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

The Tortured beast, And Every Time That The Fear-Stricken

Buffalo Would Give Vent To His Hoarsely Modulated groan, The Wolves

Howled in concert In most Mournful Cadence.

 

 

 

After Contemplating His Antagonists For A Few Moments, The Bull Made

A Dash At The Nearest Wolf, Tumbling Him Howling Over The Silent

Prairie; But While This Diversion Was Going On In front, The Remainder

Of The Pack Started for His Hind Legs, To Hamstring Him.  Upon This

The Poor Brute Turned to The Point Of Attack Only To Receive A

Repetition Of It In the Same Vulnerable Place By The Wolves, Who Had

As Quickly Turned also And Fastened themselves On His Heels Again.

His Hind Quarters Now Streamed with Blood And He Began To Show Signs

Of Great Physical Weakness.  He Did Not Dare To Lie Down; That Would

Have Been Instantly Fatal.  By This Time He Had Killed three Of The

Wolves Or So Maimed them That They Were Entirely Out Of The Fight.

 

 

 

At This Juncture The Suffering animal Was Mercifully Shot, And The

Wolves Allowed to Batten On His Thin And Tough Carcass.

 

 

 

Often There Are Serious Results Growing Out Of A Stampede, Either By

Mules Or A Herd Of Buffalo.  A Portion Of The Fifth United states

Infantry Had A Narrow Escape From A Buffalo Stampede On The Old Trail,

In The Early Summer Of 1866.  General George A. Sykes, Who Commanded

The Division Of Regulars In the Army Of The Potomac During The

Civil War, Was Ordered to Join His Regiment, Stationed in new Mexico,

And Was Conducting a Body Of Recruits, With Their Complement Of

Officers, To Fill Up The Decimated ranks Of The Army Stationed at

The Various Military Posts, In far-Off Greaser Land.

 

 

 

The Command Numbered nearly Eight Hundred, Including The Subaltern

Officers.  These Recruits, Or The Majority Of Them At Least, Were

Recruits In name Only; They Had Seen Service In many A Hard Campaign

Of The Rebellion.  Some, Of Course, Were Beardless Youths Just Out

Of Their Teens, Full Of That Martial Ardour Which Induced so Many

Young Men Of The Nation To Follow The Drum On The Remote Plains And

In The Fastnesses Of The Rocky Mountains, Where The Wily Savages

Still Held Almost Undisputed sway, And Were A Constant Menace To

The Pioneer Settlers.

 

 

 

One Morning, When The Command Had Just Settled itself In careless

Repose On The Short Grass Of The Apparently Interminable Prairie

At The First Halt Of The Day'S March, A Short Distance Beyond

Fort Larned, A Strange Noise, Like The Low Muttering Of Thunder

Below The Horizon, Greeted the Ears Of The Little Army.

 

 

 

All Were Startled by The Ominous Sound, Unlike Anything They Had

Heard Before On Their Dreary Tour.  The General Ordered his Scouts

Out To Learn The Cause; Could It Be Indians?  Every Eye Was Strained

For Something Out Of The Ordinary.  Even The Horses Of The Officers

And The Mules Of The Supply-Train Were Infected by Something That

Seemed impending; They Grew Restless, Stamped the Earth, And Vainly

Essayed to Stampede, But Were Prevented by Their Hobbles And

Picket-Pins.

 

 

 

Presently One Of The Scouts Returned from Over The Divide, And

Reported to The General That An Immense Herd Of Buffalo Was Tearing

Down Toward The Trail, And From The Great Clouds Of Dust They Raised,

Which Obscured the Horizon, There Must Have Been Ten Thousand Of Them.

The Roar Wafted to The Command, And Which Seemed so Mysterious,

Was Made By Their Hoofs As They Rattled over The Dry Prairie.

 

 

 

The Sound Increased in volume Rapidly, And Soon A Black, Surging Mass

Was Discovered bearing Right Down On The Trail.  Behind It Could Be

Seen A Cavalcade Of About Five Hundred cheyennes, Comanches, And

Kiowas, Who Had Maddened the Shaggy Brutes, Hoping To Capture The

Train Without An Attack By Forcing The Frightened animals To Overrun

The Command.

 

 

 

Luckily, Something Caused the Herd To Open Before It Reached the

Foot Of The Divide, And It Passed in two Masses, Leaving The Command

Between, Not Two Hundred feet From Either Division Of The Infuriated

Beasts.

