by Walker
Campaigns of General Custer in the North-west, and the final surrender of Sitting Bull
Walker
Judson Elliott
Walker, Judson Elliott
Campaigns of General Custer in the North-west, and the final surrender of Sitting Bull
CONTENTS.
INTRODUCTION. 7
Section L- GENERAL VAN CO UVNOR 9
Section TX.-CUSTEKS LAST BATTLE AGAINST SITTING BULL.. 28
APPENDIX TO THE PRECEDING SECTION 56
Section ILL-SURRENDER OF CROW KING 59
Section IV.- SURRENDER OF SITTING BULL. 66
Section V. – CUS TEKS LAST RALL T 1H
RETROSPECTIVE 125
ILLUSTRATIONS.
PORTRAIT OF THE AUTHOR (Frontispiece) 2
GENERAL CUSTER 28
CRO W KING, CHIEF WARRIOR UNDER SITTING B ULL 59
CHIEF GAUL, THE GREAT RAIDER OF THE SIOUX NATION. .. 62
SITTING BULL, CHIEF WARRIOR OF THE SIOUX NATION. 66
LOUIS, OLDEST SON OF SITTING BULL 104
INTRODUCTION.
The object of this first venture into authorship on the part of one vrho, until recently, engaged in the engrossing duties of active business life-has had but little leisure for literary pursuits-will be readily apparent to the reader on a perusal of its pages. It purports to be a faithful portrayal of Western life, as experienced by the old settlers at the isolated posts and military stations on the extreme frontier, together with a clear representation of facts concerning the treatment of the Indians of the plains, by the Military and Interior Departments of the Government.
The author, heretofore a stranger to the reading public, deems it not amiss to introduce himself to his readers by stating that, when the war of the [Rebellion broke out, in 1861, he was a conductor on the Missouri Pacific Railroad, having followed that profession since he was twenty-one years of age.
In 1862, just after the siege of Corinth, a request was made from the Army of the Tennessee for experienced men and officers to take immediate charge of the immense transportation. The writer proceeded to Corinth, Miss., and was assigned to duty at Jackson, Tenn., the lamented Major-General James B. McPherson being his immediate superior officer up to the siege of Vicksburg, when, in 1863, just before the surrender of that almost impregnable city, he was captured by the regular Confederate forces, under E. Kirby Smith, whose headquarters were at Shreveport, La. It was soon noised about his quarters that the prisoner had taken a prominent part in railroad management, and the transportation connected with the army under Grant, McPherson and Sherman, and it was decided to banish him so far out of the way that he would not be able to render any further service to the Union cause during the war. His sentence was banishment into Old Mexico, not to return during the war, under penalty of death. The sentence, however, was not read to the writer until he, with his guard, had reached the banks of the Rio Grande, at old Fort Duncan, opposite Predas Nadres, in Old Mexico. He was then thrown across the river among the Greasers, and found himself the only man in that whole section of country who could speak the American language.
To reach home again-ever the first thought of the exile-two routes were available, and to decide which of them was the less dangerous, was an intensely interesting question. The wild Apache Indians at that time were marauding through that portion of Old Mexico, and rendered equally hazardous the northern route through New Mexico, to the seaboard, or the southeasterly to the Gulf of Mexico via Monterey and Matamoras. He, at length, decided to take the latter, the distance being about four hundred miles to Monterey, and at once set-out on foot on his forlorn trip, sustained and upheld by the faint glimmer of a hope that his weary steps, in time, would reach a friendly haven, from whence he might communicate with his far-off northern home.
Winding his solitary way through the unbroken chain of the Rocker Mountains, toward the gates of Monterey, the vision of this home, with the loving wife and little daughter who there awaited him, shone clear and resplendent through the darkness of his gloomy situation, and saved him from despair. Onward he struggled, through the-dreary mountain fastnesses, whose sombre landscape views were unrelieved save by here and there a lone palmetto tree, or the rude headboard of a solitary grave, enclosing the mortal remains of some white wanderer, who had been slain by the wild Apache Indians, or assassinated by the merciless Mexican banditti. Day by day he neared the wished-for haven, and at length discerned the welcome gates of Monterey. Arrived at this city, he sought the American Consul, who sent him to Matamoras, and from thence, by man-of-war, to New Orleans, where General Banks took charge of him and sent him up the river to Vicksburg.
