Dr. Brady says “Donovan had assembled five bold spirits, and had immediately started out on the return journey.” As a matter of fact, Donovan did no such thing. The departure of General Bankhead’s relief column stripped the garrison of Fort Wallace to seven enlisted men, took away the last horse, and placed me in command. Forsyth’s second note, brought by Donovan, fell into my hands. It was telegraphed in full to General Sheridan, who ordered me to spare no expense of men, money, and horses to hasten relief to Forsyth. By the promise of $100 each, four citizens of the neighboring town of Pond Creek were induced to seek the Carpenter command. Donovan I persuaded to guide them, promising him $100 in addition to his pay as a scout. This party started at daylight, on government mules, rode all day, all night, and found Carpenter’s command on the south fork of the Republican River, about ten miles southeast of the scene of the fight. Guided by these men, Carpenter pushed out, and Forsyth and his men were relieved some hours in advance of the arrival of the other relief commands.

The country from Fort Wallace to Arickaree Fork I passed over the following December, in an unsuccessful endeavor to secure the bodies of those killed in the fight. We surprised a village of Indians at the scene of the fight, fought them off, and found the body of one of the scouts, but Lieutenant Beecher’s and Dr. Mooers’ graves were empty. Yours very truly,

By great good fortune I am permitted to insert here a private letter to me from Mr. Sigmund Schlesinger, the Jewish boy referred to in Chapter Six, which, as it contains an original account of the defense of Beecher’s Island from the standpoint of one of the participants, is an unique document in our Western historical records:—C.T.B.

For several days we had been following an Indian trail so broad that it looked like a wagon-road. Those in our command experienced in Indian warfare told us that we must be on the track of an Indian village on the move, with a large herd of horses. Evidently they knew that we were behind them, and seemed to be in a hurry to get away, for we found camp utensils, tent-poles, etc., which had been dropped and no time taken to pick them up. Among other things we saw fresh antelope meat, quarters, etc., and although our rations were nearly, if not all, gone, except some coffee and very little “sow-belly,” we did not dare eat the Indians’ remnants.

The night of Sept. 16th, before the attack next morning, Scout Culver, who was killed next day, pointed out to a few of us some torch-lights upon the hills that were being swung like signals. I knew that something “would be doing” soon, but, like a novice, I was as if on an anxious seat, under a strain of anticipation, expecting something strange and dangerous. The next thing that I now recall was that I was awakened just before daylight by a single cry, “Indians!” so loud and menacing that when I jumped up from the ground I was bewildered and felt as if I wanted to ward off a blow, coming from I knew not where, for it was still quite dark. That cry I will never forget. Soon I perceived a commotion among our horses and mules. The Indians, about a dozen, tried to stampede them. I could see in the dawning light the outlines of a white horse in the distance, and from the noise I realized that they were driving some of our stock before them. Later, in the daylight we could recognize some of our ponies on a neighboring hill in the possession of the Indians.

As soon as we crossed from the north bank of the river to the island, just before the attack, we tied our horses and pack mules to shrubs as best we could. During the day a mule with a partial pack on his back got loose and wandered around the vicinity of my pit. He had several arrows sticking in his body and seemed wounded otherwise, which caused him to rear and pitch to such an extent that Jim Lane, my neighbor, and I, decided to kill him. After shooting him he fell and lay between us, and served us the double purpose of food and barricade.

My horse was securely tethered to the underbrush on the island, and later that day I saw the poor beast rearing and plunging in a death struggle, having been shot and killed like the rest of our horses and mules. He also furnished me with several meals during the siege, even after he began to putrefy. There was little to choose between horse and mule meat under such circumstances—both were abominable.

When day broke that Tuesday, the seventeenth of September, 1868, we saw our pickets riding toward camp as fast as their horses could carry them, excitedly yelling: “Indians! Indians!” As I looked up the valley toward the west I beheld the grandest, wildest sight—such as few mortals are permitted to see and live to tell about. Many hundreds of Indians in full war paraphernalia, riding their splendid war ponies, rushed toward us en masse. Some were galloping in one direction, others cantering in another, their lances topped with many-colored streamers, the fantastic Indian costumes lending an awful charm to the whole. About this time those among us who had any had boiled some coffee and were preparing to cross over to the island.

I will frankly admit that I was awed and scared. I felt as if I wanted to run somewhere, but every avenue of escape was blocked. Look where I might I perceived nothing but danger, which increased my agitation; so I naturally turned to Colonel Forsyth as a protector, as a young chick espying the hawk in the air flutters toward the mother wing. Under such conditions of strain some things engrave themselves vividly upon your mind, while others are entirely forgotten. I remember that distinctly as in my trepidation I instinctively kept close to the colonel. I was reassured by his remarkable self-possession and coolness. While stirring every one to activity round us, he consulted with Lieutenant Beecher and the guide, Sharp Grover, giving directions here, advice there, until most of the command had crossed; then he crossed himself and posted the men, telling them where to take up their different positions. Meantime the Indians were coming closer. I was just behind the colonel when the first shot from the enemy came flying seemingly over our heads. I heard him say, smilingly, “Thank you,” but immediately afterward he ordered every one of us to lie flat upon the ground, while he, still directing, kept on his feet, walking around among us, leading his horse. The shots began coming thicker, and many of us yelled to him to lie down also. How long after this I do not know, but I heard the colonel cry out that he was shot, and I saw him clutch his leg and get down in a sitting position.

I was lying alongside of Lou McLaughlin; some tall weeds obscured my vision, so I asked Lou to crouch lower and I rolled over him to the other side and was there kept busy with my carbine, for the Indians were onto us. They were circling around while others were shooting. Very soon I heard Lou growl and mutter. I looked at him and saw that he was hit, a bullet coming from the direction where I was lying struck his gun-sight and glanced into his breast. He told me what had happened, but I could give him no attention, for there seemed lots of work to do before us. But later, after the repulse of the attack, I looked at Lou and was surprised to see him lying in a wallow. In his pain he had torn up the grass and dug his hands into the sand. In answer to my question whether he was hurt bad, he told me not bad, and advised me to dig into the sand and make a hole, as it would be a protection.

I am not sure at this time, but I am now under the impression that I told Colonel Forsyth of this; and from that time on we began to dig with our hands or whatever we could use, and kick with our heels and toes in the sand, and some of us soon had holes dug deep enough to protect the chest, at least.

Time seemed out of our calculations. I heard some one call, “What time is it?” An answer came, “Three o’clock.” I had thought it was about ten A.M. We had nothing to eat or drink all day and, strange to say, I was not hungry, which may have been the reason why I thought it was still early. Word was passed that Lieutenant Beecher and Scouts Wilson and Culver were killed, Colonel Forsyth wounded again, also Doctor Mooers shot in the head and others hurt whose names I do not now remember.

We fought steadily all day. After dark the Indians withdrew; then nature began to assert itself. I got hungry; there was nothing to eat in the camp that I knew of, except some wild plums that I had gathered the day before, which were in my saddle-bags, still on the body of my horse. I got out of my hole, creeping on hands and knees toward where I knew the poor animal lay. As I felt my way in the darkness I touched something cold, and upon examination found that it was Wilson’s dead hand. He lay where he fell; it was a most horrible feeling. The shivers ran up and down my back, but I got to my horse at last, and tugging, I finally secured the bag and my plums. I also found in it a piece of bacon, the size of two fingers, which I reserved for a last emergency, and was still in possession of that rusty piece of fat when relief came.

On my way back to my hole I passed one where Doctor Mooers lay wounded, moaning piteously. I put a plum in his mouth, and I saw it between his teeth next morning. He died on the night of the 19th. All our wounded were very cheerful, and to look at Colonel Forsyth and talk to him as he lay there helpless, no outsider would have suspected that he was crippled. We used to gather round him in his pit and hold conversation, not like men in a desperate situation, but like neighbors talking over a common cause.

Colonel Forsyth was the right man in command of such a heterogeneous company. Like the least among us, he attended to his own horse when in camp, and many times have I seen him gather buffalo chips to supply the mess fuel. While he was our commander in practice he was our friend, and as such we respected him, followed and obeyed him.

On about the fifth day, as the Indians began leaving us, we began to walk about and look around. About fifteen or twenty feet from my pit I noticed a few of our men calling to the rest of us. I ran to the place, and there, against the edge of the island, I saw three dead Indians. Their friends evidently could not reach them to carry them off, which explained to us the persistent fighting in this direction. When I got there the Indians were being stripped of their equipments, scalps, etc. One of them was shot in the head and his hair was clotted with blood. I took hold of one of his braids and applied my knife to the skin above the ear to secure the scalp, but my hand coming in contact with the blood, I dropped the hair in disgust.

Old Jim Lane saw my hesitation, and taking up the braid, said to me: “My boy, does it make you sick?” Then inserting the point of the knife under the skin, he cut around, took up the other braid, and jerked the scalp from the head. I had been about three years in that country and four years in America, and life on the plains under such hardships as I had undergone hardens the sensibility, yet I was not quite ripe for such a cutting affray, even with a dead Indian.

