>

ACROSS THE PLAINS IN DAYS OF HOSTILE INDIANS

By William C. Jolly, Tecumseh, Nebraska.*

   Having been requested to give something of my early-day experiences, as both a miner and freighter at the time Colorado was being opened up as a gold and silver producing section, I will undertake to comply, giving such things as I believe will probably be of most interest and doing that to the best of my ability, whatever that may be. I appreciate that many will be more or less familiar with incidents of this early-day pioneer life, through experience and through history; while others in this later day, who have seen the early day in the west depicted more or less accurately in the moving pictures, will have formed some ideas. Naturally you will probably agree with me that to have come in for the fullest realization of the times and the conditions was to have lived it. There is so much that cannot be put on paper that all effort such as I am about to make seems weak and bound to be lacking.
   When gold and silver had been discovered in Colorado, and the first camps established, there was a great rush to the West. This was before the days of the railroads in this section, and transportation of all kinds was overland, or at least so to a wonderful extent. The fortune seekers, the adventurers of all kinds, the lovers of the "wild and woolly" west spirit were all bent on reaching Colorado, with their effects and the necessary freight to give them something to eat and some little comforts. Many went to take hold of anything that might turn up in the boom section which would make them money, and this included vocations of legitimate character -- and otherwise. This flow of Civilization continued into Colorado until, in June, 1860, Black Hawk and Central City, the two oldest camps in the mountains, were estimated to have at least 50,000 people, to say nothing of that of Denver, then a wild, western place of about 30,000 people. New mines had been discovered all the way to California Gulch on the headwaters of the Arkansas river, and these camps would at least equal the two given above in population. Now all this vast number of people had to depend, not alone on being taken into that country by coach and freighter from St. Joseph, Mo., Leavenworth, Kans., or Nebraska City or Omaha, but to have their effects carted as well. This will give you an idea of what the overland freight and passenger business across the great plains of Nebraska and a part of Colorado amounted to during a few years at the time of this gold and silver craze. Six hundred miles or more had to be covered by horse-drawn coaches or other vehicles and cattle-drawn freighters of the old type. In the freight was not only all kinds of mining tools but heavy min-

---

ing machinery as well, and it must be said there was a variance in the personnel of the passenger business, too. The roads from St. Joseph and Omaha came together at Fort Kearney. Neb., and from there to Denver, a distance of about 400 miles, there was so much traffic over the road it became something of a beaten way the width of one of our business streets of today.
   In the winter of 1859 and 1860 Russell, Majors and Waddell established a four-horse stage line from St. Joseph to Denver. and the late Robert ("Bob") Frost of Tecumseh was a driver in this service. Within a year they had a remarkably well established service, with a relay station each twenty-five miles on the long trip, where stops would be made to change horses. The vehicles were fine Concord rigs and the horses splendid roadsters. Each driver would go four stations, that is, for 100 miles, while the horses, driven on a trot or galop (sic) all the way, would travel but the twenty-five miles. The coaches would take from six to ten passengers and their hand luggage. As the relay station was approached the new teams would be in harness ready to hook to the rig and go on with a delay of perhaps five minutes, during which time the passengers could purchase good, wholesome food to take along, provision being made for their wants in this respect. At the 100 mile post the driver would lay off until a returning coach came the next day, having performed a hard day's work which required not alone considerable skill, but a great deal of endurance as well. This relay work was continued, drivers and horses "swapped" and passengers riding continuously night and day until Denver was reached. It was certainly a long, hard ride and was telling on the passengers. The drive from St. Joseph to Denver with no greater stops than mentioned, night and day, required six days and as many nights. The fare was $100.00. The stage was always crowded, business being good.
   Russell, Majors & Waddell later put on the pony express from St. Joseph to San Francisco, with a side trip to Denver. A rider would start from St. Joseph, take the same route we all took west, ride his horse a good speed for twenty-five miles and then exchange for another animal for the next twenty-five miles, using the same relay stations and the same system the coaches used. The start from a station was usually made on the gallop, and was seldom slowed down any until the next station was reached. I was on the road freighting at the time the first pony and rider made the trip, and, when the pony and man came in sight, some five miles across the plains to the east of its, a great yell was raised by the freighters. Notwithstanding that we had a long string of heavily loaded wagons, word was passed along the line that we were to turn out of the trail and give the new comer the road, which we did. The rider passed us without slackening his speed, and we noted his horse was nearly exhausted,

