PART IV.

FORT PIERRE AND THE SIOUX INDIANS, 1855-1856.

Fort Pierre, situated on the west bank of the Missouri River, about fifteen hundred miles above St. Louis, Mo., was an old trading post belonging to the American Fur Co., which also had another post or two higher up the river and one on the Yellowstone River. Fort Pierre was the headquarters. It was a stockade structure, built of split logs firmly set in the ground and twenty feet or more in height. There were sheltered and protected turrets at the corners on top, which afforded a look-out over a large area of flat country. The fort set back a short distance from the bank and had a large gate on the river side. There were also one or two smaller gates. The stockade enclosed a square space, containing several well built log houses for the traders, trappers, hunters and others. There were also storehouses and a central vacant space of considerable size within the barrier. The fort was built in 1832 by Pierre Chouteau, Jr., and recently sold to the Government.

The stockade was built on high bottom land, well placed for defense against the Indians. The prospect was uninterrupted for miles up or down the river, and to the west the land was level and bare for some miles to the foot-hills. To the east was the Missouri with a large island opposite the fort and hilly land on the other side of the river. To the north, on the bank of the river, less than half a mile away, there was an Indian settlement of about twenty-five lodges. It was there that the Indians who came to trade usually camped. The surroundings were bleak and dreary to the extreme. One saw nothing but prairie or a few stunted bushes in some shallow ravines near the river. Wood for fuel had to be hauled a long distance.

We found here the three companies that had preceded us, also companies "B" and "C" of my regiment who had marched across the country from Fort Ridgely, Minnesota Territory. They were the first soldiers that had ever been stationed in that part of the country. They brought a herd of beef cattle and mules in charge of herders, who had managed to get them there during the summer season with small loss.

During the six weeks or more that these five companies had preceded us, they had been very busy setting up the portable houses that had been brought up on the steamers. These houses were placed a short distance behind the stockade, around three sides of a large parallelogram, forming the parade ground--officers' houses on one side, company quarters opposite and other houses on one end. The necessary store houses were erected on the river front. The company houses were intended to hold half a company each without crowding. We moved into two of them on our arrival and had a little less than thirty men in each house. They were single-story affairs with but one room and of the flimsiest wood construction. The sills and floor beams were entirely too light for the live weight to be carried, the upright studding was about three by two inches, grooved on two sides to receive panels made of three-quarter inch boards, which was all the protection there was against the intense winter cold of that latitude. There was no interior finish of any kind. The roof was of thin boards covered with tarred paper and had a low pitch from a ridge to the sides. The houses were set on wooden posts about two feet above the ground.

Each house was furnished with two sheet iron stoves for burning wood, and had stove pipes passing through the roof. The officers' houses were the same, except that they were smaller and were divided into two rooms by a thin board partition. These houses were very easily set up. There was but little work on them except driving nails. They had been previously painted a dark red color, both inside and out. Whoever designed these cardboard houses--for they proved to be but little better--had but a small conception of the requirements of that climate. The winters were long, with deep snow and frequent blizzards. The architect of these shelters was indirectly the cause of much suffering. We built log huts for company kitchens, but we had no mess-rooms.

On the day before the steamboat _Genoa_ left on her return trip to St. Louis, partly loaded with furs, a paymaster, who returned on her paid us for four months. We did not see a paymaster again until the following May or June. A sutler had established a store, with a miscellaneous stock of goods such as soldiers needed, also goods for trading with the Indians. But the prices were so high that we could not afford to buy much. This was due to the high cost of steamboat transportation, which amounted to about fifty dollars per ton from St. Louis.

About two weeks after our arrival at Fort Pierre, a courier from Brigadier General William S. Harney, commander of the Sioux expedition, arrived from Ash Hollow with an order for four companies of the Second Infantry to be sent to him as re-enforcements.

It appeared that General Harney had fought a battle with the Brulé and Ogalalla tribes of the Sioux, on September 3rd, 1855, at Ash Hollow on the Blue Water creek. This is a tributary of the Platte River, about two hundred and fifty miles south-west of Fort Pierre.

These were the Indians who had massacred Lieutenant Grattan and twenty-one soldiers more than a year before, and for whose punishment the Government had organized the Sioux expedition.

General Harney had started out from Fort Laramie with six small companies of infantry and two of cavalry. After a march of nearly one hundred and fifty miles, he skillfully approached the Indians' camp, without the presence of his troops being suspected.

The Indians had been buffalo hunting during the summer, acquiring many skins, and much dried buffalo meat. About seventy lodges had encamped on the Blue Water in a sheltered valley, where they probably expected to pass the coming winter.

The troops surprised the camp at day break, and attacked it simultaneously from two sides. The Indians, unable to make any organized resistance, fled in the direction where their ponies were herded, but were pursued by the cavalry. Many were killed, among them a number of squaws, for in the confusion it was difficult to distinguish them from the warriors.

The chief, Little Thunderer, made his escape. The soldiers lost few in this action, but the punishment to the Indians was very severe; and it had its effect, for as long as we remained among the Sioux, only small skirmishes took place.

The loss of all their lodges, provisions, arms, furs and other property, which the general caused to be burned, was a severe blow to them. They were also deprived of many of their ponies. After the battle, the troops were encamped in a stronger position nearby. There they awaited re-enforcements from Fort Pierre, where they intended to winter, as the general deemed it imprudent to march his small force to the fort, across the enemy's country, fearing that other tribes to the north and east might form a coalition with the vanquished Indians.

My company was one of the four ordered to join General Harney, at Ash Hollow; but I and a few more of the young boys were not taken along. We were left at Fort Pierre with the two companies retained there. The march proved to be very severe. Part of the route was across the "Mauvaises Terres" (Bad Lands), where there was no vegetation. It was a desert, where wood and water had to be carried in the waggons from one camp to another.

Many curious specimens of fossil remains, picked up in the Bad Lands, were brought by the soldiers to Fort Pierre. There were petrified fish, lizards, frogs, etc. But nearly all were imperfect, and more or less broken.

After a short rest, the united troops under General Harney, twelve companies in all--quite a little army for those days--took up their march for Fort Pierre, and arrived there early in November, without any molestation from the Indians.

I have often regretted since that I was not allowed to go on this march. I wanted to see that part of the country, through which but few white men had ever traveled before.

General Harney's additional troops went into camp near our quarters. The weather was getting cold; winter was approaching; firewood was scarce, and had to be hauled a long distance. There was but a small supply of forage for the cavalry horses, and scarcely any grass in the vicinity of the fort. That had been eaten up by the mules and Indian ponies. Water also had to be carted quite a distance from the river. In view of these conditions, and as there were not enough portable houses to shelter them, it was decided to put the six companies of the Sixth Infantry, and the two companies of cavalry into cantonment. They were accordingly sent about six miles up the river, where they built log houses in the woods on the east bank of the Missouri and remained there until the following spring.

General Harney took quarters in one of the buildings in the stockade. Whenever it was my turn as orderly at the adjutant's office, one of my duties was to bring the general, in a sealed envelope, the "countersign," or watchword for the night. When I approached him, saluted, and said: "General, the countersign," he would reply in his gruff, stentorian voice, "Lay it on the table." I was always glad to hustle out of his presence.

