15

The Dull Knife Fight

“The severe blow given to the Cheyennes by Mackenzie will create in the minds of those savages a feeling of disgust at being hostile.”—Unknown, Fort Fetterman, December 30, 1876, New York Tribune, January 11, 1877

“[Mackenzie's] attack on the daring Cheyennes has taught them that they may not consider themselves safe from the avenging pursuit of the white man, even in their most remote and inaccessible fastnesses.”—Jerry Roche, Fort Laramie, January 4, 1877, New York Herald, January 14, 1877

 

On November 5, twelve days after formally closing out the summer campaign, General Crook was on the road from Fort Laramie to Fort Fetterman, an eighty-mile trip. He arrived on the night of November 7. This was his third time on the warpath since March, and despite some down time following the battle of the Rosebud, the previous campaign still contained more than its share of rigorous marching, harsh weather, insufficient fare, and all-around hard times. An 1873 newspaper sketch of the general had described him as being “tough as a mule” and capable of “wearing out” many of the younger men of his command.1 Perhaps this was true; even Davenport would have had to admit that Crook was virtually indefatigable.

The forthcoming campaign to defeat Crazy Horse, who was Crook's primary target, was officially dubbed the Powder River Expedition.² Mackenzie (who arrived at Fort Fetterman on November 9) was in charge of the cavalry, and Lieutenant Colonel Richard Irving Dodge, Twenty-third Infantry, was in charge of the infantry. The breakdown of Crook's command was:

FOURTH CAVALRY: 6 companies, 17 officers, 485 men.

FIFTH CAVALRY: 2 companies, 6 officers, 150 men.

THIRD CAVALRY: 2 companies, 5 officers, 135 men.

SECOND CAVALRY: 1 company (K) (detailed with headquarters), 2 officers, 55 men.³

FOURTH ARTILLERY (acting as infantry): 4 companies, 9 officers, 147 men.

NINTH INFANTRY: 6 companies, 11 officers, 294 men.

TWENTY-THIRD INFANTRY: 3 companies, 8 officers, 111 men.

FOURTEENTH INFANTRY: 2 companies, 5 officers, 85 men.4

All told, there were 11 companies of cavalry totaling 30 officers and 825 men, and 15 companies of infantry totaling 33 officers and 637 men.⁵

Crook's staff included Lieutenant John G. Bourke, Third Cavalry, adjutant; Lieutenants Walter S. Schuyler, Fifth Cavalry, and William Philo Clark, Second Cavalry, aides-decamp; and once again Captain John V. Furey was called upon as quartermaster. The supply train was extensive, consisting of 168 wagons and 400 pack mules, carrying supplies for thirty days. There were also seven ambulances. Attending the wagons and mules were 219 drivers and 65 packers.⁶ In addition to thirty days' provisions, Crook brought along “150 head of fine beef-cattle.”⁷

The corps of Indian scouts was impressive, and once fully organized numbered about 350. These included Sioux, Pawnees, Arapahoes, Cheyennes, and Shoshones (ninety-one Shoshones had preceded Crook to Cantonment Reno on October 27, and were awaiting his arrival). Although Lieutenant Clark was in overall command of the Indian scouts, the Pawnees were more likely to follow the direction of Frank North because of their long-time association with him, which dated back to 1864.⁸ One of the Sioux scouts was identified as Standing Bear, “the Indian captured in the American Horse fight.”⁹ It seems reasonable that Standing Bear was another name for Black Bear, the Brule warrior who later created a pictographic depiction of the battle of the Little Big Horn (see the end of chapter 6) and who was captured in the American Horse/Slim Buttes fight (see chapter 12).¹⁰

Including the Indian scouts (but not the civilians) the expedition numbered over eighteen hundred men. An anonymous dispatch to the New York Tribune remarked, “With this force General Crook proposes to play the return match with Crazy Horse and other recalcitrant savages.”¹¹ Acknowledging the great strength of the column, a letter to the Cheyenne Daily Leader declared:

Nothing even bearing the remotest resemblance to a disaster need be apprehended. The column is too strong to suffer a repulse from any force that the Indians can possibly bring to bear at this season. The exciting rumors of defeat and massacre, so ripe during the last campaign, will be wanting in this….Nothing but the flight of all hostiles north of the Yellowstone, or their ignoble surrender, can or will prevent the Powder River expedition from being a success of magnitude, if not the crowning mercy of this infernal war.¹²

In view of Crook's experience with Davenport over the summer, one would think that the general would have banned all future New York Herald correspondents from reporting on his expeditions. Such was not the case, but unlike the previous campaign, the Powder River Expedition hosted only one official correspondent, Jerry Roche, and, as luck would have it, his employer was the New York Herald. In addition to Roche there were the usual anonymous reports sent into various newspapers, such as the New York Times and New York Tribune. Just prior to leaving Fort Laramie for Fort Fetterman, Roche commented on the measures being taken against one of their most dangerous enemies—the weather:

Extensive preparations are on foot by all going who are in a condition to provide for themselves, to guard against the rigors of a winter which is expected to be very severe, and though it is said the campaign is not intended to be prosecuted on the Powder River much longer than two months the officers generally anticipate and are preparing for a more protracted struggle with the elements if not with the hostiles. It is enough to make one shiver to see the precautions that are being taken by knowing ones to avoid being frozen and to hear their terrible stories of camp life in a region where mercury freezes and one can take his iced whiskey in solid lumps. The troops will be fairly provided with covering, but in spite of all the precautions that may be taken I am inclined to believe that there will be considerable suffering on the trip and that more than a few will be found to have succumbed to the trials of the campaign before it is ended.13

Concerning their human enemies, Roche remarked:

That hostile Indians can be found in numbers large enough to engage the entire command there can be little doubt, if one may accept the surmises and conclusions of some of the scouts engaged on the expedition just concluded. The impression that they are still well armed and liberally provided with ammunition prevails here pretty generally, notwithstanding the recent action at the agencies.¹⁴

Another area of concern was with the Indian scouts, some of whom were known to be bitter enemies:

I find that several people here, who profess to be familiar with Indian affairs, apprehend difficulty between the Pawnee and Sioux scouts. The tribes have been a long time enemies.¹⁵

On a less serious note, Roche described the would-be “Buffalo Bills” hanging around Fort Laramie:

There is a queer lot of fellows here who hover about the post and hang on the ragged edges of the command. These are the long-haired, unwashed “Injun slavers” whose chief delight is to be looked upon as great scouts. Some of these fellows seem to think that all they need to do in order to be universally admired is to dress in an outlandish fashion, interlay their conversation with elaborate oaths and border superlatives, and become known to fame as “Grasshopper Jim” or “Jack Rabbit Bill.” A good healthy Indian would scare half a dozen such frauds to death with one vigorous yell.¹⁶

For the most part, he shied away from writing anything controversial; perhaps it was not his style, or perhaps it was just that nothing controversial occurred. The closest Roche came to sounding like Davenport was the following remark concerning the inept marksmanship he witnessed among some soldiers shooting at various herds of antelope:

Judging by some scenes I witnessed a few days ago [this would be about the third week of October], I should say it was not to be wondered at that some of the troops suffered for food in the midst of a game country during the summer campaign. We saw several herds of antelope on the hills at either side, and some of the cavalry soldiers set out to hunt them, but invariably missed them, shooting at a distance of 400 or 500 yards. I asked some of the packers on the mule train how they fared on the march from Goose Creek to Deadwood, when rations were so far below zero with the main column and they said, “We never ate any horse meat; we had plenty of antelope. Herds crossed the road every day, and we had several good hunters with us who killed enough for all of us.”

I have been thinking, if provisions run short on our winter campaign, General Crook should send the packers out hunting for the rest of the command. I have been thinking, too, that if a soldier can't shoot one antelope out of a dozen at 500 yards an Indian won't be in much danger from his carbine at 700 or 800.17

Accompanying Crook on his ride to Fort Fetterman were Company K of the Second Cavalry (the “Egan Grays”), Frank North and the Pawnees, and about 150 of the enlisted scouts from the Red Cloud Agency. Roche found nothing particularly interesting about the trip, other than the outlandish appearance and bizarre sounds emanating from the Indian scouts:

Nothing of moment occurred on the march hither, and we should scarcely have known that we had with us over 200 barbarians but for their weird howling and strange chanting at night and the picturesque manner in which they shrouded themselves in bright colored blankets as they rode along behind us. They have a way of building tents, too, peculiar to themselves. Their wickiup is like a huge Chinese lantern. It is broad at the base and tapers toward the top, which is open. In the centre they build their fire, and when wood is plentiful the blaze produces a pleasing illumination.¹⁸

On the eighth the Sioux scouts “sought a talk with the great white chief General Crook.”¹⁹ First up was Three Bears, who was anxious that his people at the Red Cloud Agency would be properly cared for in his absence:

I am talking in behalf of all my people left behind at the agency, and I want the beeves turned over to them the same as ever….When the delegation that has gone down to the Indian Territory gets back I want the Indians to wait for me and not to go to Washington until we start together. I don't want them to start before that time. As soon as we get through with the business out here we can work together, and that's the reason I want them to wait for me. I want to ask [for] something now and then, and I want him (pointing to General Crook) to agree to it. When we travel together we should work together as one. A great many of our men back at the agency have guns. I wanted a note sent to both stores at the agency to have them sell ammunition for a couple of days, because the hostile Indians will come down from the north and raise trouble with our people while we are away. I want you to write right away, because if my young people don't cry for bread while I'm away I'll like you all the better when I come back. I have no one back there to do my business or talk for me now, and I don't know what they will do while I'm gone. We want some of the horses the Pawnees are driving along, so that we can do our work better. [Crook assented, after which Three Bears continued:] I want you to put that down on paper [that we got half the horses back]. If a man wants to get on in the world he must keep his ears straight and he won't get in trouble. We are going to listen to you after this and do all you tell us. If we get any money for our country (meaning the Black Hills), we don't want it taken away from us. We want it kept for us. I want the Great Father to hear me when I ask for wagons and sheep. I want them myself. I don't want the agent to take them for me. I am glad for those things you gave me today (meaning his uniform). We want shoes for our women and children when we draw annuity goods.20

Fast Thunder also expressed concern for those left behind on the reservation, and, like Three Bears, did not want any delegation to leave for Washington (to discuss where they would live) before he returned from the current campaign:

All the bucks you see here are from Red Cloud[,] and from Spotted Tail, there are seven of us. I want a letter sent there, too. I want my words to go to Spotted Tail Agency. A great many Indians went south with that delegation to the Indian Territory. We want the delegation to wait for us when they come back [before they go to Washington]. The Great Father sent us out here to do this business and told me to do it or die. I am going to do it. When we come back we want to pick out an agency, and when the other Indians come back we want to work together and tell the Great Father what we want. I have a band at my agency, and while I am away there is no one to look out for them. When you send a letter down I want you to tell the Great Father to treat my band right and give them their rations right. I want you to give the Spotted Tail Indians permission to trade for ammunition for one day. The Northern Indians will come down and make trouble for them when we are away. Some of these young men [with me] have no horses. We want you, when you divide the horses, to get us fast horses, so we can do whatever you tell us to do and catch whatever you send us after.²¹

Sharp Nose, a prominent warrior among the Arapahoes, spoke next:

These are all Arapahoes you see here now, and they are all your friends. They have been your friends a long time. They are getting like the white people, and want to fight for them. This place here was our country. The government never gave us any money for this post [Fort Fetterman], and we don't want any. We are going with you to fight the Northern Indians. When you came to the agency and asked us to help you to fight those Indians we said, ‘Yes, we'll go with you.’ When you asked the Sioux if they would go they wanted to talk over the matter. But we did not stop to talk over the matter. We said we'd go. The Sioux said they'd like to wait until springtime, when the grass is green, because the winters are very cold here. We did not want to talk. We said, ‘Yes, we'll go,’ and here we are. We want good arms, good horses and plenty of ammunition. We want to scout in our own way, but your men can go along the road. We will send five men one way and five another, and if they see game they will kill it, for they like fresh meat. If they see Indians they'll tell you where they are. We have been your friends a long time, and we want to travel the same road with you. While we are gone we want you to look after our families at the agency and see that our children don't suffer for want of food.22

To all these statements, Crook responded exactly as expected. He assured the scouts that their families would be taken care of and reinforced that all of the Indians needed to learn new ways in order to survive:

The General promised the Indians their families should not suffer during their absence and then gave them some advice. He told them about the white man's laws and how bad men are punished, and not permitted to go off to the hills like the hostiles when they have stolen cattle or killed men. He told them the white men did not wish to do them any harm but were coming to live in their country. The buffalo, they must have noticed, were all disappearing, and they must turn their attention to some other way of living. They should learn to keep cattle, till farms and live in houses like white people. The Indians seemed pleased with the talk and left seemingly satisfied.²³

Roche had noted in his dispatch of November 3 that difficulty was apprehended between the Sioux and Pawnees, but by the time of his November 14 dispatch, the situation had reversed:

No apprehensions are now felt of disturbances between our Sioux and Pawnee soldiers. They have had a talk and a smoke among themselves and have stopped calling each other taunting names, as was their habit for a little time after our departure from Fort Laramie.²⁴

Reminiscent of Davenport's description of the Shoshones back in June, Roche found the Pawnees to be well organized and soldierly, at the same time observing the awkwardness of the Sioux and Arapahoes in their new uniforms:

The Pawnees are a very orderly, well drilled and disciplined lot of soldiers, many of whom can speak and write some English. Thus far the Sioux and Arapahoes have been difficult to handle, but they are gradually being instructed and will soon present a tolerably good appearance. It was amazing to see their awkwardness when they first put on their clothes. They looked like those peculiar angular pictures of mailed knights of a few centuries ago, with their upper limbs very much in the way and their boots so unmanageable that at each step they cast their feet high in the air and grinned at the novelty experienced.²⁵

Acknowledging that the temporary layover at Fort Fetterman was not too exciting, Roche turned to that old familiar standby, the weather:

Since our arrival here we have been busy procuring our supplies, furnishing and outfitting for the trip, and beyond the routine necessary for such preparation but little has transpired of any interest….[On Saturday evening, the eleventh,] it commenced snowing and continued until Sunday afternoon. Then it cleared up cold, and continued to grow colder until midnight, when the thermometer recorded 17 degrees below zero. The cold snap came on so suddenly that we were unprepared for so severe an attack, and consequently there was little sleep in some of our tents that night….The smoke of our camp fires mounts up from a white waste for three or four miles along the riverside.²⁶

On the thirteenth, some of the scouts held another conference with Crook. Roche was on hand to capture the proceedings. “Most of the ‘talks’ were short and of no great account,” he reported, “but Fast Thunder asked to have his talk taken down in writing and sent on to the Great Father.”27

Last spring a year ago I was in Washington. When I was there the Great Father told me if there were any white men's horses stolen that I should go and get them and return them. When the Great Father told me that I knew it was right, because that is what the white men have to work with; and I did help to give some back that were stolen. Those Indians that stay at the [Red Cloud] agency now have never done any harm to the white people, and I think it very wrong to take away their horses. I wish you would tell the Great Father not to take away any more of the horses from these Indians. The reason I am going out to fight the Northern Indians is that the country up there was given to us by the Great Father, and I want to get it back. The Great Father and the Indians at the agency work together, and the young men are going to help you. You know who to pick out. You have good sense and good eyes, and you have selected men who will help you when you get out there. I want you to tell the Great Father to give us back the country where we were living at the agencies. The young men want this. We are your friends now, and we don't want you to take our horses away any more. We are going to stick by you. We don't know how to work yet. We want to have our horses so that we can sell them and buy cows, &c.

Now, you say you do not want us to fight but to find the northern villages and Indians, but they do not know this, and they will make hard work for us. We want to know if we capture the horses at the village if we can keep all we capture. We are going out to capture the Northern Indians. We want to take them to our agency and have them work for us. They won't have any horses and they won't have any guns; and they will learn after a while that we will do what is right with them. Everything you say is good, and whatever you have told us has been right, and you have all along done what you said you would do.