After this we were not molested, but devoted our time to looking around for something to eat besides the rotten horse and mule meat, which we boiled several times in water and powder, not to get it soft, but to boil out the stench as much as possible. We found some cactus fruit, and killed a coyote, of which the brains and a rib were my portion. Aside from this we had nothing but horse and mule during the siege, which soon told on our bowels; but in spite of all this, I do not remember a despondent man in our crowd.

One morning, being the ninth since we were attacked, I was lying outside of my pit, having done some guard duty during the night; I was half dozing and dreaming of home and a good meal. I felt so homesick and so hungry when I heard some one call attention to something moving on the hill.

I was all attention at once. Soon I heard again “I think that’s Doctor Fitzgerald’s greyhound.” Whoever it might be, we would welcome. We would even have been pleased to have the Indians attack us again, in hopes of killing one of their horses for fresh meat; but it was soon evident that help was coming, and when I fully realized this fact, enfeebled as I was, I jumped up and joined in a lunatics’ dance that was in progress all around us. Those on the hill must have seen us, for there was a rush of horsemen down the hill toward us, followed by one or two ambulance wagons.

They were as eager to reach us as we were to greet them, and as I ran uphill I noticed a soldier on a white horse coming full tilt. The momentum carried him past me, but in passing I grabbed his saddle-bag and was taken off my feet, but it would have taken more than one horse to drag me from my hold. I suspected some eatables in there, and as soon as he could stop, without dismounting he assisted me to open that bag. With both hands I dived in, and with each hand I clutched some hardtack, but only one hand could reach my mouth; my other was in the grip of one of our men, who ravenously snatched the “tacks.” We ate, cried, laughed, and ate, all in a breath.

As soon as possible we put our dead in the ground. Those that died at one end of the island were cared for by those in that vicinity, and others in their vicinity, so that one part of the island was not aware of the location of the corpses of the other part; at least I did not know where the bodies lay of those killed on the eastern end of the island. So one time, as I walked around among the pits, I noticed something red and round sticking out of the sand, like a half-buried red berry. I kicked it, but by so doing it was not dislodged; I kicked again, but to no result. I then looked closer and discovered that it was the nose of a dead man. I called others to my assistance, and we fixed matters so that no desecration was possible again.

Our mortally wounded were made as comfortable as possible before they died. I assisted at such ministrations given to Lieutenant Beecher. We removed his boots, coat, etc., and, of course, these things were not replaced on the body after he was dead, but lay around unnoticed. My shoes were quite badly worn, especially after being used for digging in the sand, so when relief came and we were preparing to leave the island, I put on his shoes, which were just about my size, and wore them even after I got back to New York City, leaving my old shoes in their stead on the island.

At one of our “sittings” around Colonel Forsyth in his pit, the incident of killing the coyote was discussed, and plans were suggested for the killing of more of them. Along with others, I also suggested a scheme, but it was ridiculed, and I soon retired to my pit, which was near enough to the colonel’s, so that I could hear what was said there. One of the men remaining was saying uncomplimentary things about me, when the colonel silenced him, telling him that I was but a boy unused to such things and that, under the circumstances, I was doing better than some of the older men. Colonel Forsyth is unconscious of the fact that I am very grateful to him for his kindness to that strange “boy” among those strangers, and that I still hope some day that I may have the opportunity to show my appreciation.

Jack Stillwell and I were the only boys in the company, and naturally gravitated toward each other. We were friends as soon as we met and chums before we knew each other’s names. When the colonel asked for volunteers to go to Fort Wallace for help, Jack was among the first to announce himself. I wanted to go with him, but the colonel gave no heed to my request; even Jack discouraged me, for he knew I was too inexperienced. After Colonel Carpenter came to our relief Jack was not with him, which made me and others feel very uneasy. The day after Colonel Carpenter’s arrival we saw the mounted sentinel that had been posted by Colonel Carpenter on a high eminence in the hills about three miles from the island, signaling that a body of men was approaching, which created a flutter of excitement, but there was a strong sensation of security, mingled with a sense of dependence upon our black rescuers permeating our emaciated party, after being cooped up, so to say, for so long a period in dread and suspense. At least that was my sensation. I remember watching that vedette, horse and rider turning around and around, being the only moving object in that dim distance, indicating to the anxious watchers that either friend or foe was in the vicinity. As he showed no inclination to leave his post, it was soon evident he had no fear of the approaching column, and that friends were coming. Not long after a few horsemen were seen coming around the bend of the river bed, and among them was my friend Jack Stillwell. Nearly all of us ran to meet the party. Soon Jack jumped from his horse, and in his joy to see so many of us alive again, he permitted his tears free flow down his good honest cheeks. I kept up correspondence with him all these years past. Last year he died.^[38] He was a big-hearted, jovial fellow, brave to a fault.

