Chapter III: Part 3

Faye is officer of the guard every third day now. This sounds rather nice; but it means that every third day and night--exactly twenty-four hours--he has to spend at the guard house, excepting when making the rounds, that is, visiting sentries on post, and is permitted to come to the house just long enough to eat three hurried meals. This is doing duty, and would be all right if there were not a daily mingling of white and colored troops which often brings a colored sergeant over a white corporal and privates. But the most unpleasant part for the officer of the guard is that the partition in between the officer's room and guard room is of logs, unchinked, and very open, and the weather is very hot! and the bugs, which keep us all in perpetual warfare in our houses, have full sway there, going from one room to the other.

The officers say that the negroes make good soldiers and fight like fiends. They certainly manage to stick on their horses like monkeys. The Indians call them "buffalo soldiers," because their woolly heads are so much like the matted cushion that is between the horns of the buffalo. We had letters from dear old Fort Lyon yesterday, and the news about Lieutenant Baldwin is not encouraging. He is not improving and Doctor Wilder is most anxious about him. But a man as big and strong as he was must certainly get well in time.

CAMP SUPPLY, INDIAN TERRITORY, June, 1872.

IT seems as if I had to write constantly of unpleasant occurrences, but what else can I do since unpleasant occurrences are ever coming along? This time I must tell you that Faye has been turned out of quarters--"ranked out," as it is spoken of in the Army. But it all amounts to the same thing, and means that we have been driven out of our house and home, bag and baggage, because a captain wanted that one set of quarters! Call it what one chooses, the experience was not pleasant and will be long remembered. Being turned out was bad enough in itself, but the manner in which it was done was humiliating in the extreme. We had been in the house only three weeks and had worked so hard during that time to make it at all comfortable. Findlay wanted to tear down the canvas partition in the dining room when we left the house, and I was sorry later on that I had not consented to his doing so.

One morning at ten o'clock I received a note from Faye, written at the guard house, saying that his set of quarters had been selected by a cavalry officer who had just arrived at the post, and that every article of ours must be out of the house that day by one o'clock! Also that, as he was officer of the guard, it would be impossible for him to assist me in the least, except to send some enlisted men to move the things. At first I was dazed and wholly incapable of comprehending the situation--it seemed so preposterous to expect anyone to move everything out of a house in three hours. But as soon as I recovered my senses I saw at once that not one second of the precious time must be wasted, and that the superintendence of the whole thing had fallen upon me.

So I gathered my forces, and the four men started to work in a way that showed they would do everything in their power to help me. All that was possible for us to do, however, was almost to throw things out in a side yard, for remember, please, we had only three short hours in which to move everything--and this without, warning or preparation of any kind. All things, big and small, were out by one o'clock, and just in time, too, to avoid a collision with the colored soldiers of the incoming cavalry officer, who commenced taking furniture and boxes in the house at precisely that hour.

Of course there was no hotel or even restaurant for me to go to, and I was too proud and too indignant to beg shelter in the house of a friend--in fact, I felt as if I had no friend. So I sat down on a chair in the yard with the little dog by me, thinking, I remember, that the chair was our own property and no one had a right to object to my being there. And I also remember that the whole miserable affair brought to mind most vividly scenes of eviction that had been illustrated in the papers from time to time, when poor women had been evicted for nonpayment of rent!

Just as I had reached the very lowest depths of misery and woe, Mrs. Vincent appeared, and Faye almost immediately after. We three went to Mrs. Vincent's house for luncheon, and in fact I remained there until we came to this house. She had just heard of what had happened and hastened down to me. Captain Vincent said it was entirely the fault of the commanding officer for permitting such a disgraceful order to leave his office; that Captain Park's family could have remained one night longer in tents here, as they had been in camp every night on the road from Fort Sill.

There came a ludicrous turn to all this unpleasantness, for, by the ranking out of one junior second lieutenant, six or more captains and first lieutenants had to move. It was great fun the next day to see the moving up and down the officers' line of all sorts of household goods, for it showed that a poor second lieutenant was of some importance after all!

But I am getting on too fast. Faye, of course, was entitled to two rooms, some place in the post, but it seems that the only quarters he could take were those occupied by Lieutenant Cole, so Faye decided at once to go into tents himself, in preference to compelling Lieutenant Cole to do so. Now it so happened that the inspector general of the department was in the garrison, and as soon as he learned the condition of affairs, he ordered the post quartermaster to double two sets of quarters--that is, make four sets out of two--and designated the quartermaster's own house for one of the two. But Major Knox divided off two rooms that no one could possibly occupy, and in consequence has still all of his large house. But the other large set that was doubled was occupied by a senior captain, who, when his quarters were reduced in size, claimed a new choice, and so, turning another captain out, the ranking out went on down to a second lieutenant. But no one took our old house from Captain Park, much to my disappointment, and he still has it.

