Tenting on the Plains Part 13

There was very little hunting about Fort Riley in the winter. The General had shot a great many prairie chickens in the autumn, and hung them in the wood-house, and while they lasted we were not entirely dependent on Government beef. As the season advanced, we had only ox-tail soup and beef. Although the officers were allowed to buy the best cuts, the cattle that supplied the post with meat were far from being in good condition. One day our table was crowded with officers, some of whom had just reported for duty. The usual great tureen of soup was disposed of, and the servant brought in an immense platter, on which generally reposed a large roast. But when the dish was placed before the General, to my dismay there appeared in the centre of its wide circ.u.mference a steak hardly larger than a man's hand. It was a painful situation, and I blushed, gazed uneasily at the new-comers, but hesitated about apologies as they were my husband's detestation. He relieved us from the awful silence that fell upon all, by a peal of laughter that shook the table and disturbed the poor little steak in its lonesome bed. Eliza thrust her head in at the door, and explained that the cattle had stampeded, and the commissary could not get them back in time to kill, as they did daily at the post. The General was perfectly unmoved, calling those peculiar staccato "all right!" "all right!" to poor Eliza, setting affairs at ease again, and asking the guests to do the best they could with the vegetables, bread and b.u.t.ter, coffee and dessert.

The next day beef returned to our table, but, alas! the potatoes gave out, and I began to be disturbed about my housewifely duties. My husband begged me not to give it a thought, saying that Eliza would pull us through the temporary famine satisfactorily, and adding, that what was good enough for us was good enough for our guests. But an attack of domestic responsibility was upon me, and I insisted upon going to the little town near us. Under any circ.u.mstances the General opposed my entering its precincts, as it was largely inhabited by outlaws and desperadoes, and to go for so small a consideration as marketing was entirely against his wishes. I paid dearly for my persistence; for when, after buying what I could at the stores, I set out to return, the chain bridge on which I had crossed the river in the morning had been swept away, and the roaring torrent, that had risen above the high banks, was plunging along its furious way, bearing earth and trees in its turbid flood. I spent several dreary hours on the bank, growing more uneasy and remorseful all the time. The potatoes and eggs that so short a time since I had triumphantly secured, seemed more and more hateful to me, as I looked at them lying in the basket in the bottom of the ambulance. I made innumerable resolves that, so long as my husband did not wish me to concern myself about providing for our table, I never would attempt it again; but all these resolutions could not bring back the bridge, and I had to take the advice of one of our officers, who was also waiting to cross, and go back to the house of one of the merchants who sold supplies to the post. His wife was very hospitable, as frontier men and women invariably are, and next morning I was down on the bank of the river early, more impatient than ever to cross. What made the detention more exasperating was that the buildings of the garrison on the plateau were plainly visible from where we waited. Then ensued the most foolhardy conduct on my part, and so terrified the General when I told him afterward, that I came near never being trusted alone again. The most vexing part of it all was that I involved the officer, who was in town by accident, in imminent danger, for when he heard what I was determined to do, he had no alternative but to second my scheme, as no persuasion was of any avail. I induced a sergeant in charge of a small boat to take me over. I was frantic to get home, as for some time preparations had been going on for a summer campaign, and I had kept it out of our day as much as I could.

The General never antic.i.p.ated trouble, reasoning that it was bad enough when it came, and we both felt that every hour must hold what it could of enjoyment, and not be darkened a moment if we could help it. The hours of delay on the bank were almost insupportable, as each one was shortening precious time. I could not help telling the sergeant this, and he yielded to my entreaties--for what soldier ever refused our appeals? The wind drove through the trees on the bank, lashing the limbs to and fro and breaking off huge branches, and it required almost superhuman strength to hold the frail boat to the slippery landing long enough to lift me in. The soldier at the prow held in his muscular hands a pole with an iron pin at the end, with which he used all his energy to push away the floating logs that threatened to swamp us. It was almost useless to attempt to steer, as the river had a current that it was impossible to stem. The only plan was to push out into the stream filled with debris, and let the current shoot the boat far down the river, aiming for a bend in its sh.o.r.es on the opposite side. I closed my eyes to the wild rush of water on all sides, shuddering at the shouts of the soldiers, who tried to make themselves heard above the deafening clamor of the tempest. I could not face our danger and retain my self-control, and I was tortured by the thought of having brought peril to others. I owed my life to the strong and supple arms of the sergeant and the stalwart soldier who a.s.sisted him, for with a spring they caught the limbs of an overhanging tree, just at the important moment when our little craft swung near the bank at the river bend, and, clutching at branches and rocks, we were pulled to the sh.o.r.e and safely landed. Why the brave sergeant even listened to such a wild proposition I do not know. It was the maddest sort of recklessness to attempt such a crossing, and the man had nothing to gain. With the strange, impa.s.sable gulf that separates a soldier from his officers and their families, my imploring to be taken over the river, and my overwhelming thanks afterward, were the only words he would ever hear me speak. With the officer who shared the peril, it was different. When we sat around the fireside again, he was the hero of the hour. The grat.i.tude of the officers, the thanks of the women putting themselves in my place and giving him praise for encountering danger for another, were some sort of compensation. The poor sergeant had nothing; he went back to the barracks, and sank his individuality in the ranks, where the men look so alike in their uniform it is almost impossible to distinguish the soldier that has acted the hero from one who is never aught but a poltroon. After the excitement of the peril I had pa.s.sed was over, I no longer wondered that there was such violent opposition to women traveling with troops. The lesson lasted me a long time, as I was well aware what planning and preparation it cost to take us women along, in any case, when the regiment was on the move, and to make these efforts more difficult by my own heedlessness was too serious a mistake to be repeated.

