Chapter III: Part 3

The Indians were led on by a half-breed, and probably one or more scalawag whites were engaged in this diabolical act, as one was found among the killed with his face painted black and wearing Indian clothing. Some one having a fertile imagination made a picture of this scene, and I saw it copied in Philadelphia for some wall-paper to ornament hotel dining-rooms. Speaking to some ladies there about the delightful trip to California over the Pacific Railroad, one exclaimed, "I would like to visit California, but oh, my! I never could venture on the danger. Just look at the picture in the window, corner Chestnut Street and Broad. The horrid Indians have thrown the cars off the track, and killing all the passengers!" I explained to her that it was a fancy sketch entirely, gotten up for a bar-room wall-paper, and that it was ridiculous and false; for the picture was made to show the locomotive off the rail, and the Indians riding round the cars in white shirt sleeves and bright-red, flaring neckties, like gay cavaliers or brigands!

PAWNEE INDIANS--YELLOW SUN AND BLUE HAWK.

Both these Indians declare themselves innocent of the crime of murder. I visited Omaha in the fall of 1869, where they were lodged in jail awaiting their trial. Just before I came one of them had escaped, and gone back to the Pawnee reservation, near Columbus. Here the sheriff and soldiers found him with his squaw, decked out in all their style of paint and ornament, ready for the sacrifice. He was ready and willing to be slain _among_ his own people, but to go back and suffer the ignominy of being hung up by the neck till dead was more than he could bear. If the Indian dies in this way, all believe they cannot enter into the happy hunting-grounds.

They were supposed to have murdered Edward McMurty, near Grand Island, Nebraska, in June, 1868.

After being shut up in a filthy jail about two years, they were acquitted. This was a sample of the way we dispense justice in our courts of law.

A TRIP TO FORT LARAMIE.

This post was established a great many years since by the American Fur Company, to trade with the Indians, buying furs and peltries of them in return for various articles of merchandise, such as tobacco, sugar, coffee, blankets, calico, beads, etc. Mr. John Jacob Astor, the millionaire of New York, made his great wealth by dealing in furs with the Indians.

It is related of an agent of the company that while weighing the furs, he would place his foot on the scales and call it a pound! Of course he could keep it on as long as he chose, and the Indians would be none the wiser. It is a good story, but in nowise related to Mr. Astor, who was reputed to be honest, and at one time very poor.

It was full of curiosity that I started from Fort Russell with the paymaster, Major Burbank, Inspector-General Sweitzer, Medical Director J. B. Brown, and others, on the last of May, 1870, with an escort of a dozen cavalry, to pay a few days' visit to Laramie, ninety-five miles north-east of our post. Leaving at noon in procession, with three ambulances and as many army wagons, scaling the bluffs, bare of everything like trees or shrubs, and only covered with grass and wild flowers, and now and then sage-bush and prickly-pear cactus, which are very troublesome to the horses' feet. The roads were, as usual, very hard and fine, so that up hill and down dale we made six miles to the hour all the way. Our first station was Horse Creek, twenty-five miles, where we camped on a fine stream of water for the night. When a party thus camps out, the wagons are corraled, as it is called,--_i.e._ a circle is made of them and the horses are tethered inside or _lariated_ with a rope long enough to let them feed, and this is held by an iron stake or pin driven into the ground. Then the tents are put up in a line, and at once begins the work of gathering brush and sticks (or buffalo-chips), with which to cook a savory supper of bacon, potatoes, and hot coffee. This is the time for cracking jokes, telling stories of pioneer life,--and the colored boys are full of fun. We had one from the South named Tom Williams, belonging to Colonel Mason, of the 5th Cavalry. After enjoying our evening meal and getting ready to lie down in our tents, spread on the grass, as the evening approached, the sun was sinking behind Laramie Peak,--a mountain far away in the Black Hills, towering up eight thousand feet,--and all nature was hushed into repose, and each one with his lungs full of the light air, and his body weary with a long ride, just dropping off to sleep,--all at once there was a yell and halloo outside, which caused me to jump up and look out to see if any red-skins had broke through the guard and invaded our peaceful circle. Instead of scalping Sioux, there was nothing the matter but the return of a drove of large beef-cattle we had passed grazing on the Chugwater, and which sought our camping-ground on account of a bare place where they could lie down and be warm for the night. Our Tom was racing up and down among them, yelling "Hi, hi!" and shaking his blanket in all directions to stampede the poor cattle, who had as good a right as we to the soil.