When we were north a good many of our women married the Northern Indians, and when we capture these Indians we will find a good many of our relations there; that is the reason we want to take them to our agency. This is all for me.²⁸

Based on part of Fast Thunder's speech, it is clear that the Sioux were under the impression that if they helped Crook defeat the nonreservation Indians, he would return the favor and represent them in their quest to remain at their current agencies in the White River country of northwestern Nebraska. The problem, as they well knew, was that this region lay south of the actual Great Sioux Reservation. In his response, Crook explained why Red Cloud and Red Leaf had been treated so harshly a few weeks previous and stated that he did not know if the president would allow them to remain living where they were (of course, telling them that their case was virtually hopeless would not have been too beneficial to their willingness to track down Crazy Horse):

I have heard what…[you have] said. [S]ome time ago Red Cloud and Red Leaf were the head men at the agency and our people were feeding them at the time. They made a treaty and promised they would not steal stock from the white men. These men have been well treated and have been taken to Washington, and though they pretended to be the friends of the white men they were all the time acting in bad faith, stealing stock and killing white men….[U]nder our government every man contributes to the support of the Indians on the reservations, and…the very men they killed were giving their share to feed them….[T]he trails of the depredating Indians led to the Red Cloud Agency, and…we had only [the word of the Sioux] that they did not do the mischief. At last the government got angry and would not stand it any longer. During the past summer a great many Indians went north and joined the hostiles and killed our soldiers. The Red Cloud Indians were also supplying them with food and ammunition, and the reason those Indians recently captured at Red Cloud were captured was because the government wanted to keep them where it could see who were good and who were not. If the Indians behave themselves hereafter the government will protect them and will not take their ponies away. [I do] not know what the Great Father [will] do about letting [the Sioux] live where they are now on the agency. [I want] to bring the Northern Indians down to the agency, and that [is] the reason [I want the scouts] to go with [me]. When the white man does wrong his own people punish him, and [I want the Sioux] to punish such of their people as did not do right. Those Indians who have been East saw how well the white man lives, and [I want] those present to tell the rest of their people that the white man [wants] the Indians to live the same way.29

Three Bears, having been appointed a first sergeant in the scout corps, told Crook that when the time came, the scouts would “do what was right,” and wanted to know if the enlisted Indians would be allowed to keep the horses they captured in the event of a fight. Crook consented, but wisely added that the scouts should not “rush in and alarm a village before it was surrounded, merely to capture ponies.”³⁰

On November 14, the command pulled out of Fort Fetterman and headed north for Cantonment Reno, a distance of about eighty-five miles. Prior to leaving, Roche took a few minutes to jot down some news items, including a rumor that Sitting Bull had surrendered:

Today we start for old Fort Reno, on our way in search of Crazy Horse's band….News of the reported surrender of 400 lodges of Sitting Bull's Indians having come to us from the East some hopeful spirits among us predict in consequence a surrender of Crazy Horse's people and a probable early termination of our trip. I fancy that in most instances of this sort the wish is father to the thought, however, and from what I can learn our Indian auxiliaries are not very hopeful of so peaceful a settlement of our differences with the remaining northern hostiles under Crazy Horse and Sitting Bull.³¹

During the march to the cantonment, the column advanced “without much regard to order,” Roche observed, “comfort and convenience taking precedence over discipline and appearance.” Continuing, Roche noted:

Shoulder straps are at a discount here, and buckskins, buffalo hide and blanket shirts take the place of the natty uniforms seen East. The soldiers are pretty well supplied with warm clothing, and they will need all they have before their labors cease.32

Cantonment Reno, under command of Captain Edwin Pollock, Ninth Infantry, came into view on the morning of the eighteenth. It was established in October 1876 on the west bank of the Powder River, and its function was that of a supply base deep in Indian country.³³ One observer with the command referred to it as “the last evidence of civilization” in that neck of the woods.³⁴ The ruins of old Fort Reno, abandoned eight years earlier as part of the treaty of 1868, were about three miles north. Upon arriving, Crook sent out eight Sioux and six Arapahoes “to take a scout in the neighborhood of Crazy Woman's Creek [a tributary of Powder River] with four days' provisions, his intention being to move in time to meet them on their return.”³⁵ Roche wrote:

[During the scouts'] absence two parties of miners moving outward from the Black Hills to prospect in neighboring hills arrived in our camp, and had a talk with General Crook about the Indian trails they had found in their wanderings. From this interview the General concluded that Crazy Horse's camp must be located somewhere on the Rosebud. He then determined, instead of moving at once toward Crazy Woman's Fork, to await the return of the scouts.³⁶

When the fourteen scouts returned to the Powder River cantonment three days later, they had in tow an unexpected guest they had captured near Crazy Woman's Creek. An anonymous account in the New York Times reported:

On the evening of November 21 the scouting party returned, bringing a captive, a young Cheyenne brave who had unsuspectingly walked into their camp one night, supposing them his friends, and, as the interpreter inelegantly expressed it, “[he] was ketched before he knowed it.” It seems that he had been traveling with a small party of Cheyennes, who were returning from a visit to Crazy Horse. They camped near old Fort [Phil] Kearny one night, and in the morning when about to move on, our prisoner, finding his horse missing, had gone out some distance in search of it. After securing his animal he returned to his camp only to find his comrades gone, he could not tell whither. Striking out alone, he took the direction of the village of his tribe in the Big Horn Mountains. At night he fell in with five lodges of Sioux, who were engaged in collecting meat for the winter. He remained with them one night and started in the morning to carry out his original idea. His horse gave out during the day, and after trudging some distance on foot, he arrived after dark in sight of what appeared to him the welcoming campfires of Indians on Clear Creek. He hesitated at first, dreading he knew not what, but finally walked boldly down to the fire and sat down. He found a mixed party of Sioux and Arapahoes. Upon asking them whom they were and where they were going, he was told that they were a war party from the agency going on a raid against the Shoshone. This according well with his ideas of propriety, he cheerfully told them all the news, including the present residence of Crazy Horse, and the whereabouts of the Cheyenne village. After gleaning all possible information, his entertainers, with grim humor leading him on to commit himself, finally offered him some food in the shape of hard tack and bacon. He then saw that he was betrayed, and his eyes filled with water. The Arapahoes now threw off their reserve, and, presenting their pistols, demanded the surrender of his gun, which was turned over without hesitation.37

Here is Roche's version of the incident:

In going out [from the cantonment on the eighteenth] our Indian scouts had left their soldier clothes behind them, and the captive wandered into their camp. Believing himself among friends, he told them that there were some Cheyenne lodges in a ravine on the south side of the mountain, near Crazy Woman's Creek, but that the main body of the tribe had crossed the mountains. After obtaining all the information the Cheyenne possessed they covered him with their pistols, held under their blankets and said—“We are white soldiers now and we want your gun; if you don't give it up you know what will happen.” The surprised hostile submitted and was brought to Fort Reno [Cantonment Reno].³⁸

The captured Cheyenne was named Many Beaver Dams.³⁹ Although Lieutenant Bourke referred to him as a “boy,” the fact that he was out on his own, and was carrying a gun, indicates he was probably in his early teens.⁴⁰ After Crook questioned him further, it was determined that the column should strike out immediately after Crazy Horse, who was said to be camped on the Rosebud, near where the battle had taken place in June.⁴¹ Roche again:

In pursuance of this determination we struck camp at Fort Reno [Cantonment Reno] at daybreak on Wednesday [November 22], and arrived at the Crazy Woman Creek late in the afternoon.⁴² Immediately orders were promulgated to prepare for a ten days' march toward the Rosebud, with the pack train only, our wagons to be left where they were until our return. We got everything ready that night for an early start, determined to take with us only such clothing as we could wear, no tents, and a small allowance of bedding, two blankets each—rather cool covering for such nights as we have had of late, but still all that could be permitted with the transportation at hand. The camp was astir far into the night preparing for the morrow's march, but by sunrise on Thursday [November 23] all was changed.⁴³

That morning a Cheyenne messenger named Sitting Bear approached Crook's camp waving a flag of truce. About two and a half weeks earlier, Mackenzie had sent him on a mission from Red Cloud Agency to warn the reservation holdouts “that they must come in and give up their arms and ponies, or the soldiers would pursue them and compel them to do so.”⁴⁴

(Roche:) Sitting Bear had left Crazy Horse's village several days before, and was slowly drifting back toward the agency. The day before his arrival in our camp he ascertained that the five Cheyenne lodges which our captive had spoken of had discovered our approach and set off toward Crazy Horse's camp. They would give him the alarm and doubtless set him also moving.⁴⁵

With Crazy Horse likely warned of his approach, Crook altered his plans: first he would strike the Cheyennes, then he would track down the elusive Crazy Horse. Accordingly, a strike force under Mackenzie was quickly organized consisting of 10 companies of cavalry, about 750 men, plus the Indian scouts. Crook with the infantry, one company of cavalry, and the wagon train would remain behind.46 Additionally, he sent out fourteen Pawnee and Shoshone scouts “with instructions to cross the mountains at the first pass they came to and search for trails or signs of Indians beyond.” If they “discovered any evidence of the presence of the Indians they were to recross the mountain and meet us on the south side, along which we were to travel.”⁴⁷

The column was then on Crazy Woman's Fork of the Powder River. To the north about thirty-five miles lay the mouth of the stream, which empties into the Powder, the water then swirling its way into the Yellowstone, the Missouri, and the Mississippi. But Mackenzie's direction lay south, toward the head of the stream—toward the Cheyenne village and the end of their resistance in the Yellowstone country.