In spite of the drawbacks to a perfectly successful garrison, which was natural in the early career of a regiment, the winter had been full of pleasure to me; but it came to a sad ending when the preparations for the departure of the troops began. The st.i.tches that I put in the repairs to the blue flannel shirts were set with tears. I eagerly sought every opportunity to prepare the camping outfit. The mess-chest was filled with a few strong dishes, sacks were made and filled with coffee, sugar, flour, rice, etc., and a few cans of fruit and vegetables were packed away in the bottom of the chest. The means of transportation were so limited that every pound of baggage was a matter of consideration, and my husband took some of the s.p.a.ce that I thought ought to be devoted to comforts, for a few books that admitted of reading and rereading.

Eliza was the untiring one in preparing the outfit for the summer. She knew just when to administer comforting words, as I sighed over the preparations, and reminded me that "the Ginnel always did send for you every chance he got, and war times on the Plains wa'n't no wuss than in Virginia."

[Ill.u.s.tration: TROPHIES OF THE CHASE IN GENERAL CUSTER'S LIBRARY.]

There was one joke that came up at every move we ever made, over which the General was always merry. The officers, in and out of our quarters daily, were wont to observe the unusual alacrity that I displayed when orders came to move. As I had but little care or anxiety about household affairs, the contrast with my extreme interest in the arrangements of the mess-chest, bedding and campaigning clothes was certainly marked. I longed for activity, to prevent me from showing my heavy heart, and really did learn to be somewhat successful in crowding a good deal into a small s.p.a.ce, and choosing the things that were most necessary. As the officers came in unannounced, they found me flying hither and thither, intent on my duties, and immediately saw an opportunity to tease the General, condoling with him because, having exhausted himself in arduous packing for the campaign, he would be obliged to set out totally unfitted for the summer's hardships. After their departure, he was sure to turn to me, with roguery in his voice, and asked if I had noticed how sorry all those young fellows were for a man who was obliged to work so hard to get his traps ready to move.

It was amusing to notice the indifferent manner in which some of the officers saw the careful and frugal preparing for the campaign. That first spring's experience was repeated in every after preparation. There were always those who took little or nothing themselves, but became experts at casual droppings in to luncheon or dinner with some painstaking provider, who endeavored vainly to get himself out of sight when the halt came for eating. This little scheme was occasionally persisted in merely to annoy one who, having shown some signs of parsimony, needed discipline in the eyes of those who really did a great deal of good by their ridicule. Among one group of officers, who had planned to mess together, the only provision was a barrel of eggs. It is only necessary to follow a cavalry column over the crossing of one creek, to know the exact condition that such perishable food would be in at the end of the first day. There were two of the "plebes," as the youngest of the officers were called--as I recall them, bright, boyish, charming fellows--who openly rebelled against the rebuffs they claimed were given them, when they attempted to practice the dropping-in plan at another's meals.

After one of these sallies on the enemy, they met the repulse with the announcement that if "those stingy old mollycoddles thought they had nothing to eat in their own outfit, they would show them," and took the occasion of one of their birthdays to prove that their resources were unlimited. Though the two endeavored to conceal the hour and place of this fete, a persistent watcher discovered that the birthday breakfast consisted of a bottle of native champagne and corn bread. The hospitality of officers is too well known to make it necessary to explain that those with any tendency to penuriousness were exceptions.

An army legend is in existence of an officer who would not allow his hospitality to be set aside, even though he was very short of supplies.

Being an officer of the old army, he was as formal over his repast as if it were abundant, and, with all ceremony, had his servant pa.s.s the rice.

The guest, thinking it the first course, declined, whereupon the host, rather offended, replied, "Well, if you don't like the rice, help yourself to the mustard." This being the only other article on the bill of fare, there need be no doubt as to his final choice. When several officers decide to mess together on a campaign, each one promises to provide some one necessary supply. On one of these occasions, after the first day's march was ended, and orders for dinner were given to the servant, it was discovered that all but one had exercised his own judgment regarding what was the most necessary provision for comfort, and the one that had brought a loaf of bread instead of a demijohn of whiskey was berated for his choice.

