Companies B and D left Fort Pierre the first week in June, 1856, on their way to the site upon which Fort Lookout was to be built. Captain Nathaniel Lyon of Company B, being the ranking officer, was in command. Captain Gardner of my company and three lieutenants were the only other officers present. The details of this march, although a short one, will serve, except as to special incidents, as a description of all other marches that we made on the prairies.
We ascended the hills west of Fort Pierre to gain the higher tableland in order to avoid the many ravines and small creeks that flowed into the Missouri river, which we did not sight again until we reached our destination. The order of march for large or small columns of troops was as follows: First came the guides, either Indians, half-breeds or hunters, riding on ponies some distance in advance and sometimes going ahead for miles to search for a suitable point to ford a stream or locate a camp. When no guides were present the desired direction was kept by means of a compass, for there were no roads, nothing but an occasional trail, made by Indian travoys which the weather soon obliterated. At times there was not a hill, tree nor bush in sight. Only flat or rolling prairie land met the eye all day long, and it was easy to lose direction on a cloudy day without a compass. Officers in command of troops marching through an unknown country were obliged to keep a journal and draw rough maps of the route, showing the water courses, springs, hills, woods, camping places and all points worthy of notice, also the approximate distances between them. These journals and maps were afterwards forwarded to the War Department, to serve for future information.
After the guides, our small column was led by Captains Lyon and Gardner and one of the lieutenants, another lieutenant was in the rear of the column, and the acting quartermaster was with the wagon train. All of the officers were mounted, some at their own expense on ponies they had bought from the Indians, as in an infantry regiment the regulations only allowed horses and forage for the colonel, major, surgeon, adjutant and quartermaster, or for officers temporarily acting as such. For a year or more we had no medical officer, only a hospital steward. There was but little sickness, and we got along very well without a doctor. Following the leading officers, came the musicians, and we boys were rather proud to be able to set the pace for the entire column. Behind us marched the soldiers by fours at a route step carrying their arms "at will." The company in advance to-day was the rear company to-morrow. Following the soldiers was the wagon train and behind that marched the camp guard, bringing up the rear. We never carried any knapsacks on this kind of marches on the frontiers. We always had wagons enough to carry the tents, knapsacks, provisions and forage. Each soldier carried his arms and accoutrements, his canteen and his haversack, which contained only enough provisions for a noon-day meal. The musicians carried only a sword, canteen and haversack.
The speed at which we marched was generally about three miles per hour, or less, if the route was hilly or the marching difficult. About every five miles we halted for a rest of fifteen or twenty minutes with a somewhat longer rest in the middle of the day. The distance we marched each day averaged less than twenty miles, but it was irregular, for camping places had to be selected with an eye to obtaining wood and water. Some days we marched only about fifteen miles while on others we had to make more than twenty-five. On a few occasions we camped on the prairie, where there was neither wood nor water. We brought a scant supply with us in our wagons from the previous camp. Buffalo chips (dung) were sometimes used instead of wood and made a sufficiently hot fire to cook with.
The army wagons had canvas covers and looked something like the "Prairie Schooners" used by the emigrants in crossing the plains. There was a seat and a locker across the front and a detachable feed-box across the rear. They were provided with strong brakes. A team of six mules was hitched to each wagon, the pair in front were called "leaders," and were the smallest mules in the team, next came the "swings," a little larger and last the "wheelers," which were the largest and strongest mules of the lot. One of the wheel mules had a saddle on him on which the driver was mounted, who, with only a single line and the aid of a long whip, drove the team.
The drivers were generally citizen employees of the Quartermaster's Department, if they could be had, or soldiers who volunteered for the job. These were detailed on "extra duty," as it was called. Twenty-five cents per day from the quartermaster was added to their regular monthly pay, for which they were obliged to sign a roll. One of them wrote Thomas O'Brien, M.D., and when asked to explain the meaning of the two letters after his name, said they stood for mule driver. It was hard work driving mule teams where there were no roads. Steep hills and deep declivities, streams and water courses, soon made most of the drivers experts in profanity. They had names for all their mules, and we often heard one of them urging his team through a bad place with such words of encouragement as these: "Now, Mary Jane! pull like a good girl; pull, girl!" or "You, there, Pete! you black-hearted ——, I'll cut the hide off you, if you don't pull!"
On marches, reveille was sounded at day-break or even earlier if there was a long day's march ahead. Immediately after roll call we had our breakfast of salt pork or bacon, hard-tack and black coffee, which the company cooks had already prepared at their camp fire. Then the "General" was beaten by one of the drummers. This was the signal to "strike tents" and pack the wagons. Soon after sunrise we formed ranks and marched off. This was the time when we felt fresh after a good night's rest. There was talking, laughing and joking in the ranks. Sometimes a song was started and many joined in the chorus.
After about two hours of marching this exhilaration gradually died down and when the sun got high and began to scorch us—for it could be as hot in the summer on the plains as it was cold in winter—the voices were stilled. We trudged on noiselessly save for the rattling of the tin cups and canteens or the sharp rebuke of one soldier to another, who had perhaps jostled him, which was always annoying to a weary man.
The officers also enjoyed the cool of the morning. After the column had marched a while, I was often called by one of them to ride his horse, while he marched four or five miles. I would very much have preferred this ride at the end of the march when I would have enjoyed the rest. But I was always a good marcher and sometimes, when I felt like falling out, my pride kept me up until we reached camp.
The first day's march revealed the presence of a flat-footed man in the command who could not march more than a few miles, after which he had to ride in one of the wagons. He was discharged as soon as transportation to the settlement could be had. Sick or exhausted soldiers were permitted to ride in the wagons.
So fiercely did the rays of the sun beat down on the hot prairie, that during our brief periods of rest, we often crawled under the wagons, grateful for their slight shade even for a short time. If we came to a stream that could be forded we took off our shoes and stockings and sometimes our trousers, and waded across. If the current was strong we grasped each other to avoid being swept off our feet. On the opposite side we generally halted long enough to refill our canteens and rest.
At times we had to cross a river too deep for fording. Then the crossing meant several days of hard labor. It was accomplished by taking the wagons apart and making boats out of their bodies. This was done by enveloping the wagon bodies in several thicknesses of the canvas wagon covers. When the crude boats would float, some men swam across pulling a stout rope after them. They secured it on the other side to guide the boats in crossing. In this way we established ferries capable of taking all the men and freight to the other side. The horses and mules were forced to swim over. A few minor accidents occurred, but in the main the crossing was successfully although slowly made, as these canvas pontoon boats could carry but little at each trip.
On a few occasions we saw a herd of buffalo while on the march, but never got near them. We seldom met any Indians on the routes we traveled.
When we had a short day's march, we got into camp before noontime if the route had been favorable, but if we had to march twenty-five miles or more, it was the middle of the afternoon or much later before we finally halted. The first thing we did was to stack arms and lie down in the shade, if there was any. Tired out, we went to sleep while waiting for the wagons to come up. At the end of the day's march they were often some miles behind. They could not always make the short cuts that we could. When the wagons arrived we unpacked them and erected our tents. Practice made us experts at this. The cooks started a fire and prepared a meal, while the teamsters parked the wagons, unhitched the tired mules, watered and fed them, and then picketed them on the prairie to graze and rest.
