On the Border with Crook

by John Gregory Bourke

There was less doubt expressed of our catching Indians; the evidences of their presence were too tangible to admit of any ambiguity, and all felt now that we should run in upon a party of considerable size unless they had all withdrawn to the north of the Yellowstone. These opinions were confirmed by the return of Frank Gruard with a fine young mule which had been left behind by the Sioux in one of the many villages occupied by them along this stream-bed; the animal was in fine condition, and its abandonment was very good proof of the abundance of stock with which the savages must be blessed.

This is how General Crook appeared on this occasion, as I find recorded in my notes: boots, of Government pattern, number 7; trousers, of brown corduroy, badly burned at the ends; shirt, of brown, heavy woollen; blouse, of the old army style; hat, a brown Kossuth of felt, ventilated at top. An old army overcoat, lined with red flannel, and provided with a high collar made of the skin of a wolf shot by the general himself, completed his costume, excepting a leather belt with forty or fifty copper cartridges, held to the shoulders by two leather straps. His horse and saddle were alike good, and with his rifle were well cared for.

The General in height was about six feet—even, perhaps, a trifle taller; weight, one hundred and seventy pounds; build, spare and straight; limbs, long and sinewy; complexion, nervo-sanguine; hair, light-brown; cheeks, ruddy, without being florid; features, delicately and firmly chiselled; eyes, blue-gray; nose, a pronounced Roman and quite large; mouth, mild but firm, and showing with the chin much resolution and tenacity of purpose.

As we halted for the night, a small covey of pin-tailed grouse flew across the trail. Crook, with seven shots of his rifle, laid six of them low, all but one hit in neck or head. This shooting was very good, considering the rapidity with which it had to be done, and also the fact that the shooter’s hands were numb from a long march in the saddle and in the cold. These birds figured in an appetizing stew at our next breakfast. We remained in bivouac for a day at the mouth of a little stream which we took to be Pumpkin Creek, but were not certain, the maps being unreliable; here was another abandoned village of the Sioux in which we came across a ghastly token of human habitancy, in the half-decomposed arm of an Indian, amputated at the elbow-joint, two fingers missing, and five buckshot fired into it. The guides conjectured that it was part of the anatomy of a Crow warrior who had been caught by the Sioux in some raid upon their herds and cut limb from limb.

The forest of cottonwoods at this place was very dense, and the trees of enormous size. Upon the inner bark of a number, the Sioux had delineated in colors many scenes which were not comprehensible to us. There were acres of fuel lying around us, and we made liberal use of the cottonwood ashes to boil a pot of hominy with corn from the pack train. Half a dozen old buffaloes were seen close to camp during the day, one of which animals was shot by General Crook. When our guides returned from the Yellowstone, they brought with them the carcasses of six deer, five white-tailed and one black-tailed, which were most acceptable to the soldiers. All the trails seen by this reconnoitring party had led over towards the Powder River, none being found in the open valley of the Yellowstone. The Sioux and Cheyennes would naturally prefer to make their winter habitations in the deeper and therefore warmer cañons of the Rosebud, Tongue, and Powder, where the winds could not reach them and their stock. The country hereabouts was extremely rough, and the bluffs were in many places not less than seven hundred and fifty feet in height above the surface of the stream. It had again become cold and stormy, and snow was falling, with gusts of wind from the north. The mercury during the night indicated 10° below zero, but the sky with the coquetry of a witch had resumed its toilet of blue pinned with golden stars. Our course led north and east to look for some of the trails of recent date; the valleys of the creeks seemed to be adapted for agriculture, and our horses did very well on the rich herbage of the lower foothills. The mountains between the Tongue and the Powder, and those between the Tongue and the Rosebud as well, are covered with forests of pine and juniper, and the country resembles in not a little the beautiful Black Hills of Dakota.

This was the 16th of March, and we had not proceeded many miles before our advance, under Colonel Stanton, had sighted and pursued two young bucks who had been out hunting for game, and, seeing our column advancing, had stationed themselves upon the summit of a ridge, and were watching our movements. Crook ordered the command to halt and bivouac at that point on the creek which we had reached. Coffee was made for all hands, and then the purposes of the general commanding made themselves known. He wanted the young Indians to think that we were a column making its way down towards the Yellowstone with no intention of following their trail; then, with the setting of the sun, or a trifle sooner, we were to start out and march all night in the hope of striking the band to which the young men belonged, and which must be over on the Powder as there was no water nearer in quantity sufficient for ponies and families. The day had been very blustering and chilly, with snow clouds lowering over us.

CHAPTER XVI.

THE ATTACK UPON CRAZY HORSE’S VILLAGE—THE BLEAK NIGHT MARCH ACROSS THE MOUNTAINS—EGAN’S CHARGE THROUGH THE VILLAGE—STANTON AND MILLS AND SIBLEY TO THE RESCUE—THE BURNING LODGES—MEN FROZEN—THE WEALTH OF THE VILLAGE—RETREATING TO LODGE POLE CREEK—CROOK REJOINS US—CUTTING THE THROATS OF CAPTURED PONIES.

General Crook directed General J. J. Reynolds, Third Cavalry, to take six companies of cavalry, and, with the half-breed scouts, make a forced march along the trail of the hunters, and see just what he could find. If the trail led to a village, Reynolds should attack; if not, the two portions of the command were to unite on the Powder at or near a point designated. Crook was very kindly disposed towards General Reynolds, and wanted to give him every chance to make a brilliant reputation for himself and retrieve the past. Reynolds had been in some kind of trouble in the Department of Texas, of which he had been the commander, and as a consequence of this trouble, whatever it was, had been relieved of the command and ordered to rejoin his regiment. We were out on the trail by half-past five in the afternoon, and marched rapidly up a steep ravine, which must have been either Otter or Pumpkin Creek, and about half-past two in the morning of March 17, 1876, were able to discern through the darkness the bluffs on the eastern side of the Big Powder; the night was very cold, the wind blew keenly and without intermission, and there were flurries of snow which searched out the tender spots left in our faces.

It was of course impossible to learn much of the configuration and character of the country in such darkness and under such circumstances, but we could see that it was largely of the kind called in Arizona “rolling mesa,” and that the northern exposure of the hills was plentifully covered with pine and juniper, while grass was in ample quantity, and generally of the best quality of grama. Stanton led the advance, having Frank Gruard and one or two assistants trailing in the front. The work was excellently well done, quite as good as the best I had ever seen done by the Apaches. Stanton, Mr. Robert E. Strahorn, Hospital Steward Bryan, and myself made a small party and kept together; we were the only white men along not connected with the reservations.