Chapter XVII (2)

Col. Fauntleroy here determined to relieve himself of all drawbacks which should in the least tend to prevent his now giving full chase to the Indians. Accordingly, he left his baggage and provision train under escort of the foot company and quartermaster men, the whole being placed under the command of Lieutenant Lloyd Beall, of the Second Regiment U.S. Artillery, with instructions to meet him at an appointed rendezvous in the Wet Mountain Valley. It required but a short search by his guide, Kit Carson, and his spies, to put him on the right trail taken by the main portion of the enemy. When it was found, the pursuit was resumed and kept up vigorously. Late and early, the soldiers followed on this trail, and although the Indians purposely led them over the worst conceivable routes, yet they gained nothing substantial by it. On one occasion, when the men were pushing on as fast as possible, their advance guard surprised three Indians, one of them a woman, while they were leisurely watering their ponies. These Indians attempted to fly, and succeeded in making a good run for about four miles, but, at the end of that distance, two of them were overtaken. A Mexican, who was mounted on a very swift horse, was the first to come up with the savages. He fired and brought the woman to the ground. Quickly dismounting, he made a trophy of her scalp. The other Indian, being arrested by a slight wound, was made a prisoner. On questioning him, it was found that they all belonged to one family. The man who had made his escape, was the husband of the woman who was killed, while the prisoner was her brother. These Indians had heard nothing of the recent fight in the _Saquachi Pass_, and, had the soldiers dropped down from the heavens, they could not have been more surprised at thus unceremoniously meeting them. It was very much regretted by those present that this Indian woman had lost her life; but, as she was dressed in the disguise of a man, her sex could not be recognized. There are many of our readers who will perhaps censure this Mexican for his barbarous action of scalping a human being, but it must be remembered that the education of his people is different from our own. The taking of Indian scalps for a long time has been authorized by the Mexican Government, as a means of lessening their savage enemies, and handsome premiums have been offered as an inducement to obtain them. In the case of this Mexican, there were extenuating circumstances which, if they did not warrant such a cruel act, yet they rendered him somewhat excusable. He had recently lost a near and dear relative by the hands of these same Indians, and the appearance of this mangled body was still fresh in his memory, making him to thirst for revenge. It must not be supposed for a moment that the commanding officer of this expedition had sanctioned such a mode of procedure, for, he had no knowledge of the matter until after it had been ended. It was not within his province to preach humanity to a people who had been so greatly outraged by savages. He came to punish and not to intercede for wild men who had long been a terror to the surrounding country, and upon whom, in order to reconcile them, every kind act had been expended in vain.

It may possibly be asked whether or no a man, who has simply lost his scalp, can recover. In reply we can safely say that without any other wound, and under favorable circumstances, with good care the sufferer stands a chance of being restored to health. There was a man who formerly was living and working at his trade as a blacksmith in Santa Fé, who, in a fight with the Camanches while crossing the plains, was wounded by a lance and then scalped. After a long period of suffering this person entirely recovered, although the cicatrix of the wound was ever afterwards a source of annoyance to him, compelling him continually to wear a skull-cap made of oiled silk. The size of the scalp, as usually taken off by the Indians, varies. Sometimes they remove only the back covering of the head. At other times they cut off the whole, running down even with the margin of the ear. When a man has died in a manner which the Indians style as "brave"--that is, desperately fighting for his life, and never for once showing fear, they take two scalps, one from either side of the head. The object of this is, to have scalp dances for each, as they consider such a man as deserving the fate of two ordinary men. These scalps are often stretched, dried, decorated and frequently kept for years as trophies. The more scalps a warrior takes, the greater favorite he becomes with his tribe; and finally, having obtained a given number, he is considered eligible to fill the office of War Chief, provided he has other qualifications, such as the power of quickly conceiving the right plan on which to act in case of emergency. When a party of Indians in the Rocky Mountains have been on a war trail, met the enemy and vanquished them, they appoint a brave who is honored as being the scalp-bearer. This warrior carries a long pole, to which, at suitable distances from each other, the scalps are attached. When the party returns to, and enters their own village, this brave is the observed of all observers. Eagerly, by the old men, women, and children, these bloody trophies are counted, for each of them offers an occasion for rejoicing, to be at separate intervals of time. They are, then, each synonymous with the phrase, a fête day, and the scalp-bearer is looked upon with the same jealous eye which greets the color-bearer of an army after having been engaged in some great battle which has proved successful to his standard. An Indian will not remove, as a general thing, a scalp which contains grey hairs. This he considers to be a business fit only for women. The scalp which is to cause a general jubilee, on an appointed evening, is attached to the top of a long pole, planted in the earth at a suitable place. The warriors who have been instrumental in tearing it from the head of its owner, form a circle around the pole, outside of which are arranged the spectators. By the aid of one drum-stick, the person who has been detailed for this duty, keeps up a beating motion on a sort of kettle-drum, the noise of which serves the purpose of marking time. The voices of the dancers make the music. At first the song is a mere humming sound, but after a time, it grows gradually louder, until the participants in the dance, being excited to the highest attainable pitch with interest in the ceremonies, it becomes terribly hideous. Almost naked, with tomahawk and hunting-knife in hand, the warriors imitate the process of dispatching and tearing off the scalps of their victims. So excited do the dancing savages sometimes become while reveling in these fantastical scenes, that they frequently are aroused to a pitch which borders on frenzy. The spectators of these sights get so deeply interested that it is not an extraordinary matter for them to appear as if almost deranged. Their excitement breaks out into exclamations of encouragement and applause, until at last they can control themselves no longer, and, on their own account, commence making bodily demonstrations of joy by jumping about. The scalp dance may last an entire night, or until, worn down with fatigue, the actors are willing to forego their pleasure and seek rest. The Mexicans on the frontiers have fallen into this Indian custom, and they can go into the spirit of the scalp dance with a relish which fully equals that exhibited by their savage neighbors. This is not true as a general rule; but, very many of their people really enjoy these ceremonies.

