BANCROFT 
 LIBRARY 
 
 <- 
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
/ 
 
STORIES 
 
 OF THE 
 
 OLD SANTA FE TRAIL, 
 
 By eOL HENRY fflMAN, 
 
 OP KANSAS. 
 
 KANSAS CITY, MO. : 
 
 BOOK PUBLISHING HOUSE OF RAMSEY, MILLETT & HUDSON. 
 1881. 
 
m/f 
 
 Entered according to Act of Congresi, in the year eighteen hundred and eighty-one, 
 
 BY RAMSEY, MILLETT & HUDSON, 
 In the Office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington, D. C. 
 
TO CAPTAIN HENRY KING, OF TOPEKA, WHOSE PEN FIRST 
 ELEVATED THE LITERATURE OF KANSAS TO THE DIGNITY OF 
 
 THE "ATLANTIC" AND " SCRIBNER," AND TO HON. c. c. 
 
 SPRIGG, OF ELLSWORTH, AND CAPTAIN HENRY BOOTH, OF 
 LARNED, WHOSE FRIENDSHIP HAS BEEN OF THE NOBLEST AND 
 MOST EXALTED CHARACTER, THESE SKETCHES ARE INSCRIBED. 
 
AUTHOR'S NOTE. 
 
 The reader is reminded that the Atchison, Topeka 6 Santa 
 Fe Railroad practically follows the old Santa Fe Trail, or wagon 
 road, across the Plains, through Kansas and New Mexico. No 
 other scope of country on the continent, perhaps, is so rich in his- 
 tory and tradition. The advent of the railroad, with its disturb- 
 ing and disclosing influences, has made this land a new one to 
 every day eyes ; but, in fact, it was already old when the Pilgrims 
 landed at Plymouth Rock. It is not possible, of course, in the 
 brief space of such a book as this, to give a symmetrical or con- 
 nected account of the many strange, stirring and important scenes 
 enacted here in such a prolonged and confused period of time. 
 The author has contested himself, therefore, with merely gather- 
 ing up a few separate and characteristic fragments of its won- 
 derful story,. .which it is hoped will interest the general reader, and 
 stimulate further research in this vast field of shadow and mys- 
 tery. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 How PAWNEE ROCK WAS NAMED. (Illustrated.) .... i 
 
 THE MARCH OF FRANCISCO VASQUEZ DE CORONADO ... 1 1 
 THE LEGEND OF TEPEYACAC ............. 60 
 
 THE FIGHT ON LOWREY'S ISLAND TWENTY YEARS AGO . 74 
 A LEGEND OF PAWNEE ROCK ............ 83 
 
 ANOTHER LEGEND OF PAWNEE ROCK ......... 94 
 
 A TERRIBLE TEN MILES RIDE. (Illustrated.) ..... no 
 
 THE MASSACRE AT BABE'S RANCH .......... 150 
 
 THE SCOUTS' LAST RIDE .............. 164 
 
 WAL HENDERSON ................. 194 
 
 CANNADY'S RANCH ................. 312 
 
 GEN'L FORSYTH'S FIGHT ON THE ARRICKAREE FORK. (Il- 
 lustrated.) .................. 251 
 
 A LIVELY RACE WITH THE KIOWAS ........... 269 
 
 SE-QUO-YAH ................... 274 
 
 WILL THE BUFFALO BECOME EXTINCT? . .286 
 
PAWNEE ROCK. 
 
STORIES I OLD SANTA FE TRAIL 
 
 HOW "PAWNEE ROCK" WAS NAMED. 
 
 I have no doubt that many of my readers have heard of 
 "Kit Carson," the famous scout, Indian fighter and brave 
 "frontiersman ; " and also, that they have heard of " Pawnee 
 Rock " in the now great State of Kansas perhaps some of 
 them have ridden by this once celebrated battle-ground of 
 the " Pawnees," on their way to the mountains over the Atch- 
 ison, Topeka & Santa Fe Railroad. If they have, this story 
 of how it got its name will be doubly interesting. 
 
 "Pawnee Rock" is located only a few miles from the 
 thriving little town of Lamed, and is a classic spot in the 
 Indian history of the "Great Plains." Its rugged mass of 
 brown sandstone throws a deep shadow almost immediately 
 over the broad trail that for hundreds of years was the high- 
 way of all the " Prairie Tribes " on their periodical hunts to 
 the feeding grounds of the buffalo southward, across the 
 Canadian, and to the north, far beyond the Platte. Under the 
 gloom, too, of its craggy and rough-hewn face not a hun- 
 dred yards away that great international roadway, n<3w a 
 mere memory, the "Santa Fe Trail" passed. 
 
2 STORIES OF THE 
 
 In early Fall, when the " Rock "^ is wrapped in the soft 
 amber haze a distinguishing characteristic of the delightful 
 " Indian Summer" on the " Central Plains;" or in the nas- 
 cent Spring, when the mirage weaves its mysterious and 
 weird-like shape, it looms up in the landscape like a huge 
 mountain, and to the inexperienced eye on the prairie, it 
 appears as if it were the continuation of a well-defined range. 
 But when the frost comes, and the mist is dispelled, and when 
 the thin fringe of timber on the Walnut a few miles away 
 has doffed its emerald mantle, and the grass has grown yellow 
 and rusty, then in the golden sunlight of Winter the "Rock" 
 sinks down to its natural proportions, and cuts the clear blue 
 of the skies with sharply-marked lines. 
 
 If this giant sentinel of the " Plains" might speak, what 
 a story it could tell of the events that have happened on the 
 beautiful prairie stretching out for miles at its feet ! All over 
 its scarred and weather-beaten front, carved in quaint and 
 rude letters, are the names of hundreds who in early days 
 made the dangerous and exciting passage of the Santa Fe 
 Trail. Some names are roughly chiseled there, too, who 
 were not ambitious at the time of a more enduring fame, and 
 gave no further thought to their effort than was concentrated 
 in the bare idea of relief from the ennui of the moment, 
 while their horses and mules were resting, but who will go 
 down to history cursed or praised as viewed from varying 
 aspects long after the storm of centuries shall have obliter- 
 ated every mark on this isolated mass of sandstone. Con- 
 
OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. 3 
 
 spicuous among these is that of Robert E. Lee, the famous 
 leader of the Confederate armies, who, in 1843, crossed into 
 the borders of Mexico as an officer of the "Mounted Rifles. " 
 Under the shadow of "Pawnee Rock," perhaps Coronado, 
 the celebrated Spanish explorer, and his little band of faith- 
 ful followers rested on their lonely march in search of the 
 mythical Quivira. The "Rock" alone is all that remains, 
 in all probability, upon which the Spaniards looked, for the 
 mighty interval of nearly four hundred years, must have rele- 
 gated all else trees, water courses and the entire landscape, 
 that the hardy adventurers looked upon, to the domain of 
 vast modification and this iron-bound hill whose unsus- 
 ceptiftility to change is almost as the earth itself the only 
 witness of their famous march. 
 
 During the half century included between the years 
 1823-73 which latter date marked the advent of the railroad 
 in this portion of Kansas " Pawnee Rock" was considered 
 the most dangerous place on all the "Central Plains" for 
 encounters with the Indians, as at this particular point on 
 the "Trail" the Pawnees, Kiowas, Comanches, Arrapahoes 
 and Cheyennes made their not infrequent successful raids 
 upon the pack and wagon trains of the freighters across the 
 continent. I well remember, in the earlier geographies, that 
 most exciting and sensational of all the illustrations to my 
 boyish mind at least which depicted the " Santa Fe traders 
 attacked by Indians ; " but that was long ago, and such scenes 
 have passed away forever. 
 
4 STORIES OF THE 
 
 In those primitive days of the ''Border," " Kit Carson," 
 "LucienB. Maxwell," "Old John Smith," the Bents and 
 the Boones, with other famous frontiersmen, commenced 
 their eventful lives in the "Far West" mere boys then 
 but whose exploits have since made for them a world-wide 
 reputation. "Kit Carson," "Maxwell," "Smith" and the 
 Bents are dead died with harness on, and on the confines of 
 that civilization which is rapidly closing up the gap at the foot 
 of the mountains, amidst which there would soon have been 
 nothing congenial so they passed away while there still 
 remained fresh prairies and quiet streams. 
 
 " Kit," one of the most noble men it has been my for- 
 tune to know, is sleeping peacefully under the gnarled old 
 Cottonwoods at Fort Lyon, on the Arkansas that river he 
 loved so well every foot of whose silent margin could tell a 
 story of his daring. It was at " Pawnee Rock," many, many 
 years ago, that " Kit," then a mere boy, had his first experi- 
 ence with the Indians, and it was because of this fight the 
 " Rock" received its name. 
 
 In those days the " Pawnees" were the most formidable 
 tribe on the "Eastern Plains," and the freighters and trap- 
 pers rarely escaped a skirmish with them either at the cross- 
 ing of the "Walnut," "Pawnee Fork," or at "Little" or 
 "Big" Coon creeks. To-day the historic hill looks down 
 only upon peaceful homes and fruitful fields where for hun- 
 dreds of years it could tell of nothing but battle and death ; 
 where almost every yard of the brown sod at its base covered 
 
OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. 5 
 
 a grave ; where there was nothing but shadow, now all is 
 sunlight. In place of the horrid yell of the savage, as he 
 wrenched the reeking scalp from his vanquished victim, the 
 whistle of the locomotive and the pleasing whirr of the reap- 
 ing machine is heard ; where the death-cry of the painted 
 warrior rang mournfully over the silent prairie, the waving 
 grain is singing in beautiful rhythm as it bows to the summer 
 breeze. Almost every day in the opening Spring, or before 
 the grain-planting in the early fall, for several years during 
 the first settlement of the country, in the vicinity of " Pawnee 
 Rock," the skeletons of those killed there in the long years 
 gone by sometimes the bones of the white man, sometimes 
 the bones of the red man were plowed up ; and even now, 
 where new fields are opened, the "Rock" thus gradually 
 unfolds the sphinx-like secrets of its dead. But of the fight 
 from which "Pawnee Rock" took its name, and Carson's 
 part in it : 
 
 It was late in the spring of 1833 ''Kit" was then a 
 mere boy, only seventeen years old, and as green as any boy 
 of his age who has never been forty miles away from the 
 place where he was born. Colonel Saint Vrain, a prominent 
 agent of one of the great fur companies of that period, was 
 fitting out an expedition at Ft. Osage, destined for the far 
 off Rocky Mountains after the skins of the buffalo, beaver, 
 otter, mink and other valuable fur-bearing animals that then 
 roamed in immense numbers on the plains, or inhabited the 
 
6 STORIES OF THE 
 
 hills at their western terminus, and to trade with the various 
 tribes of Indians on the borders of Mexico. 
 
 This expedition young "Kit" joined, which was com- 
 posed of twenty-six mule wagons, some loose stock and 
 forty -two men. "Kit "was hired to help drive the extra 
 animals, stand guard and make himself generally useful, which 
 of course included fighting the Indians if any were met with 
 on the route. The party left the fort one bright morning in 
 May in excellent spirits, and in a few hours turned abruptly to 
 the west on the broad trail to the mountains. The " Great 
 Plains " in those years were solitary and desolate beyond the 
 power of description ; the Arkansas obeyed the tortuous 
 windings of its treeless banks with a placidness that was 
 awful in its very silence, and who followed the wanderings of 
 that stream with no companion but his own thoughts realized 
 in all its intensity the depth of that solitude which Crusoe 
 suffered on his lonely island. Illimitable as the ocean, the 
 weary waste stretched away until lost in the purple of the 
 horizon, and the mirage created weird landcapes, and pictur- 
 ed distances that continually deceived and annoyed; but 
 despite its loneliness, there was then, and ever has been, for 
 most men, an infatuation and love for those majestic and 
 inter-continental prairies that once experienced is never lost 
 and thus it came to the boyish heart of "Kit," so he never 
 left them but with his life, and full of years. 
 
 There was not much change then, to the eternal same- 
 ness of things during the first two weeks, as the little expedi- 
 
OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. 7 
 
 tion moved day after day through the wilderness of grass 
 its ever rattling wheels only intensifying the world of monot- 
 ony surrounding. Occasionally, however, a herd of buffaloes 
 were discovered in the dim distance, their brown shaggy sides 
 contrasting strangly with the never ending sea of verdure 
 around them; then "Kit" and two or three others of the 
 party who were detailed to supply the teamsters and packers 
 with fresh meat, would ride out after them on the best of the 
 extra horses, which were always kept saddled and tied together 
 behind the last wagon for services of this character. The 
 buffalo quietly watched their coming until they were within a 
 few hundred yards, and then giving three or four sniffs, with 
 head raised, commenced their short, quick lope toward the 
 bluffs; but "Kit" who was already an excellent horseman 
 and a splendid shot with the rifle would soon overtake them, 
 and topple one after another of their huge carcasses over on 
 the prairie until a dozen or more were lying dead. The juicy 
 humps, tongues and other choice portions were then cut off, 
 put in a wagon which had by that time reached them from the 
 train, and the expedition moved on. 
 
 So they marched on day after day for about three weeks 
 when they arrived at the crossing of Walnut creek, where 
 they saw the first sign of the Indian. They had halted for 
 the day, the mules were unharnessed, the camp-fires lighted 
 and the men about to indulge in their ever refreshing coffee, 
 when suddenly half a dozen Pawnees, mounted on their 
 ponies, hideously painted and uttering the most demoniacal 
 
8 STORIES OF THE 
 
 yells rushed out of the tall grass on the river bottom where 
 they had been hiding and swinging their blankets and robes 
 attempted to stampede the herd, but the whole party were on 
 their feet in a moment with rifle in hand ; so all the Indians 
 got for their pains were a few well deserved shots as they 
 scampered back to the river and over into the sand-hills, and 
 were soon out of sight. 
 
 The next night they camped at " Pawnee Rock," and of 
 course after the experience of the evening before, every pre- 
 caution was employed to prevent a surprise; the wagons 
 were formed into a corral, so that the animals might be 
 secured in the event of a prolonged fight; the guards were 
 drilled, and every man slept with his rifle for a bed-fellow, 
 for it was well known that the Indians would never rest satis- 
 fied with their defeat on the Walnut, but true to their 
 thieving propensities and love of revenge would seize the first 
 favorable opportunity to renew the attack. 
 
 "Kit" was posted immediately in front of the south 
 face of the "Rock," nearly two hundred yards from the cor- 
 ral> -and the others, who were on duty, at prominent points 
 on top, and on the open prairie either side. About half past 
 ii o'clock some of the guard gave the alarm, "Indians!" 
 and ran the mules into the corral, while the whole company 
 turned at the report of a rifle on the midnight air, coming 
 from the direction of the "Rock." In a few moments 
 "Kit" came runing in to where the men had gathered and 
 the colonel asked him if he had seen any Indians. " Yes," 
 
OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. 9 
 
 he replied, "I killed one of the red devils I saw him fall." 
 There was no further disturbance, it proved to be a false 
 alarm; so the men were soon quietly sleeping, and "Kit" 
 returned to his post. The next morning of course all were 
 anxious to see "Kit's" dead Indian, and went out en masse 
 to the " Rock," where, instead of finding a painted "Paw- 
 nee," they found "Kit's" mule dead, shot through the 
 head. * 
 
 "Kit" felt terribly mortified over his ridiculous blunder, 
 and it was a long time before he heard the last of his night 
 raid on the mule; but he always liked to tell " the balance of 
 the story," as he termed it, himself, and here is his version : 
 " I did not sleep any the night before I watched all the time 
 to get a shot at the Pawnees that had tried to stampede our 
 animals, and I suppose I felt a little sleepy leaning against 
 those rocks at any rate I was wide awake enough to hear 
 the cry of ' Indian.' I had picketed my mule about twenty 
 steps from where I stood, and I presume he had been lying 
 down; all I know is that the first thing I saw after the 
 alarm, was something rising up out of the grass, which I 
 thought was an Indian it was a center shot, I don't believe 
 the mule ever kicked after he was hit." 
 
 The next morning the Pawnees attacked them in earnest, 
 and kept the little, command busy all that day, the next night, 
 and until the midnight following nearly three whole days 
 the mules all the time shut up in the corral without food or 
 water. At midnight they hitched up and attempted to drive 
 
10 STORIES OF THE 
 
 over the crossing of ' ' Pawnee Fork " (where Lamed is now 
 situated). The trail at that point crossed the creek in the 
 shape of a horse shoe or, rather, in consequence of the 
 double bend of the stream as it empties into the Arkansas,, 
 the road crossed it twice; in making this crooked passage 
 many of the wagons were badly mashed up in the creek be- 
 cause the mules were thirsty and their drivers could not control 
 them. The train w r as hardly strung out on the opposite bank 
 when the Indians poured in a volley from both sides of the 
 trail, but before they could reload and fire again, a charge 
 was made among them headed by the Old Colonel, and it 
 took only a few moments to "clean the Indians out" and the 
 train moved on. 
 
 During the whole fight the little party lost four men killed, 
 seven wounded, and eleven mules killed not counting 
 " Kit's " and twenty wounded. 
 
 From this fight Pawnee Rock took its name, and it was 
 there that "Kit Carson" had his first encounter with the 
 Indians. 
 
OLD' SANTA FE TRAIL. 
 
 THE MARCH OF FRANCISCO VASQUEZ DE CORO- 
 
 NADO, 
 
 IN SEARCH OF THE SEVEN CITIES OF CIBOLA AND THE KINGDOM 
 OF QUIVIRA. 
 
 "In the half forgotten era, 
 With the avarice of old, 
 Seeking cities that were told 
 To be paved with solid gold, 
 In the kingdom of Quivira 
 
 " Came the restless Coronado 
 
 To the open Kansas plain ; 
 
 With his knights from sunny Spain, 
 
 In an effort that, though vain, 
 
 Thrilled with boldness and bravado." 
 
 ****** EUGENE WARE. 
 
 Many of our people are not aware, perhaps, that nearly 
 three hundred and fifty years ago, or only forty-eight years 
 after the discovery of America by Columbus, a large portion 
 of Kansas was explored by the Spaniards. When we take 
 into consideration the condition of the world at that period, 
 and all the circumstances that surrounded the search of 
 Coronado which is the subject of this sketch his journey 
 into the then terra incognita of the central plains, stands as 
 one of the grandest exploits recorded on the pages of history. 
 
 It appears that in the year 1530, during the time that 
 
12 STORIES OF THE 
 
 Nuno de Guzman was President of " New Spain," as all that 
 territory acquired by the conquest of Cortez was then called, 
 a slave of that high dignitary told his master some marvelous 
 tales of a country far away in the north where were to be 
 found cities and towns, so large and grand in their appoint- 
 ments that they rivaled even the splendor and wealth of 
 Mexico, the capital of New Spain. This slave described in 
 particular seven cities, whose streets were filled with shops, 
 in which the workmen wrought in silver and gold exclusively ; 
 that these famous "seven cities" were located far beyond a 
 great desert, through which it would require forty days to 
 march. De Guzman, credulous as were all the Spaniards in 
 those days, and ready to believe all the wonderful stories of 
 the riches of the country they had come so far to conquer, 
 immediately commenced the organization of a large force to 
 discover the famous cities so minutely described by his slave. 
 It is said that this expedition was composed of four hundred 
 Spaniards and nearly twenty thousand Indians. * 
 
 The President commanded this rather formidable army 
 in person, or at least until he reached Culiacan, for there his 
 energy failed him, and he contented himself with simply es- 
 tablishing a colony. His excuse for relinquishing the search 
 for the seven cities, was the "terrible and apparently inter- 
 minable mountains over which he had to cross." Shortly 
 after his abandonment of the expedition, his slave, who had 
 
 * There are many conflicting accounts of the number which composed this 
 army and the above may be taken as within the limits of probability. 
 
OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. 13 
 
 been the principal guide on the march as well, died, and with 
 him perished for a while the story of the famous " Seven 
 Cities," whose people were reveling in gold and silver. 
 
 Eight years afterward in 1538 there came to the City 
 of Mexico three Spaniards and an Arabian negro called Es- 
 tivanico (Stephen). These three Spaniards, Alvar Nunez 
 Cabe$a de Vaca, Andres Dorantes, Alonzo del Castillo Mal- 
 donado, and the negro, were the only survivors of the expe- 
 dition of Pamphilo de Narvaez, about which I interpolate 
 here a short extract from its history, as given by the early 
 writers; not that it bears any direct relation to the " March 
 of Coronado," but on account of the extraordinary adven- 
 tures of these men. 
 
 They were part of a company who, with Pamphilo de 
 Narvaez, sailed from the West Indies in the spring of 1528 to 
 explore the country of Florida, of which the commander of 
 the expedition, Pamphilo, had been made Governor. Pam- 
 philo's. command consisted of four hundred men and eighty 
 horses. About the first of April he arrived in the harbor of 
 Santa Cruz (now Tampa Bay), and early in May, with his 
 little command, forty only of whom now were mounted, 
 started for the interior of Florida. He marched constantly 
 toward the North, keeping the coast in sight, and on the 
 twenty-sixth of June reached the Indian village named Apu- 
 luche. Here he remained nearly a month, and then resumed 
 his journey for more than a week, when he arrived at another 
 village called Aute. He made a short halt at this place and 
 
14 STORIES OF THE 
 
 then turned abruptly to the West. Marching in that direction 
 for nearly a fortnight, his men became disheartened and dis- 
 pirited in not finding any of the precious metals, and receiv- 
 ing nothing but insults and bad treatment from the Indians, 
 the command retraced its steps to Aute, where, failing to 
 glean any knowledge of the ships which had been ordered to 
 follow them up the coast; they built five boats, in which all 
 the party (who had not died or been killed by the Indians), 
 now reduced to less than three hundred, sailed along the con- 
 tour of the shore. In a few days they discovered the mouth 
 of a swift running river, whose current was so strong they 
 could make no headway against it, and their frail vessels were 
 carried out into the Gulf. 
 
 About a week or ten days after their embarkation, while 
 making slow journey toward the West, Cabeca de Vaca, in 
 command of one of the boats, was wrecked on an island, 
 which they immediately named Mulhado (misfortune). A 
 few days after this mishap, all the remainder of the little fleet 
 were capsized during a terrible storm off Mulhado, except 
 that of Pamphilo, which drifted out to sea and was never 
 heard from. All those who were not lost in this storm lived 
 on the Island of Mulhado for more than six years, and were 
 made slaves by the Indians, who treated them with the greatest 
 cruelty. In consequence of the inhuman bearing of the sav- 
 ages toward them, and from starvation, most of the unfor- 
 tunate Spaniards died. 
 
 After a weary and horrible six years of captivity, four of 
 
OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. 15 
 
 them, (those men previously mentioned, and probably the only 
 survivors of the whole party that were saved from the wrecks), 
 escaped from the island and marched to the North, as far as 
 the mountains of Alabama, from thence turned toward the 
 setting sun and reached the Mississippi river "the great 
 river coming from the North" as Cabeca called it. They 
 continued on in a westerly direction, crossing the Arkansas 
 and the Canadian at the great canon of the latter river, from 
 which point they turned to the southwest and passed through 
 what is now New Mexico and Arizona to Culiacan, which 
 province Guzman had already settled. 
 
 Upon reaching Culiacan, these remarkable men were 
 full of strange stories and adventures, all of which were told 
 to the Viceroy, then Don Antonio de Mendoca. 
 
 They stated to the Viceroy that the natives in some por- 
 tions of the country through which they passed on their peril- 
 ous journey, told them of rich and powerful cities, with houses 
 four and five stories high, and that they were situated in the 
 North. 
 
 Don Antonia de Mendoca communicated the strange 
 stories and wonderful adventures of the newly arrived Span- 
 iards to Francisco Vasquez de Coronado, the new governor, 
 who immediately set out in person for Culiacan, and took 
 with him three Franciscan friars, among whom was Marcos 
 de Nica, a celebrated man in learning. 
 
 As soon as Coronado reached Culiacan, which journey 
 he made with all possible haste, he ordered the three monks 
 
16 STORIES OF THE 
 
 and the negro, Estevanico, to proceed on a voyage of dis- 
 covery, and learn all they could in relation to the "seven 
 cities," the story of which was now fully revived, eight years 
 after the death of the Indian who had first mentioned their 
 existence to the President de Guzman. 
 
 The three Spaniards left on their perilous mission in obe- 
 dience to the order of the governor, but the negro, Stephen, 
 becoming distasteful to them from some cause, they com- 
 pelled him to go in advance to pacify the natives of the coun- 
 try through which he had passed on the memorable journey 
 from the coast with Cabeca. It is related that as soon as 
 Stephen reached the region of the " Seven Cities of Cibola" 
 he made a demand of their people, not only for their wealth, 
 but their women. In answer to this iniquitous demand the 
 Indians killed him, and sent back some of the party that had 
 come wjth him. These latter, the number not definitely 
 known, frightened and demoralized at what they had seen, 
 " went flying to their homes," but met the three friars in the 
 desert some sixty leagues from Cibola. When the monks 
 learned of the death of Stephen they became greatly frightened, 
 and even distrusting the Indians who had gone out with Ste- 
 phen, they made them presents of everything they had with 
 them, excepting only the paraphernalia used in celebrating 
 the mass, turned about, and by forced marches went back to 
 Culiacan, knowing no more of the country than when they 
 had set out, except what had been told them by the Indians. 
 
 When they reached Culiacan, they were immediately ad- 
 
OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. 17 
 
 mitted to an audience with Coronado, to whom they gave a 
 rose colored tale of their own adventures; what Stephen had 
 said, and also what the Indians had told them. They, also 
 told Coronado of "islands filled with treasure, which, they 
 were assured, existed in the ' Southern sea." : 
 
 Coronado, after listening with enthusiastic delight to 
 their marvelous tales, resolved to set out immediately for the 
 city of Mexico to confer with the Viceroy, and took with him 
 Friar Marcos de Nica, that the latter might tell in his own 
 glowing language to the Viceroy in person all that had been 
 told him. 
 
 Coronado must have been exceedingly credulous, and 
 swallowed with avidity all the strange things he had heard, 
 for he gathered a few of his most intimate friends, and to 
 them alone disclosed what the old Friar had reported. He 
 added to the story himself greatly, and exacted the strictest 
 secrecy in relation to the wealth of the alleged famous " Seven 
 Cities." 
 
 He arrived in Mexico in due season, and immediately 
 closeted himself with the Viceroy, to whom he related the 
 wonderful stories he had learned from Marcos de Nica and 
 the others of his party. Coronado then proclaimed 
 throughout that region that he had discovered the * ' Seven 
 Cities of Cibola," and began to organize an expedition for 
 their conquest. 
 
 Meanwhile Friar Marcos had been elevated through the 
 influence of the church to the dignity of " Provincial of the 
 
18 STORIES OF THE 
 
 Franciscans" and their religious services were rilled with 
 the stories of the wonderful discoveries, which created such 
 an enthusiasm, and coming from such a source, the infal- 
 lible church, that volunteers offered their services in crowds, 
 to the number, it is stated, of three hundred Spaniards and 
 eight hundred Indians, all eager to march at once in quest of 
 the famous " Seven Cities of Cibola." The majority of the 
 Spaniards were of noble birth, and they met immediately 
 and proclaimed Francisco Vasquez de Coronado, captain, in 
 honor of the fact that he was the discoverer of the "Seven 
 Cities," the objective point of the expedition. 
 
 The Viceroy Mendoca aided to the extent of the power, 
 in preparing the little company for their hazardous enter- 
 prise, and appointed Compostella, a town some three hun- 
 dred miles from Mexico, as the place of rendezvous, and the 
 time, Shrove Tuesday. After this expedition had left the 
 capital city, the Viceroy ordered Don Pedro d'Alarcon to 
 leave for^La Nativadad, a village on the coast, and in "com- 
 mand of two small ships to proceed to Jalisco for the remain- 
 der of the supplies belonging to the expedition which the 
 troops could not carry. The ships were then to follow the 
 coast and keep pace with the army of Coronado, which it 
 was thought from the received accounts of the direction it 
 was to take, would always be along the sea. When all these 
 preliminaries had been effected, the Viceroy departed for 
 Compostella with a large '^retinue of noblemen, intending to 
 
OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. 19 
 
 review the army of Coronado in person, and give them such 
 encouragement as his presence would naturally inspire. 
 
 This right royal cavalcade, with the Viceroy at its head, 
 was received all along the route with the most distinguished 
 consideration, and accorded that obsequious flattery which 
 always bends to rank and station even in this age, in mo- 
 narchical countries. When he arrived at Compostella he 
 became the guest of Christoral de Onale, captain general of 
 that province, and the next morning reviewed the troops 
 comprising Coronado's little army, and after the celebration 
 of the mass before the entire company made them a spirited 
 address. After the Viceroy had pictured the wonderful 
 results to be gained by this expedition, not only to themselves 
 as individuals, in a pecuniary point of view, but to the re- 
 nown and splendor of the Spanish throne, he requsted every- 
 one to swear on a missal containing the Holy Evangelists, 
 never to abandon their commander, no matter what might 
 befall, and to implicitly obey all orders, and under all cir- 
 cumstances. 
 
 Early the next morning, with all the pomp and etiquette 
 of royalty, Coronado gave the orders to move forward ; 
 seated on a magnificent stallion whose trappings were orna- 
 mented with gold and silver and emblazoned with symbols of 
 the Spanish throne, he led his little army, which stepped proud- 
 ly and confidently to the command of their general, toward 
 the north. The Viceroy, accompanied by his retinue of gen- 
 erals and nobles, escorted the expedition as a mark of honor 
 
20 STORIES OF THE 
 
 and encouragement, for two whole days, and then reluc- 
 tantly retraced his steps to the capital. Almost immediately 
 Coronado's army began to feel the effects of marching 
 through a wild and unknown country ; they were compelled 
 to pack their baggage on the backs of their horses, and as 
 this was a new experience it amounted to almost a complete 
 failure. In wearily plodding over the ragged spurs and 
 sharp ridges of the interminable ranges which they were 
 obliged to cross, the animals would loose their foothold, and 
 the packs, unskillfully tied on, lurching a little, would fre- 
 quently throw its weight toward the side of the precipice, 
 and down both horse and baggage would roll, for a thousand 
 feet, perhaps, into the dark and rocky canon below. It was 
 no child's play, and each man of the little army, nobleman 
 and common soldiers alike, took their turn in guiding the 
 horses over the sinuous passage among the rocks and beet- 
 ling cliffs. At last after a painful journey the expedition 
 reached Chiametta, where it met Melchor Diaz and Juan de 
 Saldibar, captains in the Spanish army, and a handful of 
 determined soldiers, who had by a previous order of Coronado 
 explored the country in advance of the main command as 
 far as Chichilicese, on the edge of Friar Marco's "Desert" 
 and some eight or nine hundred miles from Culiacan.* 
 
 Halting at Chiametta, to hear what report the Spanish 
 
 captains, Diaz and Saldibar had to make in relation to their 
 
 
 *This distance is made up of estimates by myself, but all accounts of measure- 
 ments in the narrative must be taken cum grano salt's, as it is impossible in conse- 
 quence of the incompleteness of the old maps to approximate correctness. 
 
OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. 21 
 
 journeys, the soldiers and Indians of the command seized 
 this opportunity of rest to fish, and to listen to the stories 
 of their comrades around the camp-fires. 
 
 The next day -after a secret interview between Coronado 
 and the two captains, it was bruited among the rank and file 
 that the account given of the country in the region of the 
 " Desert," and the prospect from the top of the hills into 
 that "Great Plain" was of the " most uncheerful and mel- 
 ancholy character," in consequence of which the troops 
 became dispirited, and an atmosphere of discouragement 
 settled upon the brave little band. We should not disparage 
 this fact, however, for we must not entertain the idea for a 
 moment, that anything like cowardice entered as a factor in 
 the elements which made up the character of these men ; we 
 should rather remember that we are looking back through the 
 dim vista of nearly four hundred years, and that not only the 
 limited region which the love of conquest and spirit of adven- 
 ture tempted them to enter, was an unknown country but 
 that the whole continent of America was an unexplored terri- 
 tory a veritable terra incognita in fact and it required a de- 
 termination and energy, which even the boasted prowess of 
 the nineteenth century might honorably shrink from. It was 
 no wonder then, that this little band of Spaniards lost heart 
 when the dismal and melancholy interview between the gene- 
 ral and the captains who had returned sick and desponding 
 from their reconnoisance spread through the camp. 
 
 But Friar de Nica disputed with Diaz and Saldibar ; he 
 
22 STORIES OF THE 
 
 accused them of lying, and waxed wroth toward them in his 
 harangues to the soldiers as they listened to him with that pa- 
 tience and attention due his exalted position in the Church. 
 The Friar told them as they gathered around their camp-fires, 
 that the country was fertile and abounded in precious metals ; 
 that they should not return without full reward for all their 
 hardships, and that the world would yet ring with the story of 
 their achievements. 
 
 The wily Friar thus under cover of his priestly garb re- 
 stored them to a condition of obedience, and persuaded them 
 by his elegant word-pictures for history shows that he was 
 an eloquent rascal to continue their march in search of the 
 " Seven Cities," which, he assured them had a veritable exist- 
 ence; this was on Easter Sunday, 1540, and on the next day 
 the now freshly exhilarated little army took up its line of march 
 for Culiacan. When they reached Culiacan the citizens turned 
 out en masse to receive them, and showered upon Coronado a 
 profusion of presents, to his followers they gave an abundance 
 of fruits and supplies, and furnished them with everything 
 necessary to continue their perilous journey into the "Des- 
 ert." 
 
 Culiacan where years before Nuna de Guzman estab- 
 lished his colony some seven hundred miles from Mexico 
 was the last place on the march inhabited by their own peo- 
 ple, and the command remained here more than a fortnight 
 to recuperate their worn-out horses, and make their last prep- 
 arations for comfort, for from this point on there was no hope 
 
OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. 23 
 
 of succor, except what might possibly come from the natives, 
 and these they knew nothing about, save from such tales as 
 had been told them the details of which, to say the least 
 were not by any means flattering, or held out much promise. 
 At the end of their somewhat protracted halt at Culia- 
 can, Coronado made a new disposition of his forces, and devi- 
 ated somewhat from his original programme. Taking fifty of his 
 noblemen his special personal friends a portion of the foot- 
 soldiers and all the monks, he left Culiacan after ordering the 
 remainder of his army to wait until he had been gone a fort- 
 night and then follow on his trail. Castenada, his historian, 
 says : " When the General had passed through all the inhab- 
 ited region to Chichilticale, where the desert begins, and saw 
 that there was nothing good, he could not repress his sadness, 
 notwithstanding the marvels that were promised further on. 
 No one save the Indians who had accompanied the negro had 
 seen them, and already they had been caught in lies. He 
 was especially afflicted to find the Chichilticale, of which so 
 much had been boasted, to be a single, ruined and roofless 
 house, which at one time seemed to have been fortified. It 
 was easy to see that this house, which was built of red earth, 
 was the work of civilized people who had come from afar. 
 On quitting this place they entered the desert. At the end 
 of fifteen days they came within eight leagues of Cibola, on 
 the banks of a river they called the Vermijo, on account of 
 its red and troubled waters. Mullets, resembling those of 
 Spain were found in it. It was there that the first Indians of 
 
24 STORIES OF THE 
 
 the country were discovered ; but when they saw the Span- 
 iards they fled and gave the alarm. During the night of the 
 succeeding day, when not more than two leagues from the 
 village, some Indians who were concealed, suddenly uttered 
 such piercing cries (the war-whoop ?) that our soldiers became 
 alarmed, notwithstanding, they pretended not to regard it as 
 a surprise ; and there were even some who saddled their hor- 
 ses the wrong way, but these were men who belonged to the 
 new levies. The best warriors mounted their horses and scoured 
 the country. The Indians who knew the land escaped easily 
 and not one of them was taken. On the following day in 
 good order we entered the inhabited country. 
 
 Cibola was the first village we discovered ; jon beholding 
 it the army broke forth with maledictions on Friar Marcos de 
 Nica. God grant that he may feel none of them. Cibola is 
 built on a rock ; this village is so small that in truth there are 
 many farmers in New Spain that make a better appearance. 
 It may contain two hundred warriors. The houses are built 
 in three or four stories ; they are small, not spacious, and have 
 courts, as a single court serves for a whole quarter the inhab- 
 itants of the province were united there. It is composed of 
 seven towns, some which are larger and better fortified than 
 Cibola. These Indians, ranged in good order, awaited us at 
 some distance from the village. They were very loth to ac- 
 cept peace, and when they were required so to do by our 
 interpreters, they menaced us by gestures ; shouting our war- 
 cry of Saint lago, we charged upon them and quickly caused 
 
OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. 25 
 
 them to fly. Nevertheless it was necessary to get possession 
 of Cibola, which was no easy achievement, for the road lead- 
 ing to it was both narrow and winding. The general was 
 knocked down by the blow of a stone as he mounted in the 
 assault, and he would have been slain, had it not been for 
 Garci Lopez de Cardenas and Hernando d'Alvarado who 
 threw themselves before him, and received the blows of 
 the stones, which were designed for him and fell in large num- 
 bers ; nevertheless as it is impossible to resist the first impet- 
 uous charge of Spaniards, the village was gained in less than 
 an hour. It was found filled with provisions which were 
 much needed, and in a short time the whole province was forc- 
 ed to accept peace." Coronado, as a good soldier should, 
 immediately made his little command comfortable, and the 
 strange and novel scenes among the natives sufficed to recon- 
 cile the troops for a while to the intense disappointment they 
 had suffered, but a spirit of discontent and of desire for fur- 
 ther exploration, inherent in the Spanish in those days, de- 
 manded constant work to keep them at all content. 
 
 Coronado, to control the element of discontent that again 
 brooded over his command, organized little reconnoisances 
 from his stronghold, into the neighboring districts, and hear- 
 ing from one of his conquered Indians that there were seven 
 other cities like those of Cibola, he ordered seventeen of his cav- 
 aliers and a few of the infantry under command of Don Pedro 
 de Tobar, to search for them. A Franciscan monk, Friar 
 Juan de Pudilla, who had once been a soldier himself, accom- 
 
26 STORIES OF THE 
 
 panied Don Pedro. In relation to this expedition of De 
 Tobar's to this second group of ' 'Seven Cities," the histo- 
 rian says: "The rumor had spread among their inhabitants 
 that Cibola was captured by a very ferocious race of peo- 
 ple, who bestrode horses that devoured men, and as they 
 knew nothing of horses, this information filled them with the 
 greatest astonishment. But notwithstanding all this, Don 
 Pedro met with some show of resistance, and was obliged to 
 make a series of charges among the infuriated savages, killing 
 large numbers of them before he was permitted to take peace- 
 able possession of the towns. When he had sufficiently 
 overawed them by the powers of the Spanish armies the ter- 
 rible appearance of the horses, had as much to do with it as any- 
 thing else the savages hurried to their houses and begged 
 him not to destroy them. They brought out presents of 
 woven goods, fruits, corn, fowls, and a few precious stones 
 as peace-offerings, which the Spaniards accepted, and began 
 to question them of the country and its resources. They 
 learned from these Indians, of a great river, on whose banks 
 lived people who were immensely tall, and had dwellings 
 much greater in all their proportions than the ones which they 
 now looked on. With this information, Don Pedro returned 
 to Cibola and imparted the information he had gathered to 
 Coronado. Coronado immediately upon receipt of this in- 
 telligence, dispatched Don Garcie Lopez de Cardenas with a 
 dozen men to explore the wonderful river spoken of by the 
 Indians to Don Pedro. 
 
OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. 27 
 
 De Cardenas apparently marched to the ' 'seven cities" 
 conquered where he was furnished with supplies by the na- 
 tives, and from whom he evidently received further and 
 correct information in relation to the "River." 
 
 Leaving the last mentioned towns, they wandered for 
 nearly a month through a desert and reached a stream whose 
 banks were so steep that, as the historian relates it, "they 
 thought themselves elevated three or four leagues in the air." 
 The adventurous little band marched for some days along the 
 bank of the strange river, hoping to find some point at which 
 they could descend to the water, which to them appeared 
 only a few feet wide, but which in reality was a mile and a 
 half, according to the declarations of the Indians. 
 
 At last after much weary and fruitless wandering, they 
 reached a place where descent seemed practicable, and Mel- 
 gosa Juan Galeras, and a private, who were the smallest men 
 in the expedition, determined to make the attempt. They 
 clambered down among the jagged points of rock until those 
 above on the edge of the precipice could no longer see them. 
 
 Late in the afternoon the two venturesome men came 
 back by the same path and reported their attempt a failure. 
 They could not reach the water's edge, for what appeared 
 above as small shelves of rock, were really huge masses with 
 perpendicular walls sixty and a hundred feet high. 
 
 They only reached about one third of the distance, and 
 from there the stream looked wide and confirmed the story 
 of the Indians in relation to it. They assured their comrades 
 
28 STORIES OF THE 
 
 that some of the rocks wkich from the top of the bank ap- 
 peared no taller than a man, were in truth, higher and loftier 
 than the tower of the Cathedral of Seville.* 
 
 Castenado says: "The river was the Tizon. A spot 
 was reached much nearer its source, an.d that the Spaniards 
 retraced their steps to Cibola, and this expedition had no 
 other result. On their march back, they came to a water- 
 fall with crystals of salt, large quantities of which they 
 broke off and carried to Cibola. 
 
 During the absence of De Cardenas to the Great Canon 
 of the Tizon (Colorado River) some Indians whose homes 
 were far to the east, arrived at Cibola. They called their coun- 
 try Cicuye, and were ruled over by a chief whose name was 
 Bigotes, in consequence of his wearing huge mustaches. 
 Bigotes came to Cibola with his subjects to offer his and their 
 services to the Spaniards, of whom they had heard remarka- 
 ble stories way off in their own province. 
 
 These Indians brought with them as presents to Corona- 
 do, skins, shields, and other articles, and in exchange for 
 this courtesy, Coronado made them presents of necklaces of 
 glass beads, and bells, and as the Indians had never seen such 
 things before were much pleased as well as astonished. 
 
 One of the Indians told them of cows and showed the 
 picture of one painted on his body. 
 
 *This was the Great Canon of the Colorado, where for hundreds of miles the 
 cut edges of the table land rise abruptly, often perpendicularly, from the water's 
 edge, forming walls from three to six thousand feet high. 
 
OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. 29 
 
 Castenado says: "We would never have guessed it 
 from seeing the skins of these animals, for they are covered 
 with a frizzled hair which resembles wool."* 
 
 Coronado listened with marked attention to the story of 
 Bigotes and his men, and called a council of his Cavaliers to 
 listen and project another expedition to that region. 
 
 He appointed Captain Hernado d' Alvarado to the com- 
 mand with twenty men, and ordered them to go with the 
 Indians, but to return in eighty days and make a report of 
 what he might discover. 
 
 Alvarado made his preparations in a short time, and 
 with his gallant little party, and Indians as guides, started on 
 his enigmatical mission. 
 
 Castenado thus relates the march: "Five days after, 
 they arrived at a village named Acuco, built on a rock. The 
 inhabitants who are able to send about two hundred warriors 
 into the field, are the most formidable brigands in the prov- 
 ince. This village was very strongly posted, inasmuch as it 
 was only reached by one path, and was built upon a rock pre- 
 cipitous on all its other sides, and at such a height that the 
 ball from an arquebuse could scarcely reach its summit. It 
 was entered by a strairway cut out by the hand of man, which 
 
 *This was the first idea the Spaniards received of the Buffalo, but they always 
 speak of them as VACAS (Cows) as we shall see further on in our sketch when Cor- 
 onado and his command reach the true Buffalo country that is the Great Plains of 
 Kansas. 
 
30 STORIES OF THE 
 
 began at the bottom of the declivitous rock, and led up to the 
 village." 
 
 "The stairway was of suitable width for the first two 
 hundred steps, but after these, were a hundred more much 
 narrower, and when the top was finally to be reached, it was 
 necessary to scramble up the three last toises by placing the 
 feet in holes scraped in the rock, and as the ascender could 
 scarcely make the point of his toe enter them, he was forced 
 to cling to the precipice with his hands." 
 
 11 On the summit there was a great arsenal of huge stones, 
 which the defenders, without exposing themselves could roll 
 down on their assailants, so that no army, no matter what its 
 strength might be, could force this passage. There was on 
 the top a sufficient space of ground to cultivate and store a 
 large supply of corn, as well as cisterns to contain water and 
 snow." 
 
 At this place the Indians were at first disposed to be 
 hostile as they saw the Spaniards approach, and told them not 
 to pass over a certain line they had marked on the ground, 
 but as the latter paid no attention to the dictation and made 
 preparations for battle, the Indians' bravado soon oozed out, 
 and they brought presents of skins, nuts, flour and corn, and 
 laid them at Alvarado's feet. 
 
 After resting at this village for a short time, and replen- 
 ishing his little commissary with the best offerings of the In- 
 dians, Alvarado journeyed on, and in three days more reach- 
 
OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. 31 
 
 ed another town called Tigeux whose people knowing Bigotes 
 received the Spaniards very graciously. 
 
 Here Alvarado was so much gratified that he dispatched 
 a courier back to Coronado, and suggested the propriety of 
 the whole command coming to Tiguex and going into winter 
 quarters. 
 
 Coronado was delighted when he heard the courier's re- 
 port, and flattering himself that his difficulties were about 
 ended, and the prospects brightening, he determined to act 
 upon Alvarado's advice and move to Tiguex. 
 
 Alvarado, as soon as his messenger had departed to 
 Cibola with the dispatch for Coronado, continued on his march 
 for nearly a week, at the end of which time he came to an- 
 other village called Cicuye. Cicuye was very strongly forti- 
 fied and the houses four stories in height. Alvarado remained 
 here some time to recuperate, and one day while idling 
 through the town chanced to come upon "an Indian slave 
 who was a native of the country adjacent to Florida." * 
 
 This slave, who was very communicative, the Spaniards 
 nick-named II Turco (the Turk) because he resembled so 
 positively that class of people. 
 
 ' ' II Turco " was full of strange stories and adventures, 
 to which the credulous Spanish, ready to believe anything, 
 listened with the greatest earnestness. 
 
 He said there were great cities, and immense amounts of 
 
 * The name of Florida at that time was applied to all that tract of country 
 from Canada to the river Del Norte. 
 
32 STORIES OF THE 
 
 gold and silver in his country, and beyond their extensive 
 plains, over which roamed herds of cows so numerous that 
 they could not be counted. 
 
 Alvarado, upon this, determined to make a journey to 
 the buffalo country and take the slave with him as guide. 
 He was absent some time, saw a few buffalo and then retraced 
 his steps to Tiguex to report to Coronado, whom he supposed 
 must have reached there by that time. 
 
 While Alvarado was making this series of little excursions 
 from Tiguex, Coronado, who had started from Cibola, heard 
 through some friendly Indians of eight other towns, so he 
 determined to visit them on his march to Tiguex. 
 
 He selected thirty or forty of his most efficient soldiers, 
 and leaving the main command to journey on, he made a 
 detour in search of the reported eight cities. It appears that 
 in ten or eleven days he found them in a province called 
 Tutahaco but they did not compare even with the towns at 
 Cibola, those having been built of stone, these of earth only. 
 So diappointed, he set out for Tiguex.* 
 
 < 
 
 When Coronado reached Tiguex, he found Alvarado 
 already returned from the buffalo country, and was much 
 gratified by reports brought him by the Captain and " II Tur- 
 co," of that region. 
 
 Castenado says : "This Indian (the slave) told Coronado, 
 that in his country there was a river two leagues wide, in 
 which fish as large as horses were to be found; that there 
 
 * This portion of the journey is too ambiguous and I have severely let it alone. 
 
OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. 33 
 
 were canoes with twenty oarsmen on each side, which were 
 also propelled by sails ; that the lords of the land were seated 
 in the sterns upon a dais, while a large golden eagle was af- 
 fixed to their prows. He added that the Sovereign of this 
 region took his siesta beneath a huge tree to whose branches 
 golden bells were hung which were rung by the agitation of 
 the summer breeze." 
 
 He declared, morever, " that the commonest vessels were 
 of sculptured silver; that the bowls, plates and dishes were 
 of gold. He called gold acochis. He was believed because 
 he spoke with great assurance, and because when some trin- 
 kets of copper were shown him, he smelt them and said they 
 were not gold. He knew gold and silver well and made no 
 account of the other metals." 
 
