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
After holding a council for about five minutes we all mounted and
rode as near the Indians as we considered safe, and dismounted.
Taking another scout who had been watching them, I crawled as near
as we dared to their camp to try to ascertain their number. We
decided that there were about fifty. It was perilous to get very
close for the reason that the Indians had a number of dogs, and
when we would get too near the dogs would begin to bark, and three
or four Indians would raise up and look about and every Indian in
the band would listen. When we returned to where we had left the
other scouts they were all prepared for an attack, but I told them
there were too many for us to tackle alone. Besides, they were
Utes, the worst Indians in the whole country to fight.
We were now about fifteen miles from headquarters, so I dispatched
two men at once to Capt. Mills in all haste, requesting him to be
there by daybreak, if it were within the bounds of possibility.
This being a sandy, sagebrush country, one could not ride at full
speed, but the scouts made good time, nevertheless, and Capt.
Mills and his command were with us before daylight. We met him
about a mile from where the Indians were camped, and I told him
how the ground lay and the general surroundings as best I could,
and I suggested that as on account of the dogs I had not been able
to locate the horses of the Indians, it would be advisable to wait
until daylight to make the attack.
We waited about an hour, when the Captain said he thought it was
light enough to kill Indians. He gave orders to mount, drew his
men up in line and rode back and forth, up and down the line,
instructing them how to proceed, saying:
"When I give the word, 'charge!' every man draw his pistol, and
when within fifty yards, begin to fire. Don't fire at random, but
take good aim, and when your pistols are empty draw your sabres
and cut them down. Don't let one escape. Don't wait for further
orders; you have them, now carry them out."
Capt. Mills rode to the left wing and asked me to take the right.
I told him I thought it best that myself and the scout force
should make a dash for the Indian horses as soon as he made the
charge, for if we could succeed in getting the horses we need not
let one Indian escape.
It was now so light that we could see their ponies on the hill
just beyond their camp. All being ready, and I having instructed
my assistants, the Captain ordered them to charge. I made a dash
to the right with my entire scout force. This was a great surprise
to the redskins. They were nearly all abed yet, except a few of
the earliest risers. Those who were up made a desperate rush for
their horses, but unavailingly. We got there first and stampeded
the herd. Some of the horses were picketed, but we cut the ropes
as fast as we came to them, and before any of the Indians could
get to their horses we had them on the dead run.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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