Colonel Fauntleroy and his men traveled at such a rapid pace, that, in the course of a very few days, they succeeded in once more overtaking the main village belonging to the enemy. The Indians took refuge in a steep and rocky mountain. A skirmishing fight immediately commenced, which lasted several hours. During this engagement, a large number of the savage warriors were killed, their band completely routed, and the inhabitants of the whole village made to scatter in every direction in order to save their lives. At first the braves attempted to make a stand, but they were driven from rock to rock, until they broke their ranks and fled. It was about the time of this crisis, and when they were most needed, that the dragoon horses began to break down and die.

The word village has many times appeared in our pages, and as it may prove ambiguous to a few of our readers and render them liable to confound its meaning with that of a fixed town, we will here stop and explain its signification when applied to Indians. An Indian village, as understood in border parlance, comprises the lodges, the women, children, old men, and such movable property as Indians may chance to possess. They are usually found in some safe retreat where the old men, women and children stay while the warriors are engaged following the hunt or war path. The word has become more generalized since it was first given to stationary camps of the savages, and may now include any band of Indians traveling with their families and property. The village is the home of the red man, where those persons and things which he most cherishes, he tries to keep intact and sacred from the spoiler's hand. It is also where the Indian allows his love, friendship and all the better feelings of his nature to exhibit themselves. It is where in early youth he has listened to the legends of his tribe, and where he is taught those lessons and forced to endure those trials which are to prepare his heart in seeking out revenge. It is the place where, as he approaches the age of manhood, he takes those steps which are to make for him the reputation of a daring hunter and brave warrior. Here he first learns to shoot his arrows with precision, and to handle the lance with dexterity. His boyish feats in horsemanship, which he daily performs in the village, would be witnessed with astonishment by skillful riders. It is here that he runs to welcome his father when he returns either from the chase or the war path; and, while he listens to the marvellous adventures which his sire has encountered, he secretly wishes himself a man, so that he can emulate his greatness. In fact, the same feelings exist between parent and child with the Indian race, as with those who boast of being more civilized. Youth and the vigor of manhood, are the golden days with the savage. To be doomed to old age, is considered by him to be a punishment. When he is no longer able to hunt and seek out his enemy, he loses his desire to live. His life is then considered an incumbrance to the camp. The old and infirm, therefore, are often willingly deserted, that they may the more quickly die. The village is always under the surveillance of men who are past the middle age, and who no longer can act out the stirring deeds of the warrior. Their experience renders them capable of giving good advice, and attending to the less active affairs of the nation. They hold the power of restraining the rashness and indiscretion of the younger men, therefore they are selected to watch over the property of the tribe, while the strong warriors are seeking to provide the dependent portion of the band with food, or to revenge their real or imaginary wrongs. Order and good fellowship is made to prevail in these villages, somewhat similar to the habits found in civilized communities, for the passions and evil propensities of all men are found to be alike, no matter what differences of education or color exist. We find that the Indian tribes have their wise men, whose voices are heard and heeded on all occasions. When these villages are located, or, to use soldier phrase; when the Indians go into camp, care is taken that each lodge shall be placed where it will not interfere with the common good. The internal economy of these habitations is arranged on a social system which, in many respects, is commendable. When one person is poor, generally speaking, the whole tribe is found to be so. The herds of horses and mules belonging to the tribe, are turned loose in one body as if they were the property of one man. If game exists in plenty and danger is not apprehended, happiness holds complete sway within these Indian homes. The proverbial caution of the red man rarely allows him to be surprised; therefore, even in times of peace, he keeps his fleetest horse tied at the door of his lodge, so that he may make haste and collect his property, and be away before his enemy can harm him. These favorite animals are fed by hand. Before trusting his body in sleep, some warrior, in whom the tribe repose the utmost confidence, must ascend a neighboring eminence, if there chance to be one, and examine the country in search of dangers. Parties are always kept out as spies, and, at the least appearance of suspicious signs, they become easily aroused and vigilant, and if danger really exists, word is immediately sent to their village to be ready to move. This is a homely but literal interpretation of the term Indian village.

