Buffalo Land
by W. E. Webb · English · Gutenberg #39674 · 659,661 chars · public domain (US)
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Title: Buffalo Land
Author: W. E. Webb
Release date: May 12, 2012 [eBook #39674]
Language: English
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Credits: Produced by Julia Miller, Julia Neufeld and the Online
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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BUFFALO LAND ***
Produced by Julia Miller, Julia Neufeld and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
file was produced from images generously made available
by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.)
Transcriber's note:
Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_).
Small capital text has been replaced with all capitals.
[=e] refers to the "long e" sound (example: K[=i]-o-te).
[Illustration:
_BUREAU OF ILLUSTRATION BUFFALO NY_]
BUFFALO LAND:
AN
AUTHENTIC ACCOUNT
OF THE
_Discoveries, Adventures, and Mishaps of a Scientific
and Sporting Party_
IN THE WILD WEST;
WITH
GRAPHIC DESCRIPTIONS OF THE COUNTRY; THE RED MAN, SAVAGE
AND CIVILIZED; HUNTING THE BUFFALO, ANTELOPE,
ELK, AND WILD TURKEY; ETC., ETC.
REPLETE WITH INFORMATION, WIT, AND HUMOR.
The Appendix Comprising a Complete Guide for Sportsmen and Emigrants.
BY
W. E. WEBB,
OF TOPEKA, KANSAS.
Profusely Illustrated
FROM ACTUAL PHOTOGRAPHS, AND ORIGINAL DRAWINGS BY HENRY WORRALL.
CINCINNATI AND CHICAGO:
E HANNAFORD & COMPANY.
SAN FRANCISCO: F. DEWING & CO.
1872.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1872, by
E. HANNAFORD & CO.,
In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington, D. C.
STEREOTYPED AT THE FRANKLIN TYPE FOUNDRY, CINCINNATI.
TO
The Primeval Man,
_The Original Westerner, and First Buffalo Hunter,_
This Work is Dedicated,
WITH PROFOUND REGARD,
_BY THE AUTHOR._
BUFFALO LAND.
BY OUR TAMMANY SACHEM.
There's a wonderful land far out in the West,
Well worthy a visit, my friend;
There, Puritans thought, as the sun went to rest,
Creation itself had an end.
'T is a wild, weird spot on the continent's face,
A wound which is ghastly and red,
Where the savages write the deeds of their race
In blood that they constantly shed.
The graves of the dead the fair prairies deface,
And stamp it the kingdom of dread.
The emigrant trail is a skeleton path;
You measure its miles by the bones;
There savages struck, in their merciless wrath,
And now, after sunset, the moans,
When tempests are out, fill the shuddering air,
And ghosts flit the wagons beside,
And point to the skulls lying grinning and bare
And beg of the teamsters a ride;
Sometimes 't is a father with snow on his hair,
Again, 't is a youth and his bride.
What visions of horror each valley could tell,
If Providence gave it a tongue!
How often its Eden was changed to a hell,
In which a whole train had been flung;
How death cry and battle-shout frightened the birds,
And prayers were as thick as the leaves,
And no one to catch the poor dying one's words
But Death, as he gathered his sheaves:
You see the bones bleaching among the wild herds,
In shrouds that the field spider weaves.
That era is passing--another one comes,
The era of steam and the plow,
With clangor of commerce and factory hums,
Where only the wigwam is now.
Like mist of the morning before the bright sun,
The cloud from the land disappears;
The Spirit of Murder his circle has run
And fled from the march of the years;
The click of machine drowns the click of the gun,
And day hides the night time of tears.
PREFACE.
The purpose of this work is to make the reader better acquainted with
that wild land which he has known from childhood, as the home of the
Indian and the buffalo. The Rocky Mountain chain, distorted and rugged,
has been aptly called the colossal vertebrae of our continent's broad
back, and from thence, as a line, the plains, weird and wonderful,
stretch eastward through Colorado, and embrace the entire western half
of Kansas.
Fortune, not long since, threw in my way an invitation, which I gladly
accepted, to join a semi-scientific party, since somewhat known to fame
through various articles in the newspaper press, in a sojourn of several
months on the great plains. At a meeting held with due solemnity on the
eve of starting, the Professor (to whom the reader will be introduced in
the proper connection) was chosen leader of the expedition, while to my
lot fell the office of editor of the future record, or rather Grand
Scribe of what we were pleased to call our "Log Book." The latter now
lies before me, in all its glory of shabby covers and dirty pages. Its
soiled face is as honorable as that of the laborer who comes from his
task in a well harvested field. Out of the sheaves gathered during our
journey, I shall try and take such portions as may best supply the
mental cravings of the countless thousands who hunger for the life and
the lore of the far West.
I have given the mistakes as well as triumphs of our expedition, and the
members of the party will readily recognize their familiar camp names.
The disguise will probably be pleasant, as few like to see their
failures on public parade, preferring rather to leave these in barracks,
and let their successes only appear at review.
The plains have a face, a people, and a brute creation, peculiarly their
own, and to these our party devoted earnest study. The expedition
presented a rare opportunity of becoming acquainted with the game of the
country; and, in writing the present volume, my aim has been to make it
so far a text-book for amateur hunters that they may become at once
conversant with the habits of the game, and the best manner of killing
it. The time is not far distant, when the plains and the Rocky
Mountains will be sought by thousands annually, as a favorite field for
sport and recreation.
Another and still larger class, it is hoped, will find much of interest
and value in the following pages. From every state in the Union, people
are constantly passing westward. We found emigrant wagons on spots from
which the Indians had just removed their wigwams. Multitudes more are
now on the way, with the earnest purpose of founding homes and, if
possible, of finding fortunes. In order to aid this class, as well as
the sportsman, I have gathered in an appendix such additional
information as may be useful to both.
The scientific details of our trip will probably be published in proper
form and time, by the savans interested. In regard to these, my object
has been simply to chronicle such matters as made an impression upon my
own mind, being content with what cream might be gathered by an
amateur's skimming, while the more bulky milk should be saved in
capacious scientific buckets.
Professor Cope, the well known naturalist, of the Academy of Sciences,
Philadelphia, received for examination and classification the most
valuable fossils we obtained, and to him I am indebted for a large
amount of most interesting and valuable scientific matter, which will
be found embodied in chapters twenty-third and twenty-fourth.
The illustrations of men and brutes in this work are studies from life.
Whenever it was possible, we had photographs taken.
The plains, it must be said, are a tract with which Romance has had much
more to do than History. Red men, brave and chivalrous, and unnatural
buffalo, with the habits of lions, exist only in imagination. In these
pages, my earnest endeavor, when dealing with actualities, has been to
"hold the mirror up to Nature," and to describe men, manners, and things
as they are in real life upon the frontiers, and beyond, to-day.
W. E. W.
TOPEKA, KANSAS, _May_, 1872.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I.
PAGES.
THE OBJECT OF OUR EXPEDITION--A GLIMPSE OF ALASKA THROUGH CAPTAIN
WALRUS' GLASS--WE ARE TEMPTED BY OUR RECENT PURCHASE--ALASKAN
GAME OF "OLD SLEDGE"--THE EARLY STRUGGLES OF KANSAS--THE
SMOKY HILL TRAIL--INDIAN HIGH ART--THE "BORDER-RUFFIAN,"
PAST AND PRESENT--TOPEKA--HOW IT RECEIVED ITS
NAME--WAUKARUSA AND ITS LEGEND, 25-35
CHAPTER II.
A CHAPTER OF INTRODUCTIONS--PROFESSOR PALEOZOIC--TAMMANY SACHEM--DOCTOR
PYTHAGORAS--GENUINE MUGGS--COLON AND SEMI-COLON--SHAMUS
DOBEEN--TENACIOUS GRIPE--BUGS AND PHILOSOPHY--HOW
GRIPE BECAME A REPUBLICAN, 36-54
CHAPTER III.
THE TOPEKA AUCTIONEER--MUGGS GETS A BARGAIN--CYNOCEPHALUS--INDIAN
SUMMER IN KANSAS--HUNTING PRAIRIE CHICKENS--OUR FIRST
DAY'S SPORT, 55-63
CHAPTER IV.
CHICKEN-SHOOTING CONTINUED--A SCIENTIFIC PARTY TAKE THE BIRDS ON
THE WING--EVILS OF FAST FIRING--AN OLD-FASHIONED "SLOW SHOT"--THE
HABITS OF THE PRAIRIE CHICKEN--ITS PROSPECTIVE EXTINCTION--MODE
OF HUNTING IT--THE GOPHER SCALP LAW, 64-74
CHAPTER V.
A TRIAL BY JUDGE LYNCH--HUNG FOR CONTEMPT OF COURT--QUAIL
SHOOTING--HABITS OF THE BIRDS, AND MODE OF KILLING THEM--A
RING OF QUAILS--THE EFFECTS OF A SEVERE WINTER--THE SNOW
GOOSE, 75-83
CHAPTER VI.
OFF FOR BUFFALO LAND--THE NAVIGATION OF THE KAW--FORT RILEY--THE
CENTER-POST OF THE UNITED STATES--OUR PURCHASE OF HORSES--"LO"
AS A SAVAGE AND AS A CITIZEN--GRIPE UNFOLDS THE INDIAN
QUESTION--A BALLAD BY SACHEM, PRESENTING ANOTHER VIEW, 84-98
CHAPTER VII.
GRIPE'S VIEWS OF INDIAN CHARACTER--THE DELAWARES, THE ISHMAELITES
OF THE PLAINS--THE TERRITORY OF THE "LONG HORNS"--TEXANS
AND THEIR CHARACTERISTICS--MUSHROOM ROCK--A VALUABLE DISCOVERY--
FOOTPRINTS IN THE ROCK--THE PRIMEVAL PAUL AND VIRGINIA, 99-111
CHAPTER VIII.
THE "GREAT AMERICAN DESERT"--ITS FOSSIL WEALTH--AN ILLUSION
DISPELLED--FIRES ACCORDING TO NOVELS AND ACCORDING TO FACT--
SENSATIONAL HEROES AND HEROINES--PRAIRIE DOGS AND THEIR HABITS--
HAWK AND DOG, AND HAWK AND CAT, 112-123
CHAPTER IX.
WE SEE BUFFALO--ARRIVAL AT HAYS--GENERAL SHERIDAN AT THE FORT--INDIAN
MURDERS--BLOOD-CHRISTENING OF THE PACIFIC RAILROAD--SURPRISED
BY A BUFFALO HERD--A BUFFALO BULL IN A QUANDARY--GENTLE
ZEPHYRS--HOW A CIRCUS WENT OFF--BOLOGNA TO LEAN ON--A
CALL UPON SHERIDAN, 124-141
CHAPTER X.
HAYS CITY BY LAMP-LIGHT--THE SANTA FE TRADE--BULL-WHACKERS--
MEXICANS--SABBATH ON THE PLAINS--THE DARK AGES--WILD BILL
AND BUFFALO BILL--OFF FOR THE SALINE--DOBEEN'S GHOST-STORY--AN
ADVENTURE WITH INDIANS--MEXICAN CANNONADE--A RUNAWAY, 142-160
CHAPTER XI.
WHITE WOLF, THE CHEYENNE CHIEF--HUNGRY INDIANS--RETURN TO HAYS--A
CHEYENNE WAR PARTY--THE PIPE OF PEACE--THE COUNCIL
CHAMBER--WHITE WOLF'S SPEECH, AS RENDERED BY SACHEM--THE
WHITE MAN'S WIGWAM, 161-176
CHAPTER XII.
ARMS OF A WAR PARTY--A DONKEY PRESENT--EATING POWERS OF THE
NOMADS--SATANTA, HIS CRIMES AND PUNISHMENT--RUNNING OFF
WITH A GOVERNMENT HERD--DAUB, OUR ARTIST--ANTELOPE CHASE
BY A GREYHOUND, 177-191
CHAPTER XIII.
CHARACTER OF THE PLAINS--BUFFALO BILL AND HIS HORSE BRIGHAM--THE
GUIDE AND SCOUT OF ROMANCE--CAYOTE VERSUS JACKASS-RABBIT--A
LAWYER-LIKE RESCUE--OUR CAMP ON SILVER CREEK--UNCLE
SAM'S BUFFALO HERDS--TURKEY-SHOOTING--OUR FIRST MEAL ON THE
PLAINS--A GAME SUPPER, 192-208
CHAPTER XIV.
A CAMP-FIRE SCENE--VAGABONDIZING--THE BLACK PACER OF THE PLAINS--SOME
ADVICE FROM BUFFALO BILL ABOUT INDIAN FIGHTING--LO'S
ABHORRENCE OF LONG RANGE--HIS DREAD OF CANNON--AN IRISH
GOBLIN, 209-219
CHAPTER XV.
A FIRE SCENE--A GLIMPSE OF THE SOUTH--'COON HUNTING IN MISSISSIPPI--
VOICES IN THE SOLITUDE--FRIENDS OR FOES--A STARTLING
SERENADE--PANIC IN CAMP--CAYOTES AND THEIR HABITS--WORRYING
A BUFFALO BULL--THE SECOND DAY--DAUB, OUR ARTIST--HE
MAKES HIS MARK, 220-235
CHAPTER XVI.
BISON MEAT--A STRANGE ARRIVAL--THE SYDNEY FAMILY--THE HOME
IN THE VALLEY--THE SOLOMON MASSACRE--THE MURDER OF THE
FATHER AND THE CHILD--THE SETTLERS' FLIGHT--INCIDENTS--OUR
QUEEN OF THE PLAINS--THE PROFESSOR INTERESTED--IRISH MARY--DOBEEN
HAPPY--THE HEROINE OF ROMANCE--SACHEM'S BATH BY
MOONLIGHT--THE BEAVER COLONY, 236-249
CHAPTER XVII.
PREPARATIONS FOR THE CHASE--THE VALLEY OF THE SALINE--QUEER
'COONS--A BISON'S GAME OF BLUFF--IN PURSUIT--ALONGSIDE THE
GAME--FIRING FROM THE SADDLE--A CHARGE AND A PANIC--FALSE
HISTORY AGAIN--GOING FOR AMMUNITION--THE PROFESSOR'S LETTER--
DISROBING THE VICTIM, 250-263
CHAPTER XVIII.
STILL HUNTING--DARK OBJECTS AGAINST THE HORIZON--THE RED MAN
AGAIN--RETREAT TO CAMP--PREPARATIONS FOR DEFENSE--SHAKING
HANDS WITH DEATH--MR. COLON'S BUGS--THE EMBASSADORS--A NEW
ALARM--MORE INDIANS--TERRIFIC BATTLE BETWEEN PAWNEES AND
CHEYENNES--THEIR MODE OF FIGHTING--GOOD HORSEMANSHIP--A
SCIENTIFIC PARTY AS SEXTONS--DITTO AS SURGEONS--CAMPS OF THE
COMBATANTS--STEALING AWAY--AN APPARITION, 264-279
CHAPTER XIX.
STALKING THE BISON--BUFFALO AS OXEN--EXPENSIVE POWER--A BUFFALO
AT A LUNATIC ASYLUM--THE GATEWAY TO THE HERDS--INFERNAL
GRAPE-SHOT--NATURE'S BOMB-SHELLS--CRAWLING BEDOUINS--"THAR
THEY HUMP"--THE SLAUGHTER BEGUN--AN INEFFECTUAL
CHARGE--"KETCHING THE CRITTER"--RETURN TO CAMP--CALVES'
HEAD ON THE STOMACH--AN UNPLEASANT EPISODE--WOLF BAITING,
AND HOW IT IS DONE, 280-291
CHAPTER XX.
THE CAYOTES' STRYCHNINE FEAST--CAPTURING A TIMBER WOLF--A FEW
CORDS OF VICTIMS--WHAT THE LAW CONSIDERS "INDIAN TAN"--"FINISHING"
THE NEW YORK MARKET--A NEW YORK FARMER'S
OPINION OF OUR GRAY WOLF--WESTWARD AGAIN--EPISODES IN OUR
JOURNEY--THE WILD HUNTRESS OF THE PLAINS--WAS OUR GUIDE A
MURDERER?--THE READER JOINS US IN A BUFFALO CHASE--THE
DYING AGONIES, 292-305
CHAPTER XXI.
"CREASING" WILD HORSES--MUGGS DISAPPOINTED--A FEAT FOR FICTION--
HORSE AND MONKEY--HOOF WISDOM FOR TURFMEN--PROSPECTIVE
CLIMATIC CHANGES ON THE PLAINS--THE QUESTION OF
SPONTANEOUS GENERATION--WANTON SLAUGHTER OF BUFFALO--AMOUNT
OF ROBES AND MEAT ANNUALLY WASTED--A STRANGE
HABIT OF THE BISON--NUMEROUS BILLS--THE "SNEAK THIEF" OF
THE PLAINS, 306-317
CHAPTER XXII.
A LIVE TOWN AND ITS GRAVE-YARD--HONEST ROMBEAUX IN TROUBLE--JUDGE
LYNCH HOLDS COURT--MARIE AND THE VINE-COVERED COTTAGE--THE
TERRIBLE FLOODS--DEATH IN CAMP AND IN THE DUGOUT--WAS
IT THE WATER WHICH DID IT?--DISCOVERY OF A HUGE
FOSSIL--THE MOSASAURUS OF THE CRETACEOUS SEA--A GLIMPSE
OF THE REPTILIAN AGE--REMINISCENCES OF ALLIGATOR-SHOOTING--THEY
SUGGEST A THEORY, 318-329
CHAPTER XXIII.
FROM SHERIDAN TO THE ROCKY MOUNTAINS--THE COLORADO PORTION OF
THE PLAINS--THE GIANT PINES--ATTEMPT TO PHOTOGRAPH A BUFFALO--THINGS
GET MIXED--THE LEVIATHAN AT HOME--A CHAT
WITH PROFESSOR COPE--TWENTY-SIX-INCH OYSTERS--REPTILES AND
FISHES OF THE CRETACEOUS SEA, 330-350
CHAPTER XXIV.
CONTINUED BY COPE--THE GIANTS OF THE SEAS--TAKING OUT FOSSILS
IN A GALE--INTERESTING DISCOVERIES--THE GEOLOGY OF THE
PLAINS, 351-365
CHAPTER XXV.
A SAVAGE OUTBREAK--THE BATTLE OF THE FORTY SCOUTS--THE SURPRISE--
PACK-MULES STAMPEDED--DEATH ON THE ARICKEREE--THE
MEDICINE MAN--A DISMAL NIGHT--MESSENGERS SENT TO WALLACE--MORNING
ATTACK--WHOSE FUNERAL?--RELIEF AT LAST--THE OLD
SCOUT'S DEVOTION TO THE BLUE, 366-376
CHAPTER XXVI.
THE STAGE DRIVERS OF THE PLAINS--"OLD BOB"--JAMAICA AND GINGER--AN
OLD ACQUAINTANCE--BEADS OF THE PAST--ROBBING THE
DEAD--A LEAP FROM THE LOST HISTORY OF THE MOUND BUILDERS--INDIAN
TRADITIONS--SPECULATIONS--ADOBE HOUSES IN A RAIN--CHEAP
LIVING--WATCH TOWERS, 377-386
CHAPTER XXVII.
OUR PROGRAMME CONCLUDED--FROM SHERIDAN TO THE SOLOMON--FIERCE
WINDS--A TERRIFIC STORM--SHAMUS' BLOODY APPARITION AND
INDIAN WITCH--A RECONNOISSANCE--AN INDIAN BURIAL GROVE--A
CONTRACTOR'S DARING AND ITS PENALTY--MORE VAGABONDIZING--JOSE
AT THE LONG BOW--THE "WILD HUNTRESS'" COUNTERPART--SHAMUS
TREATS US TO "CHILE"--THE RESULT, 387-395
CHAPTER XXVIII.
THE BLOCK-HOUSE ON THE SOLOMON--HOW THE OLD MAN DIED--WACONDA
DA--LEGEND OF WA-BOG-AHA AND HEWGAW--SABBATH MORNING--SACHEM'S
POETICAL EPITAPH--AN ALARM--BATTLE BETWEEN AN
EMIGRANT AND THE INDIANS--WAS IT THE SYDNEYS?--TO THE
RESCUE--AN ELK HUNT--ROCKY MOUNTAIN SHEEP--NOVEL MODE
OF HUNTING TURKEYS--IN CAMP ON THE SOLOMON--A WARM WELCOME, 396-415
CHAPTER XXIX.
OUR LAST NIGHT TOGETHER--THE REMARKABLE SHED-TAIL DOG--HE
RESCUES HIS MISTRESS, AND BREAKS UP A MEETING--A SKETCH OF
TERRITORIAL TIMES BY GRIPE--MONTGOMERY'S EXPEDITION FOR THE
RESCUE OF JOHN BROWN'S COMPANIONS--SCALPED, AND CARVING HIS
OWN EPITAPH--AN IRISH JACOB--"SURVIVAL OF THE FITTEST"--SACHEM'S
POETICAL LETTER--POPPING THE QUESTION ON THE RUN--THE
PROFESSOR'S LETTER, 416-428
CONTENTS OF APPENDIX.
PAGES.
PRELIMINARY TO THE APPENDIX, 431, 432
CHAPTER FIRST.
COME TO THE GREAT WEST--SHOULD THERE NOT BE COMPULSORY
EMIGRATION--"GET A GOOD READY"--HOMESTEAD LAWS AND
REGULATIONS--THE STATE OF KANSAS--THE COST OF A FARM--A FEW
MORE PRACTICAL SUGGESTIONS, 433-450
CHAPTER SECOND.
HUNTING THE BUFFALO--ANTELOPE HUNTING--ELK HUNTING--TURKEY
HUNTING--GENERAL REMARKS--WHAT TO DO IF LOST ON THE PLAINS--THE
NEW FIELD FOR SPORTSMEN, 451-463
CHAPTER THIRD.