The house that we are in now is built of cedar logs, and was the commanding officer's house at one time. It has a long hall running through the center, and on the left side Major Hunt and his family have the four rooms, and we have the two on the right. Our kitchen is across the yard, and was a chicken house not so very long ago. It has no floor, of course, so we had loads of dirt dug out and all filled in again with clean white sand, and now, after the log walls have been scraped and whitened, and a number of new shelves put up, it is really quite nice. Our sleeping room has no canvas on the walls inside, and much of the chinking has fallen out, leaving big holes, and I never have a light in that room after dark, fearing that Indians might shoot me through those holes. They are skulking about the post all the time.

We have another cook now--a soldier of course--and one that is rather inexperienced. General Phillips ordered Findlay back to the company, saying he was much needed there, but he was company cook just one day when he was transferred to the general's own kitchen. Comment is unnecessary! But it is all for the best, I am sure, for Farrar is very fond of Hal, and sees how intelligent he is, just as I do. The little dog is chained to a kennel all the time now, and, like his mistress, is trying to become dignified.

Faye was made post adjutant this morning, which we consider rather complimentary, since the post commander is in the cavalry, and there are a number of cavalry lieutenants here. General Dickinson is a polished old gentleman, and his wife a very handsome woman who looks almost as young as her daughter. Miss Dickinson, the general's older daughter, is very pretty and a fearless rider. In a few days we two are to commence our morning rides.

How very funny that I should have forgotten to tell you that I have a horse, at least I hope he will look like a horse when he has gained some flesh and lost much long hair. He is an Indian pony of very good size, and has a well-shaped head and slender little legs. He has a fox trot, which is wonderfully easy, and which he apparently can keep up indefinitely, and like all Indian horses can "run like a deer." So, altogether, he will do very well for this place, where rides are necessarily curtailed. I call him Cheyenne, because we bought him of Little Raven, a Cheyenne chief. I shall be so glad when I can ride again, as I have missed so much the rides and grand hunts at Fort Lyon.

Later: The mail is just in, and letters have come from Fort Lyon telling us of the death of Lieutenant Baldwin! It is dreadful--and seems impossible. They write that he became more and more despondent, until finally it was impossible to rouse him sufficiently to take an interest in his own life. Faye and I have lost a friend--a real, true friend. A brother could not have been kinder, more considerate than he was to both of us always. How terribly he must have grieved over the ruin of the horse he was so proud of, and loved so well!

CAMP SUPPLY, INDIAN TERRITORY, September, 1872.

THE heat here is still intense, and it never rains, so everything is parched to a crisp. The river is very low and the water so full of alkali that we are obliged to boil every drop before it is used for drinking or cooking, and even then it is so distasteful that we flavor it with sugar of lemons so we can drink it at all. Fresh lemons are unknown here, of course. The ice has given out, but we manage to cool the water a little by keeping it in bottles and canteens down in the dug-out cellar.

Miss Dickinson and I continue our daily rides, but go out very early in the morning. We have an orderly now, as General Dickinson considers it unsafe for us to go without an escort, since we were chased by an Indian the other day. That morning the little son of General Phillips was with us, and as it was not quite as warm as usual, we decided to canter down the sunflower road a little way--a road that runs to the crossing of Wolf Creek through an immense field of wild sunflowers. These sunflowers grow to a tremendous height in this country, so tall that sometimes you cannot see over them even when on horseback. Just across the creek there is a village of Apache Indians, and as these Indians are known to be hostile, this particular road is considered rather unsafe.

But we rode on down a mile or more without seeing a thing, and had just turned our ponies' heads homeward when little Grote, who was back of us, called out that an Indian was coming. That was startling, but upon looking back we saw that he was a long distance away and coming leisurely, so we did not pay much attention to him.

But Grote was more watchful, and very soon screamed, "Mrs. Rae, Mrs. Rae, the Indian is coming fast--he's going to catch us!" And then, without wasting time by looking back, we started our ponies with a bound that put them at their best pace, poor little Grote lashing his most unmercifully, and crying every minute, "He'll catch us! He'll catch us!"

That the Indian was on a fleet pony and was gaining upon us was very evident, and what might have happened had we not soon reached the sutler's store no one can tell, but we did get there just as he caught up with us, and as we drew in our panting horses that hideous savage rode up in front of us and circled twice around us, his pony going like a whirlwind; and in order to keep his balance, the Indian leaned far over on one side, his head close to the pony's neck. He said "How" with a fiendish grin that showed how thoroughly he was enjoying our frightened faces, and then turned his fast little beast back to the sunflower road. Of course, as long as the road to the post was clear we were in no very great danger, as our ponies were fast, but if that savage could have passed us and gotten us in between him and the Apache village, we would have lost our horses, if not our lives, for turning off through the sunflowers would have been an impossibility.

