Grant County herald. [volume] (Lancaster, Wis.) 1850-1968, 1889-01-17
A LONE MONUMENT. :
It Marks the Grave Of a Border
Hero.
Past Scenes Recalled-A Single Mans
Fight Against Three Hundred Indian
Warriors-Revenge of Young Ten
derfoot for Being Scalped.

AFhdHSdS Nlt}s Nth, W tHe SO-cdtleu
Oklahoma City OF the Indian Terri
tory. Along this trail, and just north
Of Bull Fort ranch, the traveller
eager eye beholds a monument erect
ed out of native stone. Here lies the
body Of brave Pat Hennessy, who was
murdered by the Cheyenne Indians in
1876. Many are the tales told of Pat.
his terrible fights with the border cut
throats, his hatred of the Indians and
many narrow escapes from the red
devils Of the plain. or these it is not
the purpose to speak at present, but
to record his last great fight, where
Pat proved himself "a very Calling
gun of death TO his implacable foes.
Pat is well remembered as an old-time
Fort Sill freighter, and at the time of
his tragical death was on his way
from Caldwell, Kan, to the fort with
six wagons and three trail wagons.
With him were three men. One of
these, a passenger, tendcrfoot from
Boston, had great desire to kill an
Indian. John Korison was his name.
He little knew how soon he would get
more killing than he wanted and I'M
dergO an experience seldom equaled
in border tragedies.
One afternoon, shortly after they
had gone into camp, they were at
tackled by a band of three hundred or
four hundred Cheyenne braves with
all the suddenness and terrible ferocity
peculiar to Indian warfare. Hennessy
saw them coming and instantly or
dered the men to run for canyon
just west of the trail. They mis-
understood the direction and instead Of
west took the trail north. The mis-.
take FASTENED their doom. With wild
yells of savage delight the Indians
circled around the three men. Kori-
Ton was left behind in the race. He
was alone. He stopped and saw
Indians on every side. No chance Of
escape, death certain. His alarm was
over. The tenderfoot was a man.
With rapidity that indicated previ-
GUS training, he raised his Winchester
so quick they almost seemed one.
Deadly shooting, too, for five painted
warriors had gone down, their death
cry ringing out and mingling with the
dog-like snarls OF several who were
wounded. The Indians returned the
fire, and the three white men fell.
Old Pat saw the fight from his re-
treat in the rocks. His mind had I'M
dergone a great change in regard to
the man from Boston, and as the saw
ages rushed in to scalp the three fallen
men his own deadly Winchester came
to his shoulder, the sigh caught the
dusky form of big Indian known as
Black Scar Just in the act Of scalping
Korison. The rifle belched forth its
messenger of death, and a red fiend
sprang high into the air, then sank
down, still and dead, shot through
the heart. But it was not Black Scar,
but another redskiN, who, rushing for
ward to try for the scalp of Korison,
met his own well-deserved fate from
the sure aim of Pat. With yells OF
fury the Indians left the three pros
trate forms to attack their more
formidable enemy, and from the belts
of three bucks there dangled the
bloody scalps of three whites.
Hennessy was well prepared for de-
Tense, an immense rock behind, rocks
at the side, and in front also, which
was the only point where an attack
could be made, and there over the rock
cleaned with deadly menace his six
teen-shot Winchester. Swift now and
hot the fight. Over three hundred
against one, but that one cool, deter
mined desperate, a host in himself.
Into the advancing horde go the rife
ball on errands of death, killing and
wounding as they tear through the
red ranks. With insane courage, the
savages rush up within ten yards OF
the rocks. Pat no longer sights his
gun; he rests it on a rock, cocks it
with one hand and pulls the lever and
trigger with the other, and point blank
into the red devils he sends an almost
continuous stream Of leaden hail. That
terrible fire is too much for Indian
bravery to face. They waver, break,
retreat. but only for moment The
chief has been killed. but Black Scar
takes command, waves aloft the scalp
of Korison, points to the dead braves,
calls for vengeance, and orders the
fight to be renewed. This time an at
tack is made in front and at both sides,
II they can scale the rocks at the sides,
Pat will be at their mercy.
From the death-dealing point in
front the good old Winchester again
pours forth its terrible destruction,
causing the Indians to break for the
sides, where they attempt to climb up
the overhauging rocks. They fail in
this, and at the loud command Of Black
Scar, surge around in front, face to
face with their desperate foe Pats
revolver, a self-cocker, does deadly
work, fired into the yelling mass len
feet away, but the last load is gone,
and again the Winchester at close
range covers the ground with dead
and dying. Whether the great white
brave is wounded or not no one will
ever know. The red monsters are
forced back from the death-vomiting
rock. back from single gun. back
from one man, back from brave Pat
Hennessy.
In few moments the whole band
would have fled, when suddenly the fir
ing ceased. Pats gun had become SO
dirty and hot by such constant firing
that, horrible to relate. while attempt
ing to put in Il cartridge, it stuck fast
and could be forced neither in or out.
The Indians supposed he was out Of
ammunition, and with savage yells
rushed into secure their great prize Pat
met them with dubbed gun, and broken
heads and bones were plenty as they
came within sweep of his strong arms in
the death-struggle; but those behind
still pressed on, and he was soon over
powered and secured. Infatuated at
the loss Of 50 many Of their number,
they took poor Pat, tore his scalp from
his head, bound him TO one OF his own
wagon wheels, emptied sacks OF oats
around him and set them on fire. just
as they commenced their deyilish
torture and dance around their victim
they heard shot echo from the dis
lance. The alarm was raised that the
soldiers were coming and stampede
at once began. Picking up the