  Fort Sill was the first post at which I had any experience with Indians. It was located on what was then called the Kiowa and Comanche reservation near the junction of Cache and Medicine Bluff creeks. Mount Scott, the highest point of the Wichita mountains was some nine miles to the northwest and both places had been geographically located and were used as a base for triangulation in locating other points. These tribes of Plains Indians were famous fighters and were finally subdued and brought to terms by Custer's great battle on the Washita. They were very numerous and there was always a feeling that an outbreak might occur at any time. During my service there from January, 1870, to August, 1871, there were seventeen men brought in and buried who had been killed and scalped by Indians. They would not attack a large party of men in soldier's uniform but boot-leggers and stragglers stood a poor show if caught out alone. Once while there a woman, one girl sixteen or seventeen years old, and one about twelve years old, and two smaller ones and two boys, one of whom belonged to another family, were brought into the camp on the promise of a hundred dollars apiece ransom. They were from Texas and at their homes when attacked by Indians, and the men were killed and these people brought away captives. If attempt had been made to recover them by force they would have been killed. I once saw Lone Wolf, a Comanche chief, with a United States mail sack of leather on his pony, and the interpreter, Mr. Jones, told me that he and some of the other young bucks had been on a raid down in Texas and among other depredations they had killed the mail carrier and destroyed the mail, only keeping the sack for his own use. I saw him frequently with it afterwards. Mr. Jones told me that Lone Wolf had said that his heart felt better now, as he had avenged the death of his son who had been killed on one of their raids in Texas. These raids were of frequent occurrence, and there was generally some evidence of them in the wearing apparel or trinkets, or anything the Indians I have witnessed from the bluff near the hospital on Medicine Bluff creek their dances in the valley just across the streams at night, many times, but never had any desire to make a closer acquaintance. It always seemed to me a wild kind of a thing, consisting of jumping and gyrating and stooping and gliding and then straightening up suddenly, and swinging the arms, and all the time droning in short jerky cough-like notes, interspersed with sharp penetrating yells. There might be only one performer or maybe a half dozen or more. Where there is a number engaged, it is not only exciting but decidedly wild, certainly unlike any other dance I have ever seen. They were great thieves and anything left outside of our tents which might strike their fancy was liable to be carried off. One day a squaw brought a venison ham to our tent to sell. The regular price was fifty cents and I bought it although we had bought one less than an hour before, and when taking it back to hang up with the first one I thought the squaw looked very much like the one from whom I had made the first purchase, and was not much surprised to find the first ham missing. We usually hung them out for a while to get the Indian odor off them, and I have no doubt that I bought the same ham from the same squaw the second time. There were fixed days each month on which rations were issued to the Indians by the commissary department and I have seen the squaws carry sacks of flour a little distance away from the place of issue and empty out the flour and carry off the sacks, hundreds of them, so that the ground for a considerably distance around would be literally white with flour. They were permitted to go about the camp any where during the day, but at sundown scarcely an Indian was to be seen and none were permitted in camp at night. It was a very comfortable feeling to hear the hours called at night, by those on guard if one should happen to wake up and hear the announcement that "All's well." For instance, the MEDICINE BLUFF A very different announcement is the long roll of the drums which happened twice while we were at this camp. It is the alarm to awaken the camp, and made by rapid and long continued beating of the drum without break or stop until the garrison is fully aroused. The assembly call by the bugle of the cavalry, takes the place of the long roll of the drum for the infantry, and the two together, and the clanking of arms, and the orders to "Fall in," "Fall in," "Fall in," makes an exceedingly interesting, not to say exciting experience. If you are quick in getting out of your tent you may see the officers scurrying across the parade ground to their command, fastening on their clothes as they go and soon everything is in order for whatever may happen. The women and children in these cases, hurry with all possible speed to a place of safety. At this camp it was always at Major Van De Weile's quarters, some of them very scantily clothed, generally with some kind of wrap over their night clothes, but it was not cold weather, and any way what did it signify in such an emergency. The major's quarters were what was called a "hakel" building and the only one in camp better than a tent except General Grierson's that offered any protection. Such buildings are made by standing posts on end in the ground and as close together as possible and filling in the cracks with mortar and pieces of boards or anything suitable, and the inside is then plastered up along the cracks until it makes a fairly smooth wall and is then whitewashed and makes comfortable quarters but not a first class protection against rifle bullets. They would huddle together and talk in undertones as to what might happen until the report came that it was a false alarm. In both these instances it proved to be so, but the anxiety and excitement was just as real as if the results had been different. Probably some nervous sentinel had fired his gun at what he supposed to be an Indian We remained under more or less strain of anxiety until the new quarters were finished or enough of it so that we could crowd into them. Officers take quarters according to rank, and it not infrequently happens that one will have to vacate his quarters and give place to another who outranks him, the ranking officer having this right and as a rule he does not hesitate to use it although he may be a single man and the man displaced be a man of family. This is so well understood and so graciously accepted that there is seldom any feeling or resentment about it. In our own case we had to occupy quarters with another officer and his wife, Mr. Spencer of the Tenth cavalry, and this reminds me of an