The Morrills and Reminiscences - C. H. Morrill

at that time out of commission. The front door of this saloon, was riddled with bullets and in the place where the door knob should have been, there was nothing but a hole about the size of a man's fist. Upon inquiry I found that when the cowboys got so "full" that they wanted to fight, the saloonkeeper would lock the door, and they would then use the door knob as a target. In time, the door knob was entirely shot away.
After a stop of about an hour at this most interesting place, we were off again. Just before dark the stage stopped, and Stephenson, who was riding on top with the driver, came to the door and said: "Now boys, during the night you had better have your revolvers handy, as some of our stages have been attacked by Indians. The road, as you see, is very rough and bronchos are not so very easily managed. Once in a while we have a tip-over. In such a case, don't get excited or make any noise, as nobody ever gets hurt." The horses were changed twice during the night. No Indians appeared, and we had no tip-over. The next day we arrived at Fort Robinson.
W. F. Kimmel of Osceola, afterward state senator, was a post trader here. He offered me a position which I gladly accepted, and later I became interested in the concern. Before the Custer battle Fort Robinson was a "one company" post. At the time of my arrival I think there were nine companies encamped there. There were also, in camps near the military post, five thousand Crow Indians, six thousand Arapahoes,

between seven thousand and ten thousand Sioux, Spotted Tails, and Cheyennes. These Indians were all captured on or near the Custer battlefield. The big chief among them was Sitting Bull. The government, fearing they might escape and again go on the warpath, disarmed them and took away their ponies. On Saturdays the ponies were sold in lots of twenty at auction. They brought about two dollars each. The purchasers signed contracts to remove them from the vicinity at once. That was a very difficult task as bands of outlaws and Indians were roaming over the country in all directions. The Indian of those days was far from being like the civilized Indian of to-day who loafs around small towns near Indian agencies and trades the blankets he gets from Uncle Sam for whisky. These Indians, running loose up in the hills country, were of the old-fashioned, raise-your-hair, burn-your-cabin, and run-off-your-horses variety. No person was allowed to sell any kind of merchandise within the reservation except the post trader and Indian traders. Unauthorized persons who tried to smuggle goods into that section of the country had no protection, and were soon robbed by Indians or adventurers.
If I remember correctly, the Indian trader at that time was a Mr. Deer. His store was at the Indian agency two or three miles from the military post headquarters. About twice a month the Indian agent issued beef to the Indians, sometimes in the form of dressed beef; mostly, however, on the hoof. It was very

interesting to see this performance. The Indians, on ponies, and armed with bows and arrows, would gather at the agency. A certain number of wild range cattle would be turned out of the corral, and, as soon as they were loosed away they would go. The Indians were prepared for this dash, and those interested in the bunch of cattle turned loose would give a whoop and the chase was on. At least two hours elapsed before the beef issue was completed and the cattle all killed. Everything except the hide of the animal was eaten by the Indians.
The post trader's establishment consisted of a general store, clubhouse for private soldiers, and officers' club. In those days the motto of the army officers and soldiers was, "Eat, drink, and be merry, for to-morrow we die." Therefore there was something doing at the clubs every night. I remember very well a captain in the Ninth regiment who was a jolly good fellow and who came over to the club every night to play a little poker with his friends and "cheer up." His wife demanded that he be home not later than ten o'clock. Very often he was in a forgetful mood before that hour arrived. At ten-thirty sharp there would be a gentle tap on the door and the captain's wife would enter. As army officers are trained to be gentlemen, all those who were able to stand, would do so. The captain always admitted that he was in the wrong and never once refused to obey orders. Very likely he had learned, as have most married men, that discretion is the better part of valor.

It was at Fort Robinson that I first became interested in the remains of animals that are found in the bad lands. During the first summer I spent there, Professor O. C. Marsh of Yale, with a party of students, came from the East on an expedition to collect fossils. The professor informed me that about twenty miles northeast of Fort Robinson was one of the best known fossil fields in the country. This was the White River bad lands of the Hat Creek basin. I drove out to the camp upon several occasions, and became much interested in what was collected, and later contributed money to the University of Nebraska for paleontological research. The Hat Creek badlands were deeply cut and lofty buttes, chimneys and castellated forms could be seen everywhere. The bad lands were entirely bare; accordingly innumerable skeletal parts of animals had been washed out and exposed to view. The commonest of these were fossil turtles, of all sizes, and Oreodon skulls, which were in extreme abundance at that time. Bones of the giant animal called the titanothere were to be seen at every turn, while those of the rhinoceros, three-toed horse, and other animals often crushed under foot as we walked.
It seemed desirable that the remains of these remarkable creatures be preserved for the state. With that end in view I became a patron of the University of Nebraska and for a number of years contributed funds for paleontological research under Dr. E. H. Barbour.


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