that there were more Sioux than there were white people; that the Sioux nation had twenty-six thousand Ar-ke'- che-tas (organized warriors), and could put more soldiers into the Platte valley than white people could; that they knew all about the white people, and the white people were not smart enough to fool them; that the white people were all the while trying to fool the Indians and deceive them as to numbers so as to scare them. That the whites were parading before the Indians all the time so as to show off their numbers; that the same people that came up the Platte valley went back by the way of Smoky Hill. 'We have seen them, and recognize them time and again. Some of them come back by way of Platte river, but that is only to fool us. The white men are marching around in a ring so that we may see them and be led to believe that there is a great number of them. They cannot fool us. We recognize the same people, and they are too few; we are not afraid of them – we outnumber them.'
It had got well along into the afternoon; no headway had been made, but General Mitchell seemed to think that the ground had been broken for a future conference. It was finally decided that the conference should adjourn, and meet again at the same place in fifty days. Nothing whatever had been gained. Both parties had been bluffing, and neither side was afraid of the other. But General Mitchell promised to stop the Niobrara expedition, and to get permission from the Great Father at Washington to make a new treaty, that would cede the Platte valley; that every one present should think the matter over; and come back in fifty days; and that the Indians should bring other chiefs with them if they wished. Then General Mitchell with great formality took Spotted Tail by the hand and said, 'How cola?' and had the interpreter tell him that they would all be fed before they left the post. Thereupon the Indians were all taken to the cookhouse, where everything had been kept in readiness, and they were given all they could eat, which was an enormous amount. The boiled beef and coffee and hard-bread (which the boys called 'Lincoln shingles') were spread out with panfuls of molasses, and things went along all right. A lot of supplies had been sent to the Indian camps during the day. The Indians invited our officers to go over to their camp and have a dog feast. It was not considered advisable for more than three to go, together with some civilians who were there. Captain O'Brien was one of the officers, and he requested me to be on guard until he came back, and have the horses all saddled and the men ready to mount on a moment's notice. He wanted to go to the Indian camp, and did not know what might happen, but he never seemed to fear any danger. One of the Indians asked the visitors to bring some coffee; so one of them, on his horse, took a little bag of roasted coffee, perhaps ten pounds. Captain O'Brien's story is that they were entertained by the principal chiefs; that they had dog to eat, and that the dog wasn't so bad after all. That the Indians put coffee into a big camp-kettle, and commenced boiling and kept filling the camp-kettle and boiling coffee until he came away about ten o'clock at night. He said the Indians drank coffee hot by the gallon, and didn't seem to be able to get enough of it. He said they appeared to be all right, and friendly; he didn't believe there would be any Indian trouble. The next morning there was not an Indian in sight, and current matters at our post went along in the same usual way. General Mitchell left as soon as the Indians did. I will speak more of him further on, but will say here that his honored grave may be seen on one of the sunlit slopes of the Arlington National Cemetery near Washington.
Shan-tag-a-lisk was over forty years old, but claimed to be about thirty. Pioneers said the Indians would not tell the truth about their ages, because they thought it might give the white men some occult advantage over them.
Chapter XII.
