USA > Kansas > Wabaunsee County > Early history of Wabaunsee County, Kansas, with stories of pioneer days and glimpses of our western border.. > Part 9
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General Sully followed the Indians and overtook the main body in a ravine about a mile from the deserted village, and had he permitted the mountain howitzers to enfilade the ravine, as some of his sub- ordinates desired, but few Indians would have been left alive to ren- der a second expedition necessary. But being more merciful than the Indians had shown themselves, he refused to allow the cannon to be used on account of the slaughter of the women and children who were scrambling along in a confused mass of ponies, warriors, squaws, children and dogs.
Every possible endeavor was made to induce the Indians to sur- render. About three hundred took advantage of the opportunity pre- sented to save their property and families from possible destruction. but the majority kept up their hurried flight. This condition of things could not last. A large number of the soldiers had lost friends or relatives by Indian barbarities, and had enlisted that they might inflict on the Indians that punishment they deserved. With or with- out orders firing began, and the heaps of dead ponies told of the terri- ble execution of the volleys of minnie balls poured into the retreating mass. Evidence of the panic that ensued was shown in the piles of tepees and camp equipage of every description scattered for miles over the prairie, plainly marking the course of the stampede. It was a flight for life, but the warriors stood their ground, and it being late in the afternoon, they held possession of the field all night, carrying off their dead, and, with but few exceptions, their wounded.
The soldiers lost twenty-two killed and thirty eight wounded. Among the latter was the adjutant of the 6th Iowa, who being wounded in the hips, was compelled to lie on the field all night. Be- ing cold he had pulled over him a buffalo robe lying near.
The Indians, in looking for their own dead and wounded, came across the adjutant, and, finding him alive, thrust a spear twice through his body, cut off his ears and scalped him .*
Notwithstanding all this he lived until the next afternoon, being able to relate to his sorrowing brother officers the terrible scenes en- acted around him as he lay helpless on the ground the night before.
At night-fall the command withdrew to a hill overlooking the site of the deserted village where they bivouaced without fire or blankets until the arrival of the wagon train, which was about sunrise next morning.
On the 15th of September, 1863, a Sioux Indian village of 600
+ In "Belden, the White Chief," is an illustration in which the adjutant is por- trayed as fighting with his sword, the squaws, who, it is related, inflicted upon the adjutant the injuries that caused his death. With the exception of the prisoners and a few of the wounded, the squaws were miles away, looking after their papooses und taking care of their own scalps.
1
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lodges was located on every side of a small but beautiful lake situated near the dividing line between North and South Dakota.
The lodges were of tanned buffalo skins, supported by a frame work of slender spruce poles, brought from the Black Hills. Each lodge afforded shelter for about ten persons.
The country around furnished excellent pasturage for the hun- dreds of ponies that constituted the principal wealth of the nomadic bands gathered together for protection from the soldiers sent to avenge the wrongs suffered at the hands of the savages the year before. Every movement of the command had been watched for days, and, but for the tell-tale carcasses of the buffalo scattered for miles over the prairies, it is doubtful whether the village would have been found, on account of its secluded site-the hills on every side rendering it visible but a short distance from any direction.
But the commotion in camp showed too plainly of blasted hopes. The camp had been discovered, and the only remaining hope was in flight before the arrival of the main body of troops. There was a hurried gathering in of the ponies, and there was such a confused hustling of household belongings, as they were being packed on the backs of ponies, as was seldom seen in an Indian village. .
With the long tepee poles strapped to the sides of the ponies, and the huge wickerwork travois strapped to the poles behind the animals, and a load on the pony's back he was ready to take his place in the line of march.
With hundreds of hands at work, it was not long before the bust- ling village was a thing of the past. This was an extraordinary occa- sion, and it was devil take the hindmost. So, long before the arrival of Sully and his command, the least encumbered of the Indians were streaming over the hills toward some quiet nook where the blue coats would not care to follow. But the troops were upon them before the . main body of the Indians had reached a point a mile beyond the village. We have told of the fight and withdrawal of the troops to the hill near the site of the deserted village.