In the first days of frontier life, our people knew but little about preparations for the field, and it took some time to realize that they were in a land where they could not live upon the country. It was a severe and lasting lesson to those using tobacco, when they found themselves without it, and so far from civilization that there was no opportunity of replenishing their supply. On the return from the expedition, the injuries as well as the enjoyments are narrated.

Sometimes we women, full of sympathy for the privations that had been endured, found that these _were_ injuries; sometimes we discovered that imagination had created them. We enjoyed, maliciously I am afraid, the growling of one man who never erred in any way, and consequently had no margin for any one that did; calculating and far-seeing in his life, he felt no patience for those who, being young, were yet to learn those lessons of frugality that were born in him. He was still wrathful when he gave us an account of one we knew to be delightfully impudent when he was bent on teasing. When the provident man untied the strings of his tobacco-pouch, and settled himself for a smoke, the saucy young lieutenant was sure to stroll that way, and in tones loud enough for those near to hear him, drawl out, "I've got a match; if any other fellow's got a pipe and tobacco, I'll have a smoke."

The expedition that was to leave Fort Riley was commanded by General Hanc.o.c.k, then at the head of the Department of the Missouri. He arrived at our post from Fort Leavenworth with seven companies of infantry and a battery of artillery. His letters to the Indian agents of the various tribes give the objects of the march into the Indian country. He wrote:

"I have the honor to state, for your information, that I am at present preparing an expedition to the Plains, which will soon be ready to move.

My object in doing so at this time is, to convince the Indians within the limits of this Department that we are able to punish any of them who may molest travelers across the Plains, or who may commit other hostilities against the whites. We desire to avoid, if possible, any troubles with the Indians, and to treat them with justice, and according to the requirements of our treaties with them; and I wish especially, in my dealings with them, to act through the agents of the Indian Department as far as it is possible to do so. If you, as their agent, can arrange these matters satisfactorily with them, we shall be pleased to defer the whole subject to you. In case of your inability to do so, I would be pleased to have you accompany me when I visit the country of your tribes, to show that the officers of the Government are acting in harmony. I shall be pleased to talk with any of the chiefs whom we may meet. I do not expect to make war against any of the Indians of your agency, unless they commence war against us."

In General Custer's account, he says that "the Indians had been guilty of numerous thefts and murders during the preceding summer and autumn, for none of which had they been called to account. They had attacked the stations of the overland mail-route, killed the employees, burned the stations and captured the stock. Citizens had been murdered in their homes on the frontier of Kansas; and murders had been committed on the Arkansas route. The princ.i.p.al perpetrators of these acts were the Cheyennes and Sioux. The agent of the former, if not a party to the murder on the Arkansas, knew who the guilty persons were, yet took no steps to bring the murderers to punishment. Such a course would have interfered with his trade and profits. It was not to punish for these sins of the past that the expedition was set on foot, but, rather, by its imposing appearance and its early presence in the Indian country, to check or intimidate the Indians from a repet.i.tion of their late conduct.

During the winter the leading chiefs and warriors had threatened that, as soon as the gra.s.s was up, the tribes would combine in a united outbreak along the entire frontier."

There had been little opportunity to put the expedition out of our minds for some time previous to its departure. The sound from the blacksmith's shop, of the shoeing of horses, the drilling on the level ground outside of the post, and the loading of wagons about the quartermaster and commissary storehouses, went on all day long. At that time the sabre was more in use than it was later, and it seemed to me that I could never again shut my ears to the sound of the grindstone, when I found that the sabres were being sharpened. The troopers, when mounted, were curiosities, and a decided disappointment to me. The horse, when prepared for the march, barely showed head and tail. My ideas of the dashing trooper going out to war, clad in gay uniform and curbing a curveting steed, faded into nothingness before the reality. Though the wrapping together of the blanket, overcoat and shelter-tent is made a study of the tactics, it could not be reduced to anything but a good-sized roll at the back of the saddle. The carbine rattled on one side of the soldier, slung from the broad strap over his shoulder, while a frying-pan, a tin-cup, a canteen, and a haversack of hardtack clattered and knocked about on his other side. There were possibly a hundred rounds of ammunition in his cartridge-belt, which took away all the symmetry that his waist might otherwise have had. If the company commander was not too strict, a short butcher-knife, thrust into a home-made leather case, kept company with the pistol. It was not a murderous weapon, but was used to cut up game or slice off the bacon, which, sputtering in the skillet at evening camp-fire, was the main feature of the soldier's supper. The tin utensils, the carbine and the sabre, kept up a continual din, as the horses seemingly crept over the trail at the rate of three to four miles an hour. In addition to the c.u.mbersome load, there were sometimes lariats and iron pichet-pins slung on one side of the saddle, to tether the animals when they grazed at night. There was nothing picturesque about this lumbering cavalryman, and, besides, our men did not then sit their horses with the serenity that they eventually attained. If the beast shied or kicked--for the poor thing was itself learning to do soldiering, and occasionally flung out his heels, or s.n.a.t.c.hed the bit in his mouth in protest--it was a question whether the newly made Mars would land on the crupper or hang helplessly among the domestic utensils suspended to his saddle. How sorry I was for them, they were so bruised and lamed by their first lessons in horsemanship. Every one laughed at every one else, and this made it seem doubly trying to me. I remembered my own first lessons among fearless cavalrymen--a picture of a trembling figure, about as uncertain in the saddle as if it were a wave of the sea, the hands cold and nerveless, and, I regret to add, the tears streaming down my cheeks!

