Winged Arrow's Medicine; Or, The Massacre at Fort Phil Kearney

by Harry Castlemon

"Come, come," he cried in his native tongue, "Come to the ambush and then to victory."

Red Cloud was right in his element now. He was war all over. He slung his rifle, his only weapon, around his head with frantic gestures and yelled so loudly that he drowned every other shout that was sent up by his triumphant warriors; for the Sioux looked upon their victory as certain. He was a man who would have been picked out of all that throng as a leader. He was not an hereditary chieftain, as we have explained, but his chance had come for raising the war cry over those chiefs who had signed the lease for that road. It just suited the turbulent element of his tribe, and those who did not believe in his way could just step aside and leave them the glory. But that did not suit the old chiefs who were anxious to retain their authority, and they soon found that they must acknowledge Red Cloud as their master, or be left alone with nobody to obey their orders. And thus it happened that some chiefs, some even who were friendly to the whites, joined his standard and were as fierce for battle as Red Cloud.

It did not take Red Cloud's yells long to raise the fighting men of his tribe, and when he saw so many men at his disposal, he turned and led the way across the open prairie toward the Fort. There were a thousand of them all armed to the teeth. All were silent and not a shout was uttered, however much they might have felt inclined to let the soldiers know that they were coming. Some were engaged in tying feathers and ribbons in their horses' manes and tails; others put on their bonnets; and still others were busy in anointing themselves with oil and grease to make them more agile in their movements. The women gathered upon the outskirts of the village and sent up wails over the prospective death of husbands and lovers, who were going forth to battle.

On reaching the ravine out of sight of the Fort, the very place where Colonel Carrington was afraid that an ambush might be formed for his troops, the most of the warriors rushed into it, while the others were sent off to annoy the cutters who were by this time at work upon the wood pile. The rest stayed in the ravine, out of sight, to be ready to assault the re-enforcements when they came up. This was the time when Guy Preston sent his first signal to the Fort and it resulted in Colonel Fetterman and his hundred men coming out to help the wood cutters. We may say before we go further, that Colonel Carrington did not believe that there was so large a village as his scouts had reported to him. Red Cloud had been so sly about his movements, making his attacks with smaller bodies of men on purpose to draw the soldiers out, and the Colonel thought that with a hundred men, all experienced Indian fighters, he would be able to hold his own with them; and that was just where he made his mistake.

When the braves drew up in the ravine, Winged Arrow and Reuben were with them. They clutched their rifles with a firm hold, as if they were impatient to be in action, and all the while Winged Arrow was wondering if that fellow to whom he gave his letter were there as an escort to the wood cutters, or had he taken the young savage's advice and remained in the Fort.

Red Cloud's orders to the warriors who went to attack the wood cutters were not to make a good fight, but to hang around and worry the cutters so that they could not do their work. Winged Arrow heard them yelling as they galloped up and down in obedience to these orders, and he knew, too, when the troops charged them, and when they were retreating. It kept on in this way for half an hour; then the Indian who had been sent to maintain a close watch on the Fort and tell them when to look for the re-enforcements, came down the hill in great haste, swinging his blanket around his head as he came. The re-enforcements had come, a whole cloud of them were flocking out of the Fort, and soon they would be close onto them. Now all was excitement in the ravine, and the braves leaned forward and grasped their weapons, but not a yell was uttered. Colonel Fetterman and his troops came on; the savages heard their charging shout, and the body of warriors who for the last half hour had kept up a bogus attack on the wood cutters, evidently surprised at so large a force coming out, retreated into the ambuscade. That was what the Sioux were waiting for.

"Come to victory!" shouted Red Cloud.

What happened next Winged Arrow could not have told; it was the first fight he had ever been in, and it was his resolve that he would never be in another. The Sioux divided right and left as they went out; he heard the rattle of firearms and saw the smoke fill the air, and all the while he was circling around close at the heels of a big warrior who was shouting as if he were going wild, and his rifle spoke as often as he could push in the cartridges. He did not know where the bullets went and he did not care. He aimed high, and was certain that he did not hit anybody.

At the end of half an hour it was all over. A succession of whoops and yells from one section of the battlefield told him that the fighting was done, and he drew rein upon his wearied horse and waited until the smoke had cleared away, so he could see what the warriors had done. Of the men who came out with Colonel Fetterman, not one remained. The field, as far as he could see it from the smoke that settled over it, was covered with men in blue uniforms and horses which were killed while doing their utmost to take their riders to a place of safety. Winged Arrow took no part in searching for plunder which commenced immediately. He rode over the field, taking care that his horse did not step upon any of the dead men, looking in vain for Guy Preston, for of course he did not know that Guy, securely sheltered by the picket tower, had seen almost as much of the fight as he had himself.

At last the wood cutters train came up the hill bound for the Fort. Red Cloud was entirely satisfied with what he had done, or the braves did not want to face the leaden bullets in the soldiers' rifles, for they did not make any serious attempt to capture the wagons. He lost a few men in charges he made upon it, and then allowed it to go on in peace. Winged Arrow saw before he had surveyed the whole battlefield that the Sioux had not escaped unharmed. Although the braves moved at a headlong gallop, trusting to their speed to escape any balls that might be sent after them, some of them went into that fight for the last time. Here and there, scattered about among the blue coats, was a Sioux warrior, with all his war paint yet upon him, whose medicine had not been strong enough to keep off some soldier's bullets, and he was taken up and carried to the village, in order to save the scalp upon his head. If that were removed, his relatives would not go to the trouble of burying him.