Carpenter had performed a very commendable thing in his march of over one hundred miles in two days for the relief of Forsyth. And it is marvelous that he had been able to find him in that vast expanse of country. He received high praise for it, which he fully deserved; but the battle which, with his black comrades, he fought three weeks later, elicited still more praise. The fight was one of the prettiest and most typical of any in our Indian campaigns; and I am fortunate in being able to give it in General Carpenter’s own words, written especially for this book, the notes appended being my own contribution.—C. T. B.

While on the forced march to relieve the party of scouts with Colonel George A. Forsyth, surrounded by Indians on the Arickaree fork of the Republican River, the troops under my command discovered a large trail of the Indians who had been engaged in that fight on the south fork of the Republican.

The scouts discovered that this trail left the valley of the stream a short distance below and struck across country in the direction of the Beaver Creek. After the relief of Forsyth, on my return to Fort Wallace with the survivors and wounded, a report was made to General Sheridan, then to the east of Fort Hayes, Kansas, of the probable whereabouts of the Indians; and the Fifth Cavalry, which had just arrived from the East by rail, was disembarked between Hayes and Wallace and ordered to move north under Major Royall, and strike the savages, if possible, on the Beaver. A day or two after the Fifth had left, Brevet-Major-General Eugene A. Carr reported for duty to General Sheridan. Carr had been a general officer of volunteers during the Civil War with an excellent record, and now reverted to his rank in the regulars of Major in the Fifth Cavalry.

Sheridan was anxious to have Carr join his regiment because of his experience with Indians and his general reputation, and therefore sent him to Fort Wallace with orders to have the two troops of cavalry there go under my command and escort Carr and overtake the Fifth, if possible, to enable him to join his regiment. The troops consisting of Troops H and I, Tenth Cavalry, were officered by myself and Captain Graham, Lieutenants Banzhaf, Amick, and Orleman, and were soon in readiness for the duty required. We had returned from the relief of Forsyth Oct. 1st, and we started with Carr at ten A.M. Oct. 14th.

I concluded to march north so as to strike the Beaver as soon as possible, and then to follow down that creek with the expectation of finding the Fifth Cavalry or of striking its trail. On the 15th I reached the Beaver at about one P.M., and after proceeding some miles down, went into bivouac. As we expected, we found a very large Indian trail about two weeks old, over which over two thousand head of ponies had been ridden or driven, going in the same direction.

The next day we continued our journey down the stream, finding plenty of water, a fine bottom covered with grass and timber, and still observing the Indian trail, which ran to a point about twenty miles east from the place where we first struck the Beaver. At this locality the signs showed that the Indians had encamped for the night. The ground was covered for acres with old fire-places, pieces of wood, and the manure of ponies; and a little distance off we found a dead Cheyenne, wrapped in his robes, lying upon a scaffolding in a tree, a protection against ravenous wolves. The trail then struck south toward Short Nose Creek, the Indian name for a stream about twenty miles south of the Beaver. We continued our course, however, on the Beaver, until we made about thirty miles, and then stopped for the night.

As there was no pack outfit at Wallace, I was compelled to take wagons to carry our supplies, and had eleven with me. The mules, dragging heavy loads over rough country, were made to trot in order to keep up with the cavalry column. We had now moved down the Beaver about forty-five miles without finding anything about the Fifth, and it began to look as if something had taken the regiment in another direction.

The next morning I sent Lieutenant Amick and ten men well mounted with Sharp Grover, the famous scout, with orders to proceed as quickly as possible across country to the Short Nose to look for signs of the Fifth Cavalry and to keep a sharp lookout for Indians.

Grover, who, it will be remembered, had been with Forsyth, afterward joined my command. He had married a Sioux woman and had lived for years with the Indians before the outbreak of hostilities. He could speak their language and knew their ways and customs, and was perfectly trained in reading signs. It was interesting to see how he could read what the tracks meant, as if they had been books. He could tell how long since the tracks were made, whether they were made by horses or ponies, shod or unshod, how many were ridden, how many were driven, whether it was a war party or a party changing camp. If Indians stopped for the night he could tell how many men or squaws were in the party, to what tribe they belonged, from the shape of their moccasins, and many more details. Like most of his ilk, Grover drank heavily on occasion. When the Indians went on the war-path Grover could not stay longer with the Sioux, as his life was not safe, and he entered the government employ, where he rendered heroic and invaluable services. Later he was killed in a row at Pond City, near Fort Wallace.