The march on the twenty-third was no more than twelve miles, after which camp was made “in mud” on a fork of Crazy Woman's Creek. That evening seven Sioux and Arapahoe scouts were sent out to search for the unsuspecting village with instructions to return the following night.⁴⁸ Sunrise Friday morning found the command in the saddle once more, the Indian scouts in the advance, the column marching southwest toward a break in the Big Horn Mountains known as Sioux Pass or Crazy Woman Pass.⁴⁹

About 1 p.m., the head of the column halted in a “grassy vale” to allow the troops time to close up. Just as the pack train was pulling into camp, several of the scouts, who were posted on the nearby hills, brought attention to themselves by circling around on their horses “in a wild, excited sort of way.”⁵⁰ Roche recounted:

A moment afterward a shrill Indian yawp went up from the farthest Indian on the hill in front. This was echoed by two or three of our Indians farther down toward us and then re-echoed a hundred times by our wild irregulars scattered through the valley.

Not knowing the cause of the alarm, the troops began to deploy for battle, rushing about anxiously and “throwing out skirmishers all along the hillside.” Roche was particularly impressed with one company that had resaddled, mounted, and advanced toward the hills in less than three minutes from the time of the first alarm. There was just one thing missing to make the scene perfect—the enemy:

The hostiles were not approaching to attack us, as was apprehended, and the savage yell we heard merely indicated that some of the scouts we had sent out the night before were coming in, having discovered the location of the hostile village. They had communicated their discovery by signals from a distant hill to our outposts, and the howl we had heard was but a shout of triumph.⁵¹

Mackenzie soon learned from the scouts what he already knew, that the camp was some distance off:

Four of these soon came galloping in with the welcome intelligence that they had seen the herds and smoke of the hostiles in a cañon near Powder River and at a comparatively short distance, though as an Indian has no idea of miles, and can not make his expressions of distance very intelligible to a white man, except by comparison with some distance already marched, we could not make out whether the hostiles were 10 miles or 25 miles away.52

To which Lieutenant Bourke added: “‘Heap ponies’ is an expression too indefinite to serve as a basis for any strategic conclusions to be founded upon.”⁵³ But even without specifics, Mackenzie knew the village had to be close by, within a day's march at maximum. He ordered the troops to prepare for a night march. If all went well, they would attack at dawn.

(Roche:) From this time forward extreme caution was observed, so as to guard as much as possible against alarming the village. Our pickets were sent out dismounted while we rested here, and no fires were permitted lest the smoke should betray our presence. After a cheerless meal of hardtack and cold bacon, and about three hours' rest, we started on our night march about four o'clock in the afternoon.⁵⁴

(Anonymous:) From this time everybody's nerves were strung to the highest tension, all sanguine that our expedition would be a success, yet fearful of some accident which might frustrate our plans. To such an extent did this nervousness obtain that, when a picket, who had seen one of our own Indians leading a pony up a hill to our rear, came galloping into camp in an excited manner and reported hostiles in sight, the whole force commenced preparations to repel an attack, several companies being deployed in front of the horses to protect the herds. The Indians mounted their war ponies and went scurrying over the hills in wild confusion, until the commander, whose experience in such matters was extensive, allayed the excitement by calmly investigating the cause.⁵⁵

Upon exiting the valley they “entered a wildly picturesque pass in the mountains,” and as they ascended the hills there was one in particular that offered an impressive view of the entire column. Roche described the scene:

The head of the column…wound about the base of a steep conical hill, then moved about an eighth of a mile through a deep red sandstone cut, then clambered up the side of another hill which commanded a full view of the entire command as it stretched out in double file behind. “What a splendid picture!” exclaimed all who saw the advancing column from this point. And so it was a pretty sight for the moment, but its form was changed and its beauty vanished as we passed the crest of the second hill.56

The landscape soon leveled off, and Sharp Nose, the Arapaho scout, “called attention to two black specks away to the left.”⁵⁷

(Roche:) Before any white man present could do more than barely discover their existence he told us they were the two Sioux scouts who had remained behind to learn something more about the village.⁵⁸…In about twenty minutes they joined us and just as they reached us the pony ridden by Jackass, one of the Sioux scouts who was a little in advance of the other [whose name was Red Shirt], stumbled and fell over, completely exhausted. Jackass himself, who, by the way, is a brave, bright-eyed, handsome young Indian, was about as tired and hungry as the pony, and could not tell us what he had seen until after he had eaten a few mouthfuls of hard bread and bacon. Then, with flashing eyes and in eager haste, he said he had seen some of the ponies and counted eleven of the lodges from a hill overlooking the village. He said we could reach the village at midnight by marching onward steadily.⁵⁹

The anonymous New York Times correspondent offered additional details in his November 30 dispatch:

These men reported that they had watched the village all day, observing many ponies, and getting in sight of eleven lodges, though they could not tell how many more there might be, the remainder being hidden by bluffs. They had taken copious mental notes of the country, and could guide us on, though they said that we should have to make a considerable detour and approach the village from the side opposite to us, there being a high mountain between us and it.⁶⁰

Roche afterward recalled the difficulties of that night's march:

We continued our march along into the night, over jagged hills, through deep ravines, across rapid mountain streams miry and deep, but the sky was clear and cloudless and the moon rose to light up our narrow and difficult pathway. Before entering the roughest country on our road to the camp we passed through a beautiful valley about half a mile wide and over three miles long, level as a race course all the way. When we emerged from this we were obliged to move very slowly, and the cavalrymen had to dismount at least twenty times during the night and lead their horses in single file, passing through ravines with which the country lying between us and the mouth of the canyon where the camp stood was cut up and crossed in all directions. If we could have gone in a direct line from the point where we halted in the afternoon to the [Cheyenne] camp the distance would not have been over ten miles, but along the route we were obliged to move we must have marched over twenty miles, a march more difficult and exhausting than one covering three times the distance would have been in a tolerably level country….Shortly after midnight [November 25] the moon set and left us to grope our way in comparative darkness through a part of our road where it was almost impossible to find or follow a trail….Patiently and persistently we pressed along in this way until just before the dawn of day, when we approached the mouth of the canyon. At this time we knew the village was not far off.61

Lieutenant Clark then sent out several scouts to reconnoiter while the officers attempted to close up the column, which had become “strung out” due to the rough terrain. Additionally, the large contingent of Indian scouts was hurried forward in preparation of a “sweep through the village.” Arrangements for the attack were still in progress when one of the advance scouts returned with essential news: the village was located on two sides of the Red Fork of Powder River; two, maybe three, pony herds had been located; and the Cheyennes “were having war dances in four places in the village.” In other words, this was a sizable village. Concerning the concurrent war dances, the Cheyennes were, in fact, celebrating a recent victory over a Shoshone hunting party.⁶² It may have been the very attack reported in the Cheyenne Daily Leader on November 30 (see sidebar, “Intertribal Warfare”).

As observed by Roche, this latest report delivered by the Indian scout created no little stir among the rest of the scout contingent:

The Indian scouts were busy now casting off superfluous clothing and relieving their horses of every additional weight that threatened to check their speed or impair their usefulness in the field. This done they crowded forward all eager to have the foremost place, more like race horses coming to the score than warriors entering the field of battle.⁶³

 

---

Intertribal Warfare

Cheyenne Daily Leader, November 30, 1876

The Shoshones were making their usual fall hunt after buffalo, north of Owl Creek. The village was divided into several hunting bands, and one of these, numbering about fifty lodges, was attacked on the 30th of October, about thirty-five miles east of the mouth of Owl Creek, Washakie being at the latter place with the main village. The Cheyennes and Arapahoes began the attack early in the morning and the battle lasted all day. The Shoshones had their women and children to take care of and were outnumbered four or five to one. The Shoshones had the advantage of position; they had one man, three women, and two children killed, and three men wounded. Most of their horses were shot, and a fire occurred during the fight by which they lost nearly all of their property. The loss on the other side, as far as known, was nine killed and as many wounded. The Shoshones escaped during the night and reached Washakie the second day, with their dead and wounded, without food or clothing, horses or tepees. The Indian scouts report the hostile village still on the western slope of the Big Horn Mountains, and numbering from two to three hundred lodges.