The general was very tall and powerfully built. He wore a long white beard, and his white hair was also long. In spite of his age, he was erect--a remarkably commanding figure. Many of the Indians knew and feared him. Among them he was known as the "Great White Chief."

General Harney had been in the Seminole, and other Indian wars. He was colonel of the Second Dragoons, in the war with Mexico, and was promoted to Brevet Brigadier General.

During the absence of my company on the march to Ash Hollow and return, I had but little to do and spent much of my time in wandering about the environs of Fort Pierre. With others I crossed the river in a canoe, and on the opposite side we found great quantities of wild grapes, which were fairly good to eat, though somewhat tart. We squeezed the juice out of them, and with the addition of sugar and water, made a very palatable drink.

There were some prairie-dog villages on the plain west of the fort, and it was interesting to watch these alert and nimble animals, no larger than a squirrel, running about and having sentinels posted on some higher point near their underground dwellings. These sentries sat upon their haunches, and watched carefully in all directions. Whenever we got within a certain distance of them, they gave a shrill, sharp bark, which started all the others running for the various holes. No matter how quiet we kept, or how long we remained, they did not come out again until we were a long distance away.

I became acquainted with some of the employees of the American Fur Company, who were mostly French-Canadians, with a few half-breed Indians among them. Some of them were married to squaws and lived at the Indian camp close by. From these men, who were mostly hunters, trappers or guides, I heard many interesting stories of their hazardous lives and their experiences among the Indians, whose language most of them spoke. They were often useful as interpreters.

To me, the most interesting people at Fort Pierre were the Indians, among whom I passed the greater part of my leisure time. This intimate association with the savages continued all through my service on the frontiers, a period of about five years in Nebraska and Minnesota Territories.

I have read the beautiful stories of Fennimore Cooper and other writers of Indian romances. I have also read some of the stories of explorers and the able and interesting works of men who lived among the North American Indians and studied them. But I do not intend to quote from any of them. I shall simply relate here what I learned about the Indians from persons living in close contact with them during my time and the impressions they made on my youthful mind, as I can remember them now, after a period of fifty years since I left the Indian country to take part in the Civil War, in 1861.

Nebraska Territory in 1855, extended from Minnesota Territory, on the east, to the Rocky mountains, on the west; and from Kansas Territory, on the south, to the British possessions, on the north. It has since been partitioned into North and South Dakota, Nebraska, Wyoming and Montana. The greater part of this immense territory was claimed and inhabited by the Sioux Indians, a name given to them by the French-Canadians, who also gave French names to some of the tribes composing the Sioux, such as the Gross Ventres, Brules, etc. These Frenchmen also named the rivers, streams and mountains, many of which have since been re-named.

The Indians called themselves Dakotas, and did not recognize the name of Sioux. They were divided into a number of tribes, each ruled by a chief. The following are the names of some of the tribes, with the most of whom we came in contact: Poncas, Yanktons, Yanktonnas, Uncapapas, Blackfeet, Rikarees, Minnikanye, Ogallalas, Brules. Certain tribes were sub-divided into bands, such as the "Two-Kettle-Band," and "Smutty-Bear-Band," both of whom were Yanktons.

Lieutenant Gouverneur K. Warren, of the Topographical Engineers, U.S.A., who made surveys in the Dakota country in 1855, 1856 and 1857, and to whom we furnished an escort, estimated the Dakota Indians at about three thousand lodges, which would represent a population of twenty-four thousand, of which five thousand were warriors.

During a decade, their numbers had decreased from wars with the Chippawa Indians and other tribes in the north, while in the south, near the white settlements, the mortality from the small-pox had been very great among Poncas and Yanktons. I noticed that many of them were pock-marked, and some had become blind in one eye from the disease, which their medicine-men could neither cure nor prevent from becoming epidemic.

It was obvious that the more northern tribes of the Dakotas, who had seen but a few whites, were superior to those of the south, near the settlements, whose contact with the whites had degraded them. The Indians who inhabited the more northern and western parts of Nebraska were fine specimens of their race, for they still lived in their aboriginal way. Game was yet abundant. They were proud and warlike and possessed many ponies. Their tepees were larger, finer and more decorated. They were rich in furs of all kinds, which they bartered with the traders for guns, powder, lead, beads, calico, knives, tomahawks, etc. Many of them had guns, but most of these were old flint-locks. Bows and arrows were by no means abandoned and they continued to manufacture and use them. They also had many dogs, which closely resembled wolves, except in color. These dogs, some of them very large, they used in many ways, often as beasts of burden--and as a choice article of food on festive occasions.

The distinctive features of the Dakotas were their broad faces with high cheek bones; their high, broad, receding foreheads and coarse, coal-black hair, slightly wavy like a horse's mane. The men, or bucks, as we called them, wore no beards. The very little hair that grew on their faces, they carefully removed. I often saw them engaged in plucking out hairs from their faces with tweezers and the aid of a small mirror. Some of them even plucked the hair from their eyebrows. The men were generally tall, or looked so because of their erect bearing. Sinewy and slender as a rule, quick and active, they seemed better looking than the women. They wore buckskin leggings and buckskin shirts in winter, fringed and ornamented, moccasins, elaborately beaded, and colored blankets or soft buffalo robes. They wore no head covering, simply a few eagle feathers. Hats or war bonnets were only worn on special occasions. They were fond of wearing large brass rings in their ears, the weight of which pulled the lobes so far down as to be grotesque. Many wore armlets and wristlets of heavy brass wire, wound around many times, and a necklace of bears' claws.

The complexion of the Dakotas ranged all the way from a pale saffron to a deep copper color. When they were decked out in their full paraphernalia, with their faces and upper parts of their bodies painted in various colors, knives and tomahawks thrust into their belts, and bows and quivers slung over their shoulders, they presented a formidable and picturesque appearance.

I saw but a small proportion of very old bucks or squaws among them. Possibly they had a way of getting rid of them when they became old and helpless. Neither were children very numerous, although they practised polygamy. I suppose many of these died in infancy.

Of the many Indian chiefs whom I saw at Fort Pierre, I can only recall the names of two, Struck-by-the-Ree and Smutty-Bear, who were there frequently and in whose tepees I smoked the pipe. Both were well along in years.

Of the squaws but few could be called handsome and it would be flattery to say that many were even good looking. While they were generally lithe and graceful in their youth, laborious work and severe hardships aged them early. They inclined to stoutness more than the males, and many of the elder ones had backs that were bent from carrying heavy burdens.

The squaws planted corn, dug up edible roots, gathered and dried fruit, skinned the game which the men killed, cut up and dried the buffalo meat, tanned the skins, made moccasins and garments, did the cooking, fetched water and carried fire wood or buffalo chips for long distances on their backs. They put up and took down the teepees, loaded the ponies, and did all kinds of other work, frequently with a papoose or two fastened to their backs.

The males did little more than hunt and fish, make bows and arrows, and carve pipes and stems. The young Indians herded and took care of the ponies and some few horses which had probably been stolen from the settlers. Sometimes they helped the squaws in setting up the large, heavy teepees. This is about all I ever saw them do, save for playing polo with a ball and crooked stick, while mounted on their fleet and active ponies, very much the same as the game is played among the whites to-day.