The reader has seen that the dragoon horses gave out before the fatigues of the march, while the Mexican ponies performed their tasks so admirably and easily.

This was a painful subject to contemplate and one which no man who loves the noble horse could wish to witness the second time. The dragoon horses, reduced to skeletons from starvation while retaining all their natural spirit, with tottering limbs, faithfully tried to perform the labor which their riders, seemingly, asked of them. Long before the arrival of the time when they could no longer support a burden, the soldiers had humanely relieved them from this work and were assisting them, by all the means in their power, to reach a haven of safety, where food, so essential in restoring their sinking powers of life, existed in abundance. As their little remaining strength was leaving them, they would exhibit the fact by staggering. Finally, breaking down in their hinder legs, they would sink to the ground, but not until they had made the effort to drag themselves along with their fore feet. To relieve them from their agonies and prevent their falling into the hands of the Indians, one by one, they were shot.

When these horses broke down and began to die off, it was decided to be best to return to Fort Massachusetts in order to recruit and also to allow the Indians an opportunity to concentrate their forces, when another effective blow could be struck against them. On his return, Colonel Fauntleroy met, at the designated place, Lieutenant Beall, who had managed the affairs intrusted to him very much to his credit. Having once more consolidated his command, Colonel Fauntleroy retired to Fort Massachusetts, which he made, for a time, his head-quarters.

Kit Carson, the guide of this expedition, when afterwards speaking of it, says, "During the time our forces were in the field they were exposed to the most intense cold weather I ever remember experiencing. We were overtaken by several severe snow-storms which came near completely using us up."

For the success that had so far attended the labors of this body of soldiers, the greatest amount of praise is due to their leader, who set a noble example to his men. During those hours when hardships and trials came thickest upon the command, all eyes were turned to the commander, and, as the result proved, with no lack of confidence. Kit Carson's services were found to be invaluable. His long experience and untiring energy proved to be one of the best anchors of the goodly ship. We should not omit to state, in regard to the severity of the cold, that it was early in the morning, just before the break of day, that the cold was invariably found to be the most intense. During this time, it is the greatest wonder that the Mexicans did not perish, for but few of them had more than one blanket as a covering by night, and the remainder were but very little better provided for. When wood was plenty, and they were allowed so to do, they made large fires and laid down near to them to attempt sleep. After about one hour thus spent, they were routed out by being nearly frozen. Getting into close contact with the fires, they would thaw out and then were ready to make another endeavor to repeat the sleeping operation. In this manner they managed to live through each night, and on the following day they were, apparently, none the worse for wear. A person judging these men as he oftentimes sees them during the summer season, basking in the sunlight on the sunny side of their houses in New Mexico, would not, for an instant, suppose that they could undergo such hardships; and yet, they can do so, as the above example sufficiently proves, without allowing one murmur of complaint to escape their lips. With the regulars, who were amply supplied with blankets and buffalo robes, it would appear that they could have obtained sound sleep. But this too proved to be almost an impossibility. The heat of the man's body, during the early and warmer part of the night, served to melt the icy covering of the mother earth just under him. When the cold increased, this was again frozen, rendering the portion of the body nearest to the ground almost benumbed. By frequently reversing the posture a little, some relief from suffering was obtained, but not sufficient to reach a degree which could be called comfortable, or, in the least, be claimed as desirable. Every member of this expedition can truthfully assert that they have experienced a foretaste of what the first symptoms of freezing to death must be.

Finally, the command reached Fort Massachusetts, where, in ease and plenty, the half starved, half frozen, half used-up men soon forgot all their troubles and privations. A few weeks spent at the fort, acted like a magic charm in recruiting the men and the remaining animals, when they were once more in a fit condition, and, again eager to go on the war path, anxiously desiring to surpass the splendid deeds of their first tramp.

At the permanent camp, which was made near Fort Massachusetts, the Mexican Volunteers, especially, enjoyed themselves hugely. From privations of various kinds, to which they had shown themselves to be well trained, and which consequently affected them but little, they were suddenly placed in a state of comparative comfort and even luxury rarely realized at their own homes. They had not much else to do beyond guarding their animals and attending to such other minor duties as were required by camp duties. Had not their hardy ponies required the rest that was now being given them, these troops would have been kept in more active service; but, as this could not be, they were allowed a respite, which they themselves turned into pleasure. Foot races and various athletic games were concocted and played by them, making the time pass merrily by. Their discipline and respect for their officers had reached a degree seldom, if ever, attained by volunteer soldiers, and which, in many respects, could be imitated with advantage by regular troops.

