JACK MORROW'S ranch was left far behind us before the sun appeared above the hills, for we had made an early start, as had been our recent practice, so that we might rest during the heat of the early afternoon. On the following morning we were on O'Fallon's bluff, so named in memory of Benjamin O'Fallon, of St. Louis, who was killed there by Indians. Topographical surveys give the elevation of the valley below the bluffs as 3,012 feet above sea level, or about 2,000 feet above Omaha. These surveys also show the bed of the Platte River to average about 300 feet higher than the Republican River at the South, and parallel streams at the North, at the various points in the same longitude West. O'Fallon's bluff, however, is not a commanding eminence, but seems to be nothing more than a good-sized, irregularly shaped sand dune.

As we were dragging along the sandy road we observed approaching us four somewhat excited men, who with a two-mule team, were hastening eastward. Three of them, two of whom were bareheaded, were walking up the grade as rapidly as possible, while the driver on the wagon, although urging his mules forward, seemed unable to press them into a gait faster than a walk, because of the heavy road and the ascending grade. When they halted at our side, the mules and the walkers were wet with perspiration. We also stopped, and leaving our horses, gathered round the strangers, as it was evident that they had something to communicate. As soon as they had recovered enough breath after their arduous climb to talk coherently, one of them, to quote his own words, informed us that the Indians were raising the devil up the river only a few miles away, and that some of the savages were moving eastward. Another ejaculated that seven hundred Ogallala Sioux had camped on an island near Baker's ranch, and that the ranch was invaded and would probably be destroyed. They urged us to turn back until we could get a strong escort. Each had some item of information and word of counsel.

Having obtained all possible particulars concerning the situation, we found ourselves very much in the frame of mind of the average small boy, who, learning that a fight is on around the corner, is disposed to rush immediately to the center of disturbance. We had no definite knowledge concerning the whereabouts of other trains moving westward, with one of which, according to Government orders, we ought perhaps to have been traveling. There certainly was no wagon in sight between us and the place where the white sandy trail curved up the slopes of the bluffs beyond and was lost to sight some miles westward.

We threshed out the matter thoroughly in the presence of our new friends, and all members of our party were more and more inclined to press forward as rapidly as possible, fearing we might fail to witness something that might be of interest; and all this directly against valuable advice given in the Book of Proverbs. When we thanked the gentlemen and bade them good-bye, they wished us good luck and a safe trip, and as a final admonition urged us to be on our guard.

Passing over the western extremity of the bluffs, where the trail begins to descend again into the Platte valley, our train came into view of the little house well known as Baker's ranch. Beyond it flowed the muddy Platte, the channel of which could be traced many miles of its course. It then appeared to the eye as if divided into many channels, which formed numerous islands or sand bars. Many of these islands in the Platte are almost as unstable as the ancient Delos, or as the waters that sweep over them in flood time, appearing in one place today, in another tomorrow, because the quicksands are always rolling and shifting under the action of the swift current. On the other hand, the clayey formation in the valley of the lower Platte, termed loess by geologists, seems throughout that course of the river to assume a crystalline form; and as the stream washes away its shores, it carves out many perpendicular banks having the columnar form of basaltic cliffs, but of a neutral red color.

As from the hills we looked with our field glass to a point beyond the ranch, we observed, and perhaps for the first time along the river, a bank that was low and easily fordable, for we saw two mounted Indians rapidly enter the stream and ride through it to a large island, which like an oasis in the desert was well covered with verdure. Upon the island was an Indian village; and beyond the island, and beyond the further channel of the sparkling river, the brown plain gradually sloped upward to the table-lands at the North.

Clustered rather closely together upon the island, and standing out clearly in the bright sunlight, were seventy white circular lodges, each tapering gracefully to a point, and appearing from far away like a crest of fringe; at the top of each lodge, were the lodge poles, with their small ends crossed at the apex. Around and among the tents, was a scene of animation in which warriors, squaws, and children confusedly intermingled like a legion of busy red ants in a city of ant hills, each forming a moving dot of bright color. All this striking and beautiful scene, as more clearly discerned through the field glass, resembled rather a motion picture than a scene in real life, for not a sound reached us through the still air from that cluster of Indian tepees. As the Sioux lodges average about ten occupants each, it appeared safe to estimate the population of the village at about 700. They were men of the western twilight, as fantastically named by Karl G. Carus.