It was long and weary waiting in the cold and darkness, but with the dawn of day the soldiers were gladdened by the sight of the ad- vancing train. Ere long the camp fires were lighted and but for the gloom that overspread the camp, by reason of missing comrades, the usual good cheer would soon have prevailed. The last sad rites of burying the dead being performed, and the wounded having been made as comfortable as possible under the circumstances, other duties must be performed. The Indians were hovering around the camp ready to cut off any stragglers that might venture outside the lines. Scouting parties were sent out in search of the Indians, and some of them had no difficulty in finding them. One company, save one man,
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left their guns behind them in their hurry to reach camp ahead of the Indians.
Marking the line of retreat, and within a mile of camp, the site of the deserted village, were hundreds of abandoned tepees, buffalo robes, camp equipage, and in fact everything to be found in an Indian camp. Hundreds of arrows, bows already strung, tomahawks, pipes, scalps of women and children killed in the massacre a year before, doubtless preserved as mementoes of some brave, who on this occasion concluded that discretion was the better part of valor.
It was now the soldiers' turn at gathering souvenirs, and many a home in Iowa and Nebraska of today may boast of some Indian relic saved from the torch that was soon applied to the heaps of traps gathered together by the soldiers detailed for the work.
But all were not souvenirs, that are today valued, though they may be of assistance in drawing a pension. Some wounded Indians had been missed in the search of their comrades. One of these sent an arrow through the arm of a soldier looking for curios, and another had a steel arrow head driven into his skull with such force as to re- quire the united strength of one of the surgeons and two assistants to withdraw the ugly missile. It is needless to add that these members of the Lo family were, without ceremony, sent on their journey to the "happy hunting grounds."
Around the camp were hundreds of dogs that had lost their reckon- ing during the panic and hovered around the deserted village, that was now in the hands of a strange people whom the dogs deemed worthy of a nightly serenade of the most dismal howling.
It was the custom among the Indians to provide the dogs with small tepee kennels for shelter. When on the march the small tepee poles were strapped to the dogs and a bundle strapped behind. Some- times this was the dog tepec, and again a buffalo robe or some article of wearing apparel, and occasionally the load would be a more precious burden, the idol of the Indian household, the youngest papoose.
Among the bewildered dogs, dozens of them were aimlessly wan- dering about with their packs still strapped to them and these were shot down that their valuable loads might be secured.
As one of the details of soldiers was gathering in heaps the In- dian trappings that the torch might be applied, he saw an object among the weeds growing in the bed of a dry lake which he supposed was a dog with a pack. Thinking to kill the dog that his pack might be secured, he proceeded to the spot and after peering cautiously around he got sight of the object that had attracted his attention, but it proved to be a different animal from that which he expected to find. It was a long object covered by a buffalo robe. From under one end a beaded moccasin 'protruded and at the other end the rounded form
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suggested that underneath that part of the covering lay an Indian's head.
There was the click of the hammer, and a sharp report and another member of the Sioux tribe had gone to join Hiawatha. It was not a soldierly act, but the mutilated bodies of their dead comrades found on the field and the horrible scenes enacted at Spirit Lake, were too fresh in the minds of the Second Nebraska to foster feelings akin to sentiment in the matter of dealing with an Indian.
A new difficulty now presented itself. Fort Pierre was the base of supplies, and that was 300 miles away. The supply of rations was run- ning short and there were 300 Indian prisoners to feed. The only alternative was to draw from the Indians' supply of commissary stores. These consisted of jerked (dried) buffalo meat, and were scattered over the prairie along the line of the stampede. Hundreds of packages of about fifty pounds each were encased in buffalo hides. Ten six-mule teams were sent out and were quickly loaded with these supplies, and it may be said that they were too much relished by the soldiers to ad- mit of the Indian prisoners monopolizing this branch of the commis- sary department.