with his change station about a mile ahead. After trying this system for awhile the promoters gave it up. It was too hard on both man and beast, a great many horses having been ridden to death. The pony express carried mail only, and first-class at that. Postage on a letter from St. Joseph to Denver was $1.00.
   The foregoing will be a very fitting preliminary to a relating of the experiences I had in a trip from Denver east to the Missouri river in the fall of 1864, when the Indian war was at its height, and the Indians were having everything about their own way on the plains. Whites and the reds had been on friendly terms from the year 1859 until August 1863, when it seems the Indians found out that our government was at war with the south and was having about all its military forces could do to put down the rebellion. The reds seemed to have figured that this would be a good time to drive the whites off the plains country, and, at one time, at least. it looked as though they were going to do it. We had become accustomed to meeting the reds all along the Platte river, and they were friendly and were always ready to meet and trade with us. There was then great freight traffic on the road and considerable association with these Indians.
   They broke loose all in a day, or day and night, the entire way from Fort Kearney to near Denver, and all the way along the Blue river, from Spring ranch, near the present city of Hastings, to Big Sandy a distance of forty miles. Of course we all went well armed and on the constant watch during the years 1859 and 1860 especially, to be ready for an emergency, but with three or four years without the least sign of trouble, the freighters had naturally become careless and if a fellow had a gun the chances were it was laid away in the wagon, not loaded and in bad working condition. In a train there was usually one gun in readiness to shoot a buffalo. if meat was wanted. The Indians did not like to have the travelers kill "their" buffalo and for this and other reasons the freighters did not kill many. If they did they would skin the animal and take only the best of the meat. However, this was not the case with the emigrants and coach passengers, who usually had good shooting irons with them. The buffalo were plentiful and the passengers would kill many of them, shooting at them just for the fun of the thing and leaving their carcasses untouched. This aroused the red men, and we knew it, but we did not think it serious at the time.
   The lay of the Platte valley, through which we traveled the 400 miles from Fort Kearney to Denver, was almost as smooth as a table through the bottom and of course the bottom was chosen for the trail as being the best for travel. The valley was about half a mile wide from the river to the low bluffs, and the lay of the land was especially advantageous to the Indians, as they could go into the bluffs and get a view of the valley and the trail for

miles from any point. Generally the trail ran near the river. And so, when hostilities began, the Indians would gather their men in large numbers out of sight in the bluffs, and they would station their lookouts on high points. If an emigrant train of large numbers came down the valley they would probably not make an attack, but not so for the unfortunate train of few men and teams. If a party was composed of say ten teams the Indians, organized in strong force, would swoop down from the bluffs upon them, drive the men off, or kill them, if better to their aim and then kill the cattle, take any horses there might be in the train and ransack the wagons, taking everything they wanted, and end by burning the wagons. Especially did the red devils make away with whiskey, tobacco and sugar. By this time the government had sent soldiers into camps along the way, but when the freighters called on any of these few soldiers for help we were prompty advised that we could go to where the climate is hot. We were given to understand Uncle Sam's men were there to guard the mails and the coaches, and not the freighters. The government, didn't have any use for us, anyway, the impression was, for we had intruded on the Indians and their lands. The government had not paid the Indians for any lands up to this time,
   About this time, in 1864, the Indians had been at war for about a year and had destroyed so much of the freighting everything had become very high at the camps and at Denver and other stations. The people in Denver and the camps had become alarmed at the prospects of starvation, and the Indians had gotten so bold they even threatened to attack Denver. The government then stationed soldiers all about Denver. About this time word came to the mining camps, purporting to be from the war department, that if the people would organize independent companies of soldiers and furnish their own horses, saddles and arms, the government would furnish the ammunition, and these untrained soldiers or companies might go onto the plains and fight the Indians. The government, it was claimed, would give them a free hand to run the Indians down and the soldiers could have whatever booty they secured from the red men in the way of horses, and the things they had robbed the freighters of, as well as the coach passengers, and for a time they had done a land office business robbing the coaches.
   This sounded like a good thing to the younger men in the camps especially, and smarting under the depredations of the redskins, a company of 100 was organized in our town, Central City, and Black Hawk. A Mr. Fisher, a fine young man, was chosen as captain of the company and the young men constituting the company represented the best there was in physique and otherwise in these camps. There was great rejoicing by the