These recollections made me writhe when I saw a soldier describing an arc in the air, and his self-freed horse galloping off to the music of tin and steel in concert, for no such compulsory landing was ever met save by a roar of derision from the column. Just in proportion as I had suffered for their misfortunes, did I enjoy the men when, after the campaign, they returned, perfect hors.e.m.e.n and with such physiques as might serve for a sculptor's model.

At the time the expedition formed at Fort Riley, I had little realization what a serious affair an Indian campaign was. We had heard of the outrages committed on the settlers, the attacking of the overland supply-trains, and the burning of the stage-stations; but the rumors seemed to come from so far away that the reality was never brought home to me until I saw for myself what horror attends Indian depredations.

Even a disaster to one that seemed to be of our own family, failed to implant in me that terror of Indians which, a month or two later, I realized to its fullest extent by personal danger. I must tell my reader, by going back to the days of the war, something of the one that first showed us what Indian warfare really was. It was a sad preparation for the campaign that followed.

After General Custer had been promoted from a captain to a brigadier-general, in 1863, his brigade lay quietly in camp for a few days, to recruit before setting out on another raid. This gave the unusual privilege of lying in bed a little later in the morning, instead of springing out before dawn. For several mornings in succession, my husband told me, he saw a little boy steal through a small opening in the tent, take out his clothes and boots, and after a while creep back with them, brushed and folded. At last he asked Eliza where on earth that cadaverous little image came from, and she explained that it was "a poor little picked sparrow of a chile, who had come hangin' aroun' the camp-fire, mos' starved," and added, "Now, Ginnel, you mustn't go and turn him off, for he's got nowhar to go, and 'pears like he's crazy to wait on you." The General questioned him, and found that the boy, being unhappy at home, had run away. Enough of his sad life was revealed to convince the General that it was useless to attempt to return him to his Eastern home, for he was a determined little fellow, and there was no question that he would have fled again. His parents were rich, and my husband evidently knew who they were; but the story was confidential, so I never knew anything of him, except that he was always showing signs of good-breeding, even though he lived about the camp-fire. A letter that my husband wrote to his own home at that time, spoke of a hound puppy that one of his soldiers had given to him, and then of a little waif, called Johnnie, whom he had taken as his servant. "The boy," he wrote, "is so fond of the pup he takes him to bed with him." Evidently the child began his service with devotion, for the General adds; "I think he would rather starve than to see me go hungry. I have dressed him in soldier's clothes, and he rides one of my horses on the march. Returning from the march one day, I found Johnnie with his sleeves rolled up. He had washed all my soiled clothes and hung them on the bushes to dry.

Small as he is, they were very well done."

Soon after Johnnie became my husband's servant, we were married, and I was taken down to the Virginia farm-house, that was used as brigade headquarters. By this time, Eliza had initiated the boy into all kinds of work. She, in turn, fed him, mended his clothes, and managed him, lording it over the child in a lofty but never unkind manner. She had tried to drill him to wait on the table, as she had seen the duty performed on the old plantation. At our first dinner he was so bashful I thought he would drop everything. My husband did not believe in having a head and foot to the table when we were alone, so poor little Johnnie was asked to put my plate beside the General's. Though he was so embarra.s.sed in this new phase of his life, he was never so intimidated by the responsibility Eliza had pressed upon him that he was absent-minded or confused regarding one point: he invariably pa.s.sed each dish to the General first. Possibly my husband noticed it. I certainly did not. There was a pair of watchful eyes at a crack in the kitchen-door, which took in this little incident. One day the General came into our room laughing, his eyes sparkling with fun over Eliza's description of how she had noticed Johnnie always serving the General first, and had labored with him in secret, to teach him to wait on the lady first. "It's manners," she said, believing that was a crushing argument. But Johnnie, usually obedient, persistently refused, always replying that the General was the one of us two that ranked, and he ought to be served first.

