fering and probably loss of men and animals. The Commanding General, consequently, gave orders to head the column in the direction in which the river was last seen, and attempt to reach it before dark.

There being constant danger of detached parties losing themselves, or the column becoming separated and not getting in together, the troops and wagons were obliged to keep up close. The descent of the "divide" was difficult in consequence of the ravines which furrowed its sides in all directions. To avoid these was impossible.

Late in the afternoon, the advance struck the valley of the river and following it for a short distance, led the column into a fine bottom covered with tall dry grass and an abundance of timber. Here we went into camp. In the short space of four hours, the snow had fallen to the depth of twelve inches. The mildness of the temperature, however, promised to carry it off as rapidly as it had come upon us.

The camp this night was wet and disagreeable. In order to pitch the tents, it was necessary to brush away the snow which, however, had little effect to improve the comforts of sleeping on the ground. Immediately after reaching camp, a large detail of troops was sent into the woods to fell cotton-wood trees of which we here found a great abundance. It was known that the young branches of these trees were used by the savages as food for their ponies, when the depth of snow prevented them from getting to the dry grass. Large quantities were brought in and strewn among the horses. The animals half starved as they were, vigorously applied themselves to this novel forage, and ate it with an air of satisfaction at least.

During the night, the weather made a decided change. The morning dawned clear and cold. It was with great difficulty the tents could be struck and loaded on the wagons. Every thing was frozen. After daylight the column again got in motion. The course taken instead of following the "divide" was now along the bed of the river, pursuing the trail of the savages in their flight down the valley

The three Cheyenne squaws brought with the column, in passing over the ground so recently occupied by their people, seemed to be very indignant at the cowardice shown by the neighboring tribes in not coming to their assistance. The sister of Black Kettle, an old squaw, while riding along in the ambulance noticed the signs of haste with which the villages had fled. This was a fact as well apparent to the most inexperienced eye. She observed "The Kiowas and Arrapahoes, our friends, run like dogs. They were worse cowards than women, Black Kettle was killed because they were afraid of the white man. They killed Black Kettle and our braves. If the white man fights the Kiowas and Arrapahoes, I want a knife and will fight too, and kill all their papooses." All the squaws more or less excited, frequently exhibited their hatred of the Kiowas and Arrapahoes.

On the night of the fifteenth, upon the column going into camp in a heavy timber on the river, it was discovered that we were in the midst of a favorite roost of immense numbers of wild turkeys. The traces were every where visible, and some lively sport was anticipated when the droves returned from their rambles after food. Towards sunset, about fifty fine birds, headed, as usual, by a noble cock, appeared on the bluff overlooking the camp. With an air of surprise at the intrusion, the flock gathered in full view, apparently holding an inspection, and resolving what to do. At this moment, another immense flock came floating down from another direction, and lit in the trees within the lines of the camp. In an instant about fifty shots were fired, killing several.

As the daylight drew nearer to a close, the turkeys, having failed to look out for other accommodations, were bent upon taking possession of their customary haunts. The numbers also increased. It was now impossible to cast the eye any where along the heavens without getting a glimpse of turkeys sailing about in the air. One drove entered the camp, running amongst the tents and wagons. It was decidedly amusing to witness the scene which ensued. Soldiers, teamsters, and dogs

joined in the pursuit. One moment dashing under a wagon, and the next amongst the horses and mules. In the early part of the race, the turkeys had the best, but, bewildered and headed off, soon became exhausted. A number were caught in

this way.

While this exciting chase was going on, a party of soldiers occupied themselves with shooting at the birds as they settled in the trees, or as they approached the ground. During this fusilade, one of the volunteers, tying his horse to the picket, was somewhat astounded to find the animal jerk away from him and instantly fall to the earth. A stray bullet had finished him. Considering all the firing and confusion, it was a matter of great surprise that no other casualties occurred.

That night there was a feast in camp. The fragrance of turkey, boiling or roasting, pervaded the atmosphere, with a grateful variation of the customary vapors of fat pork and fried bacon.