men at an opportunity to get at the "red devils," as they called the Indians. The men equipped themselves with as good horses as could be bought.
   I had just returned from a trip spent in prospecting and mining on the west side of the continental divide, having pushed on west some 400 miles into country which had not before been touched by others than huntsmen and trappers, and I would enjoy giving you a further report of what I saw in this entirely unexplored section, but must desist. When I got back to the Russell & Gregory diggings, as they were called, the first and oldest camp, located in the mountains some fifty miles from Denver, in the spring of 1864, gold had just been discovered in Montana, and thousands of miners and others were rushing off to what was known as Aulder Gulch.
   I became engaged in opening a very rich lode I had secured at the Russell & Gregory diggings, but the damp, foul air became so bad that I gave it up and went to looking about for something else to engage in. I ran onto and made the acquaintance of Harry L. Hayes, a former Nebraskan, and he and I bought a sawmill, which had recently been erected by two brothers who got the Montana fever. Quite a rush of eastern speculators came into the country, who bought up the lodes and who also swapped their greenbacks for gold. Greenbacks were numerous and the trade was on the basis of two in greenbacks to one in gold, but these speculators pocketed a considerable of the gold and made a nice margin on it.
   Hayes and I were doing very well with the sawmill until the 2nd day of July, when he died. Before he died he called for me and made me promise I would get his wife and two little daughters, aged four and seven years, safely back to their people in Nebraska. Hayes was buried on the Fourth of July. As there was no cemetery nearer than Idaho Springs, four miles, I selected a place for the grave back of the sawmill, on a little plat of ground of perhaps twenty acres, and Hayes was the first to be buried there. Now there is a well kept cemetery on the site with 200 or 300 graves.
   I am now coming up to the trip across the plains which was certainly a remarkable experience for some of us in those rough days. I continued to run the sawmill and Mrs. Hayes kept house for me and boarded the men. The last of August an old gentleman from Iowa, who had freighted through, struck our camp. He stated be would never return until the government made peace with the Indians, and his opinion was the plains was no place for a white man who thought anything of his scalp. I traded him the sawmill for his freighting outfit, which consisted of three wagons and nine yokes of oxen. We had three or four yoke of oxen of our own. We proceeded to organize our trav-

eling company and it was made up of Mrs. Hayes and her two little girls, (the eldest being Mrs. Joseph Glasson of Tecumseh at this time); Joe Caywood, wife and little girl of Council Bluffs Iowa, and another man, whose name does not come to me now, who had as his family his wife and little boy; also four young men, who had worked for us during the summer. Caywood and all the men had worked for us. We were to start September 1, but did not get away until the 3rd. At Denver we picked up four more young men.
   We would accept no member of the party who was not willing to arm himself well, and it was explicitly understood that not a drop of liquor was to be used on the trip. We found the best gun for close quarters to be a Colt's navy, then in use by the United States navy. It has a seven inch rifle barrel and repeated six times. We anticipated what we were going to run up against and altogether we started with firearms equal to over 100 shots without reloading and an abundance of ammunition. I had a wide walnut plank sixteen feet long and fourteen inches thick. This I cut in two and set up on the inside of my wagon box, to answer as protection from bullets for the women and children in case of trouble.
   The Indians had become so desperate the government soldiers at Denver and Fort Kearney would not permit parties to take the trail unless there were 100 or more men in the company and small parties would wait for the number to accumulate. A captain would be selected for each company and ammunition would be furnished by the government, if the travelers had none or were short. The militia had a camp five miles down the river from Denver and our company was ordered to go down there and camp. We proceeded to the camp and got permission to go little further down where the grass was better for our cattle. Then a captain was to be selected and I was the honored one. The fact that I had spent two years over the divide when we were in war with the Indians perhaps prompted my comrades in their choice. Along about 11:00 o'clock that night we hooked up our oxen and started, traveling without incident until along towards morning when we stopped for breakfast. We were fools enough to proced (sic) with our comparatively little company, knowing the government did not approve of this plan, and scarcely appreciated the chances we were taking. We drove along all the next day and at night we had hardly gotten to what was considered the danger zone.
   The second day noon when we had traveled about fifty miles, after hitching up, one of the men and myself started ahead of the teams for a walk, and as we gained on the speed of the teams we were soon quite a little in the lead, say a quarter of a mile or more. Our attention was caught by what seemed to be a new log