 "The General sent Hernando d' Alvarado to Cicuye to 
 reclaim the golden bracelets which the ' Turk ' pretended to 
 have been taken from him when he was made prisoner. 
 When Alvarado arrived there the inhabitants received him 
 kindly, as they had done before, but they positively affirmed 
 that they had no knowledge of the bracelets, and they assured 
 him that the Turk was a great liar who deceived him." 
 
 "Alvarado seeing there was nothing else he could do, 
 lured the Chief, Bigotes, and the Cacique under his tent, and 
 caused them to be chained. 
 
 "The inhabitants reproached the Captain with being a 
 man without faith or friendship, and launched a shower of 
 arrows at him. Alvarado conducted these prisoners to 
 
34 STORIES OF THE 
 
 Tiguex, where the general retained them more than six 
 months." 
 
 Let us turn to the main command of Coronado, which 
 it will be remembered the General had left to make a detour. 
 
 It was sometime after Coronado had departed before the 
 army, agreeably to orders, commenced its march for Tiguex. 
 The command devolved upon Don Tristan d' Arellano, and 
 on the first day out they came to the largest village yet seen. 
 Here they camped, so well pleased were they with the sur- 
 roundings. 
 
 Castenado says of this village: " There they found 
 houses of seven stories, which was seen nowhere else. 
 These belonged to private individuals, and served as for- 
 tresses. They rose so far above the others that they have the 
 appearance of towers. There are embrasures and loop-holes, 
 from which lances may be thrown, and the place defended. 
 As all these villages have no streets, all the roofs are flat, and 
 common for all the inhabitants; it is therefore necessary to 
 take possession, first of all, of these large houses which serve 
 as defenses." 
 
 When the army arrived at Tiguex it was received with 
 demonstrations of welcome, and soon, like all soldiers, in 
 the rest and good living, forgot all its troubles in getting there. 
 
 But soon the Spaniards through their own foolishness, 
 commencing with that of Alvarado, just related, began to 
 meet with disaster on every hand. 
 
 The action of Alvarado threw the whole province into 
 
SANTA FE TRAIL. 35 
 
 revolt, and the Spaniards after burning one or two small 
 villages, and killing many of the inhabitants laid siege to 
 Tiguex, which they did not succeed in qapturing until after 
 fifty days. 
 
 All the villages, one after another submitted, but the 
 people left their homes and would not return to them while 
 the now and justly too hated Spaniards remained in the 
 country. 
 
 On the 5th of May, 1541, the earliest date at which the 
 Tiguex river (the Rio Grande) was clear of ice, Coronado 
 commenced his march for Quivira to look for gold and silver, 
 which "II Turco" had told them existed there in such large 
 quantities. The army marched by Cicuye, and a few days 
 after leaving the latter place they came to a river which was 
 wide and swift and crossed a range of mountains near it. 
 They called the river the Cicuye, and they were compelled 
 to remain in camp on its banks while they built a bridge. In 
 about two weeks after leaving this river, Coronado met the 
 first genuine Indians of the plains. Their lodges were made 
 of tanned cow (buffalo) skins, and they were called querech- 
 aos. It was here they saw their first buffalo, and the soldiers 
 and cavaliers killed great numbers of them. It seems that 
 after getting about nine hundred miles from Tiguex, the army 
 finding itself with but little provisions left, Coronado ordered 
 Don Tristan d' Arellano to fall back to Tiguex with the 
 whole army, excepting thirty mounted, and six dismounted 
 
36 STORIES OF THE 
 
 soldiers, whom Coronado took, and in command of this 
 handful of men continued his search for Quivira. 
 
 The historian says : "The guides conducted the general 
 to Quivira in forty-eight days, for they had traveled too much 
 in the direction of Florida. At Quivira they found neither gold 
 nor silver, and learning, from the Turk that he had at the 
 instance of the people of Cicuye purposely decoyed the army 
 far into the plains to kill the horses, and thus make the men 
 helpless, and fall an easy prey to the natives, and that all he 
 said about the great quantity of silver and gold to be found 
 was false, they strangled him." 
 
 "The Indians of this region, so far from having large 
 quantities of gold and silver, did not know these metals. 
 The Cacique wore on his breast a copper plate, of which he 
 made a great parade, which he would not have done had he 
 known anything about these precious metals." 
 
 The following quaint description .is given of the Great 
 Plains over which the exhausted Spaniards wandered after 
 the treachery of II Turco, and they were obliged to retrace 
 their march to Tiguex half famished.* "From Cicuye they 
 went to Quivira, which, after their account is almost three 
 hundred leagues distant, through mighty plains, and sandy 
 heaths so smooth and wearisome, and bare of wood that they 
 made heaps of ox-dung, for want of stones and trees, that 
 they might not lose themselves at their return : for three 
 
 Hakluyt's Voyages, Vol. III. London 1600. 
 
OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. 37 
 
 horses were lost on that plain, and one Spaniard which went 
 from his company on hunting. 
 
 ' ' All that way of plains are as full of crooked-back oxen, 
 as the mountain Serrena in Spain is of sheep, but there is no 
 such people as keep those cattle. 
 
 "They were a great succor for the hungry and want of 
 bread which our people stood in need of. 
 
 " One day it rained in that plain a great shower of hail, 
 as big as oranges, which caused' many tears, weakness and 
 bowes. 
 
 lt Quivira is in forty degrees, it is a temperate country, 
 and hath very good waters and much grass, plums, mulber- 
 ries, nuts, melons and grapes, which ripen very well. 
 
 "There is no cotton, and the natives of that country ap- 
 parel themselves with ox-hides and deer skins. 
 
 "Many of our people sought to have dwelt there, but 
 Coronado would not consent, saying they could not maintain, 
 nor defend themselves in so poor a country, and so far from 
 succor. 
 
 " They traveled about nine hundred leagues in this coun- 
 try. All the way between Cicuye and Quivira is a vast plain 
 without trees and stones, and hath but few and small towns. 
 
 " The men clothe themselves with leather, and the wo- 
 men, which are esteemed for their long locks, cover their 
 heads with the same. 
 
 " They have no bread or any kind of grain, as they say, 
 which I accounted a very great matter. 
 
38 STORIES OF 
 
 "Their chief food is flesh, and that oftentimes they eat 
 raw, either of custom or for lack of wood. They eat the 
 fat as they take it out of the ox, and drink the blood hot,* and 
 do not die withal, though the ancient writers say that it killeth, 
 as Empedocles and others affirmed. They drink it also cold 
 dissolved in water. 
 
 " They seethe not the flesh for lack of pots, but roast it, 
 or to say more properly, warm it at a fire of ox-dung ; when 
 they chaw their meat but little, and raven up much, and hold- 
 ing the flesh with their teeth, they cut with razors of stone 
 which seemeth to be great bestiality; but such is their man- 
 ner of living and fashion. 
 
 ''They go together in companies, and move from one 
 place to another, as the wild Moores of Barbary called 
 Alarbes do, following the seasons and the pastures after 
 their oxen. 
 
 ' ' These oxen are of the bigness and color of our bulls, but 
 their bones are not so great. They have a great bunch upon 
 their fore-shoulder, and more hair on their fore part than on 
 their hinder part, and it is like wool. They have as it were 
 an horse-mane upon their backbone, and much hair and very 
 long from their knees downward. 
 
 " They have great tufts of hair hanging down their fore- 
 heads, and it seemeth they have beards because of the great 
 store of hair hanging down at their chins and throats. 
 
 * I have seen the Cheyennes eat the hot and quivering liver and fat torn from 
 a freshly killed antelope when on a hunting party. H. I. 
 
OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. 39 
 
 11 The males have very long tails, and a great knob or 
 flock at the end, so that in some respects they resemble the 
 lion, and in some other the camel. 
 
 "They push with their horns, they run, they overtake 
 and kill an horse when they are in their rage and anger. 
 
 "Finally it is a foul and fierce beast of countenance and 
 form of body. 
 
 " The horses fled from them, either because of their de- 
 formed shape, or else because they had never before seen 
 them. 
 
 ' ' Their masters have no other riches nor substance ; of 
 them they eat, they drink, they apparel, they shoe themselves, 
 and of their hides they make many things, as houses, shoes, 
 and apparel and ropes ; of their bones they make bodkins, of 
 their sinews and hair, thread; of their horns, mawes and 
 bladders, vessels ; of their dung, fire, and of their calves 
 skins, budgets, wherein they draw and keep water. To be 
 short, they make as many things of them as they have need 
 of, or as many as suffice them in the use of this life. 
 
 "There are also in this country other beastes as big as 
 horses, which because they have horns and fine wooll they are 
 called sheep ; and they say that every home of them weigheth 
 fifty pounds weight.* 
 
 "There are also great many dogs which will fight with a 
 bull, and will carry fifty pounds weight in sacks when they 
 
 *This " beaste " is evidently the " Big Horn" of the Rocky Mountains, but 
 the historian looked upon the animal with exaggerated optics. H. I. 
 
40 STORIES OF THE 
 
 go hunting, or when they remove from place to place with 
 their flocks and herds." 
 
 We will now follow the fortunes of the main army for a 
 short time, which, it will be remembered, was sent back to 
 Tiguex under Don Tristan d' Arellano, by the order of Coro- 
 nado, on account of the scarcity of provisions. 
 
 The army was guided on its retreat to Tiguex by some 
 natives who called themselves Teyans, and who promised to 
 take them by a less circuitous route than the one they came. 
 The historian thus relates the manner in which these Teyans 
 guided the column : "Every morning they watched to note 
 where the sun rose, and directed their way by shooting an ar- 
 row in advance, and then before reaching this arrow they dis- 
 charged another ; in this way they marked the whole of the 
 route to the spot where water was to be found, and where they 
 encamped. 
 
 "The army consumed only twenty-five days on their 
 journey, and even then much time was lost. The first time 
 it had taken thirty-seven days." 
 
 "On the road they passed a great number of salt marshes 
 where there was a considerable quantity of salt. Pieces 
 longer than tables and four or five inches thick were seen 
 floating on the surface. On the plains they found an im- 
 mense number of small animals resembling squirrels, and 
 numerous holes burrowed by them in the earth." 
 
 Arellano arrived at Tiguex in July, 1541, and sent out 
 
OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. 41 
 
 another expedition under Captain Francisco de Barrio-Nuevo 
 to ascend the river (Rio Grande). 
 
 On their march they found a large village which the in- 
 habitants called Braba, but which the Spaniards re-christened 
 Valladolid. "It was built on the two banks of the river which 
 was crossed by bridges built with nicely squared timber." 
 
 Still another expedition was sent by Arellano south from 
 Tiguex, for about three hundred miles, where they found four 
 .more villages, and " reached a place where the river plunged 
 beneath the ground; but, inasmuch as their orders confined 
 them to a distance of eighty leagues, they did not push on to 
 the place where, according to the Indians' accounts, this 
 stream escapes again from the earth with considerable aug- 
 mented volume." 
 
 Meanwhile, Don Tristan d'Arellano became alarmed for 
 the safety of Coronado who should have returned by this 
 time according to his express declarations, so the Don set out 
 in search of him in person, taking with him forty of his cav- 
 aliers. When he reached Cicuye, the Indians rushed out 
 and attacked him, in which skirmish he lost some men, and 
 was delayed a week. Just as he was ready to move forward 
 again, some of the natives, who had just returned from a 
 hunting expedition, told him that Coronado was coming, 
 and he remained in camp, holding the Indians at bay until 
 the general arrived, after which they all went back to Tiguex. 
 
 When Coronado reached Tiguex, he put the whole com- 
 
42 STORIES OF THE 
 
 mand which was now together once more into winter 
 quarters. 
 
 ' ' When winter was over Coronado ordered the prepara- 
 tion to be made for the march to Quivira. Every one then 
 began to make his arrangements, nevertheless, as it often 
 happens in the Indies, things did not turn out as people in- 
 tended, but as God pleased. One day of festival the general 
 went forth on horse-back, as was his custom, to run at the 
 ring with Don Pedro Maldonado. He was mounted on an 
 excellent horse, but his valets having changed the girth of his 
 saddle, and having taken a rotten one, it broke in mid-course, 
 and the rider unfortunately fell near Don Pedro, whose horse 
 was in full career, and in springing over his body, kicked him 
 in the head, thus inflicting an injury which kept him a long 
 time in bed and placed him within two fingers of death. 
 
 " The result of this was that, being of a superstitious 
 nature, and having been foretold by a certain mathematician 
 of Salamanca, who was his friend, that he should one day 
 find himself the omnipotent lord of a distant country, but 
 that he should have a fall that would cause his death, he was 
 very anxious to hasten home and die near his wife and chil- 
 dren." 
 
 This so worked upon Coronada, says the historian, that 
 he feigned to be more ill than he really was, and he thus 
 worked upon the army as to induce them to petition him to 
 return to New Spain. They began openly to declare that, 
 
OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. 43 
 
 inasmuch as there had been no rich country discovered, it 
 was better to abandon any further search. 
 
 Coronado, upon the development of this spirit among 
 his soldiers, which he himself had mainly brought about, 
 turned his line of march to Mexico, passing through Cibola 
 and other places on his journey out. 
 
 Coronado met with some resistance, and had many of 
 his men and horses killed on the route. 
 
 On his arrival in the City of Mexico, he was received 
 with ill-grace by the Viceroy, says the historian, but, never- 
 theless, he received his discharge, yet he lost his reputation, 
 and soon after his government of New Galicia also. 
 
 Thus ended the great expedition which was fruitless in its 
 search for Quivira or for gold. 
 
 Now, let us determine, if possible, the route of Coronado, 
 and what points on the Great Plains we can, with some degree 
 of reason, declare he visited. 
 
 Civola, or Cibola is the name by which the Mexicans 
 designate the buffalo or bison. 
 
 It is defined in Newman's Dictionary Cibola or Civola, a 
 quadruped called the Mexican bull. It seems to have had 
 that name in Mexico before the conquest of Cortez, and that a 
 skeleton of one was among Montezuma's collection of curi- 
 osities. But there were none within eight hundred miles of 
 the boundary of the Mexican civilization. 
 
 At all events Cibola or Civola meant the buffalo country, 
 and it is quite possible that the place now known as Quivira, 
 
44 STORIES OF THE 
 
 was the true Quivira of the Indians at the time of Coronado's 
 march. But whether deceived by the treacherous Indian 
 guide whom they strangled, as related or having misunder- 
 stood what the Indian meant, the Spaniards gave the name 
 of Quivira to an imaginary country situated far north and 
 reported abounding in gold, and which Coronado visited. 
 
 Starting with the march from Tiguex, the first important 
 place was Cicuye. 
 
 The historian says : ' ' After a journey of five days from 
 Tiguex, Alvarado arrived at Cicuye a very well fortified vil- 
 lage, the houses of which are four stories high" * * * 
 Cicuye is built in a narrow valley in the midst of mountains 
 covered with pines. It is traversed by a small stream, in 
 which we caught some excellent trout." 
 
 Mr. E. S. Squier, Mr. Kern, and Col. Simpson have 
 determined the ruins of Pecos on the Rio Pecos to be the 
 Cicuye of Coronado.* They are " situated in a narrow val- 
 ley in the midst of pines, and. the site is traversed by a small 
 silvery stream in which can be found some excellent trout," 
 says the historian. 
 
 I well remember now nearly fifteen years ago, I gazed 
 with strange feelings the first time upon the ruins of Pecos. It 
 was early morning in October, and the wind blew delicious 
 
 *The ruins on the Rio Pecos have been visited by the writer a dozen times or 
 more, and each time the proof accumulates that here was located the Cicuye of 
 Coronado, and not at Santa Fe, as some here declare. The records of the 
 Catholic church, and the priests themselves indorse it, but still it will remain an 
 open question I suppose. H. I. 
 
OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. 45 
 
 and crisp from the tops of the silvery pines piled up in 
 the rocky canons on either side. I remember how my 
 thoughts wandered back in the shadowy past, when the dead 
 and forgotten civilization now in ashes under my feet was 
 busy with the music of life. I fancied I could almost see 
 the little band of determined Spaniards on their strange 
 march over the rugged hills, and as I pulled off pieces of 
 the blue fresco from the walls of the old church it seemed 
 as fresh as if painted yesterday instead of nearly four hun- 
 dred years ago, while the town itself ante-dates the church at 
 least a thousand years. 
 
 The rudely carved beams here and there sticking out 
 from detached portions of the ruin were as sound as if cut 
 that morning from among the towering pines all around me. 
 I thought too of Coronado and his "excellent trout" as I 
 sat down to breakfast on half a dozen just pulled from the 
 water in the old adobe ranch of Kosloskie, the generous 
 Pole, who has lived on that classic spot for a quarter of a 
 century. If any who have ever traveled from Fort Union 
 to Santa Fe within the last twenty years should see these 
 lines, they will recall the wild scenery, and particularly the 
 magnificent trout, always to be found at every meal in the 
 old ranch on the Pecos. 
 
 I have not deemed it advisable to enter into a discussion 
 of the exact locality of all the places visited by Coronado 
 and his adventurous little army, because of the space it 
 would require to do the subject justice, and because of the 
 
46 STORIES OF THE 
 
 more ^important fact that they lie beyond the geographical 
 area of our state, and are not germane really to the design of 
 this sketch the march of Coronado into Kansas. There- 
 fore, however interesting it may be, and really is, to the stu- 
 dent of history, the story of the march will be limited to 
 Kansas, and the territory immediately contiguous. 
 
 Quivira, " the last place visited by Coronado," says the 
 historian. Where was Quivira? has been a fruitful source of 
 discussion among geographers for the past half century. 
 
 "Coronado appears to have proceeded as far north as 
 near the fortieth degree of latitude, in search of Quivira," 
 says Mr. Gallatin. 
 
 Colonel Simpson, an excellent authority, says : "Now it 
 is something singular, so far as I have been able to investi- 
 gate, there is no such place as Quivira laid down on the old 
 maps in the locality where modern maps show it namely in 
 latitude thirty-four, longitude one hundred and six; but there 
 is a place of that name laid down on the maps in about lati- 
 tude forty, as far as Coronado located it. I am, therefore, 
 inclined to believe that at the time of Coronado' s expedition 
 the former Quivira did not exist. At all events, it is scarcely 
 credible that such a remarkable city as Quivira was repre- 
 sented to be, so full of gold, etc., situated as it was, only 
 about fifty miles from Tiguex, the headquarters of Corona- 
 do's army, and which might have been reached in two days, 
 could have been kept from the knowledge and observation 
 
OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. 47 
 
 of the army for about a year and a half, during all the time 
 that a portion of it was stationed at that place." 
 
 Gregg in commenting on the antiquity of the Quivira 
 as laid down in the modern maps latitude thirty-four 
 says : "By some persons these ruins have been supposed to 
 be the remains of an ancient Pueblo or the Aboriginal City. 
 That is not probable however, for the relics of aboriginal 
 temples might possibly be mistaken for these Catholic 
 churches, yet is it not perceived that the Spanish Coat of Arms 
 would be found sculptured and painted on their facades, as 
 is the case in more than one instance ?" 
 
 Coronado says : ' ' The province of Quivira is nine hun- 
 dred and fifty leagues * * from Mexico. The place I have 
 reached is the fortieth degree of latitude. The earth is the 
 best possible for all kinds of productions of Spain, for while 
 it is very strong and black, it is well watered by brooks, 
 springs and rivers. I found prunes like those of Spain, 
 some of which were black, also some excellent grapes and 
 mulberries. Following the orders of your majesty I have 
 observed the best possible treatment toward the natives of 
 this province, and of all others that I have traversed. 
 
 " They have nothing to complain of me or my people. 
 I sojourned twenty-five days, in the province of Quivira, as 
 much as to thorougly explore the country as to see if I could 
 not find some further occasion to serve your majesty, for the 
 guides whom I have brought with me have spoken of prov- 
 inces still further on. That which I have been able to learn 
 
48 STORIES OF THE 
 
 is, that in all this country one can find neither gold nor any 
 other metal. They spoke to me of small villages, whose 
 inhabitants for the most part did not cultivate the soil. They 
 have huts of hides and of willows, and change their places 
 of abode with the vaches (buffaloes). The tale they told me 
 then (that Quivira was a city abounding in gold) was false. 
 In inducing me to part with all my army to come to this 
 country, the Indians thought that the country being desert and 
 without water, they would conduct us where our horses and 
 ourselves would die of hunger ; that is what the guides have 
 confessed. They told me that they had acted by the advice 
 of the natives of these countries." 
 
 Jaramillo who was one of the few selected by Coronado 
 to accompany him on his long march to Quivira says : 
 
 11 This country has a superb appearance, and such that I 
 have not seen better in all Spain, neither in Italy, nor France, 
 nor in any other country where I have been in the service of 
 your majesty. It is not a country of mountains ; there are 
 only some hills, some plains, and some streams of very fine 
 water. It satisfies me completely. I presume that it is very 
 fertile and favorable for the cultivation of all kinds of fruits.'' 
 
 Castenado says : " It is in this country that the Espiritu 
 Sancto,* which Don Ferdinand de Soto discovered in Florida 
 takes its source." 
 
 "The course of this river is so long, and it receives so 
 marif affluents, that it is of prodigious length to where it de- 
 
 * The Mississippi. 
 
OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. 49 
 
 bouches into the sea, and its fresh waters extend far out after 
 you have lost sight of the land." 
 
 Coronado writes of another large river with a smaller one 
 flowing into it. He called these the Saint Peter and Saint 
 Paul. 
 
 I am inclined to believe that these two rivers were the 
 Arkansas, and the Little Arkansas. 
 
 He also speaks of viewing a large river called the " Teu- 
 carea." 
 
 This was the Missouri, and he gazed upon it in all prob- 
 ability from the spot on which Atchison now stands but of 
 this further on. 
 
 Taking into consideration the fact that New Mexico is 
 mountainous, and that Coronado could only have met with 
 such a region as he discovers its richness and blackness of 
 soil, the various fruits which he says grew spontaneously on 
 the Great Plains, there can no longer be any doubt of the 
 route of his march-. 
 
 How familiar it sounds "Mighty plains and sandy 
 heaths so smooth and wearisome " a perfect description of 
 the mighty stretch of country from the foot of the mountains 
 eastward. 
 
 His route was beyond doubt in a northeasterly direction 
 from. Cicuye (Pecos), and after reaching the vicinity of the 
 thirty-seventh parallel, turned nearly due east, and marched 
 constantly south of the Arkansas until he arrived at the junc- 
 tion of the Arkansas and the Little Arkansas where Wichita 
 6 
 
50 STORIES OF THE 
 
 now stands. Taking into consideration the probable error of 
 his instruments, he certainly crossed between Hutchinson and 
 Wichita. 
 
 He speaks of the two rivers which he called Saint Paul 
 and Saint Peter, and could not have known of the existence 
 of the Little Arkansas if he had crossed below it. 
 
 Take a map and fold it, so that a line is drawn from the 
 thirty-seventh parallel of latitude (where it intersects the one 
 hundred and third meridian of longitude*) and the plicature 
 will pass directly through the extensive salt plains of the Cim- 
 arron, and cut the Arkansas at Wichita ; this was undoubt- 
 edly the line of Coronado's march, and the mouth of the 
 Little Arkansas was the point of separation from the main 
 army, for it will be remembered that about thirty-seven days 
 eastward from Tiguex, the provisions failing, the major por- 
 tion of the command were obliged to retreat toward the 
 latter place, while Coronado with a select number only thirty- 
 six or forty in all of his cavaliers, continued their journey 
 toward the north still in search of the mythical Quivira 
 the " land abounding in gold and other precious metals." 
 
 Let us fancy the shadow on the sun-dial of the ages moved 
 backward for nearly four hundred years, and ourselves stand- 
 ing on the bank of the beautiful " Little River" where it 
 gurgles and splashes over the rounded pebbles, as it pours 
 out its contribution of sweet water to that " silent stream." 
 whose sand-reaches, and dark eddies constantly pick up more 
 
 *From Greenwich. 
 
OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. 51 
 
 and more of the infiltrated rain drops on its restless way to 
 the sea. 
 
 Under the leafiest of the grand old cottonwoods which 
 fringed its grassy border for there were gnarled and tempest 
 riven old cottonwoods in those days of the shadowy past re- 
 clined on the velvety sod, with a score or more of Spain's 
 proudest nobles around him, Coronado the man of visions ; 
 the pursuer of a phantom ; the dreamer building his hopes 
 out of such stuff as nightmares are created. 
 
 His thoughts, perhaps, wandered back to the splendor of 
 that court which gave new worlds to men like him, and as 
 the soft spring breeze from the south toyed with his dark 
 curls, ambition was still at work beneath, leading him on, till 
 it should overleap itself and crush him with the remorseless- 
 ness of a demon. 
 
 Listlessly, with the mutterings of mutiny only half choked 
 down, in little groups all around him on the fresh sod, sat the 
 rank and file of his adventurous band. 
 
 The blue and white anemones in the beauty of their un- 
 folding, reflected the gorgeous tint above them, but had no 
 charms for the half-starved and awe-stricken soldiers who had 
 been deceived by the treacherous guides, and lured into the 
 wilderness that there perhaps they might find their death. 
 
 With fear and trembling they gazed upon the magnifi- 
 cent picture before them, but its gorgeous colors were black 
 to them, and like " Dead Sea fruit," all they touched was 
 only ashes to their mental lips. 
 
52 STORIES OF THE 
 
 Coronado held a council with his nobles, and it was 
 deemed wise that most of them should go back, as bootless 
 of results as when they started. 
 
 With heavy heart he listened to the counsels of his cava- 
 liers, and reluctantly issued the order which, in a measure at 
 least, dashed the cup of his ambition to the ground and shat- 
 tered it into a thousand fragments. 
 
 The next morning after the deliberations under the cot- 
 tonwood, his army was drawn up in line, and he made them 
 a strong appeal to remain faithful to the awful oath they had 
 taken at Compostella, and bade them farewell; then, as all 
 but his few picked friends, who had chosen to follow the for- 
 tunes of their commander still further into the wilderness, 
 slowly wound their way through the fringe of timber west- 
 ward, he mounted his black charger, and with an imperious 
 wave of his hand to the north, started in that direction, still 
 seeking the Alnaschar of his dreams. 
 
 Returning to the outward march of the command from 
 Tiguex, and before they reached the point of separation as 
 I believe the mouth of the Little Arkansas, as stated it will 
 be remembered the historian says : "On the road they passed 
 a great number of salt marshes, where there was a considera- 
 ble quantity of salt." 
 
 These salt ponds or marshes are only to be found in the 
 region of country between the Arkansas and the Canadian, 
 through which the plicatures in our folded map pass. I do not 
 mean that the route is directly east from the intersection of 
 
OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. 53 
 
 the thirty-seventh parallel with the one hundred and third 
 meridian, but that the trail of Coronado has an eastern trend 
 from that point, and passing through the salt marshes of the 
 Cimarron, terminates at Wichita, or he could not have seen 
 the two rivers as the historian relates he did, at any other 
 point. If he passed below to the east of Wichita he would 
 have missed the Little Arkansas completely, and if he cross- 
 ed the Arkansas proper, west of the junction of the two rivers, 
 he c^uld only have crossed the Little Arkansas where it is an 
 inconsiderable stream, not worthy the dignity of the name of 
 St. Paul. 
 
 Coronado crossed the Kaw, I am inclined to believe, a 
 short distance east of the ninety-seventh meridian of longi- 
 tude, or near where Abilene is now located. 
 
 From thence he went to the high bluffs overlooking the 
 city of Atchison, and gazed upon the "great river" "Teuca- 
 rea" the Missouri. 
 
 The most exalted spot overlooking the river at this point 
 is where the residence of our distinguished Senator, Hon. J. 
 J. Ingalls stands, and it is not improbable the beautiful vista 
 which presents itself from the windows of that modest, but 
 cultivated home, greeted Coronado's eyes, nearly four hun- 
 dred years ago. 
 
 There upon the rugged cliffs above Atchison, the dream 
 of Coronado came to an end, and bitter must have been the 
 disappointment, and terrible the wreck of his ambition, as he 
 gazed upon the muddy flood at his feet. 
 
54 STORIES OF THE 
 
 The province of Quivira the mythical Quivira, so far 
 as it was a land "abounding in gold and other precious met- 
 als," extended from the thirty-ninth to the forty-first degree 
 of latitude north and south, and from the ninety-fifth to the 
 ninety-seventh degree of longitude, east and west. This was 
 about its geographical area, according to the old maps, but 
 Coronado did not go beyond where Atchison now stands, or 
 about half way between its northern and southern limit. 
 
 There, as he gazed upon the turbulent Missouri the 
 Teucarea of the Indians he saw that it was useless to pro- 
 ceed further toward the north. 
 
 The interminable woods stretching out before him had 
 their legends of horror, and his naturally superstitious mind, 
 already surfeited with terrible experiences, and confidence 
 in his guides completely lost, there was nothing left for him 
 to do but to return to Mexico baffled, defeated and crushed 
 with disappointments. 
 
 It is difficult to trace with accuracy the whole of the re- 
 turn march of Coronado, in consequence of the obscurity of 
 the narrative and appellations of localities, which if they ever 
 had a veritable existence, have been lost in tradition during 
 the long interval of time since the date of that memorable ex- 
 pedition. 
 
 Whether he returned to the "point of separation" the 
 mouth of the Little Arkansas or followed the tortuous line 
 of the Kaw, and thence westward through the bluffs of the 
 Smoky-Hill to some locality where he suddenly turned to the 
 
LD SANTA FE TRAIL. 55 
 
 south, (which theory I adopt) must apparently remain ajnys- 
 tery, unless in time to come, some now lost, and musty old 
 record, shall be discovered that will offer a solution to the 
 problem. 
 
 We can, therefore, only speculate, and base our conclu- 
 sions upon the meager facts attainable, and depend almost 
 entirely upon presumptive evidence to make out a route, 
 which at best, is only mere guess work, until we find him 
 again south of the Arkansas, and near the mountains. 
 
 My reason for thus defining the probable return march of 
 Coronado, are based upon the fact, that on Big Creek in El- 
 lis county, there is a huge mass of detached rock, on which 
 as late as 1869, could be discovered a series of rude carvings, 
 among which was the Spanish Coat of Arms, the Spanish 
 flag and a date, which though almost illegible, the figures 
 fifteen for the century could be still traced, but the year 
 had become obliterated. The names cut under the flag were 
 illegible beyond hope of deciphering, as was all the other 
 chiseling evidently connected with the whole legend. 
 
 I am inclined to believe that Coronado reached his max- 
 imum northern point at about where Atchison now stands, 
 and that from thence he followed the Missouri south, until he 
 reached the mouth of the Kaw, where he turned abruptly 
 and marched along its northern bank, until he came to the 
 Solomon or North Fork of the Smoky-Hill. 
 
 He then crossed that stream and the Saline, continuing 
 along the north bank of the Smoky Hill until Big Creek was 
 
56 STORIES OF THE 
 
 reached, from whence he turned abruptly south and crossed 
 the Arkansas between Kinsley and where the new town of 
 Cimarron, in Ford county, is now located. 
 
 I am not aware whether the rock on Big Creek is in ex- 
 istence to-day or not, or if it is, whether the rude carving 
 referred to is longer legible. Neither can it be determined 
 with any degree of certainty, whether the names and date 
 which could be seen as late as I have stated, were those of 
 Coronado' s little band. We have to accept it as mere pre- 
 sumptive evidence, coupled with the idea that Coronado 
 would hardly choose to return by the same route he had fol- 
 lowed on his outward march. 
 
 If he actually marched over the route I have described, 
 and believe probable, I deduce the idea, that on his arrival at 
 Big Creek he turned abruptly toward the south or rather south- 
 west, from the fact that where Ellsworth in Ellsworth county 
 is located, the Smoky Hill reaches its most southern latitude 
 from that point it gradually trends to the northwest, anj 
 that Coronado observing this (by the use of his instruments) 
 made a tangent with it of his line of march, because he saw 
 it (the trend of the river) was leading him away from the true 
 course he desired to take. 
 
 It was perfectly natural too, that at the point of leaving 
 his course he should leave some evidence of the fact, and 
 more probable that this evidence should be his name, the 
 names of the most prominent of his followers, and the flag 
 under which he served, cut on the enduring rock. 
 
OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. 57 
 
 That this was the habit of Coronado and all the early 
 Spanish explorers, we have only to refer to their routes 
 through Mexico, Arizona and New Mexico, where when- 
 ever a surface of wall presented itself, there, we find a record 
 of the march and its date cut in hard rock. 
 
 Coronado evidently moved in a south-westerly direction 
 from his place of departure on the Smoky Hill, for we know 
 that he crossed his outward trail south of the Arkansas, and 
 his objective point (Tiguex) lying in the prolongation of that 
 line, he could have taken no other course. 
 
 His route passed near the Antelope hills (in Texas) a lit- 
 tle west of which he crossed the Canadian, and thence south- 
 westerly to the Pecos, which he crossed, and marched north- 
 westerly to Cicuye (now the ruins of Pecos) heretofore de- 
 scribed where we will leave him. 
 
 Thus it appears Coronado traversed the State of Kansas, 
 diagonally, twice in going out, and returning from Quivira, 
 and that he followed for a long distance, the course of what 
 in after years was known as the " Santa Fe trail," and was 
 therefore the first white man who traveled that great and his- 
 toric highway. 
 
 He and his little band of cavaliers have made many 
 localities classic ground, yet strange as it may seem, none 
 have seen fit to do his memory honor. 
 
 An attempt was made some years since by Geo. W. 
 Martin, I believe, to change the name of Davis county to 
 that of Coronado. 
 
58 STORIES OF THE 
 
 The explorations of Coronado extended over two years, 
 and must be regarded as one of the grandest expeditions of 
 modern times. 
 
 Although fruitless in results so far as beneficial discover- 
 ies were concerned, it convinces us of the indomitable and 
 unconquerable spirit of conquest by which the Spaniards 
 were imbued, and places them at that period of the world at 
 the head of all nations in intelligence and power. 
 
 It would be interesting to follow the fortunes of that 
 other expedition up the sea-coast, which was part in reality 
 of Coronado's, but, we have refrained for all but a mere al- 
 lusion to it, because it is not within the province of . what was 
 intended in this sketch. 
 
 In conclusion, I shall give the historian's idea of the ori- 
 gin of the people whom they met on their route through New 
 Mexico, to show how crude the opinion extant at that time 
 was of the geography of the continent : 
 
 " These nations, which are so entirely different from 
 those of all the other nations we have found up to the present 
 time, must have come from the region west of the Great India, 
 where its coasts, touch those of this country on the west. 
 
 " According to the route they followed they must have 
 come from the extremity of the Eastern India, and from a 
 very unknown region, which, according to the information of 
 the coast, would be situated far in the interior of the land be- 
 twixt China and Norway. There must, in fact, be an im- 
 mense distance from one sea to the other, according to the 
 
OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. 
 
 59 
 
 form of the coast as it has been discovered by Captain Villal- 
 obos, who took that direction in seeking for China. The 
 same occurs when we follow the coast of Florida ; it always 
 approaches Norway up to the point where the country ' des 
 baccalaos,' or codfish is obtained." 
 
60 STORIES OF THE 
 
 THE LEGEND OF TEPEYACAC. 
 
 The 1 2th of December is remarkable in the religious 
 calendar of New Mexico as the anniversary of a miraculous 
 visit of the Virgin to an uneducated and simple Indian, who 
 comes down to us on the pages of history as Juan Diego a 
 hero in every sense of the word, according to the estimate 
 placed upon him by the thousands and tens of thousands who 
 in the long centuries that have passed have worshiped at the 
 shrine, his story and the wonderful confirmatory proof that 
 accompanied it, he left them as a precious legacy. 
 
 That Juan Diego was the recipient of a veritable visit 
 from the Virgin, is as earnestly and honestly believed in by 
 the Catholic world of both Old and New Mexico as the most 
 simple and plausible tenet of their church, and it would be as 
 presumptuous to discredit it as to doubt the existence of the 
 Virgin herself. 
 
 The legend boasts of considerable antiquity ; dating back 
 to a certain Saturday, December pth, 1531, only a short 
 period after the City of Mexico had been selected as the resi- 
 dence of that first Bishop (Senior Don Francisco de'Zumar- 
 raga) who emulating Alexander, destroyed in the same man- 
 ner, the invaluable archives of the country he presided over 
 with the title of "Protector of the Indians" in addition to 
 
OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. 61 
 
 that of his apostolic one. Juan Diego was well deserving the 
 honors conferred upon him by one of the holy family, if we 
 are to accept the ingredients of character accorded to him ; for 
 he is represented as ''recently converted, of pure and un- 
 blemished morals, though of lowly birth." 
 
 It was early morning, and the scarped side of Tepeya- 
 cac * reflected the golden sunlight as it streamed in rich floods 
 across the dark valley still hushed in the gloomy shadow of 
 Popocatapetl, but around whose icy summit played a most 
 gorgeous iridescence as the rays glinted from crag to pinnacle. 
 Juan Diego deeply impressed with the importance of his re- 
 ligious obligations, had long since risen from his humble bed, 
 and was well on his way to attend the celebration of the 
 mass which the monks of his district directed daily at that 
 early hour, and had just reached the summit of the little 
 path that ran over Tepeyacac when his meditations were in- 
 terrupted by " a sweet, sonorous and harmonious music, as 
 of little birds." The soft strains and rare melody he could 
 not resist, and looking about him to divine the cause of the 
 heavenly concert, ''he saw a^ white and shining cloud sur- 
 rounded by arainbow, and in its center a most beautiful lady." 
 Almost prostrated at the enchanting vision before him he 
 
 "Tepeyacac is a small mountain whose southern side is an inaccessable 
 precipice, which looks to the City of Mexico, situated on the south of it at the dis- 
 tance of about three miles. Its ascent by whatever part undertaken, except that 
 of the pathways mad* to facilitate the access, is extremely rough and stony. Its 
 whole surface is covered with crowfeet, buck and hawthorn, which are common to 
 such sterile wastes. The Astec name, Tepeyacac, signifies the abrupt extremity 
 or termination of hills ; and in this bluff terminate all the hills to the north of the 
 Capital. Mayer, Vol. I. 
 
 7 
 
62 STOXIES OF THE 
 
 dared not gaze upon it until he was assured by a soft and 
 beautiful voice, addressing him in his own language " not to 
 be afraid," that she who was conversing with him was " the 
 Virgin Mary, the mother of God," whose mass he was on his 
 way to hear. "She commanded him to -go to the Bishop 
 and tell him that it was her will that a temple should be built 
 to her upon that spot, in which she would show herself a pious 
 mother toward him, his nation, devotees, and as many as 
 should solicit her support and protection in their hour of need" 
 Juan .listened earnestly in an attitude of profound devotion, 
 and crossing himself was about to leave the sacred spot when 
 the lovely apparition motioned him to stop and hear all she 
 had to say; continuing the lady said: "Be sure, my son, 
 for whom I feel a delicate and tender love, that I will repay 
 all you do for me; I will render you famous; and will endow 
 you with benefits for the diligence and labor you display. 
 Now, my servant, in whom I delight, thou hast heard my de- 
 sire, go thou in peace." 
 
 Juan intoxicated with the rapturous vision he had witness- 
 ed, forgetting, or rather delayed beyond the hour to say his mat- 
 ins at the little church, for which he started out on his early 
 journey, immediately wended his way over the mountain and 
 down into the valley where he struck the broad highway lead- 
 ing into the city, nor did he stop again until he reached the 
 palace gate, within which resided the venerable and illustrious 
 archbishop, and with whom he immediately craved an inter- 
 view. 
 
OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. 63 
 
 After a few moments parleying with the servants, who 
 were loth to disturb their master at that early hour, the prelate 
 who was in his study, hearing the commotion outside, himself 
 came forth, and being importuned by Juan, who was invited 
 by the archbishop to enter the palace, when Juan, all excite- 
 ment, poured forth his strange story. The worthy man was 
 both incredulous and startled, as Juan related all the marvel- 
 ous things he had seen, and repeated with emphasis the mis- 
 sion the wonderful apparition had delegated to him. The 
 bishop attempted to reason with him upon the possibility of 
 what he alleged to have seen, which might only have been a 
 creation of his brain, induced by the holy thoughts that filled 
 his mind, while on his way to his morning devotion, but upon 
 Juan's insisting that what had appeared >was as tangible as the 
 presence of the holy father before him, the latter urged him 
 to return to his home, and he would consider what it was 
 best for one to do who had been so favored above all men, 
 and that at some future day, after meditation and prayer upon 
 the subject, he would farther advise him. 
 
 Juan submissive, but not altogether inclined to act strictly 
 according to the injunctions of the bishop, and with the im- 
 pressions of his remarkable adventure of a few hours before 
 not by any means effaced from his memory, instead of repair- 
 ing to his own home, as he had been enjoined,. found himself 
 irresistibly drawn toward the little mountain, and to the spot 
 where his eyes had feasted upon the lovely picture. He was 
 not surprised to find the Most Holy Virgin in the same place 
 
64 STORIES OF THE 
 
 where he had first seen her, and apparently waiting his com- 
 ing. Kneeling reverently before her, and in most submissive 
 language, he told her of his visit to the bishop, and all that 
 had transpired at the interview with that righteous man, and 
 urging that it were better if she would delegate her wishes to 
 some not so lowly and humble as he, feared he would not be 
 credited with truthfulness, "because he was an humble man 
 and a plebeian." The Virgin regarding him with the greatest 
 benignity, and smiling upon him in the most heavenly man- 
 ner, replied : " To me neither servants nor followers whom 
 to send are wanting if I should wish, since I have multitudes 
 at my command ; but it is agreeable to me now that thou 
 shouldst perform this mission and make the solicitation. 
 Through your intervention I wish to give effect to my will, 
 and desire you to speak again with the bishop, and tell him 
 he must build a temple in honor of me on this spot ; and that 
 it is the Most Holy Virgin Mary, Mother of the true God, 
 who sends you." 
 
 Juan filled with the best and purest thoughts his deeply 
 religious nature was capable of, and wonderfully impressed 
 with the favor that had been accorded him, though realizing 
 the awful majesty of the Holy presence before him, tremb- 
 lingly answered : " Do not be offended, my Queen and Holy 
 Lady, at what I have said, which is not intended to excuse 
 me from this office, I hereby pledge myself to repeat what you 
 have instructed me to say, to the bishop, and I promise, that 
 
OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. 65 
 
 at the setting of the sun to morrow I will be here with his 
 reply." 
 
 Juan then in an attitude of the profoundest humility took 
 leave again of the entrancing vision, and returned to his own 
 home, sad and sorrowful, for he felt that the bishop would not 
 give credence to his story, and he would suffer the displeas- 
 ure of the Holy Mother on the morrow. 
 
 The next day was Sunday, December loth, 1531, and 
 our devoted Indian attended mass at an early hour as usual, 
 at the conclusion of which, realizing what terrible judgment 
 might be visited upon him, should he neglect in the slightest 
 particular his promised pledge of the day before, he immedi- 
 ately set himself about the fulfillment of that obligation. 
 
 Hastening then, he soon reached the gate of the bishop's 
 palace, where as before, he begged he might be admitted to 
 his presence. But as on the previous occasion, the servants 
 hesitated to give the poor man entrance, and it was only after 
 a series of earnest importunity they allowed him to go in. 
 
 Throwing himself upon the floor before the bishop, and 
 earnestly imploring that dignitary to listen to him, he with the 
 deepest emotion related his second experience on the moun- 
 tain. His rude eloquence and impressive manner touched 
 the heart of the holy prelate, and lifting Juan up tenderly 
 he embraced him ; and with tears in his eyes catechised him 
 carefully, but found no prevarication or deviation from a 
 straightforward and apparently true tale. He encouraged 
 Juan, and told him, that although he believed that he, Juan, 
 
66 STORIES OF THE 
 
 had really seen some remarkable vision, still it was not sum", 
 ciently well established for him to take immediate action upon, 
 he therefore advised that he should go back to where he had 
 seen the apparition, and if the lady made her appearance 
 again, he should ask for a sign, through which it might be 
 known to the Church, that the " Mother of God" had really 
 sent him. 
 
 Juan, with the innate consciousness of the truth of his 
 statement to the bishop, thanked him, and told him he would 
 do all that he desired of him, and with a comparatively light 
 heart he left the palace. The Bishop observing that Juan had 
 departed from his presence in an entirely different state of 
 mind from that in which he had entered, and believing that 
 he would follow out his instructions explicitly in relation to 
 asking of the party with whom he alleged having conversed 
 on the mountain, for some sign, quietly ordered two of 
 his confidential servants secretly to watch Juan's movements, 
 and find out without being discovered, who it was he would 
 speak to on his arrival at the top of Tepeyacac. These spies 
 kept close on the trail of the -Indian until he reached the foot 
 of the sacred hill, when he suddenly disappeared, and all 
 their efforts to find him were unavailing, although they dili- 
 gently searched every ravine and portion of the mountain in 
 which it was possible for a man to secrete himself. Disgust- 
 ed, and weary with much walking, they returned to the pal- 
 ace and reported to the bishop that Juan was an imposter, 
 and that no credence should be given to his fabulous stories. 
 
OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. 67 
 
 Juan, however, oblivious to the fact that he had been 
 watched and to the unwelcome report that had been made to 
 the bishop, reached the summit of the mountain in good 
 time and in the identical spot where he had first seen her, 
 stood the Blessed Virgin, in all the glory and majesty of her 
 divine character awaiting his arrival. Juan in the most rev- 
 erential manner conveyed to the glorious apparition his inter- 
 view with the bishop and the demand made upon him for a 
 sign. Congratulating Juan upon his faithfulness and obedi- 
 ence to her commands she ordered him to return the next 
 day and his desire and that of the bishop should be complied 
 with. Juan in the most thankful manner for the promised 
 sign which should establish his veracity with the bishop, 
 declared his intention to return at the time specified, and 
 upon receiving the blessings of the Virgin departed for home 
 much elated at the manner in which events were shaping 
 themselves. 
 
 It was nearly night when Juan reached his simple hut 
 where much to his astonishment and grief he learned that his 
 uncle, Juan Bernadino upon whom he looked as a father had 
 been stricken with the dreaded cacolixtli, a malignant disease 
 peculiar to the region at certain seasons. Forgetful of all 
 else but the sufferings of his relative he passed the whole of 
 the rext day (the nth,) in administering such remedies as 
 were known to the Indians, and in careful nursing, but with- 
 out beneficial results. The morning of the i2th dawned but 
 found the patient no better, in fact feeling that his end was 
 
68 STORIES OF THE 
 
 near and too being a convert to the new religion, he implored 
 Juan to hasten for a priest that he might receive the holy 
 sacrament and extreme unction before he died. 
 
 While it was yet but early morning, and in obedience to 
 his uncle's wishes Juan set out to seek a confessor, carefully 
 avoiding the upper path across the mountain where he had 
 seen the blessed vision, in fear of meeting it again and incur- 
 ring the displeasure of the Virgin for his remission in not 
 acceding to her command of the day before. So he followed 
 a path much lower down which ran close to a spring, hoping 
 thereby he might not be intercepted and chided for his short- 
 comings. What was his surprise on approaching the spring 
 to see the Virgin in all her heavenly radiance waiting to meet 
 him. The sight of the apparition filled Juan with fear and 
 trembling as he thought of his dereliction, but as the Virgin 
 greeted him with a benignant countenance his alarm some- 
 what subsided, but when asked: " Whither goest thou my 
 son ? What road is this thou has taken ? " he became ter- 
 ribly confused and ashamed, not knowing what to say. Pres- 
 ently, however, he cast his eyes toward the Holy Lady, and 
 observing the heavenly smile which lighted up her features 
 he took courage and said: "Do not be offended Beloved 
 Virgin, at what I am about to say to you ; " and after 
 inquiring in relation to her health, explained the cause of his 
 absence of the day previous, and the mission upon which he 
 was now bent, and hoped she would permit him to pass ; 
 that he would return soon and carry out her mandates. His 
 
OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. 69 
 
 .story was listened to with the utmost suavity and gentleness, 
 at the end of which the Virgin said to him : "Hear my son 
 what I say. Do not allow yourself to be disturbed or afflicted 
 by anything ; neither fear infirmity, affliction, nor grief. Am 
 not I, your mother, here ? Are you not under my shield 
 and protection ? Do you need more ? Give yourself neither 
 trouble nor concern on account of the illness of your uncle, 
 who will not die of this present malady, and, morover, rest 
 satisfied that even at this instant he is perfectly cured." 
 