On the morning of the seventeenth, while the pioneers were engaged in the advance, cutting a crossing for the train, word came in that a number of Indians were in front, signaling with a white flag. One of the party was seen advancing alone. Upon reaching our lines, it was discovered to be a courier bearing a dispatch from General Hazen, Military Superintendent of the Southern Indians, and dated on the sixteenth, at Fort Cobb.

The dispatch was addressed to the "Commanding Officer of the United States Forces," and stated that information had been received that a column of troops was within twenty miles, and declared that all the Indians between the column and Fort Cobb were disposed to be friendly. As an indication of this friendly spirit, however, the two couriers, who had left Fort Cobb the night before, had been captured by a party of Kiowa warriors, and were taken to their camp. A council of warriors was held as to what disposition to make of the two white men. At first the determination was to put them to death instantly. Several chiefs of influence proposed to allow one of them to go

to the soldiers' camp and deliver the letter, and return. His companion was to be kept as a hostage for the fulfilment of the wishes of the council. This plan prevailed, and the courier was escorted by the band of warriors within several miles of our advance.

While the pioneers were still working on the crossing, Custer, accompanied by several officers, the writer, and an escort of fifty men of Pepoon's scouts, rode out to meet the flag. A gallop of three miles brought us within six hundred yards of the savages, who stood in the broad valley in front. Among the trees along the banks of the Washita a number of warriors, mounted, could be seen, stationed as a reserve. On the hills beyond, five hundred warriors, in battle array, dashed about, brandishing their spears, and assuming various menacing attitudes.

The warriors with the flag made signs of a parley. Two interpreters answered the signs, and advanced. Two of the savages imitated the movement, until the parties came within speaking distance. The two Indians were Satanta and Lone Wolf, the head chiefs of the Kiowas. They professed friendship, and asked to speak with the "Big White Chief." A sign was given, when Custer, Crosby, and the writer, joined the interpreters. It was not certain whether the Indians meant war or peace, and every man of our party had his pistol and rifle ready, and kept mounted, prepared for emergency, should hostile demonstrations be made.

any

When we came up to them, the Indians opened negotiations. Satanta rode up, and with an air of arrogance exclaimed “how," simultaneously extending his hand. This civility, Crosby, to whom it was extended, refused to receive. The Indian drew back in anger, exclaiming "me Kiowa," striking his breast, and was about to signal his warriors, when noticing more troops approaching on a hill about a mile distant hesitated. Then advancing to Custer he offered his hand. The General said through the interpreter: "I never shake hands with any one unless I know him to be a friend." After some parley Satanta

and Lone Wolf, and a Comanche, joined the column. During the day about sixty warriors also came in.

It was evident that the Kiowa warriors at first came out with hostile intention, supposing us to be weak in numbers, but when they saw the unusual array of force they professed the warmest friendship. Their faces bedaubed with war paint, their persons attired in all the panoply of war, their weapons ready for use, told a different tale. At nightfall the warriors, except Satanta and Lone Wolf, disappeared. About noon the next day Satanta was allowed to leave the column to communicate with his warriors. About three o'clock he returned with his son, a fine boy, about eighteen years of age, and attired in the highest style of Indian costume. While riding along a short distance from the column the old chief put spurs to his pony. His intention was evidently to escape, but in a moment several officers, each of whom had fleet horses, and were near by at the time, dashed after the fugitive. There was a lively race for half a mile, when his Indian highness, finding himself overtaken, checked his pony, folded his arms across his breast, and made several exclamations. After this adventure a guard of soldiers was at once placed over both Satanta and Lone Wolf. The prisoners were brought in and held as hostages for the fulfilment of their promises.

Just before going into camp the same night about a hundred of the warriors who had accompanied the column during the day assembled on a knoll near the line of march. Their highly caparisoned war ponies stood near by, the warriors were lying upon blankets spread on the ground, or lounging cross-legged in their saddles. They were constantly talking among themselves. As the writer rode past a formidable warrior approached, waving his hand with a motion to halt. At the time I was riding a beautiful black Cheyenne war-pony. The warrior examined the animal as if he recognized it. It was taken from the Cheyenne herd at the battle of the Washita. The warrior said: "Gude pony, Bueno big chief-you swap, how much?"