At the time of General Kilpatrick's famous raid, when he went to take Richmond, General Custer was ordered to make a detour in an opposite direction, in order to deceive the Confederate army as to the real object to be accomplished. This ruse worked so successfully, that General Custer and his command were put in so close and dangerous a situation it was with difficulty that any of them escaped. The General told me that when the pursuit of the enemy was hottest, and everyone doing his utmost to escape, he saw Johnnie driving a light covered wagon at a gallop, which was loaded with turkeys and chickens. He had received his orders from Eliza, before setting out, to bring back something for the mess, and the boy had carried out her directions with a vengeance.

He impressed into his service the establishment that he drove, and filled it with poultry. Even in the melee and excitement of retreat, the General was wonderfully amused, and amazed too, at the little fellow's fearlessness. He was too fond of him to leave him in danger, so he galloped in his direction and called to him, as he stood up lashing his horse, to abandon his capture or he would be himself a prisoner. The boy obeyed, but hesitatingly, cut the harness, sprang upon the horse's unsaddled back, and was soon with the main column. The General, by his delay, was obliged to take to an open field to avoid capture, and leap a high fence in order to overtake the retreating troops.

He became more and more interested in the boy, who was such a combination of courage and fidelity, and finally arranged to have him enlist as a soldier. The war was then drawing to its close, and he secured to the lad a large bounty, which he placed at interest for him, and after the surrender, persuaded Johnnie to go to school. It was difficult to induce him to leave; but my husband realized what injustice it was to keep him in the menial position to which he desired to return, and finally left him, with the belief that he had instilled some ambition into the boy.

A year and a half afterward, as we were standing on the steps of the gallery of our quarters at Fort Riley, we noticed a stripling of a lad walking toward us, with his head hanging on his breast, in the shy, embarra.s.sed manner of one who doubts his reception. With a glad cry, my husband called out that it was Johnnie Cisco, and bounded down the steps to meet him. After he was a.s.sured of his welcome, he told us that it had been impossible for him to stay away, he longed so constantly to be again with us, and added that if we would only let him remain, he would not care what he did. Of course, the General regretted the giving up of his school; but, now that he had made the long journey, there was no help for it, and he decided that he should continue with us until he could find him employment, for he was determined that he should not reenlist. The boy's old and tried friend, Eliza, at once a.s.sumed her position of "missus," and, kind-hearted tyrant! gave him every comfort and made him her va.s.sal, without a remonstrance from the half-grown man, for he was only too glad to be in the sole home he knew, no matter on what terms. Soon after his coming, the General obtained from one of the managers of the Wells Fargo Express Company a place of messenger; and the recommendation he gave the boy for honesty and fidelity was confirmed over and over again by the officers of the express line. He was known on the entire route from Ogden to Denver, and was entrusted with immense amounts of gold in its transmission from the Colorado mines to the States. Several times he came to our house for a vacation, and my husband had always the unvarying and genuine welcome that no one doubted when once given, and he did not fail to praise and encourage the friendless fellow. Eliza, after learning what the lad had pa.s.sed through, in his dangers from Indians, treated him like a conquering hero, but alternately bullied and petted him still. At last there came a long interval between his visits, and my husband sent to the express people to inquire. Poor Johnnie had gone like many another brave employee of that venturesome firm. In a courageous defense of the pa.s.sengers and the company's gold, when the stage was attacked, he had been killed by the Indians. Eliza kept the battered valise that her favorite had left with us, and mourned over it as if it had been something human. I found her cherishing the bag in a hidden corner, and recalling to me, with tears, how warm-hearted Johnnie was, saying that the night the news of her old mother's death came to her from Virginia, he had sat up till daybreak to keep the fire going. "Miss Libbie, I tole him to go to bed, but he said, 'No, Eliza, I can't do it, when you are in trouble: when I had no friends, and couldn't help myself, you helped me.'" After that, the lad was always "poor Johnnie," and many a boy with kinsfolk of his own is not more sincerely mourned.

As the days drew nearer for the expedition to set out, my husband tried to keep my spirits up by reminding me that the council to be held with the chiefs of the warlike tribes, when they reached that part of the country infested with the marauding Indians, was something he hoped might result in our speedy reunion. He endeavored to induce me to think, as he did, that the Indians would be so impressed with the magnitude of the expedition, that, after the council, they would accept terms and abandon the war-path. Eight companies of our own regiment were going out, and these, with infantry and artillery, made a force of fourteen hundred men. It was really a large expedition, for the Plains; but the recollections of the thousands of men in the Third Cavalry Division, which was the General's command during the war, made the expedition seem too small, even for safety.

No one can enumerate the terrors, imaginary and real, that filled the hearts of women on the border in those desperate days. The buoyancy of my husband had only a momentary effect in the last hours of his stay.

