Capt. W. F. Drannan, Chief of Scouts, As Pilot to Emigrant and Government Trains, Across the Plains of the Wild West of Fifty Years Ago

by William F. Drannan

When Jim Beckwith told us that he had taken up land and was going to build on it and make himself a home there, I wondered what he would do to make a living. The land seemed to be fertile enough, but I did not see any chance to sell what he might raise if he tried farming, but I was told that he cultivated the land for awhile and then it was too valuable. So he cut it up into lots and sold it, and now it is covered with business houses and residences, and all this change has taken place in forty-nine years.

As I stood and looked at the streets and blocks of houses, I found myself almost doubting that that was the spot where we had camped forty-nine years ago. When memory called back to my mind what a barren, desolate country it was at that time, it almost seemed incredible that such a large city could be built and such a vast change be made in less than fifty years, and not only in this particular spot but for miles and miles all through the surrounding country.

While we were in camp, I was down on the banks of Cherry Creek one day, and there were fifteen or twenty Indians sitting on the bank, and among them was a squaw who had a pistol in her hand. She seemed to be playing with it when several white men came along, and one of them was intoxicated. This one went up to the squaw and, taking hold of the pistol, tried to wrench it from her hand, and in the struggle the pistol was discharged and the man dropped dead. Some of his companions threatened to take vengeance on the Indians, but there were so many other white men standing around that had witnessed the whole affair and knew the Indians had done nothing to be molested for, they would not allow the Indians to be troubled. So the men took the body away, and that was the end of the affair.

That evening a band of Kiawah Indians came into the town and camped where the statehouse now stands. I happened to meet some of them, and being acquainted with them I stopped and talked with them, and they told me that they were going to have a peace smoke and a dance next day, and they wanted me to join them, which, knowing it would not be wise to decline, I promised to do.

When I went back to camp, I told Uncle Kit and the others of the invitation I had received and accepted. Uncle Kit said, "I guess we are too old to take a part in the dance, but we can go and look on and watch the fun." We did not go to the Indian camp until near noon the next day; and I think there were two or three hundred white men, women and children standing around the camp when we got there, and the majority of them had never seen an Indian before.

As Uncle Kit and Bridger and Beckwith did not wish to take a part in the performance, they kept out of sight of the Indians, and I went into the camp, and as soon as I arrived the Indians commenced to form the circle for the peace smoke.

We had all just taken our seats, and the head chief was in the act of lighting the pipe when he sang out, "O Wah," at the top of his voice, and in an instant every Indian sprang to his feet and started to run. I could not think what was the matter until I looked around and saw a man a short distance from us with a camera in the act of taking a photo of us, but he never got the picture, for not an Indian stopped running until his wigwam hid him from view.

The man with the camera looked the disappointment he felt as he came to me and asked if I were acquainted with those Indians.

He said, "What in creation was the matter with them? What made them get up and run? I would rather have given fifty dollars than miss taking that picture."

I could scarcely answer him I was so choked with laughter. But I managed to tell him that I reckoned the Indians thought that he had some infernal machine pointed at them that would blow them all to the happy hunting grounds.