Pickets were stationed all around us, and, save the snoring of some tired sleeper and the occasional braying of a mule or two, we slept soundly, with no fear of Indians. Here we met a white man and his wife, a squaw, and several others, who were waiting for Red Cloud and his chiefs, who were on their way to Washington from Fort Fetterman. They were related to John Reichaud, a half-breed belonging to Red Cloud's party. This Reichaud had lived about Laramie and Fetterman for many years, and, by raising stock and trading, had accumulated, it is said, about two hundred thousand dollars. During last winter, while drunk, he quarreled with a soldier, and a little while after, in passing some barracks at Fetterman, he aimed his revolver at a soldier, who was sitting in front of his quarters, named Kernan, and killed him, supposing it was the same soldier he had just before been quarreling with. Finding out his mistake, he fled away up to Red Cloud's camp, and while there incited the Indians to make war upon the whites. At the time we were going up, General John E. Smith was journeying towards us with Red Cloud and his band of warriors, and having Reichaud as the chief's prisoner. It was said he expected to get the President to pardon him and allow him to establish a trading-post for the Ogallallas. The feeling against this outlaw was such as to make General Smith fear that some one at Cheyenne would shoot him, and so the party turned off to Pine Bluff Station, about forty-three miles east of that town. We thus missed seeing them. But there were other objects of interest in our journey, and we went on to the mail station, called the Chug, a place not of much note,--for beside a company of cavalry, there were not a dozen ranches there on the beautiful stream, along whose banks were growing willow-trees, and the cottonwood also. Besides, there were half a dozen tepees filled with half-breeds, who are herders and wood-choppers in the mountains.

While the paymaster was dispensing the greenbacks to Uncle Sam's boys, the doctor and I sallied out with a guide in search of those much admired

MOSS AGATES,

which are here found in great abundance, even quarried out of a bluff and carried off by the wagon-load. The guide had been there but once, and somehow or other he could not locate it exactly, and we had a ride out of six miles and back without finding the spot. Still, we picked up a few on the way. As these are now so much the fashion for jewelry, I will describe them. First, I should say that most suppose they contain real moss, or fern-leaves, so distinct are they seen in a clear agate to resemble them. Thus you see imitations of pine-trees, vines, a deer's head, and sprigs of various kinds; but it is through iron solutions penetrating them when in a soluble state. If you take a pen and drop some ink into a tumbler of water, it will scatter and form for the moment an appearance like a moss agate. These agates, when found on bluffs or dry places, are coated over with a white covering of lime or alkali. Those in the beds of rivers found along the line of the Pacific Railroad, are smooth and transparent. They are called the "Cheyenne brown agate," "Granger water agate," "Church Buttes light-blue agate," and the "Sweet-water agate."

There are great quantities of them near Church Butte and Granger stations, nearly nine hundred miles west of Missouri River. You have to poke among cobble-stones, etc. to find them, and when a person comes upon a handsome specimen, he will shout, as did a minister from Chicago, one day, with me, when he picked up a nice one as large as an egg,--"Glory hallelujah!"

It is like searching for gold and silver,--very exciting, and far more pleasurable than fishing or hunting. A friend here has about sixty pounds of agates, for which he was offered by a lapidary in New York five dollars a pound. A handsome stone for a ring or pin is worth, when cut into shape, from three to five dollars. The lapidary cuts them with a steel wheel, about eight inches in diameter, using oil and diamond-dust in cutting and polishing.

A YOUNG BRAVE.

At Chug Station I met a frontiersman named Phillips, of long experience, who told me in his new adobe house of an old chief who had lost five sons, and when the first was slain he cut off a piece of his thumb, next of his forefinger, and so on, till five told of his boys killed. The last was a brave, and supposed no ball could hit him, wearing, he supposed, "a charmed life." He came to the "Chug" and dared them to shoot. As he and three or four more had killed a white man and wounded others, the people all turned out, and Phillips shot the bold young fellow, and wounded the rest of the party so that they died. The body of the young Indian lay by the roadside for several weeks, till the wolves and ravens had picked his bones, and I picked up his skull, pierced through with several balls, to bring back and present to the post-surgeon.

This grinning skull was lying on the grass which covered the roadside, and almost beneath towering monuments or bluffs of sandstone, which jut out at several points on the road, running along for great distances, and towering up several hundred feet high. We passed soon after several of these projections, which look like fortifications and baronial castles of some knights of the olden time. "Chimney Rock" is well known to travelers as a series of fluted columns, and standing solitary, as sentinels in the desert, they look solemn, lonely, and sublime. Old George, the stage-driver, has passed them twice a week for many years, and the wonder is he has not lost his scalp.

Sometimes the chiefs and old Indians will cut slits in their cheeks and rub ashes in them, sitting over the fire and bemoaning the loss of their dead children. They present a horrid appearance to one who looks at their pagan mode of bewailing the departed.

Arrived at Fort Laramie on the third day, we were courteously welcomed by Colonel F. F. Flint, of the 4th Infantry, commandant of the post. Delicacy dictates that we forbear to speak of the charming family which surrounds him; but the rarity of Christian households in the army made our visit there like to an oasis in the desert.

To visit the Indian graves surrounding the post was a prominent object before us in going. Lieutenant Theodore F. True, with an orderly, two mules, and a horse saddled, found us fording the Laramie River to inspect the grave,--if such it can be called, as shown in the picture on this page,--where the body was dried up like a mummy, and nothing else but fragments of a buffalo-robe dangling in the wind was to be seen. Relic hunters had carried away everything in the shape of bow and arrow, wampum, etc.

We moralized over this beautiful feature of Indian superstition, wherein they are certainly free from the horrid thought that any one is ever buried alive!

Next we sought the place where the remains of Mon-i-ca, daughter of Zin-ta-gah-lat-skah, was placed, by her request, in the white man's cemetery, and alongside of the body of her uncle Sho-ta,--"Old Smoke,"--an old warrior. The coffin was made at the post, and elevated on posts about ten feet high. They cover these coffins with handsome red broadcloth, and deposit in each all the trinkets and valuables belonging to the departed. One other grave there the Indians visit annually, and mourn over with their lamentations,--that of a Frenchman named Sublette, who brought them down and directed them how to vanquish their enemies, the Pawnees, in a great battle.

