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Les diagrammes suivants illustrent la m6thodo. 1 2 3 1 2 3 4 S 6 I 4 m THE Hunting Grounds of the Great West A DESCRTPTION OF THE PLAINS, GAME, AND INDIANS OF THE GREAT NORTH AMERICAN DESERT BY RICHARD IRVING DODGE LIEUTENANT-COLONEL OF THE UNITED STATES ARMY WITH A.V INTRODUCTION BY WILLIAM BLACKMORE WITH NUMEROUS ILLUSTRATIONS BY ERNEST GRISET CHATTO & WINDUS, PICCADILLY 1877 i' 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 APTOECIATION OP MY CAMP-FIRE STORIES THE INCEPTION OF THE WORK IS PRINCIPALLY DUE, BY THE AUTHOR. A 2 PEEFACE. 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 hfe whose experiences and the opinions formed upon them would not, if written out, be mterest- 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. •I I '/. jrjj^ CONTENTS. Introduction PAOH XV paut I. THE PLAINS. CHAPTEB I. General Description . . • . . . , 3 II. Surface . . . , 19 III. Climate 38 IV. Storms 43 V. Travel 45 VI. Camp , , gg PART II. GAME. VII. How TO GET IT VIII. Buffalo : Including Mountain, or Wood Buffalo . IX. Wild Cattle . . . . 103 119 148 COyTJ^NTS. CHAPTHB X. XI. XII. XIII. XIV. XV. XVI. XVII. XVIII. Elk Br,ACK.TAii,Rn Dekr RkD Dkku, or WlIITK-TAlLKD DeEU ' • • < Antklope Mountain Shekp— Bio Houw * • • • . Wolves. Jack RAnniT. Rock Radrit, and Pkairie ^^^ ■ . Other Animals : Includino Grizzly. Cinnamon, and Black Bears-Co uoar, or Puma-Panther, and Wild Cat . Game Birds op the Plains, v«. :-« Co . op the Plains '-Dusky Gkouse-Sharp-tailed Grouse -Ruffed Grouse -Pinnated Grouse-Wild Turkey-Rock Partridge-Quail, and other Birds Fisn and Fishing . PAOR 155 173 18G 103 205 209 212 223 24^ ' PAJtT III INDIANS. XIX. Eastern and Western Ideas op the Indian: His Boyhood, Ordeal, and the Warrior . . 255 XX. Tribal Government ... XXI. Religion 272 XXII. The Medicine Dance XXIII. The Happy Hunting-grounds OP the Indian .' 283 XXIV. Burial of the Dead 290 VAOB • 165 173 • • 186 1 193 • 205 UKIK • 209 AND AND • • 212 THE USB 'ILD lEtt • 223 • W/ (ONTENTS. ,1 CIIArTRlt XXV. LnvK, CounTsitip, and Maruiaqb . . .294 XXVI. SociAi, Life 097 XXVir. GAMiirjNo, Dhinkino, Amusements, Singino, and I)ANCIN XXV >) xxvi it Iviii >> 119 128 >) 139 142 265 270 278 290 294 I ! »v LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. Indians at Home in Tepees.-Drting Buffalo Meat for Winter Food The Noontide Repast on the War Path Grand Chief of the Pawnees * • • • • Emigrants crossing Laramie Plains in 18G8.— The Sioux preparing for their Reception Emigrants Encamped.— The Night Attack Indians returning with the Results of a Border Raid . to f (ICC p, 353 „ 371 ,, 373 „ 379 380 » 401 ! JiiCC V 353 >• 371 11 373 >> 379 380 401 INTEODUCTION. The truism that 'good wine needs no bush,' ia equally applicable to the fact that a good book requu-es no introduction. In the present instance, I have been induced to depart from this sound maxim at the instance of the pubhshers, 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 elTort o 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, aud the Indian territory in the South; the Great Missouri and Mississippi Rivers in the East, and the Pacific in the Wes 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,LonS whom I can name 'Bed Cloud,' 'Bed Dog,- and 'Two Lance, three of the principal cliiefs of "the OgalMa Sioux; Spotted T.:- head chief of the Brule Siou." 'Ouray, the head chief of the Utes; ' Washakie h<: principal chief of the Shoshones; ' Little K,^n and MA londort, Chatlo & Wlndus. FAT K S A JV Ti T P H tJ T 'P r\ i» T -1'. *-• >n H.sc.vat.on.s U' AVU^Rlhl^Z Pl"?..!!^ I Tj: U, STATES i^^^rTn^s. /In. MM^ f 4-^ V-' V"" / i>"^ t — ■ m^ m W< '-^^ , , I F?iWarcrojn}jie j (i-^ko^fl/tr,--.. 107 Ss ^ london. ChaUo S Wlndus Sdw^'Waller, ZtfAc X71 INTR0DT7CTI0N * Bird Chief,' principal chiefs of the Arrapahoes ; * Little Eobe,' head chief of the Cheyennes; ia addition to which there are many of the leading chiefs and warriors of the Kiowas and Comanches, Osages, River and Moun- tain Crows, Pawnees, Apaches, Navajoz and Pueblo Indians, who are personally well known to me. DESTRUCTION OP 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 milhons and a half of the 'Black Cattle of lUinois,' 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 bufl^alo. 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 Eivers. 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 Hue 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 m 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 XTlii INTIiODUCTION. of those of Groat 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 Cheyeunes 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 tl em 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- INTRODUCTION, xtU away by a Jtter realise destruction number of range from lat it would 3 if half the I had been he only evil wastefulness. 'ed of their Deing forth- ation, have present war some of the id ' Spotted joined the settler and buffalo for I of this re- lughter for tive, 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 $o 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 miUion. A tax of this amount would have realised upwards of fifteen milHons 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 httle 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 monopohse for their own private benefit the pubHc 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 hon's share of the public property. THE INDIANS OF NORTH AMEEICA. 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 miUions. 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 ZTiU 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 arc 70- verned by means of superintendents and agents especially appointed for this purpose, the department being divided into superintendencies 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 Utes, Shoshones or Snake Indians, and Bannocks. Dakotah, Montana, Wyoming, and Idafio, the ) oues of the Dakotah or Sioux, Black-f^.., ^ad lUood 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- ween. Texas and Kansas, contains about 70,000, con- 'ag principally of the semi-civilised tribes, including the Li< iyWAX jyTRODUCTIOy. Six iced under nch of the d are go- 3 especially ing divided Washington, }w Mexico, n. Central, idependent ;ories there e number, md Pueblo It 35,000, ')shones or the ] oiucs I Indians, incivilised Dry which IS and be- 000, con- iuding the Creeks, Cherohes, Chodaws, Chickasaws, Osages Semi nolea, Winnebagoes, Pawnees, Pottawatomies, and the Sacs and Foxes. The wild Kiowas^ii Comanches, and the Arrapahoes and Cheyennes, who, with some of the bands of the Dakotahs, mhabit tlie country lying between the west of the Indian territory and the eastern slopes of the Eockv Mountains, number about 10,000. In addition to the tribes previously enumerated, there are also the Chppewas, or Ojibbeways, numbering some 20,000 who r,.am 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 Sz,v Aations together with other miscellaneous wanderina tribes, number less than 10,000. ° No satisfactory classiacation of the Indian tribes has yet been made. That, however, which has been mos generally adopted is the following :— 1. The Algonguin or Ojibbeway Confederacy occupied all the country to the frozen regions, north of a hne commencmg near Cape Fear, on the Atlantic, thence extending westerly to the mouth of the Illinoi; Ever vT%^^X^"' ''''' '"^ ^y ^^y «f I^^ke Mich Cn Fals of St^ Mary, Lake Superior, and rivers and portf^eJ iZ^lf^'''''''^-' thence westerl/toX Fear to the north line of Tennesse!, "^^^^^^^^ Mississippi thence by the Mississippi, ArklnsL ' a Canadian Rivers to the Eocky MountafnL ' '"'^ ^^/\^^\^-'^''^^-o-raw, or Winnebago Confederacy including the Wisconsin Eiver and Lower Ohio T i' extending west to the Eocky Mountains! ' '^ a2 xz INTRODUCTION. 4. The Dakotah, or Sioitx Confederacy ^ extending west to the Rocky Mountains from a line running from KcvYenaw Bay to the north-eastern corner of the present State of Iowa. The Hues between the different confederacies must be understood as only approximating to correctness, as Indian boundaries were never well defined. The,9e 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 otlier, and frequently unable to speak each other's dialects. The Dakotahs, or SioiLv. — The Dakoiahs^ more fre- quently termed Sioux., and also called by the French ' Z^.s Coupe-gorge,' or ' Cut- throats,' from their sign or symbol, which consists of drawing the lower q^^q 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- siotix, 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. 8. Wahpaton, or the * Village in the Leaves ;' and 4. Sisseto)i, the ' Village of the Marsh.' The first two of these bauds resided, m 18C2, in Minnesota, and originated the massacre. They are called INTRODUCTION. zxi acics must •ectness, as nfederacies iber of in- with each -ch other's more fre- he French dr sign or d^e of the il and war- i^ided into or Lower Nado7ie.irit Lake,' 3;' and i 18C2, in are called ' Santees,' from Isanti, because they once lived near Isant Amde, one of the Mille Lacs. The Tetons, or Lower Bauds, 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.' (' 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. *Smz6'-JLrc5, or 'No Bows,' 9. Ogallallas, or ' Wanderers.' (' Eed Cloud's' Band.) 10. Assineboins, or ' Pot-boilers.' All of whom reside in Dakotuh, 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 tiie 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 xzu INTRODUCTION. almost exterminated, the Eiver and Mountain Crows who act as a frontier pohce between the Northern Sioux and the white settlers of Montana, the Shoshones or bnakes, and the Utes. Amongst their leading chiefs are ' Sitting Bull,' now engaged m 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 Brul(5 Sioux. 'Little Crow,' who was the leader in the massacre in Minnesota ot 1862, was the head chief of the Minneconirou Sioux • and up to the time of the outbreak had alwafs 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.—T}ie 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 heic^ht 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. zxm Bull,' now ited States 3on; 'Eed 11a Sioux ; c. ' Little Minnesota ou Sioux; i been re- le finest in self-reliant 5 as much rior tribes an Indian d Paikan- 5 a small irs to the I and the 3 of men perior in 3ly a man in height, any tribe io, where ! prairies, ;he Sioux, r-traders. imen and sing war of mind.' 4? At present they number about 2,000. The principal chief of this tribe is Ta-ke-ho-ma, 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 Doer, eaters, and by the French Gros Ventres), 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 difierence 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-tie: or 'Little Eaven.' ^Ir. Eichardson, who was in the habit of seeino- him frequently in 1865, describes him as being the nearest i< Hi II ZZIV 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 Western 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 beincr 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 sufifrrest. The Comanches, or Camanches (Les Serpents), imitate t . He had y face ; he Drado ever ways been ances pre- to avenge d a medal )noiired in ;he Plains, tie Eaven ' the Indian 3rations at i are ' Bird IS and Go- ose range the south- lexico. 10. The the prairie ted them, men than :t, with an vated fre- He states e of head, nches and le Kiowas of being )f all the th of the 'hey have whatever MITLE llunii (lAK-KUK-U-MAll). CHIKK 01.' TIIIC CIIKYKNNES. s), imitate 11* UTVUE HAVK.V, HEAD CllIKK OK TlIK AnilAPAHOES. INTRODUCTION. xxy by the waving of the hand or fore-finger, the forward crawhng 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 bufialo, and plundering Mexicans, Indians, and whites with judicial impartiahty. 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, lassoincr antelope and shooting buffalo. They wear the hair short° tattoo their bodies, have stoHd 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 xzn INTRODUCTION. II h I «i 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 tilhng the ground, insensible ahke to the comforts and wants of civilisation, daring, treacherous, and bloodthirsty, they are the Bedouins of the frontier, and the mortal terror of weaker IndiaLs 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 imgraceful ; 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 hke 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 ; but his barians, he >werful on i him with ) solely to e ground, dvilisation, e Bedouins er IndiaLs : ancestors ley expect s they are f the most ms I have )rses, they spectator Comanche 3ly almost lut a limb ! lays his landsome, and the me Wolf lining and influence ; but in ' is far his he never hite man vent him ^d him in an, very Blim CHIEF. WAH-CinKP ,)|.- Tili? AiiltAIMilOKS. INTRODUCTION. ZZTii 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 tlie edges, which they use for tables. He has a brass French horn, which he blew vigorously when the meals were ready.' General Custer, 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^ and 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 Coraanches 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 :— L The Sioux massacre of whites in Minnesota in 1862, which resulted in the deaths of 644 men, women and children, killed in the several massaci'cs. and of 93 soldiers killed in battle. ZXTIU INTRODUCTION. 2. The Sand-Creek or Cliivington'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 thivington and Major Anthony. 3. Fetterman's massacre, which occurred on Decem- ber 21, 1866, near Fort Phil Kcc^rney, 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 For^'syth 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 Comanchci 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 INTROD UCTION. XXIX ssacre of In- 1864, when women and le Little Ar- ider Colonel I on Decem- Jsulted in the , under their 5,' of Colonel : and several vere led into 1 the tale of Arrapahoes, , and Kiowas Colonel For- Fork of the succeeded in t the attacks Nose,' until ort Wallace, were either lid Surgeon 'uel Forsyth r 23, 18G8, ate General nnter camp Arrapahoes Comanchei The result nd, and the er with 875 ^m 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 fi-om 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 chiefs, and h°ead 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 Eock,' 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 capturincr 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 midni-rht on December 31, 1868, a delegation of the chief fighting zzx 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 terras, 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 bufialo. 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 lm^, punishment awarded, for they all have blood upon their hands.' Thus ended the Ind'an 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 succe3s by a dashing charge on Indians in Oregon. 5. The massacre of Lhe 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. xzzi General Custer 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, ihat they had not passed over that river and movednorth ; and Terry, after he got on the scene, com- menced feehng up the southern tributaries of the Yellow- stone and seeking trails. When Gibbon reached the point where the Eosebud Creek flows into tho. YpHowctone he found the Indians on the opposite side encamped eighteen miles up the creek. Here he was joined by General Terry txxu INTRODUCTION. I n who had ascended the river in the steamer Far West. The valleys of live 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 Custer'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 'Sit- ting Bull ' seems to have early concentrated his warriors, heavily reinforced by theCheyennes,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 # •x^ vt^ er Far West. ind gradually 3ntred in the e Big Horn. )y composed ng this tract, north of the 3 Crook, in — was to the 3re therefore • being in the 3 tributaries ; 3se streams, each column of the Sioux rs; but'Sit- his warriors, es, and other lition, which :ook arrived ig that the as Gibbon e mouth of marches to )f his move- k surprising ! battle that 1 both sides the Indians Little Horn nth of the J camp on stone, and )f the Big INTBODUCTION. XXXIJl %•* 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 Rosebud, 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 was 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 Custer'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 nght, or the side which Custer approached, is a range of bluffs, which the cavalry crowned, and then they looked dow a 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 m commotion. Mounted bands were riding furiously around, and colunms of dust arose in every direction, from out of which would shoot single warrioi^ that the Indians were retreating. It may be that Custer b XXXIV INTRODUCTION, was deceived into this belief; for, detaching several troops, he ordered Colonel Keno to ])ass up, enter tJie 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 nieetiiK^ squadrons. On the blulf he left four troops in reserve"^ with his pack mules and all the material. At the head of live troops, as the Geiiern) rode down the ridge he raised his hat to ■ mrades he left behind, who returned the salute wi:. a loud cliecr— the last they ever saw of Custer. Eeno moved up the ridge in com]jliancc with the instructions he had received, descended the valley, forded the river above the xillage, and formed iii open column. Then he advanced at a trot, the ])ace 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 ling several p, enter tlie the villi ige, le river und ■he meeting in reserve, At the head le ridge he ehind, wlio St they ever e with the the valley, formed in t, the ])ace illop. The istance, and masses on which the Bavier and wed, while ont. The wished the the front massed in secure the irty. The s, charged On they ch charge rood from ed in the untenable point, and IS in front. Vain were the attempts of the officers to keep the Indians from the commanding points. Tliey were soon again in possession of every i)ost, and then Reno saw that he must mount and cliarge 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 Indiims fell fast under the revolvers of the cavalry, as they followed undaunted in pursuit. A strong party of the Red 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 nd below the ford, and drawing tocre- tner charged the hill, when they met with severe puni.Si- ment at the hands of the fresh troops now brought into action. ° A troop was detached along the crest of the hill to obtam intelligence of Custer; 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 Reno was left in comparative peace. Two hours --''-^ • still there was no news of Custer. Another nd then Reno began to devise means for an b2 hour: ZZZTl 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 Custer 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 Eed Men drew ofi' 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 piteouL 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, Vrhile the Indians were firing at them. So quickly and INTRODUCTION. XXX vu s were in a n drew ofi' '^ell 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 bluifs 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, wliich 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 Custer. 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 Custer 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 i I » i xzxTiii INTRODUCTION. beyond. It was in that valley that Custer 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 fine 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 Eeno's command had been found on a hill three or four miles farther up, with all that remained of the 7th Cavahry. 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 -'scended, 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 INTRODUCTION. xxxix near the top of a little knoll in the centre of the plateau Custer's immutilated remains reclined as if in sleep, hia face calm, and a smile on his lips. Around were the bodies of 11 officers ; on his left was his brother, Captain Thomas Custer; on his right Captain Miles Keogh. Almost at his feet lay a handsome boy of 19, his nepliew Eeed, who insisted on accompanying tlie general. Not far away was the corpse of Boston Custer, another broiher, and near him was Lieut. Calhoun, the husband of Custer's sister, a lady who lost in that desperate char^^e 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 Keoo-h, Colonel Cooke, Colonel Yates, Lieut. Porter, Lieut. Sm[th,' • Lieut. Mcintosh, Lieut. Calhoun, Lieut. Hodgson, Lieut.' Eiley, Lieut. Sturgis, Lieut. Qrittenden. 