Having surveyed rather carefully the general landscape, our party proceeded observantly until we lined up in front of Baker's ranch. We, who were on horseback, alighted, and passing unmolested by a dozen athletic red warriors, we entered the open door. To our surprise we found the floor nearly covered with Indians reclining in various postures. Stepping over two or three of these recumbent forms, an act that did not make them move a hair's breadth, we picked our way toward the corner of the room, where we met the valiant Lew Baker, then in the prime of his young manhood. The counter extended along the east side of the building, after the fashion of many country stores, and behind it stood its owner.

A little woman, the wife of Baker, was also seated behind the same counter near a window at the front of the room, somewhat protected and concealed by a desk upon that end of the counter, and was therefore not readily observed by persons entering. In her arms was their only child, Elma, then four months old. Baker introduced us to his wife, with whom I exchanged a few words. Johnny Baker, the famous crack shot and for many years a star feature as sharpshooter in Buffalo Bill's Wild West Show, was a later scion of this stock. While careful not to betray any interest concerning the red visitors in the ranch, we embraced the first opportunity to obtain from Baker all information possible regarding the situation. We asked if he believed that any of the Indians present would understand our conversation. He gave it as his opinion that they would not, though as we all well understand, our manner and tone of voice might suggest much to them.

Baker, continuing, and turning his eyes toward the ceiling as if conversing on some general topic, said, "Those Indians you see lying around you on the floor, entered the room this morning almost at the break of day, taking very nearly their present positions on the floor, and not one of them since their arrival seems to have spoken a word; they have scarcely moved." Nor had there been any expressions upon any one of their faces, except the same unchanged sullenness that we could then observe. During our interview neither one of us appeared to notice the subjects of our conversation.

As is well known, there is a certain peculiar strain clearly marked in the character of most Indians of the warlike tribes. If they become offended, it is not their practice to remove their outer garments if they should happen to be wearing a blanket, and like an impetuous Irishman, at once rush to the front with clenched fists, or like a volatile Frenchman, pour out a volley of sacres, to indicate their self confidence, nor are apologies considered an adequate satisfaction for any injury. They are not loquacious at any time. They are more disposed to nourish their wrath in silence and like a sulky child refuse to communicate with their enemy, until the opportunity comes when they may strike an unexpected blow under conditions favorable to themselves. The Sioux, indeed, at the time of which we are writing, had ample grounds for resentment, and although the ranch-man was powerless to right their wrongs, they regarded all whites as common parties to the controversy yet unsettled. Baker well understood their temper, but did not know when the storm might burst. He had placed his little wife and child where he could best shield them, relying chiefly upon himself for protection; his quick eye was ready at all times to detect the faintest hostile movement; and he declared himself determined to defend his little wife and baby to the utmost.

It was a remarkable feature of the demonstration that occurred while we were in Baker's ranch, that at intervals of but a few minutes one Indian after another, usually in pairs, silently entered the opened door, and with a soft, noiseless tread of moccasined feet, moved across the room, among or across the impassive warriors, who lay stretched out upon the floor apparently unnoticed, with whom as far as we could discern they exchanged no word or sign whatever. On reaching Baker, some offered a trifling article in exchange for others of much greater value, preferably for a side of bacon or a bag of flour, which were taken without comment, and the articles so taken were at once carried away. In some cases an Indian would actually take possession of a coveted article without any payment in return, and at once leave the building with the property; but during all this time the Red Men on the floor lay in silence, utterly indifferent to all that was taking place.

We offered Mr. Baker any assistance that our small party could afford, and urged him in any event to abandon his ranch and seek safety for himself and family with some armed train. He finally replied that he would endeavor to hold the situation until some outfit should arrive, bound eastward, but such trains were now far apart. In the meantime, his stock of merchandise was being rapidly depleted. Although his ranch for that day was spared by the band which was then investing it, it was twice attacked and destroyed by the Indians within the ensuing eighteen months, the particulars of which attacks were furnished me by Johnny Baker as matters of family history, although he himself was too young then to have personal recollections of the stirring events.