The work of gathering these supplies furnished an opportunity to those engaged in the work of saving from the torch an Indian relic that might be considered worth the transportation back to a civilized country. And there is doubtless in many a home in Iowa and Ne- braska today relics of the Sully expedition against the Sioux Indians in 1863. The writer has in his possession a wooden bowl of Sioux man- ufacture that he picked up on the line of the stampede.
In passing over the ground, one of the detail, observing a beauti- fully painted robe, raised it up with the intention of appropriating it to his own private nse. As he lifted it a faint cry came from beneath it-a cry that startled all within the short distance it could be heard. It was the cry of a newly born papoose, that had been ushered into the world amid such scenes of tumult and carnage as are seldom seen. Nothing short of a reign of pandemonium could have caused that mother, though an Indian, to leave her babe on the cold ground, with but a robe for protection from the chilly air of northern Dakota.
The robe was replaced with the intention of having the papoose placed in the hands of one of the squaws among the prisoners, but the same ruthless hands of those, none the less savage in their instincts than the merciless Indians, rendered impossible such an act of human- ity.
The little one was deserving of a better fate, and had a mother's care been delegated to a foster parent, future years may have developed the foundling into a useful member of that great family of brother- hood, that can look, with no other feeling than one of abhorrence
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on scenes that tend to rob our natures of all that is good, and pure and ennobling, that are essential to fit us for that better life beyond the grave.
Charge of the Mule Brigade.
When the Santa Fe brakeman called out the station at Iron Springs the writer's thoughts were occupied by other things than the sage brush skirting the road-bed through the most desolate section of Southern Colorado. He was thinking less of the rocky basin marking the holes of brackish water with which the weary traveler was, in times past, glad to quench his thirst, than of Pat McCloskey's narrow escape from the "Texicans."
In the Spring of 1864 our lot was cast with twenty other govern- ment employes returning from Fort Union, New Mexico, to the "States." Pat McCloskey, one of our party, was constantly regaling the boys with his thrilling adventures, narrow escapes from the In- dians, &c. Pat, in his own estimation. was quite a hero, but somehow his companions failed to place so high an estimate on his bravery as he himself seemed to entertain.
While at Fort Union some of the garrison manifested a little un- easiness lest the Texans should treat them to a repetition of the Val- verde raid. At the Fort preparations had been made to give the Texans a warm reception and the batteries of light artillery and field guns about the post presented a forbidding as well as military appear- ance and the boys accused McCloskey of being somewhat cowed by the warlike indications. However, in proportion as the distance from the scene of the probable invasion increased the spirits of our boasting comrade seemed to revive and when we went into camp at Iron Springs the horrid "Texicans" had been forgotten.
But along in the afternoon at a time when the camp had settled down for a quiet rest after the fatigues of the day's march the still- ness was broken by frantic yells from the direction of Fort Union. "The Texicans are coming ! The Texicans are coming !" The camp was immediately aroused, and looking down the road whom should we sce but McCloskey, hat in hand, running for dear life toward camp.
With pallid face and his long hair streaming in the wind McCloskey hardly dared cast behind him a glance to assure himself of the
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character of his pursuers-who proved to be a half dozen men with a score of pack mules on their way to Fort Lyon, on the Arkansas. The mules were on a brisk run and being encumbered by such camp . equipments as frying pans, sheet iron camp kettles, etc., made quite a din and created in the mind of McCloskey the the impression that two or three regiments of Texans were making a charge on his rear.
Not until McCloskey had arrived sufficiently near camp to enable him to discover the merriment his appearance was exciting, did he realize that he was making a spectacle of himself.
During the remainder of the trip all that was necessary to put a quietus on McCloskey's yarn-spinning was to ask him to tell about "The Charge of the Mule Brigade at the Iron Springs."
Some Farming Experiences.
Five Alma boys can tell all about it. They had experience of a practical kind. It was somewhat limited-short and-well, not very sweet.
A farmer living five miles south of Alma, seeing that the weeds were making inroads into his corn crop, gave it out that a few boys could get steady employment in the business of hoeing corn.