But the time soon arrived for the march to be resumed.

At a council held among the chief officers, it was decided that the best and surest course to be followed would be to divide the forces and send them out in quest of the Indians, as if they were separate commands. Thus it might happen that being caught between the two, as they were running from danger they would rush into it and receive chastisement sufficient to answer all purposes. Acting on this plan, Colonel St. Vrain, with most of the Volunteers, was ordered to proceed in one direction, while Colonel Fauntleroy, with the main division, started in another; while on his route, Colonel Fauntleroy traveled close in under the mountains, and kept his men as much concealed as possible, making most of his marches by night. He traveled through the Valley of San Luis up to its head.

The Valley of San Luis is about one hundred miles in length. Its greatest width is fifty miles. On either side, it is bounded by snow-capped mountains. The scenery of the valley is very prepossessing, being sure to enchant the eye throughout its entire length. In the south, the valley is continuous with prairie land, which extends down as far as the settlement of Rio Colorado. It is well watered by mountain streams and bears the appearance of being an excellent farming district; but, the probability is, that its climate is too cold for raising crops, and that its true value will be found chiefly to consist in using it for grazing purposes. From time to time, the Indians have reported that it contains gold mines, but there are no authentic proofs that this is a fact.

At one time, the Indians succeeded in making the Mexicans converts to the belief in the existence of these mines, as they showed them specimens of gold which they affirmed to have been taken from them. It was agreed that, for this valuable information, presents, such as blankets, horses, and guns, should be made to those Indians who had openly proclaimed the good news, provided they could conduct the Mexicans to them. A party was formed and started to explore the valley, but, as nothing was afterwards heard of their success, and, as many of them, to all external appearances, were as poor as ever when they returned, it is presumed that they were duped by the Indians. The bottom land of the Rio Grande which skirts the southern border of the valley of San Luis, is, judging from the luxuriant hay crops which it produces, year by year, quite a good farming section; and, no doubt, ere long, the Mexicans will there establish a new settlement and thus practically demonstrate the use to which this beautiful valley can be put.

While passing up the valley of San Luis, Colonel Fauntleroy came to the Punchi Pass. This pass is the main opening through the mountains which bound the valley of San Luis on the north. The pass itself is less than half a mile wide, but yet, it presents some of the grandest scenery human eyes ever beheld. The mountains, on either side, are not so lofty as their compeers close by, but they are rugged and picturesque. Through the pass runs a bold stream, which, at about midway (and at this time) was obstructed by a beaver dam, that was so scientifically constructed as immediately to attract the attention of the entire party. Near to this dam, there is a very large hot spring, which is located close under the base of one of the mountain sides, and which, under the favorable circumstance of a fine day, lends enchantment to the view. The Punchi Pass is but a few miles long and leads into a beautiful little valley, called by the Mexicans after the same name which is given to the pass.

On arriving at the Punchi Pass, Col. Fauntleroy proceeded on through it to the head-waters of the Arkansas river, where, fortunately, a fresh trail made by the Indians was found. This trail was followed with such assiduity and prudence that the camp of some spies belonging to the enemy, and which was in their rear, was passed by the Americans one night without their presence being noticed. Early the ensuing morning (before the break of day), the main village of the Indians was discovered. Its occupants were enjoying a war and scalp dance, and their voices, as engaged in the song which usually accompanies such festivities, could be heard for a distance of at least a mile. Unconscious of danger, they were having a merry time. One can imagine, better than can be described, the scene that followed when three hundred loaded rifles poured their contents into this crowd. Suffice it to say, that among those who survived this terrible retribution, the greatest consternation prevailed; but, as a dernier resort, they began to fly, when they were hotly pursued by the soldiers. Before quitting their late camp, some of the savages had managed to get their own rifles, and with them to fire several shots which did some execution, as two soldiers were killed and two wounded.

Thus it will be seen that the main village of these Apaches and Utahs fell into the hands of the Americans. It proved to be rich in plunder, for it contained all their stock of dried buffalo meat, besides other provisions. Also several cart-loads of robes, saddles, weapons, ropes, skins, blankets, trinkets and camp equipage. Most of this property was collected and destroyed by fire, being of little use to the command, whose means of conveyance was limited to their own actual wants. The number of Indians killed in this surprise has been variously estimated, as has been also the number of the red men on the ground when the carnage commenced; but all agree that this was the severest blow these savages had ever received.

