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Mapa. plataa. charts, ate. may ba filmad at diffarant raduct^on latioa. Thoaa too iarga to ba antiraly includad in ona axpoaura ara filmad baginning in tha uppar laft hand comar. laft to right and top to bottom, aa many framaa aa raquirad. Tha following diagrama illuatrata tha mathod: Laa cartaa, planchas. tablaaux. ate. pauvant Atra filmAa A das taux da rAduction diff Arants. Lorsqua la documant aat trop grand pour Atra raproduit an un saul ciichA. 11 aat filmA A partir da i'angia supAriaur gaucha. da gaucha A droita. at da haut an baa. an pranant la nombra d'imagaa nAcaaaaira. ilaa diagrammas suivants illustrant la mAthoda. 1 2 3 1 2 3 4 5 6 ^.'. ■'^■' ^'cs'0^p!:ttX'^--''''--'''-':'- '' '■^:'A;'*^r:i * ■ -(ii*; ■', ■,"' ■ V-^ ,i; ■ • .. ■:^:t:t%>%:t,'--~i,..~- N. C. CREEDE. S. T. SMITH. I). H. MOKhAT. CAPT. L. E. CAMPBELL. WALThK S. CHEESMAN. THE PROSPECTOR STORY OF THE LIFE OF NICHOLAS C. CREEDE. BY CY WARMAN. DENVER THE Great Divide Publishing Company 1894. X ;>vy^': \\ r '5 ■■ ,v "X V (1^ Copyrighted i894, by Cy Warmar, Denver, Colorado. w , I PREFACE. The purpose of these pages is to tell the simple story of the life of an un- pretentious man, and to show what the Pi-ospector has endured and accom- plished for the West. The Author. / INTRODUCTORY. The convulsion was over. An ocean had been displaced. Out of its depths had risen a hemis2>here ; not a land fin- ished for the foot of man, but a seeth- ing, waving mass of matter, suririni-- With the mighty forces and energies of deep-down, eternal fircs. The winds touched the angrj^ billows and leveled out the plains. One last, mighty throe, and up rose the mountains of stone and silver and gold that stand to tell of that awful hour when a continent was born. The rain and gentle dew kissed the newborn world, and it was arrayed in a mantle of green. Forests grew, and the Father of Waters, with all his tributaries, began his journey in search of the Lost Sea. 10 INTtlODVCTOnr. Tliat miuiature race, the Cliff Dwell- ei'H, ruled the land, and in the process of evolution, the lied Man, followed by our hero, the Prospector, who brushed away the mysteries and disclosed the wonders, the grandeur, the riches of the infant world. Before Iiim the greatest of the earth may well bow their heads in recognition of his achievements. His monument has not been reared by the hands of those who build to commemo- rate heroic deeds, but in thriving vil- lages and splendid cities you may read the history of his privation and hard- ship and valor. He it was who first laid down his rifle to lift from secretive sands the shining flakes of gold that planted in the hearts of men the desire to clasp and possess the West. It was the Prospector who, with a courage sublime, attacked the granite forehead of the world, and proclaimed INTIiODiX'TOHY. 11 that, locked in the ))os(nn of the Uoeky Mouutaiiis, were silver and gold, for which men strive and die. lie • strode into the dark canon where the sword of the Almighty had cleft the mountain chain, and climbed the rugged steeps where man had never trod before, and there, above and beyond the line that marked the farthest reach of the Blue- bell and the Pine, he slept with the whisperings of God. His praises are unsung, but his deeds are recorded on every page that tells of the progress and glory of the West. He has for his home the grand mountains and verdant vales, whose wondrous beauty is beyond compare. From the day the earth feels the first -touch of spring, when the first flower blooms in the valley, all through the sunny summer time, when the hills hide behind a veil of heliotrope and a world 12 introductohy. of wild -flowers; all through the hazy, dreamy autumn, thiH land of th<; Pros- pector iH marvelously beautiful. When the flowers fade, and all the land begins to lose its lustre; when the tall grass goes to see J and the winds blow brisker and colder from the west, there comes a change to the Alpine fields, bringing with it all the bright and beautiful colors of the butterfly, all the rays of the rainbow, all the burning brilliancy and golden glory of a Salt Lake sunset. Now, like a thief at night, the first frost steals from the high hills, touching and tinting the trees, biting and blighting the flowers and foliage. The helpless columbine and the blushing rose bend to the pas- sionless kisses of the cold frost, and in the ashes of other roses their graves are made. When the God of Day comes back, JNTIiOUrCTUltY. 18 he sees upon the silent, saddened face of Nature the ruin wrought ]>y the touch of Time. The leaves, by his light kept alive so long, are l)lnshing and burning, and all the fields are aflame, fired by the fever of death. Even the winged camp ro])])er screams and flies from the blasted fields where bloom has changed to blight, and the willows weep by the icy rills. All these wondrous changes are seen by the Prospector as he sits on a lofty mount- ain, where the autumn winds sigh softly in the golden aspen, shaking the dead leaves down among the withered grasses, gathering the perfume of the pines, the faint odor of the dying col- umbine and wafting them away to the lowlands and out o'er the waste of a sun-parched plain. THE PROSPECTOR. CHAPTER I. BIRTHPLACE — SCHOOL DAYS BOY LIFE ON THE FRONTIER — FAVORITE SPORTS. piFTY years and one ago, near Fort * Wayne, Indiana, Nicholas C Creede, the story of whose eventful life I shall attempt to tell you, first saw the light of day. When but four years old his parents removed to the Territory of Iowa, a country but thinly settled and still in the grasp of hostile tribes whose crimes, and the crimes of their enemies, have reddened every river from the Hudson to the Yosemite. In those broad prairies, abounding 15 i / 16 THE PROSPECTOR. wit^ buffalo and wild game of every kind, l)egan