Suffice it, for the purposes of this brief history, to say that in 1867 the author proceeded to Kansas and engaged in a general mercantile business, a portion of the time being engaged in trade with the wild Kiowa and Comanche tribes of Indians. From that time, until recently, he has been engaged on the extreme frontier, in trading with army people, immigrants, settlers and Indians.
His opportunities for observation among these classes of people have been unlimited, and the thought long ago impressed itself upon his mind, that a work of the present nature, presenting truthful sketches of Western life and character, would possess intrinsic value in itself, and be a mine of information to the large body of people in our country, who have not yet beheld that social wonderland of America.-the great. West
J. E. W.,
SECTION I. GENERAL VAN COUVNOR
General Van Oouvnor and a Peace Commissioner Subjugating the Wild Kiowas and Comanches near the. Wichita Mountains.
CHAPTEE L
An Indian Agency. – Mr. Jonathan Broadbrim assumes the dvr ties as Indian Agent, and introduces himself to theleading war chiefs.
One of the most interesting of the oft-recurring farces that characterize the dealings of the government with the untutored savages, is the so-called Peace Commission. As a faithful picture of the frequent " pow-wow," or peace ceremony- "Big Talkee" as the Indians style it in their graphic language-is adduced the following truthful colloquy, that occurred at the Washita River Indian Agency, between Jonathan Broadbrim, Agent of the Comanches and Kiowas, on the part of the Government, and Satanta, Lone Wolf, and Kickingbird, leading chiefs of the Kiowa tribes. The conversation, as carried on through an interpreter, is given almost verbatim, and furnishes a fair illustration of the peculiar mode of dealing with the Indians, adopted by the Government, together with the usual result of such treatment :
A COLLOQUY AT A KIOWA AGENCY.
Agent. Friends, I am here to-day to hear your requests, to listen to your complaints, and to devise means for your welfare.
Satanta. How; how; big white chief, how ? Heap-o'-talkee to-day. Heap-o'-talkee and no good. Heap-o'-talkee me to-day. White folks talkee heap and no good. Me sava, me heap-o'-sava, and no good.
Agent. Well, Satanta, I have been sent here by the United States Government, to see if aDything can be done for you and your tribes in the way of having all of you settle on a reservation of your own, such as may be allotted to you by our Government. We would like to have you settle down with your people, and take hold of farming and raising stock; at the same time have your children go to school.
Satanta. How much land and how many cattle will you give us, and not much talkee about it ?
Agent. I am instructed to say that we will build good school-houses, and also as many houses as may be needed for all of your families to live in. We will set aside a quantity of la
nd for your people to live on, and will furnish farming tools, and all the corn and potatoes they may want to plant, and will send them a good farmer to show them how.
Satanta. Where is the land you talkee so much about ? We want to know where it is ?
Agent We will select the farms for your tribes up and •down this valley, where you will have plenty of water and wood, and most, an excellent place to shelter your stock in the winter.
Satanta. How is it that you white folks own this land ? We have always lived here and made our hunting-grounds up and down the Washita, and no one ever disturbed us until you pale-faces came here with your soldiers. The land is all ours, and always has been.
Agent. We claim the lands all around here by our purchase ; but we will set aside as much as you want for your tribes. I would like to have you and your people talk the matter over among yourselves, and I earnestly hope we can make some arrangement so that the result will be greatly to your interest and improve the future welfare of your people, and save a great deal of trouble and expense to our Oovernment, as well as for yourselves. I would like to hear your views, and want to hear your chiefs and warriors talk.
Satanta. I heard the great father at Washington wanted me to come here and have a big talkee with his agent. You pale-faces say you always want peace. You send your soldiers here to fight and make peace. My brave warriors fight, and your soldiers fight; and I tell you one thing now, that as long as you send your soldiers here to fight, you may expect my braves to fight back again. My braves are all young men, and will keep a-fighting the pale-faces until they keep away from our hunting-grounds.
