University of Virginia Library

CHAPTER VI.

To take up the thread of my own narrative again,
and the continuation of my journey with the savages,
after the never-to-be-forgotten night when I parted
with little Mary, and the attempt to escape myself, will
be to entertain my reader with a sight of the dangerous
and precipitous paths among the great bluffs which
we had been approaching, and the dizzy, fearful heights
leading over the dark abyss, or the gloomy, terrible
gorge, where only an Indian dares to venture.

The blackness of night, and the dread of our savage
companions, added terror to this perilous ride. As we
passed the little creek before we plunged into these
rocky fastnesses, we had left some scattered woods along
its banks.

I remember looking longingly at the dim shelter of
these friendly trees, and being possessed by an almost
uncontrollable desire to leap from the horse and dare
my fate in endeavoring to reach their protecting shade;

but the Indians' rifles behind me, and my dread of
instant death, restrained me. And now my attention
was attracted by the wild and terrible scenery around
us, through which our fearful captors rode at ease,
although it seemed impossible for man or beast to
retain a footing over such craggy peaks and through
such rugged ravines.

The cool air and the sound of rippling water warned
us of our nearness to a river; and soon the savages
turned their horses down a steep declivity that, like a
mighty wall, closed in the great bed of the North Platte.

I saw that the river was rapid and deep, but we
crossed the sands, plunged in, and braved the current.

From the child to my husband was an easy transition;
indeed, when I thought of one, the other was
present in my mind; and to mark the path of our
retreat with the letters and papers I dropped on our
way, seemed the only hope I had of his being able to
come to my rescue.

As the horses plunged into the swelling river I
secretly dropped another letter, that, I prayed, might
be a clue to the labyrinth through which we were
being led; for I could see by all the Indians' precautions,
that to mislead any who should have the temerity
to attempt our recovery, was the design of their movements.

They had taken paths inaccessible to white men,
and made their crossing at a point where it would be

impossible for trains to pass, so that they might avoid
meeting emigrants. Having reached the opposite bank
they separated into squads, and started in every direction,
except southward, so as to mislead or confuse
pursuers by the various trails.

The band that surrounded and directed us kept to
the northward a little by west. I tried to keep the
points of compass clearly, because it seemed part of the
hope that sustained me.

Mr. Kelly had said that our position on the Little
Box Elder was about twelve miles from Deer Creek
Station, which lay to the northwest of us. Marking
our present course, I tried, by calculating the distance,
to keep that position in my mind, for toward it my
yearning desire for help and relief turned.

After crossing the river and issuing from the bluffs
we came to a bright, cool stream of water in a lovely
valley, which ran through its bosom, spreading a delicious
freshness all around.

Brilliant flowers opened their gorgeous cups to the
coming sunshine, and delicate blossoms hid themselves
among the rich shrubbery and at the mossy roots of
grand old trees.

The awakening birds soared upward with loud and
joyful melodies, and nature rejoiced at approaching
day.

The beauty and loveliness of the scene mocked my
sleepless eyes, and despair tugged at my heart-strings;

still I made superhuman efforts to appear cheerful, for
my only refuge was in being submissive and practicing
conciliation. My fear of them was too powerful to
allow me to give way to emotion for one moment.

There were sentinels stationed at different places to
give the alarm, in case of any one approaching to
rescue, and I afterward learned that in such a case I
would have been instantly murdered.

Next morning I learned, by signs, that Indians had
gone out in search of little Mary, scattering themselves
over the hills, in squads. Those remaining were constantly
overlooking their plunder and unrolling bundles
taken from our wagons. They indulged their admiration
for their spoils in loud conversation.

The Indians seemed to select, with a clear knowledge
of natural beauty, such localities as seemed best fitted
to suggest refreshment and repose.

The scenery through which we had passed was
wildly grand; it now became serenely beautiful, and to
a lover of nature, with a mind free from fear and
anxiety, the whole picture would have been a dream of
delight.

The night of my capture, I was ordered to lie down
on the ground, near a wounded Indian. A circle of
them guarded me, and three fierce warriors sat near me
with drawn tomahawks.

Reader, imagine my feelings, after the terrible scenes
of the day previous; the desolate white woman in the

power of revengeful savages, not daring to speak, lest
their fury should fall on my defenceless head.

My great anxiety now was to preserve my sanity,
which threatened to be overcome if I did not arous
myself to hope, and put aside the feeling of despair
which at times stole over me. My heart was continually
lifted to "Our Father," and confidently I now
began to feel that prayer would be answered, and that
God would deliver me in due season. This nerved me
to endure and appear submissive.

At early dawn I was aroused from my apparent
slumbers by the war chief, who sent me out to catch
the horses—our American horses being afraid of the
savages—and as the animals were those belonging to
our train, it was supposed that I could do so readily.

