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CAPTAIN WILLIAM THORNTON PARKER, M. D.
Aide-de-Camp Army and Navy Union. U. S. A.
PERSONAL EXPERIENCES
AMONG OUR
NORTH AMERICAN INDIANS
FROM 1867 TO 1885
BY
W. THORNTON PARKER, M. D.
Aide-de-Camp Army and Navy Union, U. S. A.
Companion, lat ClasB, "Order of Indian Wars " of the United States.
Member of tiie Society of the "Sons of the American Revolution."
Formerly Act. Assistant Surgeon U. 8. Army.
Formerly Surgeon U. 8. Indian Service.
NORTHAMPTON, MASS.
A. D. 1913.
DEDICATION.
To the gallant old Third Cavalry, United States
Army — A regiment which has few if any equals and
no superiors, in this or any other land — And to
the memory of the brave troopers of the Third with
whom I had the honour to ride in the sixties on the
frontier, most of whom, have answered the "last
call ! " " Their sabres are rust, their steeds are dust,
their souls are with the Saints we trust."
PREFACE.
Complying with the requests of several friends, I
have endeavored to select from my articles contri-
buted to various magazines such as the Open Court,
North American Review, etc., those which seemed
to me most interesting, concerning our North Ameri-
can Indians, Scouts, Soldiers and others, who have
lived upon the wild, dangerous "frontier" during
the Sixties — and later. I hope that I may be par-
doned for adding one or two papers, from medical
journals. I shall be glad indeed if some of these
pages may be found acceptable to the reader.
W. Thornton Parker^ M. D.
Northampton, Massachusetts.
May 22nd, 1913.
797092
INTRODUCTION.
The Indian War Veteran and Frontiersman.
Pages of history, and the acts of congress of a
grateful nation, and books which might fill libraries,
have been written in just and undying praise of our
relatives and friends and comrades who served so
gallantly in the war of the Rebellion, to save our
beloved land. The sacred dust of thousands of war-
riors is intrusted to the guardianship of the nation
they loved, and for whose glory they willingly suf-
fered, and alas, so many died: But these pages
are my humble tribute to the honour of brave sol-
diers of the regular army, and to call to remembrance
the deeds of heroes, and what we owe to them.
The valuable services, privations and heroism of the
soldiers of the regular army of the United States,
who have served in the Indian wars, and in other
wars, have never received suitable recognition.
President Taft has said of these veterans: "All
honor to the regular army of the United States!
Never in its history has it had a stain upon its
escutcheon, with no one to blow its trumpet, with
no local feeling or pride to bring forth its merits;
quietly and as befits a force organized to maintain
civil institutions, it has gone on doing the duty
which it was its to do; accepting without a murmur
dangers of war. Upon the trackless stretches of
our western frontier, exposed to the arrows and the
bullets of the Indian , it has never failed to make
a record of duty done that should satisfy the most
exacting lover of his country."
Comparatively few of the citizens of our great
nation, are familiar with the dangers, privations,
the sufferings and often the tortures of Indian war-
fare. Few comprehend what privations our soldiers
on the frontier service have endured. Few recognize
the fact that no battles of the war of the Rebellion
have ever called forth more of military courage and
fortitude than that displayed in Indian campaigns
on the frontier.
Veterans of the regular army, who served in the
Indian wars, are entitled to every honor which a
grateful nation can bestow upon its heroes. The
veterans who faced the dangers of Indian warfare,
who made the weary dangerous march, crossing the
plains, the mountains, and desert regions, who have
endured the horrors of thirst and hunger, and un-
told suffering in their common duties as soldiers,
who have endured the cold of Montana and the heat
of Arizona, who have suffered all sorts of privations
and discomforts in an enemy's country, and who
have held in check, often against great odds, and
fought battles with savages, where almost super-
human courage was required to avert absolute de-
struction, and where surrender could never be
yielded without the sure sequence of being reserved
for the indescribable horrors of Indian tortures —
surely such warriors are peers of the soldiers in
any country, and are worthy of the tribute and
friendship of all veterans. No true soldier or worthy
citizen would hesitate for an instant to yield homage
to the brave and true, who at such sacrifices and
terrible risks opened up the great western lands to
settlements for millions. Cities and towns have
sprung up where once roamed their mighty, cruel,
but defeated Indian enemies. In Indian warfare
there is no rear. All are equally exposed to danger.
The real veteran does not and cannot approve of the
neglect of any veteran soldier. The real soldier is
ready to give his sympathy generously, for the jus-
tice of brave men.
Our American Indian war scouts, were indeed
a brave and daring lot ; and seemed to be without
fear of danger or of death — although they knew
both in the worst possible form.
The tomahawk, the scalping knife and the fright-
ful tortures of devilish Indian cruelty were much
more to be dreaded than the engines of destruction
usually employed in war.
There have been rare deeds of personal courage
in our frontier service by scouts as well as by sol-
diers. Comparatively little has been recorded of
the innumerable life-imperilling acts of bravery of
the soldiers, or scouts who found the Indian savages,
and faced dangers of all descriptions in the dis-
charge of duty. Alert and willing to take any risks
in rendering assistance at the first call for help —
they have added laurels to the records of American
heroism. Like our brave soldiers, the scouts, were
not heroes for a day, they were heroes all the time.
When there were things to be done, they just went
and did them. Some day in the far future, some
historian may seek to record the thrilling incidents
of their lives, and to place them properly in the
6
grand story of the American people. Then facts
will not be obtainable, and more or less fiction will
take their place. But fiction can be no stranger
than the facts in many cases. It will indeed be a
pity if the true tales of these hardy men are lost
to history! Few witnessed or even knew of many
of these acts of courage performed by unselfish,
manly men who made light of danger, in their de-
termination to do their manly duty and to do it well.
May my pen be able to present the homage, it
would so gladly record in honour of my dearly
esteemed comrades, the veterans of the regular army,
soldiers and scouts, who served on the Indian fron-
tier in the service of their beloved country and for
the welfare of mankind in general.
CONTENTS.
Preface. Introduction.
I Across the Plains — A Three Months'
Journey with an Army Train.
II The Santa Fe Trail in the '60s.
III The Journey of DexVth — "Jornada del
Muerto."
IV The Sentinel of the Southwest.
V The Prairie Monitor.
VI Billy Dixon, the Scout.
VII Concerning Arrow Wounds.
VIII Indian Revenge.
IX Hygiene among the Aborigines.
X MAitRiAGE among Indians.
XI Baby Days in the Wigwam.
XII Concerning American Indian Woman-
hood,
XIII The Muskee-kee Win-ni-nee.
XIV Concerning Indian Burial Customs.
XV The Religious Character of the North
American Indians.
8
XVI In the Land of Hiawatha,
XVII Among the Chippewas.
XVIII A Mother's Experience in the Cold
Northwest.
XIX The Love of a People.
XX Beaveheart's Baptism.
XXI Lost on the Great Plains.
XXII On the Arkansaw in '67.
XXIII On the Little Big Horn in '76.
XXIV A Trooper of the Gallant Old 3rd Cav-
alry Worsted by a Cavalry Horse.
XXV The Temperance Question in the Army.
XXVI Shong-sasha.
XXVII The Evolution of the Colored Soldier.
XXVIII Cook's Canon— A Story of Life in the
Southwest.
XXIX Postscript — The Trail of Santa Fe de San
Francisco.
ACROSS THE PLAINS.
A Three Months' Journey with an Army Train.
We were not many, we who marched along the lonely Santa Fe,
But many a gallant soldier would
Have given much if he but could
Have shared with us that dangerous way.
''The Plains," as it was understood 46 years
ago, was that section of country west of the Missouri
River, comprising almost the entire State of Kan-
sas, a portion of Colorado, and the Indian Territory.
If we open the geographical atlas at the map of
Kansas we will find in the eastern part of the State
the still important military post of Fort Leaven-
worth. Before the railroads west of the Missouri
were built this fort was the great distributing point
for troops and military supplies of all kinds. It was
here that in May, 1867, a large expedition was fitted
out to cross the plains to New Mexico. To the
traveler rushing through Kansas to-day in the com-
fortable and safe railway cars, it is difficult to ex-
plain the experiences of crossing these prairies in
"Indian times," before the railroad was built.
The expedition which left Fort Leavenworth May,
1867, consisted of about 300 cavalry recruits, 20
cavalrymen, a dozen or more officers, their
11
families, a half dozen non-commissioned staff officers,
and about 200 civilians, teamsters, etc. One hundred
a^id twefi^#v^ ^'eagoras and ambulances comprised
the train, and there was also a herd of about 500
horses and mules for distribution at the posts in
New Mexico, beside those in use by the soldiers and
the train. This was considered a strong expedi-
tion, and an important one in those days. The
Paymaster-General, then Maj. Rochester, accom-
panied the expedition, and he carried for payment
of the troops in New Mexico a large sum of money —
over a hundred thousand dollars, as the men
believed; but at any rate a considerable sum. Later
we shall have something to tell about that money.
The command of this expedition was intrusted to
Maj. Whiting, an experienced officer, and one who
had a good reputation as an Indian fighter. He
proved himself a thorough soldier before the ex-
pedition was broken up, and when the difficulties
and dangers of that long march, through what was
then a wilderness, are taken into account, he de-
served the support and respect of every officer and
man.
The march was to be a long one — 10 or 12 weeks —
and through a desert land not only difficult for trav-
eling, but swarming with hostile Indians, determined,
if possible, to annihilate all the whites west of the
Missouri. Each mile had to be traversed with the
command ready for action to repel Indian attacks,
and each camp had to resemble, as nearly as possible,
a garrison besieged. The enemy had all the advan-
tage, and were well armed, well mounted, brave
and intelligent, and out-numbered us many times
over.
12
The following was the order of march as well as
I can remember it: The new guard of to-day, the
advance guard; one company of cavalry recruits;
ambulance containing officers' families; wagons con-
taining soldiers' families; wagons containing camp
equipments; horses led and guarded by soldiers
(these horses were tied to a long rope at regular in-
tervals) ; second company of cavalry ; wagons con-
taining supplies; another section of horses; third
company of cavalry; extra wagons; camp followers,
etc. ; old guard of yesterday, rear-guard.
On the right flank, well in advance, rode 20 picked
men, old soldiers, who acted as flankers and scouts
to protect the expedition from surprises. The
wagons moved in single or double file as the nature
of the roads or the probabilities of attack suggested.
The train was under the immediate control of wagon-
masters, and the drivers were instructed to halt and
form in position to resist attack at a moment's notice.
The movement was to be executed in the following
manner: An attack threatening, the flankers were
slowly to join the main column, the advance-guard
halting at once. The wagons, when moving in double
column, halted in this order: First two leading
wagons came together, mules unhitched and tied to
wagon-wheels; numbers three and four right and
left of these, their mules driven to the inner side of
wagons one and two ; wagons five and six right and
left of these, their mules driven to the inner sides
of wagons three and four, and so on until the whole
command was in position to resist attack. The am-
bulances, soldiers, horses, etc., would thus be en-
tirely inclosed, and the wagons, loaded with camp
equipage and stores, would make a very fair fortress.
13
The soldiers could fight from under the wagons,
keeping up a fire that would make an Indian attack
a very dangerous undertaking. In Indian fighting
one man holds four horses and the other three act
as skirmishers. The signal of "danger," which is
made by riding round in a circle, means also the
enemy is in dangerous proximity; collect together
as soon as possible. Thus a flanker way off on the
right could signal the advance-guard, and the Officer
of the Day, always with or near the advance-guard,
reporting to the commanding officer, in a few min-
utes the whole train would be in position for the
threatened attack.
In this manner, and always on the alert, we
marched through Kansas. Reveille sounded early in
the morning, sometimes when in very dangerous
places, long before daylight, and camp was usually
formed about 2 or 3 o'clock in the afternoon. After
the site for the camp had been carefully selected,
the wagons would move into position, forming three
sides of a square if on the river bank, or a perfect
square if on the open prairie, in single or double
row of wagons. The horses were herded, if in a se-
cure camp, or if threatened, were tied to the long
ropes between the camps, which were fastened to
posts firmly planted in the ground. The hospital
and guard-tents were the earliest raised, and when
the whole camp was in order it was indeed a pretty
sight to see. By sundown the camp was silent, ex-
cept that now and then one might hear a banjo or
guitar, or some voices singing songs of home, as the
soldiers gathered around the campfires and smoked or
told stories until after tattoo. Tlie nights were usual-
ly cool, and how pleasant camp seemed after the long,
14
hot and dusty ride of the day. As we journeyed
westward grass grew longer, and beds became more
luxurious. First we threw down our rubber ponchos,
then a blanker folded twice, or oftener, for a mattress.
If we had no pillow, a folded overcoat over a pair
of boots made an excellent substitute. Another
blanket over us completed the bed. Taps, the
last call, bade us rest in peace to wait for to-
morrow's reveille. Soldiers, like other boys, are apt
to be frolicsome at bedtime, and many were the
pranks played between tattoo and taps, and some-
times even after taps.
Mosquitoes were plentiful as summer advanced, and
they made slumbers, which in their absence might
have been delicious, somewhat restless. The nettings
we have in the east to protect us were not amongst
our supplies on the march. It was discovered, how-
ever, that our hungry little pest hated the fumes
of burnt sugar and chlorate of potash, so from our
hospital supplies we made a mixture of our "anti-
mosquito remedy." We burnt this on boards or
tin just after getting into bed, and it is hard to say
what the mosquito thought of it, but we suffered
severely, and out of respect for our endurance of
the strangling fumes we ought to have been spared
the irritating bites. But the mosquito of Kansas is
a very intelligent bird, and waited outside until the
fumes had pretty well disappeared and we were fast
asleep ; then he walked in for his dinner. In the
course of these experiments with chlorate of potash
and sugar we discovered that in burning it made a
bright light. Taps is the signal to "extinguish
lights," and this we were particular to do; but one
night while taps was sounding we lit our diabolical
15
mixture. The Sergeant of the Guard, walking about
in the silent streets of the camp, noticed that while
all other lights went out one tent seemed brilliantly
illuminated. We heard his voice "lights out," and
still the fire kept on. Our heads were covered in
our blankets, unable to endure the suffocating fumes.
On came the Sergeant, angry at our inattention. He
pushed his head into the tent, and taking a deep
breath in his haste to scold us, beat a hasty retreat,
nearly strangled by the fumes of our burning medi-
cine. "What does this mean?" he managed to call
out, his eyes suffused and then fully aroused to
anger. We answered him from, under the blankets
as the last of the flame died away, ' ' The mosquitoes
are very bad and we have burned a little sugar to
frighten them away, but it did not go out at taps."
With an admonition not to let it happen again, he
marched off.
Reveille rudely woke us from oar slumbers every
morning; but sometimes, when we had gone to rest
some pleasant summer evening with tent-sides looped
up, and not anticipating a storm, a furious gale
would strike us, down would go our lines of tents,
and, suddenly aroused and drenched with rain, we
would try to find our clothing and restore order in
camp. It happened at Fort Zara, I believe, that we
changed our camp twice. The river rising rapidly
and flooding the country in every direction, we were
forced very hastily to move to higher ground. This
first move was accomplished only after considerable
effort in packing and hitching up; but when later
the river again attacked us it seemed as if we must
lose ever.v^thing. Everyone took hold and worked
hard to save the wagons, camp equipage and supplies
16
It was desperate work, and although the men
struggled faithfully, several wagons became so firmly
inbedded m the mud that it was necessary to aban-
don them altogether, and much flour and other sup-
plies were destroyed by the water. The whole com-
mand, ladies and all, were well drenched before we
found a safe camp again.
The commanding officer generously ordered that
a case of whiskey be distributed to the men, and the
efforts of many a gallant soldier to obtain two
drinks instead of one by hook or by crook were
laughable in the extreme. "I've seen your face be-
fore ; I 've given you a drink lately, ' ' I said to some.
' ' Oh, no ; it was my brother or a friend, ' ' was the
answer.
At daylight we learned that two men had been
drowned in the river, but some said their bodies had
not been found, and the report merely covered their
desertion. Desertions were common enough after
that. Men went off in squads with horses, arms and
provisions, deserting directly in the midst of the
Indians; many of them losing their lives to escape
the slavery of a soldier's life. Some of the recruits
were professional horse-thieves, and had enlisted at
Carlisle Barracks, Pa., going East for the purpose
of being returned again to the plains, where they
knew expeditions were constantly crossing, and op-
portunities for horse stealing and desertion frequent.
One night almost the entire guard deserted, includ-
ing non-commissioned officers. These men carried
off the company records, besides taking extra
horses, arms, ammunition and rations. The risk
they assumed of capture by Government officials was
small indeed; but outside waited the Indians, who
17
very much desired their ill-gotten plunder. Un-
doubtedly many of these deserters were malcontents,
who hated the army discipline, and who had endured,
or fancied they had endured, wrongs and humilia-
tions which made them desperate. In no other
army — certainly not in the English, German or
French — are the enlisted men so happy as they
are in ours. Our soldiers are well paid and well
fed, but it is surprising to witness the great gulf
existing between the officers and the soldiers.
The rivers and streams we were obliged to ford,
there being neither bridges or ferryboats, and it of-
ten happened that fording was attended with great
difficulty and even danger. On one occasion, where
the river banks were very steep, the wagons and
cavalry marching through the water and ascending
the opposite bank had made it very slippery. When
the rear-guard arrived the crossing looked very un-
inviting, and upon attempting to ascend the opposite
bank, horses iind riders slipped down the bank nearly
to the water's edge. A group of officers gathered
on the bank above, watching the crossing, and
seemed to enjoy the comical struggle of horses and
men striving to make the ascent without falling. My
horse enjoyed the name of "Billy," probably the
commonest name for army horses. He was a fine,
large, deep bay, carefully selected by an old soldier
from amongst a herd of horses at Fort Riley, which
had been recently purchased in Missouri, the great
supply depot for the United States Army. Billy
was my special pet, and on him I showered my affec-
tion and all the dainties my slender purse could pro-
cure. Our turn had come to make the ascent. I
looked at Billy and his clean, well-groomed sides;
18
at myself and my gorgeous scarlet stripes (the old
style of stripes for Hospital Stewards), and, con-
sidering the adventures of the cavalryman who had
just rolled down the bank covered with mud, I felt
that glory was not in store for me that day. Yet
Billy was quick, steady and intelligent, and so we
hopefully descended the bank, crossed the river, and
as we stepped out of the water I patted my horse,
spoke to him, and then giving him a little touch with
the spur, we started up the difficult ascent. Up,
up, went Billy, plunging and rocking, and we had
nearly reached the top, when down he came well on
one side, covering my boot and leg with mud, and I
thought it was all over; but a gallant spring gave
him his legs again, and in a second more we stood
secure upon the bank above. A kind applause
greeted his splendid efforts, and from the depths of
my saddle-bag came forth my last lumps of sugar for
a reward.
Billy distinguished himself again, much to my dis-
gust, by interfering with the hospital cook. Our
horses were being stolen so rapidly that I had my
horse picketed close by the hospital tent. Camp
cooking is done out of doors, and is a very simple
process, bread being baked in Dutch-ovens — iron
pots with heavy iron covers, placed in the bed of
coals and completely covered over by them. Usually
we had hard wood for fires, but in some very desert
places the dried dung of the buffalo, called "buffalo
chips," was used. This dung was found all over the
plains of Kansas years ago, but has pretty much dis-
appeared now. The cook had taken the mess chest
outside his tent, and while making the bread left the
flour-bag open. I was dozing in my tent, when I
19
heard a yell and angry imprecations and a clatter
of hoofs. Springing up I saw the cook chasing my
Billy away, and my horse's head was a sight to be-
hold, for in his playful, inquisitive way, he had
plunged his nose deep into the flour-bag; his mouth
and nostrils were filled with flour, and his whole
face was covered with it to his eyes. Off scampered
Billy, seemingly delighted with the new discovery,
while his poor master paid the value of one bag of
flour to the mess. I could never understand why
Billy's sweet face should harm the flour, even if he
did put his nose in it.
Billy never appreciated my goodness, for he served
me a mean trick not many days afterward. We came
into camp on a very windy afternoon, and the hos-
pital attendants had all they could do to get up the
large hospital tent. "Water call" had sounded and
Billy was thirsty, so I undertook to take him to water
without saddle or bridle. We reached the place at
last, where many horses were drinking, and I rode in
among them. I was quietly waiting for my horse
to finish his drink, when he suddenly stooped, bend-
ing his forelegs in such a manner that I slipped
directly over his head into the water amongst the
horses. It created quite a disturbance, and off
scampered my steed with a merry twinkle in his
eye, leaving me to walk home, wet and muddy.
While in camp one evening a soldier was brought
to the hospital tent who had been kicked by a horse.
The poor fellow suffered great agony, and received
little relief from the Surgeon. While on the march
next day he died in the ambulance. At night we
reached a lonely frontier post, and a detail was
sent to bury him. No officer attended the funeral,
20
and no music sounded the usual soldier's dead
march, but, wrapped in the blankets in which he
died, he was lowered into the earth to wait the
trumpet call of the last day. His grave is un-
marked. It is customary in the army to bury sol-
diers with military honors. All the officers of the
garrison and all the soldiers except the guards are
present in full dress. The Chaplain, in his white
robes, marches with the military procession, the
music playing the dead march. Arrived at the
grave the burial service is read, and then three
volleys fired over the coffin after it has been lowered
into the grave. The last and most touching scene
is the sounding of "taps," the "last call," by a
musician at the head of the grave. As the solemn
notes sound out, all is hushed and still, and all are
impressed by the solemnity of the scene. The bur-
ial ceremonies over, the command returns to the
post with the music playing a lively tune, often
"John Brown's Body," or something equally gay.
Such is a soldier's life in peace, but in war and upon
hurried marches, ceremonies even at the grave are
dispensed with.
Rations when the command started were plenty;
besides the generous allowance furnished by our
indulgent "Uncle Samuel," we enjoyed butter, milk,
white sugar, and even the chief dainty dish of sol-
diers, pie. But as w^e journeyed westward luxuries
disappeared, and simple, very simple, army rations
were all we had left. A famous dish, con-
sisting of soaked army biscuit, called hardtack,
fried in grease and covered with molasses was high-
ly prized by the hungry travelers. Often by the
evening eampfire the cooks would prepare great
21
piles of flapjacks, and it was fun to watch them
throw the cake high in the air as they turned it,
and catch it as it fell. As long as sugar and sirup
lasted, these were famous treats. They would seem
rather indigestible to those who live in civilization,
but hunger is a good sauce, as many readers will
find out some day, if they have not already dis-
covered it.
Before the day began to break, often as early as
3 o'clock in the morning, the Reveille would call
us from our slumbers. The campfires lighted up the
scene again ; a sudden striking of tents, as if by
magic, and a systematic stowing away in the great
wagons ; then came a hurried breakfast of coffee,
hardtack and bacon around the campfires, and then
sounded "boots and saddles," and the command had
started on another march. The old guard of yes-
terday closes up the rear. As we pass out into the
road and our campfires fade away, we can see that
the Indians have taken possession and are search-
ing for what we have left behind us, and warming
themselves where we were only a few moments ago.
T>aj dawned when we had already traveled some
distance and our camp had long since been out of
sight and in possession of the enemy.
We crossed the Arkansas River July 4, and cel-
ebrated the day after crossing by some extras at
dinner, a grand bonfire and some homemade fire-
works in the evening.
Our marches were not always made near cool
springs, and often we marched from water to water
carrying what we could in our canteens; but this
supply soon became -warm and unfit for use, and
considerable suft'ering would result. Sometimes as
22
we approached water holes, or buffalo wallows, filled
with water, the dogs would plunge in before we
could unsling our canteens. We found the Arkansas
River water, when encamped on that stream, red
with mud and quite uninviting in appearance, but
after dipping out a pailful and letting it stand a
few minutes the sediment would settle and the water
become clear and delicious to drink. The daily
march was not a long one, averaging only 15 to 18
miles, but with slow pace, three miles an hour or
less, and many halts and obstacles before us to
overcome, like broken roads and fords to cross.
Cavalry proceeds v/ith no greater speed than in-
fantry, when encumbered with heavy trains, and
three miles an hour was considered a fair average
across the plains. Sometimes our march covered
only 10 miles, and again we made a long journey.
It depended very much upon the supply of wood,
water and grass.
It was easy enough to find rattlesnakes, if one
wished, near camp, or a little way on either side
of the marching column. The plains were full of
them then, and they were much dreaded in camp,
where they often appeared, sometimes startling the
cooks near the morning campfire, or even crawling
beside the sleeping soldier wrapped in his blanket
in his tent. We found one in our tent one morning,
and you can imagine our fright. The snake paid
for his intrusion with his life, however, but that was
poor comfort to us. One afternoon, after making
camp, a friend of mine went out for a walk but
a little way from the hospital tent. He had re-
moved his riding boots and wore a light pair of
slippers. In climbing a little rising ground a
23
rattlesnake bit him on the itistep. The wound was
sucked upon his reaching camp and carefully
cauterized, and a heavy dose of whiskey given him.
He was put to bed in the ambulance and never ex-
perienced any further trouble from the wound. The
whiskey was supposed to have cured him. He was
a brave fellow, not easily frightened, for after be-
ing bitten he sat down, and, taking careful aim
with his pistol, shot the snake through the head
and brought his remains to camp as a trophy. The
rattlesnake bite it not always so easily cured. In
this case the snake may have emptied its poison bag
shortly before he bit the soldier, or the venom may
have been stopped by the stocking or slipper from
reaching the wound. I used to take a cavalry saber
and ride just a little way from the line and cut off
the heads of the snakes from horseback. I would
then cut off the rattles and send them home in let-
ters as curiosities. The rattlesnake sounds a loud
alarm before he strikes, usually giving one some
chance for defense.
It was not permitted for any member of the train
to loiter behind or to separate from the command,
except by special permission of the commanding
officer. One hot day we passed a little clump of
trees, and a friend suggested a short halt and rest.
We dismounted and tied our horses. Sitting down
and leaning against the trunk of a tree, we were
soon fast asleep. At last awakening, what was our
astonishment to find ourselves alone, without a liv-
ing soul in sight and nothing of the train in the
distance. We noticed by the sun that we must
have rested some time, and with a few hasty words
we Averc in the saddle galloping in the direction of
24
the train as fast as we could go. We were in the
enemy's country, and to have awakened in the pres-
ence of a party of Sioux Indians would have been
a rough termination for our peaceful nap, with a
terrible ending, no doubt. Death is always prefer-
able to capture by Indians, for horrible torture is
as sure as the death, which must come, when the poor
prisoner's body is unable to offer more fun for the
cruel captors. It was very much like a narrow es-
cape, and we were glad to meet our comrades again
and say no more about it.
We took all the precautions possible against an at-
tack by Indians, and at one place a severe battle
with them seemed inevitable. This was at a ford
called the Cimarron Crossing. Here the savages
were in strong force. They had been following us
for days, and an attack at daybreak the next morn-
ing was accordingly prepared for. Strong pickets
were posted on our right, center and left. No herd
went out that night, but all animals were securely
tied to wagons to prevent the Indians stampeding
them. The whole command slept on their arms, ready
for immediate action. Towards evening the guard
had lost several members by soldiers reporting sick,
and the writer obtained permission from the com-
manding officer to go out on picket as a volunteer
and not only that but good Major Whitney insisted
upon adding his pistol, too, to the pistol carried by
the writer. The picket on the right was the station
given him. It consisted of three men and a non-
commissioned officer. We spread down our ponchos
and blankets, and flat on our stomachs we watched
along the grass tops for any signs of approaching foes.
Our orders were, if attacked, to retreat toward camp,
giving the alarm as we retreated.
26
Slowly the night passed away. Our attention was
divided between watching for Indians and defend-
ing ourselves against swarms of murderous mosquitoes.
It was shortly after midnight when the Sergeant
detected one or two figures approaching us from the
direction of the Indians. We had only a little while
before noticed some signals made by means of fire-ar-
rows, arrows with burning brands attached, shot into
the air at regular intervals, and so the stealthily-ap-
proaching figures Ave supposed was the beginning of an
unusual event — an Indian attack by night. Our Ser-
geant roused us all, and Avith carbines at ready we
AA-e Avaited their approach, intending to abandon our
blankets and hasten back to camp and give the alarm.
''Who goes there?" roared our Sergeant. No reply;
but still the figures stealthily approached. Once more
the challenge rang out, and aa^c AA^ere noAV well ready
to retreat, for the figures were getting within range.
We intended to give them a A\'arm reception before
we left from our good Sharp's carbines. Just as
Ave Avere about to feel sure the enemy was indeed
upon us, came the response in the night air, "Officer
of the Day; grand rounds." Hoav that little mes-
sage thrilled us. Although it brought friends in-
stead of foes, it seemed as if there must be some
mistake, so certain were Ave of attack and dan-
ger. The Officer of the Guard carried no lantern;
had only one Guard besides the Corporal
Avith him, and in the darkness had gotten
beyond our station, and only found us after consid-
erable difficulty. Our first challenge was unheard,
and our second, by reason of the distance, Avas nearly
as indistinct to him as his answer seemed to us.
He left us after warning us that just at daybreak
we would probably be attacked; but our wily foe
had discovered our alertness and decided it would
be best to let us alone. For this extra service com-
mendation Avas ample reward and although promised
was never heard of afterwards. Indians rarely de-
sire to fight, but are always ready for stealing.
As the weather grew warmer the marching toward
noon was attended with considerable fatigue, and
there were many cases of sunstroke. One day several
fell off their horses, and the medical department had
plenty to do.
Near the hospital tent the two ambulances were
always located in camp. The driver of one of these
vehicles had made himself somewhat unpopular with
the young Hospital Stewards who were with the
expedition. It was decided one night to discipline
him. It was a night when, by reason of our prox-
imity to the Indians, the mules, instead of being out
on herd, were tied to the tongue of the ambulances.
Our disagreeable driver had his team nearest our
tent, and he himself was fast asleep, dreaming per-
chance of the money he would make by selling stolen
corn at the next settlement. We went out carefully
and collected a dozen or more empty tin cans —
plentiful enough after any meal on the plains ; these
w^e brought to our tent. The mules were quiet and
all the camp was still. Suddenly there was a great
commotion, the mules sprang up and tugged at their
chains, making a great noise and thoroughly dis-
turbing and enraging our ambulance driver, who,
springing out, with kicks and imprecations punished
them for disturbing his slumbers. We tried the
trick again later on with the same result, but the
third time we were discovered. Either our victim
27
suspected foul play or the rattle of the cans had
attracted his attention, and with angry strides he
came to our tent door. "Look out for me, young
fellows; it you do that again I will report you to
the Officer of the Day." Jeers greeted his depar-
ture, and we went to rest to concoct new trials for
his patience. The "Old Man," as we called him,
had been cheating his mules of their corn supply,
and was trying to save a bag or two to sell when
a good chance presented itself. A friend of mine
decided to join me in taking some of his plunder.
The corn ration for our horses was exhausted, and
for several days we had nothing to give them ex-
cept the grass of the prairies. So when we dis-
covered the well-filled bags of the driver, we deter-
mined to take some of Uncle Sam's corn to support
and strengthen Uncle Sam's horses. It certainly
could not be considered stealing. With a basket and
a towel placed so as to deaden any noise, we tapped
his bags night after night for the benefit of our
Government horses. He found us out at last, and
although he hated us well for it, could not risk re-
porting us without disclosing his own dishonesty.
The good condition of our horses attracted the at-
tention of several, but we never explained where
our corn came from.
Our Paymaster had received at Fort Leavenworth
a large sum cf money to take with him to Santa Fe,
N. M., for the payment of the troops. A strong iron
safe had been provided by the Government
to carry these funds across the plains to
the District Headquarters. The Paymaster received
the funds in a small iron safe. Upon consultation
with his clerk it was decided to remove the money
28
from the safe and hide it in a strong wooden box,
which was placed, when tilled, in the bottom of the
Major's mess-chest. The small empty safe was
placed in the large safe, and carefully locked up
The large safe was placed in the bottom of an army
wagon and a special sentry detailed to guard
it. The lawless, reckless characters amongst the
recruits actually planned making a disturbance or
mutiny, and intended to murder any who should
oppose them in carrying off the wagon containing
the safe, and, as they supposed, a large sum of
money. By good luck and the weakening of one of
the rascals, their plans were suspected and extra
precautions taken. The officers succeeded in secur-
ing some faithful men, who, together with the old
soldiers, made a formidable guard.
I well remember the afternoon our good Surgeon
came to the hospital tent and informed us of the
anticipated mutiny and robbery. It was agreed
that upon the first syraiptoms of revolt, or upon hear-
ing any firing, that we, with all who were faithful,
should rally at the commanding officer's tent and
fight for our lives and the Government property
The preparations for resisting the outbreak were dis-
covered, and the attempt was given up. Had the
rascals, however, succeeded in their designs and car-
ried off the wagon containing the safe, what would
have been their dismay to find it quite empty of
money, after their efforts to break it open. The
other wagon, containing the Paymaster's camp and
baggage, also contained the mess-chest in which the
precious money had been hidden, unknown and un-
guarded, and in a box which could have been opened
by a common chisel. This secret was well kept, and
29
not even known by the commanding officer. The
Paymaster's clerk related this to me months after the
expedition had been disbanded and the money spent.
As the tram advanced over the prairies hundreds
of eyes scanned the horizon in every direction, and
any unusual object at once arrested attention and
stimulated curiosity. The plains are something like
the ocean, a great wilderness with little to see ex-
cept sky and grass, save here and there a spot of
timber near some stream. Monstrous, lonely, dreary,
it is so dull that the least thing like change is a
treat. A train approaching from the opposite di-
rection, a scouting party of soldiers, or a few emi-
grant wagons, will create all the excitement that
a sail on the ocean approaching one after days
away from shore always brings. One day, far off
on the left of the train, a horse was discovered, ap-
parently wounded, for he remained on the ground,
now and then floundering about as if in pain. 1
was asked to ride out and examine him and report
if he was wounded by bullets, arrows, or mereh"
abandoned by some train as worthless. My good
horse Billy soon brought me to the spot. I looked
about for an instant to discover any signs of camp
or battleground, and then dismounting I walked up
to the poor horse to see if he was wounded or had
broken his leg, or was merely sick and worn out.
Just as I bent forward to examine him he rolled over,
lifting his legs high in the air, thoroughly frightening
my horse, who gave a wild snort, and snatching tht
rein suddenly from my grasp, galloped off at a wild
rate over the prairie. No call of mine would stop him,
and it was a long, hard walk, past many a deadly
rattlesnake to reach the train ; when I climbed in
30
lonely humiliation upon the feeding trough of an
army wagon, while two troopers chased Billy for
miles before they could catch him.
The horses furnished our cavalry at that time were
really fine animals, and some were worthy to carry
a prince. They came in good condition, and I re-
member one, a large iron-gray horse, the envy of
many a cavalryman. More than one tried to ride
him, but met with ugly throws and great discour-
agements. So many gave him up that he was con-
sidered too vicious for use. At last an old soldier,
who served through the war of the rebellion, said thar
he ''would ride him or perish in the attempt." The
permission was given, and the "Iron Duke" saddled
and bridled. The soldier mounted, and then began
a struggle I have never seen equaled. A gallant
horseman and a gallant steed. It was exciting to
witness the wild leaps and plunging and rearing of
the steed, but the soldier kept his seat. The horse
at length, maddened and desperate, threw himself
on the ground, and quickly rolling over, nearly killed
his rider. The soldier was carried to the hospital
tent and found to be completely ruined for further
military service. He was discharged and pensioned.
The horse was led to the line, but the fire was gone
from his eye, and he walked with a conquered gait.
After that anyone could ride him, and his hand-
some looks departed. He was indeed subdued.
As we neared Colorado the scenery changed, with
views of the glorious Rockies in the distance. The
Spanish Peaks, always "a day's journey away," re-
mained in sight for many days. As we entered New
IMexico the mountains became a reality, and harti
climbing and difficult roads were now of daily occur-
31
rence. On we marched, over the winding "Picket
Wire," or Purgatory river, through the wild Eaton
Pass, and then down into the lovely scenery of New
Mexico; past the "Wagon Mound," famous for the
gallant fight of a handful of emigrants, who here
successfully held at bay a host of savage Indians.
