CHAPTER ELEVEN

Carr and Tall Bull at Summit Springs

I. A Brilliant Little Fight

General Eugene A. Carr, in command of the Fifth Cavalry, did some brilliant skirmishing and fighting in 1868–9 western Kansas and Colorado. His most notable exploit was the surprise of Tall Bull’s camp. Next to Black Kettle, Tall Bull was probably the most vicious and diabolical of the Indian raiders in these two states.

Carr, with five troops of the Fifth Cavalry and with W. F. Cody (Buffalo Bill) as chief guide, learning where Tall Bull’s camp was, marched one hundred and fifty miles in four days in pursuit of him. Halting when he believed he had reached the vicinity of the camp, he sent Buffalo Bill with some of his Pawnee Indian auxiliaries to find out exactly where the Indians were located.

Cody, having discovered the location of the village, returned to General Carr and advised him to take a wider detour, keeping his forces concealed among the hills, so that he could approach the Indians from the north, a direction from which they would not be expecting attack, and whence they might be the more easily surprised. The advice was followed, the command made its encircling march without detection, and formed up in line of troops, each troop two abreast, in the ravines about twelve hundred yards from the village.

They were between the Indians and the Platte River. The camp was located at Summit Springs, Colorado. Every preparation having been made, Carr ordered the bugler to sound the charge. The man was so excited that he was unable to produce a note. Twice Carr gave the command. Finally, Quartermaster Hayes snatched the bugle from the agitated musician and sounded the charge himself, and the whole regiment rushed out into the open.

The Indians made for their ponies and advanced to meet the charge. The rush of the soldiers was too threatening, however. After a hasty fire they broke and fled on their horses, the whole party, soldiers and Indian scouts, following after at full speed through the village. The attack was a complete success. Fifty-two Indians were killed, two hundred and seventy-four horses and one hundred and forty-five mules were captured. The soldiers had one man wounded, with no other casualties.

In the camp were found the bodies of two unfortunate white women, who had been captured. Swift as had been the dash of the soldiers, the Indians had taken time to brain one of the women with a war-club, while the second was shot in the breast and left for dead. She was given every possible attention by the soldiers, who took her back to Fort Sedgwick, and her life was eventually spared. Her sufferings and treatment had been beyond description. Fifteen hundred dollars in money—in gold, silver, and greenbacks—strange to say, had been found in the camp. This sum the soldiers, by permission of the general, donated to the poor woman, as an expression of their sympathy for her.

According to some accounts, Tall Bull, who was chief of the camp, and one of the head chiefs of the Sioux, was killed in this attack. Buffalo Bill tells another story.[53] The day after the fight the various companies of the Fifth Cavalry—which had remained in the camp all the ensuing day and night, at the insistence of the plucky commander, in spite of the pleas of some of the officers, who, fearing an attack in force, suggested retiring immediately—separated in order the more effectively to pursue the flying Indians. Several days after the surprise the detachment for which Cody was guide was attacked by several hundred Indians. The soldiers fought them off, killing a number. The chief of this party was believed by Cody to be Tall Bull.

Buffalo Bill crept through a ravine for several hundred feet, unobserved by the Indians, until he reached an opening whence he had the savages in range. Watching his opportunity as the Indians were careering wildly over the prairie, he drew a bead on the chief and shot him dead. Whether that was Tall Bull or not, one fact is clear—that he was killed either then or before, for he was certainly dead thereafter.

When the troops were following the Indian trails on the march to Summit Springs, at every place where the Indians had camped they found marks of white women’s shoes. It was this knowledge that gave additional determination and fire to their magnificent attack.

General Carr deservedly gained great reputation for his dash and daring.

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Here I include a letter describing this battle from the standpoint of a soldier, which is a most interesting contribution to the story of the affair:

II. Account of the Battle of Summit Springs

Written by J. E. Welch to his comrade, Colonel Henry O. Clark, of Vermont.[54]

The next spring, 1869, I heard that General Eugene A. Carr, commanding a detachment of the Fifth U. S. Cavalry, was organizing an expedition to go after a large band of Indians (Sioux and Cheyennes) who had been raiding and murdering through Colorado, New Mexico, and Kansas. Some other fellows and myself went to Fort McPherson and offered our services as volunteers to serve without pay. The general could not accept our services, but he said we could go along and act with the scouts—so along we went.

