Memoirs of Orange Jacobs. Orange Jacobs

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СКАЧАТЬ great Carlyle declares that if a person possess a quality in a high degree, whether that quality be mental or physical, he is unconscious of the fact; but if he be deficient in any quality, either moral or physical, he is always conscious of the deficiency; and, seeming to act on the supposition that what he feels so distinctly, he fears others might perceive, he is constantly hedging: therefore, a dishonest man is always talking about his honesty, and a coward about his bravery. All the men of our company behaved well but one, and that one was "the Colonel." I cannot refrain from recalling an incident connected with him. I have mentioned the unmarried lady who was accompanying her sister to her Western home. She was sitting in the wagon with the reins in her hand and a pistol in her lap, during all the excitement and uproar. As I passed up and down the train, I saw the Colonel, either at the rear or on the side of the wagons, away from the yelling Indians. The last time I passed the wagon, the Colonel stuck his head out from the opposite side and asked, "What are you going to do, Captain?" I said, "Fight, sir, if necessary." The young lady, looking at him, exclaimed: "Yes, sir; fight if necessary. Get on the other side of the wagon; be a man!" Although the Colonel subsequently, by his conduct at Shell Creek, partially redeemed his reputation, yet the insinuating jeers of the men, as to which was the safer side of the wagon, kept him in hot water, and, taking my advice, he left the train after the passage of Shell Creek, at the first opportunity. It was a good riddance, for a coward driven to bay, and constantly wounded by the shafts of ridicule, is dangerous.

      Our toll having been paid and the excitement having abated, we resumed our journey across the Loup Fork valley and over the slightly elevated high land that separate its waters from the Platte. We descended from this high land by an easy grade, and made an early camp. Wood, water and grass were abundant.

      We knew that a large ox-train, consisting of forty wagons or more and known as the Hopkins train, would cross the Loup Fork the next morning. There were quite a number of women and children in the train; hence our gallantry, as well as our bravery, prompted assistance. Further, we had concluded that it was wise to travel in larger bodies through the country of the Pawnees. According to our estimate, this train would arrive at the danger point, or toll gate, between ten and eleven o'clock a. m. Thirty of us volunteered to go back, to assist in case of difficulty. We were mostly mounted and ready for the start, when we saw a horseman rapidly approaching us, and we rode out to meet him. He told us that the Hopkins train had been attacked by the Indians, that two of his company had been seriously, if not mortally, wounded; and he asked for a doctor. The doctor was with us and readily consented to go, after returning to the wagon for instruments and medicine he might need. The rest of dashed up the gentle slope—hurry-scurry, pell-mell. At the top we slackened our speed for observation. We saw that the Indians had abandoned the conflict and were hurrying to the river, on the further side of which was their village. The occasional puff and report of a white man's rifle, at long and ineffective range, no doubt quickened their speed. We struck out on an acute angle to cut them off from the river, but failed. Those in boats had either reached or were near the other shore, some three or four hundred yards away; those in the water swam with the current and were practically out of danger: the boys, however, took some shots at the retreating heads. I think no Indian was killed or wounded by the shooting, but some of the boys were of a different opinion. We were at the river bank but a short time; but before we left it, the lame chief and his two subalterns, mentioned above, came down to the opposite shore, raised their hands to show that they had no weapons, then jumped into a canoe and rapidly crossed the river to us. They asked permission to go up with us to see their dead and to care for their wounded. The chief said five Indians were dead and many wounded. We saw but three dead and two slightly wounded. Two white men were wounded—one with a flint-headed arrow in the chest, the other shot with a large ball through the fleshy part of the thigh close to the bone. Although the arrow-head had entered the chest cavity, it had not pierced any vital organ, and recovery was rapid; the other wound was of a complex character, which I cannot mention, and was dangerous if not mortal. This man was slowly recovering, however, while he remained with us and under the doctor's assiduous care. What the final result was I never knew. The wounded having been attended to, the train was soon on the move for our camp. After a consultation held that evening, it was agreed that we should travel together through the Pawnee country, and that I should have general control of our united forces.

      Shell Creek, which was full five days' travel ahead, was said to be one of the boundary lines separating the country of the Pawnees from that of the Sioux. Notices stuck up along the road warned us to look out for the Pawnees at Shell Creek. It was their last toll-collecting station. This fact and their difficulty with the Hopkins train put us on our guard. From what we saw of the action of the Indians, there were manifest indications, that they were collecting at Shell Creek. We saw every day on the opposite side of the river, long lines of them journeying towards that point. In the afternoon of the fifth day after our union, we arrived on the plain, through which the creek had cut its way to the Platte River. We made a corral with our wagons, some seventy-five or eighty rods from the creek.

      A few small flags of different colors were floating from the top of the bank descending to the creek, indicating that the Indians were there. I called for seventy-five volunteers to go with me to the crossing. I am glad to say that the Colonel promptly stepped forward; and more than the requisite number offered to go. Where the road crosses Shell Creek valley, if it is proper so to call it, it is from fifteen to twenty feet below the general face of the country, the valley not being over four or five rods in width. It is a small stream, but its shallow waters flow over a bed of treacherous quick sand. The earlier immigrants had cut down the nearly perpendicular bank so as to make the descent and ascent practicable, to and from, the narrow valley. They had also, from the nearby timber in the valley of the Platte River, obtained stringers, placed them across the creek, and covered them with heavy split or hewn cottonwood puncheons.

      I formed my volunteers in a line, open order, and facing the crossing. In this order we marched quite rapidly towards the creek until we were eight or ten rods away, when an order of double quick was given—we dashed down to the bank, and found from seventy-five to a hundred Indians, all armed, at different points along the bank and near the crossing. We covered them with our rifles and shotguns. There was an ominous silence for a short time. They soon arose, however, and all but two crossed the creek and went to a bald knoll a short distance below the crossing. One or two started to come up to us, but we waved them off. The puncheons had been removed from the stringers and thrown into an irregular pile on the further side of the creek. Two Indians stood upon the pile. I asked for two young men to go down to replace the puncheons. Quite a number volunteered. I selected one standing near me, and another called Brad. Both were stalwart and muscular. Brad was a great boaster, but a noted exception to Carlyle's rule. He was as courageous as a lion. The puncheons were thick, water-soaked and heavy. One of the two Indians standing upon them departed as Brad and his companion approached; the other, silent and sullen, maintained his position on the pile, and when Brad took hold of the end of a puncheon he walked down to that end, thus compelling Brad to lift him as well as the puncheon. Someone said "hit him, Brad." I thought the order a proper one; so I said nothing. Brad, who was great in a power emanating from the shoulder and culminating in the knuckles of the hand, struck, with all his force, the Indian on the point of the jaw; the Indian fell to the ground a limpid heap, and did not recover until nearly all of the puncheons had been replaced. When he arose his face was covered with blood from either the effect of the blow or his fall. He walked slowly towards the knoll where the other Indians were, and his appearance among them created quite a sensation and uproar. It was manifest that there was no unity of purpose, or action among them. As soon as the bridge was repaired we crossed over with four-fifths of the men; the other one-fifth went back to help bring up the train, and to assist in the crossing if necessary. I left the command with the doctor, and as the evening was fast approaching I selected a camp about one-half of a mile beyond the crossing, where grass, water and wood were plentiful. The first lieutenant superintended the camping. When I returned I found that the doctor had "the lame chief" and two other younger chiefs as prisoners. They had crossed the line marked out by him, and he retained them as hostages. The lame chief was somewhat reconciled to his lot, but the young men were taciturn and sullen. The lame chief knew English and talked it sufficiently well for us СКАЧАТЬ