---

 

With the impending battle fast approaching, Roche seems to have been unaffected, even moving out in front of the scouts to hear better the sounds emanating from the distant village: “While we rested a moment to make ready for the dash I dismounted, tightened my saddle girths, and, moving a little in advance of the Indians, I distinctly heard the drum and the war song of the hostiles.”64

The sun was rising quicker than Mackenzie would have liked, but there was no turning back now. The New York Times correspondent vividly portrayed the circumstances and the anxiousness of the scouts:

The morning star was above the horizon, and it lacked but little of daylight, while we had still two miles to go. The order was given to move on, when it was discovered that the advance of the cavalry was obstructed by a deep fissure in the ground, the frozen sides of which had been worn so smooth by the unshod hoofs of the Indian ponies that they were as slippery as glass. This circumstance caused much delay, and the Indians, waiting a little distance in front, waxed impatient, their uneasiness increasing as the morning star rose higher and higher, and still the troops did not come on. They knew better than we that should we fail to reach our destination before daylight we should meet with a disagreeably warm reception. As the delay was prolonged these allies became more and more excited, as with flashing eyes and eloquent gestures they tried to convey to those in charge of them the reasons for their haste.⁶⁵

When most of the cavalry had crossed the “last deep cut near the mouth of the canyon” (the “deep fissure” mentioned above), Mackenzie organized his troops. Major Gordon's battalion was placed at the head, and Captain Mauck's battalion was placed in reserve.⁶⁶ Sharp Nose “rushed up to Colonel Mackenzie just before the order to charge was given, and, with flashing eyes and the impulsive gestures of a heroic leader, urged him to make haste.”⁶⁷ Lieutenant Joseph Dorst, Fourth Cavalry, Mackenzie's adjutant, “was sent forward to Lieutenant Clark to tell him to let loose the Indians.”⁶⁸ Bourke was likewise sent back to Major Gordon with the same order—charge! The village lay in a canyon to the west; the cavalry and scouts would be coming from the east.

The correspondent for the New York Times described the opening dash of the scouts and the bracing sounds of battle:

The Indians unslung their carbines and advanced at the head of the column in a compact mass, the ponies partaking of the excitement of the riders, prancing and curveting, eager to be let loose. We passed down through a narrow defile guarded on either side by overhanging rocks, crossed the small stream that flowed through it, and debouched into a basin which opened out before us. The scouts pointed to a sharp bluff about a half mile ahead, behind which was the village. The Arapahoes and Sioux, led by Lieutenants Clark and [Hayden] Delaney [Ninth Infantry], rode ahead, close behind them the Pawnees, then the cavalry. The Shoshones, under Lieutenant Schuyler, had been deflected to the left to occupy the heights which overlooked the field on the south. Gradually the pace was quickened, the Indians chafing under their detention like hounds on the leash. Suddenly a shot was heard in front, the Arapahoes bounded forward to secure the herds, the Shoshones let their horses out along the steep side-hill, and with demoniacal yells, shouting of war songs, and the dismal screech of war-whistles and tremolos, charged the height. Another shot from the village, a chorus of war-whoops and yells, a volley from the Shoshones, and the ball had opened.69

Roche was riding boldly with the advance, the screeching sound of a Pawnee's whistle indelibly etched in his memory:

We were now, though unaware of the fact, just about three-quarters of a mile from the nearest tepee, and we galloped forward with all the speed possible, wholly unacquainted with the ground we were entering, and not knowing what sort of a reception we should get. The Indian scouts swarmed about the field in front and on either flank of Colonel Mackenzie and staff, Lieutenants Clark and DeLany leading the Sioux and Arapahoes, Major North [leading] the Pawnees, and Lieutenant W. S. Schuyler [and Cosgrove]…at the head of the Shoshones. Our only music was furnished by a Pawnee Indian who blew on a pipe a wild humming tune that rose above all other sounds and smote the ear with strange effect. It reminded me forcibly of the prolonged shriek of a steam whistle. Added to this were the shouts of our foremost line of scouts as they dashed forward to run off the herds of ponies. Then there were a few flashes here and there in the dusk of morning, a few sharp rifle and carbine cracks, and, rising above all other sounds, the thunder of our advancing column resounded from the side of the canyon.⁷⁰

“Sudden as was the attack,” Roche remarked, the Cheyennes dashed into ravines and crept behind “convenient bluffs, rocks and bushes, where they fortified themselves to await until the soldiers rushed in. Day had not broken sufficiently to fully discover their movements to us, but the bulk of our advancing column gave them an excellent chance to fire at us with telling effect.”⁷¹

Newspaper narratives of the Dull Knife Fight, as it came to be called, are rather scarce. Two of the best have been quoted from throughout this chapter: an anonymous (and largely unused) account from the New York Times, December 24, 1876, and Jerry Roche's account from the New York Herald, December 11, 1876. The battle segments of these two articles are reprinted below.

 

New York Times, Sunday, December 24, 1876

 

THE FIGHT WITH THE CHEYENNES.

 

A WARMLY CONTESTED AFFAIR—HAND—TO-HAND CONFLICTS—SOME CLOSE SHOOTING—THE INDIAN ALLIES—MARCHING TO THE ATTACK—THE CASUALTIES.

Powder River Expedition, Camp on Crazy Woman's Fork, Nov. 30, 1876.

The village was situated on the southern side of a basin formed by the receding of the side walls of a cañon. The bottom of this amphitheatre was a plain of small extent, surrounded on all sides by almost impassable mountains, and cut up by numerous dry ravines, with steep cut banks, which not only greatly impeded the movements of our cavalry, but afforded good cover for the enemy. Overlooking the village on the south were some steep bluffs of considerable height, which the Shoshones fortunately occupied in time. From the upper end of the village a deep ravine led up to the mountain.

The alarm having been given, the hostiles commenced running into the last named gulch to gain a herd of ponies grazing near its head. A company of the Fourth Cavalry, commanded by Lieutenant John A. McKinney, was ordered to charge for this herd and capture it if possible. Ignorant of the nature of the ground in his front, the brave McKinney dashed ahead only to be met at the ravine by a withering fire poured in at close range by a number of Indians who awaited under cover of the bank the charge of the cavalry. Lieutenant McKinney, realizing that he could not pass this obstacle, wheeled his company by fours to the right, and continued up the bank of the ravine to fulfill the original order. He had not advanced many yards before the Indians delivered another volley, and McKinney fell, pierced by six bullets. Many men in the column were wounded, and the company, finding itself ambushed and bereft of its commander, retired in some disorder behind a small conical hill on its right. The Colonel, seeing this, instantly ordered Captain Hamilton's company to charge in support of the first. Captain Davis' company was also ordered to the right of the hill. The men of those companies having been dismounted advanced on foot and a sharp skirmish ensued with the Indians, who now, in considerable numbers, held the head of the ravine. Immediately after this Captain Taylor's company, Fifth Cavalry, was ordered to charge the village. In the execution of this movement Captain Taylor had four horses killed under his men, and one man killed and scalped by Indians lurking in the brush, which was very thick along the stream. This was the only man scalped during the whole affair, and the perpetrator of the act was killed before he could carry off his trophy.

The Indians had now gotten into the rocks at the foot of the mountain, and numbers of them occupied all the small ravines opening into the main creek. They succeeded in getting their families into a bend of the creek about a mile above the village, and protected by a high bluff which they quickly fortified. The nature of the ground was such—resembling the lava beds of California—that this position could not be turned, though a vigorous attempt was made by Colonel Mackenzie to accomplish it.

The fight now resolved itself into sharpshooter practice, and continued without cessation until dark, when the enemy withdrew under the friendly cover of the night.

How severe this fire was may be seen from the fact that many of those killed and wounded on both sides were hit at over 600 yards range. There were, however, several instances of personal contests that were almost hand-to-hand. In one case, two soldiers became engaged with two Indians so closely that the men of each party seized the muzzles of the guns of the other. After struggling for some seconds, one soldier—a Corporal [Patrick F. Ryan, Fourth Cavalry]72—was killed, his slayer being shot by the other soldier. The second Indian escaped unharmed. In one place, where a party of Indians had ensconced themselves in a cave, the assailants were so near them that the dead were powder-burned.

Captain Davis worked for a long time to dislodge a small party of Indians who had taken refuge in some rough cañons at the foot of the mountains, and at last succeeded by a ruse. He retired his men rapidly from the ridge on which they were posted, and put them in a small ravine to his former rear. The Cheyennes, forgetting the nature of the country, thought the soldiers retreating and rushed after them with shouts of triumph, but quickly changed their tune, when, as they attained the crest of the hill, eight of their number fell dead.

This affair afforded a greater than usual number of opportunities for the exhibition of personal bravery, and many such occurred among both officers and men. There was one Indian who did great execution with a Sharps rifle, the report of which made the hills re-echo like a small field piece. Many attempts were made to get this man but it was only accomplished after the sun went down, and he had incautiously exposed himself more than usual.

Lieutenant Allison, Second Cavalry, in the afternoon found himself on a rocky hill under a severe fire. He bravely held his post after the two men on his right and left had been hit—the one killed and the other wounded.

