by Eugeine Ware
On the morning of July 23, 1864, we left our camp at the mouth of Lodgepole Creek and started up the valley. It was one of the most beautiful mornings that ever was seen in what was then an empty and inhospitable country. The air was so pure and unvitiated that it was a delight to breathe it. It was a blessing to be alive, and be able to start with the cavalcade up Pole Creek valley. Our order of march was about as usual, except that Captain O'Brien rode ahead with the General and I stayed back with the company. We were never out of sight of thousands of antelope which played in vast droves as far as we could see. They were bounding about, and were enjoying the air and sun the same as we. Far off in the distances was an occasional wolf, lonesome and inquisitive, sitting on his haunches watching us closely. He might have been an Indian. Our Pawnee allies were acting like monkeys; they scattered out all over the country, bouncing on and off their horses, now in groups, now deployed out, as if in flight from some unseen foe behind them. They appeared to be examining tracks and trails, then appeared to be racing their horses, then they would all yell and run together in a bunch. Sometimes they would all be scattered out in front of us for a half-mile on each side, then they would all begin shouting and break and rally to our rear as if the devil was after them. We pushed on up the valley at a rate of about four miles an hour. The valley was quite wide – in places miles; it then rose up the slopes to the edge of the plateau, which at the top on both sides of us was as level as a floor, but which at places along the dry stream was broken into ragged and projecting bluffs. All the way up, far in the distance from these bluffs, smoke signals were seen, but we never saw a hostile Indian. This was what made our Indian allies act so; they were in the presence of the enemy. In vain did General Mitchell order Major North to keep his men in close column in the rear, and in vain did Major North try to execute the order; the Indians were nervous and ungovernable. They knew that there were Indians somewhere, not so very far off, and so did we, but they were frenzied over it. We did not care much how many there were, so that we could see them. We could have taken a position on the side of the Pole Creek arroyo and stood off a thousand Indians. We had an advance guard ride along the arroyo so that we would not be surprised. I constantly searched the horizon with my field-glass, but could not see a single Indian, although the smoke signals kept going up in front of us all day. Our Pawnees rode mostly as a lot of savages, which in fact they were, having on but little. The best dressed had on a breech-clout, moccasins, and two cavalry trouser-legs separately swung up with a whang to a rawhide belt, but the majority were only one-third as well dressed, and their sunburned skins were well greased and polished. All of them had Government carbines, all had butcher-knives; some had lances in addition, and some had bows and arrows. We had got tired of the antics of our allies before we reached Julesburg, but by the end of this day of July 23rd, after a march of from 35 to 40 miles we got positively weary.
We camped on the banks of Lodgepole, several miles above what appeared far off on our right to be the ruins of an old adobe hut. There was no visible water in the bed of the creek where we camped, but we found plenty of water by digging, and we were able to cook with the bunches of drift roots that the stream in its high career had dug up and floated down. We would find at places a wagon-load together of such fuel, dried and ready for use. We grazed our horses before night and put out our guards; we took our spades and dug rifle-pits for each guard. We put the Indians on the other side of the arroyo and told them to look out for themselves. We strung an inch-and-a-quarter picket-rope between our two company wagons near the bank of the arroyo, and tied our horses to the rope, one-half on each side. As night closed in and the smell of fried bacon and pancakes spread out upon the local atmosphere, the lamentations of what appeared to be a million wolves arose. Our stable guard said that the Pawnees did not appear to sleep much that night.
On the morning of July 24th we started over the ridge to the north. It was a long, tedious climb up to the top of the plateau, but the scene behind us was beautiful. We could see up and down the valley of the Lodgepole for many miles, until the rotundity of the earth hid the view. There was not a tree or a bush in sight. The valley was as smooth and polished as if it had been sand-papered and varnished. There was not a riding-switch that could be cut between us and Julesburg. It was simply an undulating expanse of short, struggling grass. Before we started out in the morning we gave our horses all the water they would drink, for it was said to be fully thirty-two miles across the ridge from water to water. This was the short line which Jules had laid out, so as to change the route and bring the pilgrim travel past his ranch. This particular strip of road was called "Jules Stretch." The road became considerably rocky as we ascended.
Late in the afternoon we reached the other side, at Mud Springs, eight miles east of Court House Rock. At these springs was the first water we got after coming over the Stretch. Up on the high land in the middle of the Stretch, at what might be called the summit, the stage company, years before, thinking to adopt it as a line of road, had attempted to dig a well. Great quantities of dirt and rock were piled out, but the story went that they never could find a drop of water, and that they went down three hundred feet. I cannot say how deep it was, but it was a very deep well, for I crawled up to the edge of it, and dropped rocks down, and heard no splash, and knew by the time of descent that the well was a very deep one. In fact, I threw down several, and they went bounding down from side to side. I peered over the edge, because, owing to extreme heat and dryness of the atmosphere, the boys were very thirsty, and I wanted to get some water out of it, if by tying lariat-ropes together we could get it. But the well seemed to be dry all the way down.
Along the ridge we saw where several wagons had been burned, and knew by this that there had been Indian troubles along the line at some time. We also counted forty-seven dead oxen at various places along the road, all dried and torn. Many had probably perished from thirst, but two or three had old, broken arrows in them. Horse skeletons were also frequent, and there were old buffalo heads and horns scattered along the ridge, but we never saw buffalo between Cottonwood Springs and Fort Laramie. We were told that they were seldom seen between the forks of the Platte in July.
We went on past Mud Springs, after giving our horses plenty of water and a good rest, and camped on a little river east of Court House Rock. This river was composed of two streams, one called Punkin Creek and the other Lawrence Fork, but after the junction it was then called Lawrence Fork, and so on down to the North Platte.
We saw no Indian signals until we were descending from the summit of the Stretch. When we began to see hills and broken land far off in the distance, and began to approach to the Platte River bluffs again, the signals reappeared. I could see at great distances, with my glass, puffs of smoke, almost instantaneous but quite visible. The Pawnees also saw them and began again to act, as one of my sergeants put it, "like all-possessed." When we got to Mud Springs, after they had watered their ponies, the Pawnees spread out all over the country, following trails and tracks, or pretending to. They dashed around and yelled and charged back to camp, and charged out again; they were a sight to behold. Our guide, John Smith, said they were just showing off, and were trying to create the impression that they were warlike. It was much ado about nothing. General Mitchell had tried to stop it. They were wholly uncontrollable. We did not believe they would fight, and did not want to be bothered with them. Captain O'Brien and I expressed our views to the General and found that he agreed with us. He said, "The [blankety-blank] Abbri-goins, we will send them back." We all liked Major North, and felt what a disappointment it would be to him. But the General in the evening led the Major up and thanked him for his zealous services and had him call his Pawnees and get them in line. Then the General made a few remarks to them about their soldierly appearance and warlike spirit; and how pleased he was with their valourous services; and how he had taken them as far as was necessary; and that from now on it was safe for him and his escort; and that they cou
ld now go back to Fort Kearney and be mustered out and get their pay. The next morning with long-continued yells and shrieks and "monkey business," as O'Brien called it, the Pawnees left us and were soon out of sight, much to our satisfaction. The Government has many a time tried to utilize the noble red man for a soldier but has always failed, just as we tried and failed; he is no good for anything.
These Pawnees went back and were reorganized at Fort Kearney during August, as scouts on the road. A new set of officers tried to do something with them, but finally had to ogive it up. The new Pawnee Company thus organized were 77 in number, and was under a Captain Joseph McFadden, with Frank J. North, of whom I have spoken, as Lieutenant. They served about forty days, until October 1, 1864, and were again and finally mustered out. I have in my possession a muster-roll of the Pawnee company, and as an exhibit hereto I insert on the following page a list of their Indian names, copied verbatim from the roll.
Major North afterwards made a great reputation as a partner of Buffalo Bill in the Wild West show.
As stated, we camped near Court House Rock. It was a very wonderful formation, very attractive and very beautiful. Captain O'Brien and I determined that we would go to the top of it, but gave it up for that particular evening because it seemed as if it might be too dangerous at that time of the day, but we agreed to get up early in the morning and climb the rock.
Names of the "Pawnee Scouts," 1864;
Under Command of Major Frank J. North:
[Alphabetized list in single-column format]
She-te-le-lah-we-tit. La-shah-roo-te-wah-re. Tuck-ta-shah-ki-rick. La-shah-roo-pit-coo.
Lah-roo-suck-hoo-la-shar. Tah-we-li-he-ris-shah. La-re-roo-tah-ka-chicks-ooke. Te-reh-re-kucks-shah.
She-te-le-lah-wis-sha-rit. To-rah-re-chi-e-tus. Lah-roo-rit-kah-hah-la-shar. Teck-ta-re-roo-hut.
Ah-shah-wuck-ke. Koot-tah-we-coots-oo-la-shar. Te-ah-kah-chicks-tus-peke. Kah-kah-lah-la-shar.
Kah-kah-roo-re. Tah-hoo-rah-routs. Too-ke-tah-we-he-ris-ah. Ke-wuck-oo-lah-li-e-coots.
Tah-sah-hah-tah-he-ris-ah. Lah-we-teh-re-oots. Koot-tah-we-koots-oo-te-lah-lah. She-rer-re-hoo-le-tah-we.
Te-lah-kah-ooh-ke. Koot-tah-we-coots-oo-te-rer-reb. Suck-koo-roo-te-wa-re. Koot-tah-we-coots-oo-te-lah-we-la.
Te-suck-koo-loo-le-wits. Pe-tah-war-ucks-tee. See-te-kah-ricks-tah-hoo-re. Lah-hock-tah-we-la-shar.
Kah-roo-re-ah-ris. La-shah-kip-pe-re. Tuck-ke-leh-re-wah-tucks. Te-er-re-ta-cosh.
We-tit-te-la-shah-ris-pe. Le-re-ru-tah-kah. Kee-wuck-oo-te-lah-we. Lah-we-li-ish.
Too-lah-we-oo-roo. Te-ah-ke-la-rick. Ke-wuck-oo-roo-re. La-shah-roo-roo-te-lah-kah-ta-rick.
Ke-wuck-oo-la-shar. Lah-li-e-coots-ta-shah. Koot-tah-we-coots-oo-kah-lah. Lah-roo-wuck.
Koot-tah-we-coots-oo-rooh-kah. Te-ah-ke-wah-hoo-re-rick. Roo-kit-tah-we-its-pah. Co-rooks-te-cha-rick.
Koot-tah-we-coots-oo-let-kah-hah. Ta-ker-re-rah-we-hoot. Lah-li-e-coots-ta-shah. Ta-lah-wih-kah-wah.
La-kit-tah-we-la-shah. La-tock-kots-lock. Te-lah-kah-we-rick. Cha-kah.
Lah-he-ris-oo-rick. Roo-rah-rooh-kah-we. La-shah-too-rou-tah-we. Te-kah-ricks-tah-kah-lah-ta.
Tel-re-kit-tah-wa. Ta-sah-hah-kah-roit. Tah-weet-too-re-kah. La-tah-kots-too-ri-ha.
Te-hus-tah-we-re-kah-wah. Koot-tah-we-coots-oo-rah-lah-ha. Ah-roosh-ah-lah-kah-hoo-la-shar.
Roo-lal-re-roo-che-lah. Lah-roots-chah-koo-re-hoo. Koot-tah-we-coots. Kiel-e-kah-ris-oo-too-rouh-tah-we.
Lah-li-e-coots-kit-e-buts. Kah-wa-hoo-roo.
Chapter XX.
Ascent of Court House Rock, July 25th – Ficklin's – The Agency – Fort Laramie – July 27th – Bordeaux – Champagne – The Post Sutler – Mr. Bullock – The Squaw Camp – Grasshoppers – Jules Coffey – Charles Elston – Leo Palladio – Bridger – Bridger's Stories
ON JULY 25, 1864, the Captain and I got up early, and with a couple of lariat-ropes started out to ascend Court House Rock. We both succeeded in getting on top of the precipice. It had a covering of stone, not very hard, on which there were several names carved; we took a few minutes to add our names to the number. It was a good deal of a task to get to the top and one equally difficult and dangerous to get down. We rejoined our column, which had started on its march, and we camped in the afternoon at a deserted old place where it looked as if nobody had lived for a generation. It was called "Ficklin's," and was situated on the river sixty-seven miles east of Fort Laramie. It was named before the war, from one of the officers of the Overland Stage Company, We had marched that day about forty miles from Mud Springs. From Mud Springs the weather had been cloudy and misty, and we did not get a chance to see the beauties of the route; this was so for several days, but on our return we had delightful weather, and I will wait until then to describe what we really saw.