THE HEAD CHIEF--RED CLOUD.

Red Cloud is regarded as the head chief of the Sioux nation, and for over twenty years has been thus venerated. He is fifty-three years old, and claims to have fought in eighty-seven battles, often wounded, but never badly hurt. Red Cloud is about six feet six inches in his stockings (I mean moccasins), large features, high cheek bones, and a big mouth, and walks knock-kneed, as others do. His face is painted, and his ears pierced for gaudy rings, which men and women have an equal pride for. His and other chiefs' robes were beautifully worked with hair, beads, and jewels. His leggins were red, handsomely worked with beads and horse-hair and ribbons, and his moccasins were fit for a prince to wear.

He has encountered the Utes, Pawnees, Snakes, Blackfeet, Crows, and Omahas. Thirty-three years ago, while he was the youngest of the braves, he engaged with a party of one hundred and twenty-five warriors of his tribe, and only twenty-five escaped alive. Twice was he wounded, and so distinguished by his daring that he was made a chief for his skill in fighting. Then he rose in rank to the highest station, and he holds it to-day. His people regard him as one of the greatest warriors on the plains, being skilled with the tomahawk, rifle, and bow and arrow, and in councils of chiefs, his wonderful sagacity and eloquence have stamped him, in the eyes of all Indians, as worthy of veneration and implicit obedience. As I had missed the party on their way to Washington by a few hours' tarrying on the "Chug," and General Smith had taken a short cut across to Pine Bluff Station, seventy-three miles below Cheyenne, to avoid a conflict anticipated about Richaud, I will give an account gleaned from others, of this expedition, which it is hoped may result in lasting peace.

The "outfit" assembled in front of General Flint's house, on their arrival at Fort Laramie, and got up a regular war-dance to amuse the general's family and others there. This chief, Red Cloud, whose fame had extended hardly east of the Missouri River, has now spread over the world; and from his wigwam and hunting-grounds, he is heard of across the Atlantic as a great man of destiny. He has passed through Omaha and Chicago to Washington in his war-paint, ornamented with eagle's feathers, buffalo-skins, horse-hair, bears' claws, and trophies of his skill, which he values more highly than a brigadier the stars upon his shoulders!

Along with him were nineteen of his braves and four squaws, which is a small number, considering that the Indian is a Mormon in the matter of polygamy. The Indian _buys_ his wife (or wives) by giving a pony for the prize; and when Mother Bickerdyck, the army-nurse, saw "Friday" in Kansas, and upbraided him with having _two_ squaws, he said, "Well, give me one white squaw, and I'll be content; you know one white squaw is equal to two Indian squaws!"

General Smith was a favorite of Red Cloud's, having met him in the Powder River country, and under circumstances which made him respected among the Sioux Indians.

The chiefs on Red Cloud's staff, and going to Washington, were:

Shem-ka-lu-tah, Red Dog.
Mon-tah-o-he-te-kah, Brave Bear.
Pah-gee, Little Bear.
Mon-tah-zia, Yellow Bear.
Makh-to-u-ta-kah, Sitting Bear.
Makh-to-ha-she-na, Bearskin.
Sha-ton-sa-pah, Black Hawk.
Shunk-mon-e-too-ha-ka, Long Wolf.
Me-wah-kohn, Sword.
Ko-ke-pah, Afraid.
Ke-cha-ksa-e-un-tah, The One that runs through.
Ke-yah-lu-tah, Red Fly.
En-ha-mah-to, Rock Bear.
Me-nah-to-ne-ow-jah, Living Bear.
Och-le-he-lu-tah, Red Shirt.

_Squaws of High Blood._

Dah-sa-no-we, The White Cow Rattler, Sword's wife.
Ny-ge-uh-ha, Thunder Skin, wife of Ke-cha-ksa-e-un-tah.
E-dah-zit-chu, The Woman without a Bow (Sansare tribe), wife of
Yellow Bear.
Mak-ko-cha-ny-an-tah-ker, The World Looker, wife of Black Hawk.

Along with them were John Richaud, the renegade, and a half-breed, James McCluskey. Also William G. Bullock, the post-trader at Fort Laramie, as familiar with the Indians as any one in those parts, unless it is a wealthy merchant in St. Louis, Mr. Beauvais, a Frenchman.

As the Indians entered the cars at Pine Bluff Station,--and one can hardly imagine what were their thoughts, because they had never before seen a train of cars or a locomotive,--a friend who was there said that, as soon as the cars started, the Indians expressed some terror in their countenances, and all at once grasped hold of the seats with both hands to hold on! As they passed through Columbus, on the road, several of the Pawnees (their deadly enemies) came in and shook hands with them. Arrived at Omaha, they were quartered at the Cozzens Hotel; but instead of occupying bedrooms and beds, they spread their blankets and skins on the floor, and sank down to a rest much coveted after a long and tedious journey of a thousand miles. Here crowds poured in from every quarter to interview these noted warriors; but as they did not speak English, they were only gazed at by curious people.

_Red Dog_ ranks next as a warrior chief, and is much finer looking; but Man-afraid-of-his-Horses (sick at home) is head chief in civil matters.

_Red Shirt_ is head chief of the White-Sash Band, of three hundred braves, is twenty-seven years of age, and was twice wounded in battle.

_Long Wolf_, with four ugly scars, is of the same band.

_Black Hawk_, wounded three times, is about second to Red Cloud as a bold warrior. All have distinguished themselves in various ways, and their buffalo-robes are worked and stained with figures and various objects, all of which tell the history of each one, describing minutely from childhood the first game they killed, whether a bird, antelope, or deer, and so on to some fight with an enemy,--all of which, clear as mud to me, is plain to them as a book. It is said that Red Cloud had prepared the following speech to make to his "Great Father," the President; but he changed his mind, and made another:

"Thousands of miles away, where the sun's last light falls on the
big hills, I have left my people, to come and look my Father in the
face. As that light makes us see all things around us clearly, so
may the Great Spirit make our talk plain, that we may understand
each other, and that our councils shall be as brothers who have met
to smoke the pipe of peace. Father, I have heard that you are great
and good. Listen to me, my Father, and let your ears hear one of
your children, who comes from the wigwams of his people, with truth
in his heart, and no lies upon his lips. I have made many treaties
with your Commissioners, and they have promised many times, but
have never kept their promises; and I have now come to see my Great
Father myself, so that we can understand each other, and make no
promises that we do not mean to keep. They have told you that I am
a murderer; but I do not understand it in that way. You, Great
Father, have driven me away from my country,--the only country I
had to raise my children on. Tell me, Father, could any living man
on this earth stand such a thing as this? Suppose I should go to
your country, tear down your fences, and steal your cattle and your
hogs, would you stand by and have no word to say? No, Father, I
know you would not. In all the troubles of my people, the white man
has been the first aggressor. Father, we are not cowards. We know
that you are great, and that you can crush us with your mighty
power. But we believe that you are good, and that you will protect
your children, when they come to you for what they believe is
theirs. We ask you to listen to us, to do by us as a good father
should do by his children, and to let us carry back to our brothers
and our people the assurance that the Great Spirit has smiled upon
us, and that the Great Father is the Indian's friend, and the
Indian's protector."

RED CLOUD'S JOURNEY.

The following piece of history is compiled from all that I could learn about a journey, which will be worth preserving, if only the results prove to be a lasting peace, as we hope and pray it will be.

In 1866, in searching for a short route to Montana and Idaho, the government took possession of the Powder River and Big Horn country, along the mountains, where gold is said to abound. A regiment of soldiers was ordered, under Colonel Carrington,--the 18th Regulars,--to open up a road and build forts for protection.

He went up by Fort Laramie, an old trading-post, situated on the North Platte River; from there he laid out one that shortened the distance from Omaha to Virginia City, Montana, three hundred miles. The colonel founded three forts, one on Powder River, one at the crossing of the Big Horn, and one on Tongue River. They were named Fort C. F. Smith, Fort Reno, and Fort Phil. Kearney,--after distinguished generals. These cost about six hundred thousand dollars. As soon as it reached the Indians that their country was to be occupied by the whites, Red Cloud claimed the whole portion all along the Big Horn Mountains, and sent word to them that the Indians would kill all they met. Notice was sent to the government that if the soldiers did not withdraw north of the Platte, he would declare war. Of course no attention was paid to this, and the colonel went on to open roads, strengthen posts, and patrol the country. Some skirmishes took place between small bands of Indians and parties, but no fight of much account occurred till fall.

In October it was said that Red Cloud had given orders for all the Sioux to meet and prepare for war, and next month it was reported he was marching at the head of three thousand warriors. This the government as usual was slow to believe, and gave no heed to it. But early in December the Indians became troublesome along the Powder River country, and Red Cloud's policy was seen to guide them. The wily chief had planned the movement so as to strike a hard blow and capture Fort Kearney, and murder the garrison.

PHIL. KEARNEY MASSACRE.

Red Cloud collected all his warriors near the fort, and concealed them in the hills. Watching his opportunity, he surrounded and attacked a small party sent out against him from the post. As he expected, when the attack was made known, the gates of the fort were thrown open, and the main portion of the soldiers--cavalry and infantry--marched out to rescue their friends, corraled by the Indians. As soon as he got them where he wanted, in the hills, he surrounded them with his three thousand warriors, and cutting off all chance of retreat, massacred every one of them! So sudden was the surprise, that the battle was over before a reinforcement could go out, and the commander at once closed the gates and remained in a state of siege, to protect those who were not slaughtered. In the Phil. Kearney massacre there fell three officers, forty-nine infantry, twenty-two cavalry, and two citizen employés, with Colonel Fetterman, the officer who led them.