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- hmd 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 n I T fif I 'M B ' 'i H if. fif. m x\ INTRODUVriON, ford, nnd fully half of Oii.stor'H conimmul socmtkmI to bu uiihorsod jit tho lirst firo. Tho action only lasted hh iiiiniitos. Uid^rely's account of what followed is thus told :— ' After the massacre of Custer's forces tli(> Indians r(>turned to camp with six soldiers as prisoners, nnd delirious with joy over their success ; those six were tied to stakes at a wood pile in the villanje, and were burned to death. While the llames were torturing them to death, the Indiiui boys lired red-hot arrows into their quivering ilcsh until they died. "Sitting Hull " was met after the fight, and he exultingly r(>marked that lu- had killed many soldiers mid one damned general, but ho did not know who he was. The squiiws then armed themsc!lv{>s 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 lieno's, attacking the lower end of the village.' Eidgely says Custer's command had been slaughtered before a shot was fired by Reno's force, which attacked the lower end of the camp about two o'clock P.M. Tho Indians returned in the evening and said the men had fought like the devil, but Hidgely says they did not make a statement of their losses. They said the soldiers had been driven back twice, and they piled u]) 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 and grey hair and whiskers. Eeno killed more Indians than Custer, who fell in the midst of tho 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 tho duty of guards for the prisoners, and, becoming drowsy, INTRODUCTION. xtt tumI to bl3 lii.stcd 55 kI is tllU8 lio Iiulinns )M(.'rs, and ; wore tied ro burru'cl n to death, quivering t aftcT the n\(\ killed e (lid not lienistilves and niii- le soldiers attention ^cr end of had been lo's force, ibout two :3ning and Igely says Tliey said hey piled 3 prisoners ly was not ie to state small size e Indians and two e the last ians were n whisky 1 th.o duty \ drowsy, 4 Hidgcly and two roni|)uniotis eHra{)ed, securing ponies, and began their long journey homeward. ' But aH a, phasing contrast to this horrible masHacrc and disnstrous campaign by the United States troops against their hostile Indiarjs, I turn to the more fortunate and Hucccf^sful campaign of the j)rcsent autumn by the ihitish [(gainst some of the Indian tribes in Canada, llcceni reports of this campaign are as follow: ' Lieutenant-Governor Morris and half-a-dozen officials have been away in the north-west territory duriri''- the j):ist six weeks, hunting up our Indians, armed with lreati(!S and presents, and, so far as heard from, their success has been remarkable. They have met the Indians in large numbers at ditlerent j)oints 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 innnense districts of territory, and leaving behind them nothing worse than cartloads of presents for the Indians, and the memory of a visit plensant and profitable on both sides. It is thus we hope to fight and win all our Indian campjugns. To the United StJitcs 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\nd justice observed, has ever been and will ever be, we trust, the bond of union between Canada and her red children.' CAUSES OF INDIAN WARS. The three principal causes of wars with the Indians are : — First Nonfulfilment of treaties by the United States Government. xUi 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 obhgations 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 hving 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 shghtest 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 jmrty; it is violated, but not by the savage:' It is done by a civiHsed nation. The treaty has been INTRODUCTION. zliii 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 livin^ in British possessions, paints the following two pictures, de- sciibing most forcibly the advantages of fulfilment over nonfulfilment of treaties : — ' 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 w^hom it has given Christian civilisation; and which celebrates its Cente- nary by another bloody Indian war. On the other side of the hne 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 civihsation 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 .g'lOO to their $1 in caring for Indian wards.' There is not a tribe but could furnish its list of breaclies of treaty obligations ; but probably in no case 1131 xliv INTRODUCTION. P p -III' 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 iSioux ; 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 ahve 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 : ' 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. ' The next conference we had was held with General Maynadeer, when there was no promise made, but we made friends and shook hands. ' 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 A 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, and 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 $ih 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. ' 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. ' 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. zlvi 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 ' 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 fiict, 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 amou'^t received by the Indians approximates more closely to the smaller than the larger per centage I have named. Encroachments hy 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. zlTii will take up a map of the United States, and contrast what was then and what is noiv 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 k^H 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 Arrapuhoes 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 INTRODUCTION. 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 havinof 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 hear ; 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 \vas forked. He lied and stung us. I asked but for a small piece of these lands, enough to plant and to Hve 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 tlie other hand, who have always been at peace with and the INTRODUCTION. ^ 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 I.idian, 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, feehng, or mercy towards either his enemy or captive. The atrocities committed by the Indians against the whites m 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 bouk 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 iiunily 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 w hen 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. c lii INTRODUCTION. Instances of the brutal treatment of wliito women, cap- tured by tlie Indians, are unfortunately oidy too numerous. I may, liowever, here refer to the case of Mrs. Blymi 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 ca[)tive until the time of the fight of the United States' troops with the Kiowas in 18G8, when, in order to prevent lier recapture, she was ruth- lessly murdered. When the bodies were discovered by the troo])s there were two bullet holes ])enetrating 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 wliom 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. Euuning towards the waggon I saw my poor fother sliot 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 lyin^r 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. 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, Kancy, 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 fjistened 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 tlie 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 tlie time we were : away from the home camp on the Staked Tlains 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. "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 exairirerate 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 extermmation, exists between the two races. The Eed Men wage a pitiless and incessant war of treachery ao-ainst the whites. They never spare ; they come in dad^ness and by stealth, witli riile, tomahawk, and scalping knife • Il-l !•; Uv iNriionucTioN. they creep up under the shadows of woods and by night to tlie lonely hamle'u 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 Legishiture, 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 lit themselves out shall receive a nominal sum f(jr 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 dollnrs for everything in the shape of an Indian under ten years of age. • That each scalj) 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 tlie wretched young barbarians, consigned to massacre by this Herodian decree, as ' everything in the sliape of an Indian under ten years of a<'-e.' 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 :— They are the most ousartainest 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 tiling he could lay his hands on. :N'o, not adzackly. He would feel kinder grateful, INTRODUCTION. Iv and ask you to spread a blanket in Jiis lodge cf you ever pas.scd that a-way. But the Injun he don't care shucks for you, and is ready to do you a heap of miscliief as soon as he quits your feed. No, Cap.," said the western to Genend May, " it's not the right way to give urn presents to buy i^cace ; but ef I war governor of these ycer United States, I'll tell you what I'd do. I'd invite um all to a big feast, and make b'heve 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 w .idd stick. That's the wiiy 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 iiiith 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, " 'Taiu't no use talk about honour with them. Cap. ; they hain't got no such thing in um ; and they won't show foir 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 um 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 fewynars 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 lu 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, iTi INTRODUCTION. u anil then, strictly confining tliem to their reservations, feed tliem with rusty bacon and condemned (lour; adding that lie believed that in less than a year they would all die ofl' like rotten sheep. Witli the existence, then, between tliem of such feelings of antipathy and animosity, it is impossible for the savage Indians and semi-civilised white men to occupy the siune country. All authorities who have investigated the subject are unanimous in predicating that the Ked Men are a doomed race. The edict lias gone forth, ' Delenda efst 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 sunnner sun. But sad as the fate of the Red Man is, yet, even as philanthropists, we must not forget that, under what ap- pears to be one of the innnutable laws of progress, the savage is giving place to a higher and more civilised race. Three hunu. ed thousand lied Men at the present time re- quire the entire occupation of a continentas large asEurope, 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 tlieir Avigwams, 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 supjilanting less than 300,000 wandering, debased, and hall-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 ran«Tod the plams, will be superseded by treble their number of improved American cattle; the sparse herds of the ISTHOIJUCTION. hU at ions, feed idding tliat 3uld nil die \c\\ feolinfi^s the savage y tlie siiine the subject Men arc a Didenda est pear before ;ive Anglo • before the smootli-liaired antelope will be replaced by countless flocks of woolly sheep; and the barren j)rairies, now covered Avith the short buffalo grass, yellow sunflower, and prickly cactus, barely sufficient to sup[)ort 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 lied 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, IS7G. et, even as T what ap- •ogress, the ilised race, nt time re- ! as Europe, ind scanty regret if in ms, tepees, I one hun- the West, itely struc- e Indians), anting less 3d savaires pulation of ly civilised rly ranged number of is of the Klfl: -v«tTi,iii|j I . ;■ !•>* mh 1 i A 7 PART /. THE PLAIx\S. (The Great Divide.) 'This is the highest point. Two ways the rivers Leap c own to different soas, and as they roll Grow deep and still; and their nuyestie presence Becomes a benefaction to the towns They visit.' ,. liONGFELLOW. 1 ff 1 1 I » I J' y'i 1*1' p fi THE PLAINS. CHAPTER I. GENERAL DESCRirTIOy. WiiEX I was a schoolboy my map of the United States showed between the Missouri Eiver and the Eocky Moimtams a long and broad white blotch, upon which was prmted in .mall 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. Tlie blotch of thirty years ago is now known as ' The Plams ' Like an ocean in its vast extent, in its monotony, and m Its danger, it is like the ocean in its romance, in its opportumties for heroism, and in the fascination it exerts on all those who come foirly 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 reahse the macriiificence of being. ^ At no time, and under no circumstances, can a man feel so acutely the responsibility of his life, the true grandeur of his manhood, the elation of which his nature IS capable, as when his and other lives depend on tlie quickness of his eye, the firmness of his hand, and tlie accuracy of his judgment. There is no lack of such occasions on the plains. The whole western portion of the Iv^orth Americ-- Continent, from the Isthmus of T ien to Behrinrr Str 11 ts. B 2 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 compi^ratively 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 Avhich must have marked that early epoch, they were torn to fragments, and the detritus, carried nearer or farther by tlie 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, ]Debbles, 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 f'-rms the whole country GENERAL DESCRIPTION. g known as the ' Divide ' between the waters of the South Platte and those of the Republican rivers. Near Colorado Springs It IS very marked, the bar being hundreds of feet m thickness, and of unknown extent to the eastward • while to the southward it follows the trend of the moun' tarn range crossing the Arkansas, building the plateau on which now stands the new town of Pueblo, until it is hnaJy lost in the volcanic regions about the head of tlie Cimarron Elver How high the original and principal upheaval must have been to have furnished such an amount of detritus and washings is beyond computa- A little to the southward of the Spanish Peaks appear he first evKleaces of fire ; but, from that starting-poin' far to the south and west, there is abundant proof that a one time in liarth's history Nature made it ' yerr 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 winch are even yet remarkable for their beaut^ "IjTp'^'T! ''°™- , Of *-^«« *« ™o«t remarkable B the Capulin, near the head of the Cimarron Eiver Eisnig sheer from a nearly level plateau, and built by and for Itself of molten material to a height of 1 000 feet ' :Vri:vri{im^if •"' -^-^ -^-'^ ""^ p-^- '^^—3;, The western side is partially broken down by the last erq^tion, affording a comparatively easy access to the era er ; and fortunately, owing to its position, it does not m he least detract from the beauty of the cone. Three miles to the south-west is Mount Tilden, appearing from 7m) 7^^^;7/^l'"f.^ 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 lea.; S(f^2r;i:^r ^- ^- -^^^^ *^- volcanoes rise is at 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 \o\- 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 maiked 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 oj 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 oif no detritus. It rises from the plain below, almost as sheer and unmarked by GENERAL DESCRIPTIOK f the elements as if upheaved but a year ago. Wherever found in the volcanic regions, the distinctive features of tins lirst 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 aebris falling from the top has rounded out the bottoms into almost the semblance of ordinary hills. The second great horizontal upheaval pushed still far her 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 leature in plains scenery; and when, as sometimes happens, a stream has had to work its way throucrh the mass of material forming both first and second plains ^rofimdir ^''"''''^ '' ''^^''' '"^^'""^ '"^ '^' magnificent qno?" ^"^'1/?^"' ^^"^P"«i"g ^11 the portion from 3,000 or 4,000 feet above tide-water to the general evel of the Mississippi and Missouri Valleys, appears to have been very recently formed of material brou-ht from he mountains and upper plains, and to have been slowly and gradually lifted, or rather silted, out m '■dk THE PLAINS. I 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 rkn.en^canie to an immense deposit of bones of animal, in every state of preservation or decay. These, as they were brouo-ht to the surftice, were eagerly picked over by curiosity-hunters and tlie most perfect carried off. Some time 'after this 1 was 80 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 twentv-four l'^4V| 'M ,% si 11 14 THE PLAINS. Ill ir hours before (as, I am told, was usual with him) lie had rison into enthusiastic natural] ig rare or curious was rousTi converted and everyt 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. Thig 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 tliree 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 sliells, which, I regret to admit, I was too ignorant to classify or fully appreciate. One of the most remark- able of plains |)henomena is tlie wide dissemination of petrifactions. It is scarcely possible to examine any piece of pebbly ground without finding numbers of specimens, some of tliem extremely perfect and beautiful. Some- times acrer of a ])lain will be covered with specimens of ' wood agates ' of almost every shade of colour, from pure white to jet black, from almost perfect transpan^ncy to thickest opacity, all solidilied in the hardest of quartz', but showing the annual rings of woody fibre as clearly as if the specimen liad 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 OENEMAL 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 tweue 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 ill perfectly natural, yet the log was solid stone. Many other trunks, branches, and broken portions were lyin^ about or heaped m a sort of dan, across the ravine, which even If full of water could scarcely have floated aiv'ay the smallest of them as wood. One broken piece of heart- pine was as perfect as if just split from the log, with 'the sto e' t7 ""T '''"' "'° ^^"""'' ""^ layers fbut all was stone. The place where these now lie is on what I designa,^ as the 'second plain.' a high, and here nearly level, tableland. At this time I doubt if there is a «voJ- mg pnie-tree within fifty miles of the spot, and I'have never seen growing, i„ the most protected eanon of the Eocky Mountains, so large a pi„e-trunk as this ,,etrifac- lon. 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 crossim. over a deep and difficult ravine for my waggons, when I came to a stump of a pine-tree about two feet liish and twelve niches m diameter. About it were lying larg^e chips such ,s none but an experienced axeman and a good 'axe t ke from trees in felling ; something attracted my cfoTe atto tion to the stump, which I fbuml to be of stoL On hs" mounting and picking up the chips, I found that thev a 4" were stone. This tree had undoubtedly been cu dow^ by a white man, probably since the exo"psum 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 aboiinds in game, and is a InZnf ""'"'"''"^-I^^'"'^ ^^ '^^ C%^"^e and AJrapahoe In strong contrast to t])e beauty of this well- watered gypsum country is the horrible sterility of the alkah plains. West of the North Platte, towards Green Elver there stretches one of the most horrible of these deserts, called the 'Bitter Creek Country.' Scarcely \ shrub or blade of grass relieves the eye. The drv e'frth 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 de-ree The skin cracks ; the eyes becoming inflamed, bloodshot, and w.Uery, c^xnnot bear the horrible glare; the tongue s^Ulls, the hps bleed, and the throat is parched. The wife' quenches not the thirst, but irritates the ahmentary canaf disarranges the whole internal economy ; and many days' of travel in this country sometimes brings the hai)lets traveler o an end, as full of suffering and torture a 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, o 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 Elver, IS a curious picture on stone. The rocky Wuft IS of carboniferous sandstone, about fifty feet hioi; and nearly perpendicular. Somewhat less than half ^^w Ler tr^T"" "^ % bear rudely drawn, and a little largei than life size. Scientific men have examined it each of whom had a different opinion. The yellowish' mj rock IS blackened to the deplh of about t/o iXs t^^ -''^''1 ' '' ? ''V "^filt^'^ti^"' The composi- ollr^ n "''^ T^ ^' '^'' ^'^"^-^ as that not dis- colour ... One savant claimed that it is a photocrra„h of a beai^ taken by lightning on the rock I Whatev r IS, It certainly is a remarkable freak of nature. c m ■m ■pi ^■M m ml i I' [i • 18 THU PLAINS. Coal of ';">'i-' r^^^ - fine specin,::' oTz aids of he first upheaval, while the heavy rid^o s retdnng along the north bank of Ceriso C^Jv it' e Mesa de Maio) is undoubtedly attribi:,:;Se St ^ hi' ;T ' '" '''"'"'^'"'•^ <''=»"'i'«« h'>ve been some! ^Ulat marred by ages of exposure to the elements So c 2 i, *.1H >"'ii 20 THE PLAINS. 111 -I II with the second plain, which at tlie time of its upheaval was iincloubteclly much more extensive than at present. Tlie 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. Tiiis 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 v^hannels 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 newdy-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 [insas Rnin which falls witliin 400 yards of the Ark u.. runs into Pawnee Fork, keepincr nearly parallel to tie larger stream for 200 miles, before finally imitincr with It These rams falling on and running over the newlv 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 way through the second plain. When the ground is hic^h and the 'divides' between the streams narroiv th°se 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 tlie nature of the material encountered. The South Platte (at first deflected Irom Its natural course, and sent to the northward bv the immense mass of debri, washed from the mountains and deposited in the sea as a bar) gets throudi with dif- iiculty, but cutting no very remarkable ^canon, the •materials- through wliich it made its way bein- of such a nature as to be rapidly rounded into hills and e^si. worn away into slopes. The Arkansas cuts through the same ' bar,' but en- 'Z.T t'V^'\"'''''''^ P^'^"^ ^ '^ore rigid resistance han he Pla te, and it gets a long way from the moun- tains betore fairly out of caiion. The tributaries of the Arkansas, which take their rise mtlie 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 li^lu of day by beethng cliffs of red sandstone, 800 to l,ol)0 ee high, and in many places within a very few hundred feet of each other. The Cimarron, rising on the west side of the ^reat first P am or Eaton Mountains, runs at first to the southward then, turning abruptly to the east, cuts its way through '■'ff'H m >4 '^M M- Mm Hi' 1 ^B^ ■ ' fijM W. ''Hma R ^l-^^l ^K W|^^H 1 oo THE VLAINfi. tlu' Iniinonso (l(>|)lli ofbotli first juul sorond ])lnins by one ol tlic most niMLiniliccMit (Mnoiis (>;ist of tlio iiioimtiiinH. 'I'lio Caujidiim acts in the suiiu' way ; but, iiavimr to (•ut tliioiigl, only tlic second plain, ils canon, though line, is not coniparabio to that of tiie Cimarron. So long as llicse streams are in the second plain they are rapid, deej), have high steej) banks, narrow but fertile bottoms, lands c»)vered by a thick growth of cot- ton-wood and other soft-wood trees, with l)ush(>s and shrubs in grcvit variety, wiih |)1ums, grapes, clierries, gooseberi'ios, and some other wild fruits and bei'ries. As soon as they emerge on the third ])lain their character changes ; their current is less rapid, the banks are low, the bed is wide, shallow, and filled with sand. The bottom lands arc 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 ])ower, this sand is Avashed out from below, the bank falls in, and the stream is never, ibr two consecutive years, in the same bed, the current eating the alluvium on one side to deposit great bars on tlio other. Tlu^se in a very few years gain a scanty vegetation, another slight deposit of alluvial soil, to be again di'stroyed by another freak of the ever changing current. One of the most striking pe(>uliarities of these rivers is that they rise down- ward. In April the Arkansas, at Fort Dodge, is a sandy ])ed, a fourth of a mile in width, and with possibly an average of three or four inches of Avater. In June, when the moun- tains send forth their floods of melted snow, tlie river swells, the current increases in ])ower, and washes out long cliannels in the sandy bed. When the banks show a rise of two feet the waters cut rliaimels in the sand five or six feet deep, and covering probably a full third of the distance from bank to bank. At tlie.^e times the current SUliFACE. 98 mny be sni'l to bo a liugo wav(. of sand sur<,Mng, rolling, MirMiiin;, and shifting with incosaant activity." V^'Uav^ tlicrc i.s six feet of water in tlie morning, there may by noon be a bar with bnt an inch. By night the bar may be gone and a dee|) chainiel in its place. These chaimels are fiom km to thirty feet wide, with generally perpen- dicular Hides. Some force will set a current in a par- tionlar direction ac^ross a bar. In a few moments a channel from thi'ee to six feet deep is cut, through which th water pours as in a mill-race. A shift oi"^ chan^ <^^ ^*#. 