 Juan knowing now, that upon this, the third appearance 
 of the beautiful vision, he was really in the awful presence of 
 one of the Holy Family, and that it was not a phantasmagoria, 
 the effect of a disturbed brain as had been suggested by the 
 bishop, comforted himself with the thought, and abandoning 
 all solicitude for the condition of his relative, asked for the 
 promised "sign." The Virgin then directed him to "listen 
 and carefully comply with her commands." She then told 
 him to go to the place where she had first met him, and "cut- 
 ing the flowers he would find there, to fill his blanket with 
 them and return to her." Juan, in a spirit of perfect faith, 
 hastened to obey, although he knew that nothing but thorns 
 and brambles grew on the alkali ridge where he was directed 
 to find flowers. Juan soon reached the spot where his eyes, 
 days previously, had first feasted on the beautiful vision, and 
 to his intense surprise, discovered a * ' bed of various budding 
 flowers, odorous and yet wet, with dew." He gazed long and 
 fondly on the exquisitely formed and fragrant floral picture, 
 
70 . STORIES OF THE 
 
 and then suddenly remembering his mission, soon filled his 
 blanket, as commanded, and carried them to the Virgin, 
 whom he found waiting at the foot of a palm tree, called by 
 the natives Cuafzahautl, and which bears beautiful white lily- 
 shaped flowers. 4uan presented her with the contents of his 
 blanket in the T )st obsequious manner, and knelt at her feet 
 in the attitude ;! pr/yer. The Lady, kindly smiling on Juan, 
 took the offering iri her hands, blessed the flowers and re-ar- 
 ranging them in th- blanket, said to Juan : "This is the sign 
 I wish you to take i/> the bishop, in order that he may build 
 me a temple on this spot, and I command you, that you show 
 no one what you ha\.: until you arrive in the presence of the 
 bishop." The Virgin then blessed Juan who, with a happy 
 heart, started on a run for the city and the palace of the 
 bishop, for he knew now that he had tangible evidence to 
 show that high functionary, and that his vision was realistic 
 and that he would be believed. Juan soon reached the pal- 
 ace gate with his precious burden, and in an excited manner 
 demanded to see the bishop at once, but the gate-keeper, 
 knowing of his former visits and their bootlessness, declined 
 to admit him. Juan, however, grew so impatient, and so 
 enraged the man, that at last, after attempting to divest Juan 
 of his precious gift of flowers, but observing that they were 
 miraculously interwoven in his blanket, himself hastened to 
 the bishop to inform him of the strange phenomenon, 
 closely followed by Juan. The bishop, being informed of 
 the remarkable occurrence, ordered Juan to come into his 
 
OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. 71 
 
 presence immediately. The Indian then unrolled his blanket 
 before the eyes of the astonished prelate to exhibit the " sign," 
 when lo! "the image of the Most Holy Virgin appeared 
 painted upon the garment." As this most wonderful miracle 
 greeted the bishop and his attendants, they -all fell dowh and 
 worshiped it with the greatest reverence. Poor Juan was as 
 much surprised as any of them, he had no idea that his 
 " sign" consisted of anything more than the loved flowers, 
 and these, to him, were sufficient themselves, growing in 
 winter and their radiant beauty, to satisfy him that he had 
 really been given a sign. The bishop, after the proper ado- 
 ration had been said to_the wonderful picture, rose from his 
 knees and reverently untied the knot that secured the blanket 
 to Juan's neck, and taking it to his chapel, hung the " sacred 
 cloth " behind the high altar, and again ' ' gave thanks to 
 God for so striking a miracle." 
 
 Juan during all that day was right royally entertained by 
 the bishop, and the next day was ordered to show the exact 
 place on the mountain where he had first seen the beautiful 
 vision, and then the bishop was to order a temple to be erected 
 to the memory of the Most Blessed and Holy Virgin, but upon 
 reaching the summit, the Indian could not determine upon 
 the exact locality, whereupon as the legend declares a 
 stream gushed forth and "indicated it." 
 
 After this event, Juan begged permission of the bishop 
 and the multitude of dignitaries that had accompanied him to 
 the hill, to go and see his uncle whom he had left "nigh unto 
 
72 STORIES OF THE 
 
 death." The worthy prelate consented and sent some of his 
 retinue with Juan, and with orders if they found Juan Berna- 
 dino, his uncle, to bring him back with them. 
 
 As the crowd neared the village they met Bernadino 
 perfectly recovered, and coming out to greet them. Juan 
 then related his experience to his uncle, who declared that 
 "on the self-same hour" on which the Most Holy Virgin an- 
 nounced his recovery, she had appeared to him, and not on- 
 ly cured him, but also had directed him to build a temple to 
 her at Tepeyacac, where her image should be called "HOLY 
 MARIA DE GUADALUPE." 
 
 In course of time, the celebrated church was built at Te- 
 peyacac, and the alleged miraculous picture still hangs on its 
 wall behind the great altar, as beautiful and as full of interest 
 as when placed there nearly three hundred and fifty years ago. 
 
 It is sacredly guarded, and only a favored few are per- 
 mitted to gaze upon its "exquisite sublimity." This honor 
 was accorded to Mr. Seward during his visit to Mexico on his 
 remarkable tour of the world, and in his book I believe he* 
 refers to it. 
 
 In one of the old churches at Santa Fe the church of 
 "Our Lady of Guadalupe" maybe seen a copy of the ex- 
 quisite picture. The "Virgin" is represented with a most 
 decided caste of Indian features and complexion standing 
 upon the crescent moon, which in turn is supported by bodi- 
 less cherubs ; her mantle is intensely blue, studded with stars 
 and falls gracefully from her forehead to her feet. 
 
OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. 73 
 
 In every house, in both Old and New Mexico, whether 
 of the most abject or most opulent, an image of "Our Lady of 
 Guadalupe" may be found, and her services are frequently 
 called into requisition with much prayer and penance, as the 
 tutelar saint of the country. 
 
74 STORIES OF THE 
 
 THE FIGHT ON LOWREY'S ISLAND (OPPOSITE 
 LARNED), TWENTY YEARS AGO. 
 
 It was a magnificent September day in the early part of 
 that month in the year 1860. The amber mist of the glo- 
 rious Indian summer hung in light clouds over the rippling 
 Pawnee, and the sheen of the noon-day sun on the Arkansas, 
 made that silent stream where it broadens out lake-like, 
 toward the now thriving little village of Garfield, sparkle 
 and scintillate until it was painful for the eyes to rest upon it. 
 The low group of sand-hills loomed up white and silvery, like 
 the chalk cliffs of Dover, for in those days before the march 
 of immigration had wrought its remarkable changes in our 
 climate these sand-hills were bare, and for miles away the 
 contour of the Arkansas could be traced by their conspicuous 
 glare. The box elders and cottonwoods that fringed the trib- 
 utaries to the river were rapidly donning their Autumn dress 
 of russet, and the mirage had already in the early mornings 
 commenced its weird and fantastic play with the landscape. 
 
 Under the shadow of the bluff where Lamed now reposes 
 so picturesquely, hundreds of buffaloes were grazing, and on 
 the plateau above the crest of the hill, where Mayor Sunder- 
 land's handsome residence overlooks the town and the broad 
 valley, a few sentinel antelopes were guarding their charge, 
 
OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. 75 
 
 now quietly ruminating their morning's meal in the ravines 
 running toward the river. 
 
 Near where Brown's grove is located, under the grateful 
 shade of the thickest clumps of timber, about forty wigwams 
 were irregularly scattered, and on the hills a herd of two or 
 three hundred ponies were lazily feeding, guarded by half a 
 dozen superannuated squaws, while a troop of dusky little 
 children were chasing the yellow butterflies from the now 
 dried and dying sun-flower stalks that so conspicuously mark- 
 ed the broad trail to the river. This beautiful spot had been 
 selected by Black Kettle, chief of the Cheyennes, for his 
 winter camp, to which only a few weeks previously he had 
 moved from the Canadian, and settled with his band to hunt 
 on the Arkansas Bottom, and watch his enemies, the Pawnees, 
 who claimed the same ground, and where year after year the 
 most sanguinary battles between the two tribes had been 
 fought. Apart from the remainder of the wigwams, and near 
 the edge of the stream was the magnificent lodge of Yellow 
 Buffalo, the war chief of the Cheyennes. This lodge was 
 formed of beautifully porcupined and beaded robes, and its 
 interior was graced with a long row of scalps the trophies of 
 his fame as a great warrior. 
 
 On the morning of the date mentioned, I had reached 
 the Arkanses at a point a few miles east of the mouth of the 
 Pawnee, on my way to Ft. Lamed from my ranch on Sharp's 
 Creek, (now in McPherson county,) and when near where 
 Lamed stands I noticed a large body of Indians in a stoop- 
 
76 STORIES OF THE 
 
 ing attitude, as though hunting for something, and I sup- 
 posed them to be some of my Kiowa friends on the trail of 
 an enemy. I spurred my horse and rode toward them, when 
 suddenly they dropped in the grass, which convinced me of 
 the error of my first supposition. I was well acquainted at 
 that time with nearly all the tribes on the plains, and partic- 
 ularly with those who would probably be in that vicinity then, 
 and with a fair knowledge of the Indian character I readily 
 concluded that my covey in the grass were a band of ' ' dog 
 soldiers," of some tribe, either on the war path against some 
 of the other tribes that roamed in the valley of the Arkansas, 
 or were a party to steal horses ; in either event I had little to 
 fear, as the report of a gun would be the last thing they 
 would care to hear just then. 
 
 So I rode on, and when within a hundred yards or so of 
 the party, one rose, and holding both hands up with palms to 
 the front, in his own dialect called my name. I felt consid- 
 erably relieved for I found myself among thirty-two Pawnees, 
 who, as I first supposed, were there to steal horses from the 
 Cheyennes and Kiowas. On learning this fact, I told them 
 that a few miles back on the trail, I had seen a large number 
 of Indians on the high prairie scattered out as if surrounding 
 buffalo, or elk, but that I had seen no game, and now I knew 
 their presence was known to the Arkansas tribes, and that 
 there were so many of these wild Indians the few Pawnees 
 would all be killed if found. 
 
 They then told me they wanted to reach the island in the 
 
OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. 77 
 
 river, and there could fight all the Ingins that dare to come, 
 and if they got to the island before the wild Indians found 
 them, I must go to them and tell them that they were there, 
 and myself come and see the fight. That if I staid on my 
 horse, either on the east or west side of the island, or on the 
 hill on the northwest, I could see it all and be safe from their 
 bullets; and if they all got killed I should tell their people 
 how grandly and bravely they died. 
 
 I left them and went on toward the fort, and when 
 within three miles of it, met "Yellow Buffalo" with two 
 hundred of his warriors, their war-paint on and beating their 
 drums furiously. 
 
 "Yellow Buffalo" was then about thirty years old, and 
 as magnificent a looking Indian as I ever saw. I delivered 
 my message from the Pawnees to him, immediately upon 
 which the two hundred warriors raised the war-cry, which 
 echoed and reverberated in all the splendor of its savage 
 grandeur over the prairie, and which none but those who 
 have heard it under such circumstances can appreciate. 
 
 Stung to the heart by my message of defiance, "Yellow 
 Buffalo " appeared the true savage that he really was, all the 
 ferocity of his wild nature glaring in his eyes as he thought of 
 the deep wrongs done to his tribe by the "dogs of Pawnees !" 
 as he called them, and appealing to his men " that now was 
 the time presented to them, to not only reap an adequate 
 revenge, but add lasting laurels to their wreaths as brave and 
 skillful warriors," he again gave the signal for another chal- 
 
78 STORIES OF THE 
 
 lenging yell, and pointed to the hiding place of his enemies 
 down the river with an air of derision. 
 
 We were a short distance south of the old Santa Fe 
 trail, and ordering his band to turn nearly due south, we 
 loped off in the direction of the island. As we neared the 
 river bank, we saw the last of the Pawnees who had been 
 watching our approach plunge into the stream and reach 
 the island in safety, as our advance halted on the spot where 
 now rests the north end of the Lamed bridge. It was about 
 two o'clock in the afternoon, the Cheyennes dismounted, and 
 every tenth man went to the rear to hold the horses and 
 guard them from a possible flank movement on the part of 
 the Pawnees. I was honored by " Yellow Buffalo" with the 
 privilege of taking care of my own horse which, I am 
 happy to say, I did from a position on the south end of the 
 hill west of the town, and as near the river as was prudent 
 for a non-combatant. Nearly all the Cheyennes were armed 
 with muzzle-loading rifles, and a third of them had Colt's 
 large army revolvers. At the command of their chief, " Yel- 
 low Buffalo " the Cheyennes formed a line of battle, which 
 seemed to extend up and down the river the whole length of 
 the island, while five or six of them acted as flankers. Dur- 
 ing this disposition of the forces, not a Pawnee was to be 
 seen. 
 
 In those days the island was covered only with dwarf 
 willows, the Box-Elders which have, within the past few 
 years, graced it, were then unknown, and instead of the park- 
 
OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. 79 
 
 like and arborescent form it assumes to-day, it was merely a 
 rather excellent hiding place for the savage, or a home for 
 the fragrant skunk. The thick willows concealed the watch- 
 ful Pawnees, who were rather better armed than the Chey- 
 ennes, in consequence of the former living in close communion 
 with the settlements. They each had a Spencer carbine 
 then the arm par-excellence of the frontier and two revolv- 
 ers either army or navy pattern, besides their bows, and quiv- 
 ers well filled with arrows. When all was in readiness, and 
 " Yellow Buffalo "had made a proper disposition of his forces, 
 he gave the order to charge ! Upon hearing his clear voice 
 ring across the prairie, his warriors responded with a most un- 
 earthly yell that seemed to shake even the eternal dunes of 
 sand on the opposite side of the river, and then rushed pell- 
 mell into the Arkansas. The water was waist high, and as 
 they advanced they kept up their infernal whoop until they 
 reached within ten feet of the island, when like a flash of light 
 from a clear sky came a sheet of flame from the edge of the 
 willows, which was promptly responded to by the braves in 
 the water. 
 
 In an instant, however, as much to my surprise as to 
 their enemies, the Pawnees delivered from their ranks an 
 other volley followed immediately by the quick sharp crack 
 of their revolvers, which seemed completely to overwhelm 
 and discomfort the Cheyennes, all of whom beat a hasty retreat 
 to the main land. Their war-whoop ceased the instant the 
 Cheyennes commenced their backward march, and in a mo- 
 
80 STORIES OF THE 
 
 ment some twenty of the Pawnees appeared above the willows, 
 and kept up a well directed fire on their foes until the latter 
 reached the bank of the river. 
 
 In this single charge of the Cheyennes, thirteen were 
 killed outright and twenty-three wounded, which evinced a 
 coolness and deliberation on the part of the Pawnees not ex- 
 celled by the best organized troops. The Cheyennes in their 
 charge showed their characteristic recklessness and daring, 
 which, however, counted for nothing in results, as all the 
 shots were carried clear over the heads of the Pawnees who 
 were concealed by the friendly willows. 
 
 While the main body of the Pawnees were keeping up their 
 almost incessant fire upon the retreating Cheyennes, three or 
 four others arose at opposite ends of the Island, and opened 
 with some well delivered shots with their carbines at the 
 Cheyenne flankers, so that the whole number became demor- 
 alized, and "Yellow Buffalo," with all his painted warriors, 
 fled as far back as to where the Presbyterian church now 
 stands on Main street, and held a council. "Yellow Buffalo" 
 then got on his horse and rode up the hill to me, and asked 
 me "how many Pawnees I had seen." 
 
 I told him I did not count them, but to the best of my 
 judgment there were not more than thirty-five, but the way 
 they spoke of reaching the island as a place of safety, they 
 might have had reference to more men there, than to the 
 strength of their medicine. 
 
 He answered despondingly, " they must have more than 
 
OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. 81 
 
 two hundred from the number of shots fired, and the way 
 they were scattered along the bank." 
 
 "Yellow Buffalo" then dispatched a messenger for rein- 
 forcements, and in about an hour they arrived from the south 
 of the river to the number of four or five hundred, and upon 
 their joining the others, " Yellow Buffalo " made the same dis- 
 position of his now augmented forces as he had with his 
 original army, and then turned his r command over to " Black 
 Kettle," who had come on the ground. 
 
 " Black Kettle kept his Indians in close order, and when 
 they reached within shooting distance of the island, the Paw- 
 nees opened upon them with a terrible volley, and the most 
 deafening and diabolical yells, and kept it up for at least ten 
 minutes. The poor Cheyennes returned the fire as best they 
 could, but ipvariably overshot the Pawnees whom they could 
 not see, so closely were they hidden by the willows. 
 
 In the wild firing, many bullets passed over my head, 
 and I made a masterly strategic movement to the east of the 
 town, and again escaped danger. Meanwhile, " Black Ket- 
 tle, as well as myself, ingloriously retreated from whence we 
 came, and then "Yellow Buffalo" felt himself no more dis- 
 graced than the "head war chief" and his chosen warriors. 
 Thus ended this rather remarkable fight. I never could 
 learn definitely how many of the Cheyennes were killed or 
 wounded in the second charge the Pawnees told me they 
 were double the number of the first charge, but coming as 
 it did from the victors, I always made a reasonable allowance 
 
82 STORIES OF THE 
 
 for possible exaggeration. The Cheyennes utterly refused to 
 tell me the number of their loss, but I saw the wounded that 
 night, and helped dress most of their wounds. There were 
 twenty-eight in "Black Kettle's" camp alone. He admitted 
 no deaths, but I saw them pack more than thirty out of the 
 river, and the Pawnees took five scalps, which I saw them go 
 and procure about twenty minutes after the second charge. 
 On my return from the Fort next day with my mail, the Chey- 
 ennes informed me that these same Pawnees charged through 
 the guards and actually drove off about two hundred of the 
 Cheyennes' ponies. 
 
 The Pawnees assured me that they had but forty warri- 
 ors all told, and they they lost in killed and wounded but 
 two. The Cheyennes stated, however, that they "found five 
 graves in the sand-hills under the edge of the water, which 
 they exhumed and left the bodies to rot, and the bones to 
 bleach on the prairie like a coyote." 
 
 The Cheyennes would never refer to the fight of their own 
 accord, and only spoke of it with the greatest reluctance when 
 the subject was forced upon them. 
 
OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. 83 
 
 A LEGEND OF PAWNEE ROCK; 
 
 OR, 
 HOW THE LIFE OF AN OLD TRAPPER WAS SAVED BY A BIRD. 
 
 The thinly scattered, and now almost obliterated trails 
 leading in every direction away from Pawnee Rock, have a 
 fearful record of desperate adventures and journeys that often 
 ended there with tragic death, and volumes could be written 
 were it possible to gather the materials floating in legendary 
 form among the old trappers, but these are, unfortunately, 
 rapidly passing away, and much that would be full of interest 
 must be irrevocably lost. 
 
 The hardy trappers in the early days of the " Great Cen- 
 tral Plains," isolated themselves in the vast solitudes of the 
 interior of the continent, and only made their visits to the 
 small trading stations on the "River, "as the Missouri was 
 called like those attributed to angels " few ^and far be- 
 tween." 
 
 Many of them indulged in the most extravagant stories 
 and strange adventures, occasionally bordering on the super- 
 natural, all of which was usually unsuspiciously swallowed by 
 the ignorant and gaping crowd of listeners who were ready 
 to believe anything of the mysteries beyond the settlements. 
 
 At that time the whole region stretching from the Missouri 
 to the Mountains was an unexplored wilderness, excepting a 
 
84 STORIES OF THE 
 
 narrow belt contiguous to the river a sort of terra incognita 
 in fact, whose woods and streams abounded in remarkably 
 fertile themes for the play of the wildest imagination. 
 
 The trade with New Mexico via the Plains was inau- 
 gurated in 1823, at which date the first train of wagons that 
 ever traveled in that direction, started from Boonville, Mis- 
 souri. Their route was directly up the valley of the Arkansas 
 to Pawnee Rock, and for fifty years until the advent of the 
 railroad in this portion of Kansas in 1873 the trail of the 
 freighters passed within a hundred rods of the Rock. 
 
 For years, the idea of the possibility of the settlement of 
 that great inter-continental tract never entered the minds of 
 even the most sanguine believer in the future of that portion 
 of our domain it was a desert to all intents and purposes, 
 according to the early geographers, and a desert it was to 
 remain. 
 
 But the extension of our vast railway system beyond the 
 Mississippi forever determined the question of the settlement 
 of the plains which in 1872 reached as far as Pawnee Rock. 
 The " desert" has disappeared, and in its place has risen one 
 grand picture of fertility and happy homes. 
 
 As has been referred to in "How Pawnee Rock was 
 Named," the remains of those who met their death in the 
 vicinity of the Rock are frequently ploughed up in the spring 
 and fall. These frequent graves are a source of curiosity and 
 a matter of speculation and gossip to those who have recently 
 moved here whose homes have ever been in the far-back 
 
OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. 85 
 
 civilization of the crowded East, and who are necessarily ig- 
 norant of the traditions and history of that portion of the 
 plains on which they have settled. Only little more than a 
 year ago one of these new-comers, a well-to-do farmer, living 
 a few miles west of Lamed on Pawnee Bottom, having ob- 
 served in one of his fields a singular depression, remarkably 
 resembling an old grave, such as is frequently found in ven- 
 erable church yards, he determined to dig down and see if 
 there was any special cause for the strange indentation on his 
 land. 
 
 At a couple of feet below the surface he discovered several 
 flat pieces of stone, on one of which the words: "Washing- 
 ton" and " J. Hildreth" were rudely cut, also a line separat- 
 ing them, and underneathTthe date: "December TO" and 
 "J. M., 1850." On another was carved the name "J. H. 
 Shell," and other characters that could not be deciphered. 
 On a third stone were the initials " H. R., 1847," under- 
 neath this was plainly cut " J. R. Boyd," and still beneath 
 this "J. R. Pring." At the very bottom of the excavation 
 were found the lower portion of the skull, one or two ribs, 
 and one of the bones of the leg of a human being. The piece 
 of skull was found near the center of the grave, for such it 
 certainly was. Who were the parties whose names were thus 
 strangely handed down on those rude fragments of stone ? 
 Who had been buried there, and why could only the under 
 poTtfoiTof 7he~skuifof one be found ? Was he an emigrant 
 crossing the plains for far-off Oregon, or the rich placers of 
 9 
 
86 STORIES OF THE 
 
 California, and, stricken by disease, kindly buried there on 
 the lone prairie by his companions ? Or was he a hunter, 
 and in fierce combat with the Indians sent by the murderous 
 scalping knife to his untimely grave ? These were the char- 
 acter of the questions a sked of each other in the little settle- 
 ment last summer, when the little grave was opened. 
 
 At any rate some one died there, the knowledge of whose 
 existence has only thus curiously come to light years after he 
 had almost crumbled into dust. 
 
 A story strange and romantic enough for the most sensa- 
 tional minds is frequently woven by the brains of our novelists 
 out of as few and meager facts as are found in the above simple 
 discovery of a few roughly cut stones and crumbling bones, 
 and an imaginative writer could easily weave one out of these, 
 but such is not my purpose. 
 
 At the time of the discovery of this old grave I consulted 
 my book of notes and memoranda taken hurriedly at intervals 
 on the plains for half a life-time, to see if I could find in the 
 legends and anecdotes I have picked up from time to time, 
 anything that would solve the mystery attached to that quiet 
 prairie grave and its contents. I succeeded in finding among 
 my mass of manuscript a crude and unadorned little sketch, 
 gleaned from an old trapper some twelve years since, that 
 partially clears up the secret, and throws a ray of light upon 
 the death of him whose bones have been waiting Christian 
 burial, on the river bottom, a few miles from Pawnee Rock, 
 these thirty years. A conversation and interchange of notes 
 
OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. 87 
 
 on the subject with Col. A. G. Boone* the past winter, con- 
 firms the probability of the truth of the story as given to me 
 so many years ago. 
 
 Of course every one who has lived or traveled on the 
 plains during the last quarter of a century, remembers Uncle 
 John Smith, f He was an old trapper and guide had been 
 among the Indians for more than forty years and figured 
 only a little less conspicuously in the history of the Far West 
 than Kit Carson, Maxwell and other sons of the border. 
 
 Old Uncle John was a character in his way, and as full 
 of cranks and superstitions as a Congo negro. I am sorry to 
 observe, too, that iiis reputation for unexag^erated and ortho- 
 dox truth was not as immaculate as he of the cherry tree 
 notoriety, and therefore I should have taken his statement, 
 which is the subject of this sketch, cum grano sqlis, had it not 
 been confirmed by that eloquent old gentleman, Col. Boone. 
 
 "Uncle John" was a perfect encyclopedia of plains' 
 lore, and acquainted with every foot of country beyond the 
 Missouri, or as he used to express it, " had slept under every 
 cottonwood and drank out of every spring from the mouth 
 of the Yellowstone to the Red river of the South." 
 
 I was camping with the old man in November, 1868, on 
 
 *Col. A. G. Boone is still hale and vigorous, and as wiry as his celebrated grand 
 father, the pioneer hero of Kentucky. He is a splendid specimen of a well-preserved 
 frontiersman, possessing a knowledge of the Indian in all his varied situations not 
 excelled by any one, and enjoys the confidence of nearly all the tribes and every 
 old white hunter on the plains. H. I. 
 
 fHe died in 1873, and is buried among the Cheyennes, who adopted him more 
 than forty years ago. 
 
88 STORIES OF THE 
 
 the bank of the Wachita, only a short time after Ouster's mem- 
 orable fight with Black Kettle, waiting with a train of sup- 
 plies for the troops who had been ordered to rendezvous by 
 General Sheridan at that point. We had been living almost 
 exclusively on wild turkey for the weary fourteen days of our 
 sojourn on that historic creek, and were heartily tired of them. 
 One evening some of our party had succeeded in bagging a 
 few quails, and when the announcement was made of a pro- 
 spective change of diet, it was received with evident satisfac- 
 tion. Late in the evening when my cook brought the de- 
 licious little birds, beautifully spitted, on peeled willow twigs, 
 into my tent, and passed one to " Uncle John" in his turn, 
 he refused. Said he, " Boys, I don't eat no quail." 
 
 All the rest of us were completely surprised, for ' Uncle 
 John" was considerable of a gourmand and prided himself 
 upon the "faculty," as he termed it, of being able to eat 
 anything, from a piece of jerked buffalo hide to the juiciest 
 young antelope steak. 
 
 I said: " 'Uncle John,' these birds are magnificently 
 broiled; you are making a mistake, old man; to-morrow we 
 must leave here, and as we are going straight away from the 
 buffalo country, we don't know when we shall strike fresh 
 meat again. You had better try one. 
 
 "Boys," said he, "I don't tech quail; I hain't teched 
 one for more nor twenty years. One of the little cusses 
 saved my live once, and I swore right thar and then that I 
 would starve fust, and I've kept that oath, though I've seen 
 
OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. 89 
 
 the time I could a killed 'em with my quirt, when all I had 
 to chaw on for four days was the soles of a greasy old mocca- 
 sin." 
 
 Of course our whole party was eager to know how the 
 life of the old trapper had been saved by a little bird, and in 
 a few moments every man in camp gathered around the dy- 
 ing embers of the cook's fire to listen to "Uncle John's" story. 
 I filled up the old man's pipe with some of my best "Lone 
 Jack," lighted it, took a pull, Indian fashion, and passed it 
 to him. He loved good tobacco, and was always more commu- 
 nicative when seated around the camp-fire, half-hidden in a 
 cloud of smoke. One of the men threw a chunk of dry cot- 
 tonwood on the coals, and as the flames began to lick up the 
 shaggy bark, casting a pleasant shimmer on the old guide's 
 face, he took a vigorous pull at his pipe and commenced. 
 
 "Well, boys, it's a good many years ago in June, if I 
 don't disremember 1847. We was a coming in from way 
 up in "Cache le Poudre," and from Yellowstone Lake, whar 
 we'd been a trapping for two seasons. We was a working 
 our way slowly back to Independence, Missouri, where we 
 was a going to get a new outfit. Let's see there was me, 
 and a man by the name of Boyd, and Lew Thorp Lew was 
 a working for Colonel Boone at the time and two more men 
 whose names I disremember now, and a nigger wench we 
 had for a cook. We had mighty good luck, and had a big 
 pile of skins ; and the Indians never troubled us till we got 
 down on Pawnee Bottom, this side of Pawnee Rock. We 
 
90 STORIES OF THE 
 
 all of us had mighty good ponies, but Thorp had a team and 
 wagon, which he was driving for Colonel Boone. 
 
 61 We had went into camp on Pawnee Bottom airly in the 
 afternoon, and I told the boys to look out for Indians for I 
 knowed ef we was to have any trouble with them it would be 
 somewhere in that vicinity. But we didn't see a darned red- 
 skin that night, nor the sign of one. 
 
 "The wolves howled considerable, and cum pretty close 
 to the fire after the bacon rinds we'd throwed away after sup- 
 per. 
 
 "You see the buffalo was scurse right thar then it was 
 the wrong time o'year. They generally don't get down onto 
 the Arkansas till about September, and when ther'e scurse, 
 the wolves and coyotes are mighty sassy, and will steal a 
 piece of bacon rind right out of the pan, if you don't watch 
 ; em. So we picketed our ponies a little closer, before we 
 turned in and we all went to sleep except one, who sort 
 o'keep watch on the stock. 
 
 " I was out o' my blankets mighty airly next morning, 
 for I was kind o' suspicious. I could always tell when In- 
 dians was prowling around, and I had a sort of presentment 
 something was going to happen I didn't like the way the 
 coyotes kept yelling so I rested kind o' oneasy like, and 
 was out among the ponies by the first streak o' daylight. 
 
 "About the time I could fairly see things, I discovered 
 three or four buffalo grazing off on the creek bottom, about a 
 half mile away, and I started for my rifle, thinking I would 
 
OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. 91 
 
 examine her, and after we'd had breakfast go out and blow 
 one of the critters in. 
 
 " Pretty soon I seed Thorp and Boyd crawl out o' their 
 blankets, too, and I called their attention to the buffalo, 
 which was still feeding undisturbed. 
 
 " We'd been kind o' scurse of fresh meat for a couple of 
 weeks ever since we left the Platte, except a jack-rabbit or 
 cottontail, and I knowed the boys would be wanting to get 
 a quarter or two of a good fat cow, if we could find one in 
 the herd so that was the reason I pointed 'em out to 'em. 
 
 " The dew you see was mighty heavy, and the grass in 
 the bottom was as wet as if it had been raining for a month, 
 and I didn't care to go down whar the buffalo was just then 
 I knowed we had plenty of time and as soon as the sun 
 was up it would dry right off. So I got onto one of the po- 
 nies and led the others down to the spring near camp to water 
 them while the wench was a getting breakfast, and some o' 
 the rest o' the outfit was a fixin the saddles and greasing the 
 wagon. 
 
 "Just as I was coming back it had growed quite light 
 then I seed Boyd and Thorp start out from camp with 
 their rifles and make for the buffalo, so I picketed the ponies, 
 gets my rifle and starts off too. 
 
 " By the time I'd reached the edge of the bottom, Thorp 
 and Boyd was a crawling up onto a young bull way off to the 
 right, and I lit out for a fat cow I seen bunched up with the 
 rest of the herd on the left. 
 
92 STORIES OF THE 
 
 " The grass was mighty tall on some parts of the Arkan- 
 sas bottom in them days, and I got within easy shooting 
 range without the herd seeing me. 
 
 "The buffalo was now between me and Thorp and Boyd, 
 and they was further from camp. I could see them over the 
 top of the grass kind o' edging up to the bull, and I kept a 
 crawling on my hands and knees toward the cow, and when 
 I got about a hundred and fifty yards of her, I pulled up 
 my rifle and drawed a bead. 
 
 "Just as I was running my eye along the bar'l a darned 
 little quail flew right out from under my feet and lit exactly 
 on my front sight and of course cut off my aim we didn't 
 shoot reckless in those days; every shot had to tell, or a 
 man was the laughing stock for a month if he missed his 
 game. 
 
 " I shook the little critter off and brought up my rifle again 
 when durn my skin if the bird didn't lite right onto the 
 same place ; at the same time my eyes growed kind o' hazy 
 like and in a minute I didn't know nothing. 
 
 " When I come to the quail was gone, I heerd a couple of 
 rifle shots, and right in front of where the bull had stood and 
 close to Thorp and Boyd, half a dozen Indians jumped up 
 out o' the tall grass and firing into the two men, killed Thorp 
 instantly and wounded Boyd 
 
 "He and me got to camp keeping off the Indians who 
 knowed I was loaded when we, with the rest of the outfit* 
 drove the red devils away. 
 
OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. 93 
 
 "They was Apaches, and the fellow that shot Thorp was 
 a half breed nigger and Apache. He scalped Thorp and car- 
 ried off the whole upper part ef his skull with it. He got 
 Thorp's rifle and bullet pouch too, and his knife.* 
 
 "We buried Thorp in the bottom here, and some of the 
 party cut their names on the stones that they covered his 
 body up with, to keep the coyotes from eating up his bones. 
 
 "Boyd got onto the river with us all right, and I never 
 heerd of him after we separated at Booneville. We pulled 
 out soon after the Indians left, but we didn't get no buffalo 
 meat. 
 
 "You see boys, if I'd a fired into that cow the devils 
 would a had me before I could a got a patch on my ball 
 didn't have no breech-loaders in them days, and it took as 
 much judgment to know how to load a rifle properly as it did 
 to shoot it. 
 
 "Them Indians knowed all that they knowed I hadn't 
 fired, so they kept v a respectable distance. I would a fired 
 but the quail saved my life by interfering with my sight and 
 that's the reason I don't eat no quail I hain't superstitious, 
 but I don't believe they was meant to be eat." 
 
 Uncle John stuck to his text, I believe, until he died, 
 and you could never disabuse his mind of the idea that the 
 quail lighting on his rifle was not a special interposition of 
 Providence. 
 
 *Col. A. G. Boone confirms all this, and got bick the articles a short time af 
 terward from the Chief of the Apaches. 
 
94 STORIES OF THE 
 
 ANOTHER LEGEND OF PAWNEE ROCK. 
 
 " Pawnee Rock " has probably been the scene of a hun- 
 dred rights, and a volume could be written in relation to it. 
 Kit Carson, one night some fifteen years ago, when he, Jack 
 Henderson, Lucien B. Maxwell, a couple of Apache Indi- 
 ans and myself, were camped half way up the rugged sides 
 of " Old Baldy," in the " Raton Range," told in his pecul- 
 iarly expressive way, among other border reminiscences, the 
 following little story, the incidents of which occurred long 
 years ago. 
 
 The night was cold, although midsummer, and we were 
 huddled around a little fire of pine knots more than eight 
 thousand feet above the level of the sea, close to the snow 
 limit. We had left Maxwell's early in the morning to trace 
 a quartz lead that cropped out near the mouth of the copper 
 mine worked by him, and night overtook us many miles from 
 the ranch, so we concluded to remain on the mountain un- 
 til daylight. We had no blankets, and, of course, had to sit 
 up through the long hours, and as it was terribly cold, made 
 a fire, filled our pipes, and spun yarns to keep awake. Our 
 lunch that we had brought was eaten up about noon, so we 
 were supperless as well, but a swift, cold mountain stream 
 
OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. 95 
 
 ran close to our little camp and we took a swallow of that 
 occasionally, which served the place of a meal. 
 
 Kit (the General, as every one called him) was in a good 
 humor for talking, and we naturally took advantage of this 
 to draw him out, for usually he was the most reticent of men 
 in relation to his own exploits. The night was pretty dark 
 there was no moon and our fire of dry knots blazed up beau- 
 tifully every time the two Indians whom we had appointed 
 to this special duty threw a fresh armful on. The flames 
 cast their weird and fanciful shadows on the side of the 
 mountain, and contrasted curiously with the inky blackness 
 all around below us, while far above could be seen the dim 
 outline of " Old Baldy's" scarred and weather-beaten crest, 
 piled crag upon crag until they seemed to touch the star-lit 
 sky. 
 
 For an hour or two the conversation was confined to the 
 probabilities of gold being found in paying quantities in the 
 mountains and gulches of the range, and when the interest 
 on that subject flagged, Maxwell having made a casual re- 
 mark in relation to some peak near by, just discern able in th^ 
 darkness, and connecting the locality with some trouble he 
 had had ten or a dozen years before with the Indians, opened 
 Kit Carson's mouth, and he said he remembered one of the 
 " worst difficults" a man ever got into, so he made a fresh 
 corn shuck cigarette and told us the following about Pawnee 
 Rock, which he said had been written up years ago, and that 
 he had a paper containing it, (which he afterward gave me,) 
 
96 STORIES OF THE 
 
 and which, with what Kit related orally that night, is here 
 presented : 
 
 " It was old Jim Gibson poor fellow he went under in a 
 fight with the Utes over twenty years ago, and his bones are 
 bleaching somewhere in the dark canons of the Range, or 
 on the slopes of the Spanish Peaks. He used to tell of a 
 scrimmage he and another fellow had on the Arkansas with 
 the Kiowas in 1836. 
 
 "Jim and his pardner, Bill something or other, I disremem- 
 ber his name now, had been trapping up in the Powder River 
 country during the winter with unusual good luck the beaver 
 was mighty thick in the whole Yellowstone region in them 
 days, and Jim and Bill got an early start on their journey for 
 the River that spring you see they expected to sell their 
 truck in Weston, Missouri, which was the principal trading 
 point on the river then. They walked the whole distance 
 over fifteen hundred miles driving three good mules before 
 them, on which their plunder was packed, and they got 
 along well enough until they struck the Arkansas at 
 Pawnee Rock. Here they met a war-party of about sixty 
 Kiowas, who treed them on the Rock. Jim and Bill 
 were notoriously brave, and both dead shots. Before they 
 reached the Rock, to which they were driven, they killed 
 ten of the Kiowas, and had not received a scratch. They 
 had plenty of powder and a pouch full of bullets each. They 
 also had a couple of jack-rabbits for food in case of a siege, 
 
OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. 9 7 
 
 and the perpendicular walls of the Rock made them a 
 natural fortification an almost impregnable one.* 
 
 "They succeeded in securely picketing their animals on 
 the west side of the Rock where they could protect them 
 by their unerring rifles but the story of the fight must be 
 told in Jim's own way he was a pretty well educated fellow, 
 had been to college, I believe, in his younger days, lost the gal 
 he was going to marry, or had some bad luck or other, and 
 took to the prairies when he was about twenty. I will try to 
 tell it as nearly as he did as possible. 
 
 "After the durned red cusses had treed us, they 
 picked up their dead and packed them to their camp at the 
 mouth of the creek a little piece off. In a few moments back 
 they all came mounted, with all their fixings and war paint 
 on. Then they commenced to circle around us, coming clos- 
 er, Indian fashion, every time, till they got within easy rifle 
 range, when they slung themselves on the fore side of their 
 ponies, and, in that position, opened on us. Their arrows 
 fell like a hail storm around us for a few moments, but, as 
 good luck would have it, none of them struck. I was afraid 
 they would, first of all, attempt to kill our mules; but I sup- 
 pose they thought they had the dead wood on us, and the 
 mules would come mighty handy for their own use after our 
 scalps were dangling at their belts. But we were taking in 
 
 *Pawnee Rock has, through the agency of man, changed much s'nce the ad- 
 vent of the railroad. Its once lofty summit has been stripped and the stone used 
 for all sorts of purposes by the farmers and the road, so that now it is only a com- 
 paratively low mound. H. I. 
 
 10 
 
98 STORIES OF THE 
 
 all the chances Bill kept his eyes skinned, and whenever he 
 saw a stray leg or head he drew a bead on it, and thug, over 
 tumbled its owner every time, with a yell of rage. 
 
 " Whenever they attempted to carry off their dead that 
 was the moment we took the advantage, and we poured it 
 into them as soon as they rallied for that purpose with telling 
 effect. We wasted no shots ; we had now only about forty 
 bullets between us, and the miserable cusses seemed thick as 
 ever. 
 
 "The sun was nearly down by this time, and at dark 
 they did not seem anxious to renew the fight that night, but 
 I could see their mounted patrols at a respectable distance on 
 every side watching to prevent our escape. I took advan- 
 tage of the darkness to go down and get a few buffalo chips 
 to cook our supper, for we were mighty hungry, and to change 
 the animals to where they could get a little more grass, though 
 for that matter it was nearly up to a man's head all over the 
 bottom. 
 
 "I got back to our camp on top without any trouble, 
 when we made a little fire and cooked a rabbit. We had to 
 go without water and so did the animals, but we did not mind 
 the want of it so much ourselves, but pitied the mules that 
 had none since we broke camp in the morning. It was no 
 use to worry about it though ; the nearest water was in the 
 spring at the Indian camp, and it would be certain death to 
 attempt to get there without their seeing us. 
 
 "I was afraid the red devils would fire the prairie in the 
 
OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. 9 
 
 morning, and endeavor to smoke or burn us out. The grass 
 was just in a condition to make a lively blaze, and we might 
 escape the flames and we might not. 
 
 "We watched with eager eyes for the first gray streaks of 
 dawn that would usher in another day perhaps the last for 
 us. 
 
 " The next morning's sun had scarcely peeped above the 
 horizon, when, -with an infernal yell the Indians broke for 
 the Rock, and we knew some new project had entered 
 their heads. 
 
 " The wind was springing up pretty fresh, and nature 
 seemed to conspire with the red devils if they really meant to 
 burn us out, and I had no doubt now from their movements 
 that was what they intended. 
 
 " The darned cusses kept at such a respectable distance 
 from our rifles that it chafed us to know that we could not 
 stop the infernal throats of some of them with our bullets? 
 but we had to choke our rage and watch events closely. 
 
 "I took occasion during the lull in hostilities to crawl 
 down to where the mules were and shift them to the east side 
 of the " Rock," where the wall was the highest, so that the 
 flame and smoke might possibly pass by them without so much 
 danger as on the exposed other side. 
 
 " I succeeded in doing this, and also in tearing the grass 
 away for several yards around the animals, and was just start- 
 ing back when Bill called out, " Damn 'em, they've fired the 
 prairie.' 
 
100 STORIES OF THE 
 
 " I reached the top of the Rock in a moment, and 
 took in at a glance what was coming. 
 
 " The spectacle for a short interval was indescribably 
 grand. The sun was shining with all the power of its rays on 
 the huge clouds of smoke as it rolled -down from the north, 
 tinting it with glorious a crimson. I had barely time to get un- 
 der the shelter of a projecting point of the Rock when the wind 
 and smoke swept down to the ground, and instantly we were 
 enveloped in the darkness of midnight. 
 
 " We could not discern a single object; neither Indians, 
 horses, the prairie, or sun and what a terrible wind ! I have 
 never experienced its equal in violence since. 
 
 " We stood breathless, and clinging to the projection of 
 our little mass of rock did not realize the fire was so near, un- 
 til we were struck in the face by the burning buffalo-chips 
 that were carried toward us with the rapidity of the wind. 
 
 " I was really scared ; it seemed as if we must suffocate. 
 But we were saved miraculously ; the sheet of flame passed 
 us twenty yards away, as the wind fortunately shifted the 
 moment the fire reached the foot of the Rock. Yet the 
 darkness was so perfect that we did not see the flame ; we 
 only knew that we were safe as the clear sky greeted us be- 
 hind the dense cloud of smoke. 
 
 "Two of the Indians and their horses were caught in 
 their own trap, and perished miserably. They had attempted 
 to reach the east side of the Rock where the mules were, 
 either to cut them loose or to crawl up on us while bewilder- 
 
OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. 101 
 
 ed in the smoke if we escaped death. But they had proceed- 
 ed only a few rods on their little expedition when the terrible 
 darkness of the smoke-cloud overtook them. 
 
 " All the game on the prairie which the fire swept over 
 was killed, too. Only a few buffaloes were visible in that 
 region before the fire, but even they were killed. 
 
 ' ' The path of this horrible passage of flames, as we found 
 out afterward, was marked all along with the crisp and black- 
 ened carcasses of wolves, coyotes, turkeys, grouse, and every 
 variety of small birds. Indeed, it seemed as if no living thing 
 it met had escaped its fury. 
 
 " The fire assumed such gigantic proportions and moved 
 with such rapidity before the terrible wind, that even the 
 Arkansas river did not check its path for a moment, but we 
 watched it carried across as readily as if it had not been in 
 the way. 
 
 ''This fearful prairie-fire traveled at the rate of eight 
 miles in fifteen minutes, and was probably the most violent 
 in its features that ever visited that country. It was the most 
 sublime picture I ever looked upon, and for a moment made 
 us forget our perilous position. 
 
 ' * My first thought after the danger from the fire had 
 passed was of the poor mules, I crawled down to where they 
 were and found them badly singed, but not seriously hurt. 
 I thought ' so far so good ;' our mules and traps were all 
 right, and we were all right, so we took fresh courage and 
 
102 STORIES OF THE 
 
 began to think we should get out of the nasty scrape in some 
 way or other. 
 
 "In the mean time the Indians, with the exception of 
 four or five left to guard the Rock so we could not escape, 
 had gone back'to their camp on the creek, and were evident- 
 ly concocting some new stratagem to capture or kill us. 
 
 "We waited patiently two or three hours for the devel- 
 opment of events, snatching a little sleep by turns until the 
 sun was about four hours high, when the Indians commenced 
 their infernal howling again, and we knew they had hit upon 
 something, so we were on the alert in a moment to discover 
 it and eucher them if possible. 
 
 "The devils this time had tied all their horses together, 
 covered them with branches of trees that they had cut on the 
 creek, packed all the lodge-skins on these, and then driving 
 the living breast-works before them toward us, themselves 
 followed close behind on foot. 
 
 "They kept moving slowly but surely in the direction "of 
 the ' Rock,' and matters began to look serious for us once 
 more. 
 
 "Bill put his B hand in mine, and said, 'Jim, now by 
 G d we got to fight, we haint done nothing yit ; this means 
 business.' 
 
 " I said 'you're right, Bill, old fellow; but they can't 
 get us alive. Our plan is to kill their ponies, and make the 
 cusses halt.' 
 
 " As I spoke, Bill who was one of the best shots on 
 
OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. 103 
 
 the plains kind 'o threw his eye carelessly along the bar'l of 
 his rifle, and one of the ponies tumbled over on the black- 
 ened sod. One of the Indians ran out to cut him loose, as 
 I expected, and I took him clean off his feet without a groan. 
 Quicker than it takes me to tell it, we had stretched out 
 twelve of them on the prairie, and we made it so hot for 
 them that they got out of range, and were apparently hold- 
 ing a council of war. We kept watching the devils' move- 
 ments, for we knew they would soon be up to some con- 
 founded trick 
 
 "The others did not make their appearance immediately 
 from behind their moving breast-works, so we both fired two 
 shots apiece into the horses, killing three of them, and 
 throwing the whole outfit into confusion. 
 
 "We soon stopped their little plan, and they had now 
 only the dead bodies of the ponies we had killed to protect 
 them, for the others had broken loose and stampeded off to 
 camp. It was getting pretty hot for Mr. Indian now, who 
 was on foot, and in easy range of our rifles. We cleaned 
 out one or two more while they were gradually pulling them- 
 selves out of range, when of course, we had to stop firing. 
 The Indians started off to their camp again and during the 
 lull in hostilities took an account of stock, we found we had 
 used up all our ammunition except three or four loads, and 
 despair seemed to hover over us once more. 
 
 "In a few moments we were surprised to see one of the 
 warriors come out alone from the camp, and tearing off a 
 
104 STORIES Of THE 
 
 piece of his white blanket, boldly walked toward the < Rock. ' 
 Coming up within hearing, he asked if we would have a talk 
 with him. We told him yes, but did not look for any good 
 results from it. We could not expect anything less than tor- 
 ture if we allowed ourselves to be taken alive, so we deter- 
 mined not to be caught in any trap. 
 
 "We knew we had done them too much damage to expect 
 any mercy, so we prepared to die in the fight, if we must 
 die. We beckoned the young buck nearer and listened to 
 what he had to communicate. He said they were part of 
 White Buffalo's band of Kiowas, that the war chief who was 
 here with them was O-ton-son-e-var, (a herd of buffaloes), 
 and that he wanted us to come to the camp that we were 
 ' heap brave ' we should be kindly treated, and that the 
 tribe would adopt us. They were on their way to the Sioux 
 country north of the Platte that they were going there to 
 steal horses from the Sioux. They expected a fight and wan- 
 ted us to help them. Bill and myself knew the darned 
 Indians too well to swallow their chaff, so we both told him 
 we could not think of accepting their terms that we wre 
 on our way to the Missouri, and meant to go there or die in 
 the attempt that we did not fear them, the white man's God 
 would take care of us, and that if that was all they had to 
 talk about he could go back, and tell his party they could 
 commence the fight again as soon as they pleased. 
 