Amick and his party soon disappeared over the hills to our right and we kept on down the stream, the general course of which was to the northeast. I began to feel certain that the Fifth Cavalry had never reached the Beaver, and that we would probably be attacked by the Indians if this was the case. Under these circumstances I felt that it would be wise to be cautious and on the lookout against surprise. The road we passed over was very rough and the stream in most places ran through deep-cut banks several feet high, with very few places suitable for crossing.

As night came on a place was selected for a camp in a bend of the creek where the wagons could be placed across, giving room inside to graze the animals without fear of a stampede from howling savages. Amick returned just before night, having scouted some miles beyond the Short Nose without discovering any trace of the Fifth Cavalry. Grover told me that as they passed across the divide between the Beaver and the Short Nose he came across a single Indian pony track. This track was coming from a direction to our rear, and showed that the pony was going at a rapid gallop. Grover inferred from this that it was probably an Indian hunter returning homeward who had most likely crossed our trail behind us, discovered our presence in the country, and was riding as fast as possible to carry the news to the Indian camps somewhere to our front and not far off.

After a council over the situation General Carr came to the conclusion, after having traveled some sixty miles down the Beaver without finding the Fifth, that the regiment had never reached that stream and that therefore he would give it up and start on our return in the morning. About seven A.M. on the next day, Oct. 15th, Captain Graham expressed a wish to make a scout for a short distance to the front, and rode forward with two men. The command was ordered saddled up and everything made in readiness to move. In view of the fact that the south side of the creek was hilly and difficult and offered opportunities for ambuscades, I determined to go back by the north side, which was comparatively open. The afternoon before I had sent Lieutenant Orleman with a detachment to dig down the sides of the creek and prepare a practicable passage for the wagons and troops.

Graham had hardly ridden a thousand yards when twenty-five Indians suddenly dashed over the hill to his rear, with the evident intention of cutting him off. They were almost upon Graham before he discerned them, but he instantly struck spurs into his horse and dashed for the creek, the Indians firing a volley at short range upon the party. One of the bullets passed through Graham’s hat, another through his coat, and a third through his leggings without wounding him. One of the horses was shot through the shoulder and fell. His rider succeeded in getting into the creek and behind the bank along with the other soldiers, and they commenced firing upon the Indians. Graham’s girth burst as his horse sprang away at the first fire, but as his saddle gave way he seized his horse’s mane and dragged himself forward on the animal. He then dashed the horse over the bank of the creek, about ten feet to the bottom. He fell from his horse in this jump, but the horse, fortunately, ran in our direction.^[40]

By this time I started out thirty men under Lieutenants Amick and Orleman to cover the retreat of Graham’s men. As they charged toward the hill the savages rushed from the creek to avoid being cut off, and were hotly pursued by our men. Judging that the presence of these Indians indicated that a large party could not be far off, I thought it best to be prudent and sent a trumpeter to overtake Amick and tell him to discontinue the pursuit and fall back slowly to camp. Without further delay I now broke up the camp, crossed the creek with wagons and troops, and, having dismounted the men, deployed them as riflemen to cover the retreat of Amick.

In a few minutes the absent party made its appearance on the hills, with bodies of Indians, numbering at least a hundred, skirmishing on our flank and rear. They slowly fell back toward the creek, and when within range the dismounted men on the banks opened fire on the advancing savages, and under cover of this Amick crossed and joined the command, while the Indians kept at a respectful distance.

The wagons were now placed in double column so as to make everything as compact as possible.^[41] H Troop was assigned on the flanks and advance, deployed in open order. Troop I covered the rear in the same manner, with one platoon under Graham as a reserve. These arrangements being completed, we moved steadily up the creek bottom. As soon as this movement commenced, a large body of Indians made their appearance and charged toward us, taking advantage of ravines, trees, and bluffs to fire from the south side of the creek. Some of the balls were well aimed and came close.

I soon saw that if we continued down the creek bottom the enemy would harass us immensely under cover of the timber and banks, and therefore changed our course so as to leave the valley and take the higher ground or divide. The Indians followed, showing about two hundred strong, and acted boldly in their attacks on the rear and flanks. The men and officers behaved very coolly, facing toward the enemy and driving them back without stopping the progress of the column.

