"Just before the sun set," wrote Catherine Germain, "we came to the soldiers' camp. They stood at the side of the trail cheering. We stopped, but I could hardly say anything, and when I think of it now a lump rises in my throat. Oh, I was so glad. I thought I had never seen such white people. They looked as white as snow, but of course they were no whiter than the average people, but my being accustomed to the red people was why they seemed so white and pretty. I just lacked a few days of being 18 years old when we were re-captured, and Sophia was past twelve. We were at the Cheyenne Agency (Darlington) three months."
The warriors who surrendered with Stone Calf were stood in a row by General Miles, and the Germain girls asked to point out those who had engaged in the murder of the other members of the Germain family, or who had mistreated the captives. They pointed out seventy-five Indians, all of whom afterwards were sent to Florida as prisoners of war.
General Miles induced the United States government to appropriate the sum of $10,000 for the benefit of the four girls. He was their guardian for two or three years. They were educated at the expense of the military branch of the Government. All the girls married, and some of them are still living.
The Miles Campaign demonstrated that if there should be further Indian outbreaks it would be well to move a garrison within easy striking distance of the route that led to the Staked Plains. Fort Elliott was established as a permanent garrison in the spring of 1875. I was with the party that selected the site. I was attached as scout at Fort Elliott, and remained in service at that place until 1883. I was the last scout to be relieved of duty at that post, and when I went away the buffalo was becoming a rare animal on the Plains and the Indian was down and out.
Cattlemen began going into the Panhandle as the Indians went out. I remember how greatly I was surprised when I arrived at the Goodnight ranch one day in 1877, and found two white ladies—Mrs. Goodnight, who had joined her husband the previous year, and Mrs. Willingham, whose husband was afterwards superintendent of the Turkey Track outfit. Both were refined, educated women. I often think how helpful such women as Mrs. Goodnight and Mrs. Willingham have been to Panhandle communities. It required some grit for men to live there in those days, and for women the trials and burdens must have been disheartening.
The Staked Plains, by reason of the scarcity of water in summer, opposed great danger to troops in moving through that part of the country. I was with Captain Nicholas Nolan, in command of Troop A, Tenth United States Cavalry, in that memorable experience in August, 1877, in which the detachment barely escaped death from thirst. Captain Nolan was in pursuit of the Quohada band of Comanches, who had slipped away from their reservation at Fort Sill, Indian Territory. Far out on the Staked Plains we joined forces with a party of buffalo-hunters who had organized to fight the Indians. Captain Nolan told the buffalo-hunters that if they would help him find the Indians he would agree to do all the fighting, and assured them that he would do the work to their satisfaction.
Reports were brought in that the Indians were only a short distance away, and that it might be possible to overtake them by moving quickly. In the excitement, many of the soldiers as well as the buffalo-hunters forgot to fill their canteens with water. The Indians eluded us, the men were soon out of water, and a difference of opinion arose as to where the nearest water could be found. Some were in favor of trying for the Double Lakes and some for the Laguna Plata. I had been over this country from the north, not from the direction we were traveling. The men and horses were in a deplorable condition.
Captain Nolan told Lieutenant Cooper to take the course with his compass, which was set east by south ten degrees. The buffalo-hunters feared the distance was too great, and started in another direction, for Laguna Plata. Captain Nolan thought the Double Lakes were further west than I did. We argued over the route until about 3 o'clock in the morning, when he told me to go the way I thought was right. I at once turned more to the northeast. About 5 o'clock I waived my hat to attract the attention of the command, and an orderly came forward. I sent word to Captain Nolan that I thought I saw the Double Lakes. Happily, I was not mistaken. We had to dig for water, and 11 o'clock had passed before the horses were able to quench their thirst.
The sufferings of both men and horses were terrible, and all the way to the Double Lakes our trail was strewn with cast-off clothing and equipment. The buffalo-hunters were in no less desperate straits, many of them, like the soldiers, dropping down to die along the way. Horses were killed that their blood might be drank to assuage the fever of burning throats and tongues. The buffalo-hunters finally reached water at the Casa Amarilla. Both outfits carried water back to fallen comrades and revived them.