 " He started back, and before he had reached the creek 
 
OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. 105 
 
 they came out and met him, had a confab, and then began 
 the attack on us at once. 
 
 " We made each of our four loads tell, when we stood, 
 at bay, almost helpless, and defenseless ; we were at the 
 mercy of the savages, and they understood our situation as 
 quickly as ourselves. 
 
 "We were now thrown upon our last resource the 
 boys play of throwing stones.- As long as we could find 
 .detached pieces of the rock they did not dare to make an 
 assault, and while we were still wondering what next, the 
 white flag appeared again and demanded another talk. We 
 knew that now we had to come to terms, and made up our 
 minds to accept anything that savored of reason, and our 
 life, trusting to the future to escape if they kept us as pris- 
 oners. 
 
 " ' The Kiowasare not coyotes, and they know brave 
 men,' said the Indian ; 'we will not kill you, though the 
 prairie grass is red with the blood of our warriors that have 
 died by your hands. We will give you a chance for your 
 lives, and let you prove that the Great Spirit of the white 
 man is powerful, and can save you.' 
 
 " ' Behold ! ' said the Indian, pointing with an arrow to 
 a solitary cottonwood on the banks of the Arkansas, a mile 
 or more away. ' You must go there, and one of you shall 
 run the knife-gauntlet from that tree two hundred steps of 
 the chief out toward the prairie. If the one who runs 
 escapes, both are free, for the Great Spirit has willed it. 
 
106 STORIES OF THE 
 
 O-ton-son-e-var* has said it, and the words of the Kiowa are 
 true." 
 
 " 'When must the trial take place,' said I. 
 
 " ' When the sun begins to shine upon the western edge 
 of the Rock,' replied the Indian. 
 
 " 'Say to your chief we accept the challenge and I will 
 be ready,' said Bill, motioning the young warrior away. ' I 
 am sure I can win,' said he, ' and can save both our lives. 
 O-ton-son-e-var will keep his word, I know him.' 
 
 "'Bill,' said I, 'I shall run that race, not you;' and 
 taking him by the hand, I told him that if he saw I was 
 going to fail, to watch his chance, and in the excitement of 
 the moment mount one of their horses, and fly toward 
 Bent's Fort ; he could escape, he was young it made no 
 difference with me my life was not worth much, but he had 
 all before him.' 
 
 " 'No,' replied Bill, my heart is set on this; I traveled 
 the same race once before when the Apaches got me, and 
 their knives never struck me once. I ask this favor as my 
 life for I have a preseentiment that it is only I that can win. 
 I know how to get every advantage of them. So say ' no 
 more. ' 
 
 "The sun had scarcely gilded the dark line of rock that 
 juts out boldly toward the western horizon, before all the 
 warriors, with O-ton-son-e-var at their head, marched silently 
 toward the tree and beckoned us to come. 
 
 * O-ton-son-e-var in fact was not a Kiowa but a Cheyenne. He died of cholera 
 on the head-waters of the Smoky Hill in 1819. H. I. 
 
OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. 107 
 
 " Quickly we were on the prairie beside them, when they 
 opened a space, and we walked in their center without 
 exchanging a word. There were only thirty left of that band 
 of sixty proud warriors who had commenced the attack on us 
 the day before, and I could see by the scowls with which 
 they regarded us, and the convulsive clutching at their knives 
 by the younger ones, it was only the presence and power of 
 O-ton-son-e-var that prevented them from taking summary 
 vengeance upon us. 
 
 "As soon as we reached the tree, O-ton-son-e-var paced 
 the two hundred steps, and arranged his warriors on either 
 side, who in a moment stripped themselves to the waist, and 
 each seizing his long scalping knife, and bracing himself, 
 held it high over his head, so as to strike a blow that would 
 carry it to the hilt at once. 
 
 " The question of who should be their victim was settled 
 immediately, for as I stepped forward to face that narrow 
 passage of probable death, the chief signaled me back with 
 an impulsive gesture not to be misunderstood, and pointing 
 to Bill, told him to prepare himself for the bloody ordeal. 
 
 " I attempted to protest, and was urging my most earnest 
 words, when O-ton-son-e-var said he had decided and ' the 
 young man must run,' adding, that ' even a drop of blood 
 from any one of the knives meant death to both.' 
 
 " Each savage stood firm, with his glittering blade reflect- 
 ing the rays of the evening sun, and on each hard, cold face, 
 a determination to have the heart's blood of their victim. 
 
108 STOK1ES OF THE 
 
 "The case seemed almost hopeless it was truly a race 
 for life, and as Bill prepared himself I wished ourselves back 
 on the ' Rock ' with only as many good bullets as the 
 number of devils who stood before us, the very impersonation 
 of all the hatred of the detestable red man. 
 
 " How well I remember the coolness and confidence of 
 Bill. He could not have been more calm if he had been 
 stripping for a foot race for fun. He had perfect faith in the 
 result, and when O-ton-son-e-var motioned to commence the 
 fearful trial, Bill spoke to me, but I could not answer, my 
 grief was too great. 
 
 " He stripped to his drawers, and, standing there, naked 
 from the belt up, was a picture of the noblest manhood I 
 ever saw as he waited for the signal. He tightened his belt, 
 and stood for a few seconds looking, with compressed lips, 
 down the double row of savages, as they stood face to face 
 gloating on their victim. It seemed like an age to me, and 
 when the signal came I was forced by an irresistible power 
 to look upon the terrible scene. 
 
 "At the instant, Bill darted like a flash of lightning 
 from the foot of the tree on rushed the devils with their 
 gleaming blades, yelling and crowding one another, and cut- 
 ting at poor Bill with all the rage of their revengeful nature. 
 But he evaded all their horrible efforts, now tossing a savage 
 here, and another one there, now almost creeping like a 
 snake at their feet, then like a wild-cat he would jump 
 through the line dashing the knives out of their hands, till 
 
OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. / 109 
 
 at last, with a single spring, he passed, almost twenty feet 
 beyond the mark where the chief stood ! 
 
 "We were saved, and when the disappointed savages 
 were crowding around him, I rushed in and threw myself in 
 his arms. The chief motioned the impatient warriors away, 
 and with sullen footsteps followed them. 
 
 " In a few moments we slowly retraced our way to the 
 ' Rock,' where, taking our mules, we pushed on in the 
 direction of the Missouri. We camped on the bank of the 
 Arkansas only a few miles from the terrible 'Rock' that 
 night, but while we were resting ar-ound our little fire of buf- 
 falo chips, and our animals were quietly nibbling the dried 
 grass at our feet, we could still hear the Kiowas chanting the 
 death song while they buried their lost warriors under the 
 blackened sod of the prairie.' " 
 
 11 
 
110 STORIES OF THE 
 
 A TERRIBLE TEN MILES RIDE. 
 
 AN. INCIDENT IN THE INDIAN WAR OF 1864. 
 
 In all the annals of our " Border Warfare," none will 
 go down to history more conspicuous than the events which 
 crowded the year 1864, on the Great Plains of Kansas, 
 Nebraska and Colorado. 
 
 Civilization in those troublesome times still cautiously 
 hugged the extreme eastern belt of our fair young empire, 
 suspicious of the unknown beyond that immense ocean of 
 grass, stretching interminably toward the setting sun. 
 
 The " hunger for the horizon " which to-day marks broad 
 trails even to the very shadow of the mountains, with long 
 lines of white covered wagons, patient oxen, or jaded mules, 
 plodding wearily during the bright hours through the alkali 
 dust of the desert, had not then been stimulated by marvel- 
 ous stories of fair acres lying so bewitchingly beautiful be- 
 yond the "Big Blue." 
 
 The magnificent valley of the " Smoky Hill," with its 
 rich share of wooded streams and fertile uplands, or the still 
 more elysian expanse watered by the great Arkansas that em- 
 bryo granary of two continents were simply known as the 
 
OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. Ill 
 
 region through which passed twin inter-oceanic trails the 
 Oregon and the Santa Fe both now mere memories. 
 
 The Indian summer then as now, wrapped the distant 
 hills in its mellow tints, the grass grew brown and rusty as 
 each recurring season filled its measure, and the autumn 
 days were as grand as Central Kansas ever witnessed, or the 
 golden sunshine ever lighted up. The mirage wove its fan- 
 tastic forms in the early spring time, and the chain of sand- 
 hills that follow the tortuous windings of the Arkansas rested 
 dark and misty then as now under the curtain of night. 
 But the Satanic genius of the Indian hatred brooded on the 
 beautiful landscape, and the harvest of the unlabored fields 
 was blood. The empire of the plow had not then dawned, 
 nor the march of the homesteader begun. The " iron trail" 
 was a possibility, but he was a visionist who argued its prob- 
 ability. 
 
 From the outskirts of Council Grove, to the crossing of 
 the Cimarron, the echoes of the prairie were awakened by 
 the terrible war-whoop of the savage as he wrenched off the 
 reeking scalp of his hapless victim. 
 
 The commerce of the Great Plains over that broad path 
 through the wilderness the Santa Fe trail was at its height, 
 and immense trains rolled day after day toward the blue hills 
 which guard the portals of New Mexico. Oxen, mules, and 
 sometimes horses, tugged wearily, week after week, through 
 the monotony of their long journey, their precious freight 
 ever tempting the wily nomads to plunder, dissimulation, and 
 
112 STORIES OF THE 
 
 murder. Pawnee Rock, Walnut, Coon, Ash, and Cow 
 creeks, were mute witnesses of a score or more battles that 
 reddened the blossomed prairie in spring time, and the grass 
 of the Pawnee, Heath's Branch and Buckner's, were resonant 
 with the yell of the Kiowas and Cheyennes, who, under the 
 pale moonlight, held their hideous saturnalia of butchery. On 
 the far-off Wolf and Beaver rivers, where to-day, are gather- 
 ed under the guise of a semi-civilization, the remnants of 
 those once-powerful tribes the scattered lodges are decorat- 
 ed with the scalp-locks of many who were tempted to brave 
 the perilous duty of freighters, in the year of which we write. 
 
 To protect the trains on their weary route through the 
 "desert" as the whole of this region was then termed, and 
 confidently believed by the world to be troops were station- 
 ed a mere handful, relatively at intervals on the ''great 
 trail," to escort the freighters, and United States mail over 
 the most exposed and dangerous portions of the route. 
 Many an exciting encounter frequently occurred, and many 
 thrilling incidents, hair-breadth escapes and "moving acci- 
 dents," belong to the unwritten chapters of the history of 
 those times, the book of which is, in a measure, sealed ; for 
 like the ocean, the Great Plains tells but little of its terrible 
 record, and rarely gives up its dead. 
 
 The incident which is the subject of this sketch, is as 
 thrilling, perhaps, in its details, and as marvelous in its re- 
 sults, as any that have come down to us in the history of these 
 memorable times. 
 
OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. 113 
 
 It deals with plain facts, and of men who are now living 
 one of whom, the principal actor in the scenes to be 
 related, is known favorably all over the state. 
 
 Fort Riley, in the year referred to, was one of the ex- 
 treme permanent frontier military posts. Here in November, 
 1864, Capt. Henry Booth was stationed. He was chief of 
 cavalry, and inspecting officer for the district of the Upper 
 Arkansas, the western geographical limit of which extended 
 to the foot of the mountains. 
 
 Early in the month, in company with Lieut. Hallowell, 
 of the Ninth Wisconsin Battery, he received orders to make 
 a tour of inspection of the several out-posts, which extended 
 as far as Fort Lyon in Colorado. 
 
 Salina was occupied by one company of the Seventh 
 Iowa Cavalry, under command of Captain Hammer. Where 
 the old Leavenworth stage route crossed the Smoky Hill, in a 
 beautifully timbered bend of that stream, was a little log and 
 jacal stockade, commanded by Lieutenant Ellsworth, also of 
 the Seventh Iowa Cavalry. 
 
 To this comparatively insignificant post insignificant 
 only in its appointments, not importance the commanding 
 officer gave his own name, which the county of Ellsworth 
 will perpetuate in history. 
 
 At the crossing of the Walnut, on the broad trail to the 
 mountains, were stationed three hundred unassigned recruits 
 of the Third Wisconsin Cavalry, under the command of 
 Captain Conkey. This was one of the most important points- 
 
114 STORIES OF THE 
 
 of observation on the "Great Overland Route," for near 
 it, passed the favorite highway of the Indians on their yearly 
 migrations north and south, in the wake of the strange ellipti- 
 cal march of the buffalo to far beyond the Platte, and back 
 to the sunny knolls of the Canadian. 
 
 This primitive cantonment grew rapidly in its strategi- 
 cal aspect, was later made quite formidable defensively, and 
 named Fort Zarah in memory of the youngest son of Major- 
 General Curtis, killed by guerrillas somewhere south of Fort 
 Scott, while escorting General James G. Blunt, of Kansas 
 fame. 
 
 At Fort Lamed, always a prominent place in the military 
 history of the Plains, one Company of the Twelfth Kansas, 
 and a section of the Ninth Wisconsin Battery, commanded 
 by Lieutenant Potter, were stationed. From these troops 
 the isolated disposition of which I have hurriedly related 
 squads, consisting usually of from a dozen to twenty men or 
 more, as the case might be, under the charge of a corporal 
 or sergeant, were detailed to escort the mail coach, freighters, 
 government trains, etc. 
 
 In the story of these little detachments of brave men, 
 if it could be gleaned in all its thrilling completeness, the 
 escutcheon of Kansas would be made to shine with a more 
 glorious radiance than even now ; but, like the purple mist 
 that sometimes creeps over her beautiful valleys, vailing the 
 splendor of the landscape on the other side, tradition is fast 
 relegating the deeds of her early sons to oblivion, and we are 
 
116 STORIES OF THE 
 
 only permitted at times, in some sweet vision" of memory, to 
 catch glimpses of their heroic acts. 
 
 On the morning the order to make the special inspection 
 of the out-posts referred to was received at Fort Riley, Cap- 
 tains Booth and Hallowell immediately commenced active 
 preparations for their extended and hazardous drive across 
 the Plains. Rifles and pistols, that had for weeks been idly 
 hanging on pegs against the barrack walls, were taken down, 
 carefully examined and brushed up for possible service in the 
 dreary -Arkansas Bottom, and camp kettles were soon busily 
 sputtering over crackling log fires, for the long ride beyond 
 the settlements demanded cooked rations for many a weary 
 day. 
 
 All these preliminaries arranged, the question of the 
 means of transportation for the two officers was determined 
 in this wise, and, as the sequel will show curiously enough, 
 saved the lives of the two heroes in the terrible gauntlet they 
 were destined to run. 
 
 Captain Hallowell was a famous whip, and prided him- 
 self upon his exceptionally fine turn-out which he daily drove 
 around the picturesque hills of Fort Riley. 
 
 " Booth," said he that morning, " let's not take a great 
 lumbering ambulance on this trip. If you will get a good 
 team of mules from the Quartermaster, I will furnish my 
 light wagon and we will do our own driving." 
 
 " All right," replied Booth, "Til get the mules." 
 
 Captain Hallowell, therefore, had a set of bows fitted to 
 
OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. 117 
 
 his light rig, over which was thrown an army wagon-sheet, 
 drawn up behind with a cord, similar to the fashion of the 
 average emigrant outfit now daily to be seen upon the roads of 
 our western prairie. A round hole was thus left at the end, 
 which served as a window and, as will be seen further on, 
 played a most important part in the tragedy in which this 
 simply-covered wagon figured so conspicuously. 
 
 Two valises, containing their dress uniforms, a box of 
 crackers and cheese, meat and sardines, and a bottle of anti- 
 snake bite, made up the precious freight for the long journey, 
 and in the clear cold of the early morning they rolled out of 
 the gates of the Fort, escorted by Company " L," of the 
 Eleventh Kansas, commanded by Lieutenant Jacob Van 
 Antwerp. 
 
 Junction City in those days was in reality the limit of 
 civilization, although Abilene, with its solitary log cabin, and 
 Salina, with only two, made great pretentions as the most 
 westerly .cities of the Plains. A single glance at the "howl- 
 ing wilderness " surrounding either place, however, dissi- 
 pated all idea of possible or probable future metropolitan 
 greatness ; still one was regaled right royally even then, so 
 far as the cuisine of Tim Hersey, in his primitive hut on the 
 bank of the Muddy, was concerned, for I doubt if ever 
 prairie chicken, buffalo steak, or antelope has been more 
 deliciously served in the pretentious hotel of 1879, at that 
 place, where now the thousands who annually travel moun- 
 
118 STORIES OF THE 
 
 tain-ward dine with service of silver and cut glass, and wipe 
 their fingers upon damask napkins. 
 
 In the morning our little command reached where now 
 Salina nestles so beautifully amidst her heavily fringed 
 streams; the long stretch of magnificent bottom land imme- 
 diately west of that town was covered with buffaloes, and 
 where the succulent blue stem, keeping pace with our won- 
 derful march of civilization, bows rythmically to the summer 
 breeze, a thick mat of short primitive herbage made that 
 whole region a favorite pasturage for those huge animals, so 
 rapidly passing away to-day. 
 
 The rough bluffs that border Alum and Clear Creeks, in 
 Ellsworth county, through which the trail wound its tortuous 
 way, were always, in those days, a favorite haunt of the 
 Indians, and many a solitary straggler has met his death from 
 their swift arrows in what are now called the " Harker Hills." 
 
 Safely through these dangerous bluffs and across the' 
 beautiful bottoms, that are to-day dotted with some of the 
 most picturesque homes in Ellsworth county, marched the 
 little army, and its one white covered ambulance. 
 
 Not an incident disturbed the quiet of the grand autumn 
 day, except the occasional slaughter of a buffalo in mere wan- 
 tonness now and then by some straggling soldier, and early 
 in the afternoon the stockade in the bend of the Smoky Hill 
 was reached. 
 
 After an inspection of this remote little garrison, which 
 was found in excellent spirits and condition, the line of march 
 
OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. 119 
 
 was resumed next morning for Captain Conkey's camp on the 
 Walnut. 
 
 The company of one hundred men, acting as an escort, 
 was too formidable a number to invite the cupidity of the In- 
 dians, and not a sign of one was seen as the dangerous flats 
 of Plum Creek and the rolling country beyond were succes- 
 sively passed, and the cantonment on the Walnut was reached 
 with nothing to disturb the monotony of the march. 
 
 Captain Conkey's command at this important outpost 
 were living in a rude but comfortable sort of a way in the 
 simplest of dug-outs constructed along the bank of the stream, 
 and the officers, a little more in accordance with military 
 dignity, in tents a few rods in rear of the line of huts. 
 
 A stockade stable had been built, with a capacity of two 
 hundred and fifty horses, and sufficient hay had been put up 
 by the men to carry the animals through the winter. 
 
 The Captain was a brusque but kind hearted man, and 
 with him were stationed his other officers, one of whom was 
 a son of Admiral Goldsborough, of naval fame. The next 
 morning Captain Booth made a rigid inspection of the place, 
 which took all day, as an immense amount of property had 
 accumulated for condemnation, and when evening came the 
 papers, books, etc., were still untouched, and this branch of 
 the inspection was postponed until the morning. 
 
 In the evening, while sitting around the camp-fire dis- 
 cussing the war, telling stories, etc., Captain Conkey said to 
 Booth : " Captain, it won't take more than half an hour in 
 
120 STORIES OF THE 
 
 the morning to inspect the papers and finish up what you 
 have got to do, why don't you start your escort out early, 
 and then they won't be obliged to trot after the ambulance, 
 or you to poke along with them ; you can then move out 
 briskly and make time ?" 
 
 Acting upon this suggestion, Captain Booth went over 
 the creek to Lieutenant Van Antwerp's camp and told him 
 he need not wait for the ambulance in the morning, but to 
 march at about half-past six or seven o'clock in advance. So 
 at daylight the escort marched out agreeably to instructions, 
 and Booth continued his inspection. 
 
 It was found, however, that either Captain Conkey had 
 misjudged the amount of work to be done, or the inspecting 
 officer's ability to do it in a certain time, and nearly three 
 hours elapsed before the task was completed. 
 
 At last everything was closed up, much to the satisfac- 
 tion of Lieutenant Hallowell, who had been chafing under 
 the delay ever since the troops departed. When all was in 
 readiness, and the ambulance drawn up in front of the com- 
 manding officer's tent, Lieutenant Hallowell suggested to 
 Booth the propriety of taking a few of the men stationed there 
 with them until they overtook their own escort, which must 
 now be several miles on the trail toward Fort Lamed. So 
 upon this Booth mentioned it to Captain Conkey, who said : 
 "Oh! there's no danger; there hasn't an Indian been seen 
 around here for more than ten days." 
 
 If they had known as much about Indians then as they 
 
OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. 121 
 
 afterward learned, Captain Conkey's response, instead of as- 
 suring them, would have made them insist upon an escort, 
 which Booth, in his official capacity, had the power to order; 
 but they were satisfied, and concluded to push on. Jumping 
 into their wagon, Lieutenant Hallowell took the lines, and 
 away they went rattling over the old log bridge that used to 
 span the Walnut, as light of heart as if riding to a dance. It 
 was a clear, cold morning, with a stiff breeze blowing from the 
 northwest; their trail was frozen hard in some places, and 
 was very rough, caused by the travel of heavy trains when it 
 was wet. 
 
 Booth sat on the left side with the whip in his hand, oc- 
 casionally striking the mules, to keep their speed. Hallowell 
 struck up a tune he was a good singer and Booth joined 
 in as they rolled along oblivious of danger as though they 
 were in their quarters at Riley. 
 
 After they had proceeded some distance Hallowell re- 
 marked : "The buffalo are grazing a long distance from the 
 road to-day a circumstance I think bodes no good " he had 
 been on the Elains the summer before, and was better ac- 
 quainted with Indians and their peculiarities than Captain 
 Booth but the latter replied, he " thought it was because 
 their escort had gone along ahead, and had probably frighten- 
 ed them away." The next mile or two was passed, and still 
 they saw no buffalo between the trail and the river, but nothing 
 more was said relating to this suspicious circumstance, and 
 they rolled rapidly on. 
 12 
 
122 STORIES OF THE 
 
 When about five or six miles from Zarah, on glancing 
 toward the river, to the left and front, Booth saw something 
 that looked strangely like a drove of turkeys; he watched 
 them intently for a few moments, when they rose up and he 
 discovered they were horsemen. He grasped Hallowell'sleft 
 arm, and directed his attention to them, said . " What's that ?" 
 Hallowell cast a hasty look to the point indicated and replying 
 "Indians! by George!" immediately turned the mules and 
 started them back toward Fort Zarah on a full gallop. 
 
 " Hold on," said Booth, " maybe its part of our escort?" 
 "No, no," replied Hallowell, "I know it's Indians." 
 "Well," replied Booth, "I'm going to see," so stepping 
 out on the foot board, and holding on to the front bow he 
 looked back over the top of the wagon. There was no doubt 
 now that they were Indians they had fully emerged from 
 the ravines in which they had hidden, and while he was look- 
 ing were slipping their buffalo robes from their shoulders, 
 taking arrows out of their quivers, drawing up their spears 
 and making ready generally for a red hot time. 
 
 While Booth was intently watching their hostile move- 
 ments Hallowell asked, " they are Indians, a'int they?" 
 
 " Yes," replied Booth, 'and they are coming like blazes." 
 "Oh, my!" said Hallowell, in a despairing tone, "I 
 shall never see poor Lizzie again " he had only been mar- 
 ried a few weeks, and his young wife's name was Lizzie. 
 
 * * Never mind Lizzie, " said Booth, ' let's get out of here ; " 
 although he was as badly frightened as Hallowell, but had no 
 
OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. 123 
 
 bride at Riley, and as he tells it, " was selfishly thinking of 
 himself and escape." 
 
 Promptly in response to Booth's remark came back from 
 Hallowell, in a voice as firm, clear and determined as ever 
 issued from mortal throat : 
 
 " All right, you do the shooting and I'll do the driving," 
 and suiting the action to the word, he snatched the whip out 
 of Booth's hand, slipped from the seat to the front of the 
 wagon and commenced lashing the mules. 
 
 Booth then crawled back, pulled one of his revolvers 
 he had two, Hallowell only one then crept, or rather fell over 
 the "lazy-back" of the seat and reached the hole made by 
 the puckering of the sheet, and counted the Indians ; thirty- 
 four feather-bedecked, paint-bedaubed, and vicious a looking 
 outfit as ever scalped a white man, were coming down on 
 them like a hawk upon a chicken. 
 
 Booth had hardly reached his place at the back of the 
 wagon before Hallowell between his yells to the mules 
 cries out, "how far are they off now Cap." for he could see 
 nothing in the rear as he sat. 
 
 Booth answered him as well as he could, and Hallowell 
 renewed his lashing and yelling. 
 
 Noiselessly the Indians gained, for they had not uttered 
 a whoop as yet. 
 
 Again Hallowell asked : "How far are they off now Cap ?" 
 and again Booth gave him an idea of the distance between 
 
OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. 125 
 
 them and their merciless foe, from which Hallowell gathered 
 inspiration for fresh yells and still more vigorous blows. 
 
 Booth was sitting on a box containing crackers, sardines, 
 etc., watching the approach of the cut-throats, and saw with 
 fear and trembling the ease with which they gained upon the 
 little wagon ; he realized then that safety did not lie in flight, 
 and that something besides mule's heels would be necessary to 
 preserve his scalp-locks. 
 
 Once more Hallowell inquired the distance between the 
 pursuing and pursued, but before Booth could answer, two 
 shots were fired from rifles by the Indians accompanied by a 
 yell that was enough to make the blood curdle in one's veins, 
 and no reply was needed to acquaint the valorous driver that 
 the fiends were sufficiently near to commence making trouble. 
 He yelled at the mules, and down came the whip upon the 
 poor animal's backs Booth yelled, for what reason he did 
 not know, unless to keep company with Hallowell while the 
 wagon flew over the rough road like a patent baby-jumper. 
 
 The bullets from the two rifles passed through the wagon 
 cover immediately between the officers, but did no damage, 
 and almost instantly the Indians charged down upon them, 
 dividing into two parties, one going on each side, delivering 
 a volley of arrows into the wagon as they rode by. 
 
 Just as they darted past the mules, Hallowell cried out : 
 "Cap., I'm hit," and turning round to look at him, Booth 
 saw an arrow sticking in his head above his right ear; his arm 
 was still plying the whip, which was going as unceasingly as 
 
126 STORIES OF THE 
 
 the sails of a windmill, and his yelling only stopped long 
 enough to answer "not much," in response to Booth's "does 
 it hurt," as he grabbed the arrow and pulled it out of his head. 
 
 The Indians by this time had passed on, and then circling 
 back, prepared for another charge. 
 
 Booth had already fired at them three or four times, but 
 owing to the distance, the jumping of the wagon and the "un- 
 steadiness of his nerves" as he declares the shots had not 
 decreased to any material extent, the number of their assail- 
 ants. 
 
 Down came the red devils again ! dividing as before, and 
 delivering another lot of arrows. Hallowell stopped yelling 
 long enough to cry out, "I'm hit again Cap." 
 
 Looking around Booth saw an arrow sticking in Hallo- 
 well's head, just over his left ear this time, and hanging down 
 his back like an ornament. 
 
 He snatched it out, asked Hallowell if it hurt him, but 
 received the same answer as before "No, not much." 
 
 Both were yelling at the top of their voices, the mules 
 were jerking the wagon along at a fearful rate frightened 
 nearly out of their wits at the sight of the Indians and the 
 shouting and whipping of their drivers. Booth crawling to 
 the back end of the wagon again and looking out, saw the In- 
 dians moving across the trail preparing for another charge. 
 One old fellow mounted on a black pony was jogging along 
 in the center of the road behind them, near enough, and evi- 
 dently intent on sending an arrow through the puckered hole 
 
OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. 127 
 
 of the wagon-sheet. As Booth looked out, the Indian stopped 
 his pony and let fly ! Booth dodged back sideways, the arrow 
 sped on its course and came whizzing through the hole and 
 struck the black-walnut ''lazy-back" of the seat, the head 
 sticking way through, the sudden checking causing the feath- 
 ered end to vibrate rapidly with a vro-o-o-o-ing sound; with 
 a sudden blow Booth struck it, breaking the shaft from the 
 head, leaving the latter imbedded in the wood. 
 
 As quick as he could, Booth rushed to the hole and fired 
 at his aged opponent but failed to hit him ; while he was 
 trying to get another shot at him, an arrow came flying from 
 the left side and struck him on the inside of the elbow, hit- 
 ting the nerve or crazy-bone, which so benumbed his hand 
 and arm that he could not hold on to the revolver and it 
 dropped from his hand into the road with one load still in its 
 chamber. Just then the mules gave an extra jump which 
 jerked the wagon nearly from under him, and he fell on the 
 end-gate evenly balanced with his hands sprawling outside 
 attempting to clutch at something to save himself. 
 
 At this the Indians gave a terribly yell of exultation 
 probably, supposing Booth was going to fall out, but he 
 didn't he caught hold of one of the wagon-bows and pulled 
 himself in again, terribly scared. It was a "close call" and 
 no mistake. 
 
 While all this was going on, Hallo well had not been neg- 
 lected by the incarnate fiends; about a dozen of them had 
 
128 STORIES OF THE 
 
 devoted their time and attention to him, but he had not 
 flinched. Just as Booth had regained his equilibrium and 
 drawn his second revolver from its holster, Hallowell yelled, 
 "Right off to the right! Cap., quick !" 
 
 Booth tumbled over the back of the seat, clutching at a bow 
 to steady himself, and ' right off to the right" was an Indian 
 just letting fly at Hallowell ; the arrow struck the side of the 
 wagon, Booth at the instant fired at the Indian missed him 
 of course but he was badly scared, and throwing himself on 
 the opposite side of his pony, scooted off over the prairie. 
 
 Back over the seat Booth piled again to guard the rear, 
 where he found a young buck riding close behind and to the 
 right of the wagon, his pony following the trail made by the 
 ox-drivers in walking beside their teams. Putting his arm 
 around one of the wagon-bows, to prevent his being jerked 
 out, Booth quietly stuck his revolver through the hole, but 
 before be could fire, the Indian flopped over on the side of 
 his pony, and all that could be seen of him was his arm 
 around the pony's neck, and from the knee, down one leg. 
 Booth did not fire but waited for him to come up he could 
 almost hit his pony's head with his hand, so close was he 
 running he struck at it several times but the Indian kept 
 him close up by whipping him on the opposite side of his 
 neck ; presently, the Indian's arm began to work, and Booth 
 looking, saw that he had fixed an arrow in his bow under 
 the pony's shoulder, and was just on the point of shooting at 
 him, with the head of the arrow not three feet from his breast 
 
OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. 129 
 
 as he leaned out of his hole in the wagon-sheet. Booth 
 struck frantically at the arrow, dodged back into the wagon, 
 up came the Indian, but Booth went out again, for he realized 
 that the Indian had to be got away from there, as he would 
 make trouble. Whenever Booth went out, down went the 
 Indian, up he rose in a moment again, but Booth fearing to 
 risk himself with his head and breast exposed at this game of 
 "hide and go seek" drew back as the Indian went down the 
 third time, and in a second up he came again, but this was 
 once too often. Booth had only gotten partly in and had not 
 dropped his revolver, so as the Indian rose, instinctively, and 
 without taking aim, fired. 
 
 The ball struck him in the left nipple he was naked to 
 the waist the blood spirted out of the wound almost to the wa- 
 gon, his bow and arrow and lariat-rope dropped, he fell back 
 on the pony's rump and rolling from there heavily on the 
 ground, with a convulsive straightening of his legs and a char- 
 acteristic Ugh ! lay as quiet as a stone. 
 
 "I've killed one of them Hallowell!" yelled out Booth, 
 as the Indian tumbled off his pony. 
 
 "Bully for you !" came back the response, and then he 
 continued his shouting and the blows of that tireless whip fell 
 incessantly upon the mules. 
 
 All the Indians that were in the rear and saw the young 
 warrior fall, rode up to him, circled around his dead 
 body, uttering the most unearthly yells, but different from 
 anything they had given vent to before. 
 
130 STOXJES OF THE 
 
 Hallowell from the cramped position in front, noticed 
 the change in their tone and asked : "What are they doing 
 now, Cap ?" 
 
 Booth explained to him, and Hallowell's response was 
 more vociferous yelling and harder blows upon the poor gal- 
 loping mules. 
 
 Booth was still 'sitting upon the cracker-box watching 
 the maneuvers of the Indians, when suddenly, Hallowell 
 sang out: "Right off to the right, Cap., quick!" which 
 startled him, and whirling around instantly, he saw an In- 
 dian within three feet of the wagon with his bow and arrow 
 almost ready to shoot; there was no time to get over the seat, 
 and as he could not fire by Hallowell, he cried out : "Hit 
 him with the whip ! hit him with the whip ! " The Lieuten- 
 ant suiting the action to the word, simply diverted one of 
 the blows intended for the mules, and struck the Indian fair 
 across the face. 
 
 The whip had a knot on the end to keep it from unrav- 
 eling, and this knot must have hit the Indian in the eye, for 
 he dropped his bow, put his hands up to his face, rubbed his 
 eyes and digging his heel into the left side of his pony, was 
 soon out of reach of a revolver, but nevertheless, he was giv- 
 en a parting shot a sort of salute for it was harmless. 
 
 A terrific yell from the rear at this moment caused Booth 
 to look around, and Hallowell to inquire: " What's the mat- 
 ter now?" "They are coming down upon us like light- 
 ning," replied Booth; and, sure enough, those who had been 
 
OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. 131 
 
 prancing around their dead comrade were tearing down to- 
 ward the wagon like a whirlwind, and with a whoop more 
 deafening and hideous than any that had yet preceded it. 
 
 Hallowell yelled louder than ever and lashed the mules 
 more furiously still, but the Indians gained upon them as 
 easily as a blooded racer on a common farm plug. Separat- 
 ing as before, and passing on each side of the wagon, the In- 
 dians delivered another volley as they charged by. 
 
 As this charge was made Booth drew away from the 
 hole in the rear of the wagon-cover and turned his seat to- 
 ward the Indians, but forgot in the excitement, that in the 
 manner he was sitting his back pressed against the sheet- 
 his body was plainly outlined probably on the outside. 
 
 When the Indians rushed by and delivered their storm 
 of arrows, Hallowell cried out, "I'm hit again, Cap," and 
 Booth in turning around to go to his relief felt something pull- 
 ing at him ; glancing over his left shoulder to learn the cause 
 of the trouble, he discovered an arrow sticking into him and out 
 through the wagon sheet; with a jerk of his body he tore it 
 loose, and going to Hallowell asked: "Where are you hit 
 now?" "In the back," he answered; where looking, Booth 
 saw an arrow sticking, the shaft extending under the "lazy- 
 back " of the seat. Taking hold of it, Booth gave it a pull, 
 but Hallowell squirmed so that he desisted. "Pull it out! 
 Pull it out ! " he cried. Booth thereupon took hold of it 
 again, and, giving a jerk or two, out it came. He was thor- 
 oughly frightened as he saw it leave the Lieutenant's body, 
 
132 STORIES OF THE 
 
 for it seemed to have entered at least six inches, and looked 
 as if it must be a dangerous wound ; but Hallowell did not 
 cease belaboring the mules, and his yells, accompanying the 
 blows, rang out as clear as before. 
 
 After pulling out the arrow, Booth turned again to the 
 opening in the rear of the wagon to see what new tricks the 
 miscreants were up to, when Hallowell yelled again : " Right 
 off to the left Cap., quick ! " 
 
 Rushing to the front of the wagon as soon as possible, 
 Booth saw an Indian in the act of shooting at the Lieutenant 
 from the left side and about ten feet away. The last revolver 
 was empty, but something had to be done at once, so leveling 
 the weapon at him, Booth yelled " Bang, you son-of-a-gun !" 
 
 Down went the Indian, rap, rap, went his knees against 
 the pony's sides, and away he flew over the prairie. 
 
 Back over the seat Booth tumbled and began to load his 
 revolver. The cartridges they had in those days were the 
 old-fashioned paper kind, and biting off the end of one he 
 would endeavor to pour the powder into the chamber, but 
 the wagon was tumbling from side to side and jumping up 
 and down as it flew over the rough trail, that more of the 
 powder went into the bottom of the wagon than into the re- 
 volver. 
 
 Just as he was inserting a ball into the chamber, Hallo- 
 well cried out again : " Right off to the left, Cap., quick ! " Over 
 the seat Booth went once more and there was another Indian 
 with his bow and arrow in his hand all ready to pinion the 
 
OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. 133 
 
 Lieutenant; pointing his revolver at him, Booth yelled as he 
 had at the other, but the Indian had evidently noticed the 
 failure to fire at the first, and concluded that there were no 
 more loads left, so, instead of taking a hasty departure as his 
 comrade had done, he grinned a demoniacal grin and en- 
 deavored to fix the arrow into his bow. 
 
 Thoroughly frightened now at the aspect things were as- 
 suming, Booth rose up in the wagon and grasping hold of 
 a bow with his left hand, seized the revolver by the muzzle 
 and with all the force he could muster hurled it at the impu- 
 dent brute. 
 
 It was a new Remington octagon barrel with sharp cor- 
 ners, and when it was thrown turned in the air striking the 
 Indian muzzle first on the ribs, cutting a long gash. 
 
 "Ugh ! V grunted the Indian, and dropping his bow and 
 spear, he flung himself over the side of the pony and away he 
 went over the prairie to bother them no more. 
 
 Only the one revolver left now and that empty, and the 
 Indians still howling around the apparently doomed men like 
 so many demons. 
 
 After he had driven the Indian off, Booth fell over the 
 seat, picked up the empty revolver and attempted to load it, 
 but before he could bite off a cartridge Hallowell yelled, 
 "I'm hit again, Cap." 
 
 "Where are you hit now?" asked the gallant Captain. 
 
 " In the hand," replied Hallowell. , 
 
 Looking around, Booth saw that his right arm was ply- 
 13 
 
134 STORIES OF THE 
 
 ing the whip to the now laggard mules, and sticking through 
 the fleshy part of his thumb was an arrow, which was flop- 
 ping up and down as his arm rose and fell in its ceaseless 
 and evidently tireless efforts to keep up the speed of the al- 
 most exhausted animals. 
 
 " Let me pull it out," said Booth. 
 
 "No, never mind," replied Hallowell; "Can't stop! 
 Can't stop ! " and up and down went his arm, and flip-flap 
 went the arrow with it, until finally it tore through the flesh 
 
 and fell to the ground. 
 
 Along they bowled, the Indians yelling and the occu- 
 pants of the wagon defiantly answering them, while Booth 
 was still making a desperate but vain effort to load the re- 
 volver. In a few moments Hallowell shouted, "they are 
 crowding the mules into the sunflowers ! " 
 
 Along the sides of the trail huge sunflowers had grown 
 the previous summer and now their dry stalks stood as thick 
 as a cane-brake, and if the wagon once got among them the 
 mules could not keep up their gallop and would soon be 
 compelled to stop. 
 
 The Indians seemed to realize this fact, and one huge 
 fellow kept riding beside the off mule and throwing his spear 
 at him and then jerking it back with the thong, one end of 
 which was fastened to his wrist, the other to the shaft of the 
 spear. The mule on the side next to the Indian was jumping 
 frantically and pushing the near mule from the road. 
 
 Stepping out on the foot-board and holding on to a bow 
 
OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. 135 
 
 with one hand, Booth commenced kicking the mule vigorously; 
 Hallowell, meanwhile, was pulling on one line, whipping and 
 yelling, so together they forced the animals back into the 
 trail and away they shot at the top of their speed. 
 
 The Indian kept close to the mules, and Booth made 
 several attempts to scare him by pointing his revolver at him, 
 but he " would not scare," so he threw it at him, missed the 
 Indian, but struck the pony just behind the rider's leg, which 
 started the latter off over the prairie, thus removing the im- 
 mediate peril from that source. 
 
 They were now absolutely without firearms nothing 
 left but their sabers and valises, and the Indians soon learn- 
 ing that there were no more shots to be feared came closer 
 and closer. 
 
 In turn the two sabers were thrown at them as they came 
 almost within striking distance , then followed the scabbards 
 after the yelling fiends as they surrounded the wagon; some 
 rode immediately in front of the mules, impeding their prog- 
 ress, with the most infernal noises and attempts to spear 
 them (the Indians had evidently exhausted all their arrows), 
 and the camp on the Walnut still a mile and a half away. 
 
 There was nothing left for our luckless travelers to do 
 but whip and kick the mules and yell, all of which they did 
 most lustily, Hallowell sitting as immovable as the Sphinx, 
 except his right arm, which, from the time he had started, had 
 not ceased, and Booth kicking the poor animals and shouting 
 in concert with their importunate foe. Looking casually 
 
136 STORIES OF THE 
 
 4 
 
 back over the seat Booth saw twelve or fifteen Indians com- 
 ing up behind with their spears all unstrung ready for action, 
 and he felt that something must be done, and that right 
 speedily, to divert them, for if these added their number 
 already surrounding the wagon, the chances were they would 
 succeed in forcing the mules from the trail, and the end of 
 the tragedy soon come. 
 
 Glancing around the bottom of the wagon, in his despair, 
 for some kind of a weapon with which to resist them, Booth's 
 eye rested upon the valises containing the dress suits, and 
 snatching his, threw it out, while their pursuers were yet some 
 four or five rods behind. 
 
 The Indians noticed these new tricks with a yell of ap- 
 parent satisfaction, and as soon as they reached the valise 
 they all dismounted, and one of them grabbed it by the two 
 handles and attempted to open it; failing in this, another 
 drew a long knife from under his blanket and, ripping up one 
 side, thrust in his hand, and pulling out a sash began wind- 
 ing it around his head (as a negro woman winds a bandana), 
 letting the tassels hang down his back. 
 
 While he was thus amusing himself, another had pulled 
 out a dress coat, a third a pair of drawers, still another a 
 shirt, all of which they individually proceeded to put on, 
 meanwhile dancing around and yelling. 
 
 Booth reported to Hallowell how the sacrifice of his valise 
 had Averted the Indians, and said: "I'm going to throw 
 out yours." 
 
OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. 137 
 
 "All right," he replied, "let her go, all we want is 
 time. " So out it went and shared the same fate as the other. 
 
 As long as the Indians were busy helping themselves to 
 the wardrobes contained in the two valises, they were not 
 bothering our horses, and as Hallowell had said, " all they 
 wanted was time." 
 
 But while the diversion was going on in the rear, the 
 devils in front and on each side were still attempting to force 
 the mules from the road by rushing at them and yelling, and 
 brandishing their spears; none of them had as yet tried to 
 kill them, evidently thinking they could murder the two 
 offirers and secure the animals alive a prize too valuable for 
 an Indian to lose. But as they were now drawing near the 
 creek, on the opposite bank of which the camp was situated, 
 and the chance of escape grew brighter, one miserable cut- 
 throat of the band conceived the idea, apparently, of killing 
 one of the mules, for he charged down on the wagon, rode 
 close to one and discharging his arrow at him, struck him on 
 the front leg severing a small artery, from which the blood 
 spurted by^erks. The mules had no blinds on their bridles, 
 and the one hurt, seeing the blood, it frightened him so that 
 he gave a terrific jump and started off at a break-neck gait, 
 dragging the other mule and the wagon after him, so all the 
 occupants had to do now was to pound and kick the unin. 
 jured one to make him keep up. 
 
 This fresh spurt of speed had carried them away from the 
 Indians, but Booth and Hallowell knew that the animals could 
 
138 STORIES OF THE 
 
 not continue it, and they became convinced that the Indians 
 now meant to kill one or both of the mules in order to stop 
 them. 
 
 The lull caused by the mules outstripping the Indians 
 gave our almost despairing heroes time to talk the matter over. 
 
 Hallowell said he did not propose to be captured and 
 taken to Medicine Lodge Creek, or some other place, and 
 then butchered or burned at the leisure of the Indians. He 
 said to Booth: "If they kill a mule and so stop us, let's 
 kick, strike, throw clods or anything, and compel them to 
 kill us on the spot." So they agreed, if worse came to the 
 worst, to stand back to back and fight them off. 
 
 This may seem overdrawn to many of our readers of to- 
 day, but if they have ever seen the remains of men and women 
 hacked and mutilated as the writer has, and realize as fully as 
 the occupants of the little wagon did that such a fate awaited 
 them in the event of capture, they, too, would have courted 
 death, sudden, certain and immediate, in preference to that 
 other, more remote but just as sure, and far more terrible. 
 
 During the discussion of the situation by "Booth and 
 Hallowell, the speed of the mules had slackened but little ; 
 the arm of the latter still plied that effective lash, and they 
 drew perceptibly nearer the camp, where there were men 
 enough to rescue them if they could only be made aware of 
 their situation, and as they caught the first glimpse of the 
 tents of the officers and dug outs of the men hope sprang up 
 within them, and life hanging, as it were, by a slender cord, 
 
OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. 139 
 
 seemed more precious than ever. In the hope of arousing 
 and attracting the attention of some of the soldiers they com- 
 menced yelling again at the top of their voices ; the mules 
 were panting like a hound on the chase ; wherever the har- 
 ness touched them it was as white with lather as the inside of 
 a shaving cup, and they could not keep on their feet much 
 longer. 
 
 Would they hold out until the bridge was reached ? pro- 
 vided they escaped the spears of the Indians. The whipping 
 and kicking had little effect on them now ; they still continued 
 in their gallop, but it was slower and more labored than be- 
 fore, and as the Indians fell back to make fresh charges, the 
 mules also slackened their gait, and it became almost impos- 
 sible to accelerate their motion. 
 
 Hallowell kept his whip going mechanically, and Booth 
 continued his attention to the little near mule with his foot, 
 but the worn out animal began to evince unmistakable signs 
 of breaking down, and longing eyes were cast toward the 
 camp, now so near. 
 
 , The Indians that had torn open the satchels had not 
 come up, and did not seem inclined to further continue the 
 fight, but there were still a sufficient number of the fiends 
 pursuing to make it interesting, but they could not succeed 
 in spearing the mules, as at each attempt the plucky little 
 animals would jump sideways or forward and evade the im- 
 pending blow. 
 
140 STORIES OF THE 
 
 One gigantic fellow followed them with a determination 
 and valor worthy of a better cause the others seeming now 
 to have almost abandoned the idea of capturing either men or 
 animals, but this persistent warrior, in all probability, was 
 related to the "young buck" Booth had killed, and was 
 thirsting for revenge ; at any rate, he was loth to give up the 
 chase, and followed the wagon to within a few rods of the 
 bridge, long after the other Indians had fallen back entirely. 
 
 The little log bridge was now reached ; their pursuers 
 had all retreated, but the valorous Hallowell kept the mules 
 at the same galloping gait. This bridge was constructed of 
 half-round logs, and of course was extremely rough, the wagon 
 bounded up and down enough to shake the teeth out of one's 
 head, as the mules went flying over the rude structure. Booth 
 called out to Hallowell, " No need to drive so fast now, the 
 Indians have all left," but he answered : 
 
 " I ain't going to stop until 1 get across," and down came 
 the whip, on sped the mules, not breaking their gallop until 
 t hey pulled up in front of Captain donkey's tent. Booth 
 could not stand the fearful bounding of the wagon as it roll- 
 ed across the bridge, so he crawled out behind and walked 
 up to the quarters. 
 
 The rattling of the wagon on the bridge was the first in- 
 timation the command had of its returning. The sentinel on 
 post had been walking his beat on the east side of the long 
 stockade stable to keep out of the cold northwest wind, and 
 had heard nothing of the yelling and talking until they struck 
 
OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. 141 
 
 the bridge, when he came around the end of the stable, saw 
 the wagon and two or three of the Indians behind, fired his 
 carbine and thus aroused the camp. 
 
 The officers came running out of their tents, the men 
 poured out of their dug-outs like a lot of ants, and the little 
 wagon and its occupants were soon surrounded by their 
 friends. Captain Conkey ordered the bugler to sound ''boots 
 and saddles," and in less than ten minutes ninety troopers 
 were mounted, and, with the Captain at their head, started 
 after the Indians. 
 