The very next morning, I think it was, one of the government mules wandered away, and two of the drivers went in search of it, but not finding it in the post, one of the men suggested that they should go to the river where the post animals are watered. It is a fork of the Canadian River, and is just over a little sand hill, not one quarter of a mile back of the quarters, but not in the direction of the sunflower road. The other man, however, said he would not go--that it was not safe--and came back to the corral, so the one who proposed going went on alone.

Time passed and the man did not return, and finally a detail was sent out to look him up. They went directly to the river, and there they found him, just on the other side of the hill--dead. He had been shot by some fiendish Indian soon after leaving his companion. The mule has never been found, and is probably in a far-away Indian village, where he brays in vain for the big rations of corn he used to get at the government corral.

Last Monday, soon after luncheon, forty or fifty Indians came rushing down the drive in front of the officers' quarters, frightening some of us almost out of our senses. Where they came from no one could tell, for not one sentry had seen them until they were near the post. They rode past the houses like mad creatures, and on out to the company gardens, where they made their ponies trample and destroy every growing thing. Only a few vegetables will mature in this soil and climate, but melons are often very good, and this season the gardeners had taken much pains with a crop of fine watermelons that were just beginning to ripen. But not one of these was spared--every one was broken and crushed by the little hoofs of the ponies, which seem to enjoy viciousness of this kind as much as the Indians themselves.

A company of infantry was sent at once to the gardens, but as it was not quite possible for the men to outrun the ponies, the mischief had been done before they got there, and all they could do was to force them back at the point of the bayonet. Cavalry was ordered out, also, to drive them away, but none of the troops were allowed to fire upon them, and that the Indians knew very well. It might have brought on an uprising!

It seems that the Indians were almost all young bucks out for a frolic, but quite ready, officers say, for any kind of devilment. They rode around the post three or four times at breakneck speed, each circle being larger, and taking them farther away. At last they all started for the hills and gradually disappeared--all but one, a sentinel, who could be seen until dark sitting his pony on the highest hill. I presume there were dozens of Indians on the sand hills around the post peeking over to see how the fun went on.

They seem to be watching the post every second of the day, ready to pounce upon any unprotected thing that ventures forth, be it man or beast. At almost any time two or three black dots can be seen on the top of the white sand hills, and one wonders how they can lie for hours in the hot, scorching sand with the sun beating down on their heads and backs. And all the time their tough little ponies will stand near them, down the hill, scarcely moving or making a sound. Some scouts declare that an Indian pony never whinnies or sneezes! But that seems absurd, although some of those little beasts show wonderful intelligence and appear to have been apt pupils in treachery.

CAMP SUPPLY, INDIAN TERRITORY, October, 1872.

THIS place is becoming more dreadful each day, and every one of the awful things I feared might happen here seems to be coming to pass. Night before last the post was actually attacked by Indians! It was about one o'clock when the entire garrison was awakened by rifle shots and cries of "Indians! Indians!" There was pandemonium at once. The "long roll" was beaten on the infantry drums, and "boots and saddles" sounded by the cavalry bugles, and these are calls that startle all who hear them, and strike terror to the heart of every army woman. They mean that something is wrong--very wrong--and demand the immediate report for duty at their respective companies of every officer and man in the garrison.

Faye jumped into his uniform, and saying a hasty good-by, ran to his company, as did all the other officers, and very soon we could hear the shouting of orders from every direction.

Our house is at the extreme end of the officers' line and very isolated, therefore Mrs. Hunt and I were left in a most deplorable condition, with three little children--one a mere baby--to take care of. We put them all in one bed and covered them as well as we could without a light, which we did not dare have, of course. Then we saw that all the doors and windows were fastened on both sides. We decided that it would be quite impossible for us to remain shut up inside the house, so we dressed our feet, put on long waterproof coats over our nightgowns as quickly and silently as possible, and then we sat down on the steps of the front door to await--we knew not what. I had firm hold of a revolver, and felt exceedingly grateful all the time that I had been taught so carefully how to use it, not that I had any hope of being able to do more with it than kill myself, if I fell in the hands of a fiendish Indian. I believe that Mrs. Hunt, however, was almost as much afraid of the pistol as she was of the Indians.

Ten minutes after the shots were fired there was perfect silence throughout the garrison, and we knew absolutely nothing of what was taking place around us. Not one word did we dare even whisper to each other, our only means of communication being through our hands. The night was intensely dark and the air was close--almost suffocating.

