Spirit of the age. [volume] (Woodstock, Vt.) 1845-1913, 1909-01-30


shot my first Indian. He was a
chief. knew that from his
headdress. His name never
learned. Here Is the story:
My parents, with their seven chill
dren, had moved from Iowa to Kan
sas three years earlier. My father
had taken up u claim in Salt Creek
valley and built comfortable home.
But he was not to enjoy the good days
that seemed to be dawning for us.
Kansas just then was torn by the
slavery feud, and In the bitter strife of
the time my father, after making an
antislavery speech at a nearby post
traders store, was mobbed and his
life threatened. On this occasion one
of my fathers irate audience--a man,
Charles Dunno by name-stabbed my
loved parent In the side At the time
of the attack l stood unarmed over
my wounded fathers body and tried
with childish strength to fight off his
assailant; but, though he escaped with
life in him from the place where he
was assaulted, he subsequently sue
cumbed to his injuries, and in the fol-
lowing spring he died. This calamity
deprived my mother and our family
of a worthy and esteemed head of the
household, his death being an incident
IN the hOrrid internecine strife that
eventuated In the tragedies of the civil
war. l was then ten years old.
could ride any horse alive. 1 had a
knack Of shooting straight, and knew
something about herding cattle.
thought these qualities might earn me
a living. They did.
A firm Of overland freighters-Rus
sell, Majors & Waddell-were at Leav-
enworth. One of them, Mr.. Majors,
had been a friend of my father.
asked him for job as extra" on one
of his wagon trains. The pay was $40
a month-a fortune it seemed to me
then. The work was the sort usually
intrusted to a grown man, and it
meant not only perpetual hustling, but
a lot of danger as well, for the plains
in those days were anything but free
from Indians. This latter thought
frightened even my brave mother.
Boylike, was delighted at the idea.
Mr.. Majors said he would take me
on as extra for one trip. If 1 did
we'll l could have regular job. re-
solved to do miracles as an extra.
The train" was made up of twenty
five loaded wagons, each carrying
1000 pounds, each drawn by six yoke
Of oxen and guided by "bullwhack-
err" driver with long, loud cracking
whip. Then there was a bunch of
loose cattle. On this occasion the
train was made up of only three
wagons, and we were driving a large
herd of beef cattle to Fort Kearny for
the use of Colonel Albert Sydney John
ston and his command, who were on
their way to Salt Lake to fight the
Mormons. l was only one of several
extras. Though we always set guard,
no Indians had appeared.
One noon, however, when we stopped
for dinner and were loafing about on
the grass waiting for the pot to boil
we heard a scathing volley Of shots
from a copse. Some bullets and a
dozen or more arrows whistled into
camp. Everybody had jumped up at
the first shot. But three of our men
tumbled over at once, as If they had
been tripped up. Then a number of
things happened almost too quickly to
describe.
Two bands Of Indians were gallop-
ing toward us. One band stampeded
and ran off our cattle, while the other
crushed" us. Our men gave them a
warm welcome and. sent them back on
the run. But the fight was not over.
The BRAVES" only cantered out of
range. There they were Joined by 9TH
ers. They outnumbered us eight or
ten to one. We could not hope to
stand against such multitude. We
bolted for the South Platte river with
the savages at our heels and found
shelter behind the steep banks. From
there we opened fire again and drove
the following redskins once more out
Of range.
Frank Mccarthy, our boss said our
one chance was to follow the Platte
river to Fort Kearny, keeping out of
five mile march began through knee
deep water and quicksand. Half a day
we kept 1t up I was dead tired, but 1t
was no time for rest or complaining.
Just the same, by nightfall my short
legs wouldn't keep up with the process
sion. l dropped back little by little,
still ploddlng on as fast as my aching
feet could move. We thought we had
given the Indians the slip, but l still
lugged my short, heavy rife. 1t was
a muzzle loading mississippi Jaeger"
and carried slug and two buckshot
to each charge.
The moon had risen, and was try
Ing to catch up with the rest. Sudden
ly, in front of me and at the top Of the
high bank, saw against the moon the
head and high war bonnet of an In
dian chief. He was bent double. The
men ahead could not see him, but he
Ald his gun leveled at them. knew
II he fired he could scarcely miss at
that range. Some one of my friends
must be killed had halted at sight
Of him, and he didn't see me. l had
no time to think out the situation.
l brought up my rife and took what
aim could In the deceptive moon !
light When my sights were just
below the war bonnets feathers