Among the many other objects of curiosity found by the victors, was a "Medicine lodge," which had, from appearance, but recently been in full blast. It was highly (and to Indian eyes it must have been very artistically) decorated, and contained all the emblems and symbols of witchcraft. If sickness was to be frightened away, or even coaxed to dethrone itself from the afflicted, there was sufficient in this temple of the Indian gods, seemingly, to have answered either purpose. Some potentate of the magnitude of a great chief had, evidently, but a few hours since, been its occupant; for, in his hurry to desert the premises, on hearing the music of the white man's rifle, he had forgotten his beautiful head-dress of feathers, and other articles pertaining to his wardrobe, which designated to the captors his high rank. Perhaps, and the surmise may not be far out of the way, this chief was suffering from a gun-shot wound inflicted in a recent fight by his pale-faced enemy, and having received one of their most dangerous potions of lead, he was not anxious for another, and therefore made his escape with the activity of a well man.

In this expedition, a company of artillery,[11] who have before been described, doing duty as infantry, performed a feat that will compare well with anything of the same kind on record. These men, under the command of Lieutenant Beall, who shared all the privations of his soldiers, marched on foot through a mixture of mud and snow, nearly ankle deep, over an uneven country, from the Mosco Pass in the Valley of San Luis, to the head-waters of the Arkansas River, a distance which is computed at eighty-five miles, in thirty-six hours, including all their stoppages. This company had been long celebrated as being expert marksmen, therefore, their services were much needed when the Indian village was discovered. Although nearly broken down with fatigue, yet as soon as the electrifying news of the enemy being so near at hand reached them, it seemed to inspire them with new vigor. They dashed ahead, and gallantly led the van in this assault which terminated so favorably to the side of the Americans.

[Footnote 11: D Company, 2d Regiment U. S. Artillery.]

Colonel Fauntleroy was not satisfied with the victory already obtained; but, after having accomplished all that was possible for him in this quarter, and having scattered the Indians to the four winds, he determined to make forced marches in order to surprise another band of them who were supposed to be located in a distant mountain haunt well known to his guide. His object in thus hurrying away from the scenes of his late triumph, was to reach and surprise the Indians before their friends had time to travel to and apprise them of their defeat. In this manoeuvre he was also successful. He came upon this second band also before they were aware of their danger. They were routed, and after severe loss were followed far into the mountains. At this camp, Blanco, the celebrated Apache chief, was driven to such close quarters that he evidently began to feel that the safety of his whole tribe stood in jeopardy. He made his appearance on a high point of rocks and asked the white men who occupied the plain beneath for a parley, which was granted him. He said, in the Spanish language, that he and his Indians wished to make peace; that they were tired of fighting. In reply, he was informed that the terms he demanded would be listened to on his coming into the soldiers' camp. He was going on to say that he was afraid to trust himself there, when a bullet was sent whizzing by his head, which caused him to decamp in all haste. It was ascertained, afterwards, that a Mexican, who had great antipathy to this chief, had, unknown to the rest of the party, crept secretly up into the rocks. When he had reached a place where Blanco was within the range of his rifle, he fired; but, as the reader has inferred, he missed an accurate aim.

At this latter camp or village, and near the close of this same day, another incident happened which will long be remembered by those who witnessed it. Two Indians who probably had been absent to some distant section of the country, having no knowledge of the matters which had lately been transpiring, were seen approaching. Gradually, they drew near to a cotton-wood grove of trees in which the soldiers were resting, thinking no doubt, that they were there about to meet their friends. A mountaineer by the name of Stewart, who commanded the Spy company, and another man, one of the Mexican Volunteers, immediately on seeing the Indians, sprang upon the backs of their horses which chanced to be near by, and started out to attack them. Not until these Indians saw the men advancing, were they made aware of their danger; when instantly they turned around their animals, and put them on a keen run for the nearest mountain. They were pursued and the race hotly contested for at least two miles; but, the Indians succeeded in making their escape, although shots were fired at them, and returned by the Indians. In doing so, one of them was obliged to dismount and leave his horse behind him, which fell into the hands of his pursuers.

At the time that the chief Blanco was endeavoring to gain a parley, a stirring scene was being enacted at the soldiers' camp, which was several miles distant. Most of the soldiers had left it and were then out engaged in the business of scouring the country. In the camp there were all the pack animals, provisions, luggage etc., of the command. To guard this property there were only about fifty men left, who, anticipating no danger, were employing themselves in cooking and otherwise providing for the wants of their absent friends against their return. The herd of mules was scattered about, and grazing under the charge of a few herders. Suddenly a band of about one hundred warriors, were discovered coming down the little valley where the camp was located. The alarm was given, when each man seizing his rifle, rushed to place himself in the line of sentinels which were forming around the property. The mules were quickly driven together in a compact body into the centre of the camp. Hardly had this movement been performed, before the red men came galloping by. Seeing the smallness of the force opposed to them, they made two or three attempts at an attack on the weakest points of the lines. They were about to succeed, when a shout went up from the Americans, who descried relief in the shape of the foot company which, having been left behind for one night in order to make easy marches and thus partially rest themselves, was now approaching. The Indians saw the near approach of this powerful reinforcement, and using that discretion which is often the better part of valor, they started off and were soon lost sight of. Had not this reinforcement providentially thus arrived, the Indians would have certainly captured the pack mules belonging to the soldiers, and got away with them. Never was succor hailed with more delight, than on this occasion; for, had the red men succeeded in this endeavor, the benefits of this whole campaign would have been greatly frustrated.

