USA > Kansas > Ford County > Dodge City > Dodge City, the cowboy capital, and the great Southwest in the days of the wild Indian, the buffalo, the cowboy, dance halls, gambling halls and bad men > Part 2
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"In the year of 1853, when this country was as wild as the plains of Africa, only traversed at intervals by tribes of Indians and bands of Mexicans, there were no rail- roads running west of St. Louis, and all the freight trans- mitted by government was carried over this country by large freighting trains, such as now run between here and Camp Supply. In the summer of that year, a freighting train consisting of eighty-two men with one hundred and twenty wagons started from Mexico, across these plains, for Independence, Missouri, to purchase goods. The whole outfit was in charge of an old Mexican freighter named Jesus M. Martinez, whom many of the old plains- men of thirty years ago will remember. They traveled along what is now known as the old Santa Fe trail and every night corralled their wagons and kept guards posted to give the alarm if danger should approach in the way of Indians, bandits or prairie fires. One evening they halted about sundown, formed the usual corral, and pre- pared to rest for the night. Little did they think what that night had in store for them. They had observed Indians during the day, but the sight of these children of the plains was no source of annoyance to them, as they had never been troubled and had seen no hostile manifestations. Some time during the night the men who were on watch observed objects not far from camp, the dogs commenced making a fuss, and presently the watchmen became suspicious and aroused old man Mar- tinez. Martinez, being an old plainsman and under- standing the tactics of the Indians, after closely observing through the darkness, came to the opinion that Indians were lurking around, and that their intentions were not good. He awoke some of his men and they held a kind of consultation as to the best course to pursue, and finally decided to prepare for the worst. They immediately commenced digging trenches and preparing for defense. The objects around them during all this time seemed to grow more numerous every moment, and finally could
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be seen on all sides. The Mexicans waited in suspense, having intrenched themselves as well as possible in ditches and behind piles of dirt. Finally, with yells and shouts, as is always their custom, the Indians made a dash upon the camp from all sides. The Mexicans received them like true martyrs, and being well fortified had every advan- tage. Their eighty-two guns poured fatal balls into the yelling enemy at every report. The Indians finally fell back and the Mexicans then hoped for deliverance, but it was like hoping against fate. The next day the attack was renewed at intervals, and at each attack the Mexicans fought like demons. For five days the siege continued, a few of the Mexicans being killed, in the meantime, and many Indians. During the time the Mexicans had scarce- ly slept, but what struck terror to their hearts was the consciousness that their ammunition was nearly gone. On the sixth night the Indians made a more desperate attack than before. They seemed crazed for blood and vengeance for the chiefs they had already lost. As long as their ammunition lasted the Mexicans continued their stern resistance, but powder and lead was not like the widow's oil. It steadily decreased until none was left. Then their guns were still, and they were swallowed up like Pharaoh's hosts in the Red Sea, by wild Cheyennes, Arrapahoes and Kiowas, who made deathly havoc with the little handful of brave Mexicans. We need not dwell upon this scene of butchery, and it is only necessary to relate that but one man is known to have escaped in the darkness, and that man, somewhat strange to note, was old Jesus M. Martinez. How he managed to secrete himself we can hardly divine, others might have been carried away and held captive until death, but he alone never told the story to the pale-face. The Indians pillaged the train of all the flour, bacon, etc., took the stock, set fire to some of the wagons, and then, Indianlike, immedi- ately left the field of carnage. Old Martinez remained in his hiding place until morning and until the Indians
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were miles away, then creeping out he surveyed the re- mains of what a few days ago was his jolly, jovial com- panions. He was alone with the dead.
"As is nearly always the case with persons when no eye is near, he thought of the valuable, and knowing that quite an amount of silver was stored in one of the wagons, he searched and found a portion of it. As near as he re- membered, when he related this occurrence to his son, he founds twenty-one small bags, each one containing one thousand silver Mexican dollars. These bags he car- ried some distance from the camp, we cannot learn ex- actly how far, or which way, and buried them. He then started out and made his way on foot back to his old home in Mexico, where, it seems, he died soon after- wards. But before he died he told his son what we have related above, and advised him to hunt this treasure. What goes to corroborate this story was the evidence of Dr. Wilber of Kansas City, who sold goods to these Mexicans and knew of their having a considerable quan- tity of silver in their possession.
