The National tribune. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1877-1917, 1892-08-11
TRIANGLE OF DEATH.
A Heap of Bodies Indicated How Desperate
Men Had Fought.


From the Nel0 York S,up.l
It was II o'clock in the forenoon when the
column suddenly halted, and a minute later the
news came down the lines that the trail Of the
Lieu'enan. and his six men was blotted out By
the hoof prints of ponies. This meant that
war party had swung in behind them. The
ponies had been at full gallop. That meant the
party was in sight of the REDSKINS.
We rode on for a mile and just over the crest
of ridge We found the dead body of cavalry
horse. II belonged to one of the men with the
Lieutenant. The blood had poured out On the
ground from mouth and ears, proving that the
swift pace had brought death. There had been
an instants halt here, just long enough for the
trooper to secure his ammunition and mount
up behind comrade.
Another mile and We find where the party
had halted again. A horse fell but vas lifted
up again and urged forward. Here we picked
up half dozen empty cartridge shells. The
Indians had been held off for a time. Only half
q mile had been passed when tile horse went
down again and died as ne fell. Here he lies
on the trail, his bones picked almost clean since
day before yesterday by wolf and yulture.
Here we pick up handful of shells. As the
party started on again two of the horses were
carrying double.
And whence were the men fleeing? It il 40
miles to Fort Wallace-3O miles back to the
temporary camp from where the courier started
with this escort. But they make head to the
west, squirting their jaded horses as they never
used spurs before. The Lieutenant rides ahead,
looking for battle-ground; the Indians shrek
and scream as they follow.
Halt! Dismount! Lie DOWN."
The two double-loaded horses fell at the same
instant and lay prone On the dry grass of the
sun-baked plains. The other three beave TO
and fro aud pitch about as their riders dis
mount, but keep their unsteady footing until
brought down by the bullets of the Indians.
Now the doom of the soldiers is surely sealed.
They are only seven to 40, and the ground
furnishes all the cover a warrior could wish for.
They make their circle to cut off all escape,
dismount and creep forward up the dry bitches,
along the ridges, from rock to rock and bush to
bush. Three of the horses fell so az to make
triangle. Within the triangle gathered the
seven, using the bodies of the horses for
breastwork. The sun was not yet two hours
high. No man lived to relate what orders were
given by the officer, what they planned, their
hopes and fears. Under the burning August
sun, without water, without hope of relief, with
grim despair weighing them down, they hold
their own hour after hour. At 10 o'clock one
of their number was killed. At noon a second.
At o'clock third. At 1:30 q fourth. At
o'clock only the Lieutenant and one man were
left. At there was no more firing from the
tiangle, and the Indians charged TO ind all
dead.
They are here before US Just az the warrior
found them. No, not that, but as they Ieft
them The wolves aud buzzards have been
satisfied to feed on the horses and pass the
corpses by, but az we look down upon them
every soldier cries out in horror and indIgna-
ton, The devils who show no mercy to the
living can feel no respect for the dead who died
q soldiers death. They have mutilated them
until the spectacle will rise up as nightmare
to every man in this troop foreYermore. God
be thanked that all were dead before those
fiends began work with arrow, tomshawk and
knife!
We scatter out to search the battlefield.
Here warrior was wounded-here one killed.
Here-and here-and here are blood spots,
which the wolves have passed by. They prove
what soldier loves to know-that his dead
comrades fought gallant fight Scores and
scores of empty shells in that bloody triangle,
but not one single cartridge LETT We Dig
trench for the men-a grave for the officer
and when the earth has covered them IN and
we have piled stones as safe guard against
the hyenas of the plains we ride away IN
silence. No man has word for his comrade.
He is too busy with his thoughts. As that
vision dances before his eyes and the odor OF
blood clings to his scent he VOWS veDgeanee
against warrior, squaw, and papoose TO the
end of time.
A week later, as daylight breaks on the
valley hundred miles away, the bugler sounds
the charge and we dash into an Indian village
Nothing that lives is spared. No cry for
quarter is needed. There are old men tOttering
about babes born less than month ago. a
troop of devils charges back aud forth shooting
and slashing, screaming and cursing. When
the fight is over there are prisoners-no
wounded All here are dead. Even the dogs
of the village have been exterminated in that
wild frenzy for revenge. Men look at the
dead and cast reproachful glances at the
troopers who sit their painting horses. In re-
ply these men silently point to the west and
whisper:
Remember Kdder and his men!"