The dark mud walls of Fort Union came at last into
view, and we entered a charming valley and were
soon within the Reservation.
Our march was ended; its trials and its pleasures,
its dangers and its adventures. For the last time
our camp was pitched. On the morrow we must
separate. As the last notes of the evening bugle
echoed in the surrounding hills, we realized that ouu
train had reached its goal and that the morrow's
sun would find us separating from each other for
our new duties and stations. The expedition was
at last a thing of the past — disbanded.
32
Dr. W. T. Parker at IT yrs. of age in the U. S. Army Medical Dept. as Firtt
ClaBB Hospital Steward, U. S. A.
THE SANTA FE TRAIL IN THE
SIXTIES.
Fifty years ago our schoolboy geographies showed
a great expanse of almost unmapped region, named
"the great American desert!" It may be said to
have extended from 95 degrees to 105 degrees longi-
tude west and from 30 degrees to 49 degrees north
latitude.
In the spring of 1867 rumors were received from
all quarters of a renewal of Indian hostilities and
attacks on the principal emigrant routes increased
to such an extent that it required the utmost activ-
ity on the part of the troops to keep open com-
munication with our territories, and protect working
parties on the important railroads then in process
of construction.
Since the Indian commission provided by act of
July 20th, 1864, commenced its labors the operation
of troops had been confined to the defensive, and they
were principally engaged in guarding the more im-
portant posts. Department commanders visited the
scenes of hostilities in person and made every effort
with the means at hand to afford protection.
In 1867 some of the most powerful tribes of
Indians were active on the Great Plains and the
Santa Fe trail came in for its share of attention
from the Sioux, Kiowas, Cheyennes, Apaches of the
Plains, Comanches, "Dog Warriors" and other bands
of Indians.
33
"The amount of freight carried by caravans from
the Missouri river to Santa Fe, New Mexico, as early
as 1860 was estimated at more than thirty-six mil-
lion pounds, and emigrants with goods and stock
made constant travel over the famous trail, enduring
the hardships and surmounting the difficulties and
dangers, continued through the 60 's to brave all these
dangers, as well as traders and merchants carrying
great supplies to the southwest."
The great American desert as we saw it then for
the first time in '67 has disappeared. In its place
to-day we find great pasture lands, farms, villages,
towns and cities. Where we marched slowly and
amid sufferings and dangers, we can pass along the
same route reclining comfortably in the chairs of a
parlor car, and in an hour pass the camping places
of days "in the Sixties!"
But the thousands who have come from far awa>'
homes to make a home in Kansas and New Mexico,
know little of the battle which was fought to secura
the West to civilization. In the old frontier days
the great plain was only sparsely protected by the
so-called, "forts," and the feeble garrisons had self
preservation ever in necessity, although the needi
of the weaker added increasing trials and dangers
to situations often desperate. The chain of forts
began with Leavenworth, a strong and secure gar-
rison, then westward to Riley, also safe in its
strength, but beyond, the little forts of Harker,
Lamed, Zarah, Dodge, Lyon, and Bent's fort, were
by no means secure. Along the Santa Fe trail the
anxious emigrants rested with thankful hearts near
these little stations, and renewed their preparations
to continue the westward journey. These forts had
34
been constructed at heavy expense, and with great
toil and hardship by the soldiers who worked like
day laborers in their construction, in addition to
their military duties. The Santa Fe trail was the
artery which nourished much of this important re-
gion. The forts could be found only at infrequent
intervals from Fort Leavenworth in Eastern Kan-
sas, down to Fort Union in New Mexico, and be-
yond Santa Fe the "trail" continued past Fort
Craig. And beyond the Rio Grande stretched the
grim "Jornada del Muerto," the journey of death,
nearly a hundred miles, where, after reaching Fori;
Selden, it continued on to Fort Cummings in South-
eastern New ]\Iexico, and 40 or 50 miles further to
Fort Bayard, and so on past the deadly Apache
pass, and Fort Bowie, into the Arizona desert.
On May 22nd, 1867, a detachment of less than
400 men, mostly recruits for the famous 3rd U. S.
Cavalry, which had been stationed for so many
months in the southwest, and already famous as
Indian fighters — marched out of Fort Leavenworth
en-route for New Mexico. At Fort Eiley the re-
mainder of the expedition joined and proceeded
westward under command of Major Whiting.
Among the officers were Surgeon Peters, Paymaster
Rochester, Captain Lieber, Quartermaster's Depart-
ment, and Lieutenants Hildebran, P. F. Young,
D. H. Quinby, Thompson and Charles Morris (now
colonel U. S. army), and some members of the non-
commissioned staff of the army, pay and medical
departments. There were several ladies traveling
with the command, some of them brides going to
join their husbands at lonely frontier stations.
Many of the great army wagons carried army sup-
35
plies, arms and ammiinition, and a large amount of
money; 300 led horses also added great attractions
for our alert Indian enemies. Of the cavalrymen
less than 50 were veterans, and only 21 were known
as "picked men" for scouting and flank work.
The recruits were below the average, and among
them many reckless characters, some of whom were
regular horse thieves who had enlisted at Carlisls
Barracks, Pa., bent only on adventure and horse
stealing; of these several who deserted with horses
were captured and killed by Indians. Desertions and
loss of horses, arms and equipments, etc., began soon
after leaving Fort Eiley and continued in spite of
the presence of large bodies of hostile Indians un-
til the crossing of the Arkansas, below Bent's Fort,
on the Santa Fe trail.
Indians were continually threatening and at the
Cimarron Crossing, such a large number of Siour,
Cheyennes, Apaches of the Plains, Blackfeet,
Kiowas, Arapahoes, Dog Warriors, and other Indians
had collected that the odds were reckoned as "ten
to one ! ' ' Most of the men, as already stated, wer3
unfit to meet such an ovenvhelming force of well-
armed and Avell-mounted Indians. The day and
night at the Cimarron was a time of great anxiety
and danger. The camp was formed as usual, three
sides of a square resting on the river, with army
wagons in double line, and in the hollow square
the ambulances for the women, the long rope lines
for the cavalry horses, the mules tied to the wagons.
Three strong pickets were posted, in one of which
the writer spent most of the night, right rear, right
center and right advance, with a guard on the
river, and the entire command rested on their arms
36
throughout the night prepared for iramecliate action.
As we had an experienced Indian fighter in Major
Whiting, our commander, we crossed the plains
with all possible discipline and caution, and ever
ready to meet attack and avoid surprises or ambush.
The wagon masters were prepared to form a large
oval with the wagons, within which ambulances,
horses and soldiers could find shelter. This movc^
ment could be carried out on the march immediately
upon given signals. Far out on our right flank
rode in advance our most trusty scouts, and flankers
of picked men. The advance guard of cavalrymen
led the column. It would be the rearguard to-mor-
row, and between, squadrons of cavalry, divisions
of our army train, wagons and ambulances and
extra led cavalry horses. To our left was the great
Arkansas river. It was quite a formidable looking
column, but' unfortunately we had no cannon.
The daily life varied little. We had our reveille
at 3 o'clock in dangerous regions, and by dawn all
the tents were stored in the wagons and the entire
command in the saddle moving out of our old camp
ground while our Indian foes cautiously crept up
to our smouldering fires looking for our leavings.
We never exchanged shots with them, nor even
shouts, but we watched each other in silence ready
for an emergency.
The command marched on the average three miles
an hour, for although we were of a cavalry com-
mand, the pace is ever set by the mule wagons,
which is usually three miles an hour, although often
less. Some days we could only travel 12 miles dur-
ing the entire march owing to heavy or rough roads,
or dangerous surroundings, or the delay incident to
37
fording, or accidents on the trail. Other days we
would march our average 21 miles. Guard mount
was in the afternoon, following sick call, and early
evening found us with lights out, resting on the
beds of army blankets spread on the prairie grass.
Now and then a sudden rain storm would strike tht
tents, and add confusion and discomfort to camp life.
Once owing to a sudden rise of water, we lost two
troopers by drowning, and also several wagons
loaded with army supplies were stuck in the mud
and abandoned. Once some wagons were saved only
by sacrificing bags of sugar and flour. On one
occasion the commanding officer discovered that a
plan had been formed by some desperate characters
among the recruits to seize by force and carry oft'
the wagons supposed to contain the money which
the pajTiiaster was taking to New Mexico, but our
old Indian fighter was ready for the conspirators
and the plan was foiled.
On the march oats and corn gave out and the
horses and mules fared poorly for a time with no
other food than prairie grass and muddy water.
The soldiers' clothing and boots wore out and "gun-
ny sacks" used as armless sweaters, and rags tied
about the feet had to answer the need. Food be-
came scarce and soaked hard tack was a luxury. Our
camp fire fuel was mostly "buffalo chip," dried
dung, of which vast quantities then covered the
great prairies, as did also the white bones of thtB
buffalo, and not infrequently we found human bones
telling of possible "battle and murder and sudden
death."
The following letter from Colonel Morris, U. S.
army, is interesting in this connection :
38
"I was one of the officers that accompanied Majoi'
Whiting's command to New Mexico in 1867. Be-
sides the officers you mention (Qiiinby, Thompson,
Rochester, Dr. Peters and Young) there was a Lieut.
Hildebran of the cavalry and Capt. Lieber, a mili-
tary store keeper of the Q. M. Department. I
remember very well that eventful day and night at
the Cimarron Crossing. In our efforts to mak<i
the 300 odd horses take the water and cross to the
opposite shore, the quartermaster-sergeant and my-
self, being the only ones mounted at the time, wery
carried back from the river with the herd that
stampeded. The fleetness of our horses enabled
the sergeant and myself to lead the stampeded ani-
mals back to the picket line, the trumpeters sounding
"Stable call!" Our predicament was far more
serious than we at the time realized it to be, for
had the Indians, that we knew to be numerous and
aggressive, attacked us with our command divided
as it was, I believe they could have captured every-
thing on their side of the river. (Note — I believe
the Indians numbered between three and four thou-
sand, outnumbering us as one to 10. — W. T. P.)
Our experience at Fort Zarah was, perhaps, as dis-
quieting as any we had, for there we found our-
selves encamped on the rim, as it were, of a basin,
with Walnut Creek rushing around us, and gradii
ally rising until its waters rose to within a few
scant inches of the confining banks, but happily
subsided before its waters engulfed us. I have
often reflected on the many escapes we had on that
eventful march.
Yours very truly,
(Signed) Charles M ."
39
August 2n(l, 1846, Kearney's American army left
Bent's Fort on the Arkansas. The route was nearly
identical with the later line of stages which traveled
amid dangers of every kind, down into New Mexico.
It differed but slightly from that of the modern
Atchison, Topeka and Santa Fe railroad. The
crossing is made a short distance below the fort.
The trail leads on to Trinidad and Raton's pass, and
here is the glorious view of the New Mexico plains,
a sight worth months of dangers to witness.
The country, if its glories could be rightly de-
scribed, should bring countless thousands to enjoy
its lifegiving climate and its many opportunities to
acquire more than a mere living.
The valley of the Purgatory river. The Picatoire,
a eurruption of the " Purgatoire, " and called by
soldiers and plainsmen the "picket wire." The
trail frequently crosses the remarkably winding river.
A little to the left of the trail, after the valley
is reached, rises the famous wagon mound where
many a bloody battle has been fought between
Indian tribes and by white men holding Indians at
bay.
From here on to Fort Union there was no garrison,
and the trail was wide and open and comparatively
safe.
This garden spot of New Mexico has almost for-
gotten the hardships and dangers of the 60 's.
Men like Richard Worten, "Uncle Dick,"
who kept a "hotel" up the Raton mountain, and
old Jim Bridger, helped to solve many dubious
questions in the building of the earlier transcontinen-
tal lines. They acted their part in aiding to map
out railway routes, and they had helped establish
40
the pony express, and had been pilots for wagon
trains and government expeditions like Kit Carson,
Bent, Billy Dixon, Amos Chapman, James Hickok,
and many other heroes of the plains.
The district of New Mexico was a portion of the
Department of the ^Missouri, whose headquarters was
at Fort Leavenworth, Kansas, the district of New
Mexico, headquarters were at Santa Fe, with Brevet
Major-General, George W. Getty in command. He
was colonel of the new colored regiment, the 37th
Infantry.
The Fra Christobal entrance of the Jornada del
Muerto (del los Muertos) is reckoned at 946 miles
from Fort Leavenworth. Dona Ana, a Mexican
town, is 95 miles from Fra Christobal. The famous
Cimarron Crossing of the Arkansas is 492 miles
from Fort Leavenworth.
The Fra de los Caballos mountains are to the
right and westward of the famous Journey of Death.
Jornada del Muerto, after crossing the Rio Grande
river, below what was in Indian days. Fort Craig.
The soldiers reckoned the ''99 miles, without wood,
water or grass," from Fort Craig, the northernmost
point of the Jornada, to Fort Selden, the southern-
most point. Three halting points on the grave-
decked trail of the "dead man's journey" gave the
only relief of dreariness— the "Alamand," because
some Germans tried to dig a well and were sur-
prised and killed by Indians; the "Water holes,"
because sometimes a little water collected there for
a short time after a heavy rain, and lastly, on the
lower third of the trail, below where it branched
off to lonely Fort McRae, near the Ojo del Muerto,
the "Spring of Death," was the famous "Point of
41
Rocks," the chosen lair for the Indians when they
tried to jump a wagon train or other travelers 07i
the Jornada. Graves along the roadside were plent.-
ful near this place.
Beyond Fort Selden the trail crossed the Rio
Grande again, and 65 miles of lonely, dangerous
trail extended to the Cook's Canon and Fort Cum-
mings Pony Express station. Here was a veritable
walled garrison. A somewhat pretentious front of
"doby" (adobe) walls, with archway on either side
of which were guard rooms, gave the fort an an-
cient look, which made the American flag floating
from the tall flagstaff in the center of the parade
ground look almost out of place. These walls, about
15 feet in height, extended around the garrison
buildings, forming a square, with only one opening,
the door in the rear, where a sentry always walked
his beat day and night. To the rear of the fort,
huge piles of hay for the cavalry of adjacent "forts"
were stored. Fort Cummings was the only walled
fort of New Mexico in the 60 's, and its situation
at the mouth of Cook's Canon and upon the trail
to Arizona, which it guarded, gave it considerable
importance.
Fort Cummings, New Mexico, located at Cook's
Spring, in what is now Luna County, was established
October 2nd, 1863. It was first garrisoned by
Company B, 1st California Infantry volunteers.
The post was abandoned October 3rd, 1886, and
turned over to the Interior Dept., October 22nd,
1891. Cook's Peak, a rugged mountain 9,000
feet in altitude, towered above the garrison, and was
known by all the soldiers under the familiar name
of ''Old Baldy," from its commonly snow-capped
42
summit. Deming is the town nearest the old fort,
and Silver City is the town near its old comrade,
Fort Bayard, 44 miles to the westward. Between
these two garrisons was the Rio Miembres, just be-
yond the long and gloomy Cook's Canon; after
leaving Fort Cummings and beyond the Rio Miembres,
were the famous Hot Springs which the wild
Apaches held in such superstitious veneration that
the ranchmen who drank of the mysterious waters
were secure from Indian attack as long as they re-
mained by its magic influence.
The fort was designed by General McClellan.
Through the archway one could see the two brass
cannon pointing directly outward, one each side of
the flagstaff, and beyond could be seen the rear
door of the fort, and the sentry marching back and
forth. The little tin-covered tower, above the guard
houses and the arch of the fort, looked like a little
pilot house. In this look-out, a sentry watching in
all directions for any danger of Indians to the herds
and with looking glass could signal the herders to
bring the herds back to the corral. Watch was also
kept for emigrant trains attacked or followed by
Indians or for travelers in peril, and not infrequently
the cavalry squad would be sent out to offer pro-
tection to harrassed emigrants.
It is impossible for the writer to close this pape.c
without saying a word of praise for the many brave
hearts who served on the great plains in the 60 's.
The "last call" has sounded for most of them, and
never more will ''boots and saddles" mean the ex-
citement of a possible "affair with Indians."
The veteran soldier of the Indian wars was a
soldier worthy of the name, and second to none on
43
earth for intelligent courage, and fighting ability.
There is no "rear" in the fight with Indians, and
seldom any cover, and the only certainty is that in
case of capture, death by terrible torture will be
the ending. The Indians were brave and desperat,^
fighters, and a foe who could develop the real man-
hood of the frontier soldier.
The names of heroes like Custer and Elliot, and
many others will live for all time, but the lesser
lights, the unnamed heroes live in the influence
which their brave deeds have exerted upon their
successors in the American army.
44
THE JOURNEY OF DEATH.
"Jornada del Muerto."
For those who have not yet forgotten the geog-
raphy in use in our schools in the early sixties, or
even before the war, I will call to remembrance the
great tract then known as the "American Desert,"
said to be " inhabited by numerous tribes of Indians ! ' '
That tract of land is now what might be called the
"Lost Desert." Thriving towns and even cities
have almost miraculously appeared, where only a
few years ago the brave frontiersman kept keen eye
and cool nerve in a struggle for existence against
the cruel aboriginal. Following down the "Great
Divide" far to the southward for many days' journey
in New IMexico, we arrived at the little village of
Christobal. Here is the peaceful flowing muddy
stream of world-wide celebrity, the Rio Grande,
and beyond is the gloomy Jornada del Muerto
or Journey of Death. This is a tract of
desert plain land south of Fort Craig and north of
Fort Selden, New Mexico, nearly 100 miles long. It
is bouuded on the east by the distant Sierra Blanca
Mountains, and on the west by the Sierra Cabalia
and Sierra de Frey Christobal. For seventy-five
miles it is devoid of wood, water and grass. A
veritable "deadly way" it used to be, and on its
flat surface the Indians in the mountains couM
easily discover a train or party of emigrants, and
45
plan to intercept and capture them with little, if
any, danger to themselves. For the white men
there was no possible chance for escape. The
Apaches never take prisoners except for purposes of
terrible torture, unless we except the fate of women
and children.
There used to be three halting places on this
desert in the old times of stages and mail wagons,
called the "Aleman," "Water-holes" ("Leguna del
Munto"), and "Point of Rocks." The last and
most southerly was the most dangerous and the
most dreaded The water-holes, after a rainy season,
sometimes held a little water, and the "Aleman,"
the northern halting place, was once inhabited by
a German family, who dug a well and built a cabin,
but they were all massacred by Indians and the well
filled up. A lonely, terrible journey it used to be,
as its name suggested, and on its road side could be
seen the graves of many a poor traveler who had
been murdered by Indians and buried later by suc-
ceeding travelers.
I started from Fort Craig, one afternoon, to cross
the Jornada — the only passenger in the mail coach.
We had no conductor, so that the driver and myseii
were quite alone.
In front of us rode, in a spring wagon, a guard
or escort of colored soldiers. After crossing th'i
Rio Grande, below Fort Craig, I noticed the drive.-'
was getting more and more under the influence of
liquor, and a full bottle of some vile compound
from the post trader which he had purchased ju.^t
before starting did not seem to promise well for any
chance of his return to soberness. To my dismay,
the colored escort kept far in advance, and the
46
distance between their wagon and ours was momen-
tarily increasing. Once I thought I would hail them
and request their non-commissioned officer in charge
to stay nearer the stage. The driving of our stage
became more and more careless, and after an hour
or two of this misery, a shower came up accom-
panied by thunder and lightning. The mules be-
haved badly, and when at last a sharp squall struck
us, they turned suddenly to the left, and in spite
of' the clumsy efforts of the driver to restrain them,
broke the tongue of the stage short off, and not till
then would they come to a standstill. The last I
had seen of the escort, they were huddled together
with their blankets over their heads, to keep off th3
rain, and after the mules had quieted down I looked
up for them, but they were then nearly out of sight.
I fired my pistol several times to attract their at-
tention, but they neither halted or looked around.
The situation was gloomy in the extreme. I was
practically alone on the terrible Jornada, and in
the condition best suited to attract Indians, i. e.,
in distress with a large target in the shape of the
stage to attract attention. My escort was worthless,
and my only companion in the shape of a human
being was now sound a sleep. I soon jumped out
and unharnessed the mules, hitching one to each
wheel, and having succeeded in capturing and dem-
olishing the cursed whiskey bottle and what re-
mained of its contents, I went to work to try to
repair the damages received by the stage. A rope
being at hand, I tried to splice, first tying one end
to the axle and then to the end of the tongue, and
then trying to splice the broken portions togethei\
I kept my eyes well open and feared that I should
47
soon be another victim for Apache cruelty. Look-
ing up in the midst of my work, I saw, to my hoi'-
ror, some figures approaching from a direction
which did not suggest the road. I tried to rouse
the stupid and worthless driver, but all my efforts
failed, and even the words: "The Indians are com-
ing," seemed to have no terrors for him. I got in
and carefully loaded my only revolver, determined
to die bravely and also determined never to be taken
alive. Anxiously I watched the bold advance of
the enemy, who approached without any caution,
and I accounted for this in believing that they knew
how weak our party must be and feared not to ap-
proach. A turn in their course and a rising of
the ground disclosed to my eye the waving of a cape.
No, it must be a blanket! No, it is a cape! They
are soldiers! And I sprang out, and in my youth-
ful joy and gratitude ran forward to meet them,
and ready to weep at my deliverance. The new-
comers were of the regular army; a cavalry officer
and trooper crossing the lonely Jornada to their
post, Fort McRae — established by Captain Grant in
1863 — a little off the road to the right of the Point
of Rocks, not far from the celebrated ojo del muerto
or spring of death. How glad I was to see them,
and they, when the stage first came into their
sight, had hastened on, wondering what had hap-
pened. The escort had not turned back, but my
new found friends took hold and repaired the broken
tongue, and as the driver came to his senses he got
a precious sharp lesson from the officer for his
miserable conduct. We started again on our jour-
ney, and at Water Holes found our escort calmly
waiting for us. When we reached Fort Selden, the
48
non-commissioned officer lost his stripes for negle-it
of duty, I believe, and so the experience on the Jor-
nada was ended much more satisfactorily than it
promised at its beginning.
49
THE SENTINEL OF THE SOUTH-
WEST.
"The topography of New Mexico is said to by
composed of loftly plateaus and crossed by moun-
tain ranges enclosing broad and fertile valleys. Two
divisions of the Rocky Mountains are prominent :
that on the east, and the higher, ending abruptly
near Santa Fe ; the western, or Sierra Madre range,
passing through in a series of lower, and often de-
tached, mountains to join the Sierra Madre range
of Mexico. High table-lands, isolated peaks and
deep canons characterize the western side. The Rio
Grande valley descends from an elevation of nearly
six thousand feet near the Colorado border to three
thousand feet in the south. Several mountain peaks
have an elevation of twelve thousand feet."
In Grant County, in the southern portion of New
Mexico, one of these isolated peaks known as Cook's
Peak, but by the soldiers quite familiarly as "Old
Baldy," is situated at the southern extremity of a
typical New Mexican canon upon whose rugged sides
are still to be found the skeletons of northern and
southern soldiers who fought a battle in its lonely
fastnesses. Here, too, in this canon many an emi-
grant train and lonely hunter have met death at
the hands of the cruel Apaches. It was in this same
canon that a stagecoach carrying six men fell into
50
an ambush of Indians. They turned the stage over
on its side and fought for days, holding off mur-
derous Apaches under the command of the famous
Cochise, until at last famished and exhausted from
lack of water, their ammunition expended, the Indians
closed in upon them and cut their throats. Cochise
said that with a hundred such men he could drive
all the palefaces west of the Mississippi back to their
homes where they belonged.
This was a famous old canon and many adven-
tures come to mind as I see in my mind "Old
Baldy," more often snow-capped than not, risin^.;
as a veritable sentinel of the southwest and towering
high above the little garrison of Fort Cummings so
often at the mercy of its Apache enemies. Betwee\i
"Old Baldy 's Peak" and the garrison was a ranch
for pony express riders where they changed their
horses and had time to get a little nourishment.
Here relief riders took the mail and dashed up the
canon crossing the Mimbres at Mimbres, dashing on
from thence past the hot springs to Fort Bayard,
forty-four miles away.
One of those pony express riders met with a sad
fate. The writer had gone to Mimbres from Fort
Cummings with an escort of two or three troopers
to take medicine to the sick at Mimbres and upon
his return to Fort Cummings reported that he had
not seen any Indians, but that the pony express
rider, Charlie Young, had not yet reached Mimbres.
This created considerable excitement at the garrison
because Charles was a popular pony express rider.
He had been well educated in a western university
and his family were prominent people in St. Louis,
but through evil associations he had lost consider-
51
able money and had volunteered to the pony ex-
press director for the position of a rider in Nevv
Mexico. He was a brave and companionable man,
said to be a fearless rider and a crack shot, so when
his absence was reported the commanding officer
sent a search party to hunt for his remains. Far
beyond CooIj's gloomy canon and quite a distance
from the trail they found his naked, mutilated body.
Everything had been taken, including his scalp. The
soldiers returned with his remains which were washed
and put in a little rough coffin and buried in the
lonely post cemetery where I trust they repose in
peace to-day.
Much of the wood of the garrison was obtained
at Cook's Canon under the shadows of ''Old Baldy. "
A detachment of from sixteen to twenty men with
a detail as guard, and all well armed, would take
wagons and go into the canon and procure what-
ever wood they could for the garrison. Upon ont^
occasion some colored soldiers who had lately ar-
rived from the southern states came on a party of
Apache Indians. So suddenly did they meet each
other that the Indians concluded it was a military
force sent against them and the colored soldiers con-
cluded that the Indians were looking for them, so
both Indians and soldiers beat a hasty retreat and
the officers in a very unamiable frame of mind drove
back to the garrison alone in the wagons.
In every direction around old Fort Cummings we
could see our wily foe, the Apaches, forever watch-
ing us. Some mornings we would find their tracks
upon the parade ground where they had scaled the
wall, crossed through the garrison, and scaled th?.
other wall without being observed. It was strictly
52
against the rules for any soldier to leave the gar-
rison without permission, and hunting parties in the
canon usually consisted of at least a dozen men, but
one time when few Indians had been seen and things
seemed quiet, so far as Apaches were concernea,
the writer obtained permission to ride out alone for
a little rabbit shooting. Mounted on a good horsa
with a Sharp's carbine and a Navy Six shooter he
rode past the water spring at which the post got
its supply of water, past the pony express ranch,
and around the base of "Old Baldy" up into the
canon, one beautiful quiet afternoon, without an
Indian anywhere in sight. Gaining confidence from
the silence and the pleasure of the ride he turned to
the left and penetrated a little canon. In a fevv
minutes, comparatively speaking, he found himself
in the midst of a lot of Apache women setting up
tepee poles. Of all the astonished Indians the
writer ever saw and of all the astonishment the
writer ever endured this was the banner event.
The Indians straightened up from their postures
with amazement written on their faces, too aston-
ished to make a spring and drag the rider from his
horse. The rider after a pause, which seemed very
long to him, turned his horse completely around an.l
vigorously using the spurs and bending low on the
horse's neck he dashed towards the main canon with
the yells of the Indians ringing in his ears, ex-
pecting every minute a volley of shots. On the
canon trail he saw the weekly buckboard mail wagon
traveling towards the garrison. As the buckboard
driver took in the situation he whipped up his
horses and we dashed to old Fort Cummings with
all the speed we could make. So near were the
53
Indians that the sentinel on the outside of the main
entrance fired npon them and others joined in shoot-
ing at our late pursuers as they wheeled, and soon
they were out of sight round "Old Baldy" and in
the recesses of Cook's Canon.
54
THE PRAIRIE MONITOR.
There are few men living to-day who have any
knowledge of the famous prairie monitors which
were in use in the "sixties" along the dangerous
trail of the "Smol^y Hill." In 1867 the railroad
penetrated as far as Fort Hays, Kansas, the begin-
ning of the "Smoky Hill" route. The famous
Smoky Hill route from Hays City went westward
to Wallace and thence on to Lake Station, Colorado
Territory. Cedar Point Station, a small outpost
garrisoned by a company of the 5th Infantry, was
one of those forts in which the enlisted men lived
in ' ' dugouts, ' ' little cellars, and the officers had their
quarters in wall tents built about the sides with
rough lumber. The most deadly portion of this
trail extended westward through Ellis, Trego, Gove,
and Logan counties, over one hundred miles to Fort
Wallace, a strong garrison with buildings made of
the beautiful yellow stone of western Kansas. At
this time in our frontier history the Indians were
making very strenuous effort to drive all the whites
back from the frontier. Massacres were of frequent
occurrence, ranches were burned, the stock driven
off, and the families of the hardy frontiersmen were
doomed to an imprisonment worse than death. The
army details scattered along the frontier were hardly
strong enough to maintain their own existence.
This state of affairs made staging and the carrying
out of mail contracts difficult, and generally dan-
55
gerous, business. When the Indians were particu-
larly active, an escort of a half dozen soldiers would
frequently be provided, but more often the run from
stage ranch to stage ranch was an exciting experience,
and the driver and the passengers had a running
fight with the Indians a large portion of the way.
Fortunate the outcome if all got through safe and
sound. Sometimes the harrassed passengers hoping
for security at the next post-ranch where change
of horses and food were usually to be expected,
found only the smouldering remains of the build-
ings, and the mutilated bodies of the defenders. With
little or no warning a band of savage Indians would
swoop down on a post-ranch, and murder its little
garrison, destroy the buildings, and drive off the
stock before relief could be obtained.
It was this desperate state of affairs which first
suggested the prairie-monitor. This frontier fort
which was so often the despair of the Indians, antl
the protection of the frontiersman, was built after
the following general plan : First, an excavation
was made, like that for an ordinary cellar, about
ten feet deep, fifteen feet long, and averaging ten
feet in width. Of course these dimensions varied
according to the nature of the ground, and the
number of people to be accommodated. The struc-
ture itself was hardly noticeable a short distance
away, as it was elevated only about sixteen or
eighteen inches above the surrounding level or just
barely high enough to afford loopholes for the rifles
of its garrison. Within planks were placed on
barrels or boxes on which they stood to
obtain the necessary aim while firing. The roof
was made of heavy timbers covered deep with earth
56
so that the Indians could not dig out ''the monitor."
Sometimes two of these monitors were constructed
so as to connect with each other by means of an
underground passage; each had an undergroun(i
passage leading to a cellar in the ranch-house so
that when the defenders of the ranch saw that the
time had come, through fire, or the breaking down
of the doors by the Indians, for them to look to
this refuge for their last hope, they jumped into
the cellar, and crawling on their hands and knees
through this passage, they reached the monitor. No
Indian would dare to follow them in this manner,
as a boy with an axe would be sufficient guard. One
dead or wounded Indian would block the entrance.
It was customary to keep provisions and water, and
a reasonable quantity of ammunition, in these moni-
tors to provide for an emergency. The distance of
these structures from the ranch depended upon cir-
cumstances. Sometimes they were located midway
between stable and dwelling with an underground
passage connected with each. The object of the
double monitors was to provide a crossfire, and to
prevent the enemy from digging out the besieged.
The siege of such a place was usually of very short
duration, as the Indians did not dare to remain long
in one location. The last of the monitors must have
disappeared years ago, as civilization has advanced
in its triumphant westward course.
57
BILLY DIXON, THE SCOUT.
William Dixon, government scout— such was the
official designation.
Col. Dodge, one of our best authorities on tlio
Indians, states that the success of every expedition
against Indians depends to a degree on the skill,
fidelity and intelligence of the men employed as
scouts. For not only is the conunand habitually
dependent on them for good routes and comfortabLj
camps, but the officer in command must rely on them
almost entirely for his knowledge of the position
and movements of the enemy. Of 50 men so em-
ployed, one only may prove to be really valuable.
Of the hundreds of men so employed by our gov-
ernment since the war in our Indian campaigns,
only a very few have attained distinction. Kit Car-
son, California Joe, Wild Bill, Buffalo Bill, Texas
Charlie, Amos Chapman, Billy Dixon and a few
others are all who have left any lasting impression
on my mind.
Billy Dixon was our government scout at Foit
Elliott, in the Texan Panhandle. He was well
known as a famous Indian scout, and has been in
many close places with the Indians, and has per-
formed many valuable services for the United States
army.
His scouting grounds were by no means confine 1
to the Panhandle, but one of his most important
experiences occurred at what is known as the Adobe
58
Walls. Col. Bent and Kit Carson established, many
years ago, a trading point at this place, about two
miles above Bent's Fort, for the purpose of supply-
ing the buffalo hunters who had followed the buf-
falo down to this point from the north, and whose
traffic had become a gigantic affair.
It was at these Walls where a fierce fight took place
with Indians. The principal building, known as
Rath's store, has been described by Capt. Moses
Wiley as "about forty feet long, with two room.^,
bastioned and embrasured."
Billy Dixon thus describes the fight which took
place in the morning of the 24th day of June, 1874.
''On the morning of the 24th of June, 1874, I
was at the Adobe Walls. My buffalo camp was about
25 miles from here, on the south side of the Cana-
dian. I expected to start out that morning on a
hunt; and as it was warm weather, I slept out of
doors, in front of the saloon, in my wagon. Two
men that were to have gone with me slept in the
saloon. Our horses were grazing in the bottom,
toward the creek. My own riding horse was pick-
eted close to my wagon. About daylight, the men
sleeping in the saloon were awakened by the crack-
ing of the ridgepole, and, thinking it was not worth
while to go to sleep again, woke me in order to get
an early start. One man started after the horses,
and had gone but a short distance, when he gave
the alarm of 'Indians!' Looking in that direction,
I saw a large number of them crossing the bottom,
and as soon as they saw that they were discovered,
they gave the warwhoop and came on a charge.
"I did not think at the time that they intended
to attack, but only that they were after our horses.
59
I therefore ran to my own horse, tied him to my
wagon, and then got my gun. By this time the In-
dians were within a hundred yards. I could then
understand their intention was to attack the houses.
"I began firing at them, and retreated into the
saloon. There were seven of us in this building,
and we fougbt there for some time, before the men
in the other buildings got roused up. We killed a
good many Indian horses between the saloon and
the store. The Indians in their charge passed be-
tween the buildings. There were from three to five
hundred of them, and they completely surrounded
us. They did their best to force in the doors, but
our steady fire drove them off. They retreated to
the hills, about 800 yards away. From here they
kept up a continuous firing, in order to aid their
friends who had lost their horses and so could not
escape.
' ' Whenever a volley would be fired, the dismounted
Indians would rise from the ground, and run ];"}
or 20 steps toward the hills, and then drop in the
grass again to hide from our fire. In this manner
a good many of them got away. Twenty-eight men
kept these red devils at bay; three of the white
men were killed. Two of them were the Shadley
brothers, who were sleeping in their wagon, and
were found dead when we were able to go out and
look around us. We buried all three in one grave,
near the place where the Shadley wagon stood.
"The fighting lasted from about daybreak until
the middle of the afternoon. During most of the
time we were firing at a distance of from two to
three hundred yards. Two Indians were killed and
left on the field at close range. Two were killed to
60
the east of the building, and one near the Shadley
wagon. This one is supposed to have been the Indian
who killed the Shadleys, as he had plundered the
wagon and was making off with some goods whe?i
he was shot.
"About 75 yards to the rear of the store was a
large pile of buffalo hides, and while the fight was
in progress I noticed an Indian horse standing by
it, and could also see the head dress or feathers of
an Indian, as though he were hugging very close
to the hides. I fired at his feathers, and he dodgeii
around to the other side of the pile; this brought
him within range of the guns from Rath's house,
and he was forced to dodge back again. In this
manner we kept him in hot water about ten minutes.
I then fired at his horse, which dropped at the crack
of the gun.
"I could then see the Indian a little plainer, or
rather could tell better where he was standing, be-
hind the pile of hides, by his head feathers. I was
shooting a buffalo gun, known as Sharp's big fifty.
Guessing at his position as well as I could, I fired
right through the hides at him. I must have
scorched him, for he immediately broke from his
hiding place, ran about 15 steps, and then dropped
in the grass. He gave a short yelp like a coyote at
every jump. After the fight was over, we found
nine dead Indians lying within a space of a hundred
yards square. When we had got rid of the Indians
around the buildings, we began firing at long range
and drove them out of sight over the hills.
