The Plainsman - Part 3

(Cont. from last week)

(by Dan R. Conway - originally published in the

Hysham Echo on Sept. 23, 1926)

“We now decided to climb the hill back of the river, from which a fine view was to be had, as we had no time to follow the tracks that seemed to overrun the flat. When we had done so, finding nothing in sight, we sat down on the grass to smoke and rest. Suddenly a mounted Indian showed himself about five hundred yards away, and circled around us as though he had just discovered us. I knew that I could come pretty close to that Indian, for I had killed an antelope once at about that distance, so I raised the sight of my rifle and fired.

“Before I could note any result of the shot the ground around the savage was alive with Indians, whipping their horses in our direction; On they came, in wild disorder, their ornaments of bright metal flashing in the rays of the bright morning sun, and there was such a flutter of waving plumes and feathers that the sight was altogether thrilling. We did not stop to admire it, however, for, so great was our anxiety to reach the protecting line of timber that, with one accord, we dropped behind the hill and made for cover as fast as our legs would carry us.

“I fear we did not present a pleasant spectacle as we raced down hill in this sudden change of base, but it was good strategy. On the edge of the slough we turned about and faced the war party, which had now divided its force and was streaming out of the coulees on either side. They had a notion of charging us direct, but on our opening fire they scattered and, forming a thin line, charged past our position, delivering their fire as they passed. The bullets sped over and around us, but no one was hit, for the sagebrush afforded us some protection. Our fire was more effective. Missouri (the nickname of one of the men) tumbled an Indian off his horse, and soon there were several riderless animals running about.

“While these Indians were drawing our fire several others had dismounted below and were entering the woods. In crossing the slough everyone lost his moccasins except Ed, who wore boots. Entering the willows we waited for the attack of the Indians, whose shrill cries sounded in different parts of the woods in support and encouragement of each other.
“As the war party greatly outnumbered us, we looked for them to follow up their advantage, since they had us on the run, but they evidently lacked stomach for it, though I have known three reckless Sioux warriors to follow two whites into thick brush, an encounter that ended in a draw of one white man and one Indian. As for us being barefooted, our ambition for fighting was at the zero point, and we sympathized with the sentiment of one of our party who had seen more or less fighting in the late war: ‘I wish I was a baby, and a girl baby, at that.’

“Painfully we made our way across the openings and through patches of fire-killed cacti to our cabin, where we found that the Indians had been there before us and had taken everything worth taking, leaving as mementoes of their visit an arrow and a coup lance sticking in the doorway.”

Guides the “Key West”

In 1873 General George A. Forsyth, an aide on General Sheridan’s staff, was given orders at Fort Lincoln, Dakotah, to take military command of the Missouri river steamboat, “Key West,” and to explore the Yellowstone as far as the mouth of Powder river. Up to that time no steamers had ever ascended the Yellowstone to that point, and the main object of the trip was to ascertain whether or not it was navigable that far. This was one of the military moves that led but three years later to the Battle of the Little Big Horn, and the subsequent subjection of the hostile Sioux nation.

Well protected so far as military attaches were concerned, General Forsyth, at Fort Buford was ready to start on his exploration trip, but was at a complete loss in that he knew of no guide competent to lead through this uncharted country. Captain Grant Marsh, the pilot of the Key West,” said that he knew but one man who was thoroughly familiar with the Yellowstone, and that was “Yellowstone” Kelly. The Captain added that he felt confident that they would run across him shortly in one of the river bottoms of the Missouri, where he was known to be trapping and cutting wood. His log cabin was sighted the following day. The boat tied up to shore and the General went to talk to the plainsman.

“Yellowstone” Kelly, the Plainsman

According to Captain Marsh, Kelly was dressed entirely in a suit of fringed buckskin, and his feet were encased in beaded moccasins. His face, darkly tanned by sun and weather, was smooth-shaven except for a slender moustache, and his features were lean and hard, muscular gauntness of a hunting animal that carries not an ounce of superfluous flesh. A mass of thick hair, straight and black as an Indian’s, was swept back from his forehead and hung below his shoulders. Across his arm he carried a long, breech-loading Springfield rifle, on the butt of which was carved the name he had bestowed upon his trusty companion and guardian of his lonely life, “Old Sweetness.” The rifle’s barrel from muzzle to stock was covered with the skin of a great bull-snake, shrunk on so tightly that it resembled varnishing. This was the appearance that impressed General Forsyth, and this was the guide who was chosen to pilot the expedition. This, too, was the man who became a keen friend of the military leader throughout the years that followed.

Kelly’s services that summer proved invaluable to General Forsyth, who admitted frankly that the important work of mapping the region for military purposed could not have been carried on had it not been for the knowledge of his guide concerning the territory.

With Miles in Montana

In the few years that followed, Kelly’s services became greatly in demand. In 1877 he was scout for General Miles during the campaigns of southeastern Montana, and when Chief Joseph was trailed to northern Montana and there brought to surrender.
The Wolf Mountain
Campaign
A number of years ago, Kelly wrote a very interesting and graphic memoranda on an incident of the “Wolf Mountain” campaign in 1877, while he was working under General Miles. He said:
“About January 3, 1877, the command went into camp near Wolf Mountain, Tongue River, close to the canyon, I was still in the saddle contemplating with a pained aspect the appearance of the army wagon that contained the scouts’ plunder and bedding, which as usual had been overturned in one of the numerous crossings of Tongue River, when General Miles called to me and directed me to take a party of scouts and go up the river some distance and watch out for Indians.

“We had passed, the day before, the freshly abandoned camp of a large force of Indians, who were still in the vicinity.
“Proceeding a mile up the canyon of the Tongue, we turned to the left, and from a point off bluff found an excellent lookout that was sheltered by a large cedar tree.

“From this point we presently observed some Indians traveling down the valley; on nearer approach, observing them with glasses, they appeared to be squaws. It was evident to me that they were either ignorant of the recent removal of the Indian camps from that vicinity, and the proximity of the troops, or that the Indians were up to some scheme.

“As they neared our place of concealment, I saw that there were several women and a boy. I at once turned to the Indian scouts and warned them not to touch them. We rode down a gulch and quietly approached them. They stopped and commenced to cry. We made signs to them not to be afraid and motioned them to move on in the direction of our camp. They appeared to be Cheyennes, and could not, or would not talk Sioux.

“They were taken to headquarters, and there begin shortly thereafter an alarm of Indians in the valley, we struck out again in that direction.

“This time the Indian scouts did not follow us. The party numbered five, as follows: the three Johnsons, Tom La Forge and myself. The Indians were seen in the distance, and when we had attained the point where the squaws were found, ten or fifteen Indians showed themselves behind a little rise of ground awaiting our approach. We immediately charged them and that is where we made a mistake.

“The Indians were resting their guns on their crossed gun sticks, and when within some sixty yards, some forty or fifty of them who had been concealed, rose up and delivered their fire as we circled and returned the volley. The poor marksmanship of the Indians, alone, saved us from extermination. Tom La Forge’s hose was shot under him, and for this reason, we took position in a small clump of scrub oak. Print this post