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twg_000000052600 | Billy. If your boy is bound to go, he can go with no better man. No one will dare to impose on him while he is with Lew. Simpson, whom I will instruct to take good care of the boy. Upon reaching Fort Laramie, Billy can, if he wishes, exchange places with some fresh man coming back on a returning | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000052601 | train, and thus come home without making the whole trip." This seemed to satisfy mother, and then she had a long talk with Simpson himself, imploring him not to forget his promise to take good care of her precious boy. He promised everything that she asked. Thus, after much trouble, I became one of the members of Simpson's train. Before | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000052602 | taking our departure, I arranged with Russell, Majors & Waddell that when my pay should fall due it should be paid over to mother. As a matter of interest to the general reader, it may be well in this connection to give a brief description of a freight train. The wagons used in those days by Russell, Majors & Waddell | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000052603 | were known as the "J. Murphy wagons," made at St. Louis specially for the plains business. They were very large and were strongly built, being capable of carrying seven thousand pounds of freight each. The wagon-boxes were very commodious--being as large as the rooms of an ordinary house--and were covered with two heavy canvas sheets to protect the merchandise from | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000052604 | the rain. These wagons were generally sent out from Leavenworth, each loaded with six thousand pounds of freight, and each drawn by several yokes of oxen in charge of one driver. A train consisted of twenty-five wagons, all in charge of one man, who was known as the wagon-master. The second man in command was the assistant wagon-master; then came | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000052605 | the "extra hand," next the night herder; and lastly, the cavallard driver, whose duty it was to drive the lame and loose cattle. There were thirty-one men all told in a train. The men did their own cooking, being divided into messes of seven. One man cooked, another brought wood and water, another stood guard, and so on, each having | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000052606 | some duty to perform while getting meals. All were heavily armed with Colt's pistols and Mississippi yagers, and every one always had his weapons handy so as to be prepared for any emergency. The wagon-master, in the language of the plains, was called the "bull-wagon boss"; the teamsters were known as "bull-whackers"; and the whole train was denominated a "bull-outfit." | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000052607 | Everything at that time was called an "outfit." The men of the plains were always full of droll humor and exciting stories of their own experiences, and many an hour I spent in listening to the recitals of thrilling adventures and hair-breadth escapes. Russell, Majors & Waddell had in their employ two hundred and fifty trains, composed of , wagons, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000052608 | , oxen, and about eight thousand men; their business reaching to all the government frontier posts in the north and west, to which they transported supplies, and they also carried freight as far south as New Mexico. [Illustration: A PRAIRIE SCHOONER.] The trail to Salt Lake ran through Kansas to the northwest, crossing the Big Blue river, then over the | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000052609 | Big and Little Sandy, coming into Nebraska near the Big Sandy. The next stream of any importance was the Little Blue, along which the trail ran for sixty miles; then crossed a range of sand-hills and struck the Platte river ten miles below Old Fort Kearney; thence the course lay up the South Platte to the old Ash Hollow Crossing, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000052610 | thence eighteen miles across to the North Platte--near the mouth of the Blue Water, where General Harney had his great battle in with the Sioux and Cheyenne Indians. From this point the North Platte was followed, passing Court House Rock, Chimney Rock and Scott's Bluffs, and then on to Fort Laramie, where the Laramie River was crossed. Still following the | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000052611 | North Platte for some considerable distance, the trail crossed this river at old Richard's Bridge, and followed it up to the celebrated Red Buttes--crossing the Willow creeks to the Sweet Water, passing the great Independence Rock and the Devil's gate, up to the Three Crossings of the Sweet Water, thence past the Cold Springs, where, three feet under the sod, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000052612 | on the hottest day of summer, ice can be found; thence to the Hot Springs and the Rocky Ridge, and through the Rocky Mountains and Echo Caon, and thence on to the Great Salt Lake valley. We had started on our trip with everything in good shape, following the above described trail. During the first week or two out, I | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000052613 | became well acquainted with most of the train men, and with one in particular, who became a life-long and intimate friend of mine. His real name was James B. Hickok; he afterwards became famous as "Wild Bill, the Scout of the Plains"--though why he was so