In this way we sat for two terrible hours, ever on the alert, ever listening for the stealthy tread of a moccasined foot at a corner of the house. And then, just before dawn, when we were almost exhausted by the great strain on our strength and nerves, our husbands came. They told us that a company of infantry had been quite near us all the time, and that a troop of cavalry had been constantly patrolling around the post. I cannot understand how such perfect silence was maintained by the troops, particularly the cavalry. Horses usually manage to sneeze at such times.

There is always a sentry at our corner of the garrison, and it was this sentinel who was attacked, and it is the general belief among the officers that the Indians came to this corner hoping to get the-troops concentrated at the beat farthest from the stables, and thus give them a chance to steal some, if not all, of the cavalry horses. But Mr. Red Man's strategy is not quite equal to that of the Great Father's soldiers, or he would have known that troops would be sent at once to protect the horses.

There were a great many pony tracks to be seen in the sand the next morning, and there was a mounted sentinel on a hill a mile or so away. It was amusing to watch him through a powerful field glass, and we wished that he could know just how his every movement could be seen. He sat there on his pony for hours, both Indian and horse apparently perfectly motionless, but with his face always turned toward the post, ready to signal to his people the slightest movement of the troops.

Faye says that the colored troops were real soldiers that night, alert and plucky. I can readily believe that some of them can be alert, and possibly good soldiers, and that they can be good thieves too, for last Saturday night they stole from us the commissary stores we had expected to last us one week--everything, in fact, except coffee, sugar, and such things that we keep in the kitchen, where it is dry.

The commissary is open Saturday mornings only, at which time we are requested to purchase all supplies we will need from there for the following week, and as we have no fresh vegetables whatever, and no meat except beef, we are very dependent upon the canned goods and other things in the commissary.

Last Saturday Mrs. Hunt and I sent over as usual, and most of the supplies were put in a little dug-out cellar in the yard that we use together--she having one side, I the other. On Sunday morning Farrar happened to be the first cook to go out for things for breakfast, and he found that the door had been broken open and the shelves as bare as Mother Hubbard's. Everything had been carried off except a few candles on Mrs. Hunt's side, and a few cakes of laundry soap on mine! The candles they had no use for, and the thieves were probably of a class that had no use for soap, either.

Our breakfast that morning was rather light, but as soon as word got abroad of our starving condition, true army hospitality and generosity manifested itself. We were invited out to luncheon, and to dinner, and to breakfast the next morning. You can see how like one big family a garrison can be, and how in times of trouble we go to each other's assistance. Of course, now and then we have disagreeable persons with us--those who will give you only three hours to move out of your house, or one who will order your cook from you.

CAMP SUPPLY, INDIAN TERRITORY, January, 1873.

ALL that remained of Captain White was carried to the little cemetery yesterday, with all the military honors possible at such a far-away post We have no chaplain, therefore one of the cavalry officers read the service for the dead at the house, just before the march to the cemetery. Almost all of the cavalry of the garrison was out, mounted, Captain White's own troop having the lead, of course, and the greater part of the infantry was out also, and there was a firing detail, with guns reversed.

The casket, covered with a large flag, was carried on a caisson, and his horse, led by an orderly, was covered with a large blanket of black cloth. Over this was the saddle, and on top of the saddle rested his helmet--the yellow horsehair plume and gold trimmings looking soiled by long service. His sabre was there, too, and strapped to the saddle on each side were his uniform boots, toes in stirrups--all reversed! This riderless horse, with its pall of black, yellow helmet, and footless boots, was the saddest sight imaginable.

I did not go to the cemetery, but we heard distinctly the firing of the three volleys over the grave and the sounding of taps on the bugles. The garrison flag had been drawn to half mast almost the moment of Captain White's death, but at the last sound of taps it was immediately pulled up to full mast, and soon the troops came back to their quarters, the field music playing lively airs.

This seemed so unnecessarily cruel, for Mrs. White must have heard every note, and she is still so wretchedly ill. The tiny baby has been taken from the house by the motherly wife of an officer, and the other tots--four in all--are being cared for by others. We have all been taking turns in sitting up nights during the illness of husband and wife, and last night three of us were there, Captain Tillman and Faye in one room, and I with Mrs. White. It was a terrible night, probably the one that has exacted, or will exact, the greatest self-control, as it was the one before the burial.

In civil life a poor widow can often live right on in her old home, but in the Army, never! Mrs. White will have to give up the quarters just as soon as she and the little baby are strong enough to travel. She has been in a warm climate many years, and her friends are all in the North, so to-morrow a number of us are to commence making warm clothing for her and the children. She has absolutely nothing of the kind, and seems to be pitifully helpless and incapable of thinking for herself.