7 ^ 24 THE PLAINS. One summer I had a small row-boat on the South Platte opposite ' Fort Sedg^ck.' Eveiy dav some one used It m crossmg the river, and though the boat d°ew but about four mches of water, and though the river was impassable to animals except by swimming channels for nearly a thiM of the distance, tiie crossing codd nevt be effected twice on the same line. The boatmen soon earned to know the position and contour of a bar by the appearance of the ripples on the surface of the water^ Ihe boat,mmakmg its journey from side to side, not unfrequently had to make three or four times the disJa'e up or down, seeking a passage through the constantly sh ftmg bars. It can be readily seen from this description that no permanent ferry is possible on such rivers. Much rZv r'/PT'-u*"*^ '""' '"''' '° '^^ effort to establish a flying bridge by boats at Fort Dodge. The effort failed at::Tin an f^' '°^* '^""''^^'^ '" '^'^^ wattlS aground m an hour or two, and its wreck now lies nnbedded in sand, exactly where the launch took place An ordinary flat boat may be used to great advantage n crossing these streams, provided there be men enough to manage it. After loading, a rope as long as pos bank H!ff» f "■ '°^ 'f '"^''^ '^' '^"'l ^""^'^ »P the bank. Half-a-%zen 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 m the river, when twenty morf men are sent out to man the rope. Such of these'^as cann" swi must hang on to the rope in crossing the channels. The rope being manned (by groups at intervals for mutual ^.stance in case of danger), a couple of good men arm d with long poles are placed on tlie boat, and when all is ready It .s swung off. As it floats towarfs the mlldk of the river, the swimmers at the far end of the ropo constantly gain ground towards the other bank, swimming or wading, all the other men attached to the rupf I SURFACE. 2g 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 ofer them the corner to which the rope is attached acting as a wedge in opening a way, which the men with ptles 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 timied. It is a tedious process and angerous for men, but is often absolutely necessair as the only means of crossing the stream. A raft on such a stream would be utterly useless, even could the timber t. make it be found The great danger of these rivei^ is not only from swift channels and quicksands, but from the great weight of the current, loaded as it is with sand A man 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 pfatte 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, s 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 hy straining. The most dan- gerous and treacherous are those which not only catch and grip tenaciously, but in which the victim sinks deeper ZL^^^l' fr'y ^" •°'''' ^'"'"''''y' "°til 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 surfece, and a man has usually sufficient warning to enable hira, with ordinary presence of mind, to escape, iiesides tills, 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 liaunches. The streams which take their rise in the second plain, as the Loup, the Eepublican, 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 lon.r slopes. Gradually deepening, they cut their way throucrh more or less pretentious canons, with narrow, fertife alluvial bottoms, gorged with vegetation, charminrr irl grace of outline, and beautiful in variety of scenery On arriving at the third plain, they take the characteris- tics ot the larger rivers in that plain, and, on a smaller scale, are just as bare, as monotonous, and as dangerous, ihis 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- riLat, 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 I SURFACE. 2y fire limit, are yet very nearly level, having been protected from the action of the elements by the lava and half- moiten 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 evel areas of the original ocean-bed, which in the up- heaval were lifted so horizontally that the rains found no inclmation, 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 rainMl deluges the hard and iexei prairie. The water is soon absorbed by the thirsty SOI , or licked up by the hot sun-rays; a portion of the soil a httle more moist than that .'joining, 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 moi^ tightly, and retaining moisture longer than before, cracks agam wider in drying. This process is repeated again and 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 superfiuous 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 sa istaction, rolhng and plunging, and rounding out the hole untd it is of a size to fit comfortably his hucre pro- portions. Sometimes the prairie will be dotted for'a mile wi h these holes, which are generally oval in shape, five o en feet long three to five broad, and from six inches to two feet in depth. S8 THE PLAINS. f .^ r f?^"" '' '" '''' ^^y necessary to the formation ot the ' bufflilo 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- iiiafcjon IS exactly similar to that of the ' hog wallow ' of bouthern Texas. Given certain conditions of soil, position, and ramfall, and prolific nature does the rest. Besides its use as a bath the ' buffixlo wallow ' is an admirable reser- voir for the preservation of water. The high levels on which they occur are frequently far from natural sprincrs 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 dehght the appear- anceofthese natural tanks, and many a pleasant camp have I made beside one, the fuel for cooking beincr 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 m its deep caiions protection to a growth of small pine and cedar. The second plain is entirely bare on its surflice. The gorges cut by the streams (whether rising m 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 tnbutaries 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. 20 lliVthirT'''''^ ^^'''' ""'' ^^''' "'^^^*^^°"«' ^»d lifeless as 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 hirrh 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 .1. f'.r' ^'^^ 'I''^?''^ ^^ P''^"'^^"'^^ ^^'"^^'^ I a^^ convinced that the soil of the second plain is naturally as j^ood for agricultural purposes as any to be found. It ^s a deep rich loam, containing all the ingredients necessary for the best tarming ands. All it needs is water. Alon. the railroads winch cross this plain, wherever there is tater suffacient 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 farst p am. They sometimes meander for miles in meadow- like plains, or through gentle undulations, before cuttincr 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 nan-ow and deep caiion, every available space is probably crowded with vegetation-trees t^T\t T"v^ ^^'' ''^ " '^' ^^^^^^'^he water the ame; the only difference IS, that one portion is exposed to the wind, whilst the other is not. ..-^^^i'"'!'''''' ^"'" P""'^^^"' «f tl^^ V^^^'^e every fall setting the fires so as to burn as vast an extent of country as possib e, and yet preserve unburned a good section in die vicinity where they purpose to make their fall hunt, ihe buffalo finding nothing to eat on the burnt ground thf t T T? "^burnt-reducing greatly the labour of the hunt. These prairie fires, which were formerly sup- 80 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 caiions the grass is often five to ten feet higli, and dried leaves, shrubs, bushes, vines, furnish a storeliouse of fuel, sufl^icient to make a roaring vortex of twenty feet of flame. And yet the canons are full of vegetation. The o!dy 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, becomin^T 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 '! vigour oi The broadest expanse of the second plain extends fron. the great central mass of mountains L a d"„ a little east of south, including the Staked PI "and iexas. U IS perfectly treeless, except on its south-easterlv edge where It IS marked by two extraordiry bets if woods called the ' Cross Timbers ' ^ The larger of these belts is about an average of twelve miles broad, the smaller about eight miles The ' thlber' IS composed of a great variety of treesind shrub oak forest. Starting on the high arid edge of the Staked 2^^r ^ "7""- " ^0"- fr- north!wef o Houtn-east. Ih.is outline is very irrpo-iilnr K^f fi. i a genera, parallel course at an 'a^^rg:'^^" f ^ stm^ fifteen mi es apart, never, I am told, once joini,^ ea"h other until bot 1 are finally blended and lost in t e heavv timber lands of the Brazos and Trinity Eivers I have crossed these belts but once, many ^ears Igo. Thl^ THE PLAINS. were to me then, and are still, one of the most remark- able and unaccountable frenks 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 phiins. Water does not widen them ; the high dry pliiin does not contract them. They are inexi)licable. 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 sulTicient soil to dress them with a ragged coat of green, while the canons are fr-equently fairly supplied with nutritious grasses. The higher portions of the second plain are covered with the famed bufialo-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 'bufialo-grass' of the high plains and this 'gramma-grass,' though entirely different in growth and appearance, are really identical. This I discovered accidentally. At Eort Dodge I had a small piece of ground covered with sods of buffalo-grass taken from the high prairie, li; 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. „ 'gramma-gras3.' 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 co" sideratmn It makes up in thickness what it h.cks in length, and horses and cattle not only eat it greedily b f.1! themselves much quicker than would seem possibie f„ll fi f ,""*" ^"""y "' ^"'^ ^y^^ '^ covered with tall fiue-lookmg grass, which the large herds of domestic cattle w,ll scarcely touch, preferring to go eight or ten nules away from the river to feed u'pon the buffalo grass of the Ingh plam. Another curious fact in this connec tion IS, that the cattle under such eircumst,mces 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, wWch, if required must be cut from the taller but coa4r and greaUyles: 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 -x greater or less depth in an almost level mass. Tliese 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 ed«es or boundary of the sand are clear cut and well-definrf-a remarkable fact, since the snnd 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 ve^v e~y. ' """"" '"''' *^ "'^ '''^Wear^ One of these sand-streams fakes its rise in the hits or boundaries of the sand-str°am 1 opposite Fort Dodge this stream narrows in onoZce to a ew yards. The waggon road to Camp Supply irosse .t this narrow place, and »avcs many miles of weary TboV Twenty-hve miles below Port Dodge the Arka fa 1:.^ to the north-east; the sand-stream attempts to follow b apparently unable to turn so sharply, eompromll; the' matter by keepmg near the river with the northernd^o We the south edge stretches in nearly a straight line to' the east m contnuu.t.on of its former course. The con .sequence is, that the sand-stream becomes nearly for"v m,les wide, and so extremely difficult to cro^ S oaded waggons, that buffido-liunters, and other peoplTo Another of these sand-streams follows the Heneral course of the Cnuarron. Another, and an especially bad one, passes eastward betwee., Wolf Creek and the Cain- dian. Numberless others could be mentioned if necesC Iheir 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^n the mu s of the second plain, is not within the limits o? the Unued States. Starting in the south-west of the territory of New Mexico, and running in a south-eastorly dTreS through the Mexican State of Chihuahtia, neartypara lei to and from fifty to seventy miles from the Eio Grande this sand-stream has a length of over 100 mil: by a breadth of twelve or fourteen. TWs s r^am" a succession of bare rounded hillocks, twenty or [^1 fee! b2 86 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 tlie 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, tliat tJiere 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 effiiced and buried in the sand. The passage is said to be dangerous. I have crossed it but once. Beibre 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, anrl every man was required to v:alk, yet tlie teams could make only 100 or 200 yards before stopping to blow and rest. Our leader, keeplug ahead on tlie summits of the hillocks, directed the movements, and with great difficulty, and by sometimes doubling teams, we finally gained the hard ground on the v^est side, making the dis- tance of aboiit twelve miles iujust about as many hours. Wherever sand-s^-eams are covered with grass the surface is undermined by a beautiful little animal called the gopher (on the high plains a small strip-d squirrel, on the southern plains a pouched rat). This animal feeds on the roots of the grass, on seeds, &c., which he stores in cavitiej 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 buITalo-huntins. SVBFACB. . gj The prairie clog digs a deep hole with a wide mouth ami p,les up around the orifice a mouud of earth It can be seen and avoideil in the siiarpest chase. The gopher d,gs a blmd pitfall without external opening, and neuher n.a„ nor horse have any warning '^f dtn^o Gal opuig, or running eager and excited, the horse sud-' denly plunges to his knees, turns a somersault, and if both horse ana nder regain their feet without a broken bone they are fortunate. is THE PLAINS. CHAPTEE 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 theru. 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. gg 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 annual. Buffalo and antelope fly before it, and seek pro- tection in the deepest and most wooded caiions. 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 thun other animals Lacking the instinct of the latter, which enables them to presage the coming storm, men new to plains life, misled by the nuldness of the ordinary winter weather, expose themselves possibly in light clothing on the plains, are caught in a storm, and perish misenibly 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 couu try, within 100 miles of the Arkansas Eiver, in two years. During tlie winter of 1872-3 I was in command at Fort Dodge Kansas. At least seventy capital amputa- tions were performed by tlie post surgeon on citzens who were buffifo-hunters or railroad employes, whilst a much greater number of frozen men were sent East f„r treat- ment. I think it safe to say that over 200 men m 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 durincr a winter, and are generally of but a few days' diuation" m 'i6cent scale. Thunderstorms are rare on the high plains, but when they do occur they excelTn all the dements of grandeur and sublimity Nowhere k the hghtnmg-flash a more vivid and blinding glare Nowhere .s the crash of the thunder more stunnln^r; ts roll more deep and prolonged. Nowhere doe a' mau feel more mtensely 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 die U plams, and wind-storms may occur at any season The storms of each locality generally come from one parti! cular direction, and, at whatsoever season occurr^»|"re often perfect tornadoes, overturning and destwhi' everything movable. " destroying 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 norunfe quently accompanied by hail. For fury, destructiveness about tort Lyon far excel any it has ever been mv ot 1870, which did immense damage, splitting the shingles of the roofs, breaking palings°o; fences, fill „g wild birds, domestic fowls, and all young o; mail an.mals exposed to them. It was estimated that at lea a hundred calves were killed by these two storm 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 shameless 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 ot these, but that it have an inclination to the ground. A terrific wind-storm may sweep over and parallel to the surflice, without much disturbing the dust ; but one of tliese 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 licrht ot day. These storms are of frequent occun-ence °all over the plains, and are exceedingly disagreeable, thou-h easily avoided by getting into a ravine. I have frequently watched through a window the phenomena of these ' sand-storms.' Even though the mnd did not appear to blow hard, and the surface passed over seemed to offer but little of dust or sand, the cloud of fiying 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 ticditly c osed room, and no end of anathemas and fenfinine 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 weatlier of the high plains being as near perfect as it IS possible to imagine. 46 CHAPTER V. TRAVEL. The ordiaary uneducated plainsman travels, like the Indmn, by landmarks ; making, however, ,nlike the Indian, some u.e of the sun and the stars The more educated use the compass and maps. AH classes are greatly dependent on instinct. A good pla^sman ' s born, not made.' He must have witUn him a Zethin" unaccountable even to Imaself, which, however variable and circuitous the path of his wanderings, tells him co.! stantly the direction of his return. A small natural aptitude m this may be greatly improved by cultivaSo ' and practice ; but a total lack of the peeuhar faculty can never be replaced by practice, study, or science ^ One of the best of the explorers of twenty-five vears ago, a m=,n who in his day, and for the length of h service, added as much as any to our knowledge of tfie Great We.,t,' who, if but armed with his compass, sex! ant, and chronometer, plunged fearlessly into an^ un- known wilderness, would sit on the ground and yell lusily for assistance if by accident he found himSf without mstruments, out of sight of liis tent or pTrty Under ordmary circumstances a partially skilful plainli man will not care for a compass, except on cloudy W or when mtending to march accurately on some .nvS point. Thesun and natural instinct, quickened by pr^ tice, are sufficient for all ordinaiy plain travel. Vnto some circumstances, however, instinct, practice sun compass, and head, all fail. Few pelZs, with ly 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 aj)- parently going down the river. ' 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 liave 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 w-est 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 oh 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 beinc^ in an unknown locality, or not knowing exactly Avhere 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 TSAVEL, a way. On some morning the sun will rise in what to him appears the south or west. , .n/*"? "''[ P,""'"™'"' ''"°""' *•"" 'h" "le-ws at once- and unless he has a compass, or is as sure of his loealit; as a resKlent in New York would be on BroadwaT 1 ^ g3Stt::r^''^^'"'"^'^""^'-''-''^-^''« the ^Z'S^^t^i^^^j:^ - s':!:tr " toTt 7L,^ 5°f ""tely. too, all persons are not subject o It, at least to the same extent; and some old plainsmen (m whom mstnict supplies the place of i,na!marks. On examining our pockets we found wc 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 triano-le fcrr)5e i by two large branches of a stream crossed by a roiid, 'aiid I explained to him that we coidd not possibly TXAVBL. ^ have any difficulty in returning to our post as soon as we couW 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 hnn from hiiaself. He believed hi, 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 ^ere baT I examined the trail carefully, and found it w.« our own' Wo were wandering objectless in a Cttcle. After a gr^it 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 camn to h , o7 '."m" ^' '"' ^'"'' "'''' ™^' '" •••Edition to his other troubles, now tormenting himself with thp certainty of dying of hunger and thirst. We saddled, and let the horses have their heads to search for water In a short Ume I killed a fine buck, of which the doctor i," his half-crazy excitement, ate huge chunks, raw and • warm ; not that he was particularly hungry, but that he f^ed he would be so. Taking each a goodly quantitv of meat, we started again. About thL o^ock we found a httle water-hole, went into camp, made a fi^ eooked 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 delicht pointed out to me the stars, which were showing brightlv him m that camp ; nor was I loath to move towards comfort and plenty. By noon we amved at our pj thickets for more than twenty-five miles from the post Though never 'tm-ned 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 sleen ont for a night or two. " "■' ^ S 1. TVii ••VJ ' 1 ti. - %T-| i'3-l 60 THE PLAINS. ' One of these occasions mij-'ht easily have had a tracric termination, and was so full of adventure that I relatelt aot as a model of good travelhng, but as a specimen of plains \i{e. 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 Guadalui)e Mountains. These mountains were at that time ji stronghold of the Texas plains Indians, who, hid in tlieir fastnesses, watched their opportunities for raids on the settlements below dsmg most frequently tlie Bandera Pass on their return with stolen stock. In the ho])e of bagi^ing some ducks I went ofl- alone to the right of the comniand, followhiir for some distance the branches of the Perdinales. l\as mounted on a powerful mule, an excellent ridin<>- 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, niglit 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 j)illow 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 mormng to find that my gun, in spite of all precautions, was so wet that I could not discharge it. I had a revolver ; but, havincr no cartridges to reload, did not try to fire it ofT, but from appearance judged it to be in the same condition as the gun. I was practictilly disarmed. At dayliglit I started for the Bandera Pass, deter- mined not to waste time in looking for the command, but TliA VEl. Si to make the best possible speed to my station Fort L.ncoln, which was about seventy-five miles off i. after sunrise I reached the Gua.ih pe E r and H V al, „' V »'7'"''^h«> n.y attention was attracWl bed V'tTe r-tr"" "' ^'""'^■' ™'"= ^■«'-"% ^-^ '^e Thinking of Indians, I darted at once into the thicket which bordered the prnirie, and, keeping wellout o sthf skirted around until I got above he"smoke Mv fr ! impulse was to put as much distance between myS and It, and in as short a time, as possible; buHhe ide suddenly occurred to me that it' might be the camfo my command and that I had better be dead at I^c r„ A r '"""i'."'^" ^ i'ad nm away frl my ow, on the rL/ t"' thi! '\ t' ':::^ ^'' ;;;:,7 f' tMnonrpfl fmn. if f t' 1 ^T , ^ <^i^n8e. 1 suddenly nnde no sooner .nv Jhc aiti'^rrSdr ^'i^ hlT?i;;;iL:'"^™^''^''''^''^ •''-«'■' ™'«'''^-i^^^ moiuh'"!;o'"',°f "' °"™' =""'• ""'"^'"'S '"^ ''•'«»<' i" l.er mo h, stopped her inusic, then backed her" out of si^ht m the thiekct. After fastening her I returned ofl open space. The animals did not belong o my p.'