He had been shot
by some fiendish Indian soon after leaving his companion. The mule has
never been found, and is probably in a far-away Indian village, where
he brays in vain for the big rations of corn he used to get at the
government corral.
Last Monday, soon after luncheon, forty or fifty Indians came rushing
down the drive in front of the officers' quarters, frightening some of
us almost out of our senses. Where they came from no one could tell,
for not one sentry had seen them until they were near the post. They
rode past the houses like mad creatures, and on out to the company
gardens, where they made their ponies trample and destroy every
growing thing. Only a few vegetables will mature in this soil and
climate, but melons are often very good, and this season the gardeners
had taken much pains with a crop of fine watermelons that were just
beginning to ripen. But not one of these was spared - every one was
broken and crushed by the little hoofs of the ponies, which seem to
enjoy viciousness of this kind as much as the Indians themselves.
A company of infantry was sent at once to the gardens, but as it was
not quite possible for the men to outrun the ponies, the mischief had
been done before they got there, and all they could do was to force
them back at the point of the bayonet. Cavalry was ordered out, also,
to drive them away, but none of the troops were allowed to fire upon
them, and that the Indians knew very well. It might have brought on
an uprising!
It seems that the Indians were almost all young bucks out for a
frolic, but quite ready, officers say, for any kind of devilment. They
rode around the post three or four times at breakneck speed, each
circle being larger, and taking them farther away. At last they all
started for the hills and gradually disappeared - all but one, a
sentinel, who could be seen until dark sitting his pony on the highest
hill. I presume there were dozens of Indians on the sand hills around
the post peeking over to see how the fun went on.
They seem to be watching the post every second of the day, ready to
pounce upon any unprotected thing that ventures forth, be it man or
beast. At almost any time two or three black dots can be seen on the
top of the white sand hills, and one wonders how they can lie for
hours in the hot, scorching sand with the sun beating down on their
heads and backs. And all the time their tough little ponies will stand
near them, down the hill, scarcely moving or making a sound. Some
scouts declare that an Indian pony never whinnies or sneezes! But that
seems absurd, although some of those little beasts show wonderful
intelligence and appear to have been apt pupils in treachery.
CAMP SUPPLY, INDIAN TERRITORY,
October, 1872.
THIS place is becoming more dreadful each day, and every one of the
awful things I feared might happen here seems to be coming to pass.
Night before last the post was actually attacked by Indians! It was
about one o'clock when the entire garrison was awakened by rifle shots
and cries of "Indians! Indians!" There was pandemonium at once. The
"long roll" was beaten on the infantry drums, and "boots and saddles"
sounded by the cavalry bugles, and these are calls that startle all
who hear them, and strike terror to the heart of every army woman.
They mean that something is wrong - very wrong - and demand the
immediate report for duty at their respective companies of every
officer and man in the garrison.
Faye jumped into his uniform, and saying a hasty good-by, ran to his
company, as did all the other officers, and very soon we could hear
the shouting of orders from every direction.
Our house is at the extreme end of the officers' line and very
isolated, therefore Mrs. Hunt and I were left in a most deplorable
condition, with three little children - one a mere baby - to take care
of. We put them all in one bed and covered them as well as we could
without a light, which we did not dare have, of course. Then we saw
that all the doors and windows were fastened on both sides. We decided
that it would be quite impossible for us to remain shut up inside the
house, so we dressed our feet, put on long waterproof coats over our
nightgowns as quickly and silently as possible, and then we sat down
on the steps of the front door to await - we knew not what. I had firm
hold of a revolver, and felt exceedingly grateful all the time that I
had been taught so carefully how to use it, not that I had any hope of
being able to do more with it than kill myself, if I fell in the hands
of a fiendish Indian. I believe that Mrs. Hunt, however, was almost as
much afraid of the pistol as she was of the Indians.
Ten minutes after the shots were fired there was perfect silence
throughout the garrison, and we knew absolutely nothing of what was
taking place around us. Not one word did we dare even whisper to each
other, our only means of communication being through our hands. The
night was intensely dark and the air was close - almost suffocating.
In this way we sat for two terrible hours, ever on the alert, ever
listening for the stealthy tread of a moccasined foot at a corner of
the house. And then, just before dawn, when we were almost exhausted
by the great strain on our strength and nerves, our husbands came.
They told us that a company of infantry had been quite near us all the
time, and that a troop of cavalry had been constantly patrolling
around the post.