After the Phil. Kearney massacre, which thrilled the country with horror, the government hastened to call a council with all the tribes at Fort Laramie, and sent Generals Sherman, Harney, Sanborn, Terry, Augur, and Colonel Tappan to treat with them. Red Cloud kept up his skirmishes and fights as occasion offered. The 1st of August, 1867, the Sioux attacked and killed Lieutenant Sternberg, of 27th Regiment Infantry. And the next day quite a large body of warriors engaged Major Powell and his soldiers on the Piney Creek, four miles from Kearney, and a severe battle was fought for hours. On the 27th, some Indians came down--about one hundred and twenty--to the hay-fields near the fort, and Lieutenant Belden, of 2d Cavalry (a good fighter), went for them with forty soldiers, and cleared them out. On the 3d November, Brevet Captain E. R. P. Shurley (whom the writer knew as post-adjutant in Camp Douglas, Illinois, and who was wounded in the war) was suddenly attacked on Goose Creek; he was desperately wounded, and his command was surrounded and "corraled" for some time, until troops came to his relief and saved the "outfit." Soon after, the train going to Phil. Kearney was attacked and corraled within three miles of the post. The 14th December, the wood-choppers for the forts were attacked on the Big Piney, and two men wounded. The forts now were in a state of siege, and communication between them became nearly cut off. The council at Laramie agreed to abandon that portion of the country, it being no longer needed, as freighting was changed to Montana, via Corinne, on the Pacific Railroad. But the Indians became impatient, and to hurry up matters, they kept on skirmishing from time to time. These were Sioux and some of the Arapahoes and Cheyennes.

In January, 1868, quite a _scare_ was gotten up at Phil. Kearney by the sudden appearance of several hundred Sioux, Cheyennes, and Arapahoes, along with some friendly Crow Indians, and an attack was supposed to be meditated.

Dr. Matthews, one of the special peace commissioners, was there at the time, and he sent a message to the chiefs to meet him in council on the hill above the fort. Most of the Indians came, and after prayer by post-chaplain White, and a long smoke, the doctor made them a speech. After this, an old Sioux Indian, named the "Stabber," got up and said,--

"Whoever our father who has just spoken is, I believe he is a good
man. We are told that the Great Father (President) sent word some
time ago for his soldiers to leave the country, and I want to tell
you that we want them to hurry and go. Send word to the Great
Father to take away his warriors with the snow and he will please
us. If they can go right away, let it be done, so that we can bring
our old men, women, and children to live on these grounds in peace,
as they did before you all came here. The Sioux, Arapahoes, and
Cheyennes never fought each other until you came and drove away the
game (meaning in the whole West), and then attempted to drive us
away. Now we fight each other for sufficient ground to hunt upon,
though all the lands to the east were once ours. We are talking
to-day on our own grounds. God Almighty made this ground, and when
He made it He made it for us. Look about you, and see how He has
stocked it with game. The elk, the buffalo, and deer are our meat,
and He put them here for us to feed upon. Your homes are in the
East, and you have beef cattle to eat. Why, then, do you come here
to bother us? What have you your soldiers here for, unless it is to
fight and kill us? If you will go away to your homes and leave us,
we will be at peace, but if you stay we will fight. We do not go to
your homes, then why come to ours? You say we steal your cattle and
horses; well, do you not know that when you come into our lands,
and kill and drive away the game, you steal from us? That is the
reason we steal your stock. I am done."

When "Stabber" sat down, "Black Hawk" (now _en route_ for Washington) came forward and said,--

"Where was I made? I was raised in the West, not in the East. I was
not raised in a chair, but grew upon the ground." He then sat down
on the earth, and continued: "Here is my mother, and I will stay
with her and protect her. Laramie has always been our place for
talking, and I did not like to come here. You are getting too far
west. You have killed many of our young men, and we have killed
some of yours in return. I want to quit fighting to-day. I want you
to take pity on us and go away."

A Cheyenne chief next addressed the council. He said,--

"We have been told that these forts are to be abandoned and the new
road given up, and we have come over to see about it. If this is
true, tell me so. I never thought we would come to a council so far
west, but the old men prevailed and we are here. All last summer we
heard that General Harney wanted to see us at Laramie, but we would
not go. General Sherman also sent for us, but we would not listen
while you were here. I do not know the name of my father there
(pointing to Dr. Matthews), nor who at present is my Great Father
(President) at Washington, but this I do know, my father (his
parent) when he raised me told me to shake hands with the white
man, and to try to live at peace with him, for he was very
powerful. But my father also told me to fight my enemies, and since
the white man has made himself an enemy I fight him. How are you
our enemy? You come here and drive away our game, and he who does
that steals away our bread, and becomes the Indian's bitterest
enemy, for the Indian must have food to live. I have fought you,
and I have stolen from you, but I have done both to live. The only
road you have a right to travel is the Platte road. We have never
crossed it to fight you. I am a soldier. I have a great many young
men here who are soldiers, and will do my bidding. It is our duty
to protect and feed our old men, women, and children, and we must
do it. If you are friendly, why don't you give us powder and
bullets to shoot game with? We will not use them against you,
unless you do us harm. I want ten kegs, and when the other tribes
know you have given them to me they will know we are good friends,
and will come in and treat, and we will all live at peace. I come
here to hear talk, not to make talk. We are poor. Take pity on us,
and deal justly by us. I have done."

The next speaker was a Crow chief, who, standing by the council-table, said,--

"Sioux, Cheyennes, Arapahoes, Crows, Father: I have been listening
to your words, and they sound good. I hope you are not lying to
each other. The Crows have long been the friends of the whites, and
we want peace for all. We want powder, and when the white Father
makes us presents, I want him to give us a good deal of ammunition."