a career which, followed for a half century, written down in a modest way, will read like a romance. When but a mere lad, young Creede became proficient in the use of the rifle and made for himself a lasting reputation as a successful hunter. He was known in the remote settlements as the crack shot of the Territory, and be- ing of a daring, fearless nature, spent much of his time in the trackless for- est and on the treeless plain. As the years w^ent by, a ceaseless tide of immigration flowed in upon the beautiful Territory until the locality where the Creedes had their home was thickly dotted with cabins and tents, and fields of golden grain supplanted the verdure of the virgin sod. As the population increased, game became scarce, and then, as the recognized ■■•;**^ CHAPTKli I. 17 leader, young Creede, at the head of a band of boyish associates, penetrated the wilds far to the noithward in pur- suit of their favorite sport. On some of these hunting expeditions they pushed as far lorth as the British line, camping where game was a))un- dant, until they had secured as much as their horses could carry })ack to the settlements. This life in the western wilds awoke in the soul of the young hunter a love for adventure, and his whole career since that time has been characterized by a strong preference for the danger and excitement of frontier life. The facilities for acquiring an educa- tion during young Creede's boyhood were extremely limited. A small school-house was ei'ected about thiee miles from his home, and there the boys and girls of the settlement flocked 18 THE PliJSPKCTOR. to study the simplest branches under a male teacher, who, the boys said, was "too handy with the gad." The boy scout might have acquired more learn- ing than he did, but he had heart trouble. A little prairie flower bloomed in life's way, and the young knight of the plain paused to taste its perfume. He had no fear of man or beast, but when he looked into the liquid, love- lit eyes of this prairie princess he was always embarrassed. He had walked and tried to talk with her, but the words would stick in his throat and choke him. At last he learned to write and thought to w^oo her in an easier way. One day she entered the school-room, fresh and ruddy as the rosy morn; her cherried lips made red- der by the biting breeze ; and when the eyes of the lass and the lover met, all the pent-up passion and fettered I a as n- j-t 3d of e. It e- iS d le d o n e e Q 1 N. C. CREEDE. ClfAFThli' I. W) affection fiaHiiod afluiiie froiu lier licjirt to 1h8, and he wrote u[)on her slate : ♦ 4 t\ The honey l)ee for honey tii)8 The rose upon the lea; Then how would be yoar honeyed lips If I could be the bee?" The cold, calculating teacher saw the fire that flashed from her heart to her cheek, and he stepped to her desk. She saw him coming and she spat upon the slate and smote the sentiment at one swii't sweep. Then the teacher stormed. He said the very fact that she rubbed it out was equal to a con- fession of guilt, and he "reckoned he'd haf to flog her." A school- mate of Creede's told this story to me, and he said all the big boys held their breath when the teacher v/ent for his whip, and young Oreede sat pale aiid impatient. "He'll never dare to strike that pretty creature," they •JO TIIIC I'liVat'EVTUlt. thought; ''shi; is ho sweet, so gentle, iind so giij by tlie fliin liaii«l of II step-fiitlu'i', peace tr()u))le(l liis mind. Notliini^ pleased him more tliaii to have the captain herd the horses while he went ont with his hand-painted Paw- nees to chase the frescoed Sioux, lie set to woi'k assiduously to learn the laniruaire of the Pawnees and soon mas- tered it. By his recklessness in battle and remarkable bravery in every time of danirer, lie gained the admiration and confidence of the savage men, who followed fearlessly where their leader led. They looked upon Creede as their commander, regarding the Captain as a sort of camp fixture, not made for field work, and many of their achievements under their favorite leader awoke amazement in their own breasts and made them a terror to their Indian foes. If there are those who think these pages are printed to please 84 rHK I'ltOSI'ECTOR. I'jitluT tliJiii from Ji desire to tell the truth and do justice to a name long neglected, I need but state that it stands to-u.s exiM'dition was intruHted to Creede and his invinci))h's. A favoritisnj was shown wliich permit- ted certain olficers to remain in eamp away from danger. They never kn«!vv how i)r(.Md the Lieutenant was to Knid his gallant scouts. It v*^as a compara- tively easy road to fame with so ])rave a band of warriors, and the attemhint danger only served to api)ease the lead- ei''s appetite for adventures. The notable incidents which marked Lieutenant Creede's career during his seven years' service as a scout would till many volumes such as this. But a few can be touched upon ; just enough to exhil)it his fearless nature and his often reckless daring in the face of danger. CIIArTKU IV. Ilai-d down llio plain thu Uud Man rude yV^ainflt thu Uud Man ; I'awnuu hIuw IUh hatud enemy, thu Siunx, And bathed him in his brotlier's blood. For thuy were wily, wiUI and Htrong, Kuvenjfoful, i'oarluHH, iiui'cu and ileut. They mnrmiirud : Oh, revunj^e Ih sweet When Uud Men ride to right a wrong. LlIOirTKNANT MIIUIK — "(J(K)I> INDIANS "- *' don't let hku know." "DEAD to 1110, Jim," m\d the sweet * girl-wife of Lieiiteiiuiit Murie. " I can't read long, my love,'' said the gallant scout. " I have just learned that there is trouble out West and I must away to the front. That beardless te- legrapher, Dick, has been liere with an onK'r from Major North and they will run us out special at 11 : JiO to-night." 