"Pursuant to his father's advice young Martinez came up to this country some years after the death of his father for the purpose of following his instructions. There are two men now living in this city to whom he revealed the secret, one of whom assisted him in searching for the buried treasure. From the directions marked out by old Martinez they found the spot where the massacre took place, about four miles west of Dodge City-the spot described above, where the pits and dirt piles are still plainly visible. For days and even weeks young Martinez searched the ground in that vicinity using a sharpened wire, which he drove into the ground wherever he sup- posed the treasure might lie concealed. But he was not successful, and not being of a persevering nature aban- doned the search and remained around Fort Dodge for some time, when he fell into the habit and became a hard drinker. He finally returned to Mexico and has not
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been back here since, that we are aware of. After he left, one of the men to whom he had revealed the secret (and this man now lives in this city) made a partial search for the treasure. He hired men and after swearing them to secrecy as to what they were searching for, set them to digging ditches. They found nothing and abandoned the work."
This story, as told above, is an historical fact, and portions of it have been heretofore published. We can give names of men who know more about it than we do but by request we do not publish them. This treasure will probably be found some day, and probably will lie buried forever, and never see the light. No eye but the Omnip- otent's can tell the exact spot where it lies. As we said above, it is rumored that parties are preparing to institute a search. They may find it and they may not. We hope they will as it is of no benefit to mankind where it is. It certainly exists.
Such were some of the traces which the feet of the white man left behind in their first passing over the plains of the southwest. One almost lost sight of the natural features and attractions of the region, in viewing these intensely interesting evidences of the beginning of the conquest of the wilds by civilization. Yet the natural beauties and attractions were there in superlative degree.
An old darkey, living in the Arkansas valley, thus explains how it happened that the territory of Kansas exists. On being asked by a land looker what he thought of the country, he said:
"Well, sah, when the good Lord made dis whole world, He found out that He had made a mistake, dat He had not made any garden, so He jest went to work and made Hisself a garden, and we call it Kansas."
And a natural garden, indeed, in many respects, was the Arkansas valley in southwestern Kansas. Pages could be filled with descriptions of its beauties without exhaust- ing the subject. But no less than the charms and interest
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of its physical features, were the charms and interest of other of its natural attributes, atmospheric peculiarities, for instance, which, as in the blizzard, arose at times to the height of the grand and terrible. Other phases of atmospheric conditions, however, peculiar to the great plains in pioneer days, were very beautiful, and perhaps the best example of such was the mirage.
Mirage, Webster describes as an "optical illusion, arising from an unequal refraction in the lower strata of the atmosphere, and causing remote objects to be seen double, as if reflected in a mirror, or to appear as if sus- pended in the air. It is frequently seen in deserts, pre- senting the appearance of water."
If I were gifted with descriptive powers, what won- derful scenes could I relate of the mirage on the plains of Kansas. What grand cities towering to the skies have I seen, with their palaces and cathedrals and domed churches, with tall towers and spires reaching almost up to the clouds, with the rising sun glistening upon them until they looked like cities of gold, their streets paved with sapphire and emeralds, and all surrounded by mag- nificent walls, soldiers marching, with burnished spears and armor! There would arise at times over all a faint ethereal golden mist, as if from a smooth sea, shining upon the towers and palaces with a brilliancy so great as to dazzle the eyes-a more gorgeous picture than could be painted by any artist of the present, or by any of the old masters. The picture as has presented itself to me I still retain in good recollection, in its indescribable mag- nificence. At other times the scenes would change en- tirely, and, instead of great cities there would be moun- tains, rivers, seas, lakes, and ships, or soldiers and armies, engaged in actual conflict. So real have such sights ap- peared to me on the plains that I could not help but be- lieve they were scenes from real life, being enacted in some other part of the world, and caught up by the rays of the sun and reflected to my neighborhood, or perhaps
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that some electrical power had reproduced the exact pic- ture for me.