The squaws' clothing closely resembled that of the bucks. They wore buckskin moccasins, leggings and a skirt, but they were very fond of gay colored calico garments, which they wore in the summer time. The material for these they obtain from traders or soldiers. We often bought calico of the sutler and traded it with the squaws for moccasins or furs. We could always make a better bargain if the calico had glaring colors and fantastic figures. The squaws also wore a blanket or robe, and when they covered up their heads with that, leaving only their broad faces exposed, they looked so much like the young bucks that it was difficult to distinguish the sexes by sight. This was the cause of some ridiculous mistakes by the soldiers.

Observance of ceremonies and duties toward the dead was also the performance of squaws. When an Indian died the squaws sewed up the body in several wraps of buffalo hide together with his personal belongings--his gun, his bow and arrows, his knife, tomahawk, pipe and, in fact, all his minor property. Some ears of corn and other food were always placed inside the shroud to provision him for the journey to the spirit land.

The Dakotas did not bury their dead. They either secured them in the branches of trees or on a rude, strong scaffold made of forked sticks and poles, set atop some hill, where it was plainly visible for miles around. Among the Ponca tribe, however, I saw bodies placed on the ground on top of a knoll with a pediment-shaped structure of split logs over them. They were encased in stones and sods to secure them, but many had fallen into decay and were partly open to the ravages of wolves and other animals.

Sometimes on marches through the country we had a few Indian guides who took some of their squaws with them. Whenever the squaws sighted an Indian burial place they rode towards it, dismounted, and set up a mournful howl. Then they deposited some ears of corn or some pemican at the foot of the tree or scaffold.

On a hill within sight of Fort Pierre, there was a large, high scaffold, on which some dozens of Indians' bodies were lashed with strips of buffalo skins. I visited the place one day with some companions. We found that a recent storm had demolished a part of the old structure, and nearly a dozen of the bodies had fallen to the ground. In many cases the dry, brittle wrappings of skins had been broken open by the fall, exposing the contents to plain view.

It seemed to me most singular that the bodies had not putrified, but appeared to have simply shriveled up in that pure, dry atmosphere. It was as if they had been mummified by nature. There appeared to be no flesh, but a parchment like skin clung to the bones, and the raven black hair adhered to the skull.

The bodies were all fully dressed and had on all their ornaments. I noticed one among them that wore a British officer's red uniform coat with epaulets and gilded buttons. I regret to say that some of the soldiers committed the sacrilege of appropriating some of the articles inclosed with the bodies, such as knives, tomahawks, flints and steel, and made practical use of them.

A group of squaws sometimes visited the fort with cunning looking little papooses' heads peeping out over their shoulders followed by small children who were afraid of the soldiers. They meandered around until they found the huts where the soldiers' wives and families lived. There they would squat on the ground and spend hours watching the white women at their domestic work. By way of diversion they occasionally placed one of their children between their knees, and set to work picking small insects out of the child's hair. They had a very original and effective way of disposing of the captive. They held him between the thumb and finger, placed him between the front teeth and bit him to death.

The squaws wore their black, coarse hair in two long braids. The parting in the center was generally made conspicuous with vermillion paint. The color of their cheeks was heightened by the same material, with perhaps a yellow ring around the eyes. If in mourning, a simple, irregular patch of white paint on the forehead seemed to be all that was needed. They greased their hair liberally with buffalo fat which, when rancid, emitted an unpleasant odor.

It was interesting to watch the arrival of a band of Indians at a military post. This happened often at Fort Pierre except in winter. Sometimes they came with a grievance against white settlers or hunters, or with a complaint against a neighboring tribe who were violating a treaty. But often they visited us simply out of curiosity. They came in large and small parties, sometimes several hundred or more, including squaws and children.

I often watched the long line coming down the hills or across the prairie, the men riding in advance two by two on their unshod ponies. After them came squaws riding straddle and leading pack horses. Next came a line of ponies in single file, with a number of long lodge poles lashed to their sides. One end of the poles dragged on the ground behind, making what is called an Indian trail. On these poles, behind the pony, there was fastened a network on which were piled the teepees, furs, cooking utensils, and other articles used by the Indians. The ponies were led by boys or girls mounted or on foot. Frontiersmen called these conveyances "travoys." Bringing up the rear were a number of large dogs dragging smaller travoys in which children rode. Old squaws or invalids rode as best they could on top of the baggage on the larger travoys.

When a suitable camping place near the post was reached, there was a halt and a closing up of the long column. The bucks had a short parley with the squaws. Then they dismounted and sat down on the grass in groups and commenced smoking their pipes, while the squaws unpacked the ponies, and began to put up the teepees in line and at regular intervals. Some of the larger teepees, with their long poles, were heavy to raise and required the assistance of the younger bucks. When the ponies were all unpacked and unsaddled, they were driven off to water and graze on the prairie. The tired dogs lay down, and went to sleep. The squaws continued at their tasks. Some in search of fire-wood, others went off with kettles for water or were busy within the teepees. When the teepees were ready, the Indians entered them and after a time emerged, if the sun was not too low, dressed--or rather undressed--in full war paint. They were naked from the waist up. Some wore feathered bonnets; others had eagle feathers in their hair. But the faces of all were grotesquely painted in colors that suited their fancy. Some were hideous.

They also painted part of their bodies, particularly the ribs. When this was done alternately in white and black it made them look like living skeletons. They were unarmed, except for a knife or tomahawk carried in their waist belts. A few squaws, their faces also painted, and each with a small drum like a tambourine, joined them.

By this time an interpreter had appeared. They donned their robes or blankets, and without any regular formation, started for the parade ground. In front of the commanding officer's house they came to a halt. The commandant with other officers was ready to receive them. A lot of the soldiers not on duty and citizen employees soon formed a group of spectators. The Indians threw off their robes and blankets and formed a circle. The squaws stationed outside of the circle commenced a monosyllabic chant in a low voice at first, but gradually rising. This was responded to by the bucks in a like manner, while the squaws beat a tom-tom on their drums. Then they began to dance around the circle, slowly at first, with heads and bodies thrust forward, backs curved, feet moving stiffly up and down, elbows against the sides, forearms extended straight forward and fists doubled. In this way the dance went on for five or ten minutes, increasing in speed until it ended in a furious beating of the drums and an ear piercing yell or war-whoop.

After this interesting ceremony had been repeated once or twice, the Indians advanced in a body towards the officers, headed by their chief, who commenced a "talk," which was interpreted to the commanding officer, and was frequently assented to by a grunt from the other Indians. When the chief had concluded, his place would be taken by another, a real orator perhaps, whose language was fluent and gestures dramatic.

The complaints of the Indians were often about settlers encroaching on their lands, or about a party of white hunters who had caused the buffaloes to migrate to other parts. If they had no particular grievance, they would tell that they were good Indians and loved the whites, especially the soldiers. Then they would ask for food. When the Indians had finished the commanding officer's reply was interpreted to them, and received with grunts of satisfaction or dissent. Sometimes another talk was held on the following day, but they all ended by an order on the commissary for several days' rations for every member of the party. Sometimes the Indians prolonged their stay and induced the commanding officer to grant them a second issue of rations. By the time they reached the commissary store house, a number of the squaws were on hand ready to receive the rations which consisted of bacon, flour or hard bread (biscuits) in barrels, rice, beans, ground coffee and sugar. No salt, pepper, vinegar, candles or soap was issued to them. They had no use or desire for these--particularly the soap.

