Thirty-One Years on the Plains and in the Mountains, Or, the Last Voice from the Plains: An Authentic Record of a Life Time of Hunting, Trapping, Scouting and Indian Fighting in the Far WestDrannan, William F.
History
Thirty-One Years on the Plains and in the Mountains, Or, the Last Voice from the Plains: An Authentic Record of a Life Time of Hunting, Trapping, Scouting and Indian Fighting in the Far West
Drannan, William F.
Frontier and pioneer life -- West (U.S.); Indians of North America -- Wars
The Captain pulled the arrow out of my leg, which had a very large
spear made of hoop iron, and it tore a bad hole in my leg when he
pulled it out. By this time the redskins were scattering in all
directions, some on foot and some on horseback.
As soon as I was free I saw a band of about fifty horses not far
away, and asked the Captain to detail some of his men to assist me
in running them off. The Captain dashed off to his orderly who he
told to take a platoon of men and go with the boy scout to take
charge of those horses.
In this charge we got fifty-two horses and killed four Indians. We
drove the horses out on the hill where they would be out of the
way and where the Indians would not get them, and the Sergeant
left his men to guard them until further orders.
As I rode back to the scene of battle I looked up the road and saw
four wagons coming. I asked the Sergeant where those wagons were
going, and he said they were ambulances, coming to haul the
wounded to headquarters, saying they had started at the same time
the cavalry did but could not keep up, consequently they did not
arrive until after the battle was over.
About the time I returned to the battlefield the bugle sounded
calling the soldiers in from the chase, and on looking over the
ground, four dead soldiers and twenty-seven wounded were
discovered. There were sixty-three dead Indians in sight, and
more, no doubt, were scattered around in the sagebrush.
The battle being over we had our breakfast. I also had my horse
put out to grass, as he was very hungry, not having had anything
to eat since noon the day before, and not much then.
After breakfast was over the soldiers buried their four dead
comrades and loaded the wounded into the ambulances and started
for headquarters, arriving there about nine o'clock that night.
Charlie Meyers had a wound in his arm that laid him up all summer,
and I was not able to ride for two weeks; although I had the best
of care.
From that time on I was known as the boy scout, and the next day
after our return, Col. Elliott appointed me chief of scouts with
rank and pay of captain, which was one hundred and twenty-five
dollars per month. He also provided me with private quarters, my
tent being pitched near his own, and notwithstanding that I was
only a mere boy the other scouts all came to me for orders and
counsel, and I often wondered why men who knew nothing of scouting
nor the nature of Indians would stick themselves up as scouts.
Two weeks from the time I got wounded the Colonel asked me if I
thought I was able to ride, saying that the news had just come to
him that the Indians had attacked a train of emigrants, killed
some of them and driven off their stock. This depredation he said
had been committed in the Goose Creek mountain country about one
hundred and twenty miles east of us. Col. Elliott said that he was
going to send out a company of soldiers there, and if I felt able
I might accompany them, which I did.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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