Soon after I got home this morning and was trying to get a little sleep, I heard screams and an awful commotion across the hall in one of Mrs. Hunt's rooms, and running over to see what was the matter, I found Mrs. Hunt standing upon a chair, and her cook running around like a madman, with a stick of wood in his hand, upsetting furniture and whacking things generally. I naturally thought of a mouse, and not being afraid of them, I went on in and closed the door. I doubt if Mrs. Hunt saw me, she was so intently watching the man, who kept on upsetting things. He stopped finally, and then held up on the wood a snake--a dead rattlesnake! We measured it, and it was over two feet long.

You can see how the house is built by the photograph I sent you, that there are no chimneys, and that the stovepipes go straight up through the pole and sod roof. The children insist that the snake came down the pipe in the liveliest kind of a way, so it must have crawled up the logs to the roof, and finding the warmth of the pipe, got too close to the opening and slipped through. However that may be, he got into the room where the three little children were playing alone. Fortunately, the oldest recognized the danger at once, and ran screaming to her mother, the other two following. Mrs. Hunt was almost ill over the affair, and Major Hunt kept a man on top and around the old house hunting for snakes, until we began to fear it would be pulled down on our heads.

This country itself is bad enough, and the location of the post is most unfortunate, but to compel officers and men to live in these old huts of decaying, moldy wood, which are reeking with malaria and alive with bugs, and perhaps snakes, is wicked. Officers' families are not obliged to remain here, of course.

But at dreadful places like this is where the plucky army wife is most needed. Her very presence has often a refining and restraining influence over the entire garrison, from the commanding officer down to the last recruit. No one can as quickly grasp the possibilities of comfort in quarters like these, or as bravely busy herself to fix them up. She knows that the stay is indefinite, that it may be for six months, or possibly six years, but that matters not. It is her army home--Brass Button's home--and however discouraging its condition may be, for his sake she pluckily, and with wifely pride, performs miracles, always making the house comfortable and attractive.

FORT DODGE, KANSAS, January, 1873.

OUR coming here was most unexpected and very unpleasant in every way. General Phillips and Major Barker quarreled over something, and Major Barker preferred charges against the general, who is his company commander, and now General Phillips is being tried here by general court martial. Faye and I were summoned as witnesses by Major Barker, just because we heard a few words that were said in front of our window late one night! The court has thoughtfully excused me from going into the court room, as I could only corroborate Faye's testimony. I am so relieved, for it would have been a terrible ordeal to have gone in that room where all those officers are sitting, in full-dress uniform, too, and General Phillips with them. I would have been too frightened to have remembered one thing, or to have known whether I was telling the truth or not.

General Dickinson and Ben dark, his interpreter, came up in the ambulance with us, and the poor general is now quite ill, the result of an ice bath in the Arkansas River! When we started to come across on the ice here at the ford, the mule leaders broke through and fell down on the river bottom, and being mules, not only refused to get up, but insisted upon keeping their noses under the water. The wheelers broke through, too, but had the good sense to stand on their feet, but they gave the ambulance such a hard jerk that the front wheels broke off more ice and went down to the river bottom, also. By the time all this had occurred, I was the only one left inside, and found myself very busy trying to keep myself from slipping down under the front seat, where water had already come in. General Dickinson and Faye were doing everything possible to assist the men.

Just how it was accomplished would make too long a story to tell, but in a short time the leaders were dragged out and on their feet, and the rear wheels of the ambulance let down on the river bottom, and then we were all pulled up on the ice again, and came on to the post in safety. All but General Dickinson, who undertook to hold out of the water the heads of the two leaders who seemed determined to commit suicide by keeping their noses down, the general forgetting for once that he was commanding officer. But one of those government mules did not forget, and with a sudden jerk of his big head he pulled the general over and down from the ice into the water, and in such a way that he was wedged tight in between the two animals. One would have expected much objection on the part of the mules to the fishing out of the general, but those two mules kept perfectly still, apparently satisfied with the mischief that had already been done. I can fancy that there is one mule still chuckling over the fact of having gotten even with a commanding officer! It is, quite warm now, and the ice has gone out of the river, so there will be no trouble at the ford to-morrow, when we start back.

There is one company of Faye's regiment stationed here, and the officer in command of the post is major of the Third, so we feel at home. We are staying with Lieutenant Harvey, who is making it very pleasant for us. Hal is with us, and is being petted by everybody, but most of all by the cavalry officers, some of whom have hunted with Magic, Hal's father.