To watch the distribution of the rations, which were given to them in bulk and in the original packages so far as possible, was very amusing. At first everything received was carried to a clear place some distance from the store house. The barrels were carried as well as the boxes, for the Indians did not understand about rolling them until some of the soldiers showed them how to do it. The squaws, who represented families, spread blankets or robes on the grass into which to receive their share. Some of the Indians opened the barrels and boxes awkwardly with tomahawks and knives and commenced the division under the supervision of the chief, with a lot of jabbering from the squaws. They seemed to get along fairly well with articles that could be counted, such as sides of bacon or biscuits; but coffee, sugar, rice, etc., they divided in small cupfulls for each individual, until the supply was exhausted. The squaws then shouldered the bundles and followed the bucks back to their camp with happy expressions.

I have also seen one of our beef cattle issued to a large party. The Indians would drive the frightened animal near to their camp and kill him by shooting. Then the squaws skinned him and cut him up, utilizing many parts of the carcass that a white man would throw away.

On the night when rations had been issued there was a feast in camp. They gorged themselves, beat their drums, and sang long after we soldiers had to retire after tattoo.

I distinctly remember my first visit to the Indian camp at Fort Pierre, accompanied by some other soldiers. There were about two dozen lodges. Half of them were visitors. The others remained there permanently, and lived on what they got from the soldiers and fur company employees. The latter were a rather lazy lot and did but little hunting, so long as they could get enough to eat around the fort. The first salute we received was from a pack of wolfish-looking dogs of all sizes which barked furiously but did not attempt to bite and were easily shooed away.

We walked all through the camp and noted that there were large, fine-looking teepees, decorated with Indian paintings of animals, etc., on the exterior. These had an air of opulence about them that seemed to indicate the owner to be the possessor of many squaws and ponies. There were also many more teepees that were less pretentious and a few small, old and tattered ones that showed the poverty of the owner. It was much like other villages the world over. The palace and the hovel were in close proximity. Back of the teepees squaws were cooking something in kettles hung on a pole, supported over the fire by two forked sticks. They always cooked outside until the weather got cold. Some children played and ran around just as white children do.

The teepees were of tanned buffalo hides, closely sewed together with a strong thread made from the sinews of the same animal. They were conical in shape and were upheld by a number of long, slender but very strong poles, placed in a circle on the bottom at regular intervals and meeting on top where they were interlocked. There was an opening above for the smoke to escape. The entrance was through a slit on the side, high enough for a man to pass through nearly upright and spread apart on the bottom to make the passage easier. Over this opening a piece of tanned hide was usually hung to keep out the weather. These teepees could be kept warm and comfortable in the coldest of weather, and were far more durable than the best canvas tents.

We entered one of the best lodges without the formality of knocking against the side of the opening and saying "How-ko-ta," as we had not yet learned Indian etiquette. The interior appeared dark at first after the bright sunlight; but we distinguished the inmates to consist of several Indians, some squaws and a few children. They all squatted onto robes spread around the sides of the lodge, which formed their bedding. We were apparently received in a friendly manner, and by words and signs were invited to sit down among them. We squatted like our hosts with our legs crossed. The Indians did not appear to have been doing anything but conversing. Some of the squaws, however, were sewing beads on moccasins.

The smaller children shrunk back and stared at us. Presently one of the bucks produced a long wooden stemmed pipe of polished red stone, which he filled with kinnikinic, the Indians' substitute for tobacco, from a buckskin pouch and lit the pipe with a piece of punk ignited from a flint and steel. He took five or six whiffs of the pipe very deliberately, and swallowed all the smoke. Then he handed the pipe to a soldier on his left. As he did this he began to exhale all the smoke he had in him slowly through his nostrils. The soldier imitated the Indian in taking a half a dozen whiffs, but he did not swallow the smoke. In this way the "Pipe of Peace" passed around the circle from Indian to soldier, and soldier to Indian, myself included. We understood enough not to offend against the Indian custom of passing the pipe from mouth to mouth by wiping the mouth piece. After the smoke there was an attempt at talk of which neither party understood anything. The young squaws watched us closely and giggled occasionally. I tried to make one of them understand that I wanted a pair of moccasins. She brought out a bundle of them, and showed me some handsome ones. But we failed to make a bargain. I had to make a few visits with an experienced person before I learned to trade with them.

The kinnikinic that the Indians smoked was the bark of a red willow that grew along the streams. They first removed the outside red bark, then carefully scraped off the greenish second bark with a knife without cutting into the wood. These shavings were dried in the sun or before a fire. When crisp they were rubbed into small particles between the hands. The Indians were fond of mixing a little tobacco, cut up small, with the bark, but I never saw them smoke pure tobacco, as they could not inhale its smoke. The bark of the red willow, when mixed with tobacco, made an agreeable, fragrant smoke. The soldiers often used it.

Before we left the teepee we gave the Indians a generous piece of plug tobacco which seemed to please them very much and caused them to say, "Was-te-da," which means "good."

We entered several other lodges on this, our first visit, and had more smokes. But I learned later that the smoking ceremony only took place on the first visit, and not on subsequent calls, unless we brought with us a stranger who had not visited the lodge before. We were received in a friendly way in most of the lodges, yet once in a while we heard an ominous growl from within and thought it best to keep out.

While many of the older Indians were very austere and dignified in their intercourse with soldiers, the younger ones were inclined to be droll, particularly the younger squaws, with whom, on account of my youth I suppose, I seemed to become a welcome visitor. I went to the Indian camp almost daily, sometimes with a companion but more often without one.

Many of the soldiers became as much interested in the Indians as I was. We began to imitate them. We wore moccasins when not on duty. We sometimes built a council fire back of our quarters, around which we squatted after dark wrapped in blankets like Indians. We smoked the "pipe of peace," and we had "talks." There were some good mimics among us, who could deliver a speech to the rest of the "warriors," which neither the orator nor anyone else understood. We painted our faces and imitated war dances with their accompanying drum beats and chant, not forgetting to yell furiously at the end. We called each other by the most ridiculous "Indian" names. Mine was, "Why-a-so," but that was a real name given to me by some of the young Indians and squaws. It meant "musician."

We got up imitation war parties and scalped our helpless prisoners or burned them at the stake. In fact, we were like a lot of boys, and got plenty of fun out of it while the novelty lasted.

I soon became interested in the Dakota language and tried to learn all I could. I got a memorandum book and pencil. When in a teepee I asked the names of various objects to which I pointed. When these were given to me, I wrote them in my book in phonetic spelling. When I read them off to the Indians on my next visit they were much interested and laughed when I mispronounced a word. In this way I picked up quite a vocabulary, but when it came to pronouns, adjectives and verbs, my progress was slow. This was partly due to the various meanings of the same word. Numbers were easy for the Dakotas could not count above ten. After that it was so many tens and units. They generally kept a tally for any considerable number that was to be remembered by making notches on a stick. I never attained any considerable proficiency in the language, but I learned enough to ask simple questions and make my wants known. I could understand the meaning of much of what they said after I became a little familiar with the many signs used when talking. Some of the Indians evinced a desire to learn English and easily acquired some nouns. But beyond that they could only imitate sounds without understanding their meanings. This was taken advantage of by some wags among the soldiers, who taught them to utter the most ridiculous phrases. This never failed to provoke a laugh, which seemed to please the Indians.

