Saga of Chief Joseph

by Helen Addison Howard

  Howard learned from Norwood that his casualties were Lieutenant Benson and six enlisted men wounded. Two of the latter died of their injuries. Young Brooks, the orderly and favorite bugler of Captain Jackson, had been killed in the raid on the camp as he attempted to blow “Boots and Saddles.” Carr’s company had one man wounded.

  The column returned to camp about 3:00 P.M. On the way the troops recovered twenty mules abandoned by the Indians. “The others,” Davis writes, “were never retaken, but were worn out or died before the final surrender. . . .”14 Howard sent the wounded men and the volunteers to Virginia City. When his artillery unit and the rest of the infantry overtook his command, he marched on after the Indians. Upon leaving Camas Meadows, a small force of Bannock scouts under Captain Bainbridge of the Fourteenth Infantry, and scout S. G. Fisher, joined the general.

  Joseph declared after his surrender that forty of his youngest men (meaning tribesmen) had “made all the noise and firing of the first attack.” He explained that he was tired of having General Howard so close on his heels and planned to “set him afoot.” He was greatly disappointed to find that the cavalry horses had been picketed for the night, as he would have preferred the horses to the mules, although he had hoped to get both, for, he observed, “You didn’t picket your horses other nights, so I didn’t expect it this time.”15

  J. W. Redington,16 a scout with Howard’s command, says Joseph personally conducted the column of fours.17 As already narrated, McWhorter’s Indian informants, who actually took part in the raid, including Joseph’s nephew, Yellow Wolf, all deny it. Probably here again the whites mistook Alokut for his brother Joseph.

  The night following the raid, the soldiers went into camp on the North Fork of Snake River in a stand of heavy timber. Rumors filtered among the troops that the Indians were nearby, waiting to spring another night attack. Consequently the tired men kept nervously wakeful during the long hours of darkness.

  Since nobody was very sleepy, Howard started the column at 2:00 A.M. in the hopes of overtaking the Nez Perces before they got beyond Henrys Lake. But at eight o’clock scouts reported the Indians had passed through Tacher’s (Targhee) Pass. As the general’s troops sorely needed supplies of every kind, he ordered them to make camp and they lay over four days while awaiting the stores.

  Although the plan did not completely work out in the way Joseph had hoped, the surprise raid was no failure. Before Howard could renew the pursuit he had to replenish his packtrain by buying mules from settlers in Virginia City some seventy miles away. The foray produced another significant aftermath because the general lost his last opportunity to catch the fleeing foe. Joseph and his tribesmen, meanwhile, marched merrily along without interruption into Yellowstone Park, for, after two days of fruitless waiting without seeing any signs of the enemy, Bacon had returned to the command.

  Lieutenant Colonel Gilbert was reconnoitering in the park with two troops of cavalry from Fort Ellis near Bozeman. However, he feared to intercept the Nez Perces because of their superior numbers. Thus the chiefs’ strategy in the Camas Meadows raid gained them three days.

  Gilbert’s force was acting as an escort to General W. T. Sherman, who, as General of the Army, was making an inspection tour of the western forts. Sherman left the park shortly before the arrival of the main band of Indians. Asks Francis Haines:

  It is interesting to speculate on the unique situation which would have developed had he been captured by the Nez Perces and held as a hostage while they negotiated terms with his subordinates. Do you suppose they could have traded him for the Wallowa?18

  When Howard reluctantly took up the chase again on August 27, by order of the General of the Army although he was far beyond the limits of his Department of the Pacific, it led him through forest and canyons, over mountains and across gorges, where his wagons had to be let down almost perpendicular walls with ropes hand over hand for sometimes two hundred feet.