"I went over from the saloon to Rath's building
and found they had barricaded the door with sacks
of flour. While looking out from this position, I
61
noticed something wrong at the base of the hills,
about 800 yards away. I fired several shots before
I could get the range right, and then the object
stopped moving. When the fight was over, I went
out to see what it was I had been shooting at, and
found it was a dead Indian. He had his knee
crushed with a bullet, and had crawled and dragged
himself a quarter of a mile, when I hit him a center
shot through the breast and finished him.
"It is impossible to say what the loss of th?
Indians amounted to, but I think it must have been
very heavy, for besides the 13 dead ones left on the
field, there were found behind the hills many indic-
ations of wounded Indians. At one place, a lot )f
clothing, such as moccasins, leggings, blankets, etc ,
had been cut up and destroyed. The fragments
were bloody, and from these indications I judge that
many of the Indians had died of their wounds, and
their etiects were destroyed because they could not
be carried off. The warriors were from the Coman-
ches, Klowas, Cheyennes, and Arapahoes. Their ob-
ject was to plunder the stores, as they had learnerl
that there were large quantities of ammunition there.
The previous night, one of the medicine men of the
Comanches had held a medicine dance to determine
the advisability of attacking the place, and had de-
clared in favor of it, telling the Indians that the med-
icine was so strong that all thy would have to do was
to ride up and knock their intended victims on the
head while asleep.
"They came very near succeeding. Had they been
15 minutes earlier, or had it not been for the crack-
ing of the ridge log in the saloon, which aroused the
sleepers, their medicine would have been a success."
62
CONCERNING ARROW WOUNDS.
Although many of our Indian tribes are at present
armed with the most perfect modern breech-loading
rifles in the 60s, the arrow was the favorite weapon of
Indian warriors. Swift, silent, accurate, and dead-
ly, it possessed for their i)urposes many advantages
either for the chase or for warfare.
The arrow, one of the oldest of weapons, seems to
have nearly outlived its usefulness, and no doubt
will soon exist only in museums or in the gentle
sport of archery, but it was an implement of
Indian w^arfare worthy of consideration. By
our soldiers stationed on the frontier, and inured
to constant Indian forays, it was regarded with
the greatest aversion, the most dreaded of all
missiles to which they were exposed. A single scratch
from one of these terrible implements was more to
be feared than a bullet-wound. In one of our
frontier hospitals a soldier died in great suffering
from what seemed to be a very superficial flesh-
wound across the chest, made by an arrow in a
skirmish with Indians. The arrow was left on
the field, and so it was quite impossible to determine
the nature of the poison; but that he was the vic-
tim of a poisoned arrow admits of little doubt. The
supposition that the Indian shoots his arrows care-
lessly and wastefully is erroneous. It is possible for
63
the expert marksman to discharge arrows rapidly,
but it re(iuires too much time and labor to make a
perfect arrow; and, even if the Indian were not
inclined to laziness, materials for arrow-making are
usually too scarce to allow of much waste of such
valuable ammunition in action. The arrow can be
shot with as much precision as our modern revolvers,
and at one hundred yards is a deadly weapon. The
arrow flies with great swiftness, and has great pen-
etrating power. Several specimens in the Army
Medical Museum show how deeply an arrow-head
can perforate bone. A soldier rode into Fort Cum-
mings, New Mexico, chased by Apaches. He had
received one or two wounds, from the effects of
which he died, and in the tree of the saddle he rode
upon, an arrow-head was so firmly imbedded as to
defy removal by hand.
The arrow of the American Indian is indeed skil-
fully prepared, light, straight, and strong. The
shaft contains carefully-made grooves, to allow the
blood to escape easily. Each tribe, and even each
warrior, has easily-recognized devices on the shaft,
so that they are able to determine from whom the
arrow came. To secure the necessary feathering re-
quires skillful fingers; but perhaps the best work
on the arrow is shown in the attachment of the head
to the shaft. After carefully drying and straight-
ening the shaft, a slot is made into which the arrow-
head is carefully fitted and bound with wet sinew.
The drying of the fibres contracts until the arrow-
head is secure.
Many of the best arrow-heads were manufactured
in the Eastern States and sold to Indians through
the traders, or even issued by Indian agents; but
64
they were mostly made from scraps of iron hooping,
of flint stone, bone, glass, wood, etc. Many agricul-
tural implements, presented to the Indians by ad-
miring Eastern philanthropists, furnished admirable
opportunities for the manufacture of countless quiv-
erfuls of arrows.
The attachment of the arrow-head, although se-
cure while dry, rapidly loosens when wet, and it is
on this account that it is almost impossible to re-
move shaft and head from a wound. The head is
almost certain to become detached and remain hid-
den or firmly embedded in the wound.
But if the Indian has shown considerable skill in
the manufacture of the arrow, he also possessed re-
markable surgical ability in removing an arrow from
the wound.
The removal was effected by taking a willow stick
and carefully splitting it and rubbing it as smooth
as possible; then the pith is carefully cleaned out,
and the ends rounded to present as little obstacle
as possible in following the wound-track. One stick
was introduced very carefully to reach and cover the
uppermost fang of the head, and the other to cover the
lower fang, and when both are properly adjusted
the outer ends are bound to the shaft of the arrow,
and all are carefully and slowly withdrawn. When
it was possible to push the arrow through until the
head is exposed and cut off, it was done; the
shaft could then be drawn backward easily. No trac-
tion should ever be made with the shaft unless the
head has been removed; for the least effort in this
direction is sure to loosen it and leave the head m
the wound, thereby adding increased dangers to a
wound already serious.
65
Much difference of opinion seems to exist con-
cerning the poisoning of arrows, and many deny-
that the American Indian intentionally poisons his
arrows; nevertheless it is generally admitted that
most of our Indian tribes practice the art of arrow-
poisoning and show considerable devilish ingenuity
in doing so. In the first place, we must consider
that all tribes held more or less secret all that re-
lated to the education of the warrior, and it was not
surprising that the mysteries of arrow-poisoning were
not so lightly valued as to enable any one to become
familiar with the process. It was very naturally a se-
cret which few warriors would care to communicate.
Many substances were used, and undoubtedly some
methods elaborate in disgusting details fail to make
the arrow as poisonous as some of the simpler meth-
ods seem to do. Some rely upon juices pressed from
poisonous plants, into which not only the heads but
the shafts also are dipped, and others use animal
substances and fluids, like rotten flesh and putrid
blood, even reserving portions of dead enemies for
this purpose, although this last method is very rare
indeed. Some use a combination — for instance, a
liver and mashed serpents' heads — but generally
each warrior or family have their own secret method
of poisoning, as well as of preparing the "medicine"
to make the arrow deadly.
Perhaps the commonest method and least secret
of all was to take a beef's liver and stick it full of
arrows, like pins in a pin-cushion, and leave it in
the sun until the animal mass had rotted away. M
Hoffman* has stated regarding "poisoned arrows,"
at a recent seance of the Societe d 'Anthropologic,
that "the Apaches bruise up the heads of rattle-
66
snakes with fragments of deer's liver, allow the mass
to become putrid, then dip the arrow-points, and
allow them to dry slowly." lie also mentions the
use of poisonous plants, i. e., the ''Spanish bayonet,"
also red ants pounded together, and other methods.
Besides being more elaborately decorated, if not
certainly poisoned, the w^ar arrow differed in make
from the plainer hunting arrow. The head of the
war arrow is shorter and broader than that of the
hunting arrow, and is attached to the shaft at right
angles with the slot which fits the bowstring, the
object of this being to allow the arrow in flight more
readily to pass between the human ribs, while the
head of the hunting arrow, which is long and nar-
row, is attached perpendicularly to the slot, to allow
it to pass readily between the ribs of the running
buffalo.
These arrows are also used for conveying fire,
either in considerable masses to set fire to hay or
to inflammable buildings, or as signals at night.
The writer was once with an expedition crossing the
plains, and at Cimarron Crossing the whole com-
mand was surrounded by large numbers of Indians,
who during the night seemed to be in communica-
tion with each other from one side of the river to
the other by means of fire-arrows.
All these details which I have mentioned show how
skilfully the Indian arrow was made, and also what
a formidable weapon it must be in the hands of
experienced and crafty marksmen.
The following remarkable case illustrates the fact
that, while the simplest arrow-w^ounds may prove
mortal, recovery can follow a wound which from its
very nature seemed certainly to have no other than
a fatal result in prospect:
67
While passing through the little town of Trinidad,
Colorado, some years ago, I was called to see a man
who had received a severe and apparently desper-
ate arrow-wound through the right chest in a skir-
mish with Indians a day or two before. The arrow
had penetrated quite through the right lung. Either
the arrow-head had passed quite through between
the posterior ribs in the first instance, or had nearly
done so, and had finally been pushed out (probably
by some one familiar with arrow- wounds). At any
rate, enough had passed through to allow of detach-
ing the head from the shaft, and then the shaft it-
self had been withdrawn the entire length of the
wound.
Some hemorrhage had followed this rough sur-
gery, but how much I was unable to ascertain,
and the shock, which had at first prostrated the
patient, had been recovered from. I found the
patient, a strong, young man, in bed, apparently
comfortable, and without cough. He seemed to have
little if any serious pain, but his countenance exhib-
ited suffering. I ordered cold-water compresses, and
left some Dover's powders to be taken at intervals,
and I also left some quinine and a couple of bottles
of wine for his convalescence. Some months after-
wards I met the man in robust health, driving a
Rocky Mountain four-horse stage-coach, and with
only the external marks of his desperate wound re-
maining. I understood from him that his recovery
had been rapid and without any further hemorrhage
or other dra\ybacks. He seemed to have the free use
of his lungs also.
Surgeon Bill, U. S. A., has contributed to Ash-
hurst's "International Encyclopedia of Surgery" a
68
most interesting article on arrow wounds. * He says
that ' ' arrow- wounds penetrating the chest and wound-
the lung, although serious, are by no means mortal.
* * * If the patient survives the period of
hemorrhage the prognosis is favorable, for the con-
secutive inflammation is usually trifling, and requires
no treatment beyond placing the patient at rest and
affording a supply of pure warm air." He also di-
rects that "if the head of the arrow has passed from
one side of the chest to the other, it should not be
operated upon with a view to removal backward,
but should be pushed forward between the ribs un-
til the head can be detached from the shaft, and then
the shaft withdrawn." Dr. Bill also states that "if
the head of the arrow has been left in the lung tissue,
nothing can probably be done for the patient." In
Dr. Bill's table of arrow- wounds of the chest, he
shows that in eighteen cases there were thirteen
deaths — about 72 per cent. There were five recov-
eries.
*W. T. P. in Philadelphia Medical and Surgical Reporter,
July 28, 1883.
69
INDIAN REVENGE.
The spirit of revenge, strong as it is in all human
beings, is peculiarly noticeable in our North Ameri-
can Indians.
Yet "Lex talionis," or the law of retaliation, is by
no means confined to savages; its recognition is more
or less universal. Civilization, and even the gentle
influences of religion, cannot wholly eradicate it.
We witness its existence every day in our courts of
justice, and in the ordinary affairs of human life.
In the ancient government of the Indian tribes
the chief was a despot, armed with the powers of a
czar. He held in his hand while in power the prop-
erty, and even the life, of each individual of his
tribe. He might take the life of his dog, his horse,
or of his wife, unchallenged, since they were his own
property, but should he do this with the "belong-
ings" of another, he was forced to pay a fine in pelts
or ponies. If in his anger he killed a man, there
was no law so far as the tribe was concerned, but
the penalty of death hung over him like a cloud,
and any one of the relatives of his victim would be
justified in demanding a duel, or even in waylaying
and killing him as one would a beast.
These avengers of blood, when once started, might
continue perpetuating the blood feud until the tribe
would become crippled through this system of re-
venge. So when in battle one tribe had killed mem-
70
bers of another, the deadly hostility was nurtured
for generations before the hatchet would be buried.
In 1879 the Sioux, who had been for generations
the natural enemies of the Chippewas, buried the
hatchet with elaborate ceremonies at Devil's Lake,
in Dakota, whither prominent men of each tribe had
assembled for that purpose.
It was in this same year that my duties took me to
White Earth Reservation, occupied by the Mississippi
bands of the Ojibway Indians. As I approached the
agency my attention was attracted by a lonely grave,
over which banners were waving, and upon making
inquiries as to this, to me, unusual sight, I was in-
formed that it was the grave of the great chief
"Hole-in-the-Day," the famous warrior of the Chip-
pewas, who, although he had fought in many bloody
encounters with the enemies of his people, had at
last been laid low by the knife of one of his own
tribe. The banners were waving over his grave,
grim tokens that his murderer still lived, and that
the deed was unavenged.
It appears that "Hole-in-the-Day," although the
head ciiief, and a man distinguished for his courage
as a soldier and his wisdom as a counselor, had dis-
carded his native Indian wife and had allied him-
self with a white woman. This act gave otfence to
some of the Indians, who hated the palefaces, and
his tragic end was the result.
At the present time this law of retaliation is no
longer countenanced by the United States Govern-
ment. Unruly and arbitrary chiefs are deposed.
71
HYGIENE AMONG THE
ABORIGINES.
In considering the manners and customs of our
Indians, we must rememl)er that while the term In-
dian conveys to our mind a certain idea as to gen-
eral characteristics, Indian tribes differ from each
other in appearance, manners and customs as
widely as the tribes of "pale-faces" differ from
each other. Writers, in describing our aborigines,
have often made this mistake, detailing the customs
of one tribe as if they were descriptive of all Indian
tribes. We can readily understand how so many
mistakes are made in this manner. This is well il-
lustrated when we consider the subject of the dis-
posal of the dead. One tribe may dispose of them
by fire on a funeral pile ; another by preparing them
to become mummies, then by burial in caves in sit-
ting postures: still others elevate their dead on plat-
forms or in trees, and perhaps the more civilized
encoffin them in birch-bark and bury in the earth.
Many characteristics of Indians are found in
all of the tribes, while some particular features are
found only in certain tribes.
The custom of building large fires in the vicinity
of newly-made graves may suggest the idea of the
hygienic value of fire. How much it acts as a pow-
erful disinfectant in preventing the spread of con-
72
tagioiis disease we are not prepared to state, but
that it has some such value there can be no doubt.
In making a study of hygiene among the abor-
igines we shall find much that is interesting. We
shall be able to discover the customs which very
likely have existed among all primitive peoples.
Our native aborigines are undoubtedly superior to
any others in existence to-day. Mentally and physic-
ally, and we may add morally, too, they are superior
to the natives of Central America, South America,
Africa, the Islands of the Pacific, and of Asia. To
begin with, we find the North American Indian an
intelligent, religious, brave and friendly being, pos-
sessing strong parental affection, generosity and
courage of a high order. With such attributes it
is not surprising that we find in him sufficient know-
ledge to provide for himself suitable food, clothing
and shelter. We could also demonstrate that his
knowledge of the treatment of disease is of sufficient
worth to attract attention. We find that writers
who have witnessed the ceremonies of the magicians
imagine them to be the true medicine men or doc-
tors of the tribe, thereby totally losing sight of the
fact that medical and surgical art among our aborig-
ines contain scientific truths which demand recogni-
tion. We must remember that the Indian is very
observing and quick to make use of any facts which
he may consider of value.
The ordinary home of most of the Plains Indians
is called by them a te-pee. It is a conical tent, made
of dressed buffalo skins, or of late years, of cotton
cloth, supported on a framework of light peeled
poles, spread out at the bottom in a circle, and
crossed near the top. It is from twelve to eighteen
73
feet in diameter, and from eight to ten feet high.
The covering, of whatever material, is cut into the
form of a cone, and sewed tightly, except one
straight seam from top to bottom, which is fastened
by a lacing from the top to within four or five feet
from the ground. The opening thus left is the door-
way, the door itself being a buffalo robe or piece
of cloth fastened above and left to hang loose, ex-
cept in bad weather, when it can be tightly stretched
by thongs attached to the lower corners. All well-
constructed te-pees have an arrangement to prevent
the wind blowing down through the opening in the
top. These te-pees were often ornamented with
paintings representing the history of the head of
the lodges, or with representations of various kinds,
supposed to be efficacious in keeping away evil spir-
its. ' ' * These te-pees are easily taken down and can
be quickly placed in position by those who are ac-
customed to them. The fire is built in the centre ;
the smoke is supposed to escape through an aperture
in the top. The te-pee is admirably adapted to the
wants and necessities of the Indians, its shape se-
cures it from being overturned by winds and storms,
and it can be kept warm and comfortable even in
the coldest weather by very little fuel, a most im-
portant desideratum on the treeless plains. The
other kind of lodge is called a wicky-up, temporary
hut constructed of small freshly cut poles or wands,
large ends stuck in the ground, small ends bent over
and fastened together. These he covers with skins,
or blankets, or cloth; the interior is only three or
four feet high. The te-pee is the permanent resi-
*Colonel Dodge in "Our Wild Indians."
74
dence of the Indian, and the wicky-np the make-
shift sleeping-place on hunts and marches. No mat-
ter how tired after the day's march, the Indian will
not sleep in the open air if he can possibly avoid it;
he must be protected from above. Whether this is
a superstition or a habit derived from long exper-
ience, it is difficult to state. When asked about it
they reply that it is not good to sleep out. The In-
dians use pillows when at home in their te-pees,
made of rolled buffalo robe or of the skins of smaller
animals, such as the fox or badger, stuffed with
grass. Their beds are piles of buffalo robes or
blankets spread upon the ground as close as possi-
ble to the outer circumference of the te-pee. These
beds serve the double purpose of sleeping-places by
night and seats and lounges by day. They are not
"made up," though on fine days the bedding may
be taken out, shaken and spread in the sun.
The Chippewa wigwam is built of birch-bark, se-
cured to strong wooden frames, about eight feet in
height and twenty to thirty feet or more in circum-
ference. Platforms for sleeping-mats two or three
feet high circle the wigwam, a bare place in the
centre being left for the ever-burning fire, an aper-
ture in the top permits the escape of smoke and
secures good ventilation. The reed mats used for
carpets are beautiful specimens of Indian work.
These wigwams are considered very comfortable
even in the coldest winter nights, when the temper-
ature is many degrees below zero. The government
has furnished the Indian with windows and doors
for his log-cabin, and while with some Indians these
homes are considered desirable, they are certainly
not as healthy as the te-pee or wigwam. These te-
75
pees of the Indians are continually being moved
about. The squaws attend to the loading and un-
loading of camp equipage and supplies. Camps are
arranged with some degree of order, the "Council
Lodge" and te-pees of the chiefs and principal men
being pitched in the centre, enclosing a space great-
er or less according to the number of the lodges.
To the rear of each chief's te-pee were the lodges
of his followers. The inner circle was the public
space, from which were made by criers all an-
nouncements of orders and discourses of chiefs and
council, notice of movements, and, indeed, every-
thing of public interest. This was the loafing and
lounging place for all, as well as for ceremonial
dances, etc. The Indian is naturally hospitable, and
will share whatever he has to eat with friends or
visitors. There are no regular hours for meals, nor
is there, as a rule, more than one meal a day. A
pot or kettle of meat is put on the fire; when suf-
ficiently boiled it is placed in the centre of the floor,
and the inmates of the te-pee crowding round, help
themselves with knives or fingers. Some few of the
more advanced now use tin or delf plates. Until
within a few years, dried buffalo meat was used
almost universally in lieu of bread, but the issue
of flour, meal and baking powder by the Indian
Department, have civilized them so far that bread
is almost an absolute necessity. Many of the squaws
have learned to make quite good biscuit. "The In-
dians hold the maize, or Indian corn, in great ven-
eration. They esteem it so important and divine
a grain that their story-tellers invented various
tales, in which this idea is symbolized under the
form of a special gift from the Great Spirit. A
76
good Indian house-wife provides a goodly store of
corn to exercise hospitality and duly honor her hus-
band 's guests. ' ' — Sch oolcraft.
The contact with the pale-face has brought about
changes in clothing. The Indian retains his well-
fitting moccasins, but the handsomely-beaded leg-
gings and the breech clout have been discarded, and
in place of them we find them wearing drawers and
trousers of modern materials and fashion. The
broad belt has been discarded and suspenders are
now worn, and instead of the costly hunting-shirt,
the "boiled shirt" of civilization and the white
man's vest are now universally worn. The blanket,
which Indian pride carried with the dignity of the
ancient Roman who once wore the toga, has given
place to the conventional overcoat. The otter-skin
head-gear has been replaced by the ugly Western
hat, and in some cases the treasured moccasins have
been sold or cast aside to encase the healthy, active
feet of Indian braves in cowhide boots. The pic-
turesque attire has so rapidly disappeared even from
the Reservation Indians that we can only find some
traces of native toggery by visiting a "Wild West
Show."
One great stumbling-block towards success in pro-
tecting the physical condition of the Indian is to be
found in the fact that from an out-of-door life of
activity, with plenty of fresh game and wholesome
food and clear water, and with a healthful te-pee for
his home, he has been placed in log-cabins, over-
heated with iron stoves, given the poorest quality of
flour and salted meat, and, in exchange for an ac-
tive life, one of idleness. Under these circumstances
is it at all remarkable that mentally and physically,
77
in some instances, he has degenerated. For the In-
dian, as well as for anyone else, idleness can act
only as a serious injury.
Armed, clothed, housed and fed like our wild and
erratic frontiersman the Indian has lost much of
the old-time life and manner which made him a
native American freeman in the literal sense of that
term. In his native Indian life he was, indeed, a
subject worthy of the artist's picturing, the poet's
description, the philanthropist's interest and the
brave man's respect. As he is now he cannot fail
to inspire in every manly heart feelings of sincere
sympathy and genuine regret at his miserable mis-
fortune. If we can atone for the evil we have
wrought we shall derive benefit from the sense of
a duty undertaken even at this late day.
Boiled meat used to be the favorite food of the
Indians of the plains. The Chippewas have veni-
son, prairie chickens and maize, and understand the
value of broiling meats, but boiling is less trouble
for the squaw cooks, and so the Indian dietary is
arranged accordingly. Col. Dodge declares that the
Indian is a great epicure, knowing the choicest tit-
bits of every animal and just how to cook it to suit
his taste. The great fall hunts used to yield him
the fullest enjoyment of his appetite. Then were
the days spent in all the delights and excitement of
the chase and almost all his nights in feasting and
revelry. These were the times for "marrow gats,"
"hump ribs" and "marrow-bones." The large
bones of the hind-legs of the buffalo were thrown
upon the glowing coals or hidden under hot em-
bers, then cracked between two stones, and the rich,
delicious marrow sucked in quantities sufficient to
78
ruin a white man's stomach forever. Marrow-fat
is believed by the Indians to be especially good for
the hair, and during the feast the greasy hands are
constantly wiped upon his head. The Indian is an
enormous feeder, and well-nigh incredible stories
are related of the amount of meat one can eat at a
single meal.
The Indians understand the value of salt and use
is freely, and are also fond of red and black pepper
and of tea and coffee. Among Indian hunters the
entrails are considered of especial value; bowels,
stomach, liver and heart and lungs are all extreme-
ly desirable, even when raw. Dog-flesh was popular
among all the Indian tribes. It was served cut up in
large junks, with skin and hair and entrails all
boiled in one huge pot. The Comanches were fond
of horse-flesh. The turkey is not considered a de-
sirable dish lest eating it should make the warrior
cowardly. Some of our Indian tribes ate the hearts
of their brave enemies when they killed them in the
battle struggle. This is considered good medicine
and is supposed to create additional courage in the
partakers. An officer at Fort Bowie, Arizona, wa^
killed while attempting to reach the fort. The In-
dians who overtook and captured him cut out his
heart and ate it in the presence of the horrified gar-
rison, who were powerless to prevent the terrible
orgie. At war dances I have often witnessed the
act in pantomime of killing and scalping an enemy
and cutting out his heart and eating it raw. Even
the gurgling noise of sucking up the blood was en-
acted with terrible distinctness.
79
MARRIAGE AMONG INDIANS.
A writer on our North American Indians has
stated that marriage, the bulwark of our civi-
lized community, is lightly esteemed among savages,
and that in some of the tribes communism as to sex-
ual relation jirevails, and that virtue and chastity
are of little worth.
The writer does not state to which tribes these
remarks apply. Evidently his information has been
derived very largely from hearsay concerning de-
cayed and disappearing tribes.
In a paper concerning North American Indian
womanhood, published in the "Annals of Gynecol-
ogy," I quoted from others, but I have done so only
after years of patient, personal investigation, with an
experience dating back years among many different
Indian tribes. I must take strong exception to any
statement which reflects on the general character of
our American Indians. As one writer has stated it:
"They are even more virtuous and more strict in
regard to the marriage tie than with the whites.
Their women are compelled by custom and sentiment
to be virtuous. It is positively erroneous to state
that 'the sexual appetite in Indians is always the
uncontrolled and uncontrollable desire of the wild
beast."
I refer, of course, in my writings, to the full
80
blooded North American Indians. Statistics with
regard to half-breeds are valueless. I have discov-
ered another statement to which I am also obliged
to take exception, and it is that "both local and
constitutional forms of venereal disease abound
among Indian women. The frequency of syphilis
coupled with disease are almost synonymous terms."
I recognize the fact that this is the popular notion.
To judge the merits of statistics, personal experience
is necessary, and it is not right to paint our aborig-
ines in such hideous colors.
The great mortality among infants, and the prev-
alence of glandular and pulmonary disease among
many of those who survive infancy, are sometimes
used as evidence that it is venereal disease which
has made such terrible inroads on the Indian con-
stitution. Any one who has resided a considerable
length of time among the genuine North American
Indian tribes will be sure to recognize the unrea-
sonableness of this statement. During a long resi-
dence at one reservation, only one case of venereal
disease presented itself for treatment, and that was
in a half-breed who had lately returned from a
v/hite settlement!
Our ideas depend upon the tribe from which we
get our statistics. The genuine North American
Indians are not the degraded people of New Mexico,
Arizona, and Southern California, but will be found
to be human beings possessed of the manliest at-
tributes, believers in the Divine Being, whom they
know and worship as the Great Spirit.
They are fearless, vigorous, manly. The Indian's
ideas of right and wrong are of such a character as
to rouse our respect and surprise. To live among
81
them is certain to develop mutual regard ; and, in
my high opinion of their general worth, I have but
echoed the sentiments of the manliest and truest
people it has been my privilege to meet.
82
BABY DAYS IN THE WIGWAM.
Longfellow, in his song of Hiawatha, tells how the
wrinkled old Nakomis,
"Nursed the little Hiawatha,
Rocked him in his linden cradle,
Bedded soft in moss and rushes,
Safely bound in reindeer sinews."
But unfortunately the poet extends his description
of the cradle no further. Catlin, in his admirable
"History of the North American Indians," gives
several illustrations of the papoose-holders or cra-
dles. The papoose-holder is evidently a creation of
necessity. The Indian is a warrior, hunter, pr
statesman, or, in these times, a farmer. If not oc-
cupied in any one of these callings, he is a loafer.
But, whatever the business of her lord and master
may be, the squaw is too busy to be able to de-
vote much time to her children.
I would not have it understood by this that ma-
ternal indifference is an Indian trait, for such is
not the fact. Indians love their children fondly,
constantly, and will make any reasonable sacrifice
for them. Indeed, their fondness for children is
so great that even those of their enemies, if cap-
tured, are kindly cared for.
You can almost always reach an Indian's heart
by little acts of kindness to his children. The In-
dian mother never leaves her infant in the care of
hirelings or strangers, but carries it with her every-
where. She will lay it, or stand it against the side
of the wigwam, or hang it on a nail in her cabin, or
upon a tree near where she is at work. The pa-
poose-holder, or cradle, is a work of art, and decid-
edly a creation of the affection. These cradles are
of ten-times beautifully made and decorated with the
most expensive bead-work, and ornamented with
furs, feathers, ribbons, etc. A piece of buffalo hide
is fastened securely to a board, the hairy side up.
The infant is placed upon this, and the loose sides
are brought together securely in front of the body
and laced; the face is left exposed. The lacing
strings are sufficiently tightened to keep the body
perfectly straight. The broad bands which pass
around the cradle to increase its steadiness are often
beautifully embroidered with porcupine quills. And
the dried buffalo hide is ornamented with all sorts
of pictures in gaudy colors. '*A broad loop of
elastic wool passes round in front of the child's
face to protect it in case of a fall, from the front
of which is suspended a little toy of exquisite em-
broidery for the child to handle and amuse himself
with." When traveling, the arms of the child are
fastened by the bandages, so that in case of a fall
they would not be broken, but at other times they
are allowed to be free, so that the child can amuse
itself.
At first thought the idea of carrying them in this
way may seem to be cruel, but it is not so regarded
by the Indians, and this is the universal custom
among all tribes. I have never known an instance
where any harm has resulted therefrom. A broad
strap, attached to the upper portion of the cradle.
84
passes either to the forehead or to the chest and
shoulders of the mother, and in this manner the in-
fant is carried until it has reached the age of eight
or ten months, when it takes its journeys on its
mother's back, held in the folds of robe or blanket.
Colonel Dodge relates that the Indian mother car-
ries her child so securely that she can play a vig-
orous game of ball with her baby on her back. Once
or twice a day the little prisoner is released for
change of clothing or a bath, or for a romp on the
floor of the te-pee with its brothers and sisters.
Indian child life is not so unhappy as it has been
represented; children are highly prized, and the
Indian mother who has the most enjoys honor and
distinction therefore. With the Indian, as with the
ancient Israelite, the belief exists that "Blessed is
the man who has his quiver full of them." The
children of "civilized" Indians are, as a general rule,
not so tenderly cared for as in the olden days; and
modern methods, as taught to the Indian by the
inferior class of white people with whom they are
most likely to come in contact, do not tend to im-
prove the hygienic conditions. The government pol-
icy does not accomplish what ought to be done for
these aborigines. There is no doubt about it that
much of the instruction afforded would have been
better withheld. The death rate among Indian chil-
dren is, therefore, greater than it should be.
It is well-nigh useless to call attention to the fact
that our whole Indian policy, although very much
improved of late years, has been one of neglect.
Nowhere on the face of the earth can we find
aborigines to be compared with those of the North
American continent. Those who know them best
85
agree that they are certainly worthy of a better fate.
To know how much could be done for these "chil-
dren," and to witness how comparatively little is
being done by a nation blessed with such great
wealth as is ours, is simply deplorable.
The labors of Catholic and other missionaries and
of that unselfish society of noble women, who voice
their necessities in the little paper called the Indian's
Friend, ought to be able to make some impression on
this nation. The Indians are so rapidly paissing
away, that the opportunities for making amends for
the wrong done them will not last long.
8t>
CONCERNING AMERICAN INDIAN
WOMANHOOD.— AN ETHNO-
LOGICAL STUDY.
Dr. Henry T. Byford, in a paper read before the
Chicago Gynaecological Society, February 20, 1885,
quotes Professor Gross as asking, "Why did not the
Almighty create, simultaneously with woman, a com-
petent gynaecologist to meet the inevitable evils?"
Dr. Byford adds that "it seems indeed like a re-
proach upon Him, the crowning work of whose in-
telligence was the creation of woman, that she should
be the most poorly prepared of all beings for the
reproduction of her kind. Was it always thus, or
was child-bearing originally a physiological phe-
nomenon not beyond the power of a healthy woman
to patiently endure?" It is the purpose of this
paper to show that among the North American abo-
rigines, childbirth has been a peculiarly easy func-
tion, seldom attended with inconvenience of ainy
very great moment or of danger to health and life.
Where we find Indian tribes only recently confined
upon reservations, and where the wild or blanket
Indians are in the majority, there we can, without
doubt, most readily ascertain the habits of the abo-
rigine's. The past thirty years have brought about
very remarkable changes in the lives of our Ameri-
can Indians, and as matters stand at present we can
87
hope for only a very little more time remaining for
investigation in this interesting study.
Ethnology is defined by Webster as "the science
which treats of the division of man into races, its
origin and relations, and differences which charac-
terize them." I think we may therefore consider
these investigations concerning Indian womanhood
an ethnological study more than an anthropological
research. We cannot fail even in this superficial
paper to observe how closely related is the human
race. An experience covering years of service
on the frontier has convinced me that while the
tribes of North American Indians differ as widely
from one another as the tribes and nations of pale-
faces are distinct from each other, yet there is a
wonderful similarity observable in all. This is es-
pecially noticeable when we come to investigate the
condition of infancy, childhood and maternity. In
such a research we cannot fail to be impressed with
a decided respect for our native Americans.
Nowhere on the face of the earth can we find abo-
rigines to be compared with those of the North
American continent. Much, indeed, of their history
and tradition has passed away, and when we seek
for records of the nations who occupied this great
continent, comparatively little is to be found. There
is, however, some material within reach to-day, but
in a very few years almost every remaining vestige
will have disappeared forever. That oblivion should
be the destiny of such remarkable nations is a mis-
fortune. We have a right to be proud of our abo-
rigines. Those who know most of our native Amer-
ican or so-called Indians respect them most. Those
who have lived longest with them like them the best.
My experience has brought me in contact with many-
different Indian nations, both in peace and war.
Among these the Ojibways are the most interesting
for investigation. Dr. Hoffman, lately an Acting
Assistant Surgeon in the United States Army, in a
recent article in the University Magazine concern-
ing Shaministick practices, states that "the area of
country formerly occupied by the immense tribes
consisting of the Algonquin linguistic stock, extends
from Nova Scotia southward to the James River, and
westward to Montana. To these divisions belong
the tribes first met with by the French traders in
Canada as early as 1634, by the Puritans in Massa-
chusetts, and by Captain John Smith's band of col-
onists in Virginia. They are believed to be consid-
erably in advance of the tribes of other divisions;
and one of the most interesting bodies from an eth-
nological point of view is the Chippewa or jib way
tribe of the Lake Superior region."
A prominent and highly educated Indian, who
probably knows as much concerning the practices
and customs existing among Ojibways as any man
living, and whom I have known very well while
serving at White Earth reservation, writes me as
follows: "Indian girls usually begin to menstru-
ate from 14 to 16 years of age. The mother care-
fully watches her daughter as the age of puberty
develops, and makes frequent inquiries as to any
peculiar symptoms appearing, and advises her to
keep good watch upon herself and to note the ap-
pearance of anything unusual. She is directed when
the hour arrives of the function of menstruation,
whether it be in the stormy hour of the day or in
the coldest midnight, to immediately leave her home
89
and the village, and retire to a little wigwam, which
has been prepared for her in some lonely, unfre-
quented place about a quarter of a mile or more
away from her home. This temporary shelter has
been built as comfortably as possible, as here she is
expected to spend many days and nights alone. Here
she is not allowed to receive cooked food from the
family. She has been provided with a small tea-
kettle, spoon and tin dish for her own use. Under
no consideration must she pass over any public high-
way. She is strictly forbidden to speak to any men
or boys. During the period of menstriTation she is
considered unclean. During this lonely period of
hours and days of isolation she is encouraged to fast
for full five days. Many eat nothing, and drink
only cold water. It is considered among these peo-
ple that the longer they abstain from food, the bet-
ter, and during this period of fasting the more im-
portant dreams of their sleeping moments are to be
remembered and, if possible, recorded."
Concerning the care of the pregnant woman he
writes: "During this period she is required to take
more out-of-door exercise. Her work is by no means
diminished. She must cut wood, make rice, make
sugar and carry wood on her back. My wife, when
her first delivery took place, was tapping sugar trees
all day. After going to bed a daughter was born
at 2 o'clock in the morning. At 10 o'clock the same
day she went out tapping trees again with her little
babe on her back. Chief Manadowabe's wife, Re-
becca by name, had been gathering rice away from
home. She was then heavy with pregnancy. Start-
ing on the way toward the village, returning with
a sack of wild rice on her back, when about a half
90
a mile from home, she felt the symptoms of delivery.
Putting down the load near the road, she went a
little farther away among the bushes. Here, unat-
tended, the mother gave birth to her child. She
wrapped the new-born babe in her blanket, returned
to her load, and, placing it on her back, started again
for home. I and my wife were building a very large
wigwam when Rebecca reached us. We saw her
coming with a load-sack of rice and something under
her arm. My wife went and met her and took the
new-born babe, and all that day Rebecca was on her
feet to help us finish the wigwam. I called Dr.