The officers had wall-tents for their use, with a tent fly over them, which made them quite comfortable and cool when the sides were turned up. The soldiers had "Sibley" tents at that time, which were better than the small "A" tents previously used. These tents were the invention of Col. Henry W. Sibley of the United States Army. They were patterned after the Indian teepee, but differed from them in that but one tent pole was required. This fitted into the socket of a wrought iron tripod in the centre of the tent and upheld the shelter. A hood on top could be opened to emit the smoke from a sheet iron stove in cold weather. These tents, conical in shape, were large enough to shelter a dozen men without crowding.
When the tents had all been set up in "streets," we fished or went in bathing if the water was suitable. Fish were generally plentiful and were a welcome addition to our rations. At times we washed our clothing in the streams, for the laundresses did not perform that work on a march and were never with the troops except when changing stations. On these occasions they and their children rode in the wagons.
Our canteens were made of tin covered with felt, and held about three pints. An old soldier taught me to fill my canteen with water in the evening, saturating the felt covering thoroughly. By hanging it up exposed to the air during the night, the water would be kept cool until morning. Next day I was careful to keep the canteen on my shady side while marching. In this way I had a cool drink for a much longer time. Sentinels were posted about the camp and the wagons at night. We had an early tattoo and slept soundly until daybreak next morning. Rainy days added much to our discomfort while marching and made it necessary to make camp on soaked ground while our clothing was drenched.
We had half a dozen dogs with us on the march to Lookout, for dogs love soldiers. In the cool part of the morning they ran all over the prairie chasing birds or prairie dogs, and tired themselves out before the march was half done. When we halted for a rest they went to sleep, and it was difficult to make them go on again, except one wise dog who always trotted at the head of the column with the musicians and never wasted his energy in running around the prairie. At times these dogs became a nuisance. They sometimes got to a small pond or water-hole ahead of us, and by swimming around in it roiled the water until it was unfit to drink.
Our last day's march was long and hard, but we cheered up when in the middle of the hot afternoon we sighted the Missouri River about five miles away. It was hundreds of feet below us, for we were up on a high range of hills, which the wagons were able to descend only by making long detours.
We encamped on a shady spot near the river bank and remained there for two days while Captain Lyon and another officer explored the region for the most suitable place for the new post. Captain Lyon finally selected a spot three miles below our camp and thirty miles south of the Big Bend of the Missouri River. We moved there at once and encamped until our quarters were completed in the fall.
The site for Fort Lookout was well chosen. The river channel was on that side and the banks high enough not to be overflowed. The wooded bottom land extended two hundred yards back from the river, then ascended fifty feet above the water in an easy grade to a plateau. Two small water courses in ravines at right angles to the river and about half-a-mile apart drained the plateau on which the post was to be built. About a mile west of the river the land became rugged and hilly. There were plenty of woods in sight along the river bank as far as we could see.
Captain Nathaniel Lyon of Company B, Second United States Infantry, the commanding officer under whose direction Fort Lookout was to be built, was a native of Connecticut. He was of average size with sandy hair and beard. His voice had a distinct nasal twang. He was a graduate of West Point and had served in the Mexican War and in Florida. He was a strict disciplinarian, conscientious, patriotic and as strong an "Abolitionist" as Captain Gardner of my company was a "Pro-Slavery" advocate. Nevertheless the two captains seemed to get along very well on duty, but outside of that did not associate much. Captain Gardner usually had his tent put up at some distance from Captain Lyon's, who kept very much to himself and seemed to pass his time in reading and writing.
Captain Lyon was of a most peculiar temperament. While he preserved a fatherly attitude toward his company and saw to their comfort, he was very exacting. The least infringement of rules, which other officers would not notice, he would punish. He seldom put any of his men in the guard-house, except for some serious offense; but punished them by making them do menial duties or by having them march in front of the company quarters where he could observe them, carrying a log or a heavily loaded knapsack or with a barrel over their shoulders, the head sticking out of the top. He had punishments to fit every grade of offense, most of which were of his own invention. However, he seldom court-martialed any of his men, though some of them would have preferred that to the humiliating punishments they received. When the war broke out, Captain Lyon was in command of the arsenal at St. Louis, Mo., which he saved to the Government. He broke up the rebel "Camp Jackson" under General Frost, defeated the troops under Governor Jackson at Booneville and fought the battle of Wilson's Creek, Mo., against superior numbers under Generals McCulloch and Price. He was killed in that battle on August tenth, 1861, while he was in command of the Union troops with the rank of brigadier-general. General Lyon did much to save the State of Missouri to the Union and in his early death, the Government lost a loyal and efficient officer. One of the last requests that General Lyon made just before his death was that "First Sergt. Griffin of his old company which was present at the battle should receive a commission as Lieutenant,"—which was granted.
As soon as our camp was permanently established at the top of the slope leading towards the river, we prepared to erect the necessary buildings. Gangs of men were sent into the woods to cut trees, trim them and haul in the logs.
Others were set to work making bricks for the chimneys and bake ovens out of some suitable clay and sand that had been discovered near the river bank. The bricks were made in moulds and burnt in the usual way. They answered their purpose very well. Every man not required for guard duty was set to work either as a mechanic or a laborer at "extra duty". Carpenters, framers, masons and all other mechanics received forty cents per day and the laborers twenty-five cents per day, extra pay for ten hours' work. The mechanics remained at their work, but the laborers took turns at guard duties. I was put on extra duty myself for a while as a time-keeper and messenger and was rated and paid as a laborer.
Presently the raft which had been made up at Fort Pierre arrived and was unloaded and taken apart. About the first of July a steamboat came in with a full cargo for Fort Lookout, consisting of military stores and some building materials, such as doors, sashes, hardware, shingles, lime, etc. She also landed three citizen employees, a master-mechanic to take charge of construction and two carpenters. There were in addition some goods for the sutler, who came to establish himself. A cow and some hogs were put ashore consigned to Captain Lyon. To put this cargo in a suitable place on shore and protect it from the elements until store houses could be built, occupied some time. A small herd of beef cattle also arrived, having been driven up from the settlements.
One of the first things the master-mechanic did was to erect a whip-saw for getting out flooring and roofing boards. This saw was worked by two men, one above and the other below the elevated log. It was slow, laborious work. He next made a plan for quarters for three companies, for another company was to join us later in the season. He directed the carpenters and framers to hew the logs square and cut them into suitable lengths to form the walls of the houses, which were built large enough to hold a company apiece comfortably. They had the luxury of doors, windows and brick chimneys, a wooden floor and a shingled roof, but no ceiling. Log houses were built for the married soldiers, for company kitchens, a hospital, a bakery, the adjutant's office, the guard-house and storehouses, but they were put up to be warm and comfortable and had brick fire places, doors and windows, wood floors and shingled roofs, the same as the quarters. For the officers the portable houses rafted down from Fort Pierre were re-erected, but made much stronger. The exterior walls were double with a filled space between them, which made them warmer. Chimneys and fireplaces were built. We built no company mess-rooms, leaving that to be done next year as we already had undertaken all we could possibly accomplish before cold weather.
Captain Lyon was quite busy for a time in outlining the post and locating the various buildings. He seemed very anxious about getting the post lined exact and true to the cardinal points, which he found a difficult task in the absence of proper instruments. He had a factotum named Charley Breen who was his valet, cook, hostler and assistant surveyor. When the captain went out on several nights to observe the north star for hours, he always took Charley who carried a lantern. Next day the lines were changed again. We had many a laugh with Charley about hunting for the north star with a lantern.
