On the Border with Crook

by John Gregory Bourke

General Crook attempted to open communication with General Terry by sending out a miner named Kelly, who was to strike for the head of the Little Big Horn, follow that down until it proved navigable, then make a raft or support for himself of cottonwood or willow saplings and float by night to the confluence of the Big Horn and the Yellowstone, and down the latter to wherever Terry’s camp might be. Kelly made two attempts to start, but was each time driven or frightened back; but the third time got off in safety and made the perilous journey, and very much in the lines laid down in his talk with Crook.

Violent storms of snow, hail, and cold rain, with tempests of wind, prevailed upon the summits of the range, which was frequently hidden from our gaze by lowering masses of inky vapor. Curious effects, not strictly meteorological, were noticed; our camp was visited by clouds of flies from the pine forests, which deposited their eggs upon everything; the heat of the sun was tempered by a gauze veil which inspection showed to be a myriad of grasshoppers seeking fresh fields of devastation. Possibly the burning over of hundreds of square miles of pasturage had driven them to hunt new and unharmed districts; possibly they were driven down from the higher elevations by the rigorous cold of the storms; possibly both causes operated. The fact was all we cared for, and we found it disagreeable enough. With these insects there was larger game: mountain sheep appeared in the lower foot-hills, and two of them were killed along our camp lines. To balk any attempt of the enemy to deprive us altogether of grass, whenever camp was moved to a new site, a detail of men was put to work to surround us with a fire-line, which would prevent the fires set by mischievous Sioux from gaining headway. In making one of these moves we found the Tongue River extremely swollen from the storms in the higher peaks, and one of the drivers, a good man but rather inexperienced, had the misfortune to lose his self-possession, and his wagon was overturned by the deep current and three of the mules drowned, the man himself being rescued by the exertions of the Shoshone scouts, who were passing at the moment.

On the 19th of July four Crow Indians rode into camp bearing despatches, the duplicates of those already received by the hands of Evans, Stewart, and Bell. General Terry, realizing the risk the latter ran, had taken the precaution to repeat his correspondence with Crook in order that the latter might surely understand the exact situation of affairs in the north. After being refreshed with sleep and a couple of good warm meals, the Crows were interrogated concerning all they knew of the position of the hostiles, their numbers, ammunition, and other points of the same kind. Squatting upon the ground, with fingers and hands deftly moving, they communicated through the “sign language” a detailed account of the advance of Terry, Gibbon, and Custer; the march of Custer, the attack upon the village of “Crazy Horse” and “Sitting Bull,” the massacre, the retreat of Reno, the investment, the arrival of fresh troops on the field, the carrying away of the wounded to the steamboats, the sorrow in the command, and many other things which would astonish persons ignorant of the scope and power of this silent vehicle for the interchange of thought.

The troops having been paid off by Major Arthur, who had come with Colonel Chambers and the wagon-train, the Shoshones each evening had pony races for some of the soldiers’ money. This was the great amusement of our allies, besides gambling, fishing, drilling, and hunting. The greater the crowd assembled, the greater the pleasure they took in showing their rare skill in riding and managing their fleet little ponies. The course laid off was ordinarily one of four hundred yards. The signal given, with whip and heel each rider plied his maddened steed; it was evident that the ponies were quite as much worked up in the matter as their riders. With one simultaneous bound the half-dozen or more contestants dart like arrow from bow; a cloud of dust rises and screens them from vision; it is useless to try to pierce this veil; it is unnecessary, because within a very few seconds the quaking earth throbs responsive to many-footed blows, and, quick as lightning’s flash, the mass of steaming, panting, and frenzied steeds dash past, and the race is over. Over so far as the horses were concerned, but only begun so far as the various points of excellence of the riders and their mounts could be argued about and disputed.

This did not conclude the entertainment of each day: the Shoshones desired to add still more to the debt of gratitude we already owed them, so they held a serenade whenever the night was calm and fair. Once when the clouds had rolled by and the pale light of the moon was streaming down upon tents and pack-trains, wagons and sleeping animals, the Shoshones became especially vociferous, and I learned from the interpreter that they were singing to the moon. This was one of the most pronounced examples of moon worship coming under my observation.