30 VIIM'TKU IV. Tlu; L'unitciiJini pickrd up a collection of poems uiul read vvluac he opened the hook : *'Tull mo not, Hwuot, I am iiiikiiid, That from tlio niiiiiiui'y Of thy uhaHto bruast and qniut mind To war and arms 1 lleo." "Oh, Jim," sh(^ hroke in, '' why don't thev try to civilize these poor, hunted IndiauH ? Are they all h(> very had ? Are there no good ones among them ? "Yes," said the soldier, with a half smile. " They are all good except those that escape in battle." "But tell me, h>ve, how long will this Indian war last ? " "As long as the Sioux hold out," said the soldier. At eleven o'clock the young Lieu- temint said good-])y to his girl-wife and went away. This was in the 'OO's. Tlu^ scouts f i ;J8 THE I'ltOiU'ECTUli. : 1 were stationed near Julesburg, which was then the terminus of the Union Pacific track. The special engine and car that l)rou from his sweetheart's hand had been the sunshine of his life, and now they were maii'ied and all the days of doubt and danger were passed. An hour after the arrival of the special, a scout came into camp to say that a large l)and of hostih^ Sioux had come down from the foot-hills and were at that moment standing, as if waiting — even inviting an attack, and not a thousand yards away. If we except the officers, the scouts were CHAVrKli IV. avi nearly all Pawnee Indians, who, at the sight or scent of a Sioux, were as rest- less as caged tigers. They had made a treaty with this hostile tribe once, and were cruelly murdered by the Sioux. This crime was never forgotten, and when the Government asked the Paw- nees to join the scouts they did so. The scouts did not keej) the warriors waitincj loncj. In less than an hour. Lieutenant Murie was ridinc: in th(^ di- rection of the Sioux, with Lieutenant Creede second in command, followed by two hundred Pa\vnee scouts, who were spoiling for trouble. The Sioux, as usual, outnumbered the Government forces, f)ut, as usual, the dash of th(^ daring scouts was too much for tlui hostiles and they were forced from the field. Pearly in the exercises, Murie and Creede were surrounded by a pai'ty of 40 THE PROSPECTOIl. Sioux and completely cut off from the rest of the command. From these em- barrassing environments they escaped almost miraculously. All through the figlit, which lasted twenty minutes or ( i more, Creede noticed that Mui'ie acted very strangely. He would yell and rav(^ like a mad man — dashincj here and there, in the face of the greatest dan ger. At times he would battle single- handed, with a half dozen of the CHAPTER IV. 41 fiercest of llie foe, and liis very frenzy seemed to fill them witli fear. When the fight was over, Lieutenant Murie called Creede to liim and said he had been shot in the leg. Hastily dis- mounting, the anxious scout pulled off tlie officer's l)oot, but could see no wound nor sii^n of l)lood. Others came up and told the Lieut(;nant that his leg was as good as new ; ])ut he insist(!d tliat he w\as wounded and silently and sullenly pulled his l)oot on, mounted, and the little band of in\ incildes started for camp. The Pawnees l)egan to sing their wild, weird songs of victory as they went along ; but they luid pro- ceeded only a short distance when Murie began to complain again, and again his boot was removed to show him that he was not hurt. Some of the party chaffed him for getting i"at- tled over a little l>ru>Ji like that, anctor should say it was all the result of imagination, and that there was no wound at all. When the surgeon had examined the limb, he looked up at the face of the soldier, Avhich was a picture of pain, and the bystanders could not account f<^r the look of tender sympathy and pity in the doctor's eyes. Can it be, thought Creede, that he is really hurt ahd that I have failed to find the wound ? "Forgive uk?, Jim," he said, holding out his liaiid to the sufferer, Init the surgeon waved him away. " Why, you — you could n't help it, Nick," said Mijrie. " You could n't liii CTI AFTER IV. 43 kill all of them ; but we made it warm for them till I was shot. You wou't let he?' know, will you ? " he said, turning his eyes toward tlie med- ical man. " It would break her heart. Poor dear, how she cried and clung to me last night and begged me to stay with her and let the country die for itself awhile. Most wish I had now. Is it very bad. Doctor ? Is the ])one broken ?" " Oh no," said the surc^^^on. " It's only painful ; you'll be ])etter soon." *' Good ! Don't let her know, will you V Thev laid him on a cot and he closed his eyes, whis[)ering as he di})elessly insane." All night they watched by his bed, and eveiy few moments he Avould raise up suddenly, look anxiously around tlie t(^nt, and say in a stage whisper: ''Don't let he?' know." A few days later they took him away. lie was not to lead his l)rave scouts ajj^ain. His reason failed to re- turn. I never knew what ])ecanie of his wife, but 1 have been told that she is ' still watchino: for the window of his })rain to open up, when his absent soul will look out and see her Avaiting with the old-time love for him. One of his old comrades called to see him at the asylum, a few years ago, and was recognized by the demented man. To him his wound was as pain- ful as ever, and as he limi)ed to liis old friend, his face W()re a look of illi CflAI'TEli IV. 45 intense agony, wliile he repeated, ju«t as his comrades luid heard liini repeat an hundred times, this from Swinlmrnt;: "Oh, bitterness of things too sweet, Oh, broken singing of tlic dove. Love's wings are over-fleet. And like the panther's feet The feet of Love." "Good-by, Jim," said the visitor, with tears in liis voice. "Good-l)y," said Jim. Then glancing about, lie came closer and whisjtered : " Don't let he?' know." It is a quarter of a century since Murie lost his reason and was locked up in a mad -house, and these years have wrought wondrous changes. The little projected line across the plain has become one of the great railway sys- tems of the