 Lieutenant Hallowell reached the line of c fficer's tents 
 before Booth, and, as the latter came up, was attempting to 
 rise so as to get out, but each effort only resulted in his fall- 
 ing back. It was thought at first his wounds were the cause, 
 and when asked: " What's the matter; can't you get out?" 
 replied, " I don't know. I can't seem to get up only so far." 
 Some one stepped around the other side to assist him, when 
 it was discovered that the skirt of his overcoat had worked 
 outside the wagon-sheet and hung over the edge, and that 
 three or four of the arrows fired by the Indians had struck 
 the side of the wagon, and passing through the flap of his 
 coat had pinned him down. Booth pulled the arrows out 
 and helped him up ; he was pretty stiff from sitting in his 
 cramped position so long, and his right arm dropped by his 
 side as if struck with paralysis. 
 
 While Hallowell walked into Captain Conkey 's tent, assist- 
 ed by the Adjutant and Quartermaster, some of the soldiers 
 
142 STORIES OF THE 
 
 unhitched the poor mules and led them to the corral. In 
 examining the inside of the wagon twenty-two arrows were 
 found lying in the bottom, innumerable holes through the 
 sheet made by the passage of arrows, besides two from bul- 
 lets, and the outside of the bed was scarred from one end to 
 the other. 
 
 Booth stood looking on while Hallowell's wounds were 
 being dressed, when the Adjutant said: "What makes you 
 shrug your shoulders so, Captain ?" Booth replied that he 
 "did not know; something causes it to smart." The Adju- 
 tant looked and said, " Well, I should think it would smart; 
 here is an arrow-head sticking into it," and he tried to pull it 
 out, but it would not come. Captain Goldsborough then at- 
 tempted it, but was not more successful than the Adjutant. 
 The Doctor told them to let it alone and he would take care 
 of it after he had finished with Hallowell, which he soon did, 
 and with his lance cut it out. The point of the arrow had 
 struck the thick part of the shoulder-blade and made two 
 complete turns, wrapping around the muscles which had to 
 be cut apart before it could be withdrawn. 
 
 Both of the principals in the terrible ride were soon at- 
 tended to and made as comfortable as possible. Booth was 
 not seriously hurt, Hallowell, however, had received two se- 
 vere wounds, the arrow that lodged in his back had penetra- 
 ted almost to his kidneys, and the wound in his thumb was 
 very painful, caused not so much by the simple contact of 
 
OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. 143 
 
 the arrow as the tearing away of the muscle by the shaft while 
 he was whipping his mules; his right arm, too, was swollen 
 fearfully, and became stiff from the incessant use of it dur- 
 ing his drive, and for nearly a month he required help in 
 dressing and undressing. The rnules, the veritable saviours of 
 our heroes, were of little account after their memorable trip 
 they remained stiff and sore from the rough road and their 
 continued forced speed. Booth and Hallowell went out the 
 next morning to take a look at them as they hobbled around 
 the corral, and from the bottom of their hearts wished them 
 " green fields and pastures new." 
 
 About half an hour after the little wagon had returned 
 to Captain Conkey's camp, a portion of the escort which had 
 been sent out in advance in the morning, came galloping up 
 and from them was learned the following in relation to their 
 movements : 
 
 They had started from camp early, as ordered the night 
 before, and moved out on a good brisk walk toward For 
 Lamed. There were plenty of buffalo on the north side of 
 the trail, and they saw no signs of Indians, except the ab- 
 sence of buffalo near the river. They kept looking back, 
 and slackened their gait somewhat after getting out four or 
 five miles, to enable the wagon to catch up, and when they 
 had proceeded about a mile beyond the point where the In- 
 dians made their first attack, and the wagon had been turned 
 toward the camp, one of the lieutenants said to the other 
 that they were getting too Tar ahead of the Captain, and sug- 
 
144 STORIES OF THE 
 
 gested the propriety of halting, but Van Antwerp, who was 
 in command, thought it better to leave a part of the compa- 
 ny at that spot to wait ; accordingly a corporal and fifteen 
 men were detailed to remain there until the wagon should 
 arrive, and the balance moved on toward the Fort. 
 
 The squad that had been detailed remained by the side 
 of the trail for half an hour or so, when, becoming chilled, 
 the corporal took them toward the river into a ravine that 
 sheltered both men and horses from the cold northwest wind. 
 There they remained sometime, when the corporal, becom- 
 ing anxious, sent one of the men up to the trail to see if the 
 wagon was coming, but he soon returned reporting nothing 
 in sight. Waiting a few moments longer he sent another man 
 out, who, on returning, reported that the wagon was coming 
 and had an escort. This last man had seen them a long way 
 off while the Indians were chasing them, and supposed they 
 were an escorting party which was correct in one sense, but 
 not as he thought and reported. 
 
 Remaining in the ravine until the corporal supposed the 
 wagon had arrived nearly opposite, he moved out his squad 
 on the trail, but seeing no wagon, and suspecting something 
 had happened started his party toward the camp on Walnut 
 Creek. They had proceeded but a short distance when one 
 of the men cried out : " Here's- an arrow ! " Hardly were 
 the words out of his mouth before a second said: " Here's 
 another!" They knew now the reason the wagon had not 
 come up, and the corporal gave the command to gallop, and 
 
OLD^SANTA FE TRAIL. 145 
 
 away they flew toward the camp. As they successively 
 passed by the empty valises and the innumerable arrows on 
 the trail, they fully realized the kind^of an escort that had ac- 
 companied the little wagon, when the soldier had reported, 
 ''they are coming, and have got an escort." 
 
 Captain Conkey's command returned about midnight. 
 He had seen but one Indian during the entire ride, and he 
 was on the south side of the river in the sand hills. 
 
 The next morning a scouting party of forty men, under 
 command of a sergeant, was started out to scour the coun- 
 try toward Cow Creek, northeast from Captain Conkey's 
 camp on the Walnut. 
 
 When this party had proceeded four or five miles toward 
 their objective point, a corporal reqested the sergeant to 
 allow him and another man to go over to the "Upper Wal- 
 nut Crossing," to see if they could discover any signs of In- 
 dians. 
 
 The sergeant, to excuse himself afterward, stated that 
 he supposed the men were simply going over the divide, 
 instead of which they went on until they struck the upper 
 trail and followed it down around the bend, almost to the 
 creek. 
 
 When fairly around the bend, and while riding carelessly 
 along, up sprang about three hundred Indians, whooping and 
 yelling! The two soldiers, of course, immediately whirled 
 their horses and started down the creek toward the camp, 
 hotly pursued by the howling savages. 
 14 
 
146 STORIES OF THE 
 
 The corporal was an excellent horseman, and led out in 
 their flight closely followed by the private, who was better 
 mounted, but not as good a rider. They haol- gone but a 
 short distance when the corporal heard the man exclaim : 
 
 " Don't leaVe me ! Don't leave me ! " 
 
 Looking around, he saw his comrade had lost ground, 
 his horse was rearing and plunging, making little headway, 
 while his rider was jerking and pulling on the bit (which was 
 a curb of the severest kind), the corporal called to him and 
 said: 
 
 " Let him out ! let him out ! Don't jerk him so ! " 
 
 The Indians were gaining on them rapidly, and soon 
 the corporal heard the man cry out again : 
 
 "Oh! don't !" 
 
 Turning his head to see what was the matter, a spear- 
 point struck the visor of the corporal's cap which knocked it 
 off. He had his revolver in his right hand, and thrusting 
 this at the Indian who had thrown the spear, and who was 
 now side by side with him, he fired, shooting him through 
 and through. 
 
 No use delaying now, he could be of no assistance to 
 his unfortunate comrade, so leaning forward and sinking the 
 spurs into his horse, the corporal went flying down the val- 
 ley, with the three hundred Indians in his wake, and making 
 the prairie ring with their hideous yells. 
 
 The officers in camp, including Captain Booth and Lieu- 
 tenant Hallowell, were sitting in their tents when the sentinel 
 
OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. 147 
 
 on post fired his gun, upon which all rushed out to learn the 
 cause of the alarm, for there was no random shooting in those 
 days allowed around camp or garrison. Looking up the val- 
 ley of the Walnut, they could see the lucky corporal, with 
 his long hair streaming in the wind, his heels rapping his 
 horse's sides, as flecked with foam the noble animal was 
 straining every muscle as he fairly flew over the brown sod of 
 the winter prairie. The Indians were in hot pursuit, but 
 could not gain an inch on the excited trooper as he tore 
 along toward camp. 
 
 In a moment a hundred men had snatched their carbines 
 and run up the creek to the rescue, but the Indians, true to 
 their instinct, turned tail before they came within gun-shot. 
 
 The corporal slacked up, rode to the officers' tents, and 
 stopping long enough to give his version of the affair, then 
 went to his quarters. 
 
 Captain Conkey started a squad up the creek in a few 
 moments accompanied by an ambulance. They were gone 
 but a short time when they returned with the dead body of 
 the unfortunate private. He had been shot with an arrow, 
 the point of which was sticking out through his breast-bone ; 
 his scalp had been torn completely off, and the lappels of his 
 coat and the legs of his pantaloons carried away. He was 
 buried the next day. The main detachment that had gone 
 toward * ' Cow Creek " returned a little after dark without 
 having seen an Indian. 
 
 Evidently the savages that had given Booth and Hallowell 
 
148 STORIES OF THE 
 
 such a terrible ride the day before, were a small war party de- 
 tached from the large body that chased the corporal, and had 
 gone down the Santa Fe trail to pick up any straggler that 
 might be so unfortunate as to be passing at the time and 
 the "little wagon " happened to contain those " unfortunates." 
 
 If Booth and Hallowell had known of the action of their 
 escort, it would have been better for them, perhaps, if they 
 had continued right ahead instead of turning, as they could 
 not have been more than a mile from the ravine where the 
 corporal had taken his men when the Indians first attacked 
 them. Then, again, as the Indians probably knew just where 
 the escort was, they might have fought still more desperately, 
 in consideration of less time to accomplish their work. At 
 any rate, our two heroes escaped with comparatively slight 
 injury, and could not have done better if they had taken the 
 other course, though the agony would not have been so pro- 
 longed. After remaining at the camp on the Walnut for a 
 day or two to recruit their shattered nerves, Booth and Hal- 
 lowell returned to Fort Riley, and the latter did "see his 
 Lizzie again" 
 
 The occurrence narrated in this sketch is but one in a 
 thousand ; hundreds terminated more tragically, as the name- 
 less graves that dot the prairie along the Santa Fe trail will 
 most assuredly prove. 
 
 Many are now living in various parts of the State who 
 were prominent actors in the stirring scenes and "hair- 
 breadth escapes" of those perilous days of the "Border." 
 
OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. 149 
 
 Some, too, have risen to positions of honor and trust, while 
 many have passed over "the dark river " too soon to have 
 witnessed the grand Empire that has grown up on the Great 
 Plains, where they, the hardy pioneers of our marvelous 
 civilization, laid down their lives, a sacrifice demanded by 
 the inevitable and rigorous law of progress in the genesis of 
 grand states. 
 
 Lieut. Hallowell, whose bravery and heroism has been 
 but imperfectly portrayed in this "o'er true" sketch, after 
 the terrible ride, succumbed to the dreadful scourge that 
 swept over Kansas in 1867. He was a sub-contractor on the 
 Pacific Railroad, then in process of construction, when that 
 fell disease, cholera, entered his camp, in one of the beauti- 
 ful little valleys tributary to the Smoky Hill, and while ad- 
 ministering to the comfort of his fellow laborers, was himself 
 stricken down. There on the primitive prairie his grave was 
 dug, and all that remained of one of the truest and bravest 
 of men was gently laid to rest with the great circle of the 
 heavens for his monument, and the recurring blossoms of 
 spring time for his epitaph. 
 
 Captain Conkey, after faithfully serving his country, 
 retired to the peaceful pursuits of civil life, together with the 
 great army of volunteers, and in the tumult of subsequent 
 events, has been lost sight of. 
 
 Captain Booth still lives; has served the State in various 
 capacities, and at present holds the responsible position of 
 " Receiver of the Public Moneys " in the U. S. Land Office, 
 at Larned. 
 
150 STORIES OF THE 
 
 THE MASSACRE AT BABE'S RANCH, 
 
 AND A KANSAS WOMAN'S REMARKABLE RIDE. 
 
 On the Colorado river, near the source of that stream 
 in Western Texas, some twelve years ago, Babb's Ranch a 
 snug little jacal cabin marked the extreme limit of frontier 
 civilization, the march of which so wonderful in its strides 
 toward the mountains since that date, was then far east of 
 the ninety-eighth meridian, and the prairies of the Lone 
 Star State, and our own beloved Kansas, a wilderness, into 
 whose magic area the footsteps of the hardy pioneer had not 
 yet ventured. Babb loved the solitude of the grand old 
 motionless ocean around him, and was supremely happy in 
 the society of his little family, consisting of wife, three chil- 
 dren, and Mrs. L (the heroine of this sketch) a relation 
 
 by marriage, who had recently become widowed, and who 
 now was making her home temporarily with the Babbs. 
 
 The cabin was prettily situated near the bank of a small 
 tributary to the Colorado, and was partially surrounded by 
 thick clumps of elders, plum bushes, and other indigenous 
 shrubs. It contained only one room which served as parlor, 
 chamber, kitchen, and dining-room, but notwithstanding the 
 multifarious uses to which it was put, was kept scrupulously 
 clean through the constant exertions of the female portion of 
 
OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. 151 
 
 its inmates. A rude ceiling of small saplings covered with 
 mesquit grass formed the floor of a sort of garret which was 
 used as a general " stow-away," access to which was by 
 means of a rude ladder that rested against the wall of the 
 room below. 
 
 Early in June, 1867, Babb found it necessary to take 
 the trail for one of the little Mexican towns near the foot of 
 the mountains, and was forced to leave the women and chil- 
 dren to take care of themselves. This was done with a 
 sense of perfect security, however, for the Indians had appar- 
 ently entertained friendly relations, and Babb placing as 
 many a poor frontiersman has before and since too much 
 confidence in the humanity of the Comanches, left home 
 with a light heart, and a flattering belief that his family, at 
 least, were safe from the murderous knife of the savage. Vain 
 hope ! In less than a week after Babb's absence on a mag- 
 nificent morning in that beautiful June, Mrs. Babb espied 
 several horsemen coming over the ridge about a quarter of a 
 mile away, and as they approached saw with sinking heart 
 they were Comanches, bedecked in all the hideousness of 
 their war-paint. Two of her little ones were innocently 
 playing down in the creek bottom a hundred yards or so 
 from the house, and the first impulse of the mother's heart, 
 of course, was the safety of her darlings. So she ran out, 
 called them with all the love of her soul to come to the house 
 for their lives. She intended to get them inside, bar up the 
 
152 STORIES OF THE 
 
 door and stand a siege, the jacal walls of the building being 
 almost proof against the bullets of the inferior guns in the 
 hands of the Indians of those days. But the children either 
 not hearing her, or recognizing the fact that it was too late, 
 hid in the bushes, and down swept the savages like the 
 wind. In a moment they had found the two little children 
 out of doors, tied them together with their lariats, and leav- 
 ing them on the ground, rushed into the house, the door of 
 which had not even been closed, and snatching the baby 
 from it's mother's arms who instinctively essayed to save it, 
 dashed its brains out on the floor. Two of the savages, 
 enraged perhaps, at Mrs. Babb's resistance, immediately 
 jerked the unfortunate woman across the table and inhu- 
 manly cut her throat from ear to ear, putting an end to her 
 life and grief at once. 
 
 Mrs. L , who had upon the first dash of the Indians 
 
 toward the house, rushed up the ladder into the garret, see- 
 ing the butchery, gave a shriek of horror, upon which the 
 savages dragged her down and strange as it may seem 
 did not kill her, but tying her hand and foot, threw her 
 with the two children across their saddles and galloped off 
 to the North. 
 
 General Marcy, who gives a description of this woman's 
 fate in one of his Border Reminiscences, says : 
 
 " In accordance with their usual practice, they traveled 
 as rapidly as their horses could carry them for several days 
 and nights, only making occasional short halts to graze their 
 
OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. 153 
 
 animals and get a little sleep themselves, so that the unfor- 
 tunate captives necessarily suffered indescribable tortures 
 from harsh treatment, fatigue, and want of sleep and food. 
 Yet they were forced by the savages to continue day after 
 day, and night after night for many weary miles toward the 
 " Staked Plain," crossing en route the Brazos, Wichita, Red, 
 Canadian, and Arkansas rivers, several of which were at 
 swimming stages. 
 
 The warriors guarded their captives very closely until 
 they had gone so great a distance from the settlements that 
 they imagined it impossible for them to make their escape 
 and find their way home, when they relaxed their vigilance 
 slightly, and they were permitted to walk about a little within 
 short limits from the bivouac ; but they were given to under- 
 stand by unmistakable pantomime that death would be the 
 certain penalty of the first attempt to escape. In spite of 
 
 this Mrs. L , who possessed a firmness of purpose truly 
 
 heroic, resolved to seize the first favorable opportunity to get 
 away ; and with this resolution in view, she carfully observed 
 the relative speed and powers of endurance of the different 
 horses in the party, and noted the manner in which they 
 were grazed, guarded, and caught. Upon a dark night after 
 a long and fatiguing day's ride, and while the Indians were 
 sleeping soundly, she noiselessly and cautiously crawled 
 away from the bed of her young companions who were also 
 buried in profound slumber, and going to the pasture ground 
 of the horses, selected the best, leaped upon his back a la 
 
154 STORIES OF THE 
 
 %arcon, with only a lariat on his neck, and, without saddle 
 or bridle started off quietly at a slow walk, in the direction 
 of the North Star, believing this course would lead her to 
 the nearest white inhabitants. 
 
 As soon as she had gone out of hearing of the camp, 
 without detection, or pursuit, she accelerated the speed of 
 her horse into a trot, then into a gallop, and urged him 
 rapidly forward during the entire night. 
 
 At dawn on the following morning she rose at the crest 
 of an eminence overlooking a vast area of bold prairie 
 country, where, for the first time since leaving the Indians 
 she halted, and turning round, tremblingly cast a rapid glance 
 to the rear, expecting to see the savage blood-hounds in 
 eager pursuit upon her track ; but, to her great joy and relief 
 not a single indication of a living object could be discerned 
 within the extended scope of her vision. 
 
 She breathed more freely now, but still did not feel safe 
 from pursuit ; and the total absence of all knowledge of her 
 whereabouts in the midst of the wide expanse of dreary prai- 
 rie around her, with the uncertainty of ever again looking 
 upon a friendly face, caused her to realize most vividly her 
 own weakness and entire dependence upon the Almighty, 
 and she raised her thoughts to Heaven in fervent supplica- 
 tion. 
 
 The majesty and sublimity of the stupendous works of 
 the great Author and Creator of the Universe, when contrast- 
 ed with the insignificance of the powers and achievements of 
 
OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. 155 
 
 a vivified atom of earth modeled into human form, are prob- 
 ably under no circumstances more strikingly exhibited and 
 felt than when one becomes bewildered and lost, in the midst 
 of the almost limitless amplitude of our great North American 
 prairies, where not a single foot-mark or other trace of man's 
 presence or action can be discovered, and where the solitary 
 wanderer is startled even at the sound of his own voice. 
 
 The sensation of loneliness and despondency results from 
 the appalling consciousness of being really and absolutely lost, 
 with the realization of the fact that but two or three of the 
 innumerable different points of direction embraced within the 
 circle of the horizon will serve to extricate the bewildered vic- 
 tim from the awful doom of death by starvation, and in entire 
 ignorance as to which of these particular directions should be 
 followed, without a single road, trail, tree, bush, or other land- 
 mark to guide or direct the effects upon the imagination of 
 this formidable array of disheartening circumstances can be 
 fully appreciated only by those'who have been personally sub- 
 jected to their influence. 
 
 A faint perception of the intensity of the mental torture 
 experienced by these unfortunate victims may, however, be 
 conjectured from the fact that their senses at such junctures 
 become so completely absorbed and overpowered by the 
 cheerless prospect before them that they oftentimes wander 
 about in a state of temporary lunacy, without the power of 
 exercising the slightest volition of the reasoning faculties. 
 
 Such instances of mental alienation, as strange as it may 
 
156 STORIES OF THE 
 
 appear, are by no means uncommon, and I have myself seen 
 several persons whose minds for days were greatly deflected 
 from the channels of sanity.* 
 
 The inflexible spirit of the heroine of this narrative did 
 not, however, succumb in the least to the imminent perils of 
 the situation in which she found herself, and her purposes 
 were carried out with a determination as resolute and unflinch- 
 ing as those of the Israelites in their protracted pilgrimage 
 through the wilderness, and without the guidance of the pil- 
 lars of fire and cloud. 
 
 The aid of the sun and the broad leaves of the pilot 
 plant by day, with the light of Polaris by night, enabled her 
 to pursue her undeviating course to the north, with as much 
 accuracy as if she had been guided by the magnetic needle. 
 
 She continued to urge forward the generous steed she 
 bestrode, who, in obedience to the will of his rider, coursed 
 swiftly on hour after hour, during the greater part of the day, 
 without the least apparent labor or exhaustion. 
 
 It was a contest for life and liberty that she had under- 
 taken, a struggle in which she resolved to triumph or perish 
 in the effort; and still the brave hearted woman pushed on, 
 until at length her horse began to show signs of exhaustion, 
 and as the shadows of evening began to appear, he became 
 so jaded that it was difficult to coax or force him into a trot, 
 and the poor woman began to entertain serious apprehension 
 
 *Witness the woman found by General Custer'in 1868, on the stream in Ford 
 county, north of Spearville named "White Women's Fork," in commemoration of 
 the fact. H. I. 
 
OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. 157 
 
 that he might soon give out altogether and leave her on foot. 
 
 At this time she was herself so much wearied and in 
 want of sleep that she would have given all she possessed to 
 have been allowed to dismount and rest ; but unfortunately 
 for her, those practical quadrupeds of the plains, the wolves, 
 advised by their carniverous instincts that she and her exhaust- 
 ed horse might soon fall an easy sacrifice to their voracious 
 appetites, followed upon her track and came howling in great 
 numbers around her, so that she dared not set her feet upon 
 the ground; and her only alternative was to continue urging 
 the poor beast to struggle forward during the dark and gloomy 
 hours of the long night, until at length she became so exhaust- 
 ed that it was only with the utmost effort of her iron will that 
 she was able to preserve her balance upon the horse 
 
 Meantime the ravenous pack of wolves, becoming more 
 and more emboldened and impatient as the speed of her horse 
 relaxed, approached nearer and nearer until with their eyes 
 flashing fire, they snapped savagely at the head of the terri- 
 fied animal, while at the same time they kept up their hideous 
 concert like the howlings of ten thousand fiends from the in- 
 fernal regions. 
 
 Every element in her nature was at this fearful juncture 
 taxed to its greatest tension, and impelled her to concentrate 
 the force of all her remaining energies in urging and coaxing 
 forward the wearied horse, until finally, he was barely able to 
 reel and struggle along at a slow walk ; and when she was 
 about to give up in despair, expecting every moment that the 
 15 
 
158 STORIES OF THE 
 
 animal would drop down dead under her, the welcome light 
 of day dawned in the eastern horizon, and imparted a more 
 cheerful and encouraging influence over her, and on looking 
 around, to her great joy there were no wolves in sight. She 
 now for the first time in about thirty-six hours dismounted, 
 and knowing that sleep would soon overpower her, and that 
 the horse, if not secured, might escape, or wander away, and 
 there being no tree or other object to which he could be fast- 
 ened, she with great presence of mind tied one end of the 
 long lariat to his neck, and with the other end around her 
 waist dropped down on the ground into a deep sleep, while 
 the famished horse cropped the herbage around her. She was 
 unconscious as to the duration of her slumber ; but it must 
 have been protracted to have compensated the demands of 
 nature for the exhaustion induced by her prodigious ride. The 
 sleep was sweet, and she dreamed of happiness and home, 
 losing all consciousness of her actual situation until she was 
 startled and aroused by the pattering sound of horses feet 
 beating the earth on every side. Springing to her feet in the 
 greatest possible alarm, she found herself surrounded by a 
 large band of savages, who commenced dancing around, 
 flaunting their war-clubs in frightful proximity to her head, 
 while giving utterance to the most diabolical shouts of exul- 
 tation. 
 
 Her exceedingly weak and debilitated condition at this 
 time, resulting from long abstinence from food and unprece- 
 dented mental and physical trials, had wrought upon her 
 
OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. 159 
 
 nervous system to such an extent that she imagined the mo- 
 ment of her death had arrived, and fainted. The Indians then 
 approached, and after she had recovered, placed her again 
 upon a horse and rode away with her to their camp, which 
 fortunately was not far distant. They then turned their pris- 
 oner over to the squaws, who gave her food and put her to 
 bed; but it was several days before she was sufficiently able 
 to walk about the camp. She learned that her last captor 
 belonged to "Lone Wolf's band of Kiowas." 
 
 Although these Indians treated her with more kindness 
 than the Comanches had done, yet she did not for an instant 
 entertain the thought that they would voluntarily release her 
 from bondage; neither had she the remotest conception of 
 her present locality, or of the direction or distance to any 
 white settlement, but she had no idea of remaining a slave for 
 life, and resolved to make her escape the first practicable 
 moment that offered. 
 
 During the time she remained with these Indians a party 
 of men went away to the north, and were absent six days, 
 bringing with them on their return, some ears of green corn. 
 She knew the prairie tribes never planted a seed of any descrip- 
 tion, and was, therefore, confident it was not over three days 
 journey distant to a white settlement, which the party had 
 evidently visited. * 
 
 * This corn the Indians evidently found at the wood camp of Al Boyd on the 
 Dry Walnut north of Lamed. Mr. Boyd informs me that in the year referred to 
 quite a volunteer crop of that cereal grew up in his various camps, and that the 
 harvest, such as it was, was gathered, in all probability by the Indians. H. I. 
 
160 STORIES OF THE 
 
 This was an encouraging intelligence to her, and she 
 waited the time anxiously when she could depart. 
 
 Late one night, after all had become hushed throughout 
 the camp, and everything seemed auspicious for the consum- 
 mation of her purposes, she stole carefully away from her 
 bed, crept softly out to the herd of horses, and, after having 
 caught and subdued one, was in the act of mounting, when 
 a number of dogs rushed out after her, and by their barking 
 created such a disturbance among the Indians that she was 
 forced for the time to forego her designs and crawl hastily 
 back to her lodge. On a subsequent occasion, however, 
 fortune favored her. She secured an excellent horse, and 
 rode away in the direction from which she had observed the 
 Indians returning to camp with the green corn. Under the 
 certain guidance of the sun and stars, she was enabled to 
 pursue a direct bearing ; and after three consecutive days of 
 rapid riding, anxiety and fatigue, she arrived upon the border 
 of a large river, flowing directly across her track. The 
 stream was swollen to the tops of its banks; the water cours- 
 ed like a torrent through its channels, and she feared the 
 horse might not be able to stem the powerful current ; but after 
 surmounting the numerous perils and hardships she had 
 already encountered, the dauntless woman was not to be 
 turned aside from her inflexible purpose by this formidable 
 obstacle, and she instantly dashed on into the foaming tor- 
 rent, and by dint of encouragement and punishment, forced 
 
OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. 161 
 
 her horse through th*e stream, and landed safely upon the 
 opposite bank. 
 
 After giving her horse a few moments rest, she again set 
 forward, and had ridden but a short distance when, to he r 
 inexpressable astonishment and delight, she struck a broad 
 and well beaten wagon road, the first and only evidence or 
 trace of civilization she had seen since leaving her home in 
 Texas. 
 
 Up to this joyful moment the indomitable inflexibility of 
 purpose of our heroine had not faltered for an instant ; neither 
 had she suffered the slightest despondency, in view of the 
 terrible array of disheartening circumstances that had contin- 
 ually confrontered her ; but when she realized the hopeful 
 prospect before her of a speedy escape from the reach of her 
 barbarous captives, and a reasonable certainty of an early 
 reunion with people of her own sympathizing race, the fem- 
 nine elements of her nature preponderated, her stoical forti- 
 tude yielded to the delightful anticipation ; and her joy was 
 intensified and confirmed by seeing a long train of wagons 
 approaching over the distant prairie. The spectacle over- 
 whelmed her with ecstacy, and she wept tears of joy while 
 offering up sincere and heart-felt thanks to the Almighty for 
 delivering her from a bondage more dreadful than death. 
 
 She then proceeded on until she met the wagons in 
 charge of Robert Bent, whom she entreated to give her food 
 instantly, as she was in a state bordering upon absolute starva- 
 tion. He kindly complied with her request, and after the 
 
162 STORIES OF THE 
 
 cravings of her appetite had been satisfied, she desired to 
 gratify his curiosity, which had been not a little excited at the 
 unusual exhibition of a beautiful white woman appearing 
 alone in that wild country, riding upon an Indian saddle with 
 no covering upon her head save her long natural hair, which 
 was hanging loosely and disorderly about her shoulders, while 
 her attire was sadly in need of repairs. According he inquir- 
 ed of her where she lived, to which she replied: "In 
 Texas." Mr. Bent gave an incredulous shake of his head at 
 this response, remarking at the same time that he thought 
 she must be mistaken, as Texas happened to be situated some 
 five or six hundred miles distant. She reiterated the assur- 
 ance of her statement, and described to him briefly the leading 
 incidents attending her capture and mistake; but still he was 
 inclined to doubt, believing she might possible be insane. 
 
 He informed her that the river she had just crossed was 
 the Arkansas, and that she was then on the old Santa Fe trail 
 about fifteen miles west of Big Turkey Creek,* where she 
 would find the most remote frontier house. Then, after, 
 thanking him for his kindness, she bade him adieu, and start- 
 ed away in a walk toward the settlements, while he continued 
 his journey in the opposite direction ; but he still followed the 
 exit of the remarkable apparition with his eyes, until she was 
 several hundred yards distant, when he observed her throw 
 one of her feet over the horse's back a lafemme sauvage, and 
 casting a graceful kiss toward him with her hand, she set off 
 
 * The point where Bent met Mrs. L , is on the old trail, nearly on the line 
 
 between Rice and McPherson counties. H. I. 
 
OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. 163 
 
 on a gallop, and soon disappeared over the crest of the prairie. 
 
 On the arrival of Bent at Fort Zara, he called upon the 
 Indian agent and reported the circumstance of meeting Mrs. 
 
 L , and by a singular coincidence, it so happened, that 
 
 the agent was at the very time holding a council with the 
 Chief of the identical band of Indians from whom she had 
 last escaped, and they had just given a full history of the en- 
 tire affair, which seemed so improbable to the agent that he 
 was not disposed to credit it until he received its confirmation 
 from Bent. He at once dispatched a man to follow the 
 woman and conduct her to Council Grove, where she was 
 kindly received, and remained for some time, hoping through 
 the agents to gain intelligence of the two children she had left 
 with the Comanches, as she had desired to take them back 
 to their father in Texas; but no tidings were gained. Mean- 
 time she made the acquaintance of a man at Council Grove 
 whom, it is stated, she married, and for aught that is known, 
 may be there yet. Wherever she is I wish her all possible 
 happiness. 
 
 It will be readily seen by reference to the map of the 
 
 country over which Mrs. L passed, that the distance 
 
 from the place of her capture to the point where she struck 
 the Arkansas river, could not have been short of five hundred 
 miles, and the greatest part of this desert plain she traveled 
 alone, without seeing a single civilized human habitation. 
 
 If any other woman, in ancient or modern times, has 
 performed as signal, and equestrian achievement as this, I 
 have yet to learn it. 
 
164 STORIES OF THE 
 
 THE SCOUTS' LAST RIDE. 
 
 AN INCIDENT IN THE INDIAN WAR OF 1868-9. 
 
 The stranger who to-day in a palace-car surrounded by 
 all the luxuriance of modern American travel, commences 
 his " tour of the prairies" at the Missouri River, enters classic 
 ground the moment he leaves the muddy flood of that stream 
 behind him. He sees a large city at the very portals of the 
 " New West" he has journeyed so far to explore, and all the 
 bustle and energy of the grand civilization he sought refuge 
 from, has followed him even here more than a thousand 
 miles from his eastern home. 
 
 Gradually as he is whirled along the " Iron Trail" the 
 woods lessen, he catches views of beautiful intervales, a bright 
 little stream flashes and foams in the sunlight as the trees 
 open, and soon he emerges on the broad sea of prairie shut 
 in only by the great circle of the heavens. 
 
 Dotting this motionless ocean everywhere, like whitened 
 sails, are peaceful little homes true argosies ventured by the 
 sturdy and hopeful people who have fought their way to that 
 tranquillity which surrounds the beautiful picture. 
 
 But it was not always so ; and however strange it may 
 seem to our traveler, the rare landscape he looks upon from 
 his polished car window has its tale of blood and dark despair, 
 
OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. 165 
 
 for little more than a decade ago during the summer and 
 autumn of 1868, three powerful tribes the Cheyennes, Kio- 
 was, and Arrapahoes waged a relentless and brutal warfare 
 upon the frontier of Kansas and Nebraska, and then another 
 picture was presented, the story of which has gone down to 
 history side by side, with that other terrible one of Wyoming. 
 
 Beautiful valleys, and limpid streams, whose margins 
 were fringed with a dense growth of timber, under the shadows 
 of which the clear water rippled along rythmically toward the 
 " Great River ; " fields rich in their golden cereals, and primL 
 tive homes peeping picturesquely out of the dark foliage of 
 their surroundings, marked the fair region, whose peaceful 
 inhabitants were inhumanly butchered during the raids of 
 these Indians in their devastation of the whole line of settle- 
 ments from the Republican to the Arkansas. 
 
 Men, women, and children were slaughtered with a piti- 
 lessness possible only to Indians, their simple little dwellings 
 consigned to the torch, and young girls alone saved from the 
 keen edge of the scalping knife for the horrors of a captivity 
 infinitely greater than death. 
 
 The dark sky was illuminated night after night by the 
 glare of burning ranches, and the red glow on the horizon, as 
 the flames died out, carried the terrible tidings to the pallid 
 watchers along the border, that the savages were circling 
 nearer to them in their fiendish travels. 
 
 Often young mothers had only time to snatch their little 
 ones from the cradle and dragging an older child by the hand, 
 
166 STORIES OF THE 
 
 hurriedly hide in the thick brush on the creek bottoms, while 
 the husband jumping on his horse, alarmed the neighbors, 
 who returning with him, sometimes were successful in driving 
 off the savages. 
 
 But this was of rare occurrence, for families so widely 
 separated as they were in that new country could afford but 
 little mutual protection, their houses being frequently twenty 
 miles apart, and before the news could spread or the people 
 gather in some strong log cabin for defense, the Indians 
 came down upon them like the north wind, murdering and 
 destroying whole settlements in a single summer afternoon. 
 
 That lovely belt of country between the two rivers was 
 consequently abandoned, and the few settlers who escaped 
 the fury of the Indians were driven into the military posts of 
 Harker and Riley, houseless, homeless and starving. There 
 they were kindly sheltered, clothed and fed by the Govern- 
 ment until it was safe for them to return to their abandoned 
 claims and commence the settlement of the country over. 
 
 They then found nothing, of course, but the bare land. 
 A little mound of ashes alone indicated the spot where their 
 homes had stood ; their fences and cattle were all gone, some- 
 times wife and children, too tortured and then murdered or 
 miserable slaves in the hands of the Indians. 
 
 But with a determination to surmount obstacles that any 
 other than our noble army of pioneers would shrink from, 
 they took up the axe again and cut their way to the peace 
 
OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. 167 
 
 and thrift that has gradually increased to what it is to-day in 
 that region. 
 
 The condition of affairs on that verge of civilization in 
 Kansas during the years referred to, was much more terrible 
 than the mere outline above attempted. The horrible truths 
 and outrageous brutalities inflicted can never appear in print 
 to shock the sensibilities of a refined people, and the very 
 impossibility of this fact has done much toward creating a 
 false sympathy for the Indians, who, if their diabolical acts 
 were known universally, as they are known to the compara- 
 tive few, Vould be declared beyond the pale of the slightest 
 mercy or leniency in the swift punishment that would be 
 sure to follow. 
 
 In the middle of September 1868, General Sheridan as- 
 sumed immediate command of the Department of the Mis- 
 souri, which included in its geographical area the whole prairie 
 region west of the Missouri river and a portion of the moun- 
 tains. The famous Seventh Cavalry under General Custer 
 was scattered along the Smoky Hill at Hays, Harker and 
 Wallace, and the Fifth and Third Infantry at the various 
 military posts in the Arkansas Valley and at Fort Leaven- 
 worth. 
 
 These were the only available troops in this section at 
 the disposal of the commanding General when he determined 
 to organize a winter campaign against the hostile tribes. 
 
 The idea of a successful campaign against the Indians of 
 the Great Plains in mid-winter was something entirely novel 
 
168 STORIES OF THE 
 
 in border warfare, and had its origin in the wonderful percep- 
 tion and power to overcome military difficulties inherent in 
 General Sheridan. 
 
 Heretofore it had been considered beyond the limit of 
 possibilities to make a vigorous war upon the tribes in that 
 season on account of the numberless apparently insuperable 
 obstacles that constantly interpose themselves the fickle 
 changes in climate scarcity of grass in some localities for 
 the animals, the obstruction of partly frozen streams, and a 
 thousand and one counteracting influences constantly at work 
 in the desolateness of these remote plains. 
 
 The undertaking was regarded by many old officers who 
 had been stationed on the frontier for years as purely vision- 
 ary, and by plainsmen generally, as experimental at least, 
 with the probabilities of success strongly on the side of the 
 negative. 
 
 In almost every instance where expeditions had been 
 sent against the Indians in the spring and summer the very 
 season which they themselves select for the operation of their 
 implacable hatred of the whites the result had almost invari- 
 ably been disastrous to the army, or the effect upon the In- 
 dian unsubstantial. 
 
 General Sheridan (purposing to profit by the example of 
 General Hancock, his immediate predecessor in the command 
 of the Department, whose expensive and gorgeous campaign 
 of the summer before gorgeous in its pomp and circum- 
 stance had been futile of results) perceived at once that a 
 
OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. 169 
 
 termination of the warfare raging along the border every re- 
 curring season could effectually be reached only by a severe 
 and decisive blow to the savages in their winter quarters. 
 
 To that end, therefore, immediately after the massacre 
 on Spillman Creek early in September, he removed his head- 
 quarters from Fort Leavenworth to Fort Harker, on the 
 Smoky Hill, and from thence to Fort Hays, temporarily, 
 until the expedition was organized, which he then command- 
 ed in person. 
 
 The country knows how completely he succeeded in re- 
 moving the hostile tribes to their allotted reservations, and 
 how effectually he prevented any further trouble with the In- 
 dians in this portion of Kansas, bringing a peace to the re- 
 gion under discussion that will never again be broken by their 
 sanguinary incursions. 
 
 Previous to the organization of the winter expedition 
 about the first of September General Alfred Sully, who 
 commanded the Military District of the Upper Arkansas, 
 with eight companies of the Seventh Cavalry, and five com- 
 panies of Infantry, left Fort Dodge on a hurried excursion 
 against the Kiowas, Arrapahoes and Cheyennes, who had 
 been committing depredations in small parties along the bor- 
 der during the summer. 
 
 The command marched in a general southeasterly direc- 
 tion from the Arkansas, and reached the "sand hills " of the 
 Beaver and Wolf, by a circuitous route on the fifth day. 
 
 When nearly through that comparatively barren region, 
 16 
 
170 STOKIES OF THE 
 
 they were attacked by about eight hundred of the allied tribes 
 under the lead of the famous Kiowa chief Satanta. 
 
 A running fight was kept up with the savages, on the 
 first day in which two of the cavalrymen were killed and one 
 wounded. 
 
 The Indians gradually increased their force by new gath- 
 erings until they mustered over two thousand warriors and 
 the expedition was forced to retreat toward the Arkansas. 
 
 For four days and nights the Indians hovered around 
 the command, and by the time it had reached the mouth of 
 Mulberry Creek twelve miles from Ft. Dodge there are 
 not one thousand rounds of ammunition left. 
 
 The incessent charges of the now infuriated savages 
 compelled the troops to use this small amount held in reserve, 
 and they found themselves almost at the mercy of the enemy 
 when they reached the river. 
 
 But before they were absolutely defenseless, Col. M. W. 
 Keogh, of the seventh cavalry (afterward killed at the 
 " Rose Bud " in Custer's chivalrous but disastrous battle with 
 Sitting Bull), had sent a trusty messenger in the night to Ft. 
 Dodge for a supply of cartridges to meet them at the creek, 
 which fortunately reached there in time to save that point 
 from being a literal "Last Ditch." 
 
 The Indians in that little but exciting encounter, would 
 ride up boldly toward the squadrons of cavalry, discharge 
 the shots from their revolvers, and then in their rage throw 
 them at the skirmishers on the flankers of the supply train, 
 
OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. 171 
 
 while the latter, nearly all of whom were out of ammunition, 
 were compelled to sit quietly in their saddles, idle spectators 
 of the extraordinary scene. 
 
 Many of the Indians were killed on their ponies, how- 
 ever, by those who were fortunate enough to have a few 
 rounds left, but none were captured, as the Indians had taken 
 their usual precaution to tie themselves to their animals, and 
 as soon as dead were dragged away by them. 
 
 This essay of General Sully, to feel as it were the dis- 
 position of the Indians, determined the question of a sweep- 
 ing war, and General Sheridan, as we have stated, inaugu- 
 rated immediate measures to make it decisive and effectual. 
 
 Removing his headquarters to Ft. Hays, on the Smoky 
 Hill route, the organization of the winter expedition was im- 
 mediately commenced. 
 
 All the available troops in the department previously 
 referred to, together with the fifth cavalry, which had been 
 ordered to report to General Sheridan for this special duty ; 
 picked warriors from among the friendly Osages and Pawnees, 
 and the services of celebrated frontiersmen were called into 
 service. 
 
 Desperate duties were required of the famous frontiers- 
 men employed, who, under the general term of "scouts," 
 were expected to carry dispatches, hang on the trail of the 
 Indians, and in the capacity of couriers, keep open communi- 
 cation between Ft. Dodge and the troops operating in that 
 memorable campaign of 1868-9. 
 
172 STORIES OF THE 
 
 These " scouts" were invariably picked men. They 
 were selected with the greatest of care, with special reference 
 to their knowledge of the Indian character and perfect famil- 
 iarity with the localities of the prosposed field of action, and 
 in the latter capacity guided the troops through the unbroken 
 wilderness of the Central Plains. 
 
 Many of these men had passed eventful lives from boy- 
 hood among the Kiowas, Arrapahoes and Cheyennes. Some 
 had married and been adopted by these tribes, and not only 
 understood their language perfectly, but had mastered all the 
 original astuteness and strategy of the Indians themselves. 
 
 Nearly all of them were identified with the early strug- 
 gles of the borders, and they rightfully belong to that roll of 
 heroes in the unwritten record of those troublous times in 
 Kansas' history, which has never yet graced the fair pages of 
 our popular magazines, but who may one of these days figure 
 conspicuously in the annals of the country, when all the 
 facts in its memoirs are collected by another and unpreju- 
 diced generation. 
 
 But they have another history too, which belongs to the 
 tribes among whom they lived so long, that will never die 
 while the Indian remains, though its narration is given only 
 in rude legendary form, to the dusky listeners wrapped in 
 their buffalo robes sitting around the magic circle of the 
 " medicine lodge." 
 
 Some of these men still live, and some are quietly rest 
 
OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. 173 
 
 ing under the silvery cottonwoods and willows of the far off 
 plains. 
 
 The march of civilization over the territory in which 
 their remarkable lives were passed is rapidly obliterating all 
 trace of their simple sepulchres, and absorbingtheir memory 
 in the uncertain light of mere tradition. 
 
 The duties demanded of the " scouts" during the cam- 
 paign were fraught with danger, desperate venture, and ter- 
 rible chances for life oftentimes, yet they received no greater 
 reward than was given to other civilians employed. 
 
 How nobly these brave men fulfilled their mission, the 
 fight of Gen. Geo. A. Forsyth on the Arrickaree Fork of the 
 Republican (one of the most desperate chapters in Indian 
 warfare, taken altogether, in the history of the continent), 
 General Ouster's battle of the Washita, and the grassy 
 mounds in the little graveyard at Ft. Dodge on the treeless 
 banks of the Arkansas where those lie who went out fear- 
 essly to their death all testify. 
 
 How two of these "scouts" laid down their lives in a 
 ride of a hundred miles through a gauntlet of determined 
 savages, is the subject of this sketch. 
 
 To those who look upon everything in this world with 
 only a utilitarian faith, and measure all operations of human 
 circumstances by the scale of dollars and cents, it undoubt- 
 edly seems strange that a remuneration was not demanded and 
 given to these men, corresponding with the awful risks incur- 
 red. But there is an indescribable and unconquerable infat- 
 
174 STORIES OF THE 
 
 uation attending a life in the desolateness of the remote 
 plains, and a companionship of constant danger which lends 
 a charm that can never be perfectly understood by the deni- 
 zens of our crowded cities in the East, that far out-weighs 
 any tangible reward that could be offered. 
 
 Neither the love of gold then, nor the hope of popularity 
 those two altars upon which so many men sacrifice them- 
 selves in the teeming haunts of business tempted them to 
 the deeds which have made them famous. Such men whose 
 story is always full of interest, seek danger for the simple 
 charm of it, and that alone is the secret of their eventful lives. 
 
 Five hundred six-mule army wagons, with its comple- 
 ment of more than as many teamsters, wagon-masters, cooks 
 and herders, composed the transportation train that constant- 
 ly traveled between the depot at Fort Dodge on the Arkansas, 
 and the base of operations at the camp on Beaver river, (now 
 known as Camp Supply,) and one of the principal posts of 
 observation in the Indian Territory, where the Kiowa and 
 Cheyenne reservations are located. 
 
 Over the broad trail marked by the passage of the long 
 train of wagons, the Indians hovered injmall parties all win- 
 ter, and through this line of watchful savages, the courier 
 scout's perilous journey had to be effected 
 
 On their dreary route of over one hundred miles, with 
 no place of refuge between the camp and Fort Dodge, it was 
 literally, at times, a ride for life. 
 
 Two of these l 'scouts" usually traveled together under 
 considerations of both companionship and safety, for it is pos- 
 
OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. 175 
 
 sible that two determined men well acquainted with the 
 peculiar tactics of the Indians, may prove a match for twenty, 
 but difficult under equal circumstances for one to get away 
 from five. 
 
 The most exposed portions of the trail were ridden over 
 at night, while in the daytime, the "scouts" secreted them- 
 selves in some rocky canon or timbered ravine until darkness 
 again favored their lonely trip. Only when within a few 
 miles of their destination at either end of the route, were f he 
 chances of a run by sunlight taken. 
 
 The characteristic recklessness of some, however, in 
 even essaying this performance resulted in a severe fight on 
 more than one occasion, and the death of two, as the sequel 
 will show, on another. 
 
 Two days of hard riding, or rather nights, and untiring 
 watchfulness, were required, to effect the hazardous journey, 
 and none others but the ''scouts" attempted it; as when it 
 became necessary for parties connected with the military ex- 
 peditions to go to either of the posts, they did so under escort 
 of the wagon train, never with the "scouts." 
 
 Early in the montl> of November, two scouts one a 
 half-breed known all over the plains as McDonald, and the 
 other a white man named Davis, were sent out from Camp 
 Supply by General Sheridan, (who had taken up his head- 
 quarters at that point,) shortly after dark with important dis- 
 patches for the Government, and a small mail for Fort 
 Dodge. 
 
176 STORIES OF THE 
 
 McDonald was a half Cheyenne, his father had in all 
 probability been a Scotch trapper in the employ of the North- 
 west Fur Company, thirty or forty years, before but McDonald 
 remembered nothing of him, and had lived all his life with 
 the tribe whose blood flowed through his veins. He was. 
 therefore, an Indian by education, and possessed nearly all 
 their characteristics, with the remarkable exception of a de- 
 cided friendship for the white race, whose cause he heroical- 
 ly espoused at the commencement of hostilities. 
 
 He rarely wore any other dress than the traditional 
 buckskin suit, heavily porcupined and beaded, with its 
 long fringe drooping gracefully from the seams, and on cer- 
 tain occasions adhered most religiously to the tribal fascina- 
 tions of the war paint, which he then used in the most 
 extravagant manner. 
 
 That he was the representative of one of the noblest at- 
 tributes of human nature, however faithfulness, which rather 
 than break, he accepted death will be conceded further on. 
 
 Davis was born in Ohio, and had wandered to the Great 
 Plains when he was only fourteen, having been attracted by its 
 mysteries and charms, in 1843, shortly after the appearance 
 of General Fremont's fascinating report of his memorable 
 expedition to the "Rocky Mountains and beyond." 
 