Agent But, Satanta, we propose to allow your people to hunt all they want to. We don't want to disturb your hunting-grounds.
Satanta. Only a little while ago-may-be-so-four-years, may-be-so-six-years-we lived on the plains in Kansas, and my people were all well-to-do-and-a-heap-o'-good-all-the-time. We had a heap-o'-buffalo-and-antelope to hunt and kill, and make-a-heap-o'-meat for our squaws and papooses. We had a-heap-o'-good times. Heap-o'-good-pale-faced-men come out to us and made heap-o'-good-agents.
Agent. We think we send you good men for your agents now. What is the matter with them ?
Satanta. In those good old days the pale-faced agents were good. Our goods and clothing were brought to us every spring and fall on a-heap-big-wagons-all-the-time-with-heap-big-horses. We had a-heap-o'-buffalo-robes for the swap-chief, and our squaws and papooses had plenty of blankets, calico, sugar, and coffee. All was heap good. They all the time had a-heap-o'-good clothes to wear, and-a-heap-o'-good things to eat. My braves, squaws and papooses heap-o'-good all the time. Young men hunt buffalo, and squaws make-a-heap-good-buffalo-robes, and-make-a-heap-o'-good-swap.
Agent. I see no reason why you cannot do the same now. We try to send good men for agents, and appoint a good class of teachers for you. If there is anything wrong I want to know it, and will try to make it right.
Satanta. May-be-so-two-years, may-be-so-four-years-ago, the white man has cared nothing about the treaties he has signed with us. The pale-faces have acted as if they never had signed any treaty at all. Our goods and clothing, that ought to have been here last October, are not here yet, and it is now in the moon of-two-moons (February).
Agent. Tour annuity goods are now on the way, and, I think, will be here in a very few days.
Satanta. It was just the same slow way last year and the year before ; our squaws and papooses would suffer to-day, only my young braves are able to find a few buffalo, which gives them meat to keep them frdm being hungry, and robes, to cover their naked bodies. The pale-faces have advanced on the red-man, and driven the buffalo and antelope away,, so that our young men can hardly find enough meat to feed our squaws and papooses.
Agent. I think there is plenty of pork, bacon, and corned beef in the storehouse. It really seems to me there is no need of your people going hungry.
Satanta. No good; no good; no like 'em. Pale-face-eat-'em-a-heap-red-man-no-eat-'em. No good. Bed-man and squaws like heap-o'-buffalo-and-antelope-full-o'-blood. The white man has all the time been talkee-peace-peace-heap-o'-talkee-heap-o'-talkee-and-no-peace. I tell you now there will be no peace until the white man does as he agrees, and when he signs a treaty with our tribes he must make his. word good.
Agent I think there will be no trouble about that. I think we can make a treaty that will be satisfactory to all parties.
Satanta We have been driven four hundred miles from our hunting-grounds in Kansas and we have no peace yet. It looks to me as if you might go up and help that wagon train along that has been on the road all winter, trying to get here. You smart pale-faced men know a-heap-better to put oxen on wagons in the winter when such-a-big-snow on the ground. Why not put mules and horses on the wagons and get here sometime before the grass grows in the spring? Bad men. No good. Pale-face-man-no-caree. No good. Bad-medicine-bad-medicine-heap-o'-bad.
Agent I hope you know, Satanta, that we all have more or less trouble in moving over the plains in the winter, and when there is snow on the ground.
Satanta. I have had hard work to keep my young men from going out to meet those wagons and killing, the oxen for beef, and taking the goods out of the wagons and giving them to the squaws and papooses, and then burn the wagons to make a hot fire and make hot coffee and hot tea and roast the oxen for a heap-o'-good-supper for Kiowas.
Agent. Then we would have to send our soldiers out after you. That kind of conduct is just what makes our soldiers fight you.
