As we went marching on the conversation became more general; that is, more was said about the beautiful country, the rich lands and fine cattle, and not so much about beautiful Indian girls. But every fellow kept his eye to the front, expecting we would meet scores of girls, perhaps hundreds, but all were disappointed, as this was the only full-blooded Indian we met in the highway from Colbert’s ferry to Fort Smith. The fact is, the Indians shun white people who travel the main road. Away out in the prairie some two hundred yards you will find Indian trails running parallel with the road, and the Indians keep to these trails to avoid meeting the whites. If they chance to live in a hut near the road you find no opening toward the road, and, if approached, they will deny that they can speak English, when, in fact, they speak it readily and plainly.
One day I came up with one of our teamsters in trouble. He needed an ax to cut down a sapling, so I galloped back to an Indian’s hut near by, and as there was no enclosure, rode around to the door. The Indian came out and I asked him to lend me an ax a few minutes. He shook his head and said, “Me no intender,” again and again, and this was the only word I could get out of him until I dismounted and picked up the ax, which was lying on the ground near the door. He then began, in good English, to beg me not to take his ax. I carried it to the teamster, however, but returned it to the Indian in a few minutes.
There are, or were then, people of mixed blood living along the road in good houses and in good style, where travelers could find entertainment. Numbers of these had small Confederate flags flying over the front gateposts—and all seemed to be loyal to our cause. Two young Choctaws joined one of our companies and went with us, one of them remaining with us during the war, and an excellent soldier he was, too.
At Boggy Depot the ladies presented us with a beautiful flag, which was carried until it was many times pierced with bullets, the staff shot in two, and the flag itself torn into shreds. Arriving at Big Blue River, we lost one or two horses in crossing, by drowning. But finally we reached Fort Smith, on a Saturday, remaining there until Monday morning.
While in the Choctaw Nation our men had the opportunity of attending an Indian war dance, and added to their fitness for soldiers by learning the warwhoop, which many of them were soon able to give just as real Indians do.
Fort Smith, a city of no mean proportions, is situated on the south bank of the Arkansas River, very near the line of the Indian Territory. Another good town, Van Buren, is situated on the north bank of the river, five miles below Fort Smith. While we were at Fort Smith orders came from General McCulloch, then in southwest Missouri, to cut loose from all incumbrances and hasten to his assistance as rapidly as possible, as a battle was imminent. Consequently, leaving all trains, baggage, artillery, all sick and disabled men and horses to follow us as best they could, we left on Monday morning in the lightest possible marching order, for a forced march into Missouri. Our road led across Boston Mountain, through Fayetteville and Cassville, on towards Springfield. Crossing the river at Van Buren, we began the march over the long, hot, dry, and fearfully dusty road. As we passed through Van Buren I heard “Dixie” for the first time, played by a brass band. Some of the boys obtained the words of the song, and then the singers gave us “Dixie” morning, noon, and night, and sometimes between meals. This march taxed my physical endurance to the utmost, and in the evening, when orders came to break ranks and camp, I sometimes felt as if I could not march one mile farther. The first or orderly sergeant and second sergeant having been left behind with the train, the orderly sergeant’s duties fell upon me, which involved looking after forage and rations, and other offices, after the day’s march.
On Saturday noon we were at Cassville, Mo. That night we marched nearly all night, lying down in a stubble field awhile before daylight, where we slept two or three hours. About ten o’clock Sunday morning, tired, dusty, hungry, and sleepy, we went into camp in the neighborhood of General McCulloch’s headquarters, in a grove of timber near a beautiful, clear, little stream. The first thing we did was to look after something to eat for ourselves and horses, as we had had no food since passing Cassville, and only a very light lunch then. The next thing was to go in bathing, and wash our clothes, as we had had no change, and then to get some longed-for sleep. In the meantime Colonel Greer had gone up to General McCulloch’s headquarters to report our arrival. I was not present at the interview, but I imagine it ran something like this, as they knew each other well. Colonel Greer would say “Hello, General! How do you do, sir? Well, I am here to inform you that I am on the ground, here in the enemy’s country, with my regiment of Texas cavalry, eleven hundred strong, well mounted and armed to the teeth with United States holster pistols, a good many chop knives, and several double-barreled shotguns. Send Lyons word to turn out his Dutch regulars, Kansas jayhawkers and Missouri home guards, and we’ll clean ’em up and drive ’em from the State of Missouri.”
“Very well, very well, Colonel; go back and order your men to cook up three days’ rations, get all the ammunition they can scrape up in the neighborhood, and be in their saddles at eleven o’clock to-night, and I will have them at Dug Springs at daylight to-morrow morning and turn them loose on the gentlemen you speak of.”