"BY THE MOUTH OF TWO OR THREE WITNESSES"--THE GREAT WEST--FALL
OF THE RIVERS--THE PRINCIPAL RIVERS AND VALLEYS OF
BUFFALO LAND--THE VALLEY OF THE PLATTE--THE SOLOMON AND
SMOKY HILL RIVERS--THE ARKANSAS RIVER AND ITS TRIBUTARIES--STOCK
RAISING IN THE GREAT WEST--THE CATTLE HIVE OF NORTH
AMERICA--THE CLIMATE OF THE PLAINS--CLIMATIC CHANGES ON THE
PLAINS--THE TREES AND FUTURE FORESTS OF THE PLAINS--THE
SUPPLY OF FUEL--DISTRICTS CONTIGUOUS TO THE PLAINS--THE VALLEYS
OF THE WHITE EARTH AND NIOBRARA--NEW MEXICO: ITS
SOIL, CLIMATE, RESOURCES, ETC.--THE DISAPPEARING BISON--THE
FISH WITH LEGS--THE MOUNTAIN SUPPLY OF LUMBER FOR THE
PLAINS, 465-503
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
_From Original Drawings by Henry Worrall, and Actual Photographs._
_The Engraving by the Bureau of Illustration, Buffalo, N. Y._
PAGE
FRONTISPIECE, FACING TITLE PAGE
ALASKAN LOVERS--SEALING THE CONTRACT, 27
ALASKAN GAME OF OLD SLEDGE, 27
"WAUKARUSA," 33
"TOASTS HIS MOCCASINED FEET BY THE FIRE," 33
THE PROFESSOR--A REMARKABLE STONE, 39
TAMMANY SACHEM--PROSPECTIVE AND RETROSPECTIVE, 39
COLON AND SEMI-COLON, 43
DAVID PYTHAGORAS, M. D., 43
ONE OF THE MUGGSES, 47
SHAMUS DOBEEN--HIS CARD, 53
HON. T. GRIPE (BEATIFIED), 53
"SPERIT, GENTLEMEN!" 57
OUR FIRST BIRD-SHOOTING, 67
JUDGE LYNCH--HIS COURT, 77
UNNATURALIZED, 91
NATURALIZED, 91
"YOU'VE RILED THAT BROOK"--AN OLD FABLE MODERNIZED, 96
DOG TOWN--THE HAPPY FAMILY, 96
INDIAN ROCK--FROM A PHOTOGRAPH, 105
MUSHROOM ROCK--FROM A PHOTOGRAPH, 105
FIRE ON THE PLAINS, ACCORDING TO NOVELS, 115
FIRE ON THE PLAINS, AS IT IS, 115
"AND ERIN'S SON CHRISTENS THOSE FAR-OFF POINTS OF THE PACIFIC
RAILROAD WITH HIS BLOOD," 127
GENTLE ZEPHYRS--GOING OFF WITHOUT A DRAWBACK, 133
"LOOKED LIKE THE END OF A TAIL," 137
THE RARE OLD PLAINSMAN OF THE NOVELS, 137
WILD BILL--FROM A PHOTOGRAPH, 147
BUFFALO BILL--FROM A PHOTOGRAPH, 147
OUR HORSES RUN AWAY WITH US, 157
THE PIPE OF PEACE--THE PROFESSOR'S DILEMMA, 167
_White Wolf at Home_, 172
THE WILD DENIZENS OF THE PLAINS, 197
SMASHING A CHEYENNE BLACK-KETTLE, 219
MIDNIGHT SERENADE ON THE PLAINS, 227
GOING AFTER AMMUNITION, 259
BATTLE BETWEEN CHEYENNES AND PAWNEES, 271
ONE OF OUR SPECIMENS--PHOTOGRAPHED BY J. LEE KNIGHT, TOPEKA, 301
WANTON DESTRUCTION OF BUFFALO, EMBRACING:
DAILY, FOR FUN, 315
300 A DAY FOR PLEASURE, 315
FOR EXCITEMENT, 315
100,000 FOR TONGUES, 315
2,000,000 FOR ROBES, TO GET WHISKY, 315
DUG OUT, 329
TAKING AND BEING TAKEN, 335
DEVELOPING--ONE OF THE FIRST FAMILIES, 348
THE SEA WHICH ONCE COVERED THE PLAINS, 357
WACONDA DA--GREAT SPIRIT SALT SPRING, 399
MORE OF OUR SPECIMENS (PHOTOGRAPHED BY J. LEE KNIGHT), EMBRACING:
PRAIRIE CHICKENS, 413
HEAD OF AN ELK, 413
WILD TURKEY, 413
BEAVER, 413
BUFFALO LAND.
CHAPTER I.
THE OBJECT OF OUR EXPEDITION--A GLIMPSE OF ALASKA THROUGH CAPTAIN
WALRUS' GLASS--WE ARE TEMPTED BY OUR RECENT PURCHASE--ALASKAN GAME
OF "OLD SLEDGE"--THE EARLY STRUGGLES OF KANSAS--THE SMOKY HILL
TRAIL--INDIAN HIGH ART--THE "BORDER-RUFFIAN," PAST AND
PRESENT--TOPEKA--HOW IT RECEIVED ITS NAME--WAUKARUSA AND ITS
LEGEND.
The great plains--the region of country in which our expedition
sojourned for so many months--is wilder, and by far more interesting,
than those solitudes over which the Egyptian Sphynx looks out. The
latter are barren and desolate, while the former teem with their savage
races and scarcely more savage beasts. The very soil which these tread
is written all over with a history of the past, even its surface giving
to science wonderful and countless fossils of those ages when the world
was young and man not yet born.
At first, it was rather unsettled which way the steps of our party would
turn; between unexplored territory and that newly acquired, there were
several fields open which promised much of interest. Originally, our
company numbered a dozen; but Alaska tempted a portion of our savans,
and to the fishy and frigid maiden they yielded, drawn by a strange
predilection for train-oil and seal meat toward the land of furs. For
the remainder of our party, however, life under the Alaskan's tent-pole
had no charms. Our decision may have been influenced somewhat by the
seafaring man with whom our friends were to sail. The real name of this
son of Neptune was Samuels, but our party called him, as it savored more
of salt water, Captain Walrus, of the bark Harpoon. This worthy,
according to his own statement, had been born on a whaler, weaned among
the Esquimeaux, and, moreover, had frozen off eight toes "trying to
winter it at our recent purchase." He evidently disliked to have
scientific men aboard, intent on studying eclipses and seals. "A
heathenish and strange people are the Alaskans," Walrus was wont to say.
"What is not Indian is Russian, and a compound of the latter and
aboriginal is a mixture most villainous. One portion of the partnership
anatomy takes to brandy, while the other absorbs train-oil, and so a
half-breed Alaskan heathen is always prepared for spontaneous
combustion, and if rubbed the wrong way, flames up instantly. He is
always hot for murder, and if you throw cold water on his designs, his
oily nature sheds it."
And many a yarn did the captain spin concerning their strange customs.
Sealing a marriage contract consisted in the warrior leaving a fat seal
at the hole of the hut, where his intended crawled in to her home
privileges of smoke and fish. Their favorite game was "old sledge,"
played with prisoners to shorten their captivity.
[Illustration: ALASKAN LOVERS--SEALING THE CONTRACT.]
[Illustration: ALASKAN GAME OF OLD SLEDGE.]
All this, and much more, probably equally true, we had picked up of
Alaskan history, and at one time our chests had been packed for a voyage
on the Harpoon; but at the final council the west carried it against
the north, and our steps were directed toward the setting sun, instead
of the polar star.
The expedition afforded unexcelled facilities for seeing Buffalo Land.
It was composed of good material, and pursued its chosen path
successfully, though under difficulties which would have turned back a
less determined party.
None of our company, I trust, will consider it an unwarrantable license
which recounts to others the personal peculiarities and mistakes about
which we joked so freely while in camp. It was generally understood,
before we parted, that the adventures should be common stock for our
children and children's children. Why should not the great public share
in it also?
* * * * *
Let the reader place before him a checker-board, and allow it to
represent Kansas, whose shape and outline it much resembles; the half
nearest him will stand for the eastern or settled portion of the State,
of which the other half is embraced in Buffalo Land proper. It is with
the latter that we have first to do, as with it we first became
acquainted.
Our party entered the State at Kansas City, and took the cars for
Topeka, its capital. During our morning ride through the valley of the
Kaw, memory went backward to the years when "Bleeding Kansas" was the
signal-cry of emancipation. When gray old Time, a decade and a half ago,
was writing the history of those bright children of Freedom, the united
sisterhood, a virgin arm reached over his shoulder, and a fair young
hand, stained with its own life-blood, wrote on the page toward which
all the world was gazing, "I am Kansas, latest-born of America. I would
be free, yet they would make me a slave. Save me, my sisters!" The great
heart of our nation was sorely distressed. Conscience pointed to one
path--Policy, that rank hypocrite, to another.
And so it was that the young queen, with her grand domain in the West,
struggled forward to lay her fealty at the feet of our great mother,
Liberty. She made a body-guard of her own sons, and their number was
quickly swelled by brave hearts from the north, east, and west. The new
territory, begging admission as a State, became a battle-ground. Slavery
had reached forth its hand to grasp the new State and fresh soil, but
the mutilated member was drawn back with wounds which soon reached,
corrupted and destroyed the body. In this land of the Far West a nation
of young giants had been suddenly developed, and Kansas was forever won
for freedom.
But there was yet another enemy and another danger. Westward, toward
Colorado, the savage's tomahawk and knife glittered, and struck among
the affrighted settlements. _Ad Astra per Aspera_, "to the stars through
difficulties," the State exclaims on the seal, and to the stars, through
blood, its course has been.
Those old pages of history are too bloody to be brought to light in the
bright present, and we purpose turning them only enough to gather what
will be now of practical use. Kansas suffered cruelly, and brooded over
her wrongs, but she has long since struck hands with her bitterer foe.
Most of the "Border Ruffians" ripened on gallows trees, or fell by the
sword, years ago. A few, however, are yet spared, to cheer their old age
by riding around in desolate woods at midnight, wrapped in damp
nightgowns, and masked in grinning death-heads. Although the mists of
shadow-land are chilling their hearts, yet those organs, at the cry of
blood, beat quick again, like regimental drums, for action.
The Kaw or the Kansas River, the valley of which we were traversing, is
the principal stream of the State--in length to the mouth of the
Republican one hundred and fifty miles, and above that, under the name
of Smoky Hill, three hundred miles more.
The "Smoky Hill trail" is a familiar name in many an American home. It
was the great California path, and many a time the demons of the plain
gloated over fair hair, yet fresh from a mother's touch and blessing.
And many a faint and thirsty traveler has flung himself with a burst of
gratitude on the sandy bed of the desolate river, and thanked the Great
Giver of all good for the concealed life found under the sand, and with
the strength thus sucked from the bosom of our much-abused mother, he
has pushed onward until at length the grand mountains and great parks of
Colorado burst upon his delighted vision.
About noon we arrived at Topeka, the capital, well situated on the south
bank of the river, having a comfortable, well-to-do air, which suggests
the quiet satisfaction of an honest burgher after a morning of toil. The
slavery billow of agitation rolled even thus far from beyond the border
of the state. Armed men rode over the beautiful prairies, some east,
some west--one band to transplant slavery from the tainted soil of
Missouri, another to pluck it up.
A small party of Free State men settled upon this beautiful prairie.
South flowed the Waukarusa, south and east the Shunganunga, and west and
north the Kaw or Kansas. Here thrived a bulbous root, much loved by the
red man, and here lazy Pottawatomies gathered in the fall to dig it. In
size and somewhat in shape, it resembled a goose egg, and had a hard,
reddish brown shell, and an interior like damaged dough. The Indian
gourmands ate it greedily and called it "Topeka." From the two or three
families of refugee Free State men the town grew up, and from the Indian
root it took its name. Its christening took place in the first cabin
erected, and it is reported that a now prominent banker of the town
stood sponsor, with his back against the door, refusing any egress until
the name of his choice was accepted. It is even affirmed that one
opposing city founder was pulled back by his coat-tail from an attempted
escape up the wide chimney.
[Illustration: "WAUKARUSA."]
[Illustration: "TOASTS HIS MOCCASINED FEET BY THE FIRE."]
The old Indian love of commemorating events by significant names is well
illustrated in Kansas. One example may be given here. Waukarusa once
opposed its swollen tide to an exploring band of red men. Now, from time
beyond ken, the noble savage has been illustrious for the ingenuity with
which he lays all disagreeable duties upon the shoulders of the patient
squaw. He may ride to their death, in free wild sport, the bison
multitudes; but their skins must be converted into marketable robes,
and the flesh into jerked meat, by the ugly and over-worked partner of
his bosom. While she pins the raw hide to earth, and bends patiently
over, fleshing it with horn hatchet for weary hours, the stronger
vessel, his abdominal recesses wadded with buffalo meat, toasts his
moccasined feet by the fire, fills his lungs with smoke from villainous
killikinick, and muses soothingly of white scalps and happy hunting
grounds.
Ox-like maiden, happy "big injun!" you both belong to an age and a
history well nigh past, and let us rejoice that it is so.
But to return to the band long since gathered into aboriginal dust whom
we left pausing on the banks of the Waukarusa. "Deep water, bad bottom!"
grunted the braves, and, nothing doubting it, one loving warrior pushed
his wife and her pony over the bank to test the matter. From the middle
of the tide the squaw called back, "Waukarusa" (thigh deep), and soon
had gained the opposite bank in safety. Then and there the creek
received its name, "Waukarusa."
We procured a remarkable sketch, in the well known Indian style of high
art, commemorative of this event. It has always struck us that the
savage order of drawing resembles very much that of the ancient
Egyptian--except in the matter of drawing at sight, with bow or rifle,
on the white man.
CHAPTER II.
A CHAPTER OF INTRODUCTIONS--PROFESSOR PALEOZOIC--TAMMANY
SACHEM--DOCTOR PYTHAGORAS--GENUINE MUGGS--COLON AND
SEMI-COLON--SHAMUS DOBEEN--TENACIOUS GRIPE--BUGS AND
PHILOSOPHY--HOW GRIPE BECAME A REPUBLICAN.
When permission was given me to draw upon the journal of our trip for
such material as I might desire, it was stipulated that the camp-names
should be adhered to. A company on the plains is no respecter of
persons, and titles which might have caused offense before starting were
received in good part, and worn gracefully thenceforward.
Our leader, Professor Paleozoic, ordinarily existed in a sort of
transition state between the primary and tertiary formations. He could
tell cheese from chalk under the microscope, and show that one was full
of the fossil and the other of the living evidences of animal life. A
worthy man, vastly more troubled with rocks on the brain than "rocks" in
the pocket.
Learning had once come near making him mad, but from this sad fate he
was happily saved by a somewhat Pickwickian blunder. While in Kansas,
some years since, he penetrated a remote portion of the wilderness,
where, as he was happy in believing, none but the native savage, or,
possibly, the primeval man, could ever have tarried long enough to leave
any sign behind. Imagine his astonishment and delight, therefore, when
from the tangled grass he drew an upright stone, with lines chiseled on
three sides and on the fourth a rude figure resembling more than any
thing else one of those odd fictions which geologists call restored
specimens. On a ledge near were huge depressions like foot-prints. They
were foot-prints of birds, no doubt, and quite as perfect as those found
in more favored localities, and from which whole skeletons had been
constructed by learned men.
Both specimens were forwarded to, and at the expense of, noted savans of
the East. Our professor called the pillar from the tangled grass an
altar raised by early races to the winds. The short lines, he suggested,
designated the different points of the compass, while the rude figure
was intended for Boreas. Our scientists toward the rising sun met the
boxes at the depot, paid charges, and careful draymen bore them to the
expectant museum.
One hour after, seven wise men might have been seen wending their way
sorrowfully homeward, with hands crossed meditatively under their
coat-tails, and pocket vacuums where lately were modern coins.
Government clearly had a case against our professor. Science decided
that he had removed a stone telling in surveyors' signs just what
section and township it was on. The figure which he had imagined a
heathen idea of Boreas was the fancy of some surveyor's idle moment--a
shocking sketch of an impossible buffalo. Whether the bird-tracks had a
common origin, or were hewn by the hatchets of the red man, is a point
still under discussion.
A worthy man, as before remarked, was the professor, full of knowledge,
genial in camp, and, having rubbed his eye-tooth on a section stone,
geological authority of the highest order. When the professor said a
particular rock belonged to the cretaceous formation, one might safely
conclude that no modern influences had been at work either on that rock
or in that vicinity. That question was settled.
Next came Tammany Sachem, our heavy weight and our mystery. Before
joining our party, he had been a New York alderman, noted for prowess in
annual aldermanic clam-bakes at Coney Island. He was wont to exhibit a
medal, the prize of such a tournament, on which several immense clams
were racing to the griddle, for the honor of being devoured by the city
fathers.
A green-ribbed hunting coat traversed his rotundity, which had the
generous swell of a puncheon. His face was reddish, and his nose like a
beacon-light against a sunset sky. When you thought him awake, he was
half asleep; when you thought him asleep, he was wide awake. A look of
extreme happiness always beamed on his face when misfortunes impended.
Per contra, successes made him suspicious and morose. New York aldermen
have always been a puzzle to the nation at large. Perhaps our friend's
facial contradictions, put on originally as one of the tricks of the
trade, had become chronic from long usage. We have since learned that
the sachems of Tammany laugh the loudest and joke the most freely when
under affliction.
[Illustration: THE PROFESSOR--A REMARKABLE STONE.]
[Illustration: TAMMANY SACHEM--PROSPECTIVE AND RETROSPECTIVE.]
When I was appointed editor, the Sachem volunteered as local
reporter. Many of the items he gathered are entered in our log-book in
rhyme, and to these pages some of them are transferred verbatim. In
wooing the muses, our alderman certainly acted out of character. The
ideal poet is thin instead of obese, and he is a reckless innovator who
lays claim to any measure of the divine afflatus without possessing
either a pale face, thin form, or a garret.
As to what drove a New York alderman to the society of buffaloes, we had
but one explanation, and that was Sachem's own. We knew that he disliked
women in every form, Sorosis and Anti-Sorosis, bitter and sweet alike.
According to his statement, made to us in good faith, and which I
chronicle in the same, Cupid had once essayed to drive a dart into
Sachem's heart, but, in doing so, the barb also struck and wounded his
liver. As his love increased, his health failed. His liver became
affected in the same ratio as his heart. This was touching our alderman
in a tender spot. Imagine a New York city father without digestion; what
a subject of scorn he would become to his constituency! Our alderman
fled from Cupid, clams, and his beloved Gotham, and sought health and
buffalo on the plains of Kansas. As he remarked to us pathetically: "A
good liver makes a good husband. Indigestion frightens connubial bliss
out of the window. Pills, my boy, pills is the quietus of love. If you
wish Cupid to leave, give him a dose of 'em. The liver, instead of the
heart, is at the bottom of half the suicides."
Doctor Pythagoras in years was fifty, and in stature short. His
favorite theory was "development," and this he carried to depths which
would have astonished Darwin himself. How humble he used to make us feel
by digging at the roots of the family tree until its uttermost fiber lay
between an oyster and a sponge! (Rumor charged him with waiting so long
for diseases to develop, that his patients developed into spirits.)
While he indorsed Darwin, however, he also admired Pythagoras. The
latter's doctrine of metempsychosis he Darwinized. In their
transmigration from one body to another, souls developed, taking a
higher order of being with each change, until finally fitted to enter
the land of spirits. The soul of a jack-of-all-trades was one which
developed slowly, and picked up a new craft with each new body. Like
Pythagoras, he remembered several previous bodies which his soul had
animated, among others that of the original Rarey, who existed in Egypt
some centuries before the modern usurper was born. If souls proved
entirely unworthy during the probationary or human period, they were
cast back into the brute creation to try it over again. To this class
belonged prize-fighters, Congressmen, and the like. With them the past
was a blank--an unsuccessful problem washed from the slate. The doctor
had a hobby that a vicious horse was only a vicious man entered into a
lower order of being. To demonstrate this he had traveled, and still
persisted in traveling, on eccentric horses, for the purpose of
reasoning with them. But his Egyptian lore had been lost in
transmission, and his falls, kicks, and bites became as many as the
moons which had passed over his head.
[Illustration: COLON AND SEMI-COLON.]
[Illustration: DAVID PYTHAGORAS, M. D.]
Genuine Muggs was an Englishman. The antipodes of Tammany Sachem, who
would not believe any thing, Muggs swallowed every thing. He had already
absorbed so much in this way that he knew all about the United States
before visiting it. Given half a chance, he would undoubtedly have told
the savage more about the latter's habits than the aborigine himself
knew. It was positively impossible for him to learn any thing. His round
British body was so full of indisputable facts that another one would
have burst it. In the Presidential alphabet, from Alpha Washington to
Omega Grant, he knew all of our rulers' tricks and trades, and
understood better the crooked ways of the White House than our own
talented Jenkins.
British phlegm incased his soul, and British leather his feet. From heel
to crown he was completely a Briton. His mutton-chop whiskers came just
so far, and the h's dropped in and out of his utterings in a perfectly
natural way. In the Briton's alphabet, Sachem used to remark, the _I_ is
so big that it is no wonder the _H_ is often crowded out.
Muggs was a fair representative of the average Englishman who has
traveled somewhat. The eye-teeth of these persons are generally cut with
a slash, and they are forever after sore-mouthed. For a maiden effort
they never suck knowledge gently in, but attempt a gulp which strangles.
The consequence of this hasty acquiring is a bloated condition. The
partly-traveled Briton seems, at first acquaintance, full and swollen
with knowledge; but should the student of learning apply the prick, the
result obtained will generally prove to be--gas.