How many poor creatures has the mirage deceived by its images of water. At times one unacquainted with its varied whims would be persuaded that it really was water, and would leave the well-beaten track to follow this optical illusion, only to wander farther from water and succor, until he dropped down from thirst and ex- haustion, never to rise again, never again to be heard of by his friends, his bleaching bones to be picked by the coyote, unburied and forgotten. On other occasions you would see immense towering forests, with every variety of trees and shrubbery. In some places it would be so dark and lowering, even in the daylight, as to appear dangerous, though one could not help admiring its gloomy grandeur. Then there would be fair spots of pic- turesque beauty, with grottoes and moonlit avenues, in- viting you to promenade, where one seemed to hear the stroke of the barge's oars on lake and river, and the play of the fountains, and the twitter of the birds.
With the trail of the plow, followed by immigration and civilization, the wonderful mirage is a thing of the past. It is only now and then that one gets a glimpse of its beauties; its scenes of magnificence, far beyond any powers of description, I will never see again.
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CHAPTER II. Travel on Old Trails
ON a beautiful spring morning in early May, 1859, I was awakened at the break of day-having gone into camp the preceding evening after dusk-by the singing of birds and lowing of cattle, and last, but not least, the harsh and discordant voice of the wagon boss- of whom I stood in wholesome fear-calling, "Roll out! roll out!" to the men as the cattle were driven into the corral to yoke up and get started. Indeed all nature seemed alive and pouring out the sweetest notes on that lovely morning when I first saw the great Pawnee Rock.
It was, indeed, a curious freak of nature, rising abruptly out of a fertile stretch of bottom land several miles wide, three or four miles north of the Arkansas River, which flowed sluggishly along its way, its muddy current on its usual spring rise caused by the melting of snow in the mountains. The time of the year, the ideal weather, and the lovely greensward, interspersed with the most beautiful variegated wild flowers, combined to make one of the most beautiful sights I ever witnessed. The scene impressed itself not only upon me, but the other drivers-"Bull whackers," we were called-shared my admiration, and through our united petition to the wagon boss, the train was halted long enough to allow our going to the Rock, from the summit of which I ob- tained the grand view that so impressed me. It seemed as if I could never tire of gazing on the wonderful pano- rama that spread before me.
The road, if recollection serves me right, ran only a few hundred feet south of the base of the Rock, parallel to its face. The Rock faced the south, rearing itself abruptly, and presenting almost a perpendicular front with a comparatively smooth surface, having thousands
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of names inscribed on its face, and also on a great many slabs that had, in the process of time and exposure to the elements, been detached from its top and sides and lay flat at its base. Most of the names were those of "Forty- niners" who had taken that route in their mad rush for the gold fields of California during that memorable year. Among the names cut in the Rock were those of officers and enlisted men in the United States army as well as a number of famous men and frontiersmen.
There were also a great many Indian paintings, or pictographs, and hieroglyphics done by the red man- crude and laughable, and some of them extraordinarily funny, but I have been told since there was a great deal of significance attached to these paintings, some of them portraying important tribal history, others representing brave and heroic deeds, performed by members of the tribes.
Of course, there were a great many stories told of the Rock, romances the most of them, I suppose.
An old plainsman and mountaineer told me that the name "Pawnee Rock" was taken from a great fight last- ing several days, between the Pawnees and their life-long enemies, the Plains Indians composed of a mixed band of Cheyennes, Arapahoes, Kiowas, Comanches, and a few Sioux, all pitted against the Pawnees, and numbering more than ten to one. What a desperate battle it was!