Upon returning, my eyes were gladdened by the
sight of my fellow prisoner, who was seated with her
boy upon the ground, eating buffalo meat and crackers.
I went immediately to her, and we conversed in low
tones, telling her of my intention to escape the first
opportunity. She seemed much depressed, but I endeavored
to re-assure her, and bidding her hope for the
best, went back to where the Indians were making
ropes, and packing, their goods and plunder more
securely, preparatory to the succeding march, which
was commenced at an early hour of the day.

We proceeded on our journey until near noon, when
we halted in a valley not far to the north of Deer Creek

Station, and I met this lady again. It was a clear and
beautiful valley where we rested, until the scorching
rays of the sun had faded in the horizon.

Being burdened with the gun, and bow and arrow of
the chief, my tired arms were relieved, and I plead for
the privilege of camping here all night for many reasons.
One was, we might be overtaken by friends sent
to rescue us, and the distance of return would be less
if I should be successful in my next attempt to escape.

My entreaties were unavailing; the savages were
determined to go forward, and we were soon mounted
and started on. We traveled until sunset, then camped
for the night in a secluded valley; we seemed to enter
this valley along the base of a wall, composed of bluffs
or peaks. Within these circling hills it lay, a green,
cool resting place, watered by a bright sparkling stream,
and pleasantly dotted with bushes and undergrowth.

The moon went down early, and in the dim, uncertain
star light, the heavy bluffs seemed to shut us in
on all sides, rising grimly, like guardians, over our
imprisoned lines. Blankets were spread, and on these
the Indians rested.

I was then led out some distance in the camp, and
securely fastened for the night. But before this, I
remarked, to my fellow prisoner; my determination to
escape that night, if my life were the forfeit, as in
every wind I fancied I could hear the voice of little
Mary calling me. She entreated me not to leave her,

but promising help to her should I be fortunate
enough to get free, I sadly bade her good night, and
went to my allotted place.

In the morning, when permitted to rise, I learned
that she had disappeared. A terrible sense of isolation
closed around me. No one can realize the sensation
without in some measure experiencing it.

I was desolate before, but now that I knew myself
separated from my only white companion, the feeling
increased tenfold, and seemed to weigh me down with
its awful gloomy horror.

In the heart of the wilderness, surrounded by creatures
with whom no chord of sympathy was entertained
—far from home, friends and the interests of
civilized life—the attractions of society, and, above
all, separated from husband and loved ones—there
seemed but one glimpse of light, in all the blackness
of despair, left, and that was flight.

I listened to every sound, while moments appeared
hours, and it seemed to me that death in its most terrible
form would not be so hard to bear as the torturing
agony I then endured.

I murmured broken prayers. I seemed to hear the
voices of my husband and child calling me, and springing
forward, with a wild belief that it was real, would
sink back again, overwhelmed with fresh agony.

Arrangements were then made for resuming our
journey, and we were soon once more on our march.

Another burden had been added to my almost worn-out
frame, the leading of an unruly horse; and my
arms were so full of the implements I was forced to
carry, that I threw away the pipe of the old chief—a
tube nearly three feet long, and given me to take care
of—which was very unfortunate for me, exciting the
wrath and anger of the chief to a terrible degree.

Now they seemed to regard me with a suspicious
aversion, and were not so kind as before.

The country they passed over was high, dry, and
barren. I rode one horse and led another; and when
evening came they stopped to rest in a grove of great
timber, where there was a dry creek bed.

Water was obtained by digging in the sand, but the
supply was meager, and I was allowed none.

The sun began to sink, and the chief was so enraged
against me, that he told me by signs that I should behold
it rise no more.

Grinding his teeth with wrathful anger, he made me
understand that I was not to be trusted; had once
tried to escape; had made them suffer the loss of my
child, and that my life would be the forfeit.

A large fire had been built, and they all danced
around it. Night had begun to darken heavily over
me, and I stood trembling and horror struck, not
knowing but that the flame the savages capered about
was destined to consume my tortured form.

The pipe of the chief was nowhere to be found, and

it was demanded of me to produce it. He used the
Indian words, "Chopa-chanopa," uttered in a voice
of thunder, accompanying them with gestures, whose
meaning was too threatening to be mistaken.

I looked in fear and dismay around me, utterly at a
loss to know what was expected, yet dreading the consequences
of failing to obey.

Wechela, the Indian boy, who had been so kind to
me, now came up, and made the motion of puffing
with his lips, to help me; and then I remembered
that I had broken the pipe the day before, and thrown
it away, ignorant of their veneration for the pipe, and
of its value as a peace offering.

The chief declared that I should die for having
caused the loss of his pipe.