Over our great country, some of the family of Muggs meet one at every
turn. Often they scurry along solitarily, but occasionally in groups. In
the former case they are unsocial to every body--in the latter to every
body except their own party. The bliss which comes from ignorance must
be of a thoroughly enjoyable nature, for the Muggses certainly do enjoy
themselves. They will pass through a country, remaining completely
uncommunicative and self-wrapped, and know less of it after six months'
traveling than an American in two. The professor says he has met them in
the lonely parks of the Rocky Mountains and in the fishing and hunting
solitudes of the Canadas. If they have been an unusually long time
without seeing a human being, they may possibly catch at an eye-glass
and fling themselves abruptly into a few remarks. But it is in a tone
which says, plainer than words, "No use in your going any further, man;
I have absorbed all the beauties and knowledge of this locality."
[Illustration: _BUREAU OF ILLUSTRATION BUFFALO_
ONE OF THE MUGGSES.]
It is a rare treat to see a coach delivered of Muggs at a country inn.
"Hi, porter, look hout for my luggage, you know. Tell the publican some
chops, rare, and lively now, and a mug of hale, and, if I can 'ave it, a
room to myself." If the latter request is granted, and you are
inquisitive enough to take a peep, you may see Muggs sturdily surveying
himself in the glass, and giving certain satisfied pats to his cravat
and waistcoat, as if to satisfy them that they covered a Briton. Could
the mirror which reflects his face also reflect his thoughts, they
would read about as follows: "Muggs, you are a Briton, and this hotel
must be made aware of the fact. Whatever you do, be guilty of no
un-English act while in this outlandish land. Your skin is now full of
knowledge, and let not other travelers, like so many mosquitoes, suck it
from you. Your forefathers blessed their eyes and dropped their h's, and
so must you." And perhaps by this time, if the chops have arrived, he
dines in seclusion and, by so doing, loses a fund of information which
his fellow-travelers have obtained by common exchange.
Again on the way, Muggs nestles in a corner of the coach and acts
strictly on the defensive, indignantly withdrawing his square-toed,
thick-soled English shoes, should neighboring feet attempt to hobnob
with them. On a trip through Buffalo Land, however, it is difficult for
one of her Britannic Majesty's subjects to maintain the national
dignity. But this fact Genuine Muggs--our Muggs--evidently did not know.
Had he known it, he would never have gone with us in the world.
Another of our party rejoiced in the appellation of "Colon." He obtained
this title because his eccentric specialities of character several times
came very near putting if not a full stop, at least the next thing to
it, upon the particular page of history which our party was making.
Longitudinally, Mr. Colon was all of five feet eleven; in circumference,
perhaps a score or so of inches. He possessed a fair share of oddities,
and what is better an equally fair one of dollars. The hemispheres of
his philanthropic brain seemed equally pre-empted by philosophy and
bugs. Engaging in some immense work for the amelioration of mankind, he
would pursue it with ardor, dwell upon it with unction, and then
suddenly leave it, half finished, to capture a rare spider. Philosophy
and Entomology had constant combat for Colon, and victory tarried with
neither long enough for the seat of war to be cultivated and blossom
with any luxuriance. At the time he joined our party one of his grandest
charitable projects had lately died in a very early period of infancy,
entirely supplanted in his affections for the time being by the prospect
of a chase after Brazilian insects. During our journey it was no
uncommon thing for us to see his thin form all covered with bugs and
reptiles, which had crawled out of the collecting boxes carried in his
pockets. If this meets our friend's eye, let him bear no malice, but
reflect, in the language of his own invariable answer to our
remonstrances, "It can't be helped." Should the public parade of his
faults be disagreeable, he can suffer no more from them now than we did
in the past, and may perhaps call them into closer quarters for the
future.
Mr. Colon's son, of two years less than a score, we dubbed Semi-colon,
as being a smaller edition, or to be exact, precisely one-half of what
the senior Colon was. So perfect was the concord of the two that the
junior had fallen into a chronic and to us amusing habit of answering
"Ditto" to the senior's expressions of opinion. Divide the father's
conversation by two, add an assent to every thing, and the result,
socially considered, would be the son. It may readily be seen,
therefore, why the professor for short should call him, as he nearly
always did, "Semi."
Shamus Dobeen, our cook and body-servant, according to his own account,
was the child of an impoverished but noble Irish family. Indeed, we
doubt if any Irishman was ever promoted from shovel laborer to
body-servant without suddenly remembering that he was "descinded" from a
line of kings. At the time Shamus was added to the population of
Ireland, the patrimonial estate had dwindled down to a peat bog. As this
soon "petered out," Shamus went from the exhausted moor into the cold
world. He had been by turns expelled patriot, dirt disturber on new
railroads, gunner on a Confederate cruiser, and high private in a Union
regiment. The position of gunner he lost by touching off a piece before
the muzzle had been run out, in consequence of which part of the
vessel's side went off suddenly with the gun. Captured, he readily
became a Union soldier, and could, without doubt, have transformed
himself into a Cheyenne, or a Patagonian, had occasion for either ever
required.
While in Topeka, our party made the acquaintance of Tenacious Gripe, a
well-known Kansas politician, and who attached himself to us for the
trip. Every person in the State knew him, had known him in territorial
times, and would know him until either the State or he ceased to be.
Flung headlong from somewhere into Kansas during the "border ruffian"
period, he would probably have passed as rapidly out of it had he been
allowed to do so peaceably. But as the slavery party endeavored to push
him, he concluded to stick. At that particular time, he was a moderate
Democrat or conservative Republican, and consequently had no particular
principles. But the slavery party supposed he had, and to them
accordingly he became an object of suspicion. They assumed the
aggressive, and he at once resolved into a staunch Republican. Had the
latter first struck him, he would have been as staunch a Democrat. And
Gripe has never known how near he came to being the latter. The
Republicans had just decided to order him out of the state as a border
ruffian spy, when the Democrats took action and did so for his not being
one. Those were troublous times. He went to the front at once in the
antislavery ranks, and has stayed there ever since. Sore-headed men are
apt to become famous. There were those in our late war who were kicked
by adversity into the very arms of Fame.
Our friend had been in both the upper and lower houses of the State
Legislature, and had rolled Congressional logs, moreover, until he was
hardly happy without having his hands on one.
[Illustration: _BUREAU OF ILLUSTRATION BUFFALO_
SHAMUS DOBEEN--HIS CARD.]
[Illustration: HON. T. GRIPE (BEATIFIED).]
CHAPTER III.
THE TOPEKA AUCTIONEER--MUGGS GETS A BARGAIN--CYNOCEPHALUS--INDIAN
SUMMER IN KANSAS--HUNTING PRAIRIE CHICKENS--OUR FIRST DAY'S SPORT.
We had three or four days to spend in Topeka, as it was there that we
were to purchase our outfit for the buffalo region. With the latter
purpose in view, we were wandering along Kansas Avenue the next morning,
when a horseman came furiously down the street, shouting, at the top of
his lungs, "Sell um as he wars har!" Semi hastily retreated behind Mr.
Colon, thinking it might be a Jayhawker, while the professor adjusted
his glasses.
Muggs said the individual reminded him of the famous charge at
Balaklava. Muggs had never seen Balaklava, but other Englishmen had,
which answered the same purpose.
The equestrian proved to be a well-known auctioneer of Topeka, who may
be discovered at almost any time tearing through the streets on some
spavined or bow-legged old cob, auctioneering it off as he goes. His
favorite expression is, "I'll sell um as he wars har." What particular
selling charm lies concealed in this announcement even Gripe could not
tell. Sachem thought that possibly he had been brought up at some
exposed frontier post, where, on account of Indian prejudices, wearing
hair is a rare luxury. To say there that a man was still able to comb
his own scalp-lock denoted an extraordinary state of physical
perfection. Expressions of praise for humans are often applied to
horses, and so, perhaps, the one in question. "I have heard," quoth our
alderman, in support of this assertion, "Fitz say of a belle, at a
charity ball, what a 'bootiful cweature;' and I have heard him, the day
after, in his stable, say the same thing of his horse."
That horse-auction was a sight worth seeing. The crowd collected most
thickly on the corner of Kansas Avenue and Sixth Street, and before it
the cob came to a stand. And it was a stand--as stiff and painful as
that of a retired veteran put on dress parade. The limbs would have had
full duty to perform in supporting the carcass alone, which had
evidently been in light marching order for years past. The additional
weight of the auctioneer must certainly have proved altogether too much,
had not the horse heard, for the first time, of the wonderful qualities
with which he was still endowed.
Seeing a whole corner, with gaping mouths, swallowing the statement that
he was only six years old, reduced by hard work, and could, after three
months grass, pull a ton of coal, he would have been a thankless horse
indeed, which could not strain a point, or all his points, for such a
rider.
[Illustration: _BUREAU OF ILLUSTRATION_
"SPERIT, GENTLEMEN!"]
And so, when the spurs suddenly rattled against his ribs, the old skin
full of bones gave a snort of pain, which the auctioneer called "Sperit,
gentle_men_!" and away up the broad avenue he rolled, at a speed which
threatened to break the rider's neck, and his own legs as well. His
tail having been cut short in youth, and retrimmed in old age, the
outfit made but a sorry figure going up the street. The Professor said
it suggested the idea of some fossil vertabra, with a paint brush
attached to its end, running away with a geological student.
After the return and cries for more bids, Muggs must have winked at the
auctioneer--possibly, to slyly telegraph him the fact that in "Hengland"
they were up to such games. At least the auctioneer so declared, and
advancing the price one dollar in accordance therewith, finally knocked
the brute down to him. Then the British wrath bubbled and boiled. The
auctioneer was inexorable. Muggs _had_ winked, and that was an advanced
bid, according to commercial custom the land over. Articles were often
sold simply by the vibration of an eyelash, and not a word uttered.
The Professor remarked that in law winks would doubtless be accepted as
evidence. It was a recognized principle of the statutes that he who
winked at a matter acquiesced in it, and indeed such signals were often
more expressive than words. Sachem sustained this point, and added
further that he had known many a man's head broken on account of an
injudicious wink.
The crowd, with almost unanimous voice, pronounced the auctioneer right
and Muggs wrong.
"Me take the brute!" exclaimed the indignant Briton; "why he can 'ardly
stand up long enough to be knocked down. Except in France, he could be
put to no earthly use whatever. 'Is knees knock together in an ague
quartette, and 'is tail--look at it! It's hincapable of knocking a fly
off; looks more like flying off hitself!" Muggs further declared the
sale was an attempt on the owner's part to evade the health officer, who
would have been around, in a couple of days, to have the carcass
removed.
The auctioneer waxed belligerent, the crowd noisy, and Muggs, like a
true Englishman, secured peace at the price of British gold. The horse
was on his hands, having barely escaped being on the town, and an
enthusiastic crowd of urchins escorted the purchase to a livery stable.
Muggs christened the animal Cynocephalus, and soon afterward sold him to
Mr. Colon, who was of an economical turn, for the use of his son Semi.
"I have heard," said the thoughtful father, "that the buffalo grass of
the plains is very nourishing. All that the poor steed needs is care and
fat pastures. Semi can give him the former, and over the latter our
future journey lies. I have also learned that what is especially needed
in a hunting horse is steadiness, and this quality the animal certainly
possesses."
From some months' acquaintance with the purchase, we can say that
Cynocephalus was steady to a remarkable degree. We are firmly persuaded
that a heavy battery might have fired a salute over his back without
moving him, unless, possibly, the concussion knocked him down.
Our first hunting morning, the second day preceding our hegira westward,
came to us with a clear sky, the sun shedding a mellow warmth, and the
air full of those exhilarating qualities which our lungs afterward
drank in so freely on the plains. Indian summer, delightful anywhere, is
especially so in Kansas.
From the advance guard of the winter king not a single chilling zephyr
steals forward among the tarrying ones of summer. Soothing and gentle as
when laden with spicy fragrance south, they here shower the whole land
with sunbeams. Earth no longer seems a heavy, inert mass, but floats in
that smoky, fleecy atmosphere with which artists delight so much to wrap
their angels. It is as if the warmer, lighter clouds of sunny weather
were nestling close to earth, frightened from the skies, like a flock of
white swans, at the October howls of winter. But I never could agree
with those writers who call this season dreamy. If such it be, it is
surely a dream of motion. All nature appears quickened. The inhabitants
of the air have commenced their southern pilgrimage, and the oldest and
leading ganders may be heard croaking, day-time and night-time, to their
wedge-shaped flocks their narrative of summer experiences at the Arctic
circle, and their commands for the present journey.
Sachem, I find, has recorded as a discovery in natural history that
geese form their flocks in wedge shape that they may easier "make a
split" for the south when Nature, with her north pole, stirs up their
feeding and breeding-grounds in November gales, and changes their fields
of operation into fields of ice. Sachem was sadly addicted to slang
phrases.
All game, I may remark, is wilder at this season of the year than
earlier. If the earth is dreaming, its wild inhabitants certainly are
not. Men, too, have thrown off the summer lethargy, and shave their
neighbors as closely as ever. If any one thinks it a dreamy season of
the year, let him test the matter practically by being a day or two
behindhand with a payment.
In reply to a question, the professor told us that the smoky condition
of the atmosphere was probably caused by the exhalation of phosphorus
from decaying vegetation. Sachem remarked that out of twenty different
objects which he had submitted for examination, and as many questions
that he had asked, nine-tenths of the results contained phosphorus in
some shape. It was becoming monotonous and dangerous.
While the party thus mused and speculated, we had come out into the open
country, south-west of town, and were now approaching Webster's Mound, a
cone-shaped hill from which we afterward obtained some excellent views.
For the trip we had been supplied with two dogs, one a setter, belonging
to the private secretary of the Governor, and the other a pointer, the
property of a real estate dealer. The former was an ancient and
venerable animal. The rheumatism was seized of his backbone and held
high revel upon the juices which should have lubricated the joints. Even
his tail wagged with a jerk, inclining the body to whichever side it had
last swung. He was so full of rheumatism that whenever he scented a
chicken the pain evoked by the excitement caused him to howl with
anguish. The pointer, per contra, was hale and swift, but had lost one
eye; and a shot from the same charge which destroyed that organ,
rattled also on his left ear-drum, and that membrane no longer responded
to the shouts of the hunter. On one side he could see, and not hear--on
the other, hear, but not see. Nevertheless, with gestures for the left
view, and shouts on the right, fair work might still be obtained. Both
dogs rejoiced in the uncommon name of Rover, and both possessed that
most excellent of all points in such animals, a steady point.
If any of my readers are fond of field-sports, and have not yet shot
prairie-chickens over a dog, let them take their guns and hie to the
West, and taste for themselves of this rare sport. With the wide prairie
around him, keeping the bird in full view during its passage through the
air, one can choose his distance for firing and witness the full effect
of his shot. I think the brief instant when the flight of the bird is
checked and it drops head-foremost to earth, is the sweetest moment of
all to the hunter.
CHAPTER IV.
CHICKEN-SHOOTING CONTINUED--A SCIENTIFIC PARTY TAKE THE BIRDS ON
THE WING--EVILS OF FAST FIRING--AN OLD-FASHIONED "SLOW SHOT"--THE
HABITS OF THE PRAIRIE-CHICKEN--ITS PROSPECTIVE EXTINCTION--MODE OF
HUNTING IT--THE GOPHER SCALP LAW.
We had left the road and were now driving over the fine prairie skirting
Webster's Mound, the grass being about a foot high and affording
excellent cover. Taking advantage of its being matted so closely from
the early frosts, the old cocks hid under the thick tufts and called for
close work on the part of our dogs.
Back and forth across our path these intelligent animals ranged, the one
fifty yards or so to our right, the other as many to our left, crossing
and re-crossing, with open mouths drinking in eagerly the tainted
breeze. This latter was in our favor, and both dogs suddenly joined
company and worked up into it, with outstretched noses pointing to game
that was evidently close ahead.
The pointer crawled cautiously, like a tiger, his spotted belly sweeping
the earth, and his tail, which had been lashing rapidly an instant
before, gradually stiffening. He would open his mouth suddenly, drink in
a quick, deep draught of air, and, closing the jaws again, hold it until
obliged to take another respiration. He seemed as loath to let the
scent of the chicken pass from his nostrils as a hungry newsboy is to
quit the savory precincts of Delmonico's kitchen window. The setter's
old bones appeared to renew their youth under the excitement, and he was
as active as a retired war-horse suddenly plunged into battle.
Both dogs came simultaneously to a point--tails curved up and rigid,
each body motionless as if cut in marble and one forepaw lifted. No
wonder so many men are wild with a passion for hunting. Kind Providence
smiles upon the legitimate sport from conception to close, and gives us
a _pose_ to start with fascinating to any lover of the beautiful,
whether hunter or not. But one must not pause to moralize while dogs are
on the point, or he will have more philosophy than chickens.
All the party had got safely to ground and were behind the dogs, with
guns ready and eyes eagerly fastened on the thick grass which concealed
its treasure as completely as if it had been a thousand miles below its
roots, or on the opposite side of this mundane sphere in China. Not a
thing was visible within fifty yards of our noses save two dogs standing
motionless, with stiffened tails and eyes fixed on, and nozzles pointed
toward, a spot in the sea of brown, withered grass, not ten feet away.
The Professor took out his lens, Mr. Colon let down the hammers of his
gun and cocked them again, to be sure all was right, while Sachem wore a
puzzled expression as if undecided whether the attitude of the dogs
indicated any thing particular or not. The grass nodded and rustled in
the light wind, but not a blade moved to indicate the presence of any
living thing beneath it, while the dogs remained as if petrified.
The Professor said it was very remarkable, and wondered what had better
be done next. Mr. Colon thought that the dogs were tired, and we might
as well get into the wagon. Another suggested at random that we should
set the dogs on, and Muggs, who had probably heard the expression
somewhere, cried, "Hi, boys, on bloods!" At the words the dogs made a
few quick steps forward, and on the instant the grass seemed alive with
feathered forms, popping into air like bobs in shuttlecock. Such a
fluttering and flying I have never seen since, when a boy, I ventured
into a dove cote, and was knocked over by the rush of the alarmed
inmates. From under our very feet, almost brushing our faces, the
beautiful pinnated grouse of the prairies left their cover, and us also.
Every gun had gone off on the instant, and we doubt if one was raised an
inch higher than it happened to be when the covey started. The Professor
afterward extracted some stray shot from the legs of his boots, and the
setter, which was next to Muggs, gave a cry of pain for which there was
evidently other cause than rheumatism, as was demonstrated by his
retirement to the rear, from which he refused to budge until we all got
into the wagon, and to which he invariably retreated whenever we got
out.
[Illustration: _BUREAU OF ILLUSTRATION BUFFALO. N. Y._
OUR FIRST BIRD-SHOOTING.]
From the midst of the birds which were soaring away, one was seen to
rise suddenly a few feet above his comrades, and then fall straight
as a plummet, and head first, to earth. It had caught some stray shot
from the bombardment--Muggs claimed from his gun, but this statement the
setter, could he have spoken, would certainly have disputed.
Semi-Colon brought in the game, which proved to be a fine male, with
whiskers and full plumage, which must have made sad havoc among the
hearts of the hens, when the old fellow was on annual dress parade in
the spring. At that season of the year the cocks seek some knoll of the
prairie, where the grass has been burnt or cut off, and strut up and
down with ruffled feathers, uttering meanwhile a booming sound, which
can be heard in a clear morning for miles. The flabby pink skin that at
other seasons hangs in loose folds on his neck is then distended like a
bagpipe, and he is a very different bird from the same individual in his
Quaker gray and respectable summer and fall habits.
Ensconced again in the wagon, our party moved forward, the dogs, as
before, examining the prairie. The professor was comparing the birds of
the present and the past ages, when Muggs suddenly blasted his eyes and
declared the beasts were at it again. And so they were, the setter
making a good stand at some game in the grass, and the other dog, a
short distance off, pointing his companion. During the remainder of the
day we found many large flocks of birds, and fired away until two or
three swelled noses testified how dirty our guns were.
"Fast shooting," said the professor, as we were on our way home, "is as
bad as that too slow. Although I am no sportsman from practice, I love
and have studied the principles of it. In my father's day the rule was,
when a bird rose, for a hunter to take out his snuff-box, take snuff,
replace the box, aim, and fire. You may find the advice yet in some
works. The shot then has distance in which to spread. With close
shooting they are all together, and you might as well fire a bullet.
When you have given the bird time, act quickly. The first sight is the
best. Again, the first moment of flight, with most birds, is very
irregular, as it is upward, instead of from you."
Dobeen begged leave to inform our "honors" that in Ireland, after a bird
rose, the rule was, instead of taking snuff, to take off the boots
before firing. The professor thought that such a habit related to
outrunning the gamekeeper, and was intended to procure distance for the
poacher rather than the bird.
Sachem stated that he had known a slow hunter once. He was a
revolutionary veteran, used a revolutionary musket, and believed in
revolutionary powder. He refused to do any thing different from what his
fathers did, and abhorred double-barreled shotguns and percussion-caps
as inventions of the devil. It was constantly, "General Washington did
this," and "Our army did that," and his old head shook sadly at the
innovations Young America was making. His ghost, with the revolutionary
musket on its shoulder, had since been known to chase hunters, with
breech-loaders, who were caught on his favorite ground after dark. "Old
1776" was great on wing-shooting, and could be seen at almost any time
hobbling over the moor, firing away at snipe and water-fowl. He was one
of those slow, deliberate cases, always taking snuff after the bird
rose. There would be a glitter of fluttering wings as the game shot into
air. Down would come the long musket, out would come the snuff-box, and
the old soldier would go through the present, make ready, take snuff,
take aim, and fire, all as coolly as if on parade. The old musket often
hung fire from five to ten seconds, and the premonitory flash could be
seen as the shaky flint clattered down on the pan. The veteran always
patiently covered the bird until the charge got out. The recoil was
tremendous, and the old man often went down before the bird; but such
positions, he asserted, were taken voluntarily, as ones of rest. Some
said that the gun had been known to kick him again after he was down.