Breck to come and see the new-born babe. 'Just
born two hours ago,' I said. 'Rebecca was all alone,
alone by herself,' said I. 'You don't say so!' says
he. 'Yes, alone.' 'Wonderful!' he said. 'Rebecca
did not stay long in bed — one or two weeks, like the
pale-face woman.' "
The same writer informs me that before the de-
livery the woman is given some medicine to insure
safe delivery.
The husband is seldom, if ever, present unless in
an emergency where no woman can be found to as-
sist. Diseases peculiar to women are not common
among Indian women, but there are many native
medicines which are highly prized for the relief of
such troubles. Usually these remedies are admin-
istered through the friendly advice of some exper-
ienced women. Not infrequently in more difficult
cases aid is sought from the medicine man. There
are, however, in every tribe some women of reputa-
tion as "treaters," who undertake the treatment of
cases such as falling of the womb. In Indian women
from 30 to 40 years of age these displacements some-
91
times are found. The clothes worn by women dur-
ing menstruation, or when suffering from disease of
genital organs, are burned. The Indian mother very
frequently wears a broad band around the waist be-
fore the child is born, and also a belt known as the
"squaw belt" during confinement. The cloth worn
as a napkin after confinement is also carefully burn-
ed. The after-birth, called by the Indians "cunoc,"
together with the membranes and cord, are carried
away some distance and burned. After the birth of
the child the mother carefully washes it. The liga-
tion and care of the cord, or rather the stump, re-
ceive the most careful attention from her.
It is carefully anointed with an oil made anti-
septic (?) by the use of herbs gathered by the In-
dians for that purpose. After the stump has fallen
off the parts are washed and again anointed. Um-
bilical hernia among Indians is very rare. I have
never seen a case; neither can I find any report of
such an accident in the experience of other physi-
cians.
Dr. A. I. Comfort, Acting Assistant Surgeon, United
States Army, whose experience with Indian tribes
covers a period of not lesis than a quarter of a cen-
tury, and Mdiose contributions on aboriginal ar-
chaeological Indian mounds to the Smithsonian In-
stitution, as well as his valuable contributions to the
Army Medical Museum on Indian crania and skel-
etons, have given him such a wide reputation as an
investigator, writes me as follows:
"Among the Dakotas, Algonquins, Navajos, etc.,
the age of Indian girls at the appearance of men-
struation is from 12 to 14, though it is modified by
climate, tribal habits and other causes. White girls
92
at frontier posts on the prairies menstruate at an
early age. Diseases peculiar to the sex are, accord-
ing to my observation, uncommon among Indian
women — or, at least, they are not expected to, and
do not, complain. I once saw an Indian mother of
but 12 years of age.
"The occurrence of parturition rarely takes place
after 30, and I have no recollection of any case over
35 years of age.
"The mortality of parturient women among the
Indian tribes is, according to my observation, less
than among white women, though I have observed
no difference between them and half-breed women
subject to the same tribal .influences. I do not rec-
ollect having seen more than six children in one fam-
ily of Indians, and the number rarely exceeds four,
though where a plurality of wives exists each wife
may have four, rarely more. The Indian warrior
finds the exigencies of the chase a meagre support
for a large family; and the Indian women become
very expert abortionists, though they sometimes push
their remedies too far, and terminate their lives by
their rashness.
"Post-partum haemorrhage is, according to my
observation, rare.
"There is no systematic position assumed by In-
dian women during labor; they stand or walk, sit or
kneel, though in the second or third stage they pre-
fer a dorsal decubitus."
A fair description of parturition among Indian
women may be found in Clark and Lewis' Travels,
who describe the pregnant Indian women as falling
into labor while on the journey, leading the pony
attached to the travois. As the pains become un-
93
bearable she transfers her charge to her husband,
runs to the river, gives birth to her child, washes
it, swathes it in swaddling clothes, and runs and
joins her husband, who has not halted in his journey.
In Bancroft's History of the United States, Vol.
II, pp. 420, you will find the following quotation:
*'In one quarter of an hour an Indian woman would
be merry in the house, delivered, and be merry
again; within two days abroad, and after four or
five days at work."
Dr. Carlos Montezuma, agency physician at the
Western Shoshone Agency, Nebraska, writes me that
the Piutes and Shoshone girls menstruate at the aver-
age age of 13 years. Some years ago while attend-
ing physician at the Indian Industrial School in
North Dakota, he found the average at menstrua-
tion among the Gros-Ventres and Arecharees and
Mandans as high as 15 years, while among the
Apaches of Arizona he estimates the average at 12
years. In his experience he finds that Indian girls
menstruate about one year earlier than white girls.
Concerning uterine diseases, displacements, etc., he
reports that in his experience these disorders are
more frequent than is generally understood. Owing
to timidity on the part of the women, digital exam-
inations are not allowed, and for this reason fewer
gynaecological cases are reported. The youngest
mother he ever attended was 15 years of age, and
the oldest 45.
''The mortality among the Indian women during
childbirth is less than among their white sisters,
which is due to more perfect development of their
reproductive apparatus." The largest family of In-
dian children, he reports in his experience, is eight.
94
Post-partum haemorrhage he reports as uncommon.
The position at confinement is that of squatting or
kneeling, in the majority of instances in the tribes
among whom he has been stationed.
Dr. Montezuma states that the Indian women tie
the cord twice — the first knot about four inches from
the navel, the second two inches — the point of sev-
erance between the two knots being close to the one
first tied.
Dr. George W. Era, a surgeon in the Indian Ser-
vice at Santee Agency, Nebraska, writes that his ex-
perience places the average age at menstruation in
Indian girls at 14 years. He does not find diseases
of women common among the full-blood Indian wo-
men. He attended one Indian woman in confinement
as young as 14, and another as old as 47. He finds
the mortality among full-blood Indian women very
much less than among half-breed or white women.
The largest number of children in any one family
in his experience has been sixteen. Post-partum
haemorrhage he has found a "very rare" complica-
tion.
With regard to the most common position at de-
livery he has observed that the kneeling position is
preferred by most Indian women ; they are taught to
kneel, bending forward over a chair or some other
firm support. The services of "pale-face doctors"
are seldom called for in normal labor, but "in cases
of complications or difficulty, when called, they al-
ways under my directions readily assume either the
left lateral or dorsal. ' ' They are ready to accept his
instructions as to the advantages of these posi-
tions over their own customs.
Dr. C. A. Wray, who has spent several years among
95
the Yankton and Crow Creek Indians, and who is
at present surgeon at Yankton Indian Agency, writes
that the average age of Indian girls at the appear-
ance of menstruation is 16 years. He finds that
diseases peculiar to women are very infrequent
among the Indians. He has attended one Indian
mother at the early age of 15 years, and the oldest
parturient is one of 48 years of age. He concludes
that the mortality of Indian women at childbirth is
much less than that of half-breed or white women,
but post-partum haemorrhage he finds of not uncom-
mon occurrence. He reports one Indian mother who
had given birth to nineteen children.
Dr. A. E. Marden, surgeon in the United States
Indian service at the Mescalero Apache reservation.
New Mexico, writes that the average age of Indian
girls at the appearance of menstruation is 13 years.
He finds diseases of women very infrequent among
Indian women. The age of the youngest Indian
mother has been 14, and that of the oldest 44. The
mortality among Indian women is found markedly
less than that among half-breeds. Post-partum
haemorrhage he reports of uncommon occurrence.
The largest number of children in any one family
in his experience has been six. The position he finds
most common in delivery is that of squatting on the
hips.
''Lusk's 'Science of Midwifery,' page 208, says, in
referring to Hold's method as recommended by
Olshausen : ' The patient should at the same time
be directed not to hold her breath during the pains,
except ivhen they are weak and powerle'ss.' We
would naturally infer from this that holding the
breath would increase the expulsive efforts. While
96
Government physician at the White Earth reserva-
tion, Minnesota, I had several opportunities to notice
the management of labor among the Chippewa In-
dians, although the 'pale-face doctor' is rarely called
to attend such cases any more than the Indian 'Mus-
kee-kee-winnie' (medicine man). Hold's method re-
minds me of a practice which I have often witnessed
of the attendant Indian midwife placing the hand
almost violently on the mouth of the patient during
'the pains' whenever they seem to be 'good,' and
omitting to do so when they were weak and power-
less."*
-With regard to the posture of Indian women in
labor, I have found it to vary in almost every in-
stance. In Dr. Engelmann's work on Labor among
Primitive Peoples, he states that amongst United
States Indians the positions assumed in labor are
mostly kneeling, clinging to a tent-pole, the body
inclined forward, or to a rope or horizontal statf,
body inclined backwards, often squatting ; occasion-
ally sitting, semi-recumbent in the lap or on the
floor; semi-recumbent or kneeling erect; more rare-
ly recumbent ; standing erect, clinging to the neck
of an assistant ; tied to a tree or suspended, or in
the knee-chest position. Concerning the position as-
sumed in labor among the Chippewa Indians, Dr.
Engelmann states that "if the parturient is of the
wild or blanket Indians, a quantity of dry grass is
spread on the ground of the te-pee or house if they
have any. A pole, six to ten feet long and three to
four inches in diameter, is placed on the backs of
chairs or fixed across one corner of the room about
*From a paper by the writer iu the New York Medical
Journal, May, 1882.
97
the height of a chair, behind which, with it across
her chest, the woman rests on her knees during the
pains, sitting down in the interval. Those who are
partly civilized assume a somewhat similar position,
but use straw overlaid by quilts and blankets."
Dr. Engelmann also states that the Chippewa
seems to draw horizontal!}^ from the cross-bar, and
not to rest herself or raise herself as do those Indians
who support themselves by staff or pole. This state-
ment, although in the main correct, gives a wrong
idea of the mechanism. The parturient Chippewa
rests upon the pole, and only incidentally draws
upon it, and for this very reason the pole is
carefully wound with many thicknesses of cloth.
Blankets are spread upon the floor upon which, in
the intervals, she rests. This is a customary posi-
tion for these people in labor, and such poles are
carefully cut and prepared for this purpose and are
retained as one of the household implements, and
are loaned from family to family as required. I
have found great difficulty in obtaining information
concerning midwifery among the Chippewas. The
Indians send for the government physician only in
rare cases, and they object to any kind of operative
interference except under the most urgent necessity.
The midwives are exceedingly reticent and jealous
of what knowledge they possess, but they show very
keen interest in the pale-face doctors' methods of
procedure in labor, and are very intelligent critics.
I remember explaining to one Carl Braun's method
of lateral incisions in cases of impending rupture
of the perinaeum. To my surprise she seemed to
think it might be a very good idea. She expressed
great delight with my blunt, pointed bistoury, and
98
seemed to comprehend how many hundreds of miles
I had brought it over the "Big Sea Water."
Rupture of the perinaeum seems to be a rare oc-
currence among the full-blood Indians, but among
the half-breed women I understand it is becoming
quite common. The Chippewas have no reasonable
treatment for post-partum haemorrhage. They at-
tempt little to save the patient. Upon my question-
ing my attendant, who had been in charge of a young
woman who had bled to death after labor, she in-
formed me that if the primitive methods they had
used could not save her, she supposed nothing could
be done. I mentioned this case to the head chief, a
very intelligent man, and he expressed his regret
that I had not been called in time to save the life of
the young woman. At a council of the Indians held
shortly afterward he urgently advised them to send
for the pale-face doctor in cases of emergency. He
acknowledged that our art was superior to their own
old-fashioned ways. He recognized the fact that the
Indians were dying off too fast, and that it was well
worth while to do everything possible to save life.
"Commonly labor is conducted most privately and
quietly; the Indian squaw is wont to steal off into
the woods for her confinement. Alone or accompa-
nied by a female relative or friend she leaves the
village, as she feels the approach of labor, to seek
some retired spot; upon the bank of a stream is the
favorite place the world over, the vicinity of water,
moving water if possible, is sought, so that the young
mother can bathe herself and her child, and return
to the village cleansed and purified when all is over.
This is true of the Sioux, the Comanches, the Son-
kawas, the Nez-Perces, the Apaches, the Cheyennes
and other of our Indian tribes.
99
"The Chippewas, as well as the Winnebagos, also
follow this custom. The natives of the Caucasus,
the Dombars, and other tribes of Southern India,
those of Ceram, the inhabitants of Loango, of Old
Calabar, and many of the African races, are deliv-
ered in this quiet way; and the women are not only
kept apart from their husbands and the villagers
during their confinement, but for weeks afterward.
The reason why we know so little of Indian labor
is the great secrecy which they observe regarding
such matters, and their extreme reluctance to speak
to inquisitive whites of these subjects which are to
them enshrouded in a veil of superstition and mys-
tery. Some of the Sioux tribes, the Blackfeet and
the Uncapapas, are in the habit of arranging a sep-
arate lodge, generally a temporary one, for the oc-
casion, as also do the Klamaths, the Utes and others. ' '
As soon as the Indian baby is born it is placed in
a coffin-shaped receptacle, where it passes nearly the
whole of the first year of its existence, being taken
out only once or twice a day for washing or change
of clothing. This clothing is of the most primitive
character, the baby being simply swaddled in a
dressed deerskin or piece of thick cotton cloth, which
envelops the whole body below the neck. The out-
side of the cradle varies with the wealth or taste of
the mother, scarcely two being exactly alike. Some
are elaborately ornamented with furs, feathers and
bead-work, others are perfectly plain. Whatever the
outside, the cases themselves are nearly the same.
A piece of dried buffalo hide is cut into proper shape,
then turned on itself, and the front fastened to a
board, or in the most approved cradles, to two nar-
row pieces of board joined in the form of an X.
100
It forms a real "nest of comfort;" and as the
Indians are not "sticklers" on the score of cleanli-
ness, it is the very best cradle that they could adopt.
To the board or boards is attached a strap, which
passed over the head, rests on the mother's chest and
shoulders, leaving the arms free. When about the
lodge the mother stands the cradle in some out-of-the-
way corner, or in fine weather against a tree; or if
the wind is blowing fresh it is hung to a branch,
where it fulfils all the promise of the nursery rhyme.
When the baby is ten months to a year old it is re-
leased from its confinement, and for a year or two
more of its life takes its short journeys on its moth-
er's back in a simple way. It is placed well up on
her back between the shoulders; the blanket is then
thrown over both, and being drawn tightly at the
front of her neck by the mother, leaves a fold behind
in which the little one rides securely and apparently
without the slightest inconvenience to either rider
or ridden. I have seen a Nez Perce woman play a
vigorous game of ball with a baby on her back. *
The stature of the Indian woman is usually short ;
a well-built, sturdy frame, capable of incessant toil
and able to endure great fatigue. The shoulders are
broad, the arms long, and the hips large, suggesting
a capacious pelvis. The whole bearing is one of for-
titude, perseverance and unflagging devotion to
womanly duty. When we consider how severe is
their life, how uninterrupted their toil, we are
amazed that their womanly functions do not break
down under the strain of maternity and child-nurs-
*The above is taken from "Our Wild Indians," written by
Colonel Richard I. Dodge, United States Army, and is a truth-
ful description.
101
ing. Diseases peculiar to women are rare among
them. "Their theory of disease is that it all resides
in the blood; to prove this they always recite the
fact that the blood always collects underneath a
bruise and makes it dark ; also the fact that drawn
blood coagulates, hence their favorite remedy was
scarification with small flints." (Dr. Powell, "Con-
tributions to N. A. Ethnology," Vol. III).
The use of inunction with oil by Indian midwives
is quite common. A drink made from a root steeped
in hot water to encourage easy and quick delivery
is in use among the O jib ways.
The "squaw belt" is a broad bandage of buckskin
or of some firm material, more or less ornamented.
These belts or bandages are made use of just before,
during, and after delivery. Dr. Engelmann states
that "among many people there is a certain time of
rest and isolation, which is governed more partic-
ularly by their religious belief of their uncleanliness.
The puerpera is said to be unclean during the time
succeeding delivery as she is during menstruation."
Dr. Fields states concerning the treatment of the
puerperal state that "it is not alike in all the tribes.
Some require the woman to keep on her feet the
greater part of the day, taking short walks around
the camp, and resting only when she becomes very
weary ; for a period of three or four days the woman
continues these walks, with an occasional hour in a
reclining posture to rest her feet; then she is con-
sidered well. The object of this is to facilitate the
flow of the lochia ; they think that should the woman
lie in bed the blood would accumulate in the ab-
dominal cavity, and she must die." Among many
of the Indian tribes both mother and child receive a
102
cold water bath; invariably the child is bathed im-
mediately after delivery and then secured in its
pappoose holder.
That the robust condition and easy mode of child-
bearing are rapidly disappearing from even the full-
blood Indian women there can be no doubt. The
bed has taken the place of the blanket or the pallet
of straw, and the "puerperal state" that of the ready
condition for renewed toil immediately after child-
birth. The daughters and granddaughters of these
sturdy aboriginal matrons consult the pale-face doc-
tor, and are rapidly acquiring the methods of pale-
face women. We can do little to prevent this evo-
lution. One great stumbling-block toward success
in this direction is the present physical condition of
the Indians. From an out-of-door life of activity
with plenty of fresh game and wholesome food and
clear water, with a healthful te-pee for home, the
change has been made to log cabins with overheated,
close air. Poor food, with flour and salted meat of
inferior quality, is mostly what is found in the mod-
ern Indian home. In exchange for an active life
there is much of idleness and indoor confinement.
Instead of being taught how to cook good, whole-
some food, and to make the home healthy, happy and
attractive, embroidery, poetry, music, sentimental
and religious readings are given too much place.
These efforts often made in so-called Indian edu-
cation are certainly ill-advised. Partly on this ac-
count the naturally robust constitution is deteriorat-
ing, and miscarriages and diseases peculiar to women
are noticeably increasing, to the surprise and dis-
gust of the Indian mothers and grandmothers. The
changes made are too sudden and too radical — cer-
103
tainly they are not rational — and the inevitable re-
sult i8 just what might be expected — very general
failure.
We find just such errors in the education of the
colored people. Instead of teaching them first to
earn an honest living, as our fathers did, by toil and
physical labor, these misguided philanthropists wish
to make "exhibition pupils" of them. If hygiene
and manual labor could be looked after more care-
fully, then might follow the cultivation of the arts.
It seems neither right nor wise to begin with em-
broidery and music in the education of an Indian
girl, when kitchen and housework is so often totally
neglected. The Indian, like the white man, should
work his way up from the lower round of the lad-
der; and unless this be the method, disaster is cer-
tain to follow.
Under these circumstances, is it at all to be won-
dered at that, mentally and physically, so many of
our Indians are degenerating? For the Indian, as
well as for any one else, idleness can act only as a
serious injury. To be sure, it is very difficult to find
suitable teachers imbued alike with a sincere interest
for their welfare and at the same time possessing
ordinary common sense. Whether it be wise to stuff
the Indian head with book learning at the expense
of his bodily health is a question which many good
people seem to differ upon very decidedly. The good
people in charge of Indian training can hardly be
accused of insincerity or of intentional neglect of
the physical vigor of the Indian children; but it is
beyond peradventure that a visit to any of our In-
dian schools will convince one that the wholesale
ignoring of the laws of nature must end only in
104
physical injury, if not in gjeneral impairment of the
bodies of the children.
The Cheyennes and Arrapahoes have a curious cus-
tom which also obtains, though to a limited extent,
among other of the Plains tribes. No unmarried
woman considers herself dressed to meet her lover
at night, to go to a dance or other gathering, unless
she has tied her lower limbs with a rope, in such a
way, however, as not to interfere with her powers
of locomotion; and every married woman does the
same before going to bed when her husband is ab-
sent. Custom has made this an almost perfect pro-
tection against the brutality of the men. Without
it she would not be safe an instant; and even with
it an unmarried girl is not safe if found alone away
from the immediate protection of her lodge. A
Cheyenne woman, either married or single, is never
seen alone. The sale of a wife is not unusual, though
becoming less so every year. The Indians are very
fond of children and anxious to have as many as
possible. Should the wife not bear a child in a rea-
sonable time she is liable to be sold. *
My experience with the Indians has been that ex-
cept in the vicinity of military garrisons very little
of acute venereal disease is to be found. For six
months the hospital returns showed no cases of vene-
real disease treated at White Earth reservation.
The record was broken at the end of that time by
the return of a half-breed from the settlement with
a case of acute gonorrhoea. The native Indian wo-
men are virtuous and faithful to their lovers and
husbands. Adultery is severely punished and is
•Colonel Dodge in "Our Wild Indians."
105
commonly condemned. Bastardy is a crime even
among Indians, and the reproach is an everlasting
disgrace. It is safe to say that the standard of vir-
tue is as high among the Chippewas as among their
pale-face sisters. "The green-eyed monster is to be
found in te-pee as well as in palace."
Colonel Dodge has translated a Cheyenne woman's
song, which gives some insight into Indian ethnology :
"I will leave my husband, hah, ha, ha, ha,
ha, yo, O!
But attend to what I say to you, ha, ha,
ha, ha, yo!
You must be good to me, ha, ha, yo, e!
And not make love to other women, ha, yo,
ha, 0!"
To discard an old disagreeable wife for a young
and agreeable companion is not uncommon even
among good Indians.
To investigate the habits and customs of our native
North Americans is to demonstrate how closely al-
lied are the nations of the earth. We are forced to
concede that these people we regard as savages pos-
sess knowledge at least on matters of hygiene, if not
in medical art, quite worthy of attention. We can
find suggestions which may be useful in our profes-
sional work among more cultivated individuals. The
Indian woman in her humble sphere inspires even
in savage hearts the respect for womanhood and
motherhood which was once so prominently a type
of the honor and manhood of the ancient Romans,
and which is the natural characteristic of Anglo-
Saxons. The source from which our aborigines de-
rived their knowledge — it certainly seems more than
106
mere instinct— must remain an unsolved riddle. We
have shown enough to suggest the remarkable sim-
ilarity in Indian customs to those of the ancient laws
of the Israelites. Possibly the theory that our In-
dians are remnants of "the lost tribes" may be a
reasonable one. The reverence universally exhibited
among Indians at the mention of the name of the
Great Spirit— the bowed head and the open extend-
ed palms of the hands— is certainly very suggestive ;
when we add to this the laws governing uncleanness
we are forced to wonder at the coincidence.
Whether so or not, we certainly can discover in
our aborigines traits that are worthy of our esteem,
and characteristics worthy of our sincere regard.
107
THE MUSKEE-KEE WIN-NI-NEE.
The Medicine-Man of the North American In-
dians.
The medicine-man among all North American In-
dians is a person of conspicuous importance, as he
is supposed to possess control over mysterious agen-
cies, and to be endowed with powers well-nigh super-
natural. He is believed to be not only under the
influence of spirits of great power, but to have more
or less control over them, compelling their aid for
weal or woe, upon friend or enemy. He is also sup-
posed to be able to interpret signs of major or minor
import, and to foretell the severity or mildness of ap-
proaching seasons, and the appropriateness of time
for expeditions concerned in the chase, or in war.
These doctors, magicians, prophets, dreamers, or
whatever the medicine-man may be conceived to be,
are prepared for their skilful profession only after
long and arduous training. The tests necessary for
recognition as skilful and responsible practitioners
are often very severe and exacting, requiring physi-
cal endurance and bravery of no mean order. These
ordeals or tests when completed endow the medicine-
man with magical and mysterious powers of cure and
prophecy, acknowledged by all the tribes.
Oftentimes the renown of these men will have
108
spread among other tribes and even among other
nations, Indians making long journeys to consult and
listen to the distinguished Shaman. Young men who
are seeking to become great prophets travel far for
the instruction of those celebrated in the mythical
arts; but such instances are by no means common,
as each tribe has its own system of arriving at results.
The medicine-lodge is believed by many to be the
actual habitation of the Great Spirit ; it is as it were
their tabernacle, or Sacred Ark in the wilderness.
Col. Inman in his Salt Lake Trail thus describes the
inliuence of the medicine-lodge :
"When the prophecies of these medicine-men fail,
the Indians attribute it to some neglect of the in-
structions imparted, and not to any deficiency in
their medicine-man; but when success occurs, great
is the honor bestowed upon their prophet. Their
confidence in these medicine-men is really remark-
able."
The Indian believes in the inunortality of the soul,
and in his dreams and in the semi-delirium of sick-
nesses or accidents gains an insight into future mys-
teries, and has glimpses of the beauties and happi-
ness of the life to come. It is not to be wondered at
therefore that to his prophets he attributes great
discernment in these and all other matters of impor-
tance.
Among the jib ways the commonest form of greet-
ing is Bo-zho-nee-chee. Bo-zho is undoubtedly a
corruption of the French, Bon jour, which thick-
mouthed French voyageurs have repeated in the
hearing of Indians ; and so after centuries the words
Bo-zho have become almost universal among Algon-
(piin Indians, or those living along the Great Lakes
109
and upon the Mississippi, Missouri, and Ohio rivers.
So early trappers witnessed the wonderful influence
of the medieine-men and also saw that these posses-
sors of supernatural powers made use of it in heal-
ing diseased bodies, as well as in controlling the mind
and spirit. They therefore called these men mede-
cin, or doctor.
From calling them doctor or medecin it was an
easy transition to call their power by the same name,
and the similiarity in sounds of the English and the
French words made the term readily adapted by
the English-speaking people. So at last mcdicine-
man came to mean the man having mysterious pow-
er over medicine or magic or mysterious arts in
general ; and the medicine-man controlling the
medicine and some medicine being good, some evil,
certain things came to be called "good medicine"
or "bad medicine," and certain occurrences to be
"good medicine" or "bad medicine," in other words
"propitious" or "unpropitious. "
Traditions have also been in the keeping, as it
were, of the medicine-men. Colonel Inman, in his
Salt Lake Trail, mentions that the Indians of North
America or most of them have a tradition of a great
flood or deluge which occurred ages ago. While on
the expedition of General Carr, in 1869, when Buf-
falo Bill (Cody) was Chief of Scouts, a member of
the command brought into camp a huge bone. The
surgeon of the expedition examined it and said it
certainly must be an enormous femur or thigh bone.
The Indians agreed with this theory, but claimed it
had belonged to one of the giants which inhabited
the earth many generations back. One of the med-
icine-men present thus explained the prodigious size
110
of this apparently human bone. "A long time
ago," said he, "the earth was peopled by warriors
of gigantic stature. These Indians were huge
enough to walk beside the buffalo and lift them up
and carry them under their arms as a man would a
pet dog. These warriors became so powerful that
at last they dared to defy the Great Spirit! This
angered the Creator and He ordered the rain to
come. It poured so continuously that all the rivers
over-flowed their banks, and the prairies became sub-
merged. The Indians in terror fled to the hills
and then the waters rose upon them there. At
last they climbed the highest peak of the Rockies,
but go where they would the Great Father's ven-
geance followed them and engulfed them all. Then
the earth became silent, and when the last of the
waters had receded and all was dry and fair again,
the Mighty Creator sent a new race, the size of men
we now see, not over six and a half feet tall. These
people would not defy the Great Spirit, but taught
their children to call Him Great Father and to wor-
ship Him for His goodness and implore His help
and protection and His blessing. The Great Father
knows the hearts and minds of His children and those
who love Him He blesses."
The Indian medicine-man never teaches disrespect
toward or rebellion against the Great Father, neither
does he count his art as wonderful in the sight of
the Creator of all men and all things.
The religion of the Indians promises nothing for
the next world, having no reference to it, but helps
to prolong life here. The Christian religion is con-
sidered greatly inferior, as its promises are for the
future life.
Ill
The ceremony of the Grand Medicine is an elabo-
rate ritual, covering several days, the endless num-
ber of gods and spirits being called upon to minister
to the sick man and to lengthen his life. The sev-
eral degrees of the Grand Medicine teach the use of
incantations, of medicines and poisons, and the re-
quirements necessary to constitute a Brave. "When
a young man seeks admission to the Grand Medicine
Lodge, he first fasts until he sees in his dream some
animal (the mink, beaver, otter, and fisher being
most common) which he hunts and kills. The skin
is then ornamented with beads or porcupine quills,
and the spirit of the animal becomes the friend and
companion of the man." The medicine-men have
only a limited knowledge of herbs, but they are ex-
pert in dressing wounds, and the art of extracting
barbed arrows from the fiesli can be learned from
them.
"After going through with certain incantations,
the Grand-Medicine-man tells his patient that his
pain is caused by a bear or some other animal, which
is gnawing at the vitals. He makes a most infernal
noise in order to drive the spirit away, and if the
patient recovers, he accredits it to his own skill; if
death follows, he falls back upon the plea so often
used by his white brother, ' I was called too late ! '
They make great gain out of the people and are their
counsellors in peace and war. They are bitter op-
ponents of Christianity. The venerable medicine-
man Shadayence was the most cunning antagonist
I ever had among the Indians. ' '*
In olden times, — yes, to within the memory of liv-
*From Bishop Whipple's Autobiography, "Lights and
Shadows of a Long Episcopate."
112
ing jib ways, — the medicine-man at the funeral cer-
emony thus addressed the departed: "Dear friend,
you will not feel lonely while pursuing your jour-
ney towards the setting sun. I have killed for you
a Sioux (hated enemy of the Ojibways), and I have
scalped him. He will accompany you and provide
for you, hunting your food as you need it. The
scalp I have taken, use it for your moccasins."
And yet in spite of these apparently heathenish
rites, the Indian is never an atheist; always bending
humbly in recognition of the Great Spirit, the Heav-
enly Father, the Creator of all things and all men,
' ' Geechee Manito, ' ' Great Sprit, whom we in English
call the Almighty God.
The Muskee-kee win-ni-nee or medicine-man is
quite a different individual from the priest or proph-
et or magician. The Indian doctor is very skilful
in curing simple ailments. Their remedies are cath-
artics, sweating medicineg, expectoranta or cou#i,
and lung remedies; diuretics, remedies acting on the
kidneys, emetics to produce vomiting; remedies for
inflammation of mucous surfaces, bladder, etc., alter-
atives to eradicate diseases, bitter herbs for tonics,
and soporifics, narcotics, etc., to induce sleep; oint-
ments, emulsions, lotions, teas, etc. When we con-
sider the Indian remedies, it makes quite a phar-
macopoeia and dispensatory. Then the Indians pos-
sess very strict rules concerning the management of
women in their natural ailments, and unlike the
Africans, our Redmen, native Americans, are a clean,
orderly people and worthy of respect. In matters
relating to hydrotherapy they exeel. No one can
give better sweatings.
Down by one of the sweat lodges a woman is kind-
US
ling fires and heating the stones in the centre of the
lodge and outside. She covers the frame with robes
or skins so as to keep the heat in. A bucket of water
stands near the fire. Soon half a dozen young men
come to the place and following them the medicine-
man. The young men drop their blankets and crawl
into the sweat lodge; they are naked as they creep
beneath the coverings. The medicine-man starts his
"Iloyhey, Hoyhey, Hoyhey,"* and sings his sacred
songs. The woman passes a vessel into the sweat
house; the water hisses as it falls on the hot stones,
and steam creeps forth from the crevices in the cov-
erings. At length after a longer or shorter exposure
to the steam heat, the men creep out, rise, and all wet
with perspiration rush down to the stream and
plunge into the cold water. This is the famous In-
dian sweat bath, cleansing, invigorating, almost stim-
ulating. The patient feels refreshed and like a new
man. It is primitive, but it is effective.
And last but not least, these medicine-men are
skilled in counter-irritation for the treatment and
cure of various disorders.
*The word "hoyhey" is hard to spell in English; perhaps
"y^(7j'-ee" would be more explanatory. In the matter of cathar-
tics the Indians outdo their pale-face friends in the abuse and
excess of these remedies. They require large doses and as
every treatment is preceded by purgings, some attribute their
mortality from consumption to be due to this over-dosing.
It is more likely, however, that the change from well-ventilated
teepees to close cabins, and from open wood fires to overheated
iron stoves, and from venison, prairie chicken, and ground
corn cooked in open fireplaces, to the doughy flour bread
baked in stoves, that this is due. The borders of the lakes
where camps and cabins have long been established become
foul and unhealthy, and the pure water they have been used
to has failed. Change of habits and the infrequency of the
healthful exercise of the hunt, also act against their once
rugged constitutions.
114
As surgeons they excel in skilful bandaging,
splints, and other treatment of fractures ; in deform-
ities; in the treatment of snake, dog, wolf, and other
bites. They are adepts in extracting arrows and bul-
lets. Bishop Whipple once narrated to me how the
Indians remove an arrow-head. They take a willow
stick, cut it exactly in half by dexterously splitting
it, remove the pith and smoothing the ends insert
one above the superior flange of the arrow, the other
beneath, then bind the two together close to the
wound and cautiously remove all.
The Indian ambulance or travois is a remarkable
conveyance for carrying the wounded out of reach
of the battle, or for transporting him over long
marches to his home camp. The comfort of this
mode of conveyance is greater than would appear at
first sight. It is from witnessing this primitive
method among our Indians that American army sur-
geons have in frontier wars adopted this system and
called it the travois.
Where can you find among primitive peoples great-
er natural intelligence in all that pertains to every-
day life? In the manufacture of clothing, of tee-
pees or lodges, of arms, or ornaments fit for a prince
to wear? In point of fact, the clothing of a well-
to-do Indian squaw, of which the dress of the wife
of the Ute chief Uray would be an excellent example,
is often quite valuable, ranging anywhere from fifty
to one hundred and fifty dollars. The bead orna-
ments are skilfully and beautifully made, handsome
specimens readily bringing in our eastern stores
from ten to seventy-five dollars. The decorated otter
and mountain-lion skins and the well-known buffalo
hides are highly prized. The skins used for the tee-
115
pees or lodges are most carefully tanned and prepared
by squaws. Moccasins, pouches, rifle-cases, knife-
scabbards, and quirts, are well made and command
high prices. All these beautiful things, together with
pipes, silver ornaments, precious stones, and ores, nug-
gets of gold, are freely given to the medicine-man
for his professional fees, or as a reward from "grate-
ful patients" for some extraordinary success in
"cure." The ordinary fee for the Muskee-kee win-
ni-nee is in yards of calico, so many for each con-
sultation.
The grand-medicine-lodge is usually an unroofed
structure. An excellent picture of the open struc-
ture appeared in The Oi)cn Court, in the article on
"The Cross Among the North American Indians"
Vol. XIII., p. 302.).
The honor of grand-medicine is now and then con-
ferred upon "pale faces," and the writer received
this recognition from the Ojibways at White Earth
Reservation, in 1879. The initiation reminds one
who is a mason of the ceremonies in one of the blue-
lodge degrees, and certain mysterious signs have
stangely enough led masons to believe that our North
American Indians are not wholly unacquainted with
ancient rites closely resembling the masonry of early
times.
Among people so intelligent and so competent it
follows that much would be expected of the medi-
cine-man, occupying as he does a position of dignity
and influence and oftentimes of wealth. We cannot
study our aborigines in a spirit of fairness without
discovering among them characters which in old
Biblical times were regarded as "wise hearted" men.
The Indian in peace or in war is the true son of na-
116
ture, a believer in God, a loving father, a devoted,
enduring friend, and a consistent enemy; in other
words, he is a true man.
117
CONCERNING INDIAN BURIAL
CUSTOMS.
THE DEAD.
"Under the pure light of the stars
The dead sleep
Wrapped about in a silence unutterable,
The ages come and go, like a tale that is told
Time stretches out to the golden unbarred gate
Of eternity,
But the dead sleep on, sleep on." — Edgerton.
From the earliest times, among all races civilized
or savage, man has always cared for the remains of
his dead. Failure to do so is regarded as inhuman
and is promptly condemned. Numerous are the
rites employed in mourning, but nowhere can we
find evidences of greater respect and affection for
the dead than among our North American Indians.
There are those who seem inclined to find little
that is praiseworthy in the Indian character, but a
people with devoted love for their children, profound
religious respect for the Sacred Name, a reverence
for their dead and a sincere concern for their last
resting-places, certainly possess qualities which are
admirable and worthy of universal commendation.
All these honorable characteristics are true of our
North American Indians.