About the first thing I remarked in the Dakota language, was that the vowels a, e, i, o, and u, had the long Italian sound in pronunciation, and that the greater part of the words, whether nouns, pronouns, verbs, or adjectives, ended in a vowel, which was always accented, and of which the following are examples:

Buffalo Ta-tai-ka Horse Shun-ka-ka Dog Shun-ka Blanket Shin-na-hota Water Mi-ni Whiskey Mi-ni-wa-ka Silver Money Kash-pa-pi Bread or Crackers Ak-yu-a-pe Woman Wee-a Plenty O-ta Missouri River Mi-ni-tan-ka Mississippi River Mi-ni-so-ta I, thou, he Mi-a, Ni-a, Ee-a Ride Ga-ki-a Far Te-ha Large Tan-ka

Many signs were used by the Indians in their conversation, as for instance, the phrase "Mi-a, ga-ki-a, te-ha, shun-ka-ka," meaning "I am going to ride far," had to be accompanied by the sign of straddling the first finger of the left hand with the first two fingers of the right, to indicate riding on horseback. Each tribe also had a sign by which the members could make themselves known. That of the Dakotas was the drawing of the open right hand across the throat from left to right.

Another peculiarity of the language was the total absence of the consonant "R." I cannot recall a single word that had any sound resembling that letter in it.

Early in November ice began to form on the edge of the river in places where the current was not strong. The nights were cold, and we found our blankets insufficient for comfort. Buffalo robes and other furs were still fairly plentiful, and could be had from traders or Indians at a very moderate price. Many of the soldiers bought them to keep warm. I got a fine large one in trade for about three dollars, also a deer skin for two dollars. Old and worn robes could be had much cheaper.

The Indians who lived near the fort permanently soon learned the value of money and how to spend it at the sutler's store. They liked the bright silver dollars, for one of which the squaws would sell us a pair of nice moccasins ornamented with beads. A plainer pair could be had for half a dollar.

The army at the present time is very wisely supplied with clothing suitable to the climate the soldiers are serving in. In my time, however, the kind and quantity of clothing was the same, whether you were stationed in Florida or Nebraska. Any additional clothing we needed in that cold climate we were obliged to provide and pay for ourselves.

By the latter part of November, the Missouri river was entirely frozen over with ice thick enough for wagons to cross. We had snow, but no great quantity as yet. The thin walls of our pasteboard houses were covered on the inside with a hoar-frost, which stayed there and grew thicker. We dug deep trenches around the houses and banked up the earth against them to make the floors warmer. One day we had a furious wind storm, accompanied by drifting snow. The roofs of some of the more exposed houses were carried off and the sides blown in, fortunately without serious damage to the inmates. Other houses were only saved by the passing of ropes over the roofs and putting braces against the sides. This was the beginning of a period of suffering, which lasted until the following spring and was the worst we had in the Dakota country. After the storm it was realized that the frail houses, the scarcity of fire wood and the bleak location, made Fort Pierre an unsuitable place to winter troops. Therefore, one company was ordered to a well wooded island below the fort, while three companies, of which mine was one, were sent to build log huts in the woods on the opposite side of the river, about five miles above and within a mile of where the companies of the Sixth Infantry and the two cavalry companies were located. Two other companies, the headquarters and the band, remained at Fort Pierre. They improved the houses they occupied with the debris from the houses that the storm had destroyed. We put up tents near the river bank. A place about a half mile back on higher ground was selected for the cantonment, where it was not likely to be overflowed by the rise of the river in the spring. We cleared it of underbrush and cut down the trees, mostly cottonwoods. There we commenced to erect log huts.

We had been furnished with a lot of axes, large saws, crow bars, picks and shovels by the quartermaster's department. Every man not required for any other duty was put to work on the huts. We worked with a will, for we suffered severely from the constantly increasing cold in our tents, which we could not heat. They were not "Sibley" tents, and we had no iron stoves. The ground was frozen hard and the snow was deep. Evenings, when our work was done and if the wind was not too strong, we built large fires in the company streets in front of the tents. Before these we warmed ourselves before turning in for the night. Soon nearly every man's blue trousers were scorched brown on the backs from standing too close to the fires. Our clothing was insufficient. We had to wear two shirts at one time and two pairs of trousers and stockings.

Although I was not required to work on the log huts, I did so voluntarily to keep from freezing. I could not stay in the tent without being covered up with my bedding, and I did not wish to stand or sit around a fire all day, to be scorched on one side and frozen on the other, while my eyes smarted with the smoke.

We built two log cabins for each company in the roughest way, leaving the bark on the logs, notching them at the angles, and roughly cutting off the projections at the corners. We sawed out an opening for one door and one window, and built a wide fire place at one end opposite the end that was pierced by the single window. We had great difficulty finding stone enough to build the fire places, which were about six feet high and had wooden chimneys plastered with mud. These chimneys gave us much trouble by constantly getting on fire.

The roofs we formed of split logs, laid with the split side down on a pitch, and reaching from one wall to the other in a single span. On this we put a thick layer of brush and shrub, covered with about twelve inches of earth pounded down hard. The cracks between the logs were chinked with wood and daubed with mud. We had to build fires to take the frost out of the ground before we could dig for our mud. When we mixed it with warm water to the proper consistency for daubing, it froze so quickly that we could not make the walls and roof tight enough to keep the cold wind out.

The huts had a dirt floor. We constructed rude two-story bunks of split logs along both sides, with a passage only six feet between them. There was a little more space around the fire place. There was no lumber of any kind for doors and no sashes for windows, so we hung a piece of an old canvas wagon cover over the door-holes, both inside and out. The window opening we covered with a piece of white muslin bought at the sutler's store. We built smaller single-room huts for the officers and the married soldiers whose wives had been left at Fort Pierre until the huts were ready for them. We also built a kitchen for each company, with a bread oven in it, some store houses, a small hospital and a guard-house. We did not build any mess-rooms. Each soldier had to go to the kitchen for his rations and eat them in his quarters.

I think it was about the middle of December, when we broke up our camp at the river and moved into the log huts at "Cantonment Miller," as it was officially named. The change was for the better, but the huts proved to be very uncomfortable. The stationary bunks took up so much of the room that we were uncomfortably crowded and the place was dark. When we started a fire the ground began to thaw out for some distance in front of the fireplace and turn to soft mud, but the earth remained frozen hard at the other end of the room. The fire had little effect on the cold air of the room in severe weather, except in its immediate vicinity. We burned green cottonwood, a very poor material for heating. While the logs burned on one end the sap ran out at the other. We got some ash and a little cedar wood, which was better, although we had to go long distances for it. Details of men went out and dragged in on home-made sleds the better kind of wood needed for cooking and baking. Cottonwood was plentiful all around us.