Sachem's narration was here cut short by the dogs again pointing. This
was followed by the usual bombardment, which over, the bag showed the
magnificent aggregate of two chickens for the entire day's sport.
The prairie-chicken is now extinct in many of the Western States where
it was once well known. Usually, during the first few years of
settlement, it increases rapidly, and is often a nuisance to pioneer
farmers. Perhaps, when the latter first settle in a country, a few
covies may be seen; under the favorable influences of wheat and
corn-fields, the dozens increase to thousands and cover the land. But
with denser settlement come more guns, and, what is a far more
destructive agent, trained dogs also. Under the first order of things,
the farmer, with his musket, might kill enough for the home table. With
double-barreled gun and keen-scented pointer, the sportsman and
pot-hunter think nothing of fifty or sixty birds for a day's work. It
seems almost impossible, under such a combination, for a covey to escape
total annihilation.
We may suppose a couple of fair shots hunting over a dog in August, when
the chickens lie close, and the year's broods are in their most delicate
condition for the table. The pointer makes a stand before a fine covey
hidden in the thick grass before him. The ready guns ask no delay, and,
at the word, he flushes the chickens immediately under his nose. Each
hunter takes those which rise before him, or on his side, and if four or
less left cover at the first alarm, that number of gray-speckled forms
the next moment are down in the grass, not to leave it again. If more
rose, they are "marked," which means that their place of alighting is
carefully noted, and, as the chicken has but a short flight, this task
is easy. Meanwhile, the guns have been reloaded, the dog flushes others
of the hiding birds, and so the sport goes on. The birds that get away
are "marked down," and again found and flushed by the dog. Without this
useful animal the chickens would multiply, despite any number of
hunters. I have often seen covies go down in the grass but a few hundred
yards away, yet have tramped through the spot dozens of times without
raising a single bird. In twenty years this delicious game will probably
be as much a thing of the past as is the Dodo of the Isle de France. At
the period of our visit they were already gathering into their fall
flocks, which sometimes number a hundred or more. In these they remain
until St. Valentine recommends a separation. During the colder weather
of winter they seek the protection of the timber, and may be seen of
mornings on the trees and fences. They never roost there, however, but
pass the night hidden in the adjacent grass.
The prairie-chicken's admirers are numerous, other animals beside man
being willing to dine on its plump breast. We had an illustration of
this in our first day's shooting. Sometimes when we fired, the report
would attract to our vicinity wandering hawks, and we found that either
instinct or previous experience teaches these fierce hunters of the air
that in the vicinity of their fellow-hunter, man, wounded birds may be
found. One wounded chicken, which fell near us, was seized by a hawk
immediately.
As we passed one or two fields, indications of gophers appeared, their
small mounds of earth covering the ground. In some counties these
animals formerly destroyed crops to such an extent that the celebrated
"Gopher Act" was passed. This gave a bounty of two dollars for each
scalp, and under it many farms yielded more to the acre than ever before
or since. One of these animals which we secured resembled in size and
shape the Norway rat, and, in the softness and color of its coat, was
not unlike a mole. The oddest thing was its earth-pouches--two open
sacks, one on either side of its head, and capable of containing each a
tablespoonful or more. These the gopher employs, in his subterranean
researches, for the same purpose that his enemy, man, does a
wheelbarrow. Packing them with dirt, the little fellow trudges gayly to
the surface, and there cleverly dumps his load.
We reached town again, well pleased with our day's ride, and over our
evening pipes discussed the results. Muggs thought our shot were too
small. Sachem thought the birds were.
Colon was delighted with the new State, but believed that wing-shooting
was not his _forte_. He would be more apt to hit a bird on the wing if
he could only catch it roosting somewhere.
Gripe, at the other end of the room, was piling Republican doctrines
upon a bearded Democratic heathen from the Western border.
CHAPTER V.
A TRIAL BY JUDGE LYNCH--HUNG FOR CONTEMPT OF COURT--QUAIL
SHOOTING--HABITS OF THE BIRDS, AND MODE OF KILLING THEM--A RING OF
QUAILS--THE EFFECTS OF A SEVERE WINTER--THE SNOW GOOSE.
A short time after supper, Tenacious Gripe appeared with the mayor of
the city, who wished to make the acquaintance of the Professor. The two
august personages bowed to each other. It was the happiest moment in
their respective lives, they declared. An invitation was extended us to
delay our departure another day and try quail shooting. The citizens
said the birds were unusually abundant, the previous winter having been
mild and the summer long enough for two separate broods to be hatched,
and the brush and river banks were swarming with them. As we were about
to abandon the birds of the West and seek an acquaintance with its
beasts, we decided, after a brief consultation, to accept the invitation
and remain another day.
Among the persons present in the crowded office of the hotel, was a man
from the southwestern part of the state who had lately been interested
in a trial before the celebrated Judge Lynch. Sachem interviewed him,
and reports his statement of the occurrence in the log book, as
follows:
A stranger played me fur a fool,
An' threw the high, low, jack,
An' sold me the wuss piece of mule
That ever humped a back.
But that wer fair; I don't complain,
That I got beat in trade;
I don't sour on a fellow's gain,
When sich is honest made.
But wust wer this, he stole the mule,
An' I were bilked complete;
Such thieves, we hossmen makes a rule
To lift 'em from their feet.
We started arter that 'ere pup,
An' took the judge along,
For fear, with all our dander up,
We might do somethin' wrong.
We caught him under twenty miles,
An tried him under trees;
The judge he passed around the "smiles,"
As sort o' jury fees.
"Pris'ner," says judge, "now say your say,
An' make it short an' sweet,
An', while yer at it, kneel and pray,
For Death yer can not cheat.
No man shall hang, by this 'ere court,
Exceptin' on the square;
There's time fur speech, if so it's short,
But none to chew or swear."
[Illustration: _BUREAU OF ILLUSTRATION. BUFFALO_
JUDGE LYNCH--HIS COURT.
JUDGE AND JURY. SHERIFF. ATTORNEY. LOAFER. CLERK. DEPUTY SHERIFF.]
An' then the thievin' rascal cursed,
An' threw his life away,
He said, "Just pony out your worst,
Your best would be foul play."
Then judge he frowned an awful frown,
An' snapped this sentence short,
"Jones, twitch the rope, an' write this down,
Hung for contempt of court!"
Sharp 8 next morning saw us on the road leading east of town, the two
dogs with us, and a young one additional, the property of a resident
sportsman. Our last acquisition joined us on the run, and kept on it all
day, going over the ground with the speed of a greyhound, his fine nose,
however, giving him better success than his reckless pace would have
indicated.
Three miles from town, or half way between it and Tecumseh, our party
left the wagon, with direction for it to follow the road, while we
scouted along on a parallel, following the river bank.
The Kaw stretched eastward, broad and shallow, with numerous sand bars,
and along its edges grew the scarlet sumach and some stunted bushes, and
between these and the corn a high, coarse bottom grass, with intervals
at every hundred yards or so apart of a shorter variety, like that on a
poor prairie. Among the bushes, there was no grass whatever, and yet the
birds seemed indifferently to frequent one spot equally with another.
In less than ten minutes after leaving the wagon, all the dogs were
pointing on a barren looking spot, thinly sprinkled with scrubby bushes
not larger than jimson-weeds. They were several yards apart, so that
each animal was clearly acting on his own responsibility.
If it puzzled us the day before to discover any signs of game under
their noses, it certainly did so now. There was apparently no place of
concealment for any object larger than a field-mouse. The bushes were
wide apart, and the soil between was a loose sand. Around the roots of
the scrubs, it is true, a few thin, wiry spears of grass struggled into
existence, but these covered a space not larger than a man's hand, and
it seemed preposterous to imagine that they could be capable of
affording cover. That three dogs were pointing straight at three bushes
was apparent, but we could see nothing in or about the latter calling
for such attention.
Shamus, who had accompanied us, wished to know if the twigs were witch
hazels, because, if so, three invisible old beldames might be taking a
nap under them, after a midnight ride. "But, then," said Dobeen, "the
dog's hairs don't stand on end as they always do in Ireland when they
see ghosts and witches." We believe that our worthy cook was really
disappointed in not discovering any stray broomsticks lying around.
These, he afterward informed us, could not be made invisible, though
their owners should take on airy shapes unrecognizable by mortal eyes.
Muggs had suggested urging the dogs in, but the party, wiser from
yesterday's experience, desired a ground shot, if it could be secured.
The Professor adjusted his lens, and decided to make a personal
inspection around the roots of the bush immediately in front of him.
Carefully the sage bent over the suspicious spot, and almost fell
backward as, with a whiz and a dart, half a dozen quails flew out,
brushing his very nose. Instantly every bush sent forth its fugitives. A
flash of feathered balls, and they were all gone. Such whizzing and
whirring! it was as if those scraggy bushes were _mitrailleuses_, in
quick succession discharging their loads.
Only one gun had gone off, but that so loudly that our ears rung for
several seconds. Mr. Colon had accidentally rammed at least two, perhaps
half a dozen, loads into one barrel, and the gun discharged with an aim
of its own, the butt very low down. Two birds fell dead. But alas for
our Nimrod! Colon stood with one hand on his stomach undecided whether
that organ remained or not. On this point, however, he was fully
re-assured at the supper-table that night, and in all our after
experience, we never knew that gun to have the least opportunity for
going off, except when at its owner's shoulder, and he perfectly ready
for it.
The two birds were now submitted to the party for inspection. They were
fine specimens of the American quail, more properly called by those
versed in quailology, the Bob White. This bird is very plentiful
throughout Kansas, and just before the shooting season commences, in
September, will even frequent the gardens and alight on the houses of
Topeka. They "lay close" before a dog, take flight into air with a
quick, whirring dart, and their shooting deservedly ranks high. They are
very rapid in their movements upon the ground, often running fifty or
seventy-five yards before hiding. When this takes place, so closely do
they huddle that it is seldom more than the upper bird that can be seen.
"Green hunters" sometimes pause, trying to discover the rest of the
covey before firing, and experience a great and sudden disgust when the
single bird which they have disdained suddenly develops into a dozen
flying ones.
We had an eventful days' sport, expending more ammunition than when
among the chickens, and with more satisfactory results, as we brought in
over two dozen birds. More than half of these were taken by Sachem at
one lucky discharge. He saw a covey in the grass, huddled together as
they generally are when not running. At these times they form a circle
about as large in diameter as the hoop of a nail keg, with tails to the
center and heads toward the outside. Fifteen quails would thus be a
circle of fifteen heads, and a pail, could it be dropped over the covey,
would cover them all. Not only is this an economy of warmth, there being
no outsiders half of whose bodies must get chilled, but there is no
blind side on which they can be approached, every portion of the circle
having its full quota of eyes. Let skunk or fox, or other roamer through
the grass, creep ever so stealthily, he will be seen and avoided by
flight. Sachem aiming at the midst of such a ring, broke it up as
effectually as Boutwell's discharge of bullion did that on Wall Street.
We have since found the frozen bodies of whole covies, which had gone to
roost in a circle and been buried under such a heavy fall of snow that
the birds could not force their way upward. Their habit is to remain in
imprisonment, apparently waiting for the snow to melt before even making
an effort for deliverance. Oftentimes it is then too late, a crust
having formed above. A severe winter will sometimes completely
exterminate the birds in certain localities.
During this first day of quail-shooting, we also saw for the first time
flocks of the snow-goose. The Professor counted fifty birds on one sand
bar. This variety, in its flight across the continent, apparently passes
through but a narrow belt of country, being found, to the best of my
knowledge, in but few of the states outside of Kansas.
Our return to the hotel was without accident, and our supper such as
hungry hunters might well enjoy. After it was disposed of, we gathered
around the ample stove in the hotel office, and lived over again the
events of the day.
CHAPTER VI.
OFF FOR BUFFALO LAND--THE NAVIGATION OF THE KAW--FORT RILEY--THE
CENTER-POST OF THE UNITED STATES--OUR PURCHASE OF HORSES--"LO" AS A
SAVAGE AND AS A CITIZEN--GRIPE UNFOLDS THE INDIAN QUESTION--A
BALLAD BY SACHEM, PRESENTING ANOTHER VIEW.
Next morning we said good-by to hospitable Topeka, and took up our
westward way over the Pacific Railroad. An ever-repeated succession of
valley and prairie stretched away on either hand. To the left the Kaw
came down with far swifter current than it has in its course below, from
its far-away source in Colorado. It might properly be called one of the
eaves or water-spouts of the great Rocky Mountain water-shed. With a
pitch of over five feet to the mile, its pace is here necessarily a
rapid one, and when at freshet height the stream is like a mill-race for
foam and fury.
At the junction of the Big Blue we found the old yet pretty town of
Manhattan. To this point, in early times, water transit was once
attempted. A boat of exceedingly light draught, one of those built to
run on a heavy dew, being procured, freight was advertised for, and the
navigation of the Kaw commenced. The one hundred miles or more to
Manhattan was accomplished principally by means of the capstan, the boat
being "warped" over the numberless shallows. This proved easier, of
course--a trifle easier--than if she had made the trip on macadamized
roads. If her stern had a comfortable depth of water it was seldom
indeed, except when her bow was in the air in the process of pulling the
boat over a sand bar. The scared catfish were obliged to retreat up
stream, or hug close under the banks, to avoid obstructing navigation,
and it is even hinted that more than one patriarch of the finny tribe
had to be pried out of the way to make room for his new rival to pass.
Once at Manhattan, the steamboat line was suspended for the season, its
captain and crew deciding they would rather walk back to the Missouri
River than drag the vessel there. Soon afterward, the steamer was burned
at her landing, and the Kaw has remained closed to commerce ever since.
About the same time, an enterprising Yankee advocated in the papers the
straightening of the river, and providing it with a series of locks,
making it a canal. As he had no money of his own with which to develop
his ideas into results, and could command nobody's else for that
purpose, the project failed in its very inception.
Fort Riley, four miles below Junction City, is claimed as the
geographical center of the United States, the exact spot being marked by
a post. What a rallying point that stick of wood will be for future
generations! When the corner-stone of the National Capitol shall there
be laid, the orator of the day can mount that post and exclaim, with
eloquent significance, elsewhere impossible, "No north, no south, no
east, no west!" and enthusiastic multitudes, there gathered from the
four quarters of the continent, will hail the words as the key-note of
the republic.
That spot of ground and that post are valuable. I hope a national
subscription will be started to buy it. It is the only place on our
continent which can ever be entirely free from local jealousies. There
would be no possible argument for ever removing the capital. The Kaw
could be converted into a magnificent canal, winding among picturesque
hills past the base of the Capitol; and then, in case of war, should any
hostile fleet ever ascend the rapid Missouri, it would be but necessary
for our legislators to grasp the canal locks, and let the water out, to
insure their perfect safety. Imagine the humiliation of a foreign naval
hero arriving with his iron-clads opposite a muddy ditch, and finding it
the only means of access to our capital!
A painful rumor has of late obtained circulation that a band of St.
Louis ku-klux, yclept capital movers, intend stealing the pole and
obliterating the hole. Let us hope, however, that it is without
foundation.
Before leaving Topeka, the party had purchased horses for the trip, and
consigned the precious load to a car, sending a note to General
Anderson, superintendent, asking that they might be promptly and
carefully forwarded to Hays City, our present objective point upon the
plains.
The professor, bringing previous experience into requisition, selected a
stout mustang--probably as tractable as those brutes ever become. He was
warranted by the seller never to tire, and he never did, keeping the
philosopher constantly on the alert to save neck and knees. It is the
simple truth that, in all our acquaintance with him, that mustang never
appeared in the least fatigued. After backing and shying all day, he
would spend the night in kicking and stealing from the other horses.
Mr. Colon, by rare good fortune, obtained a beautiful animal, formerly
known in Leavenworth as Iron Billy--a dark bay, with head and hair fine
as a pointer's, limbs cut sharp, and joints of elastic. After carrying
Mr. C. bravely for months, never tripping or failing, he was sold on our
return to the then Secretary of State, who still owns him. More than
once did Billy make his rider's arm ache from pulling at the curb, when
the other horses were all knocked up by the rough day's riding. It was
interesting to see him in pursuit of buffalo. He would often smell them
when they were hidden in ravines, and we wholly unaware of their
vicinity. Head and ears were erect in an instant, and, with nostrils
expanded, forward he went, keeping eagerly in front at a peculiar
prancing step which we called tiptoeing. Once in sight of the game, and
the rider became a person of quite secondary importance. Billy said, as
plainly as a horse could say any thing, "_I_ am going to manage this
thing; _you_ stick on." And manage it he did. Not many moments, at the
most, before he was at the quarters of the fleeing monsters, and nipping
them mischievously with his teeth. I could always imagine him giving a
downright horse-laugh, his big bright eyes sparkled so when the
frightened bison, at the touch, gave a switch of his tail and a swerve
of alarm, and plunged more wildly forward. If the rider wished to
shoot, he could do so; if not, content himself, as Mr. Colon usually
did, with clinging to the saddle, and uttering numberless expostulatory
but fruitless "whoa's."
Once on our trip Billy was loaned for the day to a gentleman who wished
to examine a prospective coal mine. When barely out of sight of camp,
Billy discovered a herd of buffalo, and, despite the vehement
remonstrances of his rider, straightway charged it. The mine-seeker was
no hunter, but a wise and thoroughly timid devotee of science in search
of coal measures. A few moments, and the poor, frightened gentleman
found himself in the midst of a surging mass of buffalo, his knees
brushing their hairy sides, and their black horns glittering close
around him, like an array of serried spears. He drew his knees into the
saddle, and there, clinging like a monkey, lost his hat, his map of the
mine, and his spectacles. He returned Billy as soon as he could get him
back to camp, with expressions of gratitude that he had been allowed to
escape with life, and never manifested the least desire to mount him
again.
Sachem's purchase was a horse which had run unaccountably to legs. He
was sixteen hands high, a trifle knock-kneed, and with a way of flinging
the limbs out when put to his speed which, though it seemed awkward
enough, yet got over the ground remarkably well. With the shambling gait
of a camel, he had also the good qualities of one, and did his owner
honest service.
Muggs bought a mule, partly because advised to do so by a plainsman, and
partly because the rest of us took horses. With true British obstinacy
he paid no attention to our expostulations, and the creature he obtained
was as obstinate as himself. Poor Muggs! A mule may be good property in
the hands of a plainsman, but was never intended to carry a Briton.
Semi-Colon had the auction purchase, and Dobeen selected a Mexican
donkey, one of the toughest little animals that ever pulled a bit. He
could excel a trained mule in the feat of dislodging his rider, and had
a remarkable penchant for running over persons who by chance might be
looking the other way. It seemed to be his constant study to take
unexpected positions, or, as Sachem phrased it, to "strike an attitude."
My mount was a stout-built old mare, recommended to me as a solid beast,
on the strength of which, and wishing to avoid experiments, I made
purchase at once. I found her solid indeed. When on the gallop her feet
came down with a shock which made my head vibrate, as if I had
accidentally taken two steps instead of one, in descending a staircase.
Could the good people of Topeka have gotten us to ride out of their town
upon our several animals, it would have given them a fair idea of a
_mardi gras_ cavalcade in New Orleans.
And so, our camp equipage and live stock following by freight, the
express rolled us forward toward the great plains. So far along our
route we had seen but few Indians, and those civilized specimens, such
as straggle occasionally through the streets of Topeka. The Indian
reservations in Kansas are at some distance apart, and their
inhabitants frequently exchange visits. The few whom we had seen
consisted of Osages, Kaws, Pottawatomies, and Sioux, all equally dirty,
but the last affecting clothes more than the others, and eschewing
paint. The members of this tribe, generally speaking, have good farms
and are worth a handsome average per head. At the time of our visit they
were expecting a half million dollars or so from Washington, and were
soon to become American citizens. One privilege of this citizenship
struck us as very peculiar. By the State law, as long as an Indian is
simply an Indian, he can buy no whisky, and is thus cruelly debarred
from the privilege of getting drunk, but once a voter, he can luxuriate
in corn-juice and the calaboose, as well as his white brother. What a
travesty upon American civilization and politics!
Muggs was prejudiced against the Osages, having been induced by one of
them to invest in a bow and arrows, "for the Hinglish Museum, you know."
On pulling for a trial shot, one end of the bow went further than the
arrow, and the cord, warranted to be buffalo sinew, proved to be an
oiled string.
Sachem declared that he had found Muggs returning the wreck to the
Indian with the following speech: "O-sage, little was your wisdom to
court thus the wrath of a Briton. Take with the two pieces this piece of
my mind. That your noble form may be removed soon to the 'appy 'unting
ground, where bow trades are not allowed, is the prayer of your patron,
Muggs."
[Illustration: _BUREAU OF ILLUSTRATION. BUFFALO. N. Y._
UNNATURALIZED.]
[Illustration: _BUREAU OF ILLUSTRATION. BUFFALO. N. Y._
NATURALIZED.]
Mr. Colon asked Tenacious Gripe to explain the condition of the
Native Americans in Kansas. The orator kindly consented and thereupon
discoursed as follows:
"The Indians of Kansas are divided into the wild and the tame. Both
alike cover their nakedness with bright handkerchiefs, old shirts,
military coats, and many-hued ribbons. The principal difference in point
of dress is in the method of procuring it. Among those tribes which are
at peace with the government, the white man robs the Indian; among the
wild tribes the conditions are reversed--the Indian robs the white man.