At one point we passed near a deep ravine, and the enemy, quick to observe cover of any kind, occupied it with quite a number of warriors and opened up a serious fire. The reserve platoon under Graham charged at the place as we were passing and, arriving at the edge of the ravine, poured in a volley at close range on the savages. A number must have been hurt and the Indians certainly lost no time in getting out of their position. Afterward they were more cautious in occupying ground too close to us. The flankers, under Banzhaf and Orleman, also repulsed the Indians on several occasions.

One Indian carried a red flag with some white device upon it, and by his movements the whole force seemed more or less governed. They were all stripped to the waists, and were decorated by various ornaments hanging from their heads and their shields, quivers, and bridles, so as to glisten and shine in the sun at every turn of the ponies. Up to this time five Indians were known to be killed at various points and quite a number wounded.

At one P.M. the enemy seemed to stop the fight and apparently withdrew, and I supposed that I had seen the last of them; but half an hour afterward, hearing an exclamation, I looked back and saw the Indians appearing again on the hills to our rear. On they came, one body after another coming in sight until it was estimated by all present that at least six hundred warriors were in view. Emboldened by their number they rushed forward, directing themselves toward our front, flanks and rear, making things look rather serious. I soon saw that we could not continue the march and meet this force, but that we must select a position and make a stand.

In the first attack in the morning I had offered the command to General Carr, as the senior officer present, but he declined it, stating that he considered himself simply as a passenger to be escorted, and I therefore continued to direct the operations.^[42]

I looked around and saw a small knoll or rise a short distance to the front, from which the ground fell in every direction, and this point was immediately selected. The teamsters were directed to take the trot, aim for this place, and on arrival at the knoll immediately to form a circular corral, half a circle on either side, with the mules facing inward, affording a shelter within and something of a fortification. As soon as we increased our pace the Indians evidently thought we were running from them, and sent up a yell which made shivers run down the backs of some of our recruits. We kept on, however, at a fast gait, and the moment we struck the highest ground, the wagons were corralled with six wagons one side, five wagons on the other, and the troops were rushed inside at a gallop and dismounted. The horses were tied together inside the corral with some men to watch them, and the rest were formed outside the corral in open order.^[43] This was done in about two minutes and then the advance of the Indians was upon us.

A fire commenced from our seven-shooter Spencers which sounded like the fire of a line of infantry. The Indians charged up around the wagons, firing rapidly and seriously wounded some of the men, but in a very short time they were driven back in wild disorder, leaving the ground covered with ponies, arms, and some bodies. Three dead warriors lay within fifty feet of the wagons. One man who was killed here was carried off by his comrades.

The chief Medicine Man, on a fine looking horse, rode out in front of our line about two hundred yards off, after the retreat of the Indians, to try to show that his medicine was good and the white man’s bullets could not hurt him. I directed several men near me to aim carefully at him. They fired and the Medicine Man went down, accompanied by a howl from the more distant Indians. After the repulse the men rushed forward from the wagons, seized and hauled in ten bodies of the Indians. The savages, disheartened and surprised at this reception, withdrew out of gunshot and assembled, apparently for council.^[44]

The men carried corn sacks and made breastworks near the wagons and we waited, expecting a renewal of the attack, for about an hour, when it became evident that some of the Indians were withdrawing. The day was very warm, we had been engaged about eight hours, and in the hot sun men and animals were suffering very much from thirst. I made up my mind to move for water, and keeping the wagons in double column, the horses inside and the men dismounted on the outside, we marched for the Beaver. A large party of Indians followed up to where their dead comrades lay and set up a mournful howl over their remains. Their loss in this fight, added to what they had suffered the month before in the conflict with Forsyth, must have had a sobering effect.

We now proceeded to the creek without further interference, and selecting a wide bottom encamped for the night, preparing some rifle-pits to cover our outlying pickets and to enable them to receive the enemy if an attack were made in the morning. We heard them around us all night imitating coyotes, but they did not find a weak place and refrained from molesting us. The next morning the Indians were gone and we marched by the shortest route to Fort Wallace, arriving there on the 21st.

On our return journey we passed through Sheridan City, a frontier town located at the then terminus of the Kansas Division of the Union Pacific R. R. It was full of taverns, saloons, gambling houses and dens, and of a rather tough lot of citizens and desperadoes. These people and others crowded into the streets when we passed through, and when they saw the troopers and their horses decorated with the spoils from the Indians whose dead bodies we had captured, they knew that we had been in a successful fight and they gave us a perfect ovation.