Captain Lyon laid out Fort Lookout in generous dimensions. Perhaps he had orders to do so. He occupied ground enough for about two regiments, the parade ground was large enough to manoeuvre a brigade of troops. The plan was a parallelogram in shape except at the west end where the officers' houses formed a semicircle. The east end near the river was square and there were located the guard-house and store houses.
On the long sides were the company quarters, two on the south and one on the north side. They looked very lonely in that vast space. It was much more than a quarter mile from the guard-house on the east to the officers' quarters in the west, and nearly half that across the parade ground between the company quarters from north to south. These great distances proved to be very inconvenient in winter, when the snow was deep and much time had to be consumed in relieving the widely scattered sentinels.
Uninterrupted progress was made all through the summer. We had no trouble with the Indians, in fact none came near us until fall, when they began to appear and dance for rations. The only soldiers who were absent from the fort were a small escort under a non-commissioned officer with Lieutenant Warren and his party who were surveying and mapping some of the Dakota country. They approached within a few hundred miles of the place where the National Yellowstone Park is now located, but did not seem to have ever heard of that wonderful region. It appeared to be unknown at that time. We never heard hunters or trappers speak of it, and if the Indians knew of it, they kept their knowledge to themselves.
A comet was visible for many weeks during the summer, larger and more brilliant and with a longer tail than any I have seen since. Unfortunately we had no opportunity to learn in what way the Indians regarded this phenomenon.
In the month of August, Company K arrived from Fort Ripley after a strenuous march. They crossed the Missouri at Fort Pierre in Mackinaw boats and from there came down the west bank to Fort Lookout. This company was much harassed by the Chippawa Indians, while marching through their country, though no direct attack was made. One soldier was stabbed to death by an Indian at a spring near one of their camps, where he had gone alone to fill his canteen. A sad accident occurred on this march. One sentinel shot another dead, mistaking him for an Indian because of his wearing a blanket on a cool night while on post.
Company K brought two Indian guides and their squaws with them; also an interpreter and his squaw. This interpreter proved to be the young man from my company who had deserted from Cantonment Miller about sixteen months before to join the Indians. Why he took the risk to come back in our direction I cannot imagine, unless he was misinformed at Fort Pierre in regard to the whereabouts of his old company. He was much changed, but was recognized in spite of his Indian make-up. He was arrested and put in the guard-house, which at this time was a tent from which he escaped easily on the second night, and we never heard of him again.
Brevet Major George W. Patten, whom I have previously described, was in command of Company K. He wrote an able article about the march from Fort Ripley, which was published in Harper's Magazine. As Major Patten ranked Captain Lyon, he took command of Fort Lookout on his arrival, but Captain Lyon continued to superintend the building of the post.
During the summer Capt. Lyon got an idea that some other drink besides the Missouri river water would be good for the men, and he started in to make what he intended to be spruce beer. He put us boys to work gathering cactus plants, wild hops, sprigs of spruce and a few other plants of his own selection. Then he made us mash the cactus to a pulp and boil the entire mixture in camp kettles, adding water, some molasses and vinegar. We then strained it and put it into barrels. Under the Captain's supervision it took us a week to make three or four barrels, for, according to his habit, he fussed and spent as much of his time over it as he would have given to an important matter. When this hodge-podge was brewed it was offered to the soldiers. One drink was enough to satisfy most of them. If they took any more they were likely to be unfit for duty next day, but not from any intoxicating qualities of the mixture. When it began to ferment it threw off such a sickening odor and tasted so vile that no one would drink it. Cactus was plentiful in the vicinity. Some of it bore delicious and succulent prickly-pears. Wild plums and grapes were also plentiful.
One night we were startled by the sound of a shot that came from the direction of Post No. 3, a short distance from camp. There were cries of "Corporal of the guard, Post No. 3!" and for a few moments there was great excitement.
It turned out that the sentinel on that post had shot off the little finger of his left hand. He explained that he was carrying his rifle across the back of his neck, with the left hand over the muzzle and the right on the lock "when the durned thing went off."
We suspected that he did it on purpose, hoping to get his discharge from the army for physical disability. If so, he was not liberal enough with his self mutilation, for the sacrifice of his little finger did not procure his discharge.
Near the end of summer another steamboat on the way to Fort Pierre stopped and unloaded some more stores, including a quantity of potatoes, onions and turnips to prevent a reoccurrence of scurvy. This steamer also brought a second lieutenant to join one of our companies. He was one of the appointees from civil life—the only one at the post. He hailed from one of the southern states and, for a soldier, was the most ungainly, awkward and unmilitary figure that I ever saw. He was a young man, so excessively tall that he stooped over and so thin that he barely cast a shadow. He had a glass eye that had a roving disposition. It gave him a very droll appearance. He was quite ignorant of military matters and at his first appearance on parade as officer of the day appeared wearing his sash over the wrong shoulder. Major Patten appointed him Post Adjutant shortly after his arrival, in derision, I think.
At guard mounting he had to be coached by the acting sergeant major, or the officer of the day. When it came to that part of the ceremony where the adjutant turns "About face" and reports to the officer of the day "Sir, the guard is formed!" he nearly fell over himself with his sword scabbard between his legs. He never learned to make an "About face" gracefully. It was very difficult to repress our laughter. With all this, he was arrogant, domineering and conceited, and was thoroughly detested by his company.
When on duty as officer of the day he visited the sentinels on post, demanded their orders and received the customary reply: "To take charge of this post and all Government property in view, to salute all officers according to rank, to allow no one to pass or repass at night without the countersign, in case of fire to give an alarm," etc., etc.
Then he would torment the soldier with such absurd questions as: "What would you do if you saw a steamboat coming down over the hills, or a thousand Indians mounted on buffaloes charging out of the woods?"
One of the sentinels answered him, "I would call for the corporal of the guard to notify you immediately."
Whoever was responsible for his obtaining a commission in the Army had much to answer for. He resigned after a few years and disappeared from our sight and knowledge.
In October we were able to occupy our new quarters which appeared palatial to us in comparison with the wretched hovels in which we lived the previous winter. We had worked hard to accomplish this. About this time a singular affliction came upon nearly one-half of the garrison, which we called moon-blindness. Every evening after twilight they began to lose their vision, and when it became dark they could only distinguish a bright light if very close to them. They had to be led around like blind men. In the morning they could see as well as ever. This lasted about a fortnight, and made it hard for the unafflicted who had to do double guard duty. No one seemed to know the cause of this blindness. Some had an idea that the comet was responsible for it. I was one of the fortunate who escaped this affliction.
Small parties of Indians began to visit us; and about a dozen lodges established themselves in a permanent camp for the winter, but at an inconvenient distance from the fort. It was necessary to cross a deep ravine or make a long detour to get there.
An English sportsman, Sir St. George Gore, stopped for a day to visit the officers. He had been hunting along the upper Missouri and Yellowstone River for two years and was now on his way home. He had come with a crew on a large Mackinaw boat, loaded with furs and other hunting trophies.
Immense quantities of wild ducks and geese were now flying south. We managed to kill quite a number with our military rifles, loaded with shot which we made ourselves by pouring a ladle full of melted lead from an elevated position slowly into a pail of water placed on the ground. This produced shot of various sizes which we assorted, using the smaller shot for blackbirds which were abundant. This homemade shot was all egg-shaped instead of globular. It seemed to be effective enough when fired into large flocks.