^ Tk, camp was evidently just under the bluff. JnS; "r ,1;';:'"!',:'^ '" "r "'»"• '' '"^''^^ -- "^e ba,r 3 ny s ,|p felt very loose, as 1 saw, not 'jrty yard oH TZ tk^toX":;' '';"'"' ^ "" ^"'■"" *"™- ^-'f,: : poible W > , i''^" "' 1"'^-'^'^ ^'"1 <^»"tio»»Iy as ii™5^str:r.::::;i:'iTr%^Ydf "•ternatives. either to 4ke Vat^o^ on'tllr mt n 2 ' >: '1 I"- '•;• 62 THE PLAINS. r li*.; ■W i"M 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 C(MTipunctions under tlie circumstances ; but 1 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 butter time tluui for the next five or six miles. I crossed the GuadalujKS 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 1 could get over that and through the pass I was pretty safe, as I could on the other side j)lunge at on(3e into the ravines and thickets of tlie Medina liiver, in wliich I could elude ])ursuit, at least on foot. When about half way over this bare ground, to my incx})ressible delight, I ran into the trail of my conunand, 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 werit back as tast as they came, leaving me unmolested to overtake my command, which I soon did. When travelling witliout 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. Somc^times a course may be determined by the way the grass is bent by storms ; and this is not un- reliable in the enrly 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 it' not deflected by the vicinity of mountains, and \l•^\ TSA VBL. ss rt 18 not generally difficult to keep a course by the wind Many t,mes the nature of the country is such that it is mm lulls, ravines, or lack of water, it is extremely rare that an accurate compiu.s course can be maintained for any (listmce, and a compromise must almost always be made. The general direction is kent with deviations de ermmed by the nature of the ground. Parties tra- vel hng from one section of the country to another, a Ion., d stonce apart, generally keep near some principa stream favourable o the course, or, where the course lies aero" the general directions of the main streams, the latera. branches are used. The courses of all the larger treamsof the plains are so nearly parallel that but litrie There r"T/\''''"P,'" a generally correct direction. There is said to be 'cheating in all trades,' and old themselves for domg what any one could do who simply remembered the parallelism of the plains streams. ^ ^ , l«plormg or scouting parties of troops have gener- a y a spe,..al section or .lirection given them, with tmple lut lude as to all details of marches and camps, to be filled at the discretion of the commandln^T olBcer Parties on horseback with pack-animals can go any- whe e; that ,s, however rugged and broken the country a skilled plams traveller can, with such an outfit, alway find moans of arriving very directly at his destination. Waggon trams require much greater care and nicer selection ot the line of march ; but an uninitiat^l p r^on IS constantly surprised at the ease with which heavX loaded waggons can be taken by a skilful plainsman over what appears to be an impassable country u e of .divides.' A 'divide' is the portion of upland w 1,0 1 separates one ravine from another, whether' thv he iibutaries of the same or of dilterent streams. LevA land ,s either mesa or ' bottom.' The term ' mesa ' is -I * 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 tiie 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. TSA VEL. OS All ravmes take their origin in the general level. At then- heads they have cut but little, and going up all divides reach the summit, or ' principal divide.' Here however, commences the trouble. 'Going down' i entirely different from ' going up ;• for while in goina up aU the 'divides- lead to one and tlie same endf 'g^in!, own ,s exactly the reverse, and the one surely prac° cable 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 ravmes of two large tributaries of the main strean^ Many times these ravines overlap each other, making the route extremely crooked. maKiiig An examination of the accompanying diagi-am ivill show hotter fliin ^n^r ,i ,->.„,,.• ,• .-i ^ ^ rlifr.nif- % ^nj Uccnptioii the advantages and clilliculties of travellin g on 'divides.' Suppose each 66 THE PLAINS. ravine represented on the map to be a gorge impassable for waggons. To an inexperienced plainsman the difficulties m 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 i cached from any point of the river a without crossing u ravine. The mm will also show how easy it is to gain the ' priaclpal 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 tlie 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 '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 o1' 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 he Travel. 67 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 me of each day's, travel, and ihe 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 facsimile of the other, and the peLn directing operations should see that each day's mLh is marked on each map before leaving camp, and that all are marked alike. ^ r 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 flat, 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 caiTv 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 hio-Jier or lower, but with the same certainty as to follow the one no went up. Should the ' divide ' crossed lead to a system of ravines S2 I, 1*^ 68 THE PLAINS. leading to a different principal stream, the novice in plains travel had better be careful. Sefore entering them he should assure himself of his course, take compass bearings of one or more prominent objects, and must also note iUl important changes of direction made while travelUng iu 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 lie 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 httle difficulty m deciding which of the apparently innumerable branches is the one he ouglit to follow. The problem of the ' ravines ' is exactly the reverse of the ' divides.' The above map will explain more TRA VEL. «0 clearly. Camp being at a, tlie hunter may scour the country on that side of the 'principal divide' as far s d • then, crossuig the system of ravines which enters the nuun stream at b, return certainly and without difficulty to camp A, smiply by always going down the tributary or stream on wliich he appears to be. Sliould, however he cross the ' principal divide ' going towards c, he will mye much more difficulty in his ?eturn. The camp bemg at m, sho.dd he hunt down stream towards B, he must, to get back without difficulty, either have a good bump ot locality,' or be able to follow his own tral on Ills return. A camp situated as at d, where the ravines break away in every direction, is the easiest to get lost knlarkt" '' ^""' ^^^"^^^"^ '^^^ ^^^ '-^^i- nniPr f^f,^^^^^ 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 tliT he shock of realising that one is lost has a tendency o nsettle some natures. It is most important, therefore hat he who suspects he may be lost, make every effort to keep cool, and to maintain perfect control of himself. The v^t v"! l7 ' "'- '" f "^ '^'' ^^^Shest ground in the V K inity, and from it make a deliberate and careful survey of the country, noting the direction of the larger ravines JSot unrequently their appearance and direction will hinS . TT^ ^^'^ "^ ^''' 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 goin^ back in ^.ought over his day's travel, working o'Lt^hisCnits ^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 coincidincr with ^he (N) 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 havmg 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 bein« 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- mg 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 ordinary intelligence ought to be ' out ' under such cir- cumstances more than two or three days. THA VEL. 61 In October 1872 I was returning, with three Enolish gentlemen, to Fort Dodge from one'of themSt cSt ful and successful hunts I have ever made and durtt which our appetites for murder had apparently bin fuuf TCil ' "^""S^r^^'I-g through countLshrS was to be through a country devoid of game. The nraTrt was a general level, but much broken by shallow ravfnol runnmg apparent y to almost everv nnint J ... ™"''''*' We stopped fori, ^uZ^ZL'Z.t^:^?'^^ collected on every side, at 400 or 500 yards' distance and gazed at us with stupid curiosity "stance. Desirous of giving ,„y guests one of the most exciting scenes of pkins hfe, and at the same time of securin- f quantity of good meat to take into my post T Xld SIX or eight of the best men of the cavaU' escort '^d directed them to dash at that part of the herf wS m position to give us the bes^^ew <^f the lale a Jt!! ■ k. 1 as many calves as possible without mak „g a ,on„ nm Making ready they followed a shallow ravine until lith.n' 200 yards of the herd, and dashed into it " Wy man was a good rider and pistol shot and « more brilliant or animating scene of the kbd I have never witnessed. I„ ten minutes the affair w^over and each man had secured from one to four fatsixm^'nl The chase had roused all the Eno-lish lnv« ^p and long before the game was disembfw ed and ptfu the waggons my three friends were off, each for MmseJf " rapid pursuit of some of the numerous herds VnZll meat was loaded, I started with the command and^all' on my proper course, havintr no fear of thJl ff 8°"' getting lost, all of them having^disX: ^Z^'^Z much more than a natural aptitude for plains tlel After an hour one joined me, covered with dust, but M THE PLAINS. rejoioinfT in trophies of liis skill. Shortly after, nnother came in the same condition ; the tliirtl, my most intimate and best loved friend, came not. We camped at the designated si)ot, waited dinner until it was nearly spoiled, fired guns, and nmde smokes, and, when darkness set in, kept huge fii-es 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 misha[) and was greatly alarmed, but could do nothing, as it was im[)ossible 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 staiiding 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 M^as 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 ni^ght on the plains. tha vel. ^ be Z'ltlXtprela ^ « T'^- -not desire to be rturlXl T n T'-"' <"• K"i'K who Pr..fe«s a great Xel, "''^ '''""T"'' '^^"""'y without '-etf rrs/;:L;.™Vt^h".— • "'^'^' nnd not u'„„ t raK "v ir"'"*',"^ ''""''"*'' P^'^' or civilian, wi,h Z^^Ct^'!]^''^^ ^ officer cernedly into a counfrv ,1 , •, ' l'''i"g« «>'con- which if ha. taken 7vet to I ' "'"' '""'"'"'^^ '' Besides tlii. ol, ^ ^'''^"'"'^ '"^qui'i'ited with. compL . :' r^^^ier"" "f 1""""''" '«"°- "- for close or d LXvenhl n " "l?? '° '"' ^^■"'^'' »" the wilderness and bri," f'b-.d '"'l"' V'"'^ ' "'"^ '"'" and with ample onnor m.i I T f ' "' ^^ "^ """^ l'""' not give up^he f bov ' ^ ^ , '^",™ "" "P'"'""' ^ "ould • Of conrse hi is verv di^ ? ''"'' ^''"'''^ "" '^" ?'»'"«• where the W ^f^^f re;™;^" ^r,' knowledge ahnost absolutely nece.~^ ''^"' ""' '°^'''' conduct a heavywacTCTontroin fL r^ ^^^Gfoveriiment to Union Pacific iLlroaT iZ^Z^^^JT^T ''" conmand of the escort to the tr, n tl n, 1 '" from the foothills of the mo n^pinr., t ' , "'^"'S'OS train, and went uneas ly no^ lo hi fS" ''''T\''" gett rig on everv liffln r.L • '""' "ow to that, fully .tadying L couniT'Z"'- '""'^'"^ '' ""'' '^"- in this way, he cameZek 't J r"''''"''*"'' ''"«" «P«»t that he dS n:tTn:!;tirit:^"fTht'^'^?=r officer 'I think you had better go o the It "^ T "'^ the valley and inquire.' The h^^^e ,va, A "r I' '" S-on, on the railroad. Br[dge;h:drentthrvat; :b' u V'- 64 THE PLAINS. many times before, but, never having happened to cor-.e 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 duri!ig 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 TEA VEL. 66 Somrfew o^ fh' ' '' '".^""''"^""g waggon tnuns. ZZlnla^' '"' °' "" '""'^ ' ""^^^ *« 1'-' route A man possesseil of a certain amount of travpIHn,v ms n,ct ,s very apt, after trusting ,o i or some m° means, or suffer greatly. I speak from ample rxpe " .o7 mvu,g gotten mto numerous scrapes thro"^,,* too mS : "If ; "■,[ ''"■^'"'"'' ^ ''"™ alreadfretea hese I will g,ve one more before leavin-r a subject of the utn,ost uuportance to all who .ravel on thS pi „ ' . I was out ^vith a scouting party. Near he Two Buttes we were snowed up, and were obliged to rcu^b m camp on Two Buttes Creek. One mornLl —o imse of eleanng weather, and, taking with m^ trnren" I went out to get some fresh meat. The ^"11;,,?' h.gh table land of the second plain, ^^S w,fi t The Two Buttes, a detached portion of the first , hin k :/'S' ,i:or" •"'' '^' f'-- the;ES";; ot wiiKh IS bioken away ,n the middle, leaving two n,ost contcal flat-topped peaks, more than 300 fo t"a, « t^:rrc' ^■""' '"^^ '-'-''^ ^^« '--^ ^ It is a very prominent and well-known landmark and -.My miles. He country is an alternation of nearly level I'i-' and very broken ground, and would be easy to get i- ^ A n, ,,'h V. 66 THE PLAINS. bst m, 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 comincr 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 mglit on that plain in a snow-storm, I at once took tlie only means left me of assuring my course. If I could reach the Buttes I could find my camp. Turnino- my liorse 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 everytlihig beyond a circle of a few feet. Notin^T exactly the direction of the wind, witJi reference to the position ot myself and liorse, I started, marcliino- ^vith the utmost care, in a direct line, and in somethii°g 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 mo, of its direction. But darkness was coming on, and the cloud of snow was so dense that I determined to nk nothing to instuict. Taking a ravine from tlie Butte, I followed it down to the creek, then followed the ( reek up and arrived safely in camp, where I found all greatly alarmed for our safety. JSext day it was clear, ard 1 went back to the Butte (bemg sure of my compares tjiis time) to verify mv mstmct. 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 hicrh ])lain away from our camp, and of course into great danger I supplied the need of a compass by travelhng 'by the ^vlnd ' and ' by ravines ; ' but, though I came out ' all ricrht ' our position was so critical, and I felt so keenly ""the responsibility of all our lives jeoi)ardised by my ne-li- gence, that I have never since been without a comiJliss when on the plains. One of the most painful and annoying consequences of winter travel on the plains is getting ' snow-blind.' Not TRA VEL. e,7 Simply intolerable. There is „n(I,i ,„ , r , '' " no wood., no l.ilb, no in^r bT rt^r ' P^ mtcrminable sheet of bladn. white "' ^'"""^ llie ordinmy plains antidote is to smenr tl,» f aroiina the eves with ,t,-„.>.„ „ i , '"^ ""^*' nswell asao^'erilrveil, 1 S;";P°'"'«-^ '^« this, other devices," ai'swerhr^ '''"'' •■"«' at fault here. '"'""'"8 ^"'"'y "' <=™i'««l regions, are all und^rerZu:::;:::"! r^r ^ '™ ^'^p'^ '^'-' ence M.,nv In ' " '"""' "° of'" inconveni- The f,ee I ^ o'l-'^^'-s. l>o«-ever, sn/Ibr mucli n.ore acute y '|.o face Lollen Llu^tr i:^' .^S:! r:!'n''''T' • jace after sttch ant;^:;:^^,,;^; f:;'::,^"!;;: iuiviiiir once boon «nn„r ij;. i vvclk;?. Alter conlined to ' bull-win cl-or ' \ "'''^'''^•^^ ^« fre^ters and J^::^:^^,^^ ^^l "f known ,t to attack a really good tSan. "'' "'"^' must hl^e' bee" "^^ " -^ T'"™"" ^oes, either this tnalady wor^hW „.''^i;^;7^:^-- special pnnish„,ent to „,I « i' Hi IP ■ lualinwrinnr. eutertained that it me aus ¥ 2 68 THE PLAINS. i,^j 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 seiious mishaps of plains life occur while in camp ; and it requires not only a good eye, but a know- ledge of the mishaps to wliich pLiins life is subject, to se- lect such a position as is least likely to be affected by them. Su])pose, tJien, 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 Avill 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 crazing ground, where each and every one can be at aff time° 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. ^ ,.„ Vr '"^f "^ ™™^'' ^"''"S "ne of the most serious of ™f 7' "'" ,?'"^^ ^''~''^^ '"^ «° ^''"'^'-1 »« to g ™ tl'e £ W .r ? "'^"''^ '° ''"^ ^™Sg"- ™^1 pick t 1 e against the sneaking attompts of thieves cluriu<; tlie dark- ness The ground siiould be sufficiently levefto ;'™u lk.k I, ""^' I-oP-Iy pitched ; the sward should bo thick that ram may not render the camp muddy the gr.^s short, to secure against accident by fire A few 'tree! add greatly to the beauty and eomfor[ of a camp^ ^oo many shut out the suu's rays and keep ,he ground 'kl liie camp should be in close vicinity to water, yet in si, h a ,«sitio„ as to be secure from the sudden ri e\o w all the lesser plains streauis are liable It should as to as possible be sheltered from the wind-stor™ 'whH sweep the higher plains, and the sand-storms wliich 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 asn ill , a .uiicied little nooks can be found, each seeming exactly formed for convenience and comfort. If the mrW I considerable, with several waggons, more time and'calare , required to find a suitable camp. The position being decided upon, the wag<.ons are driven to the spot selected for then!, and haltedin li, e It such distance apart that ropes stretched between the nid wheels will give interval sufficient for picketing all t .e ridvag animals.' The draft animals are faste led to the tongues of the waggons. lasieuea to The very first thing'to bo done on goin- into camo is to send out mounted pickets-one or nfore,''dependrJ on the nature of the grouud-to occupy those piin^ i^the immediate vicinity which, either from tlieh- hdj^t or ".riar™,™*!!" 'r'r' "r"'""'"' *""''' ''°* ^ ^-founded witb the -aiiat or lope by wli.ch cacli aiu,u»l U fanned wl,il„ „,„,;„» "" fastened while grazin"-. 70 THE PLAINS, position, give tlie best view of the country around, and all the approaches to the camp. Every animal should be lariated out for grazinn- 1 he best arrangement is a very strong leather head-stall to the lower part of wliich, and well down under the chm, is firmly secured a stout iron ring. To this rino- is fastened one end of a J-incii rope thirty feet in length,°the other end of which is fastened byu swivel ring to an iron l)icket-pm. This last is driven home into the oTound la tolerably good soil it is / . .,, impossible^ for a horse either to break the rope or ... . the pin, and an attempt to rums met by a sharp and severe wrench on the lower or weakest part of the head, which, if the horse is -oincr pretty fost, 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 dauL-erous 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 tlie fore and hind foot on the same side. 'Side hues' are most secure, hobbles detracting very little from the speed of a really stampeded ainmal. 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 tnne the animals are grazincr 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 tlie pos- sibility of danger, and with and among the herd should be at least one mounted teamster to every two teams grazinade for plains ravel, and can be bought in any trontier town), with a sufficient variety of eookhZ utensils. His stock of provisions should be as varfed ^ cCcTrr 7'" P"?'*' '"'^'"'""S an ^issortmenT S canned truit and vegetables. satisfo Th *" "° 'T" 7^^ ^'' '^"'^ '■"""'"■■« «'>«»ld not a fy the eye. He should have a light thin mattress, wuh ample bedclothes and a bedstead. The simplest bo rd, 1 Tr *?"^P°««^1 <=«°«i»t^ of three or four thin boards laal lengthwise on a couple of strong but light tressels about twenty inches high. lu traveUing the mi 72 THE I'LAINS. 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 cliauge of water disagrees, give ample means for tlie full appreciation of what to me is the life most replete with enjoyment and most entirely satisfactory. In travelhng 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 hio-h plains are always cool) with pipes and bowl and socfal converse, with songs or stories, spend free, careless, liappy hours unknown to formal conventional life, and never vouchsafed to the dull diggers after dimes. Before sunset all the animals have been brouo-ht in secured in their places, and fed (if there be fora^ef 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 d^'epends 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 ammals. This may occur either by stampede or by stealing from the picket Une. 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 badiv c le or more horses, causes them to pinnae and storf communicating the fright to others and othol ' amott7"\",'"'';''^.''™'"'' '' P'<''=i»ely^vhat a panic is among men. It is the temporary ascendancy of an unrea- soning fear, during which the instinct of self-presorvatTou seen, to usnrp the functions of all the other quali™ JNothing IS more senseless and selfish than a panic A cry of fire ,„ a theatre, the falling of tlie plaster i, ' of the ce.1 ng ol a churcli, is sufficient to change the orderlv veil-behaved people into a crowd of unreasoning bru^^f who, forgetful of every obligation of manhood or chty ush blmdly to the doors, crushing even their own w v as lfrtrv'arKl'r^'T''''r'' ^olJiers-men who face death as i ghtly and carelessly as they turn a partner in the l.at the feehng of fear is forgotten, if ever known- become sometnues a bhnd, headlong, terrified mob, with uo more sense or reason than if stricken with madls nffll , 1 "■!,"'•'" "'"' ^"'^' '•"'"' ""We at times to be afflicted with this malady; and we have reason to modify our self-glontication of our immenae superiority ov r e Irute creation when we reflect that one moment of ca. - ess panic reduces us from our vaunted position, ' ju t below the angels,' to the level of the poor quail, wh ch n. senseless flight, dashes it« life out against a wall ruse of fn7rf '" "/' ''''""""^ »'"' "o^' «»««^^»f"' use of In ban horse-thieves. If the animals are well secured and well guarded, the Indians, though they may be m the immediate vicinity, will make no effort to mupede them ; for, though fbnd of dash, they tX ew chances when the stake is life or death. If the anim ,b ore not well fastened and guarded, they are likety o b ost at a,^ moment Gaining unobserved a position close to the grazing herd, a few Indians will siddenly dash ■(■ v:' 74 THE PLAINS. amon- them yelling like maniacs and sliaking buffalo robes or blankets. An American horse, as well as a mule, Ji^is an mstmctive dread and fear of an Indian, and under sjich circumstances nothing but absolute physical imi^os- sib.lity will prevent the most gentle animal from rroin. off at the top of his speed. Once fairly started, thel.est° iiKHuited Indiun will gradually get ahead of the stampeded lerd 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 tliinks and rear ; and after a run of ten or twelve miles the ^hole stampeded band finds itself under control, and is driven wherever the Indijins wish. Sometimes when the marches are hard, grass poor, and short forage scarce, it may become necessary to leave he horses on herd all night. This is an excellent oppor- tunity for the Indian. lie 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 fiighten them into stampede. It is, however, only on rare occasions that he attempts this : first, for reasons arising from his religious behets ; and, second, because the stampeded animals will not run well together at nicxht 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 evenino- enter into conversation, give interesting information as t°o the best hunting-grounds, and make themselves o-enerally agreeable. All the time they are taking mentalstock of the position, and when they finally leave it is >vith 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 filliiM CAMP. 70 The drnigor of a stampoclo i, not from tl.ieve, alone • .it all tn los. Tlic kicknig (iihI plunging of a plavfuUiorso will excue other, to a ron,p wl,i.-h nuy'n.l i, a . , X The only stampede by which I ever lost anin, 1 ' was earned by a hor,e lying down rolling and suorli,,.' i ^a shallow pool of water. "o "' .i It should always bo remembered that the susc-eirti- bi lity of the ho,.e to the force of example to all ex cwl m t,ences ,s so great, that no herd il ever to be gauled as more gentle than its wildest, or more bra™ >an i,s n,ost timid, men.ber. The stampede o a o. danger. ""'" ' ''"' '" '' ''"'l'"'^''' '""• ""'""'«"' When just getting fairly mider the influence of the pcfeetly bl„,d to any or all consequences Crowded , together m a compact mass, and n,oving at top speed the orccs almost „-resi»tible. Tents arc Tln•own^lo™ am demol shed ; waggons overturned and broken ; and a „,a caught by the stream would be tran.pled in a moment to an unrecogn,..able pulp. Fortunately the front, as" n le XTof mitr '' ^™''"^^ '^ -- ^"''^■^-- -^ I was once .sent to investigate the cause of the tampedc of a herd of about 600 animals-horl^^ mu OS, and asses. I fonnd that the her,] had been era. bt' under charge of several herders, in a beautifd Tel valley about amde long, half^a-n.ile wide, on one side o of ow rocky hdls, much cut and broken by ravines ste™ and ,™..ow,and their bottoms fdled with tLsan! bS The mam valley was dotted with isolated trees and c umps of bushes. I found that the stampede had be ,. caused by a very large and ,alt.able jack, which, break n" 76 THE PLAINS. hiH lariat rope, liad goiio frisking and roaring tlirougli the herd, some of which starting in play liad excited or terrified otliers, so that in a few inonient's tlie wliole was a mass of phmging madness. From tlie trail, it was pkiin that this mass, with a front of about eighty feet, ]iad circled two or three times about the vaifey. 