Last evening, while a number of us were sitting on the veranda after dinner, a large turkey gobbler came Stalking down the drive in front of the officers' quarters. Hal was squatted down, hound fashion, at the top of the steps, and of course saw the gobbler at once. He never moved, except to raise his ears a little, but I noticed that his eyes opened wider and wider, and could see that he was making an estimate of the speed of that turkey, and also making up his mind that it was his duty as a self-respecting hound to resent the airs that were being assumed by the queer thing with a red nose and only two legs. So as soon as the turkey passed, down he jumped after him, and over him and around him, until really the poor thing looked about one half his former size. Then Hal got back of the turkey and waited for it to run, which it proceeded to do without loss of time, and then a funny race was on! I could have cried, I was so afraid Hal would injure the turkey, but everyone else laughed and watched, as though it was the sporting event of the year, and they assured me that the dog would have to stop when he got to the very high gate at the end of the line. But they did not know that greyhound, for the gate gave him still another opportunity to show the thing that had wings to help its absurd legs along what a hound puppy could do. When they reached the gate the turkey went under, but the puppy went over, making a magnificent jump that landed him yards in advance of the turkey, thereby causing him the loss of the race, for before he could stop himself and turn, the gobbler had very wisely hidden himself in a back yard.

There was a shouting and clapping of hands all along the line because of the beautiful jump of so young a dog, but I must confess that all I thought of just then was gratitude that my dog had not made an untimely plucking of somebody's turkey, for in this country a turkey is something rare and valuable.

Hal came trotting back with his loftiest steps and tail high in the air, evidently much pleased with his part in the entertainment. He is very tall now, and ran by the ambulance all the way up, and has been following me on my rides for some time.

CIMARRON REDOUBT, KANSAS, January, 1873.

WHEN Faye was ordered here I said at once that I would come, too, and so I came! We are at a mail station--that is, where the relay mules are kept and where the mail wagon and escort remain overnight on their weekly trips from Camp Supply to Fort Dodge. A non-commissioned officer and ten privates are here all the time.

The cause of Faye's being here is, the contractor is sending big trains of grain down to Camp Supply for the cavalry horses and other animals, and it was discovered that whisky was being smuggled to the Indians in the sacks of oats. So General Dickinson sent an officer to the redoubt to inspect each sack as it is carried past by the ox trains. Lieutenant Cole was the first officer to be ordered up, but the place did not agree with him, and at the end of three weeks he appeared at the post on a mail wagon, a very sick man--very sick indeed! In less than half an hour Faye was ordered to relieve him, to finish Lieutenant Cole's tour in addition to his own detail of thirty days, which will give us a stay here of over five weeks.

As soon as I heard of the order I announced that I was coming, but it was necessary to obtain the commanding officer's permission first. This seemed rather hopeless for a time, the general declaring I would "die in such a hole," where I could have no comforts, but he did not say I should not come. Faye did not want to leave me alone at the post, but was afraid the life here would be too rough for me, so I decided the matter for myself and began to make preparations to come away, and that settled all discussion. We were obliged to start early the next morning, and there were only a few hours in which to get ready. Packing the mess chest and getting commissary stores occupied the most time, for after our clothing was put away the closing of the house was a farce, "Peu de bien, peu de soin!" Farrar was permitted to come, and we brought Hal and the horse, so the family is still together.

The redoubt is made of gunny sacks filled with sand, and is built on the principle of a permanent fortification in miniature, with bastions, flanks, curtains, and ditch, and has two pieces of artillery. The parapet is about ten feet high, upon the top of which a sentry walks all the time. This is technically correct, for Faye has just explained it all to me, so I could tell you about our castle on the plains. We have only two rooms for our own use, and these are partitioned off with vertical logs in one corner of the fortification, and our only roof is of canvas.

When we first got here the dirt floor was very much like the side of a mountain--so sloping that we had difficulty in sitting upon the chairs. Faye had these made level at once, and fresh, dry sand sprinkled everywhere.

We are right in the heart of the Indian country, almost on the line between Kansas and the Indian Territory, and are surrounded by any number of villages of hostile Indians. We are forty miles from Camp Supply and about the same distance from Fort Dodge. The weather is delightful--sunny and very warm.

I was prevented from finishing this the other day by the coming of a dozen or more Arapahoe Indians, but as the mail does not go north until to-morrow morning, I can tell you of the more than busy time we have had since then.

For two or three days the weather had been unseasonably warm--almost like summer--and one evening it was not only hot, but so sultry one wondered where all the air had gone. About midnight, however, a terrific wind came up, cold and piercing, and very soon snow began to fall, and then we knew that we were having a "Texas norther," a storm that is feared by all old frontiersmen. Of course we were perfectly safe from the wind, for only a cyclone could tear down these thick walls of sand, but the snow sifted in every place--between the logs of the inner wall, around the windows--and almost buried us. And the cold became intense.

In the morning the logs of that entire wall from top to bottom, were white inside with snow, and looked like a forest in the far North. The floor was covered with snow, and so was the foot of the bed! Our rooms were facing just right to catch the full force of the blizzard. The straightening-out was exceedingly unpleasant, for a fire could not be started in either stove until after the snow had been swept out. But a few soldiers can work miracles at times, and this proved to be one of the times. I went over to the orderly room while they brushed and scraped everywhere and fixed us up nicely, and we were soon warm and dry.