In January and February the thermometer sometimes dropped to forty degree below zero, but when we made an unusually large fire the chimney caught fire. We had to keep pails of water ready to extinguish the blaze. On very cold nights the men took hourly turns to keep up the fire and to watch the chimney. The snow was deep and drifted through the chinks of our log huts. We often found large patches of snow covering our bedding in the morning.

At supper-time every evening we got a loaf of bread which the company baker had made that day. We put it into our haversacks, which were hung against the wall of the hut. The next morning it was frozen as hard as stone. We had to knock off chunks with an axe and thaw them at the fire before we could bite into them. Some of the men took their haversacks to bed with them to keep their bread from freezing.

Three soldiers at Fort Pierre attempted to desert to the settlements. They perished before they had gone a hundred miles, and their skeletons were found the following summer by a scouting party.

We hauled our water from the Missouri half a mile away. The ice was more than three feet thick and the hole we had cut through it to get at the water froze over every night and had to be re-opened in the morning.

By this time we had accumulated plenty of furs. My bunkie, Sergeant McMillan, and I possessed three buffalo robes, two deer skins and some wolf skins. With these and four blankets, we had a warm bed on the coldest nights. I had the company tailor make a sort of a cloak for me from a buffalo skin, beaver skin mittens and a cap with ear-laps. A squaw made a pair of buffalo skin boots for me with the hair inside and large enough to wear over my shoes. Most of the soldiers made their own fur clothing, such as caps, mittens, coats and boots, and produced some curious looking objects. One of them made for himself a complete outfit of boots, pantaloons, jacket and cap of buffalo skin with the hair outside. He presented a weird picture when dressed in them and was given the name of "Standing Buffalo."

We were permitted to wear anything we pleased on or off duty, except at inspection or muster. These, however, took place in the company quarters during the severest cold. To expose ourselves, even for ten minutes on parade out of doors, without furs, would have resulted in frost-bitten ears and noses. The officers clothed themselves about the same as the soldiers. There was a herd of beef cattle on our side of the river and when the snow became too deep for them to find any more prairie grass, and as there was neither forage nor hay for them, they were driven into the woods to feed on the bark of young trees. They began to die off rapidly from starvation and exposure after the change.

The French-Canadian chief cattle-herder, who reported to the commissary officer each day, would say in his peculiar English, "M'sieu! One catt ees died! Two catt ees died!" as the case might be. The carcasses were left where they died, and were quickly devoured by the wolves. The wolves often came around our quarters at night, attracted by the offal from the kitchens. They howled hideously. We caught one occasionally by an ingenious trap. After many of the cattle died, the remainder were slaughtered. The meat was allowed to freeze and was piled up in the store houses. There was scarcely any trace of fat remaining. It was not nutritious. When boiled it showed greenish-yellow streaks running through it that made it repulsive. I could not eat any of it. When I needed a change from pork or bacon, I got some pemican from the Indians. Pemican is buffalo meat cut in thin slices, without any fat, and dried in the sun without salting. It was nutritious, but hard to chew. It could be pounded into a kind of meal, and when mixed with pork-fat and fried in a pan, it was an acceptable dish. This and a piece of game, when I could get it, made an agreeable change in diet.

The cavalry companies lost more than one-third of their horses during the long, severe winter. The shelter for the horses was built of brushwood and there was no forage. The men removed the snow where long dry grass was to be found, and stripped the bark from young trees to feed the horses. Some of the horses lost their ears or tails from frostbites. The mules stood the hardship better than the horses. Mortality was not so great among them, but they also lost some ears and tails.

About mid-winter, scurvy made its appearance. We had been fed on a salt meat diet for nearly eight months and, with the exception of a few wild fruits, had had no vegetables. Those who were attacked became pale and listless. After awhile their gums began to bleed and their teeth loosened. Their joints swelled and the flesh became soft. If a finger was pressed hard into the fleshy part of the arm, it left a dent that remained for hours. We did not suffer so much from scurvy at Cantonment Miller as did the soldiers at Fort Pierre. The few serious cases we had we sent to the hospital there. Little could be done for them, except to give them lime-juice, which was among the medical stores. With great trouble some potatoes were obtained during the winter from the "States," as we called it. These were given to the sick, raw, scraped fine and mixed with vinegar and improved their condition very much. However, a few men died of the disease in the hospital at Fort Pierre. In the early spring, when the snow melted, we dug up roots that grew in the woods, a few inches below the ground as we saw the squaws do. The roots resembled a thin sweet potato in shape and were white in color. They could be eaten raw or boiled and were quite mealy and palatable. Not knowing the proper name for these roots we called them artichokes. The sick improved rapidly upon eating them, and as spring progressed, they all recovered.

An Indian camp of about twenty lodges, belonging to the Yonktonna tribe of the Dakotas, had located within easy distance of Cantonment Miller and remained there until the following spring. We soon had a well beaten path through the deep snow leading to the camp. There I had the best opportunity during my entire service to observe the Indians closely in their domestic relations. I became known to some of them myself and made progress in the study of their language. For a period of more than five months, I went to the camp very often in the day time and sometimes in the evening. I often remained for hours in one or two of some half a dozen lodges which I had selected as my favorites, after having made the round of the entire camp. The lodges had fires in them and were warmer and more comfortable than our huts and never ceased to interest me. The Indians seemed to have plenty to eat and lived quite comfortably. They had stores of pemican, corn, roots, dried fruits and buffalo tallow, which had been melted and put into bladders for preservation. They also had some game when the bucks went hunting.

I was invited to eat with them and did so a few times when they had cooked meat of some sort; but I excused myself when I saw any mysterious dish. I brought them some coffee and sugar once in a while and showed the squaws how to make coffee, of which they became very fond. When any of them visited the cantonment, which happened almost daily, I often gave those that I knew, part of my ration of bread for the papooses, or a piece of tobacco for the bucks. This, in a measure, repaid their hospitality. A singular thing which I noticed was that many of their children, from about three to five years of age, had abnormally developed paunches, which made them look ridiculous when they toddled almost naked about the teepee.

When the children attained their fifth or sixth year they became slender and graceful. I was told that an almost constant meat diet was supposed to be the cause of their curious development.

One day I saw a little toddler step into his father's dish of food. The man, without a word of scolding, took off the child's moccasin, scraped it clean with his horn spoon, then dug a hole in the dirt floor beside his dish, buried and covered up the scrapings and continued his meal, undisturbed by the incident.

Both parents showed affection for their children, and in my presence, at least, I never saw the Indians act with brutality toward their squaws or children. The children had dolls and played much as white children do. The older boys often practised shooting at a mark with a bow and arrow. They were very shy with the soldiers and so were the wolfish looking dogs. It was almost impossible to win the confidence of either. Nevertheless, a soldier of company I got the consent of the parents to take an Indian boy to our quarters and keep him there. He made a suit of soldier's clothes for him and slept with him all the winter. "Paddy," as we called him, became quite a pet in the company and was learning English with a comical Irish accent, acquired from his tutor, when his mother came and took him away in the spring. At the same time the rest of the Indians went away, and we never saw or heard of him again.