  In speaking of the difficulties the army faced, Howard wrote to the Secretary of War:

  Though under known interpretation of law our campaign against hostile Indians is not recognized as war, yet as it has been a severer tax upon the energies of officers and men than any period of the same length of our late civil war, surely some method must be found to encourage and properly reward such gallantry and services hardly ever excelled.19

  19

  The Attack on the Cowan and Weikert Parties

  It is always the innocent bystander who suffers most, and so it was with a party of tourists who were enjoying the freakish wonders of Yellowstone Park that summer of 1877. Frank Carpenter, a young man of twenty-seven, had originally conceived the idea of exploring the “wonders of geyser land.” He had induced his friends, Albert Oldham, William Dingee, A. J. Arnold, and Charles Mann to go sight-seeing with him. The party left Helena, Montana, on July 29, and were joined at Radersburg by Mr. and Mrs. George Cowan, and Frank’s thirteen-year-old sister, Ida. Emma Cowan, who died in Spokane, Washington, December 20, 1938, was two years married, and twenty-four years old at the time. She was also a sister of Frank’s. Henry Myers had charge of the team.

  Frank kept a diary of their memorable trip and wrote a highly colored account of their adventures, which was published in 1878 under the title of The Wonders of Geyser Land. The party were peacefully encamped in the Lower Geyser Basin before they heard rumors of the Nez Perce War. They had decided to remain a day or two longer and then return home.

  But their decision came too late, for on the night of August 23, five Indians discovered the Cowan camp. These warriors were members of a scouting party under the leadership of Yellow Wolf, Joseph’s nephew. The next morning they debated what they should do with the tourists, since they felt that all the whites whom they met in the park were enemies. Yellow Wolf wanted to kill them and solve the dilemma, but a half-breed interpreter, Henry Tabador, said that instead they should take them to the chiefs and let them dispose of the whites.

  This decision reached, three of the Indians walked into camp without any warning and surprised the tourists at their morning fire building. One of the white men advanced and shook hands with Yellow Wolf. This simple friendly gesture, he later admitted, changed his mind about killing the party. The hearts of these whites were good, he reasoned.

  The half-breed Henry, acting as interpreter, asked for flour, bacon, and sugar. Instead of immediately granting the request, the whites questioned the Indians. Henry explained that Joseph’s band was three days’ march toward Henrys Lake in advance of the bands of Looking Glass and White Bird.

  A parley then ensued, during which the Nez Perces insisted they were friends and meant no harm, but that “Joseph’s Injuns heap bad.” Again they requested food. This George Cowan refused them, so one Indian walked toward the timber and tried to whistle through his thumbs. Cowan, probably fearing he was trying to call up a large band of Nez Perces that the scouts said were camped nearby, picked up his gun and ordered, “Keep your hands down!”

  Members of the Cowan party report that by this time they were surrounded by Indians who had stopped to view the geysers. In growing anxiety Frank Carpenter and George Cowan held a council, and decided to visit the camp and ask the chiefs’ permission to leave the park unmolested. They made this intention known to the scouts.

  When about to start, Mrs. Cowan, who had remained in the tent until then, made her appearance and begged her husband not to go. Ida Carpenter also emerged and joined her sister. The presence of the white women drew the fascinated gaze of the Indians. George Cowan objected to the manner in which they watched his wife. Again he picked up his gun and waved it threateningly.

  To relieve the growing tension, other members of the party calmly proceeded to get breakfast. Two of the white men gave the Indians all the bacon and flour to appease them. After the group, including the scouts, had filled up on flapjacks, Oldham and Frank harnessed the horses.

  Then the cavalcade of buggy, wagon, and mounted men started for the Indian village, accompanied
by the five Nez Perces. Upon leaving the timber the whites saw the main band “moving abreast in an unbroken line ten or fifteen deep, driving ponies and constantly riding in and out of line. We could see about three miles of Indians. . . .”1

  A group of thirty or forty warriors, on catching sight of the captives, dropped out of the main band and charged up to them, but were stopped by the half-breed interpreter upon Cowan’s demand. The braves pulled up their ponies and stared with great interest. The Cowan party halted and went into a huddle, but decided to push on. Soon they were surrounded by another large group of curious braves, who finally ordered them to stop. The excellent condition of the whites’ horses and the assortment of firearms had not missed the sharp eyes of the Nez Perces. The warriors rode about the party and also eyed the women. Then a messenger joined the scouts and told the interpreter that Looking Glass wanted the whites brought back to him, apparently to save them from Joseph’s “bad Injuns.”