The Shoshones were expert fishermen, and it was always a matter of interest to me to spend my spare moments among them, watching their way of doing things. Their war lodges were entirely unlike those of the Apaches, with which I had become familiar. The Shoshones would take half a dozen willow branches and insert them in the earth, so as to make a semi-cylindrical framework, over which would be spread a sufficiency of blankets to afford the requisite shelter. They differed also from the Apaches in being very fond of fish; the Apaches could not be persuaded to touch anything with scales upon it, or any bird which lived upon fish; but the Shoshones had more sense, and made the most of their opportunity to fill themselves with the delicious trout of the mountain streams. They did not bother much about hooks and lines, flies, casts, and appliances and tricks of that kind, but set to work methodically to get the biggest mess the streams would yield. They made a dam of rocks and a wattle-work of willow, through which the water could pass without much impediment, but which would retain all solids. Two or three young men would stay by this dam or framework as guards to repair accidents. The others of the party, mounting their ponies, would start down-stream to a favorable location and there enter and begin the ascent of the current, keeping their ponies in touch, lashing the surface of the stream in their front with long poles, and all the while joining in a wild medicine song. The frightened trout, having no other mode of escape, would dart up-stream only to be held in the dam, from which the Indians would calmly proceed to take them out in gunny sacks. It was not very sportsmanlike, but it was business.

I find the statement in my note-books that there must have been at least fifteen thousand trout captured in the streams upon which we had been encamped during that period of three weeks, and I am convinced that my figures are far below the truth; the whole command was living upon trout or as much as it wanted; when it is remembered that we had hundreds of white and red soldiers, teamsters, and packers, and that when Crook finally left this region the camp was full of trout, salt or dried in the sun or smoked, and that every man had all he could possibly eat for days and days, the enormous quantity taken must be apparent. Added to this we continued to have a considerable amount of venison, elk, and bear meat, but no buffalo had been seen for some days, probably on account of the destruction of grass. Mountain sheep and bear took its place to a certain extent.

It was the opinion and advice of Sheridan that Crook should wait for the arrival of Merritt, and that the combined force should then hunt Terry and unite with him, and punish the Sioux, rather than attempt to do anything with a force which might prove inadequate. In this view old “Washakie” fully concurred. The old chief said to Crook: “The Sioux and Cheyennes have three to your one, even now that you have been reinforced; why not let them alone for a few days? they cannot subsist the great numbers of warriors and men in their camp, and will have to scatter for pasturage and meat; they’ll begin to fight among themselves about the plunder taken on the battle-field, and many will want to slip into the agencies and rejoin their families.”

But, while waiting for Merritt to come up with his ten companies of cavalry, Crook sent out two large scouting parties to definitely determine the location and strength of the enemy. One of these consisted entirely of Shoshones, under “Washakie;” it penetrated to the head of the Little Big Horn and around the corner of the mountain to the cañon of the Big. Horn; the site of a great camp was found of hundreds of lodges and thousands of ponies, but the indications were that the enemy were getting hard pressed for food, as they had been eating their dogs and ponies whose bones were picked up around the camp-fires. From that point the trails showed that the enemy had gone to the northeast towards the Powder River. The other scouting party was led by Louis Richaud, and passed over the Big Horn Mountains and down into the cañon of the Big Horn River; they found where the Sioux of the big village had sent parties up into the range to cut and trim lodge-poles in great numbers. Richaud and his party suffered extremely from cold; the lakes on the summit of the mountains were frozen, and on the 1st of August they were exposed to a severe snow-storm.

Later advices from Sheridan told that the control of the Sioux agencies had been transferred to the War Department; that Mackenzie and six companies of his regiment had been ordered to take charge at Red Cloud and Spotted Tail, assisted by Gordon with two companies of the Fifth Cavalry. Although showers of rain were of almost daily occurrence, and storms of greater importance very frequent, the weather was so far advanced, and the grass so dry and so far in seed, that there was always danger of a conflagration from carelessness with fire.