While the fight was going on Colonel Mackenzie kept moving from point to point, directing affairs, and accompanied by his staff, composed of Lieutenants Lawton, Dorst and Bourke, the latter an aide of General Crook, and a volunteer. In crossing the centre of the field, which was without cover, these gentlemen were constantly exposed to a galling fire. In the evening the horses had to be sent across this space to water, and many of them fell victims to the accurate aim of the enemy. During the day the Indian scouts plundered and burned a portion of the village, which was found to consist of 173 lodges, and to be very well supplied with even the luxuries of life. Immense quantities of meat were destroyed and buffalo robes and blankets without number. Among the various articles picked up was the scalp of a white girl apparently about 15 years of age, and with golden hair. This had been elaborately ornamented with cloth of different colors. We also found three necklaces, decorated with pendants made of human fingers, trophies of past battles, and the hand of a Shoshone squaw.73 Toward evening our pack train, which had stopped several miles back the night before, came into the village and was put into camp near a little hill, behind which the hospital was established. The train was very welcome, as it carried not only our rations, but our spare ammunition, which we now began to need.

As night fell the firing gradually ceased and the pickets having been posted, the troops were put into camp in and near the village, and everyone except the doctors retired to rest.

This village was composed of Cheyennes under the chief Little Wolf. Dull Knife and Roman Nose being subordinate to him. We know that forty lodges of these have participated in every fight that has occurred during the past year, and to verify this there were simple proofs found. There fell into our hands horses, saddles, arms and other matter acquired at the Custer massacre, and some trophies of General Crook's fight of June 17. One of the Seventh Cavalry guidons formed part of a pillow-case. We found also scalps of Shoshone squaws, gained in a recent fight with those people. The lodges were well provided with ammunition, both in the form of cartridges and the powder to refill them. These same Cheyennes are considered to be the bravest and best fighting Indians on the plains, and it is a question as to the probable result of their overthrow on the other hostiles. They are now comparatively harmless and without ammunition, without blankets, without food, and, almost naked as they are, the suffering among them during this cold weather must be intense.

During the fight Colonel Mackenzie sent forward interpreters to talk to them and give them an opportunity to surrender, but they rejected, with expressions of scorn and defiance, all such overtures, and even fired upon the envoys while they were talking. Owing to the lateness of our attack, the hostiles were enabled to secure many of their horses, but we succeeded in taking away about 600 head.

Some scalps were taken by our Pawnees and Shoshones, but our allies, as a rule, did not degenerate into any savagery. One of our Sioux scouts, Three Bears, distinguished himself by his bravery; having his horse killed under him in the centre of the village, he being the first man to penetrate that far.

Reveille was sounded early on the morning of the 26th, and preparations made to resume the fight, should it be necessary. But the scouts reported the enemy gone, and even penetrated his fastness of the previous night, finding one dead body and many pools of blood, an indication of his having numerous wounded. No sign of the Cheyennes could be seen, except the small campfire of a party of observation far off on the mountain. For two or three hours it snowed heavily, so as to render the landscape obscure, but at length it cleared off, and at 12 o'clock the demolition of the village being completed, the command got under way on its retrograde march.

In summing up the results of the engagement, we found that we had lost one officer and five soldiers killed, and twenty-six wounded, including one Shoshone Indian. The enemy lost more heavily, leaving upward of thirty dead in our hands, though their loss in killed will probably aggregate more than that. We marched that day about eight miles, the rear of the column reaching camp after dark. On account of our wounded, who were conveyed on “travaux,” we made easy marches, and reached the camp of our main column on Crazy Woman's Fork on the 29th.

Dispatches having been sent to General Crook during the fight, he started to join us with the infantry and artillery, but, finding us moving down, returned with his column. We had much snow on our return march, but owing to the completeness of our outfit no one suffered much. The wounded got along especially well, with one exception, Private McFarland, Company L, Fifth Cavalry, who died on the morning of the 28th inst.

The fourteen Shoshone [and Pawnee] scouts, who started out before we left the Crazy Woman, returned to us on the 27th, having followed the circuitous trail of the hostiles through the mountains until they accidentally encountered them as the latter were fleeing from the battlefield. Our scouts tried to steal some of their horses, but got worsted, and felt themselves lucky to have escaped with their lives.

One of the fallen, Private Beard [James Baird], Company D, Fourth Cavalry, was buried on the field.74 The others were brought here for interment. A spot was selected where the river makes a bend, inclosing an elevated plateau of small dimensions, and here, in the heart of this wild but beautiful country, at the foot of the snow-covered mountains of the Big Horns, than which there is no grander range amid waving prairie grasses, in a land uninhabited save by the Indian and the buffalo, rest the five brave men who died on the battlefield.⁷⁵

 

New York Herald, Monday, December 11, 1876

 

GENERAL MACKENZIE'S FIGHT.

 

GRAPHIC DETAILS OF THE BATTLE AT CRAZY WOMAN'S FORK.

 

DISCOVERY OF THE INDIAN VILLAGE.

 

HOW IT WAS SURPRISED AND DESTROYED.

 

BRILLIANT AND SUCCESSFUL DASH ON THE HOSTILE CAMP.

 

DESPERATION OF THE SAVAGES.

 

[Written by Jerry Roche]

Camp on Crazy Woman's Fork of the Powder River, Thursday, Nov. 30, 1876. [It was the thundering of our advancing column] that first alarmed the hostile savages and made them cut short the war dance and the song of victory for the grim reality of war itself. On a big bass drum, afterward found in the village, which they had as a present from the great father in Washington, those already awake sounded the alarm in the village, and then fled through the ravines toward the hills with a rapidity born of mortal terror. We now found ourselves on a little plain running nearly parallel with the village and elevated about twenty feet above the bottom on which the lodges stood. The village was in a canyon running nearly east and west, the lodges, numbering nearly 200, ranging along both sides of a clear, rapid stream, that wound along close to the base of the range of hills forming the south wall of the canyon. The canyon was nearly four miles long and from about a third of a mile to a mile wide from base to base of the hills forming its side walls. It was narrowest at its eastern end and sloped downward considerably from this point, at which we entered it, for two miles or more to about the beginning of the village, which was fully three-quarters of a mile long. North of the village the ground rose a little, and about a third of a mile west of it the canyon terminated in a succession of flat-topped hills, cut up by ravines, which ran in every direction. The lodges were completely hidden in thick brush. The northerly wall of the canyon was an almost perpendicular mountain, averaging some 800 to 1,000 feet in height for more than half its length.

Once after entering the canyon and before reaching the village we were obliged to cross the stream that ran through the village. Four or five dry ravines also intercepted our way before reaching the little plain overlooking the lodges. Between this plateau and the tepees were a low bluff and a red sandstone butte about thirty feet high, and nearly opposite these, about half a mile to the northward and a little in advance, were two single and one double red sandstone broken ridges under the shadow of the north wall. A few hundred yards west of these, and running irregularly from north to south, were several deep gulches, accessible from the village by intersecting ravines not quite so deep. This much I deem necessary by way of description before attempting an account of the fight.

OPENING THE BALL.

By the time Major Gordon's battalion had got on a line with the centre of the village the hostiles, in large numbers, had taken possession of the ravines in front of us, and had also secreted themselves behind the bluffs to the left of the village. The hill on the south side of the canyon terminates abruptly near the western end of the village, and is perhaps 500 feet high at the point where it ends. Lieutenant Schuyler went with the Shoshones to this point, and, sheltered by a few loose rocks, remained there all day and through the night. As the different companies of the First battalion arrived on the little plain parallel with the village they moved toward the ravines and were met by a heavy fire from different points behind the brush and rocks a few dozen yards in front. At this time the hostiles were trying to run off a herd of ponies from the plateau over the village, into which our men were trooping, and word of their intention was taken to Colonel Mackenzie, who sent an order to Lieutenant McKinney, by Lieutenant Lawton, Fourth Cavalry, to charge up toward the ravines and cut off the progress of the hostiles.

DEATH OF MCKINNEY.

Lieutenant McKinney dashed forward with his company and the hostiles halted and, dropping into the ravine just ahead, waited until the company came up and then fired up, mortally wounding him and also wounding his First Sergeant,76 five of his men and his horse. Before falling he exclaimed to his company, “Get back out of this place; you are ambushed.” Subsequently he asked the doctor to tell his mother how he died. He lived about twenty minutes. As he fell the first fours of his company faltered, and Colonel Mackenzie, beside whom I stood, about fifty yards behind Lieutenant McKinney's company, seeing the break, ordered Major Gordon to send Captain Hamilton's company, then just behind us, forward to the same position.

On receiving the order to advance Major Gordon himself went forward with Captain Hamilton, and as they advanced the breaking company reformed under Lieutenant Otis, returned to the spot, and drove the hostiles from the ravine. The pony herd was split, each side getting a share. In this second dash Lieutenant Otis' cap was turned about on his head by a bullet from a fleeing hostile. Both companies then sheltered themselves behind a bluff to the right. Meanwhile Captain Hemphill's company was moving forward to take a position to the left, which they were subsequently obliged to abandon, and Captain Taylor was ordered to charge right through the village. He did so and had four of his horses killed. One man named Sullivan,⁷⁷ belonging to the other company, was killed and scalped on this dash. This was the only soldier scalped in the fight. While among the tepees a bullet passed through the lapel of Captain Taylor's coat, just over his heart. Captain Mauck's battalion was pouring into the field meanwhile, dismounting and running forward toward the west of the village and to the shelter of some bluffs on the left that commanded the ravines west of the village. All this while these ravines were full of hostiles, who had the advantage of the advancing troops to the extent of being in a position to fire at the approaching masses while comparatively secure themselves.

