additional companies were on the way, a band of warriors, with Satanta at their head, told the officers they should not come any farther. The officer commanding informed their savage majesties that he had been ordered to go to Fort Cobb, and there he would go. The savages threatened, but their couriers, at this timely moment, reporting the presence of troops in the north, probably had the influence of suppressing any bloody schemes of revenge. The officers gave their experience with these vagabond savages as the most humiliating of their lives. Threats and insults were of constant occurrence, and it was necessary to accede to the most arrogant demands for the sole purpose of preventing an immediate massacre of the garrison.

The arrival of the column, consequently, was a welcome event. To the credit of at least one of the bands in the valley, the Peneteghtka Comanches, it must be said, remained faithful, When their people threatened to destroy all the whites at Cobb, the Peneteghtkas moved their village close to the post and declared themselves the friends of the whites, and any one who attacked must fight them also.

There were at this time but three hundred lodges at the post, principally Comanches and Apaches, (Lipans). The Cheyennes and Arrapahoes had taken to the Wichita mountains, about forty miles distant. The Kiowas, as we have seen, had promised to keep with the column. After waiting several days, and still no signs of the Kiowa villages arriving, a scout up the valley developed the fact that they had also disappeared towards the mountains.

When this was discovered, the two chiefs, in the guard-house, were accused of their rascality. They were informed that if their people did not get in the next day they would be hanged to the nearest tree. Both the chiefs were completely unnerved by this exhibition of decision. They begged earnestly for more time. Their entreaties were of no avail. They delegated an old chief, who was voluntarily sharing their captivity, to overtake the fleeing villages and turn them back. As the old Apache and his companions left the prison lodge, the chiefs

motioned them emphatically to hasten, accompanying their gestures with the words, "hudeldy, hudeldy."

Late the same night, a delegation from the tribe came in and offered themselves as hostages, that their families would join them the next day. This expeditious work alone saved the wily chiefs from a short rounding off of their career of blood and treachery. The families of all, except Kicking Bird's band, came in during the next few days, and established their villages on the north bank of the Washita, about a mile below our camp.

The Indians who had thus surrendered remained quietly in their villages, except during times of drawing rations. Frequently fifty or a hundred chiefs and warriors entered our camp to visit the captives, or to hold a talk and lounge about. Sheridan would have nothing to say to any of them, notwithstanding their repeated importunities by messenger, or by seating themselves, for hours at a time, in front of his quarters. The trouble with the Indians had been that they had been consulted too much.

In order to secure constant and reliable information of the movements of the hostile tribes, and to keep a strict watch upon the doubtful bands, as early as the end of October preceding, Sheridan addressed a letter of instructions to Fort Arbuckle, "to take the necessary steps to employ scouts to operate from Fort Cobb, for the purpose of ascertaining the location of the families and stock of hostile Indians south of the Arkansas, to be reported semi-weekly to department headquarters." A number of Peneteghtka Comanches were employed to act as scouts. The Peneteghtkas were originally the most southern band of the southern Comanches. They were of the same origin and spoke the same language. They had, for some years, been friendly towards the whites, and had, in a great measure, given up their nomadic habits. All these considerations admirably adapted these people for the duty proposed; and their reputation among the other bands for bravery, gave them the additional recommendation of fearing

no danger in carrying out any mission that might be entrusted to them.

The head of the corps was Tosawi, (Silver Brooch), the civil chief of the band. As he was an old man, little was expected of him, except to go the rounds of the villages and gossip with the old squaws-for this is a common pastime with a certain class among Indians, as well as whites. Essahavit, (Milky Way), was a middle-aged Indian of powerful frame and remarkable shrewdness. He was the war-chief of the Peneteghtkas, and had active supervision of the Indian As many warriors of the band as were needed were furnished, and, for the time they were employed, were paid, at an established rate, in goods.

scouts.

From this source the Commanding General learned, upon reaching Fort Cobb, the locality of nearly every Indian band between the Washita and the Red rivers. This knowledge subsequently proved invaluable.

The condition of our little army, after its long march, was anything but flattering. Exposure and hardship already told severely upon men and animals, but particularly upon the latter. Several hundred horses had given out entirely, and were shot The rest of the animals were in a fearfully weakened and reduced condition. Our forage was nearly exhausted, and the extra supply expected at the fort had not yet arrived. The animals, guarded by strong parties of herders, were turned loose upon the neighboring hills where they were compelled to eke out a miserable sustenance on dry grass.

Our camp lay in an expansive valley, bordering Pond creek. The men, anticipating some stay in that locality, began to exercise their ingenuity in contriving such additions to the limited space allowed by their "dog" tents as would not only increase their accommodations, but materially improve their personal comfort. In some cases, square pits, three or four feet in depth, were dug, and the tents set over them. Fire-places were also built, which were very grateful accessions. In the course of a week, the camp had the appearance of a regular winter canton

ment. The weather was inexplicable. It was one of two things either very wet or very cold. It rained in torrents one day, and blew and froze the next.

During our delay at Cobb, I took opportunity, in company with Jones, the interpreter, to visit the Indian villages near our camp. Jones was a Texan, and, notwithstanding his long life on the frontiers, was a man of agreeable manners. He was one of those intensely patient individuals rarely met with, yet an admirable trait, especially in an interpreter. He was unobtrusive, and never was so well satisfied as when let alone. Unlike interpreters generally, he had a gentlemanly modesty about him, and a fund of information, which made him an acceptable companion under all circumstances. He seemed to little concern himself in the affairs of the world. As long as he had a few yards of canvas to protect him from the dews and the pelting rain, plenty of buffalo-meat and game for home consumption, and a private soldier's outfit in clothes, he was in a state of mental quiescence and unconcern truly wonderful. Jones had knocked about a great deal, and had seen much of the world-that meant the plains. He was, however, constitutionally opposed to a change of locality. For ten years he had not left the banks of the Washita. In fact, that was the nearest he had ever been to civilization. A fact that impressed me with a sort of reverence for him, was that he, a creature of the nineteenth century, had never seen a railroad, a locomotive, nor a telegraph. What greater proof than this of his equanimity of temperament and settled habits. Nor was he in any hurry to satisfy even an infinitesimally small amount of curiosity in the matter. He observed, one day, that "if the brutes of savages did not lift his hair, in his pirouetting around with every body, he thought he would go sometime to Riley, and see what those machines called railroads looked like."