As soon as steady frost appeared all of our beef cattle were killed and dressed. Profiting by our sad experience of the last winter this was done while they were still in good condition and the meat placed in a store house for use during the winter. Soon there was a deep fall of snow which remained and increased throughout the winter. A space was kept cleared of snow on the vast parade ground with paths leading to it from the officers' and company quarters, for the purpose of holding the daily guard mounting. Spaces were cleared around the quarters and the snow piled up until the buildings were half hidden. I think the winter was fully as cold as the previous one; but we had an abundant quantity of seasoned firewood, which we burnt in stoves and were comfortably warm, except on days when there was a high wind. When the thermometer fell to twenty degrees below zero, orders were issued to call in all the sentinels, except Post No. 1 in front of the guard-house, and No. 2, at the store houses close by, and even these posts were relieved every half hour. Our food was more abundant and much better than at Cantonment Miller the previous winter. There was no re-appearance of scurvy and we had plenty of warm clothing.
Captain Lyon, who had imported some hogs, presented them to his company to be killed as a Christmas treat of fresh pork. The captain sometimes visited the pen and gave directions for their care. A sow had a litter of pigs in the fall, and fearing that she might kill them, he directed his first sergeant to have her watched for a few days. The Sergeant detailed some men for this purpose, among them a young German, who, considering this a very unmilitary duty, refused to serve, saying "To h—— mit der piggins, I'm no swiney doctor!"
There was very little sickness during the winter, but a number of cases of frost bites, none of them very serious. One death occurred during the midwinter in our little hospital, that of Sergeant Fiske of my company who was a veteran of the Mexican War, and had suffered for a long time from a malady to which soldiers long in the service are liable. Sergeant Fiske was an inveterate card player and smoker. On the evening of the night on which he died he sat cross legged on his bed and played his favorite game with some of the other hospital inmates. When he was placed in his coffin, some of his comrades slipped in a pack of cards and his pipe to be buried with him, Indian fashion. With great labor a grave was dug through the deeply frozen ground. On the top of a hill near the fort, we buried Sergeant Fiske with military honors, Lieutenant George H. Paige reading the burial service. A board was put up to mark the lonely grave; but in that bleak spot it probably remained only a short time before the weather obliterated all signs of it.
During this winter I saw but little of the Indians. There were only a small number in camp near the fort, and no others arrived. During the long winter evenings we played games or read the few books, magazines and occasional newspapers that we could procure. A mail from the "States" arrived but twice a month, and life at the post was monotonous.
At Christmas and on New Years' day an extra dinner was served for all the soldiers, with a dessert of pie made with dried apples by the company's baker. Whiskey punch was also provided. There was no chance for the soldiers to procure whiskey at Fort Lookout unless one of the officers gave them a drink of it, which happened rarely. This drove some of them who had a craving for it, to use essence of Jamaica ginger and bay-rum which they could buy at the sutler's store. They sometimes made a punch of it by adding sugar and hot water. The sutler had some imported ale and porter, which he was allowed to sell to soldiers; but as the price was seventy-five cents a pint bottle, very little of it was consumed.
In April, when the snow had melted, we began to drill again for the first time since leaving Carlisle Barracks. We had lived more like pioneers than soldiers. Early in May orders were received to abandon Fort Lookout, where we had worked so hard to build quarters, and to proceed to Fort Randall, where the regimental headquarters and four companies had gone when Fort Pierre was abandoned a year ago. We went into camp and began to tear down the company quarters for they were built of hewn timber, which it was desirable to save. We also took down the officers' houses. All this material was hauled down to the river bank to be made into a raft, and floated down to Fort Randall. We left all of the log cabins and the brick chimneys standing but removed the doors and sashes. Early in June a steamboat which had discharged her cargo at Fort Randall arrived at Fort Lookout and took on board the three companies and all of the commissary and quartermaster stores and other moveable property. The wagons and mules were sent overland in charge of an officer and escort.
When the steamboat started down the river, I went up on the hurricane deck to have a final look at what remained of Fort Lookout. I saw some Indians prowling around the abandoned log cabins. Brick chimneys alone marked the places where our quarters and the officers' houses had been. I could also make out the white board which marked the lonely grave of Sergt. Fiske on the hill.
We were soon out of sight, and arrived at Fort Randall in a few days.
We arrived at Fort Randall in June, 1857. It was located on the west bank of the Missouri river, about a hundred and twenty-five miles north of the Big Sioux river as the crow flies; but more than two hundred miles by following the tortuous water course. At Fort Randall an unusually sharp turn to the east, and another to the south, gave the fort a river front on two sides, east and north, with the protection of high banks sloping to a wide strip of bottom land along the shore. That the location was desirable is proved by the fact that it has been used as a military post up to the present time, and is now in the midst of a large reservation.
The four companies that went there when Fort Pierre was abandoned a year before, had also worked hard and put up substantial log houses, rough, but comfortable, around a parade ground of reasonable size. Our three companies went into camp and waited for the arrival of the raft from Fort Lookout, which came in about a week. Then the re-erection of our quarters and officers' houses commenced. The cabins for the married soldiers were all placed on the bottom land called "The Hollow". There also were the cabins of all the citizen commissary and quartermaster's employees, married and single, and near by was a considerable camp of Ponca Indians.
There were about a dozen of citizen mechanics at the fort who did the greater part of the work in re-erecting the quarters. They had the help of only a small detail of soldiers. The buildings were improved by ceilings, and a mess-room was built—something we had not had for two years.
A large post garden had been planted early in the spring by the companies there, and during the summer and fall we had an abundance of vegetables. I had never seen potatoes, onions, and tomatoes, attain such an astonishing size as they did in that rich virgin soil. A few soldiers detailed as gardeners lived beside the garden in tents about a mile west of the fort.
We drilled and performed guard duty and moved into our new quarters after the middle of August. I did not have much to do and spent a great part of my spare time swimming, fishing and visiting the Indian camp. One day, I swam across the Missouri with some companions, but we were so exhausted we had to come back in a canoe.
There was a singular hot spring or pit on the opposite side of the river. It could not be closely approached because of the dangerous quick-sand about it. There was no overflow, and the pit seemed to be bottomless. We threw long sticks into it from a distance. They went down but never came up. The spring emitted steam in winter, but it was overflowed by the river in the spring and disappeared.
Major Hannibal Day was in command at Fort Randall. There was a band and we did regular garrison duty, including Sunday dress parades and skirmish drills. Once in a while, an escort was furnished to accompany some wagons to Sioux City and back—a place which was then beginning to build up—or a company occasionally made a short march to settle a small Indian difficulty. Our duties were varied and the summer passed quickly.
The sutler had built a roomy store at Fort Randall, with lumber brought from St. Louis. It was stocked with goods for both soldiers and Indians, and the prices were lower than at Fort Pierre. He kept ale on draught which, with some restrictions, he was allowed to sell to the soldiers by the glass. Whiskey began to be smuggled from Sioux City and was sold to the soldiers. This made more cases for the guard-house.
