On the Border with Crook

by John Gregory Bourke

The packers organized a foot-race, and bets as high as five and ten thousand dollars were freely waged. These were of the class known in Arizona as “jawbone,” and in Wyoming as “wind”; the largest amount of cash that I saw change hands was twenty-five cents. Rattlesnakes began to emerge from their winter seclusion, and to appear again in society; Lieutenant Lemly found an immense one coiled up in his blankets, and waked the echoes with his yells for help. The weather had assumed a most charming phase; the gently undulating prairie upon whose bosom camp reposed was decked with the greenest and most nutritive grasses; our animals lazily nibbled along the hill skirts or slept in the genial light of the sun. In the shade of the box-elder and willows along the stream beds the song of the sweet-voiced meadow lark was heard all day. At rare moments the chirping of grasshoppers might be distinguished in the herbage; in front of our line of tents a cook was burning or browning coffee—it was just as often one as the other—an idle recruit watching the process with a semi-attentive stupefaction. The report of a carbine, aimed and fired by one exasperated teamster at another attracted general notice; the assailant was at once put in confinement and a languid discussion of the merits or supposed merits of the case undulated from tent to tent. Parties of whist-players devoted themselves to their favorite game; other players eked out a share of diversion with home-made checker-boards. Those who felt disposed to test their skill as anglers were fairly rewarded; the trout began to bite languidly at first and with exasperating deliberation, but making up for it all later on, when a good mess could be hooked in a few minutes. Noyes and Wells and Randall were the trout maniacs, but they had many followers in their gentle lunacy, which, before the hot weather had ended, spread throughout the whole command. Mills and his men were more inclined to go up in the higher altitudes and hunt for bear; they brought in a good-sized “cinnamon,” which was some time afterwards followed by other specimens of the bruin family; elk and deer and buffaloes, the last chiefly the meat of old bulls driven out of the herds to the northwest, gave relish and variety to the ordinary rations and additional topics for conversation.

General Crook was an enthusiastic hunter and fisher, and never failed to return with some tribute exacted from the beasts of the hills or the swimmers of the pools; but he frequently joined Burt and Carpenter in their search for rare birds and butterflies, with which the rolling plains at the base of the Big Horn were filled. We caught one very fine specimen of the prairie owl, which seemed wonderfully tame, and comported itself with rare dignity; the name of “Sitting Bull” was conferred unanimously, and borne so long as the bird honored camp with its presence. Lieutenant Foster made numbers of interesting sketches of the scenery of the Big Horn and the hills nearest the Goose Creek; one of the packers, a man with decided artistic abilities, named Stanley, was busy at every spare moment sketching groups of teamsters, scouts, animals, and wagons, with delicacy of execution and excellent effect. Captain Stanton, our engineer officer, took his altitudes daily and noted the positions of the stars. Newspapers were read to pieces, and such books as had found their way with the command were passed from hand to hand and read eagerly. Mr. Wasson and I made an arrangement to peruse each day either one of Shakespeare’s plays or an essay by Macaulay, and to discuss them together. The discovery of the first mess of luscious strawberries occasioned more excitement than any of the news received in the journals of the time, and an alarm on the picket line from the accidental discharge of a carbine or rifle would bring out all the conversational strength of young and old.

It was whispered that one of our teamsters was a woman, and no other than “Calamity Jane,” a character famed in border story; she had donned the raiment of the alleged rougher sex, and was skinning mules with the best of them. She was eccentric and wayward rather than bad, and had adopted male attire more to aid her in getting a living than for any improper purpose. “Jane” was as rough and burly as any of her messmates, and it is doubtful if her sex would ever have been discovered had not the wagon-master noted that she didn’t cuss her mules with the enthusiasm to be expected from a graduate of Patrick & Saulsbury’s Black Hills Stage Line, as she had represented herself to be. The Montana miners whom we had found near old Fort Reno began to “prospect” the gulches, but met with slight success.

During the afternoon of June 14th Frank Gruard and Louis Richaud returned, bringing with them an old Crow chief; they reported having been obliged to travel as far as old Fort Smith, on the Big Horn, and that they had there seen a large village of Crows, numbering more than two hundred lodges. While preparing a cup of coffee the smoke from their little fire was discovered by the Crow scouts, and all the young warriors of the village, mistaking them for a small band of Sioux raiders, charged across the river and attacked them, nearly killing both Frank and Bat before mutual recognition was made and satisfactory greetings exchanged. The Crows were at first reluctant to send any of their men to aid in the war against the Sioux, alleging that they were compelled to get meat for their women and children, and the buffaloes were now close to them in great herds; we might stay out too long; the enemy was so close to the Crows that reprisals might be attempted, and many of the Crow women, children, and old men would fall beneath the bullet and the lance. But at last they consented to send a detachment of one hundred and seventy-five of their best men to see Crook and talk the matter over. Frank led them to our deserted camp on the Tongue River, upon seeing which they became alarmed, and supposed that we must have had a defeat from the Sioux and been compelled to abandon the country; only sixteen followed further; of these Frank and Louis took the old chief and rode as rapidly as possible to our camp on the Goose, leaving Bat to jog along with fifteen others and join at leisure.