The Indians played games among themselves, and the soldiers tried to teach them the use of cards, but they were unable to learn or understand the simplest of such games. We, therefore, invented a special game for them, in which the greatest number of spots on a card took the trick, for they could count up to ten at least. They admired the Jacks more than the Kings. They were the big chiefs and the Kings next. Any card could beat the Queen, which was the "Wee-a" or squaw. They took great interest in this game. I could do a few simple tricks with cards, which mystified and amused them. Some of them had a considerable sense of humor and often laughed heartily.

I was shown some Indian scalps, which had long black hair dangling from them. The skin was soft, and looked and felt as though it had been tanned. To me it seemed very thick. I do not know if they had any white scalps. If so, they never showed us any.

Sometimes one of the Indians produced a buckskin bag ornamented with beads, wherein he kept his most cherished treasures, and drew therefrom a written paper, which some white trader or hunter had given to him. This he would proudly hand to us for examination. These papers were very much of the same tone as this model: "O-kee-ha (red heart) is a good and trustworthy Indian, and I recommend him to anyone who wants a safe guide and a good hunter." One of the Indians had several such papers, one of which he would always show last. This had evidently been written by some wag or, perhaps, a truthful man, and ran something like this: "Beware of this Indian, Big Crow, he is a thief and a liar, and will murder you if he gets a chance. Take warning!" As this paper never failed to provoke a laugh, he no doubt set a greater value on it than on all the others he owned.

When the weather was bad I sometimes watched the bucks making arrows and pipes, while the squaws were industriously employed on moccasins or some article of clothing. The making of arrows was quite a delicate operation, with the few tools they had. The stem of the arrow had to be true, straight and balanced properly. The feathers must be carefully glued on and the head firmly affixed with sinew, thread and gum. Metal arrow heads were made by laboriously grinding pieces of hoopiron, or the like, which they had picked up somewhere, to the required size and shape. Other heads were made of chipped flint. War arrow heads were made with sharp barbs to prevent them from being easily extracted.

Some of the pipes they manufactured were plain, and others handsomely inlaid with lead. They were made of a dense, fine grained but soft working stone of a beautiful red color. To obtain this stone they made long and weary journeys to the Pipe Mountain, which was somewhere in the northern part of Minnesota Territory. There, it is said, they prayed to the Great Spirit before removing any of the stone which they esteemed so highly. The pipes were carefully bored and finished with a high polish, which took many hours of patient labor. The long pipe stems were made of some tough, flexible wood, the same that they made their bows of. They were round or flat in shape, sometimes twisted, and the wood polished and ornamented. The hole through the stem was made slowly and carefully with a piece of wire heated red hot. The mouth piece was neatly tapered and rounded. These pipes were a valuable article of trade. A fine pipe was worth a pony in trade with the Indians in remote parts of the country. I bought one and paid a good price for it. I had great difficulty to persuade an Indian to sell me a piece of the stone to make a pipe for myself.

I have at times witnessed the entire performance of an Indian feast. A squaw selected a fat-looking dog, and tied him fast in some secluded place for several days, giving him nothing to eat, and only water to drink. She then fed him with a mixture of pemican and dried fruits made into a moist soft paste, and let him eat all he could of it. This, I suppose, was to serve as a stuffing or forcemeat, for she killed him by knocking him on the head with a tomahawk, before digestion commenced. His hind legs were then tied together, and he was hung by a cord head down from a pole supported on two forked sticks over a low fire. With a firebrand the squaw burnt off every hair on his body close to the skin, and rubbed him with buffalo fat. The squaw would sit for many hours turning and basting the carcass with melted fat. The dog was thus roasted whole, for he had not been disemboweled. In the evening the family were joined by relatives and friends whom they had invited. The teepee was well crowded when the feast commenced. The dog was cut up, and all gorged themselves to their full capacity. The most desired morsels seemed to be the bowels and other soft parts. When the eating was over, the squaws beat the drums, chanted songs, and all made merry until long after we soldiers were in bed. I looked in at some of these feasts and was invited to partake. Although it was considered an honor, I declined. A few of the soldiers did eat some roasted dog, and declared it tasted good. The Indians preferred it to the finest venison.

There was a young soldier in my company, who became so infatuated with the Indian life that he spent every spare minute in their camp. He made great progress in learning their language, and never missed a dog feast. He was a black haired, dark-complexioned man, who tried to make himself look as much like an Indian as possible by plucking out all the hair that grew on his face. In the spring, when the Indians broke camp and departed, he was missed a day or two later. We learned that he had joined the tribe, but no effort was then made to recapture him.

During the long, cold winter we got a mail from the "States" about once in three weeks. It went to Fort Pierre and was sent to us from there.

There was no sutler at Cantonment Miller. When we wanted anything from the store, we had to go five miles to Fort Pierre for it or have it brought by a comrade who made the trip.

One calm sunny morning--we had a few such days--when the thermometer was but a few degrees below zero, another boy and I got a pass to go to the fort. Not anticipating any change in the weather, we did not dress ourselves quite so warmly as we should have done, for zero was considered a comfortable temperature if the wind was not blowing, and we discarded some of our heaviest furs when the temperature was at that point or higher. We two boys crossed the Missouri on the ice and walked down to the fort on the opposite side, which was less hilly than the east bank. We made a few purchases at the sutler's store, visited our friends and had dinner with them. It became much colder early in the afternoon, and the wind began to blow. We were admonished to return early, which we did; but by the time we had come about half way the wind was blowing a gale and the cold was increasing. We tried to cross the river and gain the woods on the other side, but the bare ice was as slippery as glass. The fierce wind knocked us over, and blew us like corks along on the ice. With great exertion we crawled on shore and got into a ravine where we were partly sheltered from the wind. Here we kept in motion. There was no wood to make a fire and to sit down meant freezing to death. We had our mittens and our fur caps protected our ears, but our noses and cheeks turned white with frost, and we rubbed them with snow several times. I think we both feared that we would perish in that ravine, when suddenly, as daylight began to fade, the wind died down and we were able to proceed. We arrived at our quarters half frozen, and it took some days to recover.

There was an officer at Cantonment Miller named James Curtis who was the First Lieutenant of Company B. He singled me out from among the boys and was most kind to me.

While stationed at Fort Pierre I had bought a flute from a member of the band, and took lessons from him. As I understood something about music and played on the fife, I made rapid progress on the flute and had become a fair player when Lieutenant Curtis asked me to come to his lonely cabin and play duets with him. He was an excellent player, and had a lot of music books, also works on history, science, etc. In fact, he owned quite a little library, for he was a great student and did not spend his time drinking whiskey and playing cards like some of the other officers did. He loaned me books to read and gave me lessons to study, which I recited to him and he corrected my exercises. After these lessons we played music until tattoo. This went on for three or four nights a week, while we were at the cantonment. I learned more during that time than during all my previous schooling.

Lieutenant Curtis was a graduate of West Point. Very much to my regret he resigned his commission in the spring to enter civil life. He rejoined the army in 1861, and served in the West during the Civil War. I never met him again, and do not know whether he is still living, but I remember him as a man who befriended me when I was a boy, and I shall always entertain the most profound feeling of gratitude toward him.