Among the O jib ways, particularly the Chippewas
at White Earth, Minnesota, the old-time heathen
rites have pretty nearly disappeared. These Chip-
118
pewas are Christian Indians, intelligent and posses-
sing all the highest qualities of the red man with
much that is good and true which their paleface
friends have taught them. They do not practice
scaffold* or tree burial except at rare instances.
" Above-the-ground burial" is also practically un-
known to them. Their funerals are conducted with
solemnity and devotion, and the services at their
churches are remarkably pathetic and interesting, to
enable friends to look upon the grave and to make
offerings of food or flowers or any other thing they
may wish for the comfort or happiness of the de-
parted.
The Christian's grave-house is usually surmounted
by a cross.
Very often services in memory of the dead take
place with much of feasting and dancing, but these
latter are usually indulged in by the wild or so-
called "heathen" Indians.**
It is interesting to compare the burial of the fa-
mous Chippewa war-chief " Hole-in-the-Day, " who
died as he had lived an untamed Indian, with that
of the brave and good " Braveheart, " who on hisi
deathbed requested that a cross be placed upon his
breast and a large one above his grave, so that when
anyone should inquire what the signification of the
*Occasionally some heathen Indian will be buried upon a
scaffold. As late as 1889 Rev. Mr. Peake saw a scaffold burial
at Red L,ake Chippewa Reservation about one hundred miles
north of White Earth Reservation, Minnesota.
**The word heathen is a misnomer for any people who be-
lieve and reverence God whom they know as "Getche-Mani-
to," the Mighty, the Great Spirit. A people so deeply and
truly religious may not have received the light of Christianity,
but heathen they are not.
119
cross might be, this shoukl be the answer : ' ' Tell him
that beneath that cross rests the remains of Brave-
heart, who believes in the white man's Saviour."
In 1879 the flags still waved over the grave of the
murdered Hole-in-the-Day to signify that up to that
time his friends had not yet avenged his cruel death.
A more restful picture is the following, which I
was privileged to witness: One afternoon the bell of
St. Columba's (a wooden church it was then) was tol-
ling, Indians were gathering in the building and a
two-wheel ox-cart was being slowly driven up the
hill. The cart contained a plain board coffin, with-
in it the mortal remains of a young Indian wife.
The driver, strange to state, was the husband, and
his grief and sorrow were genuine beyond a doubt.
Friends helped him bring the remains within the
church porch, and the beloved Indian priest Emmen-
gahbowh, of the "Episcopal" communion, met the
corpse at the door. "I am the resurrection and the
life" came forth the solemn words in clear Ojibway
as the funeral procession passed up the aisle of the
church. The sweet voices of the Indians with the
organ accompaniment sang the old hymn "Jesus
Lover of My Soul," and others just as pathetic.
The service concluded, the silent Indians with moc-
casined feet passed by the rude coffin to take a last
fond look at the dead. Then took place a curious
ceremony. The lid of the coffin was only lightly
held in pla.ce by nails which had been withdrawn
to permit the "last look." A friend handed the
sad husband a hammer, he drove in the nails way
home with sturdy blows, the sacred building re-
sounding with the noise and with the sobs of the
bereaved friends. Then tenderly the bearers carried
120
the coffin into the churchyard. The procession
wound its way by graves and the grave-houses
till it reached the open grave for this new arrival.
Great branches of pine and fir covered the ground
and lined the last ,resting-place. Emmengahbowh
in priestly surplice read the committal service, and
then, while the voices of the Indians sang again a
sweet hymn, the body was gently and slowly lowered
to its resting-place. Broad strips of heavy bark
were placed over the coffin, and earth fell almost
silently while friends continued the sweet songs of
hope in the promises of the Saviour. What a picture
it was in the far-away Indian Reservation, this
Christian burial, this object lesson of love and duty
for Christ's sake, this victory of the religion of
Jesus over the mummery and fierce orgies of heath-
enism. And yet as the hymn of faith continued,
as the sinking sun shone in the western sky, it
seemed as if these poor children were but voicing
the doom of "passing away" just as the sun was
sinking. The emblem of all these tribes of red men
is the setting sun.
Soon their race will be completed, soon the last
of them will have departed forever
" In the purple mists of evening,
To the Islands of the Blessed,
To the kingdom of Ponemah
To the land of the Hereafter."
The Chippewas bury their dead in almost any
convenient place, often directly in front of their
cabin door so that in stepping out one has almost
to step upon a grave. Before placing a body in
the grave, if no coffin has been provided, it is care-
fully wrapped in great pieces of birch bark such
121
as they use in building their canoes and summer
camps, or it is enveloped in one or more of their
beautiful mats, of the finest texture obtainable.
Over the grave a long low house is built, about two
feet high, and under the front or western gable a
little square window is placed.
"The old heathen burial customs of my own
people," writes that old hero and Indian Saint,
Emmengalibowh, "were that when one dies the body
is well dressed, combed well, the hair and face
painted, a new blanket wrapped around his body,
a new shirt and leggings and a new coat put on him
and new moccasins, everything in wearing apparel
all well provided. This being done, well prepared
to take the body to the grave already prepared,
when the body is put down to the ground, a gun,
powder horn and war club or tomahawk, scalping
knife, small kettle, and small dish and spoon, and
fire-making implements are among the things put
in with the body into the ground. As they are tak-
ing out the body from the wigwam the Grand Medi-
cine Man sings a devil song beating the drum as
they bear the body away towards the grave. The
body is all covered and just before another song,
one of the braves arises on his feet and says: 'My
friend, you will not feel lonely while pursuing your
journey toward the setting sun; I have killed
a Sioux (hereditary enemies of the Ojibways) and
scalped him, he will accompany you, and the scalp
I have taken, use it for your moccasin.' The Grand
Medicine Man then says after covering the grave:
'Do not look back, but look towards your journey,
towards the setting sun. Let nothing disturb you
or cause you to look away from your path. Go in
122
peace.' Then another medicine man and all the
medicine men speak thus : ' I walk peacefully, I walk
on peacefully, for my long journey of life, soon to
reach the end of my journey, soon to reach my
friends who have gone before me.' The song com-
pleted, all the grand medicine men with one loud
voice cry out:
' Meh-ga-kuh-nuh
Meh-ga-huh-nuh (amen-amen).'
Then all disperse and the weird and melancholy
and wonderfully pathetic ceremony is completed."
What ritual in any other tongue could be more
appropriately funereal or more typical of future
life beyond the grave? Surely Christianity need not
wait long with the precious message for which these
our noble aborigines seem more than ready.
Emmengahbowh also writes me that, "When a
great warrior is killed in battle and while the battle
is raging, the hottest battle, the battle ceases at
once. The warrior is carried away from the battle-
field to a short distance. Here the warriors are
making preparations to dress him in style with all
his best clothing they could find. First washed his
face and combed his hair, hair braided down to his
shoulders, painted his face with red paint, a new
shirt, a new coat and new leggings put on it. A
new blanket wrapped about him and a beautiful sash
around his waist. This being done and completed
he is taken to the battle-field and placed him on the
most conspicuous place and position and always pre-
ferred to find a high knoll. Here he is placed in a
sitting position. A gim placed before him in the
attitude of shooting, a war club and scalping knife
put on about him. Feathers on his head waving
123
beautifully, each feather indicates a scalp taken in
battle. This being done, sometimes the warriors
watched the body one or two days. The enemy
knows it well that a great warrior had been slain
in battle and they know it well too that they would
not carry him away. Must be buried near about
the battle-field or may be found in sitting posture.
Sure enough finding him in sitting posture. Here
the warriors with all the swiftness they can com-
mand run. The fast runner of course touches the
head first and count one of the highest trophy
among the heathen warriors, and counted a feather
for his head."
Occasionally as of old the Chippewas bury their
dead in a strong box placed in public view upon
a scaffold, with four strong posts. Many moons
come and go before the graves are neglected. Every
now and then the best cooked food is brought that
the faithful friends can obtain. These offerings
are reverently laid upon grave or coffin. When
the Indian reaches his final destiny in the "happy
hunting grounds," his life is perfectly secure and
his everlasting felicity assured. "It is not true
that the Ojibways believe in transmigration, neith-
er do I know of any tribe which does," says good
old Emmengahbowk. ' ' Transmigration of souls from
men to animals! No such horrible faith entertained
by my people. Some pale-faces may believe it!"
Emmengahbowk has faithfully taught his beloved
Chippewas the creed of the pale-face teachers, the
good Bishop Whipple has sent to them, not the least
of which is, I believe, "in the resurrection of the
dead."
A very interesting letter from the Rev. Mr. Peake,
124
for some time a missionary among the Ojibways, con-
tains the following:
"I myself first observed the Indian life while I
was a student at Nashotah (Wisconsin), seeing some
families (Chippewas) as they went through the
state gipsy-like in 1852.
"In 1853 I saw the Oneidas at Duck Creek and
preached to them through an interpreter, meeting
also some of the Mohawks. In 1856 I saw the
Sioux and Winnebagoes of the Minnesota River Val-
ley. In 1856 I went with my bride (Miss Augusta
Parker of Delhi, N. Y.) to live among the Ojibways
or Chippewas at Gull Lake, and was with them as
their missionary at Gull Lake and Crow Wing for
six years, and during the Sioux outbreak of 1862."
Concerning the mortuary customs Mr. Peake writes:
"In winter when the ground is frozen the northern
tribes, among whom I served, wrap up their dead
in the furs of animals and place them in the
branches of high trees." Mr. Peake saw them so
placed in January, 1856, on the right bajik of the
Minnesota river on his first trip up the valley. ''I
have seen similar placing of the dead on a high
scaffold or platform at Red Lake (Chippewa Agen-
cy, Minnesota) as late as 1889." Usually they
(the Chippewas) bury their dead in the ground
and wrap them in cotton or such other cloth as they
may have. The body is carefully covered with birch
bark in wide strips. Over the grave they usually
build a roof of boards if they can obtain the neces-
sary lumber. Just below the gable they have a little
open window in the front which stands towards the
west (the setting sun). "At the open window they
deposit food for the departed spirits which soon
125
disappears, and it is supposed to have afforded nour-
ishment for the dead upon their journeyings. " Mr.
Peake has noted these graves also at Gull Lake and
at Crow Wing.
A letter from the Crow Agency, Montana, informs
me that the Crows bury their dead with the feet
toward the rising sun. Several valuable illustrations
of mortuary customs peculiar to this interesting
race of aborigines are presented herewith.
From the Rev. A. B. Clark, missionary at the
Rosebud Agency (Sioux), information with inter-
esting illustrations has been received.
Mr. Clark states that when an Indian is thought
to be dying his hair is combed and oiled and dressed
as nicely as possible, the face is painted with Vermil-
lion and a new suit of clothing is provided if pos-
sible, consisting of blanket, leggings, moccasins, etc.
All this may be attended to hours or even days be-
fore death actually occurs. The bodies of the dead
are not washed. After some "hours, or a day's
time, the body is borne to a platform or to a high
hill-top, or, in case of a little child, to a large tree,
where it is placed in the branches. Occasionally a
child's body was laid in the river-side. The body
was usually wrapped in a parfieche case or a home-
tanned rol)e or skin, the best to be had at the time,
when placed on platform or hill or in tree, etc.
Immediately on being placed for its final rest the
ghost must be fed. So a kettle of coffee or tea and
a dish of meat and other foods were placed beneath
or beside the body. The bag of tobacco and pipe
were not omitted. Wliatcver fine clothing, ouna-
ments, weapons, or furnishings the deceased had
highly esteemed, must go Avith the body. The fa-
126
vorite pony, too, must be killed beside the body of
the dead."
"There was one case in which the Indians always
buried the dead: When two people of the same
camp, neighbors or relatives, quarrelled and one was
killed the dead was buried face down and with a
piece of fat between the teeth, otherwise, they said,
all the game would be scared out of the country.
As the Indians became Christianized these customs
change or are dropped, though progress that way
is slow. On the death of a friend all begin mourn-
ing. The hair is cut short at the neck. Both men
and women slash their bodies and limbs with knives
and often put sticks or thongs through the wounds
as in the old sun-dance ceremony. The mourners,
the chief ones, go off to the hill-tops and mourn,
perhaps for days. Christian Indians now dress in
black, bury dead as we do in graves, buying
coffins or getting them in some way and form, but
as yet have not wholly given up the formal
mourning at the graves on the hill-top. There is
a custom which they call 'Keeping the Ghost.' If
a man is very ambitious to be accounted thereafter
a good and just man he takes some little article, a
ring, a lock of hair, etc., which belonged to the de-
ceased relative and wraps it up like a little mummy,
binds it to a stick and plants it near his door. lie
keeps the ground swept about it and frequently
places food and tobacco there, no matter who helps
the ghost dispose of these things. He now also
gathers horses and other property for the Ghost-
lodge which he will set up after a year or so for
a grand feast and give-away to all comers. After
the affair of the Ghost-lodge this man must be care-
127
ful in words and deeds to sustain his reputation
as a just and good man which he has thus built up
for himself."
Mr. Clark writes further, that there are none of
the old-time "platform" or scaffold burial-places
near here. In some illustrations we may note the "in-
termediate stage," bodies placed in boxes of some
sort (in one case a trunk is shown.) These bodies
are left unburied at the "Place of the Ghosts."
Heavy stones are placed upon and around them to
prevent the wind and the wolves from disturbing
them. Mr. Clark writes:
"I have frequent appeals for lumber to make
plain coffins and most often decline giving aid for
want of one board to spare for the purpose. It
gives one a pang of regret when we see the body of
a child has been placed in a second-hand trunk or
that a lumber-wagon box has been made over into
a coffin for a Christian Indian rather than go back
to the old way."
"The Christian Indians frequently are found to
have placed the baptismal certificates, prayer-books
and hymnals in their children's coffins. As they
become able they buy tombstones to be erected at
the head of the graves."
In Colonel Inman's Great Salt Lake Trail is found
the following account of a funeral of a Bruhl In-
dian chief:
"The corpse of the deceased chief was brought
to the fort by his relatives with a request that the
whites should assist at his burial. A scaffold was
erected for the reception of the body which in the
meantime had been fitted for its last airy tenement.
The duty was performed in the following manner:
128
It was first wa«hed, then arrayed iu the habiliments
last worn by the deceased during life, and sewed in
several envelopes of lodge-skin with his bows and
arrows and pipe. This done, all things were ready
for the proposed burial. The corpse was borne to
its final resting-place followed by a throng of rela-
tives and friends. While moving onward with the
dead the train of mourners filled the air with lamen-
tations and rehearsals of the virtues and meritorious
deeds of their late chief."
"Arrived at the scaffold the corpse was carefully
reposed upon it facing the east, while beneath its
head was placed a small sack of meat, tobacco, and
Vermillion. A covering of scarlet cloth was then
spread over it and the body firmly lashed to its
place by long strips of rawhide. This done the horse
of the chieftain was produced as a sacrifice for the
benefit of his master in his long journey to the cel-
estial hunting grounds."
Such is a short and necessary imperfect account
of some of the burial customs of our noble aborig-
ines, the North American Indians. If we read aright
the lessons the simple earnest lives of these people
teach us, we shall be better and truer men and wor-
ship more reverently the God of the red man and
of the pale-face, the "Heavenly Father" of us all,
white or red, black or yellow. We are his children
and He the loving parent.
129
THE RELIGIOUS CHARACTER OF
THE NORTH AMERICAN
INDIANS.
This contribution which I offer concerning Indian
religious character is more in the nature of homage
for a people who have by their manly sincerity won
my affection ; otherwise, there is very little which is
new. The works of Parkman, Catlin, Inman, not
to mention the rich archives of our great Smith-
sonian Institution to which so many well-known
authorities have contributed, would make my few
words seem infinitesimal had I other excuse for pre-
senting them. I have known the Indians since when
in my boyhood days I rode the saddle with the gal-
lant "long knives" of the dear old 3rd U. S. Cav-
alry. I have met many tribes since then, but dearer
to me than any other are my Christian friends of
the Ojibway^si — warriors, oratorsi, farmeirs, fathers,
mothers, but all the "children of the same Father!"
Their religious character is one of their most con-
spicuous traits, and we are bound to acknowledge
and respect them for it. A people devout, and with
a strong and genuine belief in the "Great Spirit,"
in the "Mighty Creator," in the "loving attentive
Father" — a people devoted to their country, to
their nation, to their homes (humble though they be),
130
to their families, and whose love for their children
is beautiful beyond description, — such a people dem-
onstrate beyond a doubt that their religion is prac-
tical, genuine, and worthy of recognition. These
people are an inspiration to the palefaces who have
met them!
When I asked my brave old friend Emmengah-
bowh the beloved Indian priest of the Episcopal
Mission at White Earth, Minnesota, what actuated
him in risking his life to save the paleface women
and children from capture and death, he replied:
"They have been kind to me, and I could not bear
to have them harmed, and it was my duty as a
Christian." Can a man do more than risk or give
his life for his friends?
The great good friend of the Indian, whom they
call Straight-tongue, in his interesting book. The
Lights and Shadows of a Long Episcopate, refers
to his faithful priest Emmengahbowk :
"The wily chief IIole-in-the-Day had planned for
a massacre at the same time on the northern bor-
der. But Emmengahbowh had sent a faithful mes-
senger to Mille Sacs, to urge the Indians to be true
to the whites and to send men to protect the fort.
More than a hundred Mille Sacs warriors went at
once to the fort, but meantime Emmengahbowk
himself walked all night down Gull River, dragging
a canoe containing his wife and children, that he
might give warning to the fort. Two of his children
died from the exposure. Messages were also sent
to the white settlers, and before IIole-in-the-Day
could begin war the massacre was averted.
"I have never known an Atheist among the North
American Indians. They believe unquestionably in
181
a future life. They believe that everything in na-
ture — the laughing water-fall, the rock, the sky, the
forest — contains a divinity, and all mysteries are ac-
counted for by these spirits, which they call manidos.
When they first saw a telegraph they said : " A spirit
carries a message on the wires."
"The Ojibways are not idolaters, they never bow
down nor worship any created thing. They have
preserved a tradition of one Supreme God whom they
call " Gitche-manito ' — the 'Uncreated,' or the kind,
cherishing Spirit. They believe that the Grand Med-
icine was given them by an intermediate deity, the
'Grand Medicine-God.' "*
When an Indian is thought to be at the point of
death, his friends and relatives make careful prep-
aration and nothing is omitted to insure an honor-
able funeral ceremony. The dying Indian's hair
is combed and oiled and braided, and he is dressed
in his best clothing; if possible a new suit is pro-
vided — new blankets, leggings, and moccasins. His
face is painted red (vermillion). It may be an hour,
a day, or many days, before death takes place, but
he is made ready for the final event with scrupulous
care and attention in every detail.
"Indians are at all times prayerful and careful
in their religious observances, but they are never
more scrupulous about these matters than when
starting on the war-path."** Those whom they have
left behind pray for them at camp. The parents un-
wrap their sacred bundles and sing their sacred
songs. Before eating, the warrior prays for the
*Bishop Whipple, Lights and Shadoxvs.
**Griunell.
132
success of his undertaking. He must seek his suc-
cess from Diety; without divine aid his task is hope-
less, he can accomplish nothing. Each man is in-
structed before he sleeps to offer up his petition for
strength and help and victory. The leader must
offer his sacrifice for the command as well as for
himself. Oftentimes the Indians continue all night
in prayer, and burn incense of sweet pine and
sweet grass to purify themselves. Often he offers
sacrifices of food, tobacco, ornaments, some of his
own hair, a scalp lock, or even a portion of his own
flesh. He makes use of scourging and of inci-
sions into his flesh, often causing sharp haemorrhage,
and even fiery coals are placed upon his naked skin
to strengthen his powers of endurance and of self-
control.
The Indians believe that when the spirit reaches
its final destination, the great country, the Happy
Hunting-ground, the final life-everlasting is forever
and peacefully attained!
He forgets not his dead, this North American In-
dian, but often, not only once a year as on our All
Souls' Day, but more frequently, they hold their
rude commemorative ceremonies, and contribute
from their slender means the best feast they can
produce. Nor does this charity extend to the dead
alone ; he is peculiarly tender in his love for children,
for the infirm, for the demented, the wounded and
the dying. If compassion is the test of true religion,
the Indian deserves respect. Tales of his barbarity
are in the excitement of war; but how tame our In-
dians appear when compared with the cruel Chinese!
The Grand Medicine Man at the funeral ceremonies
133
says in his address to the departed spirit, as he
kindly spreads over the corpse the blanket:
"Do not look back, but look to your journey
towards the setting sun. Let nothing disturb or
distract you or cause you to look away from your
journey's path — Go — Go, in peace!"
Then another medicine man repeats this; then all
in unison sing these words:
" I walk on peacefully for my long journey of life,
Soon, soon to reach the end of my journey,
Soon to reach my friends who have gone before me."
When this chant is ended, the Grand Medicine Man
calls in a loud voice:
" Nuh-gah-kuk-nuw
Nuh-gah-kuk-nuw."
"An Indian burial is most touching. If of a
child, the mother places the play-things of the little
one in the birch-bark coffin, and strews flowers in
the grave. She then makes an image of the baby,
ornamenting the head with feathers, and carries it
with her for one year. If of a chief or warrior, the
body is arrayed as if for the chase or war-path with
bows and arrow^s and medicine-bag by his side. The
favorite dog is killed, that it may accompany him on
his journey. The orator of the band then addresses
the silent figure, telling of his deeds of bravery, of
how he pursued his enemies and brought back their
scalps, of his wise words of counsel and acts of kind-
ness, and how having left this world for the Happy
Hunting-grounds, he will find the trail a narrow
one, and will be tempted by evil spirits to turn
aside, but that he must be deaf, for if he stops to
listen he will miss the trail and be lost. ' '
134
Lt. Totteu of the United States army believed our
North American Indians to be the descendants of
the lost tribes of Israel. A recent article in the
Springfield Republican of January 12th, 1913, en-
titled "American Indians from Asia" seems to
confirm this idea. Certainly their traditions point
to the region of Behring's Strait as the place
from whence they came and whither they are
wending. But whether their customs and their be-
liefs are merely human nature, showing out in red-
skin as well as in paleface, there is a startling sim-
ilarity in Indian laws of hygiene, of cleanliness, and
customs of the men and women, to say nothing of
their reverence for the Gireat and Sacred Name,
which suggest Israelitish origin. And the "Chosen
Race" need not be ashamed of them! The attitude
of worship, the bowed head, the instantly extended
palms when the sacred Diety is referred to, are
surely remarkable. What other Aborigines are so
devout and sincere, so brave in suffering, so fear-
less in battle, so loving to children, so faithful in
friendship, so unselfish, and so true?
The Indian's heaven we know as his happy hunt-
ing-grounds — a country of wide green and cool,
clear streams, where the buffalo and other game are
always plenty and fat, where the lodges (tepees) are
ever new and white, the ponies always swift, the war
parties successful, and the people happy.
Sometimes the Indian, "When the slanting rays
of the Western sun tinge the autumnal haze with
red, beholds dimly far away the white lodges of
such a happy camp and sees thro' the mist and dust
ghostly warriors returning from the hunt, leading
135
horses as in olden times, with dripping meat and
with shaggy skins."*
This happy land is usually located above the sky,
but with many tribes it is to the west beyond the
Gitclie giimmee, the Big Sea Water. But wherever
the home of the "Almighty Creator," the "Great
Spirit," may be, his Indian children love best to
call him by the endearing title of "Father." Al-
though called by this name which the Saviour taught
His followers to utter, whether of the white, the
yellow, the black, or the red peoples, the Indian re-
gards this "Father" as omnipotent, beneficent, the
Supreme Ruler. Everything is within His 'Holy
Keeping, just as wc have been taught that no spar-
row falls to the ground without our Heavenly Fath-
er's consent.**
Resting upon His Fatherhood, nothing is under-
taken without praying for His assistance. When
the pipe is lighted, a few whiffs are blown upwards
as incense. Some of the food is sacrificed to Him.
Burnt offerings are still continued in His honor, a
part of the first deer, the first buffalo, and we might
almost expect to find their rule in the words of the
Bible — "Whatever we do, do all to the glory of God."
The words may be absent, but the practice is there.
"Father above" is the counterpart of "Our Fath-
er who art in Heaven," for do they not say, "Father
who is in all places," "The Heavens are Thy house;
we. Thy children, live within (or beneath) ?"
"Father of the dead, You see us."
If the Indians have other gods, they use them
*Grinnell. **St. Matthew x. 29.
136
merely by praying to them, "intercede for us,"
"pray for us" to the God, the "Heavenly Father."
Atius Tirana is Father Spirit. The Indian blows
the first four smokes to Atius, then four to the
earth, then four to each of the cardinal points.
The young warrior is advised : ' ' My son, when thou
smokest in thy pipe, always blow four smokes to
the east, — to the night." The Indian regards the
east as the place of night, it comes from the east!
The Indian is taught that he must offer sacrifices
and burnt offerings to the Almighty — humbling him-
self and imploring His aid — if he would attain suc-
cess in the world or in the life ^'everlasting.''^ The
Indian states his belief in his prayer: "My Father
who dwelleth in Heaven and in all places, it is
through You that I am living;" and it is the equiv-
alent of our "In Him we live and have our being."
Longfellow, in Hiawatha, has beautifully told the
story of Indian worship and belief. Pathetic be-
yond description is the tender, loving care bestowed
upon the dead, — the solemn service, the sweet hymns,
the birch-covered coffin, the hemlock-lined grave, the
gentle depositing of the earth, and last, but not
least, the little sheltering house above with its small
window and the cross of hope rising from its eastern
gable.
How beautiful in Longfellow's Hiawatha is the
picture of the Indian's Heavenly Father, the Al-
mighty Creator. One picture in Plis majesty touch-
ing the mountains, and the other,
"Gitche Manitou, the Mighty,
The creator of the nations,
Looked upon them with compassion.
With paternal love and pity."
And then the poet tells in his matchless verse such
137
a story of Indian belief in tlie Almighty Creator
that one feels as if the Indians should send mission-
aries to the palefaces!
Surely, a people with no "cuss" words, and who
never mention the name of Deity except in reverence,
and with bowed heads and palms extended outward,
are justly entitled to respect. It is indeed inspir-
ing to see these people we call savages going with
their humble petitions to their Heavenly Father,
pleading for help in their distress when all earthly
help has failed.
"Gitche Manitou, the Mighty,
Cried he with his face uplifted
In that bitter hour of anguish,
Give your children food, O Father,
Give us food, or we must perish."
This prayer from the Famine is one of Longfel-
low's greatest pictures in his unrivalled collection.
The poem of Hiawatha is best appreciated by those
who know the Indian. The "parting" is a picture
with which to close our quotation. "Westward,
Westward," is the word ever on their lips, so mourn-
ful and so prophetic.
"Thus departed Hiawatha,
Hiawatha the Beloved,
In the glory of the sunset,
In the purple mists of evening,
To the regions of the home-wind
Of the north-west wind Kee-way-din,
To the islands of the Blessed,
To the kingdom of Ponemah,
To the land of the Hereafter."
138
IN THE LAND OF HIAWATHA.
The aboriginal inhabitants of America from the
earliest times have been known as Indians, and to
the Indians the white people are known as Pale
Faces. Very commonly our ideas of the Indians are
limited; we speak of them in a general sense, los-
*The Song of Hiawatha has called forth praise from schol-
ars and ridicule from pessimists. It has been laughed at and
parodied until even its wondrous beauty and faithful imagery
have been well-nigh lost sight of.
Beyond a peradventure nothing exists in the English lan-
guage presenting such a faithful portrayal of North American
Indian life, unless we except the classical works of McKinney
and Catliu, or the more recent work of that soldier and scholar,
Colonel Dodge of the U. S. Army. Hiawatha was a Chippewa
brave, and no history of his nation would be complete without
reference to this wonderful poem. The traditions and Indian
language which Longfellow uses are Ojibway. The history of
this great nation, like that of other Indian tribes, has been
treasured as traditionary lore, and has been passed on from
age to age in the narratives of old sages to the listening throngs
around them— at the war-dance, in the council, or at the wig-
wam fire :
" Should you ask me whence these stories,
Whence these legends and traditions,
With the odor of the forest,
With the dew and damp of meadows,
With the curling smoke of wigwams,
With the rushing of great rivers,
With the frequent repetitions
And their wild reverberations
As of thunder in the mountains,
I should answer, I should tell you,
From the forest and the prairies,
From the great lakes of the Northland,
From the land of the Ojibways."
139
ing sight of the fact that there are over two hundred
tribes living within the United States.
These tribes differ as widely from one another as
the tribes or nations of "Pale Faces" are distinct
from each other. Whatever the North American
Indian may be, he is certainly not what many of
our Eastern people are willing to call Indian. He
is not a negro, who possesses in the past history of
his family a trace of relationship with some Indian
of more or less pure blood; such specimens are
seen about our railway stations and at some of our
summer resorts, selling bead and basket work, and
suggest to many their ideas of American Indians.
A thorougbred Indian will not even recogfnize a
half-breed as an Indian. With them a half-breed
is no better than a squaw-man.
Native American is a more fitting and honorable
name for the people who inhabited this land be-
fore the white man came. Where on the face of
the earth can we find natives to be compared to
them? The early settlers of this great country, in
their struggles for life and a home, gave us noth-
ing but fragmentary sketches of the nations they
came in conta,ct with, and by whom they were near-
ly overpowered and annihilated.
Would it were possible to collect more of the his-
tory of such aborigines! Much indeed of their his-
tory and tradition has passed away, and when we
seek for records of the nations who occupied this
great continent, comparatively little is to be found.
There is, however, some material within reach to-
day, and opportunities still exist to obtain speci-
mens of their arms, clothing, implements, etc. But
within a very few years almost every remaining ves-
140
tige will have disappeared forever. That compara-
tive oblivion should be the destiny of such remark-
able nations is a national misfortune for us. We
have a right to be proud of our aborigines, and yet
we must blush with shame when we consider how
deeply we have wronged them.
Whatever the Indian has been in the past, and in
spite of his present condition — deplorable as it cer-
tainly is — our nation has still some time left to
deal with these people honorably and justly, as it
is the duty of a God-fearing people to do. They
will respond in time, but it is not to be wondered at
if they seem incredulous at first. It is wicked to
condemn them as beasts fit only for extermination;
improve them, educate them. This can be done by
dealing justly with them. No w^ords of mine can
sufficiently condemn the cowardly saying, "that
the only good Indian is a dead Indian!"
An Austrian officer once said to me, that he
considered the British soldiers the bravest on the
face of the earth, because "you cannot conquer
them or whip them, you must kill them." It is
so with our Indians, they neither give nor ask for
quarter; this is easily understood when we consider
how they have always been situated.
It has been with them a war for life, a struggle
for existence, and disputes have always been settled
man-fashion on the field of battle.
Those who know most about our native American
(our so called Indians) respect them most; those
who have lived longest with them love them most;
the most brutal and cowardly of our frontiersmen
hate them most, and they have reason to do so.
Indian character is contradictory. They are brave
141
but cautious and generous; dashing in attack, stub-
born in defence; enduring, stoical, patient, hardy;
fond of feasting, but ready for days of marching
and fighting, with scarcely any nourishment; alert,
unforgiving when wronged; revengeful, cruel, and
treacherous in war; loving as friends, indulgent and
affectionate as parents; sympathetic in adversity,
eloquent in counsel; by nature deeply and truly
religious.
Our native red Americans, unlike those of New
Mexico and Central and South America, are be-
lievers in God, although they call Him the "Great
Spirit." They are absolutely free from profanity
and hypocrisy. In short, they are the noblest race
of aborigines on the face of this earth.
My experience has brought me in contact with
many different Indian nations, both in peace and
war, but in my opinion the jib ways are the most
interesting for investigation and study. Doctor
Hoffman, lately an Acting Assistant Surgeon of the
United States Army, in an article concerning Sham-
inistich practices, states that the area of country
formerly occupied by the immense tribes, consisting
of the Algonquin linguistic stock, extends from
Nova Scotia southward to the James River, and west-
ward to Montana.
To these divisions belong the tribes first met with
by the French traders in Canada as early as 1634,
by the Puritans in Massachusetts, and by Captain
John Smith's band of colonists in Virginia. They
are believed to be considerably in advance of the
tribes of most other divisions, and one of the most
interesting bodies from an ethnologic point of view
142
is the Chippewa or jib way tribe, of the Lake Su-
perior region.
The Chippewas are the nearly extinct remnant of
the great Algonquin family; they are tall, fine-look-
ing, and intelligent men; brave and fearless, faith-
ful in friendship, and possessing the noblest traits
of any Indian tribe. Their ancient enemies were
the Foxes, Iroquois, and Sioux. The latter they
have driven from the head-waters of the Mississippi
River, and from the Red River of the North ; always
defeating them in woody countries, though often
worsted when battling them on the plains. Their
home has been in the forest and on the stream.
They have been experts in hunting, fishing, and
canoe-building, and excel in woodcraft generally.
The Chippewas served with the French in the
early wars against the colonists, and afterwards in
the Revolution, as allies of the British. It is only
within recent years that the interminable war be-
tween them and their hated enemies, the Sioux, has
been brought to an end.
In 1830 the United States Government endeavored
to arrest the existing war between them, and in 1880
the hatchet was publicly buried forever.
The more important bands of the Chippewas were
the Otter Tail, Peminas, Mississippi Pillagers, and
Millacs. The manners, customs, traditions, and lan-
guage of the Chippewas have been investigated by
many, and they are better known than those of any
other tribe.
The setting sun has been their emblem or sign
in the heavens, as they have journeyed towards its
sinking rays along the St. Lawrence westward. In-
deed, the setting sun has been for all the Indians
143
a sign in the heavens, for they, like it, must fade
away from human sight. It does seem as if they
were worthier of a better fate.
The gayly decked trees of autumn are typical of
them — the cold, cruel winds of winter will ruthlessly
scatter them; the icy and merciless grasp of a white
man will crush them —
" Like the cloud-rack of a tempest,
Like the withered leaves of autumn."
So our native Americans are rapidly fading and
passing way. Reduced in strength and influence,
they number at present only a few thousands of
comparatively weak and inoffensive families. They
recognize the inevitable destiny in store for them;
soon the sun will forever set upon them as a na-
tion, soon their records will be but ancient tradi-
tions, soon their relics will be but the few scattered
pieces preserved in our museums.
Remnants of the once powerful Chippewa nation
are to be found mostly in northern Minnesota.
Where did these Indians originate, is a question
which has often been asked, but never answered
with any degree of certainty. It seems to me very
clear that the earliest history of the Ojibways is
to be found in the region of the Laurentian hills,
and that their records cover the ground from the
St. Lawrence to their present abiding-place.
The three leading reservations are at White
Earth, Red Lake, and Leech Lake. If we look at
the map of the North American continent, and place
a finger as nearly as possible at its central point,
we shall find that we are very near Itasca or Holy
Cross Lake, the source of the Mississippi River, and
144
iu the center of the present home of the Chippewa
Indians.
The land is fertile, dotted with numberless lakes,
and more or less covered with valuable timber. It
is a cold country in winter, the temperature going
down as low as fifty-five degrees below zero ; for
weeks together the mercury is frozen. In summer,
great extremes of heat are reached; often it is as
high as 112 degrees in the shade. In this climate
of great extremes, with shelter none too good, and
food of the poorest quality, and very often with in-
sufficient clothing, the Chippewa Indians are mak-
ing an effort to live.
Unpromising as the condition is at present, it is
infinitely better than anyone supposed it ever could
be twenty years ago. It is to the noble and unself-
ish devotion of Christian friends that the Chippewas
are indebted for whatever prosperity they may at
present enjoy.
Forty years ago our Indian system was at its
worst. "It was a blunder and a crime; it rec-
ognized nomadic tribes as independent nations;
it destroyed the advisory power of the chiefs, and
gave nothing in its place; it recognized no personal
rights of property; it gave no protection to person
or life; it punished no crime; its emoluments were
rewards for political service; and most of the trea-
ties were framed to use the Indian as a key to un-
lock the public treasury. At best, it was heathen
savagery. ' '
President Lincoln once said concerning the dis-
graceful conduct of Indian affairs, "If I live, this
accursed system shall be reformed!" One thing
tliat must be evident to every thinking man is.
