THE OLD SANTA FE TRAIL by COLONEL HENRY INMAN (best fiction novels of all time .TXT) 📕

by The Scouts For Nearly

Four Hundred miles.  Early One Morning When That Distance Had Been

Rounded, And Just As The Men Were About To Break Camp Preparatory

To The Day'S March, Carson Went Out On A Little Reconnoissance On His

Own Account, As He Had Noticed a Flock Of Ravens Hovering In the Air

When He First Got Out Of His Blankets At Dawn, Which Was Sufficient

Indication To Him That An Indian Camp Was Located somewhere In the

Vicinity; For That Ominous Bird Is Always To Be Found In the Region

Where The Savages Take Up An Abode, Feeding Upon The Carcasses Of

The Many Varieties Of Game Killed for Food.  He Had Not Proceeded

More Than Half A Mile From The Camp When He Discovered two Indians

Slowly Riding Over A Low "Divide," Driving a Herd Of Ponies Before

Them.  The Famous Scout Was Then Certain Their Village Could Not

Be Very Far Away.  The Savages Did Not Observe Him, As He Took Good

Care They Should Not; So He Returned quickly To Where Major Greer

Was Standing By His Camp-Fire And Reported the Presence Of A Village

Very Close At Hand.

 

 

 

The Major Having Sent For Tom Tobin And Uncle Dick Wooton, Requested

Them To Go And Find The Exact Location Of The Savages.  These Scouts

Came Back In less Than Half An Hour, And Reported a Large Number

Of Teepees In a Thick Grove Of Timber A Mile Away.

 

 

 

It Was At Once Determined to Surprise The Savages In their Winter

Quarters By Charging Right Among Their Lodges Without Allowing Them

Time To Mount Their Ponies, As The Gallant Custer Rode, At The Head

Of His Famous Troopers Of The Seventh Cavalry, Into The Camp Of The

Celebrated chief "Black Kettle" On The Washita, In the Dawn Of A

Cold November Morning Twenty Years Afterward.

 

 

 

The Command Succeeded in getting Within Good Charging Distance Of The

Village Without Its Occupants Having any Knowledge Of Its Proximity;

But At This Moment Major Greer Was Seized with An Idea That He Ought

To Have A Parley With The Indians Before He Commenced to Fight Them,

And For That Purpose He Ordered a Halt, Just As The Soldiers Were

Eager For The Sound Of The "Charge!"

 

 

 

Never Were A Body Of Men More Enraged.  Carson Gave Vent To His Wrath

In A Series Of Elaborately Carved english Oaths, For Which He Was

Noted when Young; Leroux, Whose Naturally Hot Blood Was Roused,

Swore At The Major In a Curious Mixture Of Bad French And Worse

Mountain Dialect, And It Appeared as If The Battle Would Begin In the

Ranks Of The Troops Instead Of Those Of The Savages; For Never Was

A Body Of Soldiers So Disgusted at The Act Of Any Commanding Officer.

 

 

 

This Delay Gave The Indians, Who Could Be Seen Dodging about Among

Their Lodges And Preparing For A Fight That Was No Longer A Surprise,

Time To Hide Their Women And Children, Mount Their Ponies, And Get

Down Into Deep Ravines, Where The Soldiers Could Not Follow Them.

While The Major Was Trying To Convince His Subordinates That His

Course Was The Proper One, The Indians Opened fire Without Any Parley,

And It Happened that At The First Volley A Bullet Struck Him In the

Breast, But A Suspender Buckle Deflected its Course And He Was Not

Seriously Wounded.

 

 

 

The Change In the Countenance Of Their Commanding Officer Caused by

The Momentary Pain Was Just The Incentive The Troopers Wanted, And

Without Waiting For The Sound Of The Trumpet, They Spurred their

Horses, Dashed in, And Charged the Thunderstruck Savages With The

Shock Of A Tornado.

 

 

 

In Two Successful Charges Of The Gallant And Impatient Troopers More

Than A Hundred of The Indians Were Killed and Wounded, But The Time

Lost Had Permitted many To Escape, And The Pursuit Of The Stragglers

Would Have Been Unavailing Under The Circumstances; So The Command

Turned back And Returned to Taos.  In the Village Was Found The Body

Of Mrs. White Still Warm, With Three Arrows In her Breast.  Had The

Charge Been Made As Originally Expected by The Troopers, Her Life

Would Have Been Saved.  No Trace Of The Child Or Of The Coloured

Nurse Was Ever Discovered, And It Is Probable That They Were Both

Killed while En Route From The Canyon To The Village, As Being

Valueless To Keep Either As Slaves Or For Other Purposes.