earth. " Dick," the beardless operator who gave Murie his orders at Omaha, is now General Manatrer t m\ 46 THE PnoSPKCTOH. Dickinson. T\io dclicute and spare youtli, who wore a AVinchester an^ red liujht at tli(^ rear end of tlic^ special, is now (leneral Superintendent Deuel, and Creede, poor fc^ilow, lie would give half of his millions to be able to brush the mysteries from Murie's mind. ■m CHAPTEU V. TnitlsriNd PUOSI'ECTOU TUAI)lN(i HOUSES. HAD N. C. Crceilo remained a j)oor prospector all his days, these pages would never have been printed. That is a cold, hard statement ; but it is true. Shortly after the fickle (ioddess of Fortune sat u[) a flirtation with the patient prospector, the writer met with a gentleman who had served or. the plains with the man of whom you are reading, and he told some interesting stories. We l)ecame very well ac- quainted and my interest in the hunter, scout, prospector ai\d miner increased with every new tale told by his com- panion on the plains. Those who know this silent man of the mountains are well aware of his inborn modesty and 47 4S 77/ a; I'liOSPKCTOlt. of the reticciUH; hv inanifcstH wlicn ([XicS' tioiM'd alxmt his own pcrsoiuil expi'ri- onccH. Ilt'iicc, tlin writer as wcdl hs the rcjuler iiiust rely largely upon tlu^ hIo- lies tohl hy his old comrade, the first of which was this : A larger l)ody of Sioux Indians were cani[)ed near North Platte, Nebraska, having come there to meet some peace commissioners sent out from Washint^- ton. We were cam])e(l about eight miles below them, ('ar, and our IiidiaiiH were iiiHtructcd to have their arms in perfect onh'r and in easy reaeli wlien they roUed ii[) in their bhmkets for sU'ep. Creede's horse haeditions. Half of the company had gone on this weekly scout, leaving but oxw white of- ficer in camp, Lieutenant Creede. He had, if I recollect aright, but eighteen men fit for duty, a number of others being disabled by wounds received in recent battles. The s«jcond day after the hunting party left, the section men from the west came into AVood River Station on their hand-car, and excitedly reported that a band of about fifty Sioux had R CHAPTEU VI. 55 crossed the track near them, headed south. Joe Adams was the agent at Wood River, and he at once sent a messenger to the Pawnin; (;anip to tell Lieutenant Creede of the presence of the hostiles. Creede liastily mounted his handful of warriors, and in less than twenty minutes was dashing forwanl on the trail of the Sioux. The time con- sumed l)y the section men in running into the station, a distance of about four miles, and the consecpient delay caused by sending the news to Ci'eede, and the catching up and saddling of the ponies had given the Sioux a good start, and when the scouts had reached the Platt(^ the hostiles had crossed over and wc^re concealed from view in the sandhills beyond. Crossing the wide stream with all pos- sible haste, the game little ponies, strug- gling with the treacherous (piicksand for (T y 'i ■ii ■f * y ■!!■■ i 50 THE PROSPECTOR. which that historic river is noted, the scouts struck the trail on the opposite bank and pushed rapidly forward. Although they knew that the Sioux outnumbered them three to one, the Pawnees were eager for the fray — an eagerness shared in by their intrepid commander. Chanting their war-songs, their keen eyes scanning the country ahead from the summit of each sand- hill, they pushed onward with the remorseless persistence of blood-hounds up the trail of fleeing fugitives. About three miles from the river, on reaching the top of a sand-hill, the en- emy was discovered a mile ahead, mov- ing carelessly along, oblivious of the fact that they were being pursued. Con- cealed by the crest of the hill, the Pawnees halted to view the situation, and Lieutenant Creede covered the hos- tiles with his field -glass. An impreca- CHAPTER VI. 57 tion came from his lips as he studied the scene in front, and crying out a sentence in the Pawnee tongue, his war- riors crowded about him. His experi- enced eye had shown liim that they were Yankton Indians, tlien at peace with the whites. He took in the situa- tion in a moment. They had h'arned of the departure of the Pawnee village on a buffalo hunt, and were after them to stampede and capture their horses, kill all of their hated enemy they could and escape back to their reservation. All this he told to his warriors, and the iield-glass in the hands of various members of the party corroborated the fact that, as United States scouts, tliey had no right to molest the Yankton bands. The impetuous warriors chafed like caged lions, and demanded in vigor- ous terms that the chase should be re- sumed. One cool-headed old man, a fT SSM jj f l!ll it •'1 jl ■ I i 1: Ml jiii iiii 58 THE I'liOSPECTOIi. chief of somo importance; in the ti'i})e, addressed Lieutenant Creede substan- tially as folhjvvs : "Father; you are a white man, an ofiic(!r und(;r tlu^ great war chief at Wasliington, and you would rouse; liis ang(;r by battling with Indians not at war with him and his soldi(;rs. Wi; are Pawnee; Indians, and the m(;n yonder are our hat(;d foes. Tliey go to attack our p(;ople, to kill our fathers, sons, })i"others, the scpiaws and children, and steal their horses. It is our duty to protect our people;. It is not your eUity to he;lp us. Go back, father, to e>ur camp, and we, not as se)ldie;rs, l)ut as Indians, will push on to the de;fense; of emr pee)ple. Listen to the worels e)f wis- elom and ge^ back." The situatie)n was a trying one. The Lie'utenant we;ll kne'w that if lie' UmI his scouts against the Yauktons lie \vould CIlAPTKIi VI. T)') have to face serious trouble at Wanli- ington and meet with severe censure from General Augur, then commanding the Department of the Platte. lie real- ized that his official position would hv endangered, and that he miglit even subject hims(;lf to arrest and trial in the United States Courts for his action. For some moments ho stood with his eyes bent upon the ground in dec^p reflec- tion, tlui Indians eying him keenly and almost breathlessly awaiting his reply. It was a tableau, thrilling, well woi'thy the brush of a painter. The hideously painted faces of the Indians scowling with rage ; their blazing, eager eyes re- flecting the spirit of impatience which s,^^ayed their savage souls ; the hardy, faithful ponies cropping at the scant grass which had [)ierced the sand ; the Lieutenant standing as immovable as a rock, his face Ix^traying no trace of Si ;] I I ;'/ 1 1. 