 For twenty years he had roamed over the " Far West " 
 making his home near the head-waters of the Missouri and 
 among the Sioux, whose beautiful language he understood 
 perfectly. He had been south of the Platte only a few sea- 
 sons previous to the breaking out of the hostiles, where he 
 
OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. 177 
 
 had taken up with a Cheyenne squaw, and was trading with 
 that nation when the war commenced. 
 
 The only remarkable characteristic possessed by Davis 
 was a wonderfully quick perception and determination, unex- 
 celled by any other man I ever knew. 
 
 All men whose lives have been spent on the plains or in 
 the mountains from boyhood, I am aware, have this element 
 of character in a marked degree usually, which places them 
 in moments of great difficulty and peril far ahead of the 
 Indian, but Davis was strongly superior in this particular 
 he subordinated it sometimes, however, to an extensive reck- 
 lessness, which eventually cost him his life. 
 
 The days dragged slowly along, and more than a week 
 past without the return of McDonald and Davis to Camp 
 Supply nothing had been heard of them since they had 
 ridden out in the dark of that cold winter night. Other 
 scouts had come and gone again, but they brought no news 
 of their arrival at Fort Dodge, and of course it was con- 
 ceded that they were dead killed by the Indians but how, 
 or where, was all wrapped in mystery. The wagon train 
 which constantly traveled on the trail from the Camp to the 
 Arkansas brought no information in regard to their fate, and 
 it was believed that like the ocean which never gives up its 
 dead, the great plains had added another silent chapter to its 
 horrors. 
 
 Nearly three weeks after the disappearance of the scouts, 
 as the train one afternoon was approaching the low reaches 
 
178 STORIES OF THE 
 
 of the Cimarron bottoms, a large party of Indians were 
 observed on the sand hills about a mile and a half away on 
 the opposite side of that river, apparently watching the com- 
 mand. The cavalry were immediately sent in pursuit, which 
 movement as quickly as the Indian discovered they started 
 over the divide and were out of sight in a moment. A 
 squadron of the mounted detachment kept on however, to 
 the spot where the Indians were first seen, but it was not 
 considered prudent by the commanding officer to chase them 
 further and leave the train without all its escort, as this move 
 of the Indians who could no longer be seen, might only be a 
 ruse to draw a portion of the troops away, while another war 
 party, possibly secreted somewhere in the interminable sand 
 hills, could dash in, stampede the mules and cut off a por- 
 tion of the wagons, that locality being peculiarly fitted for 
 such strategy. 
 
 Soon after reaching the high sand knoll from which the 
 Indians had been watching the movements of the train, the 
 troops dismounted and there discovered the first link in the 
 chain of mystery that surrounded the fate of McDonald and 
 Davis. 
 
 In a little ravine a short distance from where the horses 
 siood, under a clump of plum bushes, three roughly made 
 graves were found, which the men tore open and resurrected 
 the bodies of three Arrapahoe warriors, wrapped in heavily 
 porcupined and otherwise richly ornamented buffalo robes. 
 The war paint was still fresh on their faces, and their raw- 
 
OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. 179 
 
 hide shields were lying on their breasts. Bows, arrows, and 
 a red stone pipe were found lying at the side of each, and 
 around the neck of one a circlet of wolf teeth, interspersed 
 at regular distances with the rattles of the rattle-snake a 
 characteristic ornament. 
 
 Through the bodies of two of the dead savages were bul- 
 let holes, corresponding in caliber to the Spencer carbine, 
 and another through the neck of the remaining warrior 
 plainly indicated how they had found their death ; but by 
 whose hand, and where, and why were they left among the 
 barren sand-hills ? 
 
 The trail of a large war party was discovered a few rods 
 off from the mouth of the ravine leading from the north, and 
 the imprint of their moccasins in the soft earth indicated they 
 had rested there. These facts connected with other unmis- 
 takable signs to the initiated in plains-lore, clearly connected 
 the death of the Indians buried here with the fate of 
 McDonald and Davis, whose bones it was certain were 
 bleaching somewhere between the Cimarron and Arkansas. 
 
 The dead Indians were stripped of their trinkets, hur- 
 riedly rolled back in their holes and the cavalry rode slowly 
 back to the river, where they found the men cutting the ice 
 and the train ready to cross. 
 
 A new interest was awakened among the command, and 
 every man was untiring in his efforts to find out something 
 more in relation to the missing " scouts." 
 
 The whole region within protecting distance of the train 
 
180 STORIES OF THE 
 
 was carefully scoured as they moved along by the cavalry, 
 and even the infantry made tedious detours from the direct 
 line of march in hope of unraveling the fate of the unfortu- 
 nate scouts, but another day passsd away without any further 
 clue, and the command went into camp on the high land 
 between the Cimarron and Crooked creek full of excitement. 
 On the afternoon of the second day after leaving the 
 Cimarron, as the train was approaching Mulberry creek, 
 further evidence of the death of the scouts was discovered. 
 The commanding officer was riding with Colonel Keogh in 
 advance of the column, intently watching the actions of the 
 Colonel's two hounds, of rare breed, that always accompa- 
 nied him, and who were evidently on the trail of some ani- 
 mal, when suddenly an immense pack of gray wolves were 
 driven out of the bush by one of the flankers who had been 
 ordered in that direction by Colonel Keogh, and in a 
 moment the frightened pack were scampering over the prai- 
 rie with all the dogs of the train in full pursuit. 
 
 In a short time, and before the wolves were out of sight, 
 the interest of the two officers in those animals were inter- 
 rupted by a young lieutenant, who came galloping up to 
 them from the rear of the train, holding in his hands a pair 
 of new pantaloons that had been saturated with blood, but 
 which was now dry. 
 
 " Major," said the lieutenant, saluting the commanding 
 officer, " one of my men found this near the creek, and I 
 
OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. 181 
 
 think it has a story if we can read it, that will tell something 
 more about the fate of McDonald and Davis." 
 
 The commanding officer scanned the bloody cloth a mo- 
 ment, and handing it to Col. Keogh for inspection, replied : 
 "Evidently those pantaloons have been torn from the 
 wearer; they were never taken off in the ordinary manner, 
 for you can see they are still buttoned, and I imagine the 
 Indians and Coyotes have had a hand in it; Col. Keogh and 
 myself were just wondering what so many wolves pointing 
 with his glass to the pack in the distance were doing here 
 on the creek there is certainly some unusual cause to attract 
 them, and now their presence confirms your suspicions, and 
 I believe myself we shall find out something here in regard 
 to the missing ''scouts" or some one else who has been 
 murdered by the Indians." 
 
 Col. Keogh suggested the propriety of camping there, 
 and the Lieutenant stated there was plenty of wood and 
 water. 
 
 11 You may stop the train," said the Major, addressing 
 himself to the Adjutant who had now joined the little group 
 that had gathered where this conversation took place. ' ' We 
 will go into camp on the creek it is early yet, and perhaps 
 we can find out all about the matter before dark. As soon 
 as the men get their dinners, order every one who can safely 
 leave, to make a thorough search all over the prairie, and up 
 and down the creek." 
 
 The Adjutant rode back, halted the train, and the com- 
 17 
 
182 STORIES OF THE 
 
 mand, among, whom the story of the bloody pants had now 
 circulated, went into camp, cooked their dinners as quickly 
 as possible, in order to get all the daylight they could in 
 which to find out something more of the sad fate of McDon- 
 ald and Davis. 
 
 As soon as dinner was disposed of, the sentries posted 
 and the mules and horses picketed near the wagons, several , 
 details were made by the Adjutant to search through the 
 creek bottom, and a detachment of the cavalry ordered to 
 scour the open prairie on all sides, to find out if possible the 
 secret of the bloody pants. 
 
 In about half an hour after all the details had left the 
 camp, one of the cavalry soldiers of the searching party 
 returned, rode up to a group of officers who were smoking 
 their pipes around a blazing fire of old logs, near the bank of 
 the creek, and reported that some of the infantry had just 
 found two dead horses and an empty mail sack down in the 
 bottom. 
 
 " The letters have all been torn open," said the trooper, 
 " here is one I picked up (handing it to the Adjutant who 
 stood by) signed by Col. Crosby. Three or four of the men 
 say they know the horses, and that they are the same ones 
 that McDonald and Davis rode away from Camp Supply 
 two bays they are nearly eaten up by the wolves, but I guess 
 there's enough of their skin left to tell their color." 
 
 " In which direction," said the Adjutant, "up or down 
 the stream." 
 
OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. 183 
 
 11 Up the creek," he replied. "You see that dead Cot- 
 tonwood," pointing to a tree whose top could be seen above 
 the banks of the stream less than an eighth of a mile away. 
 "Well, right there, there is a little open spot, near the tree, 
 and up the creek, two or three rods from it, are what is left 
 of the horses in the brush you can't miss it because a good 
 many of the men have gathered around there. Look ! you 
 can see some of them now out on the prairie, opposite the 
 place." 
 
 The soldier rode back up the creek after imparting this 
 information, and all of the officers who were not on duty 
 ordered their horses and started for the " deadCottonwood." 
 
 In a few moments the place indicated by the soldier was 
 reached, where the commanding officer and Col. Keogh with 
 about twenty men were found. 
 
 Lying in a thicket of hazel, close by the water, were the 
 two horses with the flesh partially eaten off their bones, and 
 a small canvas mail bag fastened to an overhanging limb 
 where it had evidently caught in an attempt to throw it in 
 was dragging in the stream. 
 
 The contents of the mail sack were strewed over the 
 ground in every direction, the letters torn open, and the dis- 
 patches from the government a mass of pulp on the edge of 
 the stream. A few cartridge shells were scattered around, 
 and from the tracks in the soft mud of the bottom, it could 
 easily be seen that a stand had been made at this point by 
 the unfortunate men. 
 
184 STORIES OF THE 
 
 The Indians knew, as early as that time, that letters 
 occasionally contained money, and that fact accounted for 
 the demoralized condition of the ' ' scouts' " dispatches. The 
 numerous raids of the savages on the Overland Stage Routes 
 had taught them the value of a mail sack they evidently 
 thought to profit by their experience in this instance, for these 
 pirates of the prairies, while they are opposed to the encroach- 
 ments of the white man within their domain, accept with 
 avidity all the conveniences which civilization brings to them. 
 They had learned the value of our medium of exchange 
 for the power it gives them to secure from the trader those 
 things they covet, at a fairer equivalent than in the uncertain 
 complications of direct barter ; so that money now taken 
 from their prisoners is no longer destroyed as worthless, or 
 thrown away, but has assumed a value which is being more 
 perfectly understood every year, without a labored study of 
 political economy. 
 
 The scattered mail was carefully collected, put in the 
 original sack and sent back to camp, while the search for 
 further developments in this melancholy episode was con- 
 tinued through the timber on the margin of the creek, and 
 upon the broad prairie on either side, but night came on 
 without anything new being discovered, and early next morn- 
 ing the train went on its way to Fort Dodge. 
 
 The search, of course was reluctantly abandoned, as not 
 even the solution of the mystery which now seemed almost 
 
OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. > 185 
 
 within the grasp of those whose interest had been so thor- 
 oughly awakened, could subordinate the duty of the train 
 for a single day. 
 
 The train reached Fort Dodge early the following after- 
 noon and commenced taking in its immense freight of corn 
 and oats immediately, in order to return as soon as possible 
 to the spot where McDonald and Davis had evidently given 
 up then- lives. 
 
 A short rest of a few hours for the men, while some re- 
 pairs were being made to the paraphenalia of the train, was all 
 the delay permitted by the commanding officer, and by noon 
 the long column of wagons rolled out once more with now a 
 double duty for its mission. 
 
 The camping place was made at the same spot on Mul- 
 berry Creek where it had camped before, and where the 
 " scouts'" horses and the mail were found. 
 
 The creek was reached about four o'clock that afternoon 
 too late for any active work, and the command retired 
 eager for the first glimpse of morning. 
 
 As soon as it was fairly daylight, the animals were pick- 
 eted within the line of sentries, all the usual precautions being 
 taken to prevent a surprise by the Indians, and breakfast dis- 
 posed of, every effort was made to find the bodies of the 
 missing Scouts, as all felt certain they had been killed in that 
 vicinity, and left where they had fallen, for the Indians have 
 no compunctions in leaving a white man food for the wolves 
 when they have secured his scalp. 
 
186 STORIES OF THE 
 
 Every available man in the whole command civilian 
 and soldier was detailed to go carefully over the whole 
 country within a couple of miles of the camp, in parties suf- 
 ficiently strong to protect themselves from any small number 
 of Indians that might dash down upon them from the hills, 
 while the region within that radius was pretty well picketed 
 and overlooked by the sentries, who were stationed on all the 
 highest points of the bluffs, and could see the enemy no mat- 
 ter what direction they might come from, and give the alarm 
 by firing a gun, which would of course give all those who 
 were out, ample time to prepare for any contemplated attack. 
 
 The search was continued all day without results, until 
 just before sun-down, when a party of cavalry that had ven- 
 tured out at a greater distance than the rest of the command, 
 sent a detachment back to camp with the news that they had 
 found the remains of the scouts, and orders to return with a 
 wagon to bring them in. 
 
 The commanding officer, Colonel Keogh, and four or five 
 others, upon the receipt of this intelligence, mounted their 
 horses and rode out to the place indicated by the soldier, who 
 remained to conduct the wagon and the escort of infantry that 
 had been ordered to go with him. 
 
 After a brisk gallop of ten or fifteen minutes, the officers 
 reached the company of cavalry who had been dismounted 
 and were lying on the ground, discussing the terrible fight 
 that must have taken place before McDonald or Davis sue- 
 
OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. 187 
 
 cumbed, as their pluck and desperate character under such 
 circumstances were well known. 
 
 Near where the squadron of cavalry had halted, on the 
 side of a hill sloping toward the creek, were discovered the 
 ghastly skeletons of the unfortunate scouts, bleaching in the 
 cold winter sun. A leg had been dragged here, and an arm 
 there by the half famished wolves, who had devoured every 
 particle of flesh off the bones of the two men. One of the 
 skulls, supposed to have been Davis', was only found after a 
 diligent search, a quarter of a mile away, where it had been 
 carried by a wolf and then dropped. 
 
 The other skull, McDonald's, was crushed into atoms, 
 and was found near the remainder of his skeleton. 
 
 Davis had been shot through the head at least three 
 times, as that number of bullet holes were plainly discerna- 
 ble, and on the back of it great chips had been hacked out as 
 if done with an axe. 
 
 There was nothing to indicate in the surroundings of the 
 place where the remains of the two skeletons were found, that 
 that spot had been their last stand ; it was evident they had 
 met their death elsewhere, and had been dragged to where 
 they were lying by the wolves, but as it was too late to in- 
 vestigate further, the matter was abandoned for the present. 
 
 Nearly all of the bones of both men were collected, 
 wrapped in a rubber poncho and taken to camp, where they 
 were covered over with a pile of rocks to prevent the wolves 
 from scattering them over the prairie again, and left until the 
 
OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. 188 
 
 train returned from Camp Supply when they were taken to 
 Fort Dodge and given a Christian burial. 
 
 The next morning the train went on to its destination, and 
 a few days afterward returned and camped on the old ground 
 to seek for further developments. On the evening of that day 
 the Commanding Officer with Colonel Keogh and two or 
 three others, discovered the exact spot where the brave scouts 
 had met their death in the thick brush more than a mile from 
 where their skeletons had been found. A scarred and blotted 
 tree, from one of the limbs of which was suspended a bloody 
 rope, stood alone in a little opening on the bank of the stream, 
 encompassed by rocky bluffs, from the top of which could be 
 seen Fort Dodge and the silent waters of the Arkansas. 
 
 The rough bark of this tree was torn by a hundred bul- 
 lets, and its gnarled trunk pierced by as many arrows. At 
 its foot was lying a broken spear, and the ground all round 
 was covered with cartridge shells. Dark patches, that had 
 once been little pools of blood, matted the dead grass at its 
 roots, all of which told more expressively than any language 
 the story of the horrid scene that had been enacted there. 
 
 A few of these mute witnesses were collected, and the 
 party returned to camp having fulfilled its mission, but the 
 thoughts of the awful and hopeless fight that had broken the 
 silence of that winter prairie settled a feeling of sadness over 
 the whole command. 
 
 After the battle of the Washita, and white winged peace 
 brought the tribes in friendly relations with the white man 
 
OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. 189 
 
 once more, some of the facts in this tragedy were elicited 
 from the very Indians who had taken part in it. 
 
 From them was learned the story of the fight in this 
 wise: "A party of Arrapahoes, numbering nearly eighty, 
 discovered the two scouts about sixteen miles from Fort 
 Dodge, early in the afternoon of the second day after they 
 had left Camp Supply. The Indians tried to surround them 
 on the open prairie before they could reach Mulberry Creek 
 but McDonald and Davis were too wary, knowing full well 
 the terrible consequences if they permitted themselves to be 
 taken alive. 
 
 ' ' The savages circled around them but did hot fire a shot, 
 hoping, as they all the time drew nearer, to surround them 
 before they could reach the creek. 
 
 ' ' It was a terrible race for life, and all the cunning and 
 strategy of the Indian and white man was called into requisi- 
 tion, each endeavoring to circumvent the other. 
 
 "The scouts rode for the friendly timber on the creek in 
 front of them but still so far away with all the confidence 
 of their. nature stretched to its utmost, feeling certain that 
 could they but reach it, the Indians would be outwitted by 
 the tactics of the white man. 
 
 "But it was destined to be otherwise. Not a shot had 
 been fired yet on either side, and the scouts saw the refuge 
 of the dead and leafless trees almost within reach they saw 
 also in the hazy distance the flag at Fort Dodge, gleaming 
 and twinkling in the sunlight as they reached the crest of the 
 
190 STORIES OF THE 
 
 hill towering above the narrow bottom of Mulberry Creek, 
 when, at a sign from the chief, a young warrior stopped, 
 jumped off his pony and pulled up his rifle just as McDonald, 
 who was a little in advance, entered the low sumac bushes 
 skirting the timber. The Indian fired, killed Davis' horse 
 and the scout found himself on foot, with twelve long miles 
 between where he stood and Fort Dodge. 
 
 "The Indians gave a yell of exultation as they saw Davis' 
 horse fall, and in another instant McDonald's horse was shot 
 too, the red devils having purposely avoided hitting the men 
 before, determined to take them alive if possible. 
 
 " Here the two scouts stood at bay for a few moments, 
 utilizing the carcasses of their dead animals for a breastwork, 
 from behind which they killed two of the murderous fiends in 
 front of them. 
 
 "One of the Indians now rode up to within a hundred 
 yards of where the scouts stood bravely together, and made 
 a sign to McDonald to talk with him. McDonald stepped 
 out a rod or two in advance of the spot where he had stood 
 to listen to the Indian, who said to him : 
 
 ' Leave Davis and come to us you are our brother we 
 do not want to kill you ; we will give you your life to get the 
 white man's scalp.' 
 
 " But McDonald heroically answered the savage, while he 
 stood in front of Davis, that the white man was his brother 
 too that he could die with him, but could not leave him ; he 
 then pulled the trigger of his rifle, which he had drawn up as 
 
OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. 191 
 
 he said this, and sent the ball into the very throat of the In- 
 dian who had made the proposition. 
 
 "This exasperated the remainder of the Indians, who 
 rushed upon the unfortunate scouts, and drove them from 
 their little shelter, up the creek to the lone tree where they 
 laid down their lives. And there they stood shoulder to 
 shoulder until McDonald fell ; then Davis fired shot after shot 
 as rapidly as possible, killing two more Indians, one of whom 
 was the chief, "(whose grave was found with the others by the 
 train in the sand-hills of the Ciinarron)." 
 
 The Indians never would tell the meaning of the bloody 
 rope, but that it was an important factor in the orgies which 
 took p'ace over the dead bodies of the scouts no one can 
 doubt. 
 
 The broken spear, arrow heads, and some of the car- 
 tridge shells the writer has preserved in the East, which will 
 be transferred to the rooms of the Kansas State Historical 
 Society, as has the letter from General Sheridan, (found in 
 the scattered mail on Mulberry Creek as related,) herewith 
 copied : 
 
 HEADQUARTERS DEPARTMENT OF THE MISSOURI, 
 
 CAMP SUPPLY, November 3rd, 1868. 
 
 MY DEAR MAJOR INM AN : I send out two scouts this even- 
 ing to see how you are getting along with the train. Send 
 them back in advance of you to let me know where you are. 
 **###### 
 
 Yours truly, P. H. SHERIDAN, 
 
 Major General. 
 
192 STORIES OF THE 
 
 The truth of this tragedy, in all its details, will probably 
 never be known, for the Indians, who were the principal ac. 
 tors, were reticent as is their wont, and only what has been 
 related, in a rude manner, could be gathered from them. 
 
 It is the impression of the writer, however, that the un- 
 fortunate men were captured and tortured, the evidence all 
 pointing so strongly in that direction but this the Indians 
 denied. But if they really were killed as stated by the sav- 
 ages, who, even then, in the quiet of his own home, can re- 
 alize what the scouts suffered, as they stood shoulder to shoul- 
 der against that scarred and blasted tree hopelessly defending 
 themselves from the overpowering number of red fiends op- 
 posed, with the fort in sight from the top of the bluffs just 
 above them ; or how immeasurably less can be imagined the 
 feelings of Davis as he saw his faithful comrade fall how 
 despairingly he must have clutched his rifle as his stock of 
 cartridges was fast diminishing ; how earnestly he must have 
 looked toward the horizon for some hope of help that never 
 came. As the wind was sadly sighing his requiem, he sunk 
 to his death as the last gleam of golden light flooded the 
 hills so the horrid picture before him ended in eternity. 
 
 In the campaign of 1868-9, in which the above related 
 incidents occurred, were many men who are now living in 
 Kansas who took a prominent part in the stormy times of 
 those dreary months, who, if this short sketch should hap- 
 pen to fall under their eyes, will recognize the facts in 
 the death of the scouts as given. Their names would 
 occupy too much space if it even were possible to collegt 
 
OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. 193 
 
 them. Many of them, too, among whom was the brave Col- 
 onel Keogh, and other gallant officers and soldiers of the fa- 
 mous Seventh Cavalry were killed in the disastrous battle 
 of the Rose Bud in Custer's reckless and unsupported charge 
 on the camp of Sitting Bull. Many of those, too, who par- 
 ticipated in the arduous work of that winter's campaign have 
 held, and are now filling responsible positions all over the 
 state. Among them are Messrs. C. C. Sprigg, J. F. Dyer, 
 and Geo. Huyck, respectively Clerk, Register of Deeds, 
 and Treasurer of Ellsworth county, and Hon. Paul T. Cur- 
 lett, Chairman of the Board of Commissioners, Pawnee coun- 
 ty. Pat Sherman, on the police force of Topeka, was Chief 
 Wagon-Master of the train that moved all winter between 
 Dodge City and Camp Supply, and Larry Dieger, late Marshal 
 of Dodge City, was his assistant. 
 
 18 
 
194 STORIES OF THE 
 
 "WAL HENDERSON." 
 
 In one of the busy little mining camps just over the range 
 in New Mexico, there prowled around about ten years ago, 
 a notorious character, whose life was made up of desperate 
 adventures, and whose tragic death, which is the subject of 
 this sketch, illustrates the inevitable fate of the average bor- 
 der bully. 
 
 " Wai Henderson" was born and "raised" as he 
 termed it in Missouri, and came over the mountains into 
 the New Mexico mines from Colorado soon after the first dis- 
 covery of gold in the Moreno hills, where he staked off a 
 claim in Humbug Gulch, and commenced working in an ap_ 
 parently honest way. He was a rough, illiterate fellow, pos- 
 sessing the physique of a giant, courageous as a she grizzly 
 with cubs, and such a dead shot with his revolver, that he 
 soon became a terror to the whole mountain population ; in 
 fact he was a desperado in its fullest sense, without one re- 
 deeming quality, except that he was kind to his dog, a mangy, 
 spotted, wicked-looking cur, fit companion for such a surly 
 master. 
 
 Any more intercourse with Wai, than was absolutely nec- 
 essary, was carefully avoided by every one, and such an idea 
 as getting into a dispute with him who would rather shoot 
 
OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. 195 
 
 than eat never entered the heads of those who worked 
 claims in the vicinity, so that, virtually, he commanded the 
 respect of a king. One afternoon Wai was seized with a de- 
 sire to start off on a little prospecting tour to another portion 
 of the range where he suspected the existence of a quartz 
 lead, so he left his claim in the " Gulch " only partially open- 
 ed, never dreaming for an instant that any one would have 
 the temerity to jump it in his absence, after they discovered 
 he owned it, and which he took good care they could easily 
 learn, for before he went away he asked one of his more ed- 
 ucated neighboring miners to ''come over and cut his name" 
 on a dead pine stump that stood near the mouth of his pit. 
 
 This friend was nothing loth to oblige his surly comrade, 
 so just after dinner he came over, when with his keen bowie 
 knife he slashed out a huge 
 
 "WAl henDerSoN his KLAime," 
 on the dead stump. 
 
 It took him nearly two 1 ours to complete his literary 
 labors, while Wai stood by impatiently watching him, who 
 when his friend had just finished the last touch of his rude 
 letters, remarked : 
 
 " Well, I guess there haint no one goin for to touch that 
 thar," and swinging his pick and shovel over his shoulder he 
 whistled to his dog, and then taking his bearings by a look at 
 the sun started down the canon on a sort of shuffling trot, 
 and was soon out of sight. 
 
 He was gone three days and when he returned found 
 
196 STORIES OF THE 
 
 that his ground had been "jumped" by a party of Irish 
 miners who had come into the diggings during his absence. 
 
 " Wai in as quiet a manner as his bull-dog nature per- 
 mitted, told them "to git! " But they swore that they would 
 hold it in spite of him, and if he was as big as " Finn MaCool " 
 they would fight him. 
 
 Wai smothered his rage for the moment, cooly walked 
 off to his cabin, and arming himself with two revolvers a Spen- 
 cer carbine, and a wicked looking IXL blade started back to 
 the gulch, determined to drive the intruders away or kill them 
 if necessary it mattered little as to choice. 
 
 " Git out of this ! quick! jump ! or I'll fill you full 
 o'holes ! " was " Wai's " greeting as he came in sight of the in- 
 truders on his return ; upon which one of the plucky, but un- 
 fortunate Irishmen made a break for Wai, to finish him by a 
 well directed blow from his miner's shovel. 
 
 Wai quick as thought brought down his revolver and 
 killed his man instantly the bullet hitting him in the fore- 
 head directly between the eyes a spot that was "Wai's" in- 
 variable target, and which in his list of nearly a score of vic- 
 tims, he never had failed to center. 
 
 The two now thoroughly frightened companions of the 
 dead miner fled to camp and told the story of the murder. 
 
 "Wai" believing that he would have a crowd on his 
 heels in a little while, made his way hurriedly to his cabin, 
 proposing to " lite out" for a while as he said, but a mob of 
 plucky men intercepted him, and he was arrested, taken to 
 
OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. J97 
 
 camp, confined in a little log building and a guard placed 
 around it. 
 
 As the news spread around the hills of "Wai's'' latest 
 exploit, the Irish miners came flocking in from all directions, 
 and the people of the town expected a general outbreak be 
 tween the Irish and American element, if any resistance was 
 offered to the infuriated friends of the murdered man in their 
 attempt to take Wai from the improvised jail, which they 
 openly proclaimed they intended to do as soon as night came 
 on. 
 
 The building used for the incarceration of Wai, was an 
 abandoned log store about sixteen feet square ; the interstices 
 of the logs were chinked with mud, and the whole surmount- 
 ed by a brush and dirt roof. In the corner of the room 
 after the Mexican fashion a huge, but rude fireplace had 
 been constructed of stone and earth, from which a large chim- 
 ney composed of the same material communicated with the 
 open air through the roof above. 
 
 No sooner had the heavy door closed on Wai than he 
 began an accurate survey of his quarters, with a view of es- 
 caping as soon as the mob he confidently expected should 
 make their appearence. 
 
 One glance at the immense fire-place, which yawned like 
 the opening to a cave, and a look at the clear sky above 
 through the chimney, satisfied him that he would be out of 
 his prison, and up some mountain gulch before his intended 
 captors could think twice . 
 
198 STORIES OF THE 
 
 Shortly after dark a motley crowd of rough miners, half 
 crazed with the villainous liquors they had been drinking all 
 the afternoon assembled at the jail, and ordered the guard 
 away, fired their pistols in the air, and made the very hills 
 ring with their curses and imprecations upon the prisoner 
 within the little hut. 
 
 Wai meanwhile had determined to escape, and in fact at 
 the very time the crowd had reached the door, was on the 
 roof quietly waiting for the mob to make a rush inside, when 
 he proposed to leap to the ground from the rear of the build 
 ing. 
 
 He waited for the signal, which soon came in the shape 
 of a volley of pistol and carbine shots, and a wild yell from 
 the would-be avengers, who with a desperate rush made for 
 the door of the jail, which under the pressure flew from its 
 fastenings and swung open with a loud report, throwing half 
 a dozen of thfe mob upon the dirt floor. 
 
 For a moment or two no one could enter, as those nearest 
 the door became wedged together, while the pressure from 
 the crowd in the rear held them more securely imprisoned 
 than Wai, who at this juncture jumped from the roof, and to 
 
 use his own expression " lit out d d lively." 
 
 When the crowd became aware that Wai had escaped, 
 they threatened to lynch the guard, and but for the interces- 
 sion of some of the cooler-headed and less drunken members 
 of the party, no doubt their threats would have been carried 
 into execution. 
 
OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. 199 
 
 They divided up into little bands and scoured the camp, 
 visiting every suspected house or hole where their game 
 might possibly be secreted, and it was not until early morn- 
 ing that the search was abandoned. 
 
 The following day the events of the preceding night were 
 fully discussed, and as many conjectures were suggested in 
 relation to Wai's escape and present whereabouts, as there 
 were groups of men ; each had his own theory, each knew 
 exactly how and when he got away. 
 
 Old Sam Bartlett, a short, thick-set, grizzly, veteran min- 
 er, who had whacked bulls on the Santa Fe trail, had lived 
 for months on hard tack and bacon in the mountains of Cal- 
 ifornia and in Nevada, who had years before filibustered 
 with Walker in Nicaragua, and who, altogether, had seen 
 about as eventful a life as any man of his age, expressed it as 
 his opinion ' ' that Wai went up that thar chimbly, and by 
 this here time was well heeled somewhar near camp surround- 
 ed by a battery of small arms, and ready to fight the whole 
 outfit." 
 
 Sam's surmises proved true, as it afterward appeared, 
 for no sooner had Wai made good his escape, than he went to 
 his own den for a moment, to secure arms and ammunition, 
 and then to an abandoned tunnel about a mile up the near- 
 est gulch, where he immediately commenced to fortify his 
 position, and prepared to sell his life as dearly as possible if 
 the mob pursued him, or, as he afterward said: "Did not 
 
200 STORIES OF THE 
 
 intend to pass in his checks, until he had made a sieve of a 
 few of 'em." 
 
 The Mexican woman with whom he lived proved a faith- 
 ful ally, and secretly conveyed, under the shadow of the 
 night, food and his blankets, never revealing to a soul where 
 her Americano was, and always earnestly denying any 
 knowledge of the fugitive. 
 
 For nearly a week Wai lived in the abandoned mining 
 tunnel, at the expiration of which time, when the excitement 
 had somewhat subsided, and it being generally supposed that 
 he had fled the country, he quietly walked into camp at mid- 
 night, broke open a stable, took out a horse, saddled him and 
 galloped off to Taos, which place he reached next morning. 
 In justice to Wai, let it be known he was not a professional 
 horse-thief he had not gotten so low as that but having per- 
 fect faith in the old saw that ' ' self-preservation is the first law 
 of nature," seized upon the only reliable means to escape 
 strangling by a mob, and on his arrival at Taos, where he 
 felt secure, returned the animal to his owner with thanks, 
 complimenting him on his architectural skill in constructing a 
 stable that could be entered so easily, and upon the endur- 
 ance of his horse that'had carried him so well. 
 
 ~A little more^ than a month later, the camp was some- 
 what startled one afternoon at seeing Wai come riding down 
 the main street mounted on a Mexican pony, with four revol- 
 vers buckled around his waist, and a carbine slung across his 
 back. Halting in front of Joe Stenson's saloon, he alighted 
 
OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. 201 
 
 and with a devil-may-care sort of a nod to the loafers hang- 
 ing around, invited them all in to take a drink. To the 
 crowd at the bar he related his adventures since he had been 
 among them, said he was tired of Taos, and came back to 
 look after his mining interests up Humbug Gulch which he 
 thought he had neglected too long, and added "if any gen- 
 tleman (?)" were sympathizers with the would be stranglers, 
 he would be pleased to step out on the street and give them 
 an exhibition of his peculiar manner of managing the porta- 
 ble battery he had provided himself with No one seeming 
 particularly anxious of witnessing the proffered entertainment, 
 war was not declared, and after a round or two of Taos light- 
 ning, as whisky was called in those days, Wai quietly mount- 
 ed his horse and made his way toward his little log hut, 
 where he was met by his faithful Senora and provided with a 
 bountiful repast of tortillas and frijoles (corncake and beans). 
 The excitement in camp gradually exhausted itself, and 
 it was mutually agreed that Wai should not be molested if he 
 kept away from Humbug Gulch. 
 
 Wai apparently accepted the situation, and turned his 
 attention to the laudable ambition of supplying the camp with 
 cord-wood, and almost any day thereafter he could be seen 
 coming into town with his load, which brought him a fair 
 price and ready sale. 
 
 One day about two months after he had settled himself 
 down to legitimate pursuits, while he was sitting in Stenson's 
 saloon^fatigued by a somewhat arduous morning's work, a 
 
202 STORIES OF THE 
 
 party of Irish miners entered, all of whom were more or less 
 under the influence of liquor, and after bandying words with 
 VVal in reference to his claim and the murder of their com- 
 panion, one, rather more bold than discreet, approached Wai 
 holding a large rock and said : "Be jabers, Wai, you would 
 look better dead than alive, *' when Wai, as quick as thought, 
 drew his pistol and drawing a bead on the Irishman, said : 
 "Drop that stone." 
 
 The stone dropped, Wai quietly resumed his seat with- 
 out another word, replaced his pistol in its scabbard, cooly 
 lighted his pipe and commenced to smoke. The gang were 
 evidently bent on mischief, but Wai could not be intimidated 
 and made no move to leave his seat, but kept his keen eye 
 on every act of the drunken mob. 
 
 He listened cooly and indifferently for a while to their 
 coarse jets and braggadocio threats cast at him, but there 
 comes a moment when "patience ceases to be a virtue" 
 and comes soonest to men of such caliber as Wai, and when 
 another of the belligerents approached too near with an out- 
 rageous remark, Wai jumped to his feet and said: "By 
 G d, I think I'll kill one of you just for luck, and put a 
 stop to th"isd d nonsense," and whipping out his pistol fired, 
 the ball as always, taking effect in the bridge of his victim's 
 nose, passing through the right eye and coming out in front 
 of his ear." 
 
 At the report of the pistol a crowd rushed in, but no 
 one attempted to interfere with Wai, who took a position 
 
203 STORIES OF THE 
 
 against the side of the room and invited any one who wanted 
 him to " step right up, but if anyone did, he would make a 
 sieve of him." 
 
 No one desirous of being converted into that useful 
 article just then, not a soul stepped forward. 
 
 The Alcalde and Sheriff were sent for and soon arrived, 
 whereupon Wai gave himself up, and was remanded to his 
 old quarters the little log jail from which he had so suc- 
 cessfully made his escape by way of the huge chimney, on a 
 former occasion. 
 
 The drunken companions of the murdered miner imme- 
 diately upon the arrest of Wai started off to muster up a 
 crowd of their .countrymen, determined this time to mete 
 out summary vengeance upon the assassin of their com- 
 rade. 
 
 To preclude the possibility of an escape on the part of 
 the prisoner, an additional guard was employed to watch 
 the outside of the jail, and two men were posted on the 
 roof "no goin' up that thar chimbley this time." 
 
 Shortly after dark another mob composed of the friends 
 of Wai's last victim came pouring into camp from the gulches 
 and hills, who proceeded directly to the jail, determined this 
 time that their game should not slip through their fingers. 
 
 In a few moments the infuriated and howling would-be 
 lynchers forced the door of the building open, in the same 
 manner as they had done before, but their bird had flown 
 Wai was not there ! 
 
204 STORIES OF THE 
 
 Knowing the desperate character of the men who had 
 come to take his life, Wai resolved to make a determined 
 effort to get away from them, if possible, and when he first 
 heard them surging and howling in the distance, put all his 
 quick wits at work and soon decided what might be done. 
 
 Standing at the side of the door as it was crushed from 
 its fastenings, he allowed the crowd to tumble and rush pell- 
 mell into the dark room, while he quietly slipped past them 
 out into the street, walked slowly to the ^first corner, and 
 then shot into the night and was free. 
 
 The rage and disappointment of the exasperated miners' 
 on the discovery that their man had eluded them can better 
 be imagined than described. 
 
 Wai proceeded to his little home, took one of his horses 
 from the stable and rode rapidly out of camp and over a 
 mountain trail, and in a few hours was miles away where he 
 found a safe retreat. 
 
 The disappointed crowd on discovering that for the pres- 
 ent at least, Wai was beyond their power, slowly retired to 
 their homes, but first swore they would kill Wai on sight if he 
 ever made his appearance in camp again. 
 
 But a few days elapsed before Wai again dropped into 
 town, but strange as it may seem no attempt was made to 
 arrest him. 
 
 For some weeks everything about camp moved along 
 quietly, and it was hoped that further disturbance was at an 
 end, but one afternoon while Wai was standing in front of 
 
OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. 205 
 
 one of the little stores that were scattered at intervals 
 through the long main street of the town, engaged in a con- 
 versation with a lot of miners who had congregated there, a 
 horseman came galloping up the principal thoroughfare, and 
 halted directly in front of the door where Wai and his com- 
 panions were talking. 
 
 Taking a single glance at Wai, he exclaimed, " you are 
 the man I am looking for ! " and drawing his revolver com- 
 menced shooting. He fired three shots in rapid succession, 
 neither of which however took effect, and before he could 
 cock his pistol again, which he was in the act oi doing, Wai 
 had " drawn a bead" on him and fired. 
 
 The ball struck him in the trigger thumb which was 
 thereby turned, or it would have found its proper center 
 between the eyes. Finding himself disabled, the rider put 
 spurs to his horse and fled to the friendly shelter of the near- 
 est ravine, but soon returned dismounted, as he discovered 
 he had not been followed by the terrible Wai. 
 
 A crowd gathered around to shoot the wretch who had 
 so deliberately jeopardized the lives of innocent citizens 
 but he called out that he was wounded and powerless and 
 "for God sake not to kill him," that he would give himself 
 up quietly if he could be permitted to see a doctor. 
 
 The doctor happened to be sitting in front of his office 
 near by who took the man in, and amputated his thumb. 
 
 He was then turned over to the sheriff, who placed him 
 19 
 
206 STORIES OF THE 
 
 in an 'unoccupied log building, and appointed a guard to 
 watch him. 
 
 During the night, however, following in the footsteps of 
 the illustrious Wai, he eluded the vigilance of the guard, made 
 good his escape, and ran to the mountains where he was re- 
 ceived by his friends, who were determined to protect him 
 from re-arrest. 
 
 The following day word was sent to the doctor to come 
 out and dress his wounds, and obeying the summons he found 
 him within a hundred yards of his cabin, by the side of a 
 mining ditch, surrounded by an array of pistols, carbines and 
 knives, determined to resist any attempt to re-arrest him. 
 
 The point selected commanded every avenue of approach 
 up the mountain slope, without the garrison of one man being 
 seen. 
 
 Here he remained several days, and announced to the 
 Alcalde, through some of his friends, that he would die be- 
 fore giving himself up to the " Stranglers," but would submit 
 if soldiers were sent for him. 
 
 Upon this message of defiance no further effort was made 
 to capture him, and the town lapsed once more into its wonted 
 quietude. Even Henderson became remarkaby docile, no 
 further disturbances occurring between him and the miners 
 the trouble ending, apparently, by mutual consent. 
 
 Some months subsequent to the incidents related in the 
 foregoing, the little camp was again thrown into a state of ex- 
 
OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. 207 
 
 citement in consequence of a report of the robbery of the 
 mail in the canon between Elizabethtown and Ute Creek. 
 
 It was bruited about, and proved true, that when the 
 coach (which made tri-weekly trips between the camp and the 
 Cimarron, to connect with the great Southern Overland Line) 
 reached a lonely point in the canon, where the road was nar- 
 row, and wound round a side-hill covered with a dense growth 
 of scrubby pines, three disguised men would slip out and 
 order the driver to halt, then without moving from their place 
 on either side of the confined pass with their rifles pointed 
 toward him, demand that the express box be thrown off from 
 the boot. 
 
 This modest request being promptly complied with, they 
 ordered the driver to move on, much to the relief of the 
 thoroughly frightened conductor, and the two or three pas- 
 sengers inside. 
 
 Five or six depredations of this character were committed 
 in the course of a month, when the people in camp began to 
 have their suspicions aroused, and many were the conjectures 
 as to who the guilty parties could be. 
 
 A company was formed to scour the canon, but not even 
 a clue of the highwaymen could be found, nor a place that 
 exhibited any signs of a rendezvous. 
 
 This fact confirmed the suspicions of the law abiding por- 
 tion of the community, that there existed in their midst and 
 neighboring settlements at Ute Creek, an organized band of 
 
208 STORIES OF THE 
 
 " Road Agents " who started out only on favorable opportuni- 
 ties for carrying on their nefarious purposes. 
 
 It was believed by many that persons residing in Eliza- 
 bethtown kept watch, and advised their partners in this crime 
 at Ute Creek at what time a large shipment of gold would 
 probably be made, and the number of passengers, with their 
 names, the coach would carry. 
 
 Wai absented himself from camp a day or two at a time, 
 and it began to be murmured that he could tell if he would, 
 a great deal concerning these systematic robberies ; and it 
 was even hinted that he not only indirectly aided and abetted 
 the attacks on the coach, but took an active part himself. 
 
 He was very reticent on the subject, and it was a fact 
 commented upon by nearly every one in camp, that after an 
 absence of two or three days, he would invariably turn up 
 the very morning after a robbery, with a load of wood for 
 sale, and as demurely ride through town on his little wagon 
 as if such a thing as an attack on the coach the day before 
 had never taken place. 
 
 Of course no positive proof of his complicity could be ob- 
 tained, yet it was generally believed that he belonged to the 
 gang. 
 
 Joe Stenson who kept the principal saloon and was 
 well known throughout the Territory, not only on account of 
 his size and weight, but also in consequence of his insatiable 
 thirst for " bug juice " and dexterous manipulation of cards, 
 was withal a law abiding citizen, and would tolerate nothing 
 
OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. 209 
 
 that was not^ strictly " regular" in the eye of the law. Joe 
 wouldn't steal a horse, or carry off a red-hot stove, but woe 
 to the unfortunate and confiding individual who sat down to 
 Joe's game with the expectation of leaving with a cent in his 
 clothes. 
 
 Joe's thorough knowledge of Monte, Faro, Poker and 
 other genteel games, made him as much a terror behind the 
 green-covered table as a pack of highway robbers, and while 
 he would not hesitate to fleece some unsuspecting victim in 
 a gentlemanly game, he had no sympathy with any law-break- 
 er or "Road Agent," who would halt a man for his money 
 without the farcical proceeding of having a little bout of 
 cards to win it honorably. 
 
 One afternoon while the robberies of the mail coach 
 were at their height, three or four broken down gamblers 
 and loafers, sauntered into Stenson's saloon and commenced 
 to discuss the last depredation, and the modus operandi of the 
 efficient agents. 
 
 Prominent among the group was Wai ; each had his the- 
 ory to advance, and each expressed it freely. 
 
 Joe said, ' 'don't yer understand," a favorite phrase 
 
 when excited "don't yer understand, the d d rascals 
 
 don't live a great ways from this camp, and I wouldn't won- 
 der if a few of them don't yer understand are right in 
 sight of this shebang now don't yer understand ; I hain't 
 got no sympathy for any such work, don't yer understand 
 
210 STORIES OF THE 
 
 and would help hang every mother's son of 'em, by G d, 
 don't yer understand!" 
 
 Old Sam Bartlett expressed it "as his opinion, that Reub 
 Jones, of Ute Creek knowed all about it, and was at the head 
 of the gang." 
 
 Wai put in his oar occasionally, but from his remarks it 
 was apparent that his sympathy was rather in favor of that 
 
 style of robbing, "than stealing it through a d d old Faro 
 
 box." 
 
 Words waxed high and it was evident there "was going 
 to be a difficult" as Kit Carson used to say. 
 
 Joe saw that trouble would ensue if the conversation 
 was not dropped, so desirous of putting an end to it, turned 
 to Wai and said: "Wai, we've had enough of this, so come 
 on and have a drink and go home." 
 
 Wai accepted the invitation and with the closing remark 
 
 "that he considered the robbers were a d d sight better 
 
 than some of the genteel thieves who live right in camp/' he 
 walked up to the bar, while Joe went behind and said, "Wai 
 what will you have." 
 
 "I'll take whiskey in mine," answered Wai. 
 Joe set up a glass and bottle, and while mixing a toddy 
 beneath the bar for himself, Wai seized the bottle, poured his 
 glass full to the brim, and then deliberately emptied it on the 
 counter with the remark: "If you don't like that, why then 
 take your change anyway you want it," at the same instant 
 
OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. 211 
 
 putting his hand on his hip as if in the act of drawing his 
 pistol. 
 
 As quick as thought, Joe knowing the desperate charac- 
 ter of the man he had to deal with, seized a pistol from 
 behind the bar, leveled it, fired, and Wai fell dead. 
 
 Joe immediately stepped from where he was, to the front, 
 pistol in hand, and emptied the remaining chambers of his 
 revolver into the prostrate form of Wai. 
 
 Joe gave himself up at once, and an examination was 
 shortly held before the Alcalde, where all the facts were elicit- 
 ed, and the verdict of the jury was "Justifiable Homicide." 
 
 Thus ended the career of Wai Henderson, and his bones 
 are now reposing on the little hill above the camp, where a 
 score or more of others lie who have gone the same way. 
 
212 STORIES OF THE 
 
 CANNADY'S RANCH. 
 
 Whoever crossed the Great Plains of Kansas and Colo- 
 rado in the days of the " Prairie Schooner" or lumbering stage- 
 coach, doubtless remembers that immense tract on the 
 confines of New Mexico, known as Maxwell's Ranch." 
 
 Lucien B. Maxwell was the companion and compeer of 
 Kit Carson, and became famous in company with the latter 
 as guide and hunter on the earlier exploring expeditions 
 across the continent, particularly, that one of Fremont's in 
 1842-3. 
 
 Shortly after the termination of his memorable march, 
 Maxwell married a Mexican lady, and with her became the 
 possessor of the large grant which to-day, goes by his name. 
 It originally comprised more than half a million acres, and is 
 situated in one of the most charming and picturesque portions 
 of the Rocky Mountains. 
 
 Within its area can be found the grandest peaks 
 and canons of that whole region, at the foot of which 
 nestle the loveliest and most fertile valleys in the world. 
 The Cimarron and Moreno rivers cool mountain streams 
 follow the sinuosities of their tortuous passage through the 
 towering ranges of the tract, and Ute Creek, a rushing, foam- 
 ing little torrent, splashes and sparkles in the sunshine, 
 
OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. 213 
 
 wherever the beetling walls of the canon that restrain its 
 maddened waters, and the involvement of gnarled and knotted 
 vines that overshadow it, .will permit a ray of light to enter. 
 
 Thirty years ago, the whole territory of New Mexico, in 
 which "Maxwell's Ranch" is located, was acquired by the 
 United States under the Guadaloupe Treaty, and at that time 
 was almost an unknown and unexplored country, except to 
 the limited number of traders with far-off Santa Fe, and until 
 within the last decade and a half, that portion of the mountains 
 in which the events in our story occurred, revealed in all the 
 grandeur and wildness of their primitiveness. But the march 
 of civilization, in its ever-restless course westward, has com- 
 pletely metamorphosed the whole aspect of the country phys- 
 ically, and its condition socially. 
 