That time seemed to fly fast; but no amount of excitement and bustle of preparation closed my eyes, even momentarily, to the dragging hours that awaited me. Such partings are such a torture that it is difficult even to briefly mention them. My husband added another struggle to my lot by imploring me not to let him see the tears that he knew, for his sake, I could keep back until he was out of sight. Though the band played its usual departing tune, "The Girl I Left Behind Me," if there was any music in the notes, it was all in the minor key to the men who left their wives behind them. No expedition goes out with shout and song, if loving, weeping women are left behind. Those who have not a.s.sumed the voluntary fetters that bind us for weal or for woe, and render it impossible to escape suffering while those we love suffer, or rejoicing while those to whom we are united are jubilant, felt too keenly for their comrades when they watched them tear themselves from clinging arms inside the threshold of their homes, even to keep up the stream of idle chaffing that only such occasions can stop. There was silence as the column left the garrison. Alas! the closed houses they left were as still as if death had set its seal upon the door; no sound but the sobbing and moans of women's breaking hearts.

Eliza stood guard at my door for hours and hours, until I had courage, and some degree of peace, to take up life again. A loving, suffering woman came to sleep with me for a night or two. The hours of those first wakeful nights seemed endless. The anxious, unhappy creature beside me said, gently, in the small hours, "Libbie, are you awake?" "Oh, yes," I replied, "and have been for ever so long." "What are you doing?" "Saying over hymns, s.n.a.t.c.hes of poetry, the Lord's Prayer backward, counting, etc., to try to put myself to sleep." "Oh, say some rhyme to me, in mercy's name, for I am past all hope of sleep while I am so unhappy!"

Then I repeated, over and over again, a single verse, written, perhaps, by some one who, like ourselves, knew little of the genius of poetry, but, alas! much of what makes up the theme of all the sad verses of the world:

"There's something in the parting hour That chills the warmest heart; But kindred, comrade, lover, friend, Are fated all to part.

But this I've seen, and many a pang Has pressed it on my mind-- The one that goes is happier Than he who stays behind."

Perhaps after I had said this, and another similar verse, over and over again, in a sing-song, droning voice, the regular breathing at my side told me that the poor, tired heart had found temporary forgetfulness; but when we came to the sad reality of our lonely life next day, every object in our quarters reminded us what it is to "stay behind." There are no lonely women who will not realize how the very chairs, or anything in common use, take to themselves voices and call out reminders of what has been and what now is. Fill up the time as we might, there came each day, at twilight, an hour that should be left out of every solitary life. It is meant only for the happy, who need make no subterfuges to fill up hours that are already precious.

FOOTNOTE:

[G] From "Hans Breitmann's Ballads," by permission of Messrs. T. B.

Peterson & Brothers, publishers.

CHAPTER XV.

A PRAIRIE FIRE.

IT was a great change for us from the bustle and excitement of the cavalry, as they prepared for the expedition, to the dull routine of an infantry garrison that replaced the dashing troopers. It was intensely quiet, and we missed the clatter of the horses' hoofs, the click of the curry-comb, which had come from the stables at the morning and evening grooming of the animals, the voices of the officers drilling the recruits, the constant pa.s.sing and repa.s.sing of mounted men in front of our quarters; above all, the enlivening trumpet-calls ringing out all day, and we rebelled at the drum and bugle that seemed so tame in contrast. There were no more long rides for me, for Custis Lee was taken out at my request, as I feared no one would give him proper care at the post. Even the little chapel where the officers' voices had added their music to the chants, was now nearly deserted. The chaplain was an interesting man, and the General and most of the garrison had attended the services during the winter. Only three women were left to respond, and, as we had all been reared in other churches, we quaked a good deal, for fear our responses would not come in the right place. They did not lack in earnestness, for when had we lonely creatures such cause to send up pet.i.tions as at that time, when those for whom we prayed were advancing into an enemy's country day by day! Never had the beautiful Litany, that asks deliverance for all in trouble, sorrow, perplexity, temptation, borne such significance to us as then. No one can dream, until it is brought home to him, how s.p.a.ce doubles, trebles, quadruples, when it is impossible to see the little wire that, fragile as it seems, chains one to the absent. It is difficult to realize, now that our country is cobwebbed with telegraph lines, what a despairing feeling it was, in those days, to get far beyond the blessed nineteenth-century mode of communication. He who crosses the ocean knows a few days of such uncertainty, but over the pathless sea of Western prairie it was chaos, after the sound of the last horse's hoof was lost in the distance.