00 TlIK PliOSrECTOJi. excitement, calmly, stileiitly gazing at the ground, carefully weighing the responsi- bilities resting upon him, — all went to make up a picture so intcmsely thrilling that the mind can scarcely grasp its wild features. When the Lieutenant spoke, he did so (piietly a"d calndy. There was a light in his eyes which hoded no good to the j)ursued, hut his voice betrayed not the least excitement. He -said : " For several years I have been with you — have been one of you. We have often met the enemy in unequal num- bers, but we have never been defeated. In all the battles in which I have led you, you never deserted me. Should I desert you now ? 1 know that 1 will be censured, perhaps punished, but those Yanktons shall never harm your people. I will lead you against them as I would against a hostile band, and on me will CHAPTEIi VI. 61 rest all the responsibility. We go now as Pawnee Indians, not as United States scouts, and go to fight for our people. Mount ! " Grunts of satisfaction greeted his words. They would hav(^ hwn followed by wild yells of sav^•^go delight had there been no fear of such a deinon- stration disclosing their presence to the Yanktons. Horses were ([uickly mounted, and the l)and again took the trail with an impatience which could scarcely be curbed. The Yanktons were soon again sighted, and the scouts adopted the Indian tactics of stealing upon their foes. Skirtinc: the bases of sandhills, keeping from sight in low grounds and following the bed of gulches, they pressed on, until the enemy was dis- covered less than three- fourths of a T tllli i 02 TIIK ritOSPKCTOR. x\\W' ahead, and y(^t uiioonHcious of the [)reHencu of a foe. Halting in a \o\s spot in the hills, th(; Pawnees hastily unsaddled their ponies and stripptnl for tin; fight. In- dians invarialdy go into a !)attle on hanihack horst^s, as saddh^s impede tin; sp(»ed of the animals in (piick move- ments. When again mounted, the Ijieu- t(;nant gave the command to advance. On niaching tluj crest of a sand-hill, the Pawnees discovered their enemy just gaining the summit of the next, about five hundred yards distant. The Yanktons discovered their pursuers at the same moment, and great commo- tion was observed in their ranks. They hastily formed tluimselves for battle, and then one of them who could speak English, cried out : " Who are you, and what do you want ? " CUAl'TKU VI. " W(^ an^ PawiKHj Indians, and Wf want t(» know wht*ni you an; going/' Creedt; Hlioutcd in ivply. " You arc Pawiu'c sfouts, and an; soldii'i's of tliu Unitinl Statt's. W(; arc Yankton Sioux at jH'ace with the (Jov- einnicnt, and you cannot niolcnt us." "You are nioviiii^ a^'ainst thi; Paw- nee village, now on a buffalo liunt," Orccdc rc[)licd. " You want to kill owv people and steal their horsrs. We arc Pawnee Indians, and art? here to tight for our ptroplc. If you take the trail back across the Platte, we will not disturb you, but if you attempt to move forward, we will fight you. De- cide quick !" The leaders of the Yaukton band gathered about the interpreter in coun- cil, while Creede interpreted what had been said to his warrioi's. It was with difficulty he could restrain them i«, I. r»4 77/a; I'liiKsi'Kcntn. i from (lasliiii^ forward to tin* attack, lit a fi^w iiioiiu'itts tlk^ ^'aiiktoii in- terprt'ter Hlioiitcd : " If you attack us, the (JovcrmiuMit will puninli you and reward us for our loss. \Vi! do uot feai' you aw Pawn(;cs, but we are at [)eac(i and do not want to fight you because^ you are soldiers of the great father at Wash- ington. We niv. many and you are few, and we could soon kill y«ui all, or drive you back to your camp, (fo away and let us alone." " You are the enemy of our peo- ple, and you go to kill them," the Lieutenant replied. " We will fight for them, not as soldiers, but as Paw- nees. You must make a move* now, instantly. We will wait but a minut». If you take the back trail, it will be good. If you move forward, we will make you halt and go back." CIIM'THli VL <;•> Tli«' only reply was a coiiiiiiaM the sidii of the hill on which tlu^ir niy had last been seen. On a lcv(d flat beyond the hill, th(^ ^'anktons were found hastily forniiiii; for batths and with tigei'-lik '/•//A' I'ROSl'ECTOli. i I ft: I It $ pursued tlieni, and a runuini^ fight wan iiiuintained over sinenil miles of coun- try. The Ytmktous were at hist so scattered that they couhl make no show of resistance, and with all possi- })le speed sought the river crossing and fled toward their agency. It was afte?