An Arapahoe chief said:

"I want to say this: You are here with soldiers, and what for?
Soldiers are your fighting men. Do you then want to fight? If so,
tell us. If you desire peace, send your soldiers away. I have some
of your stock. I would like to see you come and try to get it
back."

This ended the talk on the part of the Indians,--then Dr. Matthews replied. He told them the Peace Commissioners would as willingly meet at Laramie as at any other place, but it was more convenient for the Indians to come to Fort Kearney. He did not promise them that the roads and country would be given up, or the posts abandoned. As to the powder the Indians asked for, he gave no reply, but said, "If the Indians cease fighting and keep the peace during the winter, the Commissioners will meet them in the spring and make a treaty, which will satisfy both them and us." The council broke up,--no good result being reached,--and the Indians being evidently in bad temper. When asked why Red Cloud did not come in to attend the council, a chief said, "He has sent us as the Great Father has sent you. When the Great Father comes, Red Cloud will be here!" This meant that the haughty chief would only treat through his agents, unless President Johnson came in person.

After the council in January, matters were unsettled all along the northwestern frontier until 10th April, 1868, when a large party of Indians appeared on the bluffs overlooking Phil. Kearney Fort. General John E. Smith (who was Red Cloud's choice to escort him to Washington) was at the time commanding the post, and made signals to the Indians to come in, but they refused to do so.

Most of the Indians carried scalp poles, and wore war-paint, to show that they were hostile. Finding that they would not come in, General Smith mounted his horse, and, taking an interpreter (Boyer), rode out to have a parley with them. The general wished to go up the hill, but the interpreter begged him not to do so, and then rode to the bottom and called out, "How?" Then a chief replied, "How?"

_General Smith._--Come down, I want to talk.

_Chief._--Who are you, and what do you want to talk about?

_General Smith._--I am the chief at the fort, and want to see you.

Three Indians then advanced, and came slowly down the hill to where General Smith and Boyer were. When the chief, who was in his war-paint, came up, General Smith held out his hand, but the chief refused to take it, saying, "My brother was killed over there at the Phil. Kearney massacre, and I swore never again to shake hands with a white man."

_General Smith._--Who are you, and who are those Indians on the hill?

_Chief._--I am a chief, and the warriors are part of Red Cloud's band. Here is his son (at the same time pointing to a young man who sat on a pony by his side).

_General Smith._--What have you come here for?

_Chief._--We have been on the Laramie road, fighting the Snakes.

_General Smith._--You were expected at the big talk at Laramie by the Peace Commissioners.

_Chief._--I was there, and they promised that this country should be abandoned by your troops in two months. The two months are up, you are still here, and I see no sign of your moving.

_General Smith_ (sharply). We have made some preparations to go, and will leave as soon as all is in readiness; but if your warriors commit depredations, or kill any more white men, we will not go at all, but stay here, kill you and drive off your game.

_Chief_ (not noticing this threat). I want you to give me something to eat for my young men, and I will go over there and camp on the creek to-night.

_General Smith._--I have nothing to give you, but I want to warn you to restrain your warriors from committing any depredations around here.

At this stage of the interview, a company of cavalry, which General Smith had ordered to saddle up and stand ready for any emergency, was seen filing out of the gates of the post, and as soon as the Indians caught sight of the troops, they whipped up their ponies and did not stop till out of sight.

General Smith was very much provoked at this interruption, by a stupid officer coming out when he had no business to do so,--and the impression of treachery on his part made on the minds of the Indians caused them to refuse to come back again to have another talk with him. Near sunset, the Indians were seen crossing the plateau near the creek where the chief indicated he would camp. The evening gun fired as they crossed the stream, and the whole party halted and took a good look at the fort. After a confab among themselves, they seemed to think some sort of defiance had been shown them, and a warrior aiming his gun at the fort, fired. The ball struck on the parade-ground, but did no harm.

The Indians then went into camp, but went off next morning for Red Cloud's camp, which it is thought was not far off. General Smith soon after gave up the post, as ordered to from Washington; and in like manner Reno and C. F. Smith were abandoned, and the troops marched down to Fort Russell. The Indians did not attack the troops, but followed and stole stock when they could. No sooner were the forts abandoned than the Indians came in and set fire to the buildings, destroying property that cost the government over half a million dollars. They did this lest the troops should come back and occupy them again. But the giving up of these posts gave the Indians a false idea of their power, and they thought the government did it from fear.

Many of the Sioux now actually believe that their nation is more powerful than the United States, and Red Cloud a greater warrior than Grant, Sherman, or Sheridan. One of Red Cloud's party said, "If you are so strong and have so many warriors, why did you not keep your forts on the Powder River?" The delegation to Washington will go back and tell the people not how many men, women, and children they saw, as evidence of our power and greatness, but how many horses, soldiers, guns, and corn they saw. For thus they estimate the power and glory of a nation.

Red Cloud won great glory among all the Indians on the plains by his skill in manoeuvring in getting us to give up four hundred miles of rich territory, pulling down three forts, and retiring back to the Platte River. No chief since King Philip or Red Jacket has achieved such a feat and a reputation as Red Cloud.