Baron de Watteville – Eleventh Ohio Cavalry – Col. Collins – Lieut. Casper Collins – The Dance at MacDonald's – The Cincinnati Girl – The Fiddling Lieutenant – Smallpox – Jimmie O'Brien – Judicial Duties – The Judiciary System – Betting – 'Linty' and the Laundry – The Wedding and Charivari – Co. 'G' Departs – Ellsworth – Co. 'C' Arrives – Professional Gamblers – Maps – Letters from Eastern Girls – Salt Lake Kate – Gilman Demands Protection – The Traveling Tailor
DURING April, several detachments of the Eleventh Ohio Cavalry passed us going northwest to Fort Laramie, and we got acquainted with them. On the 19th of April we had quite a number of visitors. John K. Wright, a Lieutenant of the Sixteenth Kansas Cavalry, with a detachment was going to Denver. Wright was afterwards State Senator in Kansas, and a very prominent citizen. With him was R. B. Hitz, a surgeon of the United States Army, who afterwards arose to distinction. He was going to Laramie. There was also Lieut. Jenkins of the Second Colorado Cavalry and Lieut. Rockwell of the First Colorado. The latter officers were going west, and the party had two hundred and forty unassigned recruits. With them was a strange character, Captain Alfred de Watteville. He was a Captain of 'guides' in Geneva, Switzerland. He was in the Swiss army. He pronounced the word 'guides,' gwiids. He had his servant, and special team. He called himself Baron. He was a large, fine-looking, gentlemanly fellow, and spoke English well enough to make himself understood. We took him out antelope-hunting, both the Captain and I. While he was there, five days, we caught two antelopes after a chase from eight to twelve miles each. He was very much delighted with his entertainment; told about the European service; had visited our armies in the field; and was on a general tour of education. We took a fancy to him, and parted from him with great regret. De Watteville, Wright and Hitz departed together, going towards Denver, which was then merely a frontier town.
On the 24th of April, 1864, a large detachment of the Eleventh Ohio Cavalry went by, going west; we went down and took supper with the officers. The commanding officer of the regiment was Lieut.-Col. Collins. He was a very fine old gentleman, rather old for military service, but finely preserved, energetic and soldierly. He had a son as a Lieutenant whose name was Casper. Casper was a wild, heedless young man, and was afterwards killed by the Indians. Fort Collins, in Colorado, was named after the Colonel, and the town of Casper, in Wyoming, was named after the son.
While all of these officers I have spoken of were at our post, Ranchman MacDonald had another dance. And some of the passengers in the stages, including several women, stopped to attend it. There had in the meantime several new girls come into the neighborhood, and the dance was quite well attended. One of the young ladies from Cincinnati, quite interested in the dance, confided to me privately that she liked to attend dances, and dance with the officers of the army. One of the fiddlers upon that occasion was the First Lieutenant of Company G, of our regiment, who was at the post. He was a strange man to be made an army officer. He was a red-headed, fiddling farmer. He afterwards got himself dismissed from the service. He got his place because he had done good recruiting through the farms of his vicinity, and got enough of the boys in to give him a First Lieutenancy. That was the kind of stuff our armies were officered with at first, and it must ever be so in the volunteer service, at the outstart. In the first place we must have recruits, and the fellow who gets up the recruits must be paid for it by making him an officer. The man who is the best recruiter is the worst officer. Then it takes the attrition of six months or a year, or perhaps more, to get this stamp of fellows out, and get in those who have some military inspiration. It was the same both in the North and in the South during the Civil War. Both armies had to weed out worthless officers, and get the right men into command, before discipline and efficiency became potent. The South started out better equipped than the North in the Civil War, but in the course of time the North caught up. To illustrate: The Third Louisiana had its first battle at Wilson Creek; its Colonel and Captains had served in the regular army in some capacity. The First Iowa Infantry, who held their ground against them, had only three officers who had ever been in the service.
Along in the latter part of April, one of our men claimed that he was ill, and went to the post surgeon, Dr. LaForce. The Doctor said he thought it was a case of smallpox. Upon consultation the following plan was suggested: That a tent be put up on the island nearest the post, and the man be taken there, and some soldier be detailed to take care of him who had had the smallpox. This duty fell upon a brave, nervy little Irishman by the name of Jimmie O'Brien, whom I will speak of again hereinafter. One glance at Jimmie told that he had had a very severe case of smallpox, for his whole face was pitted up so that it looked as rough as a rasp. Jimmie accepted the detail with genuine Irish good-nature, and, taking a supply of firearms and ammunition, went over onto the island and set up a tent, and took care of this comrade. Cooked rations were served by leaving
them on the banks of the river, and Jimmie waded across and got them and took care of his comrade until he was finally well. Then we took Jimmie some matches and a lot of hay, and left some new clothes for both on the banks of the river. Jimmie burned up the tent and the old clothes and everything. Both parties took a good wash in the river, came out and dressed themselves in their new clothes, and the contagion never spread, nor did we ever