In the one case the contractors and agents carry off their half million
dollars or thereabouts; in the other the savage bears away a quantity of
old clothes and fresh scalps. As he finds it difficult to procure
sufficient of the white man's justice to satisfy the cravings of his
nature, he feeds it with what he can and whenever he can of revenge.
Wise men tell us, gentlemen, that revenge is sweet and justice a dry
morsel. All Indians beg when they get an opportunity. The tame ones, if
they find it fruitless, divert themselves by selling worthless pieces of
wood with strings attached, as bows. The wild ones, in a like
predicament, relieve their tedium by whacking away at our ribs with bows
that amount to something. The principles actuating both classes are
alike. It is simply the application which causes difficulty--in the one
case an appeal with bow and arrows to our pockets, in the other to our
bodies.
"All our wars with these people, gentlemen, are a result of their
political economy. They believe that the Great Spirit provided buffalo
and other game for his red children. When the white man drives these
away, they understand that he takes their place as a means of
sustenance, and as they have lived upon the one, so they intend to do
upon the other. If the buffalo attempts to evade his duty in the
premises, they kill him and take his meat; if the white man, they kill
him and take his hair."
Sachem produced a roll of dirty brown paper and said that he had studied
the Indian question and found two sides to it. One he could give us in a
nutshell, believing that the meat of the nut had often excited the
spirit of war.
Where waters sung above the sand,
And torrent forced its way,
Stretched out, disgusted with the land,
A bearded miner lay,
Prepared to strike, with willing hand,
Whatever lead would pay.
Echo of hoof on beaten ground
Rung on the desert air,
Ringing a tune of gladsome sound
To miner, watching there;
A paying lead, at last, he'd found--
The vein a "man of hair."
An instant more, and at the ford
A savage chief appeared;
The miner saw his goodly hoard,
And tore his own good beard.
(You'll always find an ox is gored
When sheep are to be sheared.)
[Illustration: Dog Town--The Happy Family at Home.]
[Illustration: _BUREAU OF ILLUSTRATION_
"You've riled that Brook"--An old Fable modernized.]
And these the words the miner said:
"You've spoilt my drink, old fellow;
You've riled the brook, my brother red,
And, by your cheek so yellow,
To-night above your sandy bed
The prairie gale shall bellow.
"No relatives of mine are dead,
At least by Injun cunnin',
But many other hearts have bled,
And many eyes are runnin';
For blood and tears alike are shed,
When _you_ go out a gunnin'.
"Some slumbrin' peaceful, first they knew,
They heard your horrid din--
Women as well as men you slew,
You bloody son of sin;
I mourn 'em all, revenge 'em too,
Through Adam they were kin."
This having said, the miner smart,
Drew bead upon the red man:
They're fond of beads--it touched his heart,
And Lo, behold, a dead man;
Upon Life's stage he'd played his part,
A gory sort of head man!
Two packs of goods lay on the ground;
Quoth miner, "Lawful spoil!
My lucky star at last has found
As good as gold and oil;
I kinder felt that fate was bound
To bless my honest toil.
"Such heathen have no lawful heirs--
I'll be the Probate Judge,
For though they kinder go in pairs,
Their love is all a fudge;
I'll 'ministrate on what he wears,
And leave his squaw my grudge."
CHAPTER VII.
GRIPE'S VIEWS OF INDIAN CHARACTER--THE DELAWARES' THE ISHMAELITES
OF THE PLAINS--THE TERRITORY OF THE "LONG HORNS"--TEXANS AND THEIR
CHARACTERISTICS--MUSHROOM ROCK--A VALUABLE DISCOVERY--FOOTPRINTS IN
THE ROCK--THE PRIMEVAL PAUL AND VIRGINIA.
We noticed many fine rivers rolling from the northward into the Kaw,
which stream we found was known by that name only after receiving the
Republican, at Junction City. Above that point, under the name of the
Smoky Hill, it stretches far out across the plains, and into the eastern
portion of Colorado. Along its desolate banks we afterward saw the sun
rise and set upon many a weary and many a gorgeous day.
All the large tributaries of the Kansas river, consisting of the Big
Blue, Republican, Solomon, and Saline, came in on our right. Upon our
left, toward the South, only small creeks joined waters with the Kaw,
the pitch of the great "divides" there being towards the Arkansas and
its feeders, the Cottonwood and Neosho.
We had now fairly entered on the great Smoky Hill trail. Here Fremont
marked out his path towards the Rocky Mountains and the Pacific, and on
many of the high _buttes_ we discovered the pillars of stone which he
had set up as guides for emigrant trains, looking wonderfully like
sentinels standing guard over the valleys beneath. Indeed we did at
first take them for solitary herders, watching their cattle in some
choice pasture out of sight.
Most of our party had expected to find Indians in promiscuous abundance
over the entire State, and we were therefore surprised to see the
country, after passing St. Mary's Mission, entirely free of them. Muggs
asked Gripe if the American Indian was hostile to all nationalities
alike, or simply to those who robbed him of his hunting-grounds. The
orator replied as follows:
"Sir, the aborigine of the western plains cares not what color or flavor
the fruit possesses which hangs from his roof tree. The cue of the
Chinaman is equally as acceptable as hairs from the mane of the English
lion. A red lock is as welcome as a black one, and disputes as to
ownership usually result in a dead-lock. His abhorrence is a wig, which
he considers a contrivance of the devil to cheat honest Indian industry.
I would advise geologists on the plains to carry, along with their picks
for breaking stones, a bottle of patent hair restorative. It is handy to
have in one's pocket when his scalp is far on its way towards some
Cheyenne war-pole. The scalping process, gentlemen, is the way in which
savages levy and collect their poll-tax. Any person in search of
romantic wigwams can have his wig warmed very thoroughly on the Arkansas
or Texas borders. On the plains along the western border of Kansas,
however, geologists can find a rich and comparatively safe field for
exploration. It is doubtful if the savages ever wander there again.
"Of the Indian warrior on the plains we may well say, _requiescat in
pace_, and may his pace be rapid towards either civilization or the
happy hunting ground. History shows that his reaching the first has
generally given him quick transit to the second. The white man's country
has proved a spirit-land to Lo, whose noble soul seems to sink when the
scalping-knife gathers any other rust than that of blood, and whose
prophetic spirit takes flight at the prospect of exchanging boiled
puppies and dirt for the white brother's pork and beans. Very often,
however, it must be said, Lo's soul is gathered to his fathers by reason
of its tabernacle being smitten too sorely by corn lightning."
As Gripe paused, the Professor took up the subject in a somewhat
different strain:
"We have here in this State," remarked he, "a tribe which may well be
called the Indian Ishmael. Its hand is and ever has been, since history
took record of it, against its brethren, and its brethren's against it.
I refer to the pitiful remnant of the once great Delawares. From the
shores of the Atlantic they have steadily retreated before civilization,
marking their path westward by constant conflicts with other races of
red men. The nation in its eastern forests once numbered thousands of
warriors. Now, three hundred miserable survivors are hastening to
extinction by way of their Kansas reservation.
"A number of their best warriors have been employed as scouts by the
government, when administering well merited chastisement to other
murdering bands. The Delawares, I have often thought, are like
blood-hounds on the track of the savages of the plains. They take fierce
delight in scanning the ground for trails and the lines of the streams
for camps. There is something strangely unnatural in the wild eyes of
these Ishmaelites, as they lead the destroyers against their race, and
assist in blotting it from the face of the continent. Themselves so
nearly joined to the nations known only in history, it is like a
plague-stricken man pressing eagerly forward to carry the curse, before
he dies, to the remainder of his people."
The valleys of the Saline, Solomon, and Smoky Hill, as we passed them in
rapid succession, seemed very rich and were already thickly dotted with
houses. This is one of the best cattle regions of the state, and vast
herds of the long-horned Texan breed covered the prairies. We were
informed that they often graze throughout the entire winter. As early in
the spring as the grass starts sufficiently along the trail from Texas
to Kansas, the stock dealers of the former State commence moving their
immense herds over it. The cattle are driven slowly forward, feeding as
they come, and reach the vicinity of the Kansas railroads when the grass
is in good condition for their summer fattening. As many as five hundred
thousand head of these long horns have been brought into the State in a
single season. Some are sold on arrival and others kept until fall, when
the choicest beeves are shipped East for packing purposes, or into
Illinois for corn feeding. The latter is the case when they are
destined eventually for consumption in Eastern markets, grass-fed beef
lacking the solid fatness of the corn-fed, and suffering more by long
transportation.
This very important trade in cattle, when fully developed, will probably
be about equally divided between southern and central Kansas, each of
which possesses its peculiar advantages for the business. While the
valley of the Arkansas has longer grass, and more of it, the dealers in
the Kaw region claim that their "feed" is the most nutritious. My own
opinion, carefully formed, is that both sections are about equally good,
and that the whole of western Kansas, with Colorado, will yet become the
greatest stock-raising region of the world. The climate is peculiarly
favorable. Two seasons out of three, on an average, cattle and sheep can
graze during the winter, without any other cover than that of the
ravines and the timber along the creeks.
The herders who manage these large bodies of cattle are a distinctive
and peculiar class. We saw numbers of them scurrying along over the
country on their wild, lean mustangs, in appearance a species of
centaur, half horse, half man, with immense rattling spurs, tanned skin,
and dare-devil, almost ferocious faces. After an extensive acquaintance
with the genus Texan, and with all due allowance for the better portion
of it, I must say, as my deliberate judgment, that it embraces a larger
number of murderers and desperadoes than can be found elsewhere in any
civilized nation. A majority of these herders would think no more of
snuffing out a life than of snuffing out a candle. Texas, in her rude
solitude, formerly stretched protecting arms to the evil doers from
other states, and to her these classes flocked. She offered them not a
city but a whole empire of refuge.
Just beyond Brookville, two hundred miles from the eastern border of
Kansas, our road commenced ascending the Harker Bluffs, a series of
sandstone ridges bordering on the plains.
On our left, Mushroom Rock was pointed out to us, a huge table of stone
poised on a solitary pillar, and strangely resembling the plant from
which it is named. As the professor informed us, we were on the eastern
shore of a once vast inland ocean, the bed of which now forms the
plains. Sachem thought the rock might be a petrified toad-stool, on a
scale with the gigantic toads which hopped around in the mud of that age
of monsters. The professor thought it was fashioned by the waters, in
their eddyings and washings.
Subsequent examinations showed this entire region to be one of
remarkable interest to the geologist. A few miles east of Mushroom Rock,
near Bavaria, as we learned from the conductor, human foot-prints had
been discovered in the sandstone. The professor, who had long ascribed
to man an earlier existence upon earth than that given him by geology,
was greatly excited, and at his earnest request, when the down train was
met, we returned upon it to Bavaria.
[Illustration: _BUREAU OF ILLUSTRATION_
MUSHROOM ROCK,
On Alum Creek, near Kansas Pacific R. R.--From a Photograph.]
[Illustration: _BUREAU OF ILLUSTRATION_
INDIAN ROCK, on Smoky Hill River, Kansas--From a Photograph.]
That place we found to consist of two buildings, each serving the double
purpose of house and store, the track running between them. Two
sandstone blocks, each weighing several hundred pounds, lay in front of
one of the stores, and there, sure enough, impressed clearly and deeply
upon their surface were the tracks of human feet. They had been
discovered by a Mr. J. B. Hamilton on the adjacent bluffs.
There was something weird and startling in this voice from those
long-forgotten ages--ages no less remote than when the ridge we were
standing upon was a portion of a lake shore. The man who trod those
sands, the professor informed us, perished from the face of the earth
countless ages before the oldest mummy was laid away in the caves of
Egypt; and yet people looked at the shriveled Egyptian, and thought that
they were holding converse with one who lived close upon the time of the
oldest inhabitant. They wrested secrets from his tomb, and called them
very ancient. And now this dweller beside the great lakes had lifted his
feet out of the sand to kick the mummy from his pedestal of honor in the
museum, as but a being of yesterday, in comparison with himself.
This discovery was soon afterward extensively noticed in the newspapers,
and the specimens are now in the collection made by our party at Topeka.
It is but fair to say that a difference of opinion exists in regard to
these imprints. Many scientific men, among whom is Professor Cope,
affirm that they must be the work of Indians long ago, as the age of the
rock puts it beyond the era of man, while others attribute them to some
lower order of animal, with a foot resembling the human one. For my own
part, after careful examination, I accept our professor's theory, that
the imprints are those of human feet. The surface of the stone has been
decided by experts to be bent down, not chiseled out. Science not long
ago ridiculed the primitive man, which it now accepts. It is not
strange, therefore, that science should protest against its oldest
inhabitant stepping out from ages in which it had hitherto forbidden him
existence.
We also found on the rocks fine impressions of leaves, resembling those
of the magnolia, and gathered a bushel of petrified walnuts and
butternuts. There were no other indications whatever of trees, the whole
country, as far as we could see, being a desolate prairie.
"Gentlemen," said the professor, "as surely as you stand on the shore of
a great lake, which passed away in comparatively modern times, science
stands on the brink of important revelations. We have here the evidence
of the rocks that man existed on this earth when the vast level upon
which you are about to enter was covered by its mass of water. The waves
lapped against the Rocky Mountains on the west, and against the ridges
on which you are standing, upon the east. From previous explorations, I
can assure you that the buffalo now feed over a surface strewn with the
remains of those monsters which inhabited the waters of the primitive
world, and the grasses suck nutriment from the shells of centuries.
Geology has held that man did not exist during the time of the great
lakes. I assert that he did, gentlemen, and now an inhabitant of that
period steps forward to confirm my position. This man walked
barefooted, and yet the contour of one of the feet, so different in
shape from that of any wild people's of the present day, shows that it
had been confined by some stiff material, like our leather shoes. The
appearance of the big toe is especially confirmatory of this. I would
call your attention, gentlemen, to the block which contains companion
impressions of the right and left foot. The latter is deep, and well
defined, every toe being separate and perfect. The former is shallow,
and spread out, with bulged-up ridges of stone between each toe. These
are exactly the impressions your own feet would make, on such a shore
to-day, were the sand under the right one to be of such a yielding
nature that in moving you withdrew it quickly, and rested more heavily
on the other, the material under which was firmer. Your right track
would spread, the mud bulging up between the toes, and forcing them out
of position, and the material nearly regaining its level, with a
misshapen impression upon its surface.
"You will also perceive that the sand was already hardening into rock
when our ancient friends walked over it. I use the plural because, if I
may venture an opinion from this hasty examination, I should say the two
tracks were those of a female, the single one that of a man. From the
position of the blocks they were probably walking near each other at
that precise time when the new rock was soft enough to receive an
impression and hard enough to retain it. You will perceive that the
surface of the stone is bent down into the cavities, as that of a loaf
of half-raised bread would be should you press your hand into it."
Sachem thought that the couple might have been an ancient Paul and
Virginia telling their love on the shores of the old-time lake.
The Professor continued: "You notice close beside the two imprints an
oval, rather deep hole in the rock, precisely like that a boy often
makes by whirling on one heel in the sand."
Sachem again interrupted: "Perhaps the maiden went through the
fascinating evolution of revolving her body while her mind revolved the
'yes' or 'no' to her swain's question. It might be a refined way of
telling her lover that she was well 'heeled,' and asking if he was."
The Professor very gravely replied: "In those days the world had not run
to slang. If one of Noah's children had dared to address him with the
modern salutation of 'governor,' the venerable patriarch would have
flung his child overboard from the ark. Taking your view of the case,
Mr. Sachem, the whirl in the sand, which gave the lover his answer, is
telling us to-day that same old story. And the coquette of that remote
period caused the tell-tale walk upon the sand, which has proved the
greatest geological discovery of modern times. I believe that it will be
followed up and sustained by others equally as important, all tending to
date man's birth thousands of years anterior to the time geology has
hitherto assigned him an existence upon earth."
We spent many hours of the night in getting the rocks to the depot for
shipment to Topeka, the few inhabitants of Bavaria assisting us. Soon
after a westward train came along, and we were again in motion toward
the home of the buffalo.
Before we slept the Professor gave us the following information: The
vast plateau lying east of the Rocky Mountains, and which we were now
approaching, was once covered by a series of great fresh-water lakes. At
an early period these must have been connected with the sea, their
waters then being quite salty, as is abundantly demonstrated by the
remains of marine shells. During the time of the continental elevation
these lakes were raised above the sea level, and their size very much
diminished. Over the new land thus created, and surrounding these
beautiful sheets of water, spread a vegetation at once so beautiful and
so rich in growth that earth has now absolutely nothing with which to
compare it. Amid these lovely pastures roved large herds of elephants,
with the mastodon, rhinoceros, horse, and elk, while the streams and
lakes abounded with fish. But the drainage toward the distant ocean
continued, the water area diminished, the hot winds of the dry land
drank up what remained of the lakes, and, in process of time, lo! the
great grass-covered plains that we wander over delightedly to-day. What
folly to suppose that such a land, so peculiarly fitted for man's
enjoyment, should remain, through a long period of time, tenanted simply
by brutes, and be given up to the human race only after its delightful
characteristics had been entirely removed.
CHAPTER VIII.
THE "GREAT AMERICAN DESERT"--ITS FOSSIL WEALTH--AN ILLUSION
DISPELLED--FIRES ACCORDING TO NOVELS AND ACCORDING TO
FACT--SENSATIONAL HEROES AND HEROINES--PRAIRIE DOGS AND THEIR
HABITS--HAWK AND DOG AND HAWK AND CAT.
Next morning, as the first gray darts of dawn fell against our windows,
Mr. Colon lifted up a sleepy head and gazed out. Then came that quick
jerk into an upright position which one assumes when startled suddenly
from a drowsy state to one of intense interest. The motion caused a
similar one on the part of each of us, as if a sort of jumping-jack set
of string nerves ran up our backs, and a man under the cars had pulled
them all simultaneously.
We were on the great earth-ocean; upon either side, until striking
against the shores of the horizon, the billows of buffalo-grass rolled
away. It seemed as if the Mighty Ruler had looked upon these waters when
the world was young, and said to them, "Ye waves, teeming with life, be
ye earth, and remain in form as now, until the planet which bears you
dissolves!" And so, frozen into stillness at the instant, what were then
billows of water now stretch away billows of land into what seems to the
traveler infinite distance, with the same long roll lapping against and
upon distant _buttes_ that the Atlantic has to-day in lashing its
rock-ribbed coasts; and whenever man's busy industry cleaves asunder the
surface, the depths, like those of ocean, give back their monsters and
rare shells. Huge saurians, locked for a thousand centuries in their
vice-like prison, rise up, not as of old to bask lazily in the sun, but
to gape with huge jaws at the demons of lightning and steam rushing
past, and to crack the stiff backs of savans with their forty feet of
tail.
To the south of us, and distant several miles, was the line, scarcely
visible, of the Smoky Hill, treeless and desolate; on the north, the
upper Saline, equally barren. As difficult to distinguish as two brown
threads dividing a brown carpet, they might have been easily overlooked,
had we not known the streams were there, and, with the aid of our
glasses, sought for their ill-defined banks.
A curve in the road brought us suddenly and sharply face to face with
the sun, just rising in the far-away east, and flashing its ruddy light
over the vast plain around us. Its bright red rim first appeared,
followed almost immediately by its round face, for all the world like a
jolly old jack tar, with his broad brim coming above deck. It reminded
me on the instant of our brackish friend, Captain Walrus; and in
imagination I dreamily pictured, as coming after him, with the
broadening daylight, a troop of Alaskans, their sleds laden with
blubber.
The air was singularly clear and bracing, producing an effect upon a
pair of healthy lungs like that felt on first reaching the sea-beach
from a residence inland. An illusion which had followed many of us from
boyhood was utterly dissipated by the early dawn in this strange land.
This was not the fact that the "great American desert" of our
school-days is not a desert at all, for this we had known for years; it
related to those floods of flame and stifling smoke with which
sensational writers of western novels are wont to sweep, as with a besom
of destruction, the whole of prairie-land once at least in every story.
Young America, wasting uncounted gallons of midnight oil in the perusal
of peppery tales of border life, little suspects how slight the
foundation upon which his favorite author has reared the whole vast
superstructure of thrilling adventure.
The scene of these heart-rending narratives is usually laid in a
boundless plain covered with tall grass, and the _dramatis personae_ are
an indefinite number of buffalo and Indians, a painfully definite one of
emigrants, two persons unhappy enough to possess a beautiful daughter,
and a lover still more unhappy in endeavoring to acquire title, a
rascally half-breed burning to prevent the latter feat, and a rare old
plainsman specially brought into existence to "sarcumvent" him.
[Illustration: _BUREAU OF ILLUSTRATION. BUFFALO_
FIRE ON THE PLAINS, ACCORDING TO NOVELS.]
[Illustration: _BUREAU OF ILLUSTRATION_
FIRE ON THE PLAINS, AS IT IS.]
At the most critical juncture the "waving sea of grass" usually takes
fire, in an unaccountable manner--perhaps from the hot condition of the
combatants, or the quantities of burning love and revenge which are
recklessly scattered about. Multitudes of frightened buffalo and gay
gazelles make the ground shake in getting out of the way, and the flames
go to licking the clouds, while the emigrants go to licking the
Indians. Although the fire can not be put out, one or the other, or
possibly both, of the combatants are "put out" in short order.
Should the miserable parents succeed in getting their daughter safely
through this peril, it is only because she is reserved for a further
laceration of our feelings. The half-breed soon gets her, and the lover
and rare old plainsman get on his track immediately afterward. And so on
_ad libitum_.
We beg pardon for condensing into our sunrise reflections the material
for a novel, such as has often run well through three hundred pages, and
furnished with competencies half as many bill-posters. It is unpleasant
to have one's traditionary heroes and heroines all knocked into pi
before breakfast. It makes one crusty. Possibly, it may be their proper
desert, but, if so, could be better digested after dinner.