The Pawnees had come over to the Arkansas on their usual buffalo hunt, and, incidentally, to steal horses from their enemies, the Plains Indians. They crossed the river and proceeded south, penetrating deep into the enemy's country, where a big herd of ponies grazed and lived in supposed security. The Pawnees reached the herd with- out arousing the least suspicion of the owners that the animals were in danger. Surrounding and cutting out what they wanted, they started on the return trip, greatly elated over their easy success, and reached the Arkansas River without meeting with the slightest resistance, but
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found the river very high and out of its banks. The ponies refused to take the river, which delayed them consider- ably. In the meantime, the band of Indians, composed of Cheyennes, Arapahoes, Kiowas, Comanches, and a few Sioux, was on a buffalo hunt, too, when some of them discovered the trail of the Pawnees and quickly notified the others. They all gave chase, overtaking the Pawnees just as they were crossing the Arkansas. The Pawnees might still have gotten away had they aban- doned the stolen horses; but this they refused to do until it was too late.
Finally, pressed on all sides by overwhelming odds, they were glad to retreat to the rock where they made a final stand, fortifying themselves as best they could by erecting mounds of loose rock, and loading and firing from behind this crude shelter with such daring and bravery that their enemies were kept at bay. They were sorely in need of water. Of meat they had plenty, as they lived upon the flesh of their dead horses. At night, some of them usually crept through the line of sentinels that guarded them and made their way to the river, fill- ing canteens of tanned hide or skins and working their way back to their beseiged friends.
The fight was kept up for three days and nights, the Cheyennes and allies making frequent charges during the day, but always being compelled to fall back with severe loss, until they had almost annihilated the little band of Pawnees. On the fourth night they were reduced to three or four men. Knowing their desperate situation and realizing that there was no chance for any of them to escape, they determined to sell their lives as dearly as possible. Every man stripped stark naked, and, watching his opportunity, when the guards were less vigilant than usual, crept stealthily toward the foes. Having approach- ed as near as they could without detection, the Pawnees burst upon the enemy with all the fury of desperate men going to their death, and, with blood-curdling yells,
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fought as never men fought before. One of them was armed with a long spear and knife only. (These spears were used in killing buffaloes.) Many a man went down before the weapon, but, finally the Pawnee drove it so deeply into one of his victims that he could not withdraw it. Then he fell back on his butcher knife and made ter- rible havoc with it, until overpowered by numbers, he died a warrior's glorious death, reeking with the blood of his enemies. He certainly had sufficient revenge.
The time we camped at the foot of the Rock we did not go into camp until after nightfall. Another man and I were placed on first guard around the grazing cattle. After being out some time, we were startled by something dropping, zip! zip! into the grass around us and near us. We thought it was Indians shooting at us with arrows. There were all sorts of rumors of attacks from Indians, and this certainly was a great Indian camping ground and country, so we were greatly alarmed and continually on the lookout, expecting at any time to be attacked. We finally concluded to go to camp and notify the wagon boss. He came back with us and for a long time believed that Indians were shooting at us, but the ques- tion was, where were they concealed? The mystery was finally solved. The peculiar sound was made by the little birds called sky-larks, flying up and alighting, striking the earth with such force that the noise seemed like that produced by the fall of an arrow or of a stone. The sky- larks and meadow larks sang at all hours of the night on the plains.
The great Pawnee Rock has found its way into the history of the west. Around its rugged base was many a desperate battle fought and won; and many a mystic rite, performed within its shadow, has stamped upon the grand old mass the wierd and tragic nature of the chil- dren of the plains.
It was in the immediate vicinity of the rock that I
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inadvertently started one of the most disastrous stampedes in the history of the plains.
In the fall of 1862 I was going back east with one of Major Russell's and Waddell's large ox teams. I think we had thirty or forty wagons, with six yoke of oxen to the wagon. Our wagons were strung five or six together and one team of six yoke cattle attached to each string. It was the latter part of November, and we were traveling along the Arkansas River bottom about ten miles west of where Great Bend is now located. It was a very hot afternoon, more like summer than winter-one of those warm spells that we frequently have in the late fall on the plains. I was driving the cavayado (cave-yard-that is, the loose cattle). The Mexicans always drove their cava- yado in front of their trains, while the Americans in- variably drove theirs behind. I had on a heavy linsey woolsey coat, manufactured from the loom in Missouri lined with yellow stuff, and the sleeves lined with red; and, as I said, it was very warm; so I pulled off my jack- et, or coat, and in pulling it off turned it inside out. We had an old ox named Dan, a big, old fellow with rather large horns, and so gentle we used him as a horse in crossing streams, when the boys often mounted him and rode across. Dan was always lagging behind, and this day more than usual, on account of the heat. The idea struck me to make him carry the coat. I caught him and by dint of a little stretching placed the sleeves over his horns and let the coat flap down in front.