The savages suffered a considerable loss, but we escaped with a few men wounded (some of them seriously) and none killed. General Carr found the Fifth Cavalry had returned to the railroad, and through mistake they never reached the Beaver. He took command of the regiment, marched again and pursued the Indians over the Platte River, and followed them on a long campaign.

This was one of the smartest and most successful Indian fights on record. Carpenter’s tactics throughout had been admirable. General Carr was much surprised and pleased at the conduct of these black troopers, and on his return to Fort Wallace telegraphed to General Sheridan that “the officers and troops behaved admirably.” General Sheridan published a general order highly commending the commander, the officers and the men for this brilliant and gallant affair. Carpenter was brevetted colonel in the Regular Army (his fifth brevet), and afterward received a medal of honor for this fight and the relief of Forsyth. Well did he deserve them both.—C. T. B.

When General Carpenter’s account of the fight on the Beaver Creek was published serially, General Carr took exception to it in a public letter to the editor of the periodical in which it appeared. I am permitted by the editor to make extracts from this letter, which, with my own comment and General Carpenter’s rejoinder, appear as follows:

I. General Carr’s Account

I do not think that General Sheridan sent orders for my escort to go under command of Colonel Carpenter. I know that, after waiting with General Sheridan at Fort Hayes for several days, he ordered me to go to Fort Wallace, take an escort and go to find Royall, who had not been heard from as expected.

While we were going over the “rough hills” Colonel Carpenter, and perhaps some of the others, came up and remonstrated with me for marching the command so hard; said they could not be responsible for its effect on the horses, and when I insisted, asked me to take command and be responsible. I said, “All right, I will take command; but you must attend to the details. I will not appoint an adjutant and take the office work” (detailing guards, stable duties, etc., etc.).

I had with me an officer of my regiment, Captain Kane, Fifth Cavalry, and now wish I had appointed him adjutant and taken formal command.

Finding that the stream (Beaver Creek) was persistently hugging the south side of the valley, on which we were traveling, creating bluffs and ravines over which it was difficult to move the wagons, I determined to cross to the north side, where the valley consisted of a gentle and smooth slope.

I selected the camp in an “ox bow” bend of the creek, putting the tents and wagons across the entrance, the guard at the bow and the animals inside, selected a place for crossing, and ordered the banks to be cut down to the bed of the creek, so that the wagons and animals could cross.

In the Indian country I always had my commands up and under arms before daylight, which is the most dangerous time; and next morning we were up, had breakfast, the tents struck and the wagons packed, and were standing ’round the camp fire when Amick called out “Indians!”

I had intended to move camp across the creek and get fresh grass. Graham had started on his trip, following a narrow path between the bluff and the river bank. He was riding a fine horse called “Red Eye,” which had a very deep chest and thin barrel. As he told me afterward, his saddle began to slip back, but he waited to get down to fix it till he should reach a more open place ahead at the mouth of a ravine, when bang, bang! came some shots. His horse dodged and jumped down the bank into the creek, slipping the saddle farther back and kicking it clear, while Graham landed on the shoulders of the horse and from there on the bed of the creek. He turned back with his gun toward the bank, which protected him while he fired, till I sent Lieutenant Amick with some skirmishers, who covered his retreat. His two men jumped their horses down into and up out of the creek and fell back, and when we got the men all in I moved the command up to and over the crossing I had prepared and out to the open slope on the north side of the valley. As we had not found Royall but had found the Indians, or, rather, they had found us, it was of no use to go farther down the Beaver, and I determined to move toward home.

The Indians kept coming out from those bluffs, crossing the creek and following us, and I arranged the wagons in two columns, with Carpenter’s company in front and on the flanks, and Graham’s company in rear, where I was also.

Some of the Indians got on our flanks as skirmishers, a few in front and more in rear, while the main body got into two columns, about like the two halves of a regiment in columns of four, marching steadily and gradually, closing on us by increasing their gait. I estimated them at seven hundred warriors; we had about one hundred colored soldiers. Their chiefs were marching between the heads of their columns; they had a flag and a bugle. I sent word to Carpenter to turn more toward the higher ground, away from the timber along the creek, which Indians were using for cover. Pretty soon he began to trot, and I had to send Captain Kane to him with orders to go slower, for fear of a stampede. I was in the rear near Graham’s troop. He was one of the bravest men I ever saw. He would amuse himself with the Indians by concealing men in hollows, taking away their horses till Indians came up for them to shoot at, then charging up with their horses, mounting and bringing them off. Most of the men were cool, but I saw one man loading and firing when the Indians were a mile away. I called to him to stop, but he paid no attention, seemed to be dazed, and I had to go up and lay my hand on him before he obeyed my order. As the Indians got closer, one of the men dismounted to shoot. When he tried to remount, his horse got scared and edged away from him, and I rode up on the off-side, got hold of the rein, and let his horse come against mine. Then he put his foot in the stirrup, made a leap and got his leg over, when we both cantered off—just in time. He lost his cap, and we lost a dog which was playing about between us and the Indians, interested in the shooting till he got near enough to them to be killed. These were our only losses.