 

 

 

The Fate Of The Apache Chief, "White Wolf," Who Was The Leader In

The Outrages In the Canyon Of The Canadian, Was Fitting For His

Devilish Deeds.  It Was Lieutenant David Bell'S Fortune To Avenge

The Murder Of Mrs. White And Her Family, And In an Extraordinary

Manner.[32]  The Action Was Really Dramatic, Or Romantic; He Was

On A Scout With His Company, Which Was Stationed at Fort Union,

New Mexico, Having about Thirty Men With Him, And When Near The Canyon

Of The Canadian They Met About The Same Number Of Indians.  A Parley

Was In order At Once, Probably Desired by The Savages, Who Were

Confronted with An Equal Number Of Troopers.  Bell Had Assigned

The Baggage-Mules To The Care Of Five Or Six Of His Command, And Held

A Mounted interview With The Chief, Who Was No Other Than The Infamous

White Wolf Of The Jicarilla Apaches.  As Bell Approached, White Wolf

Was Standing In front Of His Indians, Who Were On Foot, All Well Armed

And In perfect Line.  Bell Was In advance Of His Troopers, Who Were

About Twenty Paces From The Indians, Exactly Equal In number And

Extent Of Line; Both Parties Were Prepared to Use Firearms.

 

 

 

The Parley Was Almost Tediously Long And The Impending Duel Was

Arranged, White Wolf Being Very Bold And Defiant.

 

 

 

At Last The Leaders Exchanged shots, The Chief Sinking On One Knee

And Aiming His Gun, Bell Throwing His Body Forward And Making His

Horse Rear.  Both Lines, By Command, Fired, Following The Example

Of Their Superiors, The Troopers, However, Spurring Forward Over

Their Enemies.  The Warriors, Or Nearly All Of Them, Threw Themselves

On The Ground, And Several Vertical Wounds Were Received by Horse

And Rider.  The Dragoons Turned short About, And Again Charged through

And Over Their Enemies, The Fire Being Continuous.  As They Turned

For A Third Charge, The Surviving Indians Were Seen Escaping To A

Deep Ravine, Which, Although Only One Or Two Hundred paces Off,

Had Not Previously Been Noticed.  A Number Of The Savages Thus

Escaped, The Troopers Having To Pull Up At The Brink, But Sending

A Volley After The Descending Fugitives.

 

 

 

In Less Than Fifteen Minutes Twenty-One Of The Forty-Six Actors In

This Strange Combat Were Slain Or Disabled.  Bell Was Not Hit, But

Four Or Five Of His Men Were Killed or Wounded.  He Had Shot

White Wolf Several Times, And So Did Others After Him; But So

Tenacious Of Life Was The Apache That, To Finish Him, A Trooper

Got A Great Stone And Mashed his Head.

 

 

 

This Was Undoubtedly The Greatest Duel Of Modern Times; Certainly

Nothing Like It Ever Occurred on The Santa Fe Trail Before Or Since.

 

 

 

The War Chief Of The Kiowa Nation In the Early '50'S Was Satank,

A Most Unmitigated villain; Cruel And Heartless As Any Savage That

Ever Robbed a Stage-Coach Or Wrenched off The Hair Of A Helpless Woman.

After Serving a Dozen Or More Years With A Record For Hellish

Atrocities Equalled by Few Of His Compeers, He Was Deposed for Alleged

Cowardice, As His Warriors Claimed, Under The Following Circumstances:--

 

 

 

The Village Of His Tribe Was Established in the Large Bottoms,

Eight Miles From The Great Bend Of The Arkansas, And About The Same

Distance From Fort Zarah.[33]  All The Bucks Were Absent On A Hunting

Expedition, Excepting Satank And A Few Superannuated warriors.

The Troops Were Out From Fort Larned on A Grand Scout After Marauding

Savages, When They Suddenly Came Across The Village And Completely

Took The Kiowas By Surprise.  Seeing The Soldiers Almost Upon Them,

Satank And Other Warriors Jumped on Their Ponies And Made Good Their

Escape.  Had They Remained, All Of Them Would Have Been Killed or

At Least Captured; Consequently Satank, Thinking Discretion Better

Than Valour At That Particular Juncture, Incontinently Fled.

His Warriors In council, However, Did Not Agree With Him; They Thought

That It Was His Duty To Have Remained at The Village In defence Of

The Women And Children, As He Had Been Urged to Refrain From Going On

The Hunt For That Very Purpose.