called I never could ascertain--and from this time forward I shall refer to him | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000052614 | by his popular nickname. He was ten years my senior--a tall, handsome, magnificently built and powerful young fellow, who could out-run, out-jump and out-fight any man in the train. He was generally admitted to be the best man physically, in the employ of Russell, Majors & Waddell; and of his bravery there was not a doubt. General Custer, in his | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000052615 | "Life on the Plains," thus speaks of Wild Bill: * * * * * "Among the white scouts were numbered some of the most noted of their class. The most prominent man among them was 'Wild Bill,' whose highly varied career was made the subject of an illustrated sketch in one of the popular monthly periodicals a few years ago. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000052616 | 'Wild Bill' was a strange character, just the one which a novelist might gloat over. He was a plains-man in every sense of the word, yet unlike any other of his class. In person he was about six feet and one inch in height, straight as the straightest of the warriors whose implacable foe he was. He had broad shoulders, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000052617 | well-formed chest and limbs, and a face strikingly handsome; a sharp, clear blue eye, which stared you straight in the face when in conversation; a finely shaped nose, inclined to be aquiline; a well-turned mouth, with lips only partially concealed by a handsome moustache. His hair and complexion were those of the perfect blonde. The former was worn in uncut | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000052618 | ringlets, falling carelessly over his powerfully formed shoulders. Add to this figure a costume blending the immaculate neatness of the dandy with the extravagant taste and style of the frontiersman, and you have Wild Bill.... Whether on foot or on horseback, he was one of the most perfect types of physical manhood I ever saw. "Of his courage there could | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000052619 | be no question; it had been brought to the test on too many occasions to admit of a doubt. His skill in the use of the pistol and rifle was unerring; while his deportment was exactly the opposite of what might be expected from a man of his surroundings. It was entirely free from all bluster or bravado. He seldom | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000052620 | spoke himself unless requested to do so. His conversation, strange to say, never bordered either on the vulgar or blasphemous. His influence among the frontiersmen was unbounded, his word was law; and many are the personal quarrels and disturbances which he has checked among his comrades by his simple announcement that 'This has gone far enough,'--if need be followed by | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000052621 | the ominous warning that when persisted in or renewed the quarreler 'must settle it with me.' "Wild Bill was anything but a quarrelsome man; yet no one but him could enumerate the many conflicts in which he had been engaged, and which had almost always resulted in the death of his adversary. I have a personal knowledge of at least | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000052622 | half a dozen men whom he had at various times killed, one of these being at the time a member of my command. Others had been severely wounded, yet he always escaped unhurt. "On the plains every man openly carries his belt with its invariable appendages, knife and revolver--often two of the latter. Wild Bill always carried two handsome ivory-handled | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000052623 | revolvers of the large size; he was never seen without them.... Yet in all the many affairs of this kind in which Wild Bill has performed a part, and which have come to my knowledge, there was not a single instance in which the verdict of twelve fair-minded men would not have been pronounced in his favor." * * * | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000052624 | * * [Illustration: WILD BILL.] Such is the faithful picture of Wild Bill as drawn by General Custer, who was a close observer and student of personal character, and under whom Wild Bill served as a scout. The circumstances under which I first made his acquaintance and learned to know him well and to appreciate his manly character and kind-heartedness, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000052625 | were these. One of the teamsters in Lew. Simpson's train was a surly, overbearing fellow, and took particular delight in bullying and tyrannizing over me, and one day while we were at dinner he asked me to do something for him. I did not start at once, and he gave me a slap in the face with the back of | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000052626 | his hand,--knocking me off an ox-yoke on which I was sitting, and sending me sprawling on the ground. Jumping to my feet I picked up a camp kettle full of boiling coffee which was setting on the fire, and threw it at him. I hit him in the face, and the hot coffee gave him a severe scalding. He sprang | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000052627 | for me with the ferocity of a tiger, and would undoubtedly have torn me to pieces, had it not been for the timely interference of my new-found friend, Wild Bill, who knocked the man down. As soon as he recovered himself, he demanded of Wild Bill what business it was of his that he