cabin, about 100 yards off the trail, and as both doors were open, we could look right through the house. We could see no evidence of inhabitants and decided to investigate. As we neared the hut there was a stifling stench, stench, but we went on and the sight that soon greeted our eyes was horrible in the extreme. A partly dressed woman was lying flat on her back on the floor, her throat cut from car to ear, her skull mashed and she had been disemboweled. Investigating further we found a man, no doubt her husband, in a path between the house and the river, five or six arrows stuck in his back, his head mashed and several terrible slashes in his back and sides. But this was not all the work of their dastardly assailants. Near the cabin we found the mutilated bodies of three children, the appearance being that the chil-children (sic) had been hurled about in the air and their skulls crushed in by blows in the house. The stench from the partly decomposed bodies was so bad we did not linger but joined our party. Some of the men of the party, upon asking what we found at the log house and being informed, were curious enough to make investigations for themselves, but they did not remain lung on the scene, and I noted most of them did not care for any dinner.
   You will perhaps imagine the thoughts that entered our heads, as we thought of the helpless women and children of our party, but, after the first excitement incidental to the find had somewhat worn off and our nerves had quieted down, we decided to drive on, and to let the women and children know as little as we could of the unfortunate victims of the log house. Our duty to the dead was discussed and we wanted to bury them, but could not in the condition the bodies were. It was Mrs. Hayes, who was as brave as any in the party, who stated we must drive on despite the danger on every hand. Her words gave the men of the party renewed courage, as our caravan again got under way.
   Scarcely had we started until away off up the road towards Denver we could see objects which we decided to be horses and riders. Of course we could not tell whether the riders were red of white, but we decided to take no chances, and we ordered the wagons hovered together and fastened to one another; the women and children to the safest place we had, back of my walnut plank fortification, if you are a mind to call it that, and the men were stationed in their fighting positions and the firearms brought out. Oh! joy! Our relief! It turned out to be a company of about twenty soldiers, with a mess wagon, sent out from Denver. I am not positive whether they were government men or Denver home guards. They were under command of a lieutenant, who wanted to know what we were doing traveling in so small a company, I advised him we had gotten away from Denver, and, by traveling at night, had expected to catch up with a larger company and had taken this chance simply because we were very anxious

to get through. We advised the soldiers of the find at the cabin and they went to take charge of matters. The officer advised as to go back with them and wait until a large company came along, making our traveling less hazardous. He gave his opinion that we would probably fare about as the family at the log house had, once in the hands of the Indians. But we did not get faint hearted. We decided to put the matter of going ahead or returning to a vote of our company, allowing the women an expression. The vote stood 11 men and 3 women to proceed and 2 men to return. The lieutenant said he would let us go, but he advised us to drive hard until we overtook a larger company. Two of the young men we had picked up at Denver got cold feet and decided the road looked good to them and concluded to return to Denver with the soldiers, and we drove on. Our company was now composed of eleven men, three women and four children. The lieutenant complimented us on the hurried and splendid way we got together to protect our party as he came up. He gave us pointers as to what to do in case of an attack, said to keep together keeps (sic) our heads, not get excited and fight for our lives, and then commanded us to go. We drove until dark and then camped for the night, but there was not much sleep for any of us. We picked out two guards, one for the camp and one to watch the stock, but most of us were up a considerable of the night. With an early breakfast we were off for a big day's journey. At noon and after dinner we decided to double up the rigs in caravan style that is hitch two yoke of oxen to each wagon and drive the other cattle back of the wagons. On the lighter wagons we put just one yoke. This plan made it harder on the drivers and so we ruled that we should change drivers each hour giving all a chance to rest. We traveled on this way for several days and had no trouble. However, we all fully appreciated the danger we were in and knew full well that if we were sited by the Indians they would bide their time and we must suffer the consequences.
   One evening about sundown, as we had camped for the night, a covered wagon was driven up from behind us. It was occupied by two white men and a negro, and they wanted to camp with us and travels with us a few days, until they caught up with a larger outfit. We were suspicious but allowed them to do as they wished and the three men proved a valuable acquisition to our party. Even the negro was not a bad fellow. We passed Julesburg and came on to Ogallala. Here they didn't seem to be having much trouble. The keepers of the ranches and stage stations said they thought we would be safe to camp with them, as this section belonged to the Ogallala Sioux Indians, and they lived on the north side of the river and had been quite decent. While we were talking we looked up across the river to the north side and here we could see a camp said to contain 500 of the Indians. But none