*\vards learned that they sustained a loss of eight killed and cpiite a lari^(; number wound(;d. The Pawnees lost hut one man kilh'd, but many were wounded on the fiehl. Several horses were killed. Creede's army blouse was riddled with bullets and arrows. Returning from the field, " Bob White," a Pawnee, reached Wood River in advance of the scouts, and by mak- incr motions as of a man fallin<; from a horse, and repeating the word, " Lieu- tenant," created the impression that Creede had been killed, and the agent til >^?l X^^^^ f ui 1 Wr i Ut "■""■■ilMI mm . ■ u - i CHAPTER VI. 67 telt'grrtphod tlie news to Oinalui, whore it was pul)lislie(l in the daily pjipern. When the scouts reached the station, however, the gallant Lieutenant was at their head. When he dismounted, it was observed that lie limped painfully, and in explanation said, that in one of the charges his horse had fallen upon him, severely bruising and spraining one of his legs. This was what "Bob" had tried to tell, but the agent inter- preted his signs to mean that the iu- tre[)id leader had been killed in battle. When the Yanktons reached their agency, they rei)orted that while rse and fire a rifle or revolver c<>ul(l kill those clumsy, shaggy animals much easier than they could [)ursue and kill the ordinary steers on the westei'n I'anges to-dry. In fact, the range steer is a far moi*(^ dangerouj animal when enraged than was the buffalo, for it possesses greater activity, and is more fleet of foot. The men who have gained notoriety on account of the niiml)er of buffalo they have killed are looked U2)on with quiet contempt by the true hunters of the plains and mountains, who justly claim that hunt- ing excellence can only be shown in the still hunt, where tact and skill are re- quired to approach within shooting dis- tance of the elk, deer or antelope, and CHAPTER Vtl. 71 proficient raarksmansliip is necessary to kill it. When ])uffal() were plenty on the western plains, it was not at all unnsual for women to ride after and kill them, and incur little, if any, risk of personal danger. Miss Emma Wood- ruff, a school tencher on Wood River in the sixties, and who afterwards married a telegraph operator at Wood River Station, became s when I ])ress(>d him to tell it to me It was tl ns in cident which first trained from him the full confidence* and unstinte]K'nrance of the Indians who tl ley were, am I if it w IS a hunt mir or war party. They were headed in the , I caiiic in full view of the party not more tlnm a • linirtrr ot a mile distant. ri IC saw nic at tin* same tinir, as I kiirw fmni the confusion in tlu'ii" lanks. I tell you, in a case of that kiinl, one wants to «lo sonic (|uick thinkin;^, and if cvci" a man ioix^cd his ])rain for a scheme to I iff V tk' IP Us:- ■»ii IF If s I r' ! 76 TIIK I'UOSI'KCTOli. it into execution. I saw tlmt my only chiincc, thougli a dcHju'ratc one, would bo to make thcni lu'lievt^ I was ahead of a party in their ])ursuit, and taking off my hat, I made frantic motions to the r<'ar, as if hurrying up a body of troops, and then, ])utting spurs to my horse, dashed riglit toward tl fi lem, an( 1 wh •1 len elos(» enou rinir at th itl jem witn mv rin« tl. x'lran Tl le scheme worke.l l)eautifully, for withou firing a shot, they seemed to heconie terror-stricken and flef tin* chase, and we were not loni^ in finding; all the coyotes had left of the two Ixulies. " That affair finnly estal>lisheom on the graves of other roses ; when every animal, man, bird and beast, each to his own kind turns with a look of love and tender sympathy, we find the restless Red Men of the Plains on the war-path. One day at sunset. Lieutenant Creede rode out from Ogallala, where the scouts were stationed, guarding the railway builders. It was customary for some 78 CHAPTEii VIII. 7t) one to tako a look about at the closi^ of day, to see if any stray Sioux were prowling around. About six miles from cami), he came to a clump of trees covering a half dozen acres of ground. Through this grove the scout rode, thinking pi'rha])s an elk or deer might be seen ; but nothing worth shooting was sighted, till suddenly In* found himself at the farther edsre of the wood and on the banks of the- Platte. Looking across the stream, he saw a small band of hostile Sioux ridintr in the direction of the river, and not more than a mile away. His field-glasses showed him that there were seven of the Sioux, and without the aid of that instrument, he could see that they had a majority of six over his party. They were riding slowly in the direction of the cam[). Creede concluded that i\wy intended to cross over, kill the guards, II V rw '.■'■"•fUPjIT if1'!™(r ^r" • r'^W^ ' r^'TP'— T^r^T r-ii-" 80 niE VliOiSl'ECTUli. und capture the Government horses. His first thought was to ride hack to camp, keeping the clump of trees })e- tween him and tlie Indians, and arrange a reception for tlie 8ioux. The river was lialf a mile wide and three feet deep. Horses can't tilivel xvvy rapidly in three feet of water. In a short tinu; they had reached the water's edge and the scout could hardly resist , the temptation to await their ap[)roach, dash out, take a shot at them, and then return to camp. That was dangerous, he thought ; for, if he got one, there would still be a half a dozen bullets to dodge. A better plan would be to leave his horse in the grove, crawl out to the bank, lie con- cealed in the grass until tha enemy was within sixty yards of him, then stand up and work his Winchester. The first shot would sur[>rise them. They would CIlAPrEIi VIII. 81 all look ut tlu'ir falling frieiul ; tlu; second would show them where he was, and the third shot would leave ))Ut four Indians. By the tinit^ they swuni; their rilies uj) another would have passed to the Ha[)[)y Land, and one nuin on shore, with his ritle working, was as jLjood as three frii>iitened Indians in the middle of the I'iver. Thus reasoned the scout, and he crept to the shore of the stream.. He had no time to lose, as the Indian ponies had finished drinking and were already on the move. As the sound of the sinking feet of the horses grew loudei', the hunter was obliged to own a feeling of regret. If he could have gotten l)ack to his horse without them seeino; him, he thou miss them. Nearer and nearer sounded th(^ [)luidsety-plunlv of the uusIkkI feet of the little horses in the shallow stream, till at last they seemed to be in short-riiie range, and the trained hunter sj)rang to his feet. He had reekoned well, for the Indians w(!i*e not over sixty yards away, riding