In the charge two of Lieutenant McKinney's men got cut off from the company and were corralled in the rocks all day, being obliged to defend themselves as best they could until nightfall.

THE SCENE BY DAYLIGHT.

It was still the gray dawn of morning, and the moving figures of men and horses seen at any considerable distance appeared more like shadows than living things. But time sped quickly, and very soon broad daylight broke upon the busy scene. The engagement now became general, and no single spectator could possibly keep a record of the events in progress, although concentrated in a narrow space. I candidly confess I was wholly unequal to the task, especially as I found it necessary to discover some care for the safety of myself and my horse. For a while the fire of our men was deafening, and its roar reverberated along the hillsides with thunderous sound. From the rocks and ravines in front the hostiles answered back at first vigorously, but afterward with more caution, and always at an animated object. Many of our troops—among which were several recruits—were not paying much attention to what they fired at, so long as their fire was discharged in the general direction from which the balls of the hostiles came. Indeed, it very soon became apparent to those officers whose attention was not otherwise occupied that we were having a sad waste of ammunition on our side. This was no unimportant matter, viewed in the light in which we then contemplated the situation. We were not routing the hostiles as fast as was desirable. They had intrenched themselves in the hills in pretty secure nooks from 500 to 1,500 yards off, and were pegging away at our troops wherever they could get in a good shot. Any one who crossed the little plateau above the village was especially made a target of, as I found out more than once during the fight. When the battle had proceeded for an hour, or perhaps longer, the rapid and wasteful firing of our recruits was checked, for Colonel Mackenzie began to think, about this time, that he was in for a long fight. The nature of the country and the ferocity and stubbornness with which the hostiles contested for possession of every ridge and rock and ravine, naturally led to this conclusion. For a while Lieutenants Clark, Bourke, Lawton and Dorst were kept moving briskly from point to point to caution company commanders that they must not permit their men to waste any ammunition.

TACTICS OF THE HOSTILES.

The hostiles were wasting none, and were continually shifting their position to try and bring our men within range of their long guns, as well as to go beyond the range of our carbines. It did not take them many minutes to determine the character and range of our weapons and to utilize the discovery to the best possible advantage. One of their tricks was ingenious in its way. A party of braves would creep behind some projecting ledge of rock or hospitable ridge far enough to get just beyond range of our guns, and then would make a wild charge forward howling savagely to draw out our men, from whose bullets they considered themselves safe, but whose exposure would give them the very chance they sought. A somewhat similar plan was once put into successful operation against them by Captain Davis. The Captain's company was suddenly withdrawn from a bluff fronting some rocks, behind which eight or nine hostiles were securely concealed. When they saw the men break and run away from them as they supposed, they jumped up and ran out after them, and in their excitement, familiar as they were with the ground, forgot for the moment that there was a deep, dry ravine just in the rear of the retreating men. Into this ravine the soldiers jumped and delivered a volley at the elated savages as they advanced, killing some and sending the rest back to the rocks in dismay. Some of them found shelter in a cave to the right, where they were pursued and killed, every one.

TAKING A HAND IN THE FIGHT.

In my endeavors to watch and trace the course of action, I crossed the field I should say a dozen times during the first hour of the fight. I had carried my gun in one hand from the moment of entering the field, but had not discharged it once. I dismounted once during this time behind the red sandstone butte on the left, and in remounting discovered that my overcoat was considerably in the way. On getting into the saddle I galloped across once more to a ridge where Frank Grouard, Baptiste [Pourier], Billy Hunter78 and one or two other scouts and interpreters were shooting at some hostiles on the hills to the left. There I shed my overcoat, attached a picket rope to my bridle and crept to the crest of the bluff next to Frank Grouard, who was evidently too much interested in the work in hand to pay any attention to fresh arrivals at his side.

“What are you firing at, Frank?” I inquired.

Without turning to see who spoke he opened the breech of his gun, pressed in another cartridge and answered my inquiry in the Sioux language. Again I asked him where the particular Indian was that he was trying to knock over, and again he replied in Sioux and kept on shooting. Then I reminded him that I didn't happen to understand the Indian tongue and should be obliged if he would answer me in English, and, suddenly recollecting himself, he laughed, and pointed to a hill 800 yards in front, from which bullets were coming in quick succession to the crest of the bluff we occupied. A moment afterward some one on my left knocked over one of the Indians on this ridge and the others crept to safer quarters. Frank did not get his man that time, but he did before the battle closed, and he now rejoices in the possession of a scalp of a hostile Cheyenne.

SCENE IN THE VILLAGE.

Frank and myself then rode across the field again to the village, and found that some of the lodges had been set on fire already. On entering the village we found the body of a squaw, just freshly scalped, lying near one of the lodges. A Pawnee scout was moving off from the prostrate body, bearing with him the dripping scalp. This unfortunate squaw had been found in the village hidden in a tepee after the troops had passed through it by Private Butler, of the Second Cavalry, who told the Pawnees, many of whom were then in the village, not to kill her. Butler's back was scarcely turned, however, before the old squaw was shot and scalped. We then walked through a portion of the village and counted about 175 lodges, and still had not counted all. We went into several, and found in every one two or three packages of dried meat. The lodges were mostly lined on the inside to the height of two or three feet with undressed hides, and everything remained as if the inmates had stepped out for a few moments. In some the fires were burning, and kettles of water stood on them, as if in preparation for the morning meal. A number of the Pawnees were systematically going through the village and securing large quantities of plunder. We were both very hungry now, and Frank Grouard helped himself to some of the meat. After a hasty glance through the village we returned to the field again, where the battle still progressed with considerable animation.

A DUEL.

A corporal [Ryan] and private had just had a close fight with two hostiles at an advanced position to the right. The men met within a few yards of each other. At the first fire the corporal fell. Then the private fired, killing the Indian who had killed the corporal, and the other Indian fled. I scoured through the field for some time again, and the fire still came from twenty different points in the hills beyond. Dead horses were lying about at different points, but the men were now all dismounted, and the horses securely sheltered from the fire in the ravines and behind the bluffs. The killed and wounded were now being taken to the right of the field where Drs. Wood and Le Garde [LaGarde] were attending to the wants of the living and sheltering the dead. Meantime the hostiles had gotten their women and children into the mountains, beyond the western end of the canyon. I came back again to the village and found a number of our Indians, some soldiers and civil employes of the expedition, going through the lodges searching for relics. At one point I met a soldier who told me he had just seen a silk guidon of the Seventh Cavalry, which was found in a tepee in use as a cover for a pillow. There were also found in the village a guard roster of Company G, Seventh Cavalry, saddles, canteens, nosebags, currycombs and brushes, shovels and axes, marked with the letters of different companies of the Seventh Cavalry, a memorandum book with a list of names of the three best marksmen at target practice in Captain Donald Mackintosh's [McIntosh's] company, Seventh Cavalry; rosters of other companies of the Seventh; a letter written by an enlisted man of the Seventh Cavalry to a young lady, the letter already stamped and directed. This letter will be forwarded. Several horses of the Seventh Cavalry were found among the herds captured. Photographs of several white men were also found, a gold pencil case, a silver watch, pocketbooks with sums of money, some gold pieces, the hat of First Sergeant William Allen, of Company I, Third Cavalry, killed in the Rosebud fight, with the company stamp and his initials on it;79 an officer's overcoat of dark blue army cloth, an officer's rubber coat and two officers' blouses, a buckskin coat of American make, with a bullet hole in the shoulder, and supposed to be the coat worn by Tom Custer in the Little Big Horn fight; bullet moulds, field glasses, &c.

INDIAN TROPHIES.

Among the Indian trophies in the possession of our troops now are three beaded necklaces, ornamented with human fingers. One has depending from it ten fingers, one seven, and one shown me by Lieutenant Bourke has eight fingers strung round it.

We have a belt, found in the village, full of cartridges, with a silver plate marked “Little Wolf,” given this doughty chief at Washington a few years ago.⁸⁰ We also found a pass for Roman Nose from Red Cloud Agency, giving him permission to leave the reservation a few days to search for his lost mules.

After going through the village the second time I again crossed the field and took shelter with Major Gordon, Captain Hamilton and some other officers behind the double bluff to the right. I had some broken hard tack in my saddle pockets, and I found some gentlemen here who gladly accepted the crumbs. It was no easy matter to arrive at or leave this point without getting hit, still some of the soldiers and some orderlies were continually passing back and forth, and Colonel Mackenzie made this point his headquarters for a while. The hostile fire came over this ledge from three points. Bullets came in just over our heads from the crest of the mountain on the north, from a mound almost directly in front, and others fell near our feet, shot from behind some rocks on the hills to the southwest of us. A soldier who tried to leave just after I arrived had his hat shot off. He calmly picked it up again, put it on, and as he moved slowly away looked very angry as he glanced toward the point from which the ball came. One soldier was lying dead on the side of the bluff just above us. Soon after I arrived the order was given to the men at this point to cease firing altogether. It was as well, for most of the Indians on the hills had crept beyond range of the cavalry carbines, and were watching their chances to pick our men off.

ARRIVAL OF THE PACK TRAIN.

After I had been here half an hour or so—indeed, I cannot definitely say how long, for it is not easy to take note of time on such occasions—Lieutenant Bourke came up and said the pack train had arrived. Instantly I determined to risk another crossing, for I was getting very hungry. About the same time the horses of Captain Hamilton's company were ordered across to water, and most of them had been taken over before I mounted my horse. When I did so and moved out into the field I saw a soldier just ahead of me riding one horse and leading another. This man had not gone fifty yards from the bluff before his led horse fell, hit by a ball from the hills, and he was wounded himself. Before I had crossed the field, though going at full speed, at least a score of balls whistled past my ears. I found the pack train just camping in the willows, near the middle of the village, and soon was engaged in disposing of a late breakfast. It was about two o'clock now, I should judge, and the pack train had been in the canyon over two hours, but was only just going into camp. The mules had their packs on for twenty-three hours. It just occurs to me that most of us had been in the saddle about the same length of time.

As I arrived at the pack train Colonel Mackenzie was sending out a despatch to General Crook, then over two days march off by the shortest route, to bring up the infantry. This looked as if Colonel Mackenzie expected that the Indians would fight him from the hills until he was reinforced. My first despatch to the Herald was sent out about the same time that Colonel Mackenzie sent for the infantry. The extreme caution exercised by the hostiles early in the fight in the use of ammunition indicated either a scarcity of the article or a determination to save it for a long battle. At first we did not know which way to interpret their action, but just after eating I learned that they had left nearly all their ammunition behind, and that considerable quantities of it were being destroyed in the lodges already set on fire. A keg of powder also exploded with a loud report in one of the burning tepees. Doubtless this deprivation made them all the more determined to make every shot tell.

AN INDIAN SHARPSHOOTER.

One Indian had found a secure place in the hills and played sharpshooter nearly all day with one of Sharps' long-range rifles. The gun must have shot a cartridge containing about 120 grains of powder. Every time he fired the report seemed to rend the very walls of the canyon, echoing like the roar of cannon from hill to hill. Late in the afternoon a cheer went up from some of our boys in front and the big gun was silent thereafter. I subsequently heard the fellow was killed by one of Captain Davis' men, but the other Indians near him got away with the gun. Gradually the Indian fire ceased until toward sundown when it had stopped altogether. All our killed and wounded but one man, who fell on an exposed bluff near the end of the canyon, had been got in before this time, and just after sundown his body was brought in. As twilight fell upon the scene some of our Indian soldiers kept popping away at hostiles, who in the cover of darkness were creeping from their hiding places in the rocks; but I do not think they fired with much effect. Numerous pickets were posted on the hills before nightfall, for we apprehended a renewal of the fight by sundown or a little afterward. But night fell upon our battlefield, and with it came peace and silence about the hostile village.

Our killed and wounded had been transferred from the north side of the field to the shelter of the bluff on the right, and here I found the extent of our loss was one officer and five men killed and twenty-five men and one Indian wounded. The small proportion of Indian scouts shot in the fight is traceable to their familiarity with the manner of fighting of their own people and to the shrewdness with which they evaded fire on the field while fighting at times quite as well as our regulars. Their chief usefulness, however, consisted in their employment as scouts and in leading the first dash at the hostiles to capture their ponies and demoralize them by showing them that their own people were arrayed against them. They cannot be disciplined to fight like white soldiers. Two of the Shoshones and one of the Sioux had horses shot under them and yet escaped unhurt. During the fight Three Bears had his horse shot under him and rode back past me mounted behind another Indian, in search of a pony on which to renew the fight.

INDIAN SCALPS.

In the evening I saw some scalps that had been taken from the lodges, and among these was the scalp of a white girl. I saw also a number of blank books taken from the tepees, on the leaves of which had been sketched the exploits of several of the Cheyenne braves, after the manner of Sitting Bull, sketches of whose sanguinary career appeared in the Herald last summer. After nightfall an effort was made to count up the Indian loss, and the lowest figure at which it was placed was twenty-five killed outright. I saw the Pawnees parading six scalps early in the evening and two soldiers showed me two scalps they had secured. Frank Grouard got a scalp, Lieutenant Allison killed an Indian, Captain Davis' company killed six or eight, the Shoshones killed four, a one-eyed frontiersman with one party of our Indians killed one and the Sioux and Arapahoes killed about a dozen, but did not take any scalps. Others, too, were killed and severely wounded, of which no account has yet been received, so on the whole I should say the hostiles had fully fifty killed and mortally wounded.

THE KILLED.

Lieutenant J. A. McKinney, commanding Company M, Fourth Cavalry.

Corporal Patrick F. Ryan, Company D, Fourth Cavalry.

Private Joseph Menges, Company H, Fifth Cavalry.

Private Alexander Keller, Company E, Fourth Cavalry.

Private John Sullivan, Company B, Fourth Cavalry.

Private Beard [Baird], Company D, Fourth Cavalry.

Private Alexander McFarland, Company L, Fifth Cavalry (died on the 28th).

WOUNDED.

[There were twenty-two names on the wounded list, including a Shoshone scout named Anzi.]

A DECOY FLAG.

Late in the afternoon I learned that one party of hostiles on a hill to the right showed a white flag three or four times during the fight, but would shoot at an exposed head after its exhibition just the same as ever.

When the fight was over, Colonel Mackenzie sent out some Indians with Roland,81 the Cheyenne interpreter, to talk with the hostiles on the hills. They saw old Dull Knife in the distance, and he said to them that his three sons had been killed in the fight, and that he was willing to surrender, but the others were not. They had been told, he said, that the whites were coming to make a treaty with them, but instead they came and fired into their village, consequently they could not trust the whites. A heap of their people, he said, had been killed in the fight, and the rest were ready to die.

During the night the hostiles camped within four miles of the village and in the morning they were obliged to kill six or seven of their ponies for food. The carcasses were found by our Indians in the hills. The night was very cold and windy, and next day we were enveloped in a heavy snow storm. After burying Private Beard on the battlefield the rest of our killed and wounded were placed on litters, hitched at one end to mules and with the other end dragging on the ground, and we prepared to leave the canyon by noon on Sunday. Before starting the Colonel sent out the interpreters and Indians once more to talk with the hostiles, but they had “a big mad” on in the morning and their pride would not permit them to answer our men at all.

THE HOSTILE CHIEFS.

The principal chiefs of the hostile village, I have been told, were Dull Knife, Little Wolf, Roman Nose, Gray Head and Old Bear, and among the 200 lodges were forty that have been in all the recent fights with the troops.

Before leaving we burned everything in the village that our Indians did not want. There were 165 fires going in the hostile camp on Sunday morning, and in the blaze were consumed large quantities of dried meat, undressed skins, axes, saddles, tin ware, frying pans, snow moccasins, strychnine in large quantities, used to poison wolves; the tepees and tepee poles, medicinal herbs and, indeed, all the lares and penates of the reds. The destruction was complete—nay, even artistic. Not a pin's worth was left unburned. We captured between 500 and 600 ponies.

Sunday evening [November 26] we camped about eight miles from the canyon on our return to the supply camp, and next morning we learned that the infantry was on the way to join us, fully convinced that they would soon have to take a hand in the fight. They were turned back on Monday and arrived here Tuesday, the cavalry, with killed and wounded, getting back last night.

I find that Lieutenant McKinney's death, though he fell in action at the head of his command, as a soldier must be prepared to fall, is very generally regretted by the officers of the command. He was a dashing, brave young officer, whose manly qualities had endeared him to his comrades, and his death cast a shadow on our victory. His body, I understand, is to be forwarded to his friends.

The nature of the land about the hostile village would have enabled our savage foes to cut the head of the column to pieces if aware of our approach, and if we had not so thoroughly surprised them some one would have [had] to record a second edition of the Custer massacre. Had a smaller force, of whose approach the Indians had been apprised, attacked the village, not a man would have escaped.