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 ceiitre 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 ra])itlly 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. Followincr 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 tw^enty animals; and among them, entirely unhurt and apparently as fresh and frisky as ever, the jack which had caused all the damasre. I returned to my post, leaving the herders to gather CAMP. 77 «P the aninml,. It was nearly two weeks l,efore all about 7oT,"T';' '"?■,;'",' ' «''-1'-ly Icarnc, tha about 70 ha, been k.llo.l onhight, and about 235 more or less wounded, of whi,.], nearly 100 were so mu," in! jured as to necessitate their abandonment nre Who!', 7r "'' ''""f "■•'" '^'""1' '' '^^■•'-■1^'ne.s with re When the grass ,s ,hy ,t bnrns like tinder, and if it be used. Lnder such cncuaistanccs the camp (ires hotdd as far as possible be made to the leeward 'of the camp and gra.tng grottnd. If this cannot be done wi 1 - out too ,j„,c.h ,noonve,n-enco, holes should be du'' i t le ground, large enough to b.tild the fires in, the lo,° '"ra ' .en should be .att (with a spade in default of a be e n .lcn,ent) and ear.ied olf, and the earth taken from t^^ holes spread over to leeward l-,r.e'f!,?thrr'""'V"'";'" '° ■""" "^'^ 'P'''<^« sufficiently Ijrge tor the fir<.s, but tl,:s is very dangerous if the ^vxL be long a,,d the wind high. Even though me s°'uk around wuh bh.nkets to whip oat the fn-e wd,c„ nc"e^ ry cffoits. Early m he I got a serious lesson on the dan<.er of nre, win, , would have been avoided had any o der ofhcer thought it worth while to devote a few ,no,nc nt apathy of the older, and more especially of the com- uiandmg officers, is b.tt too connnon in out service T "v expect the youngster to know by intuition, or to le m w,rl,o,,tn,struetion, all the details of dttty.e^nun^^^^^^^^^^^^ most unfamiliar circumstances. "-'" ine I have heard old odicers .«ay on this subject, ' Oh let them learn for themselves! I had to learn for mysel a id o.,es own experience is the only teaching tlia Lk valuable and asting impression.' Many yo°in., men re so imbned with ideas of their own eapacit/and krowll" hat they do not take such instruction kindly, but the large majority would most eagerly accept e^ry h nt THE PLAINS. wliich luight save them from having to purchase the knowledge with unhappy experience. Tlie 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 ow^n 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 w^ould have saved me many misliaps 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 w^ent one day into cam]), 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. 1 had just got interested in fairly good sport, when I was startled by shouts and commotion in camp, not more than sixty yards aw^ay. 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, CAMP. 70 work before the carbino. 11 ^''""^^^^ ^^^ ^^ well-mounted aggressive Tree . " "^ ^veil-armed, armed, I.alt-mo.Ser Lj -d n ■'" »Pl';'^-«"% l^aK- Most fortunately for f I,: ''''"P"^"'"'' P"'y- flame. pa.ed ^^J^^^^Z^!^. T^"' •nents were almct ruined "rof he, '" 'f '=''"'"- and all lio-liter .«,■,.!„ f , ■ " "'""'" destroyed, -ved caC e o e° L: :„ "Sf " ^""'"'^''''y ' guards and pickets Wl ^ ^' ?^ ""■^■' ''^''"'"S *<= *«r>peded ud, , th T,f ""' '^™"S''t "' «11 'he mended a 2^; ^Z^'^ "'^' -eoutre.non.s were very glad, after sullt^.r,:: 1:™;^' '"' ' ™^ With only the loss of one d'ay ^h h 'Lt2 H"'' and every article of elotlmi. exce» wit '^' person. Under tlm n;,.„„ ° ^ ™" ^as on my well, better ttm t Z:Zr' "" '"' ''^ ^'-^-''-"^ ««^.Sr^rt^::^:!:S:n:;j7^tiT' great valleys, where the l,.;„. „ visited by most' terrific rain .tol^ » L";" th'^ have the general name ' watersooufs ■ %7 "^ water poured from the cloud Tnd he efet'oC f are so apparently incredible, that I Lul^lSt^f ' ety-^plai'i^r "' '"^' '^ ^^^ ^ ^^^^ To from the strainer of a Sr bltl, ''"''""'' '' "" P°"«i As the myriads of streiin- -m --. i • i ana delleeted-from their d^r^-X^y^^^^^^^^^^ G ■If 82 THE PLAINS. appearance of sheets or waves of water, and form in the air thousands of mimic cascades of every conceivable variety; now falhng in a smooth, unbroken, inchned sheet, no'.v 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, thougli 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 thg 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 tliougli 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. A set of 83 grassy slopes of a mile length, debouch^ into the riv;: bouZ ^ Tv^ley S" quarter of a mile to a m,le in width, withoul aTark o any waterway appeared » innocent that the em bankment across its mouth would be suppUed with a culvert of only a couple of feet. A waterspout I^^rsts the ravmes are flooded, the embankment ^d^ZTlZ' he water rises over it, cuts it away, and L road ™s rumed for a mile or more. '= io.iu is I have seen one such instance where the force of the water havmg broken the connection, the track ties bound togethe,- with the rails, was swung off the break bvh^ power of the current until the bose ends My rest d nearly a quarter of a mile from their proper position Fortunately these storms are restricted ira:"' but tne vicnnty of theu- occurrence. The flood moves on earrymg trouble, delay, suffering, and loss of life on"^' surged waters until they are finally lost in some one of the great nvers of the plains. With the cloud in view, and the storm approaching It IS easy to be on the alert, to arrange, or if necessa rv t",' move camp, and to place the party S. I positio oSe y and comparative comfort. But the most careful plfi2 man cannot always be prepared for ' thunder fC a clear sky, nor arrange for a flood when not a cloud "to be seen. Besides this, these storms are very except onaT Posaibly every portion of the high plains may be vis ed by one or more each year; but a party may be ofb weeks in die worst season-namely, June^and Ju y campmg ou the streams with perfect impunity, ne^v^; «mng a cloud or being troubled with the rush o"^^ water This tends to carelessness, which sooner or later wiU probably meet its reward, if not in actual loss, a ^7 a thorough ' drowning out.' I have been m si.\ or eight storms we'l worthy the name of ' waterspouts,' but in all my pi (1 2 iinis experience UiHi i' 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 remarivable of which I will try to describe. My company was encamped for the summer on a bluff bank about twenty-live feet high, at the foot of which was the dry sandy bed of a stream. Tlie 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 hue 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 prair-ie 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 tliis 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, rolhng and plunging in the tremendous current. In ten minutes from the CAMP. 86 passage of the advance wave, tlie water at my feet was at lea^st htteeii feet deep, and the stream nearly half a mile 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 water was a waterspout of probably an hour's duration. Even supposing that the rainfixll extended over the whole section drained by the tributaries of this stream, the quantity of water carried o^i* 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 tor 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 Eegiment of Infantry, then en route- for New Mexico, was encamped three miles fruu. ban 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 ei^rhty feet wide, with precipitous banks of eight or ten feet. Broad evel bottoms extend away on each side of this ditch to the bordering hills, generally nearly three miles apart. ihe encampment was by the course of the stream more^than fifty miles from the Guadalupe Mountains, iii which it takes Its lise. One night, or rather morninrr, tor 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 I dd THE PLAINS. water. The niglit was perfectly clear, though dark, and for a few moments he sought in vain for the cause! Hearing a rushing sound towards tlie 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 l)e 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 bi-ought, and the ladies, laundresses, and children carried on their bare backs over nearly two miles of water, often up to the horses' bellies, before arnvmg 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, clothmg, everything was carried down the stream and totally lost. The bottom was so \Nide 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 stoim 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 'E,' 3rd U.S. Cavalry, met with disaster from one of these floods. I append an abstract from the official report of the captain. CAMP. 67 * Fort McPherson, Neb. ,rr, A . 'June 9, 1873. Ine Assistant Adjutant-General, ' Department of tlie Platte Omaha, Neb. ' SiR,_I have the honour to report that, in accordance witji instructions, I left Fort McPherson, Neb., May 27th, 1873, with one cruide, one wagon-master, five teamsters,' ana hfty-five enlisted men of Company ' F,' 3rd Cavalry, for the purpose of patrolling the Eepublican Valley, as ^'i^^cted May 31st, marched down to Blackwood about twelve miles, and went into camp. Abouu 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 tliis 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. Thin "entire stretch of country was one raging torrent, at leost from SIX to seven feet deep, and how any man or horse escaj)ed 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 cat(,hin: s^ ropes should be reinforced, and those at the corners specially protected with stout leather. The stril Sel ings of the front should be cut off, and their pi rfup2d by stout leather straps and buckles. ""Ppiiea Only experience can teach the proper mode of pitching CAMP. 89 .»;;?:,;i.;:^,— r.^rii^.-^- iiue iro'Ti tne tent to tip frrfmvwi t*- i • ■ ^ ^ wil], under olm^.^ oil • ^'^°""^- -^^^^se precautions; awajTe^ilTr-f''"^' my whole tent split and blowa ,wl V I ^ S™""''- ""'^ ^'"'''"■ely Ktiyed with fh. tt?'"f/'r' ™^' ^'"'^- I '""^' admilhoweTer hat the tent had seen its best days, .,„d deserved hTour able retjrement after long and faithful service '"'™""' in the late fall and winter of the high plains there is Ihe camp should always at such seasons be nestled in ?te:d;?,i:r-°^'-''«-'™wS One winter I went out from Fort Lyon with a mrfv oiKlaj. The second day out was dehditfui not onlv tTue to my prudential instincts, I caused the wa-^-rons to be drawn tlu-ongh deep sand and ensconced the I'arty Z 00 THE PLAINS. an island in the heart of the deepest and most dense thicket I could find. Tents were pitclied, stores put up, and all preparations made for a cami) of two or three day.s. During the ni^dit the weather changed. A fuiious 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 buflhlo robes all next day. _ Had the camp been on the unprotected bank of the river, we must not only have suflered very considerably )ut would undoubtedly have lost a number of animals by lieezmg. On the tiiird day the storm was ,)ver, and we Imished with a most delightful and successful hunt. Only a very few years ago there was in some portions ot the plains a danger to camps which unhappily exists no longer. It was of being run over by buflhlo. This animal is habitually stupid and sluggish, but under some eircumstaiKies evinces a most peculiar nervousness He ]s extremely addicted to 'stampedes,' and durino- 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 stopi)ed to wait his pleasure ; and as close a shave as I ever made to ' passino- ui 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 B,g 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 Ihe nook m 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. 1)1 very J,,tant roaring souncl struck upon my ear. Think- « le of the lull, ,,eor«l up the ,trcan, into the du^kn ■,, to jWer ut. approaching line of foatn, p,.ect,r.or of thl Just then the wind brought the ^ound n>ore di.- "" tij . It came from the prairie, not from the stream ;"Hlwa, approaching, I «cnt .l,e sentinel to „a e p .e corporal and other two men of the guard, vvir,oon made the.r appearance with their arms Explanung to the ,nen in a few words the nature of the danger, I warned them to keep perfectly cool at d to n™s ^nmff,,'^^' "'^''"."^ '^ "^'-^ '- "f "--moving as of ,ufl;,l„ was drstnictly visible. It was hearin" Meet y down upon us with ttvnendous speed and ■os,st,ble force. VVe were in an cxoellent ,, ositon for t he bullalo, and about hfty yards from it. My oaiv olianee was to s,,lit the herd. If this coul.l be done we , and the ca.np would be saved; if not, all wo. Wo o rucon together Waiting until .he advance litte If o'^ one i ,r """' ''"■'^^'"'"'■' *■""' ^™ i" ""i^'n let throats of five badly-tnglitencd men. A few of the feuhng atnmals foil de.ad, the others swerved from e fir and notse; the herd was split, and, tumbling in i and confusion down the bank on each side of 'the cain went thttndering and roaring into the darkness. '' xn all my life I have never seen so badly-fri,Tl,tened a lot of people as those in camp, nor do I blame or disparage them tn the least. Waked from sound sle» th'eir't '?'?'« °,"f ''"'^""^ ^■^"^' "-y --he t o'^' then tents to find themselves in the very midst of i phnigmg, struggling mass of buffiilo. ^ The edge of one portion of tlie split herd ms^eH wtthm tlnrty feet of one flank of the camp! while the dii THE PLAINS. nearest of the other portion was about seventy feet from the other flank. The members of my httle party had the livmg stream within fifteen or twenty feet on either side 1 consider this the most imminent danger that I have ever encountered on the plains. Had I and the sentinel been asleep nothino- could have saved my whole party from a horrible death Tfor 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 frc.nt 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 gxound ; but in the pleasant season of summer and fall the ground is too warm, too dirty, and too full of ' things with lec^s ' The high plains are extremely prolific of insect hfe"^ spiders, beetles, u:c and the bed on the ground is apt to be more populous than comfortable. Except in the vicinity of ' dog towns ' (the dwelhngs ot the httle marmot, miscalled the prairie dog) there a?e smgularly few snakes on the plains. The only one at all dangerous is the rattlesnake. There is considerable nobihty of character about this reptile. Though alwavs ready for battle, he never strikes without fair warninr. except when weak, tender, and probably almost bliiKl trom just sheading 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 (ire. ^ In Texas rattlesnakes are very plentiful, and I have neard many anecdotes of their fondness for a tent A orother officer found one coiled under the ed^re of his CAMP. 93 pillow. Another, thrusting Iiis fool: intn l,i. i, . horrorstricken on feeling it 0!™° .oft '. T' mas,. Dragging the boot off ,^^l" aT 1 -it ^' ''v^ ton, out dropped a huge 'rattler' ^ ''^"''"''• bellilT' ''T ^™"'^' '°'' ^'g''' °f «'»«« the war of re Biver,- Uy twet':!;l "iro.ItenL^'tref '""I'^l the western boundary of eivihsaHon n I T'"^"''^'^ trip my friend had ab'a, doTed "he habi^ 'of o> '°"-' 'l':'' dress for the ni.7ht • h„f l,„;l changing his he determined t:^r;a^l ;„:,?;" r",'^ '7''"^ P-P'«'' ^is end .-ranged CrA:;^ ^^^Sr ^ had been asleep some time when he tos n"rtt t .,. kened by a cold sensation down his back Th nP h- nearly unconscious state, that 4s rai^ he 2 '," his position and fell asleen A„,i„ 1, ' ^ ™''™'' awakened to repeat the p^ess. S tltdlLT""^ roused inore fully. The'inoon was fc b "h,lv' Tl he was just wondering where the water c^ld eoSr' ■ when he lelt the cold clammy touch on W htv T' sensation as if a snake were fitting LTf , ' ""'' * With a wild yell he spnn' o W, f ^='7'' '"' ^P'"<'- the tent, bursting Z'Z who frc^it"' 7*^'^ '"■" stopped in his flijrfit by gettinlhi bl^'t "full?/ °?'^ spmes. The snake was a-ainst the hnrf if ,?"'"' carried in the folds of the sC out ide the tent' "T' '""^ feu, and was found and killed by^^a^Xl*" ' it was a very laro-p ' mf H^,. ' ^ i ^ •^* either from cold o^- Sit a id m;de fo T"*"* ^'"P'"^' ance. -Joe ' used afterwards ZtZT^T '"''''■ ccmld tempt hi. again to sleep whirlrcan^'in-^^S:^ apparently insignificant, bu'wl^^'td-f !""""''' dreaded by hunters in some portions Tttp iLtC 94 THE PLAINS. the assault of the most powerful 'grizzly.' This is the skunk— a beautiful little animal, with body about as large as a common house cat. It is covered with lono- black and white hair. Its tail is disproportionately loner and bushy, and, when the animal is roused, it is erected as a banner of defiance. Its legs are very short, and its feet termed for burrowing. A man can easily outrun it • it cannot climb, and it would fall an easy prey tc the larirer carnivora, but that Nature has supplied it with" a weapon of offence and defence in a fetid discharo-e most horribly obnoxious to everytliing except panthers and Indians. The skunk is carnivorous, and his mouth, shaped like that of a racoon, is furnished witli 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 keepincr 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 Eiver 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 desi' t''e aonetitP Tl i , ''"'"^'' I"" '^ the result of appetite. The skunk comes into camp in seivohT , clehberately sits down on the hand or ftU °~'' begins eating. If disturbed hi . '*^ " """' "'"• on the defence ■ bu i7 til' °^ '"' '"" """^ »'»ds he be alarmed by noifcKl ILT^' °^ '' ""^'«« '''• - the darkness, to return an „ \T ' ''''.^«""P«-« off into that, though'i i>:!z^z:^z:^^zt .kT'i proved fati:. ' ''^'''" ''^^^^' "^^^^ »"« of whfch Assistant Sumeon Jampwnv n q a Fort Hays, in a tst inter"^,^',,'^^;; ^7^ "] restated in hydfoprotU.:i*n:r '^-^ '^^ ''"'-' Cima™, EiV:;'"„rr U.?:' ^."""Pf',°--ght on the Hoad. In the ni"ht I wns rr ° ,"'" °'^ ^'■»"» ^-^ servants- tenti:"? „ J o" rTt;l:d'^^™'" '" ""^ "0 answer, and the distu Lnce ^ „" l ;'''''/!^<='™'g agam Wlnle dressing in the ^^S onl'f he' ""^ came to me with his hand bound up, Tnd asked H was any cure for a skunk-bite. Thou, mv 1 1 . T t.Yccpt nrt, and so many hours liad elapsed 1 1 96 THE PLAINS. since the bite, that I thought its apphcation 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. WiLh 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. Tlicy were not regarded as at ail CAMP. 07 of skunk-bite, I Z conio , T""'' "^ ^ ''«'"> ««« that tl>is sinsukrlyfll "?"'''• *'="'°'-'^' '» believe of country LretoClScf tT' '"''ll '" ""^ -<^''- kansas being about its cm'e ^'''^ °^ ''"^ ^^- Wv^f^i^ir^fJ-'J-'ife Ihave never personally The fondness of sokfes i'^r '" ""^ '"'""'^ '^'^«'P' '"•""' frontier military po ts mth °",!T™*'-''' = ^'"' '"«ny variety of the canbc .pedes T'T *' """''^^ ^"^ ing establishments. ^ ' ""-" "'''^''^'=" f" dog-breed- rush'hl^hdf v'ii'/Iljtid .r' '"'!T""'''y SO mad, lowing most interes C '2l F'T '''"™S'-'- T''« &!- are taken from the ^.j ''^'•^"y.-f' -"'ieated faets on the Arkansas Eiver!- ' °'P""' "' -^"^ I'""""'- ' On tlie 5th Auo-ust nM n r. ,r ■ l»ge grey speeies, c! m ' hL tho^^^'sf '1" ^^■''"'' "^ ""^ most furiously. He entered U ''■'"', "''"S"' ™""'l Corporal ^,vlK^ w,h^ '°'''"'''' "'«' ^'t^'cked 1" two nlaces Tl,;. ii '^'^'''-^ '™ oJt Private *Wy short s,C tf tin . " T'1 "\ '" '""- mentioned wore the on v ', ' ! °"-^' "'*'''= «bove- the marks of his p US 17^ "'' "'^ '''"''"^'"«ft -n. He movedwi ; at "id ,?, ''"'"''' "^ '''« gani- within his reach, t«u , ' / ^' I :f'"S ^« "^^'-Tthing ^^'othing, &e., in every direc 0,; "";'°"-'="'-.'""f' bed- guard-house fired over t e a ° ll'- f ", "-'"'."f '" ""-' between the man's leJ T? n , '""''' "'"'« ''«^ «" " legs. Fmally he charged upon a 08 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.^ ' 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 pams 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 Marcli ; that, once having entered a village, the wolf will make no attempt to leave it, but w'll rush furiously from place to place until he is disabled ; and that in no instance have any of them ever known a perso]! to recover after having received the smallest scratch f.om the teeth of tlie 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 tlie 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 doer, which had been seen fighting with the wolf, has also just died with marked symi)toms of liydrophobia. ' The wounds have healed in the other two persons, and they ai>pear to be in perfect health/ ^ Tills is tlie large grey or b'.ilalo wolf. CAMP. 98 The officer bitten is now ns7!^\ • having never ex-perienco Iv ill^ ff" ,■" k"'' ''"'''■"'• -ler.,onfoMheirveV:4:itlt "^''^" and con- stantly a SL'o7^:fr:: tH f "^^^^ ^^- and with equal onnom ni>v f ^"''i"™ "'emselves, nomena of plains 7t'tT^ ^^' witnessing all the phe- only one on Crd iHi • '"'"'"'^' S'™" ^^ove is' the which will be more h ,n T "^ '"' *="" "°" ^e given time and placo^^B^^f X« --;;^ ^ " ""''"" the plains was the work of aw ml? ^™7 '"''"''^ time of leaving the Misl,n R ,?""■""■• ^'•''™ the the world, andlived onl vT„ , /' *' ''"'^ "'"^ '"^^t to news, no eommu^lS " ^l^^dtiir 7''^ "° Surrounded on all skip. h.. / i ^'^^^ civilisation. ot-ev..yhind,eJ;tlrTi::rf^^^^^^ ~do^r;:strt^of °''r*^' ^-"^ an added that otl er Stil T """' ""'' ''^^™t"'=. ^^as -the desire to pet™ f 2 '^"^'""g'^'- 1° ""any natives Now all ,s ch, . d Titlxi """,'• E.,i!roads have baml (h„ f / "» 'onger an unknown, to the inspecIL of L " ' . "'^''°"'-'' °^ "'« P'ains huge cuttlefisirhas nZl r'"^- ?^-"'»^''-' '''^^ a ahnost everv St -enm ^ '/™' "^ settlements up driving om the M;f?T"" ''''/""'' '^"'"« "- garni, the very life a,K " ,', f"'? ,"'" ™'"^"™' the |,oetry o«.ytlibar:::l:l:if *-f-,' and leaving ^ h2 PART II, GAME. When the mavis and merle are ningin^. Whenthedeer«w.op.sh,.andt,hehounlarei„or, And the hunter's horn is ringing. ^^ To life ter suf cor slcai told or '. kno The daiij eiu'c line Ofki ably man to k( is a ] and ( meai I game aninii skill pleas 103 CHAPTEE VII. GAME : HOW TO GET IT. llfcttKiri "" ™°-','P'-«'"i"<^"tfo«ci„ation of plains 1, , ,^^'"''^^<"^ ""'l variety of game. 1 use the ^ffidet;'''''" '" '" «P»t--like se'nse, tnean": Z Leaving o„t the buffalo (which plainsmen scarcely Nowhere on the plains that I know of can one s^ghter sttch numbers of beasts as are bngged we a™ or Incl a. The plains hunter must work, and he miis know how to work, or his bag will be of the tlue Ihere are no villages of natives to be subsidised to^ ri™ dangerous animals to where the hunter sits sec r^v e sconced m a tree ; no hundreds of peasants to make a 1 me of miles, and force the game to a battue ; no battolion of keepers to dnve birds to the sportsman sit ing comtt" ably m his box, with two or three breech-loaders Id a man to ,oad them, a bottle of Eoederer and a box of cigai^ s a T. l"r: '™'" i'""Si..g heavily. On the plai.S^H and evln I , ,f ™'" '""""" '"Sacity and brute instinct, and even w.th the most approved arms the odds are bynJ means alwaj s in favour of the human ^ same l7T''\ *''''" "'' ^;''^^'° '^ "^"^'^'y «°"«'le™l Shial i ' , ■'""'"'"',• ^' " ^"' "'« ^«^«°» that this an ma, ess than any other, requires an exercise of that P su e-inf H "' '" "i'f "f '"" ^P""-'-'-' ^^^^ ^^ pieasme and the reward for all his toils. 