These jumps are often taught the Indian race ponies. The
horse is gentle with Faye and is certainly graceful, but he is hard to
hold and inclined to bolt, so I will not try him until he becomes more
civilized.
The Indians are very bold again. A few days ago Lieutenant Golden was
in to luncheon, and while we were at the table we saw several Kiowas
rush across the creek and stampede five or six horses that belonged to
our milkman, who has a ranch just outside the garrison. In a few
minutes an orderly appeared with an order for Lieutenant Golden and
ten men to go after them without delay, and bring the horses back.
Of course he started at once, and chased those Indians all the
afternoon, and got so close to them once or twice that they saw the
necessity of lightening the weight on their tired ponies, and threw
off their old saddles and all sorts of things, even little bags of
shot, but all the time they held on to their guns and managed to keep
the stolen horses ahead of them. They had extra ponies, too, that they
swung themselves over on when the ridden beasts began to lag a little.
When night came on Lieutenant Golden was compelled to give up the
chase, and had to return to the post without having recovered one of
the stolen horses.
One never knows here what dreadful things may come up any moment.
Everything was quiet and peaceful when we sat down to luncheon, yet in
less than ten minutes we saw the rush of the Indians and the stampede
of the milkman's horses right from our dining-room window. The horses
were close to the post too. Splendid cavalry horses were sent after
them, but it requires a very swift horse to overtake those tough
little Indian ponies at any time, and the Kiowas probably were on
their best ponies when they stampeded the horses, for they knew,
undoubtedly, that cavalry would soon be after them.
DODGE CITY, KANSAS,
June, 1873.
WE reached this place yesterday, expecting to take the cars this
morning for Granada, but the servant who was to have come from Kansas
City on that train will not be here until to-morrow. When the time
came to say good-by, I was sorry to leave a number of the friends at
Camp Supply, particularly Mrs. Hunt, with whom we stayed the last few
days, while we were packing. Everyone was at the ambulance to see us
off - except the Phillips family.
We were three days coming up, because of one or two delays the very
first day. One of the wagons broke down soon after we left the post,
and an hour or so was lost in repairing it, and at Buffalo Creek we
were delayed a long time by an enormous herd of buffalo. It was a
sight that probably we will never see again. The valley was almost
black with the big animals, and there must have been hundreds and
hundreds of them on either side of the road. They seemed very
restless, and were constantly moving about instead of grazing upon the
buffalo grass, which is unusually fine along that valley, and this
made us suspect that they had been chased and hunted until the small
bands had been driven together into one big herd. Possibly the hunters
had done this themselves, so the slaughter could be the greater and
the easier. It is remarkable that such grand-looking beasts should
have so little sense as to invariably cross the road right in front of
moving teams, and fairly challenge one to make targets of them. It was
this crossing of large numbers that detained us so long yesterday.
When we got out about fifteen miles on the road, an Apache Indian
appeared, and so suddenly that it seemed as if he must have sprung up
from the ground. He was in full war dress - that is, no dress at all
except the breech clout and moccasins - and his face and whole naked
body were stained in many colors in the most hideous manner. In his
scalp lock was fastened a number of eagle feathers, and of course he
wore two or three necklaces of beads and wampum. There was nothing
unusual about the pony he was riding, except that it was larger and in
better condition than the average Indian horse, but the one he was
leading - undoubtedly his war horse - was a most beautiful animal, one
of the most beautiful I ever saw.
The Apache evidently appreciated the horse, for he had stained only
his face, but this had been made quite as frightful as that of the
Indian. The pony was of a bright cream color, slender, and with a
perfect head and small ears, and one could see that he was quick and
agile in every movement. He was well groomed, too. The long, heavy
mane had been parted from ears to withers, and then twisted and roped
on either side with strips of some red stuff that ended in long
streamers, which were blown out in a most fantastic way when the pony
was running. The long tail was roped only enough to fasten at the top
a number of strips of the red that hung almost to the ground over the
hair. Imagine all this savage hideousness rushing upon you - on a
yellow horse with a mane of waving red!