As we could be of little service to the beleaguered young rancher and his little family, for which we felt great solicitude, and as he would not go westward at that time, we pushed onward a mile beyond, to a point near the river bank, for our luncheon. Instead of picketing our horses in the usual manner, we tied them to the wagon wheels and compelled them to forego their noon grazing until we could get our bearings. While the meal was being prepared, three of the boys, Ben and Fred being two of the number, had the temerity to ford the river and visit the Indian village. What the purpose of such a proceeding might have been cannot now be imagined. Curiosity certainly got the better of good sense. Ben was usually to be relied upon as sane and sensible.

It proved easy for them to ford the comparatively shallow but rather wide channel of the river flowing between the mainland and the island where the Indian lodges were rather closely grouped together. The Indians evidently had selected this island for their temporary abode, on account of the grass with which portions of it were covered, the mainland being very dry and furnishing but little forage for stock.

Our estimate of the number of their horses and ponies was about 600. These were wandering about on the island, many standing in the water's edge, switching the flies with their tails. The lodges, as was the custom of the plains at that time, were made of dressed buffalo skins, which in the distance looked comparatively white. They were well made and the skins were firmly sewed together. On a closer approach the color was seen to be slightly tawny.

The larger tents were about twenty-five feet in height, generally with thirty poles supporting each tent. We had been informed that nearly all their lodge poles were obtained from near the foot of the Rocky Mountains, and plainsmen stated, on the authority of the Indians, that many of them have thus been in use for a hundred years. One, and perhaps two, of the large tents would have afforded space for forty persons to dine in its shelter.

Around the lodges were scores of squaws, many of them at that hour half reclining in the doors of their tents, in costumes generally quite decollete. One young girl was observed whose apparel indicated that she was connected with a family of distinction. She wore a balmoral skirt of brilliant hues, which was possibly secured in some trade by her admiring father or lover. She was also loaded with beads and tinsel. Many papooses were decorated with beads and similar trifles. These cheap articles with brilliantly colored calico, were often received in exchange for furs and robes.

The Indian bucks were much in evidence when we first saw the village, although but few were there when we reached it. We concluded that many of them had gone out on some expedition after we had obtained our first view of the village from O'Fallon's bluff. Our party hardly felt at ease, as there was a manifest lack of cordiality towards us among the inhabitants, which was not explained by our unfamiliarity with their language; our boys, therefore, were not obtrusive.

Having sauntered leisurely among the malodorous lodges for a time, we suddenly observed the rapid approach of a large body of mounted Indians from away beyond the North side of the river. They were coming with such headlong impetuosity that we instantly concluded that we might be greatly needed in our own camp. Accordingly we recrossed the river without unnecessary delay and were soon relating our experiences around the camp fire while we ate a hasty lunch. The meal had hardly been despatched when Noah, on casting his eyes in the direction of the river, immediately turned and exclaimed, "There's a band of those devils fording the stream, and I'll bet they are coming to return that visit."

Sure enough they were, and a social obligation is rarely discharged with greater alacrity and spontaneity. They were probably a portion of the band that first came in from the North, and learning of the call made at their home during their brief absence, they made an instantaneous rush across the stream, and immediately on touching dry land on our side, came on a dead run for our camp. On reaching it, their horses were brought to a sudden stop. At the same moment the Indians were on their feet upon the ground as quick as a flash, and almost simultaneously; and, more quickly than it can be told, they were everywhere in our camp, and we seemed to be nowhere. They made themselves thoroughly at home.

As the result of a common impulse, we also quickly found ourselves within close speaking distance of each other. None of our party were able to state the exact number of the invaders, but twenty-five was a later estimate. They were young, vigorous warriors, all armed with bows, arrows, and knives; none of them, so far as we observed, bore firearms. Like all the Western and Northwestern Indians, except the Sacs, Foxes, and Pawnees, their hair was long and straight. They wore no articles of dress which had been adopted from the whites, but they presented themselves in the primitive simplicity of feathers and paint, limbs and breast being bare. One of them wore big feathers. He may have been the great Chief Hole-in-the-Ground, and we should have been pleased if he had stayed in the hole.