An enterprising soldier's wife fixed up a small still in her quarters at the "Hollow" and made a little corn whiskey which she sold to soldiers secretly, but she was informed on after a while and her distilling plant was destroyed. As a punishment, she was deprived of her ration allowance. Every company had some men who were slaves to the liquor habit. There was one in my company who, whenever he saw an intoxicated man, could not refrain from exclaiming, "I wish I had half of your sickness!"
A second lieutenant, a man of middle age, joined my regiment. He was appointed from civil life, but there was a rumor that he had served as an officer in the navy. If so, the navy was to be congratulated on its loss, for we soon discovered that he was one of those steady drinkers who, without being intoxicated, are almost constantly under the influence of liquor in a minor degree. He was saturated with it and exhaled it. Whenever any severe duty was to be performed he managed to get excused on the plea of sickness, and was away on leave as often as he could get it. Unfortunately, he remained with my regiment until after the beginning of the Civil War. By that time he was unfit for field duty. He was on the sick list most of the time, and never was present at any battle. We got rid of him in 1862, when he was retired as a captain.
All of the officers' families, from whom they had been separated for two years, joined them at Fort Randall. It was quite a novelty to see white ladies again and to see their children playing on the parade ground.
Captain Gardner was married here to the sister of a lieutenant of another company. He went home to Georgia on leave, and when he returned brought back with him a negro and his wife, both of whom were slaves. The woman cooked and the man did chores.
A partial alteration was made at this time in the army uniform. The tight fitting jacket was replaced by a loose fitting blouse of dark blue cloth, which was an agreeable change. The light blue trousers were replaced by trousers of dark blue cloth, but in less than two years were changed back to the light blue, which the army has adhered to ever since. There was an absurd change from the old uniform hat to a strange and unmilitary design. The new creation was made of stiff black felt with a broad brim and a high crown. The brim was looped up on the right side and fastened with a brass eagle, otherwise it would have interfered when the soldier had his gun at "shoulder-arms." On the front was a brass bugle with the regimental number in the centre of it, and a brass letter of the company above it. Around the hat was a worsted cord with tassels of light blue for the infantry. A single black feather or plume was fastened on the left side of the hat, which few of the soldiers knew how, or cared to keep curled neatly. In damp weather it looked like a drenched rooster's tail-feathers. The officers had similar hats of finer material with more generous plumes.
A substantial new guard-house of hewn logs with a large room for prisoners and a few dark cells had been built during the summer. It was at the head of the road leading down to the river, and chance made me the first inmate of one of the cells. Some soldiers who had deserted were recaptured and tried by a general court-martial, which sentenced them to receive thirty-nine lashes on their bare backs, laid on with a rawhide. They were also to be confined at hard labor for four months, lose all pay and allowances and be dishonorably discharged. On the autumn day on which the first part of the sentence was executed we were paraded, and formed three sides of a square, the guard-house and prison forming the fourth side. It was the first time that I had ever seen corporal punishment with a rawhide inflicted on a man while in the army, and was also the only time, as flogging for desertion was abolished forever by Act of Congress a few years later. The three prisoners were present under guard.
The officer of the day read the sentence, and called out the name of one of the deserters, who was led to the centre of the square, where a triangle formed of strong joists had been set up. Here he was divested of his jacket and shirt, his wrists were bound with cords. His arms were pulled up over his head and tied to the top, while his feet were spread apart and secured to the bottom of the triangle. It had always been the custom in the army for flogging to be administered by one of the musicians. Why they were selected to do it, I never learned. When all was ready the officer of the day called one of the older boys from the ranks. He was handed a rawhide and told by the officer to strike the prisoner hard from the shoulders to the loins.
At first the blows were moderate, but increased under the officer's threats until each blow left a dark red mark and then began to cut the skin until blood flowed. The poor wretch squirmed and groaned piteously, the more so when some ill directed blow struck him around the side. When the thirty-ninth blow had been struck, the officer who had kept count cried, "Halt". The victim was untied by the guards and, unable to stand on his feet, was dragged towards the guard-house.
The second prisoner was then led forward and prepared to receive his punishment. The officer of the day turned about to select another musician to strike the blows. His glance rested on me for an instant but he passed me by and called out another by name, for which I felt very thankful. The brutal scene was repeated in all of its revolting details.
When the last prisoner was ready the officer of the day called out my name; but I stood still and shook my head. He then peremptorily called me a second time, to which I replied, "I refuse." He ordered me to be placed in charge of the guard, and called on my drummer to execute the sentence which my refusal to act had delayed for a few minutes.
Charges of disobedience of orders were preferred against me, and in about a week I was tried by court-martial. I could only plead guilty, and in another week my sentence was promulgated. I was to be confined in the guard-house for thirty days, ten of them in solitary confinement on a diet of bread and water, the remainder at hard labor, and to forfeit one month's pay. My captain tried to have my sentence commuted, but it was so glaring a refusal to obey orders without any extenuating circumstances that he was unsuccessful.
I commenced to serve the first part of my ten days at hard labor by going out with the prison gang under guard at seven o'clock each morning, chopping wood at the officers' quarters or sweeping the roads and keeping the parade ground clear until six o'clock in the evening with an interval of an hour for dinner. All of the prisoners "soldiered", and shirked their work as much as they could. None of us worked hard.
My second term of ten days was to be in one of the new cells on bread and water. But all of the sergeants in charge of the guard were friendly to me, and let me out of my cell into the guard room for hours at a time after dark. Some took the risk of letting me out in the day time after the officer of the day had made his customary rounds. As for bread and water, I never had any of that. Everyone seemed anxious to smuggle in something nice for me to eat, and I had to give away much of it to other prisoners. There was more than one boy could consume. Hot coffee was also supplied to me when it was brought in with the meals for the other prisoners. Friends furnished me with plenty of candles and books.
When my ten days of solitary confinement expired, I commenced the last term of ten days at hard labor the same as before. During those terms I had to sleep on the floor in the large prison room with the other prisoners. I would have preferred to sleep in the cell alone.
But there was enough that was amusing going on at the post to make the memory of my punishment soon lose its sting. For example, there was one man in my company, an old soldier of the Mexican War, who would sometimes take a drink too much. This always made him maudlin and melancholy. At such times he always spoke of the "beautiful senoritas," as he called them. Tears would come into his eyes when he told us the charmers called him "Senor Patrucio Martino". Then he would say with a sob, "Look at me! What am I now? Nothing but plain Paddy Martin," and burst into a flood of tears.
The winter was much milder than the two preceding ones. There were some bitterly cold days during January and February, yet we were quite comfortable. We had plenty to eat and a variety. The general health of all the soldiers was exceedingly good. We got up amusements to pass the time. There were some negro employees in the Quartermaster's Department who could sing plantation songs for us. One of them, a coal black negro who had been on the frontiers for a number of years with the Fur Company, was married to a squaw and had several children who were curious specimens of the human race, combining the most prominent features of the Indian and the negro. Both the father and the mother seemed very proud of them, however.
The Indian camp, of easy access to the garrison, always proved interesting. Its population was sometimes increased by visitors from the large Ponca Village, and from a Yankton village not far away. I spent much of my time with the Indians, as I had done two winters previous at Cantonment Miller.
In April, after the breaking up of the ice on the Missouri and the melting of the snow, flocks of wild ducks and geese made their appearance. For a time they came in incredible numbers and we managed to get all we wanted of them.