104 OAME. The man who kills his two or tlirco pound trout witli an eight-ounce rod, correspondingly light tackle, and dehcate fly, has a half-hour of exquisite enjoyment of Mhich the ground-bait mm can form no conception, though the latter may get more fish ; and the successfid stalkmg 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 o-ood equipment. For all large animal game he must have a good breech-loading riHe, of calibre not less than forty-five and plenty of the best ammunition. ' The aiTangement of sights and triggers is a matter of taste and habit, but it is of the gravest importance that the sight, however amnged, should be exquisitely fine. Personally, I most decidedly object to elevatincr signU for the rifle. Out of ten deer or other animak 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 s])ortsmen Jiabitually overestimate distance, and tlie 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 iiTcgular distance of winch the sight takes no account. Moreover, as the tra- jectory of these high ranges must necessarily be gi-eatly ciu'ved, the chances are infinitely against the sportsman. He must first guess at the distance, then put up the eievatmg sight nearest that distance ; then guess an-ain as now TO OF.T IT. j„5 to wliotlior n fine or eonrso si^ht owU tn I,„ *„i, tl.rou.|, ,1,0 siyht as „ow mT,n,c.ecl " ^'''" Tl.o vci-y best sight, and the one almost tinivemllv in 8 the plani ' l>nck-horn,' a .loseription of wind. a-' necessnry, as every gunsn.itli ll.ro..unates to this exlrenie accuracy. After 200 ym-ds, however, the curve of the traiec tory of even the bes gun u,crenses with great rapidii^, and it is only by con.staHt practice tliat the sportsman can keen liimseff ;.|. to the mark at long ranges. Sportsmen who „ e he 'buck-horn must learn to .sight 'on the ban-el ' Wth prncuce there is no reason why this should not become second nature ; and a sportsman soon learns to tXTi! s.ght at a distant object and elevate his gun to Uie prop ••■"gle, jnst as the trombone player learns by pracfc to stop his hand at the e.xaet .spot to give the co" ^ote The greatest dilfieulty of this kind of shooting is that game. This dilliculty I obviate by sliootin.. with both ej-es open. With the right I keep tlie line of H t and estimate the distance ' on the barrel ; • with the other I ha"e a clear view of the game and its sun-oundin^s. This is ^ery easy to leani ; and, though I have never known any n 1 mvaluable u.se to me, especially in antelope shootiu. md at running game, that I recommend every youuS 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 hke 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 riHe-rausket pro- vided by the Ordnance Department, on which the sights are so coarse that without moving tlie 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 beiiK^ on the trigger resting on my finger, without pulling it" off. With sucli a Nvoapon 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 imaijined. 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 unpractical men. There is no sort of excuse for such sigh<--. as are put on the rifle-musket. The apology for the hard tricrcrer is that men would be more likely to shoot each otheHf the triggers were easy— a most weak and frivolous pretence when taken in connection with the flxcts that a breech- sow 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 halt" CO k no ch, wh,ch may be as hard as they please to make . UM men are nearly always opposed to innovation. ' The old way ,s the best way.' What was best in the active practical days of a man's life, is very apt to be bes" to hnr. m his last days. It is extremely rare that a man progresses w,th the age in which he lives. As he ZZ old, or drops out of active life, his place is taken by grous old m years. Any occupation, or lack of it, that takes him out of active life produces the same effect of our staff oHicers are as complete fossils as can be found in the tertiary deposits of the Bad Lands Thev re out of life; their future is assured. Their occuZ tion becomes a matter of routine, in which the correct- mt^t of Vfa™ '^ "' ■""" """"^'""^« ''"- ""'^ -"""i*- vvm'^!!'' ''!''•"'"'' ."'™°'' "'''''"<•' ''»™ ''■■'^' « liiird fiMit with the 'mertia of their masters of the staff, and have no reason to be disheartened at the result. We have an excellent nfle; we have the bronze barrel, and may I'ope m time to secure proper sights and trisgers. The ritle shooting now becoming so fa.shionable is clestmed to work great improvement in the use of arms It IS, however, only a step in the right direction. The tnals, as at present conducted, are rather tests of the iiHes than of the men. When these trials have pro- gressed -mtil men begin to compete at distances un- known to and estimated by themselves, without elevating sights, off-hand and necessarily with light tri<.e culmination of the pleasure of the pursuh W th absurd SI uattons. I remember, when a boy, following th^ first black squirrel I ever saw for a quarter of a me, my gun pomted, my finger on the trigrrer nullin<» safe m h,s den m a hollow tree, that I discovered that my gun was not cocked. With every new animal encountered, in a pretty lone, experjence, I have had a recurrence of the mLady" though not frequently to the extent of interferin-. rith ™y success. The best shot at game I ever saw was o nfle, but let hrni get wuhin 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 enterin<» the F Lincoln (long smce abandoned), in the vicinity of M , '},'"'\:^'^^<^ ''Imost as abundant as rabbits in a North Carolina 'old field.' I„ spite of their numbers and indefat.,able hunting, I eould not bag a deer, thmH I fired at them ten or fifteen times ever^ week. W^en this had continued for a month, I in despair laid away my nOe, and took to my shot-gun to go^fter turTe^s and quail. Some tmie after I wa. sent on a scout in the Guadalupe Mountains; black bear were veiy plentiful and I bagged a good many. One day, taking\a car e from one of the men, I went into a caiion, lookin. for ft least r'"l"'""' '""^ "■'" fr"™ -'"P' " '--1 ° a least fifty deer sprung up from the bottom of the V ley,andrana httle way up the .side of the opposite Inll. I coiihl 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 olT, as did the herd. While sow TO GET IT 109 no time n seciiriiKx li,-m tt i ^"^- ^ ^^st above the one I aimed at ^"'^ "'"''•'' '^'^' fcl'l^^bS^^.^^!,' f .>•• T'- ^'-rm was broken. ready to Takers, t'-^'^?'?^? "^" '''««' °»'. »<1 only a short hinif 1, 1 i v, ''?^'''*o' g'^^e, and intends wit^hnn'rdtd'tt'ie'tl;;::'*^""'^ '^""'-'° ^^ very V^T^^^^^^T^ -Wed, otherwise in the profc^sionil r,!-,!,,. 1 °' ^'"^ ''''*™ '" l^i'l i.i« re|a.d c / tr" h :;::' " r ■"';•* ^^t^^ *- unexpectedly and a dm w ', ^^'"l '"' ""« 8°^^ °ff apology, to L e^p oy tf t LT ' ""' "'" 'T^''' just startino- to run wL,, T. f / ' """ """"■'' "'as time to point it out "'' *"' ^'''^"^' ""-'^ "-"^ no novice tl Jplaroral ~:r-^^ ^ »'- rules are all that can be -iven C '""• ^ ^""^ g^"""'! valleys. ra^r^-rollKr^ '^ """' — -" carcLly T"';.:': S;f .;;;f *™'- - ^Wly and keepn/yonr boVwdri:^ ij^^^^^^^^^^^ exposn,g yonrself on the ton tlvu i ' "''*" .canned every portion of grZl intier '"™ ""'""^ it sets ;t" "' '"" '° '"' =""'^ >•- --' -«^ it before 110 OAME. I ffiri w 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. Tliere 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 imhesitatingly give my vote in favour of hunting on liorseback. The increase in l3ulk and greater noise render the sportsman more liable to be seen and lieard ; 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 sow TO OET IT. ,j, ^oes not in the least prevent his hunting on foot when occasion reau res • nnrl i"f .!,,»,; i • i °, wnen dell likelv fo hi'r i' "^ ^'^' ^^'^"^' ^^ fi^^l« '^^ cosy tHie.a^hthtrr.t: t-i ot5.s t -ri: can d.™o„nt, steal into these places noi eSyln fol^ moiled by L C^Tli I m nr.rlTf™'^ ""'"- cut short his hunt. Should \^1X^Z:ZZ m nuci game. The sportsman should never nermit hi, ardour to convert sport into mere labour ^ ' Whether on foot or on horseback, I cannot too persot «^compa.ued by a servant or other If on horseback, this norsn7i li.^i.i . +i horse when he dismounts an tb,,t't ^>e sportsman's when he is beating-up cove on If ^ "'"""' carrying the g.ne= in either ^aso h "p^etlT,,;: person is a guarantee against an ordinary nSpbl^r ng a senous casualty. A thousand accidents ay uZ:. to a sportsuum which are serious only when 71 kTZ^ occur to two u,enl a.J if Z h d ': lu^'b ''"'^ '" the other may not only n,ake him con a j^eS' able a once, but can go for assistance.' I ha\?kno ™ ^^ ir' ""'"'T "'"'" '""> ^™'" -" hunli^airc nd the tin,3 th t listw i ^ t::z:T it™"^'>- '» went out alone afte^buffdo IV ' ''Tf'' '"'■'" ^^''"^ re.ams .ere found in nottltT^torS?;:;: W^ 112 GAME. whicii lie had flillen and broken his leg, and where he had perished miserably by starvation. • I ]iave known very many instances of accidents, not very serious in themselves, but wliicli would probably have been fatal liad t]ie individuals been alone when tliey happened. I speak from ample experience. Do not cavalry, almost i„ „,y pr,,e,,ce. ba-.^ed a buff^;?," of cghteen months old with a indT ch4e o^ N^n i sl>ot; and there is a well-authenticatd o^of aa old hunter ,n the ' nine-mile bottom ' of the Pur , .torv RIv bnggmg seven antelope and a iine ihTJZT 7 , "'' of a huge weapon wllieh he cald t^sh::';,;:""''"'""-^^ . These are all exew ec , d no- ma l.v,„g antmal at fifty yards, and some of 1 mo"; nearly an kinds of .ar.:;f,rw: =1^:1^0;" l:t:tfd^^^^^^^^^ find it almost impossible to h t a wolf "r a tj' ''' ] though I have, I am sure, fired at lott - on ' /""' at wolves, I have killed with the • fle le s tttn ? '''"•' "1 ™y life. It is impoasibllto act n or TVl almost every good hunter with whom I ave col' ' notes on t is subject, confirms my own exnt'encc^r ever skdful and successful each rnav he t ,» "' thing at which he shoots, wuI^:o"To„'id::::r -^^^ ^"'"• Dead game should be butchered at 1 2 hisabihty once; all large llfl 116 GAME. animals verv soon becoming unfit for food unless the viscera are removed innnediately 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 Imrried 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 fiict, 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 comnmnicatcs her instructions to the newly-born offsjiring which, in quiet obedience, lies motionless in the hiding place selected for it, never moving except to escape the most inmiinent 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 now TO GET IT. milliliters. '^^^ protessionul In season or out of season ihnxr Mii .1 • co^c, in their way. If M^^lt^ "u^f :t''?°od' f sku, may bnng a dime or two. Once i tvvo ^ montlis tlioy will „o to tho „..„.,=, -i ""^ ""''-''^' ti.o „eU,.io/tl,oy Celc , ^^ ,7"' -" "f bacon, a bag of .alt, n„d a few b LT 't e'l h "''"o the money is ether ]r.«f ..f n ^' i , uaiaiice of r..aringspfee,aft:r:h t v-^lt t," V^' "' " Tl.ese men tl,i„k only of ^^^'Z. t^^ respite or ODnorrimlfv f^». .. • ^ ^ ^^'^^^ "t> cliippear "''''"'"""y ^""^ '-^upcrat.on, and mn.t soon cat-fish, saying m explanation, ' When I <.o > P.-fH t a-cattmc,' ^^-- - g-atgr^ificatSn if^^^n i'^^^ luas so educated himself to a knowled^. \% IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) / '^^A %o 1.0 I.I 1.25 lie ^^ ^ ^ IIIIIM iiiiim U III 1.6 m m r A^ W >^ >7 <^ ^', 7 Photographic Sciences Corporation 23 W^ST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14S.i>u (7>6) 872-4£03 - \' #^, 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 buffiilo. 2 deer (red). 11 antelope. 154 turkeys. 5 geese, 223 teal. 45 mallard. 49 shovel-bill. 57 widgeon. 38 butter-ducks. 3 shell-d ;cks. 17 herons. 6 cranes. 187 quail. 32 grouse. 84 field-plover. 33 yellow legs (snipe). 12 jack snipe. 1 pigeon. 9 hawks. 3 owls. 2 badgers. 7 racoons. 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 tlie 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. ', the grass 3 gets less as a vast have ever s, on the pend the 1 October nd three gged was e formed snipe). ished by g of like f ■& allenged n. RF=»= '-^i" ■" 110 CHAPTEE VIII. 3 a. a BUFFALO. Bos Americanos (American Bison.) I SUPPOSE I ought, to call this animal the 'bisoa-> but though naturalists may insist that 'bison' is his true buffala '' " ' °""'°' ^'° ''^'' '■^^' '"^ ^^^ i« As buffalo he is known everywhere, not only on the plmns but throughout the sporting worW ; as buLo - he in _es and moves and ha. his being ;' as buffalo he will die ■ and when, as must soon happen, his raee has ^Z2l{ from earth, as buffalo he v-ill Uve in tradition and story The general appearance of this animal is well known to f ll»n ,r "'°™°"' ^""'' ^''Sgy mane, vicious eye, a,id sullen demeanour give him an appearance of ferocity very foreign to his true nature. Dangerous as he TookT he ts m truth a very mild, inoffensivl beast, thnid and S-ir'^ ^""''"^ ^"' '" ">^ '- H'^less eC! The domestic cattle of Texas, miscalled tame, are fifty toes more dangerous to footmen than the fiercest buffdo instu ct, the httle he hits seems adapted rather for mttin,, hnn mto difficulties than out of them ^ ^ If not alarmed at sight or smell of a foe, he will stand up'Jy gazmg at his companions in their death thro s «i.t>l the whole herd is shot down. He will walk I'll m mmfm 120 GAME. imconcernedly 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 traveUing, 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 ahght 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 Eock, 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 me, 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. Keining up my horse (which was fortunately a quiet BUFFALO. old beast that had been in at the death of 131 ... — .".my a buffalo, ..- ...-. ...... wildest, maddest rush only caused him to cock his ears m 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 splice henl, and sent it pouring off in two streams, to m^y ri^t and left When all had passed me they stopwd Warently perfectly satisfied, though thousands wereC within reach of my rifle, and many within less than !ne hundred yards. Disdaining to fire again I sent myse! vant to cut out the tongues of the fallen,. This occurred so frequently within the next ten miles, that whri arrived at Fort Larned I had twenty-six tongues in my waggon, representing the greatest number of buflalo tZ my conscience can reproach me for having murdered on any single day. I was not hunting, wantc^d no melrand would not voluntarily have fired a1 these herds. I kiile tt wagro?'''"'™''""'-™'^'^^^'' ^'™°^' «-«y Aof from The "winter of 1871-2 was unusually severe on the Arkansas The ponds and smaller streams to he nori were all frozen solid, and the buffalo were forced to the m-er or water. Their retreat was to the northward The Atchison, Topeka, and Santa Fe Eailroad was the^n process of construction, and nowhere could the pecu- hamy of the buffalo of which I am speaking be bet "r udied than from its trains. If a nerd was of the north side of the track. It would stand stupidly gazina, and wTth outa sy^iptom of alarm, although ^heircomot'ivfprsSl rack, even though at a distance of one or two miles from ■t, the passage of a train set the whole herd in the wildest commotion. At full speed, and utterly regardless of the rZrT::' r''',"'*'^^ '°^ AeiJ on its line of retieat. If the train happened not to be in its path ^crossed the track and stopped satisfied. If the tLn «as in Its way, each individual buffiilo 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 tlie summer of 18G7 a herd of probably 4,000 buffalo attem))ted to cross the South Platte, Plum Creek. The water was rapidly subsiding, near 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 bijhind, urged on by the horns and pressure of those yet fartlier in rear, trampled over their strugQ;ling 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 hves. 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 tliat 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. 12.'3 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°phuige 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 betwee.n 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 a]n disposed to beheve 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 wdiile 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 tlie pursuit is over, and the buffalo are sufficiently recovered from their fright to begin feeding, those on the outside of the mass gi-adually 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 uj) 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 bull, T ■ae ^v an anny snrgeon, :^:^.Z^ '" action of a little knot of six or cthTbuff.lo^ A '"'T their heads out.:! thjl t lc"ntrr °" f""* ™"> twelve or fifteen paces dismn Vs^! S'S'."'" impafent expectancy, at least a do.ef . ?. ""e v^;" (excepting man tlip mrwf a ° ^ ^ wolves buffalo). ° ' "'"^'^ ^""°^^'^"« «"^niy of tJie The doctor determined to watcJi th^ r^ 4- After a few moments the kno" broke np .^dt-^rv"''- i"g m a compact mass, started on a trot S /hi ?'" herd, some half a mile off To l,i. , ^^ """' ment, the doctor now saw tint ^hJ Tl ^T "*"'»''- %«re of this mas wa?rpoo Ut le c"^T ""' '?T''"'^ -arcely to be able to S AfS! "mT ff,'°" "' hundred paces the calf laid dow n thfZfus df " a themse ves in a circle is )„>«>,.„ i .', , disposed trotted along on^^th 'if :rth:;:'re;re:- :? "'" '"^'' down and licked their chaps ""'a^ 7?' T doctor did not see the finale it bdn 'l4i ^ "'' distant, he had no doubt but thntTvf ""* J 1""" ""'"P their whole duty bv til nff "><= noble fathers did to the hercl. ^ ^ °*P""S> «"^1 «"™d it safely When the calves are vouno- tht^rr ht.^ i ^ i the centre of each sn.al/herd, wMe U.e h „ T^ '" themselves on the outside. When tdW "i h'T' more or less scattere,! ; but on the ~kZ Y " U^closes and rounds into a tolerab?r;:^tX 120 GAME. ordinary amount of nerve. When he gets within 300 yards, the bulls on that side, with lieads erect, tails cocked in air, nostrils ex[)anded, and eyes that seem to flash ftre, 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 ! Wlien he has gone twenty or thirty yards Mr. Bull thinks better of it, stops, stiires 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 cf 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 Buffalo hunting on horseback is a very different thing, 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 n Tbis i. H sport^nau's nu,n.ent. A good hor^e n£ty J^^^:, knows Jus busnicss will bo nm.uur fl. i /• , ^ sorrow tliat ' a stun, clu.se is a lo..- ,.|,,,. • Tf , '" '"" overtake... i,. 500 or fiOO yards the cl.a a.l tte I .;;:.';;' places amoiicr the flvincr ..Dinv.lw v i • ™"^^ ^^ ingly rare exception when one ' broud. d" ""^r^' single shot. l>iougiit down by a The danger is not so mucli from tlu. l.nfr 1 1 • ^ rarely makes an effort to injure his mir'f"' ""'^"^^ fact that neither man nor h'orL c t s'e t le ' "^1^^^^ may be rough and broken or perfbr- ted vifb ' !"' 01 2oi)lier }inlp« Ti ; i PV'^^^^''^^'-* ^^ ^"1 prairie do^ 01 ^opncr Holes, Ihis danger is so imminent th-.t .. ,. The knowledge of the danger th«^ m^li ^f fi i the th«„,leri..g t,°ead of the HyW bruter he t.,™ 'iT' dust the uncertainty, and, ab^ve'a , .^ near Zx ^ tonou.. However ardent the sportsman, however arde,°t 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 fdi enthusiastic novice. He is generally an old fellow whom solitary life has rendered self-rehant. 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 filHng' to watch his pursuer, that he is generally a prey so easy that, after the kilhng. the mur- derers 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 num.bers 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 th'^'i would appear. When a hunter rushes into a large herd, the buffalo on each Me of his horse push from him laterally. As he ge^s farther into it the buffalo passed do not close in hio 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 v;^^^';. the ft' posi com dire agai iron ride] grou brol hors ( buffi most The] buffa hors( it, sp alwa comi ■/ menc hunt( the ] pistol and buffa] I saw camp F Texai Uppe Mour either or m visits H his r^ BUFFALO. 12d 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 buffiilo 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 buffilo 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 buffiilo 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 buffiilo, or might be expected to have each year one or more visits from migratory thousands. Hunters' tradition says that the first f^reat break in his regular irregularity occurred about "the winter of aso GAME. 1844-5, in tlint 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 comj^osite 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 debatcable ground into which none but war parties ever penetrated. Hunted more or less by the surrounding tribes, immense numbers of buftalo 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. poured into tliis country, iust suited in tl,„- . . finding buffalo very plentifu and „ , , ^^' ""'^ robes, made such a ^riouLtlllTt'''' ^°'" '^'^ that in a fewyears -c:^ at Sru Vt Cndt til no buffivlo. '° *' '""""'''"'"« "'"ch contained perliSt^trCtt^^^^^^^^^^ buffalo rancred from IVnrtl. . rn °^^- ^^^ Southern The Northern "^ m "l^^^^^s'l '^^^ t^° f ' - known as the Powder Eiver coul^ into'tllf E V ? Eepublican, Smoky W^^mit P ^'™''' 7^'^'''^^ by the or tributar; «trea Ji !:}:„1S^ ^So^n^r ^ Et' Jr rr^tefrtni rrf ^-^ "^- It was the c^^I'^^Jt^--^ --i in 1872 some enemy of the linffl.u ™ j- tl.at their hides were merchantable 5 , n discovered the market for a goodly sum l^i'n "*',,""> '<'" '" P-ific, and Atcfison 'C J :,t:;^/^««',f "T soon swarmed with 'hard cases 'fm.. t.°"''' excited with the Drosnect nf l! '° ^•'**' ^'"'ch would pay By 12'' , "",^ 1 ''"'^"'° '"'»' ""'' m 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 buflalo. The merchants of the small towns along the railroads were not slow to t^ke 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 mercliants, 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 were 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 locahties 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 appi..3ntly no hmit 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 buffiilo BUFFALO. a 133 than would have supplied a brigade. From within a few miles of the post our pleasure was actually marred otCrZmr ''' ""' *^'^ interfered with our pursuit of 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 no^v myriads of carcasses. The air was foul with sickenmg 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 trave south-east to the Cimarron, a distance of n°early ninety miles, before we found a respectable herd. Even there we found tlie inevitable hunter, the southern line of the fetate of Kansas being picketed by them. Thev were wary of going into Indian territory, where they mi^ht be arrested; but an unfortunate herd no sooner crossed the hue going north tlian it was destroyed. The butchery still goes on. Comparatively few buffiilo 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 feidney Earracks A few buffalo were en'countered, but tliere seemed to be more hunters than buflldo The country south of the South Platte is without water for many miles, and the buffdo must satisfy their thirst at ^le river. Every approach of the herd to water was met by rifle bullets, and one or more buffiilo bit the dust Care was taken not to permit the others to drink' or then they would not return. Tortured with thirst the poor brutes approach again, always to be met by ouilets, always to lose some of their number But for the fevouring protection of night, the race would before now have been exterminated. In places iavourable to such action as the south bank of the Platte a herd of buffalo has, by shooting at it by day, a^id W vvatei for four days, or until it has been entirely 134 GAME. 