Possibly we did not greet them with a cordial welcome. There was certainly no need to extend them formally the freedom of the camp. As a matter of fact, this ceremony was forgotten, but it was never missed. We were also slightly embarrassed and perhaps uncommonly modest. The visitors came upon us unexpectedly, like a great family of distant relations by marriage. There was too little prepared food in our camp to furnish a collation that would comport with the dignity of the chief with the big feathers, and his minions. His highness, however, relieved us from any concern on that score, for without standing on ceremony he, and his red-skinned satellites, proceeded at once to help themselves to everything within reach. This was accomplished with all desirable despatch. It was observed that four or five of the number had thoughtfully provided themselves with blankets. As the day was very warm, this was not done for protection against the weather, but, as we discovered in a few moments, with the subtler purpose of using them as vehicles for plunder,—satchels and suit-cases having not yet become popular.

The raid was first made upon the little food which we had in sight upon the ground. We had not yet fully comprehended their plans, but regarded the savages as being a trifle "fresh." Fred, who like the rest of us was watching these proceedings with the resignation that is born of helplessness, remarked to me, "If they ever try to digest any bread like that which I ate for breakfast, they will regret their visit." Fred was not inclined to be solemn at any time, but to others as well as to me the situation was rapidly becoming serious. The cooking utensils were then all hastily gathered up by the audacious freebooters and put into their blankets, as if this were a commonplace business affair that must be quickly performed. Simultaneously, and with perfect concert of action, others proceeded to the mess boxes at the rear of the wagons, and rapidly, and in a confident and business-like manner emptied them one by one of their contents. About half of the invaders remained inactive, but held their bows in their hands as if to overawe us and, if necessary, defend the raiders.

The situation was now becoming exceedingly tense. The plan of the Indians was rapidly developing; it was, first to appropriate our lighter effects, as we knew had often been done that year in other cases, and then to follow this by capturing our horses, after which we should be left destitute, without even a skillet or a cup in which to cook a Jack rabbit. Our guns must be saved. Every one of our number seemed eager to act at once, for the moment for resistance had certainly come now if ever. In a minute more it would be too late.

It has been written as the experience of the old fur-traders, that the timorous mood and dilatory tactics of many of the emigrants in their relations with the Indians often exposed them to real danger and final disaster, and that a bold stand and self-confident bearing often resulted in safety. We were happy in that the leaders of our party met the situation promptly and coolly. Some one said in a clear voice, "Dan, you are Captain." In an instant Dan seemed invested with full authority, and at once with ringing voice gave the order, "Get your guns quickly and line up here." Each man had in his wagon, concealed under a flap in the side of the cover, a good Henry rifle, which by mutual agreement for any emergency, was always loaded with sixteen fixed cartridges and always in perfect condition. Separating for but a moment, and in some cases dodging round a redskin, we were again together in quick time, but now in line with rifles to our shoulders.

Previous to that moment there was a question as to the expediency of showing resistance. The bringing out of the guns, however, meant war, unless the savages should immediately withdraw. Even Deacon Cobb, with his long white hair floating in the breeze, stood in line bareheaded, and as cool as any veteran, with his eye along his rifle awaiting a further order. Each man also had a revolver in his belt, all of which were in sight. As a fact there had been considerable rifle practice carried on from time to time by our party, and for short range some of the men had proved good shots. The Henry rifle, however, was not very reliable at long range and the projectiles were light, but for an affair such as this was likely to be they were simply perfect, because of their rapid fire.

Our enemy, now at such close quarters, did not fail to take notice, but we were surprised that our action produced so little effect. It remained for Dan to speak the next word. Now Dan Trippe, with the exception of the Deacon, was the oldest member of our party; and as many persons still well remember, he was gifted with a magnificent physique, a remarkably forceful presence, and a voice of tremendous power. Moreover, in profanity, the only element in our language which the Indians were said to understand, his style was vigorous, yea, unsurpassed in vehemence, persuasiveness and unction. His oaths, though reserved chiefly for emergencies, were drawn from a carefully chosen glossary.

