October 14th. We made a very rapid march during the night, and reached the Lac qui Parle River before daybreak, made a bridge, using the wagons for the purpose, and all crossed over. Soon after passed a deserted bark village. The scouts reported that there were Indians ahead with eight ox teams, but there was nothing to be seen but the sky and prairie. The Indians, discovering that they were pursued, now fired the prairie in front of us with the evident intention of retarding our movements and to prevent our horses from having forage. The wind being high, it carried the burnt dirt and ashes along in clouds, flying into our eyes, and they became very painful and bloodshot. Was appointed officer of the guard for the night, and, by using three reliefs of 15 men each, dug six rifle-pits for the protection of the camp.
October 15th. Aroused the camp at 4 o'clock, struck the tents, and was on the march by 6 a.m. Following up the Lac qui Parle, at 10 o'clock we captured four prisoners,—an Indian warrior, a half-breed boy, and two squaws. The half-breed was a son of Roubillard, a Frenchman who lived back of us in St. Paul, in 1851. I used to play with him. He speaks French, English, and Sioux, and gave us much information about what we were after. A short distance beyond we crossed the state line into Dakota Territory. William Wallace, E. J. Van Slyke, and I visited one of the line posts, which was marked, "26 miles from Big Stone Lake" (located about 8 miles north of Gary, South Dakota); and the other three sides were marked "Minnesota," "Dakota," and "1859." Wallace was on the survey and helped plant the post. In order to celebrate the event, each of us, with one foot in Dakota and the other in Minnesota, shook hands together. We were now in sight of Re Wakan or Spirits Hill (so named by the Dakotas). Although distant, the appearance of the Coteau des Prairies, as they loom up like a dark wall against the clear western sky, is very beautiful. Halted in a hollow for a lunch. The scouts returned and reported 19 Indian lodges ahead, which made the men feel joyful at the prospect of a fight. Marched three miles further and camped for the night in a beautiful dell at the headwaters of the Lac qui Parle. One wagon and six Indians were brought in. Of those captured up to this time, the young men were held as prisoners, and the squaws and children were given into the custody of the old men and ordered to report at Camp Release, and they faithfully followed the instructions.
October 16th. During the night wolves were howling in the vicinity of the camp. Left camp before daylight and commenced ascending the Coteau des Prairies, the highest table-land in this section of the United States, and full of lakes. A chain of twenty or more lakes could be seen from the highest point, which form the headwaters of the Lac qui Parle, Yellow Medicine, and Whetstone Rivers, on one side, and furnish many tributary streams to the Big Sioux on the west side,—many miles of land and bluffs, prairies, and lakes seeming as not ten miles distant. At various points we passed through fields of buffalo bones. Arrived at "Two Lakes" (Mde-nonpana), where the Indians camped last night and left a sign indicating that they had moved to the westward two days previously. In order to overtake them, Colonel Marshall took the mounted men, howitzer, and the best teams, and pushed ahead, leaving the infantry and baggage train, under command of Captain Valentine, to follow on his trail and camp at the next creek for the night, with instructions to continue the forward movement if he did not return. Instead of following instructions, Captain Valentine crossed the creek, and, ascending the next hill, perceived what appeared to be a beautiful lake a few miles distant; he continued the march, intending to camp there; so we marched and marched, but no lake appeared; the men, worn and fatigued, lagged behind, some straggling back for five miles, and curses, loud and deep, were heard on every hand,—the lake turned out to be a mirage, a sight not uncommon in this region. Failing to arrive at the lake, we finally camped in the prairie grass, without wood or water; and, the rations being short, we went to sleep, supperless, after marching until 10 o'clock at night.
October 17th. The morning found us camped on the top of the Coteaus with no sign of Colonel Marshall and his men. Struck tents before daylight and were on the march without breakfast. At about two miles from the last camp we arrived at the Big Sioux River (here very narrow, with marshy banks), and halted for breakfast; but there was no feed for the horses. The men of the Third Regiment dealt out their last crackers, and Company G had one ration of flour, sugar, and coffee. Flour mixed with water and fried in fat was indeed and in truth a great luxury, of which even a white plumed knight might well be proud,—at this stage of the game. The expedition was now four days' march from Camp Release, and the provisions were all gone. The scouts returned and reported that they had seen "nothing of Marshall or any other man." We again resumed the march, and at sundown arrived at Hawk's Nest Lake. Here we met Quinn (the scout), and some mounted men, who brought the cheering news of the capture of 150 Indians, including 34 warriors.
On leaving the main body of the expedition, Colonel Marshall had moved forward as rapidly as possible, and soon after midnight on the 17th overtook and surrounded the Indians, who, not anticipating such an event, were camped down and peacefully enjoying a good night's rest. The baying of their dogs was the first intimation that they had of the presence of the troops. The scouts informed them that they would not be harmed, and demanded their immediate surrender, which was complied with. A few of the younger men attempted to get away, but were overtaken and all made prisoners. By this capture much stolen property, in the way of goods, oxen, horses, and wagons, was recovered. Only one white child was found among them. The prisoners (warriors) were brought in under guard, their weapons having been taken from them, and they were securely tied. Among them was one chief, Wa-ka-mo-no (Wa-kan-mane), Spirit Walker, or Walking Spirit. At 10 p.m. William Quinn and two mounted men were dispatched to Camp Release to obtain a reinforcement to meet the expedition with provisions and forage.
In honor of the successful termination of the pursuit and capture of the Indians, Colonel Marshall changed the name of Hawk's Nest Lake[4 ] to Captive Lake. The lake is very long, winding, and deep, and was very high, trees standing in the water 12 feet from the shore. Very singularly it rises and falls without any apparent assistance from the rains or snows, as if it had a connection with some underground system of streams.
October 18th. According to the estimates of the scouts and others we were about 120 miles from Camp Release and 25 miles from James River, or half way between the Big Sioux and the James. Left Captive Lake bright and early, and halted on the Big Sioux for dinner, at the place where we breakfasted (?) the day previous. Took coffee with the Third Regiment. At the request of Major Brown, we took his sister-in-law (a squaw by the name of Sinte, the wife of Captain James Gorman of the Renville Rangers) into our wagon. In order to have a little fun as a side diversion, a race with our mules was commenced, the tailor George driving. His position was lubricous as he drove over the rough ground, shaking the squaw and the old man well. Having gotten some distance ahead, we halted at a creek for target practice; and some good shots were made.
Homeward bound, as viewed from a high ridge, the appearance of our train was romantic and picturesque. The Indian warriors with their mounted guard were in the advance, and then the infantry with their arms and bayonets shining brightly. The mounted men with their Sharps rifles, contrasting with the Springfields carried by Company G; then comes the "little barker" (the mountain howitzer on wheels in a wagon), the gunners riding alongside; then our teams laden with camp equipage, tents, kettles, etc., the whole cavalcade ending with the Indian camp following in true Indian style. Ponies loaded almost to the ground: cows, oxen and wagons the same; and squaws loaded as if their backs would break. A pretty squaw, with a snow-white blanket around her, is perched high on top of a big load on a little pony; then there are other ponies with papooses on their backs, followed by any quantity of dogs. A simple strap is thrown across the back of a pony, ox, or cow, supporting the ends of two poles, while the other ends drag on the ground; midway between the ends are perched the teepee skin, camp traps, etc., and on top of the whole are placed the children, who are riding as gaily as if they were on a honeymoon; a string of bells around the pony's neck, with the bellowing of the cattle, the bright blue sky above, the surrounding hills (some black with burnt grass, others green and waving), with the beautiful lakes contrasted,—combined to make it one of the strangest, wildest, and most beautiful and romantic pictures I ever witnessed. Camped at sundown on a creek between two high hills, where a cow was shot,—a promise of fresh beef for to-morrow.
Sunday, October 19th. It was cold sleeping last night; water frozen in canteen; but the day was ushered in with the sun shining bright. Breaking camp in the valley was a beautiful sight, as viewed from the top of the adjoining hill,—fires burning, tents taken down, mounted men starting off at a brisk trot. Infantry looked lively and cheerful at the prospect of soon greeting their comrades at Camp Release, with their good success, prisoners, spoils, etc., they march straight up the hill, while the teams and "Moccasin Train" wind around the sides to make the ascent more easy. Such a scene as here witnessed carries one back to the days when he read fancy sketches of such expeditions in novels. With a party of friends we were now in advance of the train, and during the day shot geese, brant, ducks and snipes. It was indeed a grand sight to see thousands of white brant flying between us and the burned and blackened hills. Arrived at our old camp "Hollow" at the head of the Lac qui Parle at 3 p.m.,—one hour in advance of the train,—and took advantage of the occasion to cook and feast on some of our game. The train arrived, having in charge more prisoners, who had been out hunting, and, on returning and finding their band all gone, followed our trail and gave themselves up.
October 20th. More Indians joined us last night; they attempted to slip in past the guard, but were caught. Struck tents at daylight and resumed the march, crossing the line into Minnesota at 10 a.m. Met the relief train under Quinn at 11 a.m. After leaving Captive Lake, and at a point some 18 miles distant, William Quinn's horse gave out, and was abandoned. He walked all the rest of the way to Camp Release beside of the other horses, reaching there at 11 o'clock Saturday night (making good time). He took a short nap, started on the return trip Sunday morning, and met the train as above stated. He brought the news of the capture of 23 more lodges (67 Indians) near the lower Lac qui Parle by Captain Merriman and a detachment of the Sixth Regiment, who took them to Camp Release. At 12 o'clock, noon, we arrived at the camping place first used on our outward trip. Took dinner with the artillery. The prairie took fire from Company G's cook-fire, making us skedaddle at a double-quick. The flames spread with fearful rapidity, causing consternation and alarm, and inducing the moccasin train to move at a lively gait. There was a feeling of real joy when all had reached burned ground. Quinn now led us by a new route. The prairie was on fire all around us, and at one point we passed between two fires. The camp for the night was established on a beautiful spot near the bank of the Lac qui Parle River. Was appointed officer of the guard.