should "put in his oar." "It's | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000052628 | my business to protect that boy, or anybody else, from being unmercifully abused, kicked and cuffed, and I'll whip any man who tries it on," said Wild Bill; "and if you ever again lay a hand on that boy--little Billy there--I'll give you such a pounding that you won't get over it for a month of Sundays." From that time | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000052629 | forward Wild Bill was my protector and intimate friend, and the friendship thus begun continued until his death. Nothing transpired on the trip to delay or give us any trouble whatever, until the train struck the South Platte river. One day we camped on the same ground where the Indians had surprised the cattle herd, in charge of the McCarty | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000052630 | brothers. It was with difficulty that we discovered any traces of anybody ever having camped there before, the only landmark being the single grave, now covered with grass, in which we had buried the three men who had been killed. The country was alive with buffaloes. Vast herds of these monarchs of the plains were roaming all around us, and | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000052631 | we laid over one day for a grand hunt. Besides killing quite a number of buffaloes, and having a day of rare sport, we captured ten or twelve head of cattle, they being a portion of the herd which had been stampeded by the Indians, two months before. The next day we pulled out of camp, and the train was | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000052632 | strung out to a considerable length along the road 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 buffaloes grazing quietly, they having been down to the stream for a drink. Just at this time we observed a party of returning Californians coming from | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000052633 | the West. They, too, noticed the buffalo herd, and in another moment they were dashing down upon them, urging their steeds to the greatest speed. The buffalo herd stampeded at once, and broke for the hills; so hotly were they pursued by the hunters that about five hundred of them rushed through our train pell-mell, frightening both men and oxen. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000052634 | Some of the wagons were turned clear round, and many of the terrified oxen attempted to run to the hills, with the heavy wagons attached to them. Others turned around so short that they broke the wagon tongues off. Nearly all the teams got entangled in their gearing, and became wild and unruly, so that the perplexed drivers were unable | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000052635 | to manage them. The buffaloes, the cattle, and the drivers, were soon running in every direction, and the excitement upset nearly everybody and everything. Many of the cattle 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000052636 | only actually 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 towards the hills with it hanging from his horns. A dozen other equally remarkable incidents happened during the short time that the frantic buffaloes were playing havoc with our train, and when they had | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000052637 | got through and left us, our outfit was very badly crippled and scattered. This caused us to go into camp and spend a day in replacing the broken tongues, and repairing other damages, and gathering up our scattered ox-teams. The next day we rolled out of camp, and proceeded on our way towards the setting sun. Everything ran along smoothly | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000052638 | with us from that point until we came within about eighteen miles of Green river, in the Rocky mountains--where we camped at noon. At this place we had to drive our cattle about a mile and a half to a creek to water them. Simpson, his assistant, George Woods and myself, accompanied by the usual number of guards, drove the | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000052639 | cattle over to the creek, and while on our way back to camp, we suddenly observed a party of twenty horsemen rapidly approaching us. We were not yet in view of our wagons, as a rise of ground intervened, and therefore we could not signal the train-men in case of any unexpected danger befalling us. We had no suspicion, however, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000052640 | that we were about to be trapped, as the strangers were white men. When they had come up to us, one of the party, who evidently was the leader, rode out in front and said: "How are you, Mr. Simpson?" "You've got the best of me, sir," said Simpson, who did not know him. "Well, I rather think I have," | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000052641 | coolly replied the stranger, whose words conveyed a double meaning, as we soon learned. We had all come to a halt by this time, and the strange horsemen had surrounded us. They were all armed with double-barreled shot guns, rifles and revolvers. We also were armed with revolvers, but we had had no idea of danger, and these men, much | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000052642 | to our surprise, had "got the drop" on us, and had covered us with their weapons, so that we were completely at their mercy. The whole movement of corraling us was done so quietly and quickly that it was accomplished before we knew it. "I'll trouble you for your six shooters, gentlemen," now