University of Virginia Library

CHAPTER XXI.

"Jumping Bear," who rescued me from the revengeful
arrow of the Indian whose horse the chief
shot, one day presented himself to me, and reminded
me of my indebtedness to him in thus preserving my
life.

Trembling with fear, I listened to his avowal of
more than ordinary feeling, during which he assured
me that I had no cause to fear him—that he had
always liked the white woman, and would be more
than a friend to me.

I replied, that I did not fear him; that I felt grateful
to him for his kindness and protection, but that
unless he proved his friendship for me, no persuasion
could induce me to listen.

"Will you carry a letter to my people at the fort,
delivering it into the hands of the great chief there?
They will reward you for your kindness to their sister;

they will give you many presents, and you will return
rich."

"I dare not go," he replied. "Nor could I get
back before the warriors came to our village."

"My people will give you a fast horse" said I,
"and you may return speedily. Go now, and prove
your friendship by taking the letter, and returning
with your prizes."

I assured him that the letter contained nothing that
would harm him or his people; that I had written of
him and of his kindness, and of his good will toward
them. After many and long interviews, the women of
the lodge using their influence, I at last prevailed upon
him to go, and invoking the bright moon as a witness
to my pledge of honor and truth, he started on his
journey, bearing the letter, which I believed was to
seal my fate for weal or wo. In the moonlight I
watched his retreating form, imploring Heaven to
grant the safe delivery of the little messenger, upon
which so much depended.

Daring and venturesome deed! Should he prove
false to me, and allow any one outside the fort to see
the letter, my doom was inevitable.

Many days of intense anxiety were passed after his
departure. The squaws, fearing that I had done
wrong in sending him, were continually asking questions,
and it was with difficulty I could allay their

anxiety, and prevent them from disclosing the secret
to the other women.

The contents of the letter were a warning to the
"Big Chief" and the soldiers of an intended attack
on the fort and the massacre of the garrison, using me
as a ruse to enable them to get inside the fort; and
beseeching them to rescue me if possible.

The messenger reached the fort, and was received
by the officer of the day, Lieutenant Hesselberger, and
conducted to the commander of the post, Major House,
and Adjutant Pell, who had been left there to treat
with the Indians on my account.[1]

General Sully was absent at Washington, but every
necessary precaution was taken to secure the fort.

Jumping Bear received a suit of clothes and some
presents, and was sent back with a letter for me, which
I never received, as I never saw him again. These
facts I learned after my arrival at Fort Sully.

The night before our departure from the Blackfeet
village, en route for the fort, I was lying awake, and
heard the chief address his men seriously upon the
subject of their wrongs at the hands of the whites. I
now understood and spoke the Indian tongue readily,

and so comprehended his speech, which, as near as I
can recollect, was as follows:

"Friends and sons, listen to my words. You are a
great and powerful band of our people. The inferior
race, who have encroached on our rights and territories,
justly deserve hatred and destruction. These
intruders came among us, and we took them by the
hand. We believed them to be friends and true
speakers; they have shown us how false and cruel
they can be.

"They build forts to live in and shoot from with
their big guns. Our people fall before them. Our
game is chased from the hills. Our women are taken
from us, or won to forsake our lodges, and wronged
and deceived.

"It has only been four or five moons since they
drove us to desperation, killed our brothers and burned
our tipis. The Indian cries for vengeance! There is
no truth nor friendship in the white man; deceit and
bitterness are in his words.

"Meet them with equal cunning. Show them no
mercy. They are but few, we are many. Whet your
knives and string your bows; sharpen the tomahawk
and load the rifle.

"Let the wretches die, who have stolen our lands,
and we will be free to roam over the soil that was our
fathers'. We will come home bravely from battle

Our songs shall rise among the hills, and every tipi
shall be hung with the scalp-locks of our foes."

This declaration of hostilities was received with
grunts of approval; and silently the war preparations
went on, that I might not know the evil design hidden
beneath the mask of friendship.

That night, as if in preparation for the work he had
planned, the gracious chief beat his poor tired squaw
unmercifully, because she murmured at her never-ending
labor and heavy tasks.