The expedition consisted of about four hundred cavalry, one hundred and fifty Pawnee scouts, under Colonel Frank North, and about twenty civilians. Buffalo Bill was the guide. He struck out for the Republican River, and the first night after we got there the hostiles tried to stampede our horses; they came near accomplishing their object, too, but they only succeeded in wounding a teamster and killing a mule. Next day we found the trail of their main body and followed it, but soon found that we could not gain an inch on them; we kept on, however, until we came to a place where the trail divided. The trail to the right was very plain, while the one to the left was scattered and so dim it was evident to the most inexperienced man in the command that the trail they intended us to follow was the one to the right. So General Carr detached two troops of cavalry and some Indians, under Major Royall, caused them to make as big a show as possible and take the decoy trail, while the main body was kept back in a low place for a day in order that any hostile scouts who might be watching us would think the whole command had gone on the decoy trail. Next day we started on the dim trail, and before night we became satisfied that we were on the trail of the main body of the hostiles. Major Royall followed the decoy trail until it scattered, then turning the head of his column to the left he intercepted and rejoined the command. We now found that we were gaining on the game we were after. They evidently thought they had fooled us, and were taking their time.

On the tenth of July we marched sixty-five miles, passing three of their camps. On the eleventh we were on the march before daylight. The trail was hot, the Indians making for the Platte. Every one knew that if they succeeded in crossing the river the game was up. By noon we had marched thirty-five miles, at which time Buffalo Bill, who had been far in advance of the command all day, was seen approaching as fast as his tired horse could come. As soon as he reached the column he called for a fresh horse, and while transferring his saddle told General Carr that he had encountered two bucks who were hunting and that the Indian camp was about twelve miles ahead.

GEN. GEORGE CROOK GEN. EUGENE A. CARR GEN. ELWELL S. OTIS GEN. HENRY B. CARRINGTON

GROUP OF DISTINGUISHED GENERAL OFFICERS

The general, knowing the bucks who had been run off by Cody would make every effort to reach their camp ahead of us in order to give the alarm, gave the command “Trot.” Both horses and men seemed to brighten up, and we put real estate behind us at a rapid rate. When within a mile of the hostile camp a halt was called to let the Pawnees unsaddle, as they flatly refused to go into action with saddles on their horses. They began daubing their faces with paint and throwing off their clothing. They were made to retain enough of the latter to enable us to distinguish them from the hostiles. After this short delay we moved forward at a sharp trot, and in a few moments we were looking down at “Tall Bull’s” camp in a small valley below us. In a moment the camp was alive with Indians running in every direction.

General Carr, taking in the situation at a glance, gave utterance to a few words of command, winding up his remarks with the order, given loud and clear and sharp:

“Charge!”

Every horse leaped forward at the word, and in a twinkling we were among them and the fight was on. It did not last long. There was rapid firing for about five minutes, when all was over except an occasional shot as some fellow would find an Indian who had failed to secure a horse and escape.

The result of the fight was about as following: no white men killed, four or five horses killed, about one hundred and eighty-eight dead Indians, forty of whom were squaws and children;[55] one hundred and five lodges captured, many rifles, five tons of dried buffalo meat baled for winter use, a very ample supply of ammunition, consisting of powder, lead, etc., and a greater number and variety of brass kettles than I ever saw before.

Of their live stock we captured five hundred and sixty head of ponies and mules.

To pursue those who had fled was out of the question, our horses being too badly done up. As we charged the camp, we saw a white woman run from among the Indians, one of whom fired at her as she ran. We shouted to her to lie down, which she did, our horses leaping over her without a hoof touching her. She was wounded in her side, but not fatally. Almost at the same moment we saw an Indian seize another white woman by the hair and brain her with a tomahawk. Some of us rode straight for that Indian, and there was not a bone left in his dead carcass that was not broken by a bullet. I dismounted in the midst of the hubbub to see if I could help the woman, but the poor creature was dead. (She had the appearance of being far gone in pregnancy.) I mounted my horse again with a very good stomach for a fight.