 

 

 

The Rage Of The Savages Was Evident When They Saw That Their Attempt

To Annihilate The Troops Had Failed, And They Rode Off Sullenly Into

The Sand Hills, As The Number Of Soldiers Was Too Great For Them

To Think Of Charging.

 

 

 

Cody Tells Of A Buffalo Stampede Which He Witnessed in his Youth

On The Plains, When He Was A Wagon-Master.  The Caravan Was On Its

Way With Government Stores For The Military Posts In the Mountains,

And The Wagons Were Hauled by Oxen.

 

 

 

He Says:

          The Country Was Alive With Buffalo, And Besides Killing

          Quite A Number We Had A Rare Day For Sport.  One Morning

          We Pulled out Of Camp, And The Train Was Strung Out To A

          Considerable Length Along The Trail, Which Ran Near The Foot

          Of The Sand Hills, Two Miles From The River.  Between The

          Road And The River We Saw A Large Herd Of Buffalo Grazing

          Quietly, They Having Been Down To The Stream To Drink.

          Just At This Time We Observed a Party Of Returning

          Californians Coming From The West.  They, Too, Noticed

          The Buffalo Herd, And In another Moment They Were Dashing

          Down Upon Them, Urging Their Horses To Their Greatest Speed.

          The Buffalo Herd Stampeded at Once, And Broke Down The Sides

          Of The Hills; So Hotly Were They Pursued by The Hunters

          That About Five Hundred of Them Rushed pell-Mell Through

          Our Caravan, Frightening Both Men And Oxen.  Some Of The

          Wagons Were Turned clear Around And Many Of The Terrified

          Oxen Attempted to Run To The Hills With The Heavy Wagons

          Attached to Them.  Others Were Turned around So Short

          That They Broke The Tongues Off.  Nearly All The Teams

          Got Entangled in their Gearing and Became Wild And Unruly,

          So That The Perplexed drivers Were Unable To Manage Them.

 

 

 

          The Buffalo, The Cattle, And The Men Were Soon Running

          In every Direction, And The Excitement Upset Everybody

          And Everything.  Many Of The Oxen Broke Their Yokes And

          Stampeded.  One Big Buffalo Bull Became Entangled in one

          Of The Heavy Wagon-Chains, And It Is A Fact That In his

          Desperate Efforts To Free Himself, He Not Only Snapped

          The Strong Chain In two, But Broke The Ox-Yoke To Which

          It Was Attached, And The Last Seen Of Him He Was Running

          Toward The Hills With It Hanging From His Horns.

 

 

 

Stampedes Were A Great Source Of Profit To The Indians Of The Plains.

The Comanches Were Particularly Expert And Daring In this Kind Of

Robbery.  They Even Trained their Horses To Run From One Point To

Another In expectation Of The Coming Of The Trains.  When A Camp

Was Made That Was Nearly In range, They Turned their Trained animals

Loose, Which At Once Flew Across The Prairie, Passing Through The

Herd And Penetrating The Very Corrals Of Their Victims.  All Of The

Picketed horses And Mules Would Endeavour To Follow These Decoys,

And Were Invariably Led right Into The Haunts Of The Indians,

Who Easily Secured them.  Young Horses And Mules Were Easily

Frightened; And, In the Confusion Which Generally Ensued, Great

Injury Was Frequently Done To The Runaways Themselves.

 

 

 

At Times When The Herd Was Very Large, The Horses Scattered over

The Prairie And Were Irrevocably Lost; And Such As Did Not Become

Wild Fell A Prey To The Wolves.  That Fate Was Very Frequently The

Lot Of Stampeded horses Bred in the States, They Not Having Been

Trained by A Prairie Life To Take Care Of Themselves.  Instead Of

Stopping and Bravely Fighting Off The Blood-Thirsty Beasts, They

Would Run.  Then The Whole Pack Were Sure To Leave The Bolder Animals

And Make For The Runaways, Which They Seldom Failed to Overtake

And Despatch.

 

 

 

On The Old Trail Some Years Ago One Of These Stampedes Occurred of

A Band Of Government Horses, In which Were Several Valuable Animals.

It Was Attended, However, With Very Little Loss, Through The Courage

And Great Exertion Of The Men Who Had Them In charge; Many Were

Recovered, But None Without Having Sustained injuries.

 

 

 

Hon. R. M. Wright, Of Dodge City, Kansas, One Of The Pioneers In

The Days Of The Santa Fe Trade, And In the Settlement Of The State,

Has Had Many Exciting Experiences Both With The Savages Of The Great

Plains, And The Buffalo.  In relation To The Habits Of The Latter,

No Man Is Better Qualified to Speak.