 Now the land is full of harvests and green meads. The 
 mighty and seemingly interminable woods, whose mingled 
 branches covered the immense domain with a sea of foliage, 
 almost excluding the sun, have fallen before the axe of the 
 pioneer. The hardy yeomen of the crowded older states, 
 have poured in upon the footsteps of the receding savage, 
 and the magnificent highlands and prairies, over which but a 
 short time since deep silence brooded, except when broken 
 by the cry of the panther and wolf, or the still more appalling 
 yell of the Indian, is now vocal with the thousand happy 
 sounds of a busy industry. 
 
 Where the solitary smoke of the red man's wigwam curl- 
 ed its thin wreath among the trees, can now be seen the 
 
214 STORIES OF THE 
 
 dense cloud from the stamp mill, or blacksmith shop, and 
 instead of the frail canoe, emerging quickly from a dark inlet, 
 the flume is carried over the hills, and empties its precious 
 waters on the rich placers below. 
 
 Our story opens in the spring of 1869, the date of which 
 gold was discovered in the mountains and gulches of * 'Max- 
 well's Ranch.'' For some years previously, it was known 
 that copper existed in the region, and several shafts had been 
 sunk, and tunnels driven in various places. The most im 
 portant of the copper lodes, and the one in fact which 
 Maxwell worked himself, was located near the top of Old 
 Baldy, an immense mass of disrupted granite and other prim- 
 itive rocks that rises some thirteen thousand feet above the 
 level of the sea whose summit, bare and cold far beyond 
 the timber limit, gave its name. 
 
 The view from the rugged and storm-beaten crown of 
 this grand old sentinel of the range is indescribably sublime. 
 Far away to the north more than ninety miles distant the 
 snow-capped pinnacles of the twin Spanish peaks glisten and 
 sparkle in the sunlight, and beyond them, the majestic Pike's 
 Peak hangs like a white cloud in the sky. 
 
 Between these, and stretching indefinitely in the purple 
 mist, to the south and west, rugged spurs of a dozen differ- 
 ent chains throw their shadows over the landscape. On the 
 east the great plains of Colorado originating at the base of 
 the Raton range treeless, boundless, and illimitable as the 
 ocean, lose themselves in the deep blue of the horizon, while 
 
OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. 215 
 
 far away to the northeast rises the Arkansas, which like a 
 huge silver snake twists its silent way for more than a thou- 
 sand miles to discharge its mighty volume of water into the 
 great river. 
 
 Gold was discovered early in 1867 by a party of pros- 
 pectors, who were tunneling into the heart of Old Baldy in 
 search of copper. When it became known that gold existed 
 in paying quantities through all the mountains and gulches of 
 the range, hundreds of miners flocked into the region, and 
 before the end of the year had staked out their claims, and 
 "Grouse," ''Willow," "Humbug" and "Last Chance" 
 were located, and a busy population were hard at work wash- 
 ing out the glittering particles of precious metal with their 
 ong toms, cradles, sluices and hydraulics. A company was 
 formed, and a ditch constructed forty miles in length, from 
 the head-waters of the Little Canadian or Red rivers to sup- 
 ply the placers of the Moreno valley, when the water from 
 the melting snows of Baldy range had exhausted itself. 
 
 The richest diggings were situated about half way 
 between the Santa Fe stage-road crossing on the Cimarron, 
 and the old Mexico town of Taos, the home of Kit Carson. 
 At this point, on the west bank of the Moreno river, and in 
 the very heart of the mountains, a little settlement sprung up 
 as if by magic, and in a few months boasted of a population 
 numbering nearly two thousand. 
 
 As in all mining camps, a most heterogeneous crowd 
 composed the squatters in Elizabethtown, as the residents 
 
216 STORIES OF THE 
 
 there choose to call their little city in the mountains. In its 
 rough but busy streets you could meet the tall and plodding 
 Yankee fresh from the low hills of New England; the active 
 restless Texan ; the jauntly-dressed commercial tourist, with 
 his samples of bad whiskey and worse cigars ; the swarthy 
 Mexican, with his broad sombrero and scarlet sash; the dark- 
 er specimen of the genus homo, the negro; the Heathen 
 Chinee, the old California "forty-niners," and in fact all 
 shades of nationalities. 
 
 Nearly every state had its representative in the motley 
 group, who had come to seek their fortune in this new El 
 Dorado. 
 
 It was an elegant place to study character to learn how 
 all the finer attributes of man can be completely crushed out 
 by years of adversity; and how, under the same circum- 
 stances, all that is noble and pure can retain its principles 
 untainted and incorruptible, no matter how hellish and pesti- 
 lent may be its surroundings. 
 
 A characteristic of the east is formal "politeness, or cool 
 and elegant impudence ; that of the far West ignorance of all 
 etiquette and honest hospitality. The distinction is not un- 
 favorable to men. One can easily overlook their want of 
 what people call manners, which generally mean nothing. If 
 they are devoid of grace, ceremony and fashion, you may 
 more confidently depend upon the sincerity of what they say 
 or do. One cannot but admire their broad, brawny hands ; 
 their sun-burnt honest faces; and when in company of one 
 
OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. 217 
 
 of these a man perchance who will pass away from the earth 
 absolutely unacquainted with its enervating pleasures and 
 splendors, and free from those exciting and corrupting influ- 
 ences which too often deaden the feelings and warp the 
 principles you listen with respect to the honest phrases, and 
 feel at once that yqu have fallen among friends. 
 
 There is a genuine frankness, a boldness without dissimula- 
 tion, more fairness and honor in the unpolished native of the 
 border than is usually found in an acquired politeness under 
 the broadcloth exteriors of our populous cities in the east. 
 Foolish grievances that disturb the order of a well-regulated 
 town or village, often ending with a disgraceful street fight, 
 rarely occur; an affront is seldom offered, because it is settled 
 forever on the spot, and the revolver never drawn without 
 accomplishing its purpose. 
 
 An understanding of this mutual code, inelegant as it 
 may seem to those who cannot appreciate it, has founded a 
 state of society in which a saint might live without fear of 
 insult, but which would quickly end the career of a bully. 
 
 Occasionally bad men turn up, who run their course of 
 "deep damnation " and become a terror to the whole country, 
 but such men are wound up at last and " die with their boots 
 on" western graveyards are full of them. 
 
 Jack Cannady was one of this class, whose infernal 
 operations in the Moreno mines, and summary death by his 
 outraged fellow-miners is the subject of this sketch. 
 
 As has been stated, the town was located on the west 
 20 
 
218 STORIES OF THE 
 
 bank of the Moreno, but its pretty situation, and something 
 of its life, must be described, to familiarize the reader with 
 the varied character, attractions, and occupations that go to 
 make up the aggregate of a mountain mining camp. 
 
 The timber extended from the immense bluffs behind the 
 town almost to the edge of the river, and before a settlement 
 could be fairly effected, the ax was called into requisition to 
 let in the pleasant sunlight upon a portion of the slope and 
 rich land of the intervale. Another margin of timber was 
 confined to the banks of the stream, where, like a beautiful 
 fringe, it followed the graceful windings of the golden water 
 that flowed musically on in the deep shadow. 
 
 When evening approached, and the setting sun threw a 
 flood of silvery light on the white sandstone ledge that crown- 
 ed the bluffs, and the purple mist began to steal over the val- 
 ley, and the dark green of the belt of timber low down on the 
 river bottom was thrown into deeper shade as the light gradu- 
 ally faded away and the crowning glory of all when the 
 last rays of the setting sun began their play of colors on the 
 storm-beaten head of Old Baldy, there was presented one of 
 the most gorgeous pictures in the world, far surpassing the 
 storied beauty of the Italian landscape or the cold grandeur 
 of the Alps. 
 
 Besides the magnificence of its scenery and the scale of 
 its distances, there is an enchantment pervading the very at- 
 mosphere of the prairies and mountains, and the charm in- 
 
OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. 219 
 
 tensifies in almost every nature as each new act and new ex- 
 perience presents itself. 
 
 There is an indescribable quiet reigning over the actual and 
 visible of that " far off life " which seems to touch every heart, 
 and hardly any one who has tasted the exemption from the 
 restraint imposed by the conventionalities of a so-called fash- 
 ionable society which the freedom of a life on the great 
 plains or in the mountains permits contentedly returns to 
 an abridgement of that irrepressible degage within him, de- 
 manded by the crowded civilization east of the Mississippi. 
 
 The town consisted of four streets and the houses were 
 generally of only one story, constructed of logs and adobe. 
 
 In all mining camps there is concentrated the most varied 
 population and promiscuous occupations conceivable from 
 merchants and tradesmen through all the degrees of legiti- 
 mate business and from the professional faro dealer down 
 through all the multifarious inventions for gambling, to the 
 swindling gift enterprise on a limited scale, and three-card 
 monte. The susceptibility of the Mexican to the charms of 
 these games of doubtful fortune is a marked characteristic, 
 and those people perhaps made up one-fourth of the popula- 
 tion. 
 
 Notwithstanding such an aggregation of opposing ele- 
 ments, and the idleness incident to such precarious means of 
 support, confined, too, as it was to such a comparatively 
 limited geographical area, the discipline of the place was fair, 
 to say the least. In fact it would have been difficult to have 
 
220 STORIES OF THE 
 
 found a populous district in the east where better order was 
 obtained, or where there was such an apparent disposition to 
 obey the laws. 
 
 But, of course, it can be accounted for by the fact that 
 the "regulations" were made by the miners themselves, each 
 man had a voice in it, and he was bound in honor to act him- 
 self, at all times, as a guardian of the peace. Therefore, 
 notwithstanding there were hundreds there to whose ears the 
 shrill whistle of a bullet would sound sweeter than the soft 
 tones of a flute, their perfect good nature and "principle cf 
 honor among thieves," kept them within reasonable bounds. 
 
 Occasionally there were desperate fights over the gam- 
 bling tables in the " hells" with which the camp was rilled, 
 and sometimes a too obstreperous individual, full of "bug 
 juice" and fight, would get a hole drilled into him by a num- 
 ber forty-four pistol ball, or his ribs tickled with an eleven 
 inch bowie. Often, under the excellent skill of the doctor, 
 these would recover, but oftener took up their last claim of 
 six feet by two in the "bone orchard," as it was called, on 
 the side of the mountain. 
 
 Such an intensely varied population necessarily demand- 
 ed amusements as varied to satisfy the diversity of tastes ag- 
 gregated there. Consequently gambling in all its seductive 
 mutability, horse racing, the sirenizing charms of the most 
 depraved of the dtmi-monde and the bewitching enticements of 
 music as an accessory to these corrupting entertainments, al- 
 luringly met the ingenuous and unsuspecting among the 
 
OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. 221 
 
 checkered population at every footstep, some of whom, per- 
 haps, were never before away from the virtuous influence of 
 their rustic homes on the gentle slopes of the Texas prairies 
 or the vine-clad hills of the older states. 
 
 From early in the evening till broad daylight next morn- 
 ing a concourse of musical strains floated upon the cool 
 mountain air, ringing all the changes, from the jingling time 
 of the "Arkansas Traveler" or "Devil's Dream "on the 
 wheeziest of fiddles, manipulated by some negro amateur, to 
 the choicest gems of an opera in the delicate notes of a harp. 
 The well disposed but sleepily inclined citizen could se- 
 lect his lullaby from them, as it suited his fancy, for all through 
 the night it was unflaggingly kept up. Nor did it cease when 
 the sun cast his long rays on the little valley next day, but in 
 the brightest hours the same weary round of tune continued, 
 where in the shade of big trees and the retirement of the gam- 
 bling "hells" and drinking saloons, the doubtful harmony 
 might be heard enticing the unsophisticated to the mysteries 
 of their interiors. 
 
 Occasionally this enchantment of sweet melody was ac- 
 companied with the coarse language of some lascivious song 
 by a rough balladist, who was chorused by a dozen discordant 
 voices gathered around a magic center, or the shuffling sound 
 of huge feet kept time to the quick movement of an inspiring 
 
 Jig- 
 
 The average miner would come into town as often as two 
 
 or three times a week, and if fortunate in his diggings would 
 
222 STORIES OF THE 
 
 make for the first gaming table, to indulge in his favorite 
 Mexican monte. Winning, he would decorate himself with 
 an enormous stock of flash jewelry, harnessing his neck with 
 a watch chain three or four yards long, and thus glitteringly 
 attired "would make the rounds," stopping at every saloon 
 to treat the crowd, or kick up a fuss with the first man that 
 got in his way. Losing generally the rule he went drunk 
 and sulkily back to his claim, consoling himself with the hope 
 of better success next time. And so the majority of lives 
 were passed not a few "died with their boots on" in some 
 drunken quarrel with their friends to whom they had offered 
 a real or fancied insult. 
 
 Cannady was a tall, angular, villainous-looking specimen 
 of humanity, who was born in Missouri, but whose fiendish 
 acts in the Kansas free state struggles, had forced him to be- 
 come an outlaw in the mountains of New Mexico, where, in 
 one of their deep defiles, he squatted himself and married a 
 native woman. Surly and reticent, usually, but pugnacious 
 as a bull-dog when drunk, he always managed to kick up a 
 row whenever he came into camp, and as certainly returned 
 home with his head bandaged up, the result of encounters he 
 had provoked in his midnight orgies around the town, or in 
 quarrels over the gambling table. 
 
 Cannady' s Ranch was located at the entrance to Taos 
 canon, about seventeen miles from the mining camp of Eliza- 
 bethtown, on the main trail to Taos, to which it was nearly the 
 same distance. 
 
OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. 223 
 
 The spot Cannady had selected for his retreat was well 
 calculated as a fit field for his diabolical deeds, notwithstand- 
 ing the charm of its magnificent scenery. But of course i 
 was not on account of any latent aesthetic sentiment of his 
 nature that led him to choose this picturesquely beautiful nook 
 in the mountains it was because of its retirement and lone- 
 liness where he could operate boldly, with the chances of 
 discovery reduced to the minimum of possibility. 
 
 The unbroken wall of the canon rises abruptly for over 
 a thousand feet on one side, where under its dark veil of 
 shade the cabin stood, and at the opposite side, scarcely three 
 hundred feet away, a corresponding mass of rock shoots up- 
 ward to nearly the same height, forming the other wall. 
 
 This fearful gap in the range was made untold ages ago 
 by one of those terrible convulsions of nature, the effects of 
 which are visible on every hand in the Rocky Mountains ; 
 for it can plainly be seen that the walls of the canon were orig- 
 inally closed, and what was once merely a huge fissure, time 
 and erosion have worn into a respectable passage through the 
 giant barrier. 
 
 The entrance to the canon and its surroundings was a 
 perfect wilderness of beauty. Little springs gushed out from 
 the base of the tall granite cliffs that stood like towers amidst 
 the dwarfed oaks nodding around them, and the babbling lit- 
 tle rills as they trickled slowly over the smooth pebbles, sent 
 up the music of their tuneful waters in sweet concert with the 
 ever whispering pines. 
 
224 STORIES OF THE 
 
 At all seasons and for all hearts, forest scenery has a 
 charm, and how, under the very mantle of such a gorgeous 
 landscape, man can commit the most horrid crimes seems a 
 mystery. 
 
 Cannady's cabin, with its bloody history, was the only 
 object that clashed with the loveliness of its embosomment; 
 it was constructed in the rudest style of back-woods architect- 
 ure of unhewn logs placed together at the ends, after the 
 manner in which children build their houses of corn-cobs 
 and the interstices chinked up with mud. It had only three 
 windows, and the door was formed out of a few pine shingles 
 or rough clapboards, fastened together with wooden pins and 
 hung on hinges of the same material. The roof was compos- 
 ed of similar riven clapboards, which were kept in their place 
 by long and heavy logs, laid lengthwise of the building at short 
 intervals from each other, and over the whole, a mass of dirt 
 some two feet thick was deposited. The floor of this hut, 
 like all the houses in New Mexico, of the poor, was of earth, 
 and the fire-place of the same substance. 
 
 Cannady's family consisted of his wife and his father-in- 
 law, who both lived in constant dread of him and one child, 
 which he afterward killed. 
 
 The old Mexican, his father-in-law, had cleared a little 
 garden-patch around the cabin, where he and his daughter 
 raised a few onions, sweet potatoes and melons, but Cannady's 
 ostensible occupation was that of a sort of inn-keeper, where 
 travelers on their way to Taos could get a drink of the villain 
 
OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. 225 
 
 ous compound sold in that region, under the name of liquor, 
 or feed their animals while they smoked a poor cigar or a 
 pipe full of worse tobacco. 
 
 At times Cannady would make his appearence in camp 
 wiih large amounts of money, causing considerable specula- 
 tion among the honest miners and the gamblers, where an 
 how he had raised such a "stake." If such hints were 
 thrown out in his presence, or if he was directly asked the 
 question by some one bolder than the rest, his reply was in- 
 variably, "I've been up to Taos, damn you, and win it, is 
 it any o' your business ?" 
 
 During the intensely exciting times of prospecting 
 through the different ranges for quartz leads in the early weeks 
 of the discovery of gold and silver in that region, two young 
 Indians one morning brought down to Maxwell, a gunny sack 
 half full of gold-bearing rock, which they told him they found 
 beyond Cannady's ranch in the lower end of the Taos range. 
 
 Maxwell, anxious to develop the matter, and eager to 
 obtain more specimens, furnished the boys with animals and 
 provisions to secure undoubted proof of what he considered 
 a "rich strike." 
 
 The Indians set out on their journey of discovery early 
 the next morning, and when they came to the mouth of the 
 canon where Cannady lived, they separated, one taking a 
 short cut over the mountains by the trail, and the other going 
 up the canon to Cannady's for water. They were to have 
 
226 STORIES OF THE 
 
 met two miles beyond, in the canon, west of the ranch, but 
 they never saw each other again. 
 
 Two days afterward, the mule which the boy rode who 
 had gone to Cannady's, was found in the Cimarron canon all 
 alone, browsing on his way back to Maxwell's. No trace of 
 the missing boy could be found, and the tribe to which he 
 belonged, and who were friendly to the whites, declared that 
 he had been murdered by some Americans. 
 
 Maxwell, upon whom the whole Ute nation looked as 
 their father, endeavored to talk them out of what he consid- 
 ered a ridiculous idea, but he could not remove the impress- 
 ion from their minds. 
 
 Nearly two months had elapsed and the matter had al- 
 most ceased to receive any more thought, when, one after- 
 noon, two miners of Elizabethtown, on their way back from 
 Taos, on approaching Cannady's ranch who happened to 
 be away at the time discovered a half starved Mexican dog 
 tugging and pulling at something he had evidently unearthed 
 a short distance from the rear of the cabin. 
 
 Curiosity led them to dismount, tie their mules and in- 
 vestigate what the cur was apparently so interested in. Their 
 examination showed it to be the leg of a human being, and 
 on further search, discovered the body of the Indian -boy 
 with his skull split open as if done with an axe. 
 
 The news of the discovery of the murder of the missing 
 Ute was imparted to only a few of the best citizens of Eliza- 
 bethtown, who immediately took measures for the arrest of 
 
OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. . 227 
 
 Cannady, knowing that if the Indians discovered it, they 
 would break out and probably massacre the whole settlement. 
 Cannady was taken by surprise one morning and brought to 
 town before the Alcalde. But meanwhile, some way or other, 
 the Indians became aware of the facts, and it was only 
 through the good counsels of Maxwell they were finally 
 bought off, and a terrible slaughter prevented. When the 
 Indians were made acquainted with the tragic fate of the boy 
 of their tribe, and knew that he had been brutally murdered 
 by the desperado Cannady, they declared their determina- 
 tion of avenging his death. Maxwell, fearing that some in- 
 nocent white man would be killed, whom their roving bands 
 might mistake for Cannady, resolved to effect an amicable 
 settlement of the affair if possible, rather than that the chief 
 should give the order to his warriors to hunt for Cannady. 
 
 The excellent counsel of Maxwell prevailed, and the 
 Indians were pacified by his presenting each of the boy's 
 immediate relations with a pony, and the citizens of Elizabeth- 
 town contributing money, provisions and ammunition. Thus, 
 through Maxwell's perfect knowledge of the Indian character, 
 and his timely intervention, a war with one of the most power- 
 ful tribes was averted, for the Indians had fully made up their 
 . minds to put on their war-paint, and first of all, in their con- 
 templated depredations, threatened to kill every white man in 
 the mines. Maxwell did not hesitate, however, to tell the 
 chief with whom he made arrangements, that if any of them 
 ever came across Cannady, and they were sure of their man, 
 
228 STORIES OF THE 
 
 no trouble would ensue " if they killed him right in his 
 tracks." 
 
 In the course of Cannady's examination before the Al- 
 calde in town, some of the facts in relation to the boy's death 
 were elicited from Cannady's Mexican wife. She stated that 
 the young Indian had called at the ranch, and that her hus- 
 band was out in the hills somewhere with his rifle, tempo- 
 rarily ; that she gave the boy a bowl of coffee to drink, and 
 while peaceably sitting enjoying her proffered refreshment, 
 the bloodthirsty man slipped in quietly behind him, holding 
 in his hand a hatchet, with which he struck him in the head 
 two or three times, cleaving his skull and killing him instantly. 
 He then took him by the heels, dragged him a few rods in 
 the rear of the house, and there buried him, where his body 
 was discovered by the prowling, half starved cur. 
 
 There were no organized courts in that particular region, 
 and the result was that Cannady was released, and returned 
 with the woman to the ranch. Policy, perhaps, dictated this 
 course, which, under all the circumstances too complicated 
 to be explained in this sketch was the best at the time. 
 
 After Cannady had returned to the ranch, and there was 
 no longer anything to fear from the Indians, nothing dis- 
 turbed the usual tranquillity of the camp into which daily new 
 adventurers thronged and new business opened, as the re- 
 quirements of the bustling little place demanded f r nearly 
 three months after the murder of the Ute boy. Then, early 
 one afternoon, Cannady rode into camp in the greatest ex- 
 
OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. 229 
 
 citement, announcing that he had found the dead body of 
 some unknown man, lying on the trail near his ranch, shot 
 through the heart, and, scattered around in every direction, 
 a considerable amount of fractional currency that he had 
 left him just as he had discovered him, and had hurried into 
 town to give the alarm stating, in his opinion, that hostile 
 Indians had done the work, and advising that a mounted 
 party be formed to scour around the mountains in the vicinity 
 of the canon to follow up the trail if possible. 
 
 The camp was all impatience and restlessness under the 
 news, and in less than an hour, twenty-three men were mount- 
 ed, well armed, and with three day's rations, were on their 
 way to the Taos range with Cannady a? their guide. Reach- 
 ing the ranch in a short time they found the body of the mur- 
 dered man as Cannady had described, who was immediately 
 recognized as Billy Edwards, well known through the mines 
 as an industrious, prospering miner, quiet, orderly and re- 
 spected by all who knew him. Only a few days previously 
 he had sold out his claim, and purchasing a pack animal had 
 started for Santa Fe via Taos, with all he possessed in the 
 world secured about his person and on the back of his little 
 "burro." 
 
 The appearance of his body and the money scattered 
 around him all led to the confirmation of Cannady's story, 
 and expressed suspicions that the Indians had killed him. 
 No one in the crowd for a moment thought of implicating 
 
 Cannady in the affair in fact, he appeared as eager as any 
 21 
 
230 STORIES OF THE 
 
 to trace the murder to its author, and make an extended 
 scout among the hills. Three days were spent by the party 
 in fruitless search for some trace of Indians, but not a sign 
 could be discovered, and they returned to the camp with the 
 remains of the unfortunate Edwards, and buried them in the 
 little hill just north of the town, already dotted over with the 
 graves of many murdered men. The matter was not dropped 
 but talked over constantly, for Edwards was beloved by every 
 one. Little knots of miners and mountaineers could be seen 
 almost any time around the stores and saloons discussing the 
 question of the murder, and each advancing his own theory 
 of how "poor Billy" was surprised and killed. 
 
 Now and then some would hint that Cannady knew more 
 about the killing than many supposed he did. One, who was 
 more emphatic in his assertions than others, declared most 
 decidedly at a discussion in the hotel over the affair : "To 
 be sure nobody knows what Cannady's been about, but it 
 isn't honest people that do what they have to do in the dark ; 
 he always has oceans of cash, and now where does he get it ; 
 that's what I want to know ?" 
 
 It was only a few days afterward that some prospectors, 
 who had come down to the mines from Taos, stated that 
 Cannady had just been up there on a terrible spree, and had 
 lots of money, which he used freely in drinking and gam- 
 bling. So, immediately upon this news, the two miners 
 who had intimated more strongly than the others that Can- 
 nady could tell more about Edwards death than any one else, 
 
OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. 231 
 
 started for his ranch one evening without letting any of the 
 rest of the camp know of their expedition. When they 
 reached the place they found it vacated, as they supposed it 
 would be, as it was Cannady's custom whenever he left for 
 Taos or Elizabethtown to shut up his cabin and send his wife 
 and father-in-law to some of their relatives to stay during 
 his absence. 
 
 The two men determined to take advantage of this aspect 
 of affairs, and make a thorough investigation of the ranch 
 and its surroundings to discover if possible some foundation 
 for the conjectures they had formed of Cannady's mode of 
 life, and his murderous proclivities as they believed. A short 
 distance from the ranch, and just inside a little clump of thick 
 timber, the remains of a recent fire were found, and in stirring 
 over the pile of ashes a lot of partly charred bones were ex- 
 posed, which they carefully collected and put in a sack. Not 
 far off another heap of ashes was discovered, and a similar 
 collection of bones were made. 
 
 On entering the cabin, which they now no longer had any 
 hesitancy in doing, they found in the corner of the room 
 used as a kitchen, a spot where the dirt-floor yielded 
 under the pressure of their feet, and which looked as if it had' 
 been recently disturbed. Taking a spade that hung on a peg 
 in the wall, they dug down about two feet, and unearthed 
 the mutilated fragments of a human body. 
 
 Putting a portion of the remains in a sack, they care 
 
232 STORIES OF THE 
 
 fully replaced the dirt, so that the floor appeared as they had 
 found it, and returned to camp with the sack of bones. 
 
 The result of their trip was disclosed to only a few, and 
 a secret meeting was held the same evening to devise the best 
 measure to capture Cannady whose hellish-life was now 
 manifest before he became alarmed and escaped out of the 
 country. 
 
 The next morning, learning from some parties who had 
 just passed the ranch that Cannady had returned, it was deci- 
 ded that not a moment should be lost in the attempt to secure 
 the murderous villain, and accordingly it was planned that 
 ten picked men should start immediately for his den, but 
 instead of going directly to his door, should keep past his 
 cabin, singing and laughing and appear generally jolly, as if 
 they were only bent on a spreeing trip to Taos, while he, no 
 doubt, observing that the crowd were not going to halt, would 
 make his appearance and call them back. 
 
 The proposition was immediately acted upon, and the 
 ruse worked perfectly, for no sooner had they come within a 
 hundred yards of the ranch, and were, to all appearance, 
 going by, than Cannady came outside and hailed them with 
 "Hello fellows," ain't you going to stop? Where are you 
 bound ? " 
 
 The party held a brief consultation, apparently further 
 to carry out their plan, and then one of them called out : 
 " Got anything to drink in there, Cannady?" 
 
 "Yes," he replied, " lots of it ? come in." 
 
OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. 233 
 
 "Say we do, boys," said the first speaker ; and they all 
 turned toward the house, dismounted, and hitched their 
 horses to the trees outside. 
 
 No sooner had they all entered than a break was made for 
 Cannady, and in a moment half a dozen revolvers were 
 pulled out of their belts, and " they had the drop on him." 
 Their business was explained in a very few words, they told 
 him what they knew and if he made a move, they would 
 " blow the top of his head off." 
 
 He was bound hand and foot with a couple of lariat 
 ropes, and tossed into a wagon that the party had brought 
 with them, but which, until they wanted it, remained out of 
 sight down the trail. His Mexican wife and father-in-law 
 were also taken to town as witnesses. 
 
 As soon as they reached the camp, Cannady was first 
 heavily shackled at the blacksmith shop, and then lodged 
 in a little log building, improvised as a jail, which was 
 guarded by two plucky miners. 
 
 For two or three days the ranch was searched for the 
 purpose of making further discoveries in Cannady's bloody 
 work, and before a week had passed, the remains of seven- 
 teen bodies were found buried inside and outside the cabin. 
 Charred fragments of skeletons were hidden in various places 
 in the vicinity, and it was supposed that many others besides 
 those whose bones were found, had been murdered by Can- 
 nady, and left in the mountains just where he had killed 
 them, and were eaten by the wolves. 
 
234 STORIES OF THE 
 
 Frequently miners would leave for other portions of the 
 territory, to be absent only a few days, but nothing was 
 ever heard of them afterward. They probably never got 
 beyond Cannady's ranch, where they stopped for a drink, or 
 to rest for a few moments, only to be killed and robbed by 
 that mountain assassin. 
 
 How many a mother, or young wife has suddenly ceased 
 to hear from an adventurous son, or husband, who was seek- 
 ing his fortune in the "far west," and whose fate was to 
 become the victim of such fiends in human shape as Can- 
 nady, will never be known, for their number is one of the 
 horrid secrets that is buried in the grave with them and their 
 murderer. Perhaps some, under whose eyes these facts may 
 fall, will find a possible reason for the protracted absence of 
 one who has been looked for for years, but who will never 
 come. 
 
 After the horrid developments at the ranch, threats were 
 made by the exasperated miners to lynch Cannady at once, 
 but they finally determined that he should have a fair and 
 impartial trial, by a jury of twelve men, to be selected by 
 himself; that a judge should be selected by the crowd; he 
 to appoint a prosecuting attorney and counsel for the de- 
 fense. 
 
 As soon as it was agreed in camp to give Cannady a 
 chance for his life, the " fandango hall" of Joe Stenson's 
 "Miner's Saloon," was selected as the court room, and the 
 trial set for eight o'clock that evening. 
 
OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. 235 
 
 At the hour appointed the crowd began to gather, and 
 in a little while the room was packed with as motley and as 
 hard a looking mob as ever got together in the West. It w.as 
 a curious mixture of ignorance, manhood, vice, virtue and 
 villainy. Some of the truest men that ever lived stood in 
 that dimly-lighted little black room ; and some hearts were 
 here too, as deeply-dyed if the truth were known as Can- 
 nady's. Miners, merchants, gamblers and Mexicans wer e 
 mixed promiscuously, and the determined faces, and show of 
 revolvers spoke plainly enough, "there wasn't going to be 
 any fooling " in the matter. The red light of a blazing fire, 
 made of dry pine knots, nearly as combustible as powder, 
 shot up the dark chimney-place in the corner, throwing a 
 glimmering and confused mist over the brindled crowd assem- 
 bled there, and the fitful glimmer of three or four untrim- 
 med kerosene lamps, threw weird shadows on the white- 
 washed walls, as if the ghosts of the murderer's victims had 
 come to be phantom witnesses of his agony and bitterness. 
 
 Tom Pollock, an excellent citizen and veteran miner, 
 was unanimously chosen judge, and Cannady, of course, 
 had the good sense to pick his jury from the very best ele- 
 ment in the place. The prosecuting attorney was a young 
 lawyer who happened to be in the camp, and a young man, 
 assessor of internal revenue at the time, volunteered to 
 defend the case, whose offer was readily accepted by both 
 the judge and Cannady. 
 
 The preliminaries being now all arranged, the prisoner 
 
236 STORIES OF THE 
 
 was brought in by his guards, seated on a cracker box in front 
 of the jury, and by the side of his youthful counsel and only 
 friend in the whole crowd. 
 
 There were the usual oaths administered, every man 
 understanding perfectly his position, and acting upon the 
 fearful responsibility demanded by the situation of affairs in 
 that isolated region, and the necessity of summary justice, no 
 matter on whose head it might fall. 
 
 In a few pithy sentences, Judge Pollock told Cannady 
 the object of their gathering, and reviewed the terrible crimes 
 that had been traced to his den. He pointed to the ghastly 
 remains and charred fragments of human skeletons that lay 
 piled upon a rude pine table before him, which had been 
 dug up inside of his ranch, and in the timber in its vicinity, 
 and asked him how he could look upon that loathsome and 
 horrid sight, without expecting the vengeance of God to strike 
 him dead in his tracks. The Judge grew almost eloquent in 
 his recitation of Cannady's damnable deeds, and a death-like 
 stillness pervaded the place, as the words fell hot and earnestly 
 from his lips, broken only by the convulsive click of a revolver 
 now and then when the excitement intensified; and, but for 
 the sound advice to "give the miserable wretch a square 
 deal," the trial would have ended right there. 
 
 When the Judge had finished, Cannady, whose cheeks 
 were ashen pale, his eyes distended and tearless, riveted his 
 gaze on the determined men before him, utterly at a loss what 
 to do or say, and distracted alternately by hope and fear, for 
 
OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. 237 
 
 he felt the enormity of his guilt, and knew in his cowardly 
 heart he deserved death right then, without the least show of 
 mercy. 
 
 The prosecuting attorney stated, in opening the case, that 
 he had not much to say, and only referred to the manner in 
 which Cannady selected his victims, and the extreme caution 
 he had always exercised to avoid murdering well-known resi- 
 dents of the camp; understanding perfectly their sudden 
 disappearance from the community would excite suspicion 
 and lead to an exhaustive search of their whereabouts. He 
 showed how Cannady had always singled out for the consum- 
 mation of his diabolical ends some poor miner who, perhaps, 
 had only a nick-name alone and penniless, en route for 
 some other portions of the country ; some isolated, reticent 
 man, who seldom or never held much communication with 
 others in the camp. That he was too cowardly to kill a well- 
 known merchant or citizen of the town all of these could 
 pass a night securely at his ranch ; to them he would extend 
 a rough, generous hospitality, and at the same time endeavor 
 to impress upon their minds the danger of a trip through the 
 mountains without an escort ; that the Indians were treacher- 
 ous, and prowling over the hills constantly; besides there 
 were numbers of outlaws and highwaymen, who sought the 
 solitude of the mountain fastnesses to murder and rob ; that 
 he would tell them of his own marvelous escapes and terri- 
 ble hand-to-hand encounters with desperadoes, all for the 
 effect it might have in drawing suspicion from himself; that 
 
238 STORIES OF THE 
 
 those whom he would gladly have killed he did not dare to, 
 and they only had been saved from the clutches of this blood- 
 thirsty terror of the mountains by the very cowardice of his 
 nature. He scathed Cannady fearfully, working up a more 
 exasperated feeling if possible than before against him, and 
 then called in his witnesses. 
 
 The doctor was the first to testify, and his evidence, 
 confined to the character of the charred bones, settled any 
 question as to the possibility of their not being those of hu- 
 man beings. 
 
 The two miners, who had made the horrid discoveries 
 at the ranch, then related to the jury their simple story, de- 
 scribing accurately on a plain board, with a piece of burnt stick 
 the location of the cabin, its surroundings, and the position 
 of the ash heaps. They made a graphic if not artistic sketch, 
 with-their rude pencil, and its effect upon the crowd and the 
 jury was manifested by expressions addressed indirectly to 
 Cannady more emphatic than elegant, but which the judge in 
 a few moments succeeded in suppressing. 
 
 Antonio Montoyo Cannady's Mexican father-in-law 
 who could speak nothing but Spanish, was questioned through 
 an interpreter, and his plain recital of what he had seen left 
 no possible hope for Cannady. He told his story of one 
 coldblooded murder he had witnessed as follows: "One 
 evening a stranger came to the ranch and wanted to stay al 
 night; he was put in the same room with me, where I was 
 lying on the floor. After the stranger was fast asleep, Can- 
 
OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. 239 
 
 nady cautiously entered the room with a candle in one hand 
 and a revolver in the other. I was wide awake at the time 
 but did not dare to speak. Cannady then softly approached 
 the bed on which the stranger lay, and who was sound asleep, 
 put the muzzle of the pistol against his left temple and fired. 
 The murdered man never moved or made a sound, and I 
 jumped up, when Cannady threatened to serve me the same 
 way if ever I breathed a word of what I had seen. Cannady 
 then ordered me to hold the light while he examined the 
 wound. The man was large, and had a long red beard ; 
 there was a small hole in his temple, and one in the back of 
 his head. I was afraid he would kill me, and when he told 
 me to go and bring him a bucket of water, I ran up the canon 
 and did not stop until I reached Taos. I never knew what 
 he did with the body, and he never spoke to me about the 
 murder afterward." 
 
 Cannady's wife, a young Mexican girl, apparently too 
 youthful for either wife or mother, was called, and through 
 the interpreter stated that she had witnessed a number of 
 murders at the ranch, but had been afraid to say a word, be- 
 cause Cannady always swore he would kill her if she did ; but 
 when he murdered her child in the most cruel and atrocious 
 manner right before her eyes, she made up her mind that she 
 would expose his bloody life as soon as she could find a safe 
 opportunity. 
 
 Her testimony was clear and distinct, and she exhibited 
 no trace of emotion as she gazed with her girlish face upon 
 
240 STORIES OF THE 
 
 her cold-blooded husband, who cowed before her dark eyes. 
 
 A host of others gave in their evidence, all implicating 
 Cannady directly or indirectly with a whole series of butcher- 
 ies, and whose unanimous opinion was " that he deserved the 
 death of a dog." 
 
 Cannady had no witnesses to offer in his defense, but 
 made a rambling incoherent sort of a speech, in which, of 
 course, he denied all the terrible crimes that had been imputed 
 to him, acknowledging only the murder of the Ute boy, whom, 
 he had declared, he had killed in self-defense to save his 
 family. 
 
 Every word the hardened wretch uttered, however, had 
 only tended to confirm the minds of the jury and the oth- 
 ers present of his guilt, and after half an hour of successive 
 contradictions and weak argument, he sat down. 
 
 The prosecuting attorney submitted the fate of the ac- 
 cused to the jury without discussing the points of the case; 
 he felt it would only be consuming valuable time, and if there 
 was anything to be said, let the defense offer it. 
 
 The counsel for the defense, though in his own mind 
 convinced of the deep-dyed villainy of his brutal client, felt 
 it incumbent upon him to make an appeal in his behalf, which 
 he did so eloquently, and built up hypotheses so rapidly that 
 some of the rougher element, afraid that his efforts might be 
 effectual, became rather demonstrative and crowded around 
 him in a somewhat too serious manner, but were quieted b 
 
OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. 241 
 
 a few positive words from the judge a rather decided but 
 not particularly pleasant compliment to his forensic ability. 
 
 The judge made another one of his significant addresses 
 in his charge in submitting the case to the jury, reminding 
 them that if their verdict should be unanimous, according to 
 the secret arrangement, Cannady would be executed immedi- 
 ately after they had returned it in front of the saloon in 
 which the trial was held, but if a single dissenting vote was 
 cast, he should be remanded to jail, and await a regular trial 
 at the next term of the district court, at Taos. 
 
 It was midnight when the fate of Cannady was given to 
 the twelve men whom he himself had chosen, and for an 
 hour they deliberated upon the question of summary punish- 
 ment, when they stood eleven for death, and one for a regu- 
 lar trial according to law. 
 
 They so reported, and that one dissenting vote saved 
 Cannady's life that night, and he was locked up in the 
 little log jail again, doubly shackled, and guarded by an ad- 
 ditional force. 
 
 The crowd sulkily submitted to the decision, but a good 
 many threats were muttered about ''getting even with him," 
 "having his hearfs blood," etc. The excitement subsided, 
 however, in the morning, and the camp gradually resumed 
 its normal condition. 
 
 Four or five days after the midnight trial in "Stensons' 
 saloon" another prospecting party, just in from the mountains, 
 rode into town with the head of the unfortunate victim so 
 22 
 
242 STORIES OF THE 
 
 accurately described by the Mexican father-in-law of Canna- 
 dy in his evidence before the court. 
 
 There was the "hole in the left temple," and the other 
 " in the back of the head." The features were considerably 
 decomposed, but long masses of sandy beard still adhered to 
 the face, and the remains were at once recognized as those of 
 Major Over, formerly from Ohio, who had left the mines at 
 the time of his murder for Santa Fe. 
 
 This confirmatory proof of Cannady's atrocities aroused 
 the indignation of the people again which wa6 only slumber- 
 ing, and another secret meeting was called. 
 
 A little after midnight, the hour agreed upon, about 
 twenty determined men met in the back of one of the little 
 log stores, heavily armed, and their faces disguised with 
 masks improvised for the occasion. 
 
 The dingy looking place was lighted by a few tallow- 
 candles that shed a dim, sallow haziness over the piles of ba- 
 con, kegs of powder, picks, shovels, and other miner's goods, 
 which were stored there, and upon the strange looking faces 
 assembled to mete out that justice which they believed had 
 been too long delayed. 
 
 The doctor who resided in the camp, had been invited 
 to be present, and was there, not to exercise an active part 
 in the summary vengence about to take place, but rather for 
 the purpose of drawing out some information from the doom- 
 ed man at the place of execution concerning those whom he 
 had murdered, in order that relatives or friends might be in- 
 
OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. 243 
 
 formed of the time and manner of their death, and the fate of 
 the murderer. 
 
 After half an hour spent in discussion relative to a 
 plan of operations, finally it was agreed that the party should 
 meet at the same hour the next night just outside the camp, 
 at the Taos trail crossing of Ute creek, from there go to the 
 jail, take Cannady out and hang him. 
 
 After these preliminaries had been arranged a solemn 
 oath was sworn to carry out their plans, and the little assem- 
 bly broke up to come together again on the following night 
 at the appointed rendezvous. 
 
 Nothing disturbed the usual routine of the camp next day, 
 and not a suspicion was entertained that Cannady was so soon 
 to meet the tragic fate he richly deserved. 
 
 The hours dragged their weary length along, and the de- 
 Urmined men who had sworn to avenge the horrible butch- 
 eries of Cannady were impatient for night to come that their 
 work might be consummated. 
 
 Anon the evening came, walking noiselessly over the 
 mountains. The clouds that had hung over the valley all 
 day like a pall, broke apart in painted masses, and behind 
 their tinseled fragments the blazing sun with broadened disc, 
 lingered in the west for a few moments, shedding a rich and 
 shifting radiance over the landscape, which soon faded into 
 the deep eventide as the day-light sank behind the hills that 
 overshadowed the town. 
 
 The pines, the valley, the foaming torrent, and the little 
 
244 STORIES OF THE 
 
 camp all retired from view as if they wished to go to sleep be- 
 neath the friendly shadows. 
 
 Calm and beautiful with troops of stars overhead, a deep 
 and reverent silence stole over the place as if the justice of 
 Heaven looked down upon the act that was to be committed, 
 when the men who had sworn to keep their pledges march- 
 ed out silently into the night, and met at Ute creek ford. 
 
 Consulting together for a few moments under the trees 
 on the bank, their plans were hastily formed and put into op- 
 eration at once. 
 
 Reaching the vicinity of the rude log jail, they stopped 
 to reconnoiter, and finding everything quiet, four of them 
 went up to the door and knocked. 
 
 The summons was promptly answered, and as soon as 
 the door swung open in rushed the masked men, who over- 
 powered the guard and disarmed them in a moment. 
 
 Cannady was bound hand and foot, tied on a litter that 
 the party had improvised at the creek, and without a whisper 
 they took up their line of march for the place of execution. 
 
 Three quarters of a mile away, through a deep canon in 
 the hills, was a little opening where a corral and a slaughter 
 pen had been constructed in which the cattle used by the 
 miners were killed. Here in the forks of two contiguous 
 trees an unhewn portion of another was laid. 
 
 In one end of this transverse stick holes had been bored, 
 and four stout pieces of timber about three inches thick and 
 ten feet long inserted, which served as a rough wheel and 
 
OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. 245 
 
 axle, upon which the dead beeves were hoisted now to be 
 turned into a scaffold ! 
 
 To this lonely spot the murderer and his excutioners 
 journeyed on their silent expedition. 
 
 Nothing broke the almost painful stillness as the un- 
 flinching little procession marched under the hushed shadows 
 of the mountains piled up into the calm firmanent above 
 them, until they reached the opening where the slaughter pen 
 stood. 
 
 Then, suddenly the dismal cry of a pack of wolves 
 reverberated through the hills, as driven by the approaching 
 tramp of feet from their midnight feast of half-dried hides, 
 they stole to the edge of the timber. 
 
 But soon their horrid howls grew more distant, melted 
 away, and deep silence brooded over the scene again. The 
 masked men then formed a semicircle around the doomed 
 man, lighted torches that they had brought with them, and 
 commenced their horrid work. 
 
 Cannady with his arms and ankles tied and heavily iron- 
 ed, sat crouching on the blood-stained floor of the slaughter 
 pen, while the sickly light from the torches glared upon the 
 disguised faces of his executioners and his shaggy hair, adding 
 still more horror to the strange scene. 
 
 The doctor, the only one beside the prisoner unarmed 
 and without disguise, then stepped in front of Cannady, who 
 in trembling voice asked him what all this meant. 
 
 The doctor said to him that he ought to understand by 
 
246 STORIES OF THE 
 
 this time from the preparation that had been made, and the 
 determined course that had been pursued by those who had 
 brought him there, that his stay on this earth was of short 
 duration. 
 
 He said to the miserable wretch: "After a fair and 
 impartial trial, and the discovery of overwhelming proofs of 
 your murderous course, you are about to expiate the foul and 
 unwarrantable crimes of which you have been adjudged 
 guilty. 
 
 11 1 come to you not as one of your executioners, but to 
 learn if possible during the last moments of your life the names 
 of your unknown victims, whose scattered bones and ghastly 
 skeletons only have been found. 
 
 "I come for the purpose of hearing your confession before 
 you are launched into eternity to meet your God. 
 
 " Of those known to have been killed by your hands I 
 desire first of all to know about, Edwards, who was found 
 murdered by the trail near your ranch. What have you 
 to say in relation to that ? " 
 
 " As God is my judge," replied Cannady, " I never laid 
 eyes on Edwards until I found him dead, with the currency 
 scattered around him just as I reported it in camp." 
 
 " Where did you hide the remains of California Joe, who 
 left the mines and was never seen after he entered the Taos 
 canon ? " continued the doctor in his inquiries. 
 
 "The last time I saw Joe," Cannady said "was when 
 
OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. 247 
 
 he passed my ranch on his way to the Burro Mountains, and 
 I don't know where he is." 
 
 The doctor then asked him some questions in relation to 
 the sudden disappearance of Major Over, but Cannady, who 
 had learned nothing of the fact that the head of the unfor- 
 tunate Major had been found buried under the floor of his 
 cabin, answered that he had never seen Over after he left his 
 ranch early one afternoon for Santa Fe. "I have no idea 
 of his whereabouts," said Cannady to the doctor's pressing 
 questions. " He probably is in the mountains somewhere, 
 murdered by the Apaches, for all I know." 
 
 Thus the hardened wretch continued to lie as the interroga- 
 tories were pressed upon him, and no appeal was strong 
 enough to draw out a single word of confession, and any hope 
 of information was abandoned, so the doctor left him in dis- 
 gust. 
 
 All the preparations being in readiness for the final act of 
 the tragic scene, Cannady was lifted upon a rude platform 
 under the beam stretching between the two trees, where he 
 sat for a moment crouching and trembling, now fully under- 
 standing the horrible death that awaited him, when, with a 
 kick and the terse phrase, " stand up you murdering hound," 
 one of his executioners helped him to his feet. The rope 
 was now secured to the beam, and the noose placed around 
 Cannady's neck. In the next instant three of the stoutest 
 men in the party seized him and threw him bodily fully five 
 feet into the air, and, being a man of huge frame, as he 
 
248 STORIES OF THE 
 
 came back on the end of the rope with his whole weight, his 
 death was almost instantaneous. 
 
 The torches were immediately extinguished, and the 
 crowd quickly dispersed, leaving the body of Cannady dang- 
 ling from the windlass in the deserted slaughter pen. 
 
 Early the next morning, just as the sun began to peep 
 over the towering heights of Baldy range and flood the little 
 valley with its golden light, some one who happened to ride 
 into town from the direction of the canon where the lynching 
 had taken place, saw the body of Cannady, and in a few mo- 
 ments the little camp was all astir, as the news of Cannady's 
 execution was heralded through the mountains and gulches. 
 
 Soon crowds were wending their way up the canon to the 
 old slaughter pen, where the body of the murderer still re- 
 mained unmolested, hanging too high to be reached by the 
 wolves who had evidently been prowling around him during 
 .the night. 
 
 The Alcalde made his appearance, and immediately sum- 
 moned a jury from those present, examined one or two per- 
 sons to find out something about the affair, but all without 
 eliciting a single fa"ct. 
 
 He then ordered the body cut down, and the doctor to 
 examine it, who stated that death was ' ' caused by complete 
 dislocation of the cervical vertebrae." 
 