145
that our governmental mismanagement has been the
cause of great wrong, much suffering, and other
evils, even terminating in serious bloodshed.
The present outlook is gloomy enough, but the
silver lining of the cloud is the work of Christian
Missionaries, and in this work the Catholic Church
has from the beginning, even until now, been far in
the lead. One great stumbling-block towards suc-
cess is the present physical condition of the red man.
From an out-of-door life of activity, with plenty
of fresh game and wholesome food and clear water,
with a healthful tepee for his home, he has been
placed in a log-cabin, overheated with iron stoves,
given the poorest quality of flour and salted meat,
and in exchange for an active life, one of idleness.
Under these circumstances, is it at all remarkable,
if, in some instances, he has degenerated mentally
and physically? For the Indian, as well as for
any one else, idleness can act only as a serious injury.
The recent troubles which threatened us in the
northwestern frontier are attributable to this very
cause. In idleness the Indian recounts the stories
of his ancestors' battles, and makes ready for an
opportunity to emulate their prowess.
Indian treachery can only hope to imitate, never
to excel, the lessons taught by the white man in his
official dealings with them. They have been robbed
whenever it was possible to impose upon them, and
I fear they will be, until none are left on whom to
impose.
Bishop Whipple relates an incident which occured
some years ago, when some speculators wished to
obtain a valuable tract of land belonging to the
Chippewas. Efforts were made to induce them to
146
sell their lauds and move north to Leech Lake ; an
agent representing the Government called a coun-
cil, and addressed the assembly of chiefs somewhat
after this fashion:
"My red brothers, your great Father has heard
how you have been wronged; He said, 'I will send
to them an honest man.' He looked in the north
and the south and the east and the west, and when
He saw me, He said, 'this is the honest man whom
I will send to my red children.' Brothers, look at
me! The winds of fifty years have blown over my
head and silvered it with gray, and in all this time
I have never done wrong to any man. Now, as your
friend, I wish you to sign this treaty." One of the
chiefs, old Shah-bah-shong, sprang to his feet, and
said, "Pale-faced friend, look at me! The winds
of more than fifty winters have blown over my head,
and silvered it over with gray, but they have not
Mown away my brains." The council was ended.
The future prospects of the Indians depend en-
tirely upon the wisdom with which the Government
will deal with them. It is impossible to manage
such an important question with the weak and in-
adequate Indian bureau at present existing. If, as
a nation, we are satisfied that the Indians deserve,
and should receive a reasonable amount of justice
and fair dealing, we must greatly increase and per-
fect the machinery to carry out the needed reforms.
Under the present mismanagement, only acciden-
tally can good result, only by divine protection can
these poor children hope for any real justice. Un-
selfish and honest as are the efforts of the associations
to which I have already referred, they are powerless
to prevent the opportunities for evil at present ex-
147
isting, although their good influence is recognized,
and robbery cannot be so openly carried out ais
formerly.
As Americans, our country is thrown into more
or less turmoil every four years by the excitement
attending the presidential election ; as citizens, we
labor to bring about changes we may deem necessary.
A new president is elected, new cabinet officers ap-
pointed, but the men "behind the thrones" in the
various departments — war, navy, interior, and In-
dian Commissioner's office — these remain year in
and year out, whether we have a Democratic or a
Republican President! The cabinet officers are
called upon, perchance, to solve great problems; but
the multitudinous questions which continuously arise
are settled by these employees, who, in one way or
another, have intrenched themselves in governmental
positions, until any likelihood of their being re-
lieved is exceedingly remote.
Upon the intelligence and honesty of these people
much of our national work depends. The citizens
imagine that the new administration will remove
old wrongs, and execute needed reforms; but year
after year the same condition of affairs, in all the
different departments, continues, and the recognized
heads, such as the Secretary of the Navy and the
Secretary of War, exercise only feebly the duties
of their offices. They are continually met with ob-
stacles insurmountable in their endeavors to intro-
duce the needed reforms; this is equally true in the
Indian service! Nothing but a "clean sweep," in-
volving immense expense and labor, would fit these
institutions to mete out any hope of justice in regard
to the difficult questions at present obtaining. I
148
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m a:
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md wrong-doing to
protect and educate.
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g )d with more readi-
°^ ng to allow. It is
-§ oment should exert
c ;ion of missionaries
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. e Indians under the
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^ else; their commis-
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^ ! War Department,
^ also supply suit-
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149
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and robbery canno-
formerly.
As Americans, oi"
or less turmoil ever
attending the presi(-
labor to bring about
A new president is
pointed, but the me
various departments
dian Commissioner'
and year out, whetl
Republican Preside
called upon, perchar
the multitudinous qi
are settled by these
another, have intren(
positions, until anj
lieved is exceedingly
Upon the intellige
much of our nation"
imagine that the n
old wrongs, and ext
after year the same
different department
heads, such as the !
Secretary of War,
of their offices. Tht
stacles insurmountat
duce the needed refc
Indian service! Not"
volving immense exp
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hope I may be pardoned for expressing myself so
forcibly on this subject, but I feel the deepest in-
terest in the Indian question, ancl recognize my
duty to state, as nearly as I can, what, I think, is
the cause of so much trouble and wrong-doing to
those we are in honor bound to protect and educate.
It is the old story, "Man's inhumanity to man
makes countless thousands mourn."
The Indian is a very acute discerner of character;
he separates truth from falsehood with more readi-
ness than most people are willing to allow. It is
on this account that the Government should exert
its protecting care in the selection of missionaries
as well as in other appointments.
Whenever any serious complications have arisen in
the management of the Indians, the army has been
called upon to provide a remedy. Why not avoid
many of these evils by placing the Indians under the
care of the officers of the United States army ? They
know them better than any one else ; their commis-
sions are permanent during good behavior. Politics
would be powerless to exert a harmful influence,
and the condition of the Indians would be better,
and supplies of all kinds would be more sure to reach
them, and be honestly distributed. Thousands of
dollars would be saved to the Government annually,
and harmony and peace would be more likely to
endure. I am one strongly in favor of the transfer
of the Indians to the care of the War Department,
provided the Government would also supply suit-
able teachers and instructors. My experience teach-
es me that what is true of the white man applies
with equal force to the Indian: "Satan finds some
mischief still for idle hands to do." To make the
149
Indian happy, j'ou must keep him well employed,
and begin with wholesome, useful teaching, and so
make it possible for him to receive fair wages for
his labor. Industrial education is most important
for him. I think the admirable system carried on
by General Armstrong and Captain Pratt proves
this assertion.
Copway, or Kah-ge-ga-gah-bowh, a Chippewa In-
dian, wrote in 1850 a work concerning the Ojib-
ways, which is well worth reading. He said:
"Education and Christianity are to the Indian what
wings are to the eagle which soars above his home —
they elevate him; and these, given him by men of
right views, enable him to rise above degradation,
and hover about the high mounts of wisdom and
truth." These words are true to-day, and when we
consider they were written bj^ one who laid aside
his bow, and went to school in Illinois for only
twenty months, we recognize the fact that the In-
dian is certainly capable of education. He states
that during a residence of six years among the Pale
Faces, he acquired a knowledge of men and things,
and that he desired to learn still more, so that his
brothers in the far west might share with him his
crust of information. He says: "For this end I
have labored, and do labor, and will continue to
labor, until success crowns my efforts, or my hands
and voice are silent in the home of the departed."
"It can be proved that the introduction of Chris-
tianity into the Indian tribes has been productive
of immense good ; it has changed cu.stoms as old as
any on the earth; it has dethroned error and has
enthroned truth. This fact is enough to convince
any one of the injustice and falsity of the common
150
saying 'that the Indian will be Indian still.'
Give the Indian the means of education, and he
will avail himself of them; keep them from him,
and let me tell you, he is not the only loser."
Copway relates a beautiful story, showing Indian
honor, told him by Ne-gah-ba-an, in 1834. An In-
dian, while intoxicated, had killed another and fled;
by Indian law, the relatives of the murdered man
should take their vengeance upon the murderer's
family. They thereupon seized the brother who
remained, and bound him to the stake. Twelve In-
dians stood with drawn arrows, at thirty paces, to
execute him; he requested them to wait for an
instant, and with a loud voice cried out: "My
brother, if you can endure the idea that hereafter
the nation shall look upon us as a race of cowards,
live, but I choose to die in your stead." As he
said this the murderer sprang from the thicket,
came forward, and threw himself at his feet, saying
that he was merely trying to get over the effects of
the intoxication, that he might die like a man.
Thereupon he took his place at the stake, and sang
his death song:
Ne,-bah-bah-moo-say-ke-zhe,-goon-ai
Ne-ge-chog-a-y e-shaw ' -wod .
And as he finished his last words, the arrows flew
to his heart.
A poor Indian died neglected, carrying to his
grave a certificate, stating that "Taopi, or Wounded
Man, is entitled to the lasting gratitute of the United
States, for having, with other Christian Indians,
rescued two hundred white women and children
during the Sioux War." He has gone to the land
151
where, as Red Cloud once said, "it is hoped white
men will tell no lies."
We are all more or less familiar with the Indian's
qualities of bravery, endurance, and strategy, but
few seem to know of his affectionate love as a parent,
his devotion to and interest in his children, his re-
spect for religion, and his absolute abhorrence of pro-
fanity. Whenever he mentions the name of the
Deity, " Gitche-manito, " Great Spirit, he bows his
head reverently and extends his arms, the palms of-
his hands upward, a picture well worth the con-
templation of his pale face brother.
When Bishop Whipple first saw the Chippewa
Indians, they were a lot of poor, miserable wretches,
ill-fed and ill-clothed, many of them given to drink,
and wasted by disease. White men laughed at his
humane intentions, but he proceeded in his noble
endeavor to elevate them, mentally and physically,
and to save their souls. Through his efforts White
Earth reservation, the fairest of our Indian homes,
was created. White Earth is twenty-three miles
north of "Detroit City," in northwestern Minne-
sota. The agency quarters are prettily situated
near a clear lake, and consist of a government build-
ing, the day-schools, headquarters of the agent, po-
lice headquarters, post-office, storehouses and a few
small stores, government employees' houses, Indian
ealuns, etc. This is the centre of the large reserva-
tion, but the main population is scattered over a
large extent of territory. Each family lives on its
own farm of one hundred and sixty acres, allotted
by the Government.
The schools of the reservation are well managed
and well patronized; they are two in number — a
153
i^.
.\
\,/. ilL sf
'f:<^
•€ v?
boarding and a day school. The boarding scholars
have a separate building for residence, but they at-
tend school in the building with the day scholars.
A visit to the schools is very interesting, and the
recitations compare favorably with those of the
eastern schools with scholars of the same age. Sun-
day-school is held in the day-school building every
Sunday, and nothing is left undone that will im-
prove the minds and bodies of the Indian children.
Although the Indian adults rarely will, or rarely
can, speak English, yet there are growing up all
around them children from ten to fifteen years of
age who not only understand, but can both speak
and write very well in the white man's language.
This natural diffidence in speaking English, even
when they can do so, is well shown in the following
incident: A beautiful young Indian girl came one
morning to the hospital and inquired for me. As
she had declined to answ^er me in English, I sup-
posed she could not speak our language. She made
known through my interpreter what she wanted, and
waited in the dispensary for me to prepare the needed
medicine. While I was putting it up, some one hap-
pened to pass the door. I called attention in English,
remarking on the girl's comeliness of figure, her
beautiful eyes and teeth, and general good looks.
I did this while I was at w^ork, speaking in such a
way as would not lead her to suppose I was talking
of her. When I had finished putting up my medi-
cines, I handed them to her, and she, looking ro-
guishly in my face, said in the best of English,
"Thank you, doctor, for your compliments." My
feelings can be better imagined than described.
For the maintenance of good order on the reser-
153
vation, an admirable police force has been organized.
The men are a fine-looking lot, and would be a credit
to the police force of any land; they carry no arms
except on special occasions, or in case of danger.
They wear a neat-fitting gray uniform, with "United
States Police" on their buttons and on their caps.
There were two stores upon the reservation per-
mitted by the Government, and under its careful
supervision and inspection. These were long, low
buildings, very similiar in appearance and in con-
tents, to the country store. Here the Indian bought
his clothing, tobacco, and the little luxuries which
he thought necessary for himself and family. When
out of money he obtained credit by orders on his
yearly allowance, or by promises to pay in the wheat
and vegetables which he might raise in the future,
or by pawning his valuable bead ornaments or furs.
Pay-day comes but once a year, and when it comes
it brings good cheer for the Indian to a limited ex-
tent, for most of his money finds its way into the
hands of the trader. Then the clans are assembled
by their chiefs, and muster for pay; one by one
their names are called, and they present themselves
in their best attire, and receive the head money,
eight dollars each, for themselves, their wives, and
their children. They also receive presents of cloth-
ing, tinware, cutlery, etc. Indian blankets are es-
pecially prized; they are quite commonly worn over
white men's clothing, around the waist, or thrown
over the shoulders, and the feather and paint are
still seen occasionally on the reservation, but the
white men's clothing is superseding the picturesque
Indian dress. However, all, save a few young
women, retain the moccasin, and even the rector of
154
Saint Coliimba wore his moccasins in the chancel.
Many baptized Indians have cut their hair quite
short, like the white men, but the braided hair, one
on each side of the head, is mostly in style. The
younger portion of the community take pride in
adopting the clothing of the pale face.
The modern Indian cabin furnished by the Gov-
ernment is built of hewn logs, with good floors,
windows, and doors. These, of course, are greatly
in demand in the winter months, but mostly all
cling to the comforts of the wigwam in the warm
summer months. These are built of birch-bark, up-
on strong wooden frames about eight feet high, and
twenty to thirty feet or more in circumference.
Platforms for sleeping-mats are built within the wig-
wam, a bare place in the center being left for the
ever-burning fire. An aperture in the roof permits
the escape of smoke and secures good ventilation.
The reed-mats, used for carpets, are very beautiful
specimens of work, and would secure large prices in
New York or Boston. The door is usually guarded
by a herd of worthless, ravenous dogs. The Indian
finds the wigwams very comfortable, even in the
coldest winter nights, with the temperature fifty
degrees below zero.
The Indian warrior is well trained, not only in
the use of his weapons but in the valuable lessons of
strategy. He studies intelligently the signs existing
about him, in the trampled grass and earth, the
broken twig, the size and number of fires, and their
remains. From earliest childhood he learns to be a
patient hunter, but above all he studies to conquer
himself, to be patient in suffering, fearless in battle,
indifferent to death, and when captured, to endure
155
torture nobly, and to look his enemies calmly in the
face.
In the bloody wars, waged with ever-varying for-
tune against his hated enemies, the Sioux, could be
found good examples of true heroism and unselfish
deeds of daring. The Indian is now as well armed
as the white man, l)ut in olden times his arms con-
sisted of a war-club, spear, bow and arrows, a scal-
ping-knife, and the famous tomahawk. All these
have disappeared from use, unless we except the
tomahawk, which is still retained more as an em-
blem of authority than as a weapon of war. These
tomahawks are made of steel and brass, a combined
pipe and battle-axe in one. The handle is usually
ornamented with brass tacks and strips of otter-
skin. The peace-pipe is a very gorgeous affair, the
stem of which is decorated with gay ribbons, horse-
hair, and beadwork. The bowl is obtained in barter
from the Sioux, and comes from the famous red-
pipe-stone quarries of Dakota. The pipes used at
councils are very often valuable and highly orna-
mented, and the ceremonies observed in lighting,
presenting, and smoking them, are exceedingly in-
teresting to witness.
Mee-chee-kee-gee-shig has been the famous war-
chief, or general, of the Chippewas in many of
their battles with the savage Sioux. He is a tall,
fine-looking Indian, of commanding appearance,
straight as an arrow, stoical and dignified, not easily
aroused, either to anger or mirth, but with a heart
of much kindness. He was a faithful friend, and
in this respect no white man could outdo him. Like
all Indians, he had a great regard for his personal
appearance, and was always neatly and even well
156
dressed after the fashion of his race. He wore on
his feet handsome and well-made moccasins, heavily
beaded, and on his legs well-fitted buckskin leggings,
with broad and showy garters of solid bead work
and skunk fur, with four eagles' feathers suspended
from each ; these signified four Sioux killed in battle.
His coat was of black broadcloth, without belt, but
suspended from either shoulder, across his chest to
his hips, were immense tobacco-pouches, of the most
expensive design and costliest beads. For earrings
he wore eight of pure silver, four in each ear;
around his head, like a turban, an elegantly beaded
otter-skin, and rising from his scalp-lock a long
eagle's feather was worn, chiefly in pride, a symbol
of at least one scalp taken in battle with his old
enemies. His raven hair was deeply parted, and
the parting stained with vermillion; it was also
carefully oiled and braided, one braid hanging at
each side of the head, at the ear; the plaits were
tied with blue braid. He carried in his pocket a
handkerchief, which he used like a white man, and
his bearing in the presence of ladies was always po-
lite and courteous. At table he was a well-man-
nered man, eating as he saw others eat. I have
often noticed, if he wanted to cough at table, he
would turn his head away and bring his hand to
his mouth. Indeed, I have met white men who
could learn many lessons of poljteness from my
friend Mee-chee-kee-gee-shig. He never spoke
lEnglish, and it is hard to believe that he could,
but once I heard him utter an English word. We
were out together hunting deer, and were waiting
a moment for a little rest, when the Indian came
up to me with the funniest show of mirth and said
157
the one word "Cold.'' The familiar word, from
oue whom I supposed knew no En^dish, surprised
me, and I asked him then and there if he could
not understand me; but his stoical features gave
no sign; he shook his head, and made indications
that he could not. We spent nuich time together,
and no one on the reservation was more welcome
at my fireside than the kind friend, the Chippewa
chief. I know he entertained the highest regard
for me, which was well proven in the following in-
stance :
I had had some trouble with an hospital atten-
dant, the only Sioux on the reservation, an ill-
tempered and dangerous man, and for his laziness
and general worthlcssness I discharged him. I sent
him away in the morning, and he showed consider-
able ill-nature, so much so that I was warned to
look out for him, as an Indian, when ugly, is dan-
gerous, since he has no regard for future reward
or punishment. That very night there was an en-
tertainment at the agency, a mile and a half away,
and all the attendants in the hospital went to it.
I was sitting alone in the parlor, smoking, when
the door-gong sounded. Carrying a little lamp in
my hand, I went to the door and opened it. To
my surprise in stepped the discharged Sioux ; he
could not speak Chippewa, and I could not speak
Sioux, and so for an instant we looked at each
other, until he started for the dining-room, then
out to the kitchen and the laundry, and finally to
the wood-shed. I followed him cautiously, with
my thumb in my hip-pocket, so that, if occasion
arose, I could quickly seize a heavy revolver which I
always carried. I feared the man intended to
158
spring at me, dashing- the lamp from my grasp,
and in the darkness to wrestle with me; so I kept
him well in view. He came back to the kitchen,
back again to the dining-room, and suddenly en-
tered the pantry closet, where, to my surprise, he
found his large hunting-knife. When I saw he
had found his knife I wondered what he proposed
to do with it. He merely held it up for me to see,
said "Bozho,"* and quietly left the hospital. As
I closed the door I turned and saw, standing in
the parlor doorway, my good friend, Mee-chee-
kee-gee-chig. He said, " Ka-ween-one-zhe-shin, ge-
get, ka-ween-one-zhe-shin, verily no good." We
went into the parlor and smoked together until the
return of my interpreter, and then my friend in-
formed him that he had seen the Sioux starting
for the hospital, and had followed him stealthily
all the way, and when he had entered he had fol-
lowed us through the various rooms waiting only
for any danger to spring to my assistance. The
act of faithful friendship I shall never forget as
long as life lasts.
Another incident will seem, under the circum-
stances, all the more remarkable, and shows how
difficult it is to teach the Indian without ocular
demonstration. One evening, when we were having
our usual smoke together in the pleasant hospital
parlor, the subject of chickens came up. I was
telling him about the beautiful fowls we have in
the Eastern States, large eggs, and fat chickens,
and light Brahmas worth ten dollars apiece. I
tried to describe a poultry exhibition, and when at
*" Bozho;" probably a corruption of " bon jour," learned
from the French traders — " good day."
159
last I attempted the description of an incubator I
discovered my friend's faith in me had received a
severe shock. The interpreter informed me that he
could not imagine such a thing, and the more he
tried to explain the more the Indian refused to
credit the story. "Tell the medicine-man," said
the chief, "I am a poor Indian, and that I have seen
little of the white man's home, but as poor as I am,
and as ignorant as I am, he must not try to impose
upon me, with stories of chickens hatched by a
lamp instead of by a hen ! We know better than
that, for we have watched and witnessed how the
little chickens come to life, and how they are
nursed until strong enough to look out for them-
selves; as for the big chickens, it may be so, but
such have never been seen in the West." The in-
terpreter tried to make him understand my explana-
tions, but the harder he tried the more determined
was the Indian's refusal. "A chicken hatched by
a lamp, Ka-ween, ka-ween!"* It was simply ab-
surd. I persisted in my statements so strongly that
my friend excused himself and left the hospital,
and I did not see him again for several days. But
I could never induce him to believe that pale faces
could hatch chickens with a lamp.
I could tell you of his devotion as a husband,
his deep yet heroic grief at the loss of his beloved
children; his unselfish courage in accompanying me
one cold winter night on a dangerous ride over
many miles of prairie to rescue a poor Indian
woman and her desperately sick infant. I remem-
ber the last look I had of his manly, true-hearted
*Ka-ween — "positively not."
160
face, as he stood, with studied stoicism, watching
us drive away over the snow to the settlements on
our homeward way. His memory is very dear to
me.
The war-dance in time of war is a very serious
affair; in time of peace, however, an opportunity
to witness one should not be lost. The war-dance
is most interesting to visit at night, for then the
warriors are more in earnest, and the dance is more
hearty. The place selected is usually one a little
off from the beaten track, and a flat, hard section
of ground.
It is lighted by large fires, one at each end, and
by beacons of resinous wood, which are renewed
during the greatest excitement of the dance. The
warriors sit upon the ground wrapped in their
blankets; at one end are the war-drums with their
drummers. An incessant turn, turn, turn, turn, is
kept up, increasing and diminishing, as the musi-
cians endeavor to create excitement. Finally, when
the full spirit of the dance begins to show itself,
a warrior suddenly throws aside his blanket and
springs into the centre of the dancing-place. He
dances with the peculiar motions of the Indian,
so indescribable, leaping first on one foot and then
on the other, calling out with sudden short Indian
yelps, until he is joined by another and another;
finally the space is filled with dancing, yelping In-
dians. The last thump of the drum causes all the
warriors to be seated. The music begins again,
and now some warrior will spring into the arena
with great excitement, and describe the battles of
his fathers or tell of his own prowess as a warrior,
of his duel with his enemy, and his final victory.
161
lie acts out the revolting spectacle of cutting out
his opponent's heart and opening it, drinking
his life-blood, and ends with the act of scalping.
Amid yells of applause he resumes his place, and
in this manner the dance is continued until morning
light sends the warriors to their homes. At these
dances we find out what is the "Indian gift." The
dancer lays at the feet of an Indian a stick, and
tells him that this represents a pony, which will
be given him on the morrow. Now, the value of a
pony is a large, beaded tobacco-pouch and a hand-
some beaded otter-skin. So in a little while the man
at whose feet the single stick has been laid begins
his dance, and places at the feet of him who has
])een his donor two little sticks, signifying that on
the morrow he will give him an otter-skin and a
tobacco-pouch. An Indian gift is one which can
never be refused.
Da-Dodge was the chief medicine-man, or Mus-ki-
ki-ke-we-nin-ni. The Indian always regards him
with the highest degree of reverence. He it is who
used always to be consulted about the bodily ills,
and all matters relating either to peace or war.
The grand medicine-dance is one of the great events,
and its initiation reminds one of masonic cere-
monies. But it is a relic of the Dark Ages, and
its influence wanes before the bright light of Chris-
tianity. Da-Dodge, the chief medicine-man of the
Chippewas at White Earth, lived in a large medi-
cine lodge not far from the agency and the hospital.
He received his fees in tobacco and yards of calico,
and enjoyed a very good practice. The medicine
lodge where Da-Dodge presided was a large wigwam,
some thirty feet long, and inside of this was a secret
162
tent, five or six feet long, and only four or five feet
high. Here could often be heard the incantations of
the medicine-rattle, and protruding from under the
secret tent could be seen the nude legs of a patient
undergoing the sweating process with steam from
water and heated stones, of which the Indian is
very fond, and in which he indulges upon the
slightest pretext. The general manner of treatment
amongst the Indians is by the use of the rattle,
which the medicine-man holds in his hand, gazing
intently at the patient while rattling it. The medi-
cine-man uses many different kinds of roots and
herbs, and is not a mean surgeon when his services
are required.
The Rev. J. J. Emmengahbowh, once a wild In-
dian, received a good education from an Episcopal
missionary, and became the beloved rector of the
church of Saint Columba. His influence for good
with the Chippewas was great in his faithful
parish-work, and he was an eloquent expounder of
the Christian religion. He was much valued by his
people. He lived in a plain little house with his
wife, as his children have departed to the "Happy
Hunting-grounds. ' '
Years ago, when the terrible massacre of Crow
Wing was planned, and when Minnesota was terror-
stricken by Indian uprisings, the faithful Emmen-
gahbowh gave timely warning, at the risk of his
own life, and saved multitudes from a terrible fate.
For this noble action he was obliged to keep well-
hidden from the vengeance of those who were after-
wards his friends.
Indian converts are sincere believers, and perform
their duties faithfully, travelling miles on foot
163
through deep snow or in stormy weather to be
present at church services, and making faithful
offerings of their money or beadwork with great
punctuality.
One afternoon the tolling of the bell of Saint
Columba's little chapel attracted my attention, and
I strolled up the hill from the Hospital to attend
a funeral. When I reached the churchyard I no-
ticed a cart and oxen moving slowly in the direction
of the chapel; the cart contained a pine-wood cof-
fin, in which rested the body of a young Indian
wife. The husband was driving the oxen. A few
Indians were already in waiting within the build-
ing. Friendly hands helped the husband to remove
the coffin from the wagon and carry it into the
chapel. Emmengahbowh, faithful and beloved, with
reverent and sympathetic face, conducted the ser-
vice for the burial of the dead, reading it in the
Chippewa language. The Indians sang a hymn,
and the words of "Nearer, My God, to Thee"
seemed to have increased beauty. At the close
of the service, friends came forward once more
to gaze upon the face of the dead before committing
it to the grave. Then a strange scene followed: A
hammer was handed to the husband, and in the sad
silence the little building rang with his blows as
he hammered the nails into the coffin of his beloved
young wife. The casket was borne out into the
churchyard, the grave was cut deep in the clean,
dry sand, pine boughs covered the bottom of the
grave, and great broad strips of birch-bark the
sides. Slowly they lowered the coffin to its last
resting-place, reverently they covered it with strips
of bark, and carefully shovelled in the earth. The
164
"^:^^.
^>I
?J!i^
voice of the fatherly clergyman concluded the ritual,
impressive always in any tongue. The calm
and quiet of this Western afternoon, and the
voices of the Indians in the responses; the thought
of their heroic disappearance, all tended deeply to
influence the mind at this solemn moment.
It is customary with the Indians to cover the
grave with a little house, and these graves are often
placed immediately in front of the cabin-door.
This, of course, is the modem method of burial.
Many of these little houses are surmounted with
a cross, an emblem of sacred faith and hope, where
all earthly hopes seem dead.
In General Carrington's little book, "Some Phases
of the Indian Question," he makes use of the fol-
lowing language: "I have freely talked with 'Spot-
ted Tail,' 'Standing Elk,' and a score and more
of chiefs who came to be fed and cared for; who
sought peace, and sought it honestly, and with all
the flashes of pride and dignity which now and then
brighten their actions, there was ever present
that painful consciousness of their impending doom;
they were passing away. I have seen all ages and
both sexes, half naked, and yet reckless of exposure,
fording the Platte, while ice ran fast, and the mer-
cury w^as below the zero mark, for the single pur-
pose of gathering from a post slaughter-house to
the last scoop, all oifal, however nauseous, that they
might use it in lieu of that precious game which
our occupation was driving from its haunts. They,
too, were passing away."
All this while agents and inferior officers were
getting fat and rich from the stealings of money
and food due to these brave creatures.
165
Mr. Welsh says of them: "In the wild rage of
battle, in the torturing test of the sun-dance; in
the hour of defeat and the howl of victory; in the
spirited hunt and in the solemn council — awake,
asleep, in tepee, or on the prairie, I have found
them the same fate-defying, strong-willed, and pecu-
liar race; obdurate, steady, and self-possessed in all
their moods; yet passing away. The power of the
United States was never so great as now, and power
is a measure of responsibility."
Let us arouse to a sense of duty at this late date,
and make one real and genuine effort to undo some
of the wrongs of the past, and see to it that the
Indians as they fold their tents, and depart from
the last vestige of their ancestors' lands for "hap-
pier hunting-grounds," the poor children, be per-
mitted to go in peace.
" In the glory of the sunset,
In the purple mists of evening,
To the regions of the home wind,
To the northwest wind Kee-wah-din,
To the islands of the blessed.
To the kingdom of Po-nee-mah,
To the land of the hereafter."
Letter of the poet Longfellow to Dr. Parker upon
receiving a photo of Mee-chee-kee-gee-shig, a Chip-
pewa Chief.
Cambridge, June 5,
1880.
My Dear Sir;
The photograph of the Indian Chief, was duly
received, and I cannot think I neglected to acknowl-
edge it and to thank you for it. My letter must
have miscarried, as I am generally very punctual
in such matters. But it was so long ago, I cannot
feel quite certain.
166
MEE-SHEE-KEE-GEE-SHIG.
Dark lowering d;iy, clouds toucliing all around.
Chippewa War Chief and Ur. Parkers fiieiid and companion in the hunt and
in danger.
Permit me to thank you now for this very strik-
ing portrait. How grave, and calm and patient in
face and attitude! It is excellent.
Should you ever again see the Chief, be kind
enough to thank him cordially for me.
I am, my Dear Sir,
Yours very truly,
Henry W. Longfellow.
167
AMONG THE CHIPPEWAS.
With the map of the North American Continent
before you, and placing your finger on the most
central point, it will be very near the White Earth
Reservation, in the heart of the Chippewa country,
not far from Holy Cross Lake, now known as Itasca
Lake, the reputed source of the great "Father of
Waters."
The agency buildings are prettily situated near
a clear lake, and consist of a Government building,
boarding and day schools, headquarters of the
agent, police office, post-office, storehouses, a few
small stores. Government employes' houses, Indian
cabins, etc. This is the centre of the Reservation,
but the main population are scattered over a large
extent of territory, each family living on their own
farm, according to the number of acres allotted to
them by the Government.
The schools of the Reservation are well managed
and well patronized. They are two in number,
the boarding and the day school. The boarding
scholars' room in the building, but they attend
school with the day scholars.
It is a great satisfaction to visit the schools and
to listen to the recitations and to note how favor-
ably they compare with Eastern schools for children
of the same ages. Sunday-school is held in the day
school every Sunday, and nothing is left undone.
168
so far as means will allow, to improve the mind
and body of the Indian children. Although the In-
dian adult rarely can or rarely will speak English,
yet now there are growing up all around them
children from ten to fifteen years of age who not
only understand but can both speak and write very
well indeed in the white man's language.
Three times a week the mail arrives and departs
from the "White Earth Post-office. Not only do the
white members of the community appreciate the
privileges of the Post-office Department, but the In-
dians also avail themselves of its advantages.
For the maintenance of good order on the Reser-
vation the Government organized an admirable
police force, composed of full-blood and half-breed
Indians. The men were a fine looking lot, and would
be a credit to the police force of any land. The
police go about entirely unarmed, but are always
in their neat-fitting gray uniform with "U. S. Po-
lice" on their buttons and on their cap. It is pos-
sible to arm them properly should occasion require.
Very few in the Eastern States seem to realize how
low the mercury falls in winter in the northern re-
gions of Minnesota. For weeks the mercury ther-
mometer will be useless, being quite frozen ! Temper-
ature from 40 to 45 degrees below zero. One or two
cold nights in the winter of 1879 and 1880 the Gov-
ernment spirit thermometer registered 57 de-
grees below zero. However in the world the Indians
in wigwams can endure the temperature has re-
mained a mystery. From this bitter cold of winter
the mercury runs up in summer to 112 degrees in
the very hottest weather of noonday, but the nights
are almost always cool and refreshing, and in spite of
169
these extremes the climate is delightful, and very
sudden changes are rare, the rise from winter cold to
summer heat being very gradual. The spring is
very short and the autumn wonderfully fine, al-
though lacking the beauty of the Eastern foliage.
Upon the Reservation there were two stores per-
mitted by the Government and under careful su-
pervision and inspection. These were long, low
buildings, very similar in appearance and in con-
tents to the average country store. Here the In-
dian obtained his groceries, clothing, tobacco and the
little luxuries which he found necessary for himself
and family. When out of money he obtained
"credit" by orders on the yearly allowance or by
promises to pay from the wheat and vegetables which
he might raise in the future, or by pawning his valu-
able bead ornaments or furs. Pay day comes but
once a year, and when it comes it brings good cheer
for the Indian. Then the clans are assembled by
their chiefs and "mustered for pay." One by one
their names are called, and they present themselves
in their best attire and receive the annual head
money — $8 each — for themselves, their wives and
children. They also receive presents of clothing,
blankets, tinware, cutlery, etc.
The Indian regards the medicine man, "Mus-ki-
kee-wi-ni-nee/ ' with the highest degree of reverence.
He it is who used always be consulted and obeyed
in all important matters relating either to war or
peace; besides exercising his important functions
as the healer of wounds and the curer of disease.
The grand medicine dance is one of the greatest
events of the year, and its initiation reminds one
forcibly of Masonic ceremonies, but it is a heathen
170
relic and its influence wanes before the bright light
of Christianity. Da-Dodge was the "chief medicine
man" of the Chippewas at White Earth, and lived
in a large medicine lodge not far from the Agency
and the hospital. He received his fees in tobacco
and yards of calico, and enjoyed a very good prac-
tice.
The medicine lodge where Da-Dodge presided was
a large wigwam of l^irch bark some thirty feet long,
and inside of this was the secret tent, five or six feet
long and only four or five feet high. Here could be
heard the incantations and the medicine "rattle,"
and protruding from under the secret tent might be
seen, the nude legs of a patient undergoing the
sweating process with steam from water and heated
stones. The blanket was quite commonly worn,
and the feather and the paint were seen occasion-
ally on the Reservation, but the white man's cloth-
ing has superseded the picturesque Indian dress,
although all save a few young women retained
the moccasin. Even the rector of St. Columba
wore his moccasins in the chancel! Many of the
baptized Indians have cut their hair quite short
like white men, but the braid is mostly in style.
The younger portion of the community take pride
in adopting the clothing of the pale face. For the
use of the Indians the Government furnishes cabins
built of hewn logs with good floors and windows
and doors. These, of course, are greatly in demand
in winter weather, but almost all still cling to the
comforts of the wigwam in the warm summer
months. The wigwam of the Chippewa is built of
birch bark upon strong wooden frames, about eight
feet high and twenty to thirty feet or more in cir-
171
cumference. Platforms for the sleeping mats, two
or three feet high, circle the tent, a broad space in
the centre being left for the ever burning fire. An
aperture in the roof permits the escape of smoke
and secures good ventilation. The reed mats used
for carpets are often very beautiful specimens of
work, and would secure large prices in New York
or Boston. The door is usually of blanket, and is
guarded by a herd of worthless, ravenous dogs.
The Indians finds the wigwam very comfortable even
in the coldest winter nights with the temperature
50 degrees below zero ! The Indian warrior was well
trained, not only in the use of his weapons but in
the valuable lessons of strategy. He studied intel-
ligently the signs which exists about him, in the
trampled grass and earth, the broken twig, the size
and number of the fires, or in their remains, etc.