After firing a few shots, I happened to see a Red mounted on a large paint pony making off by himself, and driving four fine mules ahead of him. I gave chase and gained on him rapidly, which he soon perceived, dropping his mules and doing the best he could to get away. But it was no use. “Sam,” my horse, was Kentucky bred, and walked right up on him. When I was within seventy-five or one hundred yards of him he wheeled his horse and fired, the bullet passing through the calf of my leg and into my horse. The Indian threw his gun away and rode at me like a man, discharging arrows as he came. The third arrow split my left ear right up to my head. It was then my turn, and I shot him through the head. This Indian’s name was “Pretty Bear.” He was chief of a band of Cheyennes. The Pawnees knew him and were anxious to secure his scalp, which I was glad to give them as I soon became disgusted with the ghastly trophy. “Pretty Bear” had on his person the badge of a Royal Arch Mason, with West Springfield, Ill., engraved on it. I sent the badge to the postmaster at Springfield with a statement as to how it came into my possession. “Pretty Bear” had five or six scalps on the trail of his shield, one of which was that of a woman. The hair was brown, very long, and silken.

“Tall Bull,” the Sioux chief, was killed by Lieutenant Mason, who rode up to him and shot him through the heart with a derringer. After I had taken the scalp of “Pretty Bear” I found that Sam was shot through the bowels. I unsaddled him and turned him loose to die, but he followed me like a dog and would put his head against me and push, groaning like a person. I was forced to shoot him to end his misery. I had to try two or three times before I could do it. At first to save my life I could not do it. He kept looking at me with his great brown eyes. When I did fire he never knew what hurt him. He was a splendid horse, and could do his mile in 1.57.

My wounds being slight, I rustled around and soon managed to catch a small mule, which I mounted bareback, intending to scout around a little. I did not carry out my intention, however. The brevet horse ran into the middle of the Indian camp, threw me into a big black mud-hole, my boot was full of blood, my ear had bled all over one side of me, so that when I crawled out of that mud-hole I was just too sweet for anything. By this time the fight was over. A friend of mine, Bill Steele, went with me to the spring that ran into the mud-hole, where he washed me as well as he could, bandaged my leg, sewed my ear together with an awl and some linen thread. He made a good job of it, and I was all right except that my leg was a little sore and stiff.

After the fight we found we had one hundred and seventeen prisoners, four squaws, and fifteen children. They were turned over to the Pawnees. The Pawnees did not fight well. They skulked and killed the women and children. I have never seen Indians face the music like white men. We camped where we were that night. Men were coming into camp all night. In fact, they did not reach the scene of action until about ten o’clock next day. They were fellows who had been left along the trail by reason of their horses giving out.

Our first duty next day was to bury the poor woman they had so foully murdered the day before. Not having a coffin, we wrapped her in a buffalo robe. General Carr read the funeral service and the cavalry sounded the funeral dirge, and as the soft, mournful notes died away many a cheek was wet that had long been a stranger to tears. The other woman was found to be all right with the exception of a wound in the side. She was a German, unable to speak English. Both of the women had been beaten and outraged in every conceivable manner. Their condition was pitiful beyond any power of mine to portray.

The Indian camp and everything pertaining thereto was destroyed, after which we took up our line of march for Fort Sedgwick, where we arrived in due time without any mishap.

I think it just as impossible to make a civilized man of the Indian as it would be to make a shepherd dog of a wolf, or a manly man of a dude. They do not in my opinion possess a single trait that elevates a man above a brute. They are treacherous, cowardly, and ungrateful, Cooper to the contrary notwithstanding. I knew a Greek in Arizona who came to the country with camels for the government. After the camels died he married an Apache squaw, learned the language, and was employed by the United States government as an interpreter. This man told me that in the Apache dialect there was no word, or combination of words, whereby they could convey the idea that we do by using the word _Gratitude_. What do you think of that?

Well, old man, I have been writing half the night, and have only got as far as the 11th of July ’69. I am discouraged, and right here I quit you like a steer in the road. How long am I to wait for that picture? I am curious to see how much of a change old dad Time has wrought in you. He has played h—l with me.

As ever, J. E. WELCH.

P. S. The photo has come. I could have known you anywhere. You have changed a little—for the better, I think.

J. E. W.

Footnote 53:

I have written several times to General Carr, asking information as to this and other points, but have not received any.—C. T. B.

Footnote 54:

This letter, which is dated Edith, Coke County, Texas; June 16, 1891, was furnished me for publication by Dr. T. E. Oertel. I am informed that the writer has since died.—C. T. B.

Footnote 55:

These figures, which are evidently from memory, are certainly in error.—C. T. B.