V 
 
 T 
 
 *y>' 
 
 PERCY- K> FITZHUOF 
 
THE LIBRARY OF THE 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF 
 
 NORTH CAROLINA 
 
 THE COLLECTION OF 
 
 NORTH CAROLINIANA 
 
 FROM THE LIBRARY OF 
 
 Arehlblad Henderson 
 
 CB 
 B72UflO 
 
UNIVERSITY OF N.C. AT CHAPEL HILL 
 
 00032193652 
 
 This book must not 
 be taken from the 
 Library building. 
 
 Form No. 471 
 
( Wmi. !I. Ran 
 
 BUFFALO BILL 
 
THE BOYS' 
 BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 BY 
 
 PERCY KEESE FITZHUGH 
 
 Author op "Along the Mohawk Trail," Etc. 
 
 ILLUSTRATED 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 THOMAS Y CROWELL COMPANY 
 PUBLISHERS 
 
Copyright, 1917, 
 By THOMAS Y. CROWELL COMPANY 
 
V 
 
 ^ 
 
 PREFACE 
 
 As every boy knows, this great country of ours 
 was in the beginning a very little country, occupy- 
 ing a narrow strip of land along the Atlantic 
 Coast. The vast ocean washed against it, and 
 across this ocean brave men, heroic, intrepid, 
 and adventurous, had come, braving its perils, 
 and had founded their little colonies along its 
 wild, rugged shore. 
 
 These men were explorers — water scouts, they 
 might be called — and their lives and deeds were 
 marvels of prowess and adventure. 
 
 But beyond this narrow strip of land lay an- 
 other wilderness, mysterious and unexplored, and 
 as dark and perilous and trackless as the wild 
 ocean to the eastward. The thirteen colonies, 
 and later the little republic, lay between these 
 two vast silent wastes ; and men soon found that 
 of the two the watery one was the easier to 
 explore. 
 
 At least, it was not so difficult to estimate 
 its perils. There were storms and there were 
 pirates ; but at least there were no unknown sav- 
 ages, no wild beasts, no frowning mountains, or 
 barren, wind-swept plains — no scorching sands. 
 
 This land ocean was as wide as the watery 
 
 in 
 
iv PREFACE 
 
 one and a great deal more mysterious. The 
 venturesome explorers and settlers had solved 
 one mystery only to find another. Miles and 
 miles of frowning wilderness stretched to the 
 westward showing no more sign of path or trail 
 than the broad Atlantic had shown. Ships were 
 of no use here, and there were no other vehicles 
 which could be made use of. 
 
 Men had no more knowledge of the extent and 
 character of this wilderness, nor of what lay 
 hidden in its impenetrable recesses, than Co- 
 lumbus had possessed of what lay west of the 
 Azores. The first men to cross this trackless, 
 anknown waste were just as venturesome as the 
 great Genoese, and they had a great many more 
 adventures. 
 
 Of course, the same spirit which had prompted 
 men to cross the ocean prompted them to press 
 still farther westward. Many were satisfied to 
 remain where they were, but there were a few 
 to whom the dense wilderness to the west was a 
 continual challenge. They wished to know some- 
 thing about it, to make it yield up its secrets, 
 perhaps to remain and live within or beyond it. 
 
 These men were of exactly the same spirit as 
 their nautical brethren and predecessors, but by 
 reason of tne character of the enterprises which 
 they undertook and the necessity of devising new 
 means with which to encounter new and different 
 problems of adventure, they have come to be 
 
PREFACE v 
 
 regarded as a sort of race apart in our history, 
 and the counterpart of the American scout and 
 pioneer is not known in any other land. 
 
 Under the general heading of " Scout," which 
 means one who goes ahead of an army to obtain 
 information, we include here men who did much 
 more than that, who were scouts in a broader 
 sense, and whose adventurous deeds were not 
 limited to their military activities. Some of them 
 went ahead not of an army, but of civilization, 
 felling forests and lighting, because they had to 
 fight the savages who challenged their advance. 
 They are associated in our minds quite as much 
 with the axe as with the gun, and the log cabin 
 should be their emblem, for they were, most of 
 them, religious men and apostles of the home. 
 
 They began very early in our history pushing 
 westward, and continued pushing westward as 
 civilization tagged on behind them. 
 
 These men, products of our own land and 
 breathing its bold spirit, are undoubtedly the 
 most picturesque characters in history. They 
 were as much a wonder to Europeans as the 
 red Indian himself w r as. They were as resolute 
 and as lofty of aim as the old Crusaders. 
 
 Most of these men possessed all the qualities 
 of heroism. They were models of physical man- 
 hood, strong of will and muscle, romantic in 
 attire and capable of enduring incredible hard- 
 ships and privations. So extraordinary were 
 
vi PREFACE 
 
 their careers that many a boy in Europe has 
 heard of them as myths. They were, as a rule, 
 noble of stature, experts with gun and axe, and 
 of indomitable persistence. The history of ad- 
 venture knows no other characters so wholesome 
 and rugged. 
 
 Some of these pioneers lived many years ago, 
 others nearer to our own time; as long as there 
 was a frontier with lurking red men and more 
 wildernesses beyond to be penetrated and sub- 
 dued, they flourished. 
 
 "We know of some of these heroic figures as 
 scouts, of others chiefly as pioneers, of others as 
 backwoodsmen and of some as Indian fighters. 
 But their hearts all beat with the same intrepid 
 impulse. Patriotism and high resolve and scorn 
 of hardship and suffering surged up within their 
 stalwart bosoms, and we shall call them all 
 scouts, for so they were in a sense. 
 
 At least they were all alike in this — that their 
 lives were lives of peril and adventure. They 
 were the very best kind of scouts, for they loved 
 home and peace and they were ready to fight for 
 them. 
 
 It would be impossible for the story-teller to 
 imagine such experiences as fell to this noble 
 army of buckskin patriots and warriors. 
 
 The Boys' Book of Scouts is intended to tell 
 of the remarkable careers of some of the most 
 conspicuous of these picturesque characters. We 
 
PREFACE vii 
 
 are not to think of them as fighters or as "going 
 west to fight the Indians, " for they went with 
 no such purpose; but they knew no fear, they 
 shunned no peril, and they carried their guns 
 as well as their axes because they knew there 
 was no use going out to a lonely frontier with 
 pinks in their buttonholes and shaking tin rattles. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 George Rogers Clark 1 
 
 David Crockett 21 
 
 Samuel Houston 36 
 
 Christopher (Kit) Carson 50 
 
 Richard Wooton 68 
 
 William Frederick Cody 81 
 
 Belzy Dodd 97 
 
 George Croghan HO 
 
 Daniel Boone 127 
 
 Francis Marion 144 
 
 Samuel Brady 157 
 
 Lewis and Clark 171 
 
 Zebulon Montgomery Pike 188 
 
 Andrew Lewis 203 
 
 General Henry W. Lawton 219 
 
 Joseph, the Nez Perce 233 
 
 Old John Smith 250 
 
 Rube Stevens 265 
 
 General George A. Custer 283 
 
 James Bridger 303 
 
 ix 
 
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 Buffalo Bill Frontispiece 
 
 PAGE 
 
 George Rogers Clark 2 
 
 The Death of Davy Crockett, last survivor of the 
 
 Alamo Garrison 34 
 
 Sam Houston 38 
 
 Christopher (Kit) Carson 50 
 
 Trappers crossing the Rockies 82 
 
 National Monument to Buffalo Bill erected on 
 
 Lookout Mountain, Colorado 96 
 
 An Old-time Plains Fight 100 
 
 Daniel Boone 128 
 
 General Marion and British Officers 144 
 
 Capt. Meriweather Lewis 172 
 
 Gen. William Clark 176 
 
 The Voyageurs 182 
 
 General Henry W. Lawton 230 
 
 General George A. Custer 284 
 
 " Curly," survivor of the Custer Battle 302 
 
GEORGE ROGERS CLARK 
 
 How he became a Kentucky pioneer; how he was elected 
 to office but didn't get the office; how he procured 500 
 pounds of gunpowder and carried it over the mountains ; 
 together with how he purposed using the powder; how 
 he interrupted a dance; how he made his wonderful 
 journey across Illinois and how he succeeded in opening 
 the West for American expansion. Also of his country's 
 ingratitude and of his unhappy last days. 
 
 The fair ladies and gallant gentlemen of the 
 remote little town of Kaskaskia, on the Missis- 
 sippi, were having a gala time of it on the night 
 of July the fourth, seventeen seventy-eight, and 
 the music to which they danced floated out 
 through the portholes of their little fort and 
 mingled with the soft evening breeze blowing 
 over the fair country which is now a part of 
 the great State of Illinois. 
 
 Above the little fort floated the banner of 
 King George; the officers who danced wore King 
 George's uniform; and the dance which they 
 danced was the minuet which more than one of 
 them had learned at King George's Court. 
 
 Of course, they knew there was a war; they 
 knew the thirteen colonies had struck for inde- 
 pendence, but they were not so proud and vision- 
 
2 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 ary as to suppose that the American patriots 
 would trouble tliem in their remote and all but 
 unknown little settlement. 
 
 So the gay young officers and fair ladies had 
 turned the little fort of Kaskaskia into a scene 
 of gayety and were loyally tripping the graceful 
 measure of the minuet, when there suddenly 
 appeared in the doorway a tall man in buckskin 
 who bade the merrymakers to pause. 
 
 Instantly the music ceased and all eyes turned 
 in consternation upon the intruder whose pictur- 
 esque but tattered costume of the backwoods 
 must have contrasted oddly with the festive 
 scene on which he gazed. 
 
 He told them that he was sorry to interrupt 
 their festivities, but that he had come to take 
 the fort; adding that, while he would be glad 
 to see them continue their dancing, they must 
 bear in mind that they were dancing in honor of 
 Virginia and of the United States of America — 
 not of Great Britain and King George! 
 
 The man who thus appeared like an appari- 
 tion in that remote frontier settlement was 
 George Eogers Clark, a Virginian by birth and 
 an elder brother of William Clark, the famous 
 companion of Meriwether Lewis. He was born 
 on the 19th of November, 1752. 
 
 Like George Washington, young Clark be- 
 came a surveyor, which in those days meant 
 long, hard journeys full of peril and adventure. 
 
GEORGE ROGERS CLARK 
 
GEORGE ROGERS CLARK 3 
 
 He was tall and strong, and said by some to 
 have had red hair, which we can readily believe 
 if there is any truth in the alleged affinity be- 
 tween red hair and recklessness. 
 
 Young Clark served with distinction in the 
 war which Lord Dunmore, Royal Governor of 
 Virginia, waged against the Indians, and which 
 is commonly known as Lord Dunmore 's War. 
 After that he went to Kentucky, which he had 
 previously visited on one of his surveying trips, 
 and in that famous backwoods country, which 
 proved the stern school of so many good scouts, 
 we find him following the congenial life of pio- 
 neer and frontiersman when the War of Inde- 
 pendence began. 
 
 As soon as hostilities commenced, the Indians 
 of the wild Kentucky frontier availed themselves 
 of the excuse- thus offered and began to war 
 upon the lonely, unprotected settlements. 
 
 We must remember that these isolated hamlets 
 west of the Alleghenies were considered by the 
 frontiersmen to belong to the thriving colony of 
 Virginia, and the pioneers of that lonesome re- 
 gion were not long in getting together and dele- 
 gating one or two of their number to make a 
 trip across the mountains and explain their 
 defenceless position to the Virginia Legislature 
 and to the Governor, who was none other than 
 the famous "liberty-or-death" Patrick Henry. 
 
 Clark and one other were selected for this 
 
4 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 long journey and important mission and the 
 hardy frontiersmen even went so far as to elect 
 the two emissaries delegates from Kentucky to 
 the Virginia Assembly — an original move, to 
 say the least, since the wild country west of the 
 mountains had no more political existence than 
 the moon! 
 
 The two pioneers and would-be members of 
 the august body of Virginia made the trip across 
 the mountains and arrived at the thriving me- 
 tropolis of Williamsburgh, where they found 
 that the session in which they had hoped to 
 participate had come to an end — without even 
 marking them absent! 
 
 But they were still emissaries, if they had 
 missed their chance to be statesmen, and they 
 found a ready listener in Governor Henry, to 
 whom they described the dangers which beset 
 their lonesome settlements beyond the mountains. 
 They told him that in view of the war and the 
 consequent growing depredations of the Indians, 
 five hundred pounds of powder would come 
 handy. 
 
 Patrick Henry could not deny this, but Vir- 
 ginia was in no particular hurry to deal out 
 such a quantity of this valuable commodity for 
 use in the remote and supposedly unimportant 
 wilderness, and it was some time before the 
 earnest pleadings of Clark and his companion 
 prevailed. 
 
GEORGE ROGERS CLARK 5 
 
 At last Virginia gave them the powder and 
 they faced the task of carrying it back across 
 the mountains. They began their difficult return 
 journey in high spirits, however, for they had 
 succeeded not only in procuring the powder, but 
 in winning official recognition of their lonely 
 borderland as a part of Virginia, and entitled 
 to at least some measure of protection and con- 
 sideration. They made their journey back 
 through a country of lurking savages, incited 
 to the warpath by the British, and after braving 
 many dangers and surmounting innumerable ob- 
 stacles of travel, they brought the valuable pow- 
 der and the good news to their companions of 
 the frontier. 
 
 But the colony of Virginia, with its gayety 
 and its divers concerns and a heavy share of 
 the burden of war resting upon its patriotic 
 shoulders, did not take the West very seriously. 
 Little those prosperous planters dreamed how 
 that vast wilderness would one day be parceled 
 out in prosperous and populous states, how the 
 all but unknown region between the Mississippi 
 and the Wabash would, in the fulness of time, 
 become the mighty commonwealth of Illinois 
 with a seething world-center within its borders. 
 
 They knew that along the Wabash in that 
 far distant region was the old French settlement 
 of Vincennes, and that on the Mississippi, a 
 hundred and fifty or so miles farther west, was 
 
6 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 Kaskaskia, also of French origin, both now pos- 
 sessed by Great Britain and holding British 
 garrisons ; and they knew, also, of the old French 
 post of Detroit. The knowledge did not trouble 
 them at all, however, for these distant wilderness 
 settlements and the vast conntry all abont them 
 were out of the game, so far as the War of 
 Independence was concerned. 
 
 It never entered the heads of the colonial 
 authorities that those sequestered settlements 
 in the great West might possibly be the keys 
 to an enormous treasure chest. 
 
 This was the very idea, however, which oc- 
 curred to the far-sighted backwoodsman whose 
 story we are telling. 
 
 Of what use, thought he, is it to fight the 
 Indians when the British sources of supply to 
 them remain open? Why waste valuable powder 
 on the disease when perhaps a bold stroke or 
 two might eliminate the cause? 
 
 These were the thoughts that suggested to 
 young George "Rogers Clark a scheme which, 
 considering prospects and facilities, was nothing 
 less than stupendous. He believed it would be 
 better to employ his precious powder in the 
 ambitious enterprise of surprising and taking 
 these British posts than in continued fighting 
 with the Indians. 
 
 It would be a master stroke against the red 
 men, no doubt; but who shall say that in the 
 
GEORGE ROGERS CLARK 7 
 
 mind of this young frontier patriot there was 
 no prophetic picture of the victorious young 
 republic pressing ever westward? No doubt he, 
 who had seen something of this unknown area, 
 as the Virginians had not, realized that if the 
 thirteen emancipated colonies were going to grow 
 they would need a good-sized backyard to grow 
 in. And he resolved that by one bold stroke 
 he would give them this priceless territory and 
 put an end to the increasing Indian forays at 
 the same time. 
 
 We cannot to-day appreciate the bold concep- 
 tion of this plan. We know what the West has 
 become, but we cannot know how difficult of 
 accomplishment, and indeed how unimportant, 
 its winning must have seemed to the patriots 
 whose whole interest and effort were centered 
 along the seaboard and who had heard of Vin- 
 cennes, Kaskaskia, and Detroit merely as quaint 
 old French settlements, remote and inaccessible 
 in a wild, unknown region, and now garrisoned 
 by the English. 
 
 But George Rogers Clark, scout of the Ken- 
 tucky backwoods, not yet twenty-six years old, 
 had a vision of what the conquest of these 
 crucial posts might mean, and in 1777 he re- 
 traced his way back to Virginia to lay his 
 audacious plan before the Governor, Patrick 
 Henry. 
 
 Among the wise old heads who, with the gov- 
 
8 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 ernor, listened to the enthusiastic young pioneer, 
 was the great Thomas Jefferson, whose shrewd 
 gaze was always cast afar and who often saw 
 where others saw not. It was altogether to be 
 expected that the man who later sent Lewis and 
 Clark to the Pacific and Zebulon Pike to the 
 wilds of Colorado should lend a ready ear to the 
 patriotic young Kentuckian, and his plan was 
 promptly approved. 
 
 In order that it might be carried out, he was 
 given a commission as colonel, something over 
 a thousand pounds of currency (which, owing to 
 the war, was of greatly depreciated value), and 
 authority to raise seven hundred and fifty men 
 for his undertaking. The young frontiersman 
 was not disposed to question the generosity of 
 his sponsors nor the adequacy of his equipment, 
 and he went forth delighted to attempt with 
 these very insufficient means one of the boldest 
 and, as it turned out, one of the most momentous 
 feats in American history. 
 
 On an island in the Ohio River, close to where 
 the city of Louisville now stands, Clark formed 
 a miscellaneous little army consisting of ad- 
 venturers and frontiersmen and numbering con- 
 siderably fewer than the purposed seven hundred 
 and fifty men. 
 
 The object of his enterprise was kept a secret, 
 and when at last rumors of it leaked out his 
 followers began to desert right and left until 
 
GEORGE ROGERS CLARK 9 
 
 there remained but one hundred and fifty of 
 them, crudely drilled (for Clark was not a 
 soldier in the disciplinary sense) and sadly 
 unequipped. 
 
 On the twenty-fourth of June, 1778, they 
 started down the river in boats. There was 
 an eclipse of the sun on that memorable day and 
 the flotilla of tiny craft, tossed and separated 
 by the tumultuous rapids, was whirled on in 
 almost total darkness. 
 
 They reunited where the swift current was 
 less boisterous and made a pleasant voyage 
 down the wide, hurrying stream until, on the 
 fourth day, they fell in with a band of hunters, 
 who had lately been at Kaskaskia. Hearing 
 from young Clark of his intention to take that 
 place, they asked if they might join the party 
 — a request which was granted with alacrity. 
 
 The student of frontier history is continually 
 coming upon just such instances as this which 
 pleasantly illustrate the romance of those ad- 
 venturous times. Hunters, border settlers, scouts 
 returning from other missions, were always 
 turning back to accompany some venturesome 
 expedition or other which they met by the way, 
 and we are forced to the conclusion that, not- 
 withstanding their usually lofty and practical 
 purposes, they loved adventure for its own sweet 
 sake. 
 
 Leaving the Ohio, the party started across 
 
10 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 the prairie in the southern part of Illinois, 
 headed for the Mississippi. The pitiable in- 
 adequacy of their equipment here served them 
 in good stead, for, being unhampered by luggage, 
 they were able to make this monotonous part of 
 their journey quickly, and on the fourth of July, 
 as we have seen, they were at Kaskaskia, whose 
 inhabitants and little garrison were in total 
 ignorance of their approach until Clark struck 
 his dramatic posture (he was a great lover of 
 this sort of thing) in the doorway of the hall 
 where the festivities were in progress. 
 
 We are not told whether the dancing contin- 
 ued, but it may safely be inferred that there was 
 at least an intermission. 
 
 No one except the doughty scout himself knew 
 how many troops were surrounding the fort, 
 and he was not the man to tell them that his 
 martial legion consisted of somewhere in the 
 neighborhood of two hundred frontiersmen. In- 
 stead, he made a fine show of power, demanding 
 the papers of the establishment, which were 
 handed over to him and which revealed com- 
 pletely (if any such confirmation was necessary) 
 Great Britain's intriguing with the Indians. 
 
 Thus George Rogers Clark, by his boldness, 
 almost amounting to effrontery, surprised (in the 
 most accurate meaning of that word) the remote 
 old post of Kaskaskia and took the town without 
 the loss of a single life on either side. 
 
GEORGE ROGERS CLARK 11 
 
 With a fine air of military autocracy, which 
 could not have been better if he had commanded 
 serried ranks of warriors, he took the reins of 
 government, ordering the people to their houses, 
 and the people obeyed in fear and trembling, 
 pleading for their lives. They called the Ken- 
 tuckians "Big Knives," because of the formid- 
 able dirks which they carried. 
 
 After thoroughly impressing the astonished 
 people by his grim assumption of authority, he 
 announced (we may presume with the same fine 
 air) that he had come from the East bringing 
 them freedom, not oppression, and besought 
 their allegiance to the patriot cause. 
 
 Many of the simple inhabitants were, of course, 
 French, and on hearing from Clark the tidings 
 of the French alliance with America and of 
 the proud Burgoyne's surrender, they were only 
 too ready to salute the American colors, which 
 then for the first time were hoisted in that 
 quaint settlement on the banks of the Father 
 of Waters. 
 
 The next world to conquer in young Clark's 
 path of glory was Vincennes, about one hundred 
 and fifty miles northeastward on the Wabash 
 River. On hearing that the place was without 
 a garrison and consisted largely of French peo- 
 ple, Clark sent a French missionary, whom he 
 had met at Kaskaskia, to take the place with 
 the gentle weapons of persuasion and kindness, 
 
12 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 while lie remained at Kaskaskia to manage its 
 affairs. 
 
 Father Gibault's mission was in all ways suc- 
 cessful — a very model of Christian conquest. 
 The inhabitants of Vincennes gladly raised the 
 American flag and swore allegiance to the young 
 republic, and shortly thereafter Clark sent a 
 subordinate, Captain Leonard Helm, to take 
 charge of the place. 
 
 Meanwhile Clark, from Kaskaskia, managed 
 with great skill the affairs of the whole vast 
 province, of which it was the capital. Not the 
 least of his duties was to subdue the Indians, 
 whom he knew how to handle if any man did, 
 and there was no more fomenting of discord 
 and no more forays into Kentucky. 
 
 But you are not to suppose that the bloodless 
 conquest of Vincennes was to be permanent. 
 
 There was one other strategic place on which 
 we know that Colonel Clark had his eye, and 
 this was Detroit, far northward of the two other 
 settlements. Here lived the Eoyal Governor of 
 the whole province, William Harrison. When 
 this official heard of the doings of Colonel Clark 
 in the southwestern part of his domain, his an- 
 ger knew no bounds and he resolved to strike 
 into the Wabash River, march down that stream, 
 retake Vincennes, and then march across the 
 Illinois country to the Mississippi and retake 
 Kaska skia. 
 
GEORGE ROGERS CLARK 13 
 
 On the 17th of December, 1778, Harrison ap- 
 peared before Vincennes with a force of about 
 one hundred Canadians and as many Indians. 
 
 This was not a very large array, but it was 
 larger than Captain Helm's force, which con- 
 sisted of one man. Undaunted by the imposing 
 array of besiegers, the captain hauled his single 
 cannon to a point of vantage and boldly an- 
 nounced that the fort would not be surrendered 
 until he knew what terms would be granted. 
 
 Governor Hamilton, not knowing how large 
 the garrison was, was not disposed to be exact- 
 ing, and he answered that the troops should 
 march out with all the honors of war ; whereupon 
 Captain Helm, with his single soldier behind 
 him, marched solemnly forth and Vincennes was 
 again held by the British. 
 
 It happened about a month later that a trader 
 and hunter who had been held captive at Vin- 
 cennes reached Kaskaskia and informed Colonel 
 Clark that the place had been taken by Gov- 
 ernor Hamilton, who, having repaired and 
 strengthened it, had now left it in charge of 
 a large force equipped with artillery. 
 
 Clark, nothing daunted, resolved that what- 
 ever the dangers and obstacles Vincennes should 
 be retaken. It was winter and travel was diffi- 
 cult, but he knew that if he waited until spring, 
 Hamilton would be upon him at Kaskaskia, and 
 he immediately made preparations for the ar- 
 
14 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 duous journey which alone would entitle him to 
 an honored place among scouts and pathfinders. 
 
 He knew that the force at Vincennes was 
 greatly superior both in numbers and equipment 
 to his own little band of followers, and he knew 
 that in that month of January, after a season 
 of incessant rain and snow, the trip across the 
 Illinois country would present obstacles well nigh 
 insurmountable. But he knew, too, that when 
 the war should end, America could not lay claim 
 to that vast province of the "West unless it held 
 Vincennes, and that delay would probably result 
 in his losing Kaskaskia also. 
 
 It is regrettable that Clark's memorable 
 journey across the plains, amid alternate snow 
 and rain and biting cold, cannot be recounted in 
 detail. It was without doubt one of the most 
 difficult marches in history. Braving gales of 
 unprecedented fury, plodding through vast quag- 
 mires and crossing rivers which had spread 
 into veritable inland seas, the men labored on, 
 drenched, starving, freezing — but resolute. 
 
 In one place the flooded area was so great that 
 they could not see beyond the watery waste. 
 They built canoes and rafts and transported 
 their diminishing stock of provisions across mile 
 after mile of submerged prairie until there was 
 no food left to carry and they were three days 
 without sustenance of any sort. 
 
 The floods had driven all game from the 
 
GEORGE ROGERS CLARK 15 
 
 vicinity and they were on the point of starving 
 when one of their number shot a deer which 
 providentially had been caught in the floods. 
 Its meat was divided among one hundred and 
 sixty famished men. 
 
 At length, after three weeks of such suffering 
 and superhuman effort as seem scarcely credible, 
 the indomitable Clark and his brave men crossed 
 the "Wabash and for two days more followed its 
 overflowed banks until, standing waist deep in 
 the freezing waters, they were able to hear in 
 the distance the welcome sound of the evening 
 gun on the fort at Vincennes. 
 
 Their terrible journey was almost ended, and 
 even as they climbed to higher ground in their 
 approach to the town, the welcome sun appeared 
 and they dried their soaked clothing in its cold, 
 but grateful, radiance. During the ten preced- 
 ing days they had had just three meals. A 
 third of their journey had been made through 
 water and all of it had been accompanied by 
 biting cold and penetrating, wind-driven rain and 
 snow, and other untold obstacles. 
 
 No battle which might await these weary but 
 undiscouraged men could test their courage and 
 their grim determination as that cruel journey 
 had tested them! 
 
 A little distance from the town Clark paused 
 and sent the following letter by a French citi- 
 zen whom he had met and taken prisoner: 
 
16 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 ' 'To the Inhabitants of Post St. Vincents: 
 
 Gentlemen: Being now within two miles of 
 your village with my army, determined to take 
 your fort this night, and not being willing to 
 surprise you, I take this method to request such 
 of you as are true citizens, and willing to enjoy 
 the liberty I bring you, to remain still in your 
 houses. And those, if any there be, that are 
 friends to the King will instantly repair to the 
 fort and join the Hair-buyer General * and fight 
 like men. And if any such, as do not go to the 
 fort shall be discovered afterwards, they may 
 depend on severe punishment. On the contrary, 
 those that are true friends to liberty may de- 
 pend on being well treated. And I once more 
 request them to keep out of the streets; for 
 everyone I find in arms on my arrival I shall 
 treat as an enemy. 
 
 G. E. Clark." 
 
 This was a very fine letter to be sent by the 
 ragged, famished leader of a little band of less 
 than two hundred weary, half-frozen men, but 
 Clark's proclamations were always martial, even 
 if his army were not. 
 
 He now marched his imposing legion boldly 
 into the town, and with his usual air of auto- 
 
 * Hamilton is said to have offered a bounty for the scalps 
 of "rebels." 
 
GEORGE ROGERS CLARK 17 
 
 cratic power disposed his hapless men about 
 the fort, where they concealed their ragged and 
 shivering forms behind trees, and began a lively 
 rifle fire which lasted all night. The garrison 
 was not very responsive, supposing it to be the 
 playful pastime of some drunken Indians until 
 the light of dawn dispelled their illusion. 
 
 The rising sun found Clark and his men still 
 shooting away with a will from behind trees 
 and hastily improvised breastworks, and the 
 soldiers in the fort could not man their guns 
 because of the incessant fire. 
 
 Some sympathetic French inhabitants of the 
 village now regaled the visitors with a hot 
 breakfast, and this so refreshed their redoubt- 
 able leader that he straightway sent a broad- 
 side into the fort in the form of another letter, 
 which read: 
 
 "Sir: 
 
 In order to save yourself from the impending 
 storm that now threatens you, I order you im- 
 mediately to surrender yourself, with all your 
 garrison, stores, etc. For if 1 am obliged to 
 storm, you may depend on such treatment as is 
 justly due to a murderer. Beware of destroying 
 stores of any kind, or any papers, or letters, 
 for by Heavens, if you do, there shall be no 
 mercy shown you. 
 
 G. R. Clark.' ' 
 
18 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 To this letter Hamilton sent a disdainful re- 
 ply, then relaxed and asked for a trnce of three 
 days, and at last for a parley, at which Colonel 
 Clark announced (with a grand air of finality, 
 we may be assured) that unconditional .surren- 
 der was the only proposition he would con- 
 sider. Colonel Hamilton seemed disposed to 
 consider this also, and he asked for an hour 
 in which to make up his mind. 
 
 The following morning, upon Clark's promise 
 to treat the garrison as prisoners of war, the 
 British marched out, and once again the fort 
 where the doughty Kentuckian had surprised 
 the merrymakers fell into the hands of the 
 Americans. 
 
 As for the one remaining stronghold of De- 
 troit, Colonel Clark had not a sufficient force 
 to proceed against it, and it did not pass to 
 the United States until the close of the war. 
 It was at the council table, then, that Benjamin 
 Franklin was able to win recognition of the 
 Mississippi as our western boundary by point- 
 ing to the tAvo settlements of Kaskaskia and 
 Vincennes which the boldness and foresight of 
 the young Kentucky pioneer had taken and held 
 for his country. Thus, by reason of the pos- 
 session of these crucial points, the whole wide 
 area of the northwest, between the Ohio and 
 the Mississippi, fell to the young republic on 
 the day of reckoning. And the nation's un- 
 
GEORGE ROGERS CLARK 19 
 
 grudging thanks were due the brave young scout 
 who, scorning wind and cold and flood, had made 
 that terrible march across the prairies. 
 
 But, sad to relate, his tardy country not only 
 did not reward him, but did not even refund 
 the money which he had contributed to his daring 
 enterprise until many years after he was dead. 
 
 His last years were pitiful in the extreme. 
 He had never held a commission in the Federal 
 service, and his commission in the Virginia 
 militia was taken from him — not, however, until 
 after he had served faithfully and bravely in 
 many expeditions against the predatory bands 
 of Indians which still lurked along the frontier. 
 
 Clark had never married and his life was 
 very lonesome as he grew old — a sad contrast 
 to that of the average pioneer who, notwith- 
 standing the roaming propensity, has usually 
 been surrounded by children and grandchildren 
 wherever his ultimate frontier cabin has been 
 located. How different those last years in the 
 life of George Rogers Clark from the declining 
 days of glorious old Daniel Boone! 
 
 Clark lived alone in a cabin in the back- 
 woods, spending his time in hunting and fishing 
 and at odd times entertaining his old frontier 
 friends. One enemy, too, lurked in his lonely 
 home — the enemy of drink, at whose dissembling 
 hand he sought consolation in his disappoint- 
 ment and abject poverty. 
 
20 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 He was finally stricken with paralysis, and 
 stumbled into the fire in his cabin, burning his 
 leg so that it had to be amputated. He asked 
 that a fife and drum be played while the tortur- 
 ing operation was being performed (for the 
 blessing of anesthetics was not known then), 
 and he sat in a chair watching the surgeons and 
 listening to the stirring music. 
 
 At last, crippled, poor and forlorn, the broken 
 old scout sought the home of his sister, where 
 his last days were spent under her affectionate 
 care. He died on February 13, 1818, in the 
 sixty- sixth year of his age. 
 
DAVID CROCKETT 
 
 How he hunted in the wilds of Tennessee; his own story 
 of how he killed a bear; how he became famous and 
 was sent to Congress; and how he met a glorious death 
 fighting against the Mexicans in Texas. 
 
 If Davy Crockett had done nothing else than 
 originate the motto, Be sure you're right, then 
 go ahead, he would have been worthy of, at least, 
 a modest place in our history; for it is a good 
 motto, and if one but follows it, he is not likely 
 to go astray. 
 
 Davy himself did not always follow it, though 
 he always followed a part of it; for, wrong or 
 right, he invariably went ahead; and perhaps 
 the last part of the motto, in itself, is not half 
 bad. 
 
 Possibly it was the strain of Irish in Davy, 
 with its accompanying propensity to blarney, 
 or perhaps it was just his extraordinary valor, 
 which made him a favorite among the southern 
 maidens of the young republic. In any event, 
 he had many friends among them, but it is to 
 Davy Crockett and Betsy that we shall here 
 give our particular attention. 
 
 Betsy was his trusty rifle, a model of loyalty, 
 indeed, which might stand as a worthy example 
 
 21 
 
22 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 to many another Betsy. For it served him 
 faithfully through life and stayed by him in 
 the tragic hour of his heroic death. 
 
 Most of the "stunts" of David's life (there 
 is no other name by which to call them) are 
 very well known— Davy himself saw to that — 
 and it is a pity they cannot here be narrated in 
 detail. We must, perforce, let our brief ac- 
 count of him center about the culminating epi- 
 sode of his astonishing career with but a cursory 
 glimpse of his life as a politician and hunter. 
 
 Not to go farther back into his interesting 
 ancestry than one generation, let us say that 
 Crockett 's father was born on the Atlantic Ocean, 
 and after a restless, migratory career he settled 
 with his family in the mountain country of 
 Tennessee. In this wild region, in a small set- 
 tlement called Limestone, David first saw the 
 light, on August seventeenth, 1786. 
 
 Accounts of his personal appearance as he 
 grew to manhood differ considerably, but agree 
 in one particular; namely, that he was very 
 swarthy, with long, straight, jet black hair. All 
 accounts agree also as to the singular quality 
 of his eyes, which literally glistened with merri- 
 ment and a kind of dancing recklessness. 
 
 He must have possessed, indeed, an excep- 
 tionally winning personality, with a fund of 
 humor not common in those strenuous, grim 
 days. Even his naive boastfulness and grandilo- 
 
DAVID CROCKETT 23 
 
 quent habit of exaggeration appear to have had 
 their part in establishing an unprecedented popu- 
 larity for him. Perhaps the secret of his charm 
 lay in the fact that he was intensely human. 
 
 At a very early age, almost as soon as he 
 could walk, one might say, he sought the forest. 
 It taught him all he ever knew; for, notwith- 
 standing that he was twice elected to the Na- 
 tional Congress, his "book larnin' " was — or, 
 rather, it wasn't. 
 
 His early life was characterized by a refresh- 
 ing spirit of independence which, at times, ran 
 to the point of rebellion. He was apprenticed 
 to a teamster who took him to Virginia, where 
 he left his master and, alone, made an adventur- 
 ous journey home through the forest. He then 
 went to school, where he remained for less than 
 a week. 
 
 This was long enough, however, to permit of 
 at least one good fight, in which he thoroughly 
 whipped an older boy who had attempted to 
 bully him. 
 
 After this he played truant, and liked it so 
 much that he resolved to make his truancy per- 
 manent, and he ran away from home altogether. 
 After a while he returned and finding that the 
 maidens of the neighborhood jeered at him be- 
 cause of his ignorance, he decided to go to 
 school again. 
 
 Completing his education, such as it was, he 
 
24 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 succumbed again to the lure of the woods, and 
 what with farm labor, hunting, trapping, etc., 
 he was able somewhat to assist his family, who 
 were very poor. 
 
 When he was twenty-three years old, having 
 the appalling sum of fifteen dollars saved up, 
 he resolved to marry. With his young wife he 
 migrated farther west and settled in the south 
 central part of Tennessee. Davy himself tells us 
 that they had things " fixed up pretty grand" 
 in- their backwoods home, as they must have 
 had on their capital of fifteen dollars, and he 
 assures us that folks can "love just as hard 
 in the backwoods as any people in the whole 
 country. ' ' 
 
 Their happiness was not long-lived, however, 
 for two years later his young wife died, leaving 
 the woodsman alone with his small children in 
 their remote cabin. Shortly thereafter he mar- 
 ried again. 
 
 It was in this period of his life that he ac- 
 quired his fame as a hunter, particularly a bear 
 hunter, though, to be sure, coons also feared 
 the deadly aim of Betsy, as we learn from the 
 famous protest of one of them who, according 
 to Davy, perceived that resistance was useless 
 and politely offered to come down out of the 
 tree if he would refrain from shooting! 
 
 But Davy was not only good at shooting; his 
 own narrative of his hunting exploits were 
 
DAVID CROCKETT 25 
 
 hardly less remarkable than the exploits them- 
 selves, and we cannot do better than let him 
 tell in his own inimitable way of the renowned 
 "barking up the wrong tree" episode, since the 
 expression, like many other expressions of 
 Davy's, has become proverbial. 
 
 "That night," he says, "there fell a heavy 
 rain, and it turned to sleet. In the morning 
 all hands turned out hunting. My young man 
 and a brother-in-law who had lately settled near 
 me went down the river to hunt for turkeys, but 
 I was for larger game. I told them I had 
 dreamed the night before of having had a hard 
 fight with a big black nigger, and I know'd it 
 was a sign I was to have a battle with a bear; 
 for in a bear country, I never know'd such a 
 dream to fail. So I started to go above the 
 harricane, determined to have a bear. I had 
 two pretty good dogs and an old hound, which 
 I took along. I had gone about six miles up 
 the river, and it was then about four miles 
 across to the main Obion; so I determined to 
 strike across to that, as I had found nothing 
 vet to kill. 
 
 "I got on to the river, and turned down it; 
 but the sleet was still getting worse and worse. 
 The bushes were all bent down and locked to- 
 gether, so that it was almost impossible to get 
 along. In a little time my dogs started a large 
 gang of old turkey gobblers, and I killed two 
 
26 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 of the biggest sort. I shouldered them up, and 
 moved on, until I got through the harricane 
 again, when I was so tired that I laid my gob- 
 blers down, to rest, as they were confounded 
 heavy, and I was mighty tired. 
 
 "While I was resting, my old hound went to a 
 log and smelt it awhile, and then raised his eyes 
 towards the sky and cried out. Away he went, 
 and my other dogs with him, and I shouldered 
 up my turkeys again, and followed on as hard 
 as I could drive. The dogs were soon out of 
 sight, and in a very little time I heard them 
 begin to bark. When I got to them, they were 
 barking up a tree, but there was no game there. 
 I concluded that it had been a turkey, and that 
 it had flew away. 
 
 "When they saw me coming, away they went 
 again, and, after a little time, began to bark 
 as before. When I got near them I found they 
 were barking up the wrong tree again, as there 
 was no game there. They served in this way 
 three or four times, until I was so infernal mad 
 that I determined, if I could get near enough, 
 to shoot the old hound at least. 
 
 "With this intention I pushed on the harder, 
 till I came to the edge of an open prairie, and, 
 looking on before my dogs, I saw in and about 
 the biggest bear that ever was seen in America. 
 He looked, at the distance he was from me, like 
 a large black bull. My dogs were afraid to 
 
DAVID CROCKETT 27 
 
 attack him, and that was the reason why they 
 had stopped so often — that I might overtake 
 them. They were now almost up with him, and 
 I took my gobblers from my back and hung them 
 up in a sapling, and broke like a quarter horse 
 after my bear, for the sight of him had put new 
 springs in me. I soon got near to them, but 
 they were just getting into a roaring thicket, 
 and so I couldn't run through it, but had to 
 pick my way along, and had close work at that. 
 u In a little while I saw the bear climbing up 
 a large black oak tree, and I crawled on till I 
 got within about eighty yards of him. He was 
 setting with his breast to me, and so I put fresh 
 priming in my gun and fired at him. At this 
 he raised one of his paws and snorted loudly. 
 I loaded again as quick as I could, and fired 
 as near the same place in his breast as possible. 
 At the crack of my gun, here he came tumbling 
 down; and the moment he touched the ground I 
 heard one of my best dogs cry out. I took my 
 tomahawk in one hand and my big butcher-knife 
 in the other, and ran up within four or five 
 paces of him, at which he let my dog go and 
 fixed his eyes on me. I got back in all sorts 
 of a hurry, for I knowed that if he got hold 
 of me, he would hug me altogether too close 
 for comfort. I went to my gun and hastily 
 loaded her again, and shot him a third time, 
 which killed him for good. 
 
28 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 "I now began to think about getting him 
 home, but I didn't know how far it was. So 
 I left him and started ; and in order to find him 
 again, I would blaze a sapling every little dis- 
 tance, which would show me the way back; I 
 continued this until I got within a mile of home, 
 for there I knowed very well where I was, and 
 that I could easily find my way back to my 
 blazes. When I got home, I took my brother- 
 in-law and my young man and four horses, and 
 went back. We got there just before dark, and 
 struck up a fire and commenced butchering my 
 bear. It was some time in the night before we 
 finished it, and I can assert, on my honor, that 
 I believe he would have weighed six hundred 
 pounds. It was the second largest I ever saw. 
 I killed one, a few years afterwards, that weighed 
 six hundred and seventeen pounds. 
 
 "I now felt fully compensated for my suffer- 
 ings in going after my powder; and well satis- 
 fied that a dog may be doing a good business, 
 even when lie seems to he barking up the wrong 
 tree." 
 
 We cannot pause to tell of Crockett's work 
 as a scout under Andrew Jackson in the Creek 
 War, nor of his fights with Indians and outlaws, 
 to say nothing of his bear and coon killings. 
 
 As the country became settled he became fairly 
 prosperous and phenomenally popular. Twice he 
 was elected to the State Legislature. Nor was 
 
DAVID CROCKETT 29 
 
 this enough; for so universally liked was he and 
 so deeply impressed were his simple friends and 
 neighbors with his captivating air and his deeds 
 of "derring do" that they sent him to the Na- 
 tional Congress, where he cut an amazing figure, 
 and infused a refreshing breath of humor and 
 originality into the dull sessions of that august 
 body. 
 
 Having served two terms, during which he 
 became quaintly famous throughout the country, 
 he failed of re-election, and in the disappoint- 
 ment and chagrin which followed his strenuous 
 campaign he formed a resolution, the fulfillment 
 of which was to lose him his life, although it 
 helped to enhance his unique fame. 
 
 "As my country no longer requires my serv- 
 ices,' ' he says, "I have made up my mind to 
 go to Texas. My life has been one of danger, 
 toil and privation, but these difficulties I had to 
 encounter. . . . Now I start anew upon my own 
 hook, and God only grant that it may be strong 
 enough to support the weight hung upon it. I 
 have a new row to hoe, a long and rough one, 
 but come what will, I'll go ahead." 
 
 There is a note of pathos in his own simple 
 account of how he began that fateful journey. 
 "The thermometer stood below freezing as I 
 left my wife and children; still there was some 
 thawing about the eyelids, a thing that had not 
 happened since I ran away from my father's 
 
30 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 home when a thoughtless, vagabond boy. I 
 dressed myself in a clean hunting-shirt, put on 
 a new fox-skin cap with the tail hanging behind, 
 and took hold of my rifle Betsy . . . and started 
 off to go ahead in a new world." 
 
 The new world in which he was to go ahead 
 was the present State of Texas, and formed then 
 a district of the new republic of Mexico. There 
 were, however, more Americans there than Mexi- 
 cans, and the territory was American in all 
 except a political sense. Most of the settlers 
 were men like Crockett himself — typical fron- 
 tiersmen and expert hunters. They were not the 
 sort of people to submit tamely to tyranny and 
 oppression, and when these were imposed by 
 the corrupt government of Mexico, they pro- 
 tested and soon revolted. 
 
 This miniature Avar of independence began in 
 1835, and was pressed with such vigor by the 
 resolute and hardy settlers that soon San An- 
 tonio, the principal town, was taken, and every 
 Mexican soldier driven back to Mexico proper. 
 
 Near the town there stood an old mission, 
 built by the Franciscan monks, which was known 
 as the Mission del Alamo and which, under the 
 simpler appellation of the Alamo is sadly fa- 
 mous in our history. 
 
 When Davy Crockett, after his long and ad- 
 venturous journey, reached the Alamo, he found 
 it converted into a stronghold and occupied by 
 
DAVID CROCKETT 31 
 
 about one hundred and fifty Americans under 
 a gallant young officer named Travis, and a 
 certain Colonel Bowie, whose name is otherwise 
 immortalized by the famous bowie-knife of which 
 he was the originator. 
 
 Crockett brought with him a dozen or so 
 kindred spirits, and the little band in their fur 
 caps and travel-w T orn buckskins was given a rous- 
 ing welcome. 
 
 It was known that the powers in Mexico would 
 not long suffer these triumphant settlers to en- 
 joy the fruits of their victory. 
 
 They did not, however, expect that Santa 
 Anna himself, usurper and dictator of Mexico, 
 would pay them the high honor of a personal 
 call, and their surprise may be imagined when, 
 on the 23d of February, 1836, this "Napoleon 
 of the "West" appeared before the Alamo head- 
 ing the advance guard of his five thousand 
 trained Mexican troops, and demanded its sur- 
 render. 
 
 In answer to this the little garrison raised 
 their flag, and Santa Anna hoisted his red 
 ensign, which meant that no quarter would be 
 given to the Americans. Thus a little party of 
 a hundred and seventy-odd men hurled defiance 
 at an army of five thousand, notwithstanding 
 that the result was inevitable. 
 
 The siege continued for ten days, during which 
 time the Mexicans were repulsed and lost heavily 
 
32 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 whenever they came within range of the crack 
 riflemen. We may be snre that Betsy did her 
 part in that brief interim. 
 
 At last Santa Anna's main army arrived. 
 Historians insist that right np to this time the 
 Americans could have cut their way out and 
 escaped, but apparently no such thought en- 
 tered their minds. They were there to defend 
 their stronghold. They must have known well 
 what their fate would be; that their defence, 
 however heroic, must be futile; yet they stood 
 their ground, resolved to die game after making 
 the enemy pay the highest price their trusty 
 rifles could exact. 
 
 At dawn, on March 6th, the Americans were 
 aroused by the shrill sound of a bugle. They 
 knew what it meant: the Mexicans were to be 
 rallied for the long-expected charge. As the 
 little band listened to that attenuated martial 
 call, so fateful for them, we may suppose that 
 they thought also of the Mexicans' red banner, 
 which meant no quarter. 
 
 It is related that Colonel Travis addressed his 
 men, repeating his resolve never to surrender, 
 and offered his freedom to any man who wished 
 to escape. None, so the tradition goes, left the 
 Alamo. 
 
 An hour or two of suspense and then the walls 
 of the old mission shook with the misrhtv on- 
 slaught of Santa Anna. The storming host was 
 
DAVID CROCKETT 33 
 
 received with a rain of shot from the Amer- 
 icans, and, as always, the well-aimed rifles did 
 their work. 
 
 But they availed little against Santa Anna's 
 legion. In three columns the Mexicans ad- 
 vanced, sometimes thrown into confusion by the 
 withering fire from the old mission; but reserve 
 after reserve filled the gaps, the storming host 
 outnumbering the Americans fifteen to one. 
 
 Now they were close under the walls, trying 
 again and again to scale them. The stockade 
 to the north offered a better chance, and they 
 soon concentrated their efforts there, using scal- 
 ing ladders in the face of a continuous and 
 deadly fire from the Americans. 
 
 Once close under the wall, they enjoyed some 
 measure of shelter from the cannon, though the 
 toll of death from rifle shots was still terrible; 
 but the Mexicans, knowing their greatly supe- 
 rior numbers, and that fresh troops were hurry- 
 ing to their support, persisted. 
 
 Colonel Travis w r as shot dead while loading 
 a cannon. Presently the Mexicans had scaled 
 the walls and were swarming into the Alamo. 
 It was no time for shooting now. The Amer- 
 icans clubbed their rifles and drew their swords, 
 and as they were backed against the wall they 
 fought, hand to hand, against the overwhelming 
 force. 
 
 Colonel Bowie lay ill in an upper room. The 
 
34 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 Mexicans rushed in upon him, and as they en- 
 tered he shot them one by one from his bed, 
 until he himself was despatched. 
 
 Meanwhile Crockett fought desperately in an 
 open plaza. Nothing more is known of his fate, 
 thongh traditions are many as to exactly how 
 he died. One story runs that he was still shoot- 
 ing from behind a pile of men whom he had 
 killed when he was overpowered and made an 
 end of. 
 
 One thing, at least, is known. His nmtilated 
 body was seen lying near the wall by an Amer- 
 ican woman whom Santa Anna had spared. 
 
 The battle, or rather the massacre, was soon 
 over, and only five wretched prisoners remained. 
 These were dragged before Santa Anna and 
 butchered. Two women, several children and 
 some servants were spared. 
 
 The Mexican loss was very large — much larger, 
 indeed, than one would have supposed possible — 
 and testified eloquently to the heroic resistance 
 which the little garrison had offered. 
 
 Thus, shrouded in a kind of ghastly mystery, 
 ended the unique career of Davy Crockett — a 
 splendid type of scout and one of the most orig- 
 inal characters that ever lived. So captivating 
 was his naive heroism and so charmingly frank 
 his winning nature, that innumerable legends 
 cluster about his name, many of which doubtless 
 have slight foundation in truth. 
 
DAVID CROCKETT 35 
 
 "We may be sure, however, that in that final 
 bloody scene of his career, the trusted Betsy did 
 not desert him, but that he used both ends of her, 
 fighting desperately to the bitter end and scorn- 
 ing surrender. 
 