We had not been long alone when a great danger threatened us. The level plateau about our post, and the valley along the river near us, were covered with dry prairie gra.s.s, which grows thickly and is matted down into close clumps. It was discovered one day, that a narrow thread of fire was creeping on in our direction, scorching these tufts into shrivelled brown patches that were ominously smoking when first seen. As I begin to write of what followed, I find it difficult; for even those living in Western States and Territories regard descriptions of prairie-fires as exaggerated, and are apt to look upon their own as the extreme to which they ever attain. I have seen the mild type, and know that a horseman rides through such quiet conflagrations in safety. The trains on some of our Western roads pa.s.s harmless through belts of country when the flames are about them; there is no impending peril, because the winds are moderate. When a tiny flame is discovered in Kansas, or other States, where the wind blows a hurricane so much of the time, there is not a moment to lose. Although we saw what was hardly more than a suspicion of smoke, and the slender, sinuous, red tongue along the ground, we women had read enough of the fires in Kansas to know that the small blaze meant that our lives were in jeopardy. Most of us were then unacquainted with those precautions which the experienced Plainsman takes, and, indeed, we had no ranchmen near us to set us the example of caution which the frontiersman so soon learns. We should have had furrows ploughed around the entire post in double lines, a certain distance apart, to check the approach of fire. There was no time to fight the foe with a like weapon, by burning over a portion of the gra.s.s between the advancing blaze and our post. The smoke rose higher and higher beyond us, and curling, creeping fire began to ascend into waves of flame with alarming rapidity, and in an incredibly short time we were overshadowed with a dark pall of smoke.

The Plains were then new to us. It is impossible to appreciate their vastness at first. The very idea was hard to realize, that from where we lived we looked on an uninterrupted horizon. We felt that it must be the spot where some one first said, "The sky fits close down all around." It fills the soul with wonder and awe to look upon the vastness of that sea of land for the first time. As the sky became lurid, and the blaze swept on toward us, surging to and fro in waving lines as it approached nearer and nearer, it seemed that the end of the world, when all shall be rolled together as a scroll, had really come. The whole earth appeared to be on fire. The sky was a sombre canopy above us, on which flashes of brilliant light suddenly appeared as the flames rose, fanned by a fresh gust of wind. There were no screams nor cries, simply silent terror and shiverings of horror, as we women huddled together to watch the remorseless fiend advancing with what appeared to be inevitable annihilation of the only shelter we had. Every woman's thoughts turned to her natural protector, now far away, and longed with unutterable longing for one who, at the approach of danger, stood like a bulwark of courage and defense. The river was half a mile away, and our feet could not fly fast enough to reach the water before the enemy would be upon us. There was no such a thing as a fire-engine. The Government then had not even provided the storehouses and quarters with the Babc.o.c.k Extinguisher. We were absolutely powerless, and could only fix our fascinated gaze upon the approaching foe.

In the midst of this appalling scene, we were startled anew by a roar and shout from the soldiers' barracks. Some one had, at last, presence of mind to marshal the men into line, and, a.s.suming the commanding tone that ensures action and obedience in emergencies, gave imperative orders. Every one--citizen employees, soldiers and officers--seized gunny sacks, blankets, poles, anything available that came in their way, and raced wildly beyond the post into the midst of the blazing gra.s.s.

Forming a cordon, they beat and lashed the flames with the blankets, so twisted as to deal powerful blows. It was a frenzied fight. The soldiers yelled, swore and leaped frantically upon beds of blazing gra.s.s, condensing a lifetime of riotous energy into these perilous moments. We women were not breathless and trembling over fears for ourselves alone: our hearts were filled with terror for the brave men who were working for our deliverance. They were men to whom we had never spoken, nor were we likely ever to speak to them, so separated are the soldiers in barracks from an officer's household. Sometimes we saw their eyes following us respectfully, as we rode about the garrison, seeming to have in them an air of possession, as if saying, "That's our captain's or our colonel's wife." Now, they were showing their loyalty, for there are always a few of a regiment left behind to care for the company property, or to take charge of the gardens for the soldiers. These men, and all the other brave fellows with them, imperiled their lives in order that the officers who had gone out for Indian warfare, might come home and find "all's well." Let soldiers know that a little knot of women are looking to them as their saviors, and you will see what nerves of iron they have, what inexhaustible strength they can exhibit.

No sooner had the flames been stamped out of one portion of the plain, than the whole body of men were obliged to rush off in another direction and begin the thrashing and tramping anew. It seemed to us that there was no such thing as conquering anything so insidious. But the wind, that had been the cause of our danger, saved us at last. That very wind which we had reviled all winter for its doleful howlings around our quarters and down the chimneys; that selfsame wind that had infuriated us by blowing our hats off when we went out to walk, or impeded our steps by twisting our skirts into hopeless folds about our ankles--was now to be our savior. Suddenly veering, as is its fashion in Kansas, it swept the long tongues of flame over the bluffs beyond us, where the lonely coyote and its mate were driven into their lair. By this vagary of the element, that is never anywhere more variable than in Kansas, our quarters, our few possessions, and no doubt our lives, were saved. With faces begrimed and blistered, their clothes black with soot and smoke, their hands burnt and numb from violent effort, the soldiers and citizen employees dragged their exhausted bodies back to garrison, and dropped down anywhere to rest.

The tinge of green that had begun to appear was now gone, and the charred, smoke-stained earth spread as far as we could see, making more desolate the arid, treeless country upon which we looked. It was indeed a blackened and dismal desert that encircled us, and we knew that we were deprived of the delight of the tender green of early spring, which carpets the Plains for a brief time before the sun parches and turns to russet and brown the turf of our Western prairies.