  In a spirit of mischief, a group of young braves galloped up to the wagons, yelling and throwing lariats at the harnessed horses to frighten them. The Cowan party, anxious to reach the protection of Looking Glass, set out on the run, accompanied by the prankish red youths. They laughed gleefully and, hoping to increase the alarm of the captives, shouted that Joseph was coming.

  When they were unable to continue on the trail with their wagons because of fallen timber, the whites abandoned the vehicles. While the Indians watched them unhitch, Frank left the party, escorted by a warrior, to contact Looking Glass. On the way to the village the Indian dropped behind him, Frank reports, and treacherously maneuvered so as to shoot him in the back, but he “got the drop” and forced the Nez Perce to guide him to the chief. He describes Looking Glass as:

  . . . a man of medium height, and is apparently forty-five years of age, his hair being streaked with grey. He has a wide, flat face, almost square, with a small mouth running from ear to ear. His ears were decorated with rings of purest brass, and down the side of his face hung a braid of hair, adorned at the end with brass wire wound around it. The ornament worn by him, that was most conspicuous, was a tin looking-glass, which he wore about his neck and suspended in front. . . . He wore nothing on his head and had two or three feathers plaited in his back hair.2

  Looking Glass turned young Carpenter over to Poker Joe, who took charge of him and Shively, a prospector, captured the night before. Poker Joe (Lean Elk), together with his small band, had joined his tribesmen on their march up the Bitterroot Valley. After the Big Hole battle it was his duty to direct and regulate the march of the Indians as camp leader and guide.

  In the meanwhile, immediately after the whites had abandoned the wagons, the Indians plundered and then wrecked them beyond further use. The captives then proceeded on horseback and were permitted to join Frank at Poker Joe’s lodge during the noonday halt. This chief told the whites that the Indians wanted guns, cartridges, blankets, and horses. The Nez Perces did not pass up the opportunity to extract some fun out of the situation by forcibly trading the Cowan party out of their fine horses for their own jaded mounts. In explanation of the seizure Poker Joe said they needed supplies because they were going to the buffalo country. He mentioned the Big Hole fight, but assured the Cowans that the Nez Perces were not hostile to Montana people.

  During the horse swapping Poker Joe led A. J. Arnold into the forest, and then told him to mount the gray horse which he was leading and to keep in the woods. Arnold joined William Dingee, and the two of them made their escape through the heavy, fallen timber, although warriors shot at them five times after they abandoned the horses. By keeping in the dense forest they made their way to Howard’s command encamped by Henrys Lake.

  While Arnold and Dingee were making their escape, the Indians brought up some worn-out ponies which the rest of the Cowan party were told to mount. Poker Joe told them to start for home and to keep in the timber.

  When they had traveled a short distance they were again surrounded by young warriors, who allowed them to continue, however. Soon they heard shots in the direction where they supposed Arnold and Dingee to be in hiding. Again the young men, bent on mischief, laughed and threatened them with guns. The whites decided to return and seek protection from Joseph. But the young braves stopped them and traded the party out of their saddles and bridles, which they had been permitted to keep until then.

  Once more the whites proceeded on their way, encircled by the unwelcome escort of warriors, when another group of Indians came dashing toward them on the trail. George Cowan, riding in the lead, reported that eight or ten feet away these young men suddenly pulled back their ponies on their haunches. One Indian rode close to him and deliberately shot him in the thigh. Cowan jumped off his horse and ran for the brush alongside the trail, but he stumbled and fell over some bushes.

  At this time Albert Oldham was riding with Cowan and the two sisters. He had been permitted to retain his gun since he had only three cartridges, and the Indians had none to fit it. Coincident with the shooting of Cowan, the Indian nearest Oldham swerved his pony suddenly and fired at him, the bullet penetrating his left cheek and coming out under his right jawbone. The shot knocked Oldham off his horse, and he fell in a ravine beside the trail. He got onto his feet and tried to shoot his attacker, but fortunately the gun misfired. Otherwise the entire party doubtless would have been massacred in revenge.