Observing that our challenge failed to check the raid, before giving the order to fire Dan quickly stepped slightly to the front, and in a manner not to be forgotten, delivered his call to combat. He added force to his defiance by his vigorous gestures and actions, all freely emphasized by strong, resonant vocables (few of which are to be found in the school dictionaries), and all uttered in an unhesitating, stentorian voice that could have been heard on the island. The purport of his Philippic, stripped of its invectives, was that articles which the thieves had appropriated must be laid down instanter, and they themselves must immediately "vamoose" the camp, otherwise he would not be responsible for their untimely decease. It was the pantomime, the gesticulations and the voice in which Dan had few rivals that were to produce conviction in savages to whom our language was as Latin.

There was a moment of hesitation, then a brief parley among the Indians, through which we waited, and remained in line, at the right of which now stood Dan with his gun. All of a sudden the articles were dropped upon the ground. The Indians mounted their horses, but without the slightest indication of haste or fear quietly rode in a body about a half a mile westward, and there they appeared to hold a brief conference. We carefully watched their movements, retaining our rifles as we remained in line. In a few minutes as if by common understanding the savages suddenly started back down the road toward our camp which they passed within fifty feet; every horse was pushed to the top of its speed, racing one behind another in single file. The long black hair of the warriors was flying in the wind. At times they were riding on the sides of their horses, each having but one leg and possibly the head exposed to our view. The savage, dissonant yells which they uttered to the limit of their voices, as they swept by us, as if for a challenge, were calculated to make the hair stand on end. They did not pause as we thought they might do, but sped by us with a rush, at the same time indicating by their manner and motions that they dared us to shoot and that they proposed even yet to obtain satisfaction. It was a dare-devil demonstration and an exhibition of superb horsemanship. We were certainly tempted strongly to give them a volley, but we wisely saved our powder. Their exhibition of cool audacity had roused in us a fighting spirit, at least that is what we all said after the affair was over. We were on the verge of a strife for which we were well prepared. It had been our opinion, obtained from various sources, that Indians will not offer fight when near their homes. This is doubtless their general policy, but as we had but five wagons, they were at first confident in their superior numerical strength and their ability to obtain speedy reinforcements. Their purpose without doubt was to get horses and other property, and preferably without a struggle—but that preference could not have been overpowering. Indians were then taking stock in large numbers from emigrants, a practice which continued for several months thereafter.

The band upon leaving us, did not slacken its speed until it reached the ford. Unless we desired to fight, and that, too, possibly at night, it was clearly unsafe for us to remain where we were, as the band that visited us could easily secure large reinforcements. Hitching our horses to the wagons as quickly as possible, we immediately started westward with the hope of reaching a certain mule train which we were confident could not be many miles in advance. As our little party followed the road that wound up the first foothills we reached, on glancing backward as we had frequently done since leaving the last camp, we observed the squaws and boys scatter almost simultaneously from the Indian village in various directions. In less time than it takes to tell it, the skin coverings were removed from every lodge, and the pine poles thus left bare were instantly upon the ground; and before we had lost sight of the island, which could not have been more than an hour, the whole outfit was loaded upon ponies, the poles being dragged at their sides, and the cavalcade of mounted warriors and squaws, with all their camp equipage, had forded the opposite channel of the river to the north side. A village had been moved in less than sixty minutes. We were astounded at the perfect system that must have been followed and at the celerity of their operations.

The reason for this hasty move was not then known to us, but we soon learned of a big flood that was coming down the river, concerning which they would certainly be informed; without doubt their chief had given the order to abandon the island. The removal of these lodges was the best exhibition of Indian team work that I have ever witnessed. It is interesting to read in Catlin's Indians of North America, Vol. 1, p. 50, that he saw 600 Sioux skin-lodges struck and packed on horses in a few minutes. In one minute after the signal had been given by the chief, the 600 lodges, which before had been strained tight and fixed, were seen waving and flapping in the wind. In one minute more, every lodge was flat upon the ground. The loading was also equally rapid. As we had opportunity to verify later, the poles of each lodge are divided into two bunches, and the smaller ends of the two bunches are fastened one upon each side of the shoulders of the horse, leaving the butt ends to drag upon the ground. Just behind the horse a brace or pole is tied across, which keeps the poles in their respective places. Upon this is placed the tent material, rolled up with other articles of domestic furniture. The women do the work, and many of them walk, but the noble warriors ride.

Before the sun had set we were happy to discover the corral of the train we had hoped to reach. The companionship of its members was welcome, and our guard duties were divided with them.