tandem. Creede's riile echoed in the little grove ; the lead leaped out and the head Indian pitched forward into th(^ river. The rich'rless horse stoi)ped diort. Tl le ifl< ritii cr acked airain, am 1 the second Red Man I'olled slowly from the saddle ; so slowly that he CIlAI'TEli VIII. 8;i baivly got out of the way in tiiiu^ to ju'iiiiit tlu' next hnive, who wjis almost directly beliiiul him, to get kilKnl when it was his turn. Tlu; remaining four Indians, instead of returning the fire, sat still and stone-like, so terrified were they that they never raised a hand. Two more seconds ; two lUore shots from the trusty rifle of the scout and two more Indians went down, head first, into the stream. Panic-stricken, the other two dropj)ed into the vivvv and began to swim down stream with all their might. They kept an eye on the scout and at the flash of his gun they ducked their heads and the ball bounded away over the still water. Soon they were beyond the reach of the rifle. Returning to their own side of the river, they crept away in the twilight, and the ever sad and thought- ful scout stood still by the silent I! w II 84 THE rnOSPECTOIi. ! *ii stream, watcliing tlie little red pools of 1)1oos()in of the slowly running I'iver. Three of the ahundoned l)ronehos turned ])ack. Four crofssed over to Creede and were taken to eani[). The two wad and lonely Sioux had mme but a short distanee from the river, when one of them fell fainting and soon bled to death. He had been wounded by a bullet which had jmssed through one of his companions who was killed in the sti'eam. The remain- ing Indian w^as afterwards captured in battle and he told this story to his captors, just as it was told to the writer by the man who risked his life so fearlessly in the service of Uncle Sam. CHAPTER IX. SIT-TA-KE-KIT SCALPED ALIVE ASA IN- DIAN NKVEU CAKES TO LIVE AFTEU HE HAS LOST HIS SCALP. 1^ I 111 111 DITUING the mouth of Miiy, ISr*."), tlic scouts were giv(m permission to «^() witli the Pciwnees ou their ainuuil Imfftilo hunt. The Pawuees were greatly pleased, for where there are buffah)es there are ludiaus; and the Sioux were ever on the h)okout for an oj)porlunity to dro[) in ou the Pawnees when they were least expected. Late one after- noon a pai'ty, eight in number, of the scouts T)eeame se])arated from the main force during the excitement incident to a chase after buffaloes; and, })efore they had the slii'htest hint of danujer, were completely surrounded by a band of at m * J * 1 ' * 1 ■^ 1 vl 86 THK PROSPECTOR. !* \^- ii > I I Ii least two IiuiulrtMl Sioux The hunters were in a siiiall baHin in the sand-hills while the low bluffs fairly bristled with feathers. The Sioux would dash for- ward, shoot, and then retreat. Lieuten- ant C/'reede, two other white men and fiv(; Pawnees eoni[)osed the party of scouts. This little band formed a circle of their horses, l>ut at the first charge of the savage Sioux, the poor aninuils yank to the sand and died. The scouts now crouched by the dead horses, and half a dozen Sioux fell during the next charge. One savage who appeared to be more fearless than the rest, dashed forward, evidently intending to ride over the little band of scouts. Alas for him! there were besides the Lieuten- ant, three sure shots in that little circle, and b(;fore this daring brave had gotten within fifty yards of the horse-works, a bullet ]>i(Mced his l)rain. Instead of CHAPTER IX. 87 dropping to the ground and dying na most men do, this Indian began to leap and bound about, exactly like a chicken with its head cut off, never stopping until he rolled down within fifteen feet of the scouts. There was a l>oy in Creed(^\s party, Sit-ta-re-kit by name, a very intc^lligent Pawnee, eighteen years old, who had gone with the Lieutenant to Washing- ton to see the President of the United States. There seemed to be no shadow of hope for the scouts ; and this young man started to run. Inasmuch as he started in the dii'ection of the camj), which w\as but a mile away, it is but fair to suggest that he may have taken this fatal step with the hojie of notif}^- ing the Pawnees of the state of affaii's. This was the opinion of Lieutenant Creede ; while others thought he was driven wild by the despeiate surround - 11 m ll ^' I « •1*1 t'l PI mm 88 TIIK I'liOSPKCTon, • iS: inc^s. Tic lijid \'v him, and when I saw the steel Madti glistcnini^ in the setting snn — saw the savage at one swift strokt^ sever the sealp from that l)rav(^ lM)y\s liead, I was sick at lieart." After he had heen scalped, the l)(>y got np and walked on, riglit hy the savage Sionx. II(^ was safe eiKMigh now. Nothing on earth wouhl tempt an In- dian to tonch a man Avho had heen scaliH'd, not even to kill him. A P ki th awnee s(puiw was worKing m tlie field (me day when a 8i(mx came tlown and scalped her. She knew if she re- turned to her people she would he killed. It short-haired was omen not fashionable to kee]) al)out: and, in her lespt rate condition, she wandered back to the agency. The agent was sorry for her and he took her in and cured I* I 'Ill I if m ir I If If r IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) A 1.0 I.I Ui|2£ |2.S ^ iU 12.2 US UUl- ■^ IIIIIM L25 i 1.4 1= 1.6 ^. v2 V ^. Photographic Sciences Corporation 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 (716) 872-4503 ^■^'■- "^J^ ^ ■^ > ^ J 90 THE PROSPECTOR. her head and sent her back to her peo- ple. But they killed her; she had been scalped. But let us return to the little band in the basin surrounded by the Sioux. It is indeed a small band now. I^our of them are dead, one scalped and gone ; but as often as their Winchesters bark, a Sioux drops. There was nothing left for them now but to fight on to the end. Death in this way was better than beinor burned alive. There was no hope — not a shadow; for, how were they to know that one of