A contrast to Lieut. Curtis was the officer who commanded the company which wintered on the island below Fort Pierre. He was always more or less under the influence of liquor and abused the men in his command. In one of his drunken fits he shot a private of his company, wounding him so severely the man died a few days after. A pretense of an investigation was made. It was called an accident and hushed up, though the man was deliberately shot while lying in his tent after he had had some words with the officer. Two years later his slayer died wretchedly of delirium tremens at another military post.

In the early part of April we were startled one night by loud reports like the firing of a heavy cannon. This was caused by the cracking of the thick ice, which began to break up and move in a day or two and afforded an interesting spectacle. Some time later the river began to rise until it overflowed its banks, and was miles wide in the low lands. Then there came drift wood in enormous quantities. For several days at a time the river would be covered with it from shore to shore at the narrower places. It seemed as though a man could walk across on the floating logs. The high water continued for a long time. It fell very slowly and some time in May it seemed stationary for a while as the snows melted much further north. We were cut off from all communication with Fort Pierre for a time, until boats could cross the river after the flood subsided.

The Indians began to make preparations for departure. The squaws were busy dressing such skins as they had not tanned before cold weather. This they did by stretching them on an upright framework made of poles lashed together. Then they scraped them thin with a steel scraper and treated them with a preparation that made them soft and pliable.

About the first week in May, when their ponies had attained a fair condition, they struck their tents one day and disappeared over the hills.

We received orders to abandon Cantonment Miller and return to Fort Pierre, where all of General Harney's troops were to be assembled for a great treaty that was soon to be made there with the Indians. We crossed the river in a Mackinaw boat belonging to the American Fur Company. These were large, flat-bottomed boats with tapering prows and square sterns. They were used by the company to carry furs from its more northern posts on the Missouri and Yellowstone rivers.

We went into camp after we crossed the river as it was too late to march to Fort Pierre that day, and had just finished putting up our tents, when a tremendous wind storm struck us. It blew down the tents and scattered them as well as every other movable article over the prairie. It was all over in a short time, but we slept without tents that night. Next day after picking up all of the articles we could find, and loading them on wagons, we marched to Fort Pierre and went into permanent camp close to the stockade. Within a few days all of the troops had assembled, and encamped there.

In March General Harney had sent messages to all the tribes of the Dakotas, to assemble at Fort Pierre on May twentieth for a council treaty.

The Indians had some way of noting the date, probably by tally on a stick of wood. I think that representatives from all the Dakotas were present on that day, except the Brules and the Ogallalas, who had been so severely punished the previous September.

The Indians began to arrive about ten days before the appointed time, and soon the great plain about Fort Pierre was dotted with nearly a thousand teepees.

Each of the tribes had a large representation of men, women and some children. It was estimated that seven thousand were present, of whom one-third were warriors. It was a grand spectacle, such an assemblage of Indians had not been seen for many years. Among them were proud and magnificent savages who had traveled long distances to be present.

As soon as the arriving Indians became numerous, we were forbidden to visit their camp. Neither were the Indians allowed within the sentinel lines of ours. At night the sentry posts were doubled and extra ammunition was issued. We practically slept on our arms while the council lasted, for their warriors out-numbered us at least three to one. Our garrison and camp were open to an attack from all sides, and the temper of so great a body of Indians was very uncertain.

On the appointed day the council commenced. At first only a few hundred of the chiefs and other head men of the tribes were present. The council was held outside of the stockade, the Indians sitting on the grass in a semi-circle facing the General. With the commandant were some other officers, clerks and interpreters, a few orderlies and a small guard of soldiers. These were all on a slightly raised platform, the officers being seated in front. The dignified, white-haired general was in the center and his imposing figure towered above all the others.

We could only view the council from a distance, as sentinels kept us beyond a certain boundary. But we could observe the dramatic gestures of the Indian orators and hear the grunts of approval. What the great talk was all about we did not know.

The council went on in this way for three to four days. On the fourth or fifth day the meeting commenced earlier, and nearly all the warriors, to the number of several thousand, were present. They were painted, and their lustrous dark skins glistened in the bright sunlight when they had cast off their robes and blankets. It was a sight long to be remembered, and the like of it was probably never seen in after years. On this day a treaty of peace was concluded. The Indians buried the hatchet, as it was customary to say. The Sioux War was over, and during our stay in their country we had no more serious trouble with them. It was only after the withdrawal of the regular soldiers to take part in the Civil War that they became unruly again, and committed atrocities among the settlers of Minnesota in 1862.

On the night of the day when the treaty had been concluded there seemed to be a great "pow-wow" in the Indian camp. We could hear the tom-toms, and the voices of the bucks and squaws until early morning. On the following afternoon we were treated to a remarkable sight. Two thousand Indians marched to the stockade, where General Harney had his headquarters, and saluted his appearance by blowing on reed musical instruments made from willows which grew abundantly along the river. At the same time a large number of squaws beat on drums. The curious noise could be heard for miles around.

While the council was on, the first steamboat of the season or "wa-ta-pe-ta-choo-choo," as the Indians called it, arrived. It was the _Genoa_, which had brought my company up the river the previous summer. With her arrived a paymaster and Lieutenant Gouverneur K. Warren, who later commanded the Fifth Army Corps in the Civil War. He was to make surveys in the Dakota country and was accompanied by some scientists. My regiment furnished him with an escort, who traveled with him until fall. He returned the following season and continued his surveys.

Many of the Indians present had never seen a steamboat. Hundreds of them and their squaws lined the river bank, when the _Genoa_ was sighted. They noted the puffs of steam ejected by her engines, and declared that the wa-ta-pe-ta was puffing, out of breath, and tired out after her long journey.

The Indians had brought great quantities of furs with them, and trading with the American Fur Company and the sutler was brisk. The _Genoa_ on her return trip could carry only a part of the vast quantity of furs the company had accumulated. Some of the Indians departed a few days after the treaty was made. Others lingered for a while, but in about two weeks nearly all had disappeared. When their numbers had materially diminished, restrictions against visiting their camps were withdrawn, and I had interesting experiences in observing the customs and manners of some far away tribes, whom I was not likely ever to see again.

About the first of June orders were issued to abandon Fort Pierre, as it was most unsuitable for a military post. The troops who had come from Fort Laramie in the fall returned there, and of my regiment four companies and the band took up their march to a point on the Missouri, a few hundred miles below Fort Pierre, where they built a post called Fort Randall. The other two companies, B and D, marched to a place on the Missouri, midway between Forts Pierre and Randall, to establish Fort Lookout.

The remaining portable houses at Fort Pierre were taken down and with other materials were put on rafts and floated down the river to be re-used in building quarters at the two new posts.

Our experience since we arrived at Fort Pierre had been very trying through the incompetency or carelessness of someone in authority. We were ill prepared for the rigors of so severe a climate as to clothing, food, quarters and medical stores. Men died from exposure and from scurvy, and many animals succumbed to starvation. Officers and soldiers suffered alike. The miserable huts in which we lived during the winter were unfit for stables. We almost froze in them, and when the spring came, the mud roofs leaked like sieves.

I look back upon the winter passed at Fort Pierre as one of great suffering and hardship, by far the worst that I went through during my service.