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 moutliful 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 caiions 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 lijiht wasfofon, drawn bv two horses or mules, takes the outfit into the wilderness, BUFFALO. 136 and brings into camp the skins taken each day. The outfit IS most meagre : a sack of fiour, a side of bacon five pounds of coifee, 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 blanl^ets for each man is bed. One or more of Sharp's or Eemington's heaviest sporting ritles, and an unlimited supply of ammu- nition, IS the armament ; while a coffee-pot, Uutch 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 forcrotten 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 buffiilo. He is cap- tain and leader of the party. When all is ready he phmges into the Avilderness, 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- phed 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 alomr 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 forfy 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. Bufllilo after buffilo 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 downi. 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 occun-ed to me. Once returning down ine 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 fl 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 ofier to run 1 sat down on the ground in plain view, within fifty yards of the nearest, and deliberately shot down every cal 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 1 called up the men, and when we went to butcher our game we were obliged to drive the uninjured buflalo avvay by wavmg our hats, shouting, and throwing stones. Ihe 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 siglit of the buffalo. The skins of the victims are whipped off with mar- vellous dexterity and rapidity, and the tongues cnit out 1 preparations have been made for smoking, corning or othenvise saving meat, the hind quarters are cut off and loaded with the skin and tongue upon the waggon! The loin, the ribs, the hump, all ihe 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 buflalo 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 front 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 ou tlie back of the head, the ears preventing its slippinc^ 133 GAME. t off when pulled. A strong iron si)ike iibout three feet lung was then driven throiigli ihe head of the bull'alo into the {rround, i)iMiiing it fast. Tiie waggon was tiien brought up, and tiie otlu-r end of the roj)e niade fast to the hind axle. Tlie horses were whipped up, and the skin torn from the carcass at one pull. I have seen a skin taken olf 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 ])reparati()n of each skin began to be of greater in)j)ortan(^e than time, this i)rocess 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 pn)i)erly, the value of the skin is diminished, if not destroyed.^ A smooth jdece of ground, exposed all day to the rays of the sun, is selected. SmtUl slits are cut in the edges of the skin all around its whole circumference at in- tervals of about a foot. The skin, ll(;sh side up, is stretched as tightly as possible, and pinned last 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 during 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 transportrtion to market. At the present time such is the care bestowed on killing, skinning, and curing, that with the most snccessful parties 100 skins delivered in market represent only about 125 'le:,u bufTalo. ,It W3^ mv !e^iio and intention to have furnished com- »-i; ll: Ir :! 'H ¥: 1} ' If: ', if BUFFALO. 139 mi 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 ].roduct to market ^ io my very great surprise I soon found I was tread- mg on most delicate ground ; the authorities of but one prominent road giving me the information desired I he 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 ladin- 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 Pacifi ., with an eno- mous carrying trade, should do their business without books, and that the officers are really unable to give Avithoutsuch labour, the amount of any kind of freicrht carried m 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 buffido are virtually exterminated. Xo legislation, however stringent or active could now do anything either for or agdnst the trade in the ' buffalo product.' " Most fortunately this general reticence found excep- tions. Ihe Atchison, Topeka, and Santa Fe Eailroad o-avo me a prompt, full, and clear statement, from which,"and from personal knov.ledge of the business of other roads 1 am enabled to make a very satisfactory estimate of the a!w of fszf ^f ' sl^iughtered for their hides since the The three great railroads mentioi;ed-the Union r0,900 10,793,350 21,580,700 32,380,050 In the transportation of Indian tanned hides or robes, the Atchison, Topeka, and Santa Fe liailroad has but one rival, and that not a dangerous one, in this trade. It is even more difficult to get at tlie 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 cau^rht in so gross an error as shipping their goods as freight on railroads. ^ They evade publicity by hiring freight cars and load- mg tliem 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,()U0.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 bufllilo region at that time. The mass of tliese hunters were such poor shots that tiiey wounded two or three buffido for every one bagged, .uid most of which subsequently died or were killed by wolves The skniners and curers knew so little of the proper mode of curing hides, tluat at least lialf were lost 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 aflliirs rapidly improved ; but such was the turor for slaughter and the ignorance of all concerned that every hide sent to market in 1872 represented no less than five dead bufildo. Early iu 1873 the organisation of huntincrpaities had been properly eflected. The ' hunter ' had learnt his woik, and dead bufUdo •It; p, •r ^1a m 142 GAME. wore now soploiilifiil llintHkinuiiiglHH'aiTUMinluouH labour. LiMlo rwxw was lakt'ii ; llu' skiiiH, jerked ofl' in any way, were iVtHUKMilly torn. The ciirer IcIY llesh on, or failed to .stretch them properly, and (hey .si)oiled. In the crop of 1 S7.'{ one hide delivered represt^nts two dead bullalo. As llu> game became scarce, more attention wa.s paid to all details; and in 1874, and up lo this lime, so nnich care is taken by the best lumtinji; ])a,rtii's, that, 100 skins delivered in market during that and the last year re])resent 125 deatl bullalo. Nt) parties have ever got the proportion lo\V(>r than this, and it is therefore not a lair average. To avoid overestimating, I have in every case taken the lowest iigureiS : — Y(>iirs 1S7-J ; isr.'l isrt IlliUfi iK'livoi'oil IH'inl ImlTiilo 7r)i, ;!-'!» iL>a,s(;7 l,;!7s,;ir))» i..ini..isn l,r»()s,(;r)S .•],ir)S,7;K) it is nnich nu>re difUcult to estimate the number of dead bullalo represented by the Indian tanned skins, or robes, sent to market. This nnnd)er varies with the dif- ferent tribes, and their greater or less contact with the whites. Thus the Cheyennes, 7Vrrai)ahoes, and Kiowas of the Southern plains, having less contact with whites, use skins for their lodgt-s, clothing, bedding, par-lleches, saddles, lariats, t\)r almost everything. The nund)er of robes sent to market represents only what we may call the foreign exchange of these tribi>s, and is really not more than one-tenth of the skins ttdvcn. To be well within bounds I will assume that one robe sent to market by these Indians re})resents only six dead bullalo. Those Ivinds of Sioux \\\\o live at the Agencies, and whose peltries are taken to market by the Union Pacilic 1 p' f-tm^' 1 h P ■ 1 »fc. 1 [SM, :• ^H ^ BUFFALO. 148 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 : Sent to market Kiowas, Oomanches, Cheyennes, Arrapahoes, Indians ■whose crop goes over A. T. and 8. F^ R. . . 19,000 Sioux at Agencies Union Pacific Railroad . . 10000 Indians of Upper Missouri 55000 In three years, 1872-73-74 Add total killed by whites in those years , Total Eepresent dead buffalo 114,000 16,000 275,000 405,000 1,215,000 3,168,730 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 mountam 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 OAME. Topeka, and 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 anotlier million to the already almost incredible mortuary list of the nearly extinct buffalo. MOONTAN 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 de tiles, 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 sucli 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 meadow- 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 m the long grass and reposes in comfort and security until appetite calls him to his dinner late in the evening Unhke 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 yam endeavours to add one of these animals to my bacr My figure is no longer adapted to mountain climbinS" and the possession of a bison's head of my own killincr t' one of my blighted hopes. ^ Several of my friends have been more fortunate, but 1 knovv of no sportsman who has bagged more than one 1 Old mountaineers and trappers have given me wonder- fiil 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 whicii I have already spoken as destroying the plains buffido in the Larami^ 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" ' The author is in error here, as, in a point on the Tarryall ran^e of milZ' r^l^.' Peak and the South Park, in the a u3 of 1«71, two mountain buflalo were killed in one afternoon. The skin uHhe imer was presented to Dr. Frank Buckland.— W.B. ^7 146 GAME. i ) with as many impossible stories as they can. One may find out from them a good many vakiable 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 s{)okesman can invent for the occasion. Under the most fiivour vble circumstances at least half of what these old fellows lell 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 gorgfe-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 1 1 o'clock, when both were exhausted and well- nigh disheartened, their route was intercepted by a preci- pice. Locking 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 tlie 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 WOOL BUFFALO. Uf TeiTibly disappointed, the hunters ran to the spot and lound 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 buffiilo. 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 doubtfid if even a do^r could have followed unharmed. ° l2 148 GAME. CIIArXER IX WILD CATTLE. I SHOULD be doing iiijiistice to a cousiii-gcrman of the buirulo, did I tail to mention as game tlie wild cattle of Texas. It is the domestic animal run wild, changed in some of his habits and charai'teristics 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 whon^ 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 oil' bellowing and shaking his head, his tacc 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 tlian 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 nse his weapon of defence on any unfor innate sojonrner, on the smallest, or even wdthout the smallest, provocation. 1 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. 14U what gci)tlc(l, cither hy tlie ' softening influence of a higher civiliMution,' or by hard driving ; and, judging from newspaper items, the real or liomicidal Texai'i, who killed his man every few days just to keep his hand in, is less plentiful now than in the 'good old tinujs.' 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 j)r()vocation 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 ftxvours of a cow must win his way to them by a series of victories. The result of this is diat 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 who . not actually eating he is bel- lowii,r, or moaning, or making some hideous noise which indicate.^ his whereabouts to tlie hunter. Among buffalo there are more bulls than cows; among wild cattle there is probably one bull to thirty cows. • The buflldo and domestic cattle will cross,i success- fiillj% however, only when the buffalo cow is the mother of the mule. The domestic cow will receive the attentions k m % M M 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 ia the Uaitud otates Patent Office Reports. I IfiO a A ME. of the hiifliiK) bull, but inviiriiibly dies, bciii*:^ iiniiblc to l>rin;j; lortli llio call'. Tl iHMonu'wliiit ^iill«i;ulill• llijil two aniinalH, sudicii'utly similar to in'oss in breed, slioidd be so enliri'ly dissiinilar ill all trails of eliaracter. The biilValo bull, as w'(> have seen, is ^n^jjjarious, inolleusive, seldom or never (i^htiiij^, and truly fatherly in his earo lor his ])roji;eny. The wild bull, on the e«>iUrary, is sullen, morose, solitary, puf^na- (ious, and, exet>|)t (>n oecanions, associates with neither wile nor ollspriui;". The buiralocow has lilll(> or no natural instinct, runs away IVom lu>r calf on any IVi^iil, and K'aves its protec- tion to the bulls. The wiM cow takes tla> most anxious care of ]u>r calf, auS K'raU' comoatani, attacUunjc tlu> coui,'ar, leopard, or even liei own lord antl master, should tlu'v come too near its hidiu >1 o nace 1 The bullalo loves to roam at large over the treeless plains, taking long journeys every year and having no lixcnl abiding place. The wild cattle l>urv themselvt^s in the closest recesses paral, and rarely stray even ui a d lit etime l»evoni da t ew nuk>s Irom their chosen haunts. Wild cattle hunting is a sport either t()t> exciting or not suiru'iently so. Tluav is no mean. The Mexicans ordinarily kill them bv Iving in wait, hiilden in the thick branches of a tree at a water hole ti> which they resort. This is a slow, uusatistactorv, and cowardlv wav of takini!; sjtatne, but it is the mdv method by which these animals can be successfullv and safelv iiot at. As I have said, the whereabouts of a bull can be readily ilisi-mered by his bellowiuij;. This would seem to uive the hunter an e [isy suc- cess. Not always so, however, lie is probably at that moment ensconced in the darkest recesses of a dense WILD CATTLE. ]r>l iKwkvX of ' wait-a-bi(, ' tnics. 'V\m busli jroncrnlly puts a proinpt (iiiietiLs on tlu; most .saii-fiiiiio tc;iii{)(3i-aiiu!i)t. It staiids ' \\\\vk an hair on :i dog's hac^k,' about twelve ibet lii«fli, tho straight steins from tlie size of a [)ipe-stein to two inches in diameter. Lateral branehcis spring out from every stem so thickly as to makj a jungle ahnost impenetrable even of themselves ; and wheneaeli is armed with inmnnerable thorns bent lik(! fish-hooks, sharp as neculles, and strong and tough as steel, it will readily be se(!n that hunting in sneh a thiekcit is no sport. His broad horns, thick hid(!, and immense strength enable the bull to mak(! his way through such a thicket with ease and immunity. Supi)ose that, under cover of the noise made by the bull, a hunter has overcome; the natural dilliculties of the apijroach. Moving with the greatest care he finds him- self within twenty feet of the unconscious animal. He plainly sck's the outline of his ({uarry; but when lie raises his rille he (iiuls a thousand tough twigs and branches between him and his aim, either of which is suflicient to (lelhrt the bullet from a vital j)a,rt !Su])pose, however, that an accidental opening gives him a good shot. He knows that the chances arc; a thousand to one against his bringing the animal (hnvn with oik; shot, and thattJieexj)lo- sionv,f the gun Avill bring the bull ujhhi him in full charge ; and tliis in a thicket through which the bull moves easilv and quickly, while he (;an scarcely move at all, and where there is not a free 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 ordinaVy disposition for getting into scrapes who would attack under such cir- cumstances. Sometimes a bull may be caught feeding in an open- i!ig 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 (piiet after his shots, and is so covered by the thicket that the bull can see neither him nor ! ' .1 ■ "^'i^k » !• ■%% m iliff |T , »f^j^ ','tt 'i''''**-ji < ''*' ^*' 'ml ■v^hS 1 ''\ ^ '. •! ■ 1 ,1 '<') lien •^fSliill ■ iBH I « < I I 1 I 162 GAME. tlie 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 lirst symptom of danger. If caught feeding and mortally wounded, a cow will generally manage to get into the tliicket 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 hght 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 Ohristi to Matamoras, a soldier on the flank of the column came upon and fired at a bull. The bull inunediately charged, and the soldier, taking to his heels, ran into the column. The bull, undaMuted by the num- bers of enemies, charged headlong, ?cattering several regiments like chaff, and finally escaped unhurt, having demoralised and put to flight an army which a few dnys after covered itself with glory by victoriously encounter- ing five times its numbers of human enemies. Twenty-five years ago a friend ai d 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 liis education, the young gentleman, though an WILD CATTLE. ardent sportsman, was not only profoundly ignorant of what game ought to be found in Texas, but was the 'greenest ' man m all practical affairs of frontier Hfe that ever fell mto the hands of sucli a joker. He was made to believe the most improbable stories, and to attempt the most unpracticable tilings. One morning the host gravely proposed an elej)hant hunt. 'What!' said the doctor in the greatest excitement, ' do you have ele- phants out here.^' 'Plenty of them,' said the host i reparations 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 o-iven every kind of advice, a.id in the course of the momino- sent mto 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 ' tliorns of which he knew nothing. Anticipating rare sport at his.phght on his return, the host sat on his horse waitino- 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 emercTency and in turning was met full in the side by the honis of the beast. Both horse and rider were lifted for one instant irito^the air, and then came down in a heap to^e- ' without a struffde. one h being completely through his body, the other caucrht orn in 164 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 mesquite trees. Two of the party crept behind trees and fired with rifles, 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 CHAPTEK 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 macrni- ficent antlers, excite the most hopeful enthusiasm in °the breast of the sportsman, while his quickness of eye, keen- ness of ear, and wonderful dehcacy 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 hue on the north, to the Red Eiver on the south, from the Missouri on the east far beyond the plains through the Rocky Mountains to the Pacific coast. They are not prolific, and, though cautious and difiicult to approach by the novice, are easily killed by the skilled hunter. Moreover, they have many foolish traits, which oitentiraes 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 166 GAME. 'f\ Si 'I .;' ill referoiice to buniilo, lew Hi)ort.snicn can resist tlic desire to kill wlieii the opportunity presents itself. Be- sides this, the Paeilic- niilroads 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 shi[)nient. All these cavses cond)ined rapidly diminish the number of elk. They (U) not long survive the settlement or occupation of a country, or the co: .'- ) ' '(,nd murderous attacks made u})on them by tlu? pot-' s. One nuist go, at the {jrcsent time, to the wild and unknown parts of the country to find elk in any great abundance. Klk vary in their habits with the locality and season of the year. The folk)wing is descriptive of the habits of those frequenting the Laramie Plains. In May, June, and July, it is rare to lind two together. The female is secluded in some close thicket or rocky fastness, pre- })aring for, or taking care of, her calf. The buck is also in trouble. The immense antlers which he wso proudly tossed last autumn dropped oil' in February, and he is luidergoing the tedious, painful, arid wearing process of growing another pair. lie is weak, languid, and rather thin in llesh, for, although food is good and abundant, most of the blood he makes goes to the biiild- ing-uj) 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 srcngth, until, when the einl)ryo horn is a foot in lon-th the portion near the base is of full size, of tole^rblv; Htrong compact bone, and surrounded on the outside by a network of innumerable blood Vessels, more or less separated from each other by Inycrs of bone. These hiyers form the corrugations and knobby protuberances which appear on or near the lower portion of Yhc perfect .tier J he 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 Durujg this time, therefore, the buck elk is exceedmgly careful of hims.lf, retires to the most solitary .spot known to him, as nc-ar the snow line as convenient HI order to get r.d of flics, and spends all the time not necessary to obtam food and water in lying in the high grass or small bushes, which he utilises iirkeeping the flies off without danger of hurting his horns By about the lOth 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 t ees, or weavmg them, as it were, up and down in a thick l)i>«h. 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 genera ly 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 rareful than to assure himself that he has the wind right ilie buck, sawing his head up and down in the bush, can see nothing, and himself makes too much noise to hear anytlimg, and so falls an easy victim. By about the 1st ot September the antlers are entirely clear of velvet and 158 GAME. tlie buck oik, fi\t, sleek, and his €1 •a proudly tossing liis new- grown weapons, is the most magnificent, noble-looking animal on the continent. And now in s})lendid 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 tliis season conj^reijate togetlier. All are now in the very best condition, and this is the true time for the sportsman who shoots for pleasure, lie 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. 160 The buck has a deep bellow as call for the doe. In defiance ora j warning of danger his note is a low whistle very nnich 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 bv 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 splenc id 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 hmiselt. 