their com- panions had seen the Sioux surround them and that the whole force of Paw- nee scouts were riding to the relief of this handful of men, who were amusing themselves at rifle practice while they waited for death. With a wild yell, they dashed down CHAPTER IX. 91 upon the murderous Sioux, and, without firing a shot, they fled from the fieUl, leaving thirteen unlucky Indians upon the battle ground. The brave boy never returned. He took his own life, perhaps ; for an In- dian never cares to live after lie lias lost his scalp, knowing that his com- panions look upon him as they look upon the dead. • I %n i n III S m ;" ^ "' "* fi r J* i:lt I' if ■ it, ill »l: CHAPTER X. LOYAL IN FRIENDSHIP, TRUE TO A TRUST — A CRUEL CAPTAIN. \T C. CREEDE, the Prince of Pros- *' ^ pectors and new-made million- aire, is one of the gentlest men I have ever mer, notwithstandinc: most of his life has been spent in scenes not .con- ducive to gentleness. His friendship is loyal and lasting ; and he is as true to a trust as the sunflower is to the sun. Although a daring scout and fearless Indian fighter, he is as tender and sym- pathic as the hero of the ^^ Light of Asiay Creede and I were traveling by the same train one day, when he asked me if I knew a certain soldier-man — a Captain Somebody; and I said, "No." 92 CHAPTER X. on "I raised my rifle to kill him one day and an Indian saved Lis life," said he, musingly. I looked at the sad face of my com- panion in great surprise. I could hardly believe him capable of taking a human life, and I asked him to tell me the story. " It was in '()5, I believe," he began. " We had just ca[)tured a village on a tributary of the Yellowstone, and were returning to our (piarters on Pole Creek. Just before going into camp, we came upon five stray Sioux, who had ])een hunting and were returning to their camp on foot. Two of the Sioux were killed and three captured. On the following morning, General Augur, who was in command, gavt; orders to my Captain to take thirty picked scouts and go on an exploring trip, and t.> take the three captives •1 ii will sec,' was his aiiswor. 'What/ said I, 'you (hui't mean to kill them? That would l)e cold -blooded murder.' ' I'll see that they don't get away,' said the cruel , Captain. I thought if he wcuild only give them a show, and suggested that we let them go two hundred yards, untie their hands and tell them to fly; l)ut to this proposition he nuide no reply. Then we went on silently, the poor captives rid- ing with bowed heads, dreaming day- dreams, no doubt, of leafy arboles and running streams; of the herds of buffalo that were bounding away o'er the dis- tant plain. " The scouts were all Pawnees, and their hatred for the Sioux dated frv^m the breaking of a treaty by the latter, some time previous. After the treaty had been completed, the two tribes started on a buffalo hunt. When they III" I tij !ii If' 'If '■\m m 'n .ft 1 ill} ^ \% 'f»»,T"-T;yT»V"n(TT'' 1)6 THE J'ltOSI'ECTUli. arrived at the Republican River, and the Pawnees had partly crossed, and the rest were in the stream, the Sioux opened fire upon them and slew them witlMJUt mercy. The Pawnee were di- vided into threti bands by this treacher- ous slaughter and U' ver got together afterward. The bitterest hatred existed between the two tribes, and iha Gov- ernment was using one to suppress the other. *' The three captives would never have surrendered to the Pawnees had they not seen the white men, to whom they looked for mercy. How unworthy they were of this confidence, we shall soon see. *' The Pawnees were by no means merciful. I have heard them tell often, how they skinned a man alive at Raw- hide, a little stream in Nel)raska, with all the gruesome and blood-curdling CUAPTER X. 97 gestures. The white man, the victim of the skinners, had made a threat that he would kill the first Indian he saw. It lia})pened to l)e a squaw ; but the man ke2)t his word. Ilis'rifie cracked and the squaw droj^ped dead. Tiie train had gone but a few miles when the Indians overtook the wagons and foiced tlieni to return to th(^ scene of the shooting, where they formed a cir- cle, led the victim to the center, and actually skinned him alive, while his companions were compelled to look on. 1^ I agreed that all this was interesting; but insisted upon hearing the story of the cruel Captain and the captives. " Oh, yes," said the prospector. " Well, I had dropped back a few feet, two of the naked Indians were riding in front of the Captain, w^hen he lifted his pistol ; it cracked and I saw a little i ill 211'!: •1 «t t (irf 8 i: I'f :| r \}H THE riiOSJ'EC'lOU. red Hp)t in tlu^ ]>are Imck of one of the l)oun(l cj.iptivcs. His fettered arnia raised sliglitly; his liead went ])aek, and lie dropped from tlie horse, dead. The pistol cracked again: Another little *( Pi ! k It Ml red spot showed up between the shoul- ders of the other Indian. I felt the hot blood rush to my face, and impul- sively raised my rifle — mechanically, as the uatiiral helper of tho oppressed — when a Pawnee, who was riding at my If .'T •il rilAI'TKIi X. \)^ Midc, n'ju'lu'd out, j^raspod my i^un, and said, ' No nlioot 'iiii/ " ^riu; third captive, wli(» was riding beliiiid witli i\w Indian 8cy the guard. " Tln^ Captain dismounted and scalped the two victims with a dull pocket- knife, and afterward told how they ndled up their eyes and looked at him like a dvint^ calf. "I could tell you more; but when I think of that murder, it makes me sick at heart, and I can see that awful scene enacted again." 4H I 1 II 1 III ■I • ' I fflli ■ • i CllAPTEU XI. A (ILIMPSK OK TlIK KCM'KIKS — TIIK I' AT II OK TIIK I'UOSPKCTOK, MKK Til AT OK TIIK I'OKT, LIES IN A STONY A'AY. Mil. CliEEDE'S Mucci'Hs is due largely to his lusting lov(^ for the iiiount- ains, which was lov(! at first sight. It was in 1S(>2 that the scouts were 4»r