Satanta. Then my braves will fight back again. My braves were made to fight your soldiers, and before we make any more treaties with you pale-faces, you must have your wagon men bring our goods here in better time, and you must keep the old treaties good. The old treaties are good enough for the red-man and the squaws and papooses. All we want is you pale-faces to keep them good and have less talkee about it, and you must stop your young men from killing our buffalo and antelope for fun.
Agent. I will talk this matter over with my people and see what can be done. I think myself they ought to stop killing the buffalo for fun. I think you are justified in that complaint, and I will give it my attention.
Satanta. You have driven us from our homes and hunting-grounds in Kansas, you may drive us from here away across the staked plains into old Mexico ; your soldiers may fight my braves and your big general may put irons all over me again, but the big red chiefs will always talkee, heap-o'-talkee, and our brave warriors will always fight, until the pale-faces do as they agree when they sign a treaty with us.
Agent. I will confess that I am very sorry such delays have occurred in shipping your supplies in here, and I am satisfied it has been quite a serious annoyance to you and your people, as well as to ourselves, and I will make it my business to report these delays to the proper parties, and will in the future have your supplies shipped in better time. I will further state that we will hereafter send men who will see that your wants are more promptly and properly cared for. We think the delay has been on account of the bad weather and the inactivity of the freighters, and the blame should by no means be placed upon the agent. Trr e are ready and willing to do anything that is consistent and just to make good to you and your people any damages that have occurred. I would like to have you talk with your young men about farming and raising cattle and sheep, and to-morrow I will meet you here with two more white brothers, and we will have another good talk.
Satanta. It is no use to bring any more pale-faces here to talk. What we want is white men to do as they agree. My brave warriors will fight and you may send your dog soldiers here to fight them, and your big general can put irons all over my body again, and then he can go back and tell all the pale-faces you have got that the red-man of the plains will never, never surrender, but will always fight until the great father at Washington makes his pale-faces do as they agree. I am the big chief of the Kiowa tribes, but I am only one man, and I want my young chiefs and warriors to say something. Lone Wolf and Kickingbird ar
e the chief warriors in the Kiowa tribes, and I want them to make their own talk. They can talkee all they please.
Lone Wolf. I have but little to say. I am a poor red-man, with nothing but my squaw and papoose and my three ponies. The pale-faced men have-a-bijg-heap-of-everything. The red-man can never learn as much as the white knows. I would like to have our people settle down here where the water runs clear and the timber grows tall. I think our women, would raise corn and potatoes and we would have our children go to school.
Agent That is just what we want to have them do, and we will do all we can to assist them.
Lone Wdf. If your white people will do what is right and have good hearts for us, I think our tribes will do well for you. I have been on the war-path for thirty years and am tired of it. The white people have got more soldiers than we have, and I know it. We must give up the war-path sooner or later, but we must have good treatment and the pale-faces must stay away from our hunting-grounds and let our buffalo and antelope grow as they always did.
Agent. If your people will settle on a reservation they will have plenty of cattle and will not need any buffalo.
Lone Wolf. The buffalo and antelope were put on the grass for the red-man, and we must have them. If the great father at Washington will keep his pale-face soldiers away from us, I will try and have our people settle on farms and raise corn, potatoes, oxen and sheep and a heap-o'-cows. I would like to hear what Kickingbird has to say. He is a brave young warrior and-a-heap-good-young-chief. He is a heap-big-fighter with the pale-faces when they come for our buffalo and antelope.
Agent. We would all like to hear from you, Kickingbird. .What have you to say ? I think you ought to have a good influence with your people.
Kickingbird. I am a brave young chief in the Kiowa tribes. I have nothing but my squaw and papoose and three ponies. I want to live with my people and look at them and see them do well. We have been fought by your big generals a heap-o'-times and are not dead yet, and we don't want to fight any more. We want the white soldiers to stay away from us, and we will take care of ourselves. I want to go to Washington and have a big talkee-a-heap-big-a-talkee with the great father. I want him to give me some cattle and sheep. I want to raise oxen, cows, and hogs and sheep, and hire our young men to make corn and potatoes.