On account of repeated acts of hostility on the part of the Sioux, the government refused to trade with them at the posts, or have traders sent among them. They need powder and lead, etc., but it would be used to kill our people instead of game,--they allege it is needed, for now it is more scarce.

Red Cloud came into Laramie and Fetterman several times to get leave to trade, but at last he said "he'd go to the Great Father at Washington, and not treat with understrappers, with whom he will in future have nothing to do." About the middle of April he left his hunting-grounds, and on the 24th appeared on the north bank of Platte, opposite Fort Fetterman. With him were some warriors, squaws, and children. They marched down to the ferry in state, singing their song of welcome, and shouted across that they were in a hurry! They were halted there till next day, and the warriors allowed to come over unarmed.

Colonel Chambers, commanding, received them at headquarters. A long smoke all round followed, and then Red Cloud rose up and in a loud voice invoked the countenance and favor of the Great Spirit on his mission, shook hands with all the officers present, and went up to the council-table to have a long talk, as he had come a long way, and wanted to trade.

He said, "I have been treating with you since 1851, and no good has come of it. Our treaties do not last, and now I want to go and see the Great Father, and make a treaty that will last. Tell the Great Father I am here and desire to see him, and take fifty of my people with me to see him. I will wait for his reply at my camp beyond the river."

Colonel Chambers said he would "_blow the Great Father a message on his hollow wire_, and repeat all the chief had said to him," which quite pleased Red Cloud. He said, "I have waited for the soldiers to leave my country, and I want things settled."

The colonel intimated that the Father was at that time very far away at the East, and it might be many "sleeps" before he could hear from him, and as soon as the Father blew back words by the telegraph, he would send word to the chief's camp and let him know. He then asked to trade, and was allowed to buy tobacco and flour for robes left with the commissary, but nothing else.

He then spoke of his prisoner, John Richaud, and his wish to take him to Washington for a pardon. Also, that Richaud had some property in the fort locked up, which he wanted a chief to take care of. Colonel C---- said he would not do that without orders from his chief (General Augur) at Omaha. This was satisfactory, and the chief sat down.

Speeches then were made by Man-afraid-of-his-Horses and Red Horse, and the council broke up.

Soon as it was known at Washington, and a consultation was had with General Sherman and Secretary of War Belknap, the President sent word that he would be glad to see the chief, and would send a guide to show him the way to the Great Father's wigwam. This message came the 12th May, and the Indians started on the 14th. A great dance was celebrated among the tribe of Ogallallas, and repeated at Fort Laramie for the officers and families.

To this point Red Cloud's son and wife came, but they returned with the others to their hunting-grounds in the Sioux country.

When the party under General Smith left the post in ambulances, etc., some felt "sea-sick," never having rode in a wagon before!

Once on the cars, it was kept as quiet as possible. At Frémont, forty-seven miles from Omaha, it had leaked out, and much excitement prevailed there, as it was reported that the Pawnees, the old and inveterate enemies of the Sioux, were coming in from their reservation (near there), and would attack the train and kill the Sioux chiefs. A number of them were there when the train came along, but they kept very quiet. One or two of the Pawnees went up and shook hands with their old enemies (with whom a deadly feud has existed for years), but they were closely watched by General Smith, lest a stab should be given with their knives. Although the Sioux chiefs were told of the danger, they were "as cool about it as a cucumber." They looked at their knives being all right, and that was all. Of course all along their route they were objects of curiosity to everybody; and had the government declined to have them go (as it was said at first they would), a war would have followed soon after!

PERILOUS ADVENTURE--PURSUIT OF A HORSE-THIEF.

A young man named Frank Hunter, born in Massachusetts, migrated to the Indian country, and was very successfully employed as a government detective in "Camp Carling," between Cheyenne and Fort Russell. In the winter of 1868, a bold robbery was committed by a man employed in taking care of horses by Major J. D. Woolley, the post-trader at Fort Russell.

One morning in December the stable-door was left open, and soon found out that the man and two valuable horses were missing. One of them belonged to Lieutenant Wanless, of the 2d United States Cavalry (who was East at the time on leave); this was the fastest pacing horse in the territory, and for which he had refused a high price in money. The other belonged to the major, and was of considerable value. The matter of catching the thief and horses was given into Mr. Hunter's hands, with instructions to spare no pains or expense in securing the thief, who had hired out on purpose to steal the fast nag. The following I copied from the detective's journal, and verified the facts from other sources.

Mr. Hunter started out to Colorado with ten cavalrymen and Lieutenant Belden on the road to Denver _via_ Boulder City, to prevent the thief (who went by the name of Durant) from getting into the mountains, and so on to New Mexico. This trip proved fruitless. The alternative that suggested itself was that the thief had gone another road, towards the Smoky-Hill route. The first tidings revealed the fact to them, at the South Platte River, that the inferior horse had been disposed of near Godfrey's ranch on the Platte, where the writer's horse and a beautiful Cheyenne pony had been taken by horse-thieves in the preceding summer. The thief, hard pushed for money, had sold Mr. Woolley's horse to a man here named Perkins, who paid thirty-five dollars, while he was worth two hundred dollars. This he placed out of the way, some thirty miles off, thinking him safe from discovery.