The norther continued twenty-four hours, and the cold is still freezing. All the wood inside was soon consumed, and the men were compelled to go outside the redoubt for it, and to split it, too. The storm was so fierce and wholly blinding that it was necessary to fasten the end of a rope around the waist of each man as he went out, and tie the other end to the entrance gate to prevent him from losing his direction and wandering out on the plains. Even with this precaution it was impossible for a man to remain out longer than ten minutes, because of the terribly cold wind that at times was almost impossible to stand up against.

Faye says that he cannot understand why the place has never been made habitable, or why Lieutenant Cole did not have the wood brought inside, where it would be convenient in case of a storm. Some of the men are working at the wood still, and others are making their quarters' a little more decent. Every tiny opening in our own log walls has been chinked with pieces of blanket or anything that could be found, and the entire dirt floor has been covered with clean grain sacks that are held down smooth and tight by little pegs of wood, and over this rough carpet we have three rugs we brought with us. At the small window are turkey-red curtains that make very good shades when let down at night. There are warm army blankets on the camp bed, and a folded red squaw blanket on the trunk. The stove is as bright and shining as the strong arm of a soldier could make it, and on it is a little brass teakettle singing merrily.

Altogether the little place looks clean and cheerful, quite unlike the "hole" we came to. Farrar has attended to his part in the kitchen also, and things look neat and orderly there. A wall tent has been pitched just outside our door that gives us a large storeroom and at the same time screens us from the men's quarters that are along one side of the sandbag walls.

On the side farthest from us the mules and horses are stabled, but one would never know that an animal was near if those big-headed mules did not occasionally raise their voices in brays that sound like old squeaky pumps. When it is pleasant they are all picketed out.

At the first coming of the blizzard the sentry was ordered from the parapet, and is still off, and I am positive that unless one goes on soon at night I shall be wholly deaf, because I strain my ears the whole night through listening for Indians. The men are supposed to be ever ready for an attack, but if they require drums and cannon to awaken them in a garrison, how can they possibly hear the stealthy step of an Indian here? It is foolish to expect anything so unreasonable.

CIMARRON REDOUBT, KANSAS, January, 1873.

FANCY our having given a dinner party at this sand-bag castle on the plains, miles and miles from a white man or woman! The number of guests was small, but their rank was immense, for we entertained Powder-Face, Chief of the Arapahoe Nation, and Wauk, his young squaw, mother of his little chief.

Two or three days ago Powder-Face came to make a formal call upon the "White Chief," and brought with him two other Indians--aides we would call them, I presume. A soldier offered to hold his horse, but he would not dismount, and sat his horse with grave dignity until Faye went out and in person invited him to come in and have a smoke. He is an Indian of striking personality--is rather tall, with square, broad shoulders, and the poise of his head tells one at once that he is not an ordinary savage.

We must have found favor with him, for as he was going away he announced that he would come again the next day and bring his squaw with him. Then Faye, in his hospitable way, invited them to a midday dinner! I was almost speechless from horror at the very thought of sitting at a table with an Indian, no matter how great a chief he might be. But I could say nothing, of course, and he rode away with the understanding that he was to return the following day. Faye assured me that it would be amusing to watch them, and be a break in the monotony here.

They appeared promptly, and I became interested in Wauk at once, for she was a remarkable squaw. Tall and slender, with rather a thin, girlish face, very unlike the short, fat squaws one usually sees, and she had the appearance of being rather tidy, too. I could not tell if she was dressed specially for the occasion, as I had never seen her before, but everything she had on was beautifully embroidered with beads--mostly white--and small teeth of animals. She wore a sort of short skirt, high leggings, and of course moccasins, and around her shoulders and falling far below her waist was a queer-shaped garment--neither cape nor shawl--dotted closely all over with tiny teeth, which were fastened on at one end and left to dangle.

High up around her neck was a dog collar of fine teeth that was really beautiful, and there were several necklaces of different lengths hanging below it, one of which was of polished elk teeth and very rare. The skins of all her clothing had been tanned until they were as soft as kid. Any number of bracelets were on her arms, many of them made of tin, I think. Her hair was parted and hung in loose ropes down each shoulder in front. Her feet and hands were very small, even for an Indian, and showed that life had been kind to her. I am confident that she must have been a princess by birth, she was so different from all squaws I have seen. She could not speak one word of English, but her lord, whom she seemed to adore, could make himself understood very well by signs and a word now and then.

Powder-Face wore a blanket, but underneath it was a shirt of fine skins, the front of which was almost covered with teeth, beads, and wampum. His hair was roped on each side and hung in front, and the scalp lock on top was made conspicuous by the usual long feather stuck through it.