A man of my company named Jack Lynch, who had a habit of prowling about the country alone, showed us a spoonful of gold dust that he said he had found during his wanderings, but did not tell us where. About this time there were articles in the papers about the discovery of gold in the Black Hills, some hundreds of miles to the west of us; and we saw no good reason why gold should not exist in the bleak hills about Fort Randall. Our man brought in more samples of gold. He was watched and was discovered washing gold in a ravine, through which a small water course ran down from the hills a mile or more south of the fort.
Then excitement ran high. Crowds of soldiers went prospecting and washing gold. Places were discovered where it was more plentiful. In fact, too plentiful, for some of the more industrious quickly accumulated a considerable quantity of it. I had about a pint of it myself. Games of poker were played in the quarters evenings, at which the stakes were gold dust measured out in thimblefuls. Others hoarded their wealth and guarded it jealously. Hope of riches within our grasp warmed our hearts and cheered us.
The excitement had reached a high pitch, when, about a week after our "gold digging" started, some one thought of submitting a sample of the gold dust to the hospital steward, who had the necessary acids for a test. He promptly declared the stuff to be pyrites or "fools' gold". Some of the men were bitterly disappointed, others laughed. The discoverer and a few more, however, clung to their "gold dust". They believed that it was valuable until they got a report from St. Louis—where they had sent a sample to be assayed—which confirmed the hospital steward's opinion. After a while some of the soldiers began to think that Jack Lynch might have been playing a huge joke on us. He was a peculiar man in many ways, and was the possessor of a pair of eyes that did not match, one of them being light blue and the other dark gray.
During the early spring of 1858, we read much in the newspapers about the Mountain Meadow massacre in Utah in 1857, by Indians instigated by the Mormons. A large party of emigrants had been annihilated, except a few small children, and Col. Albert Sidney Johnson was gathering troops at Fort Bridger, Utah, to punish the Mormons. We also read about trouble on the border line between Missouri and Kansas Territory. Kansas desired to become a "free state," while the Missourians, together with some adherents in the territory, wanted it to become a "slave state." This led to many atrocities on the border line, where people were being driven off their farms and murdered by a gang called the "Border Ruffians."
Soon a rumor spread that some of the companies at Fort Randall would be withdrawn to serve either in Kansas or Utah, and presently an order arrived to send two companies to report at Fort Leavenworth, as soon as transportation by steamboat could be had. For this service my own company and Captain Lyon's Company B were selected. We were ordered to prepare ourselves in light marching order, leaving behind us all of our full dress uniforms, and other articles not required on a campaign. We also left behind us the alcoholic second lieutenant, who managed to be excused from going and remained at Fort Randall on duty with some other company. The officers' and soldiers' wives and children also remained. Captain Gardner and Lieutenant O'Connoll of my company and Captain Lyon and a lieutenant of Company B were the only officers to go.
We waited impatiently for a steamboat to arrive. She did not appear until near the middle of May, and with her came a paymaster who gave us eight months' pay before our departure. When the boat was unloaded and all was ready, we formed on the parade ground and, escorted by the band, marched to the boat. Among those who watched our departure were a number of Indians and squaws from the camp.
The river was still high and the current swift. The boat was but lightly loaded, so we did not strand on any sand bars and made good progress, running at night on the latter half of our trip. We still had to tie up now and then and cut wood to feed the boilers, but occasionally there was a pile of cord-wood for sale.
The great changes that had taken place since we had ascended the river three years before, were surprising to me. Then St. Joseph, Mo., marked the limit of the white settlements. Less than a hundred miles from Fort Randall by river, we made the first landing at Niobrara, where the river of the same name, flows into the Missouri. There was a small cluster of houses, and a somewhat pretentious hotel, a three-story frame building which some enterprising citizen had erected. Next we stopped at Sioux City, which had become a considerable village near the river bank of one and two story frame buildings, with a general store and a small church. Then came Council Bluffs, Omaha; Nebraska City; Atchison and some smaller places. All of them had sprung up within three years, and were busy and rapidly growing. We stopped at all these places to take on passengers or a little freight.
Such comfort as the staterooms afforded was not for the soldiers. They were set apart for the use of the passengers and our officers, while we were very uncomfortably limited to the lower or boiler deck. We had to sleep anywhere we could find room to lie down, on piles of freight or on the bare deck. The weather was raw at first, and we had cold rains. With half a dozen others I slept under the boilers several times after the fires were banked and the boat laid up for the night. The rear of the boilers was elevated on iron supports three feet or more above the deck. It formed a warm and sheltered place when the cold wind blew fore and aft through the open deck from stem to stern. After the boat began to run at night, the place became too hot for us and we had to sleep elsewhere.
There were no docks or wharves at any of the landings. When the boat approached a town she sounded her whistle and rang a bell, which brought many of the inhabitants to the river bank. In making a landing while going down stream, the pilot slowed down, approached the shore at an acute angle and pressed "her nozzle ag'in the bank." There he held the boat, until the force of the current swung her around and the bow pointed up stream. The impact of the boat always dislodged a large quantity of soft earth from the river bank, which fell into the water and left a big dent in the shore line. Every steamboat on its way down stream deprived the town of some of its real estate, if it made a landing.
In ten or twelve days, we reached Fort Leavenworth and went into quarters. I found the place very much improved. It had been cleaned up, the old buildings had been renovated and some new ones added. There was no cholera or other infectious sickness there then. It was a very busy place at that time. Soldiers were arriving and departing frequently, on their long march via Forts Kearney and Laramie to Fort Bridger, near Salt Lake City, where Col. Johnson was assembling a little army to punish the Mormons. At Leavenworth post I saw Robert E. Lee, who was then the colonel of one of the cavalry regiments and soon to become the Commander-in-Chief of the Confederate Army.
A few days after our arrival at the fort some comrades and myself obtained a twenty-four hour pass to go to Leavenworth City, only a few miles down the river. It had grown to a thriving town with many stores, hotels and saloons, on the business streets; churches, dwellings and shacks on others. All were built of wood and very few were more than two stories high.
We were in luck—a circus had come to town and was parading through the streets when we arrived. There was a steam organ on a decorated truck followed by a band and the mounted circus performers which drew a great crowd. Of course, we were on hand at the afternoon performance in the tent and thought it was great. In the evening we went to a theater in a barn-like building in the heart of the town, where we sat on wooden benches which were all on a level. There was no gallery. Three or four disreputable looking musicians, playing on wheezy instruments, made up the orchestra. The stage and the auditorium were lighted with candles. The floor of the stage creaked when the performers walked over it, and the scenery threatened to topple over. I distinctly remember that the piece played by the ambitious actors was "The Lady of Lyons," which they probably murdered. However, the audience that crowded the place applauded and seemed to enjoy it, and so did we. We slept at a hotel that night on a real bed for the first time in years, and next morning walked back to the fort.