Colonel Fauntleroy, after thoroughly scouring the adjacent country in the hope of meeting with parties of straggling Indians, but, as the result proved, without success, returned to Fort Massachusetts, where he had the satisfaction of learning that Colonel St. Vrain, in his expedition, had caught other bands of these same Indians, and most severely chastised them.

The Fort Massachusetts here referred to has recently been abandoned and another one has been built, distant about six miles from the original site. The name is retained for the new defences, which are located on the river Trinchera. The present location is picturesque, and beautiful in the extreme.

In one of his fights, Col. St. Vrain had overtaken the red men on the prairies, where a running battle ensued, in which the volunteers killed many of the enemy, and made several prisoners. During this skirmish, the Indians tried the ruse of setting fire to the prairie grass, and, as the wind was blowing in the direction from which their foes were coming, they hoped thereby to impede their progress, and thus give themselves time to escape; but the volunteers boldly rode through the flames, and successfully continued the chase.

The time for which the New Mexican volunteers had enlisted, was fast drawing to a close; but, as the hostile Utahs and Apaches were scattered to the four winds, it was thought best not to send out again a regularly appointed force to act against them. Instead, while awaiting the effect of their late telling blows, it was decided to be judicious to keep out, in different directions, small scouting parties, who could better follow the trails of the small parties of fugitive Indians with some prospect of success. It was now the season for the richly laden caravans to arrive on the borders of the territory, and perchance they might fall in with bands of the hostile savages of sufficient strength to cause them trouble; or, it might be, the Indians would combine in sufficient strength, being driven by pressing want, to capture some one of these trains, and thus obtain the material for renewing the contest. In view of these apprehensions, it was decided that the regular troops should go out on the plains, where they could be on hand ready to afford protection in case of need. Major Blake, in command of the dragoons, started out and faithfully performed this mission. After this duty was fully accomplished, he visited the mountains to the northeast of Fort Massachusetts, and then returned to Taos _viâ_ the fort and the intervening Mexican towns.

While intimating the dangers which may befall trains on their journey across the plains, especially in time of Indian war, it may be well to narrate a fatal adventure which once happened to a mail party while traveling this route. Not many miles from Fort Union, and on the plains, there is a clump of hills known as the "Wagon Mound," so called from their resemblance to one of those peculiar wagons which are used to transport valuable freight across the country. It being dangerous times, a party of ten picked men had been sent out to insure the safe transit of the mail. Everything went well with the little band of travelers, and their prospects were becoming bright for making a safe journey, when, suddenly, a large band of hostile Apaches and Utahs hove in sight. The mail party, on making this discovery, immediately halted and prepared for a fight. The Indians very soon granted to them this favor. At first, the attack was sharply maintained, but, at last, fortune favored the whites, for the time being, and they succeeded in repulsing their foes, who retreated out of sight. The mail party, being thus freed from the unpleasant society of the Indians, at once hitched up their teams and proceeded on their route. It was afterwards learned that the Apaches made the first attack, but, they were countenanced by the Utahs, who remained close by. On the return of the unsuccessful war party of Apaches to the Utahs, the latter at once commenced charging them with cowardice, and boasted that they could have done better. The true state of the case was, that the Utahs were using the Apaches as tools by which to gain plunder, crying "go dog," while they themselves were keeping out of harm's way. The anger of the Apaches was fully aroused at these derisive imputations. Under the new impulse, they said to the Utahs, if you will help, we will return and show you whether we are afraid to meet these pale-faces. Another attack having been decided upon, the Indians set out and overtook the mail party once more near to this "Wagon Mound." It was snowing fast at the time, therefore, the white men were comfortably traveling in their vehicles and had their guns protected with suitable coverings to prevent their being injured, for they anticipated no further danger. The curtains of the mail wagons were all fastened down, and there was no look-out kept, for it was considered sufficient to prepare for the furies of the storm. The Indians accordingly approached unperceived and made such a desperate attack that all the white men were quickly killed. Not one, if the boasts of the Indians can be believed, had time to get out from his seat. Several days elapsed and no tidings were heard of the expected mail party; therefore, a body of men started out in quest of the missing men and found them sleeping the last sleep which knows no awakening. The bodies of the dead were decently interred; and, since that day, the "Wagon Mound" is pointed out to the traveler accompanied with a historical account of this awful tragedy.

