He said, “The Indians are again approaching Bannack.”
The service came to an abrupt close, for those in attendance hastened home to protect children and property. All was in confusion. The men gathered in consultation. They decided that word of the new attack must be taken to General Howard, who was coming toward the scene and was even then but twelve miles away.
Again volunteers were called for. Once more Brother Van offered his services and with John Poindexter set out for help. They rode through Indian country, and evading every danger, came at last to the detachment of the regular army. They found the soldiers in sore straits, for the long march through Idaho had been most disheartening. Communications with the East were cut, and they were compelled to live on such scant forage as the country provided. The infantry was without shoes and the cavalry was tired out with long marches in a mountainous country. On hearing of the danger that threatened Bannack, General Howard dispatched a company ofcavalry for the town’s protection. He then spoke to the two hardy, seasoned scouts who had come to him for help, and asked of them a great service. He told them of the scantiness of his supplies. He explained the importance of sending information to Washington concerning the serious situation, and asked them if they would be his messengers to the nearest point of communication with the government.
“We are at our country’s service,” was their instant reply.
So, in the lonely watches of the night, John Poindexter and Brother Van started on another errand of mercy. As they left the camp they could hear the hoot of the owl and the yelp of the coyote—sounds that were plaintive and saddening at any time, but to these two scouts they were now full of deadly meaning. They knew that the hoot and the yelp were signals given by watching Indians.
As silently as possible they moved, going directly to the south, and as they journeyed the calls grew indistinct, and at last were heard no more. The scouts relaxed slightly, for their confidence was somewhat regained. Suddenlyin the dim dawn twelve warriors loomed up before them. No shots could be fired. The party was small and a shot would but call other waiting Indians to their assistance. General Howard must not be drawn into needless battle, for his men and horses were suffering for lack of rest. The horses which the scouts were riding were fresh and spirited; so, giving spur and riding in furious haste, the two messengers outdistanced the Indians, leaving them and the immediate danger far behind.
At last the scouts reached the stage road, and rode without interruption to a station. Here the precious message to Washington was put in the hands of Uncle Sam’s postmen, who drove the stage-coaches amid such peril and hardship, carrying passengers and letters across the “Great American Desert.” Their duty accomplished, Brother Van and his companion returned to the seat of war. They found Bannack ready for a siege. Captain Bell was in charge of the company of regulars, and there were also two companies of Montana Volunteers from Butte under the command of Major W. A. Clark.
When the excitement over their safe return had subsided, Brother Van again turned his attention toward the church. The town was full of people and their need of solace was great. A church building had been started but the Indian wars had halted the work. The missionary scout determined to finish the church and he found that everybody wanted to help; soldiers, settlers, and cowboys went at the building with hearty good will. The little church was thus very speedily completed, and on a beautiful Sabbath Day another of Brother Van’s first enterprises was dedicated to the Lord.
BROTHER VAN’S DISPATCH TO THE HELENA HERALD, AUGUST 13, 1877, DESCRIBES CONDITIONS AT BANNACK