His deportment to me was as courteous as though
he had been educated in civilized life; indeed, had he
not betrayed so much ignorance of the extent and
power of the American nation, in his address to his
band, I should have thought him an educated Indian,
who had traveled among the whites. Yet in his brutal
treatment of his squaw, his savage nature asserted
itself, and reminded me that, although better served
than formerly, I was still among savages.

When morning came to my sleepless night, I arose,
still dreading lest some terrible intervention should
come between me and the longed-for journey to the
abodes of white men.

The day before leaving the Blackfeet village, I gave
all my Indian trinkets to a little girl who had been
my constant companion, and by her gentle and affectionate
interest in the captive white woman, had
created within me a feeling akin to love. She was

half white, and was grand-daughter of a chief called
Wichunkiapa, who also treated me with kindness.

The morning after the chief's address to his warriors,
the savages were all ready for the road, and, mounting
in haste, set up their farewell chant as they wound
in a long column out of the village.

I have frequently been asked, since my restoration
to civilization, how I dressed while with the Indians,
and whether I was clothed as the squaws were. A
description of my appearance as I rode out of the Indian
village that morning, will satisfy curiosity on
this point.

My dress consisted of a narrow white cotton gown,
conposed of only two breadths, reaching below the
knee, and fastened at the waist with a red scarf; moccasins,
embroidered with beads and porcupine quills,
covered my feet, and a robe over my shoulders completed
my wardrobe.

While with the Ogalallas, I wore on my arms great
brass rings that had been forced on me, some of them
fitting so tight that they lacerated my arms severely,
leaving scars that I shall ever retain as mementos of
my experience in Indian ornamentation. I was also
painted as the squaws were, but never voluntarily applied
the article.

It was winter, and the ground was covered with
snow, but so cold was the air that its surface bore the

horses' feet on its hard, glittering breast, only breaking
through occasionally in the deep gullies.

It was two hundred miles from the Blackfeet village
to Fort Sully, in the middle of winter, and the weather
intensely cold, from the effects of which my ill-clad
body suffered severely. I was forced to walk a great
part of the way, to keep from freezing. Hoping for
deliverance, yet dreading lest the treacherous plans of
the Indians for the capture of the fort and massacre
of its garrison might prove successful, and my return
to captivity inevitable, I struggled on, striving to bear
with patience the mental and bodily ills from which I
suffered. My great fear was that my letter had not
fallen into the right hands.

On our journey we came in sight of a few lodges,
and in among the timber we camped for the night.
While in one of the lodges, to my surprise, a gentlemanly
figure approached me, dressed in modern style.
It astonished me to meet this gentlemanly-looking,
well-mannered gentleman under such peculiar circumstances.
He drew near and addressed me courteously.

"This is cold weather for traveling. Do you not
find it so?" he inquired.

"Not when I find myself going in the right direction,"
I replied.

I asked him if he lived in that vicinity, supposing,
of course; from the presence of a white man in our

camp, that we must be near some fort, trading-post, or
white settlement.

He smiled and said, "I am a dweller in the hills,
and confess that civilized life has no charms for me. I
find in freedom and nature all the elements requisite
for happiness."

Having been separated from the knowledge and
interests of national affairs just when the struggle
agitating our country was at its height, I asked the
question:

Further conversation on national affairs convinced
me that he was a rank rebel.

We held a long conversation, on various topics. He
informed me he had lived with the Indians fourteen
years; was born in St. Louis, had an Indian wife, and
several children, of whom he was very proud; and
he seemed to be perfectly satisfied with his mode of
living.

I was very cautious in my words with him, lest he
might prove a traitor; but in our conversation some
Indian words escaped my lips, which, being overheard,
rumor construed into mischief. What I had said was
carried from lodge to lodge, increasing rather than diminishing,
until it returned to the lodge where I was.
The Indians, losing confidence in me, sent the young
men, at midnight, to the camp of the white man, to

ascertain what had been said by me, and my feelings
toward them.

He assured the messengers that I was perfectly
friendly, had breathed nothing but kindliness for them,
and was thoroughly contented; had so expressed myself,
and there was no cause to imagine evil.

This man trafficked and traded with the Indians,
disposing of his goods in St. Louis and in eastern
cities, and was then on his way to his home, near the
mouth of the Yellowstone River.