experience we had that shows something of the Indian character. We had for some time previous to this, a Cherokee Indian woman employed as servant. She probably had a little negro blood in her veins as her long black hair was slightly wavy, but in every other way she was typically Indian. She was exceedingly neat and clean and a thorough housekeeper and an exceptionally good cook and a most devoted servant, but she would take orders from no one except my wife. Soon after going into our new quarters she informed my wife that she was going to leave us, and this she did, knowing full well that she could not remain at the post if she did so. My wife was surprised and so expressed herself and also her sorrow at having her go, but no inducement she could offer had any effect on this high-strung woman. She cleaned out the stove and put in the kindling and had everything neat and clean as possible before leaving. It developed afterwards that she was offended at some orders given her by Mrs. Spencer. Another little incident will show the Indian blood: One of the colored sergeants took quite a fancy to her and would often stand in the door and talk to her, which was all well enough with Charlotte until she wanted him to go. I think on this occasion I will relate one or two other instances that occurred while we were stationed here that may be interesting: My wife had the only sewing machine in the camp and one day Satanta, the war chief of the Kiowas, was passing down the line of officers' quarters and heard the hum of the sewing machine. It was summer time and the door was open so he stalked in and sat down without any ceremony or sign of recognition and watched my wife sewing. He was evidently very much interested but gave no evidence of it by word or look. He remained for quite a while observing the performance intently and then got up and said, "Adios!" and stalked out again. He made several calls afterwards and went through the same performance each time until I suppose he became satisfied for his visits ceased. He was the finest specimen of an Indian I ever saw; very large, well proportioned, with a remarkably forceful expression of face and walked with a dignity becoming a prince. Adjacent to the sutler's store was a large corral enclosed by a high stockade, inside of which were the necessary buildings for storage, stables, etc., and near the front of this corral and on a line with the store was the houses for the clerks, a few feet back from the stockade. In front of each house was a small gate which was always closed at night but often kept open during the day. In the summer the front doors were also left open. One day a tall, rather handsome Indian, that I had often noticed about the camp, and who was something of a "dandy" in dress, happened to be passing and happened to catch his reflection in a large mirror on the dresser that stood in line with the door and I had a little experience one day with Stumbling Bear, a subchief of the Kiowas that at that time made me a little nervous and I have since thought with little reason. I was returning from a duck hunt up Medicine Bluff creek and was a short distance above the bluff that gave it its name when Stumbling Bear came up behind me, and we talked a little and I offered him some ducks which he took, and soon rode ahead. I knew of a little canon that broke its way down to the stream a little distance ahead and across which the trail must lead. For some reason which I cannot explain, I thought it best to wait until he came up on the other side of the canon. This canon opened out into the river valley and from my position I could see the valley thoroughly. He did not come upon the opposite side as I expected, and I felt equally sure that he did not go down the canon and come out in the valley. He had his rifle with him and of course could have killed me as he came up behind, if he had wished to do so, but I was nervous about him not showing up on the opposite side of the canon, and so I concluded to make a detour around the head of the canon and out of gunshot range, and went on my way to camp. That he could have gotten out of there without my seeing him still seems to me impossible, and why he should stay in there until I had gone seems equally unaccountable. Any way I did not see him again for several days when he rode into camp as usual. The Indian agency was located just outside the military reservation, some five or six miles down the creek from the fort. Colonel Boone, a nephew of Daniel Boone of frontier fame, was Indian agent when we arrived at the camp but was succeeded the following spring by an appointee under a new ruling of the Interior Department. Colonel Boone was a very large man and his wife was quite below the average sized woman. I mention him here only because we were mutual friends, but also of at least one commendable trait of Indian character that is illustrated The escort came in a few days and they were certainly a fine looking lot of fellows, being extra well mounted and equipped and I felt sure that they would give a good account of themselves in case of trouble and the colonel assured us that the last one of them would die in defense of himself and wife if necessary. So, we said good-bye to them with some misgivings, but with a strong hope that they would make the journey safely. I got a letter from the colonel some months later announcing their safe arrival home, and praising the fidelity and other good qualities of his Indian escort. It was refreshing to hear and know something good of Indians that had so much that was bad to their credit. I am quite convinced that any Indian appreciates justice and a square deal as much as we do, and recognizes force and submits to it quickly enough, if tempered with justice, but he does not understand moral suasion as we understand it. I think that his conception of it is cowardice. He cannot comprehend why one should return good for evil but believes in an eye for an eye and he faithfully carries it out in practice. He believes in all kinds of ghosts and spirits, good and bad, and his life is largely shaped by this belief. A story Mr. Jones told me one day will illustrate their practical view of things: Mr. Jones had married a squaw and some of the chiefs were at his house for dinner that day. He tried to explain to them our Bible history of how sin came into the world, and they listened intently, and without interruption, until he had finished. Then one old chief spoke up and said, "That is just like a white woman. Now if that had been a squaw, she would have taken a stick and killed that snake, and saved all the trouble." And while it may sound funny it was not intended as |
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