 It would be interesting to know exactly how 
 he died. His own inimitable account of that 
 last struggle would have been good reading. 
 But only a few terror-stricken women and chil- 
 dren were left after the frightful carnage, and 
 their recollections were fragmentary and con- 
 tradictory. So, in a sense, it may be said that 
 there was no one left to tell the tale of one of 
 the bloodiest and most unequal hand-to-hand 
 encounters in our history. 
 
 In the city of Austin, Texas, stands a monu- 
 ment, commemorating the heroic death of Crock- 
 ett and the other members of the little band. 
 Upon it is carved this sentence: 
 
 Thermopylce had its messenger of defeat; 
 the Alamo had none. 
 
SAM HOUSTON 
 
 How he fought under Andrew Jackson; how he lived among 
 the Indians; how he became a member of Congress; 
 how he founded the Lone Star Republic and what he 
 finally said of it; together with what happened to the 
 Lone Star Republic ; and various other adventures which 
 befell Sam Houston. 
 
 Whatever people may think of Sam Houston 
 (and people have thought a good many different 
 things about him), one fact will be generally 
 conceded: viz., that no other country than the 
 yonng United States could possibly have pro- 
 duced him, and that the United States, grown 
 older, can never produce such another. 
 
 He was not only the first president of the 
 Eepublic of Texas, but its last- as well. He was, 
 indeed, the father of his country in the truest 
 sense, and when it ceased to be a country and 
 became a state, he stood by it and was the 
 father of his state. "When it fell into evil ways 
 and began to talk about secession, he "retired 
 to his prairie home" in high disgust, planted a 
 threatening cannon upon his humble cabin and 
 told his rebellious child that she could "go to 
 blazes." 
 
 That is the sort of man that Sam Houston 
 was. 
 
 36 
 
 i 
 
SAM HOUSTON 37 
 
 Everything about him was big, including his 
 faults. He was huge in stature, he had a tre- 
 mendous voice, his ideas were stupendous, his 
 heart was as big as that of an ox; and as for 
 his courage, it is quite enough to say that An- 
 drew Jackson was amazed at it. What if he 
 did appear before the United States Secretary 
 of War brandishing a tomahawk and dressed 
 in the garb of a Cherokee Indian, to the Secre- 
 tary's great consternation and annoyance? Sam 
 Houston was a law unto himself, and so we must 
 consider him. 
 
 Should you like to know how he looked on no 
 less an occasion than his own inauguration as 
 Governor ? 
 
 "A tall, bell-crowned, medium-brimmed, shin- 
 ing black beaver hat, shining black military 
 stock or cravat encased by a standing collar, 
 ruffled shirt, satin vest, shining black silk pants 
 gathered to the waistband with legs full, same 
 size from seat to ankle, and a gorgeous red- 
 ground, many-colored gown or Indian hunting- 
 shirt, fastened at the waist by a huge red sash 
 covered with fancy bead work, with an immense 
 silver buckle, embroidered silk stockings and 
 pumps with large silver buckles." 
 
 Truly an imposing figure! 
 
 But for all that he was not proud, for even 
 after he became a general he was in the habit 
 of beating the drum himself, believing that he 
 
38 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 could do it better than anyone else. There was 
 only one drum in his army. 
 
 Sam Houston was born at Timber Ridge 
 Church, in Rockbridge County, Virginia, on the 
 2d of March, 1793. He was of Scotch-Irish 
 ancestry. His father had fought in the War 
 of Independence, and when he died Sam's 
 mother, who was a typical pioneer woman, took 
 her children westward into Tennessee, where 
 they lived in the wilds, in close proximity to 
 the Cherokee Indians — that once warlike tribe 
 whose power had been broken by young Francis 
 Marion and others. 
 
 Young Sam was rather more inclined to study 
 than the average young frontiersman, and while 
 yet a boy his habit of reading every book he 
 could lay his hands on gave him much knowledge 
 which was useful in his political career years 
 afterward. 
 
 Indeed, his love of study, so the story goes, 
 was the very thing which led him into a world 
 of adventure, for on being forbidden by his 
 unsympathetic elder brothers to study Latin, he 
 forthwith pocketed his volume of Pope's Iliad 
 and sallied forth to a neighboring village of 
 friendly Cherokees, among whom he made his 
 home. The Cherokee chief liked him so much 
 that he adopted him and young Sam continued 
 to lead a wild life among the Indians until he 
 was nineteen years old. 
 
SAM HOUSTON 
 
SAM HOUSTON 39 
 
 He was always thereafter more or less identi- 
 fied with the Cherokees, returning to them from 
 time to time and finding balm and solace in their 
 savage life. Later he took a wife from among 
 them. 
 
 In 1811 he returned to civilization and started 
 a small school where he must have greatly edi- 
 fied his pupils by the Indian shirt and long 
 pigtail which he wore. 
 
 In 1813 he joined the army and was shortly 
 promoted to the rank of ensign. At that time 
 the redoubtable Andrew Jackson had set out to 
 crush, once and for all, the warlike Creek Indians 
 who, under their famous chief, Tecumseh, were 
 making a last stand against the whites in the 
 wilds of Alabama. 
 
 In this campaign young Houston distinguished 
 himself in such a manner that "Old Hickory' ' 
 never forgot it, and when he became President 
 he supported with enthusiasm the schemes of his 
 whilom ensign. 
 
 It was at the Battle of Horseshoe Bend that 
 Sam Houston, then not twenty years of age, 
 showed his mettle. 
 
 Wounded and bleeding profusely, he was or- 
 dered to the rear by General Jackson. The 
 General was not, either in his military or politi- 
 cal career, a very safe man to disobey, but Sam 
 Houston was out for glory and he was not to 
 be deterred by either a wound or an order. 
 
40 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 Sam's regiment had been ordered to storm the 
 breastworks which the Creek Indians had erected 
 and disregarding his superior's command he had 
 rushed forward with the other men. He was 
 just scaling the rough parapet when a barbed 
 arrow struck him in the thigh. Heedless of the 
 frightful agony he had tried to extract the cruel 
 barb, but could not do so. 
 
 He waited until his comrades were near and 
 ordered one of them to pull out the arrow. Twice 
 the man tried and failed, causing him unspeak- 
 able torture. 
 
 "Try again," cried Houston, "and if you fail 
 this time I will smite you to the earth." 
 
 With main strength the soldier wrenched at 
 the arrow, tearing it out and leaving a great 
 bleeding gash. 
 
 "Thank you, you are a brave fellow," said 
 Sam Houston. 
 
 It was then that General Jackson ordered him 
 to the rear. Young Houston pled with him in 
 vain; as soon as the General's back was turned 
 he was in the thick of the assault again, storming 
 the breastworks at the head of his men. 
 
 There soon followed a bloody hand-to-hand 
 combat, in which many Indians were killed. It 
 was a complete defeat for them, but there still 
 lurked in a ravine near by, which was covered 
 by the breastworks, a large body of Creek war- 
 riors, so stationed and protected that they could 
 
SAM HOUSTON 41 
 
 with small danger to themselves maintain a con- 
 tinual fire upon Jackson's men. Their vantage 
 ground was such that artillery could not be used 
 against them, and Jackson called for volunteers 
 to make a charge. 
 
 There was no response from either officers or 
 men until Sam Houston, springing forward de- 
 spite his cruel wound, ordered his platoon to 
 follow him. His brave act is graphically de- 
 scribed by his friend and editor, C. Edwards 
 Lester : 
 
 " There was but one way of attack that could 
 prevail — it was to charge through the port-holes 
 although they were bristling with rifles and 
 arrows, and it had to be done by a rapid, simul- 
 taneous plunge. As he was stopping to rally 
 his men and had levelled his musket within fiva 
 yards of the port-holes, he received two rifle 
 balls in his right shoulder, and his arm fell 
 shattered to his side. Totally disabled, he turned 
 and called once more to his men, and implored 
 them to make the charge. But they could not 
 advance. Houston stood in his blood till he saw 
 it would do no good to stand any longer and 
 then went beyond the range of the bullets and 
 sank down exhausted to the earth.' ' 
 
 Sam Houston had learned at least one thing 
 from the stoical Indians — to suffer and be strong. 
 
 He was many months in recovering and when 
 he did recover he found that Old Hickory had 
 
42 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 forgotten his disobedience and remembered only 
 his bravery. That was quite like Old Hickory. 
 
 With the help of Jackson's great influence, 
 Sam Houston, still a very young man, became 
 one of the leading figures in Tennessee. Before 
 he was thirty-five, he was elected Governor of 
 the State and it seemed that Fortune was to 
 smile permanently upon him when suddenly, 
 during his campaign for re-election, he dropped 
 his canvass, left his home and his young bride 
 of six weeks, and went back to resume his wild 
 life among the Cherokee Indians. 
 
 No one knows why he did this extraordinary 
 thing. He was good enough to say that the 
 young lady was in no way to blame, although 
 there have been historians who appeared to think 
 that they knew more about it than Sam himself 
 did. 
 
 It had been said that he was stung by the lies 
 of his enemies, but surely the hero of Horseshoe 
 Bend who could calmly watch while a jagged 
 arrow was torn out of his flesh, ought to have 
 been able to bear the barbed arrows of slander 
 in a political campaign. In any event, if a man 
 wishes to repudiate his bride of six weeks to 
 go and live with the Indians, he should have 
 a very much better excuse than this; and the 
 best comment to make is just that Sam Houston 
 was a puzzle. 
 
 The life which he led among the Cherokees 
 
SAM HOUSTON 43 
 
 was romantic and adventurous, but not alto- 
 gether creditable. He followed the trails with 
 them, hunted with them, and, it is to be feared, 
 drank with them, for they called him Big Drunk, 
 which is not a complimentary name for the sol- 
 dier and patriot who founded the Texan Eepublic. 
 
 For one year he led this wild, reckless life, 
 then he came forth as one risen from the dead 
 and returned to civilization. Clad in a most 
 outlandish garb he made his way to Washington 
 and to the White House where he knew he might 
 be sure of a friendly welcome. Andrew Jackson 
 received him with open arms. 
 
 At that time Texas was a province of Mexico. 
 For some time the Mexican Government had 
 encouraged foreign settlement within this large 
 domain and it was now beginning to realize the 
 unwisdom of such a course, for there were more 
 Americans there than Mexicans and they were 
 not at all agreeable to the despotic form of 
 government favored by the cruel Santa Anna, 
 President of the Mexican republic, who was in 
 reality a dictator. 
 
 In 1829 President Jackson had offered to buy 
 Texas, and although Mexico had indignantly 
 refused the proposal, it had nevertheless aroused 
 her to the realization that her province of Texas 
 was rather more friendly to the United States 
 than to herself. 
 
 It was, indeed, too late for the Mexican Gov- 
 
44 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 ernment to stem the tide and there was no 
 sleight-of-hand by which Texas could be conjured 
 into a loyal province with Mexican sympathies. 
 But Santa Anna tried the impossible, by impos- 
 ing tyrannical laws and unreasonable restrictions 
 and the natural consequence was a vigorous re- 
 volt of the hardy settlers. 
 
 The story of Davy Crockett tells of the cruel 
 methods of Santa Anna in trying to stamp out 
 the spirit of freedom. The massacre at the 
 sadly famous Alamo was only one of his vile 
 deeds. 
 
 It was to this scene of disorder that Sam 
 Houston now betook himself. It is said that he 
 went at the instigation of President Jackson, who 
 wished for nothing better than a successful revo- 
 lution which would bring the troubled and tur- 
 bulent Texas headlong into the Union. 
 
 Be that as it may, Houston went and scarcely 
 had he reached the scene when he became the 
 hero of the occasion. This was in December, 
 1832. 
 
 We cannot pause to narrate in detail the story 
 of the revolution of the American settlers in 
 Texas. For a while things went against them, 
 as the ghastly death of Crockett and his com- 
 rades in the Alamo testifies. And when Santa 
 Anna had glutted himself with a still more in- 
 human massacre at Coliad he believed that the 
 Americans had been thoroughly cowed and 
 punished. 
 
SAM HOUSTON 45 
 
 That is where he made the mistake of his life, 
 for encamped on the Colorado River was a small 
 body of less than one thousand frontiersmen in 
 command of an American scout and Indian 
 fighter — the giant, Sam Houston. 
 
 There is no space in which to follow the cam- 
 paign that ensued. The Americans were out- 
 numbered many times. Moreover, they were but 
 a band of undrilled frontiersmen with no bayo- 
 nets and no artillery — nothing but their rifles 
 and bowie knives. They had no camping outfits 
 and there was but one drum among them. 
 
 Against this hapless band was the well-drilled 
 and triumphant legion of Santa Anna. 
 
 A David and Goliath contest indeed! 
 
 Yet the tact and skill and courage of the old 
 trailer prevailed. After a campaign of forced 
 marches and of hide-and-seek tactics, which must 
 have astonished the haughty Santa Anna, he was 
 actually taken prisoner by the rough old scout 
 whom he had disdained. On April 21, 1836, 
 two months after the murder of Crockett and 
 his brave companions, was fought the Battle of 
 San Jacinto where Sam Houston and eight hun- 
 dred Texans utterly routed the Mexican army 
 and put an end .to Santa Anna's cruelties forever. 
 
 The battle cry on that momentous occasion 
 was "Remember the Alamo!" And who shall 
 say that the spirit of Davy Crockett was not 
 present to witness this triumph of as good a 
 
46 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 scout and fighter as himself as he exacted retri- 
 bution for the massacre in the old Mission? 
 
 Whatever people may have thought of Sam 
 Houston's peculiarities and however much his 
 friends may have deplored his faults, he was 
 now acclaimed a hero. The whilom Big Drunk 
 had freed Texas and captured the tyrant and 
 no honor was too great for him. 
 
 The long-troubled province now became a 
 republic and its liberator was elected as its 
 president. 
 
 Houston was quite willing that his little re- 
 public should become a part of the United States, 
 but the United States now would have none 
 of this, for the distant rumblings of the great 
 slavery agitation were already to be heard in 
 the land and Uncle Sam doubtless felt that there 
 were quite enough slave states already. 
 
 In 1845, however, with the full concurrence of 
 the Texan people, the Lone Star Eepublic be- 
 came the State of Texas, and Sam Houston was 
 sent to "Washington as Senator. He wore a 
 manv-colored Mexican blanket and was wont to 
 whittle shingles with his bowie knife while listen- 
 ing to congressional debates. Whenever the 
 rights of the Indians came in question, however, 
 he would lay aside his handiwork and let his 
 thunderous voice rise in their defense — in grate- 
 ful memory, perhaps, of his old life among the 
 hospitable Cherokees. 
 
SAM HOUSTON 47 
 
 We cannot follow his political career. The 
 eve of the Civil War found him governor of his 
 beloved state. Old in years, but still vigorous 
 and affecting still his motley garb, he shook 
 his old clenched fist at those who talked of 
 secession. 
 
 His attitude made him very unpopular. He 
 refused to take the Confederacy's oath of alle- 
 giance and was ousted from office. In that 
 exciting time it was the rule in the Confederacy 
 that all men over sixteen must register and 
 carry a pass when traveling. Sam Houston 
 refused to do either. When his pass was de- 
 manded of him, he thundered, "San Jacinto is 
 my pass through Texas !" They let him pass. 
 
 After his deposition from office he retired to 
 his home (of which he had seen but little, to 
 be sure) at Huntsville, Texas. Here he was 
 fond of wearing his old San Jacinto uniform. 
 
 Though he had opposed secession, his staunch 
 old spirit rebelled at the thought of his beloved 
 state invaded by Federal troops, and he raised 
 his 'crutch in the air and shook it triumphantly 
 when the Union army was driven from her soil. 
 He had done all he could to prevent secession, 
 but the die being cast his allegiance was with 
 the cause of the South. 
 
 He lived to the age of seventy, when his old 
 wounds began to trouble him and he became 
 crippled and very feeble. He died in his Hunts- 
 
48 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 ville home, on the 26th of July, 1863, three 
 weeks after General Grant had taken Vicksbnrg. 
 His last words were " Texas! Texas!" and 
 "Margaret!" 
 
 Margaret was his third wife. Perhaps as he 
 uttered her name he thought of that bride of 
 long ago whom he had repudiated; and perhaps 
 as he uttered the words " Texas — Texas!" he 
 thought of the ungrateful state which had re- 
 pudiated him. 
 
 Sam Houston was a strange combination — a 
 man remarkable in many ways. Like Daniel 
 Boone, he loved the forest and its wild life for 
 their own sake, though not enough to give him- 
 self up to them as did the great Kentucky 
 pioneer. The world knows him chiefly as an 
 odd character, a brave soldier, and a statesman 
 of no mean attainments. But in the intervals 
 of his military and political career, he was 
 wont to seek the forest and become a back- 
 woodsman. 
 
 In the period between his two incumbencies 
 as governor of Texas, and after his fame was 
 fully established, he built himself a log cabin 
 in the wilderness and lived a life of primitive 
 simplicity and wildness. He was an expert 
 tracker, a crack shot, a superb horseman; and 
 no man, unless it was John Eliot of old, ever 
 became so thoroughly familiar as he with Indian 
 life. He understood not only their language, but 
 
SAM HOUSTON 49 
 
 their thoughts and their feelings; and they evi- 
 dently understood him, which is more than can 
 be said of some of his white brethren. 
 
 It is to be regretted that his life as a woods- 
 man and scout should have to take a subordinate 
 place in his career. But perhaps this is in- 
 evitable. If Daniel Boone had been elected 
 Governor of Kentucky, and had been sent to 
 Washington as Senator, we should doubtless 
 lose much of the wonderful romance which clings 
 like a vine about his beloved name. 
 
KIT CARSON 
 
 How tie first hit the Old Trail; how he performed a surgical 
 operation; how he hunted and fought the Indians; how 
 he acted as peacemaker; together with sundry feats and 
 adventures of this famous plainsman. 
 
 A good scout was Kit Carson, who was con- 
 siderate enough to adventure-loving youth not 
 to run for office and waste the precious years 
 in Congress which he might spend out hunting 
 and tracking Indians. 
 
 He was a scout, a whole scout, and nothing 
 but a scout — first, last, and always. 
 
 His proper name was Christopher, but he 
 hardly recognized it himself and history and 
 story do not recognize it at all. He did so 
 many things that the mere record of his birth 
 and death seem prosy enough, but it may as well 
 be recorded that he was born in Madison County, 
 Kentucky, on Christmas Day, in 1809. 
 
 His early years were spent on the Old Santa 
 Fe Trail. From 1829 to 1838 he was a trapper 
 in the Rocky Mountains, during which time he 
 married an Indian girl. His second marriage, 
 to a Spanish maiden, occurred in 1843. From 
 
 50 
 
© Century Co. 
 
 CHRISTOPHER (KIT) CARSON 
 From a photograph taken about 1863 
 
KIT CAESON 51 
 
 1838 to 1842 he was hunter and captain of 
 trappers for Bent's Fort, a hunting headquar- 
 ters and trading-post along the Arkansas. He 
 accompanied Fremont as a guide and hunter 
 on the famous exploring expedition of 1843-44 
 to the Great Salt Lake and California, return- 
 ing by the Old Trail and through the Rocky 
 Mountains. He was with Fremont on his sub- 
 sequent expedition into California, and was 
 scout under him in the conquest of that terri- 
 tory in 1846. He served as a transcontinental 
 express messenger in 1847-48, and in the latter 
 year acted as a ranger in the outposts of Cali- 
 fornia. In 1850 he served as an army scout 
 in expeditions against the Indians. In 1853 he 
 became a gentle shepherd and drove 30,000 sheep 
 overland to California. He became a colonel 
 in the army and served in innumerable battles 
 with the red men. At odd times in his varied 
 career he was a ranchman, a military commis- 
 sioner, a guide, trapper, hunter, trail detective 
 and, indeed, he served in about every capacity 
 and occupied every post incidental to the old 
 caravan days and frontier life. Yet he was not 
 sixty years old when he died. 
 
 Carson was rather below the average stature, 
 and appears to have been of the wiry type and 
 rather delicate looking. His nature was very 
 simple and lovable. He was modest and un- 
 assertive, and averse to telling of his own deeds. 
 
52 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 It goes without saying that his bravery was 
 conspicuous, and he showed a superb coolness 
 in the face of danger. 
 
 In 1868, during a visit to his son at Fort 
 Lyon, in Colorado, he w T as stricken with apo- 
 plexy while riding his horse, a recreation which 
 he continued to enjoy even after ill health had 
 compelled him to give up active life. His death 
 was almost instantaneous. This occurred on 
 May 23d. 
 
 His remains w T ere later taken to his old home 
 in New Mexico, where a monument was erected 
 over them. 
 
 It would be quite futile to attempt a con- 
 secutive brief narrative of Kit Carson's adven- 
 tures. They seem to be piled up all about, and 
 the best one can hope to accomplish is to select 
 certain conspicuous instances of his prowess and 
 present them by way of amplifying the fore- 
 going capitulation. 
 
 While Kit was still very young, his parents 
 emigrated to the frontier region of Missouri, 
 where the boy was apprenticed to a harness- 
 maker, a singularly prosaic calling for so ro- 
 mantic a youth, and he did not follow it long. 
 
 The Carson home, which was hardly more 
 than a frontier cabin, was in Howard County, 
 and the great, tortuous Missouri Kiver flowed 
 near b}^. 
 
 Not so far to the west of Kit's lonely home 
 
KIT CARSON 53 
 
 the river flowed near to the eastern end of the 
 Old Santa Fe Trail, which ran from eastern 
 Kansas to Santa Fe, and was the highway of 
 caravans of pack mules and later of great lum- 
 bering prairie wagons, the lurking place of 
 Comanches and Apaches and Mexican bandits, 
 the haunt of trapper and scout. 
 
 It was a romantic and historic trail, the scene 
 of many desperate deeds, and abounding in a 
 variety of scenic grandeur. 
 
 We may be sure that young Kit often saw 
 the bands of traders and immigrants passing 
 up the river on their way to the Old Trail, and 
 that the sight of these bold adventurers tilled 
 him with longing to follow them to the ancient 
 highway which crossed the vast plains and 
 wound its tortuous way among the rocky fast- 
 nesses farther west and so to the quaint old 
 Mexican city. 
 
 Once, when Kit was scarcely seventeen, a 
 party of traders passed near his home, and he 
 begged that he might be allowed to accompany 
 them. 
 
 "Of what use would you be to us?" one of 
 the traders asked. 
 
 "I can shoot," said Kit. 
 
 "Well, then, let us see you shoot," said the 
 trader. 
 
 Kit gave a specimen of his shooting and they 
 forthwith not only consented to let him go, but 
 
54 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 implored his parents to consent. Shooting like 
 his was needed along the Old Santa Fe Trail. 
 
 So young Kit joined the caravan, and that 
 was the beginning of his career of adventure. 
 
 His first notable feat, however, was not one 
 of shooting, but rather of surgery, although we 
 have neglected to mention his surgical skill, to 
 say nothing of the novelty of his methods. 
 
 The party had not proceeded far when one 
 of the teamsters, through carelessness, shot 
 himself with his rifle, crushing the bone of his 
 arm, and after a few days the wound gave signs 
 of blood poisoning. 
 
 It was decided that only by amputating the 
 arm could his life be saved, but there were no 
 physicians in the party, and no one seemed 
 disposed to perform the operation until young 
 Kit Carson stepped forward and offered to "do 
 the job." 
 
 He admitted that he had no experience in 
 such matters, and that his only tools were a 
 razor, a saw, and the king-bolt of a wagon. 
 
 The unhappy teamster, with the alternative 
 of certain death confronting him, consented, 
 and Kit performed the operation, cutting with 
 the razor, sawing through the bone and searing 
 the wound with the white hot bolt. The opera- 
 tion was a complete success and the one-armed 
 teamster was the companion of Kit Carson on 
 many an adventure in the years to follow. 
 
KIT CAESON 55 
 
 While Kit was hunter at Bent's Fort his repu- 
 tation as a crack shot spread through the whole 
 TTest. His was the task, and often a hard one, 
 of keeping forty mouths supplied with food. 
 He came to be known as the "Nestor of the 
 Eocky Mountains." 
 
 Some of the legends which cluster about this 
 period of his career have a little flavor of the 
 Arabian Nights, but undoubtedly there is a 
 basis of truth in most of them. 
 
 On one occasion he is said to have hung from 
 a tree with one arm and so manipulated his 
 gun with the other as to shoot two grizzlies! 
 
 With this redoubtable hunter of the Eockies, 
 shooting buffaloes on the plains was mere child's 
 play. It is said that he could often maneuver 
 his quarry into such a position as to shoot and 
 kill two with one shot. 
 
 The powerful Utes of the mountains knew him 
 well, as did also the tribes of the plains, and 
 when they were peaceable he was their friend. 
 
 On one occasion the warlike Sioux had tres- 
 passed upon the hunting-ground of the plains 
 Indians, as a consequence of which there was 
 much bloody righting along the Old Trail. The 
 plains Indians, who were getting much the worst 
 of it, finally in desperation asked their trusted 
 friend, Kit Carson, to help them. 
 
 Instead of leading them forth to battle, as 
 they had supposed he would do, he went himself 
 
56 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 to the Sioux, who indeed were in anything but 
 a conciliatory mood, to act as mediator. It was 
 a bold move, which none but Kit Carson would 
 have attempted. The Sioux were confounded at 
 sight of him, and it is a tribute to his prowess 
 and an evidence of the magic of his name that 
 this warlike tribe agreed to withdraw from the 
 plains and cease their encroachments. 
 
 At one time in his career, shortly after he had 
 returned from one of the adventurous expedi- 
 tions with Fremont, he settled (if such a crea- 
 ture could be said ever to settle) on a ranch in 
 New Mexico, and scarcely had he taken up his 
 abode there when the ferocious Apaches made 
 one of their murderous raids through the dis- 
 trict, leaving woe and destruction everywhere. 
 A man by the name of White, living near Santa 
 Fe, was massacred, along with his son, and the 
 women and children of his household were car- 
 ried off into the mountain fastnesses. 
 
 Horror and consternation reigned in the coun- 
 tryside after this bloody deed, and all looked 
 to Kit Carson for help. Wrathful and terror- 
 stricken though they were, they would do noth- 
 ing until he arrived. 
 
 When he came a party w T as organized which 
 took the trail, riding day and night in the hope 
 of overtaking the savages. At last, after a 
 weary pursuit, they came upon the Indians in 
 a rocky fastness of the mountains, and Carson 
 
KIT CAESON 57 
 
 dashed in, supposing, of course, that his men 
 would follow him. 
 
 But, instead of following him, they stood 
 gaping in amazement at the reckless bravery 
 of their leader. Not realizing that he was alone, 
 Carson rode on, and did not discover his plight 
 until he was in the Indian stronghold. 
 
 It was only his wonderful coolness and pres- 
 ence of mind that saved him. As the Indians 
 made for him, he dropped to the off side of 
 his horse with such dexterity that they hardly 
 saw him, and dashed back to where his party 
 was waiting. Six arrows in his horse and one 
 in his own coat testified to the narrowness of 
 his escape. 
 
 We may imagine with what righteous wrath 
 the fearless scout addressed his cowardly com- 
 panions. "Why did you send for me?" he de- 
 manded. His withering scorn had the effect of 
 rallying them, and they charged against the 
 Indians, who fled pell-mell, without offering the 
 slightest resistance. They knew Kit Carson. 
 Five of their number were killed. But the party 
 had arrived too late to rescue the white captives, 
 whose dead bodies were found in the forsaken 
 camp. 
 
 At that time the Comanche Indians were at 
 war with the whites, as, indeed, they were a 
 great deal of the time in those early days. 
 
 On one occasion Kit Carson was conducting a 
 
58 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 company of soldiers through the Comanche conn- 
 try. Beaching a spot along the Old Trail known 
 as Point of Bocks, they fell in with a company 
 of young men who had volunteered for the Mex- 
 ican AVar, and the two parties camped in close 
 proximity. 
 
 In the morning, as the horses of the volun- 
 teers were being led to pasture, a band of In- 
 dians captured every animal, and their herders, 
 in a panic, rushed into Carson's camp. 
 
 It was a good place to rush to. Summoning 
 his men, Carson sallied forth, and after a brisk 
 fight with the astonished savages, he recaptured 
 most of the animals for their owners. When 
 he learned that the theft had been made possible 
 by a careless guard, who had fallen asleep, he 
 immediately insisted that the culprit should suf- 
 fer the punishment customary along the Old 
 Trail, which was to wear the dress of an Indian 
 squaw for one day. 
 
 Carson then proceeded with his company to 
 Santa Fe, where he parted with them, having 
 successfully acted as their guide through a wild 
 and hostile country. 
 
 One night, as he was lolling about in the mar- 
 ket-place of the old Mexican city, he heard some 
 talk about two wealthy traders who had lately 
 hit the Old Trail for the states, and he listened 
 with keen attention as the conversation turned 
 upon the doubtful character of their guides. 
 
KIT CARSON 59 
 
 It was suspected that these were none other 
 than a band of notorious robbers, and from the 
 forebodings which he heard expressed Kit felt 
 certain that the unsuspecting travelers were in 
 grave danger of their lives. 
 
 In less than an hour he was at the head of 
 a few picked men, hurrying through a short-cut 
 in the mountains. He had to look out for 
 hostile Indians here, but he knew their haunts 
 and habits and was not easily surprised. 
 
 On the second day the party fell in with a 
 company of United States troops, on their way 
 to New Mexico, who offered to join them. Their 
 offer was accepted and presently the party 
 reached the Trail and came in sight of the 
 caravan lumbering along some distance ahead. 
 
 Riding forward, Kit Carson made straight for 
 the chief guide, a desperado whom he knew 
 named Fox, and clapped a pair of handcuffs 
 upon him. It presently appeared that this man 
 was accompanied by about thirty conspirators 
 masquerading as a convoy. 
 
 Carson's shrewdness and long experience of 
 the Trail enabled him promptly to single out 
 Fox's men, and these were rounded up and driven 
 from the camp. Their leader, against whom the 
 evidence of criminal intent was conclusive, was 
 taken back to Santa Fe, where he had an oppor- 
 tunity to meditate in jail on the lightning-like 
 and decisive methods of his captor. 
 
60 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 When the caravan returned from St. Louis, 
 the grateful traders brought a pair of handsome 
 silver-mounted pistols to Kit Carson in acknowl- 
 edgment of his brave and generous act. 
 
 In those days it often happened that trouble 
 occurred through the mistaken zeal of United 
 States troops, in dealing with the Indians. Car- 
 son had often said that much bloodshed might 
 be spared if the army officers would but study 
 the red men, endeavor to get their point of view, 
 and, when possible, negotiate with them. 
 
 He, of all scouts, stands forever as the shining 
 example of intelligent and kindly firmness in 
 dealing with the Indians. He never fought them 
 wantonly, nor to make a show of power in order 
 to intimidate them. The many instances of his 
 successful negotiation with them remind one of 
 the gentle William Penn. He had small sym- 
 pathy with the employment of the " leaden argu- 
 ment' ' until other arguments had failed. Then 
 his leaden argument went straight to the mark. 
 The Indians knew this, and they respected him 
 and trusted him. 
 
 At one time, as he was returning along the 
 Old Trail from a visit to St. Louis, he learned 
 of a rash act committed by a United States 
 officer in command of a small body of troops 
 in the vicinity. The officer had administered a 
 thrashing to an Indian chief. 
 
 Now, if you thrash an Indian chief, it may 
 
KIT CARSON 61 
 
 safely be averred that you will hurt at least 
 his feelings, if you hurt nothing else, and the 
 humiliated potentate's faithful subjects were 
 burning with shame and rage at this ignoble 
 treatment of their sovereign lord. 
 
 It befell that Kit Carson rode with a small 
 caravan through the country of this tribe just 
 as their anger was at its height, and it was a 
 bold and reckless act to venture into that pre- 
 cinct of wrathful mortification following hard 
 upon the royal flogging. 
 
 Carson was the first white man to face this 
 blackening cloud of fury, but he rode on ahead 
 of the company, and, with characteristic un- 
 concern, galloped straight into a council of war 
 then being held by the Indians who, of course, 
 knew of the approach of the party. 
 
 They knew who he was and, believing that he 
 could not understand their language, they al- 
 lowed him to sit among them while they pro- 
 ceeded with their pow-wow. When the flow of 
 belligerent eloquence had ceased, Kit rose from 
 his seat and, to their dismay, addressed them 
 in their own tongue. . 
 
 He told them that he had listened with great 
 attention to their warlike plans, particularly to 
 the interesting plot to scalp his whole party. 
 He politely intimated that it would not be wise 
 to attempt this, and that it would be an alto- 
 
62 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 gether inappropriate reprisal for the chastise- 
 ment of their chief. 
 
 Utterly confounded by his audacity and per- 
 fect familiarity with their language, the Indians 
 indulged the sober second thought and said that 
 they would visit their revenge upon the proper 
 victim — if they ever caught him. 
 
 But Kit's audacious bravery did not run to 
 the point of heedlessness, and he and his little 
 party kept a weather eye open for trouble as 
 they proceeded on their way. He soon perceived 
 that Indians were still lurking near them. 
 
 It is said that of the fifteen men who accom- 
 panied him, only two were of a sort to be of 
 any assistance in a fight, and that he knew this. 
 
 When the little party camped for the night 
 the wagons were formed into a circle, with the 
 men and animals inside. TVhen all was quiet 
 Kit crept out, taking with him a small Mexican 
 boy on whom he knew he could rely and to whom 
 he explained that they were surrounded by red 
 men; that an attack might be made at any time, 
 and that their only hope lay in communicating 
 at once with the troops at Eayedo, a distance 
 of more than two hundred miles. 
 
 The little fellow, who was a sort of Man Fri- 
 day to the famous scout, mounted his horse and 
 hurried off along the lonely trail to summon 
 help. 
 
 The story of that ride would be a thrilling tale 
 
KIT CARSON 63 
 
 in itself. After a time the boy came up with 
 the soldiers whose commander had caused so 
 much needless trouble, and, astonishing though 
 it may seem, this hero refused to turn about 
 and go to the aid of the threatened caravan. 
 His specialty was evidently flogging, not righting. 
 
 Beaching Rayeclo, the boy announced his er- 
 rand to Major Grier, the commander of the post, 
 and soon a detachment was on its way to meet 
 Carson and his party. The red men were prop- 
 erly sobered by the sight of the soldiers passing 
 along the Old Trail, and the meeting with the 
 Carson party was effected without accident. 
 
 But there had been slow hours of anxious 
 waiting for Kit Carson. Upon him, and him 
 alone, had fallen the burden of responsibility 
 for the party's safety, and he had watched every 
 movement of the lurking Indians with keen 
 apprehension. 
 
 On the morning after the Mexican boy had 
 ridden forth, five Indians visited the slow-moving 
 caravan. "What their purpose was Kit did not 
 pause to inquire. He knew when to be high- 
 handed, and in the present predicament this was 
 the only card he could play. 
 
 Refusing to listen to their errand, he ordered 
 the Indians from his presence, telling them that 
 troops had been sent for, w T ho would presently 
 arrive and wreak vengeance for any harm the 
 caravan might suffer. He drew his pistols and, 
 
64 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 repeating his order that they depart, threatened 
 to shoot dead the first to turn about. They 
 stood not upon the order of their going, and 
 were wise enough not to follow the disastrous 
 example of Lot's wife. 
 
 Three years before Carson died there was a 
 veritable epidemic of Indian outbreaks along the 
 Old Trail. Marauding bands of Kiowas, Co- 
 manches and Cheyennes lurked on the historic 
 highway and hid in the mountains near its 
 western end. They preyed upon the rich traders 
 and vented their smouldering anger against the 
 civilization which they saw encroaching upon 
 their immemorial domain. 
 
 At last the depredations became so frequent 
 and numerous and the peril to travelers so 
 great that the government appointed Kit Car- 
 son to lead three companies of soldiers against 
 these murderous and thieving tribes. 
 
 With characteristic energy and ingenuity, 
 Carson soon cleared the Trail of these lurking 
 savages, pursuing them to their mountain strong- 
 holds and over trackless plains and administer- 
 ing a salutary punishment which broke their 
 spirit for many months to come. 
 
 One more episode of Carson's varied career 
 and then we must leave him. He often told of 
 it himself as the one occasion on which the 
 Indians succeeded in fooling him. 
 
 After a long day of hunting buffalo he and 
 
KIT CARSON 65 
 
 his several companions had camped for the night. 
 Their dogs made a good deal of noise, and on 
 investigating the cause Carson discovered two 
 large wolves lurking near the camp. We shall 
 let him tell the rest in his own words as re- 
 ported by a lifelong comrade. 
 
 "I saw two big wolves sneaking about, one 
 of them quite close to us. Gordon, one of my 
 men, wanted to fire his rifle at it, but I did not 
 let him for fear he would hit a dog. I admit 
 that I had a sort of an idea that those wolves 
 might be Indians, but when I noticed one of 
 them turn short around, and heard the clashing 
 of his teeth as he rushed at one of the dogs, I 
 felt easy then. . . . But the red devil fooled 
 me after all, for he had two dried buffalo bones 
 in his hands under the wolf skin, and he rattled 
 them together every time he turned to make a 
 dash at the dogs! 
 
 "Well, by and by we all dozed off, and it 
 wasn't long before I was suddenly aroused by 
 a noise and a big blaze. I rushed out the first 
 thing for our mules and held them. If the 
 savages had been at all smart they could have 
 killed us in a trice, but they ran as soon as they 
 fired at us." 
 
 It is gratifying to know that though these 
 masquerading Indians succeeded in fooling him, 
 they were not altogether triumphant, for "when 
 they endeavored to ambush us the next morn- 
 
66 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 ing," he adds, "we got wind of their little game 
 and killed three of them, including the chief." 
 
 It is with regret that we part with this fasci- 
 nating man. But delving among his adventures 
 is like sounding the dead sea; one never touches 
 bottom. His life was a collection of courageous 
 feats, hair's-breadth escapes, and deeds of such 
 naive audacity that in foreign literature he has 
 come perilously near to getting himself into the 
 mythical fraternity with such notables as Santa 
 Claus, Jack Frost, Father Time and others. We 
 have seen a reference to him in a Scotch book 
 as one "reputed to have lived in America." 
 
 But Kit Carson was very real, as many a 
 bloodthirsty savage and trail bandit in the good 
 old days could have testified. 
 
 Perhaps, after all, the best thing that can be 
 said of him — better even and more memorable 
 than the tale of his adventures — is that though 
 he lived for nearly sixty years among the most 
 desperate characters of frontier life, and amid 
 scenes of lawlessness, his own character re- 
 mained untarnished. 
 
 What chances were his for personal gain at 
 the sacrifice of honesty and honor, and what 
 temptations must have beset him had his mind 
 been sordid and his heart weak. But with his 
 grim courage, and amid the bloody work which 
 he must needs do, there came no taint of weak- 
 ness or dishonor. 
 
KIT CABSON 67 
 
 He respected right and justice where there 
 were few laws, and those difficult of enforce- 
 ment. 
 
 The very name of Kit Carson spelled safety 
 and protection to immigrant and trader, and 
 how must their hearts have thrilled with joy 
 and relief to see his horse come dashing along 
 the Old Trail which he knew and loved so well, 
 and to realize that he was indeed the kindly 
 light to lead them in that desert wilderness! 
 
UNCLE DICK WOOTON 
 
 How lie hit the trail for Bent's Fort in the Rockies; how- 
 he killed an innocent mule by mistake; how he killed 
 a number of Indians on purpose; how he hunted and 
 trapped and traded; and how he lived near his mountain 
 road high up in the Raton Range. 
 
 We shall include in this Book of Scouts Old 
 Uncle Dick Wooton, the savory smack of whose 
 name would seem to promise good things in the 
 way of adventure. Moreover, he was a friend 
 of Kit Carson's, and any friend of Kit Carson's 
 should be doubly welcome in this company. 
 
 Uncle Dick was born in Virginia in the early 
 80 's, and was still a very young child when his 
 parents settled in Kentucky, where the elder 
 "Wooton cultivated a tobacco plantation. 
 
 Young Dick did not take to tobacco, at least 
 not in the sense of raising it. But he was 
 inordinately fond of adventure. While he was 
 still a boy he left home, resolved to visit the 
 famous frontier town of Independence which 
 was at the western extremity of Missouri. 
 
 The journey across that wild, sparsely set- 
 tled country must have been difficult and peril- 
 ous enough, and it is not easy to understand 
 
 G8 
 
UNCLE DICK WOOTON 69 
 
 tlie incentive to such a journey unless we know 
 something of that flourishing frontier community, 
 of which Dick must have heard much in his 
 childhood. 
 
 Nor is it easy to recognize in the present 
 quiet suburb of Kansas City the once flourishing 
 terminus of the Old Santa Fe Trail. But in 
 those days Independence was a bee-hive of com- 
 mercial activity, and its frontier forges with 
 pack mules waiting to be shod, its "yoke-shops" 
 where yokes for oxen were made and sold by 
 the thousand, and the long trains of laden mules 
 and lumbering prairie wagons arriving out of 
 the mysterious southwest and departing again 
 upon their long journeys, must have constituted 
 a romantic lure to the youth of Missouri and 
 Kentucky to whom the faraway Mexican city 
 of Santa Fe and the long trail which led to it 
 were the subject of many enticing tales told by 
 overland travelers. 
 
 The history of that time shows us many a 
 youth fallen under the spell of the old highway 
 and the quaint old mart of commerce at its 
 western end. The market-place and the corrals 
 of old Independence were a veritable Mecca for 
 adventure-loving youths, many of whom had 
 run away from home to see these things and 
 were destined to wander still farther before they 
 returned to the parental fireside. 
 
 Young Dick Woo ton was one of these, and we 
 
70 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 can imagine him gaping at the doorway of Hiram 
 Young's wagon shop, feasting his eyes upon the 
 life which he had come many miles to see. Hiram 
 Young was a colored man who did a thriving 
 business in the manufacture and sale of over- 
 land paraphernalia. 
 
 Among other things which Dick saw was a 
 caravan belonging to three brothers by the name 
 of Bent, who were about to start for a "fort," 
 or hunting and trapping station, which they had 
 established in the Rockies near the headwaters 
 of the Upper Arkansas. 
 
 These Bent brothers fill a goodly space in 
 the history of that time, and indeed it would 
 be difficult to tell the story of any of the west- 
 ern scouts without mentioning them, for almost 
 all of them, from the famous Kit Carson down, 
 were mixed up with the Bents in some w^ay or 
 other, usually as hunters. 
 
 A halo of adventure and romance hung over 
 these worthy traders; visions of their remote 
 post in the wilderness arose in the mind of 
 young Dick Wooton, and he felt that come what 
 might, he could not allow their caravan to depart 
 without him. 
 
 If he wished for a life of adventure he was 
 certainly on the right track, and he then and 
 there began his long career as a western scout 
 and hunter, which continued until he was al- 
 most ninety years of age. Old Uncle Dick, 
 
UNCLE DICK WOOTON 71 
 
 famous among his comrades albeit his renown 
 seems not to have gone far forth into the world, 
 died in his remote home high among the Rockies. 
 
 By that time the Atchison, Topeka and Santa 
 Fe Railroad, following the line of the Old Trail 
 through the mountains which he had followed 
 for so many years before the breath of steam 
 had blighted the old romance, passed almost by 
 his door; and the old scout, sitting before his 
 cabin, could watch the steel giants puffing out 
 their lungs as they drew their less romantic 
 caravan of prosy freight cars up the tortuous 
 way. And though his place in history is ob- 
 scure, he did not die unheralded and unsung; 
 for one of those great freight locomotives was 
 named " Uncle Dick," in honor of him, and he 
 used to watch for it with the same eagerness, 
 albeit with eyes weakened by age, as he had 
 watched the bordering rocks for lurking sav- 
 ages in his active days. 
 
 I am not so sure but that I should rather have 
 a locomotive named after me than to be given 
 a humble spot in some history or other, for a 
 locomotive makes a great deal of noise in the 
 world and carries one's name a long way. 
 
 Let us glance at a few incidents in Uncle 
 Dick's long and varied career. 
 
 It is not hard to understand why the brothers 
 Bent agreed to take him along when he naively 
 informed them that he could shoot out a squir- 
 
72 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 rel's right eye — or his left one, for that matter, 
 they might take their choice. 
 
 He went in the capacity of teamster, and his 
 first essay with his rifle did not contribute to 
 his glory. One night, as the caravan was pass- 
 ing through the region of the Upper Arkansas, 
 it was Dick's turn to stand guard while the 
 train was corralled for the night. 
 
 It was customary to corral a caravan by form- 
 ing the mules in a circle, or in two or more 
 circles if there were enough of them, with the 
 wagon and the people inside. 
 
 Dick was ordered to keep a sharp lookout, and 
 to shoot any moving object which he discovered 
 outside the outer circle. You are to suppose 
 that after his vaunting squirrel 's-eye representa- 
 tion he justly considered himself on his mettle, 
 and was resolved that no "moving object" should 
 get away if he knew it. 
 
 At last, after a sleepless and uneventful watch 
 of several hours, young Dick became aware of 
 a "moving object" and he opened fire upon it 
 with commendable promptitude. 
 
 His shot aroused the sleeping travelers, and 
 it was presently discovered that Dick had killed 
 "Old Jack," one of the mules of the caravan! 
 He protested that he was not to blame, since 
 lie had followed instructions implicitly, whereas 
 the mule had wilfully disobeyed the rules. 
 
 Before the end of that long journey, however, 
 
UNCLE DICK WOOTON 73 
 
 Dick retrieved himself somewhat by helping to 
 save the other mules from thieving Indians. 
 
 Of all the notorious pilferers from time im- 
 memorial, there have been none to compare with 
 the Comanches. These noble warriors, whose 
 prowess has been the theme of song and story, 
 were in plain fact a crew of contemptible thieves 
 whose valiant deeds were nearly always inci- 
 dental to their sordid thefts. 
 
 "When the travelers had reached a point along 
 the Trail called Pawnee Forks they were sur- 
 prised one night by a large band of this tribe, 
 who descended upon them shrieking like so many 
 demons in the hope of frightening and stamped- 
 ing the animals, which it was their intention to 
 steal. 
 
 Not a single mule did they get, but they re- 
 ceived instead a generous shower of lead, and 
 young Dick Wooton did not stint his contribu- 
 tion of rifle balls. He killed his first Comanche 
 that night. 
 
 In good time the caravan arrived at its desti- 
 nation and Dick remained at the Fort as assist- 
 ant to the proprietors, who had grown very fond 
 of him on the long journey. 
 
 Here he met the group of hunters and trap- 
 pers who made their headquarters at the Fort, 
 and here began his lifelong friendship with Kit 
 Carson, chief among them. 
 
 He accompanied the brothers on many of their 
 
74 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 trading trips among the Indians, learned the 
 indistinct trails which wound through the moun- 
 tains, and acquitted himself well as a tracker 
 and hunter. 
 
 But the relations of the Bent brothers with 
 the Indians were not confined wholly to trading, 
 for on the vast prairies and among the fast- 
 nesses of the adjacent foothills there lurked al- 
 ways the treacherous and bloody Pawnees, and 
 the hunter who ventured forth from the Fort 
 alone did so at his peril. 
 
 On one occasion Dick Wooton and seven other 
 men were sent along the Trail to meet and con- 
 voy a caravan which was expected to bring sup- 
 plies for the Fort. They soon discovered that 
 a band of Pawnees was also waiting, lured to 
 the old highway by visions of stolen mules and 
 other commodities from the eastern marts of 
 civilization. 
 
 They were doomed to disappointment. The 
 scouts were well mounted, and though the Paw- 
 nees greatly outnumbered them and received 
 them with volley after volley of arrows, they 
 were no match for the crack shots from Bent's 
 Fort, and thirteen of them were killed in short 
 order. 
 
 It happened just at that juncture that the 
 caravan appeared from beyond a small divide, 
 and the Pawnees who had been fortunate enough 
 to escape the rifle shot of the hunters ran pell- 
 
UNCLE DICK WOOTON 75 
 
 mell for the wagons, seeking the protection of 
 the party they had intended to waylay ! Strange 
 to say, they were allowed to go free in accord- 
 ance with a custom which prevailed along the 
 Old Trail never to deal harshly with one who 
 came seeking hospitality. 
 
 It is conceivable that hospitality may be car- 
 ried too far! 
 
 Another interesting experience occurred while 
 Uncle Dick was on his way from the Fort to 
 trade with the Ute Indians. He had with him 
 seven white men and a friendly Shawnee Indian. 
 This Shawnee cherished a bitter grudge against 
 the Utes, who had lately murdered one of his 
 brethren. 
 
 One might suppose that in his revengeful state 
 of mind he was not the ideal one to accompany 
 Uncle Dick's party, and so it proved, for the 
 moment he set eyes upon a Ute brave his anger 
 got the better of him and he killed the Ute 
 without regard to the effect of his deed upon 
 the prospective customers. Whatever may be 
 said of his righteous anger, he was woefully 
 lacking in tact and not cut out for a states- 
 man. 
 
 The nearest Ute village was not far distant, 
 and after the Shawnee's act it was hardly to 
 be supposed that the villagers would be in a 
 mood for trading. So Uncle Dick abandoned 
 all thought of business negotiations and resolved 
 
76 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 to withdraw from the Utes' country with the 
 least possible delay. 
 
 But the infuriated Utes, having likewise 
 abandoned all thought of barter, were presently 
 on his trail, outnumbering the whites twenty 
 to one. They pursued the party across the 
 open prairies where it was quite impossible for 
 Dick to make up for his weakness in numbers 
 by obtaining a vantage point, and the plight 
 of his little company was desperate enough. 
 
 As it was also out of the question to out- 
 distance the pursuers by reason of the heavily 
 laden pack-mules, Dick soon resolved on the 
 only course possible, however perilous that 
 might be. He made a stand, corralling the 
 animals in a circle, with the tempting wares 
 which he had brought as a sort of outer wall 
 to tantalize, we may suppose, as well as con- 
 found the pursuing host. 
 
 The eight men, including the wretched Pawnee, 
 took their stand within the enclosure and bravely 
 awaited the issue. 
 
 The Utes were soon upon them, circling about 
 the little makeshift stockade and keeping up a 
 lively fire. The white men replied and their 
 trusty rifles, albeit few in number, worked havoc 
 among the yelling savages, most of whose arrows 
 fell short or miscarried. 
 
 Screeching and dancing have always been a 
 conspicuous feature of Indian military science, 
 
UNCLE DICK WOOTON 77 
 
 and while the Utes kept up their ear-splitting 
 clamor and tripped their wild fantastic without, 
 the little party within was busy picking them 
 off and killing their horses by the dozens. 
 
 At last the Utes gave up in despair, and cast- 
 ing many a rueful glance upon the good things 
 which they might have had through the exercise 
 of a little forbearance, they left their dead com- 
 panions and horses and returned on foot to their 
 village. 
 
 Not the least remarkable and creditable of all 
 Uncle Dick's feats was the hewing out of a road 
 through the Eaton Pass to enable caravans with 
 wagons to make the same short-cut through the 
 mountains as that taken by the pack-mule trains. 
 
 In this undertaking he proved himself indeed 
 a scout, blazing the way for civilization and com- 
 merce. The State of Colorado gave him permis- 
 sion to go ahead with his plan and when the road 
 was completed to collect tolls as his own remu- 
 neration and to keep his mountain highway in 
 repair. 
 
 Uncle Dick's great dream came true. In good 
 time the road was completed, one of the most 
 rugged and remarkable roads in the world, and 
 old Uncle Dick (he was old Uncle Dick by that 
 time) built himself a home on the top of the 
 mountain, where he hunted and trapped and 
 collected his tolls from the caravans and pack 
 trains, and lived out the balance of his useful 
 
78 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 life high up in his wild remote home, far from 
 the haunts of men. 
 
 A romantic figure the old man must have been 
 to travelers from the East when he stepped from 
 his rough cabin to chat with them as they wound 
 their way through his rocky domain en route 
 to quaint old Santa Fe. To him was due the 
 credit for shortening their tedious and monoto- 
 nous journey of many weeks, and it was alto- 
 gether proper and appropriate that when that 
 still greater time-saver, the locomotive, came it 
 should bear the name of Uncle Dick. 
 
 He himself tells of his experiences as guardian 
 of that lofty, rock-ribbed road before the railway 
 came. 
 
 ". . . I had five classes of patrons to do busi- 
 ness with," he said. " There was the stage 
 company and its employees, the freighters, the 
 military authorities, who marched troops and 
 supplies over the road, the Mexicans and the 
 Indians." 
 
 He had an easy time of it with the first three 
 classes, he tells us, but "with the Indians . . . 
 I didn't care to have any controversy about so 
 small a matter as a few dollars toll. Whenever 
 they came along, the gate went up, and any other 
 little thing I could do to hurry them on was 
 done promptly and cheerfully." 
 
 He was a wise toll-gate keeper, was old Uncle 
 Dick. 
 
UNCLE DICK WOOTON 79 
 
 "My Mexican patrons were the hardest to get 
 along with," he goes on; and we can readily 
 believe that. "They were pleased with my road 
 and liked to travel over it, nntil they came to 
 the toll-gate. 
 
 "They naturally differed with me frequently 
 about the propriety of complying with my re- 
 quest. . . . Such differences had to be adjusted. 
 Sometimes I did it through diplomacy and some- 
 times I did it with a club." 
 
 We cannot refrain from quoting Uncle Dick's 
 own account of a stage coach robbery on his 
 remote mountain which had all of the approved 
 romantic quality of a hold-up by the renowned 
 Robin Hood of old. 
 
 "One of the most daring and successful stage 
 robberies that I remember was perpetrated by 
 two men when the east-bound coach was coming 
 up on the south side of the Raton Mountains 
 one day about ten o'clock in the forenoon. 
 
 "On the morning of the same day, a little 
 after sunrise, two rather genteel-looking fellows, 
 mounted on fine horses, rode up to my house 
 and asked for breakfast. ... I knew then, just 
 as well as I do now, they were robbers, but I 
 had no warrant for their arrest, and I should 
 have hesitated about serving it if I had because 
 they looked like very unpleasant men to transact 
 that kind of business with. Each of them had 
 
80 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 four pistols sticking in his belt and a repeating 
 rifle strapped on his saddle." 
 
 We can appreciate one's disinclination to 
 serve a warrant on such men. 
 
 "They had little to say while eating. . . . 
 Wlien they had finished they paid their bills 
 and rode leisurely up the mountain. 
 
 "It did not occur to me that they would take 
 chances on stopping the stage in daylight or 
 I should have sent someone to meet the incom- 
 ing coach. . . . 
 
 "It turned out, however, that a daylight rob- 
 bery was just what they had in mind, and they 
 made a success of it. 
 
 "About half-way down the New Mexico side of 
 the mountain, where the canyon is very narrow, 
 and was then heavily wooded on their side, the 
 robbers stopped and waited for the coach. It 
 came lumbering along by and by, neither the 
 drivers nor the passengers dreaming of the 
 hold-up. 
 
 "The first intimation they had of such a thing 
 was when they saw two men step into the road, 
 one on each side of the stage, each of them 
 holding two cocked revolvers, one of which was 
 brought to bear on the passengers and the other 
 on the driver, who were politely but very posi- 
 tively told that they must throw up their hands 
 without any unnecessary delay, and the stage 
 came to a standstill. 
 
UNCLE DICK WOOTON 81 
 
 " There were four passengers in the coach, 
 all men, bnt their hands went np at the same 
 instant that the driver dropped his reins and 
 struck an attitude that suited the robbers. 
 
 1 'Then, while one of the men stood guard, the 
 others stepped up to the stage and ordered the 
 treasure box thrown off. This demand was com- 
 plied with, and the box was broken and rifled 
 of its contents, which fortunately were not of 
 very great value. 
 
 "The passengers were compelled to hand out 
 their watches and other jewelry, as well as what 
 money they had in their pockets, and then the 
 driver was directed to move up the road. In 
 a minute after this the robbers had disappeared 
 with their booty and that was the last seen of 
 them by that particular coach-load of passen- 
 gers.' ' 
 
 It is pleasant to know that these "genteel- 
 looking" scoundrels met an untimely death even 
 though the law did not overtake them. They 
 were later killed by one of their own confeder- 
 ates who hoped thus to win a reward of a thou- 
 sand dollars which had been offered for their 
 capture. 
 
 It was amid such scenes as this and in con- 
 tinual proximity to the most lawless and des- 
 perate characters — Indians, Mexicans and train 
 robbers— that old Uncle Dick spent the declin- 
 ing years of his adventurous career, hunting 
 
82 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 and trapping when the spirit of the old days 
 became too strong to be resisted and watching 
 the sun go down beyond the rugged peaks of 
 his beloved Eocky Mountains. 
 
 "When he was too old and feeble to give an 
 account of himself as he had done so often in 
 younger days, the old scout was still protected, 
 in a measure at least, by a sacred law of the 
 Arapahoe Indians — his friends and neighbors of 
 that lonely Baton Kouge. 
 
 One of their chiefs to whom Dick had once 
 done a kindness had summoned his warriors 
 about his dying couch and made them promise 
 that old Cut Hand, as they called Dick Wooton, 
 should never suffer harm at their hands, not 
 even if the tribe should be at war with the whole 
 world of white men. 
 
 It is a fine thing to be able to protect oneself 
 with a trusty rifle or a strong right arm. But 
 perhaps it is finer still to earn protection through 
 friendship and kindness, for such protection 
 lasts, as it lasted with rough old Uncle Dick 
 W r ooton, when the arm is withered and the old 
 rifle is rusted and rotted away. 
 
Century Co. Drawn by Frederic Remington. 
 
 TRAPPERS CROSSING THE ROCKIES. 
 
WILLIAM F. CODY 
 (buffalo bill) 
 
 Picturesque career of one of the most familiar of all scouts, 
 and his adventures in the West. 
 
 High up among the Kockies in the city of 
 Denver, Colorado, there died on the tenth of 
 January, 1917, an old man with flowing hair 
 as white as snow, whose magnificent frame and 
 iron nerve had enabled him to defy death for 
 many weeks. But at last the stout heart which 
 had never wavered or known a pang of fear 
 ceased to beat, and one of the greatest scouts 
 the world has ever known was no more. 
 
 It was altogether a singular occurrence. Not 
 that there was anything extraordinary in the fact 
 of Buffalo Bill's dying, for he had passed his 
 three-score years and ten. But his dying peace- 
 fully in a bed — that was the surprising thing; 
 for by all the rules of the game he should have 
 been killed a dozen times in the open air — on 
 the prairie, or in the rocky fastnesses which he 
 knew so well. Tomahawks, arrows and bullets 
 had whizzed about him for half a century or so. 
 Horses had been killed under him; his great 
 
 83 
 
84 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 sombrero had been shot full of holes, and yet 
 not until he was good and ready, as one might 
 say, did he lie down peacefully and die, just as 
 anyone else might have done. 
 
 We may be sure that he was not afraid to 
 die, since he had lived on familiar terms with 
 death for so long. 
 
 Napoleon once said, "I am the State !" mean- 
 ing that he was the whole of France — with per- 
 haps something left over. It would have come 
 nearer to the truth if Buffalo Bill had said, "I 
 am the Wild "West!" For while we can think 
 of France without Napoleon, it is difficult to 
 think of the "Wild West" without Buffalo Bill. 
 
 He was its central figure — its very spirit. 
 The West was a vast stage on which he enacted 
 some of the most daring and extraordinary 
 exploits in the whole history of the world. He 
 was America's greatest and most picturesque 
 scout; and he was the last of her long line of 
 scouts. There may be other Napoleons. There 
 may be other General Grants. There can never 
 be another Buffalo Bill. 
 
 The adventurous life of William Frederick 
 Cody began in Scott County, Iowa, on February 
 26th, 1845. Seven years later his father, Isaac 
 Cody, moved his family to Kansas. 
 
 It does not require a telescope to see whence 
 young William came by his bold and adventur- 
 ous spirit, for his father was the typical fron- 
 
WILLIAM F. CODY 85 
 
 tiersman, possessing unlimited courage, a bound- 
 less love of adventure, and very little money. 
 
 Kansas was a very remote and wild place in 
 those days, and here William's father established 
 a trading-post on the plains. Scarce a week 
 passed but the young boy saw caravans of Mor- 
 mons or gold-seekers crossing the vast prairies, 
 and doubtless from his lonesome home he 
 watched the plodding horses and lumbering 
 canvas-hooded wagons grow out of mere specks 
 on the horizon till they brought up at his father 's 
 isolated abode for supplies. 
 
 That was when little Bill Cody first saw the 
 typical frontiersman in all his romantic glory 
 of leather stockings and sombrero, long hair and 
 pistols. 
 
 Young Bill made up his mind that come what 
 might his hair should never be shorn, though 
 little did the youngster dream that the day was 
 to come when his flowing locks should be famil- 
 iar the world over. 
 
 There were a good many sectional disputes 
 in Kansas in those days, and these were usually 
 settled, not by the courts, but by the quicker 
 and more decisive method of pistol shots. In 
 one of these sanguinary, miniature wars the 
 elder Cody lost his life and the young son was 
 left the only support of his mother. 
 
 Young William got a job carrying stores across 
 the plains to army posts, and it was while so 
 
86 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 engaged that he had his first experience in 
 Indian fighting and killed his first Indian. He 
 was but twelve years old at the time. The 
 Mormons had taken possession of the country 
 which is now Utah, and a wagon-train of pro- 
 visions was being rushed to a detachment of 
 Uncle Sam's troops who were campaigning 
 against these grim and heartless fanatics. 
 
 The party was attacked by a strong force of 
 Indians; the horses were stampeded, and the 
 plainsmen forced to fight their way along a se- 
 ries of high bluffs to Fort Kearney, about forty 
 miles away. 
 
 One by one, the gallant men were picked off. 
 Young William, mere boy that he was, stood the 
 strain of those terrible hours like a hero, but 
 as night came on he found himself alone and 
 his strength was ebbing fast. It was a predica- 
 ment to strike terror to the stoutest heart. 
 
 About midnight he saw the dim form of an 
 Indian creeping stealthily along the bluff above 
 him, and peering at him cruelly. Quick as a 
 flash young Cody fired. The night was rent by 
 a savage yell as the Indian, with Cody's bullet 
 in his brain, tumbled off the ledge and lay dead 
 almost at the boy's feet. 
 
 Having proved that mere Indians were no 
 obstacles to him in the prosecution of his ap- 
 pointed errands, young William, as you may well 
 suppose, came to be in great demand upon the 
 
WILLIAM F. CODY 87 
 
 plains and trails where lurking dangers awaited 
 the timorous wayfarer. 
 
 He next accepted a job as a pony express 
 rider over the old Salt Lake Trail, where he 
 soon made a reputation for himself as a guide, 
 and in dealing with road agents and outwitting 
 bands of hostile Indians. The red men came 
 to know him and gave him a wide berth. 
 
 But great things were about to happen in the 
 Nation and young Cody hit the devious and 
 bloody trail which was to lead him through the 
 dreadful Civil War. 
 
 When hostilities began between the North and 
 South, William enlisted as a private in the 
 Seventh Kansas Cavalry. He was one of the 
 band which became known to the Union and 
 to the Confederate troops as the Jayhawkers. 
 
 As you may suppose, he was an expert horse- 
 man, and even in those early days of his life 
 he presented an impressive figure as he sat upon 
 his horse with that quiet mien which was to be- 
 come so familiar to the world in later years, 
 when the superbly proportioned, keen-eyed, hand- 
 some man, with flowing locks and great sombrero, 
 sat with quiet dignity upon his white horse and 
 responded modestly to the applause of millions. 
 You cannot even think of Buffalo Bill without 
 his horse — any more than you can think of a 
 pirate without his earrings and his red ban- 
 danna. 
 
88 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 The war had not lasted a year when young 
 Cody became chief of scouts under General Cur- 
 tis, with headquarters in St. Louis; and it was 
 here that there befell the handsome young scout 
 the most important adventure of his life. 
 
 Eiding one morning through the streets of the 
 city, he came upon a party of drunken soldiers 
 who were annoying a group of schoolgirls. One 
 of these, an exceedingly pretty girl, was scream- 
 ing and wringing her hands in terror. Scout 
 Cody had not the slightest fear of Indian war- 
 whoops, but he was such a coward that he could 
 not listen to the sound of a girl crying. 
 
 So he rode up and ordered the drunken sol- 
 diers to disperse. And right then the drunken 
 soldiers made the great mistake of their lives; 
 for they hooted at the young horseman, ridicul- 
 ing him, and making merry over his peremptory 
 order, whereupon young Cody, who invariably 
 followed words with action (leaving a very small 
 space between), knocked three of them senseless, 
 one after another, in rapid succession. The rest 
 of them were seized suddenly with the sober 
 second thought, and dispersed with lightning 
 agility, leaving the young scout master of the 
 situation. 
 
 The girl who had screamed did not run away, 
 but stood gazing upon the young horseman with 
 undisguised admiration. Young Cody offered to 
 see her safely to her home, and although there 
 
WILLIAM F. CODY 89 
 
 was no further danger from drunken soldiers, 
 she did not decline his offer. 
 
 She was an extremely pretty girl by the name 
 of Louise Frederica, the daughter of a French 
 exile in America, and having protected her as 
 far as her home, the young scout conceived that 
 it would be desirable to accompany her through 
 life. 
 
 Everything about William F. Cody was ro- 
 mantic. There is not a prosy thing in his his- 
 tory- Like a gallant knight of yore, one of the 
 true Bound-Table, King-Arthur brand, he mar- 
 ried Miss Louise Frederica and after the war 
 he took her out to the Salt Creek Valley in 
 Kansas, where he resumed the old frontier life 
 wiiich he loved so well. 
 
 In those days the Kansas Pacific Bailroad 
 was being constructed and the managers of the 
 great enterprise were experiencing difficulty in 
 feeding their great army of laborers who were 
 laying the rails across the vast, lonely prairie. 
 
 Having heard something of the redoubtable 
 plainsman with the long hair and the keen eye, 
 the railroad managers sent for him and asked 
 him if he could be of service to them in pro- 
 curing and transporting food for their multitude 
 of hungry workers. 
 
 'Will they eat buffalo meat?" asked Cody. 
 They will eat anything they can get enough 
 of," was the answer. 
 
 
90 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 "Then I will undertake to keep them sup- 
 plied," said Cody. 
 
 In the following eighteen months he killed 
 4,280 buffaloes, which extraordinary record won 
 him the title by which he came to be known the 
 world over, of "Buffalo Bill." 
 
 In the spring of 1868, he became again one 
 of Uncle Sam's scouts, acting as guide for the 
 Fifth Cavalry against the Sioux and Cheyenne s, 
 who w^ere beginning to show the sullen spirit 
 which ere long was to find vent in savage war- 
 fare. 
 
 Besides the assistance he was able to render 
 in subduing the red men, he found time during 
 the years between 1868 and 1872 to act as guide 
 to many overland emigrant parties, and his rep- 
 utation as a buffalo hunter became great in the 
 land. Instances of his prowess, strange tales 
 of his romantic and perilous adventures, were 
 circulated through the more populous East, and 
 people paused aghast and incredulous at the 
 extravagant reports of the buffalo hunts in 
 which he slew T his quarry by the thousands. 
 
 Travelers visiting the Far "West returned with 
 stories of the tall, silent, handsome horseman 
 whose adventurous career was like a tale of the 
 giants of yore. 
 
 Among the enthusiastic easterners for whom 
 he had acted as guide were Mr. August Belmont 
 and some other prominent gentlemen of New 
 
WILLIAM F. CODY 91 
 
 York, who invited the famous scout to visit the 
 metropolis. In due time he arrived there, clad 
 in buckskins, a picturesque embodiment of what 
 a scout and frontiersman was expected to be. 
 No writer of dime novels could have imagined 
 a more nearly perfect figure of pathfinder and 
 Indian fighter than Buffalo Bill presented in the 
 crowded thoroughfares of the great city. Peo- 
 ple followed him in the streets, boys dogged his 
 footsteps, as he strolled about with that quiet 
 dignity and unconcern which were characteristic 
 of him. 
 
 While upon this memorable visit, it chanced 
 that he was taken to a theatre where, to his 
 great surprise, an actor in buckskins appeared 
 on the stage as the "famous Buffalo Bill." The 
 enthusiastic reception accorded to this very poor 
 imitation of himself suggested to him the idea 
 of a real Wild West Show with the real Buffalo 
 Bill, in all his well-earned glory, at its head. 
 It was long before the idea became a reality, 
 but when at last it did materialize the fame of 
 the great scout made it a sensation and Buffalo 
 Bill's Wild West Show became an institution, 
 not only in America, but in Europe as well, 
 where boys who had no knowledge of our vast 
 western prairies, nor of scouts and Indians and 
 buffaloes, were enabled to see the overland stage 
 coach attacked in realistic fashion by hooting 
 wild men, and buffaloes lassoed with a skill and 
 
92 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 dexterity which were nothing less than marvel- 
 ous in their thrilling reality. 
 
 In 1872, William Cody, now a colonel, was 
 elected to the Nebraska Legislature. Later on, 
 when the Grand Duke Alexis, of Kussia, came 
 to America, Cody was selected to act as his 
 guide on a hunting trip. In 1876, the warlike 
 Sioux became troublesome and Buffalo Bill went 
 back to Uncle Sam's army as chief of scouts. 
 
 It was in the spring of the year 1876, at the 
 Battle of Indian Creek, that Buffalo Bill per- 
 formed one of his most famous exploits. He 
 was at the time serving under General Crooke, 
 who had made ready to attack the Indians in 
 a large open place. Suddenly a Sioux chief, 
 superbly mounted, galloped fearlessly into the 
 open, and looking with sneering defiance upon 
 the scout, challenged him to ride forth. 
 
 "I know you, Pa-he-haska ! " * he shouted. 
 "Come out if you dare and fight me!" 
 
 The chief was Yellow Hand, a noted warrior 
 whom Cody knew well. Before General Crooke 
 could interfere, and to the amazement of all 
 beholders, the scout rode forward, bestriding 
 his horse with leisurely mien, his keen eye fixed 
 upon the chief, who was taken aback at this 
 prompt acceptance of his challenge. 
 
 Shot after shot Cody fired as he urged his 
 horse forward. The Indian's horse toppled over 
 
 *Long Hair. 
 
WILLIAM F. CODY 93 
 
 dead. Cody's charger stumbled and fell, throw- 
 ing his rider. Then Yellow Hand and Buffalo 
 Bill rushed toward each other on foot, Yellow 
 Hand with a tomahawk, the scout with his hunt- 
 ing knife ; and in a desperate hand-to-hand grap- 
 ple Buffalo Bill drove his knife into the Indian's 
 heart. 
 
 Fifteen years later, during the fierce Sioux 
 outbreak that centered about Pine Ridge Agency, 
 in Colorado, Colonel Cody and his friend Major 
 Burke were of inestimable service to the gov- 
 ernment. 
 
 Buffalo Bill took part in more Indian battles 
 than any other American scout or soldier. He 
 was, however, a true friend of the red men when 
 they kept faith and avoided the warpath. Every 
 Indian of the great West knew him and trusted 
 him. They knew he would make good either 
 threat or promise and they believed in him and 
 feared him. 
 
 In 1890-91 occurred the most frightful out- 
 break of the warlike and treacherous Sioux. It 
 began with a " ghost dance" instigated by the 
 wily old chief, Sitting Bull, who knew that in 
 their excitement the braves would presently 
 make of it a war dance. This indeed came to 
 pass, and soon the night was made horrible by 
 their savage yells. 
 
 In this outbreak Buffalo Bill took the field 
 resplendent in the uniform of a brigadier-gen- 
 
94 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 eral. A friendly Indian chief called on him one 
 day to pay his respects. 
 
 "You big general now, too, Bill?" said he. 
 
 "Yes," said the scont, drawing his magnifi- 
 cent frame to its full height. "I'm a general 
 
 now. ' ' 
 
 
 Big — much big general — same as Crooke?' : 
 No, I'm a general in the National Guard," 
 replied Cody. 
 
 The chief looked at him for a minute in sur- 
 prise. "M'lish! Oh, hell! You much biggest 
 general," said he. 
 
 Indeed, it Ts doubtful if Julius Csesar himself 
 could have won the reputation for military skill 
 which the American Indians cheerfully accorded 
 to William F. Cody. 
 
 Almost every famous scout is chiefly known 
 for some conspicuously heroic episode in his 
 career. But William F. Cody was conspicuous 
 and picturesque because of his whole career. 
 Any one decade of his amazing life is about as 
 full of adventure as another. To describe them 
 all would be to fill a volume. 
 
 He became not only famous, but a national 
 character; and his superb physique and mien of 
 simple dignity, his picturesque presence, and 
 gentle modesty in the face of the world's ap- 
 plause won him the love of the country whose 
 flag he guarded so well and whose outposts he 
 helped to push still farther westward. 
 
WILLIAM F. CODY 95 
 
 It was in 1883 that he organized the great 
 Wild West Show that became world-famous. 
 There were some who were sorry to see the 
 romantic scont and pathfinder become a show- 
 man, and this indeed might have been the feel- 
 ing throughout the country had it not been for 
 the fact that his show became more than a show 
 and soon ranked as an institution of world-wide 
 renown. 
 
 This was because it was in the truest sense 
 a reproduction of the exploits which he had 
 enacted and the life which he had lived. They 
 were not actor cowboys who followed the trail 
 of Buffalo Bill in his famous tours, nor man- 
 ufactured Indians, nor broken-spirited buffaloes 
 out of zoological parks and prosy menageries. 
 The figure which bestrode the white charger was 
 the same Bill Cody who had killed Chief Yellow 
 Hand in that personal encounter. 
 
 But in July, 1913, began bitter days for the 
 old scout. The famous show had long since lost 
 its novelty and its popularity had begun to wane. 
 At last, after many business troubles and re- 
 verses, the celebrated show, last realistic sou- 
 venir of the Wild West which is no more, was 
 sold under the hammer, and the Indians were 
 sent back to government reservations. 
 
 There was, however, one bright spot for the 
 old scout. 
 
 His famous white horse, Isham, which he had 
 
96 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 ridden for twenty-five years, was bought in for 
 him by Colonel C. J. Bills, of Nebraska, an old 
 friend and admirer of the great plainsman. 
 
 "With this old companion, Isham, he retired 
 to a "Western ranch and there he spent the 
 greater part of his remaining days. 
 
 In Jnne, 1917, five months after his death, the 
 remains of Buffalo Bill were removed to the 
 tomb which had been prepared for them on 
 the top of a mountain near Denver in Colorado, 
 an appropriate spot for the grave of the man 
 who had served Uncle Sam so w T ell and bravely in 
 the country overlooked by that remote sepulchre. 
 
■•: z 
 
BELZY DODD 
 
 How he proved a timely friend to a caravan on the great 
 plains; of his pranks, his hair and his tin can, and how 
 they proved a saving grace to himself and others. 
 
 If it were not for the imimpeachable word 
 of Uncle Dick AVooton and some vagrant rem- 
 iniscences of the late Major Burke, we might 
 be inclined to regard Belzy Dodd as a myth. 
 
 Captain Crawford", the scout poet, also claimed 
 to have known him, though why he did not write 
 a poem about him it is not easy to understand. 
 Such a character as Belzy was quite as deserv- 
 ing of the preservative of verse as the Pied 
 Piper of Hamelin or the celebrated Old King 
 Cole. He was the low comedy scout of the 
 Southwest. 
 
 History contains no consecutive or full ac- 
 count of the exploits of Belzy Dodd; even Uncle 
 Dick, who met him at Bent's Fort along the 
 Arkansas, knew him only by his nickname of 
 Belzy, and his biographer must needs be sat- 
 isfied with little reminiscent crumbs picked up 
 here and there. 
 
 With these we shall endeavor to piece out a 
 fairly orderly account of his career. No one 
 knows where or when Belzy was born, or where 
 
 97 
 
98 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 and when he died, but he flourished contempo- 
 raneously with Kit Carson and that galaxy of 
 scouts and trappers who foregathered at the 
 famous trading-post of the Bents, called Bent's 
 Fort. Uncle Dick, indeed, saw him perform the 
 exploit which, repeated many times and under 
 diverse circumstances, won him fame in the 
 Eockies and along the Old Trail to Santa Fe. 
 
 Belzy first bobs into notice near Pawnee 
 Creek, along the Trail, where it runs parallel 
 with the Arkansas Eiver. A caravan of trad- 
 ers, who were on their way to Santa Fe, dis- 
 covered him in a canoe, and beckoning to him 
 asked him if there was much danger to be ap- 
 prehended from the Pawnee Indians along the 
 Trail. 
 
 They discovered Belzy to be a man of meagre 
 physique, extremely wiry, with darting black 
 eyes, and curly jet-black hair. 
 
 He told the traders that it was true the Paw- 
 nees were on the warpath, and recounted a recent 
 hold-up with attendant scalpings which must 
 have struck terror even to their stout hearts. 
 
 He then went on to tell them that he was a 
 scout of no mean attainments, possessing a talis- 
 man against Pawnees and all other Indians, and 
 concluding his unblushing self-praises with an 
 offer to be their guide to Santa Fe. 
 
 Finding him of a waggish turn, and judging 
 by his rifle and buckskin that he was indeed a 
 
BELZY DODD 99 
 
 scout, the traders readily assented to his join- 
 ing their party, and it soon became apparent, 
 notwithstanding his whimsical caprices, that he 
 was thoroughly familiar with the mountains and 
 the plains. 
 
 On their monotonous plodding across the prai- 
 ries he contributed not a little to their beguile- 
 ment by his eccentric manner and highly flavored 
 yarns. 
 
 The history of the plains and of the frontier 
 contains little of humor; the times and circum- 
 stances were too strenuous and grim for laugh- 
 ter and merrymaking; and though the coaching 
 stations and the lonely fort of the Bents were 
 often the scenes of rough rejoicings and crude 
 practical jests, we search in vain for any of the 
 more delicate incentives to mirth among those 
 rough plainsmen and hardy mountaineers. 
 
 Belzy Dodd, as good a comedian as he was 
 a scout, must have been a refreshing innovation 
 to those who met with him in the lonely rocky 
 fastnesses or the dry toilsome plains. 
 
 Such, indeed, his hosts of the lumbering car- 
 avan found him, for as they labored on he 
 beguiled the tedium of the journey with a hun- 
 dred wanton antics and conceits. 
 
 Now he gave an exhibition of his agility by 
 running alongside a buffalo, clipping off some 
 of its hair with his hunting-knife, and presently 
 appearing on the opposite side of the beast with 
 
100 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 these clippings improvised into mustache and 
 whiskers, to the delight. of the children of the 
 caravan, who found in his whimsical disguise 
 a source of great hilarity. 
 
 Again he would imitate the call of the prairie 
 dog, confounding that animal himself with the 
 truthfulness of his mimicry; or, perchance, he 
 would render an Indian war dance, or, in soberer 
 mood, offer a demonstration of marksmanship 
 which won the admiration of his hosts. 
 
 Such was Belzy Dodd, whose prowess was in 
 full proportion to his drollery and whose rifle 
 shot as well as his clownish pranks invariably 
 hit the mark. 
 
 In the course of time the caravan reached the 
 point in its journey where Indian attack was 
 most likely to occur and, notwithstanding the 
 reassuring words of Belzy that he would protect 
 them and his vague references to his mysterious 
 talisman, the traders were not deterred from 
 making preparations against a surprise. 
 
 "When they asked Belzy about his talisman 
 he answered with a darkly significant wink, and 
 one could hardly blame the apprehensive travel- 
 ers if they reposed more confidence in his rifle 
 than in any mystic charm which he claimed to 
 possess. 
 
 One night the party corraled their mules in 
 the customary prairie fashion, forming them into 
 a ring with the wagons and people inside. Then, 
 
BELZY DODD 101 
 
 leaving one of their number to patrol the cir- 
 cular encampment, they retired to rest. 
 
 It was just as the first glimmering of the dawn 
 had begun to dispel the darkness in the East that 
 the travelers were startled out of their sleep by 
 the sharp report of a rifle. Bousing themselves 
 hurriedly, the men sallied forth to find their 
 guard lying upon the ground groaning from the 
 effects of a cruel wound while all about, in the 
 dim light, they beheld the appalling spectacle of 
 a score or more of savage forms brandishing 
 their tomahawks and making the early morning 
 frightful with their mad cavorting and savage 
 war-whoops. 
 
 The traders lost no time in opening fire from 
 behind their improvised fortress and the trusty 
 rifle of Belzy Dodd, who was among the first 
 to rise, had brought down two of the assailants 
 before his companions fully realized what was 
 happening. 
 
 The shots now fell thick and fast; two of the 
 traders were slightly wounded and one other 
 who had ventured without to help the stricken 
 guard was shot dead. 
 
 It soon became evident that the attacking band 
 had been merely a small party sent ahead by a 
 formidable body of Pawnees, who now arrived 
 in full force, and the predicament of the traders 
 became perilous in the extreme. 
 
 Whether, in their desperate extremity, it oc- 
 
102 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 cur red to any of them to demand of Belzy Dodd 
 that he make good his promise of a saving talis- 
 man, we are not told. Completely surrounded 
 by an overwhelming force, they fought gallantly, 
 reposing their faith in their rifles and satisfied, 
 no doubt, to see their guide and guest ply the 
 foe so effectively with his. 
 
 Suddenly they were aghast to behold Belzy 
 drop his rifle and, pulling his hunting-knife from 
 his belt, dash recklessly forth through the line 
 of mules and wagons, uttering such deafening 
 and demoniacal yells as had never before as- 
 sailed their ears. 
 
 Then, standing in the open with the shrieking 
 savages all about him, and before they had a 
 chance to recover from their surprise at his bold- 
 ness, he ran his hunting-knife around under the 
 edge of his hair, and with a frantic shriek tore 
 off his jet-black curly shock (which was nothing 
 more than a wig) and waved it excitedly about 
 him. 
 
 The consternation of the Indians when they 
 beheld Belzy 's shiny pate and the hair and hunt- 
 ing-knife which he flourished, cannot be de- 
 scribed. At the appalling spectacle of this self- 
 scalped man yelling and cavorting before them, 
 they fled in panic fright, accompanying their 
 confused retreat with such clamor as never be- 
 fore had been heard upon the plains. 
 
 Bolzy Dodd was not one to rest upon his in- 
 
. 
 
 ■HBH *<> 
 
BELZY DODD 103 
 
 itial laurels, like so many heroes but, encouraged 
 by the effect of his exploit, he pursued the terror- 
 stricken Pawnees with great zest and relish, 
 waving his ghastly souvenir like a flaunting 
 emblem and shrieking like a very demon in their 
 wake. In their precipitous stampede one of the 
 Indians stumbled and fell and lay trembling 
 until a comrade raised him to his feet. 
 
 Neither history nor tradition tell us how far 
 the disorganized retreat of the terrified Pawnees 
 continued, but judging from the character of 
 its beginning we may safely aver, in the familiar 
 words of the old song, that "they never stopped 
 running until they got home." 
 
 As for Belzy, after half an hour or so had 
 elapsed he sauntered unconcernedly into camp, 
 swinging his wig in his hand, and with beads 
 of heroic perspiration standing out on his glossy 
 pate — the honored testimonials of his triumphant 
 rout. 
 
 To say that Belzy now became the hero of 
 the caravan would be stating it mildly. To the 
 grateful traders his bald head, that proverbial 
 subject of unseemly jest, was encircled with a 
 halo and viewed as the very symbol of rescue 
 and deliverance. 
 
 No golden amulet worn by doughty knight 
 of yore was ever contemplated with such feel- 
 ings of reassurance and security as was the 
 shining dome of Belzy Dodd, the ivory surface 
 
104 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 of which seemed to reflect a cheering guarantee 
 of future safety. 
 
 He had, so he explained, performed this trick 
 before, and always with results most gratifying, 
 although never with quite such salutary and 
 striking success as that which rewarded his ex- 
 hibition before the murderous Pawnees. 
 
 Thereafter, among the Indians in the neigh- 
 borhood of the Trail, Belzy y s fame was secure. 
 He became known as the white man who scalped 
 himself. That he could do this again and again 
 (as he subsequently did) and each time with 
 apparently a fresh crop of hair, served only to 
 increase their dismay and terror, and the sav- 
 ages, one and all, shunned him like a thing of 
 the devil. 
 
 Belzy accompanied the traders to Santa Fe, 
 where he received their grateful acknowledg- 
 ment of his sprightly companionship and timely 
 protection, and then proceeded, in accordance 
 with the frailties which are said to accompany 
 genius, to regale himself rather excessively with 
 the good things which that Mexican metropolis 
 had to offer. He then disappeared in the Eocky 
 Mountains and we find no further trace of him 
 until he reappeared at Bent's Fort some two or 
 three years later with a sumptuous collection of 
 pelts and an equally sumptuous assortment of 
 adventurous yarns. 
 
 Perhaps it was on that visit to the famous 
 
BELZY DODD 105 
 
 hunting and trading post (in any event, it was 
 during one of his numerous visits there) that 
 Belzy repeated his famous "act," to the great 
 amusement of old Uncle Dick Wooton and to 
 the consternation of the Indians who were 
 present. 
 
 "I don't know what his first name was," 
 Uncle Dick is reported to have said, "hut Belzy 
 was what we called him. His head was as bald 
 as a billiard ball, and he wore a wig. One day 
 while we were at Bent's Fort, while there were 
 a great number of Indians about, Belzy con- 
 cluded to have a bit of fun. He walked around, 
 eyeing the Indians fiercely for some time, then 
 finally dashing in among them, he gave a series 
 of war-whoops which discounted a Comanche 
 yell, and pulling off his wig, threw it down at 
 the feet of the astonished and terror-stricken 
 red men. The savages thought the fellow had 
 jerked off his own scalp, and not one of them 
 wanted to stay to see what would happen next. 
 They left the fort, running like so many scared 
 jackrabbits, and after that none of them could 
 be induced to approach anywhere near Dodd." 
 
 As for Belzy 's adventures in the Rockies, which 
 the sometimes dubious voice of tradition has 
 wafted down to us on the original authority 
 of his own reports, we can only say that if no 
 one can prove them to be true, neither can any- 
 one prove them to be untrue, and they are en- 
 
106 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 titled to sober record as long as they keep within 
 the bounds of reason. He was without doubt 
 a sprightly and ingenious soul, infusing into his 
 scouting and hunting exploits a dash of inven- 
 tiveness and humor which must have given 
 piquancy to his yarns and made him, like the 
 village schoolmaster of old, a welcome visitor 
 at every fireside. 
 
 On one occasion he had recourse to a variation 
 of that mischievous device of naughty boys, the 
 "tripping line," used, whilom, with such tragic 
 effect on the minister or the sister's beau, but 
 on this occasion only a dismayed grizzly bear 
 was the victim. 
 
 Belzy was fleeing as precipitately from the 
 furious beast, which he had wounded, as the 
 awestruck Pawnees had once fled before him, 
 having indeed no alternative but flight, since he 
 had despatched his last shot at the infuriated 
 animal. 
 
 He had gained somewhat on the beast and was 
 in a fair way to win the opposite side of the 
 ravine by means of a log which bridged it, if 
 he could only embarrass the grizzly's progress 
 and thereby gain more time. 
 
 How to do this puzzled even Belzy 's inge- 
 nious mind, but suddenly he bethought him of 
 that vicious trick which has proven the chagrin 
 of many a worthy pedestrian in the days when 
 wilful mischief was more prevalent than it is 
 
BELZY DODD 107 
 
 now. Perhaps visions of his own lively boy- 
 hood reminded Belzy of the classic cord with 
 its pendant tin can. 
 
 In any event, his wit, which was quite as 
 nimble as his scampering legs, did not desert 
 him in his predicament. 
 
 Never slackening his frantic pace, he unwound 
 a sufficient length of his fishing line to reach 
 across the trail and tied one end of it to a pail 
 which he had been carrying to a spring. Then, 
 pausing for a second or two, he fastened the 
 other end to a tree at a suitable height to en- 
 counter one or other of the shaggy legs of his 
 pursuer, and laid his pail on the opposite side 
 of the trail in such a position as to hold the line 
 taut. According to the classic formula he should 
 have had two cans, but all of the refinements of 
 civilization were not to be had in the Rocky 
 Mountains, and Belzy had, perforce, to make 
 shift with his single pail. 
 
 It was, however, a large pail and capable, as 
 pails go, of a variety of musical tones, from a 
 subdued and dulcet chime to an ear- split ting 
 din, and its strategic position in that rocky pass 
 greatly increased and varied the powers of its 
 performance. 
 
 Belzy, having scarcely paused, was now in full 
 swing again, " running on high" and casting oc- 
 casional furtive looks behind him like a speeding 
 autoist. 
 
108 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 Presently the terrible collision occurred. All 
 unsuspecting, the grizzly ran headlong against 
 the line, disdaining even to glance at such a mere 
 thread in his murderous path. 
 
 But he had reckoned without rue. The faith- 
 ful tin pail, jerked from its concealed seat by 
 the wayside, sprang like a tiger at bay straight 
 at the shaggy form which had given it life. 
 Enmeshing the legs of the astonished bear in a 
 complicated tangle of line, the pail, hauled and 
 thrown this way and that in the grizzly's fright 
 and rage, beat against the rocks, causing such 
 a deafening clang and clamor as had never be- 
 fore echoed in those silent places. 
 
 The more the grizzly lurched and rolled the 
 more incessant became the din and tumult; the 
 more he reared and snarled at the valiant pail, 
 the more hopeless became his entanglement, and 
 the louder that humble utensil answered him 
 in tones of ringing defiance. 
 
 Meanwhile, Belzy Dodd, pausing not to watch 
 this heroic conflict save by fugitive glances, 
 gained the opposite side of the cleft, from which 
 safe vantage point he presently saw the panic- 
 stricken bear lumbering along in pitiable fright 
 and perplexity, with the pail bobbing and danc- 
 ing in his wake. 
 
 There is no way of knowing how long this 
 musical appendage followed Bruin in his for- 
 agings about the Rockies. It would be strik- 
 
BELZY DODD 109 
 
 ingly romantic to conceive it as pursuing him 
 forever like a guilty conscience, dinging its mo- 
 notonous song in his weary ears and rousing 
 the echoes in his cavernous haunts. 
 
 But no doubt the distracted brute succeeded 
 in extricating himself from his unwelcome fol- 
 lower, and we may contemplate the more prosaic 
 picture of the doughty pail reposing, dented and 
 rusted, in some remote spot in the great range, 
 even to this very day. 
 
 As for Belzy, he escaped as he usually did 
 — minus his pail. No doubt such an ingenious 
 mind as his contrived to overcome this incon- 
 venience when he had time to pause and think. 
 
 Perhaps he was able to use his wig as a do- 
 mestic utensil when visiting the spring. This, 
 however, is only a random suggestion and has 
 no basis whatever in historical fact. 
 
GEOEGE CROGHAN 
 
 How lie disobeyed orders; how lie won over his superiors; 
 how he used his old sturdy six-pounder; together with 
 all the other particulars of his extraordinary defence 
 of Fort Stephenson. 
 
 It would be both pleasant and appropriate to 
 follow the sprightly adventures of that unique 
 scout, Belzy Dodd, with those of another scout 
 of similar mould, one Tom Quick, who, in the 
 good old days, was a hero of no small note in 
 Sussex County, in the northwestern corner of 
 New Jersey. The old inhabitants of that pic- 
 turesque region will to-day show you Tom 
 Quick's cave in the mountain, where he lay 
 concealed while the Indians hunted for him high 
 and low. The}^ will tell you how at last, when 
 the red men had succeeded in hunting him down 
 and surprised him in the act of splitting a log 
 with his axe, he proved still too wily for them 
 and made good his escape in the following ex- 
 traordinary manner. 
 
 Administering such a blow that his axe sank 
 deep into the log, he besought the guileless sav- 
 ages, on some pretext or other, to insert their 
 hands into the crevice, and when they had done 
 so he removed the axe with surprising dexterity 
 
 110 
 
GEORGE CROGHAN 111 
 
 and sauntered off while they wrenched and strug- 
 gled to free themselves from this very effective 
 trap. 
 
 Indeed, if one's credulity appears robust and 
 capable of heavy strain, the good people of that 
 district can give it a severer test still with other 
 instances of Tom Quick's phenomenal exploits, 
 and there is a musty old book somewhere or 
 other which tells of his deeds of derring-do. 
 
 This ancient volume, however, has proved quite 
 as elusive as Tom himself was, and as the tra- 
 ditions about him are rather hazy and extrava- 
 gant, we shall dismiss him from our pages with 
 this brief mention, notwithstanding that we had 
 indulged a certain neighborly pride in the hope 
 of presenting a true New Jersey scout. 
 
 We shall, then, turn our attention to Ohio, 
 where scout trails have been many and where 
 the somber backwoods and lonely borderland 
 were once replete with adventure; and our story 
 will be of Major George Croghan, whom we may 
 well call a boy scout, although he lived long 
 before the days of the "Be Prepared" motto 
 and the khaki uniform. 
 
 Those who have read the story of George 
 Rogers Clark will remember that the old fron- 
 tiersman died at the home of his sister, near 
 Louisville, on the Ohio River. 
 
 This sister was a Mrs. Croghan, and as if it 
 were not enough to have one of the bravest 
 
112 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 brothers that ever a proud sister possessed, she 
 must also be the mother of one of the most 
 redoubtable youngsters that ever disobeyed or- 
 ders and hurled defiance at his foemen and 
 elders. 
 
 In the same house in which his old uncle died 
 in 1818, George Croghan was born on the 15th 
 of November, 1791. 
 
 As we know, George Eogers Clark was a 
 brother of William Clark, of Lewis and Clark 
 fame. The elder Croghan had fought with dis- 
 tinction in the War of Independence; so, what 
 with his parent and his famous uncles, w T e may 
 infer that the boy who was destined to win fame 
 while still almost a stripling came naturally by 
 his adventurous and daring character. 
 
 Nor was lie backward in the gentler accom- 
 plishments, for he graduated from "William and 
 Mary College when he was eighteen, having 
 shown more love and aptitude for learning than 
 any of his trio of sturdy forebears. 
 
 Howbeit, he sought the woods and a life of 
 adventure, as so many boys did in those days, 
 and he was still under age when he got himself 
 mixed up with old Tippecanoe Harrison's fa- 
 mous expedition against the great Indian, Te- 
 cumseh, in 1811. So favorable w T as the impres- 
 sion which the young man made on Harrison 
 that the old Indian fighter made him his aide- 
 de-camp. 
 
GEORGE CROGHAN 113 
 
 But it was in the War of 1812 that young 
 Croghan performed the deed to which we shall 
 give particular attention in this tale. Though 
 a military operation, the remoteness of the scene 
 and the daring and romantic character of that 
 achievement bring the youthful hero within the 
 category of scouts, according to the rather elas- 
 tic meaning which we have here given to that 
 word. Indeed, if we were to confine ourselves 
 to the literal definition of the word scout we 
 should have to exclude some of our sturdiest 
 heroes and limit ourselves solely to men who 
 have gone ahead of armies to "scout" or obtain 
 information. In this sense the Boy Scouts would 
 not be scouts at all. We have inclined, there- 
 fore, to a rather liberal rule of admittance into 
 our galaxy and prefer to think of a scout as 
 one whose exploits of whatever character, be 
 they only adventurous, have been performed in 
 the lonely borderland of civilization. 
 
 In the wild country of northern Ohio, along 
 the headwaters of the Sandusky River and not 
 far from the shores of Lake Erie, there stood 
 in those days an old Indian stockade built with 
 wooden piles a dozen or more feet high and sur- 
 rounded by a ditch. This ramshackle structure, 
 which was dignified by the name of Fort Ste- 
 phenson, was about as much like a modern fort 
 as an ancient prairie stage-coach is like a modern 
 twin- six. 
 
114 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 Fort Stephenson stood on low ground close 
 to the Sandusky Kiver, and if it held pre-emi- 
 nence for any conspicuous quality, it was the 
 rather dubious one (for a fort) of being an 
 exceptionally good target, since it was sur- 
 rounded by high hills and was quite defense- 
 less against artillery. 
 
 If we ask why a "fort" was built in such 
 a place, the answer must be that it was not 
 built as a fort at all and also that artillery was 
 a rare luxury in the border fighting of those 
 romantic and adventurous days. 
 
 But Fort Stephenson, such as it was, was the 
 repository of valuable stores, and General Har- 
 rison, who was at Seneca Falls, some miles dis- 
 tant, had sent young Croghan to garrison the 
 old stockade. With him were one hundred and 
 sixty men, all youngsters like himself, full of 
 fight and patriotism, and ready to follow their 
 youthful commander to the ends of the earth. 
 
 In July, 1813, the British General Proctor, 
 with about three thousand Indians, including 
 the famous chief Tecumseh and some five hun- 
 dred British troops, advanced against the old 
 stockade with a covetous eye upon the valuable 
 stores which he knew the old chicken-coop of 
 a fort contained. 
 
 Of course, General Harrison knew what Proc- 
 tor was up to, which was just to surprise and 
 capture the place, then fall on his own force at 
 
GEORGE CROGHAN 115 
 
 Seneca Falls, and presto, have the whole vast 
 country of Ohio in the palm of his grasping 
 hand. 
 
 While there was yet time General Harrison 
 went np to take a look at Fort Stephenson and 
 see what kind of a defence it could put up against 
 the attack which was imminent. 
 
 He very promptly decided that it could not 
 put up any defence at all, and he therefore 
 directed young Croghan to evacuate it as soon 
 as it became certain that General Proctor was 
 on his way to attack it. 
 
 Croghan was fond of his old ramshackle fort 
 in the wilderness and he maintained a discreet 
 silence when his superior issued this wise order. 
 
 Shortly, the scouts whom General Harrison 
 had sent out returned to Seneca Falls to inform 
 him that Proctor, with his regulars and Indians, 
 was on the march, and he immediately des- 
 patched two messengers directing Croghan to 
 lose no time in destroying the stockade and 
 repairing at once to Seneca Falls. 
 
 The adventures of these messengers would 
 make a pretty good scout story in themselves. 
 They were lost in the woods; they were pur- 
 sued by savages, and after a hair's-breadth 
 escape they made their belated way to Fort 
 Stephenson and delivered General Harrison's 
 mandate to young Croghan. 
 
 The first thing that Croghan did after read- 
 
116 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 ing the message was to call his youthful com- 
 panions about him and ask them if they were 
 ready to stand by him in defending the fort. 
 They answered with alacrity that they were, 
 whereupon our young hero, who was stronger 
 on courage than on discipline, sent the follow- 
 ing note to General Harrison: 
 
 "Sib: 
 
 I have just received yours of yesterday, ten 
 o'clock P.M., ordering me to destroy this place 
 and make good my retreat, which was received 
 too late to be carried into execution. We have 
 determined to maintain this place, and by 
 Heavens, we can! 
 
 ?> 
 
 This was pretty good from a young man scarce 
 of age to old Tippecanoe, and it would be in- 
 teresting to know how the General felt when 
 he read it. In any event, we know what he did. 
 He sent an officer to supersede young George 
 and a small band of cavalry to accompany him 
 and to escort the insubordinate youth into his 
 stern presence. 
 
 The progress of this band of cavalry to Fort 
 Stephenson would also make a pretty good scout 
 story. It was not exactly a May walk. They 
 fought their way inch by inch through hostile 
 Indians, killing a dozen of them on their ardu- 
 ous journey up the river, and at last, after 
 numerous setbacks and a variety of adventures, 
 
GEORGE CROGHAN 117 
 
 tliey succeeded in reaching the fort, where they 
 delivered Tippecanoe's mandate to his doughty 
 insubordinate. 
 
 There was nothing, of course, for Croghan to 
 do but to obey, and he repaired, crestfallen, to 
 headquarters. We are to suppose that he was 
 quite as brave of tongue as of arm, and of a 
 clever tact to boot, for he straightway explained 
 to General Harrison that the defiant wording 
 of his missive had been intended not for that 
 stern old veteran's official eye, oh, dear, no, but 
 for the perusal of the enemy, and had been in- 
 tended to strike terror to the hearts of the foe. 
 
 "We may believe that General Harrison winked 
 the other eye on hearing this, but it is not im- 
 probable that he was impressed with young 
 Croghan 's reminder that delivery of the mes- 
 sage had been delayed and that the intervening 
 country in the meantime had become so infested 
 with hostile savages that a retreat through it 
 would have been most unwise and hazardous. 
 He begged that he might be allowed to hold his 
 precious fort, and so fond was General Harrison 
 of the enthusiastic young fellow that he forgave 
 his unruly conduct and consented to his going 
 back to his ramshackle old stockade to hurl de- 
 fiance at the British and Indian forces. 
 
 No schoolboy at the joyous threshold of va- 
 cation time ever repaired more gaily to his 
 sports than did young Croghan to his lonely, 
 
118 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 dilapidated fortress, where his companions, on 
 hearing of his conquest of old Tippecanoe, 
 greeted him with cheers and congratulations. 
 
 He now proceeded to make ready for the de- 
 fence of his beloved stronghold. There was no 
 more time than was necessary, for scarcely were 
 the few preparations under way when the cop- 
 per-colored visage of an Indian was discovered 
 peering over the wooden piles which formed the 
 enclosure. 
 
 The information which this savage scout se- 
 cured was not destined to be carried far, for 
 the trusty rifle of one of Croghan's companions 
 from Kentucky toppled him over, as rifles from 
 Kentucky were pretty certain to do, and "the 
 subsequent proceedings interested him no more." 
 
 Other venturesome Indians met with the same 
 fate, and it was soon decided that this kind of 
 spying was not a safe game. 
 
 A number of red men then assembled at the 
 edge of the clearing in which the fort stood, 
 but these were presently dispersed by "Mistress 
 Bess," a lonely cannon which was the pride and 
 delight of the youthful commander and his com- 
 rades. 
 
 Very soon things began to happen in earnest. 
 Late in the afternoon the barges of the British 
 appeared around a bend in the river and as soon 
 as the troops had disembarked they opened fire 
 on the fort with a six-inch howitzer. 
 
GEORGE CROGHAN 119 
 
 "Mistress Bess," however, was not to be 
 tempted into an untimely response. Instead, 
 young Croghan and his redoubtables hauled her 
 from one port-hole to another, poking her nose 
 through each in order to create the impression 
 that there was a gun in every port-hole! Oc- 
 casionally they let her rip in order to give ar- 
 tistic finish to the ruse. 
 
 The enemy, British and Indians, gathered 
 about the old stockade, numbered considerably 
 more than a thousand — ten times the number 
 of men under Croghan. They were amply 
 equipped with artillery against the one poor, 
 wandering gun of the defenders. We know of 
 no instance in frontier history w T here an at- 
 tempt has been made to defend a fort or a 
 position with such a preposterous disparity in 
 numbers and equipment, unless it was the tragic 
 defence of the Alamo by the intrepid Davy 
 Crockett. 
 
 To the besiegers there was, of course, not the 
 slightest doubt as to the issue. General Proc- 
 tor expected to take the fort much as he would 
 have picked a raspberry. He, therefore, sent 
 three of his officers, Colonel Elliot, Major Cham- 
 bers and Captain Dixon, with a white flag, to 
 demand that the fort be immediately surren- 
 dered. 
 
 A parley ensued near the stockade between 
 these worthies and young Edmund Shipp, aged 
 
120 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 nineteen, who had been sent out by Croghan. 
 Young George himself watched this interesting 
 meeting from the rampart and interrupted the 
 conversation by one pithy observation, as we 
 shall see. 
 
 The parley, as reported, was as follows: 
 
 Colonel Elliot: I demand the instant surrender 
 of the fort, to spare the effusion of blood, which 
 we cannot do, should Ave be under the necessity 
 of reducing it by our powerful force of regulars, 
 Indians and artillery. 
 
 Ensign SMpp: My commandant and the gar- 
 rison are determined to defend the post to the 
 last extremity and bury themselves in its ruins 
 rather than surrender it to any force whatever. 
 
 Captain Dixon: Look at our immense body of 
 Indians. 
 
 Ensign SMpp: I see them. 
 
 Captain Dixon: They cannot be restrained 
 from massacring the whole garrison in the event 
 of our undoubted success. 
 
 Major Cliamhers: Our success is certain. 
 
 Ensign Shipp: Is it? 
 
 Colonel Elliot: You appear to be a fine young 
 man. I pity your situation. 
 
 Ensign Shipp: Do you? 
 
 Colonel Elliot: For God's sake, urge the sur- 
 render of the fort and prevent the slaughter 
 which must follow resistance should you fall into 
 the hands of the savages. 
 
GEORGE CROGHAN 121 
 
 Captain Dixon: It is a pity so fine a young 
 man as your commander is said to be should 
 fall into the hands of the savages. Young 
 man, for God's sake surrender and prevent the 
 dreadful massacre that will be caused by your 
 resistance. 
 
 Ensign Shipp: When the fort is taken there 
 will be none to massacre. 
 
 Captain Dixon: Think well, young man. 
 
 George Croghan (from the rampart) : Come 
 inside, Shipp, and we'll blow 'em all to Hell! 
 
 As Ensign Shipp turned, an Indian sprang 
 from the bushes and seized him, but Captain 
 Dixon instantly stepped forward and released 
 him from the savage's hold. The Captain then 
 explained again how impossible it was to con- 
 trol the Indians and repeated his warning of 
 a massacre. 
 
 Croghan, standing upon the rampart, disdain- 
 fully regarded this whole incident as a put-up 
 job designed to intimidate his ensign. If such 
 it was, it did not succeed, and thus ended the 
 interesting but fruitless parley. 
 
 The besiegers now began a lively bombard- 
 ment with five six-pounders which they had con- 
 cealed among the bushes on the neighboring hill. 
 That night the boys in the fort hauled their old 
 cannon to the block-house in the northwest cor- 
 ner, where, with the greatest difficulty, they suc- 
 ceeded in hoisting it upon the wall in such a 
 
122 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 position that it commanded the stretch of ditch 
 where they had reason to believe the enemy 
 would concentrate their attack in the morning. 
 The muzzle of "Mistress Bess" was effectually 
 concealed so as to afford the besiegers no ink- 
 ling of her position. In the morning they gave 
 her a furlough while they busied themselves 
 with the agreeable occupation of picking off 
 Indians who appeared from under cover. 
 
 Meanwhile, others were hurrying to and from 
 the storehouse carrying bags of sand to strength- 
 en the northwest corner, against which the enemy 
 had already opened their batteries and were 
 keeping up a relentless fire. 
 
 A little before sunset a storming party was 
 discovered advancing through the woods. Even 
 as they approached, the clouds which had been 
 gathering ominously for an hour or more, mur- 
 muring their portentous threats in continuous 
 low rumblings, burst in a torrent and the fading 
 daylight was illuminated with dazzling streaks 
 of lightning, while the earth, seemed to tremble 
 with the mounting voice of the thunder as the 
 furious storm increased, uprooting trees and 
 working havoc in the whole wild place. 
 
 On through rain and wind and gathering dark- 
 ness came the storming party, their advance con- 
 cealed by the thick and pungent smoke of smudge 
 fires, augmented by the heavy downpour and 
 
GEORGE CEOGHAN 123 
 
 borne toward the old stockade by the furious 
 wind. 
 
 It seemed, indeed, that Nature had come like 
 an ally with strong reinforcements to help over- 
 whelm that little band of youngsters who were 
 maintaining their hopeless cause so gallantly. 
 
 Meanwhile the one lonely old cannon, hidden 
 on the block-house, held its peace amid the din 
 and tumult. 
 
 Suddenly those in the fort could discern 
 streaks of red close by amid the smoke — the 
 uniforms of George the Third, and here and 
 there a savage form peering out of the dark- 
 ness. 
 
 The stormers were now greeted with a well- 
 aimed rifle volley from the port-holes, which 
 threw them into momentary confusion, but did 
 not break their advance. 
 
 On they came with fixed bayonets — silently, 
 irresistibly. They were close to the ditch now 
 and could be seen plainly from within the fort. 
 
 "Come on, men!" shouted Colonel Short. 
 "We'll give the damned Yankees no quarter!" 
 
 With this they jumped into the ditch, intend- 
 ing to climb the opposite side of it, scale the 
 rickety palisade and enter the fort triumphant. 
 
 But just then something happened. Into the 
 supposedly safe shelter of the ditch (which the 
 stormers knew was too near the walls for suc- 
 cessful rifle shot from the ports) there presently 
 
124 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 descended such a furious storm of slugs and 
 shot as never before rained out of the iron mouth 
 of George Croghan's single cannon. 
 
 There she sat, with a clear and unobstructed 
 range, upon the block-house, fully revealed now 
 and with her grim muzzle pointing straight down 
 into the ditch. The storming host was caught 
 like rats in a trap. If Satan himself had stepped 
 blithely out upon the block-house amid the wind 
 and storm his appearance could hardly have 
 caused greater consternation. 
 
 In that terrific greeting to the storming party, 
 which spread panic and dismay among them, 
 more than fifty lost their lives and a number 
 were wounded. 
 
 Colonel Short, w T ho had threatened to "give 
 the Yankees no quarter," received a mortal 
 wound, and as he fell back he raised a white 
 rag upon his bayonet. 
 
 Meanwhile the men who, fortunately for them, 
 had not yet entered the ditch were treated to 
 an incessant and effective rifle-fire from the 
 ports. When they reached that fatal ditch which 
 they had hoped might be the portal of their 
 triumphal entry, they turned and fled while the 
 frowning muzzle of the old six-pounder omi- 
 nously rose and pointed in their direction. Their 
 path of retreat was marked with scores who fell. 
 Those who gained the shelter of the woods dis- 
 creetly remained there, where their astonished 
 
GEORGE CROGHAN 125 
 
 leaders succeeded in bringing order out of chaos ; 
 but the attack was not renewed. 
 
 For those who remained in the ditch Major 
 Croghan did all that he safely could do to miti- 
 gate their sufferings throughout that long dread- 
 ful night. Buckets of water were lowered to 
 them and as soon as it could be done a way was 
 made to bring them into the fort, where they 
 were kindly and humanely treated. 
 
 About thirty per cent, of Proctor's men had 
 lost their lives in this most disastrous enterprise 
 which had begun with so much bluster and as- 
 surance. 
 
 Major Croghan lost just exactly one man (if 
 you can call him a man who was but eighteen) 
 in the whole encounter. Besides this there were 
 a few scratches, cuts and things — but nothing 
 to worry about. 
 
 The next day the attacking legion made good 
 its retreat through the woods, leaving a large 
 stack of munitions and provisions of which the 
 valorous young men of the garrison made good 
 use. 
 
 Perhaps the most surprised person of all after 
 this extraordinary defence (which it is almost 
 impossible to exaggerate) was old Tippecanoe 
 Harrison, w T ho could find no words to express 
 his commendation of the young man who had 
 performed this incredible exploit. "It will not 
 be the least of General Proctor's mortification," 
 
126 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 he said, "to find that he has been baffled by a 
 youth who has just passed his twenty-first year." 
 
 Indeed, we may add that if this did not oc- 
 casion the General sufficient chagrin he may 
 have still suffered a passing blush of humilia- 
 tion to reflect that all of George Croghan's of- 
 ficers and most of his men were younger than 
 himself. 
 
 A troop of Boy Scouts indeed, and worthy 
 of the full salute which, as every good scout 
 knows, means the three first fingers of the left 
 hand raised to the level of the forehead. 
 
 So let us give the full scout salute to the 
 memory of young George Croghan and his band 
 of youthful patriots. 
 
 Salute ! 
 
DANIEL BOONE 
 
 How lie crossed the Alleghenics and explored Kentucky; how 
 he lived alone in the wilderness; how he helped found 
 and defend the town of Boonsborough ; together with 
 an account of his adventures with the Indians and his 
 strange captivity among them, and other matters in the 
 life of the great scout. 
 
 The pen falters at the task of writing of Dan- 
 iel Boone, the most romantic and best known of 
 all backwoodsmen and one of the greatest of all 
 sconts. 
 
 Irresistibly there rises in the mind's eye a 
 picture of the lone woodsman in his coonskin 
 cap, standing, rifle in hand, in the trackless 
 Kentucky wilderness. One is almost appalled 
 at the romance of his career. 
 
 His fame is great in American history, and 
 justly so, for it rests not upon an isolated act 
 of heroism, but upon a whole long life of in- 
 domitable prowess and unceasing deeds of cour- 
 age. It is difficult to write briefly of his career. 
 
 Daniel Boone was not born in the locality with 
 which his name is identified, but on a farm in 
 Pennsylvania near where the city of Reading 
 now stands. His parents were Quakers and he 
 was the fourth son and sixth child in a family 
 
 127 
 
128 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 of eleven children. He was born on the second 
 of November, in 1734. 
 
 "While still a boy, it was his delight to wander 
 away into the forest, far from the haunts of 
 men, and before he had passed his teens he had 
 become an expert woodsman and hunter. The 
 love of nature and solitude were born in him 
 and throughout his life he instinctively moved 
 away from civilization. 
 
 At eighteen he moved with his parents to the 
 Yadkin Valley in the northwestern part of North 
 Carolina. Why they went to North Carolina is 
 not known, and although their new place of hab- 
 itation seemed remote and wild enough to satisfy 
 the most adventurous spirit, it did not long sat- 
 isfy the migratory longing of young Daniel. 
 
 His first venture, however, was not of an ex- 
 ploratory sort, but rather matrimonial, for he 
 wooed and won Eebecca Bryan, whose parents, 
 like the Boones, had migrated from Pennsyl- 
 vania. 
 
 Miss Eebecca was but seventeen at the time, 
 and very fair to look upon, so we are told. She 
 was a true daughter of the wilderness, and 
 proved an ideal helpmate and companion for 
 her restless husband, following him in all his 
 wanderings. A large family of children were 
 born to this pioneer pair. 
 
 Let us pause for a brief glimpse of the fa- 
 mous woodsman as he looked in his twenty-first 
 
* 
 
 DANIEL BOONE 
 
DANIEL BOONE 129 
 
 year, at the time of his marriage, as given by 
 a border historian: 
 
 "Behold that young man exhibiting such un- 
 usual firmness and energy of character, five feet 
 eight inches in height, with broad chest and 
 shoulders, his form gradually tapering down- 
 ward to his extremities; his hair moderately 
 black; blue eyes arched with yellowish eyebrows; 
 his lips thin with a mouth peculiarly wide; a 
 countenance fair and ruddy, with a nose a little 
 bordering on the Roman order. Such was Dan- 
 iel Boone, now past twenty-one, presenting al- 
 together a noble, manly, prepossessing appear- 
 ance. . . ." 
 
 Indeed, he must have presented an attractive 
 picture in his fringed suit of buckskin and the 
 famous coonskin cap which the world forever 
 associates w T ith him. 
 
 For a while life in the Yadkin Valley was a life 
 after Boone 's own heart; a life of hunting and 
 trapping and fishing, and occasional troubles with 
 Indians, but in the main peaceful. In his quest 
 for game he w T as wont to wander far from home 
 and in those lonely rambles he would often pen- 
 etrate the forest on the lower readies of the 
 great mountains which rose to the westward, 
 now known as the Cumberlands. 
 
 We may w T ell suppose that now and again lie 
 
130 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 wondered what lay beyond those rugged heights 
 and the temptation must have been strong upon 
 him at times to continue his quest up their 
 wooded sides. 
 
 The cabins about his own increased in num- 
 ber, the few straggling frontier households be- 
 came a settlement, and Boone became restive 
 under these signs of advancing civilization. You 
 are not to suppose that the remote Y'adkin Val- 
 ley became at any time a populous place, but 
 a locality did not have to be populous for this 
 redoubtable nomad to shun it. A dozen cabins 
 or so were quite enough to drive him forth to 
 pastures new. He was a pioneer rather than 
 a settler and ever ready to lay aside his plow 
 for his trusty rifle. The wilderness was always 
 calling him and luring him, and he found it a 
 dearer friend even than humankind. 
 
 There returned one day to the little settle- 
 ment a certain John Finlay, who had crossed 
 the mountain barrier and explored a small sec- 
 tion of what is now Kentucky. His accounts 
 of the mysterious land which lay beyond the 
 hills (notwithstanding that he had explored but 
 a very small corner of it) filled the young men 
 of the settlement with enthusiasm and he found 
 a read}' listener in young Daniel Boone. This 
 was in 1767, or thereabouts. 
 
 It is by no means certain that Boone had not 
 already crossed the mountain himself, for on an 
 
DANIEL BOONE 131 
 
 old tree in Washington County, Tennessee, is 
 an inscription which reads: 
 
 D. Boone tilled a bar on tree in the year 1760. 
 
 It is not unlikely that Boone "cilled a bar" 
 
 west of the Cumberlands some seven years be- 
 fore the return of Finlay, although there is no 
 other than this rough record to testify to such 
 a trip. In any event, Finlay J s alluring tale of 
 the wonderful forests teeming with game and 
 rich in every variety of natural beauty found 
 young Boone in a susceptible mood and he 
 headed a party of six adventurous young men 
 who resolved to explore that vast tract of "no 
 man's land" which is now the Blue Grass State 
 of Kentucky. 
 
 Crossing the Alleghenies in June, 1767, they 
 gazed in wonder and delight at the prosp- 
 which lay spread before them, for indeed there 
 is scarcely a more beautiful view in all our land 
 than the panorama which lay below them. 
 
 Descending the trackless face of the moun- 
 tains, and pressing through the wild tangles of 
 the land beyond, they spent six months in hunt- 
 ing and exploring, rinding the region a veritable 
 hunter's paradise. 
 
 In order that their explorations might be the 
 more thorough, they divided into two parties, 
 one of which consisted of Boone and a young 
 man named Stewart. 
 
132 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 The experiences of these two would fill a book. 
 They hunted, explored the rivers, were captured 
 by Indians, escaped, and after many perilous 
 vicissitudes found their way to the camp of their 
 companions. This in itself would have been a 
 miracle for any one but Daniel Boone. As a 
 tracker and woodsman his equal has probably 
 never lived. 
 
 Not a sign was there of the other party and 
 from that day to this the world does not know 
 what became of them. They were never seen 
 or heard of again. 
 
 Boone and Stewart continued their hunting 
 until early winter and had about determined to 
 recross the mountains and journey homeward 
 when they saw one day in the forest two men 
 who, as they approached, proved to be Daniel's 
 brother, Squire, and a companion who were 
 searching for them. The coincidence of this 
 meeting in that vast wilderness was nothing less 
 than miraculous. 
 
 Squire Boone brought good reports of the 
 family back in the Yadkin and the four men 
 resolved to spend another winter in the Ken- 
 tucky wilderness. Before very long Stewart was 
 killed by the Indians and Squire's companion, 
 wandering off alone to hunt, never returned. His 
 fate also remains a mystery. 
 
 The two brothers hunted together until spring 
 when Squire returned to North Carolina for 
 
DANIEL BOONE 133 
 
 supplies, leaving Daniel alone in that vast, track- 
 less wilderness. 
 
 Those lonely months, which the intrepid hunter 
 and woodsman spent with no companion but his 
 gun constitute, perhaps, the most striking and 
 heroic episode of his whole life. There was the 
 true Daniel Boone in all his romantic greatness! 
 
 In the early summer his brother returned • 
 they met at an appointed spot. From July, 1770, 
 to March, 1771, they hunted and explored and 
 finally hit upon a spot along the Kentucky River 
 where they decided a permanent settlement 
 should be made — though, alas, no settlement 
 could be permanent for Daniel Boone. He had 
 been absent from his home for more than two 
 years and the brothers now set forth, with a 
 goodly store of peltries, for the Yadkin Vail 
 
 Beaching their home no time was lost in 
 making preparations for the migration into the 
 promised land. In September, 1773, the little 
 caravan, consisting of the Boone family and sev- 
 eral others, set off on its journey across the 
 mountains. But misfortune befell the pioneers, 
 one of Boone's sons was killed by the Indian , 
 and the party, greatly disheartened, settled in 
 western Virginia, much to Boone's disappoint- 
 ment. 
 
 In time, however, the vicissitudes of his life 
 were to take him again into Kentucky, in 177.", 
 he was engaged to lead a party into the land 
 
134 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 which lie loved so well and to build a fort in 
 the country between the Kentucky and Cumber- 
 land Rivers, where a proprietary company had 
 secured a vast tract of land. It was purposed 
 to make the fort the headquarters of the com- 
 pany and around it grew up the famous settle*- 
 ment of Boonsborough, fittingly named in honor 
 of the leader and moving spirit of the adven- 
 turous pioneers who settled there. 
 
 When the fort was finished Boone brought 
 his good wife and their children to this new 
 home; other families soon followed, and so be- 
 gan the settlement of Kentucky in the first year 
 of the War of Independence. 
 
 We cannot, in so small a compass, attempt a 
 detailed history of this community in the wilder- 
 ness. In time, other settlements were started 
 here and there and the enterprise thrived. 
 
 Owing to the depredations of the Indians, the 
 settlers found it futile to attempt agriculture 
 save on the smallest scale; they must needs de- 
 pend much upon the prowess and sure aim of 
 Daniel Boone for their food supplies, and the 
 redoubtable hunter and trapper did not disap- 
 point them. It is doubtful, indeed, if any record 
 for hunting and marksmanship can be mentioned 
 in the same breath with his, unless it be the spe- 
 cialized record of William F. Cody's amazing 
 buffalo hunts. We cannot but infer that the 
 little settlement of Boonsborough depended, at 
 
DANIEL BOONE 135 
 
 times, almost exclusively upon its resourceful 
 
 leader, who know the forest as the Puritan knew 
 his catechism. 
 
 At one time Boone's daughter, Jemima, and 
 two girl companions were captured by the In- 
 dians. Jemima, though but fourteen, must haw 
 been not only a true daughter of her father but 
 a true child of the forest, for she insisted on 
 blazing the trees as she was carried along and 
 when deterred from this she tore her dress, 
 dropping pieces along the forest trail. 
 
 On finding that the girls were missing, Boone 
 formed a small rescue party and they were not 
 long in picking up the trail. On the second day 
 they came upon the camp of the Indians and 
 were much perplexed for a means of rescuing 
 the girls before the surprised savages had a 
 chance to kill them. 
 
 Creeping stealthily, Boone and one companion 
 approached, undiscovered, to within a few yards 
 of the camp. Then, as the other members of 
 the party opened fire, the two rushed into the 
 camp and, placing themselves between the fright- 
 ened captives and the astonished savages, shot 
 the latter one by one. Some fled and escaped, 
 but the girls were saved. 
 
 This particular adventure was destined to have 
 a very happy ending, for shortly thereafter, Eliz- 
 abeth Calloway, one of the rescued girls, married 
 the young man w T ho had been Boone's companion 
 
136 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 in surprising the savages. This is said to have 
 been the first marriage ceremony performed in 
 Kentucky. 
 
 Boone's encounters with the Indians were alto- 
 gether too many to enumerate. He was captured 
 time and again, escaped time and again, came 
 near to being scalped, and resorted to every ruse 
 and subterfuge which long familiarity with the 
 woods and the savages had taught him. He was 
 a marvel not only of prowess but of cunning, and 
 it would require a volume to tell in full the story 
 of his deeds and adventures. 
 
 One memorable instance of his being captured, 
 however, must be told, because of its relation 
 to events which followed. While hunting he was 
 surprised by a large band of Indians and made 
 captive along with several companions. 
 
 On learning that his captors were on their way 
 to attack Boonsborough he told them that he had 
 wearied of the settlement, quarreled with the 
 people, and intended not to return there. He 
 represented that Boonsborough had ample de- 
 fences, that many new settlers had lately arrived, 
 and that an attack upon the fort would prove 
 a very perilous enterprise. 
 
 In plain truth, the place was all but defence- 
 less without Boone and his companions, but the 
 Indians were greatly impressed with his convinc- 
 ing representations and, deciding that discretion 
 was the better part of valor, retraced their way 
 
DANIEL BOONE 137 
 
 to their own village, contenting themselves with 
 the captives they had made. Tims Boone sacri- 
 ficed himself to save Boonsborough. 
 
 The singular story of his long detention among 
 these Shawnee savages would fill a hook. His 
 companions were distributed among other tribes 
 and he had no further tidings of them. Ho he- 
 came a great favorite of the chief, Black Fish, 
 who liked him so much that he went through the 
 ceremony of adopting him, giving him the name 
 of "Big Turtle." 
 
 Big Turtle kept a weather eye upon his 
 hospitable captors and soon perceived that in 
 conjunction with other tribes they were making 
 elaborate preparations for a great attack upon 
 Boonsborough. 
 
 The name of Big Turtle was a singularly in- 
 appropriate one for so wily and fleet a prisoner 
 as Boone, as the genial Black Fish was presently 
 to learn, for when the captive had become thor- 
 oughly acquainted with their plans he disap- 
 peared, much to the consternation of his guards, 
 and hit the trail for his beloved Boonsborough. 
 
 Again the story of his one hundred and fifty 
 mile journey homeward would make a sizable 
 volume. He had but one meal on the way; he 
 crossed the swift and turbulent Ohio in a ram- 
 shackle canoe left on the shore by Indians, and 
 finally, by hook and crook, he reached the set- 
 tlement, where he was greeted as one risen from 
 
138 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 the dead. His wife and children, supposing him 
 killed, had gone back to their old home in the 
 Yadkin. 
 
 It is a shame to crowd the famous defence 
 of Boonsborough into a few words. Indeed, 
 Daniel Boone, whether in type or in life, re- 
 quired space. The whole Kentucky wilderness 
 was not big enough for him, and even his hum- 
 ble biographer must needs have plenty of elbow 
 room. 
 
 You may suppose that the forest fort became 
 at once the scene of feverish activity, of which 
 Boone was the leading spirit. The Indians soon 
 advanced, and to check and discourage them 
 Boone with a small party sallied forth, surprised 
 an isolated band, and drove them back. 
 
 But the main body came on apace under the 
 redoubtable leadership of Black Fish, who, we 
 may suppose, was deeply chagrined and wound- 
 ed at the base ingratitude of his foster son, 
 Black Turtle, who now awaited his coming 
 within the hastily strengthened stockade. 
 
 Upon the arrival of the savage host some very 
 nice diplomatic intercourse took place. They de- 
 manded the surrender of the fort, and Boone, 
 who was not yet satisfied with the preparations 
 for defence, asked for two days in which to con- 
 sider the demand. The preparations were con- 
 tinued in feverish haste and at the end of the 
 two days Boone advised the besiegers that he 
 
DANIEL BOONE 139 
 
 had not, and never had had, any intention of 
 surrendering. 
 
 Black Fish was no match for Big Turtle in 
 the arts of diplomacy. 
 
 The Indians then suggested a Parle} 1 -, which 
 was granted, and, upon their attempted treach- 
 ery in trying to overpower the members of the 
 council, all pretense ended and a lively firing 
 began. 
 
 From the walls of the stockade Boone and 
 his companions poured volley after volley among 
 the besieging host. The women within the fort 
 moulded bullets and few that left Boone's rifle 
 were wasted. The fight became furious. Eeal- 
 izing the hopelessness of their attack in the face 
 of the white men's sure aim, the Indians at 
 length set fire to the fort, but a timely shower 
 extinguished the flames. 
 
 At last, having suffered a very heavy loss, 
 the disheartened savages withdrew. Boone and 
 his companions had put up a gallant defense, 
 losing but two of their number. This was the 
 end of Black Fish's ambitious designs against 
 Boonsborough, for he doubtless felt that as long 
 as his whilom protege was there attack would 
 be useless. 
 
 Be this as it might, Big Turtle presently 
 started for North Carolina with the intention 
 of convincing his family that he was not dead. 
 We are not permitted a glimpse of their joy- 
 
140 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 ous consternation at beholding him alive and 
 "well; but in any event they accompanied him 
 back to Boonsborough, which was now^ begin- 
 ning to. be quite a community. The old woods- 
 man contemplated the new cabins, not without 
 a pang of regret, and a growing longing for the 
 old solitude beset him. 
 
 Soon with his family he again penetrated the 
 forest, crossed the Kentucky Eiver, selected a 
 wild spot remote from human intercourse, and 
 settled down once more to the lonely pioneer 
 life which he loved so well. 
 
 In 1782, while he was visiting Boonsborough, 
 a messenger rode into town one day with the 
 news that the Indians were attacking Bryan's 
 Station, a small place some miles to the west- 
 ward. 
 
 A rescue party, including Boone, was imme- 
 diately formed, but when they reached Bryan's 
 Station they found that the Indians had gone 
 away after a stout resistance by the settlers. 
 
 Notwithstanding the heroic repulse of the sav- 
 ages, it was resolved that they should not escape 
 without further punishment, and the question 
 arose whether the rescue party should wait for 
 reinforcements from the country round about 
 or trail the retreating red men without delay. 
 
 Unfortunately, the latter course was decided 
 upon, and they came upon the savages safely 
 ambushed in a wild hilly region beyond the river. 
 
DANIEL BOONE 141 
 
 It would have been well if the party had 
 accepted the councils of Boone, who knew the 
 country thoroughly and understood perfectly the 
 great advantage which the Indians had in their 
 lurking place. He advised that they pause where 
 they were and wait for reinforcements; but a 
 certain hair-brained dare-devil among them, 
 named McGary, started suddenly to ford the 
 stream, calling upon all who were not cowards 
 to follow him. 
 
 Impetuously they crossed after him, and, as 
 might have been expected, there presently fol- 
 lowed a bloody hand-to-hand struggle between 
 them, and a company of Indians greatly out- 
 numbering them. The white men, having dis- 
 charged their rifles, were forced to fight with 
 the butt ends against the frantic tomahawk as- 
 saults of their yelling assailants. 
 
 In the bloody conflict Boone found himself 
 apart from his comrades, fighting frantically 
 with his clubbed gun and hunting-knife. His 
 son, Isaac, had been mortally wounded and lay 
 dying near him. He lifted the boy in his arms 
 and, battling desperately, he succeeded in ('hid- 
 ing the Indians and reached a deep ravine, 
 where, in a rocky glen, he tenderly laid the 
 body in which life was now extinct. Then he 
 made his way back and crossed the river, fight- 
 ing desperately. 
 
 The Indians paid dearly for their bloody vie- 
 
142 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 tory, and Daniel Boone was among those who 
 later devastated their country and wreaked such 
 vengeance upon them as to leave the settlements 
 of Kentucky safe from further molestation. 
 
 The last battle of the War of Independence 
 had been fought and Boone was now nearly fifty 
 years old — still rugged and indomitable. He was 
 growing old as an oak grows old. 
 
 Some eleven years later he migrated again, this 
 time into the wild country of Missouri, where he 
 resumed his old life of hunting. Here, in the 
 frontier cabin, in the full enjoyment of the soli- 
 tude and wildness which they loved, his good 
 wife died in the year 1813; but the rugged old 
 pioneer was still surrounded by his children and 
 grand-children, and his trusty rifle remained his 
 constant friend. 
 
 When Lewis and Clark passed through the 
 Missouri country in 1804 on their memorable 
 expedition to the Pacific they came upon an old 
 man in the woods who wore a coonskin cap and 
 an ancient suit of buckskin. It was Daniel Boone. 
 
 He lived to be eighty-six years old, ranging 
 his beloved forest almost to the very end. The 
 wilderness withheld none of its secrets from 
 him, but imparted to him the blessings which 
 only its dim grandeur and solemn dignity can 
 give — the blessings of health, serenity and peace. 
 
 The old pioneer died on the twenty-third of 
 September, 1820. Twenty-five years later the 
 
DANIEL BOONE 143 
 
 Blue Grass State claimed the ashes of her fa- 
 vorite son and the mortal remains of Daniel 
 Boone and those of his wife were broughl hack 
 to Kentucky, with which state his name is for- 
 ever associated, and whose wondrous hills and 
 silent forests and winding rivers he had been 
 the first to explore. 
 
FRANCIS MARION 
 
 How lie fought the Cherokees; how he helped to build the 
 palmetto fort; how he formed his singular brigade and 
 what they did, together with other particulars in the 
 adventurous life of the "Swamp Fox." 
 
 We come now to a scout who was neither a 
 land scout nor a water scout, but a swamp scout, 
 the very mention of whose name suggests gloomy, 
 impenetrable marshes, dank underbrush and dim 
 recesses redolent with the pungent odor of trop- 
 ical foliage. 
 
 For these were the haunts of Francis Marion. 
 If he had one pre-eminent quality it was the 
 quality of elusiveness. He did not escape, he 
 did not hide, in the ordinary sense; he disap- 
 peared; and ail the resources of man and all his 
 tracking and trailing lore could not find him. 
 
 He was a sort of Robin Hood of the morass; 
 and, like that redoubtable outlaw of the ancient 
 greenwood, he had his company of merry men. 
 
 Francis Marion was born in South Carolina 
 in 1732, the same year in which George Wash- 
 ington was born. He was of Huguenot descent, 
 and his grandfathers had been forced to flee and 
 hide from the persecution of Louis XIV so often 
 
 144 
 
FRANCIS MARION 145 
 
 that it is no wonder if the elusive habit became 
 fixed in the family and burst forth in young 
 Francis as a veritable art. 
 
 When young Marion was sixteen years of ; 
 he went to sea in a small vessel bound lor the 
 "West Indies. The ship was wrecked and its crew 
 drifted for days in a small boat without food or 
 water. Two of them starved to death. Tin; 
 others were finally rescued and Francis Marion 
 never went to sea again. 
 
 When he was twenty- three years old his fatli ti- 
 died and upon the young man fell the duty of 
 supporting his mother. They moved to a place 
 in South Carolina known as Pond Bluff, Avhere 
 he made his home for the remainder of his life. 
 The estate is still called Marion's Plantation 
 and lies within cannon shot of the old battle- 
 field of Eutaw Springs. 
 
 It would be difficult to exaggerate the depth 
 and gloom of the uninhabited lowlands of South 
 Carolina in those early days. The dim forest, 
 upon the edge of which stood his home, extend- 
 ed far to the westward and down into dripping 
 swamps and treacherous glades. There were no 
 paths or trails there and none knew the secrets 
 of that tangled morass. There the lazy mud 
 turtle and the treacherous snake basked, stupid 
 and unmolested; the swamp fox stole about amid 
 the dank undergrowth, torpid lizards and un- 
 canny birds perched on slimy rock or drooping 
 
146 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 limb, and none disturbed them in their chosen 
 haunts. 
 
 But there was one man who came to know 
 every nook and recess of that dim, damp wilder- 
 ness. This was Francis Marion, and they called 
 him the Swamp Fox of South Carolina. 
 
 His frame was slight and supple; he was agile 
 as a panther; he could run like a deer. Sleep 
 was a superfluous and troublesome thing of 
 which he seldom thought. He could go for days 
 without food. He was wont to issue forth at 
 night like a bat and perform his amazing feats. 
 In the War of Independence he conducted many 
 raids, yet such was the lightning rapidity and 
 marvelous elusiveness of the man that many of 
 the British believed to the very end that no such 
 person as Francis Marion really existed. Many 
 an English child in the eighteenth century heard 
 of him along with St. Nicholas and Jack Frost 
 and Father Time and other renowned worthies 
 who have never been actually seen in the flesh. 
 
 When Marion was twenty- seven years old a 
 report reached the colony that the Cherokee In- 
 dians were massacring the settlers along the 
 Western frontier. Tales of horror came from 
 the pioneers of midnight raids, of kidnappings, 
 murderings and scalpings. 
 
 Presently it became known that this bloody 
 tribe was mustering its braves to deal a mighty 
 blow to the colonists. 
 
FRANCIS MARIO X 147 
 
 Assembling a little army of volunteers, Fran- 
 cis Marion made ready to pursue and attack tin- 
 warlike Cherokees, but he was doomed, just tin . 
 to disappointment. The wily Indians, perceiving 
 these ominous preparations, decided that discre- 
 tion was the better part of valor, and peace 
 reigned in the colony for two years more. 
 
 Then the storm which had been brewing burst 
 in all its fury; the savages made the nights hor- 
 rible with their war-whoops and murderous raids, 
 and there followed a brief but sanguinary war. 
 
 Marion flew to the governor to offer his serv- 
 ices, which were promptly accepted, for his 
 knowledge of the woods and the Indian country 
 made his presence as a scout and leader 
 inestimable value. He was made a lieutenant 
 under a man who afterwards, like himself, be- 
 came famous — the gallant Captain Moultrie. 
 
 A miscellaneous army of about two thousand 
 men was soon pushing its way through the wil- 
 derness to the homes of the suffering pioneers. 
 It must have been an odd-looking host; sonic 
 of the men were clad in the gorgeous uniform 
 of George III, and some wore no uniforms at 
 all. 
 
 Through tangled brush and treacherous mo- 
 rass they pressed on until they reached a deep 
 gorge between two mountains which formed the 
 only pass into the land of the red men. 
 
 At this point Marion was chosen to lead a 
 
148 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 small party forward and explore the dangerous 
 path. Suddenly, as he reached the entrance of 
 a long ravine, wild shrieks were heard and a 
 storm of bullets and arrows came whizzing 
 among them. 
 
 Twenty-one of Marion's men fell dead. Then 
 from behind rocks and trees rose scores of 
 painted savages, pursuing the survivors back 
 to the main army which was following. 
 
 The next morning the sun broke upon a fright- 
 ful scene. The Indians were defending the pass 
 which led into their country and the whites, 
 fighting every inch of their way, were slowly 
 pressing them back. 
 
 In this desperate fighting Marion was always 
 in the lead and at almost every shot fired from 
 his well-aimed rifle some yelling savage dropped 
 from rock or cliff. 
 
 The red men fought like maniacs, but at last 
 the whites cut their way through the bloody pass 
 and entered the land of the Cherokees. 
 
 The pride and power of this warlike tribe was 
 at last broken and their murderous depredations 
 were at an end. Broken-spirited, they became 
 wanderers over the land. Some cast their lots 
 with other tribes in the Far North, but most of 
 them fell to begging from place to place among 
 the prosperous settlements along the shore. 
 Thus, and largely through the prowess of young 
 Marion, ended the mighty tribe of Cherokees. 
 
FRANCIS MARION 14!) 
 
 One more episode must be told, of the days 
 
 before Francis Marion became the "Swamp 
 Fox." The crushing of the Cherokees was fol- 
 lowed by sixteen years of peace for the dari 
 
 young fighter. Then the news of the Battle of 
 Lexington readied the southern colonii 
 
 Instantly young Marion was in the Baddle, and 
 flying from town to town gathering recruits 
 for the regiment which lie had now determined to 
 form. 
 
 At this time it was known that the British 
 general, Sir Henry Clinton, was on his way 
 Charleston with a fleet to attack the city. Nbi 
 far from the mainland was a small piece of land 
 known as Sullivan's Island, and here Marion 
 with his hastily recruited band started to 
 a fort. 
 
 They built it of palmetto trees and plastered 
 it with mud. It must have been an odd sort of 
 defence. They called it after General Moultrie 
 because he was in chief command there. It was 
 soft and yielding and shook with every passing 
 wind. The arrogant General Lee, who had ar- 
 rived in Charleston, laughed at it and said it v. 
 no defence at all. But, like the tall and slender 
 bullrush in the gale, it bent and swayed but did 
 not break. 
 
 While these preparations were going on Ma- 
 rion was made a Major-General. 
 
 It was an enthusiastic band of men that worked 
 
150 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 upon this odd makeshift fort and scarcely was 
 it finished when the cry arose: 
 
 "A fleet! A fleet!" 
 
 It was indeed Clinton, the British general, and 
 the little army prepared to defend its strong- 
 hold. As soon as the ships were close enough 
 a terrific fire was opened upon the little fort. 
 Marion himself called it the battle of David and 
 Goliath. The little fortress, shaking with the 
 shock of her cannons, hurled a storm of iron 
 curses at the approaching foe. The flag was shot 
 down, but one of Marion's men raised it aloft 
 and there it stayed throughout the rest of that 
 glorious day, until the British fleet raised an- 
 chor and stole away with a hundred wounded 
 and more than fifty dead. 
 
 That was the end of Marion's career as a 
 soldier in the ordinary sense. Thereafter he 
 was to be unique — even among scouts and raid- 
 ers. He gathered about him a miscellaneous 
 company of kindred spirits, woodsmen and ad- 
 venturers, who, though abounding in patriotism, 
 loved fighting and adventure for their own sweet 
 sake. 
 
 This haphazard band was known as Marion's 
 Brigade; but they came no nearer to being a 
 brigade, as we understand that military term, 
 than the followers of Eobin Hood were a bri- 
 gade. They must have been a motley crew in 
 their combination of homespun and tattered 
 
FRANCIS MARION 151 
 
 finery, which we are told their redoubtable leader 
 wore with such a fine air as greatly to shock 
 the dignified General Gates, who arrived in the 
 South to conduct military operations there. 
 Some of them had no uniforms at all, others 
 had no arms, but there was one valuable asset 
 which they all had — particularly the wily leader. 
 They knew the forest through and through, and 
 the tangled, impenetrable marshes in which they 
 made their homes. 
 
 The first thing that Marion did was to sack 
 the sawmills of the neighborhood in order to get 
 steel for his weapons. We are not told whether 
 they used buzz-saws in the game of hide-and-seek 
 which they played, but we know that they pro- 
 cured a number of hand-saws which they ham- 
 mered into rough swords. 
 
 Riding forth through swamp and forest, they 
 crossed the Pedee River, where they found a 
 body of Tories encamped. These were greatly 
 surprised (as parties attacked by Marion usually 
 were) and they retreated after losing a captain 
 and several soldiers. None of Marion's men 
 were killed, and they rode gaily forth again into 
 the dense forest. 
 
 Not far away they descended upon another 
 camp. Marion had left some of his little band 
 in ambush, and he pretended to retreat from the 
 enemy until he had drawn them well out of their 
 stronghold into the woods, then he suddenly sum- 
 
152 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 moned his ambushed men, defeated the enemy 
 and disappeared. An expedition was formed to 
 trace him and capture him. One of the British 
 officers nearly lost his life in quicksand, and at 
 length the party returned, drenched, bedraggled 
 and weary — but without their captive. 
 
 Not long after this Marion and his followers 
 rode to the Upper Santee, where a rnmor reached 
 them that Gates had been defeated by Cornwal- 
 lis. Learning that a strong British guard was 
 approaching with some prisoners, Marion waited, 
 fell upon the British, routed them, freed the 
 prisoners and disappeared. 
 
 Cornwallis ordered Marion's "immediate pun- 
 ishment." But you must catch your goose be- 
 fore you can kill him; and Marion was not to be 
 caught. 
 
 He had, in fact, turned south toward the 
 swamps and forests which he knew so well. 
 The journey was full of excitement. His men 
 worshipped him and loved the adventurous 
 game they were playing. He broke up meetings 
 of British loyalists, destroyed recruiting parties, 
 intercepted communications, and spread terror 
 everywhere. He would arrive unexpectedly in 
 the darkness, do his work like lightning, and be 
 gone. 
 
 It was a new kind of warfare, all his own. 
 Often when the little party disappeared within 
 the morass they would disband, trailing their 
 
FRANCIS MARION 153 
 
 way separately, and reuniting at some distant 
 point. 
 
 The British Colonel Tarleton was very anxions 
 to catch the wily Marion. With high hopes he 
 set out for the reported hiding-place of the band. 
 Marion learned of his coming, concealed some 
 of his men, lured the unsuspecting Tarleton into 
 a pestilent thicket, summoned his men forth at 
 the proper moment, beat the British unmerci- 
 fully and left them to pick their way back into 
 the world again as best they could. Tarleton 
 was greatly chagrined. He scarcely realized 
 what had happened to him until it was over. 
 
 Then Marion started north again. He rode 
 night and day, finally pitching his camp near 
 the head of the Waccamaw River. Here, in the 
 deep forest, the hungry little party sat down 
 to dine. Seated on fallen trees and on the 
 ground, they made their simple meal of sweet 
 potatoes and hominy. We are told that they 
 were wont to beguile the time on such occasions 
 by telling stories, though surely no story which 
 they told could have been more romantic than 
 the tale of their own experiences. 
 
 At last, in 1780, the British resolved that this 
 troublesome band of men must be captured; 
 there must be no more half-way measures. 
 
 Marion was at that time located on a small 
 piece of land called Snow's Island, which was 
 surrounded by marsh. 
 
154 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 An expedition was formed to dislodge him 
 from this stronghold. He waited until the ex- 
 peditionary party was well within the forest 
 lowlands. Then he sallied forth and met it in 
 a dismal swamp. A short conflict followed and 
 Marion retreated. He always knew when to 
 retreat. 
 
 The next day the battle was continued at an- 
 other spot not far distant and the British lost 
 rapidly. The faultless aim of Marion's rangers 
 brought down some redcoats with every shot. 
 
 At last the British commander sent a note to 
 Marion complaining of his mode of warfare and 
 urging him to come out in the open and fight. 
 The following day Marion did so and beat the 
 enemy thoroughly. 
 
 Then he disappeared again within the forest. 
 Where had he gone? No one knew. Somewhere 
 in that vast, solemn wilderness he and his merry 
 men were gathered about their cheerful camp- 
 fire; but none could trail them, for their remote 
 haunts were amid the swampy fastnesses where 
 there were no tracks or trails. 
 
 The British commander was well-nigh insane. 
 On account of this troublesome and elusive little 
 band he was compelled to establish a line of 
 fortified posts extending all about the southern 
 colonies. 
 
 Once, as Marion's men were crossing a bridge 
 they heard an alarm gun from a British camp. 
 
FRANCIS MARION 155 
 
 They galloped over, reached the main road, 
 and there dismounted. Marion ordered a few 
 picked men to attack the old house near by where 
 the enemy was posted. Another detachment was 
 sent to the right and a band of horsemen to the 
 left. Marion quickly followed with a small re- 
 serve. The British were defeated and the "fort" 
 taken. 
 
 Marion and his men then rode to Williams- 
 burgh, where they obtained tidings of other gath- 
 erings of British near the Black River. One of 
 these was reported to be very well supplied with 
 muskets and ammunition, and Marion cast a 
 longing eye upon these stores. 
 
 At midnight he rode into the camp. The red- 
 coats were playing cards and feasting when the 
 little band fell like a bolt from Heaven among 
 them. Marion succeeded in completely annihi- 
 lating them, procured the stores, and was off 
 again to the swamps. 
 
 At the news of this attack, Tarleton arose 
 from his sick-bed, resolved to crush, once and 
 forever, this obstreperous little band. He set 
 out with a goodly array and Marion, as usual, 
 retreated into the everglades. Tarleton advanced 
 boldly into the swamp to overtake him, but could 
 not find him. Through bogs and tangled, drip- 
 ping underbrush he pushed his way, but Marion 
 was nowhere to be found. 
 
 At length Tarleton, weary and discouraged and 
 
156 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 perishing with thirst and hunger, turned to his 
 followers and said: 
 
 "Come, my boys, let us go back. We can 
 soon find that gamecock, Sumpter. But as for 
 this damned swamp-fox, why, the devil himself 
 couldn't catch him!" 
 
 And at that very moment the "Swamp Fox" 
 with his adventurous brigade was scarce a mile 
 distant ! 
 
 Such was the career of Francis Marion — 
 unique among woodsmen, pathfinders, scouts 
 and soldiers. 
 
 After the war he returned to his quiet home. 
 The old place had been sadly treated by the 
 British, who, being unable to find the "Swamp 
 Fox," had taken vengeance on his estate. 
 
 During his declining years the old raider, who 
 was a bachelor, met a fair lady named Mary 
 Videau, who, like himself, was of Huguenot an- 
 cestry. They were married and his last days 
 were spent in simple happiness. He was greatly 
 loved by all living round about, and his name 
 was spoken always with reverence and affection. 
 
 In his last moments he was able to say, "I 
 thank God that I can lay my hand on my heart 
 and say that I have never intentionally done 
 wrong to any." 
 
SAMUEL BRADY, RANGER 
 
 How he narrowly escaped burning at the stake; how he made 
 a famous leap, and how his life was saved by a gentle 
 pond-lily. Also the singular account of how he stuffed 
 a horse; how he attended an Indian council in mas- 
 querade; how he rescued Jenny Stripes and why he 
 tomahawked her little dog; together with other partic- 
 ulars in the career of the man who was said to be the 
 original of Cooper's "Leather Stocking." 
 
 This is the story of a red-headed scout who 
 came of a red-headed family which, as every 
 boy knows, means spunk, recklessness, and dar- 
 ing. If there is any question as to this we have 
 only to narrate that Samuel Brady's father, 
 James, was one of the very few survivors of 
 his regiment in the Battle of the Brandywine 
 and was severely wounded. Shortly after the 
 war he was killed by the Indians. 
 
 James Brady's brother John was also wounded 
 at the Brandywine. Samuel's brother James, 
 whose hair was also red, but exceedingly long, 
 being surprised one day by the savages, ran for 
 his gun, procured it, shot an Indian, ran for 
 another gun, shot another Indian, was at last 
 overpowered, tomahawked and scalped. 
 
 All the male members of the Brady family 
 
 157 
 
158 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 were six feet tall or more, most of them had 
 red hair, and all of them, to the second line re- 
 moved, were fighters. 
 
 But compared with Samuel Brady, chief of 
 the Bangers, they were as the other planets are 
 to Jupiter. 
 
 Samuel Brady was the Daniel Boone of west- 
 ern Pennsylvania, and his authenticated adven- 
 tures, I should warn you, read like extravagant 
 fiction. 
 
 He was more than a scout, he was more than 
 a ranger; he was a character. 
 
 One or two of his exploits have an Arabian 
 Nights flavor, but history presents its records 
 to confirm them, and so far as Samuel's own 
 veracity may be called into question, he was 
 deeply religious, a great student of the Bible, a 
 very stickler for righteousness and truthfulness. 
 
 He was born in the year 1756 and was one 
 of thirteen children, eight of whom were boys. 
 Three of these died while still young and all 
 of the remaining five were soldiers, either in 
 the Bevolution or in the War of 1812. 
 
 "When the War of Independence broke out, 
 young Samuel, being then nineteen years of age, 
 enlisted and fought gallantly in the engage- 
 ments near Boston, the Battle of Long Island, 
 the Battle of White Plains, the Battle of Ger- 
 mantown, and, as if this were not enough, he 
 barely escaped with his life at the terrible mas- 
 
SAMUEL BRADY, RANGER 159 
 
 sacre of Mad Anthony Wayne's troops at Paoli. 
 
 If there was any fighting going on the mem- 
 bers of the red-headed Brady family were not 
 likely to miss it. Samuel's career in the War 
 of Independence was one of continual adventure. 
 At the ghastly affair at Paoli, he was completely 
 surrounded and death seemed inevitable, when 
 suddenly he made a desperate rush and (to use 
 an expression which must be used often in any 
 account of him) barely escaped with his life. 
 
 It was not, however, as a soldier that Sam 
 Brady was pre-eminent, but rather as a scout 
 and ranger, guarding the western frontiers of 
 Pennsylvania from hostile savages, as Boone 
 guarded the frontiers of Kentucky. It is one 
 of the freaks of history that his name is not 
 as familiar as that of Boone, for his adventures 
 and prowess were quite as remarkable. 
 
 As every boy knows, the present flourishing 
 city of Pittsburgh derives its name from an out- 
 post fort which stood there, and the country be- 
 tween Pittsburgh and Lake Erie, which is trav- 
 ersed by the Allegheny River, was the frontier 
 country of Pennsylvania. 
 
 It was a very wild region, infested by lurking 
 red men ever in wait for those who ventured to 
 settle in its depths, and at times the solemn still- 
 ness of its vast woods re-echoed with their war- 
 whoops and the cries of the dying. 
 
 It was in this remote and hostile territory that 
 
160 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 Sam Brady and his rangers roamed, and here 
 some of his most remarkable adventures befell 
 him. He was a typical scout and frontiersman, 
 ever at home in the woods, ever on the trail and 
 ever in advance of civilization. The thriving 
 towns and growing settlements to the east of his 
 perilous haunts owed him and his little band a 
 debt of gratitude which can hardly be measured, 
 for they were a sort of border police, clearing 
 the unknown country of its dangers and striving 
 to make it safe for the hardy but less adven- 
 turous home builders who were ever pressing 
 farther westward. 
 
 Not the least remarkable adventure of this re- 
 doubtable scout was when he penetrated with a 
 small band of followers into the wild country 
 which is now part of the State of Ohio, in pur- 
 suit of some fugitive Indians who had committed 
 depredations in his own county. 
 
 In the locality of what is now Portage County, 
 in Ohio, is a lake which, by reason of the rang- 
 er's exploit, was named after him. Here, after 
 an exciting chase through a country which would 
 have been impenetrable to any but the hardiest 
 and most persistent ranger, Brady and his party 
 succeeded in ambushing their quarry. In the 
 fight which ensued nearly all of the savages were 
 killed and Brady and his men were congratulat- 
 ing themselves upon their complete success w T hen 
 suddenly a savage war-whoop rent the air and 
 
SAMUEL BEADY, EANGER 161 
 
 there appeared upon tlie scene, apparently by 
 the merest chance, a party of savages greatly 
 outnumbering the little band of rangers. 
 
 But Brady and his followers were not the men 
 to flee, despite the frightful odds against them, 
 and they fought desperately a losing game. Some 
 of the little band escaped, but most of them 
 were massacred and scalped. Brady himself was 
 taken prisoner. 
 
 The savages had heard of the tall frontiers- 
 man and they resolved to make his capture the 
 occasion of festivity, so instead of massacring 
 him out of hand (which would have been the 
 wiser course, as things turned out) they bore 
 him to* their village and proceeded to circulate 
 an invitation among the neighboring tribes to 
 come and witness the pleasant spectacle of his 
 torture and death. 
 
 It was, indeed, to be a gala affair — an exhibi- 
 tion to be witnessed with solemn delight, and 
 told and retold by the old squaws in days to 
 come. From far and near on the appointed day 
 Indians of both sexes, old and young, betook 
 themselves to the festive scene in holiday spirit 
 and array. 
 
 "While these parties were arriving a sort of 
 preliminary exhibition was given. The unhappy 
 Brady was lashed to the stake and the flames 
 allowed to play about his limbs, not, however, 
 close enough to burn him. Thus, while the hos- 
 
162 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 pit able hosts were busy welcoming the new ar- 
 rivals, the little Indians were diverted by this 
 amusing spectacle. 
 
 Suddenly, in a moment when they had scamp- 
 ered off, perhaps to plan some new torment, Sam 
 Brady, whose mighty strength his captors had 
 not estimated, drew his gigantic form together, 
 expanded his muscles and his chest, writhed, 
 struggled, tugged . . . 
 
 And when the Indians returned to the spot 
 they found it would be necessary to call off the 
 exhibition, for its principal actor was gone. 
 
 Pursued by a howling mob of infuriated In- 
 dians, the fugitive, unarmed and all but naked, 
 fled through the dense forest, hiding by night 
 and hurrying stealthily by day, until at last he 
 regained the spot where he had been captured. 
 If he could ford a river here he would be com- 
 paratively safe in the familiar country beyond. 
 To his surprise, however, the Indians had reached 
 the ford first and cut off his only path of escape. 
 
 The stream at this point flowed in a roaring 
 torrent between precipitous banks, which at the 
 river's narrowest stretch in that locality were 
 about thirty feet apart. 
 
 It did not take Sam Brady long to determine 
 what he should do. The Indians, guarding the 
 ford, and knowing that he was at their mercy, 
 did not concern themselves greatly with his 
 maneuver as he retreated a few paces from the 
 
SAMUEL BEADY, RANGER 163 
 
 precipice, took a running jump, landed below 
 the brink of the wall opposite, scrambled up, and 
 made for the thicket beyond. It all happened 
 in a moment, and again Sam Brady had barely 
 escaped ivith his life. 
 
 One of the Indians, gazing blankly at the spot, 
 said, "White man, him make damn good jump. 
 Red man, no try." 
 
 But the fleeing ranger was not permitted to 
 go unscathed, for one of the chagrined savages 
 managed to shoot him in the leg as he disap- 
 peared in the woods beyond the river. 
 
 Crossing by the ford, the red men were soon 
 hot upon his trail, and again his capture seemed 
 imminent, for he was lame from his wound. It 
 happened, however, that he presently reached 
 the lake where his companions had been mur- 
 dered, and seeing some pond lilies on the sur- 
 face, a bright idea came to him. Crawling into 
 the water, he completely submerged himself, 
 breathing through the hollow stem of a pond lily. 
 
 The savages, reaching the lake, scoured its 
 shores in vain for the elusive quarry, and seeing 
 the trail of blood leading to the water without 
 any corresponding trail from it, they concluded 
 that he was drowned and retraced their weary 
 way homeward. 
 
 Again Sam Brady had barely escaped with 
 his life. 
 
164 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 The year 1782 was long known as the Bloody 
 Year because of the sanguinary warfare of the 
 savages at that time. Indeed, it was rumored 
 throughout the towns that a bloody conspiracy 
 was on foot, in which several tribes were to par- 
 ticipate in an enterprise no less ambitious than 
 that of wiping out the settlements in Pennsyl- 
 vania and thereabout. 
 
 General Washington was greatly concerned by 
 these rumors, and he requested that a suitable 
 man be selected and sent forth to ascertain if 
 they were well founded. It would be necessary 
 for the messenger to adopt Indian disguise and 
 to speak the Indian language, and to do this, 
 as we should say now, was Sam Brady's middle 
 name. 
 
 The choice quickly fell upon him, and he was 
 asked how many companions he would like to 
 have accompany him on his perilous expedition. 
 He answered that he would like one companion. 
 It would be hardly fair to say that his request 
 was excessive. The comrade chosen for him 
 was Lewis Wetzel, an appropriate choice, for if 
 ever there were another Sam Brady, Lewis Wet- 
 zel was that man. 
 
 Covering their faces with war paint, blacken- 
 ing their hair and donning the Indian garb, the 
 two men sallied forth to play the part of spies 
 in a hostile camp. Arrived at the great council 
 which was being held, they introduced themselves 
 
SAMUEL BRADY, RANGER 165 
 
 as a delegation from a distant tribe which was 
 desirous of joining the great conspiracy. 
 
 Surprising as it may seem, the pair were hos- 
 pitably received, and mingling freely with the 
 unsuspecting council, they came by a full knowl- 
 edge of all its secret and carefully laid plans. 
 
 There was one wily old chief, however, who 
 began to cast a shrewd eye upon the visitors, 
 which annoyed them and caused them to debate 
 his rather disturbing scrutiny in secret. 
 
 The old chief soon made known his suspicions 
 by an attempt to tomahawk the pair, whereupon 
 they shot him, and the game being now up they 
 succeeded after a desperate struggle in making 
 their escape on two horses which the Indians 
 had previously stolen from the settlers. 
 
 Then there followed such a journey as never 
 before or since has been known to those return- 
 ing homeward from a masquerade party. Hotly 
 pursued, the two adventurers sped through the 
 forest. Wetzel's horse fell dead and they took 
 turns in riding the other horse until the poor 
 beast also sank exhausted, and the men were 
 forced to run for their lives. They reached a 
 camp of friendly Indians who knew them, and 
 here they succeeded in procuring one horse. 
 
 On they went, taking turns as before, and per- 
 plexing and confounding their infuriated pur- 
 suers by every trick known to experienced scouts 
 and rangers. 
 
166 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 At last they came to the Ohio Kiver. The 
 water was icy cold, for the season was winter, 
 but they forced their horse in and managed to 
 cross the torrent, Brady riding on the beast's 
 back while Wetzel clung tenaciously to its tail. 
 And surely the famous crossing of the Delaware 
 by Washington was no more picturesque than 
 the crossing of the Ohio by this hapless pair 
 with the disguising war paint dribbling from 
 their faces in many-colored drops, their fine 
 feathers bedraggled, and the weary form of 
 Wetzel trailing after the wretched horse like 
 the tail of a comet! 
 
 Arrived on the other side of the river, Brady 
 discovered that his comrade was frozen almost 
 stiff, and again his resourceful mind devised a 
 novel expedient. Killing the horse, he disem- 
 boweled it and placed the frozen body of his 
 companion within the warm and cosy interior! 
 
 He did not wish to kindle a fire for fear of 
 the Indians but this he presently resolved to do, 
 and in its warmth he chafed and rubbed the 
 limbs and arms of his companion until the cir- 
 culation was re-established, and they were able 
 to pursue their journey, unmolested, back to the 
 settlements. 
 
 They had spoiled the game for the Indians, 
 who, their plans being known, gave up the con- 
 spiracy. 
 
 In those days there lived in Pennsylvania two 
 
SAMUEL BRADY, BANGER 167 
 
 kindred spirits named Benington and Briggs, 
 who gravitated to Brady on the principle that 
 birds of a feather flock together. The three 
 formed a daring trio, and their ranging ex- 
 ploits sometimes verged npon the incredible. 
 
 Upon one of their scouting expeditions along 
 the Pennsylvania frontier they came npon a 
 ruined cabin with all the accompanying signs 
 of Indian vandalism. While they were investi- 
 gating the devastated scene a horseman rode up 
 whom Brady recognized as a settler named Gray, 
 the owner of the cabin, and together the four 
 inspected the pathetic remains of what had, but 
 a few hours before, been Mr. Gray's home. 
 
 No sign of his wife or her sister or the set- 
 tler's seven children could be seen. 
 
 Grim with the spirit of vengeance, Gray re- 
 solved to rescue his people and visit punishment 
 upon their captors, and the three scouts were 
 nothing loath to accompany him. 
 
 Brady soon succeeded in picking up the trail, 
 and before nightfall they were able, from a van- 
 tage point, to discover thirteen savages with 
 their nine captives, encamped in the very spot 
 where Brady had suspected they would pause 
 for the night. 
 
 After a while the weary savages and their 
 captives fell asleep and the four trailers stole 
 down upon them. Incredible as it may seem, 
 these four resolute men, led by Brady, killed 
 
168 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 every single Indian of the party, nine of them 
 as they slept, the others rinding only death await- 
 ing them as they awoke. 
 
 The women and children were rescued and 
 the party made a safe journey to the nearest 
 settlement. 
 
 The scene of this extraordinary rescue was 
 near a spring which to this day is known as 
 Bloody Spring in memory of the astonishing 
 exploit of Scout Brady and his friends. 
 
 On another occasion Brady was returning 
 from an Indian community where he had se- 
 cretly made a map of the locality and learned 
 many of the secrets of the savages, when he 
 saw an Indian on horseback carrying a white 
 woman. Alongside them trotted two white chil- 
 dren. Brady still w^ore his Indian disguise. 
 Eaising his rifle, he shot a bullet through the 
 Indian's heart, leaving the captive woman un- 
 injured and amazed at one Indian's thus shoot- 
 ing another, until, rushing forward, he cried: 
 
 " Don't you know me? I am Sam Brady." 
 
 The woman w r as Jenny Stripes, wife of a set- 
 tler whom Brady knew well. 
 
 Her captor had left his companions, among 
 whom was a little dog belonging to Mrs. Stripes. 
 This dog trailed his mistress and the Indians 
 followed. As the dog came running toward them 
 Brady tomahawked it, for he had but two loads 
 left in his rifle and feared that he might need 
 
SAMUEL BRADY, RANGER 169 
 
 them for more important game. Thus he con- 
 founded the pursuers and succeeded in bringing 
 Mrs. Stripes and her weary and frightened chil- 
 dren to Fort Pitt. 
 
 Resourcefulness and presence of mind, which 
 are much advertised to-day as desirable scout 
 qualities, were possessed by Sam Brady in su- 
 perlative degree. There was almost a touch of 
 sleight-of-hand about his many escapes and dar- 
 ing exploits. 
 
 On one occasion, when he had been bound hand 
 and foot, he rolled to a fire, burned his thongs 
 and got away. At another time he came upon 
 two Indians, one standing on the shoulders of 
 the other picking bark from a tree. Brady had 
 but one load in his rifle. He shot the Indian 
 who stood on the ground and the one above 
 tumbled to the earth, at his mercy. 
 
 Though a crack shot and of matchless courage, 
 he appears always to have used his brain before 
 he used his rifle, and the faculty was his to do 
 quick thinking in a predicament. 
 
 Indeed, this is the only explanation of his 
 many hair 's-breadth escapes. No amount of 
 mere physical prowess could have carried him 
 through his amazing experiences on the frontier 
 to the day when he died peacefully in his humble 
 home. He was not only a great scout, but a very 
 original and ingenious one, and he might, in- 
 deed, serve better than others more famous as 
 
170 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 a scout model. It is said that he was the origi- 
 nal of Cooper's famous character of Leather 
 Stocking. 
 
 Be that as it may, he was not only a good 
 scout, but a very good man, a patriot through 
 and through, the defender and protector and res- 
 cuer of women and children, the stalwart and 
 fearless guardian of a lonely frontier, and it is 
 pleasant to reflect that the latter part of his 
 useful and splendid life was spent in the quiet 
 shelter of his own home where children, whom 
 he loved, were wont to cluster about him and 
 listen to the blood-curdling tales of his early 
 adventures. 
 
LEWIS AND CLAEK 
 
 How they were the first to cross the continent and the story 
 of their famous expedition. 
 
 There are scouts and scouts, and some of them 
 have been pre-eminent for one thing and some 
 for another. In the case of some their scouting 
 — which means, briefly, going ahead and explor- 
 ing — has been incidental to their trapping and 
 hunting; while in the case of others it has been 
 incidental to their pursuit of Indians, or their 
 quest of a home. 
 
 Most of our scouts have been scouts by cir- 
 cumstance rather than by profession. That is 
 to say, they did not go into new territory simply 
 to observe and get information, though the inci- 
 dental results of their activities entitle them to 
 be called scouts. 
 
 Lewis and Clark, on the other hand, were 
 typical scouts — professional scouts, if you will. 
 They were, if we may so express it, hired for 
 that purpose. This does not dim the glamor of 
 romance which we are wont to see about them. 
 They performed one of the greatest scouting ex- 
 ploits in the history of the world, and they saved 
 time and did it the better, because they followed 
 
 171 
 
172 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 a program and did just exactly what they set 
 out to do. 
 
 Perhaps they were not the greatest scouts, but 
 they were certainly typical scouts. 
 
 We have tried to consider each famous scout 
 individually, giving each one, so to speak, his day 
 in court. Thus we have ruthlessly torn General 
 Fremont and Kit Carson apart, notwithstand- 
 ing their many adventures together, for we could 
 not permit the redoubtable Santa Fe trailer to 
 play second riddle to anyone. 
 
 But we cannot separate Lewis and Clark. 
 They are bound together by their great exploit, 
 and seem to have no story worth the telling 
 either before or after that one adventurous ex- 
 pedition. 
 
 So let us follow the trail of Lewis and Clark, 
 according equal credit to both, as indeed they 
 accorded equal credit to each other. They were 
 as inseparable as those renowned heroes, Twee- 
 dledum and Tweedledee, and they got along to- 
 gether a great deal better! 
 
 As every boy knows, the vast tract of land 
 formerly known as Louisiana was sold by the 
 great Napoleon to the United States in 1803. 
 The price which our country paid for this enor- 
 mous territory was fifteen million dollars, and 
 Napoleon was very glad to get the money, for 
 he needed it in his imperial business. 
 
 Eoughly speaking, Louisiana then comprised 
 
CAPT. MERIWEATHER LEWIS 
 
LEWIS AND CLARK 173 
 
 all the land west of the Mississippi, bounded on 
 the north by the British possessions, and on the 
 south by those of Spain. In other words, it 
 covered the region which is now occupied by the 
 states of Louisiana, Arkansas, Missouri, Kan- 
 sas, Iowa, Nebraska, South and North Dakota, 
 "Wyoming, Montana, and parts of Idaho and 
 Colorado. 
 
 In all this vast territory there were not a 
 hundred thousand white persons. Many extrav- 
 agant and absurd tales were circulated about the 
 region and were believed. Stories of strange 
 animals, quite unknown to zoologists, were ban- 
 died about; savages, more primitive and fero- 
 cious than any before known, were described as 
 roaming the vast northwestern wilderness, and 
 even President Jefferson himself believed many 
 of these tales. 
 
 When he selected Meriwether Lewis to lead 
 the memorable expedition across the country he 
 said to him, among other things, "Our Consuls, 
 Thomas Hewes at Batavia in Java, William Bu- 
 chanan in the Isles of France and Bourbon, and 
 John Elmslie at the Cape of Good Hope, will 
 be able to supply your necessities by drafts on 
 us." It is perfectly evident that President Jef- 
 ferson had grave misgivings as to the outcome 
 of the expedition and as to where his transcon- 
 tinental explorers would eventually arrive. 
 
 When the purchase of this vast territory was 
 
174 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 completed President Jefferson resolved that it 
 should be explored, and he proposed to the Con- 
 gress then in session that an expedition should 
 be formed for that purpose. He had as his 
 private secretary this young man, Meriwether 
 Lewis, who had risen to the rank of captain in 
 the army, and in suggesting him as a suitable 
 leader of the proposed party, he enumerated 
 some of the young man's qualifications for the 
 hazardous mission, incidentally furnishing about 
 the best description of an all-around scout which 
 we have ever heard: 
 
 ". . . of courage undaunted; possessing a 
 firmness and perseverance of purpose which 
 nothing but impossibilities could divert from its 
 direction; careful as a father of those committed 
 to his charge, yet steady in the maintenance of 
 order and discipline; intimate with the Indian 
 character, customs and principles; habituated to 
 the hunting life; guarded by exact observation 
 of the vegetable and animal life of his own coun- 
 try, against losing time in the description of 
 objects already possessed; honest, disinterested, 
 liberal, and of sound understanding, and a fidel- 
 ity to truth so scrupulous that whatever he 
 should report would be as certain as if seen 
 by ourselves. With all these qualifications, as 
 if selected and implanted by nature in one body 
 for this express purpose, I could have no hesi- 
 tation in confiding the enterprise to him." 
 
LEWIS AND CLARK 175 
 
 We should think not! Indeed, it leaves little 
 to be told of Meriwether Lewis except that he 
 was born in Virginia in 1774, in the town of 
 Charlottesville. 
 
 Lewis selected as his assistant and to lead the 
 party in the event of mishap to himself, William 
 Clark, who was four years older than himself 
 and who, we are told, was "almost a duplicate 
 of Lewis in all his qualities." Clark was like- 
 wise a Virginian by birth. 
 
 Both of these young men held the rank of 
 captain and in the whole course of the expedi- 
 tion's progress to the Pacific Coast and back 
 they exercised equal authority without the sug- 
 gestion of a rift in the affectionate friendship 
 which existed between them. This is not the 
 least remarkable feature of that remarkable 
 journey. 
 
 As finally organized, the famous expedition 
 was made up of these two captains and twenty- 
 seven men. Nine hailed from Kentucky and 
 were accustomed to frontier life; fourteen were 
 soldiers of the United States Army; two were 
 French voyageurs, or watermen (one of whom 
 understood the Indian language and was to act 
 as interpreter) ; one was a hunter, and the other 
 a negro servant of Captain Clark, who, in his 
 appropriate character of minstrel and comedian, 
 greatly enlivened the party and became quite 
 a character among them. He was viewed with 
 
176 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 consternation by the savages of the Far West, 
 who had never before seen a black man, nor a 
 white man either, for the matter of that. In 
 all their long wanderings only one of the party 
 lost his life. 
 
 In addition to these men a small additional 
 party of voyagenrs and soldiers was to accom- 
 pany the expedition as far as the country of the 
 Mandan Indians in the region which is now 
 North Dakota, for it was believed that hostile 
 attacks were more likely to be made east of that 
 point than west of it. 
 
 The purpose of the expedition was very clearly 
 defined. The men were, if possible, to find a 
 waterway across the continent. They were to 
 explore the country thoroughly as far west as 
 they could get. They were to procure informa- 
 tion which would be helpful in making maps. 
 They were to observe the Indians, particularly 
 their manners, customs, government, diseases, 
 etc.; they were to observe the wild life, the 
 flowers and minerals, and indeed w r ere to report 
 on anything and everything which might be of 
 any service in the future settlement and devel- 
 opment of the country. 
 
 On May 14th, 1804, the expedition left the neigh- 
 borhood of St. Louis and started up the Mis- 
 souri Eiver, in three boats. The largest of these 
 was fifty feet long, and was equipped with sail 
 and oars and mounted a small gun. The others 
 
GEN. WILLIAM CLARK 
 
LEWIS AND CLARK 177 
 
 were much smaller and of rough construction. 
 The boats were to be used as far as the river 
 would permit. 
 
 Four days later they reached the last white 
 settlement on the river, a little village called 
 La Charrette, consisting of a dozen or so cabins. 
 In one of these lived Daniel Boone, the famous 
 pioneer of Kentucky, then seventy years of age. 
 
 Leaving La Charrette, they pursued their way 
 through an unknown country, following the tor- 
 tuous windings of the great river. After jour- 
 neying for a few days they came upon a raft 
 carrying a hunter and trapper named Dorian, 
 who had lived among the Sioux Indians for many 
 years, and on hearing of their purpose he gladly 
 agreed to accompany them. 
 
 After an inland voyage of more than five 
 months, during which time they held friendly 
 intercourse with many Indian tribes, they came 
 to the Mandan villages and, having found a suit- 
 able spot, they proceeded to fell trees and make 
 preparations for their winter camp, which they 
 called Fort Mandan. This was in the vicinity 
 of the present city of Bismarck. 
 
 They found the Mandans hospitable and 
 friendly, and the winter spent among them 
 passed pleasantly. Corn and other supplies 
 were bought from the red men and the hunters 
 of the party found game plentiful. 
 
 Early in April they broke camp, and having 
 
178 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 sent back the extra members who had been de- 
 tailed to accompany them that far, proceeded 
 up the tortuous river. 
 
 Eight days later they passed a place which 
 they named Chaboneau Creek, after one of the 
 French voyageurs, who had previously encamped 
 there. "Beyond this," the famous journal of 
 the expedition reads, "no white man has ever 
 been, but two Frenchmen." 
 
 All through this region they saw large num- 
 bers of fallen trees which had been cut down 
 by beavers, and there were multitudes of these 
 industrious little animals which are now so 
 scarce. They encountered also great herds of 
 buffalo and innumerable grizzly bears. These 
 latter were very ferocious. 
 
 On one occasion, six of the men, all good hunt- 
 ers, simultaneously attacked one of these monsters 
 and, though all the bullets struck the beast, such 
 was its amazing vitality that some of the at- 
 tackers were forced to flee in a canoe while the 
 others concealed themselves and kept up a con- 
 tinual fire. With every shot which took effect 
 the beast became only the more enraged, seem- 
 ing to gain in strength under the fusillade of 
 shot. At length, just as the hunters had given 
 up in despair, and were scrambling down a pre- 
 cipitous bank to save their lives, one of them 
 turned and shot the animal between the eyes, 
 which put an end to his career. He had been 
 
LEWIS AND CLARK 179 
 
 able to pursue them with eight bullets in his 
 body! 
 
 On the 26th of May, Captain Lewis, standing 
 upon a hilltop, beheld, about fifty miles distant 
 as he thought, a range of lofty peaks which he 
 knew to be the Kooky Mountains. Somewhere 
 there, he felt sure, this mighty, sinuous stream 
 which they were following had its source, and 
 beyond, on the westerly slopes, he hoped to find 
 the trickling headwaters of the stream or streams 
 which should carry them, or at least guide them, 
 through the mysterious unknown country, on to 
 the Pacific. 
 
 How the hearts of all those bold adventurers 
 must have thrilled as they gazed upon the gray 
 peaks; and we may believe that even in their 
 stout resolve they were not free from misgiv- 
 ings at thought of the obstacles which those un- 
 known mountains might present to their prog- 
 ress. Shortly, they knew, they would have to 
 abandon their boats and press on afoot in quest 
 of a pass into the strange land far to the west- 
 ward. 
 
 The river was still more than one hundred 
 yards wide and they continued their journey 
 without difficulty. As they approached the moun- 
 tains, game became more plentiful and they lived 
 on the fat of the land. 
 
 They were now passing through a region rich 
 in memorials of ancient life, and every mile they 
 
180 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 traversed revealed wonders of animal and floral 
 life of which they had never dreamed. 
 
 This was the immemorial home and hunting- 
 ground of the Minitarees. As they toiled np 
 the narrowing stream they came at length to a 
 point where it was difficult to determine which 
 of two branches to take, but they decided that 
 the southern branch was the true Missouri, and 
 they followed it, naming the northern branch 
 Maria's Eiver, after an old sweetheart of Cap- 
 tain Clark's. 
 
 This was the region which is now the State 
 of Montana. Presently they came to the great 
 falls of the Missouri, where they paused to build 
 canoes, transporting them above the falls by 
 means of a rough wagon which they made. A 
 perfectly round cottonwood tree sawed into thin 
 sections supplied the wheels. 
 
 Here, according to the famous journal of the 
 expedition, strange, booming sounds were heard 
 continually. These are still heard by travelers 
 in that wild, lonely region, and their cause has 
 never been determined. 
 
 They were now within the lower reaches of the 
 Eockies, pushing through an untrodden wilder- 
 ness, such as is surpassed nowhere in the world. 
 
 As they journeyed on they came to three forks 
 and they were in a quandary as before as to 
 which stream to follow. They wished, of course, 
 to pursue the one which would bring them to that 
 
LEWIS AND CLAKK 181 
 
 part of the mountains nearest to the source of 
 some westerly flowing river. 
 
 "Whether by reason of their skill in scoutcraft 
 or by sheer good luck, they chose the right one 
 (which they named Jefferson River) and follow- 
 ing it up to its source they came at last to a tiny 
 trickle, the infinitesimal beginning of the mighty 
 Missouri River whose windings they had followed 
 through the unexplored wilderness which is now 
 five states. 
 
 This spot is known as Lemhi Pass, and it was 
 upon the 12th of August, 1805, that Captain 
 Lewis, traveling a little in advance of the others, 
 stood there realizing (may we not assume, with 
 a thrill of pride and satisfaction?) that he was 
 at last near to the- backbone of the continent. 
 
 Keeping still ahead of his companions, Captain 
 Lewis pressed on through the rocky intricacies 
 of those mighty heights till he came to another 
 little trickle which flowed westward and which 
 he believed must bear its crystal contribution 
 down through rock and cavern to swell the flood 
 of the Columbia as it swept on to the Pacific! 
 
 So far as he knew, no white man had ever 
 before trodden these dim recesses, and we may 
 fancy the pride and satisfaction of the intrepid 
 scout as he gazed upon that tiny brooklet among 
 the rocks which would show the way, however 
 difficult and baffling, to the shores of the great 
 ocean. 
 
182 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 Still keeping ahead of the main party, he came 
 upon a band of Shoshone Indians who gazed at 
 him in consternation, for they had never before 
 seen a white man and he was as much a marvel 
 to them as Columbus had been to the natives of 
 San Salvador. 
 
 When their astonishment had somewhat sub- 
 sided, Captain Lewis was able, after a fashion, 
 to hold intercourse with them and he found them 
 inclined to be peaceable and friendly. He bor- 
 rowed horses from them and persuaded the chief 
 to accompany him back to the main party where 
 a further surprise awaited the warrior. For on 
 meeting with them who should he discover but 
 Sacajawea, his own long lost sister, who had 
 come along as the wife of one of the French 
 voyageurs. She had, it seemed, been stolen by 
 the Minatarees while a child and her people had 
 given up all hope of ever seeing her again. 
 
 Pausing at the camp of these friendly Indians, 
 the party waited while Captain Clark explored 
 one of the streams and the westerly flowing 
 Salmon Eiver of which it was a tributary. 
 
 He found, as the Indians had told him, that 
 the country below in this direction was too rough 
 for travel, so, taking several of the Shoshones 
 for guides, they descended in another direction 
 until they reached the head of Bitter Root River. 
 
 This they followed through the wild Rocky 
 Mountain country until it brought them to a 
 
oo 
 
 LEWIS AND CLARK 18 
 
 stream which they called Lolo Creek and here 
 they made a camp, calling it Travelers' Rest. 
 
 Resuming their journey through the passes of 
 the Bitter Root Range they followed Lolo Creek 
 to a point which they called Lolo Pass and came 
 at length in their tortuous wanderings to a place 
 in the mountains from which the natives told 
 them how they might descend in canoes. 
 
 They had, of course, abandoned even these as 
 they ascended and the streams became less navi- 
 gable, so they made camp again in order to rest 
 and construct enough rough craft to proceed by 
 water. 
 
 Here they remained from September 26th to 
 October 7th, 1805, making preparations and con- 
 structing the canoes for the last stage of their 
 long journey. As usual, they found the natives 
 greatly interested In them, obliging and friendly. 
 Here also they secured provisions, which had of 
 late been alarmingly low. 
 
 Resuming their journey on October 7th, they 
 descended in their canoes till they came to Snake 
 River, or, as they called it, Lewis River, in 
 honor of their leader. This stream broadened 
 as it descended until presently they were sailing 
 down the wide bosom of a noble river, which 
 wound its way through deep ravines. Above 
 them on either hand rose precipitous rocky 
 heights between which the hurrying stream was 
 at times churned into perilous rapids. 
 
184 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 Following the erratic wanderings and braving 
 the dangers of the river, they reached the point 
 where it separates the present States of Oregon 
 and Idaho, and presently they were sailing down 
 the wide expanse of the lordly Columbia, their 
 gaze enthralled by the magnificent prospect of 
 green and lofty mountains which rolled away 
 into the misty distance on either hand. 
 
 On November 7th, they had their first glimpse 
 of the Pacific Ocean, and before that memorable 
 day was over the welcome sound of its incessant 
 breakers reached the ears of the weary and 
 triumphant explorers. 
 
 Their long journey was over, their mission 
 accomplished. Not a serious mishap had there 
 been. It was a triumph without alloy. 
 
 A little above the mouth of the great Columbia 
 River, at a spot which they called Netul, they 
 made their camp. Here, in a dim grove of 
 stately pines, they built rough cabins and being 
 in the neighborhood of the Clatsop Indians they 
 named their little makeshift settlement after that 
 friendly tribe. 
 
 They lived now chiefly on fish and elks' meat, 
 nd though their fare grew monotonous as the 
 winter months wore away, and even though star- 
 vation sometimes threatened, the contemplation 
 of their successful expedition buoyed them up 
 and gave them strength and spirit for the tedious 
 journey homeward. 
 
LEWIS AND CLARK 185 
 
 Toward the end of March, 1806, after a winter 
 which, despite its hardships and privations, was 
 by no means unpleasant, they abandoned their 
 little home among the pines and set forth again 
 up the Columbia toward the mountains. 
 
 They had traded off all their glass beads and 
 miscellaneous gewgaws to the Indians and they 
 bad nothing wherewith to buy necessaries and 
 safe conduct home save only the friendship which 
 their justice and honesty had won them among 
 the Indian tribes through which they must again 
 
 But this good-will served them in good stead. 
 Moreover, Lewis and Clark had acquired the 
 reputation of famous doctors, and on their jour- 
 ney homeward they found lines of patients wait- 
 ing for them such as would swell the pride of 
 the most arrogant specialist of to-day. They 
 made "eye water" and traded it for horses, 
 dogs, fish and game. 
 
 Their clothing had gone in tatters and they 
 were clad wholly in skins. 
 
 In good time they crossed the mountains again, 
 and after some adventures with the Blackfoot 
 Indians, they pressed their way eastward and 
 came at length to their old camp among the 
 Mandans in Dakota. 
 
 They reached St. Louis on September 23rd, 
 1806, after an absence of two years and four 
 months. Their primitive costumes and tanned 
 
186 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 faces "were viewed with amazement by those who 
 had never expected to see them again. 
 
 In acknowledgment of their exploit and its 
 great value to the young nation, Lewis was made 
 Governor of Louisiana and Clark was raised to 
 Militia General of the same vast area and also 
 appointed Indian agent for the many tribes 
 whose acquaintance he had made. The other 
 members of the expedition were given double pay 
 and three hundred and twenty acres of land each. 
 
 Meriwether Lewis died in September, 1809, 
 while on a journey to Washington upon official 
 business. He was found dead in a little inn in 
 Tennessee where he stopped, but whether he 
 killed himself or was murdered no one knows. 
 
 In 1813, Clark was appointed Governor of 
 Missouri and he held that post until the territory 
 became a state. In 1822 he was made Superin- 
 tendent of Indian Affairs, which office he held 
 until his death in 1838. 
 
 The Lewis and Clark Expedition was unique 
 in many ways. For one thing, its two leaders 
 shared the authority of leadership without a sug- 
 gestion of jealousy or discord. For another 
 thing, although they encountered many Indian 
 tribes, they had no serious trouble with the red 
 men, although there were, of course, instances 
 of individual theft and treachery, and a varying 
 measure of hospitality shown them in their ardu- 
 ous progress westward. 
 
LEWIS AND CLARK 187 
 
 To be sure, the Indians of the Northwest, 
 having never before seen white men, had not 
 been swindled and oppressed, and cherished no 
 grudge against these strange creatures whom 
 they now saw for the first time. Yet this does 
 not fully explain the refreshing absence of scrim- 
 mages and massacres in that long journey of 
 two years and doubtless much credit must be 
 accorded to the tact and kindness of the two 
 
 leaders. 
 
 That only one man lost his life in all that two 
 years of journeying and camping in an unknown 
 country seems scarcely credible, but such was the 
 fact. We might have supposed that the Rocky 
 Mountains alone would have claimed at least 
 
 one victim. 
 
 The Lewis and Clark Expedition was one of 
 the most ambitious and venturesome ever under- 
 taken in our country, and it was out and away 
 the most successful. Meriwether Lewis and Will- 
 iam Clark must have possessed indeed all of 
 the qualities which the astute Thomas Jefferson 
 accorded to his young secretary. It seems evi- 
 dent that that great and true democrat could do 
 other things besides write the Declaration of 
 Independence. 
 
 He knew a good scout when he saw one. 
 
ZEBULON MONTGOMERY PIKE 
 
 How he explored the Mississippi and later the Rocky Moun- 
 tains; how he searched for the Red River and didn't 
 find it; also how the Spaniards found him and what 
 they did with him; together with other particulars of 
 his adventures in the Southwest. 
 
 Near the central part of Colorado there rises 
 above the surrounding rock-ribbed heights a 
 towering mountain which is famous throughout 
 the world as Pike's Peak. Fourteen thousand 
 and one hundred feet -above sea-level it rears its 
 mighty head and from that rocky, woodless 
 summit, miles upon miles of trackless desert can 
 be seen to the eastward, while on the west and 
 north and south Nature may be viewed in all 
 her magnificent disorder, in a thousand canons, 
 valleys and gray chaotic heights, fading away 
 in the enveloping mist which shrouds the distant 
 wilderness. 
 
 It is a singular fact that the man whose name 
 this majestic giant of the Rockies bears never 
 climbed to its summit nor even approached very 
 near to its wild and rugged base. 
 
 But in the immediate country which it over- 
 looks he suffered as acutely as man may suffer 
 at the hands of untamed nature. His name was 
 
 188 
 
ZEBULON MONTGOMERY PIKE 189 
 
 Zebulon Montgomery Pike and he was a brave 
 young soldier and a good scout. He was born 
 in the State of New Jersey in 1779, and in 1799 
 he entered the army, becoming a captain in 1806. 
 
 "When the vast Louisiana territory was pur- 
 chased by the United States, President Jeffer- 
 son, as we know, was anxious that it should be 
 thoroughly explored in order that its character 
 might be made known to our people. 
 
 For this momentous task of scouting and ex- 
 ploring he selected Lewis and Clark to penetrate 
 the west and if possible to press on to the Pacific. 
 
 But there were other things which that great 
 president wished to determine in connection with 
 the acquisition of this vast area, and chief among 
 them was the source of the Mississippi. So, while 
 Lewis and Clark were still upon their perilous 
 errand, President Jefferson selected young 
 Zebulon Pike to ascend the Father of Waters, 
 ascertain all that he could of its source, and at 
 the same time make certain observations along 
 the northern boundary of the newly acquired 
 land. 
 
 His choice of young Pike for this mission, like 
 his choice of Lewis and Clark, was a particu- 
 larly happy — or shall we say, shrewd — one? 
 Pike was nothing if not courageous, resourceful 
 and adventurous. 
 
 With a company of twenty men he set forth 
 from St. Louis in August, 1805, in a rough boat 
 
190 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 about seventy feet long and with provisions for 
 four months. 
 
 His chief object was to explore the Mississippi 
 to its tiniest beginning. The little party as- 
 cended the river, pausing to construct new boats 
 and before they had approached near to the 
 headwaters Pike was the proud commander of 
 a sumptuous fleet of four small craft which he 
 contemplated with much satisfaction. 
 
 "Our four boats under full sail," he said, 
 "their flags streaming before the wind, were 
 altogether a prospect so variegated and roman- 
 tic that a man may scarce expect to - enjoy such 
 a one but twice or thrice in the course of his 
 life!" 
 
 They formed a happy little scouting party, 
 we may assume, having "violins and other music 
 on board," and taking great pride in their little 
 flotilla. 
 
 With music playing they sailed gaily across 
 Lake Pepin, in the present State of Minnesota, 
 and were soon in the region which Jonathan 
 Carver was supposed to have traveled in 1766. 
 
 Hereabouts Pike encountered agents and trap- 
 pers of the British Fur Companies, whom he 
 informed of the Louisiana Purchase and re- 
 quested that they withdraw from the country. 
 
 Spending the winter in that northern wilder- 
 ness, Pike explored the headwaters of the Mis- 
 sissippi, hunted, and made rough maps of the 
 
ZEBULON MONTGOMERY PIKE 191 
 
 locality, gathering much information about the 
 unknown region, and after acute hardship and 
 suffering from the cold, the little expedition 
 retraced its way down the great river, reaching 
 St. Louis in April, 1806, at just about the time 
 that Lewis and Clark were beginning their re- 
 turn journey from the Pacific. 
 
 So resourceful and indomitable had young Pike 
 shown himself to be on this important mission 
 into the unexplored wilderness of the north that 
 he was presently selected to lead an expedition 
 for the same purpose into the Soutlrwest, and in 
 July of the same year he set forth for that re- 
 gion of mountains and prairies where the great 
 peak which is now his namesake frowned upon 
 the resolute scouts who would challenge the un- 
 trodden wilderness at its foot. 
 
 The expedition consisted of a miscellaneous 
 company, including a surgeon, a sergeant, two 
 corporals, sixteen privates and an interpreter. 
 They were very insufficiently equipped and pro- 
 visioned, as it turned out. 
 
 Sailing up the Missouri from St. Louis in two 
 rough boats, they came after six weeks' travel- 
 ing to the Osage River, which converges with 
 the greater stream in the central part of Mis- 
 souri. Here they abandoned their boats and 
 procured horses with which to continue their 
 journey. 
 
 It must be borne in mind that although our 
 
192 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 country had purchased this vast tract of Louis- 
 iana from France, there were many complica- 
 tions in connection with its transfer. Spain 
 was by no means agreeable to the negotiations 
 between the United States and France; there 
 was much dispute and dissatisfaction over the 
 question of boundaries; and to go no further 
 into the matter, it may be stated that the Span- 
 ish authorities in New Mexico kept a jealous 
 eye upon all Americans who ventured west of 
 the Missouri and bent their course southward. 
 
 Not that Captain Pike cared anything about 
 this. He knew that he was in American terri- 
 tory and he intended not to trespass upon Spain's 
 possession to the south. He was not, if he knew 
 it, going to accept Spain's arbitrary dictum as 
 to where these possessions ended, however. In- 
 deed, the line of Spain's southern frontier was, 
 if one may so express it, up in the air. 
 
 On learning that Pike was on his way to drive 
 a wedge into the southwest wilderness the au- 
 thorities in Santa Fe sent an armed force north- 
 ward to intercept him. They advanced as far 
 northward as the Republican Fork in the south- 
 ern part of the present State of Nebraska, and 
 here as Pike and his men pressed southward 
 they came upon the trail of this formidable 
 searching party. 
 
 It was all they ever saw of it, for after much 
 wandering in this direction and that, its leader, 
 
ZEBULON MONTGOMERY PIKE 193 
 
 having paid a visit to the Pawnee Indians for 
 the purpose of securing their allegiance (Spain 
 claiming this whole area), led his troops back 
 to Santa Fe. 
 
 Pike said that if he had met them he would 
 have fought them, and we can readily believe 
 that, although it would have been one of the 
 most uneven conflicts in American history. 
 
 Pushing southward and westward, Captain 
 Pike came upon the Pawnees to whom the Span- 
 iards had presented a Spanish flag, claiming 
 their allegiance. The young scout presented 
 them with an American flag, upon which they 
 promptly agreed to furl the banner of Spain 
 in favor of Old Glory. 
 
 It was while among these warriors of doubt- 
 full allegiance that Pike received in a roundabout 
 way a report of the safe arrival of Lewis and 
 Clark in St. Louis, and we may infer that this 
 news buoyed the young explorer up with fresh 
 courage and resolve in the prosecution of his 
 own difficult task. 
 
 Reaching the Arkansas River, which corre- 
 sponds to the line of the Old Santa Fe Trail, 
 Pike began following it westward, intending to 
 reach the mountains, where he expected to turn 
 to the south, find the Red River (which rises 
 in the western part of Texas) and return home 
 by that route. 
 
 On November 15th, as they were slowly press- 
 
194 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 ing their way westward over the monotonous 
 plains, Pike discerned an irregular line of 
 shadow far ahead, and as they came nearer he 
 perceived it to be a range of mountains with 
 towering peaks, at intervals piercing the clouds. 
 
 Cheered at the sight of these noble heights, 
 the weary travelers paused and gave three cheers 
 for the "Mexican Mountains.' ' 
 
 "What they saw was, of course, the great range 
 of the Rockies. Encouraged by the apparent 
 proximity of these magnificent heights, they 
 plodded on, intent on reaching the foot of the 
 mountains the next day. 
 
 But the next day the peaks seemed no nearer 
 than before, and they pressed wearily on, kill- 
 ing buffaloes from the great herds which were 
 continually crossing their path, and drying some 
 of the meat to carry along with them. 
 
 They now entered an area of evil repute known 
 as the hostile ground. This was the rugged 
 country at the eastern base of the mountains 
 and was so called because of the many fierce 
 encounters which had occurred there. In this 
 Bloody Way, as it was also called, predatory 
 bands of Comanches and Pawnees lurked and 
 roamed, ever in wait for traders who should 
 venture within these perilous precincts. 
 
 Here Pike and his companions met with a war 
 party of Pawnees who outnumbered them four 
 to one. He was wise enough, therefore, to offer 
 
ZEBULON MONTGOMERY PIKE 195 
 
 them presents instead of shot, which they ac- 
 cepted with true Pawnee alacrity and appeared 
 satisfied until the little pow-wow broke up. 
 
 Then their greed overcame them and they 
 manifested a disposition to levy upon the re- 
 maining goods of the travelers. It was time 
 for diplomacy now, and Pike informed the chief 
 that each and every red man who so much as 
 laid a finger upon his possessions would be in- 
 stantly killed. 
 
 There must have been something in young 
 Pike's eye to confirm his portentous words, for, 
 after a few moments ' council among themselves, 
 the Indians left the explorers to pursue their 
 journey unmolested. 
 
 They presently arrived at the Grand Fork, 
 which is about where the city of Pueblo, Colo- 
 rado, now stands, in the lower reaches of the 
 mountains. 
 
 Here they built a rough fort of logs, which 
 was the first American establishment of any 
 kind in Colorado, and the main body of the 
 expedition settled down to a much-needed rest 
 while their intrepid leader with three compan- 
 ions explored the neighboring mountains. 
 
 After a journey of thirty or more miles, the 
 four men found themselves at the base of one 
 of the towering peaks which they had seen from 
 afar. It was November, the cold was intense, 
 and as they climbed the forbidding height they 
 
196 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 were forced to plow knee-deep through the snow. 
 
 Their sufferings on that difficult ascent were 
 indescribable. Their stock of clothing was so 
 reduced that they wore only overalls. They 
 had no socks and their worn-out shoes were 
 held together with cords. Their food was in- 
 sufficient, and while the ghastly specter of fam- 
 ine crept in their arduous path, they climbed 
 and plodded on unheeding, amid wind and storm, 
 in imminent peril of freezing. 
 
 The resolute Pike would not hear of turning 
 back, and after such climbing and suffering as 
 few men would be able to endure, the exhausted 
 party reached the summit, from which they gazed 
 out through a blinding snowstorm at a mighty 
 peak about fifteen miles distant. This was the 
 mountain which was afterward named for the 
 dauntless man who thus beheld it for the first 
 time. 
 
 He called it the "Grand Peak," and so it must 
 have seemed as it towered serenely amid the 
 wind and beating snow, a very symbol of gran- 
 deur and majestic power. The ragged, half- 
 starved adventurer did not know as he gazed 
 upon its lordly summit that its fame would carry 
 his name to the farthest corners of the world, 
 associating it forever with all that is grand and 
 noble and beautiful, and terrible and forbidding, 
 in Nature. Zebulon Pike could not have had a 
 more befitting namesake. 
 
ZEBULOX MONTGOMERY PIKE 197 
 
 Retracing his way to the fort, Pike found his 
 men suffering frightfully from lack of food and 
 clothing. They could not remain long in such 
 a predicament. The perils of braving that for- 
 bidding wilderness with such slight prospect of 
 obtaining food as might offer, seemed better than 
 inaction, and Pike led his weakened and disheart- 
 ened followers on up the Arkansas River toward 
 its source in the mountains. 
 
 Why he did this, in his desperate strait and 
 in the face of increasing privation and suffer- 
 ing, is not known. The Red River, which he 
 had expressed his intention of following, lay 
 to the southwest and the presumption has always 
 been that Pike was fully aware of this. 
 
 There seems no explanation of the subsequent 
 pitiful wanderings of the wretched party, except 
 just that they were lost in those rocky entangle- 
 ments where they journeyed with apparent aim- 
 lessness this way and that, their sufferings ever 
 increasing. 
 
 After some time they found themselves at the 
 headwaters of the Arkansas in the mountain 
 fastnesses. Their feet were naked and freezing; 
 they were without food and almost without cloth- 
 ing, sick at heart, and almost dead with fatigue. 
 
 They managed to improvise a rough sled to 
 carry their few remnants of baggage. Chron- 
 iclers differ as to whether the expedition was 
 lost and hopelessly bewildered or whether its 
 
198 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 indomitable leader, still ignoring peril and pri- 
 vation, was bent on new discoveries. 
 
 The one thing which is definitely known is 
 that they experienced such hardship as few such 
 expeditions have experienced. At length they 
 reached a spot where Pike resolved to build a 
 shelter which he called a fort. 
 
 Here they stored what little baggage re- 
 mained, and leaving an interpreter and one 
 other man to guard it, they set forth again 
 with packs on their backs across the mountains, 
 with the single purpose of finding Eed River 
 — that beacon stream which should guide them 
 homeward out of this heartless, chaotic wilder- 
 ness. 
 
 It was in January, 1807, that they started. 
 Each forlorn wayfarer carried forty-five pounds 
 of baggage and a few provisions. They pursued 
 their way southward amid a severe blizzard and 
 penetrating cold. Very soon two of the men 
 were compelled to give up because of frost-bit- 
 ten feet. The party could not with safety pause, 
 and these wretched sufferers could not go on. 
 
 A difficult choice confronted Pike. He de- 
 cided that the stricken men should be left be- 
 hind with all the provisions which the party 
 had, save enough for one scanty meal. 
 
 Bidding good-bye to the sufferers the others 
 pushed ahead, and on the 28th of January they 
 were cheered by falling into a well-defined trail 
 
ZEBULON MONTGOMERY PIKE 199 
 
 with odd markings on the bordering trees. They 
 were, indeed, approaching the Mosca Pass, nine 
 thousand seven hundred feet above the plains, 
 and shortly to their delight and relief they could 
 gaze off southward on a vast panorama, where 
 the welcome sight of the Rio Grande greeted 
 their eyes. They believed it to be the Red River. 
 
 But their sufferings were not at an end. Half- 
 starved, weary, and benumbed with the cold, 
 they labored on, cheered by their dauntless 
 leader, until they found themselves in the San 
 Luis Valley. 
 
 Here, at last, they found game and were able 
 to remedy one cause of their sufferings and 
 ghastly apprehensions. 
 
 They were now in the extreme southern part 
 of Colorado, on a branch of the Rio Grande 
 called the Rio Conejos, and on its northern bank 
 they built another fort. It was a very rough 
 affair, constructed of logs, with a moat around 
 it, and as well equipped for defence as their 
 poor means and exhausted strength could make 
 it. For the intrepid Pike was now resting his 
 weary followers in a country where he had every 
 reason to apprehend trouble with the Spaniards, 
 and he intended, weak and spent though they 
 were, to dispute by force every claim which the 
 powers at Santa Fe might advance. 
 
 As a matter of fact the party was encamped 
 in territory which the Spaniards claimed and 
 
200 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 which, had he known where he was, Pike wonld 
 have conceded to be of their possession. But 
 he thought he was on the Eed River in Texas, 
 where their jurisdiction was, to say the least, 
 doubtful. 
 
 Several men were now sent back to bring the 
 two who had been left behind, but the poor 
 wretches could not travel and all that their 
 would-be rescuers could do was to minister to 
 them, and, having made them as comfortable 
 as might be, leave them to their inevitable fate. 
 As they returned, they carried back several bones 
 from the feet of the unhappy victims — ghastly 
 souvenirs of their wretched fate. 
 
 At last the expected happened. An imposing 
 company of mounted militia under Don Ignacio 
 Salleto appeared before the little fort. Don 
 Ignacio, with the utmost tact and courtesy, in- 
 quired after the health of the heroic Pike and 
 expressed the greatest solicitude for him and his 
 ragged and exhausted companions. He was kind- 
 ness itself, was Don Ignacio, and very consid- 
 erate of the pride and feelings of the brave, 
 travel-worn trespassers. 
 
 "Senor," said he, "the Governor of New Mex- 
 ico, being informed that you had missed your 
 route, ordered me to offer you in his name mules, 
 horses, money, or whatever you may stand in 
 need of to conduct you to the head of Eed River, 
 as from Santa Fe to where it is sometimes nav- 
 
ZEBULON MONTGOMERY PIKE 201 
 
 igable is eight days' journey and we have guides 
 and the routes of traders to conduct us." 
 This was certainly very polite. 
 "What!" said Pike. "Is not this the Red 
 River !" 
 
 "No, senor." 
 
 When Pike had recovered from his astonish- 
 ment he immediately ordered his flaunting colors 
 lowered, a rather inglorious sequel to his martial 
 preparations. He was now ready enough to ad- 
 mit that he was unwittingly trespassing. 
 
 As a matter of plain fact, the Spaniards con- 
 sidered that he had been trespassing during 
 practically the whole of his unfortunate wan- 
 derings, and they would have still considered 
 him as trespassing if they had found him on 
 the shores of the Red River. But here, at least, 
 there could be no dispute, and he promptly ac- 
 cepted Don Ignacio's invitation to accompany 
 him to Santa Fe to "visit" the governor. 
 
 It was in reality a kind of sugar-coated arrest, 
 made palatable by much-needed food and provi- 
 sions, and an accompaniment of superb courtesy. 
 Arrived at Santa Fe, the Americans were 
 treated with consideration, and the acute suf- 
 ferings which the party had undergone as well 
 as the prowess of its redoubtable leader were 
 quite sufficient to guarantee them a cordial hos- 
 pitality, and, ere long, a safe conduct from Span- 
 ish territory. 
 
202 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 Thus ended the hazardous expedition of Pike 
 into the unknown southwestern wilderness. Not- 
 withstanding his undoubted courage and scout 
 resourcefulness, he had found the Rockies a foe- 
 man worthy of his steel. 
 
 In good time the little expedition reached the 
 East and Pike received the grateful acknowl- 
 edgments of the government for his journey and 
 for the very considerable amount of valuable in- 
 formation which he brought back. 
 
 He rose rapidly to the rank of brigadier-gen- 
 eral. In 1813 he was also appointed adjutant 
 and inspector-general and put in command of 
 the land portion of the expedition against York 
 in Upper Canada, in the War of 1812. He ar- 
 rived at York with seventeen hundred men, 
 landed under a heavy fire, and while storming 
 a battery was killed by the explosion of a mag- 
 azine. 
 
 But although he fought gallantly and died a 
 soldier's death in the Far North, his name is 
 forever associated with the frowning heights 
 which he also stormed in the mountain wilder- 
 ness of the Southwest, and with the mighty 
 mountain which stands like an immortal mon- 
 ument to commemorate his prowess and his 
 suffering. 
 
ANDREW LEWIS 
 
 How he won renown as a border fighter and how he led the 
 pioneers of Virginia against the Indians in Lord Dun- 
 more's War. 
 
 A mighty man was Andrew Lewis, at whose 
 very tread the world shook (if we are to believe 
 his friends), and compared with whose forbid- 
 ding visage and awful mien that of a lion would 
 be docility itself. He had a voice like thunder, 
 a presence like that of Hercules, and an eye 
 whose very glance was like unto a shot from 
 his own trusty rifle. 
 
 He was a man to frighten naughty children 
 with, was Andrew Lewis. 
 
 But he was not so bad when one got to know 
 him, as we shall try to do in this little sketch 
 of his life and adventures. 
 
 He was Irish and proud of it, and a scout 
 and border fighter of the first rank. He had 
 only to raise his hand for a horde of sturdy 
 borderers like himself to rally around him; and 
 if, perchance, the raising of his hand failed, the 
 raising of his voice more than sufficed. 
 
 He was born in the year 1720, and his parents 
 emigrated to America while he was still a very 
 
 203 
 
204 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 young child. They settled in Virginia, and as 
 Andrew grew up all doubt was dispelled (if 
 indeed any had ever existed) as to his choice 
 of a profession. He intended to fight, if there 
 were any fighting to do, and there proved to 
 be plenty of it. 
 
 His early manhood was spent as a typical 
 borderer, always with a band of sturdy woods- 
 men at his back. There was not an Indian 
 lurking on the frontier who did not know of 
 and fear Andrew Lewis. For years he pro- 
 tected the settlements from savage attacks, pen- 
 etrating far into the backwoods and leading the 
 most primitive sort of life. 
 
 There is, however, one episode of Virginia's 
 history with which this sturdy woodsman's name 
 is forever associated; a little war which, com- 
 ing just before the Revolution, seems to us now 
 like a tempest in a teapot, but which in plain 
 fact was one of the most desperate encounters 
 with the Indians that frontier history has known. 
 
 It is known as Lord Dunmore's War, but it 
 did rot belong exclusively to Lord Dunmore, as 
 Ave shall see. 
 
 In the year 1774, there were rumblings along 
 the border which told the settlers that trouble 
 was brewing, but open hostilities with the red 
 men might have been averted by friendly coun- 
 cil and new treaties, had it not been for an in- 
 cident which at once put aside all prospect of 
 
ANDREW LEWIS 205 
 
 peaceable adjustment and plunged Virginia into 
 a bloody war. 
 
 At that time there lived along the Ohio River 
 on the western edge of what is now West Vir- 
 ginia, an Indian named Tah-gah-jute, to whom 
 the settlers of Virginia had given the name of 
 Logan. 
 
 Though of the Iroquois nation, he lived among 
 the Shawnees and his fame and influence were 
 great among all the tribes. In all their squab- 
 bles and dissensions he held himself aloof, and 
 exerted his great influence to induce his breth- 
 ren to remember their treaties of amity and 
 friendship with the white men. The fame of 
 Logan is great now, even as his influence was 
 great then, and there are few who have not read 
 his famous speech, delivered after the close of 
 the war, which for dignity and touching pathos is 
 not surpassed in the annals of savage eloquence. 
 
 The friendship of Logan was a guarantee of 
 peace in the wild Virginia borderland and the 
 white men knew his word was to be trusted. 
 
 In April, 1774, a trader by the name of Great- 
 house visited this friendly savage and after ply- 
 ing Logan and his entire family with liquor, 
 cruelly murdered them all with the exception of 
 Logan himself. Why this ruffian spared the 
 great savage is not known, but he certainly 
 reckoned without his host. 
 
 When Logan awoke to the realization of what 
 
206 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 had happened lie became a fiend incarnate, and 
 in his savage wrath he resolved to wreak ven- 
 geance on the whole world of white men. 
 
 If he had slain the wretch who had so wronged 
 him the settlers would have borne no grudge 
 against Logan, for the rough pioneers were, on 
 the whole, fair-minded men, with a high sense 
 of justice and a rough-and-ready honor. 
 
 But no Indian, however wise and friendly, has 
 ever been able to draw the distinction between 
 injustice to his race and the irresponsible mur- 
 der of one of its members. To the savage mind 
 — even to the most enlightened savage mind 
 (and Logan's was such) — the race must always 
 be blamed for the crime of the individual. 
 
 If Logan had wreaked vengeance upon Great- 
 house no one would have resented it, and he 
 would have done a service to the world in rid- 
 ding it of a criminal, but instead he let loose 
 his fury upon the settlers of western Virginia 
 and the peaceful frontier settlements with their 
 innocent women and children fell within the 
 measure of his wrath. 
 
 His great prestige among the tribes was now 
 exercised to incite them to the warpath, and 
 presently the lonely borderland was rendered 
 frightful by the flames of burning homesteads 
 and the cries of the dying. 
 
 At that time the Eoyal Governor of Virginia 
 was Lord Dunmore, who, seeing this terrific 
 
ANDREW LEWIS 207 
 
 storm gathering momentum as it advanced, mus- 
 tered the Virginia militia and all the woodsmen 
 and pioneers from the wild country roundabout 
 and set in motion a campaign to check the In- 
 dians ' work of massacre and devastation. 
 
 The "left wing" of this miscellaneous army 
 was given in charge of Andrew Lewis, who at 
 once sent out a call to his men to rendezvous 
 at a spot which has since been named in his 
 honor — Lewisburg. The other wing was to be 
 commanded by Lord Dunmore himself and had 
 its rendezvous at Frederick. 
 
 There soon began assembling at Lewis' ren- 
 dezvous, which he called Camp Union, such a 
 motley array of scouts and backwoodsmen as 
 were probably never before brought together. 
 From the more populous eastern settlements 
 across the Blue Ridge Mountains came score 
 upon score of sturdy settlers, while out of their 
 remote homes in the backwoods to the south 
 and west others, clad in buckskin, made their 
 arduous pilgrimage to Camp Union to enlist 
 under the standard of the redoubtable Lewis. 
 
 It was one of the most singular armies ever 
 mobilized. George Rogers Clark, Simon Ken- 
 ton, Daniel Morgan, and indeed almost every 
 famous Kentucky scout and pioneer of that time, 
 whom one could mention, joined that rough-and- 
 ready legion. They were not strong on disci- 
 pline, and though their relish for the game in 
 
208 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 hand was undoubted, it is a question whether 
 any but Andrew Lewis could have controlled 
 them. Of warfare, in the sense in which we 
 understand the term, they knew nothing. But 
 they were all crack shots, thoroughly familiar 
 with the forests and the habits of the Indians, 
 and they w^ere past masters in all the qualities of 
 scouting. 
 
 We shall concern ourselves chiefly with this 
 branch of the Virginia army. The plan was for 
 Lewis to lead his men westward until they came 
 to the Kanawha Eiver and follow it to the point 
 where it empties into the Ohio. Here Lord Dun- 
 more and his force were to join him and all 
 were to advance against the Shawnee towns and 
 destroy them. 
 
 As soon as all was ready Lewis and his men 
 set forth on their difficult journey across the 
 mountains. Not a sign of trail was there and 
 they pressed on through the dense forest, cut- 
 ting down trees as they advanced in order to 
 open a way for their pack horses. None but 
 such men as these could ever have traversed 
 those tangled mazes of brush, surmounting the 
 hundred and one obstacles which the rugged 
 mountains presented. It was a journey of over 
 one hundred and fifty miles of the wildest coun- 
 try imaginable, but here Lewis and his men 
 were in their element, and at last they reached 
 the upper waters of the Kanawha, where they 
 
ANDREW LEWIS 209 
 
 built canoes, to which they transferred their 
 luggage, sending their horses back. 
 
 Here also they found a note in the hollow 
 of a tree, ordering them to inarch up the Ohio 
 and join Dunmore's forces. As all of Lewis's 
 party had not come up, however, he decided to 
 camp until the remainder of his men arrived. 
 While they waited, two young men of the party 
 set out one morning on a scouting and hunting 
 expedition. They had not gone far when they 
 encountered a large band of Indians who im- 
 mediately attacked them. One of the scouts was 
 instantly killed. The other killed his assailant 
 and escaped, reaching the camp after a remark- 
 able flight through the forest. Rushing into 
 camp, he gave the alarm, and immediately prep- 
 arations were made for defence. 
 
 The band of Indians which had thus been 
 discovered was much larger than the young 
 scout supposed. It constituted, indeed, the en- 
 tire force of savages which old Cornstalk, the 
 Shawnee chief, had assembled to attack Lewis's 
 force, of whose advance he was well aware. 
 
 Logan, the moving spirit of the whole upris- 
 ing, was not present in this company, but old 
 Cornstalk was a host in himself. His plan was 
 quite in conformity with the best military strat- 
 egy, for it was to fall on one party (whose num- 
 ber he knew was about equal to his own) before 
 it could possibly effect a union with the other 
 
210 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 party, of whose advance in another quarter he 
 also knew. 
 
 If it had not been for their discovery by the 
 two young men the Indians would undoubtedly 
 have fallen upon Lewis's force that very night 
 and a bloody massacre would very likely have 
 resulted. 
 
 There was nothing now for Cornstalk to do 
 but to lead his warriors forward, and he was 
 wise enough not to give his enemy any time for 
 preparation. 
 
 Scarcely, therefore, had the young scout pant- 
 ed out his appalling news to Lewis when the 
 deafening war-whoops of the approaching sav- 
 ages could be heard, and soon their painted 
 forms were seen rushing pell-mell through the 
 woods, incited by the wily chief whose voice 
 could be heard amid the uproar. 
 
 In the brief interval of hasty preparation, 
 Lewis and his men had supposed that the In- 
 dians were merely a small band sent to recon- 
 noitre. All such hopeful thoughts were now 
 dispelled as they saw the motley array advanc- 
 ing through the forest. 
 
 For a few moments Lewis's stern eye was 
 fixed upon the multitude of warriors and their 
 shouting chief, then Avith an air of grim deter- 
 mination he reached £or his trusty — pipe. "When 
 he had lighted it he took several good puffs, 
 then forth from the savory smoke issued his 
 
ANDREW LEWIS 211 
 
 sonorous command for one of the columns to 
 move forward. 
 
 Instantly the men obeyed, moving from tree 
 to tree, the Indians doing the same. Then the 
 main body of Lewis's force advanced and the 
 engagement began in earnest. 
 
 The Indians fought with savage desperation 
 and remarkable skill under the keen eye and 
 continual orders of old Cornstalk, who proved 
 himself master of the situation. Rallying his 
 men again and again, he led them forward to 
 bloody charges, which resolved themselves into 
 grim hand-to-hand encounters among the trees. 
 
 Amid flying tomahawks and rifle volleys the 
 giant form of Andrew Lewis could be seen hur- 
 rying about, encouraging his men and giving 
 orders in tones that made the forest ring. 
 
 It was a typical hand-to-hand battle, one of 
 the most savage in all the border history. Old 
 Cornstalk commanded his warriors with a skill 
 and foresight which won the admiration of the 
 white men. Once he was seen to cut down with 
 his own hand a cowardly Indian who had hesi- 
 tated to obey his order. 
 
 Andrew Lewis, from beginning to end, was 
 the spirit and incentive of his makeshift but 
 sturdy army, and his thundering voice might be 
 heard mingling with that of his noble adversary 
 as he instilled fresh courage into his men. 
 
 All day long the bloody conflict raged, one 
 
212 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 side, then the other, driven back, and there was 
 no foretelling what the issue would be. 
 
 As the day waned, the Indians, in the course 
 of the shifting battle, found themselves upon 
 a little eminence, deeply wooded with protecting 
 trees, and high enough to give them an advan- 
 tage. 
 
 In desperation Lewis and his men tried to 
 dislodge them, but they could not be driven from 
 the hill. 
 
 The fighting now became desperate in the ex- 
 treme. The woods echoed with the war cries 
 of the frantic savages, while the Virginians from 
 behind trees poured volley after volley among 
 them. 
 
 At last the Indians began to show signs of 
 weakening and Colonel Lewis detached some of 
 his men, under a sturdy pioneer named Shelby, 
 to make a roundabout march and attack them 
 in the rear. 
 
 It will be remembered that at the beginning 
 of the battle some of Lewis's troops, who were 
 coming over the mountains, had not yet reached 
 the camp, and it was to await them that Lewis 
 had decided to camp where he did. 
 
 Cornstalk, who was exceptionally sagacious for 
 a savage, knew of the expected arrival of these 
 other troops, and when he discovered Shelby 
 and his men opening fire upon him from the rear 
 
ANDREW LEWIS 213 
 
 he mistook this small party for the large band 
 of reinforcements. 
 
 Lewis gave him no time to deliberate or to 
 discover the truth, but advanced at once with 
 redoubled fury, and the suddenness of the at- 
 tack, together with the old chief's misgivings 
 at the supposed turn of affairs, caused him to 
 withdraw his men, which he did in a masterly 
 manner, leaving the grimly contested field in pos- 
 session of Lewis and his brave border fighters. 
 
 The ground was strewn with the dead of both 
 sides, and if the woodsmen could call the result 
 a victory, it was a victory which they had won 
 at a staggering cost. Seventy-five of them had 
 been killed and about fifty wounded. The In- 
 dians had not lost nearly as many. 
 
 That very night the rear guard of Lewis's 
 army arrived. They remained at the bloody 
 spot for several days to regain their breath and 
 bury their dead. Here, also, they built a rough 
 fort, and, leaving some men to garrison it, they 
 pressed on through the wild country to effect a 
 junction with Lord Dunmore. 
 
 The spot where this sanguinary combat oc- 
 curred was called Point Pleasant — a singularly 
 inappropriate name and better suited to a mod- 
 ern summer resort than to the scene of one of 
 the most terrific border fights in pioneer history. 
 
 Lewis and his backwoodsmen were not in a 
 very amiable mood toward Lord Dunmore, and 
 
214 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 as the sturdy giant in tattered buckskin led his 
 weary and wounded men along the trail his face 
 bore an expression of grim resolve which boded 
 ill for that tinseled dignitary. 
 
 He and his men believed that Dunmore had 
 planned from the beginning that on these brave 
 backwoodsmen should fall the burden and the 
 perils of an encounter with the formidable In- 
 dian force. Moreover, the spirit of '76 was 
 already beating in the breasts of these rough 
 pioneers, and they looked upon Lord Dunmore 
 as an aristocrat who despised them and their 
 simple lives, and who represented a king whom 
 they, in turn, despised. They believed that Lord 
 Dunmore would have been well pleased to see 
 them and all other patriots annihilated by the 
 Indians. 
 
 The Virginian Governor was not quite as bad 
 as that, although he did, when the time arrived, 
 prove himself a pretty staunch supporter of the 
 king. It is not improbable, also, that he did 
 look with a certain aristocratic disdain upon 
 these rough men of the border and that he was 
 willing enough to have them bear the brunt of 
 the battle — which, they certainly did. 
 
 But there is no evidence of premeditated 
 treachery on his part, although, as it fell out, 
 with all his martial preparations and his vaunt- 
 ed boasts, his task simmered down to the less 
 glorious one of drawing up a treaty of peace 
 
ANDREW LEWIS 215 
 
 with the Indians whom Lewis had fought. This 
 was the beginning and the end of Lord Dun- 
 more 's participation in Lord Dunmore's War, 
 which ought to have been called Andrew Lewis's 
 War, or Cornstalk's War, or Logan's War. 
 
 When the two divisions of the Virginia army 
 met and the tattered frontiersmen beheld the 
 Virginia militia in all its fine feathers, their 
 indignation rose and it is reported that fifty 
 or more sturdy woodsmen were required to re- 
 strain their furious leader from a personal as- 
 sault upon the Governor. 
 
 However this may be, they could not hold his 
 mighty voice in check, and glaring upon the 
 uniformed lord, he delivered a volley of broad- 
 sides from his lusty lungs which struck terror 
 to all the bystanders. 
 
 Lord Dunmore wielded his pen if not his 
 sword, and taking timely advantage of Lewis's 
 victory, he effected the treaty which brought 
 his namesake war to an end.* 
 
 In good time the chiefs assembled to ratify 
 this treaty with Virginia, but one there was who 
 did not attend the conference. This was Logan, 
 whose deep chagrin and noble pride held him 
 aloof from the council. He gave as the reason 
 for his absence that he could not restrain him- 
 
 *As this is the story of Andrew Lewis rather than that 
 of Lord Dunmore's War, we have not, of course, given a 
 complete account of the war itself. 
 
216 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 self in the presence of the white man. This was 
 not a very hopeful augury for the emissary who 
 was afterward commissioned to visit him and 
 secure his approval of the treaty, but it was 
 essential that someone should see him, for a 
 treaty would have been indeed a " scrap of pa- 
 per" without Logan's mark. 
 
 So a hardy old woodsman was despatched to 
 make this perilous visit to the lion in his den. 
 Contrary to all expectations, Logan received 
 him not unkindly, and it was to him that the 
 Indian delivered his famous speech, the most 
 often quoted of any Indian utterance and which 
 has been reprinted many times and in several 
 languages. There is the same note of pride 
 and pathos in it which one finds in the briefer 
 speech of Joseph the INTez Perce in the hour of 
 his defeat, and which imparts that touching qual- 
 ity to all the simple and dignified eloquence of 
 the American savage. 
 
 "I appeal to any white man if he ever en- 
 tered Logan's cabin hungry and he gave him 
 no meat; if ever he came cold and naked and 
 he clothed him not? During the course of the 
 long and bloody war, Logan remained idle in 
 his camp, an advocate for peace. Such was my 
 love for the whites that my countrymen pointed 
 as I passed and said, ' Logan is the friend of 
 the white man.' I had even thought to have 
 lived with you, but for the injuries of one man. 
 
ANDREW LEWIS 217 
 
 "Colonel Cresep, the last spring, in cold blood 
 and unprovoked, murdered all the relations of 
 Logan,* not even sparing my women and. chil- 
 dren. There runs not a drop of my blood in the 
 veins of any living creature. This called on me 
 for revenge. I have sought it. I have killed 
 many. I have fully glutted my vengeance. 
 
 "For my country, I rejoice at the beams of 
 peace; but do not harbor a thought that mine 
 is the joy of fear. Logan never felt fear. He 
 will not turn on his heel to save his life. 
 
 "Who is there to mourn for Logan? Not one! ,: 
 
 There is something which occasionally occurs 
 in the affairs of men and which is known as 
 poetic justice; which means a retribution or a 
 punishment singularly appropriate and happy. 
 
 An instance of it is found in the fact that as 
 the wheels of time revolved and the War of 
 Independence got under way, Andrew Lewis 
 happened to be the very man whose cheerful 
 task it was to drive Lord Dunmore from Virginia. 
 His exaggerated sense of wrong caused him to 
 prosecute this grateful duty with great zest, thus 
 winning the commendation and lasting friend- 
 ship and support of General Washington. 
 
 He fought bravely for the good cause but al- 
 
 * Logan always erroneously supposed that a certain Colo- 
 nel Cresep was the instigator of the crime of which Great- 
 house was the immediate perpetrator. 
 
218 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 ways remained, as he had been from the begin- 
 ning, a woodsman and border lighter rather than 
 a full-fledged soldier. He died in the year 1780, 
 after about as strenuous a life as it is possible 
 for man to lead on this planet. 
 
 He was more than a scout, more than a pio- 
 neer, more than a borderer — he was a moving 
 spirit among such hardy characters, a leader 
 of men whom it was not easy to lead, and when 
 he thundered forth his commands and raised 
 himself to his gigantic height among them, the 
 Morgans and the Clarks and the Kentons and 
 the Girtys, and even old John Sevier, who was 
 afraid of no man, and all the other rough-and- 
 ready heroes of the frontier, sat up and took 
 notice. 
 
GENERAL HENRY W. LAWTON 
 
 How he pursued the Apaches and captured their wily chief; 
 how he fought in our country's war with Spain; and 
 how he lost his life running down insurgents in the 
 Philippines. 
 
 We shall consider General Lawton in his pic- 
 turesque role of trailer and Indian fighter rather 
 than in his capacity of soldier in the more strict- 
 ly military operations in which he was engaged. 
 This will not be unfair to his memory; for though 
 he served with distinction in the Civil War and 
 with striking heroism in the war with Spain, 
 opening the battle of Santiago by the capture 
 of El Caney, his name is forever fixed as the 
 captor of the wily Apache, Geronimo, and as 
 the relentless pursuer of insurgents in the jun- 
 gles of the Philippines. 
 
 It was his extraordinary prowess in these ro- 
 mantic fields which entitles him to a conspicuous 
 place in this category, even though our account 
 of him must be somewhat one-sided and incom- 
 plete. 
 
 He was born in Lucas County, Ohio, in 1843. 
 In 1861 he joined the Federal forces as a ser- 
 geant and was rapidly promoted until he at- 
 tained the rank of brevet-colonel in 1865. The 
 
 219 
 
220 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 following year lie entered the regular army as 
 Second Lieutenant of the 41st Infantry (col- 
 ored) and was transferred in 1871 to the Fourth 
 Cavalry with which he remained until 1888, and 
 during this time occurred the Indian adventures 
 to which we shall give particular attention. 
 
 At the beginning of the war with Spain Law- 
 ton was appointed brigadier-general of volun- 
 teers by President McKinley, and given com- 
 mand of a division of the Fifth Army Corps 
 under General Shafter. 
 
 Later he was sent to the Philippines to help 
 quell the insurgent uprising which was an ac- 
 companiment and aftermath of the war. 
 
 He was a man of gigantic size, of phenomenal 
 strength and activity, of utter fearlessness, and 
 with a capacity for endurance and privation 
 which was nothing less than miraculous. He was 
 quite as picturesque as any scout of old. He 
 never told his men to go ahead — he led them. 
 He loved danger for its own sake. 
 
 Let us glance briefly at the second Apache 
 war in which Lawton performed his most con- 
 spicuous feat. 
 
 It has been said that most of the quarrels in 
 the world are caused by questions of money, and 
 it may be safely added that two-thirds of our 
 country's latter-day troubles with the Indians 
 have been caused by questions of "reserva- 
 tions." The farmer who is ousted from his 
 
GENERAL HENRY W. LAWTON 221 
 
 land in order that a railroad may be put through 
 is not likely to appreciate the great advantage 
 of a railroad. And that was very much the 
 trouble with Chief Geronimo, one of the most 
 remarkable savages with whom our government 
 has ever had to deal. He was a chief of the 
 Apache tribe wiiich inhabited Arizona and New 
 Mexico. 
 
 There have been few Indians sagacious enough 
 to appreciate the wisdom of the United States 
 Government in driving them from one place to 
 another. Usually it has been explained to them 
 that they will be much better off in lands se- 
 lected for them by the government, and as a 
 rule they have failed utterly to perceive this 
 and have answered such representations with 
 rebellion. 
 
 As if one Apache war were not enough, a sec- 
 ond one came about through our government's 
 ordering the tribe to leave the reservation where 
 they had been living contentedly and go to an- 
 other one at San Carlos. 
 
 Of course, they were dissatisfied. First they 
 grumbled, then they threatened, and then they 
 rose in open rebellion and left the reservation 
 altogether. 
 
 So again Uncle Sam's cavalry must take the 
 saddle and there presently ensued such a wild- 
 goose chase as the West had never seen before. 
 It continued like a colossal game of hide-and- 
 
222 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 seek until General Henry W. Lawton became 
 "it." 
 
 Among the spirited Apaches was a famous 
 chief named Geronimo and another, hardly less 
 notable, by the name of Chato. 
 
 These two Indians were cousins and they pro- 
 fessed to hate each other. Chato offered to 
 help the troopers in their efforts to run down 
 Geronimo. But all the while these wily cousins 
 were playing a very successful little game on 
 the troopers. Chato would send word to Ge- 
 ronimo in which direction the pursuit lay, and 
 Geronimo would take a different direction. 
 
 Thus Geronimo, with a couple of hundred fol- 
 lowers, was able to lead his pursuers a wild- 
 goose chase for many days. 
 
 At the outset, Geronimo traveled one hundred 
 and twenty miles before making his first camp. 
 Try as they might, the troopers could not get 
 within gunshot of him, and though the chase was 
 pressed for hundreds of miles, the elusive chief 
 with his marauding band kept out of reach of 
 the white men. 
 
 In the Sierra Madre Mountains were many 
 hidden recesses, known to Geronimo, and here 
 he lived for a while in comparative safety, flee- 
 ing from one refuge to another, subsisting on 
 roots and herbs, and enduring privation and 
 hardship with all the amazing fortitude for 
 which his people were famous. Often he and 
 
GENERAL HENRY W. LAWTON 223 
 
 his followers went for days without food and 
 journeyed for days without rest. 
 
 Now the troopers would be close upon his 
 trail ; now he would be miles away. They learned 
 at length to place no faith in the advice of the 
 wily Chato whose elaborate directions led them 
 nowhere. 
 
 But General Crook never despaired, and at 
 length the chief and his band were corraled; 
 but it was like trying to hold an eel. 
 
 For just one night Geronimo remained a cap- 
 tive; then he disappeared. While the soldiers 
 were discussing the question of responsibility 
 for his escape he stole back to camp in the dark- 
 ness of the following night, carried off his wife, 
 and was beyond reach again before the troopers 
 knew what had happened. 
 
 This was too much. 
 
 Our government had an agreement with Mex- 
 ico by which our troopers might pursue maraud- 
 ing Indians beyond the Rio Grande when they 
 were seeking to escape into Mexico. 
 
 That is exactly what Geronimo did. 
 
 It was then that there appeared conspicuously 
 upon the scene that wizard of the chase, General 
 Lawton. He took the field with the Fourth Cav- 
 alry in March, 1885, declaring that if Geronimo 
 were not a myth he would run him down. 
 
 The elusive chief's exploits had, indeed, made 
 him seem something of a myth and there were 
 
224 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 those who had come to regard the hunt for him 
 as a pursuit of the will-o'-the-wisp. 
 
 But Lawton declared that he would capture 
 the slippery Geronimo if he had to pursue him 
 to the City of Mexico. 
 
 The resolute trooper was as good as his word. 
 The fugitive crossed the Bio Grande, as he had 
 done before, but this time with Lawton close 
 upon his heels. Then followed an exciting chase 
 of over two hundred miles. 
 
 From time to time the chief and his followers 
 were approached near enough to permit of at- 
 tack, and in each such instance he resumed his 
 flight with fewer warriors, but he always re- 
 sumed it! 
 
 Farther and farther into Mexico the wearying 
 pursuers toiled. They explored canyons so deep 
 and dark that through the narrow ribbon of sky 
 high above them the stars could be seen at mid- 
 day. They lived upon the flesh of wild beasts, 
 when they could find them, and in the vast lava 
 fields they suffered the pangs of thirst. 
 
 Now and then from some remote fastness in 
 the mountains far above them a shred of blue 
 smoke drifted on the sultry air followed by the 
 spent sound of a rifle shot, which told the keen 
 pursuer where his crafty quarry was concealed. 
 
 In this intricate wilderness of valley and moun- 
 tain horses could not longer be used and Lawton 
 ordered his cavalrymen to follow on foot. 
 
GENERAL HENRY W. LAWTON 225 
 
 "We will walk him down and climb him down 
 if we cannot run him down/' he said to one of 
 his men. 
 
 At last, after six weeks of pursuit, the like 
 of which for resourcefulness and persistence, it 
 would be difficult to find, an emaciated Indian 
 made his way to Lawton's lonely camp and said 
 that his chief could elude the white man no 
 longer and was ready to surrender. 
 
 Unaccompanied, the courageous Lawton made 
 his way to the remote spot where his quarry lay 
 and kindly received Geronimo's submission. 
 
 The doggedness and vitality and resourceful- 
 ness of the amazing Apache had met with a dog- 
 gedness and resourcefulness and vitality quite 
 as remarkable as his own. No ability to stand 
 deprivation, no untiring energy, no fleetness of 
 foot or familiarity with swampy retreats and 
 mountain fastnesses could save the Apaches from 
 this grim and resolute trooper, who galloped as 
 long as he could, then climbed after them wher- 
 ever they might go, seeing through every ruse, 
 undeterred by morass and thicket, pressing the 
 pursuit ever more persistently until the weary 
 quarry was at last brought to bay. 
 
 For three hundred miles into Mexico the chase 
 had been carried. The trail wound in and out 
 of canyons and mountain ravines, repeatedly 
 doubling upon itself, but with the resolute pur- 
 suer ever drawing nearer to the dusky fugitives; 
 
226 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 who at last were so worn out that surrender was 
 the only alternative to ntter exhaustion. 
 
 A friend of General Lawton has given us a 
 vivid picture of the great trailer as he appeared 
 after his phenomenal chase of Geronimo, which 
 we cannot refrain from quoting, for it fixes him 
 in the mind's eye as no amount of general de- 
 scription could do. 
 
 "He stood on the Government reservation at 
 San Antonio, surrounded by the tawny savage 
 band of Chiricahui Apaches, whom he had hunt- 
 ed off their feet. Near him, taciturn but of 
 kindly visage, stood young chief Naches, almost 
 as tall as he. In a tent close by lay Geronimo 
 groaning from a surplusage of fresh beef, eaten 
 raw. The squat figures of 'the hereditary ene- 
 mies of the whites grouped about him came only 
 to the general's shoulder. He towered among 
 them, stern, powerful, dominant — an incarnation 
 of the spirit of the white man whose war drum 
 has beat around the world. 
 
 "Clad in a faded, dirty fatigue jacket, greasy 
 flannel shirt of gray, trousers so soiled that the 
 stripe down the leg was barely visible, broken 
 boots, and a disreputable sombrero that shaded 
 the harsh features burned almost to blackness, 
 he was every inch *a suldier and a man. To the 
 other officers at the post the Indians paid no 
 sort of attention. To them, General Stanley and 
 his staff were so many well-dressed lay figures, 
 
GENERAL HENEY W. LAWTON 227 
 
 standing about as part of a picture done for 
 their amusement; but the large, massive man 
 with the stubble on his chin had shown them that 
 he was their superior on hunting-grounds that 
 were theirs by birthright, and they hung upon 
 his lightest word." 
 
 "What to do with Geronimo was a question. 
 He and his tribe bore a bitter grudge against 
 the white men, and as long as he inhabited the 
 Southwest the ranchmen would feel unsafe. Ac- 
 cordingly, he and his leading chiefs were sent 
 to Fort Pickens in Florida. Others of the tribe 
 were sent to Fort Marion in St. Augustine. 
 Here their health became so poor that they were 
 again removed, this time to Mount Vernon in 
 Alabama. 
 
 There were fewer than ^.ve hundred of them 
 altogether, men, women and children. A school 
 was opened by our government, whither the 
 Apache boys and girls were sent to receive in- 
 struction, and it is pleasant to relate that some 
 of the brightest pupils in the well-known Indian 
 school at Carlisle were the boys and girls whose 
 fathers tried to elude General Lawton in the 
 mountain fastnesses of Mexico. 
 
 As for the redoubtable trailer himself, he was 
 destined to win new laurels in strange and far 
 distant fields, and we shall pass over his career 
 as a soldier in the ordinary sense of the word 
 
228 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 and follow him again upon the trail — this time 
 in the tangled jungles of the Philippines. 
 
 The establishment of peace between the United 
 States and Spain did not greatly influence the 
 insurgents of the far-off Pacific islands, who, 
 inspired by their crafty leader Aguinaldo, kept 
 up a troublesome savage warfare against our 
 country's forces. 
 
 It is a pity that Geronimo and Aguinaldo could 
 not have met, for they would have found much 
 in common, both being past masters, not only in 
 the art of elusiveness, but in the faculty of in- 
 citing their followers by false representations. 
 
 Aguinaldo told his people that they would fare 
 worse under American rule than they had under 
 Spanish (which was saying a great deal), and 
 that our troops must be exterminated. 
 
 The prospect of peace and prosperity for 
 which our government was working was very 
 soon clouded by the activities of these insur- 
 gents, incited by the wily and ambitious Agui- 
 naldo. 
 
 Assaults and robberies were committed on our 
 troops, citizens and friendly natives were killed, 
 clubs were organized to encourage hatred of 
 Americans, all boys over sixteen were forced 
 to service in Aguinaldo 's ramshackle army, while 
 every blacksmith in Manila was kept busy forg- 
 ing arms for the insurgent mob. 
 
 There were some intelligent people among the 
 
GENERAL HENRY "W. LAWTON 229 
 
 natives who really desired good government and 
 who feared that the United States would become 
 disgusted and abandon the islands altogether. 
 They pleaded with Aguinaldo to write to Presi- 
 dent McKinley and beseech him not to take such 
 a course, and Aguinaldo promised that he would. 
 But if he ever did it he neglected to mail the 
 letter. 
 
 Aguinaldo formed a plan to drive out all the 
 American forces. "With the help of his trusty 
 lieutenant, Eio del Pilar, whom he called a gem 
 eral, he arranged that the militia of Manila 
 should rise and assist in a sudden and over- 
 whelming attack on the small army of the United 
 States. 
 
 No very definite plans for this crushing attack 
 were made, and since Aguinaldo and his "staff' 
 could not agree, they fell back on the novel re- 
 source of each directing his own "troops" in 
 his own way. 
 
 This free and easy form of warfare resulted 
 in a reign of terror. The peaceful native pop- 
 ulation fled in dismay, the streets and houses 
 of the towns were deserted, the rural districts 
 became infested with marauding bands of mur- 
 derous insurgents with about as much military 
 discipline as that governing a pack of wolves. 
 
 Conspicuous among the men who braved the 
 perils of the fever-laden jungles to root out 
 these bands of insurgents was General Lawton, 
 
230 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 who had been sent to the Philippines for this 
 purpose. 
 
 It was altogether proper that he should be 
 selected for this purpose, for he was at home 
 in mountain recesses and never so happy as 
 when in hot pursuit across wide plains, or work- 
 ing his way through the labyrinth of some all 
 but impenetrable thicket. 
 
 He was indeed the very Francis Marion of 
 his later time, delighting in adventurous ex- 
 ploits. Inspiring his men with his own conta- 
 gious patriotism and spirit, he was the most 
 conspicuous figure throughout the early part of 
 the fighting in the Philippines. 
 
 He drove the insurgents from the vicinity of 
 Manila into the swamps and mountains, pur- 
 suing them relentlessly, and no secret cave or 
 pestilent lowland was too remote or inaccessible 
 for him to penetrate. 
 
 The insurgents, like the Indians of our own 
 country, came to regard him as a sort of super- 
 natural creature, against whom opposition and 
 strategy were useless. 
 
 Eeturning to Manila in 1899, after a whirl- 
 wind campaign in the north cf Luzon, Lawton 
 started for the town of San Mateo, where a body 
 of insurgents was committing great depreda- 
 tions. 
 
 A march of some twenty miles was before 
 him, and he led his men through a dense, jungle- 
 
GENERAL HENRY W. LAWTON 
 
GENERAL HENEY W. LAWTON 231 
 
 covered country in the darkness of night. The 
 rain fell in such a torrential downpour as occurs 
 nowhere outside of the tropics, and the soldiers 
 plodded knee-deep through the green slime of 
 the morass, cheered and heartened by their in- 
 trepid leader. 
 
 Now their way led up some precipitous height 
 where tangled underbrush challenged their ad- 
 vance; now through some dark and dripping 
 glade with no more sign of pathway than there 
 is in the waste of ocean; and all night long the 
 rain fell. 
 
 Perhaps as this dauntless trailer, undismayed, 
 made his way through the tropic maze, his res- 
 olute purpose never shaken by storm or swamp 
 or jungle or darkness, his thoughts wandered 
 back to those days in Arizona when he trailed 
 the weary Geronimo and caused even the sea- 
 soned pathfinders of the warlike Apaches to open 
 their eyes in dismay. He was always fond of 
 recalling his quest of the elusive Geronimo. 
 
 At daylight the little force came upon the 
 enemy, five hundred strong, entrenched beyond 
 a small river. The general formed and ad- 
 vanced his troops to within three or four hun- 
 dred yards and then, with several officers, rode 
 forward to reconnoitre. 
 
 His tall, straight figure made him a conspic- 
 uous target for the Filipinos. One of his officers 
 earnestly besought him to be careful, but he re- 
 
232 THE BOYS' BOOK OP SCOUTS 
 
 plied: "I must see what is going on on the firing 
 line." 
 
 He had advanced hardly twenty paces more 
 when he met two of his aides returning. Before 
 they had a chance to speak a word they saw him 
 start, clench his hands and turn pale. 
 
 "Are you hurt, General?" one of the aides 
 asked. 
 
 "Yes, I am shot through the lungs," he re- 
 plied, as he fell forward with blood pouring 
 from his mouth. 
 
 General Lawton never spoke again. In a few 
 minutes all was over. No doubt it was fitting 
 that this great soldier and trailer should thus 
 ride to meet his death through storm and dark- 
 ness, through swamp and jungle, and out of the 
 fastnesses which never baffled him and which he 
 loved so well. 
 
JOSEPH, THE NEZ PERCE 
 
 How he arose among his people in the hour of their need; 
 of his qualities of scout and pathfinder, and how he 
 played a wonderful but losing game with his pursuers. 
 
 It would be strange if a book of scouts con- 
 tained no representative of the Indian race, for 
 there can be no question of the Indian's suprem- 
 acy in many of the qualities which are insepa- 
 rably associated with scouting. As a tracker 
 and trailer the American Indian has had but 
 one rival, and that is the East Indian, whose 
 skill in path-finding and kindred arts of the scout 
 approaches close to the miraculous. 
 
 We shall find in American history no such 
 amazing feats as those recorded of our primi- 
 tive American's eastern brother, the authenticity 
 of whose phenomenal " stunts" may sometimes 
 be fairly called into question. Many amazing 
 instances of deductive and tracking skill are also 
 related of the Arabs, whose proficiency in this 
 phase of scouting may be considered as natural 
 enough when we remember the vast desert which 
 is their home. 
 
 General Sir Baden-Powell, Great Britain's 
 Boer War hero, tells of an instance which il- 
 lustrates this skill. 
 
 > 233 
 
234 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 a 
 
 ; An officer lost his field glasses during some 
 maneuvers on the desert five miles from Cairo, 
 and he sent for the native trackers to look for 
 them. They came and asked to see the tracks 
 of his horse; so the horse was brought out and 
 led about, so that they could see his footprints. 
 These they carried in their minds and went out 
 to where the maneuvers had been; there, among 
 the hundreds of hoofmarks of the cavalry and 
 artillery, they very soon found those of the of- 
 ficer's horse, and followed them up wherever he 
 had ridden, till they found the field glasses lying 
 where they had dropped out of their case on the 
 desert. 
 
 4 * These trackers," the General adds, "are par- 
 ticularly good at spooring camels. To anyone 
 not accustomed to them, the footmark of one 
 camel looks very like that of any other camel, 
 but to a trained eye they are all as different as 
 people's faces, and these trackers remember them 
 very much as you would remember the faces of 
 people you had seen. About a year ago a camel 
 was stolen near Cairo. A tracker was sent for 
 and shown its spoor. He followed it for a long 
 way until it got into some streets, where it was 
 entirely lost among other footmarks. But the 
 other day, a year later, this tracker suddenly 
 came on the fresh track of this camel; he had 
 remembered its appearance all that time. It had 
 evidently been walking with another camel whose 
 
JOSEPH, THE NEZ PERCE 235 
 
 footmark he knew was one belonging to a camel 
 owned by a well-known camel thief. So without 
 trying to follow the tracks when they got into 
 the city he went with a policeman straight to 
 the man's stable, and there found the long miss- 
 ing camel.' ' 
 
 The General could hardly tax our credulity 
 more if he told us what the two friendly camels 
 talked about as they strolled together. Nor does 
 he vouchsafe us much time to digest this ex- 
 traordinary episode, for he goes on to describe 
 the scouting proficiency of the South American 
 cowboys who, we infer, could follow the trail 
 of anything short of an aeroplane. 
 
 "The Gauchos, or native cowboys," he says, 
 "are fine scouts. Though the cattle lands are 
 now for the most part enclosed, they used for- 
 merly to have to track stolen and lost beasts 
 for miles, and were therefore very good track- 
 ers. The story is told that one of these men 
 was sent to track a stolen horse, but failed to 
 follow it up. Ten months later, when in a dif- 
 ferent part of the country, he suddenly noticed 
 the fresh spoor of this horse on the ground. He 
 had remembered its appearance all that time. 
 He at once followed it up and recovered it for 
 his master." 
 
 As for the uncanny scouts of Hindustan, who 
 were said to distinguish family resemblances in 
 animals, recognizing the children and grandchil- 
 
236 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 dren of aged tigers and other beasts miles from 
 the parental home, we shall pass these heroes 
 over as belonging in the category of magicians 
 rather than scouts; and we may do this with a 
 clear conscience, remembering that many of the 
 feats ascribed to Daniel Boone and Kit Carson 
 which have gained currency in Europe have no 
 foundation whatever in fact. 
 
 It would be quite possible, if one cared to, to 
 divulge some of the exploits of one "Woo See, a 
 pig-tailed scout of China, whose scouting achieve- 
 ments along the headwaters of the Yang-Tse- 
 Kiang did him great credit and constituted him 
 a fitting rival of Aladdin. 
 
 But we shall renounce these and other •temp- 
 tations far afield in order that we may see 
 America first, and follow the trail of one of our 
 own familiar red men whose feats, we apprehend, 
 will be quite sufficient to set a test upon our 
 credulity. 
 
 As we know, many of the scouting qualities 
 which the American pioneer acquired he learned 
 directly from the Indians. Indeed, it may be 
 questioned whether any American scout of the 
 white race has ever quite attained the suprem- 
 acy of his red brother in tracking and stalking, 
 and in that knowledge of the forest which makes 
 possible the elusive flights by which the Indian 
 has been able to evade capture and baffle pursuit 
 for many days at a stretch. 
 
JOSEPH, THE NEZ PERCE 237 
 
 The white pioneer was not long in the back- 
 woods before he had shown his undoubted su- 
 periority in marksmanship, a quality which the 
 astonished Indian always envied, but could never 
 quite master, in anything approaching to the 
 white man's accuracy of aim. It has been said 
 that the Indian's immemorial use of the bow and 
 arrow, his weapon for generations, has operated 
 as a permanent embarrassment in his practice 
 with the rifle. 
 
 But if his aim was not as true, his foot was 
 stealthier and he could approach nearer to a wild 
 beast than any of his white neighbors was ever 
 able to do. 
 
 Never in the history of the world has the art 
 of stealth been developed to such perfection as 
 by the American Indian. To let a brittle twig 
 crack -beneath his foot in his flight meant dis- 
 grace and sometimes death at the hands of his 
 own companions. He could follow a trail where 
 there was no trail and could conceal himself 
 within a yard or two of his pursuers. 
 
 Some of the signs which he used in the forest, 
 and which formed a veritable language, have 
 been introduced to the Boy Scouts of to-day, but 
 these are only the A B C of an alphabet whose 
 strange combinations and undeciphered meanings 
 are to-day a source of interest and mystery in 
 the rocky caverns and mountain fastnesses where 
 the Indian once made his home. 
 
238 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 We shall select to represent the Indian race 
 in our galaxy of scouts, Joseph, chief of the 
 Nez Perce, not because he was the greatest of 
 Indian scouts, for he was not that, although he 
 was certainly remarkable, but because his story 
 forms a somewhat more or less collected narra- 
 tive, and because, as Indians go, he was a good 
 Indian. 
 
 Moreover, there was a note of pathos in Jo- 
 seph's employment of his scouting qualities 
 which adds a halo of real heroism to his mem- 
 ory. 
 
 When Lewis and Clark made their famous 
 expedition from St. Louis to the Pacific Coast, 
 1804-1806, they discovered, in what is now the 
 State of Idaho, a tribe of savages called the Nez 
 Perce Indians. These savages were kind, peace- 
 able and hospitable. They welcomed the strange 
 white men with dismay, but with every evidence 
 of good- will and friendship. It is to the eternal 
 glory of Lewis and Clark that they never abused 
 such good- will in all their wanderings. The Nez 
 Perce Indians continued the unwavering friends 
 of the white man until about the close of our 
 Civil War. 
 
 They were organized, as most of the tribes 
 west of the Eocky Mountains have been, into 
 small tribes, but they had no supreme chief. 
 
 About the time our Civil War was ending, 
 there appeared among the Nez Perce a man who 
 
JOSEPH, THE NEZ PERCE 239 
 
 had been appointed by onr Government as In- 
 dian agent. 
 
 This agent was a great busybody, and instead 
 of tactfully devising means whereby the Indians' 
 welfare might be advanced, he straightway set 
 about reforming their customs, abolishing their 
 cherished superstitions and time-honored cere- 
 monies, and altering their social and political 
 customs. He had a little too much of the mis- 
 sionary in him to be a good Indian agent, and 
 the results of his meddling were disastrous and 
 far-reaching. 
 
 He thought it would be a good plan for the 
 Nez Perce to have a Grand Chief, so he assumed 
 the heroic role of king-maker on a small scale 
 and selected a certain Indian to fill that post. 
 This chief had learned to speak English at a 
 mission station, and it was thought by the Gov- 
 ernment representative that by reason of this 
 accomplishment he could be easily controlled. 
 
 The Nez Perce knew well enough that an Eng- 
 lish-speaking Indian would never make a first- 
 rate chief. But they accepted him because they 
 were of a peaceful and compliant disposition, 
 and they waited patiently for him to die. 
 
 It is said that a watched pot never boils, and 
 this English-speaking chief was a long time in 
 dying. "When he finally did die, the Nez Perce 
 suggested to the Government officials that they 
 would prefer a chief who could not speak Eng- 
 
240 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 lish. By way of concession, they mentioned that 
 they had among them an Indian with an English 
 name, Joseph, and they thought that might stand 
 in lieu of ability to speak the English tongue. 
 Joseph was a member of one of the most illus- 
 trious families of the tribe, and the father of 
 one of the most remarkable Indians that has ever 
 lived. 
 
 But a second English-speaking chief was 
 chosen by the agent and old Joseph withdrew 
 in disgust from the councils of the Nez Perce. 
 His proud old spirit was broken and his dignity 
 wounded by these foreign innovations. He never 
 ceased to claim the position which his people 
 wished to give him. How his aged breast would 
 have beat with pride and joy if he could have 
 lived to see his amazing son checkmate and out- 
 maneuver the white men and win the plaudits 
 even of his enemies! 
 
 From time immemorial, the dwelling-place of 
 the Nez Perce had been the beautiful Wallowa 
 Valley, famous for its healing roots, its abun- 
 dant fishing and its fertile fields. Here, un- 
 touched and untroubled by any of the devices 
 of civilization, they had lived in peaceful con- 
 tentment. With the potent herbs of their boun- 
 tiful home, they cured the few ills from which 
 they suffered, and the time ran on in humble 
 prosperity and happiness. 
 
 Then began the old, old trouble. White peo- 
 
JOSEPH, THE NEZ PERCE 241 
 
 pie began to settle among them. As time went 
 on these whites became more numerous until at 
 last there came a time when they were strong 
 enough to win the upper hand. They were at 
 no great difficulty in devising measures to dis- 
 possess the friendly savages of their beautiful 
 valley. Soon came the " treaty' ' period, and the 
 poor Nez Perce found themselves putting their 
 marks to papers and documents which had no 
 meaning to them whatever. 
 
 Between 1858 and 1868 several " treaties" were 
 made between these Indians and the Government 
 by which the tribes were provided with a reser- 
 vation and some money in lieu of their lands. 
 
 Some of the Indians who were opposed to these 
 measures became known as " non-treaty' : In- 
 dians. Old Joseph and his band refused to go 
 upon the reservation and remained in their an- 
 cestral home in the "Wallowa Valley. 
 
 In the year 1871, the elder Joseph died in the 
 beloved valley which had always been his home, 
 leaving his son Joseph as head of his father's 
 band. The younger man, like his father, denied 
 the right of a portion of his tribe to give up their 
 lands. Neither he nor his father had signed any 
 treaty to that effect, and he announced his in- 
 tention of continuing to occupy tiie Wallowa 
 Valley. 
 
 After a while, settlers began to encroach on 
 the lands of the non-treaty Indians. President 
 
242 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 Grant, who sympathized with them and was 
 mindful of the justice of their cause, tried to 
 prevent this, but it was a very difficult thing 
 to prevent. Finally, he yielded to pressure and 
 ordered that all of the Wallowa Valley should 
 be thrown open to settlers. 
 
 Presently the settlers began to crowd the Nez 
 Perce and the poor Indians remonstrated. In 
 answer to their protests they were ordered to 
 leave the valley and go to the reservation. It 
 is not pleasant to write and it is not pleasant 
 to read such facts as these, for they are a sting- 
 ing disgrace to our Government. The peaceful 
 Nez Perce Indians were to be exiled from their 
 ancient home. 
 
 It is gratifying to know that they rebelled 
 against this ultimatum and that a great man 
 rose among them. 
 
 Young Joseph was tall and straight, his shoul- 
 ders were broad, and he bore himself with a 
 noble mien. Long afterward, it was the good 
 fortune of many to see the Nez Perce hero face 
 to face at the ceremonies at the tomb of General 
 Grant in 1897, when he attracted the attention 
 of thousands by his magnificent presence and his 
 gracious and dignified bearing. 
 
 The stories which are told of Joseph's early 
 days and of his wanderings in the Bitter Eoot 
 Eange of the Eockies are imperfect records at 
 best, and tinged with the shades of romance. 
 
JOSEPH, THE NEZ PERCE 243 
 
 But from the very existence of these clustering 
 local legends, we may safely infer that his knowl- 
 edge of mountain and valley and his wisdom of 
 wild life and forest lore must have been very 
 remarkable. 
 
 Once, when the specter of famine stalked 
 among his people, he went forth into the moun- 
 tains in quest of game and, having used his last 
 arrow in a vain attempt to bring down a bear, 
 he stalked the beast and fell upon it unarmed, 
 strangling the monster after a most terrific 
 
 struggle. 
 
 It was said of young Joseph that he could fol- 
 low a trail by scent, and though this may be 
 doubted, it seems well established that the most 
 infinitesimal signs left by prowling creatures 
 were quite sufficient to enable him to follow their 
 
 trail. 
 
 The single hair of a bear caught in the bark 
 of a tree was a glaring signboard to him; he 
 could tell if a tree had been climbed, even by 
 a human being, months after the act occurred; 
 and he never failed to determine accurately 
 whether stones in a stream had been placed for 
 fording or had come by their positions naturally. 
 A leaf along the way was as full of information 
 to him as a printed tourist guide to a modern 
 autoist, and he read the obscurest footprints 
 
 with ease. 
 
 Joseph decided that war was the only digni- 
 
244 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 fled answer to the encroachments from which 
 his people were suffering. 
 
 It was in vain that General 0. 0. Howard, in 
 command of the Department of the Columbia, 
 pleaded with the Government as to the right- 
 eousness of Joseph's claim to the Wallowa Val- 
 ley. The Government did not heed Howard's 
 wise and humane suggestions; and Joseph, who 
 had held back for months from a resort to hos- 
 tilities in which he was reluctant to engage, at 
 last, just before the time fixed for driving him 
 from the home of his fathers and when the 
 soldiers were preparing to invade his domain, 
 plunged into war. 
 
 About the middle of June, 1877, the country 
 was startled by the announcement that the Nez 
 Perce had risen in Idaho and were on the war- 
 path. 
 
 Bushing into a little settlement near Fort 
 Lapwai, Joseph's warriors and another band 
 under White Bird murdered a score of citizens. 
 Captain Perry, who was sent against them, was 
 severely repulsed. General Howard made a 
 forced march, and came upon the Indians at 
 the mouth of the Cottonwood Biver, where, after 
 a bloody engagement in which eleven of his men 
 were killed and twenty-four wounded, he shelled 
 them from their position and put them to flight. 
 
 Then began the losing, but amazing, career 
 of Joseph. Unable long to stand against the 
 
JOSEPH, THE NEZ PERCE 245 
 
 United States Regulars, Joseph, at the head of 
 his band, repeatedly eluded them with masterly 
 skill, and led them a wild-goose chase about the 
 country. The Government officers were non- 
 plussed at his remarkable sagacity and skill. 
 
 The strange chase continued for hundreds of 
 miles, Joseph keeping his women, children and 
 impedimenta not only intact, but beyond reach 
 of his pursuers, who could not but pause in 
 admiration of his genius. 
 
 They followed him where they knew he had 
 gone, and yet there was so sign of his trail, not- 
 withstanding that he led a considerable company 
 and carried much baggage. 
 
 Time and again he doubled upon his tracks, 
 picked up the trail of his pursuers, and followed 
 them when they thought they were following 
 him. Again and again they followed his trail 
 until it ended abruptly and the chagrined and 
 bewildered soldiers retraced their weary way, 
 baffled and confounded. No one knew how Jo- 
 seph contrived thus to terminate his tracks 
 abruptly far from trees or water, and no one 
 knows to this day. 
 
 Neither is it known how he crossed ravines 
 which his pursuers found it impossible to cross. 
 Once, in a delusive moment of elation, the troop- 
 ers came upon his well-defined tracks and fol- 
 lowing them found that they branched and that 
 these branches branched again and again until 
 
246 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 there were more branches than troopers. All of 
 them ceased abruptly, showing no return tracks, 
 except one which went straight to the brink of 
 a chasm thirty feet wide. There was no sign 
 left of Joseph at the precipitous bed of the 
 cleft. 
 
 Time after time this master of mountain and 
 forest fooled the seasoned troopers, leading them 
 on a wild-goose chase to some supposed haunt 
 or camping ground of his, where they would find 
 the camp deserted and the birds flown. He out- 
 maneuvered his adversaries so completely as to 
 make them seem ridiculous. 
 
 Once he lay concealed, almost in the path, 
 waited until the troopers had passed, then went 
 back and finished some game which they had 
 left and which he knew they had procured from 
 having heard their shots. Thus he fed his fam- 
 ishing party. 
 
 In this singular chase Joseph showed himself 
 a master of every ruse which could be used to 
 baffle and deceive pursuers. To say that this 
 fleeing Nez Perce was a pathfinder and a scout 
 seems paradoxical, but in the course of the run- 
 ning game he employed, first and last, about 
 every item of knowledge, every trick, every sign, 
 every resource known to scouts; he exhibited a 
 familiarity with every ingenious form of forest 
 strategy known to savage and civilized man alike, 
 end a foresight and calculation of his enemy's 
 
JOSEPH, THE NEZ PERCE 247 
 
 probable moves which was nothing less than 
 phenomenal. 
 
 At last the little band, headed by Joseph, 
 passed through the mountains of northern Mon- 
 tana, where they were confronted by General 
 Miles with some regular troops. Even then 
 Joseph could not be brought to battle, but skil- 
 fully crossed the Missouri, under the very eye 
 of his enemy, and escaped. 
 
 At length, however, his camp was surrounded 
 in the Bear Paw Mountains and the brilliant 
 savage was brought to bay. It has been always 
 so with the red man; his prowess has brought 
 him only humiliation in the end; his brilliant 
 triumphs have marked the inevitable pathway 
 to defeat. We can recall no instance of an In- 
 dian's sagacity and ability and almost triumph 
 in which one could more heartily wish him vic- 
 tory than in the case of Joseph the Nez Perce 
 — scout, trailer, leader, and pathfinder of the 
 first order. 
 
 Joseph fought with great bravery and with a 
 regard for civilized methods which surprised and 
 won the admiration of his adversaries. 
 
 Of course, he was defeated. Holding his head 
 high and stepping forward with dignified bear- 
 ing to where General Howard was sitting on his 
 horse, the Indian handed up his rifle. 
 
 "I am tired of fighting, I am tired of the 
 warpath,'' he said. "Our chiefs are killed. My 
 
248 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 old friend Looking Glass is dead. The old men 
 are all dead. It is the young men who say yes 
 or no. He who led on the young men is like 
 one dead. It is cold and we have no blankets. , 
 The little children are freezing to death. I want 
 to have time to look for my children and see 
 how many of them I can find. Maybe I shall 
 find them among the dead. I am tired. My 
 heart is sick and sad. Hear me, my chiefs! 
 From where the sun now stands I shall fight 
 no more forever." 
 
 General Howard greatly admired the chival- 
 rous warrior, whose fine pride touched him 
 deeply. Joseph had conducted his whole cam- 
 paign from beginning to end with rare skill and 
 without any of the outrages and cruelties which 
 Indians at war had usually perpetrated. 
 
 The General took his hand and promised to 
 be his friend. He had always sympathized with 
 the noble chief and his friendly, ill-treated na- 
 tion, and he regretted his country's mistaken 
 course. 
 
 Howard proved as good as his word and se- 
 cured for Joseph and his followers a favorable 
 location where they might live in at least partial 
 contentment, and perchance forget their wrongs. 
 
 Joseph lived among his people, honored and 
 beloved as was his due, until at last he passed 
 to the happy hunting ground which is the dream 
 of the red man. 
 
JOSEPH, THE NEZ PERCE 249 
 
 He was by no means the greatest Indian nor 
 perhaps even entitled to a place with Tecumseh, 
 Pontiac and Philip. He had not Tecumseh 's or 
 Pontiac's qualities of statesmanship nor Philip's 
 prowess as a warrior. But he was a better 
 woodsman and tracker than either of them; and 
 if familiarity with untamed nature, and a faculty 
 for making it yield its secrets while preventing 
 it from divulging one's own, are prime requisites 
 of the scout, then Joseph the Nez Perce was a 
 scout pre-eminent. 
 
 Unfortunately, like most Indians, Joseph kept 
 no journal of his adventures and lacked a biog- 
 rapher. So there has been no one to sing his 
 praises, and his brilliant light has been hidden 
 under a bushel. Only the rocks and caverns, 
 the mountain ravines and plains and winding 
 streams where he fled and hid and baffled his 
 pursuers, know the secrets of the ruses which 
 he used to puzzle and weary them, and these 
 wild and rugged witnesses of his amazing skill 
 are as silent now as when they kept his secrets 
 for him in the days when his fate hung in the 
 balance. 
 
OLD JOHN SMITH 
 
 How lie ran away and joined the Indians; how he made an 
 adventurous trip across the plains; of his fights with 
 the red men; of his dubious reputation in the West; 
 and more particularly of the single occasion on which 
 he flinched and lost control of himself entirely. 
 
 The name of John Smith, however much it 
 may infest telephone and city directories and be 
 met with in every nook and cranny of prosy 
 civilized life, is withal a valorons name, and one 
 which has struck terror to the hearts of red men 
 from an early period of our history. 
 
 Of the two doughty heroes who have borne 
 this cognomen, it is difficult to make a choice 
 for presentation in our group of scouts. The 
 halo of romance which overhangs the famous 
 captain of the Jamestown settlement and his 
 dusky Pocahontas has never lost its charm. 
 
 But we shall cast our choice in favor of old 
 John Smith of the Plains, because there is that 
 flavor of the woolly West about him which most 
 boys find so engaging. Moreover, there is an 
 abundance (or, as he was himself fond of say- 
 ing, an dbundacious quantity) of anecdote in his 
 altogether amazing career. He always began his 
 reminiscences by lighting his pipe with an ember 
 
 250 
 
OLD JOHN SMITH 251 
 
 from the camp-fire and saying: "Boys, if I don't 
 disremember, it was back in tlie forties, etc., 
 etc." He always said Injuns and varmints and 
 critters, and was in all ways a typical plains- 
 man. 
 
 We believe lie killed more Indians than any 
 other scout of the West. He abhorred Mexicans. 
 He said they were always praying and swearing. 
 He was one of the most eccentric and interesting 
 characters of the old trail days and was famous 
 from Kansas to the Rockies as a hunter, trapper 
 and guide. 
 
 We have not been able to ascertain with cer- 
 tainty when old John was born, but he himself 
 said that he was a youngster "back in '26," so 
 we may infer that he was born about 1810. The 
 place of his birth is uncertain also, and the best 
 we can do is to state it in the terms used to 
 announce the arrival and departure of vessels 
 in the present great war by saying that he was 
 born "somewhere" in Missouri. 
 
 In any event, wherever his parental abode was, 
 he ran away from it when he was very young 
 and gravitated naturally to the fraternity of 
 traders whose adventurous lives were spent along 
 the Old Trail from the Missouri to Santa Fe in 
 New Mexico. 
 
 So susceptible was he to the beguilements of 
 savage life that we soon find him hobnobbing 
 with the Blackfoot Indians. Finding, however, 
 
252 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 that his own life was frequently endangered by 
 their domestic quarrels, he decided to take np 
 his abode with a more peaceable tribe, the Sioux. 
 If he considered the Sioux peaceable by compar- 
 ison we can only say that we should not have 
 cared to live long among the Blackfoots. 
 
 But old John (he was young John then) did 
 not remain long with the gentle Sioux, for, the 
 adventurous vicissitudes of his life taking him 
 among the Cheyennes, he became enamored of a 
 dusky maiden of that tribe and married her. 
 
 Notwithstanding his adventurous and wander- 
 ing propensities, his heart became thus perma- 
 nently anchored, and throughout the long period 
 of his life he remained a faithful and loving 
 husband to his Cheyenne bride. 
 
 Not only that, but the Cheyennes adopted him, 
 and much of his after life was spent among them. 
 "When his trapping and hunting days were over 
 and the innovation of the steel rails gave him 
 some respite from his old occupation of scout 
 and guide, he settled down among his wife's 
 people and became a power, not only in their 
 councils, but throughout the whole length and 
 breadth of the plains. He became very wealthy, 
 as wealth was counted on the prairies, as an 
 owner of horses, and we regret to say that as 
 he grew old he was unable to withstand the 
 temptations of prosperity and power. 
 
 He became, indeed, a rapacious old rascal, 
 
OLD JOHN SMITH 253 
 
 exacting tribute like the Barbary pirates and 
 enforcing his demands for graft (for that is the 
 short and ugly word which applies) by the whole 
 power of his savage horde. He had a voice in 
 every bargain, and few travelers or Mexicans 
 were able to conclude a transaction without old 
 John's having something to say about it and 
 reaping an outrageous profit for himself. 
 
 When traders came among the Cheyennes they 
 were forced to sell their goods at old John's 
 price, and if that were not satisfactory they 
 were ordered to leave them as tribute instead 
 of their scalps. Travelers, meeting him on the 
 trail, discreetly asked his permission to proceed, 
 or to shoot buffaloes, or to corral in the vicin- 
 ity, which permission he usually granted for a 
 consideration. 
 
 So notorious became his unscrupulous power 
 that the governor of New Mexico offered a re- 
 ward of $500 for his capture. But there was 
 none who cared to challenge the anger of the 
 Cheyennes, and old John went merrily on, super- 
 intending horse trades, exacting lawless tribute, 
 and receiving peace bribes until his high-handed 
 effrontery became a veritable scandal even in the 
 free and easy life of the plains. 
 
 He died in the full glory and exercise of his 
 autocratic powers, having lived in such terms of 
 intimacy with the Cheyennes that he had become 
 almost an Indian in his manners and customs 
 
254 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 — and assuredly in his viewpoint, which was that 
 might makes right. 
 
 Yet there was a time in the life of this re- 
 doubtable old robber when the mere sight of a 
 little orphan boy caused him to weep. Nay, even 
 in later years the memory of a little bird chirp- 
 ing innocently on the barrel of his rifle filled him 
 with tenderness and gratitude. 
 
 He was altogether a queer old codger. 
 
 Throughout his life, even in the days of his 
 retirement, old John occasionally acted as guide 
 and interpreter to army detachments. About 
 the camp-fire he always maintained his auto- 
 cratic demeanor. When Uncle Sam's soldiers 
 asked him for a yarn he would, as often as not, 
 contemplate them with haughty disdain, blowing 
 the smoke from his atrocious old pipe in their 
 faces, and vouchsafing never a word. 
 
 But there were times when he condescended, 
 though seldom upon request, to rake among his 
 adventures. On these occasions he would por- 
 tentously remove his pipe from his mouth, and 
 scarcely would the promising words, "Boys, if 
 I don't disremember," be uttered, when there 
 would be a veritable stampede in his direction 
 and dead silence would reign among his audi- 
 tors as he poured forth, amid volumes of smoke, 
 random memories of his more active days. 
 
 Let us recast from his own inimitable narra- 
 tive one or two of the surprising episodes of 
 
OLD JOHN SMITH 255 
 
 his life which we can only hope that he did not 
 "disremember." 
 
 It was about the year 1845 (if he didn't dis- 
 remember) that he and three companions, Cur- 
 tis, Thorpe and Comstock, were returning from 
 the Eockies, where they had been hunting and 
 trapping for three years. "Thar weren't no 
 roads nor nuthin' in them days — nuthin' but the 
 Old Santa Fe Trail and Injuns and varmints." 
 
 They were bringing back a goodly stock of 
 pelts and were camping along the trail at a spot 
 known as Point of Bocks, when a suspicious 
 snort from one of the mules convinced the saga- 
 cious trappers that Indians were in the neigh- 
 borhood. 
 
 It did not take them long to grasp their rifles, 
 and very shortly the appalling sound of shots 
 farther down the trail confirmed their suspicions 
 that something was amiss. Old John made no 
 bones of expressing his annoyance that this grim 
 duty called just as he was on the point of light- 
 ing his pipe for a good smoke, and we may infer 
 that it did not altogether dissipate his irritation 
 to perceive that all the pother of shots and shout- 
 ing was caused by an attack of Pawnees on a 
 Mexican bull train. 
 
 John hated the greasers with an ardent hatred, 
 but the fighting took on a new color to him when 
 he saw three American people — a man, a woman, 
 and a little boy — jumping frantically from a 
 
256 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 wagon which the Indians had succeeded in iso- 
 lating from the train and attempting to escape 
 from the savages who practically surrounded 
 them. 
 
 Before the trappers had a chance to intervene 
 the Pawnees had caught and scalped the man 
 and carried off the woman. The terrified little 
 boy was scampering as fast as he could to reach 
 the comparative safety of the caravan with a 
 mounted Indian in hot pursuit of him, when Al 
 Thorpe, one of the four scouts, "drawed up his 
 gun and took the red cuss off his critter without 
 the paint-bedaubed devil knowin' what struck 
 him!" 
 
 Good for Al Thorpe! 
 
 The little boy made straight for his rescuers 
 and they took him to the main body of the car- 
 avan and laid him gently in one of the wagons. 
 
 Old John observes, with significant contempt, 
 that he and his companions now took matters 
 into their own hands, corraling the oxen of the 
 bewildered greasers, for "if there was to be 
 more fighting," he adds, "we know'd we Ameri- 
 cans would have to do it, as them Mexican bull- 
 whackers weren't much account, nohow, except 
 to cavort around and swear in Spanish, which 
 they hadn't done nuthin' else since we'd come 
 up to the train. ..." 
 
 In a little while the Pawnees, having rallied 
 for a pow-wow, returned in full force and with 
 
OLD JOHN SMITH 257 
 
 deafening yells, to receive the surprise of their 
 lives. One after another they were picked off 
 their ponies by Smith and his comrades, who 
 had constituted themselves the protectors of the 
 whole caravan. Old John recalls with great rel- 
 ish how not a single one of their shots was 
 wasted, and their unerring marksmanship must 
 have surprised the greasers quite as much as it 
 confounded the Pawnees, who, dismayed at their 
 losses, soon decided that discretion was the bet- 
 ter part of valor and rode off to the sandhills. 
 
 Smith and his comrades, having decided to 
 cast their lot with the hapless Mexicans (since 
 their destination was the same), piloted them 
 safely eastward without further adventure for 
 the time being. 
 
 In those days we see Uncle John at his best, 
 not only as a scout, but as guardian of the little 
 boy who had been deprived of his parents. No 
 one dared to dispute his claim to the little fellow 
 who came to have a genuine affection for the 
 rough plainsman and an unbounded admiration 
 for his bravery. 
 
 The relations of these two form a very pretty 
 story, embedded like a jewel in the rude setting 
 of that stormy progress eastward over the hot, 
 Indian-infested plains. All that was tender in 
 the grim, rough scout came to the surface, as 
 it seldom did later. He watched over the little 
 orphan like a mother, amusing him and telling 
 
258 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 him stories, and teaching him to fish and hunt, 
 so that the strangely assorted pair became boon 
 companions. 
 
 Ten days later they had another run-in with 
 Indians. 
 
 "It seemed like we hadn't been asleep more 
 than an hour when me and Thorpe was called 
 to take our turn on guard. "We got out of our 
 blankets, I putting little Paul into one of the 
 wagons, then me and Thorpe lighted our pipes 
 and walked around, keeping our eyes and ears 
 open, watching the heavy fringe of timber on 
 the creek mighty close, I tell you. Just as day- 
 light was coming we noticed that our mules, 
 what was tied to a wagon in the corral, was 
 getting oneasy. . . . Before I could say to 
 Thorpe, 'Them mules smells Injuns,' half a 
 dozen or more of the darned cusses dashed out 
 of the timber, yelling and shaking their robes, 
 which waked up the whole camp. 
 
 "Me and Thorpe sent a couple of shots after 
 them that scattered the devils for a minute; but 
 we hadn't hit nary one because it was too dark 
 yet to draw a bead on 'em." 
 
 We can readily believe that there was some 
 good reason for the failure to hit the mark. 
 Soon it became light enough to "get a bead on 
 'em," and then there were doings indeed. 
 
 "Just as they circled back we poured it into 
 'em, killing six and wounding two. . . . Well, 
 
OLD JOHN SMITH 259 
 
 boys, them varmints made four charges before 
 we could get shet (rid) of them, but we killed 
 as many as sixteen or eighteen and they got 
 mighty sick of it and quit." 
 
 We can easily believe that also, and they were 
 wise Indians. The measure of their success was 
 one dead Mexican (which counted for nothing 
 with old John) and an arrow wound in the arm 
 of Thorpe. 
 
 "I was amused at little Paul," John goes on 
 to say, "all the time the scrimmage was going 
 on. He stood up in the wagon where I'd put 
 him, a-looking out of the hole where the sheet 
 was drawed together, and every time an Indian 
 was tumbled off his pony, he would clap his 
 hands and yell, ' There goes another one, Uncle 
 John!'" 
 
 In good time the train reached Independence, 
 the eastern terminus of the Old Trail, near Kan- 
 sas City, "with no more trouble of no kind," 
 Smith remarks. "We should say they had had 
 their full share! 
 
 Here the four trappers sold their pelts "and 
 had more money than they knowed what to do 
 with." Howbeit, old John "knowed" what to 
 do with some of his, for he took little Paul about 
 among the shops of that romantic frontier com- 
 munity and bought him a pony and had a sump- 
 tuous outfit of buckskin made for him from the 
 pelt of a black-tailed deer which he had shot in 
 
260 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 the Eockies. "The seams of his trousers were 
 heavy fringed," and he must have been a proud 
 youngster as he trotted about with his redoubt- 
 able guardian, who was the observed of all ob- 
 servers even in that motley community of trad- 
 ers, frontiersmen, trappers, Mexicans and the 
 like. 
 
 They saw no more of the greaser bull train, 
 nor was any trace or hint found as to who little 
 Paul was or where he belonged. The child could 
 tell nothing himself and seemed to have but one 
 desire in life, viz., to remain with "Uncle John" 
 and fight Indians. The little fellow made a great 
 impression among the people of the town and 
 several, who must have been exceptionally cour- 
 ageous, had the hardihood to propose to "Uncle 
 John" that they adopt the child. He did not 
 "get a bead" on these imprudent philanthro- 
 pists as one might have expected, but he "al- 
 lowed if there was going to be any adopting 
 done I'd do it myself, 'cause the kid seemed 
 now jes' like he wuz my own." 
 
 After a stay of several months in Indepen- 
 dence, Smith, Curtis and Thorpe bought a prairie 
 wagon and new outfits and joined a large cara- 
 van bound for Mexico, intending to leave the 
 company when they reached the Rockies and 
 repair to their wonted fastness in the mountains, 
 for hunting and trapping. 
 
 With what eager anticipations must little Paul 
 
OLD JOHN SMITH 261 
 
 have viewed these delectable preparations for 
 their long adventurous journey and their roman- 
 tic sojourn in the wild retreats of the great 
 range ! How the little fellow must have counted 
 the days to the momentous hour of departure 
 when they bade good-bye to their former com- 
 rade, Comstock (whom they never heard of 
 again), and turned their faces once more to 
 the great plains. 
 
 We may indulge a pleasant vision of that long 
 journey in the new covered wagon and imagine 
 little Paul a favorite in the big caravan with its 
 seventy-five mule teams and its miscellaneous 
 traveling community. It must have had all the 
 romantic delights of following the circus, and 
 we can picture the rough old trapper happy in 
 the company of his little ward in sombrero and 
 buckskin, fishing, hunting, telling yarns, with al- 
 ways a w T eather eye out for "Injuns." 
 
 The caravan must have been too imposing in 
 its size to encourage Indian attack and the long 
 train made an uneventful journey across the 
 plains, until at the end of a month they pulled 
 up at Bent's Fort, along the headwaters of the 
 Arkansas in the foothills of the Rockies. 
 
 Here, in the wild country about the famous 
 trading-post, they camped for the night — a night 
 destined to be a momentous one in the life of 
 old John Smith. 
 
 We shall let him tell of it himself, just as he 
 
262 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 is reported to have told it to his comrades years 
 later, for there is a note of pathos in his nar- 
 rative which we cannot reproduce. 
 
 "I knowed they had cows up to the Fort, so 
 jest before we wuz ready fer supper I took Paul 
 (he could never leave Paul behind) and started 
 to see if we couldn't get some milk fer our 
 coffee. It wuzn't far, and we wuz camped a 
 few hundred feet from the gate, jest outside the 
 wall. Well, we went into the kitchen, Paul right 
 alongside of me, and thar I seen a white woman 
 Ieanin' over the adobe hearth a-cooking — they 
 had always only been squaws before. She nat- 
 urally looked up to find who wuz comin' in, and 
 when she seen the kid, all at once she give a 
 scream, dropped the dish-cloth she had in her 
 hand, made a break for Paul, throwed her arms 
 around him, nigh upsetting me, and says, while 
 she was a-sobbing and taking on dreadful, 'My 
 boy! Oh, my little boy!' Then she kind of 
 choked again while Paul, he says as he hung 
 on to her, 'Oh, mamma! Oh, mamma! I knowed 
 you'd come back!' 
 
 "I jest walked outer that kitchen a heap faster 
 than I come into it and shut the door. When 
 I got outside fer a few minutes I couldn't see 
 nothin', like." 
 
 Poor old John Smith! When we think of him 
 back with his dusky squaw among those wily, 
 grasping Cheyennes, squeezing his ill-gotten 
 
OLD JOHN SMITH 263 
 
 gains out of every barter, lording it over trader 
 and greaser with an iron hand and sinking ever 
 lower in the scale of dishonor, we must try to 
 divert our thoughts for a moment to the picture 
 of the rough old fellow going about in old In- 
 dependence with the trusting hand of little Paul 
 in his own scarred old paw, buying him ponies 
 and goodness knows what not, and happy in the 
 little fellow's company. 
 
 And with this pleasanter picture in our minds, 
 we shall let him pass on in his lonesome journey 
 westward to the mountains which he knew so 
 well. He had many more adventures and we 
 shall meet him again in the story of another 
 scout, but we do not know of any other occasion 
 when he flinched and ' ' couldn 't see nuthin ', like. ' ' 
 
 The story of Mrs. Dale's (for that was little 
 Paul's name) escape from her Pawnee captors 
 is remarkable. Choosing a favorable opportu- 
 nity, she had selected the fastest pony they had 
 and ridden it forty miles until she fell exhausted 
 by the trail, where she was picked up in an 
 almost dying condition by a caravan. This train, 
 on its progress westward, had paused at Bent's 
 Fort, where, finding Indian women employed, 
 Paul's mother had asked for work in the kitchen, 
 intending to bide her time until a caravan should 
 stop there, whose leaders she could trust to take 
 her to St. Louis. 
 
 ' ' Next morning," says Uncle John, "our car- 
 
264 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 avan went on to Mora, and after we'd bid good- 
 bye to Mrs. Dale and Paul, before which I give 
 the boy two hundred dollars for his self, me, 
 Thorpe and Curtis pulled out with our team 
 north fer Frenchman's Creek and I never felt 
 so miserable like before nor since as I did part- 
 ing with the kid that morning." 
 
 High up through the rocky passes the old trail 
 ran and wound away into the haunts of the mink 
 and the beaver and through the dim fastnesses 
 where the grizzly made his home. We can fancy 
 that we see the lumbering old wagon climbing 
 those heights which frown upon the old fort of 
 the Bents — farther, farther, and still farther 
 into the solemn depths of the hunting and trap- 
 ping grounds, until it became a mere speck in 
 the distance. 
 
RUBE STEVENS 
 
 How he was captured by the Indians; how they treated him 
 and how he made his escape; of his long ride and how 
 he fell in with friends in need and became their com- 
 panion; of his grim resolve, of his life as a scout and 
 hunter, and of one of the most remarkable encounters 
 with Indians in the history of the West. 
 
 It was fortunate for Rube Stevens — Little 
 Rube, they called him — that he fell in with old 
 John Smith just when he did; for not only did 
 Uncle John materially assist in saving Rube's 
 life, but, what is more (or rather less), he re- 
 counted Rube's adventures for him — a thing 
 which Rube could not possibly have done for 
 himself, for he had no tongue with which to 
 do it! 
 
 Rube did not, as so many of the Western scouts 
 and trappers did, set out with the intention of 
 becoming a man of the plains and mountains. 
 The number of boys who ran away from home 
 in the old caravan days was almost appalling, 
 and it sometimes seems to the student of west- 
 ern and frontier history that the schools in St. 
 Louis might just as well have been closed at 
 times, as they are in these more prosaic days 
 in deference to an epidemic. 
 
 265 
 
266 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 But Eube Stevens did not run away to join a 
 mule train. He was born about 1827 on a farm 
 in Pennsylvania, where the years of his early 
 youth were passed. When he was about seven- 
 teen his parents decided to move to Oregon, 
 where his father had taken up a claim. 
 
 When we reflect that to the average stay- 
 at-home person a trip across the continent is 
 regarded as something of an adventure even to- 
 day, we can fancy with what romantic anticipa- 
 tions the Pennsylvania farmer's boy contem- 
 plated such a journey something less than a 
 century ago, and what visions of buffaloes and 
 stage-coaches and Indians must have filled his 
 young mind. 
 
 Alas, young Eube Stevens was destined never 
 to see his father's claim in Oregon. The little 
 family made the usual tedious, thirst-haunted 
 pilgrimage across the plains, as a part of one 
 of the large caravans. They had reached the 
 Bitter Root Valley in the region which is now 
 Idaho and were encamped within sight of the 
 Bitter Root Mountains, beyond the gray and 
 rugged heights of which lay the promised land, 
 when the caravan was attacked by a band of 
 Blackfoot Indians and every single member of 
 the train was massacred except Rube himself. 
 
 Why they spared the boy, who was then scarce 
 seventeen, is not known. It is not uncommon 
 to read that this or that hero who became fa- 
 
KUBE STEVENS 267 
 
 mons on the plains or in the Kentucky back- 
 woods was the only one spared in some whole- 
 sale massacre, and we can hardly avoid the con- 
 viction that a special Providence watched over 
 them in consideration of the great things they 
 were born to accomplish. 
 
 However this may be, young Bube's life was 
 spared, and he was taken captive. For a while 
 the Indians kept him as a slave; then, on the 
 suspicion that he intended to make a dash for 
 liberty, they cut out his tongue! Just how they 
 expected that this would prevent him from es- 
 caping is not explained, but it is known that 
 the squaws and Indian maidens had both pitied 
 and befriended the young captive, and it is not 
 improbable that the observant braves appre- 
 hended that the soft hearts of their women folk 
 would melt completely at the boy's entreaties 
 to them to connive at his escape. 
 
 A prisoner who is popular with the fair daugh- 
 ters of his captors need not look too despairingly 
 upon his shackles and the jailer's key. 
 
 The Blackfoot women, unable to prevent this 
 cruel treatment of young Stevens, constituted 
 themselves his willing nurses and so skilfully 
 treated his wound that but for the loss of speech 
 (a great loss, indeed!) the boy suffered no per- 
 manent ill effects from his mutilation. 
 
 As you may suppose, when the Blackfoot 
 braves perceived that young Stevens' frightful 
 
268 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 handicap only increased the tender regard of 
 the Indian damsels, they were very angry. Dis- 
 mayed at these unlooked-for caprices of the fe- 
 male heart, they visited their jealous wrath upon 
 the boy, until the poor dumb fellow resolved that 
 he would escape or sacrifice his unhappy life in 
 the trying. 
 
 It was more than a year, however, before the 
 chance came, and when it did come it was Mars, 
 the god of war, and not the gentle goddess of 
 compassion, that connived at his escape. 
 
 It befell that the Blackfoot tribe had a mighty 
 battle with the ferocious Sioux during which 
 the Blackfoot braves were so engrossed with 
 their prodigious deeds of valor that they did not 
 notice the dumb boy who, mounting the fleetest 
 pony they had, rode off to freedom while the 
 sanguinary conflict was at its height. 
 
 But, after all, who can say that the Blackfoot 
 damsels had not suggested this and were not 
 accessories before the fact? 
 
 All night long and all the next day Rube rode 
 like mad. He had a few odds and ends of food 
 which, even in his haste, he had not forgotten 
 to bring, and partaking sparingly of these he 
 managed to subsist for several days. 
 
 He did not know where he was going and he 
 did not care, so long as he got away from his 
 captors. He felt that the width of the continent 
 was not too much to separate him from those 
 
EUBE STEVENS 269 
 
 bloodthirsty savages, and he continued to ride, 
 though with less frantic haste, day in and day 
 out, until at last he was cheered by the sight of 
 a queer little structure built against a ledge of 
 rock in a very wild region. 
 
 He was, in fact, in Colorado, and must have 
 ridden more than three hundred miles — a dis- 
 tance which seems considerable as we think of 
 it now, but which was nothing to the inhabitants 
 of the mountains and the wide plains. We read 
 of a plainsman going to visit such and such a 
 place as if it were around the corner, and when 
 we look it up on the map we find it to be several 
 hundred miles away. The game was played on 
 a large board in the old caravan days. 
 
 The structure, the sight of which thus glad- 
 dened the heart of Eube Stevens, was a small 
 ramshackle affair about ten feet high with a hole 
 in the roof in lieu of a door — a precautionary 
 feature of Eocky Mountain architecture, intend- 
 ed to strengthen the half cabin, half dugout, 
 against Indian attack. There was a small win- 
 dow, scarcely more than a peek-hole, in one of 
 the exposed sides. It was a typical hunter's 
 shelter, of which there were not a few in the 
 Eockies in those days. 
 
 The sound of voices within emboldened Eube 
 to approach, not without some trepidation lest 
 he might find himself in the fire after escaping 
 from the frying pan. But luck favored him and 
 
270 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 he found himself in the presence of two redoubt- 
 able men in buckskin, Al Boyd and Bill Thorpe 
 by name, both of whom were widely famous as 
 scouts, trappers and guides. Thorpe has al- 
 ready been mentioned as one of the companions 
 of John Smith in our story of that old hickory 
 nut of a scout. 
 
 These men received the poor dumb youth with 
 all the bluff hospitality which the wide plains 
 and lonely mountains seemed to inspire and 
 which was such a fine feature of the rough life 
 of the West. 
 
 The destiny of the boy seemed now pretty 
 well assured, and under the care and tutelage 
 of this experienced pair he began his career as 
 a mountain man and scout of the prairies. 
 
 Tie became, however, that dangerous thing — 
 a man with a grievance. As he grew older and 
 came to realize more and more the dastardly act 
 which had deprived him of the birthright of 
 speech, he made a grim resolve that he would 
 never leave the prairies where he had been or- 
 phaned and cruelly mutilated, and that he would 
 consecrate his life to the killing of Indians, 
 and woe to the Blackfoot who should cross his 
 path ! 
 
 The better to carry out his grim resolve, he 
 practiced marksmanship with such avidity and 
 application that he became uniquely famous as 
 a crack shot, even among his steady-handed and 
 
EUBE STEVENS 271 
 
 steady-eyed companions. "Praise from Sir Hu- 
 bert is praise indeed," and even Thorpe, famous 
 himself as a rifleman, said that the equal of Rube 
 Stevens did not exist in all the length and breadth 
 of the plains. 
 
 These three remained together and became 
 partners and close friends. They penetrated far 
 up into the haunts of the beaver and the mink, 
 where they trapped and hunted,, carrying their 
 stock of valuable pelts eastward from time to 
 time, and falling in with pack trains, where they 
 were always welcome as traveling companions 
 and guides. 
 
 Timorous sojourners along the lonely trail 
 which wound through the mountains and across 
 the dry, wind-swept prairies to the frontier set- 
 tlements on the Missouri, heard of the silent, 
 keen-eyed Rube and waited and watched for him 
 and felt reassured in his company. Many were 
 the pack trains which he piloted past the perils 
 of Pawnee Rock and other places of shuddering 
 memory; and frightful was the blood tribute 
 which this silent scout exacted from Pawnees 
 and Comanches — and Blackfeet when his wan- 
 derings took him into their haunts. 
 
 Once, after a journey up into the heart of the 
 mountains, Thorpe, Boyd and Stevens returned 
 to their little shelter among the rocks, and began 
 trapping in the vicinity. It was winter and the 
 weather was very cold. One day Rube went out 
 
272 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 along a neighboring stream to examine the traps 
 which had been laid at intervals for several miles 
 along the banks, while Boyd and Thorpe went 
 in another direction hunting for deer. 
 
 After attending to the traps Eube pressed on 
 to a spot where the stream widened and began 
 to fish through a hole in the ice. 
 
 Boyd had just brought down a deer and was 
 stooping over it when Thorpe called to him: 
 
 "Drop everything, Al, and make for the dug- 
 out! Look there !" 
 
 One glance showed Boyd that a large band of 
 Sioux Indians was almost upon them. 
 
 "If we can only get to the cabin," panted 
 Al as they ran with all their might, "we can 
 keep off the whole tribe." 
 
 Scarcely had he said the words when Eube 
 came running toward them with an Indian close 
 upon his heels. He had neglected to take his 
 rifle when he went to examine the traps; but 
 Bo}*d had not forgotten his and, raising it with 
 characteristic deliberation, he interrupted the In- 
 dian's premature yell of triumph and sent the 
 savage sprawling upon the rocks. 
 
 Eunning desperately, the three men reached 
 the cabin, where they made ready to put up 
 what defence they could against the yelling horde 
 which was following them. 
 
 Spying through the hole in the side, Thorpe 
 was able to count no less than thirty warriors 
 
RUBE STEVENS 273 
 
 clamoring about the little shelter like so many 
 demons. 
 
 The predicament of the three hunters was 
 desperate in the extreme. The number of In- 
 dians appeared to make their ^success certain, 
 but the awful fate which confronted the three 
 made them resolve to sell their lives as dearly 
 as possible. 
 
 "Off with your coats," said Thorpe, grimly. 
 "We'll get along better if they -have nothing to 
 lay hold on but our naked bodies.' ' 
 
 Indeed, every slight advantage counted in that 
 encounter against -such fearful odds. "It ain't 
 goin' ter be no boys' play," Thorpe observed as 
 he stripped himself, and assuredly he was right. 
 
 For such a desperate defence, however, the 
 shelter was well constructed. There was no 
 means of ingress save the hole in the roof 
 through which but one at a time could enter. 
 Beneath this Rube grimly took his stand, axe 
 in hand, ready to brain the savages as fast as 
 they appeared. 
 
 By this time the rifle shot of the Sioux was 
 hailing upon the logs of -the little shack "like 
 rain on a tent," as Thorpe said. Presently, a 
 stealthy movement could be heard upon the roof 
 and a copper face peered down through the 
 opening. Instantly Thorpe's rifle brought the 
 prowler tumbling into the little room. 
 
 Another Indian tried to squeeze through the 
 
274 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 tiny window in the side and presently became 
 wedged in the opening, being unable either to 
 advance or withdraw. Thorpe took a beaver 
 trap and beat out his brains with it. 
 
 Finding these tactics unavailing, several of 
 the Indians clambered onto the roof and began 
 to tear off the logs. Standing upon a box so 
 that his chest was above the opening, Rube 
 felled two with his axe and these, together with 
 a couple of logs and another Indian, fell sprawl- 
 ing into the room. The two whom Rube had 
 struck were dead, and he now despatched the 
 other. 
 
 " Let's see, that leaves twenty-five, I reckon, 
 don't it?" queried Boyd. 
 
 It was hard keeping tabs. 
 
 Rube now discovered that no less a personage 
 than the chief of the band (whom he distin- 
 guished by his war-paint) was descending 
 through the larger opening which his braves 
 had made, and he assisted him down, intending 
 to finish him on the floor. A fearful tussle 
 ensued between the chief and Rube Stevens, 
 while Boyd, creeping near, sought for an op- 
 portunity to stab the Sioux without endanger- 
 ing the life of his friend, for the two combat- 
 ants w^ere mixed up together like a pair of 
 infuriated tigers. At last Rube himself man- 
 aged to get out his hunting-knife and put an 
 end to his adversary. 
 
RUBE STEVENS 275 
 
 j j 
 
 "Twenty-four, ain't it?" Thorpe asked. 
 
 "Thirty, and six out, twenty-four's right, 
 said Boyd. 
 
 They used the body of the chief to plug up 
 the hole in the side. "That's 'bout all he's good 
 fer," said Thorpe. 
 
 The Indians outside, perceiving now that their 
 attempts to enter the cabin were, to say the 
 least, fraught with great hazard, began another 
 rain of rifle shot which fell harmlessly upon the 
 logs. 
 
 "If we ony hed some more dead Injuns," said 
 Thorpe, "we cud build a reg'lar breastwork. 
 "We need two more, I reckon, to plug up that 
 thar gap," he added, pointing to a break the 
 Sioux had made close to the little window. 
 
 As if in answer to his wish, two Indians, more 
 courageous than their companions, started to let 
 themselves down through the roof. Instantly 
 Boyd, who is represented as a perfect giant, 
 grappled them by their throats, one with either 
 hand, and strangled them until they fell dead 
 upon the floor. 
 
 "Eight out leaves twenty- two," said Thorpe, 
 as Rube and Boyd stuffed the two bodies into 
 the gap. 
 
 But now the savages, finding the little cabin 
 to be a veritable death-trap, hit on the expedient 
 of setting it on fire, and the hope which the 
 three had entertained of killing, or at least dis- 
 
276 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 couraging, their yelling assailants was turned 
 almost to despair as they realized the purpose 
 of the enemy. 
 
 "Thar's ony one thing to do, boys," said 
 Thorpe; "we got to get outer this. You f oiler 
 me!" 
 
 The shelter was becoming enveloped in flames, 
 while the shrieking Sioux surrounded it, gloat- 
 ing over the certain capture of the hunters. 
 
 The three men sallied forth, each carrying his 
 rifle in one hand and his hunting-knife in the 
 other, and their appearance was the signal for 
 such a savage war-whoop as seemed to rend the 
 heavens. Instantly they were surrounded and, 
 though Eube was quick enough to shoot one of 
 them, it did no good and onlv served to still 
 further infuriate the others. 
 
 The three were made prisoners and Thorpe 
 and Boyd, tied back to back, were bound to a 
 tree, while Eube was lashed separately to an- 
 other one. Some of the Indians then began to 
 gather sticks, which ominous preparations even 
 the hardened scouts must have contemplated with 
 dismay. 
 
 There is a report, which must have passed the 
 lips of at least several persons before it was 
 finally written down, of the conversation be- 
 tween Boyd and Thorpe as they waited, lashed 
 back to back and tied to the tree. Probably it 
 is fairly accurate. 
 
KUBE STEVENS 277 
 
 "What are they going ter do with us?" asked 
 Thorpe. 
 
 "Boast us, you bet," Boyd replied. "They'll 
 find me tough enough, I reckon." 
 
 "It must be a painful sort of death," Thorpe 
 observed 
 
 "Wall," said Boyd, "it ain't exactly what yer 
 would call the most pleasant sort of one, but 
 wot the devil are they doin' ter poor Rube?" 
 
 Eube was tied to a tree about a hundred feet 
 distant, and as Thorpe craned his neck and pain- 
 fully strained his eyes in that direction he could 
 see an Indian dancing about the young fellow 
 (Rube was still not twenty-one) and brandishing 
 a tomahawk. In the face of this appalling dem- 
 onstration Rube observed a calm demeanor, never 
 flinching, but gazing with a scowl upon the men- 
 acing savage. 
 
 In this interval of waiting and preparation 
 several Indians who had disappeared returned 
 to the scene dragging the carcass of the deer 
 which Boyd had shot just before the attack be- 
 gan. This they proceeded to make ready for 
 cooking, kindling a fire the while, and as if the 
 harrowing fate which awaited their victims were 
 not enough, the savages, with a refinement of 
 cruelty equal to that of a submarine commander, 
 proceeded to cook and to gorge themselves with 
 savory morsels of the animal which the hungry 
 trio had intended for their own repast. 
 
278 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 For more than an hour the three captives wit- 
 nessed this artistic variation of savage torture, 
 inhaling the luscious aroma wafted to them from 
 the cheerfully crackling blaze, which bore also the 
 appalling remainder of their own impending fate. 
 
 The Indians stood about, chatting as they ate 
 the toothsome morsels, with anticipatory relish 
 of the entertainment which was to follow, when 
 suddenly a series of sharp reports rent the air. 
 
 The buffet lunch came to a sudden end as the 
 astonished savages beheld seven of their number 
 lying dead upon the ground. 
 
 Scarcely had they recovered from their sur- 
 prise when another volley rang out and seven 
 more of the feasters dropped, their portions of 
 venison flying into the air. In another minute 
 a half-dozen men in buckskin emerged from the 
 forest, who, with hunting-knives and clubbed 
 rifles proceeded to work havoc among the few 
 remaining savages. Several of them were killed 
 in hand-to-hand combat, and the others, seeing 
 that their only hope lay in escape, stole away, 
 leaving the carcass of the deer still cooking for 
 the refreshment of their assailants. 
 
 Conspicuous among these timely rescuers was 
 the burly form of John Smith, scout and trap- 
 per, whom we have already met. He tells how 
 one of his companions, Ike by name, having killed 
 three Indians with one shot, observed, as they un- 
 fastened Thorpe and Boyd, 
 
EUBE STEVENS 279 
 
 "I always like ter git two or three of the red 
 devils in line before I pull the trigger — it saves 
 lead." 
 
 We should like to have known Ike; there can 
 be no words but those of praise for his worthy 
 spirit of economy. 
 
 The astonishment an^ relief of the three 
 captives, who were now set free, cannot well 
 be described, and there are few who would be- 
 grudge them the savory banquet which by a 
 tantalizing fate they had won, then lost, and 
 now won again. 
 
 No longer did the savory aroma torment them; 
 the entire party gathered about the fragrant fire 
 and fell to with a relish while Uncle John ex- 
 plained how he and his companions had happened 
 upon the scene. 
 
 " 'Bout a mile down the creek," said he, "me 
 and six other trappers had a camp, and this 
 morning, bein' scarce of meat, we all went a- 
 hunting. We had killed two or three elk, and 
 was 'bout goin' back to camp with our game, 
 when we heard firing and supposed it was a 
 party of hunters like ourselves, so we did not 
 pay any attention to it at first; but when it kept 
 up so long and there was such a constant volley, 
 I told our boys it might be a scrimmage with a 
 party of red devils and we concluded to go and 
 see." 
 
 After a while they came in sight of a camp- 
 
280 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 fire in the distance, and John and one of his 
 companions crept cautiously in advance of their 
 friends to reconnoiter. What they discovered 
 was the very scene which we have described. 
 The shots which had aroused them to investi- 
 gate must have been those of the encounter be- 
 tween the three men in the hut and the Sioux. 
 
 At the sight of Thorpe and Boyd and Stevens 
 lashed to the two trees with fagots lying at their 
 feet and the Indians regaling themselves in an- 
 ticipation of their entertainment, Smith and his 
 comrade lost no time in retracing their way to 
 their companions where, in a hasty council, their 
 course was decided upon. 
 
 So the luscious carcass of the deer was des- 
 patched with great relish by its rightful owners 
 and their welcome guests ; and if the feast lacked 
 the gracious accompaniment of genial converse, 
 it was not because there was nothing to talk 
 about. Uncle John tells us that the whole party 
 went back to his and his companions' camp, 
 where they "made a night of it," so we may 
 infer that they knew how to celebrate good for- 
 tune and timely deliverance from peril. 
 
 It would add a touch of piquancy to this re- 
 markable episode if we could picture the es- 
 caping Sioux as wandering famished in the 
 Rockies with the haunting aroma from the crisp 
 and luscious deer forever assailing their nostrils. 
 
 But there is no ground for placing any such 
 
EUBE STEVENS 281 
 
 moral top-knot upon our tale. Already the whole 
 affair smacks rather suspiciously of the dime 
 novel. But in plain fact it occurred, substan- 
 tially as described, and constitutes another of the 
 many instances in which truth is indeed stranger 
 than fiction. If this matchless gem of adventure 
 in its fine wild west setting had been embodied in 
 a story for boys we may be sure that it would 
 have been diluted by much heroic and extrava- 
 gant talk and its actors made ridiculous as 
 Boone and Custer and Cody and Carson and 
 Sitting Bull and all the rest of them have been 
 made ridiculous, by having put into their mouths 
 vaporing speeches which they would never have 
 uttered. 
 
 The subsequent life of our hero, Eube Ste- 
 vens, was adventurous to a degree. Thorpe was 
 later killed by the Indians and Boyd disappears 
 from notice. Very likely he withdrew, as many 
 of his ilk did, into the hunting grounds of the 
 Eockies, there to live out his days and die in 
 the remote obscurity of those mighty heights. 
 
 Eube was seen thereafter upon the plains, 
 where he acted as guide and scout for many 
 caravans and more than one exploring party. 
 Much of what we know about the scouts of the 
 great West is gleaned from their own verbal 
 reminiscences, bandied about in camp or corral 
 and passed from lip to lip, until it has filtered 
 into our literature and history. 
 
282 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 But Bube Stevens was the silent scout, for he 
 could not talk. However, Uncle John did his 
 talking for him, and next to one's own tongue 
 we should say that Uncle John's was about the 
 best procurable for purposes of friendly remi- 
 niscence. If we were a hero we should much 
 prefer to commit ourselves to Uncle John's keep- 
 ing than to that of the average modern story- 
 teller, after whose ingenious treatment we should 
 probably have great difficulty in recognizing our- 
 selves and our most chivalrous deeds. 
 
GENERAL GEORGE A. CUSTER 
 
 How he became a romantic figure in the Civil War and 
 of his picturesque followers; how he became an Indian 
 fighter and pursued the Cheyennes, together with the 
 particulars of how he put an end to the outrageous 
 career of Black Kettle, and how he lost his life fight- 
 ing the Sioux. 
 
 Among the picturesque heroes in our history 
 General George A. Custer must be counted one 
 of the most conspicuous and striking. He had 
 that quality which is called dashing and he meas- 
 ures up in all ways to the artistic requirements 
 of romance. 
 
 He was the typical Indian fighter, as Robin 
 Hood was the typical outlaw. Dame Nature 
 (who has a good deal to do with these things 
 and has always a fine eye for effect) saw to it 
 that General Custer was generously equipped 
 with the features which befitted his role. 
 
 He was of a noble presence, with eagle eye 
 and flowing hair and the gracefully drooping 
 mustache which only heroes should wear. His 
 mien, as he sat upon his gallant charger, was 
 nothing less than magnificent. In appearance 
 he had only one rival, and that was Buffalo Bill. 
 
 Though a soldier of the army, he affected the 
 
 283 
 
284 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 buckskin costume of the scout. He was a famil- 
 iar and engaging picture about the romantic 
 camp-fire, and the latter part of his splendid 
 career was so closely identified with Indians and 
 the woolly "West that he seems the very incarna- 
 tion of adventure. 
 
 He was the kind of hero who was always 
 having horses killed under him and holes shot 
 through his hat. How many horses suffered this 
 fate it would be hazardous to say, but in the fic- 
 tion which tells of Custer the number runs very 
 high. History places it somewhat lower. Nor 
 would he venture an estimate as to how many 
 holes were shot through his picturesque som- 
 brero, but they were certainly enough to venti- 
 late it. 
 
 Volumes have been written about General Cus- 
 ter. His widow wrote several, and with these as 
 a basis innumerable stories have been concocted 
 representing him as a marvel of dashing prowess. 
 He was undoubtedly a very brave and, alas, a 
 very reckless man. 
 
 "White Chief with Long Hair," as the Indians 
 called him, was born in Ohio on the 5th of De- 
 cember, 1839, so that he was only thirty-seven 
 years of age at the time of his tragic death — a 
 period all too short, one would say, for so much 
 adventurous accomplishment ! 
 
 His early years were spent on the farm of his 
 parents and he received a good education, com- 
 
GENERAL GEORGE A. CUSTER 
 
GENERAL GEORGE A. CUSTER 285 
 
 pleting his studies at the Hopedale Normal School 
 in Ohio. When he was twenty-eight years old 
 he was appointed to the Military Academy at 
 West Point, where four years later he graduated 
 with — you thought I was going to say with high 
 honors. Nothing of the kind, for he graduated 
 at the foot of his class. 
 
 But he was not at the foot of his class in the 
 grim, hard school of the Civil War, where his 
 hat received its first honored puncture. During 
 the winter of 1862, while he was awaiting orders 
 to active service, he won his first triumph in the 
 hand of Elizabeth Bacon — a true affinity if ever 
 there was one, for she accompanied her husband 
 in his adventurous campaigning in the West, 
 sharing all of the hardships and many of the 
 perils of the rough camp life. The pair were 
 not married, however, until 1864, when the proud 
 young groom introduced the innovation of taking 
 his young bride with him to his headquarters in 
 the field. 
 
 Before that, in June of 1863, Custer was ap- 
 pointed a brigadier-general of volunteers. He 
 soon won a unique fame in the army as "the boy 
 general with the golden locks," and a romantic 
 figure he must have been, confirming by his ready 
 gallantry the high opinion which his comrades 
 of every rank had formed of him. He was, in- 
 deed, a most captivating young man, with his 
 flowing locks and his reckless bravery. 
 
286 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 In October, 1864, when he was only twenty-five 
 years old, he was made a major-general of vol- 
 unteers, his promotion being the direct conse- 
 quence of his bravery, and he was the youngest 
 man in the army to hold that rank. 
 
 It was as "commander of the Third Division 
 of Cavalry that Custer's fame spread in the 
 army. His men, who seemed unable to resist 
 the charm of his personality and the contagion 
 of his dashing mien, imbibed the spirit of their 
 leader and unconsciously assumed his manner. 
 They wore their hair long, they affected cavalier 
 hats like his, and flaunting red scarfs which 
 trailed in the wind with a fine abandon as they 
 galloped along. 
 
 Truly, a motley outfit, with all the dash and 
 glamor of the valorous knights of old; and if 
 the setting had been the ancient Wars of the 
 Koses instead of our own great civil strife, young 
 Custer and his cavalry would hardly have been 
 out of place. 
 
 We must not follow the history of this heroic 
 little band as it galloped through the Civil War. 
 Eleven horses (verified) were shot under General 
 Custer and his hat, it is reported, became a 
 veritable colander. In six months he captured 
 over a hundred pieces of artillery, sixty-five 
 battle flags and more than ten thousand pris- 
 oners. During this time he did not once meet 
 with defeat. 
 
GENEEAL GEORGE A. CUSTER 287 
 
 He was the most daring raider that ever 
 crossed an enemy's lines. He loved danger and 
 was always ready to take his life in his hands. 
 He fought from Bull Kim to Appomattox with 
 tireless energy and with a spirit that knew no 
 fear, and when the end was in sight it was he, 
 and appropriately he, who received the flag of 
 truce with the momentous tidings that General 
 Lee was at last ready to surrender. 
 
 At the close of the Civil "War the "boy gen- 
 eral' ' was ordered with a division of cavalry 
 to Texas. The next year his gallant service was 
 rewarded by promotion to the rank of major- 
 general in the regular army, a distinction indeed 
 for a young man not yet past his twenty- seventh 
 year ! 
 
 "We must now follow this gallant young man 
 in his headlong career to the field where his ac- 
 tivities bring him more especially within the 
 compass of our plan. 
 
 Most of the brief accounts of Custer (and in- 
 deed there should be no brief accounts of such 
 a man) deal almost exclusively with the cam- 
 paign which terminated his meteoric career, and 
 his adventurous life upon the plains prior to that 
 time has been neglected. 
 
 In 1866 his career as a typical scout and In- 
 dian fighter may be said to have begun when 
 he was ordered to Kansas with his famous Sev- 
 enth Cavalry to check the Indians who had been 
 
288 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 conducting a very carnival of crime and depre- 
 dation, scalping men, kidnapping women and 
 children, stealing horses, attacking stage-coaches, 
 burning ranches, and carrying things generally 
 with a high hand. 
 
 In all this bloody game only eleven Indians 
 had been killed when Custer rode upon the scene. 
 It was winter and it was not the habit of the 
 Indians to exert themselves greatly in that sea- 
 son. Neither was it the habit of Custer to sit 
 around and wait for spring. 
 
 The army was encamped in the Indian Terri- 
 tory and General Sheridan was in command of 
 the Department. A plan was formed by which 
 Custer should lead his men southward on a scout- 
 ing expedition, while Sheridan himself should 
 explore the country north and west -as soon as 
 he could get his larger force in condition to 
 march. 
 
 At four o'clock in the morning on November 
 23rd, the thermometer in camp stood at ten 
 below zero and the tents were almost buried un- 
 der a blinding snowstorm. Not very propitious 
 weather, one would -say, in which to scout for 
 obstreperous Indians. 
 
 "What do you think of this?" General Sher- 
 idan asked, as the beautiful snow descended 
 upon him. 
 
 "Fine!" said Custer. "Couldn't be better. 
 We can move, but the Indians can't." 
 
GENERAL GEORGE A. CUSTER 289 
 
 General Sheridan beat his ears and shook his 
 head and said nothing. lie knew Custer. 
 
 After a hasty breakfast the indomitable Cus- 
 ter and his troopers, looking more like a group 
 of arctic explorers than a scouting party, rode 
 forth into the furious blizzard, while the army 
 band played The Girl I Left Behind Me. 
 
 With the aid of a pocket compass Custer led 
 his troopers through wind and snow with the 
 blinding hurricane beating in their faces. It is 
 surprising that this extraordinary march is not 
 more famous than it is, for it was certainly a 
 most remarkable one. 
 
 All through the morning they plodded on knee- 
 deep in snow, across the vast, wind-swept plains. 
 The guides, returning, pleaded that they could 
 not possibly lead the troops, but the intrepid 
 Custer, depending only upon his little compass, 
 pressed on. 
 
 Early in the afternoon they made camp, kin- 
 dled a fire, and proceeded to prepare dinner. 
 At night they corraled their equipment and were 
 off -again early in the morning. 
 
 On the second day there was some abatement 
 of the storm but the cold continued, and as the 
 sturdy troopers plodded on their sufferings were 
 intense. 
 
 There is no wind like the wind of the plains. 
 Unconfined and unobstructed it pursues its mad 
 career, tearing up the sand in summer and the 
 
290 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 snow in winter, and assailing the wayfarer with 
 unprecedented fury. 
 
 In such surroundings the troopers passed 
 Thanksgiving Bay, pausing long enough to eat 
 their scanty fare, which must have been a dis- 
 mal reminder of the festive celebration of their 
 friends at home. 
 
 At last, after untold hardships, they reached 
 the Canadian Kiver. Here General Custer de- 
 tached a small body of troops to follow up the 
 stream and scout for Indians while he, with his 
 main force, crossed to the opposite side and 
 continued their march. 
 
 The river was, of course, frozen, but the ice 
 was not thick enough to bear the weight of the 
 wagons, so they were forced to break the surface 
 here and there until they found a place which 
 they could ford. 
 
 The crossing of the frozen Canadian by Custer 
 and his men rivals "Washing ton's famous cross- 
 ing of the Belaware. Scarcely had they reached 
 the opposite shore when a man on horseback 
 approached them at breakneck speed, who proved 
 to be a scout of the small body which Custer 
 had sent up the river. 
 
 This man brought tidings which fell like a 
 bombshell among the troopers. He reported that 
 Major Elliott, who was in command of the small 
 party, had discovered a trail in the snow which 
 
GENERAL GEORGE A. CUSTER 291 
 
 coiild not, he believed, be more than twenty-four 
 hours old. 
 
 Custer sent the scout back posthaste with or- 
 ders that the trail be followed until evening, 
 when the party should camp and await his ar- 
 rival. He then directed his men to leave the 
 wagons and baggage in charge of a small guard 
 and follow him with as much expedition as pos- 
 sible to the spot where the trail had been dis- 
 covered. Custer himself started immediately. 
 
 The troopers, divested of everything except 
 absolute necessities, were soon in his wake and 
 ere long the indomitable leader and his resolute 
 men were upon the trail which Major Elliott had 
 discovered. Hour after hour they followed it 
 through the deep snow, and it was long after 
 dark when they reached the camp of Elliott and 
 his men. They found it to be in a deep ravine, 
 and here, effectually concealed and fairly well 
 sheltered, the reunited troopers made their even- 
 ing repast of hardtack and coffee. 
 
 As soon as they had rested and the moon had 
 risen they took up the trail, plodding on through 
 the snow, until Little Beaver, the general's In- 
 dian scout, came back in great excitement to say 
 that he smeiled fire. On this report Custer with 
 several scouts hurried on in advance and dis- 
 covered upon an eminence in the distance what 
 appeared to be the unextinguished remains of a 
 camp-fire. For a time there was great excite- 
 
292 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 ment among the little advance party and hope 
 ran high; but it was soon discovered that the 
 light was merely from the embers of a plains- 
 man's fire. 
 
 Still Custer and his scouts pressed cautiously 
 forward, the main body of troopers following 
 at a distance. The next night one of his scouts 
 discovered smoke in the distance and shortly 
 they could hear voices, thin and spent, which 
 convinced them that they were approaching a 
 considerable encampment of Indians. Anxiously 
 they awaked the morning. 
 
 They had, indeed, almost overtaken a formid- 
 able band of Cheyenne s, under command of the 
 redoubtable scoundrel, Black Kettle, whose name 
 should have been Black Soul, for if ever there 
 was a fiend incarnate Black Kettle was that in- 
 dividual. The catalogue of his bloody crimes 
 would have shocked old Sitting Bull, who w T as 
 no saint, and would have excited the jealous 
 envy of King Philip. 
 
 This was the band that Custer was after. 
 This was the unspeakable wretch, the thought 
 of whose possible capture had inspired the gal- 
 lant .trooper through those miles of wind and 
 snow. 
 
 There he was, comfortably ensconced in a val- 
 ley, the cheery smoke from his camp-fire rising 
 in the clear, cold air, and the numerous little 
 cone-shaped tepees of his camp plainly visible. 
 
GENERAL GEORGE A. CUSTER 293 
 
 Delighted at this successful termination of his 
 quest, General Custer lost no time in planning 
 for the attack. After a careful survey from a 
 neighboring hill he decided that the Cheyenne 
 encampment should be approached by four par- 
 ties from four different directions, one of which 
 should be led by himself. Major Elliott was 
 to lead a second and the remaining two were 
 in charge of Captain Thompson and Captain 
 Meyers respectively. 
 
 Long before daylight on the following morning 
 the four divisions were in motion, and shortly 
 they separated for their long detours. The mo- 
 ment of attack was set for dawn and it was 
 hoped that the four bodies of troops might close 
 in upon the unsuspecting encampment and com- 
 pletely surprise them. 
 
 But Black Kettle was not to be caught nap- 
 ping. With the first glimmer of dawn the ap- 
 proach of the troopers was discovered and a 
 pistol held, it was afterward learned, by the 
 chief himself, gave warning of the presence of 
 the converging host. 
 
 Secrecy being no longer possible, the intrepid 
 Custer ordered the bugle sounded, and its at- 
 tenuated note, floating far upon the crisp morn- 
 ing air, bore the signal to the other commands 
 to advance with all haste upon the encampment. 
 
 With Custer's party was a little band which 
 had enlivened the weary march with many 
 
294 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 sprightly tunes. Turning to these heroes of the 
 fife and drum, Custer ordered them to play 
 Garry Owen, which was a prime favorite with 
 his men, and under the inspiring strains of this 
 lively air they dashed forward to the charge. 
 
 If Black Kettle was not surprised, he was none 
 the less dismayed. He had supposed that the 
 winter, .and such a winter, would afford him 
 and his marauders temporary immunity from 
 pursuit, and lo, here was a white man with long 
 hair and dashing mien, who pursued his quarry 
 with the same grim determination in the winter 
 as he would do in the good old summer-time. 
 
 On he came at the head of his troopers, some 
 of them on their chargers, others running afoot, 
 and the band plodding heroically through the 
 snow, and blowing out its enlivening melody. 
 From other sides the attacking parties advanced 
 and presently the valley was the scene of tur- 
 moil and battle. 
 
 The lawless Cheyennes were doomed from the 
 moment when the signal strain of Custer's bugle 
 rent the air. They had reckoned without rue, 
 for never before had a band of troopers sought 
 them through their supposed protection of cold 
 and snow. 
 
 Black Kettle, with all his evil deeds upon his 
 head, went down to a merited death, fighting like 
 a demon. He had been a kettle of crimes indeed 
 
GENERAL GEORGE A. CUSTER 295 
 
 — one of the worst Indians of one of the worst 
 tribes that ever infested the plains. 
 
 Here and there the Cheyennes concentrated and 
 fought desperately, the women, who were spared 
 by the troopers in all cases, joining in the combat 
 and fighting with the aggressive energy of mod- 
 ern -suffragists. 
 
 Now and then one of Custer's men fell, but the 
 loss among the Indians was far more heavy. 
 Major Elliott and a few men, pursuing a group 
 of fugitives, encountered a larger force, and all 
 of Elliott's men were killed, their fate not be- 
 coming known until some time later. 
 
 Having thus destroyed the chief mischief-maker 
 and most of his marauding followers, Custer pur- 
 sued -the survivors, who, broken in spirit and in 
 a pitiable confusion of fright, went scampering 
 down the valley, leaving their lodges and ponies 
 to the triumphant troopers. There remained, too, 
 a few terrified squaws who were in a state of 
 panic at the fear of being massacred, and one 
 sagacious female, said to have been a sister of 
 Black Kettle. 
 
 This astute lady, perceiving Custer and his 
 sturdy men to be invincible, now sought by the 
 gentle art of matchmaking to propitiate the gen- 
 eral, and bringing forth the fairest damsel of the 
 almost deserted village, she shrewdly offered her 
 to the conqueror as his blushing bride. The gen- 
 
296 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 eral, smiling graciously, acknowledged her gener- 
 osity, but declined the fair tribute. 
 
 Thus ended the organized marauding career of 
 the thieving Cheyennes. Fugitive bands of them 
 still preyed upon travelers along the Old Santa 
 Fe Trail, but their power was broken since the 
 redoubtable Black Kettle was no more. Custer 
 had cleaned them out with grim thoroughness, 
 and thereafter his name spelled terror to the 
 Indians of the Southwest. 
 
 This was by no means the end of the gallant 
 trooper's career in Kansas and the Indian Ter- 
 ritory, but we must now follow him northward to 
 the region where a tragic fate was to complete 
 his romantic and restless life. 
 
 In the year 1875, General Custer was sent into 
 the region known as the Black Hills, to explore 
 the country, observe conditions, and make an ex- 
 haustive report on all he found. With him was 
 a strong cavalry force. 
 
 The region was one which had been set apart 
 by our government as a reservation for the pow- 
 erful and warlike Sioux Indians. They were the 
 most numerous of all the tribes and more difficult 
 of conquest than any of the other savage nations 
 within our national domain. It was supposed that 
 if they rallied all their strength they could muster 
 fifteen thousand warriors — a formidable legion 
 when compared with the predatory tribes of the 
 Southwest and the nations of the Pacific Slope. 
 
GENERAL GEORGE A. CUSTER 297 
 
 The Black Hills, which had been assigned to 
 them, occupy portions of what is now Dakota and 
 Wyoming, and here they lived, reconciled but 
 never satisfied, and always with a jealous eye 
 upon the whites who came among them. 
 
 In particular, their old chief, Sitting Bull, 
 viewed with inhospitable and ominous silence 
 the agreeable surprise expressed by travelers 
 stopping at his rugged home, and he contem- 
 plated Custer and his seasoned troopers not al- 
 together in the light of welcome guests. 
 
 General Custer, always sanguine and enthu- 
 siastic, was charmed with the fertility and beauty 
 of the region, and he embodied in his report a 
 glowing prophesy of its development. He de- 
 scribed it as another Florida in the varied ex- 
 uberance of its floral beauty, and extremely rich 
 in precious metals. 
 
 As a consequence of his glowing representa- 
 tions, adventurers from every part of the con- 
 tinent began to pour into the Black Hills, and 
 Sitting Bull saw the home of his people overrun 
 with a growing horde of settlers and wealth- 
 seekers, encouraged by the government quite 
 regardless of the Indians' rights. 
 
 Naturally enough, a cloud of discontent over- 
 spread the Sioux villages, and there were omi- 
 nous signs of an impending storm. 
 
 At last the expected happened. The famous 
 chieftain was asked to sign a treaty giving up 
 
298 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 part of his lands and agreeing to remain within 
 the bounds of a certain new reservation. Sitting 
 Bull refused. 
 
 He and his people were then notified that if 
 they did not remove to the specified reservation 
 before January, 1876, they would be treated as 
 enemies of the government. Sitting Bull an- 
 swered that he had always been an enemy of the 
 government, and he refused to stir. 
 
 In the spring of that year, therefore, the reg- 
 ulars opened the campaign which is known as the 
 Sioux War. 
 
 Sitting Bull chose a strong position in the rug- 
 ged country of southern Montana, known as the 
 Bad Lands, and here the warriors of the great 
 Sioux nation flocked to his standard by the hun- 
 dreds. 
 
 The plan of the regulars was to advance against 
 this formidable array in three columns, converg- 
 ing toward the big Sioux encampment from three 
 directions, thus hemming in the whole enemy 
 horde and destroying it. The column approach- 
 ing from the West w^as to be led by General Gib- 
 bon; that from the South by General Crooke; 
 and that from the East by General Terry. The 
 force led by Terry was by far the strongest of 
 the three, for it included the famous Seventh Cav- 
 alry, six hundred strong, commanded by the gal- 
 lant General Custer. 
 
 It was believed that any one of these forces 
 
GENERAL GEORGE A. CUSTER 299 
 
 could defeat the Sioux and that the three, acting 
 simultaneously, could utterly overwhelm them and 
 force them, willy nilly, upon the reservation. 
 
 "We shall not here follow the expeditions led 
 by Crooke and Gibbon more than to say that they 
 were greatly disappointed in their expectations, 
 finding the warlike Sioux (at the points where 
 they encountered them) to be very much better 
 equipped and stronger in numbers than they had 
 dreamed. Our interest is with the column com- 
 manded by General Terry, and more particularly 
 with that part of it under the gallant Custer. 
 Custer, indeed, might have commanded the whole 
 column but for an unfortunate political squabble 
 in which he had allowed himself to participate, 
 and which had brought upon him the displeasure 
 of President Grant. 
 
 On May 17th, the column marched from the 
 headquarters at Fort Lincoln, parading before 
 the women and children to reassure them by its 
 imposing appearance, for it was realized by all 
 that the work in hand was grim and dangerous. 
 Conspicuous in the martial display was the pic- 
 turesque figure of Custer with his seasoned cav- 
 alrymen, most of whom had seen service on the 
 plains in Kansas. Again his trusty band played 
 Garry Oiven. It is related that the whole column, 
 having started out, paused upon the plains near 
 by in order that the men might bid a last farewell 
 to those they were leaving behind. Then, to the 
 
300 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 music of The Girl I Left Behind Me, they marched 
 away, the vivid scarfs of Custer's gallant legion 
 floating in the breeze as the horses reared and 
 pranced to the sprightly air. The girls they left 
 behind them never saw them again, for not one 
 of the Seventh Cavalry returned; and no one to 
 this day knows exactly how they died. 
 
 General Terry's column moved up the Yellow- 
 stone Eiver as far as the Rosebud, where they 
 made a fortified camp. On June 22nd, General 
 Custer with his cavalry rode from this camp in- 
 tending to move around to the south and up the 
 Rosebud, where they hoped to surprise the In- 
 dians encamped there and drive them into the 
 grip of the larger force. 
 
 Three days later Custer came upon the main 
 trail of the Sioux, which he followed until it 
 brought him into a region known as the Big Horn 
 Valley. Satisfied that the Indians Avere at no 
 great distance, and that an encounter must shortly 
 occur, he detached seven companies under Major 
 Reno and sent them forward to attack the In- 
 dians from the "West while he himself assailed 
 them from another point. The details of General 
 Custer's plan are not clear and our information 
 is limited to what actually happened. 
 
 Before Major Reno had a chance to surprise 
 the foe, he was attacked by them and forced to 
 remain on the defensive for a whole day. It has 
 been alleged that he did not fight bravely, that 
 
GENEEAL GEORGE A. CUSTER 301 
 
 he lost his nerve, and some have gdne so far as 
 to say that he was a coward. 
 
 Be that as it may, Custer with his remaining 
 five companions unexpectedly came npon the 
 lower end of the Sioux camp. To his conster- 
 nation he found it to be of immense size and 
 much more formidable in every way than the 
 force which he had expected to encounter. 
 
 But without hesitation he immediately charged. 
 All Ave know of this sad affair has been learned 
 from the Indians themselves, since not a single 
 white man survived. 
 
 Within a very few minutes the gallant and 
 reckless Custer found himself surrounded by a 
 savage horde, greatly outnumbering his little 
 force, and with the prospect of easy vengeance 
 upon their hated foe. All historians agree that 
 the Seventh Cavalry fought gallantly, but the full 
 particulars of what actually took place can never 
 be known. 
 
 Perhaps it is just as well that they should not 
 be known. There were about two hundred of the 
 troopers and every one of them, including the 
 brave Custer, was massacred. One of his Indian 
 scouts, Curly by name, wrapped himself in his 
 blanket and managed to get away before the work 
 of horror was well started. 
 
 There was one other to escape. A splendid 
 horse, which had earned the right to be called a 
 veteran, was discovered some days later near the 
 
302 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 bloody field, suffering from several bullet wounds. 
 His name was Comanche, and lie had formerly 
 borne one of Custer's troopers across the snowy 
 plains of Kansas, through the wind and storm, 
 to the encampment of the Cheyenne scoundrel, 
 Black Kettle. 
 
 Since we have had to relate some facts not 
 altogether to the credit of our government in its 
 dealings with the Indians, it is pleasant to relate 
 that Uncle Sam knew how to treat a veteran horse 
 even if he did not always know how to treat the 
 Sioux and other Indians. 
 
 Comanche was ordered taken to Fort Reilly in 
 Kansas, the wind-swept plains of which district 
 he knew so well, and where he had once reared 
 his noble head to the inspiring tune of Garry 
 Owen. Orders were given by the Secretary of 
 War that he should be treated with the utmost 
 kindness as long as he lived, and no one was ever 
 permitted to mount him. 
 
 In time he recovered fully from his wounds, 
 and when he was led forth upon parade, wearing 
 his old Seventh Cavalry saddle and bridle, he was 
 always greeted with deafening cheers, which were 
 surely no more than the just due of the only sur- 
 vivor of the Custer Massacre. 
 
"CURLY," SURVIVOR OF THE CUSTER BATTLE 
 
JAMES BRIDGER 
 
 How he became a hunter and trapper in the Rockies; of his 
 discoveries and exploits, and of how his name became 
 forever associated with that of the great range. 
 
 In the good old days about half a century ago 
 a group of men sat about a large table in a tem- 
 porary structure which formed one of the few 
 poor buildings in the little mountain hamlet of 
 Denver, Colorado. 
 
 Before them was spread a rough map and 
 many papers, and upon their faces were the in- 
 dubitable signs of dejection and perplexity. 
 
 These men were not scouts, they were engi- 
 neers, and they had made an heroic progress 
 westward armed with compasses and transits, 
 for they were planning the line of the great 
 Union Pacific Railway. 
 
 All about them, and especially to the westward, 
 rose the frowning heights of the Rockies, and 
 how to get past this mighty obstacle, with their 
 steel rails, was the question. 
 
 Of course, they knew they could not storm and 
 conquer the Rockies as a gallant army may storm 
 a fortress. They would have to find a way 
 through, and where to look for such a pass in 
 all that tremendous, rocky jumble which frowned 
 
 303 
 
304 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 upon them and challenged them, had been a mat- 
 ter of discouraging debate for some days. 
 
 At last an old pioneer said, "Why don't yer 
 ask Jim Bridger?" 
 
 "Who is Jim Bridger? Is he an engineer ?" 
 inquired one of the railroad men. 
 
 "A engineer? Lord, no! Jim Bridger, he's a 
 mountain man, an' he knows these here pesky 
 Kockies as nobuddy else ever did nor yet ever 
 will. He'll show yer the likeliest way, quick as 
 he 'd shoot a grizzly. You send for Jim Bridger ! ' ' 
 
 Further inquiries about Jim Bridger disposed 
 the railroad men to summon him into their august 
 presence, and on learning that he was at that time 
 in St. Louis, they sent him a pass via the overland 
 stage with the request that he come at once to 
 Denver. They did not mention what they wanted 
 to see him about, for railroads and railroad mag- 
 nates were as independent then as they are now. 
 
 In good time there ambled lazily forth from the 
 rattling old stage-coach a weather-beaten, deeply 
 tanned, wrinkled man in buckskin who betook 
 himself leisurely to the tavern, where he spent 
 the evening greeting his old friends and resting, 
 without so much as a thought or a question as 
 to the reason for his urgent summons across the 
 wide plains. 
 
 It was not until the next morning, indeed, that 
 he casually inquired who "them critters wuz" 
 who had magnanimously favored him with such 
 
JAMES BRIDGER 305 
 
 sumptuous traveling accommodations across the 
 prairie. On hearing that they were railroad men 
 who wished to consult him about passes through 
 the Rockies, he joined a card game with several 
 of his whilom cronies and whiled away the morn- 
 ing in friendly play and converse about trapping 
 and hunting in the mountains. 
 
 This is not the way that people treat the Union 
 Pacific Railroad in these degenerate days, when 
 congressmen, nay, even senators, have been known 
 to respond with courteous alacrity to its polite 
 summons and its proffer of passes. It may be 
 imagined, therefore, with what pardonable an- 
 noyance the capitalists and scientific gentlemen 
 contemplated the lanky man who sauntered into 
 their presence some time or other during the day 
 and, sprawling his ungainly limbs from a chair, 
 lit his atrocious pipe and inquired what they 
 wished to see him about. 
 
 The engineers lost no time in explaining their 
 difficulty. They said, in effect, that they could 
 not for the life of them hit on a suitable point 
 whereat to make their hop, skip, and jump over 
 the mountains, and they besought Jim Bridger 
 to tell them, if he knew, where lay the most prom- 
 ising route. 
 
 "Is that all you wanted?" Jim asked, with a 
 note of disgust in his voice. 
 
 " Isn't that enough!" one of the gentlemen 
 rejoined. 
 
306 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 "An' that's wot yer fetched me all th' way 
 here fer?" 
 
 "It is a very important and complicated ques- 
 tion," said one of the engineers, "and it is caus- 
 ing much delay and perplexity." 
 
 Jim Bridger bent upon the group a look of 
 withering, but tolerant, contempt. 
 
 "Gimme a piece uv paper," said he. "I could 
 uv tole you fellers all that in St. Louis and saved 
 myself the trouble uv comin' here. Or leastways 
 you might uv come to see me." 
 
 Good for old Jim Bridger! 
 
 To this day, there is carefully preserved in the 
 archives of the great Union Pacific Corporation, 
 an old piece of manila paper, containing a rough 
 diagram drawn in smeary black lines. It is the 
 very map made by Jim Bridger when, with a 
 fine contempt for all the scientific paraphernalia 
 about him, he stooped and picking a dead coal 
 out of the fire, drew the crude outline which 
 showed the puzzled engineers the way they were 
 seeking. 
 
 Pointing to a certain peak, the veteran said, 
 "Thar's whar you fellers kin cross with your 
 road without more diggin' and cuttin' than you 
 think fer." And to-day the thundering trains 
 which wake the echoes of those gray canyons as 
 they wind through the mighty range cross the 
 main spur just where Jim Bridger indicated on 
 his crude, coal-drawn diagram. 
 
JAMES BRIDGER 307 
 
 That map was made by the greatest mountain 
 man who ever lived. He knew the Rockies as 
 no other scout or trapper ever knew them, which 
 is saying a good deal, for Kit Carson and others 
 wrenched their secrets from them and were thor- 
 oughly at home in their lonely fastnesses. 
 
 But these were .all men of the plains also, where- 
 as Jim was a sort of Rocky Mountain specialist. 
 He it was who discovered the defile which has 
 known the tread of many adventurous feet since 
 his time and which to this day bears the name 
 of Bridger's Pass. It is in the wildest country 
 known to man, and the first to discover and ex- 
 plore it must have been a venturesome creature 
 indeed. 
 
 It is superfluous to say that Jim Bridger ran 
 away from home when he was a boy, for nearly 
 all famous scouts did that, and this reckless act 
 of boyhood, so delectable and spicy in extravagant 
 fiction, becomes nothing less than monotonous in 
 the history of the great plains. 
 
 Jim was born in "Washington, D. C, in 1807, 
 and while still a very young boy (the expression 
 sounds familiar) he ran away and joined the ex- 
 pedition of the explorer, James Ashley — a very 
 good man with whom to cast his lot if a boy must 
 run away from home at all. 
 
 His falling in with this redoubtable wilderness 
 breaker could not have been at a more propitious 
 time. Ashley was planning an extensive trapping 
 
308 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 expedition into the extreme West and he welcomed 
 the young fellow with open arms. 
 
 He had already under construction a rough 
 headquarters or "fort," as they called such sta- 
 tions, on the Yellowstone Kiver, which runs across 
 the country that is now Dakota and has its source 
 in the Bitter Eoot Range. 
 
 Here, in the year 1822, Ashley assembled a 
 daring company of twenty-eight men, the young- 
 est of whom was Jim Bridger, fifteen years of 
 age. It is said that even then Jim was a crack 
 shot, and we can thereby form some estimate of 
 his qualities in marksmanship after a subsequent 
 practice covering a period of many years. The 
 accuracy of his aim must have been something 
 uncanny in those latter years! 
 
 When all was ready the adventurers, led by 
 the fearless Ashley, bent their course westward 
 toward the frowning mountains, but they were 
 soon to meet with almost as resolute a challenge 
 to their advance as the rugged heights themselves 
 would present. This was the Arikaras tribe of 
 Indians who had made a vow that no white man 
 should pass their country. 
 
 Encountering the little party of explorers, they 
 killed fourteen of their number and wounded ten, 
 leaving four out of the twenty-eight to debate 
 whether it would be prudent to go farther. 
 
 It was in* that affray that Jim Bridger killed 
 
JAMES BRIDGER 309 
 
 the first — and the second — of his long list of In- 
 dians. Quite a dime novel young hero indeed ! 
 
 This setback delayed, but did not discourage, 
 the intrepid Ashley, and as for Jim Bridger, now 
 that he had had a taste of adventure and Indian 
 fighting, wild horses could not have dragged him 
 from that delightful field. 
 
 Consequently when the enlarged expedition set 
 forth a year or two later this doughty boy scout 
 was on hand overflowing with adventurous ex- 
 pectations. 
 
 He was now recognized as a rifleman of superb 
 skill, a trailer to rival the red man himself, an 
 Indian fighter of envious renown even among his 
 companions — bold, tireless, resourceful, unflinch- 
 ing, as brave as a lion, with the vitality of a 
 camel, as tough, in short, as a hickory nut, and 
 religious — oh, very religious! 
 
 In that notable party were other men destined 
 to win fame in the romance of the Golden West 
 — Andy Henry, who had already crossed the Con- 
 tinental Divide ; Billie Sublette and old Jed Smith, 
 who used the same bullet time and time again on 
 the plains or mountains, for buffalo or grizzly. 
 An economical, thrifty old soul was he. 
 
 But young Jim Bridger could draw a bead with 
 any of them, and could conduct prayers into the 
 bargain. He was the scout evangelist of the 
 Rockies. 
 
310 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 Accompanied by his sturdy Land, Ashley pushed 
 up the North Platte, through the Sweetwater 
 Eange of mountains, and into Green Eiver Val- 
 ley, which lies in the southwestern part of what 
 is now "Wyoming, and is entirely enclosed by 
 mountains. 
 
 This was the destination which they had set for 
 themselves, and here they established a headquar- 
 ters for rendezvous. The plan was for small par- 
 ties to go out into the mountains, trapping and 
 hunting, and -to return at the end of a year, bring- 
 ing their pelts for shipment to the East. 
 
 Thus Jim Bridger, following up the beaver 
 streams and exploring the wild, rocky country, 
 had his first glimpse of the mighty Eockies. 
 
 Granting the young man an adventurous dis- 
 position to begin with, it is not difficult to ap- 
 preciate the romantic hold which those giant 
 heights gained upon him — a hold which was des- 
 tined never to relax in all his long life. WTher- 
 ever he went thereafter he was always sure to 
 return to his beloved mountains, wandering among 
 them, sometimes alone, sometimes with one or 
 more comrades, exploring their wild retreats and 
 their rocky passes and winding caverns and echo- 
 haunted ravines, until it seemed that the great 
 range could have no more secrets to reveal to him. 
 
 After the first year 's hunting the men returned 
 from their wanderings and young Bridger, like 
 the others, turned over a goodly stock of valuable 
 
JAMES BRIDGER 311 
 
 pelts, the trophies of his exploring and his marks- 
 manship. 
 
 Then the intrepid men set out again in small 
 parties of two or three for another sojourn in 
 the mountains while Ashley returned to St. Louis 
 with a stock which made him rich. 
 
 It was on that second hunting trip that Bridger 
 and his two companions had a friendly argument 
 which was destined to bear momentous conse- 
 quences. 
 
 They were resting in a wild spot called Cache 
 Valley through which the small Bear River flowed, 
 and Jim's two comrades fell into a lively dispute 
 as to where this stream emptied. The end of it 
 was that they made a bet and requested Jim, he 
 being a disinterested or at least an impartial 
 listener, to go and find out. 
 
 It was agreed that the others should camp 
 where they were until he returned, and he there- 
 upon set out upon his exploration. The first stage 
 of his journey took him through a region where 
 he had already trapped and hunted, but before 
 long he found himself following the stream into 
 unfamiliar territory where he watched for one or 
 other of the larger rivers into which he supposed 
 the smaller stream flowed. 
 
 At length he thought he caught a glimpse of a 
 wide expanse of water between high hills far 
 ahead. Scarcely crediting what he saw, for he 
 knew the Pacific to be many miles away, he 
 
312 THE BOYS 'BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 pressed on until his uncertain, distant view was 
 confirmed by a sight which caused him to pause 
 in astonishment. 
 
 For, rounding the foot of a hill, he beheld a 
 vast sheet of water flanked by rugged heights 
 and the farther shore of which he could barely 
 make out in the hazy distance. 
 
 When he reached the shore of this inland sea 
 he paused and gazed across its vast bosom. Then 
 he tasted of its water and found it to be salt. 
 
 He was, in fact, standing upon the brink of Bear 
 River Bay, an arm of the Great Salt Lake, which 
 he was thus the first white man to discover. 
 
 Returning to his companions, he told them of 
 his discovery, and as the water which he had 
 tasted was undoubtedly salt, they decided that it 
 must be an arm of the ocean. 
 
 This belief they continued to hold until some 
 months later, when several other members of the 
 Ashley party sailed completely around the lake 
 in a skin canoe. 
 
 So young Jim Bridger, still in his teens, dis- 
 covered the Great Salt Lake, an exploit, albeit 
 accidental, which should have made his name more 
 famous than it is among American explorers. 
 
 "When the altogether successful enterprise of 
 Ashley was over, he and the band of sturdy trap- 
 pers whose courage and sure aim had made him 
 rich went east to St. Louis, where, we are told, 
 he "treated his men handsomely," as certainly 
 
JAMES BRIDGER 313 
 
 lie should have done, giving them the run of the 
 best hotels (which, considering the times, is not 
 saying much, to be sure), paying them good "wages 
 for all the time they had been away, and making 
 them each a present of three hundred dollars and 
 a suit of fashionable store clothes, in which they 
 must have looked strange enough, even in that 
 frontier community. We should like to have seen 
 Jim Bridger in his store clothes. 
 
 As for the three hundred dollars each, that was 
 not nearly so surprising. It may not be amiss, 
 now that w r e are about to take leave of our com- 
 pany of scouts, to observe that most of the West- 
 ern plainsmen and mountaineers could usually 
 show imposing, sometimes even staggering, rolls 
 of greenbacks. 
 
 We have withheld this statement until the end 
 of our trail in order that the sordid mention of 
 money might not obtrude itself upon the terri- 
 tories of romance. But it is a fact that nearly 
 any one of these scouts, guides, trappers, and 
 Indian fighters could have hauled forth, at almost 
 any time, from the depths of his tattered buck- 
 skins, money enough to buy a high-grade twin- 
 six touring car in these prosaic times, and have 
 had cash enough left to buy tires and gasoline 
 for a year! 
 
 Uncle Dick Wooton would have thought shame 
 to go about with less than a thousand or two in 
 his pockets, and we have already seen how old 
 
314 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 John Smith had suits made and bought presents 
 for a little orphaned boy, and finally gave him 
 a parting gift of two hundred dollars "fer Ms- 
 self." Eube Stevens, who could not talk, had 
 always a few hundreds with him, and even the 
 blithesome Belzy Dodd, whose sprightly genius 
 might incline one to think him impecunious, 
 thought nothing of receiving a thousand or two 
 for pelts after a winter's trapping in the Eockies. 
 
 Not that these rough, brave, resourceful and 
 supremely picturesque men were mercenary. They 
 were not ; they merely thought of a hundred dol- 
 lars in the same light spirit in which they blithely 
 spoke of traveling a hundred miles. 
 
 They received, and justly so, large sums for 
 the perilous and adventurous work they did; 
 whether it was freezing in the Eockies, swelter- 
 ing on the plains, guiding, scouting, trapping, 
 or, perchance, righting the Indians. 
 
 The sums which passed from hand to hand 
 among the rough old scouts who smoked their 
 atrocious pipes and told their amazing yarns at 
 Bent's Fort were sometimes fabulous. And when, 
 peradventure, their w r anderings took them to St. 
 Louis, or Independence, or Santa Fe, they spent 
 small fortunes with a fine prodigality. There is 
 an instance reported of one Job Cutter betting 
 five thousand dollars cash that he would hit a 
 certain buffalo; and there is no doubt that he 
 was amply equipped to make good his bet. 
 
JAMES BRIDGER 315 
 
 After his adventures, Loth romantic and profit- 
 able, with the Ashley expedition, Jim Bridger 's 
 trail was pretty clearly defined. Back he Avent 
 to his beloved Rockies, and there, with the varia- 
 tion of an occasional trip eastward, he lived out 
 his days. He became the greatest trapper and 
 hunter the mountains had ever known, acquiring 
 a familiarity with the great range which Avon him 
 a unique renown even among his colleagues. 
 
 Like Kit Carson (and perhaps he was Carson's 
 only rival) Bridger was of a gentle and kindly 
 nature, honest to a dot, and with a simple mod- 
 esty that Avon all hearts. 
 
 In 1855, Sir George Gore, a famous Irish 
 sportsman, took it into his head to come to Amer- 
 ica for an exploring and hunting sojourn in the 
 Rockies. 
 
 He did not exactly come alone, for Avith him, 
 by Avay of retinue, were more than half a hun- 
 dred subordinates in the capacities of cooks, 
 steAA^ards, secretaries, dog-tenders and goodness 
 knows Avhat! It required thirty Avagons to ac- 
 commodate this sumptuous outfit, but Sir George, 
 notwithstanding his suspiciously elaborate equi- 
 page, was no dilettante or amateur huntsman. 
 
 Hearing of Jim Bridger, he at once engaged 
 him as scout and the two, so different in birth 
 and breeding, became fast friends. Jim piloted 
 this motley parade Avherever it Avas possible for 
 such a cumbersome caravan to go in the Rockies, 
 
316 THE BOYS' BOOK OF SCOUTS 
 
 and where the company could not go he led 
 Sir George here and there among the secluded 
 glens, killing grizzlies with him until they had 
 "dropped" forty-seven. Sir George, never hav- 
 ing seen a grizzly before, had the time of his life 
 shooting them, but he could never (despite long 
 experience as a huntsman) acquire the skill of 
 his tough companion and guide. 
 
 In 1856, Jim Bridger, for what purpose we can- 
 not imagine, bought a farm in Westport, Mis- 
 souri, within earshot of the din and clatter of 
 the growing town of Kansas City. He soon, 
 however, thought better of his decision to settle 
 down in contaminating proximity to civilization, 
 and was of! again to the Eockies where he be- 
 longed. 
 
 He was close to fifty then — raw-boned, rugged, 
 browned, and still keen-eyed. Occasionally he 
 went East with his pelts (it was while on such a 
 trip that the Union Pacific engineers heard of 
 him) but mostly he roamed among his wonted 
 haunts "far from the madding crowd," hunting, 
 trapping, until he became old and feeble and 
 almost blind. 
 
 Then he went home for good, if one may call 
 it home, to his prosy farm near Kansas City. 
 We should prefer to think of him as dying as 
 Scott's "pilgrim of Nature" died, in the shelter- 
 ing and loving arms of his noble mountains. 
 More stately indeed would have been his couch 
 
JAMES BRIDGET 317 
 
 in those lonely caverns and deep ravines which 
 had so often echoed to the report of the steady 
 rifle which never missed. But may we not believe 
 that, wherever his last mortal resting place, his 
 spirit still lingers in the solemn places of 'the 
 wild, lonesome range which he knew and loved 
 so well.