 The guards at the jail swore they did not hear a word 
 spoken when Cannady was forcibly taken from them, and 
 
OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. 249 
 
 they could not recognize a single one of the party on account 
 of their perfect disguise. 
 
 The jury retired for a few moments, and, after a short 
 deliberation, returned the verdict, "that Cannady came to 
 his death by hanging, which was done by some person or 
 persons unknown." 
 
 An application was then made by the doctor for the body 
 for examination, he promising to bury it without expense to 
 the town if his request should be granted. 
 
 Upon this the Alcalde called out to the crowd, "All 
 those in favor of letting the doctor have the murderer's 
 remains for scientific examination will manifest it by saying 
 aye?" A universal shout of affirmation rang through the 
 hills in response to the Alcalde's question. Contrary minded, 
 no, cried the Alcalde. A solitary "no" was uttered by a 
 miner who sat on the top rail of the cattle-corral fence, 
 swinging his long legs and pulling vigorously at a corn-cob 
 pipe. 
 
 "What's you objection Bill," said the Alcalde. 
 
 "I want to see a rope tied around the legs of the d d 
 villain, and help drag him to the mountain near his ranch 
 and leave him there for the coyotes to finish him up," replied 
 Bill. 
 
 This created a ripple of merriment, but the doctor 
 secured the remains of Cannady, sent them to his office, pre- 
 serving the murderer's skull, which he kept on the shelf, and 
 the remnant of the dissected body he placed in a rough pine 
 
250 
 
 STORIES OF THE 
 
 box, and buried in a grove on a little hill overlooking the 
 camp, near, but not by the side of the murderer's victims. 
 
 Thus ended the career of one of the most bloodthirsty- 
 villains that ever lived in the mountains of New Mexico. 
 The deity whom he worshiped asked blood, and blood he 
 gave him by a whole hecatomb of human lives. The jus- 
 tice he merited was meted out to him, to the great relief and 
 satisfaction of the whole community. 
 
OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. 251 
 
 GENERAL FORSYTH'S FIGHT ON THE "ARRIC- 
 KAREE FORK " OF THE REPUBLICAN. 
 
 A DESPERATE CHAPTER IN KANSAS HISTORY. 
 
 I was sitting in my office at Fort Harker, on a warm 
 evening in the latter part of September, 1868, musing, over 
 a pipe full of " Lone Jack," upon the possible extent of the 
 impending Indian war, (which had already been planned by 
 General Sheridan, in the seclusion of my own quarters only 
 the night before). It was rapidly growing dark; the somber 
 line of the twilight curve had almost met the western hori- 
 zon, and only the faintest tinge of purple beneath, marked 
 the intermedium between the gloaming and the inkiness of 
 the rayless sky. 
 
 Nothing disturbed my reverie as I wandered in imagi- 
 nation over the bleak expanse of the Arkansas, Cimarron 
 and Canadian rivers, so soon to be the scene of active opera- 
 tions, except the monotonous clicking of the relay in the 
 window of the next room, where the government night 
 operator was on duty, who too was meditating in the dark- 
 ness. 
 
 The terrible massacre on Spillman Creek, only a few 
 weeks before, still furnished food for revengeful thoughts 
 
252 STORIES OF THE 
 
 that would not down, as images of the murdered women and 
 little ones rose in horrible visions upon the thick night 
 before me. 
 
 The dismal howl of a hungry wolf, borne upon the 
 still air from the timbered recesses of the "Smoky," but 
 added to the weird aspect that my surroundings were hurried- 
 ly assuming, and there seemed some portentous and inde- 
 scribable thing bearing down upon the place. 
 
 Suddenly the operator while the- clicking of the instru- 
 ments became more nervous and varied from their mono- 
 tone of the whole evening exclaimed: "My God! Major, 
 what's this?" What is what? said I, jumping from my 
 chair and rushing to his side. 
 
 Quickly lighting his little lamp and seizing his pencil, 
 he wrote upon a blank, as I looked over his shoulder, and 
 read while the clicking grew more convulsive still these 
 words:* * * " General Forsyth surrounded by Indians 
 on the Republican; Lieut. Beecher, the Doctor and many 
 of the scouts killed nearly the entire command, including 
 the General, wounded. Still well, one of the scouts, run the 
 gauntlet of the savages and brings this report. Col. Car- 
 penter, loth Cavalry, and his command leave immediately to 
 relieve them." * * * * * * * 
 
 This was a fragment of the whole dispatch going over 
 the wires from Fort Hayes to Fort Leavenworth and Wash- 
 ington, and we had taken enough of it to know that a terrible 
 
OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. 253 
 
 disaster had befallen the gallant Forsyth, of Sheridan's staff, 
 and his plucky band of scouts all civilians and Kansans. 
 
 The story of this fight in many respects one of the 
 most remarkable and desperate in the annals of our Indian 
 wars is particularly interesting now, since the State, in its 
 wisdom, has established on a firm foundation, a Historical 
 Society, in the archives of which are recorded the struggles of 
 her settlement, whose chronicles make up a large and intense- 
 ly thrilling portion of our American classics. 
 
 While the Headquarters of General Sheridan who was, 
 at the date of this narrative, in command of the Department 
 of the Missouri were temporarily established at Fort Harker, 
 where he was consummating his arrangements for a winter 
 campaign against the hostile tribes, the idea suggested itself 
 to him that a body of carefully selected men, composed of the 
 best material to be found on the frontier, under the leadership 
 of an experienced officer could effect excellent results. These 
 scouts, as they were to be termed, were to go anywhere, and 
 act entirely independent of the regularly organized ^troops 
 about to take the field. 
 
 Generals Custer and Sully the next in rank to Sheridan, 
 and both already famous as Indian fighters coincided with 
 this view of the Commanding General, and it was determined 
 to equip fifty picked frontiersmen at once and commission 
 Forsyth as their leader, who had, in the incipiency of the 
 thing, modestly solicited the responsible position. 
 
 The fifty men were chosen from an aggregate of more 
 23 
 
254 STORIES OF THE 
 
 than two thousand employed by the Government in various 
 positions at Forts Barker and Hays, and the reader may rest 
 assured that only those were accepted who possessed the es- 
 sential qualifications of indomitable courage, wonderful en- 
 durance, perfect marksmanship, and a knowledge of the In- 
 dian character. 
 
 General Forsyth chose for his Lieutenant his particular 
 friend, F. H. Beecher, of the 3d Infantry, a nephew of the 
 celebrated Brooklyn preacher. 
 
 Some days were occupied at Fort Marker in fitting out 
 the little expedition, but no unnecessary equipage or super- 
 fluous camp paraphernalia formed any part of the supplies. 
 
 There were no tents or wagons; pack mules carried the 
 commissary stores, which were of the simplest character, and 
 as the object of the party was war its impedimenta were reduc- 
 ed to the minimum. 
 
 Each man was mounted on an excellent horse and his 
 armament consisted of a breech-loading rifle and two revol- 
 vers. 
 
 This troop of brave men left Harker for Hays in the lat- 
 ter part of August, from which point their arduous duties 
 were commenced. 
 
 On the 29th of that month all the preliminaries for taking 
 the field having been completed, and their surgeon having 
 joined (whose name I have unfortunately forgotten), they 
 marched out of the Fort, and after scouting over a large 
 area for several days without meeting any signs of the Chey- 
 
OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. 255 
 
 ennes, they concluded to go to Wallace to recuperate 
 refit. 
 
 Some time during the second week in September, the 
 Indians made a raid on a government wagon train a short 
 distance from a tank station on the Kansas Pacific Railroad 
 about a hundred miles beyond Wallace, and as soon as the 
 news reached the Fort, over the wires, Forsyth and his little 
 band of scouts started to intercept the savages on their 
 retreat. 
 
 The next morning the scouts struck the fresh trail of the 
 Indians, and by forced marches came so close to them that 
 they compelled them to split into insignificant detachments, 
 and night coming rapidly on the General lost the trail. The 
 conclusion was, after a consultation with the best plainsmen 
 among the party, that the Indians would naturally go north- 
 ward, so it was determined to take that direction in pursuit. 
 
 The scouts continued their course for more than a week 
 without the most trifling incident to relieve the wearisome 
 monotony of the march, until suddenly on the afternoon of 
 the eighth day, as they were approaching the bluffs of the 
 Republican river, they discovered an immense trail still lead- 
 ing to the North. 
 
 The signs indicated that a large body of warriors, with 
 pack animals, women and children, and lodges of a big camp 
 had recently crossed there. It was growing dark, and rather 
 than take the chances of losing this trail in the night, it was 
 determined to bivouac in the vicinity, rest the animals, and 
 
OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. 257 
 
 continue the pursuit at the first streak of dawn. It was well 
 that th;S course was decided upon, or there would have been 
 none left to tell the story of the fight, as the result will show. 
 The spot selected for the bivouac had some slight strategic 
 value, and was for that reason chosen by the General, though 
 he had no idea at the time that any benefit would result from 
 his judgment in this particular. It was an elongated low 
 mound of sand (such as are seen at intervals in the Arkansas) 
 which a Fork (Arrickaree) of the Republican at this pcint em- 
 braced as it were (as the Cheyenne does the Black Hills), 
 and formed an island. If this trail had not been struck, it 
 was the intention to have gone back to Wallace for provisions, 
 as only sufficient for one day remained, but upon prospects 
 of a fight it was unanimously agreed to go on and take the 
 chances of something to eat. In the early gray of the next 
 morning while the stars were still twinkling and sleep op- 
 presses more than at any other hour, the sentinels posted on 
 the hills above the island yelled " Indians ! " 
 
 In a moment the camp was awake, and with rifle in hand 
 each scout rushed for the lariat to which his horse was pick- 
 eted, knowing, of course, that the first effort on the part of 
 the Indians would be to stampede the animals. As it was, a 
 small party of the savages dashed in with a horrid whoop, 
 and shaking their buffalo robes, succeeded in running off a 
 portion of the pack-mules, and one or two of the horses. 
 
 A few shots fired by the most advanced of the scouts 
 
258 STOXIES OF THE 
 
 scattered the Indians, and quiet reigned again for a few mo- 
 ments. 
 
 Almost immediately, however, and before the scouts had 
 completed saddling their horses which the general had or- 
 dered one of the guides nearest Forsyth happening to look 
 up, could not help giving vent to the expression " Great 
 God! General, see the Indians ! " Ouster, in his Life on the 
 Plains, in referring to this fight says : " Well might he be ex- 
 cited. Over the hills, from the west and north, along the 
 river, on the opposite banks, everywhere, and in every direc- 
 tion they made their appearance. Finely mounted, in full 
 war paint, their long scalp locks braided with eagles' feathers, 
 and with all their paraphernalia of a barbarous war party, 
 with wild and exultant shouts, on they came " 
 
 . It was a desperate looking preponderance of brute force 
 and savage subtlety against the coolness and calm judgment 
 of the disciplined soldier ; but he, without glancing at the hell 
 in front, and all around him, with only the lines of deter- 
 mination in his face a little more marked, and grasping the 
 terrible picture before him, stoically ordered his men to take 
 possession of the sand mound, with their horses, and then de- 
 termined, almost against hope, to accept the wager of battle. 
 
 It happened, fortunately, that on this island were grow- 
 ing some stunted shrubs, to which the animals were fastened, 
 their bodies forming a cordon, inside of which the luckless 
 scouts prepared for the demoniacal charge which they knew 
 must come with its terrible uncertainty in a few moments. 
 
OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. 259 
 
 They had scarcely secured their horses before, like the shock 
 of the whirlwind, on came the savages, and the awfully un- 
 equal battle commenced. 
 
 It was not yet daylight, and the Indians, taking advan- 
 tage of the uncertain light, dismounted from their ponies, 
 and creeping to within easy range, poured in a murderous 
 fire upon the scouts. 
 
 The Indians were splendidly armed, as usual, by the 
 munificence of the government, or its apathy in preventing 
 renegade white men or traders from supplying them. 
 
 When the morning came, which had been anxiously 
 waited for by the scouts, they then first realized their desper- 
 ate situation. 
 
 Apparantly as numerous as the sand grains of their little 
 fortification, the Indians hemmed them in on all sides ; more 
 than a thousand hideously painted and screaming warriors sur- 
 rounded them, with all the hatred of the race depicted on 
 their fiendish countenances, in anticipation of the victory 
 which seemed so certain. 
 
 Scattered among these, out of rifle range, were the 
 squaws and children of the aggregated bands watching with 
 gloating eyes the progress of the battle, while the hills re- 
 echoed their diabolical death chant and the howling of the 
 medicine-men and chiefs inspiring the young warriors to deeds 
 of daring. 
 
 No'one can form the slightest conception of the horrid 
 picture spread before the scouts, on the clear gray of that 
 
260 STORIES OF THE 
 
 morning, unless he or she has realized it in encounters with 
 the hostile tribes on the Plains. Language is inadequate, 
 and all attempts at word-painting fall so far short of the real- 
 ity that it were better left wrapped in its terrible incompre- 
 hensibleness. 
 
 The General and his brave men took in their chances at 
 a glance, but saw little hope in the prospect ; they determ- 
 ined, however, never to be taken alive a thousand deaths 
 by the bullet were preferable to that and made up their 
 minds to fight to the bitter end, which would only come when 
 the ammunition was exhausted or themselves killed. 
 
 To this purpose they commenced to intrench as best they 
 could, by scraping holes in the sand with the only implements 
 at their command their knives. They succeeded in making 
 a sort of a rifle-pit of their position, but before the work was 
 completed two of the scouts were killed outright and many 
 wounded among the latter the General himself. ^ 
 
 Owing to the dreadful firing of the Indians, who contin- 
 uously charged down upon the " island," the Doctor was 
 compelled to abandon his care of the wounded and become 
 a combatant ; he did excellent work with his rifle, but a bul- 
 let soon pierced his brain and he, too, fell over dead. 
 
 In a few seconds after the Doctor's death, in the midst 
 of a terrible onset by the Indians, the General was again 
 struck near the ankle, the ball perforating the bone as per. 
 fectly as if done with an auger. 
 
 The fire of the scouts had not, all this time, been with- 
 
OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. 261 
 
 out telling effect upon the Indians many a painted warrior 
 had bitten the dust before the sun was two hours high. At 
 each successive charge of the red-skins the scouts, cool, care- 
 ful and deliberate, took aim y and when their rifles were dis 
 charged each put a savage hors du combat there was no am- 
 munition wasted. 
 
 Nor had the besieged escaped from the fearful onsets of 
 
 their enemies; besides the casualities related, nearly all the 
 horses had been killed in fact before noon all but one had 
 fallen and it is related that when he too was killed, one of 
 the warriors exclaimed, "There goes the last d d horse, 
 anyway." 
 
 At this juncture, too, with all their horses killed, and 
 half the number of the scouts either killed or wounded, the 
 Indians determined upon one grand charge which should set- 
 tle the unequal contest. So they rallied all their forces and 
 hazarded their reputation upon the aggregated assault. 
 
 This charging column was composed of some one hun- 
 dred and fifty " Dog Soldiers " and nearly five hundred more 
 of the Brules, Cheyennes and Arrapahoes, all under the com- 
 mand of the celebrated chief, '-'Roman Nose." 
 
 I quote from Custer again who tells of this charge as it 
 was told to him by the most intelligent of the surviving 
 scouts, and as it has been told dozens of times to the writer : 
 "Superbly mounted, almost naked, although in full war 
 dress, and painted in the most hideous manner, formed with 
 
262 STORIES OF THE 
 
 a front of about sixty men, they awaited the signal of their 
 chief to charge, with the greatest confidence." 
 
 Their leader- at first signaled to the dismounted men be- 
 yond his line of horsemen to fire into the scouts, and thus 
 make his contemplated charge more effective. At the mo- 
 ment of the fusillade: "seeing that the little garrison was 
 stunned by the fire of the dismounted Indians, and rightly 
 judging that now, if ever, was. the proper time to charge, 
 " Roman Nose" and his band of mounted warriors, with a 
 wild, ringing war-whoop, echoed by the women and children 
 on the hills, started forward." 
 
 " On they came, presenting even to the brave men await- 
 ing the charge, a most superb sight. 
 
 "Soon they were within the range of the rifles of their 
 friends, and, of course, the dismounted Indians had to slacken 
 their fire for fear of hitting their own warriors. 
 
 " This was the opportunity for the scouts. 
 
 "Now!" shouted Forsyth, and the scouts, springing to 
 their knees, and casting their eyes coolly along the barrels of 
 their rifles, opened upon the advancing savages a deadly fire. 
 
 " Unchecked, undaunted, on dashed the warriors; steadi- 
 ly rang the sharp reports of the frontiersmen. " Roman Nose " 
 falls dead from his horse; "Medicine Man" is killed, and 
 for an instant the column, now within ten feet of the scouts, 
 hesitates falters. 
 
 " A cheer from the scouts, who perceived the effect of 
 their well directed fire, and the Indians begin to break and 
 
OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. 263 
 
 scatter in every direction, unwilling to rush to a hand to hand 
 struggle. 
 
 " A few more shots and the Indians are forced back be- 
 yond range. 
 
 "Forsyth inquires anxiously, "Can they do better than 
 that, Grover? ' 
 
 " I have been on the Plains, General, since a boy, and 
 never saw such a charge as that before." 
 
 " All right, then, we are good for them." 
 
 It Vas in this grand charge, led in person by their 
 greatest of all warriors, "Roman Nose," that Lieutenant 
 Beecher was mortally wounded. He suffered intensely and 
 lingered some hours before his manly spirit was extinguished. 
 
 He and I were warmly attached to each other. I knew 
 "full well" the generous impulses of his warm young heart, 
 and his perfect unselfishness. 
 
 He was brave, the very soul of honor and a favorite in 
 all garrisons. 
 
 I could not write of his death without interpolating here 
 my simple tribute to his memory. It is a burning shame that 
 such as he are so frequently offered up on the altar of a bar- 
 barous policy, dictated by a great Government, that should 
 be honest enough with its wards to preclude the possibility 
 of such outbreak^ as our so-called Indian wars. 
 
 Before night closed in on the terrible tragedy of that day, 
 the Indians charged upon the weary and beleagured scouts 
 again and again, but were as often driven back by the dread' 
 
264 STORIES OF THE 
 
 ful accuracy of the rifles of the besieged with an increasing 
 loss each time. 
 
 The earnestly looked for darkness at last brought the 
 welcome respite, and it was made possible for the unfortunate 
 men to steal a few moments' rest, that was needed oh ! how 
 much ! 
 
 Hungry, exhausted, with an empty commissariat, every 
 animal dead, four comrades lying stark upon the dreary sand, 
 and a greater number writhing in all the agony of torturing 
 wounds; a relentless enemy ever watching; no skilled hand 
 to alleviate the sufferings of the dying, and the only hope of 
 help that might never come, more than a hundred miles 
 away. 
 
 Think of it, grasp it if you can ! 
 
 Later, while the night yet thickened, preparations were 
 made to meet the events that must surely come with the 
 morning's light, and the little fort, for it now had certainly 
 reached the dignity of that title was made still stronger ; for 
 gabions, the swollen carcasses of the dead horses were used, 
 and huge slices were cut from their thighs for food. 
 
 Thank God! the tortures of thirst were not added to their 
 other sufferings, for water was easily obtained by digging a 
 short distance. 
 
 Thus strengthened, a midnight council of war was held 
 in whispers, and it was determined to send two of their num" 
 ber to Fort Wallace, as desperate as the undertaking was 
 and a mere boy Stillwell and another scout (of whose name 
 
OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. 265 
 
 I have no memorandum at hand) expressed their willingness 
 to make the attempt. 
 
 The brave men crawled from the ''island" to run the 
 gauntlet of the watchful savages ever on the alert to take ad- 
 vantage of the least unfavorable demonstration on the part of 
 their prey, as they fully believed them. 
 
 We will leave them making their way cautiously but 
 hopefully in the darkness, for it is not the purpose of the 
 writer at this time to tell of the noble efforts of these brave 
 messengers in their "hair-breadth escapes'" on their lonesome 
 and perilous journey. 
 
 The details would furnish a separate chapter which may 
 some day be given, but let us turn to the worn out and 
 wounded band of heroes again, and learn how they fared dur- 
 ing the long days before help could possibly reach them, 
 even were Stillwell and his companion able to reach Wal- 
 lace. 
 
 The sun rose in all the splendor of a Kansas Autumn 
 morning, but the landscape bore the same horrid features of 
 the day before. All through the weary hours the Indians 
 kept up an incessant firing, but no serious charge was at- 
 temptedthey had had more than they anticipated in their 
 efforts in that direction yesterday so the scouts pretty effect- 
 ually intrenched, suffered but little from the wild firing of 
 their besiegers, but it was annoying, and kept the scouts ever 
 prepared for a possible charge, the result of which might not 
 
 be so fortunate as that of former ones. 
 24 
 
266 STORIES OF THE 
 
 Night again came to throw its mantle of rest upon the 
 little band, and shortly after dark two more scouts were sent 
 out to reach Fort Wallace, if possible, but failed to get be- 
 yond the line of watchful savages and were compelled to 
 abandon the idea. 
 
 Tais unsuccessful attempt to go for help cast a gloom 
 over the command, for it could not yet be known what had 
 been the fate of the other two who had gone out the night 
 previously. 
 
 The next day the state of affairs assumed a more cheer- 
 ful aspect if that could be possible the squaws and child- 
 ren had disappeared, which indicated a retreat upon the part 
 of the Indians, although they still kept up their firing at in- 
 tervals perhaps they too were getting short of ammunition 
 and provisions ! 
 
 In the afternoon, to >, they hoisted a white rag upon a 
 pole and expressed a desire to talk, but our heroes were too 
 wary to be caught with such chaff as that, for with Indians a 
 flag of truce means a massacre half the time. 
 
 That night, two more men were sent out, and these car- 
 ried that famous dispatch of Forsyth's, which should hold its 
 place in history with that other memorable one of Grant's : 
 " I intend to fight it out on this line if it takes all summer. " 
 Forsyth's read : 
 
 " I am on a little island, and have still plenty of ammu- 
 nition left. We are living on mule and horse meat, and are 
 entirely out of rations. If it were not for so many wounded 
 
OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. 267 
 
 I would come on and take the chance of whipping them, if 
 attacked. They are evidently sick of their bargain. I can 
 hold out for six days longer, if absolutely necessary, but 
 please lose no time." 
 
 The morning of the fourth day, on the now historical 
 little island, broke somewhat more cheerful still ; the Indians 
 could be seen rapidly moving away, only a few, comparative- 
 ly, remaining in sight, to wait until entire exhaustion and 
 starvation should place the scouts in their power but they 
 little knew the metal of the men lying behind those breast- 
 works of rotten carcasses, or they too, would have gone with 
 the old men women and children of the tribe. 
 
 But few shots were fired by the scouts in reponse to the 
 occasional random fusillade of the Indians ; they content- 
 ed themselves with saving their ammunition for a possible 
 last grand act in the drama, and only shooting when an In- 
 dian came within certain range, and then he was sure to 
 be sent to the "happy hunting grounds." 
 
 Night again came, with its relative rest, and then anoth- 
 er weary day of watching and waiting, without any special 
 demonstration on the part of the Indians. 
 
 But new horrors made their appearance in the shape of 
 gangrened wounds, and suffering for want of food. The 
 putrid flesh of the dead horses and mules was all that remain- 
 ed that would support life, and however revolting, it had to 
 be swallowed. The nauseating effluvia of the rapidly decay- 
 ing carcasses too, made the place almost intolerable, and so 
 
268 
 
 STORIES OF THE 
 
 insufferable did it become that the General told those who 
 were disheartened to go, but all to a man, to their honor be 
 it recorded, refused, electing to remain with their companions 
 in arms to be rescued, or die with them. 
 
 Two more days of torture and then, on the ridge between 
 them and the golden sunlight, gleamed the bright bayonets of 
 Col. Carpenter and his column of " the boys in blue." 
 
 Their Havelock had reached this American Lucknow, 
 and cheer after cheer feeble though they were went up 
 from the little island, and our story closes with the rescue of 
 these o'er brave men. 
 
OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. 269 
 
 A LIVELY RACE WITH THE KIOWAS. 
 
 Knowing that my friend, Theodore Sternbergh, Esq., 
 now of St. Louis son of Rev. L. Sternbergh. D. D., of Ells- 
 worth sometime in the early settlement of Ellsworth county, 
 had experienced one or two hair-breadth escapes from the 
 Kiowas, who, at that time, under the chieftainship of the 
 dreaded Satanta,- hung on the edge of the settlements to 
 gather a few scalps, I desired him to jot down at his leisure, 
 something of the stirring events that had come under his own 
 observation during the time he and I were pleasantly situated 
 as neighbors on the classic Smoky Hill, then a decided Indian 
 country. The result of that request I herewith give our read- 
 ers, assurir them it is veritable history. My friend writes 
 me : 
 
 " You are aware that in the winter of 1870 I had located 
 a homestead in Rice county, covering what is known as the 
 Stone Corral, on the Little Arkansas river. On the evening 
 of the 6th of August, 1870, in company with A. E. Mat- 
 thews, of Wilson, I started from Ellsworth to visit my place. 
 We obtained a buggy at one of the stables in Ellsworth, and 
 a good-sized, raw-boned, razor-backed, unfortunate livery 
 horse, with Matthews' mare, composed our team. Stopping 
 
270 STORIES OF THE 
 
 at Father's place on the Smoky, while Matthews remained in 
 the buggy, I brought out the necessary supplies for the trip. 
 For arms we had a double-barreled shot gun and a revolver 
 each, with plenty of powder and buckshot. We did not an- 
 ticipate any trouble, but, expecting to be absent several days, 
 we intended to kill some wild turkeys. 
 
 " Taking the Fort Sill trail, we drove several miles south 
 of Bradley's Springs and went into camp on the morning of 
 the yth. As soon as it was light we resumed our journey. 
 The morning was very foggy. As soon as the sun came up 
 and the fog was dispelled so that objects could be readily 
 seen, the country appeared to be alive with antelope and we 
 discharged the shot gun and several loads from the pistols at 
 them, but without killing any. The Fort Sill trail, you re- 
 member, after it crosses the large flat south of the Smoky, 
 and approaches the Little Arkansas, passes across the heads 
 of innumerable ravines or gullies, that trend toward that 
 river. This portion of the road is very rough for several 
 miles, but before crossing the eastern fork of that river, the 
 trail is even and good." 
 
 ''The sun was now fairly up, and we were driving rapidly. 
 While I was very busy attending to my animals, as we ap- 
 proached the east fork, Matthews started up from his seat, 
 saying he saw a herd of buffalo ; I replied that I thought this 
 impossible, as I had already been all through the country 
 where we then were the previous week, and felt sure there 
 could be no buffalo anywhere near us. We were now begin- 
 
OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. 271 
 
 ing to descend toward the bottoms along the east fork. In 
 another moment he said : " 
 
 "Those are horses, I see eight of them." 
 "I replied, if you see horses, there are Indians about; 
 and immediately stopped the team. Looking at the objects 
 he pointed out, I saw there were eight horses, apparently 
 feeding, about half a mile from us. Almost at the same 
 moment the riders until then unseen straightened up in their 
 saddles and dashed toward us; Indians, sure enough! The 
 horses scented them, and, turning, began to run. We were 
 nearly twenty miles from the settlements and so determined 
 that our best plan was, to put back for the broken ground, 
 where, perhaps we might place the team in some depression 
 and prevent their being stampeded, while we made the best 
 fight we w ere able. Matthews took the reins, while I pre- 
 pared our arms for the expected fight. Placing the pistols on 
 the seat, so as to be handy in case of close quarters, I took 
 the shot gun for the purpose of loading it. I looked some 
 time for the powder flask, but was unable to find it, and 
 asked Matthews where he had placed it. He said 'he hadn't 
 seen any powder,' and sure enough there was no flask in the 
 buggy. We had no reloads for our pistols, and things began 
 to look slightly bilious. The number of our pursuers had, 
 in some way, been multiplied by two, and they were after 
 us as fast as their ponies could travel. We were not prepar- 
 ed for a fight, even if the odds had not been so great, and 
 our only chance was to run foi it, and try to reach the hay 
 
272 STORIES OF THE 
 
 camp at Bradley' s Springs. While the road was smooth, our 
 team gallantly held their own, and perhaps would have won 
 in time, had the road continued level." 
 
 11 We soon reached the broken ground, and our horses 
 were fast becoming unmanageable in crossing the gullies. At 
 the bottom of the ravines we could not follow the turns of 
 the road so as to get the safe crossings, but took them straight 
 and on the fly. The Indians now rapidly gained on us, and 
 were hardly a quarter of a mile behind. We could hear their 
 yells not the most pleasant music in the world to us at that 
 time. Our buggy was liable to be smashed at any moment. 
 There was but one thing for us to do to leave it and mount 
 our horses. Turning them against the face of a hill steep 
 enough to stop them, we unharnessed our quadrupeds about 
 as quickly as ever that thing was done in Kansas, and sprang 
 upon them, saddleless as they were. I happened to get the 
 razor-back. The Indians were almost upon us, and yelling 
 like a pack of wolves." 
 
 " Then ensued a magnificent race prize, our hair. It 
 was up hill and down ; my hat flew off at the first ditch ; I 
 did not stop to pick it up, the truth is, it was a little out of 
 fashion. I now have great respect for my livery horse, for 
 he proved to be like a singed cat, better than he looked. For 
 a short time he breathed so hard, that I feared he would fail 
 altogether." 
 
 " Matthews's mare ran easily, but soon the horse received 
 somehow a fresh supply of wind, and we ran neck and neck. 
 
OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. 273 
 
 We gradually gained on our pursuers, and when about four 
 miles south of Bradley's Springs were nearly a mile ahead, 
 and they gave up the chase." 
 
 " We went on to Harker, and with a small escort I return- 
 ed for the buggy. The vehicle was uninjured, but the Indi- 
 ans had taken every strap of the harness, blankets, picket 
 ropes, etc. Part of our lunch consisted of some of Hon. D. 
 B. Long's cheese ; this the Indians had not touched, but ail 
 the other eatables had disappeared." 
 
 " This race would have been splendid to have witnessed 
 from the grand stand the time was good, though no record 
 of it was made. My physical feelings were too deeply hurt 
 to appreciate humor just then. I was entirely satisfied with 
 bare back riding, and it grieved me to have my friends insist 
 that I should sit down and tell them all about it I preferred 
 to stand up." 
 
 " If you know the Indian who has my shot gun, please 
 tell him chickens are plenty, and I wish he would return it. 
 He may keep the hat. Perhaps I might not inopportunely 
 add that the powder flask was found hanging on the fence at 
 the ranch on the Smoky, just where we had left it." 
 
274 STORIES OF THE 
 
 SE-QUO-YAH. 
 
 In only a few instances have the people, in naming the 
 streams, and the more than a hundred counties of the State, 
 perpetuated the legends and the memory of the heroes of the 
 Indian tribes that only a few short years since held almost 
 undisputed possession of Kansas. 
 
 The Indian's speech lingers oftener on the rivers and 
 mountains of New England than in the New West to its 
 shame be it said. 
 
 We wish our people would adhere more rigidly to the 
 beautiful sounds of the Sioux, Cheyennes or Arrapahoes 
 certainly Ta-to-ka is more euphonous than Skunk Creek, or 
 Ta-chanta-wak-pa than Turkey or Dry Creek, and Ninnescah 
 is more poetical than Smithville or Bungtown. 
 
 Aside from the mere aesthetics of the idea, with the 
 Indian names are associated the legends, traditions or his- 
 toric facts of the locality, for the Indian constructs his no- 
 menclature out of actual occurrences on the spot he names, 
 and with the preservation of these primitive appellations by 
 us, veritable history is secured to the state unimportant 
 and trifling in some instances perhaps but oftener interest- 
 ing and worthy of a place in our archives. 
 
OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. 275 
 
 Sequoyah county, or as it should be written, Se-Quo-Yah, 
 is named in honor of one of the most remarkable men In 
 dian though he was of any age. 
 
 This county which lies beyond the one hundrjth merid- 
 ian, in the State of Kansas that much talked of and written 
 about astronomical line, on which and ulterior to, some me- 
 teorologists would have us believe lies a veritable desert, where. 
 on nothing will grow in fact has a soil whose inherent fer- 
 tility compares favorably with any on the continent, and which 
 by a system of irrigation simple and ridiculously inexpen- 
 siveinaugurated only last season by one of its first settlers, 
 Hon. C. J. Jones, has produced results that astonished even 
 its energetic projector. By a series of shallow ditches the 
 water is drawn from the Arkansas, which falls nearly ten feet 
 to the mile the odium which attached, but wrongfully to that 
 region has been dissipated, and farms are eagerly sought for ; 
 however, it is not of this I propose to write, but of the cele- 
 brated Indian from whom the county takes its name. 
 
 The mother of Se-Quo-Yah the blood of whose veins was 
 slightly tinged with English, was a Cherokee, and possessed 
 the characteristic beauty of her race in an eminent degree. 
 
 The family, without aspiring to the aristocracy of the 
 tribe, " was prominent and influential, and some of her broth- 
 ers became members of the council." 
 
 In 1768 the mother of Se-Quo-Yah met and married a 
 German peddler, known as George Gist, evidently an igno- 
 rant, unimportant tramp of a fellow, whose name would never 
 
276 STORIES 0* THE 
 
 have come down to history but for the fact that he was the 
 father of Se-Quo-Yah and with that fact, based upon the evi- 
 dence of the mother of Se-Quo-Yah, George Gist steps down 
 and out, long before hi remarkable son was born, or in the 
 language of Se-Quo-Yah's historian, "gathered together his 
 effects, went the way of all peddlers, and never was heard of 
 more." 
 
 The historian,* whom we shall now quote in full, in tell- 
 ing the wonderful story of Se-Quo-Yah says : 
 
 " George Gist left behind him in the Cherokee Nation a 
 woman of no common energy, who through a long life was 
 true to him she still believed to be her husband. The desert- 
 ed mother called her babe 'Se-Quo-Yah' in the poetical lan- 
 guage of her race. No truer mother ever lived and cared for 
 her child, whom she reared with the most watchful tenderness. 
 With her own hands she cleared a little field and cultivated 
 it, and carried her babe while she drove up her cows and 
 milked them." 
 
 " His early boyhood was laid in the troublous times of 
 the war of the Revolution yet its havoc cast no deeper shadows 
 on the widow's cabin." 
 
 " As he grew older he showed a different temper from 
 most Indian children. He lived alone with his mother, and 
 had no old man to teach him the use of the bow, or to indoc- 
 trinate him in the religion and morals of an ancient, but per- 
 ishing people. He would wander alone in the forest, and 
 
 * Hon. W. A. Phillips, of Salina, Kansas. 
 
OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. 277 
 
 showed an early mechanical genius in carving with his knife 
 many objects from pieces of wood. He employed his boyish 
 leisure in building houses in the forest. As he grew older, 
 these mechanical pursuits took a more useful shape. The 
 average native American is taught as a question of self-re- 
 spect to despise female pursuits. To be made a ' woman ' is 
 the greatest degradation of a warrior." 
 
 " Se-Quo-Yah first exercised his genius in making an im- 
 proved kind of milk pans and skimmers for his mother. Then 
 he built her a milk house, with all suitable conveniences, on 
 one of those grand springs that gurgle from the mountains of 
 the old Cherokee Nation. As a climax, he even helped her 
 to milk her cows; and he cleared additions to her fields, and 
 worked them with her. She contrived to get a petty stock of 
 goods, and traded with her countrymen. She taught Se-Quo- 
 Yah to be a good judge of furs. He would go on expeditions 
 with the hunters, and would select such skins as he wanted 
 for his mother before they returned. In his boyish days the 
 buffalo still lingered in the valleys of the Ohio and Tennes- 
 see. On the one side the French sought them. On the other 
 were the English and Spaniards. These he visited with small 
 pack horse trains for his mother. For the first hundred years 
 the European Colonies were traders rather than agricultur- 
 ists. Besides the fur trade, rearing horses and cattle occupied 
 their attention. The Indians east of the Mississippi, and liv- 
 ing between the Appalachian Mountains and the Gulf of 
 Mexico, had been agriculturists and fishermen. Buccaneers, 
 25 
 
278 STORIES OF THE 
 
 pirates, and even the regular navies or merchant ships of 
 Europe, drove the natives from the haunted coast. As they 
 fell back, fur-traders and merchants followed them with pro- 
 fessions of regard and extortionate prices. Articles of Euro- 
 pean manufacture knives, hatchets, needles, bright cloths, 
 paints, guns and powder could only be bought with furs. 
 The Indian mother sighed in her heart for the beautiful things 
 brought by the Europeans. The warrior of -the southwest 
 saw with terror the conquering Iroquois, armed with the 
 dreaded 'fire-guns' of the stranger. When the bow was laid 
 aside or handed to the boys of the tribe, the warriors became 
 the abject slaves of the traders. Guns meant gunpowder and 
 lead. These could only come from the white man. His 
 avarice guarded the steps alike to bear meat and beaver skins. 
 Thus the Indian became a wandering hunter, helpless and 
 dependent. These hunters traveled great distances, some- 
 times with a pack on their backs weighing from thirty to fif- 
 ty pounds. Until the middle of the eighteenth century horses 
 had not become very common among them, and the old In- 
 dian used to laugh at the white man so lazy that he could not 
 walk. A consuming fire was preying upon the vitals of an 
 ancient and simple people. Unscrupulous traders, who 
 boasted that they made a thousand per cent, held them in the 
 most abject thrall. It has been carefully computed that these 
 hunters worked, on an average, for ten cents a day. The 
 power of their old chiefs grew weaker. No longer the old 
 man taught the boys their traditions, morals or religion. 
 
OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. 279 
 
 They had ceased to be Pagans without becoming Christians. 
 The wearied hunter had fire-water given him as an excite- 
 ment to drown the sorrows common to white and red. Slow- 
 ly the politics, customs, industries, morals, religion and char- 
 acter of the red race were consumed. 
 
 In this terrible furnace of avarice the foundations of 
 our early aristocracies were laid. Byrd in his "History 
 of the Dividing Line " tells us that a school of sixty-seven 
 Indian children existed in 1720, and that they could all read 
 and write English ; but adds, that the jealousy of the traders 
 and land speculators, who feared it would interfere with 
 their business, caused it to be closed. Alas ! the people 
 had encountered the iron nerve of Christianity, without 
 reaping the fruits of its intelligence or mercy. 
 
 Silver although occasionally found among the North 
 American Indians, was very rare previous to the European 
 conquest. Afterward, among the commodities offered, were 
 the broad silver pieces of the Spaniards, and the old French 
 and English silver coins. With the most mobile spirit the 
 Indian at once took to them. He used them as he used his 
 shell-beads for money and ornament. Natural artificers were 
 common in all the tribes. The silver was beaten into rings, 
 and broad silver bands for the head. Handsome breast- 
 plates were made of it, necklaces, anklets and rings for the 
 toes. 
 
 It is not wonderful that Se-Quo-Yah's mechanical genius 
 led him into the highest branch of art known to his people, 
 
280 STOK1ES OF THE 
 
 and that he became their greatest silversmith. His articles 
 of silverware excelled all similar manufactures among his 
 countrymen. 
 
 He next conceived the idea of becoming a blacksmith. 
 He visited the shops of white men from time to time. He 
 never asked to be taught the trade he had eyes in his head, 
 and hands, and when he bjught the necessary material and 
 went to work, it is characteristic that his first performance 
 was to make his bellows and his tools ; and those who saw 
 them say they were well made. 
 
 Se-Quo-Yah was now in comparatively easy circumstan- 
 ces.. Besides his cattle, his store, his farm, he was a black- 
 smith and silversmith. In spite of all that has been alleged 
 about Indian stupidity and barbarity, his countrymen were 
 proud of him. He was in danger of shipwrecking on that 
 fatal sunken reef of American character, popularity. Hos- 
 pitality is the ornament, and has been the ruin, of the Abo- 
 rigines. His home, his store or his shop became the resort 
 of his countrymen ; there they smoked, talked, and learned 
 to drink together. 
 
 After Se-Quo-Yah had grown to man's estate he learned 
 to draw. His sketches, at first crude, at last acquired con- 
 siderable merit. He had been taught no rules of perspec- 
 tive, but while his perspective differed from that of an Eu- 
 ropean, he did not ignore it like the Chinese. He had now 
 a very comfortable hewed-log residence, well furnished with 
 such articles as were common with the better class of white 
 
OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. 281 
 
 settlers at that time, many of them, however, made by him- 
 self. Before he reached his thirty-fifth year he became ad- 
 dicted to convivial habits to an extent that injured his busi- 
 ness, and began to cripple his resources. 
 
 Unlike most of his race, however, he did not become 
 wildly excited when under the influence of liquor. Se-Quo- 
 Yah, who never saw his father, and never could utter a word 
 of the German tongue, still carried deep in his nature an odd 
 compound of Indian and German trancendentalism ; essen- 
 tially an Indian in opinion and prejudice, but German in in- 
 stinct and thought. A little liquor only mellowed him it 
 thawed away the last remnant of Indian reticence. He talk- 
 ed with his associates upon all the knotty questions of law, art 
 and religion. 
 
 Indian Theism and Pantheism were measured against the 
 Gospel, as taught by the land-seeking, fur-buying adventur- 
 ers. A good class of missionaries had indeed entered the 
 Cherokee Nation; but the shrewd Se-Quo-Yah, and the dis- 
 ciples this stoic taught among his mountains, had just sense 
 enough to weigh the good and the bad together, and strike 
 an impartial balance as the footing up for this new proselyt- 
 ing race. It has been erroneously alleged that Se-Quo-Yah 
 was a believer in, or practiced the old Indian religious rites. 
 Christianity had, indeed, done little more for him than to un- 
 settle the pagan idea but it had done that. 
 
 It was some years after Se-Quo-Yah had learned to pre- 
 sent the bottle to his friends before he degenerated into a 
 
282 STORIES OF THE 
 
 toper. His natural industry shielded him and would have 
 saved him altogether, but for the vicious hospitality by which 
 he was surrounded. With the acuteness that came of his for- 
 eign stock, he learned to buy his liquor by the keg. This 
 species of economy is as dangerous to the red as to the white 
 race. The auditors who flocked to see and hear him were 
 not likely to diminish while the philosopher furnished both 
 the dogmas and the whisky. Long and deep debauches were 
 the consequence. Still it was not in the nature of Se-Quo- 
 Yah to be a wild shouting drunkard. 
 
 All the great social questions were closely analyzed by 
 men who were fast becoming insensible to them. When he 
 was too far gone to play the mild sedate philosopher, he be- 
 gan that monotonous singing, whose music carried him back 
 to the days when the shadows of the white man never dark- 
 ened the forests, and the Indian's canoe alone rippled the 
 tranquil waters. 
 
 ghould this man thus be lost? He was awakened to his 
 danger by the relative to whom he owed so much. His tern, 
 per was eminently philosophic. He was as he proved, capa- 
 ble of great effort, and great endurance. By an effort which 
 few red or white men can or do make, he shook off the habit, 
 and his old nerve and old prosperity came back to him. It 
 was during the first few years of this century that he applied 
 to Charles Hicks, a half breed, afterward principal chief of 
 the Nation, to write his English name. Hicks, although 
 educated after a fashion, made a mistake in a very natural 
 
OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. 283 
 
 projects. In his journey to the west, as well as to Washing- 
 ton, he had an opportunity of examining different languages, 
 of which, as far as lay in his power, he carefully availed him- 
 self. His health had been somewhat affected by rheumatism, 
 one of the few inheritances he got from the old fur-peddler 
 of Ebenezer but the strong spirit was slow to break. 
 
 He framed a theory of certain relations in the language 
 of the Indian tribes, and conceived the idea of writing a 
 book on the points of similarity and divergence. Books were 
 to a great extent closed to him ; but as of old, when he be- 
 gan his career as a blacksmith by making his bellows, so now 
 he fell back on his own resources. This brave Indian philos- 
 opher of ours was not the man to be stopped by obstacles. 
 He procured some articles for the Indian trade he had learn- 
 ed in his boyhood, and putting them and his provisions and 
 camp equipage in an ox-cart, he took a Cherokee boy with 
 him as driver and companion, and started out among the 
 wild Indians of the plain and mountain, on a philological 
 crusade such as the world never saw. 
 
 One of the most remarkable features of his experience 
 was the uniform peace and kindness with which his brethren 
 of the prairie received him. They furnished him means, too, 
 to prosecute his inquiries in each tribe or clan. 
 
 That they should be more sullen and reticent to white 
 men is not wonderful when we reflect that they have a sus- 
 picion that all these pretended inquiries in science and re- 
 ligion have a lurking eye to real estate. Several journeys 
 
284 STORIES OF THE 
 
 were made. The task was so vast it might have discouraged 
 him. He started on the longest and last journey. There 
 was among the Cherokees a tradition that part of their nation 
 was in New Mexico, separated from them before the advent 
 of the whites. Se- Quo- Yah knew this, and expected in his 
 rambles to meet them. He had camped on the spurs of the 
 Rocky Mountains, he had threaded the valleys of New Mexi- 
 co, looked at the adobe villages of the Pueblos, and among that 
 race, was neither Spaniard nor Indian, with swarthy face and 
 unkempt hair. He had occasion to moralize over those who 
 had voluntarily become the slaves of others even meaner than 
 themselves, who spoke a jargon neither Indian nor Spanish, 
 Catholics in name, who ate red pepper pies, gambled like the 
 fashionable frequenters of Baden, and swore like troopers. 
 
 It was late in the year 1842 that the wanderer, sick of a 
 fever, worn and weary, halted his ox-cart near San Fernando 
 in Northern Mexico. Fate had willed that his work should 
 die with him. But little of his labor was saved, and that not 
 enough to aid any one to develop his idea. Bad nursing, 
 exposure and lack of proper medical attendance killed him. 
 On the far off Rio Grande he sleeps the greatest man of his 
 race. 
 
 On the pages of American Classics Se-Quo-Yah's name 
 will ever 'shine. He was even greater than Cadmus, the 
 Phoenician. All honor to those who, imbued with a spirit of 
 the highest emulation, named one of our counties at least 
 after Se-Quo-Yah. 
 
OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. 285 
 
 Congress at one time contemplated removing his remains 
 east and erecting a suitable monument over them, but the idea 
 has never been carried out and probably never will be, for if 
 the Father of his Country has nothing in the shape of the en- 
 during marble to commemorate his virtues, how much less 
 may we expect that this poor Indian, though the first to vital- 
 ize and preserve the Indian language to history shall be thus 
 remembered ! Se-Quo-Yah's monument will ever be the hal- 
 lowed reverence in the hearts of his people, and that magnifi- 
 cent area of our beautiful prairie whose legal limits bear his 
 name. 
 
STORIES OF THE 
 
 WILL THE BUFFALO BECOME EXTINCT ? 
 
 During Kendall's Santa Fe Expedition in 1841, the party 
 one evening while camping somewhere on the banks of the 
 Arkansas, were visited by an old trapper, and a discussion 
 arose in relation to the immense numbers of buffaloes that 
 were feeding in the bottom a few miles up the river. Ken- 
 dall asked the old man : 
 
 "How many buffaloes did you ever see atone time?" 
 
 "Can't say exactly; probably between two and three 
 millions," replied the old man, with a cool matter-of fact 
 indifference, as much as to_say, ,that he was keeping as 
 near the truth as possible. 
 
 I do not say that I have seen two or three millions at 
 the same time, but I have stood upon a high roll of the prai- 
 rie, with neither tree nor brush to obstruct the vision in any 
 direction, and have seen these animals grazing upon the plain 
 and darkening it at every hand. And once I rode with a 
 party of friends in the winter of 1868 for four days through 
 one continuous herd. 
 
 There are perhaps larger herds in Northern Texas than 
 anywhere else on the western prairies, because their most 
 powerful enemies, the Indians, do not range so low down on 
 account of the whites, but every year their numbers are 
 
OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. 
 
 287 
 
 rapidly decreasing, and their range, owing to the encroach- 
 ment of the settlements from the east and south, becomes 
 more and more circumscribed. 
 
 It would seem impossible, especially to any one who 
 hasseen them as numerous as the sands on the sea-shore, on 
 their immense natural pastures, that they could ever be ex- 
 tinct, yet when we look back only a decade ago, and remem- 
 ber how even near Pawnee Rock they roamed in such num- 
 bers, and now how far off the nearest are, we feel compelled 
 to believe that, like the Dodo and Great Auk, in a few years 
 they will be seen only stuffed, and in a museum.