The whole story would fail if the fire did, as novelists never like to
have their heroines left out in the cold. But it is as impossible for
flames as it is for human beings to exist on air alone. It is scarcely
less so for them to feed, as they are supposed to do, on such scanty
grass. The truth is, that what the bison, with his close-cropping teeth,
is enabled to grow fat on, makes but poor material for a first-class
conflagration.
The grass which covers the great plains of the Far West is more like
brown moss than what its name implies. Perhaps as good an idea of it as
is possible to any one who has never seen it, may be obtained by
imagining a great buffalo robe covering the ground. The hair would be
about the color and nearly the length of the grass, at the season in
question. In the spring the plains are fresh and green, but the grass
cures rapidly on the stalk, and before the end of July is brown and
ripe. It will then burn readily, but the fire is like that eating along
a carpet, and by no means terrifying to either man or brute. The only
occasion when it could possibly prove dangerous is when it reaches, as
it sometimes does, some of the narrow valleys where the tall grass of
the bottom grows; but even then, a run of a hundred yards will take one
to buffalo grass and safety. This latter fact we learned from actual
experience, later on our trip.
What a wild land we were in! A few puffs of a locomotive had transferred
us from civilization to solitude itself. This was the "great American
desert" which so caught our boyish eyes, in the days of our school
geography and the long ago. A mysterious land with its wonderful record
of savages and scouts, battles and hunts. We had a vague idea then that
a sphynx and half a score of pyramids were located somewhere upon it,
the sand covering its whole surface, when not engaged in some sort of
simoon performance above. No trains of camels, with wonderful patience
and marvelous internal reservoirs of water, dragged their weary way
along, it was true; yet that animal's first cousin, the American mule,
was there in numbers, as hardy and as useful as the other. Many an
eastern mother, in the days of the gold fever, took down her boys
discarded atlas, and finding the space on the continent marked "Great
American Desert," followed with tearful eyes the course of the emigrant
trains, and tried to fix the spot where the dear bones of her first-born
lay bleaching.
As a people, we are better acquainted with the wastes of Egypt than with
some parts of our own land. The plains have been considered the abode of
hunger, thirst, and violence, and most of our party expected to meet
these geniuses on the threshold of their domain, and, while Shamus
should fight the first two with his skillet and camp-kettles to war
against the third with rifle and hunting-knife.
But in the scene around us there was nothing terrifying in the least
degree. The sun had risen with a clear highway before him, and no clouds
to entangle his chariot wheels. He was mellow at this early hour, and
scattered down his light and warmth liberally. Wherever the soil was
turned up by the track, we discovered it to be strong and deep, and
capable of producing abundant crops of resin weeds and sunflowers, which
with farmers is a written certificate, in the "language of flowers," of
good character.
We thundered through many thriving cities of prairie dogs, the
inhabitants of which seemed all out of doors, and engaged in
tail-bearing from house to house. The principal occupations of this
animal appears to be two; first, barking like a squirrel, and second,
jerking the caudal appendage, which operations synchronize with
remarkable exactitude. One single cord seems to operate both extremities
of the little body at once. It could no more open its mouth without
twitching its tail, than a single-thread Jack could bow its head without
lifting its legs. Those nearest would look pertly at us for a moment,
and then dive head foremost into their holes. The tail would hardly
disappear before the head would take its place and, peering out,
scrutinize us with twinkling eyes, and chatter away in concert with its
neighbors, with an effect which reminded me of a forest of monkeys
suddenly disturbed.
Sachem declared that they must all be females, for no sooner had one
been frightened into the house than it poked its head out again to see
what was the matter. "That sex would risk life at any time to know what
was up."
The professor, with a more practical turn, told us some of the quaint
little animal's habits. "Why it is called a dog," said he, "I do not
know. Neither in bark, form, or life, is there any resemblance. It is
carnivorous, herbivorous, and abstemious from water, requiring no other
fluids than those obtained by eating roots. Its villages are often far
removed from water, and when tamed it never seems to desire the latter,
though it may acquire a taste for milk. It partakes of meats and
vegetables with apparently equal relish. It is easily captured by
pouring two or three buckets of water down the hole, when it emerges
looking somewhat like a half-drowned rat. The prairie dog is the head of
the original 'happy family.' It was formerly affirmed, even in works of
natural history, that a miniature evidence of the millennium existed in
the home of this little animal. There the rattlesnake, the owl, and the
dog were supposed to lie down together, and such is still the general
belief. It was known that the bird and the reptile lived in these
villages with the dog, and science set them down as honored guests,
instead of robbers and murderers, as they really are."
On our trip we frequently killed snakes in these villages which were
distended with dogs recently swallowed. The owls feed on the younger
members of the household, and the old dogs, except when lingering for
love of their young, are not long in abandoning a habitation when snakes
and owls take possession of it. The latter having two votes, and the
owner but one (female suffrage not being acknowledged among the brutes),
it is a "happy family," on democratic principles of the strictest sort.
We have also repeatedly noticed the dogs busily engaged in filling up a
hole quite to the mouth with dirt, and have been led to believe that in
this manner they occasionally revenge themselves upon their enemies,
perhaps when the latter are gorged with tender puppies, by burying them
alive. An old scout once told us that this filling up process occurred
whenever one of their community was dead in his house, but as the
statement was only conjectural, we prefer the other theory.
While we were this day steaming through one village an incident occurred
showing that these animals have yet another active enemy. Startled by
the cars, the dogs were scampering in all directions, when a powerful
chicken-hawk shot down among them with such wonderful rapidity of flight
that his shadow, which fell like that from a flying fragment of cloud,
scarcely seemed to reach the earth before him. Some hundreds of the
little brown fellows were running for dear life, and plunging wildly
into their holes without any manifestations of their usual curiosity.
The hawk's shadow fell on one fat, burgher-like dog, perhaps the mayor
of the town, and in an instant the robber of the air was over him and
the talons fastened in his back. Then the bird of prey beat heavily with
its pinions, rising a few feet, but, finding the prize too heavy, came
down. He was evidently frightened at the noise of the cars and we hoped
the prisoner would escape. But the bird, clutching firmly for an instant
the animal in its talons, drew back his head to give force to the blow,
and down clashed the hooked beak into one of the victim's eyes. A sharp
pull, and the eyeball was plucked out. Back went the beak a second time,
and the remaining eye was torn from its socket, and the sightless body
was then left squirming on the ground, while the hawk flew hastily away
a short distance, evidently to return when we had passed on. It was
pitiful to see the dog raise up on its haunches and for an instant sit
facing us with its empty sockets, then make two or three short runs to
find a path, in its sudden darkness, to some hole of refuge, but
fruitlessly, of course.
A few days afterward, at Hays City, we witnessed an affair in which the
air-pirate got worsted. While sitting before the office of the village
doctor, a powerful hawk pounced upon his favorite kitten, which lay
asleep on the grass, and started off with it. The two had reached an
elevation of fifty feet, when puss recovered from her surprise and went
to work for liberty. She had always been especially addicted to dining
on birds, and the sensation of being carried off by one excited the
feline mind to astonishment and wrath. Twisting herself like a weasel
her claws came uppermost, and to our straining gaze there was a sight
presented very much as if a feather-bed had been ripped open. The
surprised hawk had evidently received new light on the subject; it let
go on the instant, and went off with the appearance of a badly plucked
goose, while the cat came safely to earth and sought the nearest way
home.
CHAPTER IX.
WE SEE BUFFALO--ARRIVAL AT HAYS--GENERAL SHERIDAN AT THE
FORT--INDIAN MURDERS--BLOOD-CHRISTENING OF THE PACIFIC
RAILROAD--SURPRISED BY A BUFFALO HERD--A BUFFALO BULL IN A
QUANDARY--GENTLE ZEPHYRS--HOW A CIRCUS WENT OFF--BOLOGNA TO LEAN
ON--A CALL UPON SHERIDAN.
As we passed out of the dog village, the engine gave several short,
sharp whistles, and numberless heads were at once thrust out to
ascertain the cause. "Buffalo!" was the cry, and with this there was a
rush to the windows for a view of the noblest of American game. Even
sleepy elderly gentlemen jostled rudely, and Sachem forgot his liver so
far as to crowd into a favorable position beside a young woman.
"There they go!" "Oh, my, what monsters!" "What beards!" "What horns!"
"Beats a steeplechase!" "Uncanny beasts, lookin' and gangin' like Nick!"
"Sure, they're going home from a divil's wake!" and similar ejaculations
filled the car, as they do a race-stand when the horses are off. Two
huge bulls had crossed just ahead of the engine, and one of them,
apparently deeming escape impossible, was standing at bay close to the
track, head down for a charge. He was furious with terror, the hissing
steam and cow-catcher having been close at his heels for a hundred
yards. As we flew past he was immediately under our windows, and we were
obliged to look down to get a view of his immense body, with the back
curving up gradually from the tail into an uncouth hump over the fore
shoulders.
These two solitary old fellows were the only buffalo we saw from the
train, the herds at large having not yet commenced their southern
journey. At certain seasons, however, they cover the plains on each side
of the road for fifty or sixty miles in countless multitudes. These wild
cattle of Uncle Samuel's, if called upon, could supply the whole Yankee
nation with meat for an indefinite period.
About noon we arrived at Hays City, two hundred and eighty miles from
the eastern border of the State, and eighty miles out upon the plains. A
stream tolerably well timbered, known as Big Creek, runs along the
southern edge of the town, and just across it lies Fort Hays, town and
fort being less than a mile apart.
The post possessed considerable military importance, being the base of
operations for the Indian country. We found Sheridan there, an officer
who won his fame gallantly and on the gallop. During the summer our red
brethren had been gathering a harvest of scalps, and, in return, our
army was now preparing to gather in the gentle savage.
We had read accounts in the newspapers, some time before, of the capture
of Fort Wallace and of attacks on military posts. Such stories were not
only untrue, but exceedingly ridiculous as well. Lo is not sound on the
assault question. His chivalrous soul warms, however, when some forlorn
Fenian, with spade on shoulder and thoughts far off with Biddy in
Erin's Isle, crosses his vision. Being satisfied that Patrick has no
arms, his only defense being utter harmlessness, and well knowing that
the sight of a painted skin, rendered sleek by boiled dog's meat, will
make him frantic with terror, the soul of the noble savage expands. No
more shall the spade, held so jauntily, throw Kansas soil on the bed of
the Pacific Railroad; and the scalp, yet tingling with the boiling of
incipient Fenian revolutions underneath, on the pole of a distant wigwam
will soon gladden the eyes of the traditionally beautiful Indian bride,
as with dirty hands she throws tender puppies into the pot for her
warrior's feast. The savage hand, crimson since childhood, descends with
defiant ring upon the tawny breast, and, with a cry of, "Me big Indian,
ha, whoop!" down sweeps Lo upon the defenseless Hibernian. A startled
stare, a shriek of wild agony, a hurried prayer to "our Mary mother,"
and Erin's son christens those far-off points of the Pacific Railroad
with his blood. A rapid circle of hunting-knife and the scalp is lifted,
a few twangs of the bow fills the body with arrows, there is a rapid
vault into the saddle, and a mutilated corpse, with feathered tips, like
pins in a cushion, dotting its surface, alone remains to tell the tale
of horror.
[Illustration: "And Erin's son christens those far-off points of the
Pacific Railroad with his blood."]
Blood had been every-where on the railroad, which reached across the
plains like a steel serpent spotted with red. There was now a cessation
of hostilities, and Indian agents were reported to be on the way from
Washington to pacify the tribes. As they had been a long time in coming,
the inference was irresistible that the popping of champagne corks was
a much more pleasant experience than that of Indian guns would have
been. The harvest of scalps had reached high noon some time before. Far
off, south of the Arkansas, the savages had their home, and from thence,
like baleful will-o'-the-wisps, they would suddenly flash out, and then
flash back when pursued, and be lost in those remote regions. Lately,
United States troops have been so placed that the Indian villages may be
struck, if necessary, and retaliation had; and this, together with the
pacificatory efforts of the Quaker agents, is doing much to bring about
a condition of things which promises permanent peace.
Here our party was at Hays, the objective point of our journey, and our
base of operations against the treasures of the past and present, which
alike covered the country around. This little town is in the midst of
the great buffalo range. Away upon every side of it stretch those vast
plains where the short, crisp grass curls to the ridges, like an
African's kinky hair to his skull. Bison and wild horse, antelope and
wolf, for weeks were now to be our neighbors, appearing and vanishing
over the great expanse like large and small piratical crafts on an
ocean. We were kindly received at the Big Creek Land Company's office,
on the outskirts of the town, and there deposited our guns and baggage.
Our horses were expected on the morrow.
Twilight found us, after a busy afternoon, sitting around the office
door, with that tired feeling which a traveler has when mind and body
are equally exhausted. Our very tongues were silent, those useful
members having wagged until even they were grateful for the rest. The
hour of dusk, of all others, is the time for musing, and almost
involuntarily our minds wandered back a twelve-month, when the plains
were a solitude. No railroad, no houses, no tokens of civilization save
only a few solitary posts, garrisoned with corporal's guards, and
surrounded by red fiends thirsty for blood. Such was the picture then;
now, the clangor of a city echoed through Big Creek Valley.
While wondering at the change, away on the hills to our right there rose
a thundering tread, like the marching of a mighty multitude. Shamus, who
sat directly facing the hill, saw something which chilled the Dobeen
blood, and caused that noble Irishman to plunge behind us. Mr. Colon,
who had given a startled turn of the head over his right shoulder,
exclaimed, "Bless me, what's that?" The glance of Muggs froze that
Briton so completely that he failed to tell us of ever having seen a
more "hextraordinary thing in Hingland." I am in doubt whether even our
grave professor did not imagine for the moment that the mammalian age
was taking a tilt at us.
Gathering twilight had magnified what in broad day would have been an
apparition sufficiently startling to any new arrival in Buffalo Land. A
long line of black, shaggy forms was standing on the crest and looking
down upon us. It had come forward like the rush of a hungry wave, and
now remained as one uplifted, dark and motionless. In bold relief
against the horizon stood an array of colossal figures, all bristling
with sharp points, which at first sight seemed lances, but at the
second resolved into horns. Then it dawned upon our minds that a herd of
the great American bison stood before us. What a grateful reduction of
lumps in more than one throat, and how the air ran riot in lately
congealed lungs!
Dobeen declared he thought the professor's "ghosts of the centuries" had
been looking down upon us.
One old fellow, evidently a leader in Buffalo Land, with long
patriarchial beard and shaggy forehead, remained in front, his head
upraised. His whole attitude bespoke intense astonishment. For years
this had been their favorite path between Arkansas and the Platte. Big
Creek's green valley had given succulent grasses to old and young of the
bison tribe from time immemorial. Every hollow had its traditions of
fierce wolf fights and Indian ambuscades, and many a stout bull could
remember the exact spot where his charge had rescued a mother and her
young from the hungry teeth of starving timber wolves. Every wallow,
tree, and sheltering ravine were sacred in the traditions of Buffalo
Land. The petrified bones of ancestors who fell to sleep there a
thousand years before testified to purity of bison blood and pedigree.
Now all this was changed. Rushing toward their loved valley, they found
themselves in the suburbs of a town. Yells of red man and wolf were
never so horrible as that of the demon flashing along the valley's bed.
A great iron path lay at their feet, barring them back into the
wilderness. Slowly the shaggy monarch shook his head, as if in doubt
whether this were a vision or not; then whirling suddenly, perhaps
indignantly, he turned away and disappeared behind the ridge, and the
bison multitude followed.
Our horses arrived the next morning all safe, excepting a few skin
bruises, the steed Cynocephalus, however, being a trifle stiffer than
usual, from the motion of the cars. When they were trotted out for
inspection, by some hostlers whom we had hired that morning for our
trip, the inhabitants must have considered the sight the next best thing
to a circus.
Apropos of circuses, we learned that one had exhibited for the first and
only time on the plains a few months before. In that country, dear
reader, AEolus has a habit of loafing around with some of his sacks in
which young whirlwinds are put up ready for use. One of these is liable
to be shaken out at any moment, and the first intimation afforded you
that the spirit which feeds on trees and fences is loose, is when it
snatches your hat, and begins flinging dust and pebbles in your eyes.
But to return to our circus performance. For awhile all passed off
admirably. The big tent swallowed the multitude, and it in turn
swallowed the jokes of the clown, older, of course, than himself. In the
customary little tent the living skeleton embodied Sidney Smith's wish
and sat cooling in his bones, while the learned pig and monkey danced to
the melodious accompaniment of the hand-organ.
[Illustration: _BUREAU OF ILLUSTRATION_
GENTLE ZEPHYRS--"GOING OFF WITHOUT A DRAWBACK.]
Suddenly there was a clatter of poles, and two canvass clouds flew out
of sight like balloons. The living skeleton found himself on a distant
ridge, with the wind whistling among his ribs, while the monkey
performed somersaults which would have astonished the original
Cynocephalus. The pig meanwhile found refuge behind the organ, which the
hurricane, with a better ear for music than man, refused to turn.
"Mademoiselle Zavenowski, the beautiful leading equestrienne of the
world," just preparing to jump through a hoop, went through her own with
a whirl, and stood upon the plains feeding the hungry storm with her
charms. The graceful young rider, lately perforating hearts with the
kisses she flung at them, in a trice had become a maiden of fifty,
noticeably the worse for wear.
An eye-witness, in describing the scene to us, said the circus went off
without a single drawback. It was as if a ton of gunpowder had been
fired under the ring. Just as the clown was rubbing his leg, as the
result of calling the sensitive ring-master a fool (a sham suffering,
though for truth's sake), there was a sharp crack, and the establishment
dissolved. High in air went hats and bonnets, like fragments shot out of
a volcano. The spirits of zephyr-land carried off uncounted hundreds of
tiles, both military and civil, and we desire to place it upon record
that should a future missionary, in some remote northern tribe, find
traditions of a time when the sky rained hats, they may all be accounted
for on purely scientific grounds.
Much property was lost, but no lives. The immediate results were a
bankrupt showman and a run on liniments and sticking-plaster.
Our first hunt was to be on the Saline, which comes down from the west
about fifteen miles north of Hays City.
Before starting, we carefully overhauled our entire outfit. For a long,
busy day nothing was thought of save the cleaning of guns, the oiling of
straps, and the examination of saddles, with sundry additions to
wardrobe and larder. Shamus became a mighty man among grocery-keepers,
and could scarcely have been more popular had he been an Indian supply
agent. The inventory which he gave us of his purchases comprised twelve
cans of condensed milk, with coffee, tea, and sugar, in proportion;
several pounds each of butter, bacon, and crackers; a few loaves of
bread, two sacks of flour, some pickles, and a sufficient number of
tin-plates, cups, and spoons. To these he subsequently added a
half-dozen hams and something like fifty yards of Bologna sausage, which
he told us were for use when we should tire of fresh meat. Sachem
entered protest, declaring that sausage and ham, in a country full of
game, reflected upon us.
[Illustration: _BUREAU OF ILLUSTRATION BUFFALO NY_
"LOOKED LIKE THE END OF A TAIL."]
[Illustration: THE RARE OLD PLAINSMAN OF THE NOVELS.]
Of course, we found use for every item of the above, and especially for
the Bologna. If one can feel satisfied in his own mind as to what
portion of the brute creation is entering into him, a half-yard of
Bologna, tied to the saddle, stays the stomach wonderfully on an all
day's ride. It is so handy to reach it, while trotting along, and with
one's hunting-knife cut off a few inches for immediate consumption.
Semi-Colon, however, who was a youth of delicate stomach, sickened on
his ration one day, because he found something in it which, he said,
looked like the end of a tail. It is a debatable question, to my mind,
whether Satan, among his many ways of entering into man, does not
occasionally do so in the folds of Bologna sausage. Certain it is that,
after such repast, one often feels like Old Nick, and woe be to the man
at any time who is at all dyspeptic. All the forces of one's gastric
juices may then prove insufficient to wage successful battle with the
evil genius which rends him.
Our outfit, as regards transportation, consisted of the animals
heretofore mentioned, and two teams which we hired at Hays, for the
baggage and commissary supplies.
The evening before our departure we rode over to the fort and called
upon General Sheridan. "Little Phil" had pitched his camp on the bank of
Big Creek, a short distance below the fort, preferring a soldier's life
in the tent to the more comfortable officer's quarters. This we thought
eminently characteristic of the man. He is an accumulation of tremendous
energy in small compass, a sort of embodied nitro-glycerine, but
dangerous only to his enemies. Famous principally as a cavalry leader,
because Providence flung him into the saddle and started him off at a
gallop, had his destiny been infantry, he would have led it to victory
on the run. And now, officer after officer having got sadly tangled in
the Indian web, which was weaving its strong threads over so fair a
portion of our land, Sheridan was sent forward to cut his way through
it.
The camp was a pretty picture with its line of white tents, the timber
along the creek for a background, and the solemn, apparently illimitable
plains stretching away to the horizon in front. Taken altogether, it
looked more like the comfortable nooning spot of a cavalry scout than
the quarters of a famous General. Our chieftain stood in front of the
center tent, with a few staff-officers lounging near by, his short,
thick-set figure and firm head giving us somehow the idea of a small,
sinewy lion.
We found the General thoroughly conversant with the difficult task to
which he had been called. "Place the Indians on reservations," he said,
"under their own chiefs, with an honest white superintendency. Let the
civil law reign on the reservation, military law away from it, every
Indian found by the troops off from his proper limits to be treated as
an outlaw." It seemed to me that in a few brief sentences this mapped
out a successful Indian policy, part of which indeed has since been
adopted, and the remainder may yet be.