Early in the forenoon of the last day's travel, my
eager and anxious eyes beheld us nearing the fort.
The Indians paused and dismounted to arrange their
dress and see to the condition of their arms. Their
blankets and furs were adjusted; bows were strung,
and the guns examined by them, carefully. They
then divided into squads of fifties, several of these
squads remaining in ambush among the hills, for the
purpose of intercepting any who might escape the anticipated
massacre at the fort; the others then rode on
toward the fort, bearing me with them.

A painfully startling sight (the last I was destined
to see), here met my gaze. One of the warriors, in
passing, thrust out his hand to salute me. It was
covered by one of my husband's gloves, and the sight
of such a memento filled me with inexpressible dread
as to his fate. Nothing in the least way connected
with him had transpired to throw any light upon his

whereabouts, or whether living or dead, since we had
been so suddenly and cruelly separated. All was
darkness and doubt concerning him.

Mr. Kelly had been a Union soldier, and happening
to have his discharge papers with me at the time of
my capture, I had been able to secrete them ever
since, treasuring them merely because they had once
belonged to him and contained his name.

Now, as we approached the place where his fate
would be revealed to me, and, if he lived, we would
meet once more, the appearance of that glove, on the
savage hand, was like a touch that awakened many
chords, some to thrill with hope, some to jar painfully
with fear.

In appearance I had suffered from my long estrangement
from home life. I had been obliged to paint
daily, like the rest of my companions, and narrowly
escaped tattooing, by pretending to faint away every
time the implements for the marring operation were
applied.

During the journey, whenever an opportunity offered,
I would use a handful of snow to cleanse my cheeks
from savage adornment; and now, as we drew nearer
the fort, and I could see the chiefs arranging themselves
for effect, my heart beat high, and anticipation
became so intense as to be painful.

Eight chiefs rode in advance, one leading my horse
by the bridle, and the warriors rode in the rear,

cavalcade was imposing. As we neared the fort they
raised the war song, loud and wild, on the still, wintry
air; and, as if in answer to its notes, the glorious flag
of our country was run up, and floated bravely forth
on the breeze from the tall flag-staff within the fort.

My eyes caught the glad sight, and my heart gave
a wild bound of joy; something seemed to rise in my
throat and choke my breathing Every thing was
changed; the torture of suspense, the agony of fear,
and dread of evil to come, all seemed to melt away
like mist before the morning sunshine, when I beheld
the precious emblem of liberty. How insignificant
and contemptible in comparison were the flaunting Indian
flags that had so long been displayed to me; and
how my heart thrilled with a sense of safety and protection
as I saw the roofs of the buildings within the
fort covered by the brave men who composed that little
garrison.

The precious emblem of liberty, whose beloved
stripes and stars floated proudly out, seemed to beckon
me to freedom and security; and as the fresh breeze
stirred its folds, shining in the morning light, and
caused them to wave lightly to and fro, they came
like the smile of love and the voice of affection, all
combined, to welcome me to home and happiness
once more.

An Indian hanger-on of the fort had sauntered carelessly
forward a few minutes previous, as if actuated

by curiosity, but in reality to convey intelligence to his
fellow-savages of the state of the fort and its defenses.

Then the gate was opened, and Major House appeared,
accompanied by several officers and an interpreter, and
received the chiefs who rode in advance.

Meanwhile, Captain Logan (the officer of the day),
a man whose kind and sympathetic nature did honor
to his years and rank, approached me. My emotions
were inexpressible, now that I felt myself so nearly
rescued. At last they overcame me. I had borne
grief and terror and privation; but the delight of being
once more among my people was so overpowering that
I almost lost the power of speech, or motion, and when
I faintly murmured, "Am I free, indeed free?" Captain
Logan's tears answered me as well as his scarcely
uttered "Yes," for he realized what freedom meant to
one who had tasted the bitterness of bondage and
despair.

As soon as the chiefs who accompanied me entered
the gate of the fort, the commandant's voice thundered
the order for them to be closed.

The Blackfeet were shut out, and I was beyond
their power to recapture.

After a bondage lasting more than five months,
during which I had endured every torture, I once
more stood free, among people of my own race, all

ready to assist me, and restore me to my husband's
arms.

Three ladies, residing at the fort, received me, and
cheerfully bestowed every care and attention which
could add to my comfort and secure my recovery from
the fatigues and distresses of my past experience.