The country above us was full of desperadoes from Boise and
Silver City, and I was afraid to be left alone so much at night;
so I begged Captain Corliss to let me have a soldier to sleep in
my quarters. He sent me old Needham. So I installed old Needham
in my guest chamber with his loaded rifle. Now old Needham was
but a wisp of a man; long years of service had broken down his
health; he was all wizened up and feeble; but he was a soldier; I
felt safe, and could sleep once more. Just the sight of Needham
and his old blue uniform coming at night, after taps, was a
comfort to me.
Anxiety filled my soul, for Jack was scouting in the Stein
Mountains all winter in the snow, after Indians who were avowedly
hostile, and had threatened to kill on sight. He often went out
with a small pack-train, and some Indian scouts, five or six
soldiers, and I thought it quite wrong for him to be sent into
the mountains with so small a number.
Camp MacDermit was, as I have already mentioned, a "one-company
post." We all know what that may mean, on the frontier. Our
Second Lieutenant was absent, and all the hard work of winter
scouting fell upon Jack, keeping him away for weeks at a time.
The Piute Indians were supposed to be peaceful, and their old
chief, Winnemucca, once the warlike and dreaded foe of the white
man, was now quiet enough, and too old to fight. He lived, with
his family, at an Indian village near the post.
He came to see me occasionally. His dress was a curious mixture
of civilization and savagery. He wore the chapeau and dress-coat
of a General of the American Army, with a large epaulette on one
shoulder. He was very proud of the coat, because General Crook
had given it to him. His shirt, leggings and moccasins were of
buckskin, and the long braids of his coal-black hair, tied with
strips of red flannel, gave the last touch to this incongruous
costume.
But I must say that his demeanor was gentle and dignified, and,
after recovering from the superficial impressions which his
startling costume had at first made upon my mind, I could well
believe that he had once been the war-leader, as he was now the
political head of his once-powerful tribe.
Winnemucca did not disdain to accept some little sugar-cakes from
me, and would sit down on our veranda and munch them.
He always showed me the pasteboard medal which hung around his
neck, and which bore General Howard's signature; and he always
said:
