THE OLD SANTA FE TRAIL by COLONEL HENRY INMAN (best fiction novels of all time .TXT) 📕

Rifle And Shot-Gun; In fact, He Was The Principal Provider Of

All The Meat Which The Family Consumed.

 

 

 

In 1835, When Only Sixteen, He Joined a Fur-Trading Expedition Under

Charles Bent, Destined for The Fort On The Arkansas River Built By

Him And His Brothers.

 

 

 

They Arrived at The Crossing Of The Santa Fe Trail Over Pawnee Fork

Without Special Adventure, But There They Had The Usual Tussle With

The Savages, And Hobbs Killed his First Indian.  Two Of The Traders

Were Pierced with Arrows, But Not Seriously Hurt, And The Pawnees

--The Tribe Which Had Attacked the Outfit--Were Driven Away Discomfited,

Not Having Been Successful In stampeding a Single Animal.

 

 

 

When The Party Reached the Caches, On The Upper Arkansas, A Smoke

Rising On The Distant Horizon, Beyond The Sand Hills South Of The

River, Made Them Proceed cautiously; For To The Old Plainsmen, That

Far-Off Wreath Indicated either The Presence Of The Savages, Or A

Signal To Others At A Greater Distance Of The Approach Of The Trappers.

 

 

 

The Next Morning, Nothing Having Occurred to Delay The March, Buffalo

Began To Appear, And Hobbs Killed three Of Them.  A Cow, Which He

Had Wounded, Ran Across The Trail In front Of The Train, And Hobbs

Dashed after Her, Wounding Her With His Pistol, And Then She Started

To Swim The River.  Hobbs, Mad At The Jeers Which Greeted him From

The Men At His Missing The Animal, Started for The Last Wagon,

In Which Was His Rifle, Determined to Kill The Brute That Had

Enraged him.  As He Was Riding along Rapidly, Bent Cried out To Him,--

 

 

 

"Don'T Try To Follow That Cow; She Is Going Straight For That Smoke,

And It Means Injuns, And No Good In 'Em Either."

 

 

 

"But I'Ll Get Her," Answered hobbs, And He Called to His Closest

Comrade, John Baptiste, A Boy Of About His Own Age, To Go And Get

His Pack-Mule And Come Along.  "All Right," Responded john; And

Together The Two Inexperienced youngsters Crossed the River Against

The Protests Of The Veteran Leader Of The Party.

 

 

 

After A Chase Of About Three Miles, The Boys Came Up With The Cow,

But She Turned and Showed fight.  Finally Hobbs, By Riding around Her,

Got In a Good Shot, Which Killed her.  Jumping Off Their Animals,

Both Boys Busied themselves In cutting Out The Choice Pieces For

Their Supper, Packed them On The Mule, And Started back For The Train.

But It Had Suddenly Become Very Dark, And They Were In doubt As To

The Direction Of The Trail.

 

 

 

Soon Night Came On So Rapidly That Neither Could They See Their Own

Tracks By Which They Had Come, Nor The Thin Fringe Of Cottonwoods

That Lined the Bank Of The Stream.  Then They Disagreed as To Which

Was The Right Way.  John Succeeded in persuading Hobbs That He Was

Correct, And The Latter Gave In, Very Much Against His Own Belief

On The Subject.

 

 

 

They Travelled all Night, And When Morning Came, Were Bewilderingly

Lost.  Then Hobbs Resolved to Retrace The Tracks By Which, Now That

The Sun Was Up, He Saw That They Had Been Going South, Right Away

From The Arkansas.  Suddenly An Immense Herd Of Buffalo, Containing

At Least Two Thousand, Dashed by The Boys, Filling The Air With The

Dust Raised by Their Clattering Hoofs, And Right Behind Them Rode

A Hundred indians, Shooting at The Stampeded animals With Their Arrows.

 

 

 

"Get Into That Ravine!" Shouted hobbs To His Companion.  "Throw Away

That Meat, And Run For Your Life!"

 

 

 

It Was Too Late; Just As They Arrived at The Brink Of The Hollow,

They Looked back, And Close Behind Them Were A Dozen Comanches.

 

 

 

The Savages Rode Up, And One Of The Party Said In very Good English,

"How D' Do?"

 

 

 

"How D' Do?" Hobbs Replied, Thinking It Would Be Better To Be As

Polite As The Indian, Though The State Of The Latter'S Health Just

Then Was A Matter Of Small Concern.

 

 

 

"Texas?" Inquired the Indian.  The Comanches Had Good Reasons To

Hate The Citizens Of That Country, And It Was A Lucky Thing For

Hobbs That He Had Heard Of Their Prejudice From The Trappers, And

Possessed presence Of Mind To Remember It.  He Replied promptly:

"No, Friendly; Going To Establish A Trading-Post For The Comanches."

 

 

 

"Friendly?  Better Go With Us, Though.  Got Any Tobacco?"

 

 

 

Hobbs Had Some Of The Desired article, And He Was Not Long In handing

It Over To His Newly Found Friend.

 

 

 

Both Of The Boys Were Escorted to The Temporary Camp Of The Savages,

But The Original Number Of Their Captors Was Increased to Over A

Thousand Before They Arrived there.  They Were Supplied with Some

Dried buffalo-Meat, And Then Taken To The Lodge Of Old Wolf, The

Head Chief Of The Tribe.

 

 

 

A Council Was Called immediately To Consider What Disposition Should

Be Made Of Them, But Nothing Was Decided upon, And The Assembly Of

Warriors Adjourned until Morning.  Hobbs Told Me That It Was Because

Old Wolf Had Imbibed too Much Brandy, A Bottle Of Which Baptiste Had

Brought With Him From The Train, And Which The Thirsty Warrior Saw

Suspended from His Saddle-Bow As They Rode Up To The Chief'S Lodge;

The Aged rascal Got Beastly Drunk.

 

 

 

About Noon Of The Next Day, After The Dispersion Of The Council,

The Boys Were Informed that If They Were Not Texans, Would Behave

Themselves, And Not Attempt To Run Away, They Might Stay With The

Indians, Who Would Not Kill Them; But A String Of Dried scalps Was

Pointed out, Hanging On A Lodge Pole, Of Some Mexicans Whom They

Had Captured and Put To Herding Their Ponies, And Who Had Tried to

Get Away.  They Succeeded in making a Few Miles; The Indians Chased

Them, After Deciding In council, That, If Caught, Only Their Scalps

Were To Be Brought Back.  The Moral Of This Was That The Same Fate

Awaited the Boys If They Followed the Example Of The Foolish Mexicans.

 

 

 

Hobbs Had Excellent Sense And Judgment, And He Knew That It Would

Be The Height Of Folly For Him And Baptiste, Mere Boys, To Try And

Reach Either Bent'S Fort Or The Missouri River, Not Having The

Slightest Knowledge Of Where They Were Situated.

 

 

 

Hobbs Grew To Be A Great Favourite With The Comanches; Was Given

The Daughter Of Old Wolf In marriage, Became A Great Chief, Fought

Many Hard Battles With His Savage Companions, And At Last, Four Years

After, Was Redeemed by Colonel Bent, Who Paid Old Wolf A Small

Ransom For Him At The Fort, Where The Indians Had Come To Trade.

Baptiste, Whom The Indians Never Took A Great Fancy To, Because He

Did Not Develop Into A Great Warrior, Was Also Ransomed by Bent,

His Price Being Only An Antiquated mule.

 

 

 

At Bent'S Fort Hobbs Went Out Trapping Under The Leadership Of Kit

Carson, And They Became Lifelong Friends.  In a Short Time Hobbs

Earned the Reputation Of Being an Excellent Mountaineer, Trapper,

And As An Indian Fighter He Was Second To None, His Education Among

The Comanches Having Trained him In all The Strategy Of The Savages.

 

 

 

After Going Through The Mexican War With An Excellent Record, Hobbs

Wandered about The Country, Now Engaged in mining In old Mexico, Then

Fighting The Apaches Under The Orders Of The Governor Of Chihuahua,

And At The End Of The Campaign Going Back To The Pacific Coast,

Where He Entered into New Pursuits.  Sometimes He Was Rich, Then As

Poor As One Can Imagine.  He Returned to Old Mexico In time To Become

An Active Partisan In the Revolt Which Overthrew The Short-Lived

Dynasty Of Maximilian, And Was Present At The Execution Of That

Unfortunate Prince.  Finally He Retired to The Home Of His Childhood

In The States, Where He Died a Few Months Ago, Full Of Years And Honours.

 

 

 

William F. Cody, "Buffalo Bill," Is One Of The Famous Plainsmen,

Of Later Days, However, Than Carson, Bridger, John Smith, Maxwell,

And Others Whom I Have Mentioned.  The Mantle Of Kit Carson, Perhaps,

Fits More Perfectly The Shoulders Of Cody Than Those Of Any Other

Of The Great Frontiersman'S Successors, And He Has Had Some Experiences

That Surpassed anything Which Fell To Their Lot.

 

 

 

He Was Born In iowa, In 1845, And When Barely Seven Years Old His

Father Emigrated to Kansas, Then Far Remote From Civilization.

 

 

 

Thirty-Six Years Ago, He Was Employed as Guide And Scout In an

Expedition Against The Kiowas And Comanches, And His Line Of Duty

Took Him Along The Santa Fe Trail All One Summer When Not Out As

A Scout, Carrying Despatches Between Fort Lyon And Fort Larned,

The Most Important Military Posts On The Great Highway As Well As

To Far-Off Fort Leavenworth On The Missouri River, The Headquarters

Of The Department.  Fort Larned was The General Rendezvous Of All

The Scouts On The Kansas And Colorado Plains, The Chief Of Whom Was

A Veteran Interpreter And Guide, Named dick Curtis.

 

 

 

When Cody First Reported there For His Responsible Duty, A Large Camp

Of The Kiowas And Comanches Was Established within Sight Of The Fort,

Whose Warriors Had Not As Yet Put On Their War-Paint, But Were

Evidently Restless And Discontented under The Restraint Of Their

Chiefs.  Soon Those Leading Men, Satanta, Lone Wolf, Satank, And

Others Of Lesser Note, Grew Rather Impudent And Haughty In their

Deportment, And They Were Watched with Much Concern.  The Post Was

Garrisoned by Only Two Companies Of Infantry And One Of Cavalry.

 

 

 

General Hazen, Afterward Chief Of The Signal Service In washington,

Was At Fort Larned at The Time, Endeavouring To Patch Up A Peace With

The Savages, Who Seemed determined to Break Out.  Cody Was Special

Scout To The General, And One Morning He Was Ordered to Accompany Him

As Far As Fort Zarah, On The Arkansas, Near The Mouth Of Walnut Creek,

In What Is Now Barton County, Kansas, The General Intending To Go

On To Fort Harker, On The Smoky Hill.  In making These Trips Of

Inspection, With Incidental Collateral Duties, The General Usually

Travelled in an Ambulance, But On This Journey He Rode In a Six-Mule

Army-Wagon, Escorted by A Detachment Of A Score Of Infantry.  It Was

A Warm August Day, And An Early Start Was Made, Which Enabled them

To Reach Fort Zarah, Over Thirty Miles Distant, By Noon.  After Dinner,

The General Proposed to Go On To Fort Harker, Forty-One Miles Away,

Without Any Escort, Leaving Orders For Cody To Return To Fort Larned

The Next Day, With The Soldiers.  But Cody, Ever Impatient Of Delay

When There Was Work To Do, Notified the Sergeant In charge Of The

Men That He Was Going Back That Very Afternoon.  I Tell The Story

Of His Trip As He Has Often Told It To Me, And As He Has Written

It In his Autobiography.

 

 

 

"I Accordingly Saddled up My Mule And Set Out For Fort Larned.

I Proceeded on Uninterruptedly Until I Got About Halfway Between

The Two Posts, When, At Pawnee Rock, I Was Suddenly Jumped by About

Forty Indians, Who Came Dashing Up To Me, Extending Their Hands

And Saying, 'How!  How!'  They Were Some Of The Indians Who Had Been

Hanging around Fort Larned in the Morning.  I Saw They Had On Their

War-Paint, And Were Evidently Now Out On The War-Path.

 

 

 

"My First Impulse Was To Shake Hands With Them, As They Seemed so

Desirous Of It.  I Accordingly Reached out My Hand To One Of Them,

Who Grasped it With A Tight Grip, And Jerked me Violently Forward;

Then Pulled my Mule By The Bridle, And In a Moment I Was Completely

Surrounded.  Before I Could Do Anything at All, They Had Seized my

Revolvers From The Holsters, And I Received a Blow On The Head From

A Tomahawk Which Nearly Rendered me Senseless.  My Gun, Which Was

Lying across The Saddle, Was Snatched from Its Place, And Finally

The Indian Who Had Hold Of The Bridle Started off Toward The Arkansas

River, Leading The Mule, Which Was Being Lashed by The Other Indians,

Who Were Following.  The Savages Were All Singing, Yelling, And

Whooping, As Only Indians Can Do, When They Are Having Their Little

Game All Their Own Way.  While Looking Toward The River, I Saw On

The Opposite Side An Immense Village Moving along The Bank, And Then

I Became Convinced that The Indians Had Left The Post And Were Now

Starting Out On The War-Path.  My Captors Crossed the Stream With Me,

And As We Waded through The Shallow Water They Continued to Lash The

Mule And Myself.  Finally They Brought Me Before An Important-Looking

Body Of Indians, Who Proved to Be The Chiefs And Principal Warriors.

I Soon Recognized old Satanta Among Them, As Well As Others Whom

I Knew, And Supposed it Was All Over With Me.

 

 

 

"The Indians Were Jabbering away So Rapidly Among Themselves That

I Could Not Understand What They Were Saying.  Satanta At Last Asked

Me Where I Had Been.  As Good Luck Would Have It, A Happy Thought

Struck Me.  I Told