He learns to conquer himself, to be patient under
suffering, fearless in battle, indifferent to death —
captured and awaiting a death of torture, to look
his enemies calmly in the face. In these bloody
wars, waged with ever varying fortune, could be
found examples of the highest heroism and un-
selfishness, deeds of daring, unsurpassed by the
most gallant records in history. It is undeniably
true that the Indian possesses many admirable
traits; he is naturally manly and bold, a devoted
lover of freedom and independence, an unequalled
hunter, a fearless warrior, an eloquent orator, a
loving father, a sincere and consistent believer in
"The Great Spirit" Gitche-Manito. His life was
free from cursing and blasphemy, neither does his
language afford an opportunity for the expression
of oaths. His figure was usually tall and command-
172
ing, and his bearing naturally proud ; he has roamed
through vast tracts of country all his own unchal-
lenged.
Rev. J. J. Emmengahbowh, once a wild Indian,
received a good education from the missionaries,
and became the beloved rector of the Church of St.
Columba. His influence for good with the Chip-
ewas was very great. In his faithful parish work
and as an eloquent expounder of the Christian re-
ligion, his services were much valued by his people.
He lived in a plain little house with his wife and
children, patiently working and waiting, thinking
only of his people's welfare, and firmly trusting
and believing in his church. He was truly a re-
markable man, and it was owing to his efforts
and those of the beloved Chief, Fair Day, Mi-no-
ge-shig, that by visiting many of the churches
in the Eastern States and making addresses the
Church of St. Columba, costing .$12,000, was built.
Years ago, when the terrible massacre of Crow- Wing
was planned, and when Minnesota was terror-strick-
en by Indian uprising, the faithful Emmengahbowh
gave timely warning, at the risk of his own life,
and saved many from a terrible fate. For this
noble action he was obliged to keep well hidden
from the vengeance of those, who to-day warmly
applaud his unselfishness. The Indian convert is
a sincere believer and performs his duties faithfully,
travelling miles on foot through deep snow in stormy
weather to be present at church services, and mak-
ing an offering either of money or beadwork with
great punctuality. Good Emmengahbowh and our
friend Me-no-gee-shig, have gone to rest, the memory
of their faithful friendship will remain with us al-
ways. Requiescant in Pace. Amen.
173
A MOTHER'S EXPERIENCE IN
THE COLD NORTHWEST.
The following letter gives a very good idea of the
discomforts in cold regions as witnessed by a mother.
The writer of it shared with me the dangers and
sufferings of that cold and cruel winter of 1879- '80.
It was the real courage and skill and patience united
with an excellent constitution, to say nothing of an
unequalled disposition, which saved the lives of
husband and child and more than one grateful In-
dian as well, and won for her the undying love and
devotion of her Chippewa friends, who gave her
the simple name of "The Indian's true friend."
With help, with comforts, with advice, and sym-
pathy, in all of which a bright pure Christian flame
was ever burning, she taught these Indians and the
palefaces, what womankind can be, and left behind
her a record which from that day to this, now nearly
33 years, these Indians love to talk about and bless
her for.
"During the winter of 1879- '80 we experienced
true Arctic vveather — the 'Sundogs' were frequent
and very distinct. In November the cold set in with
snow for the season. When first informed that the
thermometer registered zero I could not believe it.
I wore a suimner gown (over heavy flannels, of
course) in the house. The sun was bright and the
174
atmosphere was intensely clear. At Thanksgiving
time it was very wintry. The highest mark of the
thermometer. (Fahrenheit) during the month of
December was 16 degrees F., and this in the middle
of the day. The day before Christmas the govern-
ment spirit thermometer registered— 40 degrees F.
All day long the ice remained under and near the
stove in the kitchen, where we kept up the fire con-
stantly. Attempting to make a simple cake, the
butter would harden so that I could not beat it if
I took it off the stove. Meats were frozen as hard
as a rock, but we were grateful to get them, for they
were brought by the mail wagon a long distance
two or three times a week.
"Our 'menu' was most simple and restricted,
consisting mostly of dry groceries like cereals and
canned goods — not at all like the variety reported
by Nansen on the ' Fram ! ' A cow was our main-
stay. It was her milk which kept our child alive —
when his appetite gave out. He tired of the miser-
able lack of variety in our food. Everything would
freeze — if possible. One morning we could not get
breakfast till about ten o'clock, it took so long to get
things started. Even the bread in an inside closet
was frozen, although wrapped and in a tin box.
It cut like a slice of ice cream. It was a fight for
existence in such a region of ice. In each room we
had to shut ourselves in and feed sheet iron stoves
with the scraggly oak sticks — all night long as
well as by day — it was unsafe to let the fire go down
even in our bedroom.
"We could wear any amount of clothing, mostly
woolen — my child of four years could only exercise
by my getting out with him for a few moments to
175
keep him in perpetual motion. He was warmly
wrapped from head to foot with fur wrapper, cap
with lappets — all of otter skin, the present of an
Indian chief — completely covering his head. His
face was only slightly exposed. Even then often
the purple spots would appear on his cheeks and
nose. Often I would play games with him to bribe
him to eat. We have experienced severe cold in
other places even the bitter 'Northers' of the Texan
'panhandle' but nothing ever like this of 1879- '80!
Some days, especially in January, were beautiful.
Zero weather and even ten below was fine, dry,
clear and cold, with a brilliant sun.
"Our leaving White Earth was on a bitter win-
ter day, but so still, crisp and sunny one could not
believe the thermometer stood — 28 degrees F. It
was important to keep our child awake while we were
driving nearly twenty-five miles over the rolling
country. It was growing colder and colder as we
drove in an open sleigh to the railroad settlements."
176
Dr. Parker in huiitiug suit of Indian tanned dter t-kin made for tiim by tlie
Chippewa Indians, lM'9-80.
THE LOVE OF A PEOPLE.
Won by a Cup of Water in His Name.
It was one of those hot September mornings at
a far away Indian Reservation hospital. The sur-
geon and his fair young wife were chatting with the
matron in the dining room. The windows were all
open. The landscape was fair to see; forest and
lake and rolling prairie land, such as one will find
near the sources of the "Father of Waters." As
we gazed out upon the restful scenery, a tired-look-
ing squaw approached with a huge bundle on her
back, and laboriously plodded her way to a
window, hesitatingly cried out, "Punge nibbee,"
which means in the paleface tongue, "Please
give me a little water." She looked like a burden
carrier with her heated, tired face, across the fore-
head of which was the band which held her pack.
The matron, a woman of "executive ability,"
pointed towards the lake. "There you will find
water in plenty," she said, with a cold, indifferent,
almost contemptuous tone.
The Indian woman turned with a lowering look,
and started on again.
All this took place in an instant. We stood as
it were in a trance of surprise which was quickly
broken by the surgeon's wife, w^ho rushed to the
177
window, and called eagerly to the Indian. The
squaw turned doubtfully, half fearing another in-
sult, but was reassured by the gentle voice. She
stopped and tooked up in wonder and with pleasure
at the sweet, fair face and golden hair. It seemed
to her a vision of loveliness such as she had never
before seen!
Now the poor woman approaches and kind hands
help relieve her of her pack, and bring her into the
dining room. Food, milk, and plenty of water, are
placed before her, and the interpreter assures her
of welcome to-day or any day — food whenever
hungry, rest whenever weary — and "Tell her,"
said the gentle hostess, "that this hospital was
built for the Indians by kind-hearted palefaces far
away — some now in the spirit land. Here Indians
are ever welcome. Come again and see me."
If ever gratitude took the place of hate on human
face here was an instance. Regretfully the poor
traveler at last resumed her toilsome way.
"Well," said the matron, "you may think that is
good policy, but / will tell you it don't work among
Indians. See if the hospital is not overrun this
very afternoon with all the old beats on the Reserva-
tion. "
Sure enough, when afternoon was on the wane
the hospital yard was simply full of Indians —
blanketed, painted men, boys, and squaws.
It did seem as if the matron's fears were about
to be realized. The surgeon and interpreter went
out on the hospital steps and asked them what they
wished. If the Indians wished to come in, it would
perhaps be best for a dozen or so to come in
178
at a time, and then they could in this manner go
over the hospital.
" No ! " they did not wish to come in.
"What do they wish — food, water, tobacco?"
"No" — not even that! They had come to see
the Indians' "friend," the wife of the Paleface
medicine-man, and that was the real object of their
visit.
With her child in her arms, their "friend" came
forth to renew her words of gentle kindness and
sincerity. No man who could witness such a scene
of genuine love, could ever forget it. The Indians
pressed about to touch the hands and look in the
gentle face and to discern with their wonderfully
acute powers of character reading the true, deep
interest in their welfare which was so apparent.
And so began the love and devotion which many
years have seasoned and preserved, and this is how
a cup of water won the love of a people!
179
BRAVEHEART'S BAPTISM.
Bravelieart, an Indian chief, stood before a pic-
ture of Correggio's "Ecce Homo" at the "Black-
coats' " lodge. He was evidently interested and
puzzled in this curious appearance of a mild and
friendly Man who wore such a strange "head
dress" which seemed to be only a crown of thorns!
So he asked one of his friends, the missionaries, to
explain to him the mystery.
More than once Braveheart returned to ask to
have the story of the Man of Sorrows related to
him — the story of the great Passion — the story of
Him who died to save others.
That old, old story of the love of God for sinful
man made a deep impression on the red man's
heart, and he became the Black-coats' friend — and
made frequent visits to the mission to learn the
great message.
But, after a while, the visits of Braveheart ceased,
and he was missed. When one of the Black-coats
returned from a long journey, he reported that
Braveheart was gone to the "happy hunting
grounds," and would never visit the mission again.
He had called his friends about him from time
to time during his sickness in his wigwam, and told
them the story of the picture of the "Friend of all
men," and how if the Great Spirit spared his life
180
a while longer, he would ask for the Black-coats'
ceremony — Baptism — but as his strength failed and
death approached to overcome the brave, old chief-
tain, he gave the family his last instructions.
"When I am dead," said Braveheart, "place
upon my breast in the grave the totem of the
Black-coats, the Cross of the Friend of all men,
and above my grave set up a large Cross that it
may be seen from afar, and when anyone asks why
is that great Cross erected there, say to them that
Braveheart, who believed in the white man's Sav-
iour, is resting in peace* beneath it, hoping for a
better life — trusting to the love of the Father of
Life."
And thus it was that Braveheart died, and was
buried with Christian symbols within and without
his lonely grave.
We were speaking of all these things one after-
noon in the smoking section of a Pullman car
speeding over the great prairies where so short a
time ago the Indians roamed at will, and someone
said : ' ' What a pity that good Indian had never been
baptized. ' '
One of our party was a quiet unassuming Catho-
lic priest, sitting with us and enjoying his smoke.
He had been a listener to the story. The good
priest looked up at this last remark, and, gently
placing his hand upon the knee of the narrator,
said: "My son, Braveheart was baptized."
*Even among the non-Christian Indians, the term " go in
peace " (rest in peace) is common, as is also the term " Father
of all. Father of life" — meaning "the Great White Spirit
whom we call God."
181
"Did you know him, Father?" we asked the good
priest.
"No, my son, but I will explain to you. The
Church recognizes three forms of Baptism, the regu-
lar and well-known rite with water, and the Baptism
of blood of the martyrs, who gave their lives in de-
fence of the Faith, and a third form, the Baptism
of Desire. Many a soul struggling, groping in the
darkness of unbelief or un-Christian surroundings,
stretches forth his hands, longing for a Saviour,
whose name he does not know. God sees it all, and
the Holy Spirit baptizes that soul for the inher-
itance of everlasting salvation."
As the dear, old priest ceased speaking, the sun
was setting and we all sat in silence for awhile.
That was a most fitting explanation of Braveheart's
Baptism.
182
LOST ON THE GREAT PLAINS.
In the cold month of January, 1868, I received
an invitation from an officer friend, Lieutenant
, to visit him at the frontier station. Fort
Cedar Point, Colo. The message was brought to
Denver by a non-commissioned officer, who, with
two or three soldiers, would return to the fort in
a few hours. The necessary preparations were
quickly made, and we were soon en route south-
ward. We traveled in a western wagon drawn by
two mules.
The first night we expected to sleep under cover
of some house, and the next night we must find
our camp on the ground in the open prairie. We
started in cold weather, and when we reached our
camping place a dreary snowstorm had commenced.
We formed camp as rapidly as possible, building
a huge fire, and by good luck finding an old wagon-
box, we propped that up against the wind. Our
simple meal finished we wrapped ourselves in our
blankets, and were soon fast asleep. The snow
covered us pretty well before morning, but we
awoke refreshed and hungry, and without having
suffered from the cold. The storm had ceased, and
we started forth to complete our journey. What
tonic can equal the glorious, invigorating atmosphere
of Colorado?
183
Toward evening the rough outbuildings and
tents of the fort came into view, and we were
heartily welcomed at the "mess" by our friends.
With the exception of a few "dug outs" or holes
in the ground, the command was quartered in can-
vas houses — tents spread over a light wooden frame-
work. These houses had one door, with a window
in it to give light ; of course they were very cold,
but well ventilated, and with plenty of fur rugs
and wraps, and the little stove well filled, one could
make himself quite comfortable. Under canvas in
Colorado in Summer is delightful, but in January
and February there are some drawbacks. Twelve
miles away from the post was a mail station, where
twice in the week we could get "home letters." That
little, rough mail station seemed a very important
place to us — "the connecting link." We regarded
it with great interest, as one would delight in an
oasis on the desert!
" Life at a frontier post is not very exciting, and
after a while it becomes monotonous, but every
little incident is made as much of as possible,
and all endeavor to contribute to the general well-
being of the garrison. The menu of the officers'
mess had been quite simple, but sometime before
my arrival a party of emigrants passed by the post
with a lame cow, which they offered for sale, and
this valuable creature became the prize and the
pride of the officers' mess. At considerable expense
a bag of Indian meal had been procured from the
settlement, and when I reached Fort C. the mess
was luxuriating in mush and milk for supper every
evening. How delicious it tasted; hot and whole-
some, a feast for the gods it seemed to us who were
184
used to hardtack and army bacon, with coffee with-
out cream, as we called our morning drink. In-
deed, we seldom had condensed milk for it, but now
here was a real, live, milch cow, and good, pure
milk, better than most can get from your milkman
in the midst of civilization nowadays. You can
imagine what a treat this was for us. Sometimes
we enjoyed a roast of antelope, but it was not so
easy to shoot these pretty creatures as one might
think ; even forty-five years ago they gave the hunter
plenty of hard work.
We started out, my friend and I, one afternoon
to try for some antelope meat for the mess. By
hard work and careful hunting we each had a shot
at some beautiful creatures. My friend's shot
proved better than mine, and while he started off
after his wounded antelope I sought for another
chance. The antelope escaped, and when I turned
to join my companion I could not find him. I star-
ted in what I thought was the direction of the post,
but began to lose my bearings, and at last came to
the conclusion that I was, indeed, lost on the plains.
Night was coming on rapidly. I tried to find some
familiar landmark from the highest ground I could
reach, but all was strange and bewildering, and the
sense of being lost and in danger came over me. I
dared not wander further lest I should increase the
distance between myself and friend.
I examined my carbine and counted my car-
tridges. I had seven shots left, none too many for
one in my position. The Indians roamed up and
down through this section all Winter, and although
they were theoretically at peace, my chances for
fair treatment were very slim indeed. I should
185
probably have been murdered for the sake of my
carbine and clothing if not for my poor scalp. All
these thoughts intruded themselves, besides visions
of wild beasts. Then I began to feel cold and
hungry, and to my dismay I discovered that I had
not one solitary match left.
The loneliness and the darkness increased. I be-
gan to search for some hiding place to shelter me
until morning, and I ventured to run towards a
little hollow. I was feeling very lonely, and I tried
not to remember the stories of men lost on the
plains, but they would come up before my mind.
I felt certain that my only safety was to be very
self-possessed and brave. I might be quite near
the post, and when Lieut. Q. returned he would
surely send out searching parties. Oh, if I only
had a match I would build a fire to guide them;
it was getting so dark I feared they could not find
me. I debated whether or not I should part with
one of my precious shots, and I decided that I
would climb to the top of the little rise of ground
and fire my evening gun. I could not get material
together sufficiently dry to fire with the shot from
my carbine.
Slowly I climbed the little hill, and praying God
to send me relief, I fired my carbine in the air.
Like an answer from heaven came a low boom from
the distance. I must have imagined it, I thought,
it is the mocking echo of my carbine; but it did
sound like a cannon. Boom came the gladdening
sound again, and straining my eyes over the hori-
zon I saw — oh, what a joyful sight to me — a bright
light, a fire. How can it be in that direction, just
the opposite from what I believed the post to be in.
186
Boom came the gun again, and with a happy, thank-
ful heart I ran fast enough to rival an antelope
toward the light, the "Star of hope" to me. In a
short time I saw figures approaching; they were sol-
diers searching for me, sent by our kind command-
ing officer. I was saved.
It was hard to keep back the tears of joy and
gratitude, but it was dark, and I pretended to take
matters very coolly. I feared, too, that I might be
well blamed for the trouble I had given, and the
story of the lost boy came to my mind. On reach-
ing the post, however, I found all glad to see me
safely back again and the delicious mush and milk
was waiting, to which I did full justice with a
grateful heart.
So much for antelope hunting. A much safer
sport was poisoning wolves which we accomplished
in the following manner: The great "loafer wolves,"
or "gray wolves" as they are more commonly
known, roamed about the post every night. They
were not only annoying by their howling, but they
were most accomplished thieves. Their hides were
then worth $1 skinned or 75 cents on the dead
animal. The wolves roamed generally near the
corral. We planted a post in the ground, and high
up out of reach of the wolves we tied a large and
tempting bone, on which we left considerable meat.
Pieces of meat from three to four inches long we
cut nearly in half, and in the slit thus fashioned
we placed a good quantity of strychnine. We scat-
tered many of these pieces on the ground not far
from the post from which the bone was hanging.
We made these preparations at sundown.
18T
During the night the wolves would come, and
finding the poisoned meat devour it greedily until
it was all gone. Then scenting the meat and bone
on the post, they would sit down and deliberate
how that was to be obtained. They were too hungry
to leave such a tempting morsel, and it was hard
for them to believe that it could not be gotten by
patience. While waiting the poison would begin
to operate, and with a howl the wolves would start
off in pain, only to run a short distance before they
fell dead. In the morning we would find their
bodies, frozen stiff, not many yards from the post.
If we did not use this method of retaining them
until the poison acted upon them fatally they might
run off a mile or more before death, and give us
some trouble in hunting up their bodies. The sport
proved quite profitable, although strychnine was
very expensive at that time at Fort C.
One day our mail-rider, who went once a week
to the stage station, 12 miles away, was taken sick,
and I volunteered to go in his place, and received
the commanding officer's permission. I started out
with my mail-bag in the morning, mounted on an
excellent mule, and reached the station in time for
dinner. After getting the return mail I rode off
for the post again. It was a clear, mild afternoon
in February, and my mule started off briskly for
home. We had made more than half the distance
when, upon riding down into a little hollow, my
mule suddenly stopped and appeared to be in ter-
ror. I urged her forward, but she would not move.
All at once it occurred to me that mules have a
dread of Indians, and can smell them for some dis-
tance. This, then, must be the cause of my mule's
188
alarm. There were Indians in ambush ahead, and
being in ambush, they meant me no good.
I hastily unslung and brought my carbine to a
ready, and urged my frightened mule back to the
rising ground. In less time than it takes to write
this I heard a noise in the bushes and out sprang,
not some painted warriors, as my frightened senses
supposed would appear, but some antelopes, which
bounded away and were soon out of range before
I could recover from my fright. They had evi-
dently been caught napping, something that rarely
happens to an antelope. My mule recognized them
as soon as I did and looked rather ashamed, for
frightening me in that rough way. But I was glad
to forgive her, and happier still to reach the fort
safely at last, where I gave up my precious mail-
bag to cheer the hearts of the garrison with news
of loved ones far away.
My visit, like all other pleasures, had an end, and
I parted from my kind friends with great regret.
Civilization has advanced so rapidly that probably
no vestige of the old frontier fortified camp remains
to-day. The garrivson has been scattered in every
direction, and it is hardly possible that these lines
will ever reach the eyes of any of those who con-
tributed so much of kindness and hospitality to the
writer. It will be a long time indeed before I for-
get my adventures in old Colorado!
189
ON THE ARKANSAW IN '67.
Guard mount was over, this lovely spring morn-
ing, at old Fort Lyon, and upon the broad veran-
das of the officer's quarters, along the line over-
looking the parade ground, were gathered some of
the ladies and officers of the post, discussing the
startling newa which had just been received con-
cerning the Indians.
While at the garrison all seemed peaceful and
secure, it was reported that along the Arkansaw,
and more particularly at the ford near Bent's Fort,
the hostile Indians were attacking every wagon train
that attempted to make a crossing.
To check their lawless interference and to pro-
tect emigrants from these Indian attacks, the
commanding officer of Fort Lyon had been directed
to detail an officer and ten men to hold the ford,
and young Bradstreet, a recent arrival from West
Point, had been selected for this hazardous and im-
portant undertaking.
The Adjutant had given the officer his first orders
for field service, and with a few hurried partings
to friends and comrades he turned his steps toward
his own quarters to prepare for his departure. As
he donned his scouting uniform and made his prep-
arations, an old friend, his First Lieutenant, Dick
Trumbull, entered the room. "Bradstreet," he
190
said, "its hard luck for you to have such a detail.
I offered to go, but Capt. Walker had determined
to send you, and so there is no help for it."
The written order lying on his table stated the
facts plainly enough — "To proceed immediately by
wagon, with Sergt. Mason and nine men of B Troop
of the gallant old Third Cavalry, to a certain desig-
nated ford of the Arkansaw, there to intrench him-
self as best he might, and hold the Sante Fe trail
open. ' '
With ten men to hold open the trail and guard
the ford in a war such as this, with all the Indian
tribes united — it seemed a very thankless post for
even an ambitious young soldier.
Hardly had Bradstreet made his hasty prepara-
tions, when the great army wagon drove up; it was
loaded with rations, tents, arms and ammunition,
and escorted by a dozen mounted troopers.
The "dismounted detail" got into the wagon and
awaited the order to march.
A few final instructions from the Post Adjutant,
and the command started off in the direction of the
eastward trail.
Shortly after noon, the conunand made a halt,
and then pushed on again in the direction of the
ford.
It was long after dark before their destination
was reached. The command halted and camped
without tents or fire. Pickets were stationed, the
horses were tied to the tongue and wheels of the
wagon, and every precaution taken to avoid a sur-
prise. The most dreaded time for Indian attack is
in the early dawn ; then the Indians, hoping to sur-
191
prise a sleeping command, steal noiselessly in the
dim light to make a stampede.
At 3 o'clock next morning all were astir.
Belcher, the officer in command of the escort, with
Bradstreet, sought out a suitable position for the
station.
After breakfast all hands were at work, throwing
up a breastwork to surround the three tents to be
occupied by the detail.
The situation was well chosen on a high bank of
the Arkansaw overlooking the ford.
A commanding view of the country about could
be had in almost every direction.
The vast rolling prairie stretched out like the
ocean to the east, to the north, to the west, and over
the river to the south.
By noon the station on the "Arkansaw" was com-
pleted. No flag-staff to be sure was there, but quite
a fort nevertheless it was in appearance, with 'its
quaker guns of wagon hubs frowning from em-
brasures. Its little garrison of eleven brave hearts
would undoubtedly do its best to hold its own in
case of emergency.
The escort was soon in saddle, and with the
empty wagon they rode away, leaving the lonely
detachment of the Fourth to its fate. Night settled
down upon the plains, the sentries began their watch
and the first day's duties were ended.
The Sergeant's voice, next morning, was their
only reveille. In this lonely spot there would be
nothing to break the monotony unless diversion
supplied by the Indians.
Day after day the walls were added to or strength-
ened. Everything was done to suggest the appear-
192
ance of a garrison of some size. Twice a day the
whole command, except one sentry, who marched
about in plain sight, went down to the river with
pails and canteens for water. They left their car-
bines in the fort, but concealed under their coats
they carried their revolvers. This was a risky thing
to do, but was kept up out of pure bravado.
On the third day a strong emigrant party passed
the station, crossing the ford to the southward.
On the fourth they were enabled to send word to
Fort Lyon, reporting all well, the pony express
rider having made a short halt. He reported In-
dians all the way from Fort Hayes.
On the fifth day several parties of Indians were
seen.
On the seventh, the numbers of the Indians had
decidedly increased. In the afternoon of that day
three or four Sioux approached within hailing dis-
tance, waving a white flag. Bradstreet boldly ad-
vanced to meet them. A half-breed came forward
alone for a parley. He asked for provisions and
tobacco, wanted to know how many soldiers were in
the fort.
Bradstreet informed him that they had no pro-
visions to give or sell, and that the garrison at the
fort was sufficient to hold it against all comers.
Finally a demand for the surrender of the arms
was made, and meeting with an emphatic refusal,
the half-breed, muttering threats as to what would
be the fate of the soldiers, returned to his com-
panions.
As Bradstreet entered the works, a bullet plowed
into the earth, close to his side. Instantly, from
every direction, the Indians seemed to rise from
the ground. Arrows and bullets were flying through
the air, and although there were one or two narrow
escapes, no member of the garrison was injured.
Dawn of the next day found the little command
on the alert awaiting the threatened attack. From
the east and north, warriors decked with war paint
and feathers, ready for battle, were seen in large
numbers. A hundred or more were preparing for
an assault.
Shortly after eight o'clock the Indians employed
tactics of an unusual nature.
They made a determined advance, forming in an
oblong mass seven or eight deep. With whoops and
war songs they came on steadily to within 150 yards
of the fort. Bradstreet cautioned his men not to
fire a shot until they could be sure of a good target.
Suddenly the Indians, opening up their lines and
spreading right and left, poured in a volley of ar-
roW;S and bullets upon the little garrison. Corp.
Welch and Private Andrews were instantly killed
and one or two were wounded, but so rapid and
deadly was the fire of the garrison that they were
unable to reach the works and fled in disorder.
There was more or less firing throughout the day
until about four o'clock in the afternoon, when the
Indians once more advanced deployed as skirmish-
ers in a semi-circle. War drums and whoops and
yells made a hideous racket.
As they approached the fort the line drew closer
together, until with one desperate efl^ort they en-
deavored to scale the works. So vigorously did they
carry on this charge that one Indian actually fell
dead within the inclosure. A fierce hand-to-hand
194
fight took place and for a few moments it seemed
as if the fate of the little garrison were sealed.
But this time their rout seemed to be complete.
They were seen to carry off several of their dead
and wounded.
Bradstreet and two of his men were badly wound-
ed; the former had an ugly wound in the shoulder
from a rifle bullet, and from pain and loss of blood
was no longer able to stand upon his feet.
Just after sundown three shrill whistles were
heard in the direction of the ford. Sergt. Mason
hailed: "Who goes there?" '*A friend, William
Dixon, a Government scout; can I approach?"
Three men with cocked carbines stood at the rear
entrance; there was just light enough to see the
man. The scout entered. A glance showed that
he had been through hard service. He was taken
to Bradstreet, who, propped against the wall, lis-
tened to what he had to say.
"I was on my way to the Cimmaron Crossing with
dispatches for Fort Riley, when I met these Indians
whom you have been fighting. They killed my
horse, and I have an ugly scratch on my arm. My
rifle is broken and abandoned, but I managed to
escape from them, and have worked my way to your
fort. I can at least add one to your number."
"You are more than welcome," said Bradstreet,
"We are sorely pressed, and I fear cannot hold our
ground much longer."
"Well, Lieutenant, my legs are in good order,
and if you wish I'll try to get through to Lyon
and bring you relief."
"Take what rest yovi must have, get something
to eat and let me know when you are ready to start. ' '
195
Bradstreet drew a notebook from his pocket, and
wrote the following dispatch by the light of a candle
carefully shielded.
"Carson's Ford, on the Arkansaw,
May 17, 1867.
To Col. Peters, Commanding Officer,
Fort Lyon, Colorado :
Sir; — We are surrounded by Indians. Two of
my command are killed, and three wounded. Please
send relief, with surgeon, as soon as possible. I send
this by Government Scout Dixon.
Wm. Bradstreet,
Second Lieutenant Third Cavalry.
U. S. A."
"Dixon here is a dispatch for the Commanding
Officer at Fort Lyon. Endeavor to get through with
it as rapidly as possible. Secrete it in your cloth-
ing, and if captured make every effort to destroy
this paper. Our only hope is that you may get
through in safety. Good night and a safe journey
to you!"
The scout placed the message between the folds
of the collar of his hunting shirt and with a deter-
mined look on his honest face he waved a farewell
to the little garrison and started for the river. The
darkness and the silence of the night instantly en-
veloped him. He was gone on his desperate errand,
and the fate of the garrison depended upon his
success. No fire could be lighted, no match could
be struck for even the smoke so dear to the soldiers'
heart. In silence and anxiety they awaited the
dawn of another day.
196
Suddenly the silence was broken ,by poor Whit-
man, who, in delirium from want of water and loss
of blood, was heard singing:
"Fierce and long the battle rages.
But our help is near.
Onward comes our Great Commander!
Cheer! my comrades, cheer!
Hold the fort "
But the song died upon his lips, his head sank
upon his manly chest, his battles were over. All
the weary night the faithful little garrison got what
rest they could, waiting for the dawn to put an end
to their sufferings. 'Either relief must arrive or the
Indians would close in upon them and end the
struggle.
Bradstreet acted as best he could, going over the
situation in his mind as to the chances of his brave
scout's reaching Fort Lyon. Of course, it would
take just so many hours for relief to reach them
after news of their situation had been reported.
Day dawned and the expected attack did not take
place. All was silence, and to all appearances the
Indians had left them. Every man who could stand
up volunteered to go for the needed water.
But Bradstreet, still clinging to the hope of re-
lief, refused to risk one more of his gallant garrison.
Too well he knew the cunning treachery of his foes.
Fainting from the loss of blood and the pain of his
wound, he could yet give to his men some words
of hope and cheer. The carbines and pistols were
carefully inspected, the ammunition counted and
examined, and a grim determination settled on each
and every man to do his duty to the last. Shortly
197
after noon Williams, shading his eyes and peering
to the northeastward, has pointed out to Johnson
a little cloud. ''It may be a buffalo, more Indians,
or it may be relief." But to the right, the hellish
tum, turn, tum, of the war drum is sounding again.
The Indians are advancing once more. Widely de-
ployed as skirmishers, they cautiously avoid ex-
posure. Once more is heard — the half-breed's taun-
ting demands for surrender. Once more they are
asked to "come out and throw up your arms," and
now with a rush they come within range of the
troopers.
The carbines of the garrison are aimed steadily
and to good purpose.
Again the enemy seek shelter and extend their
line further to the westward. Bradstreet, strug-
gling to keep upon his knees, slowly falls to his side,
dropping his carbine. The yells are renewed; and
at the same time is heard the well-known cheer —
out from behind the hill ride the bluecoated troopers
of "the gallant Third." A few seconds of sharp
firing, with scattering, baffled savages everywhere
in retreat. Trumbull, at the head of his men,
reaches the wall. Dismounting, he enters the little
fort. In an instant he is at Bradstreet 's side. He
grasps his comrade's hand. He kneels at his side
and calls into the almost unconscious ear: "Brad-
street, my boy, you are saved; do you hear me?
You are saved." A grateful light shines upon the
face of the commander. He cannot speak. Some of
the garrison try to cheer. The tension is tremen-
dous. It would seem as if they must fall.
"Water!" cry the wounded, and willing hands as-
sist the surgeon in his errand of mercy. Trumbull
198
is now in command, with Belcher to assist. The
horses are securely picketed close to the west-
ward wall. Strong guards are posted, and order
soon reigns. With forty good troopers and Lieu-
tenants TnunbuU and Belcher to direct them, there
is little fear of the Indians now. Good Dr.
Warren has made the wounded as comfortable as
possible. The dead have been reverently buried
with a parting volley, and the trumpeter has sounded
the last call.
Night closes the scene, and the garrison, after the
anxiety and work of the day, enjoy a needed rest.
Next morning the wounded are carefully placed
in the ambulance and the command begins its re-
turn march to Fort Lyon, Belcher and twenty troop-
ers remaining behind.
There is no sign of Indians in any direction ; they
have departed for parts unknown.
Slowly the command covered the distance to the
fort, escorted part way by the officers of the garrison,
who had ridden out to meet them. The wounded
men were taken to the hospital, and Bradstreet to
his quarters, where in a few days he recovered suf-
ficiently to walk about the post with his arm in a
sling.
A few days more of convalescence, then he was
restored to B troop for duty, and the fight at the
fort on the Arkansaw became but a vision of the
past.
199
ON THE LITTLE BIG HORN IN '76.
Dr. Porter, then acting assistant surgeon in the
United States army, was left with Reno when Custer
divided his troops of the gallant Seventh Cavalry.
The detachment crossing the Little Big Horn took a
strong position in a clump of woods; but such vast
numbers of the savages loomed up in every direction
that Reno decided to start for the river.
Dr. Porter was attending to a dying soldier, but
he found that in an instant his orderly and sup-
plies were gone. He was alone, with the command
several hundred yards away. He still devoted him-
self to his patient, until the soldier's death left him
free to consider himself and his own safety.
Leading his horse to the embankment beyond the
woods, he was startled to find himself within close
proximity to the Indians, who were in swift pur-
suit of Reno's command. So eager were they in
the chase that they did not notice Porter, although
passing within a few feet of him. Even had he
been armed, he could not for a moment have held
out against such odds, and the only hope remaining
to him was to mount his splendid charger, which,
mad with excitement, was rearing and plunging.
He held to the rein with all his strength, making
frantic efforts to gain his saddle. At last, with a
desperate leap, he gained his horse's back.
200
Half-seated in the saddle, and clinging with all
his might to save himself from falling, he sped
along in a race of life and death. In an instant
the savages espied him, and with a yell they sent
after him a shower of bullets from rifle and re-
volver, which in some marvelous manner missed both
horse and rider. On, on, he dashed, each moment
bringing him nearer to safety. It was a long half
mile! The surgeon had no control of his frantic
horse, and he was running a gauntlet where the
chances of death were a thousand to one.
He at last reached the river in safety, and in a
few moments had forded the stream, scaled the bank,
and was on the bluff, where Reno was entrenching
himself.
About them in every direction the bluffs and the
plains were black with Sioux. The Indians poured
in a terrific fire upon the harassed troopers. The
surgeon's services were instantly in urgent demand.
Brave, cool, and devoted, he showed the true hero-
ism of the medical man in peril.
For twenty-four hours this terrible ordeal con-
tinued. One in every three had been hit; there
were fifty dead and fifty wounded. The brave but
well-nigh exhausted surgeon continued to admin-
ister to the wants of his patients, who were crying
in agony for water.
Through the afternoon of the 25th of June, 1876,
all through the dreadful night following, throughout
the day of the 26th and that night as well, and until
the forenoon of the 27th, Porter discharged his duties
as few men have been called upon to do.
201
A TROOPER OF THE GALLANT
OLD 3rd CAVALRY WORSTED
BY A HORSE.
The affair took place some time in the summer
of 1867, when a command of the Third United States
Cavalry was marching through the Indian country,
or the great desert of what is now Kansas. We had
a command of about three hundred and fifty officers
and men. Besides more than a hundred wagons
and ambulances, we started with nearly five hun-
dred extra cavalry horses for supplying cavalry in
New Mexico. The command left Fort Leavenworth,
Kansas, in May, and reached Fort Union in New
Mexico the middle or latter part of July. The year
1867 was a "lively" one on the great plains. All
the Indian tribes were on the war-path and fighting
in concert against the pale-faces. We marched as
through an enemy's country, with caution and alert-
ness, forming a protecting corral with wagons
constantly, like the laagers of the Boers in
war. We followed the old Santa Fe trail, and along
the "Arkansaw" we had need of all the wisdom
and skill our brave commanding officer. Major Whit-
ing, possessed. The Indians were active and con-
stantly threatening, and at the Cimmaron crossing
our chances seemed at one time well calculated to
cause anxiety.
