may habit-
ually ride the horses known to be stolen. Nothing is
ever said. JSTo murderer or thief is punished. But
little over two months ago a young man herding cattle
on Cottonwood Creek was killed and scalped by Indians
from the agencies.

Four different plundering raids were made this

CONCLUSION. 435

summer (1875) by the same Indians on the settlements
on the Loup Eiver. And yet we talk about the faith of
treaties. The Government does not in good faith carry out
its own treaty obligations, nor does it attempt to make
the Indians carry out theirs. The whole treaty system
is a murderous farce.

It is no easy matter to remedy the faults of a
system which have become chronic from long usage, and
in the continuation of which many men strong in po-
sition and money are pecuniarily interested.

I believe the time has come, however, when the
intelligent, humane people of this country are really con-
cerned for the future welfare and good government of
the Indians. For their information I will add my opinion
as to what should now be done to rectify these faults.

1st. No more treaties should be made ivith Indians.
Those now binding should be abrogated as soon as pos-
sible. The system should be gradually changed, and the
Indians as rapidly as possible brought directly and indi-
vidually under the laws.

2nd. Judges or magistrates should be appointed to
enforce in each tribe, or on each reservation, the criminal
laws of the United States, with power to call upon the
army at any and all times to carry out their decisions and
orders.

3rd. The squaw men, whites, Mexicans, and negroes
should be put away from the reservations, and not per-
mitted to live with or go among the Indians. Cohabit-
ation, miscalled marriage, with Indian women should be
punished.

Mh. Liquors, arms, ammunition, and property of any
kind, taken without authority into the Indian country for
traffic with the Indians, should be destroyed on the spot,
as also the waggons and animals transporting them. The
owners captured should be punished by imprisonment and
frne.

bth. Congress should pass laws making it penal to sell

F F 2

436 INDIANS.

or give arms or ammunition to Indians, even by agents,
and thus gradually disarm the Indians.

6th. Give the agent a salary commensurate with his
danger, duty, and responsibility, and make, his tenure of
office ' during good behaviour' Grade the agencies as to
pay, and establish a system of promotion by seniority or
merit.

1th. Establish a proper system of accountability, with
inspections for the detection of irregularities.

Sth. Give the Indian enough to live on, in his reserva-
tion, and see that he gets it.

9th. Regard every Indian off his reservation as a
marauder, to be killed, or captured and punished.

Wth. When a marauding party is trailed to a reser-
vation, force the tribe to deliver up the individuals com-
posing it for punishment.

llth. Deduct from their annuities a fair compensation
for every animal killed or stolen by any of the tribe.

12th. Punish murder, pillage, and other similar crimes,
exactly as they would be punished among the whites.

I believe that, if Congress should enact a law dividing
the reservations among the heads of families, giving each
a specified portion of land as his own, the pride of pro-
prietorship would be a great inducement to permanency
of residence. The very first step in Indian civilisation
must be to break up his nomadic habits and propensities.
Eestrictions as to sale or exchange would necessarily have
to be made.

2. Dealing with Indians through two different
Departments.

One of the most serious difficulties in our manage-
ment of Indians results from there being two distinct
controlling influences of entirely different powers and
duties.

The Indian Department appoints the agents, buys and

CONCLUSION. 437

distributes the presents, controls the reservations, pays
the annuities, and feeds and manages the Indians.

The army, a pigmy in numerical force, but a giant in
endurance, pluck, and power, sits with its mouth sealed,
its hands tied, not permitted to speak or act, but as a
police force, at the will and discretion of the Indian
Department.

The Indian is in the position of a wilful boy, with
a powerful but henpecked father, and an indulgent,
weak mother.

The latter is constantly saying, c Now be good, or I'll
tell your father ; ' or, ' If you do that I'll make your
father whip you.' So with the Indian Department.
When coaxing, and flattery, and presents fail to keep
the Indians in the desired subjection, they are threatened :
' Now, if you do so and so, I will call in the army
and have you whipped.'

The result is the same as with the child. The
Indian conceives a contempt for a Department which
cannot control itself, and a hatred, combined with fear,
of an army which allows itself to be used to shield the
other's weakness, and do its dirty work.

It is utterly impossible for the Indian to understand
£he positions of each in their varied circumstances — a fact
not to be wondered at when the problem is ofttimes
too intricate even for intelligent, cultivated whites.
The mother has all the control ; and, however much the
father may differ as to the management, he is not per-
mitted to say a word.

Then comes the denouement.

The boy becomes unmanageable, breaks out into
ungovernable fury, and does vast damage. The father
is called upon ; and, though he may in his innermost
heart believe that the mother deserves the whipping,
he is obliged, by his position and duty, to ' wallop ' the
child. ' Now comes the tug of war.' The boy is light
of heel, and seeks safety in flight. He dives into canons,

438 INDIANS.

climbs hills, stretches out on the vast, trackless, water-
less wastes, doubles and hides, and covers his trail,
killing emigrants, pillaging farmhouses, outraging women,
running off stock, and leaving only disaster and dismay
behind him.