A few days later we received orders to start for Utah. Each man bought a gray felt hat at the sutler's store, as we had seen other detachments do. These we wore on the march instead of the fatigue cap, which was a poor protection against the fierce rays of the sun on the prairies. Our first objective point was Fort Kearney on the Platte River, about two hundred and fifty miles away. But we had marched only about a week when we were recalled and retraced our steps to Fort Leavenworth. I felt disappointed, I had hoped to see the Great Salt Lake and the Mormons. The long weary march did not intimidate me. On our return to the fort, we learned that fresh trouble had broken out on the Kansas border, and we were to go to Fort Scott in the south-eastern part of Kansas, a few miles from the Missouri border, to protect the settlers. In a few days our little command was ready to start. It included Companies B and D and a section of a battery of artillery consisting of two of the old style brass six pounders with their caissons, and necessary complement of artillerists commanded by First Lieutenant Beekman Du Barry, Third Artillery, who attained high rank later in the Army of the Potomac. Second Lieutenant J. B. Shinn was his assistant. The surgeon who accompanied us was Samuel W. Crawford, who later commanded the division of Pennsylvania Reserves at the battle of Gettysburg as a brigadier general. Captain Nathaniel Lyon, being the ranking officer, commanded the detachment. Captain Lyon, the firm abolitionist, and Captain Gardner, the ardent pro-slavery advocate, were there together, on a mission to keep the peace between rival factions, the free-soilers and the partisans of slavery. Whatever their feelings may have been, but they did not exhibit them. They were polite to each other but not cordial.
Our first day's march ended at a creek which was almost dry when we crossed it. That night there was a cloud-burst which drenched us, and next morning the dry creek had become a raging torrent many yards wide. We witnessed the drowning of a man and a horse, who attempted to swim over to our side, and to whom we could give no aid.
A few nights later we were encamped on low bottom land at the Kansas River, when after midnight a terrific rain storm flooded our camp with several inches of water. I sat until daylight in my tent on an inverted quart tin cup. My bare feet were in the water and I held my knapsack and clothing on my knees to keep them dry.
We crossed the Kansas river on a private ferry, which consisted of a flat-boat or scow large enough to carry a wagon with a team of horses. A cable was stretched across the stream high above the water. An ingenious arrangement of pulleys was attached to this cable and to the boat, so that it was guided from shore to shore while the current furnished the motive power. No steering was required and no labor, except to shove the boat off to take the current. It was easy work, but very slow. It took all day to pass the soldiers and wagons over the river. The artillery crossed on the following day.
We encamped one day near a small village called Shawneetown. In the evening many of the soldiers strolled to the village, where there was a hotel with a bar-room, in which a few citizens were drinking with some of the soldiers. It was becoming dark, and the saddled horses belonging to the citizens were hitched to posts on the street. This gave a joker of my company an opportunity to play a trick on one of the civilians. He pulled a hair out of a horse's tail, and tied it firmly around the animal's hind leg between the hoof and the fetlock, concealing the hair by carefully covering it with the hair on the horse's leg. Then he awaited developments.
After a while the civilians came out, mounted their horses, and started off. We leisurely followed them, as their road led in the direction of our camp. Soon one of the men noticed that his horse was going lame. It raised one of his hind feet higher than the others, and brought it down with a jerk, as though it were trying to kick off something which annoyed it. The rider dismounted and examined the horse's hoof but found nothing wrong. Then his two companions dismounted and examined it. As we passed we heard them say that the only thing to be done was to go back to the village and have the shoe taken off. This they did and I hope discovered the harmless trick that had been played on them.
After leaving Shawneetown, we directed our march close to the border line. Sometimes we were in Missouri, sometimes in Kansas. This continued all the way down to Fort Scott. We halted for a day's rest at a small village called West Point in Missouri, where we could overlook a valley and see some Indian mounds. By this time we had been joined by half a dozen dogs, who had left their owners and followed us. They seemed to love the soldiers, who petted and fed them. We had quite a pack before the summer was over. Our marches were easy. There was no hurry; it was desired to let the people know that there were troops for their protection near the border line.
The country was sparsely settled. When we had reached the border we began to see abandoned farms, and burned farm houses and cabins. Those of the settlers who remained were outspoken sympathizers with slavery. On some of the abandoned farms the gardens and fields had been planted in the spring and were now overgrown with weeds. The horses and cattle had been taken away too, but there were pigs in the woods and chickens and ducks running loose without any owners. Every day was a feast with us on that short march. We lived on fresh pork, chickens and all kinds of vegetables, disdaining of the government rations, except the hard bread.
We reached Fort Scott in the evening during a heavy thunder storm, soaked to the skin. We put up for the night in one of the old barrack buildings, and next morning established a camp just outside of the little town. Fort Scott was an old frontier post, built on the same plan as all the others, which had been abandoned and sold by the Government. Citizens now lived in the frame buildings, formerly occupied by officers and soldiers. One of the old barrack buildings had been converted into a hotel, and the parade ground, with its well in the centre, was now the public square. On it faced the court house, in one of the old buildings, with the old guard-house serving for the prison.
The town of Fort Scott on the Marmiton river was the county seat of Bourbon County, Kansas. Some scattering houses had been erected outside of the old fort, but the entire population probably did not exceed two hundred at that time.
There appeared to be very little money in circulation. The farmers had none, and could only trade for their produce at the stores. They came to our camp, and sold us two chickens for twenty-five cents, eggs at five cents per dozen, two quarts of milk for five cents, and other produce in proportion, and seemed to be pleased to get real money. Two guileless farmer lads drove into camp one day with sixty pounds of choice butter. They said that "Ma" had told them that they must bring home six dollars for it. They had no scale, but a soldier loaned them one of our quart tin cups, which he said would hold just a pound, if filled and well heaped up. When they had sold all of their butter at ten cents per cup, they found to their chagrin that they had a little less than four dollars to take home to "Ma."
There were some abandoned farms around Fort Scott, but they were quite a distance from camp. Some of the soldiers, when they wanted green corn or potatoes, found it easier to get them from nearby farms when the farmer was not looking. One day a farmer complained to Captain Lyon about losing a calf and said he thought he could identify the soldier whom he suspected of taking it. We were paraded, but when he looked us over he said he could not pick out his man because we all looked alike. Some of the men who had dined on the calf made friends with the farmer, and took him to the hotel in town. There they filled him with whiskey and started him home feeling so happy that he invited them all to visit him at his farm.
One day three comrades and myself were enjoying a savory stew of chicken, young pork, potatoes and onions. We had it in an army mess pan which we had placed on the ground in our tent, and we were squatted around the pan, each dipping into it with his spoon in soldier fashion.
We had just started when one of the men began to sputter and kick.
"What in h—— is the matter with you," exclaimed one of the others. "Why don't you blow on it, if it is too hot?"
Instead of acting on this suggestion the man rolled over on his back, his mouth frothing and his eyes distended. He kicked over the pan and scattered our luscious dinner over the tent floor.
We sent for the doctor, who after a long time brought him back to consciousness. The man had had a fit. He had subsequent attacks and was soon after discharged from the service.
I suppose it was this incident that inspired a big red-haired Indiana "hoosier" in my company to try to get a discharge in the same way. One night he disturbed us by groaning and gnashing his teeth. We found that he was frothing soap-suds at the mouth, and was such a bad actor that it needed only a glance to show that he was shamming. The orderly sergeant threw a bucket of water over him and he had no more "fits."
A lot of pigs belonging to the towns' people ran around loose, and rooted about the camp until they became a nuisance. One day a soldier who craved some fresh pork, not daring to shoot a pig near the camp, baited a large fish hook with a piece of meat and when some of the pigs appeared in the company street he threw the hook just outside of his tent. Soon one of them took the bait, and only had time to let out one little squeal before the "fisherman" had him in the tent smothered in blankets. Roast pork was on the bill of fare for the mess next day.