said the leader. "I'll give 'em to | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000052643 | you in a way you don't want," replied Simpson. The next moment three guns were leveled at Simpson. "If you make a move you're a dead man," said the leader. Simpson saw that he was taken at a great disadvantage, and thinking it advisable not to risk the lives of the party by any rash act on his part, he | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000052644 | said: "I see now that you have the best of me, but who are you, anyhow?" "I am Joe Smith," was the reply. "What! the leader of the Danites?" asked Simpson. "You are correct," said Smith, for he it was. "Yes," said Simpson, "I know you now; you are a spying scoundrel." Simpson had good reason for calling him this | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000052645 | and applying to him a much more opprobrious epithet, for only a short time before this, Joe Smith had visited our train in the disguise of a teamster, and had remained with us two days. He suddenly disappeared, no one knowing where he had gone or why he had come among us. But it was all explained to us now | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000052646 | that he had returned with his Mormon Danites. After they had disarmed us, Simpson asked, "Well, Smith, what are you going to do with us?" "Ride back with us and I'll soon show you," said Smith. We had no idea of the surprise which awaited us. As we came upon the top of the ridge, from which we could view | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000052647 | our camp, we were astonished to see the remainder of the train men disarmed and stationed in a group and surrounded by another squad of Danites, while other Mormons were searching our wagons for such articles as they wanted. "How is this?" inquired Simpson. "How did you surprise my camp without a struggle? I can't understand it." "Easily enough," said | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000052648 | Smith; "your men were all asleep under the wagons, except the cooks, who saw us coming and took us for returning Californians or emigrants, and paid no attention to us until we rode up and surrounded your train. With our arms covering the men, we woke them up, and told them that all they had to do was to walk | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000052649 | out and drop their pistols--which they saw was the best thing they could do under circumstances over which they had no control--and you can just bet they did it." "And what do you propose to do with us now?" asked Simpson. "I intend to burn your train," said he; "you are loaded with supplies and ammunition for Sidney Johnson, and | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000052650 | as I have no way to convey the stuff to my own people, I'll see that it does not reach the United States troops." "Are you going to turn us adrift here?" asked Simpson, who was anxious to learn what was to become of himself and his men. "No; I hardly am as bad as that. I'll give you enough | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000052651 | provisions to last you until you can reach Fort Bridger," replied Smith; "and as soon as your cooks can get the stuff out of the wagons, you can start." "On foot?" was the laconic inquiry of Simpson. "Yes sir," was the equally short reply. "Smith, that's too rough on us men. Put yourself in our place and see how you | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000052652 | would like it," said Simpson; "you can well afford to give us at least one wagon and six yokes of oxen to convey us and our clothing and provisions to Fort Bridger. You're a brute if you don't do this." "Well," said Smith, after consulting a minute or two with some of his company, "I'll do that much for you." | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000052653 | The cattle and the wagon were brought up according to his orders, and the clothing and provisions were loaded on. "Now you can go," said Smith, after everything had been arranged. "Joe Smith, I think you are a mean coward to set us afloat in a hostile country, without giving us our arms," said Simpson, who had once before asked | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000052654 | for the weapons, and had had his request denied. Smith, after further consultation with his comrades, said: "Simpson, you are too brave a man to be turned adrift here without any means of defense. You shall have your revolvers and guns." Our weapons were accordingly handed over to Simpson, and we at once started for Fort Bridger, knowing that it | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000052655 | would be useless to attempt the recapture of our train. When we had traveled about two miles we saw the smoke arising from our old camp. The Mormons after taking what goods they wanted and could carry off, had set fire to the wagons, many of which were loaded with bacon, lard, hard-tack, and other provisions, which made a very | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000052656 | hot, fierce fire, and the smoke to roll up in dense clouds. Some of the wagons were loaded with ammunition, and it was not long before loud explosions followed in rapid succession. We waited and witnessed the burning of the train, and then pushed on to Fort Bridger. Arriving at this post, we learned that two other trains had been | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000052657 | captured and destroyed in the same way, by the Mormons. This made seventy-five wagon loads, or , pounds of supplies, mostly provisions, which never reached General Johnson's command, to which they had been consigned. . HARD TIMES. As it was getting very late in the fall, we were compelled to winter at Fort Bridger; and a long, tedious winter it | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000052658 | was. There were a great many troops there, and about four hundred of Russell, Majors & Waddell's employees. These men were all organized into militia companies, which were officered by the wagon-masters. Some lived in tents, others in cabins. It was known that our supplies would run short during the winter, and so all the men at the post were | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000052659 | put on three-quarter rations to begin with; before long they were reduced to one-half rations, and finally to one-quarter rations. We were forced to kill our poor worn-out cattle for beef. They were actually so poor that we had to prop them up to shoot them down. At last we fell back on the mules, which were killed and served | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000052660 | up in good style. Many a poor, unsuspecting government mule passed in his chips that winter in order to keep the soldiers and bull-whackers from starvation. It was really a serious state of affairs. The wood for the post was obtained from the mountains, but having no longer any cattle or mules to transport it, the men were obliged to | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000052661 | haul it themselves. Long lariats were tied to the wagons, and twenty men manning each, they were pulled to and from the mountains. Notwithstanding all these hardships, the men seemed to be contented and to enjoy themselves. The winter finally passed away, and early in the spring, as soon as we could travel, the civil employees of the government, with | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000052662 | the teamsters and freighters, started for the Missouri river; the Johnson expedition having been abandoned. On the way down we stopped at Fort Laramie, and there met a supply train bound westward. Of course we all had a square meal once more, consisting of hard tack, bacon, coffee and beans. I can honestly say that I thought it was the | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000052663 | best meal I had ever eaten; at least I relished it more than any other, and I think the rest of the party did the same. On leaving Fort Laramie, Simpson was made brigade wagon-master, and was put in charge of two large trains, with about four hundred extra men, who were bound for Fort Leavenworth. When we came to | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000052664 | Ash Hollow, instead of taking the usual trail over to the South Platte, Simpson concluded to follow the North Platte down to its junction with the South Platte. The two trains were traveling about fifteen miles apart, when one morning while Simpson was with the rear train, he told his assistant wagon-master, George Woods and myself to saddle up our | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000052665 | mules, as he wanted us to go with him and overtake the head train. We started off at about eleven o'clock, and had ridden about seven miles when--while we were on a big plateau, back of Cedar Bluffs--we suddenly discovered a band of Indians coming out of the head of a ravine, half a mile distant, and charging down upon | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000052666 | us at full speed. I thought that our end had come this time, sure. Simpson, however, took in the situation in a moment, and knowing that it would be impossible to escape by running our played-out mules, he adopted a bolder and much better plan. He jumped from his own mule, and told us to dismount also. He then shot | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000052667 | the three animals, and as they fell to the ground he cut their throats to stop their kicking. He then jerked them into the shape of a triangle, and ordered us inside of the barricade. All this was but the work of a few moments, yet it was not done any too soon, for the Indians had got within three | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000052668 | hundred yards of us, and were still advancing, and uttering their demoniacal yells or war-whoops. There were forty of the red-skins and only three of us. We were each armed with a Mississippi yager and two Colt's revolvers. "Get ready for them with your guns, and when they come within fifty yards, aim low, blaze away and bring down your | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000052669 | man!" Such was the quick command of Simpson. The words had hardly escaped from his mouth, when the three yagers almost simultaneously belched forth their contents. We then seized our revolvers and opened a lively fire on the enemy, at short range, which checked their advance. Then we looked over our little barricade to ascertain what effect our fire had | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000052670 | produced, and were much gratified at seeing three dead Indians and one horse lying on the ground. Only two or three of the Indians, it seemed, had fire-arms. It must be remembered that in those days every Indian did not own a needle gun or a Winchester rifle, as they now do. Their principal weapons were their bows and arrows. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000052671 | Seeing that they could not take our little fortification, or drive us from it, they circled around us several times, shooting their arrows at us. One of the arrows struck George Wood in the left shoulder, inflicting only a slight wound, however, and several lodged in the bodies of the dead mules; otherwise they did us no harm. The Indians | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000052672 | finally galloped off to a safe distance, where our bullets could not reach them, and seemed to be holding a council. This was a lucky move for us, for it gave us an opportunity to reload our guns and pistols, and prepare for the next charge of the enemy. During the brief cessation of hostilities, Simpson extracted the arrow from | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000052673 | Wood's shoulder, and put an immense quid of tobacco on the wound. Wood was then ready for business again. [Illustration: HOLDING THE FORT.] The Indians did not give us a very long rest, for with, another desperate charge, as if to ride over us, they came dashing towards the mule barricade. We gave them a hot reception from our yagers | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000052674 | and revolvers. They could not stand, or understand, the rapidly repeating fire of the revolvers, and we again checked them. They circled around us once more and gave us a few parting shots as they rode off, leaving behind them another dead Indian and a horse. For two hours afterwards they did not seem to be doing anything but holding | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000052675 | a council. We made good use of this time by digging up the ground inside the barricade with our knives and throwing the loose earth around and over the mules, and we soon had a very respectable fortification. We were not troubled any more that day, but during the night the cunning rascals tried to burn us out by setting | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000052676 | fire to the prairie. The buffalo grass was so short that the fire did not trouble us much, but the smoke concealed the Indians from our view, and they thought that they could approach close to us without being seen. We were aware of this, and kept a sharp look-out, being prepared all the time to receive them. They finally | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000052677 | abandoned the idea of surprising us. Next morning, bright and early, they gave us one more grand charge, and again we "stood them off." They then rode away half a mile or so, and formed a circle around us. Each man dismounted and sat down, as if to wait and starve us out. They had evidently seen the advance train | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000052678 | pass on the morning of the previous day, and believed that we belonged to that outfit and were trying to overtake it; they had no idea that another train was on its way after us. Our hopes of escape from this unpleasant and perilous situation now depended upon the arrival of the rear train, and when we saw that the | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000052679 | Indians were going to besiege us instead of renewing their attacks, we felt rather confident of receiving timely assistance. We had expected that the train would be along late in the afternoon of the previous day, and as the morning wore away we were somewhat anxious and uneasy, at its non-arrival. At last, about ten o'clock, we began to hear | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000052680 | in the distance the loud and sharp reports of the big bull-whips, which were handled with great dexterity by the teamsters, and cracked like rifle shots. These were as welcome sounds to us as were the notes of the bag-pipes to the beseiged garrison at Lucknow, when the reinforcements were coming up and the pipers were heard playing, "The Campbells | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000052681 | are Coming." In a few moments we saw the lead or head wagon coming slowly over the ridge, which had concealed the train from our view, and soon the whole outfit made its appearance. The Indians observed the approaching train, and assembling in a group they held a short consultation. They then charged upon us once more, for the last | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000052682 | time, and as they turned and dashed away over the prairie, we sent our farewell shots rattling after them. The teamsters, seeing the Indians and hearing the shots, came rushing forward to our assistance, but by the time they reached us the red-skins had almost disappeared from view. The teamsters eagerly asked us a hundred questions concerning our fight, admired | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000052683 | our fort and praised our pluck. Simpson's remarkable presence of mind in planning the defense was the general topic of conversation among all the men. When the teams came up we obtained some water and bandages with which to dress Wood's wound, which had become quite inflamed and painful, and we then put him into one of the wagons. Simpson | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000052684 | and myself obtained a remount, bade good-bye to our dead mules which had served us so well, and after collecting the ornaments and other plunder from the dead Indians, we left their bodies and bones to bleach on the prairie. The train moved on again and we had no other adventures, except several exciting buffalo hunts on the South Platte, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000052685 | near Plum Creek. We arrived at Fort Leavenworth about the middle of July, , when I immediately visited home. I found mother in very poor health, as she was suffering from