Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1892-08-08
THE TRIANGLE OF DEATH.


Heap Of Bodies Indicated How Deeper
ate Men Had Fought.
From the New York Sun
II was II O'Clock in the forenoon when the
column suddenly halted, and minute later the
news came down the lines that the trail of the
lieutenant and his six men was blotted out by
the hoof prints Of ponies. This meant that q
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 q mile and just over the crest
OF ridge we found the dead body Of a cavalry
horse. 1t belonged 10 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 instant's halt here, just long enough for the
trooper to secure his ammunition and mount
up behind q comrade.
Another mile and We find where the party
had halted again. A horse fell, but was lifted
up half dozen empty cartridge shells. The
Indians had been held of for time. Only
half . mile had been passed when the horse
went down again and died a. he fell. Here he
lies on the trail, his bones picked almost clean
since day before yesterday by wolf and vul-
ture. 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? 1t II forty
miles to Fort Wallace-thirty miles back to the
temporary camp from where the courier started
with this escort. But they make head to the
used spurs before. The lieutenant rides ahead.
looking for q battle ground-the Indians shrek
and scream a. 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
-tx~IA Lat Al
and fro and 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 forty, and the ground
furnishes all the cover a warrior could wish for.
They make their circle to cut off all escape, dis
mount and creep forward up the dry bitches,
along the ridges. from rock to rock and bush to
bush. Three Of the horses fell so as to make a
triangle. Within the triangle gathered the
seven men, using the bodies of the horses for a
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
ono Of their number was killed. At noon q
second. At o'clock q third At 1 80 fourth.
At o'clock only the lieutenant and one man
the triangle, and the Indians charged to find all
dead
They are here before us just as the warrior,
found them. No, not that, but as they left
them. The wolves and buzzards have been
satisfied to feed on the horses and pass the
corpses by, but as 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 q nightmare
to every man in this troop forevermore. God
be thanked that all were dead before those
iends began work with arrow, tomahawk 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 a gallant fight. Scores and
scores Of empty shells in that bloody triangle,
but not one single cartridge left. We dig a
trench for the men-a grave for the officer
and when the earth has covered them in and
We have piled stones as a safeguard against
the hyenas Of the plains we ride away in
silence. No man has a word for his com-ade.
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 vengeance
against warrior, squaw and papoo3e TO the
end Of time.
week later, as daylight breaks on the valley
a 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 q month ago. troop Of
devils charges back and forth shooting and
slashing, screaming and cursing. When the
fights over there are no prisoners-no wounded.
ALI here are dead. Even the dogs of the village
have been exterminated in that wild FRENZY for
No IpnE NJ fha Lao al
proachful chances Mt the troopers, who sit their
painting horses. In reply these men silently
point to the west and whisper:
Remember Kidder and his men,