No advertising was done for the very good reason that it wasn't necessary. One boy had heard of the soft snap and he lost no time in communicating the good tidings to his chums. The idea of getting a whole twenty-five-cent piece for such a little thing as a day's work seemed too good to be true, but the boys-five of them-concluded to go out and investigate.
Vivid pictures of big piles of corn flitted before the honest farm- er's eyes as the boys lined up for inspection before him.
Yes, they all wanted work. Each of the boys had a good home in Alma, but in the city no means is provided by which boys can properly exercise their muscle. In town is a poor place for a boy to work off his surplus energy, and the boys had come to the country to lend a helping hand in saving the crops for and in consideration of the sum of twenty-five cents a day, per capita.
There were five boys but not enough hoes to go around. But so small a matter could be easily remedied. A boy could ride to town and get a hoe. That was the easiest job he ever had. But using the
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hoe was different. An hour and a half cutting weeds with that hoe convinced that party that the whole farming business was a grinding monopoly, and pitching the hoe into a clump of weeds our would-be farmer made a break for Alma, where the city hires a man for the special purpose of attending to the weed cutting business.
Boy No. 2 worked a full half hour and then gave up-not the ghost, but his job, for the better one he left at home.
Boy No. 3 after working fifteen minutes broke his hoe-handle. The farmer put in another, but when he looked for that boy there was a big vacant spot that a few minutes before had been occupied by a 65- pound would-be farmer.
Boy No. 4 only came to look on to see how he would like it. He liked it. Work was a good thing, but he was generous to a fault, so he left the whole job to be divided among the other boys-just as they saw fit.
But boy No. 5 beat the record. He stayed five whole days. He had just as hard a job at home and there wasn't any twenty-five cents a day in it either, and that is why he stuck to it so long.
When the boy who had worked an hour and a half returned home he had a dismal story to tell of the farmer's hard lot-and it wasn't in the cow-lot, either-where he said a part of his duty was to milk three cows-two more than at home.
It was to his mother he went with his grievance-of how the boys had to work in the hot sun-of how they sweat and got, oh, so dirty ! And the man said they would have to sleep in the barn and worst of all, they must work there three or four days before he could determine whether or not their work was worth twenty-five cents a day.
In those few long days-or hours-those boys learned more about farming than Horace Greely knew when he wrote his book. Their knowledge was of the practical kind, while that possessed by the re- nowned Horace was only theoretical.
But the lesson learned on the farm will not be lost. Not one of those boys but returned home better contented with his lot. Each had seen a good deal of the world from a boy's standpoint. He had tasted the bitterness of life's realities and the impression left was any- thing but pleasant-yet just such experiences are necessary to enable the average boy to better fight the great battle of life after he has once crossed the real threshold.
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A Rabbit Farm.
Fake stories of skunk farms, rattle snake farms, frog farms. etc., tend to satisfy the curious, but they usually lack the element of truth. But one doesn't have to drawn on his imagination to tell of Alma's first rabbit farm-or rather a little farm on which the chief industry was the raising of the genuine Belgian hare.
To Mr. Fred Meyer is the credit due for this infant industry that antedated by several years the fad of raising Belgian hares that has since spread to every state in the Union.
Beginning in 1895, Mr. Meyer raised on his five acre tract in the north east part of town Belgian hares by the hundreds. Although but little outlay was made for advertising, a large number of shipments were made to parties residing a thousand miles or more from the little farm where the hares first saw the light.
In addition to the number sold for breeding purposes, Mr. Meyer's table was bountifully supplied with dressed Belgian hare, a dish that compares favorably with the dantiest the market can provide.
In 1898 the hares had increased in numbers until about 300 were awaiting orders for shipment or were ready to supply the tables of those desirous of indulging in a luscious dish of Belgian hare.
These hares were about the size of our common jack rabbits, a little darker in color and as tame and playful as kittens. The industry requiring more time and attention than the proprietor felt that he could give to it, the business was closed out-just as the fad was being taken up and the raising of hares had become a source of income to thousands of people unaware of the fact that the initial starting point was at the little town of Alma.
Referring to this farm the Arkansas City Dispatch said in April, 1897: "This is probably the only farm of the kind in the world.