asthma. My oldest sister, Martha, had, during my absence, been married to John Crane, and was living at Leavenworth. During the winter at Fort Bridger I had frequently talked | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000052686 | with Wild Bill about my family, and as I had become greatly attached to him I asked him to come and make a visit at our house, which he promised to do. So one day, shortly after our return from Fort Bridger, he accompanied me home from Leavenworth. My mother and sisters, who had heard so much about him from | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000052687 | me, were delighted to see him and he spent several weeks at our place. They did everything possible to repay him for his kindness to me. Ever afterwards, when he was at or near Leavenworth, Wild Bill came out to our house to see the family, whether I was at home or not, and he always received a most cordial | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000052688 | reception. His mother and sisters lived in Illinois, and he used to call our house his home, as he did not have one of his own. I had been home only about a month, after returning from Fort Bridger, when I again started out with another train, going this time as assistant wagon-master under Buck Bomer. We went safely through | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000052689 | to Fort Laramie, which was our destination, and from there we were ordered to take a load of supplies to a new post called Fort Wallach, which was being established at Cheyenne Pass. We made this trip and got back to Fort Laramie about November 1st. I then quit the employ of Russell, Majors & Waddell, and joined a party | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000052690 | of trappers who were sent out by the post trader, Mr. Ward, to trap on the streams of the Chugwater and Laramie for beaver, otter, and other fur animals, and also to poison wolves for their pelts. We were out two months, but as the expedition did not prove very profitable, and was rather dangerous on account of the Indians, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000052691 | we abandoned the enterprise and came into Fort Laramie in the latter part of December. Being anxious to return to the Missouri river, I joined with two others, named Scott and Charley, who were also desirous of going East on a visit, bought three ponies and a pack-mule, and we started out together. We made rapid progress on our journey, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000052692 | and nothing worthy of note happened until one afternoon, along the banks of the Little Blue River, we spied a band of Indians hunting on the opposite side of the stream, three miles away. We did not escape their notice, and they gave us a lively chase for two hours, but they could find no good crossing, and as evening | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000052693 | came on we finally got away from them. We traveled until late in the night; when upon discovering a low, deep ravine which we thought would make a comfortable and safe camping-place, we stopped for a rest. In searching for a good place to make our beds, I found a hole, and I called to my companions that I had | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000052694 | found a fine place for a nest. One of the party was to stand guard while the others slept. Scott took the first watch, while Charley and I made a bed in the hole. While clearing out the place we felt something rough, but as it was dark we could not make out what it was. At any rate we | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000052695 | concluded that it was bones or sticks of wood; we thought perhaps it might be the bones of some animal which had fallen in there and died. These bones, for such they really proved to be, we pushed one side and then we lay down. But Charley, being an inveterate smoker, could not resist the temptation of indulging in a | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000052696 | smoke before going to sleep. So he sat up and struck a match to light his old pipe. Our subterranean bed-chamber was thus illuminated for a moment or two; I sprang to my feet in an instant for a ghastly and horrifying sight was revealed to us. Eight or ten human skeletons lay scattered upon the ground. The light of | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000052697 | the match died out, but we had seen enough to convince us that we were in a large grave, into which, perhaps, some unfortunate emigrants, who had been killed by the Indians, had been thrown; or, perhaps, seeking refuge there, they had been corraled and then killed on the spot. If such was the case, they had met the fate | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000052698 | of thousands of others, whose friends have never heard of them since they left their eastern homes to seek their fortunes in the Far West. However, we did not care to investigate this mystery any further, but we hustled out of that chamber of death and informed Scott of our discovery. Most of the plains-men are very superstitious, and we | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000052699 | were no exception to the general rule. We surely thought that this incident was an evil omen, and that we would be killed if we remained there any longer. [Illustration: CAMPING IN A SEPULCHRE.] "Let us dig out of here quicker than we can say Jack Robinson," said Scott; and we began to "dig out" at once. We saddled our | 60 | gutenberg |
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