of them came across. The freighters and emigrants had had so many of their numbers killed that they would have taken out their spite on them, if they had. Here the big four-horse stage coaches would pass every day or night, with loads of passengers and with a guard of four soldiers, on each, two men riding on each side of the coach and the rigs going just as fast as horseflesh could be driven. The Indians which had been doing most of the fighting and killing camped on the south side of the Platte, and, as the trail ran all the way on the south side it went into most dangerous territory.
   The next morning we started for O'Fallon's Bluff, said to be well fortified, but we knew we were getting into the worst territory of the trip, as far as the Indians were concerned. We took the wagon of the newcomers and fastened to one of ours and they let us take their mules to drive the caravan behind the wagons, and everybody except the women and children, took turns at driving the cattle or standing guard at night The nights were lonesome to the extreme. We kept the cattle well together, and gave each man and wife and children one of the wagons, and Mrs. Hayes and her children what I called my wagon as it contained their bedding and was somewhat fortified. In case of danger we put all of the women and children in with the Hayes family. These nights of anxiety were never dark, unless it was cloudy, just dark enough to startle you at any little sound and to make the most terrible imagination occupy your brain.
   From Ogallala to O'Fallon's we had a man on the first wagon and one on the last wagon keep watch along the bluffs for Indians the bluffs being back about a quarter of a mile from the road. Each man had taken solemn pledge to protect the women and children with his life, if need be, for it was known that the Indians liked especially to kill or hold for ransom the members of the weaker sex. Even the negro would have carried out this pledge, I believe.
   We left Ogallala in the morning and at noon that day we discovered that two of our steers had become so footsore we would be compelled to shoe them. And shoeing a steer is not a novice's job, either. We had the tools and ropes and roped and fell our critters and proceeded with the work. One of the cattle was an especially hard fellow to do anything with and we were detained here a full half day, working mighty hard in getting the cattle shod and in fit condition to continue the journey.
   And now again let our thoughts go back to our crack company of independent soldiers, which we last heard of as leaving Denver about, a month before we did. After the military authorities had fitted the company up with whatever was needed they had been ordered to Cottonwood, afterwards known as Fort McPherson, and having the reputation at that time as being the worst

place on the road. It was about half way between North Platte and Kearney. As we neared O'Fallon's Bluffs we saw what seemed to be a great many specks coming towards us. We kept good sight of them and it developed to be a company of white men mounted and afoot. As we drew near I recognized a voice as being that of Toni Sanders, an old friend of mine and ex-marshal of Centrat (sic) City, and others. They had thrown up their jobs to join the crack company of Indian fighters for the avowed purpose of cleaning the redskins off the plains and get rich quick off the booty they would get hold of. The government, or someone pretended to represent it, had given them a free hand, and had told them to take from the Indians all they could, including the property the red men had taken from the freighters and others. But this was the most disappointed set of men you ever beheld. In place of having accumulated any vast amount of this world's goods they had lost about everything they had -- and they had not seen or killed an Indian. They said when they reported at Cottonwood, and stated what they expected to do, the military officers set down on them good and hard and told them the only way they could really get into the service would be to join the regular army and become regular soldiers. At first they refused to do this, but as they were out of money and had to do something, some of them finally decided to join the army. Others went to work for the stage coach company, Captain Fisher among the others. The government and stage coach company bought some of their horses, and those who did not join the army or remain there rode their horses back to Denver.
   And these were the men we met the day of the cabin horror and we will give you their experiences of the night before just as they gave them to us; The government had sent an escort along with the men as far as O'Fallon's, and it was decided the escort was not needed further. The first night camp was pitched near O'Fallon's and the horses were staked out. A small freighting outfit had come along and camped with the soldiers feeling they were quite safe with Uncle Sam's men, and there was a good sized company. People in that section thought they were safe from attack and the soldiers and freighters had turned their cattle and horses out to graze, there being a large acreage of bottom land there. Herders were stationed to watch the stock. The men slept in the wagons, under them or on the ground anywhere. Everything went well until about daybreak. West and south of the ranch where they were camped was a little ridge, All at once, just before daylight, there came a whoop and a yell and the Indians came across from the ridge, giving their war whoops and firing their guns. It would make a man's hair stand. The men were soon aroused and the order was "Run for your lives, the Indians are coming." All ran up the valley to the west past the