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 reel deer His size, strength, and horns seem to be utterly useless to 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-hke opemng of about a couple of acres in extent, in which two immense buck elks were having a mokal combat. They did not push with their horns, as wo Id appear natural ; but, backing fi^om each other for about twenty feet, would, with blazing eyes, hair turned the wrong way, and heads lowered, rush together like knicxhts with VrT^' ""'' 1 ^T,^"^^«"« «Peed 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 staif. Many course" were thus run, without advantage on either side, when ^-e otticerg, getting tired of the sameness of the affair fared at one, when both ran off together. There were no mk 100 GAME. I; does in the vicinity, and the 'running' season was over. It is presuniablo, therefore, tliat these ' gentlemen ' elk, having some ])rivate quarrel, had retired to this seques- tered spot to settle their personal difficulty in accordance with the rules of honour. From Sc))tember to the next May or June the elk are in herds of generally from five to seventy-five animals, although I liavc seen a herd which I verily believe contained more than 500 head. This was, however, in the days of good hunting, before the Union Pa(;ific Railroad 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 gi-eat 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, cither while feeding or travelling, they run together for an instant like a flock of sheep, and huddle up in a close clumj), 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 ])oint. 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 fellow'. Should the hunter get veiy near before disturbing the herd by a shot, this peculiarity of always having to stop, seemingly to select a leader, ' '" '" ' ^'~ ' o^ ELK. 161 »oon a., the lender gets fairly started, he is dronn«] ,d imces nearer. Another start, another knock down i,,,! «o on I have myself killed five from one herd ii thi way, knookn,g ,lown one after another two leX '« position i. in the mid.lle of the d „ r^onlrr; ttricf ;:'?• "-^ ™'^ 7 -" °^ ™"- "f: nn^ kt hi w f.' "™ '"'^''y "' ^"^ ^f'™'"« Ward to let his wife sco„su,s go to the war. The larger fatter a^ nu,re ten.pting he is to the .sportsman. The more iimd does he appear and the more pains does he takTto keej> Inmself well surrounded by the herd To bay this ' monarch ' is no easy matter, and so bv baf ' r,: "': 'if' ™^ ""^ ^""■■''">- -"' "-j^" to bay It IS not hke murdering him when his head i, mthebushamlhehas nothing but his nose to epenvement in walking I p^^the Mil t^ far forward T lio,i ♦i.v ^ ," ' ouiiet too my eTvan to 1 H. ° ''^^^^^^^^'•" ^^"^^ y^'»^^^l fmntic-ally to m\ servant to br ng up niy hor.se. Mounting in all h.sfP I dashed furiously after the retreating .^ame whio T ever, reached and dimbed the bluir^ 1^ ^l,"'^ ^ Z" When witJi great diflicuhy, I succeeded in g h dn th ton I found the herd again crowded tcxrether •fbou '0 ?' off, and my doT m I '■•A ■■a % 170 GAME. I I I I 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 bufflilo 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 ni 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 caiion from below he walked directly up tlie 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 ])assed the hunter on either side without approach- ing nearer to him. The Big Horn Eiver 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 u])on a herd of some thirty elk, which took refuge in a small growth of ]iine timber. One hunter took position on each side, while the third went into the timber. TO /4r h m Ml* ■»> 172 GAME. I He soon found the herd, fired, but missed, and the elk disappeared. After searching from one side of th'^ timber to the other he joined one of liis 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, tlie 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 ?,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 year3 this most splendid animal will have shared the fate of the bufltilo. 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 CHAPTER XI. JJLACK-TAILED DEER. (Cervus Macrotis.) The black- tailed deer is the largest of the deer proper m this country. He is a magnificent animal sur- passed by the elk in size, but not in beauty of outhne 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 cxactmg imagination could desire. His splendidly proportioned body is set hrditly 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 liis noble proportions. I once saw a small herd frightened by a train of cars on the Union Pacific Railroad, 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 tlie sudden appearance and close vicinity ot the snorting monster ; but, disdaining to fly, he drew up and back his form, as if expecting but defyino- '" V» 'v% t: r »-f ,ii * 174 GAME. attack, and stood stockstill until the train passed, the most perfe(;t ])ictiire of animal hte it has ever been my good fortune to see. I may be a little enthusip.stic ; but the black- tail is to me the finest of plains animals, and its pursuit possesses a fascination wliich I find in no other hunting. The black-tailed deer is considerably larixer 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 ollicer wliich 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 liaired, and the end is tipped for two or three inclies with a thick tuft of short black hau', 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 jn-qject themselves forward by a great muscular effort of the hind legs, alighting on the fore feet, but using the fore legs only as supi)ort until the hind legs can be brought into position for another effort. The black-tail uses all four of his legs in makino- 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 ' woiild 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 kinf of chmbers, the mountain sheep. His habits are very BLACK-TAILED DEER. 375 similar to those of the elk, except that he rarely trusts himsclt on the ])lain8 except when migrating. The buck loses his horns inFebruaiy; and in April and May he retires to the fastnesses of the mountains, as near the snow line as possible, to grow another pair. Ihis process is evidently as painful and sickenincr to hnn as to the elk, for from May to July it is only by penetratmg to and rousing him from his lair that he can be seen at all. During these months the does, unhke cow elk, assem- ble m herds, probably for mutual protection of the fawns ; but they also, though never seen with )r 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 oil at the proper time, against trees and bushes, as with the elk. During the running season the bucks are exceedincdy 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 flio-ht 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 runnino- 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 ium; 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 verv hu«y one ',.> .1 I 1, , ' -N '.'1 1 ,1" .f 1^1 \'%\ l>i'] -wenty or thirty may be in one herd, with as many 170 GAME. i:' SI docs, but liis love-making is besot with innumerable didiciilties. One mom(!iit lie is clmrging u buck that lie can tlirash ; the next, gettinji promptly out of the way of one that ain 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 aiiitnosity having departed with their love, separate from the dues, and again set up their bachelor establishments. They are terribly run down, are poor .and unlit for food ; but they very soon recuperate, and I have seen almost as fine fat black-tailed bucks in December as in Sc[)tember, wdien, 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 l^e 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 dilficult to bag, .mless his habits are thoroughly understood; so much so, indeed, that I have known sportsmen, excellent at other game, who had never BLACK-r AILED DEER. m bngr the curiosity of tlie latter. No panics of irrf p. 11 wm 192 GAME. fright or of curiosity interfere with their instinct of self- preservation ; and, tlioiigh 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 imable 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 rai-ely falls at once, and being generally found near thickets, and instinctively taking to them when woiinded, 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 Avounded 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 ii'om I'e- maining so long after death without disemboweUing. The best s})ortsman, unless he has a good dog, may calculate on losing one out of every three actually killed. 193 CHAPTEE Xni. ANTKLOPE. (Antelope furdfer.) This is peculiarly a plains animal, loving the high dry praine, and being frequently found °o far om water as to raise a doubt in the minds of many pW men whether he may not be able to live^wUhout dnnkmg Absurd as this is, tlie hypothesis has n o e of plausib, ,ty than would at first appear. There i! scarce y a desert so ban-e,, and arid that the antelope cannot find means of existence, and apparently a very comforfible existence, as, wherever found, he is invariab v at the projier 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 rah! water ni the cavity of a rock, and to which they resort at least once a day to slake their thirst. Sliould a mau suffering from want of water on a desert, where none is known to exist, come on a herd of mite ope, and exercise due care in watciiing their move- inen s witliout alarming tlieni, his patieiic°e will wiS venty-four hours meet its reward in the discovery of their hidden store of the precious fluid. ^ The antelope ia the smallest of the larger game animals of the plains, averaging, when dressed, sealdy fitty pounds. Xhe iiead of the male is armed with 111 4.i ' !»-fl 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 brandies olF, 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 hke 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 wdioUy shed, as the elk or deer horn, but the hard horny shell comes off the pith just as the shell comes off uhe 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, still", black bristles, pointing towards the end, and the growth of which evidently aids in pusliing off the shell. This pith grows with wonderful ra])idity, becomes somewhat lariier than the old horn, and the outside hardens into a horny shell. The whole process takes but two or three days. Many plainsmen, who ouglit to know better, insist that antelope do not shed their horns. I know they do. I have killed an antelope with tlie 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 bugged 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 hojns 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 knowledcre than that the antelope sheds his horns. The coat of the antelope can only be called ' 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 \cry thick, brittle, nearly two inches long, and of a reddish coloui-' inclining to yellow on tlie sides and white on the belly. Around the root of the tail and extending well up and down on the buttocks, tlie hair is perfectly white, and longer than elsewhere. Under ordinary circumstances this is scarcely noticeable; but, when the animal is friglitened or otherwise excited, he ])ossesscs 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 fcKiiid in wooded or mountainous countries, although the cedar wooded slopes through which the black-tailed deer so loves to roam, seems to possess equal foscination for the antelope. The two animals seem to get along logether much better than the two deer. In the Rule Creek caiions I have frequently seen black-tails and antelope browsing in close vicinity ; and during my hunts in that, my fiivourite 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 o2 '•.«•' N 196 GAME. m I 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 pecuharity 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 antelo^pe 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 ailtelope on keeping the hunter in view and himself beyond range of possible danger. The determination to see is carried to sucli 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. HoAvever 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 Lorn which he exjiected 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 oil' like a rocket. Mucli 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 luardefect of character, thougli, from lack of skill or i)atience, I have rarely been able to profit by it. ANTELOPE. 197 /; n There is a phase of curiosity peciihar 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 adde(^ 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 circiiit 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, Avhen 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 tlieir 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 rilles, sprang out, and made all ready to give them a wnrm reception. The anteloi)e came on, passed completely round is, within fifty yards, and went off in the direction tlie^ came, unhurt, though we each fired eight or ten shois 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 Alt i-r. 4toi .;« WfPBW 1 M 108 GAME. well occasionally to recollect that be may do very badly. ^ And here, by-the-bye, on behalf of sportsmen, I protest against the general disposition to take hnnting stories cum grano salis, and to langh 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 s})euk of the daily recurring details of liis business ; but let hini 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 liundreds 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 b}'' an experience out of the common. It is p.ot the every-day ex})eriences wliich make an im])ressioh. Memory refuses to take note of the commonplace, and records only those experiences which are marked by sometliing unusual, of good or ill, of fortune or of misfortune. Another peculiarity of the antelope is his apparent inability to connect sound with danger. 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, entrenc^hed 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 ^ The author is an admirable shot at antelope and other game. I have seen him kill with ri of trees; at olher times a roost of twenty or thirty birds may extend in a thin line for half a, mile; along a siniam ; and, again, a small wood favourably situated may be the roostiii'"- |»laee of hundreds of birds, forty or fifty being oeca- sionally found on one tree. The hunter should approach with caution. He will necessarily make some noise in jaishing through tiie thicket in the dark, but this will not generally disturb the birds so as to cause them to lly. Th(-re nuist be no talking ; the sound of the human voice will send the birds oil' nunv rapidly than the noise of a dozen guns. Arii\-ed at a fivourable s|)ot under the; trees, from which he nuiy shoot at sevi'rai witlumt changing position, lu> seliH'ts the bird m-arest tlu; ground, takes cansful aim, and lires, kee|)ing perfectly quiet after the shot. It is desirable to kill dead each bird lired at, for if only wounded it may llounder from branch to branch, making a great dislurbanci', and frightcMiiug away mtuiy birds, besides the chance of its tlyiug oil" into the thicket tmd being lost. If a, bird high up in the tree be shot lirst, it will, even though killed ilead, probably frighten away all the birds beK)w it and near which it passes in its fall. The hunter should use, theri>fore, a good charge of l)0\vder and hi'avy shot, and always iiro, first at tlu; lowest bird within reach. If the hunter is caivful, and the turkeys have not previously been nmch shot at while roosting, he may get as many as he wishes. In 1872 I shot twelve from one tree, on the Cimarron liiver. Many years ago a soldier in Texas baone tree without changing his position. On one occasioniii Texas I had beeu sent out wjth a small ])arty of cavalry to procure game for the post at which I was WILT) TUItKEY. 2.37 Htntionod. Onn ni«rlit wo cncninped near an immense turkey roost. Four or five of the men went into the rooat after chirk, and, thoii III 246 GAME. mm I'l' 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. M' 247 CHAPTER XVm. 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 any 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 Eepublican. This is not well authenticated, and I doubt it. It is a most curious fact, well known to plainsmen, that there is not m\ 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 o^ 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 deUcious enough to satisfy the most fastidious trout, yet there is not one in all this splendid mass of mountains. Nor is FlSff 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, mdeed, 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 9-iid 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 youncr 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 iish at a single cast. The best months for trout fishing on the first plain, or in the Eocky 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 btates the ' trout ' is a black perch. In Texas and in the Indian temtory, 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 Medma Eiver of Texas, and have seen a glorious tellow which weighed thirteen pounds taken fi-om the Guadalupe Eiver. They are very game, and the smaller take a gaudy % readily. The ' big fellows ' can only be seduced by 260 GAME. ; live bait. In the Eio 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 liy 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 ha? larore. coarde, white scales, is verv thin and flat for its ] ' and depth, is quite bony, and not very delicate food. : 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 piu'er 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, nibbUng 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 hke 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 Larned, 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 requh-es from the plains streams. PART III INDIANS. Song of the Wir,n 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 Phinole, I i I I I 26S CHAPTER XIX. EASTERN AND WESTERN IDEAS OF THE LVDIAN- BOYIIOOD— ORDEAL, AND THE WARRIOR. -HIS It is doubtful if there be a people on earth concerning whom there ,s so wide a difference of opinion as the JNorth American Indians. Eastern people, educated, by readin- 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 a^entH and professional humanitarians ; and indul-in? in a phi- lanthropy, safe because distant, and sincere because icTno- rant, are ready to beheve all impossible good, and nothinrr bad, of the ' noble savage.' ^ The western frontier people who come in contact with him who suffer from his depredations, and whose iite 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 hfe of hatred and revenge too httle to devote to his side of the question ace 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 sim])ly 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. 287 BOYHOOD. At twelve or thirteen the boy be^^ins to be a man, and yearns for some opportunity of signalising his couniffe or ins 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 darin- and desperate attacks have been made by these childrtMi in pursuit of Indian fame. These excursions teach the boy all that is necessary to lis savage life. Privation teaches endurance. When he has food, he eats to repletion ; when none, he hunts for it It 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 liis home. His eve becomes keen for every mark on earth, or tree, or blade ot 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, orattackupon,an unsuspecting enemy. Virtue, morality generosity, honour, are words not only absolutely without signihcance to him, but are not accurately translatable into the Indian language of the plains. THE OEDEAL. From each of these excursions return, with crest erect and backbone stiffened, one, two, or more youngsters' Avhose airs^ and style proclaim that each has made his coup,j,nL\ 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 canchdates^ Each in turn, frenzied with exatement, with bounds and yells, and frantic gestures, poms forth s 268 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 ha^ been formally announced by the general coun(nl 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 eveu THS OJiDSAL. 2J0 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 morlficv tion, enable h.m to tear oi.t tlie incised muscles and escape from his bondage. Having freed him e , he makes his way to bs family lodge, where he is carefuHv examined, and, ,f it is found that he has fairly torn the muscle, his wounds are washed, and tbessed with herbs rudely, but mth so much skill that they are in a few weeks entirely healed. Singular as it may appear Z instance of fatal result, even in the hottest weather t almost unknown. auicx, is fl.. ^r^lf ^1/^,^ "^^i«io»« '^re made in the muscles of the shoulder-blade or of the back. In this case the ropes _ are attached to some movable object. Two Am™, gentlemen, visiting a Cheyenne camp in the all 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 o/ eacf shoulder-blade, and the other from an incision beside he back-bone. It is terrible to see these poor boys tugpg and pulhng 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 pomt of view. It is 'good medicine' to tear loose at once-bad medicine to be several days about it cfo l^ 'N"^i ^^ supposed that the father's affection stays the Ivnife, even one line, to spare his boy from sufiermg. 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 tins ordeal ; and even the Indian, who comes ' throes of hi by s as. 'nt upon a boy in the to 'pass on the other side gony, IS required by religion and etiquette s2 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 wom.en, 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 whole tribe. From the initiatory ordeal the candidate steps at once into manhood, with all its rights and duties, privi- len^es 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. ^ ' It is proper to state that this initiatory ordeal is not a condition of manhood, except among tlie Cheyenne tribe. These Indians have as far as pos'-ible 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 slietches nearly all relate to tlie Cheyennes. Where the habits and customs of other tribes are noted, it will be so specially stated. THE WARRIOR. 261 THE WARRIOR. 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 ftiir 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 deahngs, 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 dashes, in which whoops', and yells, and shaking of buffiUo 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 m every Lidian 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 fishts. 263 CHAPTEE XX. TRIBAL GOVERNMENT. NoTHiNCx is more difficult to understand than the govern- ment of an Indian tribe, and for the good reason that it IS a very cunous compound of despotism, oHgarchy, 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 ni order to ensure its safer and more perfect control, and IS desirable on account of the greater facility for procuring * So long as the head of a lodge is under his actual control, the sub-chief has unlimited power over him and 264 JNDIANS. 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, proprriy, 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 tliey 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-chief's 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. p#v TRIBAL OOVERNMENT—TIIE COUNCIL. 266 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 j^rovided 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 talkimr, the younger warriors keeping in the background. The conclusion is noc arrived at by vote, but by acclamation ; hence eloquence, or the power of swayinrr by words the opinions or passions of hearers, is an \m- portant lever in Indian governments. It may not be out of place jjere 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 fiiirly 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 ' d