We had a hope of being relieved by the regulars from Camp Cooper, and this, with our recent success, made us confident of victory. By this time we could see the Indians filing around the point of timber and approaching us on foot, in the fullest confidence. They moved on toward us until nearly within rifle range, when they went down into a deep ravine, which ran nearly in a half circle around the house, and about one hundred and eighty yards distant from it. It was evident from their deliberate movements, that they intended to make sure work of it this time, even if it was slow. For my part, I could almost feel the scalp slip on my head. The savages followed down the ravine and were soon within short range, and began to peep over the bank at us. We kept a close watch but did not fire a gun, for we were expecting a charge. We kept ourselves well sheltered by the corners of the house, while the Indians hugged the bank. Presently the report of a rifle was heard in the ravine, which was followed by a volley, almost as well delivered as if fired by disciplined soldiers. Then was heard the war-whoop, and the fire became general, but irregular—each man loading and shooting as fast as possible. We only discharged our rifles when we saw a sure mark, always taking care that not more than two or three pieces were fired at a time, holding our loaded guns and pistols ready to receive a charge; but it did not come, and the Indians, after keeping up a desultory firing for an hour and a half, struck out for their village, carrying with them their dead and wounded.
It was apparent that they had been expecting us, their horses being ornamented and feathered with great care. Their own faces were also elaborately painted, and they were decked out in their most fanciful war dress. After they dismounted they fought us with Mississippi rifles; and, as evidence of the skill with which they were handled, it is only necessary to state that over fourteen hundred bullets struck the house, and perhaps as many more whistled disagreeably near to it. As there were no loop holes in the house, we were compelled to fight around the corners, which prevented us from doing as much execution as we otherwise would have done; but with all this, the savages were severely punished, as we counted eighteen litters taking off dead and wounded, and found, beside, three corpses which they had been unable to carry away.
As soon as they commenced leaving we began to fear they would be reinforced and return, and we immediately dispatched a voting man named Gus Sublett, for the Caddoe village for more men. He was a manly fellow, and would do as he promised—go through or die! We immediately began to put the house in a good state of defense, cutting loop holes on every side, and covering the roof with raw hides, to prevent it from being fired by burning arrows. We had two men badly wounded who claimed considerable attention, as they suffered severely; one of them, Patrick O'Brien, having received a ball in his hip, and the other, whose name was Terry, had been shot in the calf of the leg.
After twenty-eight hours our reinforcements arrived, when we felt a perfect ability to hold our own; but we were not attacked; the Indians remaining on the Reserve without any further admonitions. I do not know that the savages would have left off where they did, had it not been for the intervention of Major Lieper, their agent, who appeared on the ground just after the fight was over; and, on our promise to cease firing, rode over and had a pow wow with Katampsie, in which the latter expressed a willingness to "quit and call it even," provided we would do the same; but Captain Knowlin insisted that Katampsie should give us six sacks of flour and two hundred pounds of bacon, as "blood money;" and to this he agreed, but refused to let more than three of our men go into his village after it.
The Indians then gathered up their fallen braves and returned in sullen silence to their village; but that silence was not long maintained, for their women speedily began to "howl" the dead. This is a regular ceremony among them, at which, in addition to outbursts of grief and exclamations of sorrow from relatives and friends of the deceased, all the old crones of the tribe join in howling over the remains. An Indian "wake" is a noisy concern—especially if the deceased is a man of note. A wife crops her hair off, even around her neck, and scarifies her breasts, arms, and thighs, as a token of mourning for her husband; and a daughter undergoes similar manipulations on the death of her father. The scarifying knife is fixed in the end of a stick, so as to gauge the cut to a certain depth, generally well through the skin, in order to form a tolerably broad scar. Although the process is a severe one, they not only readily endure it, but use the knife on themselves.
On the day following the fight Sterling White, Sublett, and myself went into the village after our "blood money." When Katampsie saw us coming he sprang to his feet, vowing vengeance. The old fellow had several squaws about his tent, who, I suppose were his wives, as they all seized hold of him and held him tightly as soon as they saw us prepare to defend ourselves. The chief raved and tore, jumped up and down, and cursed us in Spanish, finally worrying the women down till they were obliged to turn him loose; when, instead of carrying out his threats, he quietly sat down on a dilapidated cracker box, folded his arms across his breast, and appeared for some time lost in meditation.
Again we pressed our demand, when he arose, and in company with some of his leading warriors, went with us to Major Lieper, and requested him to fill our requisition from the government stores, which was promptly done, and we left the inhospitable village for camp, well satisfied that Katampsie's warriors were not inclined to back their chief in his hostile intentions toward the whites.
A small force was left to patrol the country up and down, to see that the Indians obeyed orders, while the remainder of our party returned to the camp at the Caddoe village. The men at the upper agency were left under charge of Captain Knowlin, while Captain Brown, with the main force, went down the country to guard the more exposed settlements.
While we were near the Caddoe village, a reliable citizen came into our camp and reported having seen a considerable force of Indians on Rock creek, a little over twenty miles distant. Judging from the intelligence received as to the number of warriors, Captain Brown thought it prudent to prepare for a defense of his camp rather than to start in pursuit. We were out of ammunition; and to procure a supply, it was necessary for some one to go to Belknap, twenty-two miles distant, and it fell to my lot to be the messenger. It was by no means a pleasant task, partly because the weather was exceedingly hot, but especially because all the Indians in that region had come to look upon the Rangers as enemies. I passed through the agency, and as long as I was near the regulars I felt perfectly safe; but was a little doubtful as to personal safety outside of their jurisdiction. About half way between the agency and Belknap, in going around a short turn in the road, I met sixteen warriors riding along at a walk. Instantly the foremost of them strung their bows and unslung their quivers; but I rode deliberately and boldly up, till within the length of a lance of them, when one of them made signs for me to stop, which I did. Four of them tried to ride behind me, but having seen them string their bows, I refused to let them pass; at the same time throwing my horse around so that a gigantic forest tree covered my back.
They affected not to understand me, when I drew my pistol from my belt, and said to them in Mexican, "parreti, amigos!"[2] and immediately they stopped, with a cunning laugh, and turned to their chief, as if awaiting orders. The Chief, whose name I learned was Placido, and who was afterward my firm friend, seemed to regard me with suspicion. Eyeing me from head to foot, he asked me some questions in his own tongue; but I told him I did not understand him; but he went on, delivering a lengthy discourse, still speaking in Indian; and seemed to regard me with an air that said, "I know very well what I am saying, and you must understand it."