When speaking of late savageries on the plains the eyes of "Little Phil"
glittered wickedly. In one case, on Spillman's Creek, a band of
Cheyennes had thrust a rusty sword into the body of a woman with child,
piercing alike mother and offspring, and, giving it a fiendish twist,
left the weapon in her body, the poor woman being found by our soldiers
yet living.
"I believe it possible," said Sheridan, "at once and forever to stop
these terrible crimes." As he spoke, however, we saw what he apparently
did not, a long string of red tape, of which one end was pinned to his
official coat-tail, while the other remained in the hands of the
Department at Washington. Soon after, as Sheridan pushed forward, the
Washington end twitched vigorously. He managed, however, with his right
arm, Custer, to deal a sledge-hammer blow, which broke to fragments the
Cheyenne Black-kettle and his band. Whether or not that band had been
guilty of the recent murders, the property of the slain was found in
their possession, and the terrible punishment caused the residue of the
tribe to sue for peace. It was the first time for years that the war
spirit had placed any horrors at their doors, and that one terrible
lesson prepared the savage mind for the advent of peace commissioners.
Our brief conference ended, the General bade us good day, and wished us
a pleasant experience. Scarcely had we got beyond his tents, however,
when we were overtaken by a decidedly unpleasant one. On their way to
water, a troop of mules stampeded, and passing us in a cloud of dust,
our brutes took bits in their teeth, and joined company. Happily, the
run was a short one to the creek, where those of us who had not fallen
off before managed to do so then. Poor Gripe was the only person
injured, suffering the fracture of a rib, which necessitated his return
to Topeka, so that we did not see him again until some months afterward,
when we met him on the Solomon.
CHAPTER X.
HAYS CITY BY LAMP-LIGHT--THE SANTA FE
TRADE--BULL-WHACKERS--MEXICANS--SABBATH ON THE PLAINS--THE DARK
AGES--WILD BILL AND BUFFALO BILL--OFF FOR THE SALINE--DOBEEN'S
GHOST-STORY--AN ADVENTURE WITH INDIANS--MEXICAN CANNONADE--A
RUNAWAY.
Hays City by lamp-light was remarkably lively and not very moral. The
streets blazed with the reflection from saloons, and a glance within
showed floors crowded with dancers, the gaily dressed women striving to
hide with ribbons and paint the terrible lines which that grim artist,
Dissipation, loves to draw upon such faces. With a heartless humor he
daubs the noses of the sterner sex a cherry red, but paints under the
once bright eyes of woman a shade dark as the night in the cave of
despair. To the music of violin and stamping of feet, the dance went on,
and we saw in the giddy maze old men who must have been pirouetting on
the very edge of their graves.
Being then the depot for the great Santa Fe trade, the town was crowded
with Mexicans and speculators. Large warehouses along the track were
stored with wool awaiting shipment east, and with merchandise to be
taken back with the returning wagons. These latter are of immense size,
and, from this circumstance, are sometimes called "prairie schooners;"
and, in truth, when a train of them is winding its way over the plains,
the white covers flecking its surface like sails, the sight is not
unlike a fleet coming into port. Oxen and mules are both used. When the
former, the drivers rejoice in the title of "bull-whackers," and the
crack of their whips, as loud as the report of a rifle, is something
tremendous.
On the day of our arrival at Hays City, one of these festive individuals
noticed Dobeen gazing, with open mouth, and back towards him, at some
object across the street, and took the opportunity to crack his lash
within an inch of the Irishman's spine. The effect was ludicrous; Shamus
came in on the run to have a ball extracted from his back!
These Mexicans who come through with the ox-trains are a very degraded
race, dark, dirty, and dismal. In appearance, they much resemble
animated bundles of rags, walking off with heads of charcoal. Personal
bravery is not one of their striking characteristics; indeed, they often
run away when to stand still would seem to an American the only safe
course possible. We were desirous of sending back to Hays City some of
the proceeds of our excursion for shipment to friends at St. Louis and
Chicago, and therefore hired two of the Mexican teamsters to go as far
as the Saline, and return with the fruits of our prowess. For this
service, which would occupy about four days, they were to receive
twenty-five dollars each.
The morrow was Sunday, and came to us, as nine-tenths of the mornings on
the plains did afterward, clear and bracing. Compared with the previous
evening, the little town was very quiet. There was no stir in the
streets, although later in the morning a few of the last night's
carousers came out of doors, rubbing their sleepy eyes, and slunk around
town for the remainder of the day. All nature was calm and beautiful; it
almost seemed as if we might hear the chime of Sabbath bells float to us
from somewhere in the depths around.
One of our sea legends recites that ship wrecked bells, fallen from the
society of men to that of mermaids, are straightway hung on coral
steeples, where, when storms roar around the rocks above, they toll for
the deaths of the mariners. Was it impossible, we mused, that ancient
mariners, with whole cargoes of bells, went down on this inland sea
centuries before Rome howled? The earth around us might be as full of
musical tongues as of saurians, and only awaiting the savan's spade and
sympathetic touch to give their dumb eloquence voice. If the people of
those days were navigators, surely they might also have been men of
metal. In the far-away past existed numerous arts which baffle modern
ingenuity. Stones were lifted at sight of which our engineers stand
dismayed. Bodies were embalmed with a skill and perfection which our
medical faculty admire, but have scarcely even essayed to imitate. Is it
impossible that vessels plowed this ancient ocean with a speed which
would have left our Cunarders out of sight? If human spirits freed from
earth take cognizance of following generations, how those old captains
must have laughed when Fulton boarded his wheezing experiment to paddle
up the Hudson! And if our doctor's Darwinian-Pythagorean theory were
correct, Fulton's spirit might have brought the crude idea from some
ancient stoker.
But while we were thus speculating and giving free reins to Fancy's most
erratic moods, the chaplain arrived from the fort, and mounting the
freight platform, read the Episcopal morning service. A crowd gathered
around, and a voice from the past whispering in their ears, a few bowed
their heads during prayer. A drunkard went brawling by, with a sidelong
glance and the leering look of eyes whose watery lids seemed making vain
efforts to quench the fiery balls. How it grated on one's feelings! In a
land so eloquent with voices of the mighty past, it seemed as if even
instinct would cause the knee to bow in homage before its Maker.
Monday was our day of final preparation, and we commenced it by making
the acquaintance of those two celebrated characters, Wild Bill and
Buffalo Bill, or, more correctly, William Hickock and William Cody. The
former was acting as sheriff of the town, and the latter we engaged as
our guide to the Saline.
Wild Bill made his _entree_ into one court of the temple of fame some
years since through Harper's Magazine. Since then his name has become a
household word to residents along the Kansas frontier. We found him very
quiet and gentlemanly, and not at all the reckless fellow we had
supposed. His form won our admiration--the shoulders of a Hercules with
the waist of a girl. Much has been written about Wild Bill that is pure
fiction. I do not believe, for example, that he could hit a nickel
across the street with a pistol-ball, any more than an Indian could do
so with an arrow. These feats belong to romance. Bill is wonderfully
handy with his pistols, however. He then carried two of them, and while
we were at Hays snuffed a man's life out with one; but this was done in
his capacity of officer. Two rowdies devoted their energies to brewing a
riot, and defied arrest until, at Bill's first shot, one fell dead, and
the other threw up his arms in token of submission. During his life time
Bill has probably killed his baker's dozen of men, but he has never, I
believe, been known as the aggressor. To the people of Hays he was a
valuable officer, making arrests when and where none other dare attempt
it. His power lies in the wonderful quickness with which he draws a
pistol and takes his aim. These first shots, however, can not always
last. "They that take the sword shall perish with the sword;" and living
as he does by the pistol, Bill will certainly die by it, unless he
abandons the frontier.
[Illustration: BUFFALO BILL--FROM A PHOTOGRAPH.]
[Illustration: _BUREAU OF ILLUSTRATION_
WILD BILL--FROM A PHOTOGRAPH.]
Only a short time after we left Hays two soldiers attempted his life.
Attacked unexpectedly, Bill was knocked down and the muzzle of a musket
placed against his forehead, but before it could be discharged the ready
pistol was drawn and the two soldiers fell down, one dead, the other
badly wounded. Their companions clamored for revenge, and Bill changed
his base. He afterward became marshal of the town of Abilene, where he
signalized himself by carrying a refractory councilman on his shoulders
to the council-chamber. A few months later some drunken Texans
attempted a riot, and one of them, a noted gambler, commenced firing on
the marshal. The latter returned the fire, shooting not only the
gambler, but one of his own friends, who, in the gloom of the evening,
was hurrying to his aid. Bill paid the expenses of the latter's funeral,
which on the frontier is considered the proper and delicate way of
consoling the widow whenever such little accidents occur.
The Professor took occasion, before parting with Wild William, to
administer some excellent advice, urging him especially, if he wished to
die in his bed, to abandon the pistol and seize upon the plow-share. His
reputation as Union scout, guide for the Indian country, and sheriff of
frontier towns, our leader said, was a sufficient competency of fame to
justify his retirement upon it. In this opinion the public will
certainly coincide.
Buffalo Bill was to be our guide. He informed us that Wild Bill was his
cousin. Cody is spare and wiry in figure, admirably versed in plain
lore, and altogether the best guide I ever saw. The mysterious plain is
a book that he knows by heart. He crossed it twice as teamster, while a
mere boy, and has spent the greater part of his life on it since. He led
us over its surface on starless nights, when the shadow of the blackness
above hid our horses and the earth, and though many a time with no trail
to follow and on the very mid-ocean of the expanse, he never made a
failure. Buffalo Bill has since figured in one of Buntline's Indian
romances. We award him the credit of being a good scout and most
excellent guide; but the fact that he can slaughter buffalo is by no
means remarkable, since the American bison is dangerous game only to
amateurs.
We were off early on Tuesday morning for the Saline, our course toward
which lay before us a little west of north, the citizens turning out to
see us start. We had just parted from Gripe, who went East on the first
train to get his ribs healed. "To think, gentlemen," said he, "that I
should have escaped rebel bullets and Indian atrocities, only to have my
ribs cracked at last by a stampede of mules!" Poor Gripe's farewell
reminded me strongly of the old saying about the ruling passion strong
in death. As he stood on the platform, with one hand against his aching
side, he could not refrain from waving a courtly adieu with the other,
and bowing himself from our presence, into the car, as if leaving the
stage after a political speech.
We were sorry to lose our friend, and this, together with the thought of
the weeks of uncertainties and anxieties which lay before us, made our
exit from Hays rather a solemn affair. Even Tammany Sachem's face was
ironed out so completely that not a smile wrinkled it. Dobeen had loaded
one wagon with culinary weapons, and now sat among his pots and pans,
evidently ill at ease and wishing himself doing any thing else rather
than about to plunge further into the wilderness.
When about to mount Cynocephalus, Semi's feelings were wounded by a
depraved urchin who suggested, "You'd better fust knock that fly off,
Boss. Both on ye 'll be too much for the hoss!" Fortunately, perhaps,
for our feelings, the remainder of the inhabitants were so civil that
further criticisms on our outfit, though they may have been ripe at
their tongues' end, were carefully repressed.
Moving out over the divide above town the Professor noticed the general
depression of the party, and forthwith began philosophising.
"My friends," said he, "had the feelings which explorers suffer, when
fairly launched, been allowed to be present during the days of
preparation, science and discovery would be in their infancy. Enthusiasm
bridges the first obstacles to an undertaking, but others roll on and
block the explorer's path, and the spirit which has got him into the
difficulty momentarily deserts him. If properly courted, however, she
returns, and meanwhile the traveler is afforded the opportunity of
looking, through matter-of-fact spectacles, along his future journey.
What he thought pebbles reveal themselves as hills, and what he had
marked on his chart as hills develop into mountains. These he must
recognize and examine with all the resolution he can summon, and he will
be the more able to climb them from expecting to do so. Right here is
the critical point in his journey. Numerous cross-roads branch off--some
right, others left, but all with a brighter prospect down them. Perhaps
on one, a wife and children stand at the door of their home, beckoning
him. The garden that his own hand planted blooms in a background of
flowers, while the path he has now chosen sparkles with winter snow. He
knows, however, that beyond these, perhaps amid sterile mountains, are
the precious diamonds he seeks.
"It is wise that, where these roads branch off--some to castles of
indolence, others to comfortable homes and moderate exertion--the man
should be left alone for a time and allowed to survey the rough path
before him, with all the blinding glamour of enthusiasm subdued by the
light of truth, and with a full knowledge of all the stumbling blocks
which lie before him. If he then thumbs the edge of his hunting-knife,
examines his Henry rifle, and presses forward, the metal is there, and
from that time onward you may at any time learn of his whereabouts by
inquiring at the temple of fame."
Sachem interrupted the Professor to remonstrate at the girding of loins
being left out. He had always been used to the girding in similar
discourses, and considered that loins were in much more general use than
Henry rifles.
And now Shamus, from his perch on the pans, suddenly broke in: "Faith,
Professor, your enthusiasm once brought me sore trouble. It got me into
a haunted house, when the clock was strikin' midnight, and my legs were
sore put to it to get me out fast enough. Ye see, I bet a pig with my
next cousin that I would stay all night in an old house full of spirits.
The master and his house-keeper had been murdered in the tenantry riots,
and the boys that did the business, they swung for it soon afterward.
And now, there was a regular barricadin' and attackin' going on those
nights ever since. While I was lookin' at the old clock, and thinkin' of
the pig I'd drag home in the morning, I must have dramed a little. He
was as likely a pig as yez ever saw, and I was listenin' proudly to his
swate cries as I carried him from the sty, and feelin' full enough of
enthusiasm to stay there a hundred years. Just then there was a rustlin'
in front, and I opened my eyes wide, and there stood the old
house-keeper leanin' against the shaky clock, with her ear to its yellow
face, and lookin' straight behind me to where I could feel the master
was sittin'. There was an awful light in her eyes, and I thought I heard
her say--any way, I knew she was sayin' it--'Hark, Sir Donald, they're
comin', but the soldiers will be here, too, at twelve.' An' then there
was a sort of shudder in the old clock and it commenced a wheezin' an'
bangin' away, a tryin' to get through the strokes of twelve, as it did
twenty years before. But it hadn't got out half, when I heard the crowd
outside scrapin' against the window sill. An' then there come a report,
and the room was filled with smoke, an' somethin' hit the back of my
head. How I got out I don't know, but when I come to myself I was
running for dear life across the common. I have the scar of the ghost's
bullet ever since. See here, yez can see it for yourselves." And taking
off his cap, Shamus showed us a bald spot about the size of a silver
dollar on the back of his cranium.
"And what became of the pig?" asked Mr. Colon quietly.
"Faith, an' my cousin carried him home next morning," replied Shamus,
with a regretful sigh; "and lady Dobeen, bless her sowl, never forgot
to tell me of that to her dying day. We were needin' the bacon them
times."
Sachem, who delighted to spoil our cook's stories, declared that, to
gain a pig, it was worth the cousin's while to fire an old musket
through the window over a drunken Irishman inside. Still that did not
excuse him for his carelessness; he should have seen that the wad flew
higher.
What Dobeen's answer might have been will never be known; for, just at
that moment, the attention of the entire party was suddenly directed to
a dark mass of moving objects away off upon our right, a mile distant at
least, and to our untrained eyes entirely unrecognizable. The Mexicans,
however, pronounced them buffaloes. Whether thinking to vindicate his
reputation for personal courage, or whether simply from love of
excitement, is not exactly clear, but Dobeen eagerly requested
permission to pursue them, and as he would, _ex officio_, be debarred
the pleasure of future sport, consent was given. This was done the more
readily, because we knew that Shamus, while as inexperienced in the
chase as any of us, was also a wretched rider; for, although constantly
boasting of the tournaments he had been engaged in, we all indorsed
Sachem's opinion, that, if ever connected with such an affair at all, it
must have been in holding a horse, not riding one.
It was worthy of note that every one of the party was as eager for the
chase as Shamus, and yet that personage was allowed to ride off alone.
Mr. Colon, it is true, essayed to join his company, but after going a
hundred yards or so, suddenly changed his mind and came back. Our
maiden efforts in buffalo hunting promised such modesty as to refuse a
public appearance, unless together.
Our cook had been instructed by the guide to avail himself of the
ravines, and after getting as near the herd as possible, then spur
rapidly up to it. He went off at a gallop, his solid body flying clear
of the saddle whenever the donkey's feet struck ground, and soon
disappeared in a ravine which seemed to promise a winding way almost
into the very midst of the herd. We watched intently for his
reappearance. In such periods of suspense the minutes seem strangely
long, creeping as slowly toward their allotted three-score as they do
when one, at a sickbed vigil, listens for the funeral chimes of the
clock, telling when the minutes are buried in the hours.
At length, in the far away distance, we descried Shamus, disdaining
further concealment, riding gallantly out of the ravine for a charge. A
few moments more and game and hunter were face to face, and we held our
breath, expecting to see the dark cloud dash away with our bloodthirsty
cook at its skirts. "As I am alive," suddenly ejaculated Muggs,
"Dobeen's coming this way, at a bloody good run, and the buffalo after
him!" We could scarcely believe our eyes, but, sure enough, it was a
clear case of pursuer and pursued, with the appropriate positions
entirely reversed. Shamus seemed imitating that famous hunter who
brought home his bear-meat alive, preceding it by only half a coat-tail.
But the game before us was changing in appearance most wonderfully. It
seemed bristling with unusually long horns, and as we looked the dark
cloud suddenly spread out into a fan-like shape, and we all cried,
simultaneously, "Indians!"
There they were, a party of our red brethren bearing rapidly down upon
us in pursuit of Dobeen, whose arms and legs were playing like flails on
his donkey's sides, with an appeal for speed which had evidently called
into action all the reserves of that true conservative.
Our party would have sold out their interest in the plains for a
bagatelle. Our whole outfit had whirled, like a weather-cock, and was
pointing back to Hays. The Mexicans were already dodging in and out
among their oxen, and firing their old muskets furiously, although the
foe was yet a fair cannon-shot away. Shamus could not well have been in
more danger from foes behind than he was from friends before; indeed, he
afterward said that asking deliverance from the latter made him almost
forget the former.
[Illustration: _BUREAU OF ILLUSTRATION_
OUR HORSES RUN AWAY WITH US.]
The horses of both Sachem and Muggs ran away, taking a straight line for
the distant town. This caused a general stampede on the part of all the
other horses, much to the regret of their riders, who were thus cruelly
prevented from a proper display of latent prowess in rendering
protection to the wagons and our cook. From the former came a steady
cannonade. Squirming like eels among their oxen, the Mexicans fired from
under the animals' bellies, astride the tongue, from anywhere, indeed,
that furnished a barricade between the distant Indians and themselves.
It is one of the remarkable tactics of this remarkable people, in
military emergencies, that when they can not put distance between them
and the enemy, they must substitute _something_ else. A single trooper,
on an open plain, could send a small army of them scampering off, but
let them get behind a barricade, and they will continue banging away
with their old muskets until either the weapon bursts or ammunition
gives out. It is surprising how harmless their fusillades generally are.
If Mexican powder is used, it goes off like a mixture of lamp-black and
nitro-glycerine, with a premonitory fiz and then a fearful concussion,
leaving a smell of burnt oil in the air which overcomes for a moment the
natural aroma of the warriors themselves.
But while we were still being run away with by our spirited animals,
another change occurred in the situation equally as unexpected as the
first. The Indians had stopped running about the time that we commenced,
and now stood in a dusky line something less than half a mile off,
making signs to us. Shamus evidently considered it a horrible
incantation for his scalp, and every time he looked backward plied with
renewed fervor at his donkey's ribs. Our guide, who had stayed with the
wagons and exerted himself to silence the Mexican batteries, motioned us
to return, which we were finally enabled to do by virtue of steady
pulling upon one rein and coming back in half circles.
By the time our cook reached us, out of breath and perspiring terribly,
two savages had ridden out from their band, weaponless, and were now
gesturing a wish to communicate. The Professor and our guide rode to
meet them, apparently unarmed; but with characteristic exhibition of the
white man's subtlety, the tail-pocket of the philosopher's coat held a
pistol in reserve, and the guide, I have no doubt, was equally well
provided.
CHAPTER XI.
WHITE WOLF, THE CHEYENNE CHIEF--HUNGRY INDIANS--RETURN TO HAYS--A
CHEYENNE WAR PARTY--THE PIPE OF PEACE--THE COUNCIL CHAMBER--WHITE
WOLF'S SPEECH, AS RENDERED BY SACHEM--THE WHITE MAN'S WIGWAM.
About midway between our party and the dusky group that stood watching
us the four embassadors met. The Indians proved to be a band of
Cheyennes, under White Wolf, or, as he is more frequently called,
Medicine Wolf, out on the war-path against the Pawnees. The Wolf was a
fine-looking man, six feet four in height, straight as an arrow, and
developed like a giant. Being a chief, he possessed the regalia and
warranty deed of one, consisting of a ragged military coat without any
tail, and a dirty letter from some Indian agent, with a lie in it over
which even a Cheyenne must have smiled, telling how White Wolf loved the
whites. Perhaps he did; his namesake loves spring lamb.
Our guide was an indifferent interpreter, but had no difficulty in
understanding that the Indians were hungry and wished something to eat.
In all my experience from that day to this I have never found an Indian
who was not hungry, except once. The exception was an old fellow who,
although enough of an Indian to be habitually drunk, was so degenerate a
specimen in other respects as to be somewhat dyspeptic. His stomach had
repudiated, after receiving a deposit from a trader of one hundred
pickled oysters, and had temporarily closed its doors. His stock of
gastric juices seemed to have been well-nigh bankrupted by a fifty
years' discounting of jerked buffalo. The one hundred tons of this
compound which the noble warrior had dissolved would have exhausted the
liquid of a tannery. Let these savages of the plains meet a white man,
whenever or wherever they may, their first demand is always for meat and
drink, followed not unfrequently by another for his scalp. The victim
may have but a day's rations, and be a hundred miles from any station
where more can be obtained, but his all is taken as greedily and
remorselessly as if he commanded a commissary train.
