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I witnessed a spirited encounter between a
small band of
Cheyennes and
Pawnees in the fall of 1867. It occurred on the open prairie
north of the mouth of the Walnut, and not a great distance from
Pawnee
Rock. Both tribes were hunting
buffalo,
and when they, by accident, discovered the presence of each other, with a
yell that fairly shook the sand dunes on the
Arkansas,
they rushed at once
into the shock of battle.
That night, in a timbered bend of the Walnut,
the victors had a grand dance, in which scalps, ears, and fingers of their
enemies, suspended by strings to long poles, were important accessories to
their weird
orgies around their huge camp-fires.
One of the most horrible massacres in the
history of the Trail occurred at Little Cow Creek in the summer of 1864. In July of that year a government caravan, loaded with military stores for
Fort Union in
New Mexico
,
left
Fort Leavenworth for the long and dangerous journey of more than seven
hundred miles over the great plains, which that season were infested by
Indians
to a degree almost without precedent in the annals of freight traffic.
The train was owned by a Mr. H. C. Barret, a
contractor with the quartermaster's department; but he declined to take
the chances of the trip unless the government would lease the outfit in
its entirety, or give him an indemnifying bond as assurance against any
loss. The chief quartermaster executed the bond as demanded, and Barret
hired his teamsters for the hazardous journey; but he found it a
difficult matter to induce men to go out that
season.
Among those whom he persuaded to enter his
employ was a mere boy, named McGee, who came wandering into
Leavenworth a few weeks before the train was ready to leave, seeking
work of any description. His parents had died on their way to
Kansas,
and on his arrival at Westport Landing, the emigrant outfit that had
extended to him shelter and protection in his utter loneliness was
disbanded; so the youthful orphan was thrown on his own resources. At that time the
Indians
of the great plains, especially along the line of the
Santa Fe
Trail, were very hostile, and continually harassing the freight
caravans and stage-coaches of the overland
route. Companies of men were enlisting and being mustered into the
United States service to go out after the savages, and young Robert McGee
volunteered with hundreds of others for the dangerous duty. The
government needed men badly, but McGee's youth militated against him, and
he was below the required stature; so he was rejected by the mustering
officer.
Mr. Barret, in hunting for teamsters to drive
his caravan, came across McGee, who, supposing that he was hiring as a
government employee, accepted Mr. Barret's offer.
By the last day of June the caravan was all
ready, and on the morning of the next day, July 1, the wagons rolled out
of the fort, escorted by a company of United States troops, from the
volunteers referred to.
The caravan wound its weary way over the
lonesome Trail with nothing to relieve the monotony save a few skirmishes
with the
Indians; but no casualties occurred in these insignificant battles,
the savages being afraid to venture too near on account of the presence of
the military escort.
On the 18th of July, the caravan arrived in
the vicinity of Fort Larned. There it was supposed that the proximity of
that military post would be a sufficient guarantee from any attack of the
savages; so the men of the train became careless, and as the day was
excessively hot, they went into camp early in the afternoon, the escort
remaining in bivouac about a mile in the rear of the train.
About five o'clock, a hundred and fifty
painted savages, under the command of Little Turtle of the Brule
Sioux, swooped
down on the unsuspecting caravan while the men were enjoying their evening
meal. Not a moment was given them to rally to the defense of their lives,
and of all belonging to the outfit, with the exception of one boy, not a
soul came out alive.
The teamsters were every one of them shot dead
and their bodies horribly mutilated. After their successful raid,
the savages destroyed everything they found in the wagons, tearing the
covers
into shreds, throwing the flour on the trail,
and winding up by burning everything that was combustible.
On the same day the commanding officer of Fort
Larned had learned from some of his scouts that the Brule
Sioux were on
the war-path, and the chief of the scouts with a handful of soldiers was
sent out
to reconnoiter. They soon struck the
trail of Little Turtle and followed it to the scene of the massacre on Cow
Creek, arriving there only two hours after the savages had finished their
devilish work. Dead men were lying about in the short
buffalo-grass
which had been stained and matted by their flowing blood, and the agonized
posture of their bodies told far more forcibly than any language the
tortures which had come before a welcome death. All had been
scalped; all had been mutilated in that nameless manner which seems to
delight the brutal instincts of the North American savage.
Moving slowly from one to the other of the
lifeless forms which still showed the agony of their death-throes, the
chief of the scouts came across the bodies of two boys, both of whom had
been scalped
and shockingly wounded, besides being
mutilated, yet, strange to say, both of them were alive. As tenderly
as the men could lift them, they were conveyed at once back to Fort Larned
and given in charge of the post surgeon. One of the boys died in a
few hours after his arrival in the hospital, but the other, Robert McGee,
slowly regained his strength, and came out of the ordeal in fairly good
health.
The story of the massacre was related by young
McGee, after he was able to talk, while in the hospital at the fort; for
he had not lost consciousness during the suffering to which he was
subjected
by the savages.
He was compelled to witness the tortures
inflicted on his wounded and captive companions, after which he was
dragged into the presence of the chief, Little Turtle, who determined that
he would kill the boy with his own hands. He shot him in the back
with his own revolver, having first knocked him down with a lance handle. He then drove two arrows through the unfortunate boy's body, fastening him
to the ground, and stooping over his prostrate form ran his knife around
his head, lifting sixty-four square inches of his scalp, trimming it off
just behind his ears.
Believing him dead by that time, Little Turtle
abandoned his victim; but the other savages, as they went by his supposed
corpse, could not resist their infernal delight in blood, so they thrust
their knives
into him, and bored great holes in his body
with their lances. After the savages had done all that their
devilish ingenuity could contrive, they exultingly rode away, yelling as
they bore off the reeking scalps of their victims, and drove away the
hundreds of mules they had captured.
When the tragedy was ended, the soldiers, who
had from their vantage-ground witnessed the whole diabolical transaction,
came up to the bloody camp by order of their commander, to learn whether
the teamsters had driven away their
assailants, and saw too late what their cowardice had allowed to take
place. The officer in command of the escort was dismissed the
service, as he could not give any satisfactory reason for not going to the
rescue of the
caravan he had been ordered to guard
Added May, 2005
Also See:
Hidden Treasure at Pawnee Rock
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