As the main body of the Indians got closer and increased their gait to the charge, the leading wagons turned toward each other and stopped. The others turned their mules inside of those in front of them, lapping onto and tying to the wagons, forming a corral in shape of a flat-iron, and the horsemen rode inside, dismounted, tied their horses, and began to fire at the Indians who were thronging around us. One Indian, on a clay-bank pony and wearing a red blanket, with no arms, rode ’round and ’round us within fifty or one hundred yards, and seemed to bear a charmed life. I shot at him several times, and Grover said he also shot at him till he began to think the Indian had strong medicine which protected him—Grover was a squaw man and had imbibed some of their superstitions. He was shooting a Sharp’s carbine, and, taking it down to reload, happened to notice that he had the sight set for five hundred yards and had been shooting over the Indian’s head.

I had a Spencer carbine which had been sent me by the company for trial. With it I shot down an Indian, who fell and lay within thirty yards of the corral. He was not dead, and I afterward talked with him through Grover. He said his name was Little Crow, and mentioned the name of his father, whom Grover said he knew. He was young—about eighteen. I asked him why they attacked us. He said because we came on their creek. He told where their camp was, so that one week from that day, which was Sunday, October 18th, 1868, I found them with my own regiment, the Fifth, had a fight lasting two days and two nights, and drove them out of Kansas.

While the fight was going on our soldiers showed great bravery. While inside the wagon corral they would rush from one side to the other, wherever the Indians appeared, so as to fire at them. Their officers did not seem to keep them in their places, and, after it was over, I reprimanded them for not commanding their men. After the Indians were repulsed we went around and rearranged the wagons, got out sacks, cracker-boxes, etc., fixed breastworks in anticipation of another attack, and then sat down and ate our lunch.

It was two o’clock. Our soldiers wanted to scalp the dead Indians, of whom about ten were lying too near the corral for their friends to carry off. We prevented this till, while we were going around the corral rearranging, the soldiers got the chance to scalp them. Two were lying wounded when two soldiers approached them; one drew his bow and sent an arrow through the thighs of one of the men. The arrow passed through the fleshy part of one thigh and entered the other and stopped against the bone. It had to be cut in two to extract it. Years after, at Fort Leavenworth, a first sergeant showed me an arrow-head with the point marred, and said he was that man.

The other wounded Indian had a pistol, and shot the other soldier in the calf of his leg. These were the only men we had hurt. It was then that there was some talk of abandoning the wagons and going direct for the railroad. With the wagons, we had, of course, to go by routes over which wheeled vehicles could travel. I do not recall whether Captain Graham advocated this, but there would have been no impropriety in his stating his views to me. Any officer can talk to his commander, and I had been giving orders from time to time directly to him and his men. We sat there eating our lunch and talking with each other and the wounded Indian who lay in front of us, when he made a motion with his hand back toward me. I asked Grover what he meant. He said, “He wants you to go away; says his heart is bad.” This pleased me very much. I had been watching the Indians, who had fallen back to some rising ground nearly a mile off. They were moving about, pow-wowing, and, I supposed, preparing for a new attack. They seemed to be diminishing in numbers, but I thought they were trying to get around to some place where they would have a better chance at us. I really did not expect to get out of that fix. If those Indians had had sufficient resolution, being seven to one, they ought to have used us up. When the wounded Indian made this motion, I took it to mean that he knew they were giving up. He could see them as well as we could, and knew better what they were doing. I suppose that those who remained were the friends of the dead, waiting for us to go.

I gave orders to reload the wagons and move out. Some of the Indians followed us for several miles, but did not again attack.

Colonel Carpenter did not offer the command to me at the first attack in the morning, nor did I decline it. I was exercising the command all the time. One of the articles of war provides that “when troops join and do duty together the highest in rank of the line of the army shall command the whole, and give the orders needful for the service,” and I could not have avoided the responsibility.

The foregoing narrative shows that I was not a “passive spectator,” nor did I “refrain from advice or suggestion,” nor from giving orders as required.

I, no doubt, said that I was a guest, and did not interfere unnecessarily; but my long experience on the plains and with Indians rendered it incumbent on me to exercise my judgment.