Here the utmost caution and strategy were necessary to recover this horse they had secreted, and find out what road the rogues took with the thoroughbred animal. But it was done. The detective came back to Cheyenne with his escort and left it there. Then, on one of Wells, Fargo & Co.'s fast coaches, he embarked for Denver City. A heavy snow-storm set in and impeded the way. Thus the thief had nine days the start.

From Denver he made the best of his way--after being detained five days by the storm--for Sheridan, in Kansas, which was reached in five more days' time,--the trip being made usually by railroad in forty-eight hours. At Sheridan the cars were blockaded with snow, and quite a number of gentlemen were snow-bound, among them the members of Congress from New Mexico and Kansas. The detective proposed to these honorable gents the pleasure of a tramp as far as Fort Hays, only one hundred and thirty-five miles! All agreed, and the party set out, though the snow was very deep.

The expedition proved to be one of much interest; but the pursuit of the thief being the main object before us, we find the detective arrived at Fort Harker, Kansas, and in communication with a gentleman named Stone, who had seen the famous pacer, and had tried to buy him of the supposed owner; and from him the detective learned that the horse was near at hand, only twenty miles farther east, at a place called "Saline," on a small river, in Kansas. From this place the thief intended to convey the horse to Aurora, Illinois (his native town), to match him there with another, and thus to obtain a large sum of money for his thieving wickedness.

Arrived in Saline, Mr. Hunter lost no time in putting himself in communication with the sheriff there, who seemed to Mr. Hunter not to be entirely reliable; indeed, from a careful survey of faces of the loungers in the bar-room of the one-horse town of border settlers, the sheriff appeared to be hand-in-glove with the thief, so he concluded that his only chance of any help in the matter could come from the landlord and the telegraph operator,--the latter having sent messages from the rogue to Aurora, while detained there by the depth of snow. But no time was to be lost, and a desperate effort must be made.

Mr. Hunter went into the bar-room with the sheriff, after breakfast, and a crowd was sitting around the stove. The rogue was sent for with a message that "a gentleman wished to speak with him." He came into the room presently, picking his teeth, and putting on an assumed air of indifference; he looked at the detective with a coolness quite refreshing, as he stepped up to the bar and called for cigars, saying, "Gentlemen, who'll have a smoke? I don't see any _gentleman_ here that I know, besides myself."

"How are you, Ned?" said Mr. Hunter. "You don't know me?"

"Gentlemen," replied he, "on my honor, before God, I never saw this man before in my life! This is a put-up game of a man named Stone, to bilk me out of my fast horse; and (putting his hand on his six-shooter in his belt) no man shall get this horse, which I bought, or me either, alive."

The detective with great presence of mind assured him that his game was up; that the first motion he made of resistance he was a dead man! Then drawing a pair of manacles from his pocket, he soon clasped them on his prisoner's wrists, and relieved the rogue of his pistols, handing them over to the barkeeper for safety. He was taken to his room to pick up his traps, until the horse could be saddled up to return.

By this time a reaction had taken place among the crowd, who seemed to sympathize with the thief, and some exclaimed against taking him, and for all they knew, he might be innocent. Here was a new danger not expected. If these fifteen or twenty hard-looking customers should take it into their heads to vote the man guiltless, there was an end to justice, and the detective might find himself suspended from the nearest cottonwood limb of a tree, dangling like Mohammed's coffin, between heaven and earth! But as good luck would have it, the irons pressed tightly and painfully on the wrists of the captive, and he cried from his room, "Hunter! oh, Hunter! come and loose these cursed irons,--they're killing me!"

"Now, gentlemen," said Hunter, "you see whether he knows me or not." To the prisoner he said, "I'll loosen them if you'll tell all about it." He came in and said, "Yes, I stole the horse; I'm a thief, and that man is a detective of the government from Cheyenne."

Of course, here all danger should end, and my story cease. But the truth is, something new turned up very often to embarrass the journey back to Cheyenne. After leaving Fort Harker, a new dodge was attempted, but different from the one that Paddy essayed when he greased the horse's mouth to save the oats. Leaving the culprit in irons at Fort Harker, the detective proceeded on to Fort Ellsworth, Kansas, from which place he started in the morning with his horse, in high hopes of reaching Cheyenne in a few days.

But alas for the vanity of human hopes and expectations! Having ridden about fifteen miles, the horse came to a sudden pause, and acted like one afflicted with spring-halt. Stopping at a ranch near by, after a careful examination, it was found that some precious villains had tied some silk cords on his legs underneath the fetlocks, thoroughly crippling him, so he could hardly move a limb. They hoped to lame the horse till he could be stolen again! But it was not successful. This journey of seventeen hundred miles cost the sum of six hundred dollars. But the horses were valued at fifteen hundred dollars, and it was right to put a stop, if possible, to the crime so common in the West of stealing horses, and one which subjects the culprit to a ball in his body, if needful to recapture stolen stock, and all say it is just and right, as a man's horse there may, in some cases, be "his life."

But the fellow while in limbo sawed off the chain and ball from his leg and escaped. He, moreover, had the impudence to write a saucy letter to Mr. Hunter, telling him "that the caged bird had flown, and the probability of their never meeting again!"

The rascal had been a soldier in the army, deserting several times, and re-enlisting under a new name each time, at different posts in the western country.

HANGING HORSE-THIEVES.