 

 

 

He Was Once Owner Of Fort Aubrey, A Celebrated point On The Trail,

But Was Compelled to Abandon It On Account Of Constant Persecution

By The Indians, Or Rather He Was Ordered to Do So By The Military

Authorities.  While Occupying The Once Famous Landmark, In connection

With Others, Had A Contract To Furnish Hay To The Government At

Fort Lyon, Seventy-Five Miles Further West.  His Journal, Which He

Kindly Placed at My Disposal, Says:

 

 

 

          While We Were Preparing To Commence The Work, A Vast Herd

          Of Buffalo Stampeded through Our Range One Night, And

          Took Off With Them About Half Of Our Work Cattle.  The Next

          Day A Stage-Driver And Conductor On The Overland Route Told

          Us They Had Seen A Number Of Our Oxen Twenty-Five Miles East

          Of Aubrey, And This Information Gave Me An Idea In which

          Direction To Hunt For The Missing Beasts.  I Immediately

          Started after Them, While My Partner Took Those That

          Remained and A Few Wagons And Left With Them For Fort Lyon.

 

 

 

          Let Me Explain Here That While The Indians Were Supposed to

          Be Peaceable, Small War-Parties Of Young Men, Who Could Not

          Be Controlled by Their Chiefs, Were Continually Committing

          Depredations, And The Main Body Of Savages Themselves Were

          Very Uneasy, And Might Be Expected to Break Out Any Day.

          In consequence Of This Unsettled state Of Affairs, There

          Had Been A Brisk Movement Among The United states Troops

          Stationed at The Various Military Posts, A Large Number Of

          Whom Were Believed to Be On The Road From Denver To Fort Lyon.

 

 

 

          I Filled my Saddle-Bags With Jerked buffalo, Hardtack And

          Ground Coffee, And Took With Me A Belt Of Cartridges,

          My Rifle And Six-Shooter, A Field-Glass And My Blankets,

          Prepared for Any Emergency.  The First Day Out, I Found A

          Few Of The Lost Cattle, And Placed them On The River-Bottom,

          Which I Continued to Do As Fast As I Recovered them, For A

          Distance Of About Eighty-Five Miles Down The Arkansas.

          There I Met A Wagon-Train, The Drivers Of Which Told Me

          That I Would Find Several More Of My Oxen With A Train

          That Had Arrived at The Cimarron Crossing The Day Before.

          I Came Up With This Train In eight Or Ten Hours' Travel

          South Of The River, Got My Cattle, And Started next Morning

          For Home.

 

 

 

          I Picked up Those I Had Left On The Arkansas As I Went

          Along, And After Having Made A Very Hard Day'S Travel,

          About Sundown I Concluded i Would Go Into Camp.  I Had

          Only Fairly Halted when The Oxen Began To Drop Down,

          So Completely Tired out Were They, As I Believed.  Just As

          It Was Growing Dark, I Happened to Look Toward The West,

          And I Saw Several Fires On A Big Island, Near What Was

          Called "The Lone Tree," About A Mile From Where I Had

          Determined to Remain For The Night.

 

 

 

          Thinking The Fires Were Those Of The Soldiers That I Had

          Heard Were On The Road From Denver, And Anticipating and

          Longing For A Cup Of Good Coffee, As I Had Had None For

          Five Days, Knowing, Too, That The Troops Would Be Full Of

          News, I Felt Good And Determined to Go Over To Their Camp.

 

 

 

          The Arkansas Was Low, But The Banks Steep, With High,

          Rank Grass Growing To The Very Water'S Edge.  I Found

          A Buffalo-Trail Cut Through The Deep Bank, Narrow And

          Precipitous, And Down This I Went, Arriving In a Short Time

          Within A Little Distance Of My Supposed soldiers' Camp.

          When I Had Reached the Middle Of Another Deep Cut In the

          Bank, I Looked across To The Island, And, Great Caesar!

          Saw A Hundred little Fires, Around Which An Aggregation

          Of A Thousand Indians Were Huddled!

 

 

 

          I Slid Backwards Off My Horse, And By Dint Of Great Exertion,

          Worked him Up The River-Bank As Quietly And Quickly As

          Possible, Then Led him Gently Away Out On The Prairie.

          My First Impulse Was Not To Go Back To The Cattle; But As

          We Needed them Very Badly, I Concluded to Return, Put Them

          All On Their Feet, And Light Out Mighty Lively,