cattle; some jumped into the river and waded out the other side. Stage employes there, obeying the orders of their company, swam their horses. across the river and saved them. Some of the "crack" soldiers jumped on their horses and made away at break-neck speed, not even taking time to get their hats, coats, and shoes. Some dropped over the river bank and kept as well under cover of river and bank as they could and escaped. Nearly all left their guns and ammunition.
   As soon as the Indians saw they were the masters of the situation they seemed so well pleased with the property they did not follow the fleeing men and kill them, as they easily could have. Rather they proceeded to take charge of the spoils. They got thirty or forty good horses and eight wagon-loads of all kinds of goods being freighted to Denver. They looted the wagons and took the goods, there being groceries, clothing and whiskey. They then ran the wagons close together and set them afire, and anything they found they did not want they threw into the fire. They next broke into the ranch store and took everything in sight, included all the liquor kept in the saloon. Indian guards had been picketed about the scene of ravage to give the alarm if necessary. The men who were in hiding back of the river bank ventured to stick their heads up and see what the redskins were doing. They drank the liquor in large quantities and soon it began telling on them. They became boistrous (sic) in the extreme and sang war songs. Finally a bunch of the red devils went down to where the oxen were and began shooting the poor critters and driving their knives into their sides and bellies to the hilt. The cattle stampeded and gave out a terrible bawling. In fact the bawling of the dying cattle seemed to have alarmed the Indians and, as they had about all the booty they wanted, they went over the ridge to the south a whooping and yelling, and there were a lot of them, too.
   As soon as those who had made their escape were satisfied the Indians had left they returned to the scene, where they found the ranch house, store, and caravan equipment burned or still burning, and the cattle dead. For some reason they did not destroy the coach house, which was near, or a telepgraph (sic) wire which passed that way. The men who witnessed the departure of the Indians after their night of jubilee said some of them were so drunk that they had to be held on their horses. A strange fact was that not a white man was killed or even wounded. The Indians were thought to possess some knowledge of the unorganized condition of the camp and know how they could rout the whites. The returned men looked about for any property they might find, but the Indians had taken the most of it or thrown it into the fire. Some clothing was found and they had saved six or seven horses out of the wreck. In this crippled condition they had set

out afoot for Denver, using the horses to pack such things as they had salvaged. As before stated it was three or four miles from O'Fallon's that they met us, arid we gave them such provisions and clothing as we could spare. One of the party, an old man who owned one of the freight wagons had no boots and I had an extra pair and gave them to him. He said he would swap with me and I should take a roan steer, overlooked by the Indians, which was standing by its dead mate near the fire. I wanted to take the steer along, but he would not leave his mate but would stand over the dead critter and bellow.
   We left the party and proceeded to the scene of the night's tragedy and it was awful. Any of the terribly mutilated cattle we found to be still living we dispatched with an axe. The roan steer made terrible objections to leaving his mate, but, by considerable persuasion and by getting him with our cattle, we finally got him to follow along. It was a sad sight to look over the faithful cattle which had given such splendid service to see the terrible way they had been butchered. By this time it was getting late in the evening and we decided we had better not camp here.
   At this point the little range of bluffs which paralleled the river made almost a square turn and shot across the river, and we were on the west side. There was no way to get across other than go three miles around the bluff or take a decided narrow path between one of the steep bluff banks and the river. This road hugged the bluff very closely and was a dangerous passageway, but we decided to take it, even if it was dark. We hitched up and drove about two miles, in order to fool the Indians, if they were watching us or had us spotted for a night raid. The next day we drove until noon and camped on Fremont's Slough, a small branch which ran between the road and the river. The peculiarity of this little stream was its banks, almost straight up some six feet high, and three to five feet wide at the top. As we hitched up to proceed after dinner, I told the boys I would go hunting along the stream, and that maybe I could get a duck, as the boys of our party had killed several along the river. I walked abreast of the teams for some time. It was a big stretch of lowland and I could see up and down the river for a long distance, and only had to watch the bluffs on the south side. Finally I could see where the little stream emptied into the river, and, thinking that might be a good place for ducks, I struck across for a little bunch of willows or scrubby timber ahead, little dreaming what might be behind it. I was perhays (sic) 100 yards from the slough, on the side next to the river, and the teams were about a quarter of a mile south of the slough.
   Imagine my surpise (sic) as I approached the bunch of little timber when eight or ten Indians sprung from behind the shielding trees on horseback and took a bee line for me. I lost no