During the campaign under consideration, several Indian children were captured. These were generally under the age of ten years. They could not stand the kindly-planned treatment which they received while in bondage, for many of them died from over-eating, after having so long been accustomed to Indian frugality. One of the women prisoners taken, openly declared, and there is no reason why she should not be believed, that many of the younger children belonging to her tribe had been strangled by their parents and friends in order to prevent their becoming an inconvenience, and thus prevent their being able to prosecute the war, thereby showing that their hatred of the white man was deeply rooted, and that their anger had been aroused to its highest degree. On the publishing of peace, those Indian children who still lived, were collected, and, through the Indian agents, restored to their relatives and friends. The good effect which the moral of this campaign had on the surrounding Indian nations cannot be denied. They soon became loud in proclaiming their friendships for the Americans. Taking advantage of the now crippled condition of the Utahs and Apaches, their enemies the Arrapahoes and Cheyennes were ready to pounce upon them at a moment's warning. The opportunity did not, however, present itself until long after peace had been established with the white men, when the Utahs and Apaches had been able to recover from their losses and collect again.

War party after war party of Cheyennes and Arrapahoes entered the country of their old enemies the Apaches and Utahs, but returned unable to find them. Yellow Bear, a head war chief of the Arrapahoes, did not accompany his braves on these expeditions, and he would not believe that they could not find either the Apaches or Utahs; therefore, to show his people that there was one warrior living of the olden stamp, he started, accompanied only by his youngest squaw, to meet and fight them. A severe snow-storm compelled this noble chieftain to come into Fort Massachusetts. While he was there the commanding officer of the post endeavored to dissuade him from his rash undertaking. In reply the chief said:

"Captain, my young men are no longer warriors. They have become squaws. I sent them to seek our nation's enemies. They went, discovered their fires and counted their lodges, but were afraid to attack them. I am now on my way to find the Utah village, where I intend, either to smoke the pipe of peace, or offer fight to any three of their chiefs. If they kill me otherwise than fairly, perhaps it will stir up once more the fire in the breast of the warriors of the Arrapahoe nation."

This speech was delivered with so much pathos, and yet with such an oratorical air, that the interpreter was enabled to catch and translate every word of it. Yellow Bear was now informed of the recent campaign against the Utahs and Apaches, but the news made no change in his determination. The advice was words thrown away, as he was found conversant with the whole proceedings of the campaign. We have brought in this incident to show how surrounding tribes are directly affected and personally interested in the results of all military transactions with hostile Indians. As we have taken up for a theme the story of this brave and really noble Indian, it may prove interesting to some of our readers if we complete the picture. Yellow Bear has always been the firm friend of Kit Carson both by word and action. He is the finest specimen of an Indian that the writer ever laid eyes on. He stands in his moccasins over six feet; is straight and symmetrically proportioned. The head, however, is the main attraction of this Indian. Never was a statesman possessed of a better. We once heard him address a large council of his warriors, and, although we could not understand one word he said, yet our attention was fixed on the man, for we never saw either before or since such majestic gestures, mixed with equal grace, in any speaker. It was a master-piece of acting, and from the "humphs," or grunts, ejaculated by his auditors, we were inclined to think that the speech was impressive. There is one great point about this chief which those who are familiar with the Indian race, as they now exist, cannot but admire. He has never been known to beg; rather than do this, we believe, he would actually starve. We will finish this description of Yellow Bear by adding that he finally listened to the advice of the then commanding officer of Fort Massachusetts, and returned to his own nation.

On the final arrival at Taos of the troops engaged in this brilliant Indian campaign against the Utahs and Apaches, they received orders to disband. Those whose calling was arms, returned to their respective military posts, while the New Mexicans scattered to seek their homes, where they were received and justly treated as heroes. Before the forces were dispersed, the Pueblo Indians, who had been employed in the spy companies, gave, with the aid of their friends, by moonlight, a grand war-dance entertainment in the plaza of the town. It proved a fine display of this time-honored Indian custom.

The combined efforts of the two commanders, Colonel Fauntleroy and Lieutenant-Colonel St. Vrain, aided by their followers, among whom Kit Carson played a most conspicuous and important part, had the effect to compel the Indians to send a delegate to Santa Fé, commissioned to sue for peace. Peace was finally granted, which formed a most happy and pleasing termination to this brilliant Indian campaign.

It proved afterwards that a great mistake was made in hastily allowing these Indians to evade the punishment they so richly deserved, and which was being so summarily inflicted, by entertaining so soon conciliatory measures. At the council that was subsequently held, it was found that only a part of the Apaches were present to sanction the proceedings, and that the remainder were still in the mountains and were either hostile or undecided what course they would pursue. Kit Carson, their agent, was at the meeting, and earnestly opposed the policy of making a treaty so long as any portion of the two nations were insubordinate, as it offered a loop hole for those present to creep out whenever they were so inclined. He said, "that now was the time, if ever, when they might, at a small additional expense, and with the prospect of saving many valuable lives, show these Indians that they were dealing with a powerful government." His voice and experience were overruled by the other officials present and the treaty was made. It stipulated that the Indians should receive certain sums annually in case they would settle down and commence farming, and that they should be allowed to select their own locality within certain prescribed limits. The making of such offers to tribes of savages half subdued is absurd. The wisdom of this assertion has since been clearly shown, for hardly one article contained in the treaty there made has been carried out. The actions of those Apaches present at the council were trifling in the extreme, notwithstanding which, they were presented with some cattle. These they objected to receiving on the ground that they were not fat enough to suit their fastidious tastes. They insolently addressed the Government officials in the following strain: "If you do not give us better, we will again take the road where we can have our choice."