 

 

 

Some Time Before Satank Lost His Office Of Chief, There Was Living

On Cow Creek, In a Rude Adobe Building, A Man Who Was Ostensibly

An Indian Trader, But Whose Traffic, In reality, Consisted in selling

Whiskey To The Indians, And Consequently The United states Troops

Were Always After Him.  He Was Obliged to Cache His Liquor In every

Conceivable Manner So That The Soldiers Should Not Discover It, And,

Of Course, He Dreaded the Incursions Of The Troops Much More Than

He Did Raids Of The Indian Marauders That Were Constantly On The Trail.

 

 

 

Satank And This Illicit Trader, Whose Name Was Peacock, Were Great

Chums.  One Day While They Were Indulging In a General Good Time

Over Sundry Drinks Of Most Villanous Liquor, Satank Said To Peacock:

"Peacock, I Want You To Write Me A Letter; A Real Nice One, That

I Can Show To The Wagon-Bosses On The Trail, And Get All The 'Chuck'

I Want.  Tell Them I Am Satank, The Great Chief Of The Kiowas, And

For Them To Treat Me The Best They Know How."

 

 

 

"All Right, Satank," Said Peacock; "I'Ll Do So."  Peacock Then Sat

Down And Wrote The Following Epistle:--

 

 

 

"The Bearer Of This Is Satank.  He Is The Biggest Liar, Beggar, And

Thief On The Plains.  What He Can'T Beg Of You, He'Ll Steal.  Kick Him

Out Of Camp, For He Is A Lazy, Good-For-Nothing Indian."

 

 

 

Satank Began At Once To Make Use Of The Supposed precious Document,

Which He Really Believed would Assure Him The Dignified treatment

And Courtesy Due To His Exalted rank.  He Presented it To Several

Caravans During The Ensuing Week, And, Of Course, Received a Very

Cool Reception In every Instance, Or Rather A Very Warm One.

 

 

 

One Wagon-Master, In fact, Black-Snaked him Out Of His Camp.

After These Repeated insults He Sought Another White Friend, And

Told Of His Grievances.  "Look Here," Said Satank, "I Asked peacock

To Write Me A Good Letter, And He Gave Me This; But I Don'T

Understand It!  Every Time I Hand It To A Wagon-Boss, He Gives Me

The Devil!  Read It To Me And Tell Me Just What It Does Say."

 

 

 

His Friend Read It Over, And Then Translated it Literally To Satank.

The Savage Assumed a Countenance Of Extreme Disgust, And After Musing

For A Few Moments, Said: "Well, I Understand It All Now.  All Right!"

 

 

 

The Next Morning at Daylight, Satank Called for Some Of His Braves

And With Them Rode Out To Peacock'S Ranch.  Arriving There, He Called

Out To Peacock, Who Had Not Yet Risen: "Peacock, Get Up, The Soldiers

Are Coming!"  It Was A Warning Which The Illicit Trader Quickly

Obeyed, And Running Out Of The Building With His Field-Glass In his

Hand, He Started for His Lookout, But While He Was Ascending The

Ladder With His Back To Satank The Latter Shot Him Full Of Holes,

Saying, As He Did So: "There, Peacock, I Guess You Won'T Write Any

More Letters."

 

 

 

His Warriors Then Entered the Building and Killed every Man In it,

Save One Who Had Been Gored by A Buffalo Bull The Day Before, And

Who Was Lying In a Room All By Himself.  He Was Saved by The Fact

That The Indian Has A Holy Dread Of Small-Pox, And Will Never Enter

An Apartment Where Sick Men Lie, Fearing They May Have The Awful

Disease.

 

 

 

Satanta (White Bear) Was The Most Efficient And Dreaded chief Of All

Who Have Ever Been At The Head Of The Kiowa Nation.  Ever Restlessly

Active In ordering Or Conducting Merciless Forays Against An Exposed

Frontier, He Was The Very Incarnation Of Deviltry In his Determined

Hatred of The Whites, And His Constant Warfare Against Civilization.

 

 

 

He Also Possessed wonderful Oratorical Powers; He Could Hurl The Most

Violent Invectives At Those Whom He Argued with, Or He Could Be

Equally Pathetic When Necessary.  He Was Justly Called "The Orator Of

The Plains," Rivalling The Historical Renown Of Tecumseh Or Pontiac.

 

 

 

He Was A Short, Bullet-Headed indian, Full Of Courage And Well Versed

In Strategy.  Ordinarily, When On His Visits To The Various Military

Posts He Wore A Major-General'S Full Uniform, A Suit Of That Rank

Having Been Given To Him In the Summer Of 1866 By General Hancock.

He Also Owned an Ambulance, A Team Of Mules, And A Set Of Harness,

The Last Stolen, Maybe, From Some Caravan He Had Raided on The Trail.

In That Ambulance, With A Trained indian Driver, The Wily Chief

Travelled, Wrapped in a Savage Dignity That Was Truly Laughable.

In His