General Crook ordered a hot meal of coffee, sugar, biscuits, butter, venison, and stewed dried apples to be set before the guest and guides, and then had a long talk with the former through the “sign language,” the curious medium of correspondence between all the tribes east of the Rocky Mountains, from the Saskatchewan to the Pecos. This language is ideagraphic and not literal in its elements, and has strong resemblance to the figure speech of deaf mutes. Every word, every idea to be conveyed, has its characteristic symbol; the rapidity of transmission is almost telegraphic; and, as will be demonstrated later on, every possible topic finds adequate expression. The old chief explained to Frank that the troops from Montana (Gibbon’s command) were encamped on the left bank of the Yellowstone, opposite the mouth of the Rosebud, unable to cross; the hostile Sioux were watching the troops from the other side. An attempt made by Gibbon to throw his troops across had resulted in the drowning of one company’s horses in the flood; the Sioux had also, in some unexplained way, succeeded in running off the ponies belonging to the thirty Crow scouts attached to Gibbon’s command.

The main body of the hostile Sioux and Cheyennes was encamped on the Tongue, near the mouth of Otter Creek, and between that and the Yellowstone. The Crows had heard that a large band of Shoshones had started out to join Crook, and should soon be with him at his present camp. It was a small detachment of Crow scouts that had alarmed our pickets by yelling some ten nights previously. As soon as the meal and the conversation were ended Crook sent the old chief back with Louis Richaud and Major Burt, who from previous service among the Crows was well acquainted with many of them, to halt the main body and induce them to enter our camp. Burt was entirely successful in his mission, and before dusk he was with us again, this time riding at the head of a long retinue of savage retainers, whose grotesque head-dresses, variegated garments, wild little ponies, and war-like accoutrements made a quaint and curious spectacle.

While the main column halted just inside our camp, the three chiefs—“Old Crow,” “Medicine Crow,” and “Good Heart”—were presented to General Crook, and made the recipients of some little attentions in the way of food. Our newly-arrived allies bivouacked in our midst, sending their herd of ponies out to graze alongside of our own horses. The entire band numbered one hundred and seventy-six, as near as we could ascertain; each had two ponies. The first thing they did was to erect the war-lodges of saplings, covered over with blankets or pieces of canvas; fires were next built, and a feast prepared of the supplies of coffee, sugar, and hard-tack dealt out by the commissary; these are the prime luxuries of an Indian’s life. A curious crowd of lookers-on—officers, soldiers, teamsters, and packers—congregated around the little squads of Crows, watching with eager attention their every movement. The Indians seemed proud of the distinguished position they occupied in popular estimation, and were soon on terms of easy familiarity with the soldiers, some of whom could talk a sentence or two of Crow, and others were expert to a slight extent in the sign language.

In stature, complexion, dress, and general demeanor a marked contrast was observable between our friends and the Sioux Indians, a contrast decidedly to the advantage of the former. The Absaroka or Crow Indians, perhaps as a consequence of their residence among the elevated banks and cool, fresh mountain ranges between the Big Horn River and the Yellowstone, are somewhat fairer than the other tribes about them; they are all above medium height, not a few being quite tall, and many have a noble expression of countenance. Their dress consisted of a shirt of flannel, cotton, or buckskin; breech-clout; leggings of blanket; moccasins of deer, elk, or buffalo hide; coat of bright-colored blanket, made with loose sleeves and hood; and a head-dress fashioned in divers shapes, but most frequently formed from an old black army hat, with the top cut out and sides bound round with feathers, fur, and scarlet cloth. Their arms were all breechloaders, throwing cartridges of calibre .50 with an occasional .45. Lances, medicine-poles, and tomahawks figured in the procession. The tomahawks, made of long knives inserted in shafts or handles of wood and horn, were murderous weapons. Accompanying these Indians were a few little boys, whose business was to hold horses and other unimportant work while their elders conducted the dangerous operations of the campaign.

At “retreat” all the battalion commanders and staff officers assembled in front of the tent of the commanding general, and listened to his terse instructions regarding the approaching march. We were to cut loose from our wagons, each officer and soldier carrying four days’ rations of hard bread, coffee, and bacon in saddle-pockets, and one hundred rounds of ammunition in belts or pouches; one blanket to each person. The wagons were to be parked and left behind in a defensible position on the Tongue or Goose, and under the protection of the men unable for any reason to join in the forward movement; all the infantrymen who could ride and who so desired were to be mounted on mules from the pack-trains with saddles from the wagons or from the cavalry companies which could spare them. If successful in attacking a village, the supplies of dried meat and other food were to be saved, and we should then, in place of returning immediately to our train, push on to make a combination with either Terry or Gibbon, as the case might be.

Scarcely had this brief conference been ended when a long line of glittering lances and brightly polished weapons of fire announced the anxiously expected advent of our other allies, the Shoshones or Snakes, who, to the number of eighty-six, galloped rapidly up to headquarters and came left front into line in splendid style. No trained warriors of civilized armies ever executed the movement more prettily. Exclamations of wonder and praise greeted the barbaric array of these fierce warriors, warmly welcomed by their former enemies but at present strong friends—the Crows. General Crook moved out to review their line of battle, resplendent in all the fantastic adornment of feathers, beads, brass buttons, bells, scarlet cloth, and flashing lances. The Shoshones were not slow to perceive the favorable impression made, and when the order came for them to file off by the right moved with the precision of clock-work and the pride of veterans.