An untamed horse was brought, and they told me I
would be placed on it as a target for their deadliest
arrows, and the animal might then run at will, carrying
my body where it would.

Helpless, and almost dying with terror at my situation,
I sank on a rocky seat in their midst. They
were all armed, and anxiously awaited the signal.
They had pistols, bows, and spears; and I noticed
some stoop, and raise blazing fire-brands to frighten
the pawing beast that was to bear me to death.

In speechless agony I raised my soul to God! Soon
it would stand before his throne, and with all the
pleading passion of my sinking soul I prayed for

pardon and favor in his precious blood, who had
suffered for my sins, and risen on high for my justification.

In an instant a life-time of thought condensed itself
into my mind, and I could see my old home and hear
my mother's voice; and the contrast between the love
I had been so ruthlessly torn from, and the hundreds
of savage faces, gleaming with ferocity and excitement
around me, seemed like the lights and shadows of
some weird picture.

But I was to die, and I desired, with all the strength
of my soul, to grasp the promises of God's mercy, and
free my parting spirit from all revengeful, earthly
thoughts.

In what I almost felt my final breath, I prayed for
my own salvation, and the forgiveness of my enemies;
and remembering a purse of money which was in my
pocket, knowing that it would decay with my body in
the wilderness, I drew it out, and, with suffused eyes,
divided it among them, though my hands were growing
powerless and my sight failing. One hundred and
twenty dollars in notes I gave them, telling them its
value as I did so, when, to my astonishment, a change
came over their faces. They laid their weapons on the
ground, seemingly pleased, and anxious to understand,
requesting me to explain the worth of each note
clearly, by holding up my fingers.

Eagerly I tried to obey, perceiving the hope their

milder manner held out; but my cold hands fell powerless
by my side, my tongue refused to utter a sound,
and, unconsciously, I sank to the ground utterly insensible
to objects around me.

When insensibility gave way to returning feeling, I
was still on the ground where I had fallen, but preparations
for the deadly scene were gone, and the savages
slumbered on the ground near me by the faint firelight.
Crawling into a sitting posture, I surveyed
the camp, and saw hundreds of sleeping forms lying
in groups around, with watches set in their places,
and no opportunity to escape, even if strength permitted.

Weak and trembling, I sank down, and lay silent
till day-break, when the camp was again put in motion,
and, at their bidding, I mounted one horse and
led another, as I had done on the day previous.

This was no easy task, for the pack-horse, which
had not been broken, would frequently pull back so
violently as to bring me to the ground, at which the
chief would become fearfully angry, threatening to
kill me at once.

Practicing great caution, and using strong effort, I
would strive to remain in the saddle to avoid the cuffs
and blows received.

Whenever the bridle would slip inadvertently from
my hand, the chief's blasphemous language would all be
English; a sad commentary on the benefits white men

confer on their savage brethren when brought into
close contact.

Drunkenness, profanity, and dissolute habits are the
lessons of civilization to the red men, and when the
weapons, we furnish are turned against ourselves, their
edge is keen indeed.

Feeling that I had forfeited the good will of the
Indians, and knowing that the tenure of my life was
most uncertain, I dared make no complaint, although
hunger and devouring thirst tortured me.

The way still led through dry and sandy hills, upon
which the sun glared down with exhausting heat, and
seemed to scorch life and moisture out of all his rays
fell upon. As far as my eye could reach, nothing but
burning sand, and withering sage brush or thorny cactus,
was to be seen. All my surroundings only served
to aggravate the thirst which the terrible heat of that
long day's ride increased to frenzy.

When, in famishing despair I closed my eyes, a cup
of cool, delicious drink would seem to be presented to
my lips, only to be cruelly withdrawn; and this torture
seemed to me like the agony of the rich man, who
besought Lazarus for one drop of water to cool his
parched tongue.

I thought of all I had been separated from, as it
seemed to me, forever, and the torment of the hour
reduced me to despair. I wished to die, feeling that
the pangs of dissolution could not surpass the anguish

of my living death. My voice was almost gone, and
with difficulty I maintained my seat in the saddle.

Turning my eyes despairingly to my captors, I
uttered the word "Minne," signifying water in their
language, and kept repeating it imploringly at intervals.
They seemed to hurry forward, and, just at sunset,
came in sight of a grassy valley through which
flowed a river, and the sight of it came like hope to
my almost dying eyes.

A little brook from the hills above found its way
into the waters of this greater stream, and here they
dismounted, and, lifting me from my horse, laid me in
its shallow bed. I had become almost unconscious,
and the cool, delightful element revived me. At first
I was not able to drink, but gradually my strength
renewed itself, and I found relief from the indescribable
pangs of thirst.

The stream by which the Indians camped that night
was Powder River; and here, in 1866, Fort Conner
was built, which in the following year was named Fort
Reno.