The more bulky father, patient and indomitable,
follows slow, but sure as a bloodhound, certain as fate.
He almost has the youngster in his clutches, when by
another dexterous double the fatal grasp is eluded, and
the boy, realising the sure fate in store for him, expends
all his remaining strength in a race for home. Still on the
trail, the pursuer relentlessly follows ; and when he, too,
finally arrives at home, it is to find the truant with his
head in his mother's lap, her arms about him as a shield,
and he is told that all is made up, that ' the boy is a good
little boy, and don't need any whipping.'

This is the actual inception, progress, and result of
nine-tenths of the Indian troubles. If, as has been stated
time and again on the floor of Congress, it costs a million
of dollars to kill an Indian, the reason can easily be seen.
An Indian expedition necessarily costs money. If it fails
from the defects of a system too absurd to waste argument
upon, the blame should certainly not attach to the
army.

3. Yielding too much to sentimental humanitarianism.

No system of government, either religious or secular,
worthy of serious consideration, has yet been devised in
which punishment of the wicked and lawless does not
bear a prominent part. The strongest of all restraining
forces is the fear of punishment. Human nature is so
'prone to evil,' that, but for this fear, the world would
itself be a hell rivalling Dante's in wickedness, misery,
and horror.

For one person who acts rightly from right and con-
science sake, a thousand so act from fear of punishment.

CONCLUSION. 439

A very large class of ' good ' people are restrained from
evil by fear of future punishment — a restraint not so strong
as a hair to the larger class of the ignorant and callous, to
whom a year in the penitentiary has more terrors than
an eternity of hells as preached from the pulpit. Take
from the ' dangerous classes ' of New York City the fear
of police, troops, gaols, and penitentiaries — in a word, of
punishment ; how long would that city stand ? There
are in every community vicious people enough to over-
turn the whole fabric of society, were it not for the
salutary restraint of fear.

Our boasted civilisation, our enlightenment, the result
of ages ; our religion, the most perfect yet given to or
devised by man : we hold them all, humiliating as may
be the admission, by means of the gaol, the penitentiary,
and the gallows.

If this can be truly said of a society of which a large,
though not the largest, part is composed of educated,
moral, and religious people, how much more true is it of
a society made up entirely of persons ignorant of any
moral or religious restraint, and whose whole standard of
action is each his own will. Civilisation has many re-
straining influences — religion, morality, honour, pride, and
fear. The Indian has but one. This solitary influence
is fear. Eelieve him of this most salutary restraint, and
there would be no limit to his crimes, depredations, out-
rages, and cruelties.

In an advanced state of society there are always a
number of persons of ample means, abundance of time,
and kind, sympathetic natures, whose benevolence and
philanthropy are only satisfied when exercised at ex-
tremes ; men who would do nothing for a poor devil who
stole a loaf of bread from hunger, but would move heaven
and earth to obtain the pardon of a felon who murders
whole families in cold blood, or of a boy fiend who play-
fully assassinates half a dozen of his companions. This
class of persons is always influential : first, because only

440 INDIANS.

the cultivated and rich have time and money to spend on
such benevolences ; and, second, because they start right,
and are thoroughly in earnest. Their hobbies are good
hobbies; and their only mistake is in riding too hard, in
pursuing each his own object, without reference to the
rights or objects of others. These persons see but in one
direction, listen to but one side. Indians murder a family
of settlers with all the usual horrors. It touches no sym-
pathetic cord in the philanthropic breast. Troops pursue,
overtake, and kill some of the murderers. At once there
is a storm of indignation against the assassins of the
' noble red man/

A large class of most excellent people conscientiously
and most firmly believe that the Indian is a supernatural
' hero,' with a thousand latent good qualities, needing but
the softening touch of Christianity to develop into a model
of all virtue. They are right, only in that he is a de-
graded human, and can be improved. He will not
voluntarily receive improvement, and must be coerced
into it, just as among our own people it is beginning to
be found out that education must be compulsory.

The theories of these good, sentimental hobby-riding
people, of exceptional good in the Indian race, must be
set aside as amiable, but fallacious ; their pleas for con-
stant forgiveness of Indian outrages should be kindly
entertained and quietly ignored.

The Indians should be put on reservations, under the
control of practical men, who have no pet theories to work
out, no fortunes to make. They should be well treated,
fed, clothed, and induced, not forced, to work. They
should be taught by precept and by experience that an
Indian is no better than a white man ; that comfort and
plenty will be the reward of good behaviour and industry ;
and that crime of any kind will be followed by sure and
immediate punishment.

Spottiswoode & Co., Printers, New-street Square, London.

October, 1876.

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24 BOOKS PUBLISHED

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Number Seventeen. By HENRY KINGSLEY.

Oakshott Castle. By HENRY KINGS-LEY.

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CHATTO 6- WINDUS, PICCADILLY. 25

THE PICCADILLY NOVELS— continued.

Open ! Sesame ! By FLORENCE MARRYAT.

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The Best of Husbands. By JAMES PAYN.

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Walter \s Word. By JAMES PAYN.

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The Way we Live Now. By ANTHONY TROLLOPE.

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Diamond Cut Diamond. By T. A. TROLLQPE.

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Bound to the Wheel. By JOHN SAUNDERS.

Guy Waterman. -By JOHN SAUNDERS.

One Against the World. £y JOHN SAUNDERS.

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26 BOOKS PUBLISHED BY

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27

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