The Professor and our guide motioned White Wolf and his companion to
wait, and rode back to us for the purpose of casting up our account of
ways and means. The only chance of balancing it seemed to be by sight
draft on Shamus' wagon or an entry of war. We dare not refuse them and
go on; they would be sure to dog our steps, and at the first convenient
opportunity attack and probably murder us. Shamus, with recovered
courage, stoutly protested against a raid upon his department. "To
think," he expostulated, "of the swate sausage and ham bein' used to wad
such painted carcasses as them divils!" The guide suggested as the best
alternative that we should invite the Indians to return with us to Hays.
We caught at the idea and adopted it immediately; and while the guide
rode back as the bearer of our invitation, we "stood to arms," awaiting
the result with silent but ill-concealed solicitude.
Should the Indians consider it an attempt to trap them, our bones might
have an opportunity to rest in some neighboring ravine until the ready
spades of some future geological expedition should disturb them, and we
be at once reconstructed into some rare species of ancient ape or
specimens of extinct salamanders. Or, if happily resurrected at a
somewhat earlier period, might not some enterprising Barnum of the
twentieth century place on our bones the seal of centuries, and lay them
with the mummies in his showcases? Our expedition was partly intended
for diving into the past, but not quite so deep or so permanent a dive
as that. What wonder that incipient ague-chills played up and down and
all about our spinal column, as we reflected how completely we were
dependent on the caprice of those Native Americans sitting out there, in
half-naked dignity, on their tough ponies? Or that we gazed anxiously at
the huge chief as he sat, silent and motionless, awaiting the approach
of our guide?
Our ideas of the savage had been so thoroughly Cooperised during
boyhood, that when our guide approached the Wolf, and, with a gesture to
the south, invited him back to Hays, I was prepared to see the tall form
straighten in the saddle, and pictured to my imagination some such
specimen of untutored eloquence as this:
"Pale-face, the blood of the Cheyenne burns quick. He meets you trailing
like a serpent across his war-path, seeking to steal treasures from the
red man's land. He asks food, and you tell him to come into your trap
and get it. Pale-faces, remove your hats; noble Cheyennes, remove their
scalps!"
Nothing of this kind occurred, however. Our guide informed us that the
bold savage simply fastened one button of his tailless coat, grunted out
"Ugh!" in a satisfied way, and motioned his band to follow. This they
did, and we were soon retracing our steps to Hays; by the guide's
advice, making the savages keep a fair distance behind us.
The roofs of Hays glistened across the plains, as they say those of
Damascus do in the East. We had formed a boy's romantic acquaintance
with that land, where the sun burns and the simooms frolic, and once
were quite enamored of its wild Bedouins of the desert. Our manhood was
now experiencing the sensation of seeing a tribe fiercer than their
eastern brethren, not exactly at our doors, because we had none, but
following very closely at our heels.
As our strange cavalcade re-entered the town the people stopped to gaze
a moment, and then came out to meet us. News flew to the fort, and some
of the officers rode over. The Land Company's office was selected for a
council room, the Cheyennes tying their ponies to the stage corral near.
The Indians were a strange-looking crew. Sachem declared them all women,
and Dobeen affirmed that they looked more like a covey of witches than
warriors. With their long hair divided in the middle, and falling,
sometimes in braids and again loosely, over their shoulders, and their
blankets hanging around them, they did really look much like the
traditional squaw who so kindly assists one in cutting his eye-teeth at
Niagara Falls, with her sharp practice and cheap bead-work. Their faces
were as smooth as a woman's, without the least trace of either mustache
or whiskers; so that, altogether, when we essayed to pick out some
females, we got completely "mixed up," and were at length forced to the
conclusion that the majestic White Wolf was traveling over the plains
with a copper-colored harem.
Cooper having told us that the Indian term of reproach is to be or to
look like a woman, we avoided offense and the "arrows of outrageous
fortune" which an Indian is so dexterous in using, and gained the
information desired by addressing a direct inquiry to White Wolf,
through the interpreter, whether he had any squaws along. He replied by
holding up two fingers and pointing out the couple thus designated. We
tried to find, first in their features and then in their clothing, some
distinguishing characteristic but found it impossible; so that when they
changed positions an instant afterward, I was entirely at a loss to
recognize them again.
All had extremely uninviting countenances, any one of which would have
sufficed to hang three ordinary men, and a common villainy made them as
much alike as forty-six nutmegs. White Wolf alone differed in
appearance. He was stoutly built, as well as tall and straight, with
broad features, the bronze of his complexion merging almost into white,
and he smiled pleasantly and readily. The others were no more able to
smile than Satan himself, the expression which their faces assumed when
attempting it being simply diabolical. Dobeen was so startled by one
who tried that contortion on and asked for "tobac," that he retreated in
disorder from the council-chamber.
White Wolf and the more important members of his band took the chairs
proffered them, and sat in a circle, the Professor, Sachem, and two
leading citizens of Hays being sandwiched in at proper intervals. The
object of the gathering was gravely announced to be that the Indians
might smoke the pipe of peace with the towns-people. As war was a
chronic passion with these wild horsemen of the plains, none of them had
ever been near the place in friendly mood before, and the novelty of the
occasion, therefore, brought the entire population around the building.
The postmaster of Hays, Mr. Hall, had once traded among the Cheyennes
and, understanding their sign-language, acted as interpreter. This
curious race has two distinct ways of conversing--one by mouth, in a
singularly unmusical dialect, and the other by motions or signs with the
hands. The latter is that most generally understood and employed by
scouts and traders.
[Illustration: THE PIPE OF PEACE--THE PROFESSOR'S DILEMMA.]
One of the Indians now took from a sack a red-clay pipe, with a
ridiculously long bowl and longer shank, and inserted into it a
three-foot stem, profusely ornamented with brass tacks and a tassel of
painted horse hair. This was handed to White Wolf, together with a small
bag of tobacco, in which the Killikinnick leaves had been previously
crumbled and mixed. These were a bright red, evidently used for their
fragrance, as they only weakened the tobacco without adding any
particular flavor. We were struck with the Indian mode of smoking.
The chief took a few quick whiffs, emitting the fumes with a hoarse
blowing like a miniature steam-engine. He then passed it, mouth-piece
down so that the saliva might escape, and it commenced a slow journey
around the circle. When it reached our worthy professor he found himself
in a sore dilemma. No smoke had ever curled along the roof of his mouth,
or made a chimney of his geological nose. For an instant the philosopher
hesitated; then, reflecting that passing the pipe would be worse than
choking over it, the excellent man put the stem to his mouth and gave a
pull which must have filled the remotest corner of his lungs with
Killikinnick. Gasping amid the stifling cloud, it poured from both mouth
and nose, and called on the way at his stomach, which gave unmistakable
symptoms of distress. We feared that he would be forced to forsake the
council, but, with an effort worthy of the occasion and himself, he kept
his seat, and opening wide his mouth, waited patiently until the fiend
of smoke had withdrawn from his interior its trailing garments.
The council disappointed us. In White Wolf we had found as fine-looking
an Indian as ever murdered and stole upon his native continent. His
people were first in war, first to break peace, and the last to keep it,
their excuse being that the white man trespassed on their hunting
grounds. We had rather expected that burly form to rise from his seat,
and, with flashing eyes, utter then and there a flood of aboriginal
eloquence: "White man, your people live where the sun rises, ours where
it sets. When did you ever come to us hungry and be fed, or clothed and
go away so," and so on _ad infinitum_. Instead of all this there was a
tremendous smoking and grunting, more like a farmer's fumigation of hogs
than one of those pipe-of-peace councils which I had so often studied on
canvas and in books. I have often regretted since that our aborigines
can not read. If they could only learn from the white man's literature
what they ought to be, the contrast between it and what they really are
would be so violent that it might make an impression, even upon an
Indian.
For a happy mingling of lies and truth our "big talk" could hardly be
excelled. A reporter could have taken down the proceedings somewhat as
follows:
SCENE--Six Indians and as many white men in a ring. Postmaster Hall in
the center, acting as interpreter.
_Indian_--"Cheyenne love white man much (lie). Forty-six warriors all
hungry (truth). Us good Indians" (lie). And so on, alternately.
_Pale Brother_--"White man love Cheyenne. Got lots of food, but no
whisky" (the latter a lie which almost choked the speaker).
It would not interest the reader to know all the repetitions or nonsense
uttered, and we spare him the infliction of even attempting to tell him.
The Indians had for their object food, and they got it. The whites had
for their object permanent peace, and did not get it.
[Illustration: _BUREAU OF ILLUSTRATION BUFFALO_
WHITE WOLF AT HOME.
"The red man is noble, big injun is me."]
In due time the council broke up, and in an incredibly short time
thereafter many of the Indians were reeling drunk. That White Wolf
did not become equally so was owing altogether to his being a man of
iron constitution. Any thing but metal, it seemed to me, must have been
burnt out by the fiery draughts which we saw the noble chief take down.
A tin cupful of "whisk," such as would have made the cork in a bottle
tight, was tossed off without a wink.
Sachem, who took notes, rendered White Wolf's speech at the council in
verse, as follows:
White brother, have pity; the White Wolf is poor,
The skin of his belly is shrunk to his back;
A gallon of whisky is good for a cure,
If followed by plenty of "bacon and tack."
The red man is noble, big Injun is me:
Like berries all crimson and ready to pick,
The scalps on my pole are a heap good to see--
Good medicine they when poor Injun is sick.
The red man is truth, and the white one is lies;
The first suffers wrong at hand of the other;
The way they skin us is good for sore eyes,
The way we skin them astonishing, rather.
They rob us of guns and offer us plows,
And tell us to farm it, to go into corn;
We're good to raise hair, and good to raise rows,
And good to raise essence of corn--in a horn.
Go back to your cities and leave us our home,
Or off with your scalp and that remnant of shirt;
Go, let the poor Injun in happiness roam,
And live on his buffalo, puppies, and dirt.
Two or three of the Indians mounted their ponies and took a race through
the streets. The animals were thin, despondent brutes, but as wiry as if
their hides were stuffed, like patent mattresses, full of springs. The
Indians, as is their universal custom, mounted from the right side,
instead of the left as we do. At the lower end of the street they got as
nearly in line as their inebriated condition would permit, and when the
word was given set off toward us with frightful shouts, which made the
ponies scamper like so many frightened cats.
The animal which came out ahead had no rider to claim the honors, that
blanketed jockey having fallen off midway. He was now sitting on his
hams, looking the wrong way down the track, and evidently adding up the
"book" which he had made for the race. As he soon arose, with a
dissatisfied grunt, we thought his figures probably read about as
follows:
Given--A gallon of Hays whisky in the saddle, and a race-horse under it.
Endeavor to divide the latter by a rawhide whip, and the result is a
sore-headed Indian, who stands forfeit to his peers for "the drinks."
As we wandered back to the council-chamber, the scene there had changed
somewhat. White Wolf had been transformed into a cavalry colonel, and
was strutting around with two gilt eagles on his broad shoulders,
looking fully as important as many a real colonel whom we have caught in
his pin feathers and, withal, much more of the hero. Our warrior had
seen some of the officers from the fort strolling around, and
straightway fell to coveting his neighbors' straps, which observing,
Sachem at once purchased from a store the emblems of power and pinned
them upon him. He whispered to us that when White Wolf took his first
step as a colonel, it had been accompanied by a snort of pain, the
unlucky slipping of a pin having evidently conveyed to the chief the
idea that one of the eagles had grasped his shoulder in its talons.
The chief modestly requested similar honors for his "papoose," and that
individual was treated to the straps of a captain. A different
application of strap, it occurred to me, would have seemed more proper
upon the six feet of unpromising humanity which appeared above the
"papoose's" moccasins.
It had been a matter of surprise to us how the Indians could make such
inferior looking stock as theirs capable of such speed and extraordinary
journeys; but it ceased to excite our wonder after an examination of
their whips. These ingenious instruments of torture have handles, which
in form and size resemble a policeman's club. To one end are attached
some thongs of thick leather, half a yard in length, and to the other a
loop of the same material, just large enough to go over the hand and
bind slightly on the wrist. Dangling from the latter, the handle can be
instantly grasped, and the body of thongs brought down on the pony's
skin, with a crack like a flail on the sheaves, and the result is what
Sachem called an astonishing "shelling out" of speed.
We explained to White Wolf that Tammany Sachem was one of many great
chiefs who had a mighty wigwam in the big city of the pale-faces, far
away toward the rising sun; that they were all good men, and never lied
like the chiefs of the Cheyennes, or took any thing belonging to others;
and that their women, instead of carrying heavy burdens, spent all their
time in distributing the money and goods of the big wigwam to the needy.
White Wolf signified, through the interpreter, that such a wigwam was
too good for earth, and ought to be pitched on the happy hunting grounds
as soon as possible.
Sachem thought the savage meant to be sarcastic.
CHAPTER XII.
ARMS OF A WAR PARTY--A DONKEY PRESENT--EATING POWERS OF THE
NOMADS--SATANTA, HIS CRIMES AND PUNISHMENT--RUNNING OFF WITH A
GOVERNMENT HERD--DAUB, OUR ARTIST--ANTELOPE CHASE BY A GREYHOUND.
At our request White Wolf and two of his braves gave us a display of
their skill--or rather, their strength--in the use of their bows,
shooting their arrows at a stake sixty yards off. The efforts were what
would be called good "line shots," although missing the slender stick.
We then essayed a trial with the chief's bow, which was an exceedingly
stout hickory wrapped in sinew, but we found that more practiced
strength than ours was required even to bend it. Some amusement was
created when the first of our party took up the bow, by the haste with
which a small and unusually ugly Indian retreated from the foreground as
if fearing that an arrow might be accidentally sent through his blanket.
Among the stock which the savages had brought with them was a
long-eared, diminutive brute, scarcely higher than a table, and
apparently forming the connecting link between a jackass rabbit and a
donkey. This animal White Wolf seemed extremely anxious to present to
the Professor, but it was politely declined, by the advice of the
interpreter, who explained to us that a return gift of the donkey's
weight in sugar and coffee would be expected. Notwithstanding the
stringency of the law forbidding the sale of whisky and ammunitions to
the Indians, the savages found little difficulty in filling themselves
with fire-water, and also got a little powder. White Wolf went off with
his pocket full of cartridges in exchange for some Indian commodities,
but the cunning pale face rendered them of little value by selecting
ammunition a size too small for the gun.
The eating powers of these nomads are marvelous. We saw the chief,
inside of two hours, devour three hearty dinners, one of which was
gotten up from our own larder and was both good and plentiful. As he did
full justice to every invitation to eat and drink, we concluded that he
would continue to accept during the whole afternoon, if the opportunity
were only offered him. What a capital minister to England was here
wasting his gastric juices on the desert air! If Great Britain should
continue her hesitation to digest our Alabama claims, the wolf at their
door would digest enough roast beef to bring them to terms or
starvation. Sugar, coffee, spices, pickles, sardines, ham, and many
another luxury of civilization, were alike welcome at the capacious
portal of the untutored savage. Dobeen discovered him eating a can of
our condensed milk under the impression that it was a sweet porridge.
Their entertainment at the town being concluded, the Indians were
conducted over to the fort and some rations given them. They manifested
an especial fondness for sugar, but took any thing they could get, their
ponies proving capable of carrying an unlimited number of sacks. It
seemed as difficult to overload these animals as it is a Broadway
omnibus; and their riders, perhaps in order to avoid being top heavy,
took freight for the inside whenever opportunity offered. As they came
back through the town, we all turned out to see them off. The band
promised us peace, notwithstanding which it was no small satisfaction to
discover that they were poorly armed. Bows and arrows were the only
weapons which all possessed, and while a few had revolvers, the chief
alone sported a rifle, a rusty-looking old breech-loader.
As our late cavalry escort rode off, their attitudes plainly bespoke
that they had been raiding upon more than the flesh-pots of Egypt. Sons
of the sandy-complexioned desert, we saw several of them kiss their
mother before they got out of sight. The most serious question with us
now was whether or not these red gormandizers had been uttering peace
notes not properly indorsed by their hearts. The trouble is that when
one discovers a circulation of this kind, his own ceases about the same
instant, and his bones become a fixed investment in the fertile soil of
the plains.
One of the officers of the fort told us an amusing instance of the
impudent treachery of which the western Indians of to-day are sometimes
guilty. A year or two before, when Hancock commanded the Department and
was encamped near Fort Dodge, on the Arkansas, Satanta and his band of
Kiowas came in. This chief has always been known as very hostile to the
whites, usually being the first of his tribe to commence hostilities. He
was the very embodiment of treachery, ferocity, and bravado.
Phrenologically considered, his head must have been a cranial marvel,
and the bumps on it mapping out the kingdom of evil a sort of Rocky
Mountain chain towering over the more peaceful valleys around. Viewed
from the towering peaks of combativeness and acquisitiveness the
territory of his past would reveal to the phrenologist an untold number
of government mules, fenced in by sutler's stores, while bending over
the bloody trail leading back almost to his bark cradle, would be the
shades of many mothers and wives, searching among the wrecks of emigrant
trains for flesh of their flesh and bone of their bone.
Satanta was long a name on the plains to hate and abhor. He was an
abject beggar in the pale faces' camp and a demon on their trail. On the
occasion in question he came to Gen. Hancock with protestations of
friendship, and, although these were not believed, he was treated
precisely as if they had been. To gratify his love of finery an old
military coat with general's stars, said to be one that Hancock himself
had cast off, was presented him. By some means he also acquired a bugle,
and the garrison were greatly amused for the remainder of the day by
seeing Satanta galloping back and forth before his band, blowing his
bugle and parading his coat, the warriors all cheering the old
cut-throat and proud as himself of the display. The way he handled that
bugle, however, before the next morning was by no means so amusing.
Some time before dawn the sleepy garrison were aroused by the thunders
of a stock stampede, and out of the darkness came the clatter of hoofs,
as Satanta and his band departed for the south with a goodly herd of
government mules and horses. Pursuit was commenced at once, with the
hope of cutting them off before they could get the stock across the
Arkansas, then somewhat swollen. Just as the troops reached the bank of
that stream, a major-general's uniform was seen going out of the water
upon the other side. Notwithstanding its high rank fire was instantly
opened upon it, but ineffectually. The savage turned a moment, blew a
shrill, defiant blast upon his bugle, and galloped off in safety. Too
much promotion made him mad. As a simple chief, he might have stolen
some straggling teams; as a major-general, he appropriated a whole herd.
During the next eighteen months, Satanta had several encounters with the
troops, generally wearing the major-general's coat and blowing his
bugle. His last exploit, which brought the long hesitating sword of
justice upon his head, is too fresh and too painful to be soon
forgotten. A few months ago the savage chief was living with his people
on a reserve in the Indian Territory and being fed by the government.
Gathering a few of his warriors he stole forth, and, crossing the Texas
border, surprised a wagon train, murdered the teamsters, and drove off
the mules. Fortunately, Gen. Sherman, in his examination of frontier
posts, happened to be near the scene of murder, and at once ordered
troops in pursuit. They were still trailing the marauders when Satanta
returned to the reservation at Fort Sill, and with bold effrontery
begotten of long immunity, actually boasted of the crime before the
Quaker agent. "I did it," said he, "and if any other chief says it was
him, tell him he lies. I am the man." Gen. Sherman had just arrived, and
when Satanta, with a number of minor chiefs who were with him on the
raid, came into the fort to trade and visit, they were seized and bound,
and started for Texas under a strong guard, to be tried by the
authorities there. On the way one of the Indians in some manner loosened
his bands, and seizing the musket of the guard nearest him, shot the
soldier in the shoulder, but before he could do further harm the other
guards fired, and the savage rolled from the wagon down upon the plain,
apparently dead. The body was afterward found close by the road-side in
a position which showed that after falling the savage had enough of
vitality left to enable him to crawl with bloody hands for several
yards. Finding the life-tide ebbing fast, he had then placed his body in
position toward the rising sun, composed his arms by his side and, with
Indian stoicism, yielded up his breath. The remainder of the party,
including Satanta, were brought safely to Texas, tried, and sentenced to
be hanged.
Our adventure with White Wolf and his band obliged us, of course, to
pass another night in Hays. We spent a most pleasant hour during the
evening in the office of Dr. John Moore, an old resident of Plattsburg,
N. Y., who assisted us materially in selecting medical stores, and who
by his genial disposition endeared himself to our entire party, so that
when we heard of his sad fate soon afterward, it seemed as if death had
crouched by our own camp-fire. Should the Indians become troublesome,
there was some talk at the fort, he now informed us, of organizing a
company for operations against them, composed of buffalo hunters and
scouts under the lead of regular officers, and in this case it was his
purpose to accompany it in the capacity of a surgeon. As good guns were
difficult to obtain there, and we had some extra weapons, one of our
party loaned the doctor an improved Henry rifle and holster revolvers.
Before we again heard of him, he had crossed that shadowy line which
winds between the tombs and habitations of men, and his name was added
to the drearily long list which bears for its heading--"Killed by
Indians."
Commencing with those first entries after the Mayflower introduced our
fathers to savage audience, and chiseling separately each name on a
marble milestone, the white witnesses would girdle the earth.
Sunrise next morning saw us again moving northward, fully determined
that no body of Indians, unless comprising the whole Cheyenne nation,
should force us back again. We had met the red man on his native heath
and familiarity had bred contempt. All were in excellent spirits and
felt the braver, perhaps, because our late visitors had assured us that
their tribe was on the war-path against the Pawnees, and meant only
peace with the whites.
Our party left Ha
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