I hardly realized what I had done until I took a front view of him. He presented a ludicrous appearance, with his great horns covered with red and the yellow coat flapping down over his face. He trudged along uncon- scious of the appearance he presented. I hurried him along by repeated punches with my carajo pole, for in dressing him up he had gotten behind. I could not but laugh at the ludicrous sight, but my laughter was soon turned to regret, for no sooner did old Dan make his ap-
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pearance among the other cattle than a young steer bawled out in the steer language, as plain as good English, "Great Scott! what monstrosity is this coming among us to de- stroy us?" and with one long, loud, beseeching bawl, put all the distance possible between himself and the terror behind him. All his brothers followed his example, each one seeing how much louder he could bawl than his neighbor, and each one trying to outrun the rest. I thought to myself, "Great guns! what have I done now!" I quickly and quietly stepped up to old Dan, fearing that he too might get away, and with the evidence of my guilt, took from his horns and head what had created one of the greatest stampedes ever seen on the plains, and placed it on my back where it belonged. In the meantime the loose cattle had caught up with the wagons, and those attached to the vehicles took fright and tried to keep up with the cavayado. In spite of all the drivers could do, they lost control of them, and away they went, making a thundering noise. One could see nothing but a big cloud of dust. The ground seemed to tremble.
Nothing was left but Dan and me after the dust sub- sided, and I poked him along with my carajo pole as fast as possible, for I was anxious to find out what damage was done. We traveled miles and miles, and it seemed hours and hours, at last espying the wagon boss still riding like mad. When he came up he said: "What caused the stam- pede of the cavayado?" I replied that I could not tell, unless it was a wolf that ran across the road in front of the cattle, when they took fright and away they went, all except old Dan, and I held him, thinking I would save all I could out of the wreck. There stood old Dan, a mute witness to my lies. Indeed, I thought at times he gave me a sly wink, as much as to say: "You lie out of it well, but I am ashamed of you." I thought that God was merciful in not giving this dumb animal speech, for if He had they certainly would have hung me. As it was, the wagon boss remarked: "I know it was the cussed
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wolves, because I saw several this afternoon, while riding in front of the train. Well," he continued, "that wolf didn't do a thing but wreck six or eight wagons in Wal- nut creek, and from there on for the next five miles, ten or twelve more; and most of them will never see the states again, they are so completely broken up. Besides, one man's leg is broken and another's arm, and a lot of the men are bruised up. Three steers have their legs broken, and the front cattle were fifteen miles from where we are now, when I overtook them."
I have seen many stampedes since, but never anything to equal that. I have seen a great train of wagons heavily loaded, struggling along, drivers pounding and swearing to get the cattle out of a snail's pace, and one would think the train too heavily loaded, it seemed such a strain on the cattle to draw it, when a runaway horse or some- thing out of the usual would come up suddenly behind them, and the frightened cattle in the yoke would set up a bawl and start to run, and they would pick up those heavily loaded wagons and set off with them at a pace that was astonishing, running for miles and over- turning the wagons. The boss in front, where he was al- ways supposed to be, would give the order to roughlock both wheels, which would probably be done to a few of the front wagons. Even these doubly locked wagons would be hurled along for a mile or two before the cattle's strength was exhausted, and apparently the whole earth would shake in their vicinity.
My experience with old Dan and the yellow-lined coat was laughable, with but a touch of the tragic at its close, but all the travel along the Santa Fe trail and large part of it was tragedy from beginning to end, kindred highways, in those old days, had not so happy a tone, and much of it had a much more tragic ending-unlight- ened by any touch of humor. Indeed, had all the blood of man and beast, that was shed beside them, been turned, unlessened, into the trails, their course across the plains
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