On July 26, 1864, we left Ficklin's and went up the North Platte River. We kept on the south side, and camped at what was called the "Agency." The weather was hot and dusty; the clouds seemed to fill the valley, which was entirely unusual. The guides said they had never seen anything like it before, and I must add that I myself never did afterwards. Antelopes appeared without number, and the hills where seen seemed to be alive with deer.
There was water in the river all along the line. We passed Scott's Bluff, fifty-eight miles east of Fort Laramie. We also passed Alcohol Butte and the celebrated Chimney Rock. The Agency where we camped was called the Woc-co-pom'-any agency. It was the place where the Sioux Indians of the north came down to get their annuity goods. There was a large, long, one-story rambling stone house on the place, but there was not a soul there. In fact, there was nobody then living along the river at that time, from the Forks of the Platte River down at Jack Morrow's up nearly to Fort Laramie, over 250 miles, except near the Fort, at Julesburg.
The next day, July 27, 1864, we camped north of Fort Laramie, and I went down to the Fort. Major Wood of our regiment was placed in command of the post by General Mitchell, and I was detailed as post adjutant. There were three companies of the Eleventh Ohio Cavalry then at the Fort; at least, the Fort was the headquarters of three companies, but they were out scouting and guarding trains, all in command of Major Underhill of that regiment. The Captains were named Shuman, Koehne, and Marshall; and there were eight Lieutenants. Five miles down the river from Fort Laramie was the ranch of a Frenchman by the name of Beauvais, and five miles still farther down was the ranch of Bordeaux. These two Frenchmen had Indian wives and children, and Indian herders, drivers, etc., etc., making quite a retinue, and they did all they could to keep the Indians from being hostile, and breaking out in war. These two traders were rich. They had made a great deal of money, had very large stocks of goods, and were reported to own considerable property; but, trade was at a standstill, there being no emigration. A very interesting acquaintance opened while I was at the Fort, under the following circumstances:
The ranchman, Bordeaux, had sent up word that there was a large band of Indians back in the hills; that he was afraid they might make a break on him; and he thought if the Government would send a few soldiers down for a demonstration, that the Indians would go away. The post commander, Major Wood, told me about four o'clock in the afternoon to take ten men and go down there and see what there was to it; stay all night, and come back in the morning. I got down to Bordeaux' before sundown, and he seemed very glad to see me, and he gave my soldiers a camping-place in his "pilgrim quarters," and we put our
horses in the corral. I put the Sergeant in charge, and told him to keep a good lookout. The soldiers had their own rations, but Bordeaux insisted on being my host. After supper with him we went into his store. It was a large, rambling log building with sod end to it, and additions and outbuildings attached to it, so that it was a sort of wandering, straggling caravansary and store combined. He got to showing me what he had, and then he went into the front of the store-building, where he had some cigars. The doors were all bolted and barred. He got to telling me about his visit to France. The floor in this part of the building was made out of pine log
s brought down to a grade with an adz. It happened that I could read his French language, and I expressed myself very much interested, and he told me all about his recent trip to " La Belle France "; and he had a new variety of bitters known as Red Jacket Bitters, of which he was partaking freely. We talked about Indians and Indian matters and Indian habits and Indian customs, and he said that the Indians that had been back of his house had gone off. But I was very much interested in his description of Indian manners and his adventures among them, until it got to be along about one o'clock in the morning. And Mr. Bordeaux again got off onto the subject of his visit to " La Belle France," and he seemed to be very much pleased with the bitters he had and the attention with which I listened to his story. He was a much older man than I, and I was, indeed, very much delighted to hear him talk. All at once he disappeared through the floor, by turning up a plank or puncheon, and the first thing I knew he came back from down below somewhere with two large, musty quart bottles of champagne, and sticking one down in front of me said, "We will drink to La Belle France. " I was as much surprised as if the man had dug up a statue of Daniel Webster. The idea of a quart bottle of champagne in that dry, arid, heathen country almost paralyzed me, but I finally said to him that a quart bottle was more than my size, and that I would drink half of one of the bottles with him. I suggested that we split, and each drink half of the same bottle. Thereupon he got two tin cups, and with a hatchet knocked off the head. There in the stillness of night in that country we drank to the health of " La Belle France. " I have never seen Mr. Bordeaux since then, but have retained a delicious memory of him and the occasion. In the morning we were up early, and at eight o'clock were back at Fort Laramie.