As we sat on the gallery, grieving over this ruin of spring, Mrs. Gibbs gathered her two boys closer to her, as she shuddered over another experience with prairie fire, where her children were in peril. The little fellows, in charge of a soldier, were left temporarily on the bank of a creek. Imagine the horror of a mother who finds, as she did, the gra.s.s on fire and a broad strip of flame separating her from her children! Before the little ones could follow their first instinct, and thereby encounter certain death by attempting to run through the fire to their mother, the devoted soldier, who had left them but a moment, realizing that they would instantly seek their mother, ran like an antelope to where the fire-band narrowed, leaped the flame, seized the little men, and plunged with mad strides to the bank of the creek, where, G.o.d be praised! nature provides a refuge from the relentless foe of our Western plains.

In our Western prairie fires the flame is often a mile long, perhaps not rising over a foot high, but, sweeping from six to ten miles an hour, it requires the greatest exertion of the ranchmen, with all kinds of improvised flails, to beat out the fire. The final resort of a frontiersman, if the flames are too much for him to overcome, is to take refuge with his family, cattle, horses, etc., in the garden, where the growing vegetables make an effectual protection. Alas, when he finds it safe to venture from the green oasis, the crops are not only gone, but the roots are burned, and the ground valueless from the parching of the terrible heat. When a prairie fire is raging at ten miles an hour, the hurricane lifts the tufts of loosened bunch gra.s.s, which in occasional clumps is longer than the rest, carrying it far beyond the main fire, and thus starting a new flame. No matter how weary the pioneer may be after a day's march, he neglects no precautions that can secure him from fire. He twists into wisp the longest of the bunch gra.s.s, trailing it around the camp; the fire thus started is whipped out by the teamsters, after it has burned over a sufficient area for safety. They follow the torch of the leader with branches of the green willow or twigs of cottonwood bound together.

[Ill.u.s.tration: WHIPPING HORSES TO KEEP THEM FROM FREEZING.]

The first letters, sent back from the expedition by scouts, made red-letter days for us. The official envelope, stained with rain and mud, bursting open with the many pages crowded in, sometimes even tied with a string by some messenger through whose hands the parcel pa.s.sed, told stories of the vicissitudes of the missive in the difficult journey to our post. These letters gave accounts of the march to Fort Larned, where a great camp was established, to await the arrival of the chiefs with whom the council was to be held. While the runners were absent on their messages to the tribes, some effort was made to protect the troops against the still sharp winds of early spring. The halt and partly permanent camp was most fortunate; for had the troops been on the march, a terrible snow-storm that ensued would have wrought havoc, for the cold became so intense, and the snow so blinding, it was only through great precautions that loss of life was prevented. The animals were given an extra ration of oats, while the guards were obliged to take whips and strike at the horses on the picket-line, to keep them in motion and prevent them from freezing. The snow was eight inches deep, a remarkable fall for Kansas at that time of the year. As we read over these accounts, which all the letters contained, though mine touched lightly on the subject, owing to my husband's fixed determination to write of the bright side, we felt that we had hardly a right to our fires and comfortable quarters. There were officers on the expedition who could not keep warm. A number were then enduring their first exposure to the elements, and I remember that several, who afterward became stalwart, healthy men, were then partial invalids, owing to sedentary life in the States, delicate lungs or climatic influences.

In my husband's letters there was a laughable description of his lending his dog to keep a friend warm. The officer came into his tent after dark, declaring that no amount of bedding had any effect in keeping out the cold, and he had come to borrow a dog, to see if he could have one night's uninterrupted rest. Our old hound was offered, because he could cover such a surface, for he was a big brute, and when he once located himself he rarely moved until morning. My husband forgot, in giving Rover his recommendation, to mention a habit he had of sleeping audibly, besides a little fashion of twitching his legs and thumping his c.u.mbrous tail, in dreams that were evidently of the chase, or of battles he was living over, in which "Turk," the bull-dog, was being vanquished. He was taken into the neighbor's tent, and induced to settle for the night, after the General's coaxing and pretense of going to sleep beside him.

Later, when he went back to see how Rover worked as a portable furnace, he found the officer sound asleep on his back, emitting such nasal notes as only a stout man is equal to, while Rover lay sprawled over the broad chest of his host, where he had crept after he was asleep, snoring with an occasional interlude of a long-drawn snort, introduced in a manner peculiar to foxhounds. The next morning my husband was not in the least surprised, after what he had seen the night before, to receive a call from the officer, who presented a request to exchange dogs. He said that when he made the proposal, he did not expect to have a bedfellow that would climb up over his lungs and crush all the breath out of his body.

Instead of showing proper sympathy, the General threw himself on his pallet and roared with laughter.