  Duncan MacDonald,3 in a newspaper account published in 1879, sheds light on this unprovoked attack. After the war he talked about it with Nez Perces who told him that a party of reckless young men bent on revenge were responsible for attacking the Cowan party. Of the two Indians who charged the whites for the purpose of shooting them, one was Um-til-ilp-cown, youngest of the three Idaho murderers who were responsible for the outbreak of hostilities. It was he who shot Cowan.

  Oldham managed to keep the warriors covered until they joined the group surrounding the injured Cowan. He then hid in the bushes for thirty-six hours, suffering intensely all the while. When the forest around him rang with silence—so quiet it was after the Indians’ passing—he crawled forth to the spot where Cowan had been wounded. But he could not locate his friend’s body, and so he followed down the Madison River, his tongue becoming so badly swollen he was unable to eat and could scarcely breathe. Fortunately he met two white men who gave him first-aid treatment and brought him to Howard’s command, where he found Arnold and Mann.

  At the moment of the attack, Frank Carpenter was riding behind the other members of his party. Seeing an Indian point a gun at him and believing he would be shot, he made the sign of the cross. The warrior immediately lowered the weapon, but denied that he spared Frank because of the religious gesture. They had been told by the chiefs, he explained, not to injure the whites. However, it seems likely that the non-Christian Nez Perces did associate the idea of “strong medicine” with Christian ritual, even though they would not openly admit it. Be that as it may, the Indians impressed Frank into service as a guide for that section of the park to get them back on the trail. It seems that the Nez Perces were lost for a while, as none of them was familiar with the country, their route to the buffalo hunting grounds being much farther north.

  After Cowan had fallen in the bushes, his wife ran to him and asked where he was hurt. He told her he thought his right leg was shattered. The wound was bleeding profusely. A curious crowd of warriors had quickly gathered about them. Emma Cowan held her husband’s head in her arms and cried.

  Ida, half hysterical from fear, pushed through the throng and joined her sister who was by then struggling with Henry, the interpreter. He wanted to kill Cowan and finish his suffering. The frenzied young wife argued and pled and fought with the scout. Another Indian leaned close and fired a revolver, the bullet crashing against Cowan’s forehead. He relaxed as with the stillness of death. Sobbing wildly, Emma Cowan and her young sister were led away to Joseph’s camp, where they were given the most humane treatment. Mrs. Cowan herself is authority for the statement.

>   In the meanwhile, according to Duncan MacDonald,4 when the chiefs learned of the attack upon the whites, they dispatched Poker Joe to protect the tourists. He succeeded in controlling the vicious young men, but, believing Cowan dead, brought only the women and their brother back to the village. Frank thus describes the scene:

  The Indians had encamped on the outer edge of a circular basin about three-fourths of a mile in circumference, and were building their camp fires about every twenty or thirty feet apart. The ponies, a thousand or more, were in the basin encircled by the fires. Others were constantly coming, and we could hear their “yip, yip,” as they drove the ponies in for unpacking.5

  That night the captives were placed under the personal protection of Chief Joseph, to whom Frank was introduced. The chief “has a high forehead,” he wrote, “a straight prominent nose, high cheek bones, and when he speaks he sets his lips together with a firmness that showed he meant what he said. He talked but little, but I noticed that when he spoke to an Indian, there was no hesitancy about obeying him.”6

  A warrior came over to Joseph’s fire and began telling him about the events of the day and the attack on the whites. “Joseph listened for a moment,” relates Frank, “then with a motion of disgust got up and went over where his squaw and . . . daughter were. He was evidently displeased with the actions of the Indians, in the shooting of our party.”7

  In writing of the experience Mrs. Cowan also gives an interesting, if brief, portrait of Joseph as he appeared to her in camp. It likewise throws light on the essentially humane character of the man, for what was to prevent him from having the entire party put to death in the wilderness? Mrs. Cowan writes:

  My brother tried to converse with Chief Joseph, but without avail. The chief sat by the fire, sombre and silent, forseeing in his gloomy meditations possibly the unhappy ending of his campaign. The “noble red man” we read of was more nearly impersonated in this Indian than in any I have ever met. Grave and dignified, he looked a chief.