The time came when dinner could no longer be put off, so we sat down. Our menu in this place is necessarily limited, but a friend at Fort Dodge had added to our stores by sending us some fresh potatoes and some lettuce by the mail wagon just the day before, and both of these Powder-Face seemed to enjoy. In fact, he ate of everything, but Wauk was more particular--lettuce, potatoes, and ham she would not touch. Their table manners were not of the very best form, as might be expected, but they conducted themselves rather decently--far better than I had feared they would. All the time I was wondering what that squaw was thinking of things! Powder-Face was taken to Washington last year with chiefs of other nations to see the "Great Father," so he knew much of the white man's ways, but Wauk was a wild creature of the plains.

We kept them bountifully supplied with everything on the table, so our own portion of the dinner would remain unmolested, although neither Faye nor I had much appetite just then. When Farrar came in to remove the plates for dessert, and Powder-Face saw that the remaining food was about to disappear, he pushed Farrar back and commenced to attend to the table himself. He pulled one dish after another to him, and scraped each one clean, spreading all the butter on the bread, and piled up buffalo steak, ham, potatoes, peas--in fact, every crumb that had been left--making one disgusting mess, and then tapping it with his finger said, "Papoose! Papoose!" We had it all put in a paper and other things added, which made Wauk almost bob off her chair in her delight at having such a feast for her little chief. But the condition of my tablecloth made me want to bob up and down for other feelings than delight!

After dinner they all sat by the stove and smoked, and Powder-Face told funny things about his trip East that we could not always interpret, but which caused him and Wauk to laugh heartily. Wauk sat very close to him, with elbows on her knees, looking as though she would much prefer to be squatted down upon the floor.

The tepee odor became stifling, so in order to get as far from the Indians as possible, I went across the room and sat upon a small trunk by the window. I had not been there five minutes, however, before that wily chief, who had apparently not noticed my existence, got up from his chair, gathered his blanket around him, and with long strides came straight to me. Then with a grip of steel on my shoulder, he jerked me from the trunk and fairly slung me over against the wall, and turning to Faye with his head thrown back he said, "Whisk! Whisk!" at the same time pointing to the trunk.

The demand was imperious, and the unstudied poise of the powerfully built Indian, so full of savage dignity, was magnificent. As I calmly think of it now, the whole scene was grand. The rough room, with its low walls of sand-bags and logs, the Indian princess in her picturesque dress of skins and beads, the fair army officer in his uniform of blue, both looking in astonishment at the chief, whose square jaws and flashing eyes plainly told that he was accustomed to being obeyed, and expected to be obeyed then!

Faye says that I missed part of the scene; that, backed up against sand-bags and clinging to them on either side for support, stood a slender young woman with pigtail hanging down one shoulder, so terrified that her face, although brown from exposure to sun and wind, had become white and chalky. It is not surprising that my face turned white; the only wonder is that the pigtail did not turn white, too!

It was not right for Faye to give liquor to an Indian, but what else could be done under the circumstances? There happened to be a flask of brandy in the trunk, but fortunately there was only a small quantity that we had brought up for medicinal purposes, and it was precious, too, for we were far from a doctor. But Faye had to get it out for the chief, who had sat there smoking in such an innocent way, but who had all the time been studying out where there might be hidden some "whisk!" Wauk drank almost all of it, Powder-Face seeming to derive more pleasure in seeing her drink his portion than in drinking it himself. Consequently, when she went out to mount her horse her steps were a little unsteady, over which the chief laughed heartily.

It was with the greatest relief I saw them ride away. They certainly had furnished entertainment, but it was of a kind that would satisfy one for a long time. I was afraid they might come for dinner again the following day, but they did not.

Powder-Face thought that the pony Cheyenne was not a good enough horse for me, so the morning after he was here an Indian, called Dog, appeared with a very good animal, large and well gaited, that the chief had sent over, not as a present, but for a trade.

We let poor Cheyenne go back to the Indians, a quantity of sugar, coffee, and such things going with him, and now I have a strawberry-roan horse named Powder-Face.

Chief Powder-Face, who is really not old, is respected by everyone, and has been instrumental in causing the Arapahoe nation to cease hostilities toward white people. Some of the chiefs of lesser rank have much of the dignity of high-born savages, particularly Lone Wolf and his son Big Mouth, both of whom come to see us now and then. Lone Wolf is no longer a warrior, and of course no longer wears a scalp lock and strings of wampum and beads, and would like to have you believe that he has ever been the white man's friend, but I suspect that even now there might be brought forth an old war belt with hanging scalps that could tell of massacre, torture, and murder. Big Mouth is a war chief, and has the same grand physique as Powder-Face and a personality almost as striking. His hair is simply splendid, wonderfully heavy and long and very glossy. His scalp lock is most artistic, and undoubtedly kept in order by a squaw.