202
In spite of the presence of our Indian foes, ever
dogging our footsteps and watching for an oppor-
tunity for successful attack, many of the recruits
deserted, carrying off horses and arms. Many of
these recruits were regular adventurous horse tliieves,
who had enlisted at Carlisle Barracks, Pennsylvania,
and who expected opportunities to reach the fron-
tier and steal horses and arms. Indeed, they had
planned to rob the paymaster and to carry off his
wagon and safe, which was supposed to contain
many thousands of dollars. So frequent were the
desertions, and so great was the loss of horses, that
new mounts were constantly in demand, and that
is how the splendid, great, iron-gray, cavalry horse
was discovered. The first recruit 'who! attempted
to ride him got off in some manner unknown to cav-
alry regulations, and after several others had made
an effort to stay on his back he was declared to be
a bad horse, and was for a time left alone. Finally
one of the non-commissioned officers, a strong, hand-
some cavalryman, asked permission of the command-
ing officer to ride the horse. It was granted with
considerable hesitancy, and the whole command
turned out to see what was pretty certain to be a
life-and-death struggle between man and horse.
The charger was a picture to look at; he was a
powerful beast, iron-gray, with an eye like an
eagle's, and with a carriage which made him fit for
a prince, if any prince on earth could but ride him.
The sergeant was as perfect a manly figure of cour-
age, intelligence, and physical strength as the beast
in his equine beauty. They eyed each other for an
instant, when with a firm bound the soldier seated
himself in the McClellan saddle. Then the battle
203
began in earnest, rider and horse exerting every
skill imaginable to triumph. In spite of plunge and
leap the soldier kept his splendid seat, proud mas-
ter of the beast beneath him. The battle lasted sev-
eral minutes and was a fierce encounter. Every-
man who looked on was proud of the manly prow-
ess of the soldier. The horse was in a fury of
despair, and finally with one mad dash he flung
himself upon the ground and rolled over the body
of his fallen rider. A cry of horror and distress
rose from the spectators, and we rushed forward to
bear the body of the unconscious horseman to the
hospital tent. Not a bone was broken, but upon
examination we found the soldier had sustained
serious injuries. When the man was able to be
about it was evident that his days of usefulness as
a soldier were past, and he received a discharge.
The horse lost the fire in his eye, and was after
the battle a cowed and subdued creature any recruit
could ride.
It was a duel as complete and perfect as if it had
been fought with swords; it was a wrestling match
in which both contestants were hopelessly worsted.
204
THE TEMPERANCE QUESTION IN
THE ARMY.
Fort Ciimmings, New Mexico, built of adobe "sun-
burnt bricks" in 1866, and abandoned years
ago, was a type of frontier stations or forts which
have pretty nearly ceased to exist. Far to the south-
ward of the dreary "Valley of Death," marking the
continuation of Jornada del Muerto — "journey of
death" — a speck in the great lonely desert, it nes-
tled as if clinging for safety at the foot of Cook's
Peak. Beyond Cummings in almost every direction
stretched the great prairies, but to the southwestward,
beyond the Sentinel Mountain — the mouth of the
lonely Canon — showed the trail to Fort Bayard,
another "doby fort." From the land of the Chip-
pewas and the Sioux, to the fastnesses of the uncon-
querable Apaches, from the deadly Smoky Hill far
over the Pacific slope, little forts garrisoned by one
or two companies of soldiers guarded the cradle of
western empire and shielded the emigrant from the
cruel and warlike Indian.
From West Point were sent out to these dreary
posts the very best specimens of manhood — eager
for military glory, but soon homesick and disgusted
with frontier life. The soldiers, although brave and
competent in active service, fretted at their useless,
205
aimless existence, as it seemed to them, and thought
little and cared less as to their own or their country 's
future if they could only ' ' kill time. ' ' Visitors were
not frequent. The regular call of the dashing pony
express riders, the occasional visit of a cowboy or
frontiersman, readily gave the excuse for extrav-
agant celebrations. Amid such surroundings read-
ing soon became monotonous, smoking too light a
pastime, and drinking and gambling easily became
favorites for most every one sooner or later. The
West Point boy with his first pair of shoulder-
straps gazed astonished at the sight of his superior
officers — playing cards with bullets for chips, and
frequent libations of wretched liquor called '* whis-
key" poured out to keep up his excitement. The
evil effects of such a life were everywhere to be
found — in cattle ranch and reservation, in company
quarters, and in the officers' mess. Men whose
home training taught them to abhor such associa-
tions became drunkards and gamblers in short or-
der, and with the increasing dissipation self-respect
was sadly shattered and the road to every vice was
open.
The first stages of settlement in the great west
were ever of this class. Drinking and gambling
have been the avant-couriers of our American prog-
ress. Everywhere, whether north or south, the sa-
loon is the first establishment. It takes a long time
for churches and schools to get a start; a shelter
tent or a prairie-schooner can be made use of for
saloon purposes at once.
The whiskey is the foundation for the mischief;
every undertaking begins with its employment;
battle, murder, uprising, all are encouraged by its
206
devilish influence. Manhood is degraded, the body-
is prematurely aged, the mind is dazed, stupefied,
diseased, and acute mania, delirium tremens, if not
immediately victors in the struggle, witness the giv-
ing of the death-blow.
On the other hand it is surprising to find that
many men, apparently whiskey-soaked, succeed in
reformation more or less permanent.
It does not require any extraordinary experience
to bear witness to the battles and rows at frontier
posts ending in suicides and even homicides. One
terrible murder directly traceable to whiskey came
under my observation ; and I have known more than
one officer who has manfully struggled to evercome
the temptation to drink. One splendid fellow wrote
me a letter imploring me to help him to win in his
battle against whiskey, until now the very name of
the poison is so distasteful to me and brings to
mind such scenes of sadness and horror that I
would do anything to prevent its use everywhere,
as well as amongst the brave soldiers of our army,
regular or volunteer. It is the associations, it is
the conditions of life which lead men into tempta-
tion and drag them unwillingly to ruin. It has
been said that: ''Reason cannot show itself more
reasonable than to leave off reasoning on things
above reason." There are those who dismiss the
subject of the liquor curse as one unfathomable.
These men are not enemies of temperance, but con-
fess they are unable to form an opinion as to the
best methods for overcoming the injurious effects
of alcohol. There are those, carried away by the
greatness of the subject, who become overenthused
and are condemned as ''cranks." Call no man a
207
crank who is honestly at work in the redemption
of mankind. This very day I have read that in-
temperance is certainly diminishing in our land,
and that the cheapness of heer is to be credited
with some of this result! Undoubtedly the Ger-
mans who drink beer — but very different in quality
from that which is provided in this country — are
spared temptations for whiskey, brandy, etc. That
temperance in the army is increasing, and that less
whiskey and more mild beer is called for, there can
be no doubt.
The old-time sutler has disappeared. He was ever
on the alert on pay-days, eagerly scooping in the
soldier's pay for the wretched supplies he had
afforded him.
The government after a while recognized that
the whiskey dealer was a curse to the army, and
war was declared upon him, resulting in a series of
battles lasting for years. Inch by inch he has been
driven backward, until to-day his power is limited,
and his glory well-nigh departed. The soldier is
able to look his old enemy in the face and to with-
stand temptation more readily, and to rejoice in
the manhood of victory over the allurements to
drink. With drunkenness unpopular the physical
well-being of the soldier can be maintained, and his
respectability cultivated. Drink catered to all that
was low and vile, and looked with jealous, hateful
eye at all tnie manliness and self-respect. It has
ceased to be respectable or soldierly to be found
half tipsy. There are some of the old-timers in
our army who still cling to the bottle. They were
made of such manly, courageous stuff that even
whiskey could not kill them, but that it has pre-
208
maturely aged some of them there can be no doubt.
The bravest men I have met, either in the army or
navy, were not those who swore the loudest or who
boasted that they could drink as much as the next,
although I must confess I still know of men who
drink and gamble and are undoubtedly good, true
men and valuable officers notwithstanding! Their
strong personalities could stand the damage which
would be fatal to many. They do not realize that
their very manhood gives encouragement to others
to drink who are not as able as they to overcome
the poison, and react against the damaging influ-
ences. Misguided methods of men preaching tem-
perence, but lacking in manhood and good sense,
have disgusted men of mettle and courage, and a
cause for the betterment of mankind has suffered
through such unworthy apostles. Army men are
by habit called upon to depend more or less on
alcohol in some form, and in choosing between two
evils the lesser is certainly to be recommended.
War is not a Sunday-school picnic, and in the stress
of battle stimulants are depended upon by many.
Sensible and worthy teachers must demonstrate by
precept and example that liquor must be used spar-
ingly, if at all. Excess is the cemetery of all en-
joyment. On the other hand, who would have with-
held a flask of pure brandy to the weary and ex-
hausted soldiers in the trenches before Santiago?
Hard and fast rules are easy to write, but difficult
to enforce, and total abstinence for an army is and
ever has been and always will be an utter impos-
sibility. The responsibilities of the commanding
officer are very great, whether in a lonely station
or in a city barracks, or in the active field of war.
209
To guard a soldier from those who would do him
harm, and from his own desires and appetites which
might impair body and mind, requires great wisdom
and prudence. The commander-in-chief of the Uni-
ted States army should have larger influence, and
less chance for discouragement by meddling out-
siders. Gen. Miles is not only a brave and compe-
tent officer, but is a gentleman honestly interested
in the real welfare of all his army, officers and en-
listed men as well. The remedy is in substituting
something which is harmless for that which is harm-
ful.
Instead of the drinking saloon, the properly or-
ganized canteen ; instead of gambling, entertain-
ments which amuse and interest; instead of whiskey,
beer or coffee or cocoa, in a pleasant, orderly room.
Do not force the soldier to take Christian teaching
as a dose; lead him if you will, but do not attempt
to drag. Do not after Santiago's campaign ever
ask an American soldier to give up his pipe and
tobacco. Those of us who have served on the plains
will testify that we can go without food, and even
warmth and shelter, but we must have our tobacco;
and whoever classes smoking with drinking can
hope for few converts among veteran soldiers.
It has been said that smoking easily leads to other
vices, but in my experience I have found that it
leads away from vice. While whiskey excites and
is apt to bring out the evil in men's minds and con-
duct, and may encourage careless speech, the pipe
is soothing, quieting, comforting and companionable.
The heart weighed down with loneliness and hope-
lessness turns gladly to the pipe and gets refresh-
ment, which the drinker can never find in spirituous
210
liquors. The Italian, the Frenchman and the Ger-
man drink their light winea or beer, sitting down
at table, and taking food at the same time. It is
used in moderation and as a food for man, woman,
and child. The American gets his liquor in a place
which is the resort of the drunkard and the tough.
He makes no long tarrying, but gulping down his
dose sometimes repeats it until he fancies he can
endure no more, and then, half-reeling, issues forth
to a fate which may in a moment forever cloud his
usefulness or his happiness, or both.
ail
"SHONG— SASHA."
The Indians Smoking Tobacco.
No matter what adversity of chase or war might
overtake the Indian, he sought refuge, cheer and
hope in the cloud of promise of his smoking. The
use of the pipe was for the Indian something more
than a mere pleasure; it had its hygienic value as
well. No doubt smoking originated with the In-
dian instinctively and was to hiin as a protecting
disinfectant against the germs of contagious diseases.
It helped to preserve his superb teeth and to disin-
fect his breath. It soothed the pain of wounds and
made him oblivious to the knawing of hunger. It
helped him to control his emotions and gave him
the ability for silence and thoughtfulness.
Wrapped in his blanket at councils of peace or
war, he smoked slowly and weighed carefully ques-
tions of vital importance for the tribe or nation.
Great was the tempest of his fury if the war path
were decided upon, when with a bound he cast aside
his blanket, dashed the pipe upon the ground and
wielded the tomahawk, totem of war and of blood-
shed.
In the story which Balch has written so well of
Indian life in the ** Bridge of the Gods" he de-
scribes a council in which the peace pipe plays an
important part. This scene is supposed to rep-
212
resent Indian life two centuries ago, but it is equally
true of the ceremonies of to-day just as we would
find it among" Sioux or Ojibway, Apaches or Chey-
enne.
The Indians are assembled upon a grassy plain
and ready for the council, when the head chief,
Multnomah, orders: "Let the peace pipe be lighted."
Tohomish, the most renowned medicine man present,
comes forward and lights the decorated pipe, mut-
tering some mystical incantation. He waves it to
"the east and the west, to the north and the south,
and when the charm seems complete, hands it with
ceremony to the emperor chief, Multnomah."
From chief to cliief it circles around the whole
council, till, like a benediction, Multnomah declares,
"The pipe is smoked — Are not our hearts as one?"
Parkman in his interesting story of "The Oregon
Trail" (p. 302) states that "the Indian has with
him always when possible his stone pipe and a bag
of " Shong-sasha. "
Longfellow, in his famous poem of Hiawatha, has
related the story of the peace pipe and the "red
pipe stone quarry of the Dakotas."
The pipe of red stone is the most delicious means
of burning "Shong-sasha" it has ever been my
privilege to use. No Turkish pipe or German meer-
schaum, American corncob or French briar can
equal the cool, sweet smoke through the red sand
stone pipe filled with fragrant "Shong-sasha" —
a smoking tobacco mixed with yellow bark which
makes the Indian mixture mild and harmless.
"In every tribe in whose country I have been
stationed (which comprises nearly all the continent)
the pipe is the Indian's constant companion through
213
life."* It is his messenger of peace, he pledges his
friends through its stem and its bowl, and when
death lays him low, it has a place of honor in his
solitary grave — with his weapons of war.
All Indian nations hold the pipe of peace as sac-
red. It is kept like the regimental flags of pale
face warriors at "head quarters" — and is used upon
only the most solemn ceremonies of "burying the
hatchet. ' '
The stem is ornamented with eagle quills and
beautiful bead work and its general appearance de-
notes that it is no ordinary smoking implement.
Seated in a circle the venerable and influential
chiefs draw the smoke once through the stem and
pass it on to the right. The bowl is of ordinary
stone or of the famous red pipe stone of the Dakotas.
Sioux is the common name of the Dakotas, but is
merely a corruption of the jib way words, Na-do-
wessioux-enemies.
Hundreds of moons (long time ago) the abor-
igines journeyed to the pipe stone quarry to obtain
masses of the wonderful stone, which they trans-
ported to their distant lodges, fashioned into curious
shapes and traded for horses and arms and clothing.
Wherever there are Indians the red pipe is smoked,
from the Mississippi to the Pacific, from Canada to
Mexico.
This quarry is "located on the summit of the
'divide' between the Missouri and St. Peter's Rivers
in Minnesota, at a point not far from where the 97th
meridian of longitude intersects the 45th parallel
of latitude." — Col. Inman.
*" From The Old Santa Fe Trail."— Col. Inman.
214
The luxury of smoking appears to have been
known to all the tribes. Half of this leisure time
is given by the Indians to smoking his k-nick ka-
nick or Shong-Sasha, mixture of tobacco and willow
bark. This is a granulated mixture and it is the
most wholesome method of smoking and least likely
to be followed by injury to the general health.
Such a mild tobacco burned in the cool red pipe is
almost never injurious. The Indian never smokes
strong tobacco if he can help it and never disgraces
himself by the filthy habit of chewing — otherwise
he could never have obtained the reputation he en-
joys, as the strongest, manliest of the aborigines.
Here's to thee, faithful friend, my comforting
pipe and cheering Shong-sasha, I like thy sweet com-
panionship !
315
THE EVOLUTION OF THE
COLORED SOLDIER.
When colored troops were enrolled, soon after the
close of the War of the Rebellion, the Southern
States were in a chaotic condition. Troops occupied
the strategic centres, and "carpet bag" politicians
and adventurers swarmed into the conquered ter-
ritory, their thirst for money making them willing
to risk somewhat of safety in order to arrive early
upon the field to reap the harvest that cruel war
had placed within their reach. The negroes, freed
from slavery and intoxicated with the license which
they knew not how to use reasonably, were ready
for almost anything except wage labor.
The war being at an end, the profession of arms,
with the showy uniform and military pomp, offered
them a tempting experience. To recruit a colored
regiment was therefore not a very difficult under-
taking, especially so when ignorance and savagery
were no bar to acceptance by the recruiting officers.
Hundred of freed negroes flocked to the recruiting
stations and were quickly transformed into recruits
for the United States colored regiments. The fiat
had gone forth that the freed men were no longer
to be merely enrolled as soldiers to do duty as team-
sters for the quartermaster's department, but that
they were to appear as soldiers, drill, and do guard
216
duty, with equal rights with the white veterans of
the late war. In compliance with this idea, an ex-
pedition assembled and marched westward from
Fort Leavenworth, Kansas, in the early spring of
1867, over the Santa Fe trail, through the "great
deserts," which were then occupied by the active
and warlike Indians. Their advent astonished
everyone. The frontiersmen looked upon them as
a military caricature, the fruit of some political
deal, unexplained and unreasonable. The officers
detailed to serve with them were half ashamed to
have it known. The white soldiers who came in
contact with these recent slaves, now wearing the
uniform of the regular army, felt insulted and in-
jured; and their redskin adversaries heaped deri-
sion upon the negroes by taunts and jests, and
loudly called them "Buffalo Soldiers," and declared
they were "heap bad medicine" because they could
not and would not scalp them.
Such was the very unpromising advent of colored
troops to do service as soldiers on equal terms with
regular veterans. A detachment of this regiment
was ordered on duty at Fort Craig, New Mexico,
and shortly after their relief from quartermaster's
duty they were, to the astonishment and disgust of
the white troops, detailed for guard duty. This
was more than the white soldiers could endure, and
so general and open was the opposition that a con-
dition of things bordering on mutiny resulted.
Great anxiety existed among the officers as to the
outcome, and the gravest fears were entertained.
The threats of vengeance against the "nigger sol-
diers" were so openly made in the hearing of of-
ficers that bloodshed was seriously anticipated, and
217
earnest consultations concerning postponing the col-
ored guard detail were held. It was finally decided,
however, that the colored new guard should march
on at all hazards, and when guard mount sounded
the entire garrison was in a state of anxiety never
before experienced. The old guard was assembled
and instructed and warned, the men listening in
sullen silence. Never before had it been necessary
for their officers to appeal to them. They had
serv^ed long and well together; and respect and con-
fidence were genuinely entertained for each other
to a degree almost unknown among the troops east
of the ^Mississippi. These veteran Indian fighters
would follow their officers cheerfully and persis-
tently through any danger or hardship, but when
it came to being "obliged to salute a nigger in uni-
form" their proud soldierly spirits rebelled at the
thought, and they muttered openly their intense
aversion to this innovation. The music of guard
mount soimded shrill and forbidding; the guards
fell in with a sullen determination on their faces
as if they were about to take part in a critical event
in their military^ career. The new guard marched
on in a shuffling, shamefaced way, as if they too
wished it were over. As they came near the old
guard, everj^one watched to see what would happen.
Lieutenant , whose commands had always
been obeyed in the past with cheerful military
promptness, took a hasty look at the set faces of
his men as the black detail approached. The time
had come.
' ' Present arms ! " he ordered, as the guard reached
the saluting point, but not a veteran moved a mus-
cle, and the black detail passed without any other
218
recognition than the soldierly salute of the officer's
swords. A consultation was held, and the white
soldiers were warned that their conduct would be
regarded as mutinous if they continued to disobey
orders.
Again the black detail marched past, and again
the order was disobeyed; not a rifle stirred from
the shoulder. The commanding officer now ap-
peared upon the scene and delivered to his veteran
soldiers a sharp and stinging rebuke. His decided
and harsh tones concealed the sympathy he felt in
his heart. He had his duty to discharge, and he
informed the men whom he had led in battle, and
who had never failed him, that if they refused to
salute the new guard, they would be relieved and
taken to the post flagstaff, and tied up by their
thumbs until they consented to give the required
salute.
This was the climax. The Tsvhole garrison was in
a fever heat of excitement. Would these brave fel-
lows yield? Would men who had records such as
theirs in the Indian War, and who had never quailed
in danger, give way at the threat of cruel physical
torture ?
Once more the blacks were moving rapidly to the
saluting line. For the third time, the rifles of the
old guard were at the shoulders.
''Present arms!" rang out clear and distinct, but
not a rifle moved. That settled it. The men were
dismissed, and as prisoners marched to the flag-
staff'. Around their thumbs the cruel cords were
tied, and they were hoisted upward until only the
toes touched the ground. There was no word of
protest, no look of anger. Proudly and firmly, as if
219
in Indian torture, they endured the ignominy and
pain of their position. Their officers were with
them, beseeching them to yield. The pain became
more and more insufferable; they almost fainted.
One of the officers suggested to the men that they
could pretend to yield, agreeing to "salute the uni-
form of the United States, even if borne by a nig-
ger. " This gave a chance for compromise, the
cruel cords were severed, and the brave veterans
were released. They were too lame and injured to
hold a rifle then, but it was agreed that thereafter
military courtesy should be shown to those wearing
the uniform.
This incident at Fort Craig illustrates the discord
which then existed between the white and the colored
troops of the regular army.
South of Fort Craig, beyond the river, stretched
the lonely desert known as the Jornada del Muerto,
or Journey of Death. Ninety-nine miles, without
wood, water, or grass, leads the straight road to
Fort Selden. Here another detachment of the 37th
was stationed. Continuing the march, the remain-
ing detachments pushed on through sixty-five miles
of desert to Fort Cummings, N. M., where they re-
lieved the garrison, consisting of two companies of
the 125th U. S. Colored Volunteer Infantry. Here,
isolated in the desert, stood a fortress built of adobe.
It was designed by General McClellan, and was con-
structed with strong walls completely surrounding
the garrison buildings, a feature quite uncommon
among the so-called Western forts. Generally
speaking, the forts of the frontier are merely col-
lections of buildings about an oblong space, which
serves as parade gTOund.
2H0
To the north of Fort Cummings, Cook's Peak
rose in its majestic grandenr, and, beyond, the
canon extended away for milas. Through tliis a
road led in the direction of the Rio Miembres,
twenty miles away. But to the west and south-
west stretched the limitless prairie, dreary and
desolated. The only green things visible in the
landscape were the few stunted trees at the spring,
half way between the Fort and the entrance to
Cook's Canon. After marching for days and weeks
through an enemy's country, with the rough mess-
kit of a campaigner, with the horror of a visita-
tion of cholera, to which their brave surgeon and
his wife fell victims, these ignorant colored sol-
diers, who had been buoyed with delusive hopes on
leaving the fertile lands of Georgia, found them-
selves in this dreary, prison-like abode, exposed to
all the discomforts of a home in the desert, and to
all the dangers of a powerful tribe of merciless
Apaches, forever on the warpath. It was enough
to sadden the hearts of the best white troops, and
it is no wonder that dissatisfaction rapidly spread,
until in their undisciplined state a mutinous spirit
developed.
The veteran volunteers, with their gallant officers,
had marched away; and, with the exception of their
own officers and a squad of the 3d U. S. regular
cavalry, there were no white men to give their in-
fluence towards preserving order.
In the early days of colored troops in the regular
army, it was essential, to get the best results, that
they should serve with white troops, so that dis-
cipline could be enforced when necessary. It was
a decidedly rislry experiment to attempt making
221
soldiers of such people. They needed the object
lesson of contact with white troops. Naturally of
an imitative disposition, the colored man took the
white soldier as his pattern, carefully watching
every gesture and movement with inquisitive con-
cern. Recruited from the most dangerous and shift-
less of the freed negroes, they were naturally lazy,
and disinclined to do the work required of them.
They spent all of their leisure time in gambling,
drinking and quarelling. Every possible punish-
ment employed in the discipline of frontier posts
was inflicted upon them. They were stood on bar-
rels, they were "bucked" and gagged, they were
marched about the garrison with heavy planks tied
to their backs, bearing the word "gambler" in
chalk. Everything was done to discipline them,
every means taken to make soldiers of them. But
so rapidly did the mutinous spirit develop in the
command, that only by the merest chance was a
tragedy averted.
Through the confession of a servant it was dis-
covered that these colored men had entered into a
plot to kill every wliite man in the garrison, to
capture the horses and such property as they might
desire, and to carrj^ off the officers' wives as their
slaves. The details were so completed that every
match was to be dampened to that no light could
be made, and the caps were to be removed from every
revolver.
With remarkable coolness the officers prepared to
face the terrible situation. A rumor was purposely
circulated that the paymaster had arrived. The
colored soldiers w^ere ordered to be mustered on the
parade without arms. It had been previously ar-
322
ranged that the squad of white cavalry were to
secretly occupy the quarters of the colored men
and to prevent at all hazards their returning to
secure their rifles. The cannon had been loaded to
the muzzle with grape and canister, and two of the
ofificers detailed to turn them upon the mutineers
should occasion require. The commanding officer,
with the officers and white non-commissioned officers
of the garrison, appeared before the command, and
announced to them that their plot had been fully dis-
covered ; and he demanded, then and there, the
surrender of the ringleaders. Immediately the
companies broke ranks and started for their quar-
ters, where they expected to find their rifles. They
discovered, however, that the doors were closed, and
at the windows stood the squad of white cavalry-
men with their carbines levelled at them. Turning
again, they saw that the officers had drawn their
revolvers, and that the cannon pointed threaten-
ingly in their direction. In terror many fell upon
their knees and begged for mercy, others protested
their innocence and pointed out the ringleaders,
who were quickly secured with the assistance of
the guard, which had been carefully selected from
the men who could be depended upon, and the mu-
tineers were confined, and in a short time the dis-
turbance was thoroughly quelled.
Such is a brief chapter in the history of colored
soldiery in the regular army in 1867. From such
discouraging beginnings has developed a military or-
ganization of brave and efficient soldiers, who have
since then made excellent records for themselves in
many deeds of gallantry in battles with the Indians.
No longer do the red men throw taunts at the black
323
soldiers, for they have found them foemen worthy
of their steel. No longer do oificers consider it
humilating to serve in negro regiments. On the
contrary, they are favorite commands to-day. The
24th and 25th Infantry, and the 9th and 10th
Cavalry are a credit to the U. S. Army. Post
schools and devoted and intelligent officers have de-
veloped the colored recruit until he has become a
trustworthy, brave, and intelligent soldier.
"They love their uniform and take great pride
in it — great pride in their bearing. They love to
have everything in first-class shape — chest out, and
every button shining, and every strap correct, and
they'll follow you everywhere you take them. You
know they are always right behind you, they don't
care what the danger is, so long as they have a white
man for their leader, and they won't follow one of
their o\^ti color across the street to pick apples — you
can't make them." This is what an experienced
army officer says of them in a recent number of
"The Outlook." The fierce battles in Cuba, in
which they gained fresh laurels, have not dis-
heartened them. It is the same ,old story; they
have won again the respect of friend and foe. "The
colored troops fight bravely."
W. T. P., in North American Review.
224
COOK'S CANON. A STORY OF
LIFE IN THE SOUTHWEST.
It was at the famous Casino at Newport; the
music and dancing had ceased for a moment, and
I gazed about at the onlookers, among whom were
many people of distinction. Nearby sat a lovely
young woman apparently blessed with health and
happiness, and yet there was something about the
face so very thoughtful, it seemed as if the memory
of some fierce storm of the past still persisted in
lingering. I further noticed that, although dressed
in becoming good taste and wearing no jewelry,
yet upon her shapely right arm there was a band
of virgin gold. I was about to call my companion's
attention to this unusual adornment, when he spoke
of it himself, and inquired if I had ever met Sur-
geon Bradstreet of the Army and his charming
wife! I had not, so very shortly an introduction
followed, and later on when I learned to know them
better, the Surgeon related some of his adventures
among the Apaches of the Southwest and the story
of the Band of Gold. "It was back in the sixties,"
he said, "when I was stationed at old Fort Cum-
mings. New Mexico. One morning, just after guard
mounting, the adjutant came to the hospital to give
me verbal orders."
235
"The commanding officer's compliments and you
are directed to proceed at once to the Rio Miembres
to attend to some wounded civilians. Suitable es-
cort will be ready at ten o 'clock. ' ' I lost no time in
making my preparations, directing the necessary in-
struments, bandages, etc., to be placed in the pan-
niers for the pack mules, and looking well to my
pistol holders and ammunition case, I hastened to
headquarters to report for duty. A half dozen
troopers of the gallant 3rd were already in saddle,
and with some parting instructions from my com-
mander, I mounted and rode out with them. The
view, as we passed out of the old Fort archway and
entered on the broad trail, was indeed grand. As
far as the eye could reach the great sweep of prairie,
but to the northwestward the great mountains, and
not a mile away the huge silent figure of Cook's
Peak — "Old Baldy" — as we familiarly called it,
from its snow-capped summit. Just beyond loomed
the dark entrance to Cook's Canon, a gruesome and
dangerous valley, the resort of murderous Apaches,
and a place which a stronger party than our own
might shrink from exploring.
We galloped into the Canon, with the caution of
men not unused to Indian ambuscade, and scanned
carefully right and left each possible hiding place
for a treacherous foe, as we rode down the trail.
The Indians were always active, and that very
morning Charlie Young, the brave rider of the pony
express, who came into the post ranch before
reveille, had seen some of them at various places
along the trail. We rode at ease and lit our pipes,
saving our horses, but expecting to eat our dinners
at the Miembres, more than twenty miles away,
326
sometime before sunset. Suddenly we heard the
sound of rifle shots, and as we rounded a bend, we
saw below us farther on the trail, a large ambu-
lance — a mule lay dead in the harness, but the
rest of the team had disappeared, and from the am-
bulance puffs of white smoke and the clear rifle
cracks told us of a stubborn defence against the
cut-throat Apaches, who, with yells, were repeatedly
charging. Our carbines were unslung in a jiffy,
and with a cheer we struck spurs and rushed down
the trail to the rescue, just in time to send scattering
a half dozen "bucks" who were standing on the
wheels and steps, slashing with their knives. As
we rode up three men leaped out and added their
shots to the volley we sent after the retreating In-
dians. I was informed that they were in desperate
trouble. One man lay dead within the ambulance,
and two women were wounded, one, at least, dan-
gerously. Down the trail was the multilated driver —
killed at the first volley. Pushing aside the slashed
curtains, pierced with arrow and bullet holes, I saw
at once the full horror of the battle. On the floor
was the body of a gentleman, an ugly wound in the
temple, mutely revealing the cause of death. Minis-
tering to the needs of a middle-aged woman, evi-
dently beyond help, was a fair young girl. Her
golden hair had fallen about her shoulders, her
clothing was torn and blood-stained, and her right
arm was bleeding from an ugly wound. She was
rejoiced to learn that I was a surgeon, and inquired
anxiously for the chances of saving her aunt, now
unconscious and dying. I cared for her wound
and did what I could to make the situation less hor-
rible, and sent a trooper in hot haste to the Fort for
237
assistance and fresh stock, and before long saw them
started safely for the garrison. My own duties
forced me to proceed westward to the Miembres, and
it was late the next day before I reported my return
at headquarters. My fair young patient was as
comfortable as possible under the care of the kind-
hearted wife of my commander — but the bodies of
the uncle and aunt and of the faithful driver
awaited burial.
I learned that the party had started overland
from Southern California, by way of Arizona, bound
to Santa Fe, where the uncle had interests. Un-
fortunately, at Fort Bowie, in Arizona, they had
been obliged to give up their military escort, and
with only three men and the driver to accompany
them, they risked the lonely trail through Bayard
and the Canon. The Indians had surprised them,
although they had been watching their signal smoke
for sometime. The uncle and driver fell at the
first volley, and the savages seized and cut loose the
mules. Just as our shots were poured into the red-
skins, some of the Apaches had made a rush, and
slashing open the curtains of the ambulance, had
seized the young lady, and were fighting to drag
her out, one of the redskins giving her the ugly
wound in the arm, just as we galloped up. In spite
of my best efforts, I found the wound an ugly one
to heal, and a deep scar a few inches above the
wrist will always recall the horrors of that adven-
ture.
My pleasure and my duty called me often to the
cheerful quarters of my commander, and after
awhile my professional services changed to that of
a new relationship, and so it came about later
228
on, when leave of absence found me in old Santa
Fe, whither my fair young friend had gone, I
brought into service the skill of a worker in gold,
for which that old Mexican city is celebrated. He
fashioned for me a band of pure virgin gold to hide
the ugly wound, and in f ac-simile, a ring, which later
on I placed upon her finger in the little chapel of
Santa Fe. It does not seem so long ago, but since
that battle in the gloomy canon, many happy years
have passed.
Old Fort Cummings has fallen to ruins, its mas-
sive ''doby" walls have crumbled, and Old Glory
no longer "catches the gleam of the morning's first
beam" from its once graceful flagstaff. Only "Old
Baldy" still wears the same snow-white crest, and
keeps its everlasting vigil — as the "sentinel" of
Cook's Canon and "of the Southwest."
POSTSCRIPT.
THE TRAIL OF SANTA FE DE
SAN FRANCISCO.
Known as the "Santa Fe Trail."
At the, commencement of the ' * commerce of the
prairies" in the early portion of the XIX century
the Old Santa Fe trail was the arena of almost con-
stant sanguinary struggles between the Indians and
the hardy white pioneers. Their daring compelled
its development. Their hardships gave birth to the
American homestead; their determined will was the
factor of possible achievements, the most remarkable
of modern times.
When the famous Santa Fe trail was established
across the great plains, the only method of travel
was by slow freight caravan drawn by patient oxen
or the lumbering stage coach with its complement
of four or six mules. There was ever to be feared
an attack by those devils of the desert — the Cheyen-
nes, Comanches, Kiowas, and other fierce tribes.
Along the whole route the remains of men, animals
and the wrecks of camps and wagons, told a story
of suffering, robbery and outrage more impressive
than any language.
230
Volumes could be — and have been — written on
the history and romance of the old Santa Fe trail,
which takes us back to antiquity. The beginning
of it was in 1540, when Francisco Vasquez de
Coronado led an expedition of exploration and con-
quest from Mexico clear up into Kansas.
In 1596 Santa Fe was founded by the Spaniards
under the name of La Citidad Real de la Santa Fe
de San Francisco (the True City of the Holy Faith
of St. Francis). There, in a plain rimmed by moun-
tains, the Spaniards and Mexicans slept for nearly
two centuries, between the wars with the Indians.
In the first years of the 19th century the American
trapper and trader began to disturb the peaceful
dreams of Santa Fe. By 1824 the first wagon
trains had left Independence, Mo.
Thereafter there was a rushing business along the
Santa Fe trail. In 1825 the trail was made an auth-
orized road by act of Congress. In the next two
years it was surveyed and marked out "from the
western frontier of Missouri, near Fort Osage, to
San Fernando de Taos, near Santa Fe. " Fort
Leavenworth was established to give military protec-
tion to the hazardous trade with the Southwest.
Most intelligent Americans know of the old trail,
but very few know just where it ran. By the time
Gen. Kearney had taken formal possession of Santa
Fe, in 1846, in the name of the United States, its
northern terminus was Kansas City, to which point
merchandise from the east and south was shipped
by steamboat up the Missouri.
The Santa Fe trail began at Westport (now
Kansas City) and followed the Kaw river to Law-
rence. Thence it wound through the hills to Bur-
231
lingame and Council Grove, the Arkansas valley
being reached at Fort Zarah (now Great Bend).
The trail crept up this valley to Bent's Fort (now
Las Animas) and climbed the mountains through
Raton pass. There was a short cut from Fort
Dodge to Las Vegas, along the Cimarron river.
In these days the Atchison, Topeka and Santa Fe
practically follows the pass trail.
The distance from Kansas City to Santa Fe was
800 miles, and a round trip consumed about 110
days. Day and night in all seasons the caravans
pushed their way. In spite of strong military es-
cort, the trail was blood-soaked for many years, and
was marked by hundreds of graves of the victims,
of the murderous Apaches and other tribes. Nearly
every mile of the trail has had its ambush, its sur-
prise, its attack and torture.
October 1872 Colonel Inman saw one of the last
caravans of white covered wagons slowly moving
towards the setting sun. It was the beginning of
the end for on the 9th of February, 1880, the first
train over the Atchison, Topeka and Santa Fe
railroad arrived at Santa Fe and the old trail as
a route of commerce was closed forever!
The Sauta Fe trail has been marked by the school
children of Kansas. Each school child in the ''Sun-
flower State" has been asked to give a penny to a
fund to buy markers for the famous old trail ;
369166 have responded, thus a unique monument of
great historical importance will be established.
232
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