Williston graphic. (Williston, Williams County, N.D.) 1895-1919, 1900-02-08
THE ..GRAY FOX.
Gen. Charles Kings Reminiscences
Of the Famous Indian Fighter
Mai. Gen. Crook.

Of the Famous Indian Fighter
Mai. Gen. Crook.
Young officers from West Point
looked at him in wonderment. Instead
of somewhat unapproachable digni-
tary, in precise uniform and epaulets
and embroidered sash and belt, they
were welcomed by cordial handclasp
from a tall, bushy-bearded man, with
twinkling gray-blue eyes, in an old
SLOUGH felt hat, flannel shirt, rough can
vas shooting coat and trousers and
common soldiers boots.
Generally his beard was tied up with
string or red tape-the only use he had
for that usual military indispensable.
He sat at camp fire or in the simply
furnished parlor of his army home,
listening to the chat about him, rarely
speaking, and assiduously playing soli-
taire with pack of cards produced
from an inner pocket. He could play
capital hand at whist, but fought shy
CT a game with careless or forgetful
players. He heard everything that was
said and saw everything going on
about him, but seldom gave sign.
From the so-called pleasures Of So
ciety, dinners, dances and receptions he
shrank in dismay. He ate only the
simplest food. He never smoked. He
hated wine. He wouldn't touch spirits;
he marveled that any man should. ut
spoils his shooting said he; and our
general was capital shot. He could
foot it through an old-fashioned quad
rifle or Virginia reel, but nothing else,
and would always get away on social
occasions into the first obscure corner
he could find, and then out would come
the old pack of cards.
He rarely read anything but natures
books, although he had a mathematical
gift, and not only stood we'll in scien-
tific studies at the Point, as did Grant,
but he helped along his unmathematical
roommate, Sheridan. Writing was
something Crook abhorred. He could
hardly decipher one of his OVID pages,
and his letters and dispatches, like
those of old Trough and Ready" Gen.
Zachary Taylor, were generally penned
by some brilliant staff officer.
Children he loved and treated with
shy tenderness that was sweet to see,
but he had none of his own. His wife
was Maryland girl who won his heart
during the war days. while her brother
and other enterprising "rebs" made
way with his body, capturing him by
daring night raid into Cumberland.
Like Grant, ne was simplicity itself
in speech, rarely lifting up his voice,
and only once did l ever hear him speak
IN impatient word or one that family
resembled an expletive, but that was in
the thick of the Sioux campaign of
1876, and when he had much to try him.
We had to eat our horses that year to
keep alive. We had no tents, and hard
ly a change of underwear could be
found in the whole column. We were
wet, bedraggled and dirty when we
reached the Yellowstone, but the gen
eral was as badly off as the humblest
trooper, and minded~it less. There we
met the spruce command of Gen. Terry,
and Terry himself, in handsome uni
form, the picture of the gentleman and
soldier, came over to our bivouac to call
on Crook. I was drying my buckskins
at fire as he approached, and stepped
forward to salute him.
"Where shall I find Gen. Crook"
said he.
For moment could not answer.
Then an old trooper grinned and nodded
toward the river, and there, squatted on
rock, well out in the stream, stripped
to the waist and scrubbing away at his
shirt, was our general, and Terry was
too much of a gentleman even to look
amused at the sight.
The Indians called him the "Gray
Fox" The soldiers had their pet
names, but we, his officers, who fol-
lowed him all over the west, from the
Mexican border to the upper Yellow
stone, spoke of him always as ''the gen.
eral," our general. That meant, of
course, Crook, the simplest soldier I
ever knew. In all the years it was my
fortune to serve under him in Arizona,
Wyoming, Dakota, Montana or at his
headquarters in Omaha or Chicago, l
never saw him in the uniform of his
rank until he lay dead in his coffin, his
guard of honor grouped about him.
Youths Companion.