The fact was that these half-starved rascals saw that the white men were anxious to make peace, and hence they assumed a haughty air in order to drive a good bargain.

The great results which should have been brought about by the teachings of Colonels Fauntleroy and St. Vrain, by this weak diplomacy, were more or less frustrated. These gentlemen, however, had won great renown. They had the savages driven to such extremes that one more expedition, led by them in person, would have subdued all their obstinacy and made them over anxious for peace. The Indians had been seven times caught, and, on every one of the occasions, they had been greatly worsted. They had lost at least five hundred horses, all their camp equipage, ammunition, provisions, and most of their arms, and were indeed almost at the mercy of the whites. Under these circumstances they should have been shown true magnanimity and greatness, by forcing them into that course which was and is for their own welfare as well as the welfare of the country, and against which, they themselves so blindly contend. Say to an Indian, that ere many years have passed by the buffalo will all be destroyed, and he will answer you "that the 'Great Spirit' rains them down in the mountains for his red children." This is a fair example of the manner in which most of them listen to the voice of reason. It requires practical and active demonstrations by means of rifles and other weapons to teach, them that they will not be permitted to plunder and murder at pleasure. The wrong of this conduct they are as well aware of as their white brethren. It is by rifle arguments that their treaties become worth the value of the paper upon which they are written.

It is a well known fact that people who live in Indian countries prefer to have the red men at war, rather than bound to peace by such slender ties as they are usually called upon to take upon themselves. In the former case, the settler knows what to expect and is always prepared for the worst so far as it lies in his power; but, in the latter position, he is continually exposed to the caprices of a race who are in many respects as changeable as the very air they breathe.

In the old Mexican town of Don Fernandez de Taos, as we have before said, resides at the present time Kit Carson. A stranger entering this town, and especially at a little distance from it, is reminded of a number of brick-kilns just previous to being burnt, and all huddled together without any regard being paid to symmetry. In order to reach the Plaza, which is the main feature of attraction belonging to the town, the traveler is obliged to follow the crooks and turns of several unattractive streets. The home of Kit Carson faces on the west side of this public square. It is a building only one story in height; but, as it extends over a considerable space of ground, it makes up in part this defect, and within, it is surpassed by but few other houses in the country for the degree of comfort which is furnishes to its occupants. On most any fair day, around the doors of this house may be seen many Indians of various tribes who are either waiting for their companions within, or else for the opportunity to present itself so that they themselves can enter.

Business or no business to transact with Kit Carson, they cannot come to town without visiting "Father Kit," and having a smoke and talk with him. Kit Carson enjoys himself in their society, for his heart and hand have long since taught them that, irrespective of the office which he holds towards them, he is their true friend and benefactor. Never is his patience exhausted by their lengthy visits. He listens to their narrations of grievances which they lay freely before him for his counsel, even in matters exclusively personal. Being familiar with all those things which will, in the least, touch their feelings and make them interested, he finds no difficulty in entering into the spirit of their affairs in a manner that exactly suits their tastes. This causes them to look upon him in the same light as they would upon some brave and experienced chief of their own race.

Kit Carson takes every opportunity to warn the Indians against the use of intoxicating drinks, and shows them by his own example, that "fire water" is a dangerous luxury which man does not require and in which he should not indulge. Notwithstanding his best efforts, now and then they get under its influence. On becoming sober, they are so ashamed of their conduct that they often keep clear of their agent until they think he has forgotten the occurrence. Kit Carson, to a certain extent, treats Indians as a wise father does his own children; hence, he has won their respect as well as confidence, which fact has given him more influence over them, than any other man in the country where he lives. When Kit Carson enters the various villages of the Indians under his supervision, he is invariably received with the most marked attention. Having selected the warrior whose guest he intends to be, he accompanies him to his lodge, which is known during his stay as the "soldiers' lodge." He gives himself no concern about his horse, saddle, bridle rifle or any minor thing. The brave whom he has thus honoured, considers that he has assumed the responsibility of a "soldier," and so styles himself. This making of a "soldier" is no every day business with the Indians. It is only when they are visited by some great personage for whom they have the greatest respect, that this ceremony is gone through with. When thus favored, the "soldier," at once, becomes the sworn friend of the white man who occupies his lodge, and will fight and die for him even against his own brethren.