Item in Signal, May 15, 1897: We learn that A. A. Jones has had an experience with a Texas steer that will last a life time-Alf's life- time, we mean. The steer's life is gone-he died of over production- of acquaintanceship with Alf-and his son, Ditto. Ditto is the other name for Sheldon. Alf was in sore straits-as it looked to a man up a tree-that was Sheldon. He had gone to help Alf and concluded he
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could do him as much good up a tree as on the ground. The precedent before him was sufficient proof of the correctness of his position-the precedent was separated from Sheldon by a gooseberry patch-and the steer wasn't far away-they never are when they are mad-at least they don't stay far away very long at a time-and that was what was the matter with Alf. The steer was so close he bruised Alf's ribs, skinned his face, and poked his horns through his pants, worked out his pocket book and scattered the contents over something more than an acre of ground. That's what the Star says, and the Star's reputation for truth and veracity isn't to be doubted, unless one wants to get into a scrap, and we don't.
As time advances the advantages presented by Wabaunsee county as a grazing county become more and more apparent. With her thousands of acres of grazing lands, with her wooded streams of pure and sparkling waters and our proximity to market our facilities are unexceled anywhere, and wide-awake stockmen show excellent judg- ment in selecting Alma, the center of our large grazing district, as their headquarters from which to direct their operations. But our farmers and merchants share a large percentage of the benefits de- rived. Their share of the profits from the sale of their surplus grain, supplies and extra pasturage net them substantial returns. Our county has been well named "The Switzerland of Kansas." While the appellation is not inappropriate, the fact remains that few local- ities anywhere possess greater advantages to men engaged in the cattle industry.
Item in the Signal, July 10. 1897: If you don't believe it rained on Saturday night last ask that McFarland young man how it looked to a man up a tree. The good people down at the MeCrumb crossing hear- ing the roaring waters went down to the crossing where they espicd a strange pony with a saddle on, almost convincing them that some be- lated traveler had gone down in the turbulent waters of Mill creek. But a voice from the tree tops announced that the owner of the voice wasn't drowned but a little bit damp and somewhat chilled from the effects of an involuntary bath. The young gentleman had been making a call that had been somewhat prolonged by the refusal on the part of the rain to stop. In attempting to cross the northern ap- proach to the McCrumb bridge the pony was washed down the stream and the rider saved'from drowning by an overhanging limb-enabling the weary survivor of the flood to resume his place as manager of the Rock Island cating house at McFarland.
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One of Uncle Sam's Kids.
As Ira Hodgson's experience is but that of a score of Wabaunsee county boys who suffered the pangs of disappointment by reason of being unable to fill the requirements necessary to pass the mustering officer, we tell his story in his own words:
"June 1st. 1861, found me 15 years and 4 months old, and the North and South in a death grapple for supremacy. What was fret- ting me was that the scrimmage would be settled before I was big enough to join in the scrap. But I wasn't troubled that way long.
My parents' folks-the Morgans and Crittendons-were fighters from away back, and I considered myself one of the speckled hen's chickens, and I wanted to fight too. You don't have to scratch more than through the skin to find the barbarian in the best of humanity, and I was no exception to the rule.
There were about 1100 of the Hodgson family but they were Quakers and didn't believe much in war. But they were abolitionists and would run underground railroads-with colored men as passengers, as a matter of course.
When the war broke out about half of the Hodgson family lived North of Mason and Dixon's line and the other half, South. In the South, every one that was old enough, was in the Confederate army, and they were hard old fighters too.
In the North, although not so many went into the army, still there are scores of Hodgsons that wore the blue that fill unmarked graves in the sunny South.
In 1861 I was presumptious enough to imagine I was as large as I felt. I thought myself a match for any foe if I just had a gun, so I enlisted.
But when the mustering-in officer came around he told me to step out and go home and stay with my mother awhile before I was big enough to be a soldier. He said they might need me later on.
I never felt so small in my life. It seemed to me as though I settled right down into my boots and could just see over the tops of
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