We had easy duty while at Fort Scott and plenty to eat. We drilled for an hour during the cool part of the morning, for it was very hot there in midsummer. After that those who were not on guard or on some detail had the remainder of the day at their own disposal. I spent the greater part of my time on the shady banks of the Marmiton river, which was a fine lively stream of clear water with rocky embankments that showed out-croppings of soft coal. There were plenty of fine fish in the river, which we caught and often cooked on the bank, although our camp was but a few hundred yards away. I went in swimming several times each day, and enjoyed it immensely. At the stream we also washed our clothes and sat under a tree while they dried hung on bushes in the hot sun.
One afternoon, while many of us were at the river, we heard the "Long Roll" beaten in the camp. We rushed back and got under arms. On a hill a mile from camp we saw two dozen mounted men who were examining our camp and prancing around in a defiant manner. They all seemed to carry guns and opened fire on us when they saw us forming ranks. All of their shots fell short, and when Captain Barry sent a shell over their heads, they soon scattered. Pursuit was out of the question, as they were well mounted and we were on foot. This was the only time during our stay in Kansas that we saw any of the Border Ruffians. They were careful to keep out of our reach. The little incident caused some excitement among the inhabitants of the town who were glad to have the soldiers there to protect them from a raid.
I think we had been a month at Fort Scott, when we broke camp one morning and commenced our march to Lawrence on the Kansas River by way of Ossawatomy, Kansas. This was the place where John Brown had a sharp fight with the Missouri raiders in 1856, and earned the name of "Old Ossawatomy Brown." We were told that he was in Kansas at that time earnestly working for the Free Soilers, but I don't think we met him. We made a leisurely march. I rode Dr. Crawford's horse for five or six miles every day. He seemed to enjoy marching in the cool part of the morning, as also did some of the other officers. At night we often camped at some small settlement or near a farm house. We found the natives ill-informed. They seldom saw a newspaper, and knew but little as to the cause of all the trouble in Kansas.
Some had never seen any soldiers before. One good old lady marveled at the "big pistols on wheels," when she saw the artillery. Money was almost a curiosity in some of the "way-back" places through which we passed, and they sold us their produce at ridiculously low prices to get a few coins.
We stayed but a few days at Lawrence and then marched south again by a different road, back to Fort Scott. Our empty wagons were sent from Lawrence to Fort Leavenworth, with a small escort for supplies, and rejoined us later at Fort Scott. On our re-arrival there, Captain Lyon encamped us about a mile from town, but as long as we were close to the Marmiton River we cared little for the town.
About the first week in September, we received orders to return to Fort Leavenworth, which we did by the same route along the border line, by which we had come down. We had done a considerable amount of marching since we had left Fort Leavenworth, three months before. Our clothing was nearly worn out, and some of the men would soon be bare-footed, for we had left there in very light marching order, not expecting to remain away so long. Clothing and shoes were issued to us on our arrival at the fort.
I look back upon the summer I passed in Kansas, as an excursion when compared with the hardship of marching on the prairies. We always found a stream, a spring or a farmer's well within easy distance, which obviated the necessity of making distressingly long marches on account of the scarcity of water. We also fared well in the matter of food.
We remained but a few days at Fort Leavenworth before a steamboat arrived which was to take us up the Missouri River to Fort Randall again. This boat was much smaller than the others we had traveled on. She was what is called a "stern-wheeler." Her paddle-wheels, on the stern instead of on the sides, made her shake more than the other type of boat. She carried no other passengers, and we had the use of the unfurnished cabins on the saloon deck in the rear next to the paddle-wheels. This boat was of very light draft and not heavily loaded, so we seldom ran on sand bars and made steady progress. We were tormented by mosquitoes when the boat was tied up at night, and had to make smokes on the shore.
I became ill with chills and fever soon after we started and remained so until we arrived at Fort Randall. Dr. Crawford dosed me so liberally with quinine, that I could scarcely hear anything at times.
We made the trip from Leavenworth to Randall in a little less than four weeks, and arrived there in the middle of October. We occupied our old quarters, and resumed the usual duties. There were but five companies at the post then, two others having been sent away during the summer to Fort Laramie. We arrived in time to take part in the fall duck shooting, and Sergeant McVeagh of my company and I got a two-day pass to go hunting at a lake on the other side of the Missouri River, about ten miles away, where wild ducks and geese abounded. We borrowed shot guns from some of the citizen employees, and carried blankets and some provisions with us, intending to camp at the lake for one night.
We hunted during the afternoon with fair success, and as evening approached made our way toward one end of the lake where we saw woods in which we intended to camp for the night. But on approaching closer we noticed smoke issuing from the tops of several Indian teepees among the trees. We quickly decided that it would be safer to trust to the Indians' hospitality than to camp alone, as they had no doubt discovered our presence. A furious barking of dogs announced our arrival, and we entered the largest of three lodges. We sat down, and after the customary smoke we made the savages understand that we were hungry, and wanted to sleep in their camp for the night. The Indian assented by pointing to a heap of skins on one side of the tent, and making the sign indicating sleep.
We found that these Indians belong to the Oo-he-non-pas (Two Kettle Band) of the Yankton tribe, and the inmates of the teepee consisted of an Indian with his two squaws, two girls about my age, two children five or six years old, and a wrinkled gray-haired squaw bent with age.
We gave the squaws all the ducks we had shot. They prepared some of them for supper, also some venison which they had. The sergeant and I made coffee for the whole family, and shared our bread with them. After supper we gave the Indian some tobacco, and we smoked our own pipes.
We talked with all of them as much as our limited knowledge of their language permitted and found out they had been far away hunting, and were going to winter with their tribes. They had been at the fort and knew the soldiers. Some visitors from the other two lodges dropped in. The Indians showed us his pipes, his bows and arrows, his gun and his little curiosities. He admired our guns, which we had kept loaded, removing the percussion caps before entering the lodge. The sergeant interested them with a pack of cards, while I amused the younger squaws by drawing pencil sketches for them, and showing them my watch.
I began to wonder what the arrangements for sleeping would be when I noticed one of the squaws make a bed of buffalo robes and other skins on one side of the lodge for us, while directly opposite on the other side of the fire which was in the center of the floor, she put the two young squaws to bed. First she wound a horse hair rope many times around the lower limbs of each, to prevent them from running away with us I suppose. As a further precaution she lay down at their side next to the fire. The Indian with the other squaw slept opposite the opening to the lodge. The two children slept at the foot of the young squaw's bed next to the door, while the old squaw was left defenceless and alone to sleep at our feet on the other side of the door. They all lay down with their clothes on so we did the same, taking off only our coats. Our guns we laid next to the side of the lodge where I slept, the sergeant sleeping in front next to the fire.
I was tired and soon went to sleep. A noise awoke me during the night, but it was only the old crone putting a few fagots on the fire to keep it lighted. We arose soon after daylight. The two girls had been unwound before we got up. We had breakfast and departed, not forgetting to invite the family to visit us at Fort Randall.
We resumed our hunting, and soon had all of the ducks we were able to carry. Then, after a lunch by the lake, we took up our tramp to the fort, where we arrived in the evening.
The Indian and his family hunted us up in a few days at the fort, but the old squaw and the two children were not with them. They came mounted on ponies. The sergeant and I got them something to eat, and bought the squaw a few things in the sutler's store. We gave a plug of tobacco to the buck to repay his hospitality and they all went away satisfied.