and turned to the right after crossing it, striking southwest. We passed at the base of a butte, which from one scraggly tree being in sight, was called 'Lone Tree Butte.' It was a sand butte, scooped out and ragged by the action of the wind. This butte is about ten miles from where we turned off after having crossed the basin referred to. Thence our course was southwest by south a few miles, then we turned around the base of another sandhill, and went southwest by west, and passed a tree with an eagle's nest on it, on our left about one mile. We marched then about southwest and struck the Medicine Creek ten miles from its source. The Indian name for this stream was Wau-kah Woc-ca-pella. Woc-ca-pella in the Sioux language meant 'stream.'
In the crossing of the Medicine we were obliged to get out the picks and shovels and make a crossing, because the stream was sunk down so far below the level of the prairie. We made the crossing at what appeared to us as the only available place for miles up and down. There were little cottonwoods, water, and a considerable grazing- spot, although the grass was dry and frosted. Nevertheless, we led our horses around, and let them eat what they would of it, and then fed them corn. The distance marched on that, our first day out, January 16, 1865, was thirty- three miles.
Chapter XXXIII.
January 16, 1865 – Medicine River – The Red Willow – Indians in Distance – The Lo-ca-po – The Skull – Place for a Fort – The Big Timbers – The Scout into Kansas – The Ree Fork – The Boundary – The Split Hill – The Indian Dash at Night
WE WERE now on the west bank of the Medicine River. The stream as we viewed it from the northeast was the arc of a circle marked by a high line of ragged bluffs. The march that day had been a cold and severe one. Indian signals had been noticed during the night, and from time to time in the distance we saw smoke signals, and some of the scouts saw at a distance some straggling Indians. In fact, from long distances on both sides of us the Indians were viewing and sizing up our expedition. Of course, the more they saw of it the less they would want to tackle it. We were sort of groping our way through the country; but we wanted to get in west of the Indians and drive them east and cut them off from retreat to the mountains and the north.
The bugle called us at 5 o'clock, and we were all up and ready to start, January 17th, as soon as it was daylight. We crossed the ridge west of our camp, marched one mile southwest by west, came to a dry ravine filled with scattered trees, thence southeast a half-mile, when we struck a stream. The main canyon running west was narrow, with high banks in which was cottonwood timber. It was marked for about a mile with springs, which formed the stream; above them the canyon was dry. We moved up this canyon about two miles, where it forked into three prongs. We took the left one running southeast by south, followed it up three-quarters of a mile, and came upon the plateau by a gradual slope. Without much work we made a road through the ravine and canyon, that was good. This canyon would have made an excellent place to camp. Up on the plateau we marched about three miles east of south, then about two and a half miles west of south; then we marched southerly ten miles, gradually swinging around to the west until we struck the Red Willow. When we struck the Red Willow we were marching due west. We struck the stream at a place where there was a large clump of trees in a bend of the stream that made a reverse curve. The following is a diagram of it: Red Willow Crossing.
We found the old trail crossing two hundred fifty yards above where a ledge of rock jutted out over the stream, but it was too difficult to fix up and make passable, so we did not cross here. It was evidently an old buffalo trail, much traveled by the Indians, and all right for ponies, but it could not be utilized by our wagon train, so we went down the stream three miles farther. At this old trail-crossing was a clump of timber where an Indian camp had been, but which had been deserted a short time before. The guides said the camp could not be over a month old, and might be newer.
On this day's march, January 17, 1865, we saw observing Indians far in the distance, but we only got glimpses of them, and they disappeared so that we could not tell which way they were going. But as we went scouting through the country, several of us who had field-glasses and good horses, rode up on all the highlands in the neighborhood to scan the horizon with our glasses. This camp on Red Willow had been a large Indian camp, and the indications were that they had gone down the stream. The three miles which we went down the stream from the old trail-crossing were along deep buffalo trails, cut wide, and we followed these trails until they struck the stream. We utilized this buffalo trail across the stream, and in a short time with picks and shovels made an excellent crossing. In fact, if it had not been for these buffalo trails we would have had a great deal of trouble; the banks of the stream were very precipitous, and it would have delayed us much to have had to make wagon-roads across. But where the buffalo trails had worn down the banks, we made a good crossing without very much difficulty. Four miles down the stream from this crossing, on the other side, we camped.
From our camp down on the Red Willow as far as we could see, the cottonwood timber along the stream was very dense. The stream was sunk about four hundred feet below the level of the plateau, and along the stream were signs of great Indian camps. We had evidently got right into the country where the Indians lived, and where they had their permanent villages. We could see where they had been cutting down the limbs of the cottonwood trees for their ponies to browse on, and the grass was pretty well eaten off around in the neighborhood. There were many large cottonwood trees lying on the ground. The weather was very cold, and we chopped up these logs, and snaked them around with mule teams so as to get them in position, and we cooked supper and sat around discussing Indians until we crept into our tents at night. We had marched that day about 22 miles.
We emerged on the morning of the 18th from the canyon at the mouth of which we had camped, and went on southwest, leaving the river. There was an endless succession of sandhills. These hills had just enough clay in their composition to keep them from blowing entirely away; and they supported a slim lot of grass and weeds. On our left was a chain of ragged sand-bluffs. The road was rough on account of the many branches and ravines that struck it perpendicularly every quarter- or half-mile, many of them almost impassable. Our route was a succession of digging. We had to keep back as far as possible towards the sandhills, and we had to make a crossing at every ravine.
During this day's march three wagons broke down, showing the rough treatment which they had received in going across these ravines. An army wagon for Indian service had to be made out of the very best kind of stuff. It had to be made from old, well-seasoned timber, which in turn had to be kiln-dried before it was put into the wagons, otherwise, out on the plains, during the dry and cold weather, woodwork would shrink. Once in a while a wagon had been made of timber not sufficiently seasoned. This would be discovered upon a march such as the one we were on, and then great trouble was occasioned by it, because the wheels had to be taken off, and thrown in the stream overnight so as to soak and swell up, and this occasioned work and delay. If the wheels were not kept tight, the wagon was bound to collapse under the hard usage which it had to sustain. As we were eating up rations and horse-feed rapidly, the three broken wagons were left as empties. The wheels and some of the woodwork, however, were distributed through the train to furnish repairs in case of trouble.
This day's progress was only ten miles in a straight direction, but our journey was fifteen miles; we made a good road as we went. We crossed Blackwood Creek and a bad ravine going in a very crooked southwesterly course. Camped on the south side, where water was standing in pools.
Dotted line indicates route to Blackwood Creek.
The recent presence of large bands of Indians was noticeable, but there were none to be seen except an occasional scout far distant. The day's march, with few exceptions, ran on high ground.
On the morning of January 19, 1865, the cavalry started out ahead of the train. We did not believe there were any Indians who would attack the train, and as a few of the men were badly mounted, their horses having shown signs of weariness, they were left back with the train and a piece of artillery. We made a dash across the plateau a little south of west, headed for the big timbers of the Republican River. A march of twelve miles, about ten miles in a straight line, brought us to the L'eau qui Peaue. That was a French phrase, and it was called briefly, 'Lo-ca-po.' The translation of it from the French name is borne on the modern maps as 'Stinking Water,' but the old name of Lo-ca-po should have been retained.
We struck this stream two or three miles above its junction with White Man's Fork, went down its east side, and crossed the 'White Man' below the junction. At the time we struck the Lo-ca-po its volume of water was twenty-four feet wide by sixteen inches deep, with a velocity of three miles per hour. The main stream of White
